#anyways Please if you want to know more ill keep talking this is barely scratching the surface | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lcksndkys · 3 years

Text

Pairing: JJK x reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: smut, fluff, tiny hint of angst

Word count: ~8k

Summary: Save a drum, bang a drummer.

Warnings: one tasteful semi-nude sext, brief flashback of male masturbation, discussions about conception, an unholy amount of nipple play, blowjob, fingering, pussy slapping with a dick (but like, romantically), unprotected sex within an established relationship, multiple orgasms, creampie

A/N: This is my first attempt at creative writing… ever. Borne from my horny imagination and a thirst dream, this piece is an epilogue of sorts. S/o to @jinpanman and @wwilloww for being the wind beneath my wings and the floaties around my arms. Also, big thanks to Willow who made the banner <3

There are two things you know are happening tonight. One: Beyond the Scene is out celebrating the completion of their newest EP. Two: your husband, the drummer of Beyond, is going to come home, high off the adrenaline of a successful night, and fuck you into oblivion. Your period tracking app that you both have been studiously monitoring over the last few months has notified you that you were going to be ovulating over the next couple of days.

You slip into one of Jungkook’s oversized cut-off tanks and a pair of crotchless black lace panties that you know he likes. Checking in the mirror, you see a generous view of side-boob due to the cut of his shirt and you turn around and decide to forgo bottoms entirely—they’ll be discarded soon anyways. Your husband may be out with the boys tonight, but you’re determined to wait up for him. It’s not that late after all. You roll over, pulling a bottle of lube from the nightstand and set it out for later.

Lying in your shared bed, you check your phone again, reading the last messages you sent to each other.

[9:51pm] Jungkook-ah: i’ll be home late babe. dont wait up. love you.

[9:54pm] You: … but i’m ovulating today. I want you.

You haven’t heard from him since. Tapping to the camera icon on your phone, you decide to send a little more encouragement. You quickly snap a photo of your torso covered in his shirt, making sure to give a tasteful glimpse of your ensemble.

[11:39pm] Jungkook-ah: fcuk. dont temnt meee idk when ill b home

You sigh. He's definitely drunk which means that even if he did come home soon, he’d be too wasted to finish the job, more likely to fall asleep seconds after washing up. Tossing your phone onto your pillow, you roll to Jungkook’s side of the bed. Breathing in his clean, slightly sweet scent, you let it comfort you as your eyes close. Your mind drifts off to the first time you ever saw Jungkook as a man.

Sprawled out on a twin sized bed, there was barely enough space for the two of you. Propped against the headboard and wearing nothing but a smile, he laced his fingers behind his head and cockily encouraged you to take pictures. “They’ll last longer,” he had said. Cheeky brat. You had instructed him to pleasure himself as you watched. “Tell me what you think of when you touch yourself, Koo” to which he replied, “You in my clothes with nothing on underneath”. He had whined, panting and desperate to hold off his climax with the hopes that he might get to feel you wrapped around him.

You made him promise that night would be a one off; an itch scratched. And above all, he wasn’t to speak of that night to anyone, especially his sister- your best friend. At the time, an emotional relationship was not something you were ready to pursue. And certainly not with someone so intimately linked to your inner circle. So when it happened again, and then again, you proposed an easy benefits-only relationship to which he quietly accepted. You didn’t know he had been secretly yearning for something you could not yet give him. Despite trying to push him and your emotions away, Jungkook persisted, and with time and patience, you let him into your heart and let him show you the meaning of true love.

With a love-sick smile plastered on your face, you drift off to sleep, plans for tonight all but forgotten.

_______________________________________________

Eyes still closed and hanging on to the quickly fading wisps of your dreams, you unconsciously feel around the sheets for your husband. When your hands come across nothing but layers of bedsheet and blankets and the lingering warmth of Jungkook’s body heat, you roll over seeking the comfort of his embrace.

Sitting up, you see that he must’ve moved you during the night towards your side of the bed before climbing in behind you. Realizing you’re still in his shirt and the sexy panties from last night, you huff out a groan of annoyance.

You get out of bed and make the short trek to your bathroom to wash up. Jungkook never missed an opportunity to “practice” baby making. The thought that he was avoiding a session in the sheets with you makes you press the bristles harshly against your teeth.

Upon returning to your bedroom, you see that at some point Jungkook had plugged your phone in to charge. You open up your app and double check that you’re still within short the ovulation window.

The shuffling of slippers alerts you to your husband elsewhere in your shared apartment. As you leave in search of him, you notice he had put the bottle of lube away.

Padding out towards the kitchen, you can hear the tinkling of dishware and cutlery. The smell of toast floats through the air as you spot Jungkook at the counter pouring his cereal into a bowl of milk. Endearing. You smile, remembering he once reasoned that adding cereal to milk ensures you won’t be left with any soggy bits.

Coming up behind him, he startles a little with your quiet arrival. You wrap your arms around his middle, pressing a light kiss between his shoulder blades, and nuzzling your face against the wide expanse of his back.

“I missed you last night, baby,” you coo.

Turning in your embrace, Jungkook wraps one arm around your shoulders and uses a pointer finger to gently tilt your head, aligning your mouth to his. He leans down to give you a sweet, chaste kiss in greeting before pulling away.

“I’m sorry I was out late. But I’ll make it up to you ok?”

“How about you make it up to me right now?” you wiggle your eyebrows suggestively, stepping back from his grasp.

His eyes rake up and down your figure, pausing to take in the long expanse of skin showing from under his cut-off tank. You turn your torso slightly, lifting your arms up overhead to smooth back your bed head, allowing him a generous view of your tits through the large armholes. You smirk to yourself knowing this simple outfit is one of his favorites on you.

“- oh, fuck,” Jungkook breathes, feeling the beginnings of desire stir in his sleep pants.

“I was so ready for you last night,” you continue, planting your hands behind you on the kitchen counter opposite of Jungkook. With a hop, you sit yourself upon the cold hard surface and try not to cringe at the sudden change of temperature on your bare rump.

You beckon towards your husband with a crook of your finger.

“I even wore one of your favorites,” you purr. Slowly trailing a hand towards your hip you pull the hem of your—well, his—shirt up, exposing some of the black lace panties you had worn.

Jaw clenched and brow furrowed. You enjoy Jungkook’s rapt attention.

“Come closer” you plead.

When he shows no sign of approaching, you lean back onto your elbows and prop one foot onto the countertop. Parting your legs, you smile victoriously when Jungkook’s eyes drop immediately to your exposed core. Thank goodness for crotchless panties.

His throat constricts at the sight of your pussy, framed in black lace, and bared lewdly for him.

“Fuck,” he growls lowley. You watch his throat bob again swallowing down a moan. He looks from your eyes, to your lips, and down between your thighs. Cock hardening, his desire rises hot and heady at the sight of you glistening before him.

Seeing him grow in the unforgiving fabric of his grey sweatpants, you grin at his visceral reaction. “You know I’m ovulating, right?” You bring your other foot up onto the counter further spreading yourself out for him. “Fuck me, baby. Fill me up with your cum.” A little dirty talk was nearly always enough encouragement to get your husband started.

Doe eyes wide, he is torn between his carnal desires to ravish you on the countertop and his mounting emotional distress.

When your husband doesn’t immediately react to your proposition, you know something is wrong. You hop off the counter and come to wrap around him. Jungkook has always been a shy boy, and as he got older, grew into a reserved man. He had a small social circle, knowing first hand that some people had no qualms with using him for his services. He was the golden boy. Jungkook was good at things and always has been- drums, sports, computers, video games, writing music, singing, sex. Many people sought to use him and had gotten away with it. And at first, he was eager to please; to prove himself worthy of the attention. But it wasn’t long before he grew cautious and began to keep a selective few close, including you.

You've always seen him. And you see him now, eyes tight with emotion he's been holding back from you. He hasn't done that in years.

Your arousal from earlier has all but dried up, evaporated with the sense that something important is weighing on Jungkook.

"Do you need me to listen or find a solution?" you ask him.

"Listen" he replies softly.

You take his hand, leading him towards the couch. Sitting down, you part your legs pulling his back to your front. You wrap all four limbs around him and lay back to let his weight press the both of you into the cushions. His hands immediately go to stroke along the soft skin of your shins. You tuck your face into his nape, ghosting soft kisses along the skin available to you. Holding him against you, you feel Jungkook slowly melt, head leaning back against your shoulder. You know he’ll speak when he's ready.

“I just… Lately I’ve been feeling like you only want a specific part of me,” says Jungkook quietly. His hands go to tuck back some of his hair behind his ears- a nervous tell he's never been able to kick. "And I guess it kind of reminded me of the time from before we officially got together, ya know?"

You feel your heart crumble in your chest at his admission. At that time, you weren’t ready for what Jungkook wanted to give you, convinced that the age gap and BTS’s rising fame would ultimately lead to disaster. Thus you had pushed for a purely physical relationship. He had agreed mistakenly believing that having your body, but not your mind or heart, was better than not having you at all. He hoped that time and love would help you change your mind. Luckily for both of you, it did.

You want to say something to comfort him, but you remember he asked you to listen. You stay quiet, giving him a safe space to speak.

"And I know we're trying for a baby, but lately there's no intimacy when you make love to me. It's like once I finish, it's over and you push me away to lay with your legs up against the wall."

You feel his ribs expand as he takes a deep breath, and then another. In, then out.

"You know how important aftercare is to me," he continues. You do know. Jungkook is a romantic; being held and praised for a job well done has always been just as important as the actual act of sex for him. "And if you're just trying to fuck me, I don't know if I want it."

There's a few moments of pause.

“Why didn’t you just tell me you didn’t want to have sex?” you ask softly.

Jungkook’s eyes nearly bug out of his head. “No! I mean- I want it, trust me, I want you. But the last few times, it felt like you just fucked me until I came.” Jungkook goans. “You didn’t even finish. Makes me feel like a bad lover."

You cringe remembering that the last time you had been intimate with your husband, you straddled him and then rode him fast and hard until he spilled his seed inside you. The whole ordeal lasted 3 minutes tops, and then you were rolling off him onto your back leaving him to clean up on his own.

Sensing he was finished, you start to apologize. “I had no idea you felt that way,” you start. “I never meant for you to feel that way. I’m sorry.”

“I just- I love you so much, and I would give anything to make you happy,” he says quietly. His hands continue to absentmindedly traverse the length of your legs.

Your hold around him tightens, a silent I love you.

“What do you wanna do today, baby? Today’s all about you,” you promise. You’re ready to give your husband the attention he craves.

“Anything?” Jungkook asks, craning his head back to meet your gaze.

“Mhmm.”

Jungkook smiles, pleased with your enthusiasm.

“I promise you I’ll give you a creampie, but can we please just play super smash bros first?”

Seeing the child-like wonder in your husband’s eyes, you can’t help but chuckle at him. Jungkook has always been easy to please and competitive to a fault.

“Sure, Kook-ah. Maybe I’ll even let you beat me” you joke, fingers digging into his ribs causing him to laugh and squirm from your grasp.

Jungkook unwinds your legs from around his waist to set up the gaming console.

_______________________________________________

After several rounds of super smash bros, Jungkook has other ideas in his mind. Pulling you onto his lap, you’re forced to part your legs to straddle him. He fingers along the hem of your shirt pulling up the backside to expose your bare ass.

“Ah, you wore these for me?” he asks, hand rubbing circles along your quickly heating flesh.

“Depends. Are you ready to take them off me?” you retort with a wink.

Giggling, Jungkook lunges for you, wrapping his strong arms around you and burying his head into your neck. You feel the gentle pressure of his lips suckling and tilt your head further back to grant him more access to the sensitive skin of your neck.

He laps against your throat, making you moan out in satisfaction. Your arousal starts to leak onto Jungkook’s grey sweats as you absentmindedly grind your bare cunt against the stiffness growing there.

“Mmm, fuck. Let’s go” you pant, urgently tapping at Jungkook’s shoulder.

Walking into the bedroom, Jungkook slowly lowers you down to the ground, letting your front drag along his, your soft curves trailing along the firm planes of his chest. The moment your feet touch down, you gently press a hand against his chest- right over his thrumming heart- and encourage him to sit at the edge of your bed. His eyes gaze lovingly up into yours, a small smile hanging on his lips, waiting for your instruction.

You tug at the hem of his shirt. “Can you take this off, baby?”

Jungkook eagerly nods, licking his lips in anticipation. He reaches back, hooking his fingers into the neckline of his collar and pulling his stupidly oversized shirt over his head in one swift motion. For a second, he lets you admire his body. He works hard to achieve his physique and enjoys knowing you’re your attraction towards him has never waned.

You swallow down a groan as your eyes trail from his chest, dusky nipples pebbled with arousal, down his abdominals, towards the bulge in his sweats. Your husband is a beautiful man, inside and out, and he is all yours. Tonight and forever.

Climbing into his lap, you straddle him and cup his face between your hands. Jungkook needs emotional intimacy, and you’re prepared to deliver.

You kiss his forehead. “I love the way you think. You’re quiet, but so clever, and I wish more people could see how your brain works. You’re considerate of other people and so fucking humble, qualities I really admire about you.”

Moving down to his eyes, you place twin kisses over his closed eyelids. “I love the way you see the world. When I’m tired, you remind me that there is so much beauty in the mundane, and I’m so lucky to see it all by your side.”

You reach down for his hands and press your lips along the knuckles of both his hands. “I love the life you’ve helped build for and with me. People always say you’re good at everything, but they don’t see how hard you work to earn it. I respect you so much for that.” You play with his fingers- somehow long and delicate, but strong at the same time- and lace them together.

“I love your nose,” you continue, pecking the tip.

“But-”

“No interruptions, Jungkook” you hold up a hand, effectively cutting him off. “I know you’ve always thought it was a little too big and round when we were younger, but it shows how much you’ve grown into yourself over the years. You are so sexy- both on the stage and off.”

You pull back in time to see him fighting down a shy smile at your praise. “Besides, a man should have a big nose,” you wink. Unable to hide his toothy smile or blushing cheeks, you continue.

“I love these cheeks,” you say, planting sloppy kisses over his face. “When you smile - a real, genuine smile- your whole face lights up. I hope our children inherit that.”

You plant more against the beauty marks on the bridge of his nose and under his lip, on the faint scar high on his cheek. “So beautiful,” you murmur against his skin.

“These are my favorite lips. You were the first man that I believed when you told me you loved me.” You press your lips against his, kissing him gently. Tilting your head for a better angle, you press forward more ardently, and part your lips further to slide your tongue against his.

When you pull back, Jungkook’s eyes are still closed, face craning forward to chase your kiss. You card your fingers through his hair and push him back enough to look into his eyes again.

Your lips continue their loving path down his face, nipping along his sharp jawline and down his neck, paying special attention to his sensitive pulse point. Jungkook whimpers in appreciation encouraging you to work color into his skin.

“Most of all, I love your heart.” Your arms wrap around his torso, hands caressing up and down his back as your head tips down to press your mouth against his chest, just left of center. “You are patient and kind and romantic. You show me every day what true love means, and I am forever grateful for that. You have all of me, and you always will. And tonight, I want to make you feel good because I love every part of you. Even the parts you don’t particularly like yourself.”

You continue to leave wet kisses along his clavicles and throat making him moan quietly.

“Lay back for me, baby” you say, and he allows you to push him onto his back.

Your body follows him down prone on the bed, allowing your comforting weight to settle atop him and press him into the sheets. Linking your hands, you bring them up to rest by his head. You reconnect and kiss him senseless, lips and tongues moving seamlessly in a dance well practiced over the years. You continue until he’s whining, until you feel him thickening further in his pants.

Lips descending downwards, you continue a fiery trail along his jawline, hands caressing his neck and chest to maximize his pleasure. Evidence of your love blooms down his neck as you continue a path towards his chest. Perched on his lap, you grind against him as you take a nipple between your lips and begin to suck.

“A-ahh fuck”, Jungkook pants as your lips wrap more securely around his pebbled bud, tongue flicking against him. Your other hand rakes along his other pectoral, thumb catching along its twin and you rub circles over him with your thumb. His cock, which had begun to throb when you love bombed him, is now fattening with arousal.

You trail your lips across his chest making sure to provide equal attention to his sensitive buds. Dusky and shining with your saliva, you continue down his abs, licking the contours of his hard earned muscles. Jungkook continues to quietly moan at the sensation of your soft, warm mouth slowly moving south along his body.

Sitting up a bit from his supine figure, you tug down at the band of his sweatpants. “Can I take these off?” you ask, slipping your fingertips into the waistline of his bottoms. He nods his consent and you push them down as he lifts his hips up, effectively removing Jungkook’s remaining piece of clothing.

As you move to stand from his lap, he immediately sits up as if pained by any distance between your bodies. You give him one last, sweet kiss on the mouth before settling down on your knees between his spread legs. His cock, perfectly framed between powerful thighs, is hardening rapidly and attempting to defy gravity as it bobs in the space between your bodies. Licking your lips at the sight of his leaking length, you settle on the floor and reach for his base.

“Hold on” he says, stopping you to reach across the bed and pulling his pillow from under the covers offering it to you for comfort. Your heart swells at his consideration and you accept it gratefully. You place it under your knees for an added cushion and make yourself comfortable on the ground.

Maintaining eye contact you run your hands up and down his thick thighs letting your fingernails lightly scratch along the sensitive skin there. Each pass brings you closer and closer to his cock, subtly twitching in eagerness to feel you wrapped around him. Keeping your eyes locked on his, you wrap a hand around his base and feel him harden fully in your grasp. Bringing your lips down to his weeping tip, you run your tongue up and down his slit, then slowly in a circle around the engorged head leaving a ring of precum and saliva in your wake.

“F-uuuck” Jungkook keens as you continue to tease him with your tongue. “Please. More, please.”

Your lips immediately close around him, surrounding his throbbing cock with the wet heat of your mouth and begin to suck tasting his musky flavor. Popping off, you run your tongue up and down to spread moisture along his shaft; your hand will have to cover what your throat cannot take. He is not profoundly large, but he is more than thick and long enough to satisfy you.

Unable to mask his desire, Jungkook pants as your mouth works up and down his rigid length. You take him as deep as you can tolerate, gagging lightly when you feel him slide down the back of your throat with each pass. The hand not grasping his base is rubbing soothing circles along his hip and inner thigh, amplifying his pleasure.

“Mmm yeah, you’re doing so g-good,” he groans as you continue bobbing, hand furiously pumping whatever won’t fit in your mouth. He weaves his fingers into your hair, encouraging you to take him deeper into the depths of your throat. Eyes starting to water, his other hand wipes at the tears in your lash line as you continue to enthusiastically blow him.

Jungkook’s volume steadily increases along with the pace of your mouth and hand as you work over his cock. You continue to suck him off sending white hot pleasure through his veins. “Oh shit- shit.” Jungkook stops you as his impending orgasm begins to crest. “You need to stop, or I’ll cum” he breathes out. Though your mouth is no longer on him, your hand continues to slowly jerk him off.

“Aren’t you ovulating?” he tries to confirm with you. “I need to put it in you,” he insists, teeth clenching together as your hand glides up and down the full length of his dick twisting your wrist with each upstroke.

“Tonight is all about you - about us,” you shake your head. “I want to make you feel good. Can I do that?” you ask as your other hand travels from his hip to cup and gently fondle his balls.

He whimpers in pleasure as you continue to stroke him.

“Do you want to cum in my mouth tonight, baby?” you purr. No longer able to formulate a coherent sentence, he nods his head aggressively.

“Good boy,” you tease with a smirk. Your mouth returns to his cock and joins the hand pumping his shaft. Years of learning each other’s bodies has taught you the tell tale signs of your husband’s orgasms and you can tell he’s close. Very close.

Hollowing out your cheeks, you apply the suction you know he has never been able to resist. You’re determined to suck his soul from his body, gripping him firmly as you furiously work his throbbing length exactly the way you know he likes. Your mouth focuses on his mushroomed head, lips sealed around the tip and tongue lapping against the sensitive frenulum.

Jungkook desperately tries to stave off his release to linger in the wet heat of your mouth. It’s been a while since he’s allowed himself to finish down your throat and he wants to savor it. “Ah, I’m so mad that you’re so good at this” he groans, earning a muted giggle from you. Stuffed full of cock, the vibration sends a thrill up his spine.

You know Jungkook’s cumming before he can warn you. It starts with a subtle lifting of his balls as they prepare to empty into your eager mouth. Eyes squeezed shut and moaning wantonly, he chants your name over and over as he begins to orgasm. You continue your determined ministrations as his shaft pulses in your grasp.

“Hmmmph- ahh, fuck yes! Oh fuck, so good,” Jungkook whimpers as ribbons of cum burst across your tongue and hit the back of your throat. You quickly swallow his load as he erupts into your mouth. You continue stroking and sucking Jungkook through his high, helping him ride it out until he gently pushes you away when he feels the burn of overstimulation.

“Good?” you smile up at him and let go of his wilting length to lick at a stray bit of cum from your thumb. You wipe off the remaining spit on your shirt.

“Amazing,” he replies, smiling dazedly down at you.

You allow him to pull you from the ground up onto the bed with him, laughing when your knees pop loudly in the quiet of the room as you stand up. Giggling, you curl up against his side listening as his heart rate evens out to a steady rhythm. You can't be bothered to care that his skin is tacky with a light sheen of sweat.

You lay against Jungkook for a few minutes as he basks in the afterglow of a powerful orgasm. He pulls you tighter against him, tipping his head down to kiss you for a blow job-well-done. Tasting the residual flavor of his cum, he groans against your mouth, enjoying your combined essences.

Jungkook rolls you onto your back, continuing to kiss you with fervor. The sound of lips and tongues clashing fill the room as the two of you enjoy the simple intimacy of being together. Reaching down, Jungkook spreads your legs apart to make room for him to lay comfortably between your thighs.

“W-what,” you’re breathless as his lips leave your mouth and travel down your jaw.

“Mmm,” he mumbles against your skin. “It’s your turn now.” He nibbles along your sensitive neck, goosebumps rising with his light touch.

You run your fingertips up and down his back, scratching along the peaks and valleys of his spine. Leaning his weight into one arm, he uses the other to push up the hem of your shirt, ghosting a hand under to cup a breast. He palms greedily at the flesh as he continues to kiss you passionately.

“I wanna see you,” says Jungkook. “Can I take this off?” he gestures at his cut-off tank you’re still wearing.

Criss crossing your arms and pulling up by its hem, you bare your chest to Jungkook’s eager eyes. His gaze drops down to admire the bouncing of your tits as you wiggle out of your top. Propping up on his elbows, he ducks his head to capture a nipple between his petal soft lips, coaxing it into a stiff peak with gentle suction and the lapping of his tongue. When your back arches in pleasure and you clutch his head to you, Jungkook takes the opportunity to slide his arms under you to hold you securely to his mouth as he worships at the altar of your breasts.

“Baby, yes, you’re so good to me” you pant, feeling your arousal generously leak from your core.

Eyes closed and relishing in the sensation, you whimper, sending one hand to grip his long, dark locks and feeling the prickle of his freshly trimmed undercut. With a hand in his mane, you feel him unlatch from your tight bud to plant wet open mouthed kisses around your areola and across your chest. He stops over your heart, lips lingering to feel the rapid thumping rattle your sternum.

Generous with his attention, he moves to nip and suck around your neglected breast. He slurps your nipple into his eager mouth, tongue swirling to tease it to a hard peak. Jungkook's diligent stimulation of your breasts sends sparks of pleasure down to your cunt as he continues to lap at your pebbled beds.

“More, please,” you whine, bucking your hips upwards, hoping to encourage him to touch you where you need it most.

Hearing you beg so prettily for him slowly coaxes life back into his spent cock. He feels himself begin to swell again against your thigh. Pleasuring you has always been incredibly arousing for him, and he knows with a several more minutes of rest, he’ll be ready to fuck you senseless.

Pulling an arm out from under your torso, Jungkook leans his weight onto one elbow and sends his free hand down between your legs to the treasure between your thighs. His lips pursed around your nipple continues to suckle and tease you into a frenzy.

The room fills with sounds of your mewling and his blunted goans as he plays the familiar song of your body. His hands brush against the soft black lace as he spreads your legs, positioning you to his liking.

“So wet,” Jungkook acknowledges with a quirk of his lips, fingers swiping along your slit to feel for your arousal. Bringing those fingers towards his mouth, he sucks your essence from his fingertips, savoring your taste. Jungkook switches nipples again and his fingers, now slickened with his saliva, return to the warmth of your pussy.

You gasp when you feel him caress at your opening before sinking a lone finger into your tight, wet heat. Jungkook can’t help but grunt as he feels your walls clench around him, excited to feel it around his growing erection.

“It’s all for you baby,” you praise him, carding your fingers through his fringe and pushing his hair back to get a better view of him suckling at your breast. Your breath hitches when you feel him add a second finger, stretching you open with his long, tattooed digits and curling them against your g-spot.

“Mmm yes- ahh. Fuck me with them,” you plead. Lacking the power to drive you towards an orgasm, he teases you with sensual strokes until your cunt drips down your ass and his fingers come out sparkling with your arousal. Completely at his mercy, you feel Jungkook slow down further. Brat.

You’re writhing beneath him as he continues his personal brand of slow, pleasurable torture. His lips release your tender nipple and return to your open mouth attempting to swallow your moans.

“Fuck me harder, please, I need it harder.” you beg, hoping to convince him to finger you to completion. Despite your request, Jungkook stops thrusting completely, opting to curl his fingers and rubbing softly against your g-spot while grinding the heel of his palm just off center from your pulsing clit. Your eyes are closed, but you can feel his gaze on your visage committing your whining and fucked out expression to memory. You’re being uncharacteristically pliant for him tonight- a change that he is very much enjoying. He files it under ‘spank bank material’ for when Beyond ultimately goes back on tour.

“Please, baby, make me cum. I’m so close.” you try one last time. You’re panting and desperate for release.

“You’re not cumming tonight unless it’s on my cock,” he grits out. His fingers stay hooked inside you, caressing at your sensitive front wall. Jungkook’s mouth returns to suckling at your pebbled bud and he slowly fucks you open with his fingers. Your cunt quivers and leaks with your arousal, but without the thrusting or clitoral stimulation, you won’t be cumming anytime soon.

“But how-” you glance down, not expecting his nearly fully erect cock. Pleasuring you had sparked his arousal again, the sounds of your approval and sight of your wet pussy glistening with desire has encouraged him back towards full mast. Licking your lips at his growing girth, you push his hand from your core to collect some of your personal lubricant. You wrap your slicked up fingers around his length jacking him to his full potential.

“Uunffff- ok, ok. Hold on,” he says, reaching out into your bedside table for lube. You hear Jungkook uncap the small bottle and are eager to feel him deep inside you. Quickly flipping onto your front, you prop yourself on your elbows and knees, presenting your husband with your sloppy, swollen cunt- a soundless request imploring him to fuck you from behind.

“I want to feel you deep,” you reason and unable to resist you, Jungkook agrees. Eyes glued to the way your crotchless panties have dampened with your cream, he spreads a generous glob of lube up and down his cock. He wipes the remainder against your labia and rubs some onto your clit making you mewl out for him. He wipes off the residue on your sheets. You’ll have to wash that later.

Taking a moment to admire his view, his hands caress over your hips and ass. “Are you ready?” Jungkook asks, always so considerate of your needs.

You nod and delirious with lust, you reach between your legs for him, sliding his bulbous tip up and down your slit before pushing your hips back to take him into your awaiting passage. Jungkook descends down creating a canopy with his body, sheltering you with the physical representation of his love. Jungkook’s hands find yours, lacing his calloused palms to the backs of your hands, fingers interlocking. With light pressure, he encourages you to lay your front down onto the bed. He nudges your knees further apart, propping you ass high in the air.

Positioned to his liking, he takes his first stroke into your eager cunt. Despite his diligent fingering, the fit is still tight, and you feel the initial pinch as he breaches you. You both release matching moans upon your coupling, and you already know you won’t last long after enduring Jungkook's extensive foreplay. He sets a slow pace plunging deep into your velvet heat.

“Harder, Kook, I’m already so close.” you puff into the sheets, turning your head as far as possible to watch your lover as he takes you from behind. “Please,” you rasp.

No longer denying your release, Jungkook thrusts faster, snapping his hips powerfully with the intent of getting you off. His cock hammers into you and you’re helpless underneath him to do anything but take it. He can already feel you tightening around him deliciously and lets go of one hand to reach down between your legs. With two fingers, Jungkook rubs tight circles around your clit while he continues to drill into your cunt which is just what you need to finally cum.

“Oh, fuck! Ah- ah-ah, Jungkook!” you chant. Your hands furiously grip the sheets trying to hold onto something to ground you as your high threatens to pull you under. Legs quaking and pussy fluttering around him, your walls contract rhythmically around his turgid length as he continues to rigorously fuck you through your orgasm.

Jungkook whines at the sensations gripping his cock, but pulls out of your spent heat to spare you from the sting of overstimulation. Any other night, he may have considered fucking you into a second orgasm, but tonight feels different. Tonight, he wants to make ardent love to you.

Without Jungkook’s strong frame to hold you up, you crumble limp against the bed. Your ears ring with the aftermath of a good round of fucking. It takes a second to register that he is speaking.

“Can you take more?” he asks. Confused, you look down and see that he’s still painfully hard. Oh. His erection is glossy with your juices, shining as it bobs between his well-muscled thighs.

“Fuck- yes,” you quickly consent to him.

Jungkook swiftly rolls you onto your back again and sits up on his knees between your spread thighs. “I love you in these, but I want to see all of you,” he rasps, tugging at your ruined panties and pulling them off while his eyes stay glued on your saturated folds. Climbing back up your body, he spreads your legs wider and leans forward bringing his cock to your core. You look down to watch him steadily thrust his length against your slit, bumping against your clit on the upstrokes.

Wanting to draw out his teasing, he grips his slickened base and slaps his dick against your slippery folds. Each wet smack sends waves of electric pleasure through your system as Jungkook works you back up. “Just fuck me, baby. I’m ready.” you insist. Your gaze trails up, meeting his heated stare.

“I want you to keep your eyes on me when I make love to you,” he says, voice dropping an octave. When you nod in understanding, he catches his tip against your entrance and pushes back into your ripe, warm cunt. Your legs immediately wrap around his trim waist pulling him closer and encouraging him to brace the weight of his upper body on his hands. Your ankles interlock against the base of his spine to bring him deeper.

Jungkook starts with long, slow strokes, pulling nearly all the way out of you before feeding his cock back into your sopping pussy. Going slow enough for you to feel every ridge of his throbbing length, he impales you over and over.

Your back arches in pleasure and you have to fight to keep your eyes open for him. Wanting him closer, you greedily reach your hands up to pull him down closer to you, forcing him to drop to his elbows as he continues to give it to you slow and deep.

Jungkook braces on his forearms and cradles your head. He tilts your chin up to align with his intense gaze as he continues to plow into you. Brow furrowed and eyes locked, your husband watches your dazed and needy expressions while his body and mind make love to yours.

He’s always so good to you. Devoted and adoring. You’re suddenly struck with the reminder that this beautiful man is yours. Always has been. Always will be. And tonight is a good time to remind Jungkook how deeply you love him. A fear of commitment used to hold you back, but he peeled back your layers and showed you that love didn’t have to hurt. You haven’t been afraid since. Jungkook has the whole of your heart.

“How did I get so lucky?” you say, reaching up to caress his jaw as he continues to thrust into your depths. “I’m sorry I lost sight of us,” you stutter trying to sound coherent as your husband diligently sinks his thickness into you again and again. “I never meant for you to feel-”

“- I know. And I’m sorry I didn’t communicate better, I just- I’m working on it,” Jungkook cuts you off. He knows this is a two way street.

“We don’t have to try anymore if you aren’t ready. Pull out and I’ll suck you off again” you offer. If Jungkook isn’t 100% in, you aren’t either.

“No, I want it. I’m ready for our love to create something beautiful and for everything that comes after that.”

You moan, eyes closing briefly, as Jungkook begins to pick up the pace. The increase in friction against your walls is quickly bringing you towards the edge again. An unexpectedly fierce pump of his hips has you gasping in delight.

“I said-,” Jungkook grunts with another sharp thrust, “-eyes on me, baby.” You pry your eyes open, surprised by his display of dominance and try not to squeal.

Jungkook reaches one hand down to tilt your pelvis back further and you lock your legs up higher on his frame allowing him to shove a pillow under your ass. The new position brings your clit directly under his pubic bone. When he slams back down to stuff you full, he grinds deliciously against you, making you nearly scream out in ecstasy.

“I love you,” you whisper in earnest. “I love you so much,” you moan as Jungkook begins to pound you into the sheets. You’re both quickly unraveling, approaching another high, bodies tingling with impending release. When your thighs begin shaking around him for the second time tonight, he picks up the pace filling the room with a symphony of your euphoria.

Breaking your eye contact briefly, Jungkook looks down at the juncture of your connection and is enthralled by the visual- his cock coming out foamy with your cream and slamming back into your weeping pussy. Groaning, he suddenly feels the sharp sting of your nails raking down his back as you’re overcome with pleasure.

“Come on, babe. Cum on my fucking cock,” Jungkook grunts, urging you towards completion. With your hips canted deliciously, he continues to ram directly against your g-spot.

“Oh fuck, it’s so good. I’m so close,” you babble, feeling Jungkook push deeper against you to stimulate your pulsing clit. Hands clutching your husband and thighs trembling, your eyes slip closed as you finally succumb to his endeavors. You cum with a silent scream, head tilted back and throat exposed as your walls spasm uncontrollably. The wild contracting of your pussy squeezing his cock triggers Jungkook’s own release. His length throbs desperately within your walls as you coax him towards his end.

“Ahh, I- I’m holy shit- I’m cumming, too” Jungkook whines as he climaxes with breathy whimpers, exploding as he fills you with streams of his ejaculate. He thrusts as deep as he can get while his length continues to spurt inside you, shallowly rutting to ride out his high.

Panting, he collapses his weight into your waiting arms. “Oof,” you grunt as you feel your husband’s sweaty and spent body pin you against the bed. You let him rest against you for a while, content to feel the warm fullness of his cock and spunk nestled deep inside you.

“Can I stay inside?” he asks shyly. “I just wanna hold you.” You smile and Jungkook holds you close and carefully rolls under you so you can comfortably lay against him. With his arms wound around your waist and your thighs spread wide with his dick sheathed inside you, he ensures maximal skin contact.

Seeing his blissed out face, you giggle as the two of you revel in your post-coital afterglow. His spent length slowly softens letting some of his cum leak from your used hole onto him and the sheets below. You’re definitely going to have to wash these.

Your fingers find their way into his hair, scratching along his scalp and pushing back his long locks to expose the sexy undercut hiding beneath. Jungkook’s eyes are still closed, but he still leans his face forward knowing you’ll meet his lips with your own. The two of you make out for a little longer, savoring the intimacy shared in your little bubble.

Jungkook clings to you, preening at your gentle caress and basking in his favorite form of aftercare. Your cunt is runny with lube and your combined releases, but you’re too content to lay with Jungkook in your arms to clean up just yet. You lie wrapped around each other for a few more minutes, mindlessly kissing at his face and neck, whispering praises for his performance.

It’s quiet for a long moment, and assuming he must have fallen asleep as he tends to do after a vigorous round of love making, you attempt to unwind your limbs from his. Grumbling, he tightens his hold around you, preventing you from getting far.

“Jungkook,” you warn with a laugh, “I have to get cleaned up.”

“Mmm not yet, hold me a little longer” he requests as he burrows deeper in your embrace.

Sighing, you relent, slowly dozing off with your husband in your arms.

_______________________________________________

When you wake, you find that you've shifted in your slumber. Jungkook's chest is plastered to your back and he has an arm slung over your waist with a hand curled around one of your tits. The mess between your legs has dried making you cringe when you move to get up. Leaving Jungkook who is slowly stirring, you go to the bathroom to shower.

You step under the spray and let the warm water relax you while you clean off the sweat and unholy mix of bodily fluids from between your thighs. You hum along to the new Beyond the Scene single and sing some of the chorus that you can remember. You exit the shower, wrapping a towel securely around you and return to rouse your sleeping husband.

You find that Jungkook is already awake and sitting against the headboard. “You know, I hope our kid doesn’t inherit your singing voice,” Jungkook cackles, cutting through the silence.

"Why you-," you gasp, tackling him down into the sheets and laughing along with him. You pin him down and pinch at his nipple in retaliation. It’s not long before he’s pulling the towel from your body and rolling you under him to latch his mouth to your cunt. Before the night is over, he delivers another two orgasms and a fresh load. After all, practice makes perfect.

#Jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fic #jjk x reader #drummer jungkook au #husband au

973 notes · View notes

absolutepokemontrash · 3 years

Text

MC’s half Demon, and they look AWFULLY familiar...

‘Kay guys, I got a different kind of stupid Headcanon to throw at you. Get ready!

Part 2 Lessons 1-5 Part 2.5 Group Retreat Lessons 10-12 Lessons 13-15 Part 3 Part 4

*ahem* picture if you will, it’s the day the exchange program is set to start. The student council (nix Mr. Kill All Humans, Weeb-supreme, and our Scummy Sweetheart) have assembled to welcome the new human student. All is going according to schedule, the portal opens up at eight am sharp, they hear the pitiful screams of the selected human who was not given a heads up about the whole thing, and the poor little human falls straight onto the marble floor.

There’s something a tad... off about this human don’t you think? After they’ve peeled their sorry ass off the floor they observed the assembled student council with an air of sophistication and self importance that no one expected. Their posture was perfect, their eyes sharp and calculating... they bared a striking resemblance to-

“Lucifer,” Diavolo looked to his right hand man, then back to the human. “The human kind of looks like you!”

And out popped four pitch black wings from the human’s back and two small horns out of the sides of their head, one horn was a bit bigger than the other. They even still had some of their down feathers! How cute!

((Content warning: Swearing (I have a potty mouth, forgive me), but that’s it.))

Luci-dad

So, the MC is Lucifer’s kid! Of course Mr. Prideypants immediately tries to recall exactly what little romp in the human world uh... spawned this half-human half-demon child of his. Good thing MC’s got the other parent on speed-dial.

“Please note, MC,” Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose upon hearing Asmo take even more pictures of his newly discovered hellspawn. “I was not aware of your existence, if I was I’d-”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not upset.”

Lucifer blinked a few times in surprise. “P...pardon? You aren’t upset?”

“No, my parent told me that my father was a high ranking demon, and they bare no ill will against you. Though, I am looking forward to this whole... exchange program thing.”

Oh wow, that was easier than Lucifer thought. Damn. Well, he was a father... (let’s be real, he’s been parenting his brothers for thousands of years, and a good chunk of you sinners call him daddy)

MC is probably the most protected student at RAD, despite the fact that they have no visible security detail whatsoever. They didn’t want to be seen as... weak and pathetic.

Something about this human just... set the lesser demons on edge. Any talk of eating them was stamped out on the first day when they walked by. It’s like Lucifer himself was staring at them, daring the demons to try and bother the human. MC’s powerful presence kept them protected and feared.

...at least until dear uncle Asmo decided to do their hair one morning. All those ribbons may have looked adorable but they kind of ruined the intimidation factor.

MC loved to mess with the other students, keeping their lineage a secret for the first little while just made it so much funnier when the other demons tried to scramble out of MC’s way without looking like they were running from the ‘weak little human exchange student’.

Oh wow, what a sadist. Like father like child

Flying lessons are a must. Poor MC isn’t terribly good at controlling their wings, and their horns are still growing in so when they pop into their demon form the first thing they get is a sore skull. Ow... it sucks that Lucifer isn’t outwardly very sympathetic.

“Ow!” MC crashed face first into the grass in the backyard of the House of Lamentation. “Father! My wings are cramping! Can’t we practice this tomorrow?”

The sight of seeing his dear child crash face first into the ground had lost its hilarity after the first three times. Lucifer slowly lowered himself to the ground and crossed his arms as he stood over his incredibly grass-stained kid.

“MC, we’ve been ‘practicing this tomorrow’ for the past month. If you want to learn to fly you’re going to have to actually manage to stay in the air for more than three minutes.”

MC shot Lucifer a withering glare that only preteens were capable of, Lucifer matched it with his own much more sophisticated glare.

“You’ve been flying for over a thousand years! Don’t you have any tips that can actually help other than ‘don’t panic, you’ll look ridiculous’?”

Lucifer dragged a gloved hand down his face and looked around, the two were alone as far as he could see.

“MC,” Lucifer began. “When I was a young angel, I needed to learn how to fly with someone else.”

MC perked up. “Who?”

“Michael. The smug bastard picked up flying quicker than I did.”

“What’d you do?!”

Lucifer smiled at his child’s intense investment. “I practiced flying every day for five extra hours until I could do everything that Michael could do, just better.”

MC’s starry eyed interest died almost instantly upon hearing about the extra five hours of practice. “Humph, I bet I could outfly younger you and Michael with only two hours of practice a day.”

“Really now?”

“Yes! Watch!” MC shook off their wings and took off in a running start before shakily making it into the air. Their form was decent enough, and they weren’t shaking as much as the previous attempts. “SEE?!”

“Yes MC,” Lucifer smiled. “I can see.”

You know what else Lucifer could see? MC crashing right into a tree.

“Ouch...”

Okay... maybe they could halt practice a little early and order a treat from Madame Scream’s. A little sugar to refuel is needed when the end goal is crushing a mutual rival beneath their heels. Just some good old fashioned father/child bonding time!

MC has a smaller seat right next to Lucifer’s seat in the Assembly Hall. I will not compromise on this one.

For all your fluff needs, I give you: Lucifer teaching MC how to play the piano. He has a proud little smile on his face when his kid finally starts getting it. That’s all. Enjoy the image.

That one Uncle who gives you Alcohol at Family Gatherings (Mammon)

Yeah, when Mammon burst in late to the party and whining about everyone’s spamming him with texts to haul his scummy ass to the Assembly Hall, the last thing he expected was to see a mini-Lucifer.

“What the fuck am I lookin’ at?!”

The glare the two Lucifers gave the poor Avatar of Greed was enough to make him want to turn tail (uh, wing) and book it down the hall.

“Mammon, this is MC. They’re my child.”

“Hello.”

“...whaaaa..?” Mammon looked between the two, same glare, same intimidating aura, same annoyingly good posture.

Mammon scratched the back of his neck and looked over at his older brother. “Do I uh... still gotta babysit em’ if they’re not human?”

“The lake of Cocytus will melt the day I let you babysit without supervision.” Lucifer grumbled.

“I don’t need a babysitter!”

Despite Lucifer’s initial denial, Mammon and MC ended up spending a lot of time hanging out when Lucifer was busy with paperwork. Of course Mammon’s first thought was ‘how do I profit off this situation?’

MC is now Mammon’s designated babysitter after they caught him picking up their feathers that had fallen off with the intention of painting them white and claiming they were Lucifer’s from back in the Celestial Realm.

Mammon does end up spoiling MC a little. Just a smidge. They’re the kid of his totally not his favourite brother after all! How could he not? Whether or not these gifts are obtained legally or are legal at all is subject to scrutiny.

“Mammon, I can’t drink this!” MC placed the bottle of Demonus back on the counter of the kitchen.

“Why not? That’s a bottle of the good stuff! We gotta celebrate you gettin’ an A on that test somehow!”

“I’m underage! Incredibly underage. I’m not legally allowed to drink.”

Mammon wordlessly plopped a silly straw into the bottle. “...does that help?”

“No.” MC then inclined their head to the bottle. “And I don’t want to get hung from the ceiling, that bottle was in my father’s study yesterday, I’m above theft.”

“How old are you s’posed to be anyway? Never mind... uh...” Mammon wracked his brain for something else he could do for MC that didn’t cost anything (don’t judge him, the poor bastard was flat broke!). “I could... teach you to drive!”

“Driving?”

“Yeah! Drivin’ is awesome! We can take my car!”

The bills for the damages done to the car and the Devildom were mailed to Lucifer the next day, and MC and Mammon got to keep each other company as they hung from the ceiling. Ah well! At least MC wasn’t upside down!

Mammon wasn’t that good of a flight teacher either, he also crashed into a tree (the same tree MC crashed into, actually) when he was cheering for MC. They were finally able to do a loopdy loop! He was proud and distracted! Okay?! Lucifer! Stop smirkin’ at him! It’s not that funny!

At least the vantage point from the tree was decent and the branches didn’t scratch him up too badly. Oh hey... that person walking by was wearing a very nice watch... he’d be right back-

That Uncle That is Always Absent From Family Gatherings and When He is Present He Leaves Early (Levi)

He missed everything. That is not an exaggeration. He was in the middle of an online raid battle and couldn’t look at his phone! No Lucifer he can’t pause an online game! That’s not how it works!

Okay, the human exchange student is half demon? WOAH! THAT’S JUST LIKE THAT ONE ANIME- W A I T. THE LITTLE NORMIE IS LUCIFER’S KID?!

Okie doke, he was fully convinced that MC just had to be an anime protagonist.

They binged every series that Levi compared them to. Sure MC might have missed a few assignments because of late night anime binges, but they were too good for this school crap anyway, right?

Nope. Lucifer put a ban on the two watching anime until both their grades improved. Surviving that hell brought the two together.

“Ugh!”

The sound of a pencil case being haphazardly thrown across the room made Levi peek out of his bed-tub. If his figurines got knocked over so HELP HIM-

“This is stupid!!I shouldn’t have to catch up with this!” MC crossed their arms and gave their Demonology textbook their best disapproving glare.

Lucifer Lite (tm) was having a hell of a time trying to claw through their missed work, and Levi sympathized, he really did, it’s just... he was playing Animal Crossing-

Levi paused the game to placate his anime-buddy when their wings popped out and he feared for his rare merch’s safety.

“H-hey, MC? Do you need help?” Levi’s offer was met with a bone chilling glare that lived rent free in his nightmares ever since. He had pulled a Mammon and forgotten he was talking to Lucifer’s child. Lucifer’s allergy to help must have passed down to MC.

“No! I don’t! It’s just... dumb!” MC hissed, she turned and looked over at the fish tank. “Right Henry 2.0?”

Henry 2.0 did not respond.

“MC, you need to finish your homework or we can’t watch anything together,” Levi sighed, he had finished his work over an hour earlier. He had mastered the art of all night anime binges and managing to do most of his work in the fifteen minutes between the time he woke up and the time school was supposed to begin. “We haven’t even binged all of volume 4 of TSL yet!”

“Mmm...” MC grumbled. “Fine...”

MC picked up their pencil case and began continued their work. Levi breathed a sigh of relief and went back to Animal Crossing.

The tiny normie did in fact finish their work, only after they caved and asked Levi for help. Swore him to secrecy, they did... very intimidating, they were.

Just saying, he most definitely sent that one Keanu Reeves meme with big Keanu and little Keanu but with Lucifer and MC to the wrong group chat. Poor bastard.

Flying lessons? No. Levi hadn’t flown since his time in the Celestial Realm, he had no advice to give other than: “Flap your wings!”

“THAT’S WHAT I’M DOING YOU-”

MC didn’t get to finish that thought, they lost their balance and fell right into RAD’s fountain. Ah well, Levi had a head start on running for his life that he squandered by laughing at MC. RIP.

The Uncle/brother/whatever the fuck that Starts a Fight With Your Dad at the Family Reunion. (Satan)

Oh... another Lucifer? Eugh. Gross.

Satan gave the kid a wide berth when they first met. Everything the kid said or did ticked him off. “Tsk. Look at MC. Making an omelette. So annoying.” “Oh wow, MC vacuumed? Roll out the red carpet, we need to celebrate their existence!” “Look at them. Breathing. Disgusting.”

MC’s pride wouldn’t ever let them admit it but... they knew Satan didn’t like them, and it hurt their feelings.

“Shhhh,” Satan whispered into his backpack.

“Meow.” The backpack replied.

“I said shhhhh.”

The backpack did not reply after that, which was a good thing considering the little princet of the HOL was nearby.

“Satan?” They asked. “Who are you talking to?”

Satan coldly brushed past them as he made his way to his room. “No one you need to concern yourself with.”

When the little calico kitten was safe in his room, Satan quickly realized a mistake in his foolproof ‘sneak a cat into the house’ plan. He didn’t have any toys for the kitten, and he didn’t want his books getting scratched...

It was alright, he’d just rush out to the a store that sold cat things and rush back! Five minute trip tops!

Well when Satan got back the cat was no longer in the room. Oh dear. He discreetly tore apart the house looking for the poor little thing until he ended up finding it in the library, happily chasing around a loose feather being held up by MC.

“Oh, hello Satan.” MC chirped as the kitten batted it’s adorable little paws at the feather.

“My... my door was closed. Did you let the cat out?”

MC shrugged. “I heard meowing.”

Satan ran a hand through his hair and grumbled. Stupid smaller Lucifer. Stupid original Lucifer. Everyone sucked.

“Let me guess, you’re going to run to Lucifer and tell him all about the meowing and the rule breaking.”

MC shook their head and glared at Satan. “Of course not. I’ve already gotten way too attached to this little guy anyway. We’re co-parenting this kitten like mature adults.”

With some coaxing, Satan did sit down and play with the kitten, maybe MC wasn’t... so terrible.

The two watch Unsolved Mysteries together, that’s their show. “This guy did it.” “Satan, we’re two minutes into the episode-” “Trust me.”

Thirty minutes later.

“He did it.” “See MC, what’d I tell you?”

Lucifer did find out about the cat, but with enough pleading, MC and Satan managed to warm up the cold spot in Lucifer’s chest where his heart should have been. The cat’s name is Detective Toe Beans (or just Bean).

Satan can’t fly, he has a tail, but he did read up on wing anatomy and how flight actually works in demons, his advice would be good in theory, but it’s full of so much technical jargon that MC can’t understand it.

At least MC didn’t crash into something, they barrel rolled through one of the HOL’s windows. Good thing it was the window to their room. The broken arm still hurt like hell.

The Best Dressed Bitch Who Brings The Booze to The Reunion. (Asmo)

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Lucifer’s kid was SO CUTE! A thousand pictures commemorating that adorable moment needed to be taken! Wait- Lucifer- GIVE BACK THE PHONE-

Asmo, surprise surprise, absolutely adores little MC! So cute! So small! He was just so excited to announce to all his Devilgram followers that Lucifer was finally a certified DILF.

That post disappeared five minutes after it was made but the damage had already been done.

Asmo made sure MC looked their best at all times, if they needed help talking to anyone? Asmo’s got their back!

Sure, maybe he’s a little pushy, but pushy’s a good thing sometimes, right?

“Asmodeus-”

“No, these shoes wouldn’t fit you...”

“Asmo-”

“No, not these ones either...”

“ASMODEUS.”

Asmo squeaked and jumped upwards, Geez Louise... little MC’s voice could sure be scary when they wanted it to be...

“I don’t need any fancy new shoes.” MC huffed, sitting up straighter in one of the chairs in Asmo’s room. “I thought this was supposed to be a sleepover.”

“Hmmm...” Asmo pouted. “Makeovers are an essential part of sleepovers... what’d you do with your human friends up in the human world that could possibly be better than a make-over?!”

MC began to list things off. “Ordered junk food, talked about people we hated, watched movies,”

“Greasy food is so bad for your skin...” Asmo cringed and shook his head violently. “But I’m totally down to watch a movie and bitch about people I hate!”

“Ah yes, human sleepovers, a tradition I never quite had the chance to enjoy.” Solomon said from Asmo’s bed. “Who are we bitching about?”

“Remind me what Solomon is doing here.” MC muttered as they sat down in front of Asmo’s TV.

“Because, I wanted to hang out with my two favourite humans.” Asmo cooed, reaching over and trying to pinch MC’s cheek, which they awkwardly dodged.

“Can we watch The Exorcist?” Solomon asked, propping his head up with his hands.

“Ew, no.” Asmo made a face at him. “That scene with the vomit? Hell NO.”

“Mm.” MC mumbled. Asmo turned to look at them.

“MC? Are you doing okay? You don’t look like you’re having any fun...”

“I’m fine.” MC grumbled.

Asmo pursed his lips, as much as it made his little narcissistic heart break, he nudged MC. “Why don’t you pick the movie, sweetie. I’m sure Solomon and I will like anything you pick!”

MC noticeably brightened. “Let’s watch Scream!”

The strangled noise that came from Asmo was... concerning, but to his credit, The Avatar of Lust held his tongue about his distaste for the movie, and the three slumber-party goers had quite the lovely time.

After the movie ended, MC went back to their room, sure it was a sleepover but their bed was right down the hall.

Good for Asmo and Solomon. Horny fuckers. We stan.

Asmo just claps and tries to cheer MC on when it comes to their flying lessons. (The idea that Asmo came up with to wear his cheerleader costume from the previous Halloween was immediately shot down by Lucifer)

“You’re doing wonderful, MC- WATCH OUT FOR THE POWER LINE!”

MC didn’t hit the power line, but Asmo’s scream of terror caused them to fall butt-first into a dumpster. Their injured tailbone served as a tragic memory of the incident.

Oh well, good thing Asmo had nice smelling soap to give that could mask dumpster-stink.

The Uncle that eats everything and tells you to eat your veggies while you angrily pick at your broccoli at the kid’s table. (Beel)

Lucifer... has a kid?! Beel choked on the cheetos he had snuck into the Assembly Hall when the kid’s wings popped out.

Oh wow, that’s nice :) maybe they can eat together. Belphie would probably like them.

Wait what is the gender neutral term for Niece or Nephew?

...Nibling? Uh... let’s not say that around Beel. We don’t need him to get hungrier and begin associating MC with nibbling on things.

The Underground Tomb incident probably went a little differently, but after all that nonsense, the two are closer than two peas in a pod!

Mmm... peas...

“Beel?” MC stepped into the Avatar of Gluttony’s room.

“Hi MC.” Beel was doing push-ups in the middle of the room, on the ground right beneath his head was a massive bowl of spaghetti that he bit into every time he completed a push-up. “Can you come stand on my back? I need the extra weight.”

“On your back?” MC padded closer. “Are you sure? It’s not going to hurt?”

“No, it’ll be okay.” Beel assured them. “Belphie and I did this all the time. Except Belphie is normally asleep.”

MC tentatively stepped onto Beel’s back. It was a balancing act to say the least, they eventually gave up on standing and ended up sitting cross legged between Beel’s shoulder blades.

“You did this with Belphegor?” MC asked.

“Yeah,” Beel sighed. “He was always too tired to exercise, but he’d let me bench press him sometimes...”

MC frowned and hugged their knees to their chest. Knowing full well that Beel’s twin wasn’t in the human world like Lucifer said was absolutely ripping them apart from the inside. Guilt felt just as rotten as their pride did when they were being belittled...

“Maybe you’ll see him again sometime soon.” MC whispered. “Maybe my father’ll come to his senses and let him come back down to the Devildom.”

Beel paused his push-ups for a brief moment, then nodded and went back to his eating exercising combo. “I hope so. He’ll like you, MC. I’m sure of it.”

MC nodded. “I... hope so.”

Beel’s a pretty decent flight teacher, but his wings are just so different from MC’s that it renders any tips he had next to useless.

“MC, maybe your wings aren’t flapping fast enough.”

“Beel, I appreciate the thought, but I’m not a hummingbird. Or a fly. I don’t need to flap my wings a million times a minute to stay afloat.”

Ah well, MC tried to take some of Beel’s advice, but their lower right wing cramped up and they ended up flying in circles until Beel was able to catch them. Ah well, better than the dumpster incident the previous week.

The Uncle That Passes Out in The Basement and You’re Not Allowed to Wake Him Up Even Though All Your Toys and Video Games Are Down There. He Also Picks a Fight With Your Dad’s New S/O Before He Passes Out. (Belphie)

Sitting in the attic was quite a drag, and this supposedly weak little human was quite the annoyance to try and call out to. It took a lot longer than expected, but when he heard little footsteps coming towards his prison, Belphegor nearly jumped with joy.

Oh... it... looked like Lucifer. Smelled like Lucifer. Stood like Lucifer. Quacked like Lucifer. Or... trilled..? Whatever sound a peacock made, this brat sounded an awful lot like Lucifer.

A... half-demon. Hmph. Belphie honestly thought Lucifer had actual standards. Not anymore, he guessed.

(Man I could fill a whole-ass fic with the Belphie betrayal thing, but for now let’s skip to post attic nonsense)

Okay so maybe MC wasn’t disgusting. They made a good nap buddy. It was cute when their wings came out when they were sleeping sometimes. Well... it was cute when they didn’t hit him in the face and make him wake up with his mouth full of feathers.

What Beel said had been true, Belphie made a good substitute when weights weren’t available, but Beel didn’t want MC to feel left out, so Belphie and MC ended up sitting on his back while he did push ups. MC once got bored and started playing Go Fish with Belphie on Beel’s back while he exercised.

Yes. MC is still a member of the Formerly-Anti-Lucifer League.

“Are you sure he’s not going to be too mad at us?” MC asked for the dozenth time that day. Detective Toe Beans was wrapped around their neck like a scarf (he had gotten so big!!!) while MC nervously sat in one of the Library chairs.

“Positive.” Belphie said with a toothy grin. “Besides, he’s like putty when it comes to you. Just give him your best puppy eyes and we’re not guilty on all charges.”

Putty..? Really..? Lucifer..? How strict was he before MC got there... they wondered.

“Sh! He’s coming!” Satan stuck his nose into a random book, it was the Oxford English Dictionary... and it was upside down.

Belphie pretended to pass out and MC decided that the best course of action was to stare deeply into their cat’s eyes. Yeah... that looked casual and not weird.

“Satan, MC, Belphie.” Lucifer nodded to the three of them as he walked towards the entrance to his study.

“Lucifer.”

“Afternoon, father.”

Belphie let out a cartoonishly loud fake snore that nearly caused both MC and Satan to break cover and start laughing.

Side note, Bean had adorable widdle eyes! That cute little face was just to die for-

“You three..!”

Belphie, Satan, and MC peeked their heads into Lucifer’s study, their handiwork was perfect. Everything was covered in red post it notes. Perfectly not harmful, but SO inconvenient!

“You’re all cleaning this up or so help me-”

“GO!” Belphie and Satan each grabbed one of MC’s arms (Satan also grabbed Bean) and sprinted out of the House of Lamentation. Maybe they’d move back there in twenty years... they hoped that Solomon and The Angels would let them crash at Purgatory Hall...

Belphie had used up his physical energy supply for the next four years. He passed out the moment they stepped into sanctuary. Time for a nap...

Flight practice? Ha. Belphie’s napping. Though, he was suspiciously awake and filming whenever MC did something stupid.

“Try not to suck so bad.”

“GO TO HELL BELPHIE!”

“I’m already there. Hell is every second I’m stuck here watching you fail.”

“YOU’RE GOING TO GET IT FOR THAT!”

Well... MC mastered the dive bomb that day. Lucifer bought them a cake.

Bonus! Your Dad’s New Husband! That Has Managed to Somehow Make Everyone Hate Him Despite the Fact That He’s A Cinnamon Roll. (Diavolo)

A mini Lucifer? A mini Lucifer!

Diavolo dotes on MC like he’d dote on his own kid. MC wants a crown? They’re getting a crown! A damn nice one too! MC wants a title? Here! MC is now... idk Ruler of the area between Majolish and Hell’s Kitchen.

Poor Uncle Mammon’s got some financial insecurity, he’s still the cool uncle... right?!

He is very much that ‘how do you do fellow kids?’ Meme.

He tries to do stereotypical ‘dad’ things but he’s not very good at them. Once he tried to host a barbecue...

Barbatos saved the day, but Mammon’s hair was still singed, Solomon’s cooking still gave Beel food poisoning (SOLOMON EATS TOXIC WASTE I SWEAR-), Luke still got hit in the face with a frisbee, and Simeon got an unhealthy dose of DAD NERVES and got so stressed everyone was almost blinded by the holy light he suddenly started blasting. We do not mention the water guns.

(Seriously whose bright idea was it to give Belphie and Satan water guns while they were in Lucifer’s presence?)

Praise Barbie. He’s too good for them.

“Um...” MC awkwardly held up the baseball, trying to look at it from all angles like it was a completely alien object. “Lord Diavolo... are you sure you want to play catch?”

Diavolo clapped his hands and bounced on the balls of his feet. “Yes! It’s a thing human fathers do with their children, correct? We must make up for lost time between you and Lucifer, right?”

Lucifer massaged his temples and nodded. “If you two would like to play catch...” Lucifer grimaced. “I will too.”

“Okay! MC, throw the ball to Lucifer!” Diavolo instructed.

Lucifer half heartedly held up his baseball glove as MC tossed him the ball. He caught it, and looked over at Diavolo, who was applauding like he just witnessed the greatest feat in sports history.

“Okay! Throw it to me!” Diavolo waved his glove in the air, Lucifer rolled his eyes and smiled. He threw the ball at Diavolo with... a lot of force. Enough force to probably dent steel... Diavolo caught it like it was nothing.

MC suddenly feared for their safety.

“Okay MC, catch!”

Diavolo threw the ball with enough force to break the god damn sound barrier. Well, maybe that was an exaggeration, but the ball sailed way over MC’s head and crashed right through a window.

“Oh my...” Diavolo put a hand on his hip and surveyed the damage to the window. “This isn’t so bad, I believe in human world TV shows this happens quite often. Look! The glass broke in a perfect circle!”

“Yay... property damage...” MC murmured.

Lucifer sighed and pulled out his DDD. “I’ll phone someone to replace the win-”

“Lucifer no! Now according to human world customs we must,” Diavolo took a deep breath, rushed forward, grabbed both Lucifer and MC’s hands and started sprinting away from the Demon Lord’s Castle. “RUN FOR IT!”

“Di- Diavolo!” Lucifer gasped.

“Who are we running from?! That’s your castle!” MC squeaked.

“I don’t know! Just run! That’s what the human TV show says to do!”

Weirdly enough, Diavolo was the best flight instructor. MC’s ability to fly increased tenfold after Diavolo found out that MC was learning to fly.

“You’re doing amazing MC! That was a perfect turn!”

“Thanks Lord Diavolo, I’m surprised I haven’t crashed into anyone or fallen yet!”

“Well, I highly doubt you’ll be crashing into anyone anymore, your flying is practically perfect now!”

Mammon proceeded to fly past them holding what looked like Lucifer’s wallet.

“M-mammon?!”

“Oh... I wonder what he’s doing. Look, MC! It’s Lucifer! Hello Lucifer dea-”

Lucifer ended up colliding with the two of them and sending them all crashing to the floor.

That was the last time MC fell during flying practice.

(We currently have a Go Fund Me set up for Mammon to get the funds necessary to flee the Devildom after that incident. Please donate to save- oh shit hi Lucifer-)

950 notes · View notes

tamagochiie · 3 years

Text

when the rumbling came; erwin smith

pairing. Erwin Smith x Fem!reader

synopsis. You were tired of work, of people, and of life treating you poorly. You quickly came to the conclusion that if you were going to end your life, now would probably be a good time as any.

word count. 3.36k

tags + warnings. TRIGGER WARNING! depression, attempted to attempt suicide, reader being completely dead inside (metaphorically), modern!au, office!au (just a pinch), angst, comfort/fluff,

notes. I don’t romanticize depression or suicide. Writing is my way of coping and dealing with everything that’s going on right now; don’t worry, I’m okay, really I am. So, this one shot is more or less self indulgent. Please, if you you’re going through some hardships don’t hesitate to reach out for help. My inbox is also free, and I’m always willing to listen.

You had alway built yourself in a firm foundation made of rocks, that nothing could ever shake you and even if it did, you’d snap back like an elastic band. But very recently, very, very recently, you’ve been living on a faultline and for a while now there’d be tremors - nothing strong enough to shake you, though.

But your foundation soon turned into sand as the weeks came by and stress came to you in waves. The little tremors eventually turned into big ones. You found yourself swaying, crumbling, and now you were barely reaching the end of the week without falling to your knees and weeping, your pleas for mercy hung in the air, right in your face as if it were mocking you.

The home you had built for yourself had fallen into rubble and nothing could protect you.

Nothing could save you from all the wind and rain, and quite frankly, you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to be saved. Being saved meant continuing on, meant trudging through the fight and you had no more fight left in you.

So there you sat, on the very edge of the roof of your office building with your feet dangling. Night life in the city glimmered and glowed, completely ignorant to you suffering. But it looked nice and you found yourself thankful because at least life was kind enough to give you one last “good” view before you did the deed.

I’d just have to scoot and I’d be on my way to the pavement, you thought idly.

You weren’t even scared, and maybe that’s what scared you, that you were completely okay with ending it here. That you didn’t even bat an eye when the idea came into your head while you bought yourself a sandwich during your lunch break.

It kinda felt easy like solving 1+1.

So maybe it was your calmness that scared you. Maybe it's the fact that once you had made up your mind, you had been set as if you were picking out clothes for the next day kind of set.

You swung your feet, feeling yourself scooch closer to the edge and your heart didn’t even race - not even a flutter.

You craned your neck back to look at the sky, not a single star in sight. You heavily sighed and played with your hands while you teared up and eventually cried. All the burdens you carried, the responsibilities you shouldered, and the insecurities you kept close to your heart flooded out of you in one single, painstaking sob.

Your chest heaved and your voice cracked as you screamed into a void, knowing you’d never be heard over all the honking and clamouring from the city beneath you.

“I dunno who's listening,” You croak to the night, your throat dry from all the crying, “but if I’m not supposed to die tonight, can you give me a sign...or something? Like, send someone out here to do a handstand or something. If - If there’s like, any sliver of hope I have left or whatever...If I’m not supposed to end here, then just do that because I really dunno if I’m supposed to hang on anymore...”

You never prayed a single prayer in your life, maybe just once when you were wavering in your ability to attain such a fine job as this, or when both your parents fell ill and you were left alone to fend for yourself. But other than that, you more or less suffered silently, cried to yourself when you needed to, and pulled yourself out of trouble.

It was late into the night, so the prayer was already silly to begin with. Everyone had gone home and you made sure of it because you hid in the bathroom until the lights turned off and the floor of your office was completely silent.

And the more you thought about it, as you imagined yourself hiding in that bathroom like a dumbass, you felt your cheeks flush in embarrassment.

Well, it wasn’t like you were going to be alive to bear it into tomorrow morning anyway.

You flinched at the sudden sound of the fire exit creaking open, the metal scratching against the pavement. You turned your head and squinted at the shadows and the little light provided by the exit sign.

“Hello?” You called out to the shadows and flinched when you saw it move, heedlessly pulling yourself away from the edge as you leaned back to take a closer look.

You gasped lowly as a familiar, rather burly figure emerged from the darkness. It was your boss, Mr. Smith, who had his eyes widen in surprise, as if he was shocked to have actually found someone on the roof.

He narrowed his gaze on you and wore a tight lip as he studied you intently. He stayed near the fire exit, hand in the pocket of his clean cut slacks while the other hung by his side.

You had sworn everyone had gone home.

Not everyone, you supposed.

“Can I help you?” You asked through your sniffling, but Mr. Smith kept quiet; the silence grew to be quite awkward the longer he stood there.

After a few beats, he stepped forward, rolling up the sleeves of his button up shirt before he ran his fingers through his hair. A tremulous breath escaped his lips as he spun on the heels of his shoes, facing the wall.

You cocked your head, blinking owlishly at him. And in one, fluid motion, with little to no effort, he bent down to lean onto his hands and kicked his feet up to the air, leaning against the wall for support.

He did a handstand.

What?

You would be laughing if you weren’t in the state you were in.

Mr. Smith was still looking directly at you as he stood on his hands, his clothes bunched up beneath his chin while his face burned red from the sudden rush of blood to his head.

All you could do was leave your mouth hanging open, blinking at him in bewilderment.

With a faint grunt, Mr. Smith brought his feet back to the ground and pushed himself off his hands. He brushed his hands together to dust away the dirt before he looked back to you as he ran his hands down the creases of his vest.

“Before you say anything,” He spoke, his voice deep and velvety, “I have absolutely no idea why I did that, but there was a little voice in my head that told me to.”

You licked your lips and stayed quiet, still taking in what had just happened.

“But my question is,” He began, “are you okay?”

“Do I look like I’m okay?” You spat, but you bit your tongue and cleared your throat when you realized who you were talking to. “Sorry,” You quietly muttered, twisting yourself back to look at the building in front of you.

You listened as the footsteps behind you drew closer, ultimately coming to a quiet halt.

“Mind if I join you?” He dipped his head down to look at you and you glanced at him in the corner of your eye, shrugging your shoulders.

Mr. Smith took the spot beside you and swung his feet over the ledge, mirroring the way you sat before digging his hand back into his pocket to pull out a packet of cigarettes.

“You got a lighter?” He asked, sticking a cigarette between his lips. You shook your head, amazed at his nonchalant demeanor. “That’s okay, I’ve got one.”

You watched him with a puzzled look as he lit his cigarette and blew a smoke.

It was pretty obvious what you were trying to do; your eyes were red and looked sore, your cheeks stained with tears, and not to mention you were setting on the ledge of a build without your shoes on.

How was he so calm?

“I’ve seen you around the office,” He recalled, blowing a few more smokes before he turned to you, “you look like a hard worker.”

“Depends on how you define ‘hard worker’,” You mumbled. Mr. Smith brought the cigarette in front of you as if signaling you to take it. You do. “I’m more of a half-assed worker that’s just ebbing and flowing bullshit just to get the job done so I can go home and wallow in self-pity in silence.”

He chuckled. It sounded sweet.

“So why are you sitting on the ledge?”

You drew out a smoke.

“I don’t wanna live anymore.” You deadpanned. “I hate my life and I hate that it’s fucked me in the ass -” You blew another smoke before passing it back to Mr. Smith, your body a lot more calmer and your mind unfiltered, “ - without even my consent.”

“I don’t blame you,” He said earnestly, and it shocked you. The golden boy who strolled up and down the office floors with his chest out, head held high, and a smile that made every woman’s knees go weak was agreeing with you. His eyes looked like it held all the hope and promise in the world, yet he was agreeing with you.“But are you sure you wanna do that? What if life gets better?”

You snickered though no trace of amusement on your face.

“I’ve been living on ‘what ifs’, Mr. Smith,” You pointed out plainly, “I’m not about to keep going. What’s the point of living on ‘what ifs’ when nothing happens? At the end of the day, I’m just an idiot that keeps thinking, ‘What if today’s better?’, ‘What if there’s a new flavor of ice cream that’s been released and it turns out to be my favorite?’ -- it’s stupid.”

“What if your boss gives you a raise?” He smirked at you playfully but you only rolled your eyes. “What? It was worth a try.”

“Your try was shit.”

“What about if you tried a different approach?”

“Look, Mr. Smith,” You sighed in annoyance and snatched the cigarette from his hand and propped it between your lips, “I don’t have a lot of fight left in me, okay? I’ve tried, I failed. That’s it. So, would you just leave me to do what I need to do? Please?”

“If you wanted to kill yourself, you would’ve done it by now.”

You threw him a sour look, offended that he didn’t think you could do it.

But why would you be upset about that?

“You don’t know me.” You muttered.

“I know well enough that if you wanted to call quits, you wouldn’t have sat here for nearly an hour, praying for a sign.”

“You heard?”

He nodded.

“You lied!” You raised your voice and without giving it much thought, you punched him in the arm. “You said you didn’t know why you came up here!”

“Oh, I didn’t,” He calmly argued. “Not completely, anyway. I saw you go up when I was on my way out. When I noticed you didn’t take your things, not even your phone, I had a gut feeling it was something bad.”

“I waited for a little while,” He explained, “I thought that maybe you wanted some fresh air, but the longer I waited, the more worried I got. So I went up the steps just to check on you, and your voice...did you know your voice carries well in the stairwell? I heard your voice, small and completely detached from life. Even then, you were asking for help, and how could I refuse?”

“Do you make it a point to get into other people’s business?”

“Only when they’re trying to take their life.”

“And now what?” You sounded detached and uninterested, and he didn’t blame you for it. He never spoke to you outside of meetings or work, not even once. Of course his words wouldn’t have any impact. “Are you gonna tell me not to go through with it, talk me down or something? You gonna tell me ‘If you can’t live for yourself, then live for me’? That kinda dumb shit?”

He shook his head, a faint pout on his lips. Despite your mocking tone, Mr. Smith remained calm and didn’t take it personally. Though you kinda wish he did, so he could leave you alone.

“No, nothing like that....” Mr. Smith weighed his options, choosing his next words and his next approach carefully.

He’s been here before and he falls into shallow thought, remembering all the things he didn’t do and see if he could do it now.

“I - I’ve been both on both ends of the situation, I just -” Mr. Smith sighed heavily, as he rubbed his hands together, “- I didn’t do anything last time, so - so when I saw you I thought maybe I could somehow make up for it.”

“That kinda sounds shitty,” You pointed out.

It was indeed a shitty thing that you were somehow being used to clear a conscience, but you understood where his heart was at. It was nice that he was trying - it was nice that someone had noticed.

But that’s all that it was for you: it was just nice.

“I’m just so fucking tired,” You admitted, your eyes stinging with fresh tears. You tilted your head back to keep it from spilling, but like all of your attempts at anything, you failed. “I’m so fucking tired of being tired, and nothing’s going right. I’ve tried different approaches, changing my mindset. I even did all these stupid Pinterest self-help boards, but that didn’t help either. I’m desperately grasping for straws and I’ve finally decided to just...stop.”

You rolled your head, looking at your boss with lifeless eyes and it terrified him. He didn’t know what to say - not then and most certainly not now. But what does anyone say to a person who’s given up all hope and interest in living?

You seemed to have made up your mind and Mr. Smith worried that he’d have another life in his hands. He didn’t want that and he found himself growing desperate.

He liked you, whether it be a co-worker or something else, he liked seeing you around the office. You were smart and though you looked soft spoken, you most certainly weren’t. You never ceased to amaze him with the things you submitted, so he truly wondered why you felt so inadequate.

Mr. Smith couldn’t help but blame himself for not paying attention.

“I say don’t die,” He said rather confidentiality, and you furrowed your brows at this. He was becoming persistent in his meddling. “I say wait it out another day or week, and then if you really wanna, fine. I’ll even leave the emergency exit unlocked for you.”

You widened your eyes, your mouth parted but not a single sound came out.

“Why should I wait when I can do it right now?”

“Because of the ‘what ifs’.”

You grunted.

“I already told you --”

“Yes, but what if I tried to help you?”

“I’m not going to be your charity case, Mr. Smith,” You chastised. “I’d rather die than be your charity case.”

“You won’t be,” He said rather calmly. A small smile crept across his lips and his eyes twinkled against the faint glow of the city lights. “You’ll be my friend and I, too, need a friend.”

“Mr. Smith --”

“Call me Erwin.”

You cleared your throat. You felt embarrassed to say the least. You opened your mouth and found it weird when you spoke his name. You didn’t like it, but it was something you could get used to.

“Why would you wanna be my friend?”

“Because life’s fucked me in the ass without my consent, too.” It was weird hearing something so crass coming from the poster boy of perfection and all things pure. You almost thought you’d completely lost it and had imagined he ever said it. “And I heard that suffering with someone makes the experience a little less painful and a little more bearable. So, won’t you be my friend and suffer with me?”

Mr. Smith noticed your hesitance, even more so when he held his left hand out for you to take. It felt formal like he was trying to close a business deal or something. It was a bit weird.

“You’re not gonna be my reason for living,” You said, letting his hand awkwardly hang in the air. But he didn’t bother to retract it. “I’m not looking for a savior.”

“You’re looking for your strength and so am I, so let’s just look together and see what we find, mm?”

You looked at him, studied him. Why did he care so much, and why did you want to know?

After all, you did ask for a sign, yet here you were being stubborn and pretending as if you hadn’t seen it at all. You didn’t believe in miracles or spectacular alignments of the universe, but when you took his hand, you felt a warmth of reassurance - a sense of peace.

Suddenly, with a high pitch yelp from your lips, Mr. Smith quickly moved his left hand and wrapped it over you and pulled you down with him as he threw himself back onto the pavement behind you. His right hand cushioned your blow and he winced in pain when he caught you.

You found yourself tightly gripping onto the material of his sleeve when you took a peak to check on Mr. Smith. He was looking down at you, a nervous smile plastered across his face.

You shoved him off, muttering to yourself as you patted yourself down.

“That was uncalled for.” You grumbled.

“How would I know? You would’ve changed your mind for all I know.”

“I took your hand!” You chided. “That was basically me saying, ‘Okay, I’ll be your friend’! What if you had thrown yourself forward instead!”

“But I didn’t.” He replied calmly, a smile, one that irked you completely, pulled the corners of his lips.

“Yeah, but what if you had?”

“But I didn’t.”

He stood up from the floor and patted the dust and dirt of his pants before reaching down to help you up from the ground.

“Thank you for being my friend,” Mr. Smith grinned. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

You rolled your eyes as he kept his hold around your hand, shaking it.

“Your promises don’t mean much to me.”

It had been months since your moment on the rooftop with Erwin. Though he had been keen, inviting you out for lunch, for dinner, and spared some time for small talk in passing, you were still walking on eggshells, especially because you worried that it might’ve looked unprofessional.

But really, no one cared as much as you did. Everyone had just assumed Erwin was just being kind. But still, it gave you more stress than it did comfort you, and though you had spat a few unkind words his way, he never left.

He always came back with a bright smile and offerings, whether it were candies or actual food.

Eventually, you eased in and you were no longer agitated. You found yourself looking forward to Erwin’s occasional visits to your desk or when he’d ask you out for some coffee.

At the end of every day Erwin would never miss a beat and would ask you how you were doing, and it never felt performative or forced. He was warm and genuine, and he’d share his burdens with you, too.

And you found yourself realizing that he was right, that struggling with someone made things a little less painful and a little more bearable. That despite the struggle, knowing someone so patient and understanding, would be there to catch you.

“Hey,” You spoke over the rim of your freshly brewed tea as you sat across the little round table of the coffee shop. Erwin’s eyes flicked up at you as he took a bite of his muffin. “Thanks,”

He raised a brow and cocked his head to the side, “What for?” He asked, his words muffled by his stuffed mouth.

“Thanks for being my friend.”

He smiled, a few crumbs falling from his lips and onto his plate.

“Thank you for being mine.”

175 notes · View notes

wonderlandhatter · 3 years

Text

Will you read to me?

Pairing: Spencer x femReader

Summary: You're feeling unsettled after a case, so Spencer helps you get some sleep and get a smile back on your face.

Word count: 1863

Warnings: fluff (is that a warning idk), mentions of an unsub, feeling overwhelmed after an unsub touches you (just your hand and waist nothing in detail). Tiny bit of angst I think mostly fluff though

A/N: Ok so this is my first attempt at writing a fic, it ended up being longer than I thought it would be, anyways if you would like to give me some feedback that would be greatly appreciated, hope someone out there enjoys this, I really liked writing it. Ooh also if I missed any warnings pls tell me.

A/N2: Hey so my old account got deleted so I'm reposting my fics if you have a sec I would appreciate it if you could boost it so i can try and get to where i was, thank you.

It had been a tough case, especially for you, the victimology fit you in every way and so you had been used to draw the unsub out, nothing had gone wrong but you could still feel his hand where he had touched yours, his alluring presence was lingering around you , all you wanted to do was go home and shower this feeling off but first you had to get there.

Unfortunately, there was still 2 hours left in the flight. So, until you did get home you would settle for sleep hoping time would pass faster, though you just couldn’t stop your mind from thinking, well overthinking. Spencer noticed this and it hurt him to see you like this he himself knew nothing had happened but he didn’t like the thought that you had even gone near that creep, to think about what he would have done to you, if the circumstances were different.

He couldn’t imagine what he would do if something had happened, you and him were close, very close, you had first bonded when he noticed your Dr who coin purse on your first day at the BAU, he hadn’t gotten a chance to say anything because at that moment Garcia bubbled into the bullpen announcing that they have a case. but when he saw it again on the jet, he couldn’t resist but to ask if you like the show, you love the show and your face visibly lit up at the mention of it as did his, you both exchanged a few words before Derek piped in to ask if that was the show with the flying phone booth but before Spencer had the chance to correct him, you did. ‘well firstly it’s a Tardis which stands for Time And Relative Dimensions In Space, secondly it isn’t a phone booth it’s a police box.’ Once you finish you simply smiled at him but before he could answer you piped up again early. ‘ ooh ooh and do you want to know why it’s a police box’, Derek honestly couldn’t care less but he couldn’t bare to take away the joy in your face that was brought by this nerdy little show you clearly loved, Spencer might also have been giving him a look that said ‘don’t you dare say no’, so he decided to indulge you, ‘sure kid tell me why it’s a police box’. Spencer saw your face light up even more if it was even possible, and so you began’ So the Tardis is supposed to change in appearance depending on where it is because of a component that is called ‘the chameleon circuit’ but something happened to it so it no longer works and is stuck as a police box, its explained in the first Dr who series in an episode called An Unearthly child. Oh and…..’ by this time Derek has lost interest and was only half listening but Spencer’s full attention was on you as you talked about something that clearly brought you joy, at this point he decided to chime in and so you two spent the rest of the jet ride to wherever it was you were going discussing your favourite episodes, plots and Drs. And so, a beautiful friendship began to bloom.

As spencer’s memory of that day came to an end he couldn’t help but be visibly sad at how much of a contrast your feeling were to that day, there was no smile so big you had dimples no hands moving around animatically as you talked and no interrupting your own sentences as you thought of something else you thought needed to be said. And certainly, no you trying to convince him that David tenant was the best Dr. now there was only an uneasiness about you, you looked sad and in slight distress.

Spencer couldn’t keep sitting there doing nothing, he wanted to take those feelings away no, he needed to take them away, he wanted to go over to you and hold you, place you on his lap and let you bury your face into his cardigan like you had done so many times before on your movie nights, but that wouldn’t be appropriate while the entire team was around, and he didn’t want to make you feel worse by being so forward so instead he stood up from his seat opposite Derek and J.J and made his way to you on the sofa holding his book, you were sat in the corner looking so small, holding a now cold cup of tea.

Your mind was anywhere but there so it took Spencer calling your name quietly before you realised anyone was sitting there, and as you saw him all those bad feelings were drowned out by those of joy and love, they weren’t gone but their overwhelming words were dulled, Spencer just had that effect on you, you weren’t completely sure when your feeling changed from hey that’s my friend, to hey that’s my friend who I would like to kiss, marry, and have babies with. Maybe it was the day he showed you how to do physics magic, or the day he brought you coffee every morning for 2 weeks because he spilled one the previous day on your white shirt, or maybe the first time he hugged you, you knew he wasn’t big on hugs but after a tough case for everyone he could see you needed it and honestly once he was there holding you he never wanted to stop, after that he wouldn’t hesitate to hug you, you both waved it off as friendly but you both just wanted to be as close as possible, maybe when you came to terms with the fact you would both try your best to have physical contact with each other, be it holding hands or falling asleep on each other’s shoulder is when you knew you wanted a lot more.

You were brought back by Spencer’s voice, ‘are you ok’,’ ‘oh, ah yeah sorry , my minds just wandering I guess’ you said looking down at your hands feeling bad for lying, he clearly knew you weren’t he was a profiler after all, and as you stared at your hand you once again remembered his lingering touch on your left hand, before your mind could wander further Spencer held your hand ,he spoke up ‘ don’t think about him, I know that’s what your doing , but he’s gone now were he cant hurt anyone else, were he can’t hurt you’. You looked away from him feeling silly ‘I know that, I don’t even know why I’m acting like this it’s ridiculous honestly he didn’t do anything he just touched my hand and waist but the thought of his hands on me just makes me feel sick, it’s like I can still feel him and I just want to wash it off and that’s all I can think about every time I try to sleep, I just want to sleep and forget about it spence’ as you said this you subconsciously scratched the back of your hand where his had been, spencer took both your hands once again before you could hurt yourself, ‘hey y/n, it isn’t silly, after seeing the crime scenes and knowing what he did to those women it is perfectly reasonable to be feeling like this’ you nod at his words and lean your head on his shoulder as you take in his familiar comforting smell, ‘thanks Spence’ you hear him hum in response as his head leans on top of yours.

You sit in comfortable silence just being with each other not even realising he hadn’t let go of your hand, it isn’t like you had made a move to either, and neither of you were planning on it. The jet was silent as everyone was either asleep, or going through some files, it was peaceful, it was wonderful.

You were the first to break the silence ‘what are you reading’ , ‘Alice’s adventures in wonderland’, you looked up at him from your place on his shoulder with a soft smile and simply stated ‘that’s my favourite book, I have a copy in my desk right now’ , ‘I know, that’s why I’m reading it, ‘ his reason made your heart swell as he continued, ‘even though it Is considered a classic I’ve never actually read it, I must say I am enjoying it’, ‘how far along are you’, ‘about half way’. Truthfully Spencer could have been done with the book already even though he had started it at the beginning of the flight, however this book was different, this was your favourite, this one meant so much to you and so he wanted to take it all in, he wanted that feeling you get when you first read a line that impacts you, a feeling you only get once with that line, a feeling he was getting often in this book because he knew you loved it and so he loved it.

The silence was disrupted by a very large yawn coming from you, he must admit you looked very cute when you were tired (he may also love the fact you were wearing one of his cardigans that you had claimed as your, and you also had very cute sweater paws). ‘Here lie down’ Spencer said, you knew you wouldn’t be able to fall asleep so you asked, ‘will you read to me’ there was barely a beat before you felt the need to justify your request, even though you didn’t need to he would do anything you asked. ‘it’s just I don’t think ill be able to sleep, and your voice is very calming’, the last part you said quietly and felt a light blush on your cheeks, spencer simply smiled and simply answered ‘of course ill read to you’, and so you laid you head down on his lap and he began reading once you were fully comfortable, ‘would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?’’ ‘’that depends a good deal on where you want to get to,’’ said the cat………’’ and so Spencer kept reading to you, an you kept listening, his hand made its way to your hair and began to play with it while your hand drew lazy nonsensical things on his leg , and as you heard the words you had read a million times before, and as the man you held so much love for played with your hair all your worries and thoughts melted away and you slowly let sleep take over , you felt conflicted as you didn’t want to miss this, miss Spencer’s voice recite something that meant so much to you, it was like hearing a completely new story, but at some point you let it take over and so you were finally able to sleep, Spencer never stopped reading to you or playing with your hair in fear of disturbing your peace, he was so happy there was a smile back on your face, he would read to you every hour of every day if it meant seeing you smile.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #spencer rwid x reader

109 notes · View notes

my-writings-and-musings · 3 years

Text

I have another lovely commission to share! This one is a sequel to the last, with the Brave Police spending more time on the Lost Light to answer questions, and it's just as precious in my opinion!

"Now, now, there's room for everyone. Single file please!"

Ultra Magnus thankfully had ample experience and skill getting his voice to fill the entire classroom, and so the crowd was able to take their seats in a mostly organized fashion at last, filling up the entire room from back to front in short order. Scarcely a single bot on the ship wasn't present for the day's presentation, and one glance at the tightly packed rows of tables made that obvious. No one wanted to miss the long awaited event.

At the head of the classroom, Ultra Magnus murmured about the ill manners being displayed to their guests before nodding at the bots in question. Sitting in their own row at the raised stage, the Brave Police looked like a full representation of all the reactions possible for the center of attention. Some were happy, others flustered, and a few quite casual about all the fuss. Deckerd, ever the responsible leader, held his small collection of notes tightly as he nodded in return to the much bigger bot. Rodimus took that as his cue to hop on stage.

With a single whistle, the captain reduced the fog of chatter to absolute silence, something he took with a proud smile before speaking.

"Alright, everybot, you know the drill! The Brave Police have been kind enough to agree to this little Q and A panel, so let's show them the proper courtesy while they're up here." he announced happily, looking about the crowd and lingering his optics on a few potentially troublesome bots in particular. Making sure to use his Captain voice, he leveled a serious look at each as he issued his warning. "That means no talking unless you get called, and no hogging the mic when it's your turn."

"Discipline will be administered if anyone breaks these rules." Ultra Magnus said, finalizing the warning with an undeniably serious threat. Beyond a few nervous glances, the room remained frozen in total silence after the big bot went back to his dutiful watch. No one present would dare risk incurring the wrath of Ultra Magnus, not even for the questions that they wanted answered more than anything.

"Sooo…" Rodimus interjected, taking back the stage briefly to try and bring some life back into the event. Gesturing to the main guests, he gave the best parting warm up he could before stepping off the stage. "Without further ado, I'm going to give the show over to them. All yours, Deckerd!"

Clearing his throat politely, the police cruiser stood up on his spot, briefly taking hold of the rim on his hat-like helm accent as he often did when nervous. Taking hold of his notes, he spoke up with the somewhat ineffectual tone of a practiced but uncom public speaker.

"To start, we would all like to offer our thanks! For everything you've done, and for allowing us this opportunity, you have our deepest gratitude." the well mannered bot said humbly, briefly glancing at Rodimus for a flash of pointed thanks before returning to his notes. The captain couldn't help but puff up a little, quite proud of his suggestion all over again, but he was otherwise still and silent as he watched.

"Now, I understand you have many questions, and we are happy to answer them as a group or individuals." he explained, looking to his teammates for group confirmation. Each gave some form of assent, ranging from Duke's proper and stiff nod to Gunmax putting his pedes on the table with a vague gesture of agreement. Deckerd merely narrowed his optics for an instant before returning his smile to the crowd. "Through the system, I will begin the process of selection!"

A button on the desk, intended as a method of selecting students to answer questions, was activated. Every bot froze in anticipation that they might be selected first, with each hoping they might be the lucky winner. Magnus had mandated the algorithm select at random to prevent any cries of unfair choice for good reason…

So of course it was quite fitting that Whirl of all bots get the first question.

A group groan was cut off by another Magnus stare, yet the orderly mech was clearly beyond apprehensive at the possible chaos about to unfold. Uncaring of the tension his selection created for the crew, Whirl merely cleared his vents and stood up with obvious purpose, having planned his potential query well in advance of the moment. Looking to the bots on stage, his optic betrayed little emotion as he spoke. "So uh, were you guys actually built by humans? From scratch? Processor and all?"

There was an immediate cringe amongst the entire crew, as the question was immeasurably rude by Cybertronian standards, but the Brave Police didn't flinch.

"Yes!" Deckerd replied happily, completely unaffected by the cultural faux pas he'd just had directed his way. "Each of us was constructed by the Japanese police force, starting with myself."

"Except for Duke, he was made by the Scotland Yard." McCrane specified, drawing attention to the brightly colored and reserved mech at the end. The attention actually seemed to fluster Duke, who flashed an expression of surprise to be singled out before dropping his gaze and quietly confirming the fact.

"That is correct."

There was a moment of mixed murmuring amongst the crowd, with Whirl looking satisfied to have gotten his answer along with getting the ball rolling, and he sat down to allow the next bot a turn. It took just as little time for the next selection to occur as the first.

"How recently was that, exactly?" Swerve said, looking confused but happy to be the central figure of the moment. It was a much less disrespectful question by Cybertronian standards than the first, and the bots on stage appeared equally content to answer it.

"As of this date, it has been four years and five months since my activation." Deckerd replied casually, unintentionally sending a wave of disbelief through the entire room. This mature, well rounded bot was barely more than a protoform?!

"We were constructed seven months later." McCrane said, speaking for the Build Team with a gesture that only deepened the shock in the room. Deckerd was young even by human standards, yet he was still the oldest one on the team? How young was the newest among them?

"Shadow Maru was next, by about a year, then six months later I joined up!" Drill Boy declared loudly, loving the surprise each answer drew from the crowd. Gunmax, equally a fan of stirring things up, smirked confidently as he leaned back in his chair.

"I haven't even been kicking around for a year." he declared smugly, adding to the shock of the bots several times over. Sure, Cybertronians were ready to go in mere hours, but no one had been born in so long… to be confronted by a mechanical being so young was nearly unfathomable. Not to mention that the oldest among them was still so inexperienced! A fresh wave of hushed gossip washed over those assembled, only to fade out into silent anticipation as the next opportunity for a question presented itself.

"What kind of criminals are you fighting? Most of the time, anyway." a bot in back asked, making the Brave Police perk up as a group. Like anyone, the opportunity to retell their adventures was hardly one they'd ever pass up, and even the humble Deckerd was a little boastful as he set up their panel to reply.

"Our division is uniquely suited to handle threats too powerful for humans to safely combat. The criminals we face have a multitude of motives, and it is not uncommon for us to face creatures designed to cause maximum destruction. I will allow my team to recount some of these events in greater detail." he said, opening up the discussion with a smile and a nod. There was a shift in the classroom as if every being leaned forward at once in anticipation.

"The underground bug people were my first mission!" Drill Boy announced proudly, unintentionally creating far more questions than he could have ever hoped to answer in a single sentence. Gobsmacked expressions were shared all through the crew, even by Ultra Magnus and Rodimus at the front. While they'd figured their new friends got into some wild adventures, like themselves, there was clearly so much more to the group than they'd let on…

"There was a giant moth one time." Dumpson recalled thoughtfully, only adding fuel to the fire with his calm expression of thoughtful recollection.

"Don't forget the giant panda." McCrane said helpfully, the tiniest hint of a smile hinting that he was perfectly well aware of the reactions they were getting. Rodimus had to admire the skillful stirring of the pot. Some bots were taking notes now, especially as the list continued to grow and the Brave Police grew no less unpredictable in their retellings. Brief tidbits about mind control, ghosts, aliens and cults were undoubtedly going to spawn some incredible conversations at Swerve's later on.

Drill Boy finished the segment with a beaming smile. "Without the Boss, I don't think we'd have been able to catch that brainwashing nun!"

While every single adventure would have probably called for a panel of questions in its own right, that statement alone made for an excellent segway into something every single Lost Light bot had been curious about, and the moment the next bot was selected they said what everyone was thinking. "Who's this "Boss" we keep hearing about? Are they a bot like you?"

"Our Boss Yuuta Tomonaga is a human boy, and the first being I ever met. He became my first and most trusted companion." Deckerd replied, smiling affectionately at the description. It had been clear from the onset he cared deeply for his mysterious "Boss", yet most had assumed them to be something like an Amica, or perhaps an older mentor bot. To hear they were a human, and one that sounded exceptionally young at that…? Deckerd recognized the confusion, and while obviously a little bashful to be so open, he was more than happy to talk about the achievements of his dearest friend. "I owe him my life, several times over."

"Many of us have gained human friendships." Power Joe said helpfully, taking some of the pressure off their leader and bringing the attention to himself. Not missing the opportunity to brag, he gestured proudly to himself. "I've befriended many of Yuuta's classmates, they see me as a superhero!"

"Yuuta's sisters are compatriots of mine." Shadow Maru said in a polite and subtle one up, setting the stage for the others to continue naming their friends.

"Hmph, I'm the only one besides Deckerd to have called Yuuta by his first name." Drill Boy bragged.

"Colonel Seia has taught me much through our professional relationship." McCrane said calmly, returning the focus to one of individual bonds over boasting. Unfortunately, Dumpson chuckled and quickly took aim at the comment.

"Are you sure it's entirely professional?"

McCrane froze for a second, optics widening and face flushing, before he calmly folded his hands on the table and replied. "I could say the same of you and Ayako."

"I suppose Shunsuke and I get along okay." Gunmax said somewhat dismissively, cutting off Dumpson before he could stammer out something he'd regret. The fact that every bot seemed to have a complex and long standing relationship with humans was quite the surprise to many crewmembers, especially those who only knew the species from second hand accounts. The Brave Police weren't too different from Cybertronians, so if they could find friends amongst Earth's inhabitants, maybe it was possible for everyone? More than a few of those in the audience were considering visiting to see for themselves when the attention turned to the only member who hadn't given an answer.

Lowering his helm to hide his optics from view, Duke appeared to be blushing as he spoke into his microphone, his volume barely more than a murmur as he did so.

"My Lady, Regina, is very important to me…"

While the statement undoubtedly had plenty to unpack, Deckerd mercifully chose to move on, selecting the next lucky audience member. Tailgate stood up in a flash, getting up on his chair and raising his arm so everyone could see him. Smiling with excitement, he was nevertheless quite polite in his tone when he asked his question. "You can transform, right? What are your altmodes?"

"I transform into a police cruiser." Deckerd said simply, earning some nods of approval from the audience. That was a fairly solid alternate mode, from their perspective, and fit quite well with his appearance and abilities. As the team each volunteered their own altmode, there was little fanfare.

"I'm a dump truck."

"My alternate mode is called a power shovel."

McCrane was the first to smile, though his good humor was shared when he gave his answer. "A crane, fittingly enough."

"I have two; a drill and a jet!" Drill Boy declared with a puffed out chest, and the mood went from calm to shocked all over again. Though he had no concept of a triple changer, the young bot knew that having a plurality of modes was special, and the audible gasps confirmed his guess. Rodimus cast Drift a look of surprise from the stage, speaking without words as they so often did. Not only did this guy have two altmodes, but a drill and a jet? Could you get any more wild? Drift replied with an equally stunned but good natured shrug.

"Like Deckerd, I transform into a police cruiser." Shadow Maru said simply, giving his younger friend a look that drew out a very unhappy pout. Sitting up with a smile, he continued and made very clear why his companion was so upset, and in doing so only made the room erupt once more. "I can also take the form of a tank, a jet, and a canine."

Gasps filled the classroom, and even Ultra Magnus was too shocked to silence them, his jaw dropping in total disbelief at what he'd just heard. Five modes?! Not only that, he was a beastformer to boot?! The ninjabot smiled somewhat smugly at the reactions, getting a few looks from his friends that ranged from jealous to bemused as whispered conversations rushed through the bots. Most had never even heard of such an ability, and yet here he was, a bot from earth with so much talent! Several made a note to ask him for tips as Duke took advantage of the chaos to get his simple reply out of the way.

"I am an ambulance."

The medics of the ship all shared a look at what only they seemed to hear, wondering if perhaps the shy bot knew a few things about human medicine he might share with them later. In the murmurs that followed, however, there came a considerable silence as everyone realized the most anticipated answer had not yet been given.

Gunmax leaned back further in his seat, making a face few could decipher when all the attention zeroed in on him. Pretending to cough, he spoke just loudly enough for his mic to pick up his answer. "Don't have one."

Somebot made a comment about "Monoformers'' before Deckerd stepped in, reading the emotions of his friend as well as the room to skillfully redirect them. It saved Rodimus the trouble of jumping in to make an example of the bot who'd made the comment.

"Gunmax typically has a motorbike, one that he can merge with to form a very powerful weapon." he explained, looking at the visor that allowed the mech in question to hide so many of his emotions. A flash of gratitude behind the veneer of apathy allowed him to continue with a smile. "When I combine with J-Decker, I can utilize that weapon for defeating extremely powerful foes."

"We can also combine!" Drill Boy added enthusiastically, pointing to the Build Team and perking up the entire crowd with references to "combining" of all things. Combiners were a precious rarity amongst their own kind, could the humans have truly mastered such technology in addition to multiforming?

"Yes, Dumpson, Power Joe and myself form the Build Tiger." McCrane replied helpfully, gesturing to the group of them and further compounding the confusion. How could they all transform into a single entity, their colors didn't even match! Not only that, but the name absolutely baffled those who had been to earth and those who hadn't. The crane bot only continued his talk and further confounded his audience. "With Drill Boy, our abilities are increased, and we form the Super Build Tiger."

Deckerd, wanting to discuss other things, was granted mercy when he selected Brainstorm via the system.

"What kind of energy do your weapons fire?" he asked, having observed the holsters and folded rifles some of them carried. Being intensely curious as to whether earth had progressed beyond the initial steps of plasma based projectiles, he waited eagerly for a reply.

"Most are based on shells, similar to what humans utilize but on a larger scale." Deckerd said, helpfully taking out his pistol to show what he meant. Metallic bullets fell from the chamber and into his cupped palm, unintentionally shocking the scientist and the more ballistic trained crewmembers. Primitive lead based projectiles, fired by simple chemical reactions?! How were these bots just as intelligent as themselves but defending their lives with the Cybertronian equivalent of stone age technology?!

"Yes, that's what my shotgun fires." McCrane added, patting the sizable weapon on his back as Brainstorm noted a million potential improvements he might offer before they left.

Shadow Maru, somewhat for the sake of dry comedic effect, unsheathed a blade from his back and shrugged as he held it up. "Personally, I prefer swords."

Laughter rippled through the audience, though Rodimus caught the clear sight of Drift looking far more like he wanted to applaud the other bot who seemed to gel so well with him. Unable to keep a grin off his face at the friendship forming before his optics, the captain considered setting up a communication line on earth so they could all stay in touch going forward.

"Where do you all live?" a shy bot said when selected next, bringing to mind how their home planet didn't seem to be built for beings as large as themselves.

"I stay with Yuuta each night, in the garage. His family has made it my personal home, and I keep them safe." Deckerd replied, describing the situation quite wistfully despite the uncertain expressions that flashed before him. The idea of staying within a single room, like a machine for storage… even bots who didn't mind resting in their altmode couldn't wrap their heads around the idea.

"The rest of us stay at the base, but we're free to go where we please when not on duty." McCrane added, wanting to dispel any ideas that they were at all confined. His words did indeed provide some reassurance, especially considering that a few had been considering "liberating" their new friends if necessary.

"When we travel for work, we live wherever we can." Dumpson said, recalling the many times they'd each had to go across the planet undercover. That notion was quite relatable to the group of travelers, especially those who had gone long periods of time without any home to speak of. Needing to find somewhere suitable while moving undercover had been their existence for years.

Gunmax perked up a little at the topic sitting forward a bit so he could be heard as he extolled the wonders of driving around on his bike. "The roads go on for miles, and some have pretty nice views."

When the next question was called, the Brave Police as a group found it was their turn to be surprised.

"Do you like earth?"

In another turn of events that no one could have predicted, it was Duke who spoke up first, saying his piece simply but confidently before returning to his usual silence.

"It is the only planet we've ever known, and I would have it no other way."

"Earth has everything dear to us." Deckerd confirmed, a barely contained gleam of pride shining from his optics, both for their home and his friend. Everything about the planet was dear to him, from the life that flourished there to the people who had made him, and he wasn't at all ashamed to say as much. That was something each and every member of the Brave Police could agree on, and in order, they all expressed the same sentiment.

"Earth has everything we could ever want." McCrane added plainly, looking like he wanted to say more but was held back by his own reservations. The simple smile on his face spoke volumes for him, thankfully. His past mentions of friendship and more with humans resonated deeply with certain bots in the audience.

"We fight lots of bad guys, but that's to keep all the good humans safe, and they're more than worth it." Dumpson said, sharing a glance with Power Joe, who immediately agreed. The big bots many small friends made his answer and confirmation quite easy.

"Most of the people that live there like us, and we like them too. They have a lot to teach us." he said, recalling his love for martial arts as well as everything else he'd ever been passionate about. The need for patience, the importance of seeing the bright side of life, mentoring the younger beings around oneself… Speaking of the younger, Drill Boy jumped in to reply with his own experiences.

"They've invented all kinds of cool games and sports for us to play!" he said happily, tapping the soccer ball in his chest to emphasize his point. The sport was a genuine passion for him, and without humans he wouldn't have it to enjoy. Slightly more bittersweet thoughts of the many adventures he'd had, and the beings he'd met and lost, but wouldn't trade for anything made him smile far more softly. Tapping his digits together, he added a soft addendum to make his point. "Plus they make lots of other cool things."

"There's not much better than going for a drive on earth, or watching the sunset." Gunmax said in agreement, nodding and closing his optics as he played the memories in his mind. The crew talked plenty about their home of Cybertron, and while it sounded wonderful, he doubted anything could ever surpass his home. One of his first memories was going for a drive on a beautiful day, and he didn't believe any planet could ever offer anything more. Not that he'd be opposed to visiting somewhere else...

"It's our home, and it always will be." Deckerd concluded, unintentionally making the crowd a little emotional with his dedication. A far quieter whisper of conversations briefly passed through them all, this time centered almost entirely on the planet in question. Sure, these bots hadn't ever known another world, but they made their own sound quite wonderful. The many who'd never had a chance to see earth were suddenly feeling quite a bit of longing and curiosity of their own. When the quiet descended once again and Deckerd selected the next bot, the query was hardly a surprise.

"Can we come visit you all sometime?"

The entire team exchanged a look, and Deckerd glanced at Rodimus with the kind of knowing smiles leaders could share when they knew what was happening. While the logistics of such a thing would be a nightmare, there could be no denying the eager faces all around, and any potential benefits were far too great to ignore. Though it would be an impossible amount of work, they both nodded to one another in agreement.

"We would be honored to have you as guests, just as you have taken us into your home."

#transformers #maccadam #mtmte #more than meets the eye #lost light #lostlight #idw #tf #ll #brave police j decker #brave series #deckerd #rodimus #my writing #my commissions

83 notes · View notes

whump-me-baby-one-more-time · 3 years

Text

They deserve better than this. Both of them. But this is all Caretaker can give Whumpee. (Cut because of length, TWs for forced pill taking, psychotic behaviour, mild violence, pinning down, implied waterboarding/drowning)

Whumpee is back on their knees again. Their eyes are wide and unfocused and they're shivering with the kind of fear that makes them nauseous. A twisted kind of sickness churns in their empty stomach. Caretaker is crouched before them. In their hand is a little pill and they placed the glass of water on a nearby dresser when Whumpee started thrashing.

Their face is lined with exhaustion.

"Open your mouth, Whumpee," they say. They've given up on trying to soothe Whumpee when they get into this state. No assurances of safety or care ever seem to penetrate these panic induced fits. It's like talking to a frightened rabbit. It doesn't understand your language and the closer you try to get the more likely it is to die of a heartattack.

Caretaker never liked rabbits.

But they like Whumpee. Or they used to, anyway. They still care for them, and if anyone were to ask they'd vehemently deny any feelings of ill-will towards them.

But Caretaker is tired. And Whumpee... Whumpee isn't who they used to love. Not anymore. Occasionally the person they once were will peek through on good days, but it's a cheap reward for all the rest. All the breakdowns and the night terrors and the screaming and, somehow even worse, the silences that can last for days - after a while that old familiar smile just isn't enough to compensate Caretaker anymore.

They don't get paid to do this, either. Every time Whumpee throws up food or spits out their meds it comes out of Caretaker's own pocket.

"This is going to help you calm down," Caretaker says, offering the pill to Whumpee. "Come on, just take it. Open up."

And Whumpee flinches away, shoulders pressed into the walls of the corner they backed themselves into. Their jaw works as they press it together. Stubborn tears glisten in their eyes but they refuse to make a sound.

Caretaker grinds their teeth.

"We've been through this a dozen times, Whumpee. I don't want to hurt you, I'm trying to help you, so please, please don't make this so hard on us both. Be good, just for once."

Whumpee's breath stutters. They always try to be good, don't they? They always try. But Whumper is never satisfied, never satisfied, never, and the only thing Whumpee can expect is pain. Every time Whumper chirps at them to "be good" it's almost immediately followed by agony.

Whumpee curls up on themselves a little more.

"Okay," Caretaker says in a way that gives that word every meaning apart from "okay." They pick the pill from their palm and hunch their shoulders.

"Last chance, Whumpee. Just level with me, yeah?"

But they're not even sure the words filtered through to Whumpee.

"It's alright," they say as they approach the jittery creature. "You'll feel better in a moment. This'll help you come back down to reality."

They're in Whumpee's space now but they don't let themselves be deterred by Whumpee struggling when they touch them.

They hold the pill up to Whumpee's dry lips. Whumpee flinches violently but Caretaker expected it. Their hand is firm but not unkind as they grip Whumpee's jaw, shushing their hoarse whimpers of terror.

"It's alright, Whumpee. I won't hurt you. Just open your mouth."

Whumpee lashes out, once, hitting Caretaker in the chest, but it's weak and useless and they start shivering even worse from the anticipated punishment.

The tears are spilling freely now, but their lips are still pressed together tightly.

Caretaker closes their eyes for a moment.

They're so tired. Physically and mentally and emotionally, it all just seems to drain out of them a little more with each day. And Whumpee doesn't seem to be getting better. At first it was fine, but then they started having these fits and Caretaker doesn't know how to deal with that. The doctors say it'll pass with time. Maybe. Eventually.

Just give them the meds, that'll calm them down. Oh, and drive them to therapy, too. Can't get Whumpee into a car without alerting the whole neighbourhood to the shrieking and sobbing person you're apparently trying to kidnap? Don't worry, we have drugs for that, too! They'll make therapy impossible, but hey, maybe go for a picnic in the park instead, fresh air and good food can also aid in recovery. Whumpee keeps throwing up from the meds you gave them? We have a pill for that. Whumpee is barely capable of walking back to the car now? Who cares, as long as they're not screaming! You should be glad we've been able to help you out at all. Don't be so impatient. Just be happy you have them back, who cares that they can't feed themselves? Who cares that you haven't slept through a single night in two weeks? Who cares that you haven't had any time of your own lately? Who cares? Don't be so ungrateful. You love them, don't you?

Sometimes Caretaker wants to scream, but they don't. Sometimes they want to push a pillow down on Whumpee's face until they finally go to sleep for good and save themselves the pain of watching someone they used to know thrash and sob from a pain that Caretaker can't do anything to fix. But they don't. Because they do love them. And somehow that makes everything worse.

Because sometimes Caretaker will remember how it used to be. Sometimes Whumpee will wrap their arms around them in a hug or grin at them or look up from a puzzle with their head cocked the same way as it was before. Sometimes Caretaker watches Whumpee sleep, too worried to sleep themselves, and recognizes the face they used to love so much back when it was free of the strain of anxiety and pain.

They love Whumpee and that is so much worse than indifference because it hurts every time Whumpee lashes out at them or flinches away from them or looks at them like they're no better than Whumper at all.

And sometimes, some evenings, deflated on the couch with the Whiskey on the table and the bad thoughts in their head, they're not even sure if they're any better than Whumper themselves.

Maybe Whumpee is right.

But worst of all is how angry it makes them. Indifference would be a gift, because indifference has never bred hatred. Love on the other hand... Sometimes Caretaker isn't even sure who they're angry at. Whumper, they told themselves in the beginning. And that particular rage has never faded, that's true, but it's amassed companions over the months. Anger at Whumpee for being so uncooperative. For being so difficult. For being unreasonable. For being ungrateful. Annoyance at their antics. Their fits. Their night terrors. Their nervous habits. Their broken language. Disgust at the skin they scratch bloody. At the imbecilic way they can stare off into space for hours at a time. At the teeth starting to dissolve at the back of their mouth from all the acid they throw up. Disgust born out of frustration. Frustration, anger, sadness, despair, pain, rage, bargaining, annoyance; Caretaker goes through fifteen stages of grief every day and it's slowly wearing them thin.

Especially because all of these feelings are also directed towards themselves. Even when Whumpee has gone to sleep and the world should be okay, it isn't, because Caretaker and that bottle of Whiskey will stay up for hours trying to justify the thoughts and feelings they had that day and why it didn't make them a bad person, and fail miserably. Somehow the excuses will make them feel even worse and they'll go to bed drunk and wishing to be a better person. To be the one Whumpee deserves.

But in the morning they're still the same.

"Please," they whisper, looking at Whumpee's unsteady, fear-stricken eyes. "Please don't make me hate you."

Please, don't make me hate myself.

But Whumpee only whimpers. Caretaker exhales tiredly.

"Open your mouth, Whumpee. I won't ask again."

Whumpee scrunches up their nose as they try to wriggle out of Caretaker's grip, and Caretaker twitches in a spot deep inside. They're done asking.

With a decisive hand they grab Whumpee's head, thumb digging into the back of their jaw, forcing it open at the hinge. Whumpee yells and thrashes and tries to push Caretaker off.

Caretaker grabs their arm, their skinny, concerningly pale arm, and shoves their body roughly into the wall. Their fingers are leaving red welts on Whumpee's skin

"Stop fighting me, Whumpee," they say, voice coiled tight with suppressed anger and frustration and annoyance and-

Whumpee whimpers. Caretaker bares their teeth in a snarl.

"You need to take this and you will. Don't make me hurt you. You're out of your mind and you need. to. just. stop. fighting. me."

Their last words are punctuated by Caretaker smacking Whumpee into the wall by the shoulder repeatedly. Not violently, but harshly enough to make Whumpee dizzy enough to submit. Whumpee's chest is heaving with stifled sobs.

Caretaker forces their mouth open and drops the pill on their tongue. Whumpee's nails dig into their own arm.

"Good Whumpee," Caretaker says, relief blossoming in their stomach. They reach for the glass of water and hold it against Whumpee's lips. They're bleeding again, Caretaker notices with a worried sting.

"Drink. It'll help you swallow."

Whumpee struggles weakly, but eventually takes a sip. Caretaker watches them until they gulp it down, throat bobbing with effort.

They sit back on their heels with a sigh. Soon the drug will kick in and Whumpee will either space out or regain some coherence, depending on their state of mind. Either way is better than this. Last time they let this go on for too long Whumpee broke two ribs and a nightstand.

"You did good," they say, lying to themselves and Whumpee in a desperate attempt at making Whumpee feel better. Whumpee has always responded well to praise.

They look at Whumpee's face, streaked with tears, lips quivering, and their body sags. Whumpee never meant any harm.

"It's okay. You'll feel better in a minute. I promise." Their hand is soft when they caress Whumpee's cheek, pushing a damp strand of hair out of their eyes. Whumpee flinches but their head is already pressed against the wall on one side and they can't pull away any more, as hard as they may try. Caretaker tries their best to fight down the irrational bitterness of being rejected over and over.

"We're gonna figure this out, Whumpee," they say gently. "I just- I need you to stop fighting me, okay? We used to be a team, sweetheart. Remember that? I need you to work with me to beat this together."

I can't do this on my own.

Whumpee's head moves in what could be interpreted as a nod and Caretaker takes what they get. Whumpee always used to be the strong one, the one tempering Caretaker's storms and easing the weight of the world off their shoulders. It would make sense for them to at least try to be helpful now, no?

They smile weakly. "That's the spirit. We'll get you cleaned up in a minute, okay? Once you've calmed down."

Caretaker pulls away, leaving Whumpee to collect themselves. They don't even wince when Caretaker squeezes their arm reassuringly.

Maybe they're making progress.

They're about to stand up when Whumpee spits. The pill hits them in the face, sticky and partially dissolved and holding on to their cheek with sheer spite. Whumpee's mouth is set in a stubborn, suicidal, quivering line.

Caretaker blinks.

It takes a moment for them to react. When they do, it's with a deadly calmness.

"You don't like the pill," they say, words as dull as a razor blade. "You don't like the meds." They pull the pill from their skin. "I get that. I don't like it either. But you don't have a choice."

I don't have a choice.

"This isn't going to change anything, Whumpee. You are going to swallow this and if I have to push it down your throat for you to finally take a break I will."

Their eyes are glinting with sharp, bubbling anger badly kept at bay by unravelling patience.

When was the last time they slept for six hours straight? Or had been out with friends? Or done anything relaxing that didn't involve getting drunk?

The pill is gluey between their fingertips, its green outside coming off in smears. They just want a break.

"Open your mouth, Whumpee."

Whumpee spits again as Caretaker reaches for their face. It's a gesture born out of fear and the incapability to put their feelings into words, but it enrages Caretaker more than it ever did Whumper. Whumper liked Whumpee fighting back. It kept the game from becoming boring. And spitting was always such a childish thing to do that it heartened Whumper to see that they had reduced the once proud Whumpee to such base, helpless acts. You see, Whumper didn't love Whumpee.

But Caretaker does. And their anger burns all the brighter for it.

"Open your fucking mouth."

They're yelling now. Their voice is raised and cutting the air with inevitable self-contempt, but for now Caretaker is drowning in the rush of anger, hanging on to the couple of minutes before they consume themselves with regret.

Whumpee yells back when they grab their jaw, half of it slurred words telling Caretaker to back off, and the other half unintelligible gibberish whipping back and forth between begging and cursing. They flail, fists striking Caretaker's chest and arms, trying to push them off. The spittle that flies from their lips is red and leaves spots on Caretaker's shirt.

"Stop fighting me!" Caretaker roars, using their free hand to catch one of Whumpee's fists before it strikes their face.

They force Whumpee's jaw open again, but lose their grip as Whumpee bucks. They shove them back down into the ground and wrap their fingers around Whumpee's biceps so tightly that Whumpee yelps.

"I'm helping you," they grind out, trying to push the pill past Whumpee's lips. "Just take it!"

The tips of their fingers force themselves in through the cracked flesh, pill butting against Whumpee's teeth before Whumpee's jaw opens up a fraction and they bite down hard. Caretaker screams.

Whumpee lets go almost immediately, face white in shock, and Caretaker pulls their hands back. Both of them, one clutched against their chest and the other one flinging itself outwards for a moment.

It comes back down with a crack across Whumpee's cheek.

It's a hard, angry strike that sends Whumpee toppling onto the carpet, splitting their lips even further in the process. Bloody drops of saliva trickle down onto the fabric.

Whumpee sobs out loud. They're sorry, they're so sorry, they'll be better, they'll be good, please-

Caretaker flips them onto their back. Their fingers are bleeding as they pick up the pill from where they dropped it. They don't waste time asking Whumpee to open their mouth.

"Please don't," Whumpee hiccups, nails scraping at Caretaker's wrist. They squirm but Caretaker has them pinned down between their legs now, weight coming down heavy on their hips, and their mind floods with memories of Whumper.

"This is for your own good, Whumpee," Caretaker snarls, trying to fend off Whumpee's frantic scratching long enough to get a thumb into their jaw.

"Please don't," Whumpee whimpers, shaking their head in an attempt at fighting off Caretaker's grip. "Please, Caretaker, please don't."

Caretaker freezes. When was the last time Whumpee called them by their name? It happened so rarely that every instance burned itself into Caretaker's soul, like little lights of flickering hope. Little signs that maybe Whumpee could come back after all.

But this?

It was always "Master" or "Whumper" or "Sir/M'am" when Whumpee had fits like this or woke up from nightmares or was otherwise detached from reality and couldn't understand that they had no master now. Caretaker hated hearing that name on Whumpee's tongue like a prayer, those syllables whispered in pained pleas as if their tormentor was still with them.

Caretaker never once imagined how much worse it would be to hear their own name from Whumpee's cracking voice.

"You need to take this," they say, looking down at Whumpee in helpless despair. Their cheek is blossoming a violent red from where Caretaker struck them and somehow that makes Caretaker even angrier. If they're coherent enough to recognize Caretaker, then why are they fighting them so much?

"The doctor said- Stop scratching me, Whumpee." They push Whumpee's hand aside, then think better of it and push it down until they can pin it beneath their leg. Whumpee thrashes in response but Caretaker doesn't budge.

"The doctor said you need to take this when you get worse. It helps, okay?"

"No," Whumpee says, word barely audible between their sobs. "I don't want it, Whumper. I don't like it. Please, Caretaker, please don't. Please, I'll be good, Whumper, I'll be good, I don't want it, I don't need it, I'll do anything, please, please, Caretaker."

Caretaker watches as Whumpee dissolves into tears and their own heart breaks a little more.

"You're sick," they whisper, cradling Whumpee's throbbing cheek in their palm. "Whumper isn't even here, Whumpee. It's just me. Just me. And I don't want to hurt you, but you're out of your mind. Please, sweetheart, open your mouth."

Whumpee bucks their hips as Caretaker holds the pill against their lips. Their one free hand is scrambling to keep Caretaker away, fingers leaving angry streaks on their arm and tearing at their shirt.

"Get off of me," they say, nay, scream, and Caretaker cracks. If Whumpee thinks that they're the villain, then what's the point in playing nice?

Their hand is brutally rough as they force Whumpee's jaw open for good this time, pushing the sensitive spot until Whumpee's muscles give in to the pain; Caretaker is quick and the pill lands in Whumpee's mouth.

They don't get a chance to spit it out again. They try, tongue flicking in protest, but Caretaker snaps their jaw shut, hand over their mouth. They reach for the water glass, but Whumpee's fingers dig into their skin.

"Don't make this worse than it already is," Caretaker growls. They grab their wrist, trying to push it beneath their other leg, but Whumpee fights like an animal and it's all Caretaker can do to make sure their pinned arm doesn't slip free.

At last, out of options, they smack Whumpee's head against the floorboards. Once is enough. Whumpee stills, eyes glazed over with pain, and their arm drops down. Their fingers curl into the carpet as if trying to find support.

Caretaker's hand is slick with blood and tears.

The water glass is cool to the touch and they move quickly before Whumpee regains their bearings. They let go of their mouth, instead grabbing the back of their head and pushing it up, taking a hold of their hair when Whumpee tries to pull away. Their mouth opens, pill protruding slowly, but Caretaker quickly holds the glass against their lips.

Whumpee whines. The liquid pours down their chin as they clench their mouth shut.

"Drink," Caretaker says, tugging at Whumpee's hair in the last throes of patience.

Whumpee flares their nostrils. Their eyes are wide and panicked.

"Okay. You wanted it this way."

They release Whumpee's head and let it fall back down onto the floor, then wrap their hand around their jaw once more, keeping them in place.

Whumpee struggles sluggishly. Their thumb swiftly pushes inside Whumpee's teeth, bearing the risk of being bitten again, and they pour the water through the small gap created. Before Whumpee has a chance to react, Caretaker has already clamped their palm over their mouth.

Whumpee chokes. The water's running down their throat, burning in their nose as the pressure of their struggling pushes it out through any available orifice, and all they can think of is how smug Whumper always looked when Whumpee begged for mercy when coming up for air.

They flail, body convulsing in anguish and panic, but Caretaker keeps them down, mouth set into a grim line.

"Swallow it, Whumpee. Swallow."

Whumpee does, eventually, their throat flushing it all down involuntarily, including the pill.

They fight to breathe through a runny nose, whistling in the process, and Caretaker finally lets go of their mouth.

Whumpee gasps and coughs and turns their face away.

"Show me your mouth. Whumpee, show me- Show me your goddamn mouth."

Caretaker's hand is harsh as they yank Whumpee's head up. Whumpee lets them pry their mouth open, defeated and aching, and Caretaker swipes a finger beneath their tongue and inside their cheeks before finally being satisfied.

They sit back up and release Whumpee's arm.

"Was that so fucking hard?"

Caretaker doesn't know who they're talking to. Whumpee's crying quietly and seems too incoherent and beaten to still be paying attention to anything said around them.

Caretaker wants to hit Whumpee. They want to pick them up and kiss them well. They want to crack their face into the wall. They want to apologize and comfort them. They want to kick them until they're screaming.

They love them. They hate them. They love them. They hate them. They- They ha-

And Caretaker's hand shakes as they try to decide who they want to be. Who they can be after all this.

At last, they get up. They leave Whumpee on the floor, bleeding from swollen lips as they curl up into a sobbing ball of misery.

Pathetic. Lovable. Disgusting. Innocent.

Caretaker's hand clenches into a fist and they walk away.

The door slams shut behind them. Whumpee's soft, pathetic noises can still be heard as they pour themselves a drink in the kitchen and try to calm their shaking hand.

They should go back in.

Maybe they'll pick Whumpee up. Maybe they'll be strong enough to overcome the festering rage in their chest. Maybe they'll clean them, caress them, rock them until Whumpee stops crying and falls asleep.

Maybe. Maybe not. They don't want to take the risk of finding out what kind of person they really are when the threads are severed.

Instead they take a sip. It burns and they let it sit in their mouth for a moment, relishing the pain. They deserve it. Whumpee deserved it. ...no, they didn't. They did. They didn't.

Caretaker closes their eyes and tries to breathe against the turmoil in their head. In their chest. Their hand.

They all want different things and Caretaker isn't sure which one will win, just that all of them will suffer if they make a decision.

So they won't. Not until the Whiskey has dulled the edge enough to make Caretaker less afraid of themselves.

Maybe by then the drugs will have kicked in and Whumpee will have stopped crying. Maybe by then Caretaker's compassion will have surfaced from the vat of ugliness they feel twisting inside them. Maybe it will even be strong enough to overshadow their self-contempt. Maybe.

71 notes · View notes

journalxxx · 3 years

Text

By Hook or by Crook (5)

“What do you make of all this?” Toshinori asked, when they were finally alone. They’d momentarily parked the kid in the hallway with a cup of tea while the hero had followed Tsukauchi in his office as he took care of the last bureaucratic dregs of the questioning.

“As I see it, there are two major possibilities we ought to consider.” Tsukauchi said without taking his eyes off the monitor of his computer. “The first is that Midoriya’s quirk is just a mutation, and he is in no way related to All For One. His father is likely a government official whose position grants him knowledge of enough confidential files to make him fear negative repercussions in case his son’s quirk was publicly known, and has therefore enforced silence on the matter. We aren’t looking at any outstanding crimes here, although this man isn’t going to win any Parent of the Year awards any time soon.”

Toshinori grimaced. Wouldn’t that be nice? “And what are the odds of this being our case?”

“I wouldn’t bet my next paycheck on it, for sure.” Tsukauchi typed something on the keyboard, and checked his phone at the same time, before sighing and leaning back in his chair. “The other possibility is that Midoriya is indeed related to All For One, maybe even his son. He’s been fostered to a trusted associate of his and kept in the dark about everything.”

That option could be more statistically or genetically likely, but it still didn’t sit right with Toshinori. “That doesn’t sound like something All For One would do though. Why not raise him as a successor, or even just an underling? Surely another All For One wielder would have made for an important asset to his schemes.”

“You forget that Midoriya’s quirk manifested only two years ago. It is possible that All For One may have planned to do so, but lost interest when the child was deemed quirkless.” Tsukauchi scratched his head pensively. “As for why he didn’t keep the kid close since his birth… we can only assume it was out of caution. Fourteen years ago you had already put a significant dent in All For One’s syndicate and influence. Maybe he was already taking precautions against his own downfall, and didn’t want his potential successor to be involved in case things took a turn for the worse too quickly.”

“... I guess that makes sense.” Toshinori nodded. As per habit, he sent a quiet thanks to his lucky star for accidentally baring his secret to a damnably honest and capable member of the force such as Tsukauchi, God knew Toshinori himself wasn’t exactly cut out for fine deductive work. “In this case, the boy’s father…”

“...Is a former subordinate of All For One’s currently employed by the government, yes. Not a pleasant scenario to work with.” Tsukauchi waited for the printer to regurgitate a disproportionate stack of documents that made Toshinori instinctively recoil. The detective flipped through the paperwork quickly before sprinkling his signature on just about every odd sheet. “Regardless of which of the two hypotheses is true, I definitely want to look into this Hisashi Midoriya. He is by far the most suspicious aspect of the boy’s account.”

“Yeah. He doesn’t visit his family for a decade and a half, he doesn’t talk about his job, he doesn’t follow basic legal procedures, and you can tell he had more of an active role in encouraging Midoriya to hide the quirk than the kid lets on... It doesn’t exactly paint a reassuring picture.” Toshinori sighed. “This isn’t going to be easy for the boy…”

“It never is, when a family member is involved in criminal activities. But the fact that their relationship seems rather distant may make things a little less traumatic for him.” Tsukauchi checked his watch as he tidied up some stationery and turned off his computer. “Well, I guess I’m not too unforgivably late for my other meeting since we don’t have to question Mrs. Midoriya.”

“...Sorry about that. And for springing this on you all of a sudden.” Toshinori said with an apologetic grimace and his utmost sincerity. “You’re a saint.”

Tsukauchi’s small smile implied that he was well aware of the fact. “I’ll drive Midoriya home while I’m on my way to the city hall. Do you need a lift? Or do you want me to let you on the rooftop for a smoke?” That bit of code speak would never not be tragically ironic, Toshinori thought.

“No, I’ve already finished my shift for the day.” All three, scant, scattered hours of it. Japan’s finest, most dependable hero, ladies and gentlemen.

“Then thank you for your hard work.” His friend gave him a quick look and a brief, firm squeeze to his shoulder before heading to the door. No pity, no unrequested sympathy, no disingenuous praise, just straightforward respect and understanding. He really was one of a kind.

Midoriya was exactly where they’d left him, busy fiddling with his phone. He perked up when he saw them return. “Uh, my mother just texted me back. She says she’ll be home in about an hour. If you still want to talk to her.”

Tsukauchi hesitated. “It’s a little too late for me, I’m afraid. I’m expected somewhere else, but…”

“I can wait.“ Toshinori immediately volunteered. “It won’t be as thorough or official as if you interviewed her yourself, but if it can lighten your workload just a little…”

“...Well, I don’t see why not. Hop in the car with us then.”

The return trip was silent. Toshinori glanced at Midoriya a couple of times from the rearview mirror, and he always caught him in an ill-concealed state of unrest. Fidgeting with his phone, picking at the seatbelt, gazing nervously out of both car windows. Toshinori didn’t like that. Why all that agitation, now that the worst of the ordeal was supposedly over?

The boy eventually locked eyes with him. “...Oh. Uhm.”

“Something on your mind?” Toshinori asked.

“Uh, well, I was wondering…” His gaze dropped to his knees. “Are you going to tell my mother about my quirk?”

“I’m afraid so. She is bound to find out anyway, eventually. The police will issue an update on your quirk registration, as per the norm in such cases.”

“...Ah.” Oh boy, now he looked like a kicked puppy. That was just depressing.

“I don’t necessarily have to be the one to break the news to her though. If it makes you feel any better, you can tell her about the incident in your own words.” Toshinori offered, hoping to soften the blow.

“I… I think I would prefer that. Thank you.” The boy quietly acquiesced.

Tsukauchi shot Toshinori a pointed look. All right, maybe that wasn’t the most proper way to go about it, maybe standard procedure demanded the officer in charge to keep mother and son separate during the questioning and explain things personally in the most objective possible terms. But Toshinori wasn’t an officer, he was a washed-up alter-ego of the Symbol of Peace acting in semi-official consulting capacity, and he’d be damned if he didn’t try to make things a little less humiliating for the forlorn child in the back. He condensed that whole argument into a meaningful glance of his own, that Tsukauchi couldn’t hold for more than two seconds lest he drove them all straight into the back of a truck. Toshinori took that as unspoken permission to proceed as he saw fit.

“I’ll be leaving this in your capable hands then.” Tsukauchi said as the two stepped out of the car. The man had a veritable talent for conveying irony while maintaining the straightest of faces and the driest of tones.

“Your trust is deeply appreciated. Drive safely!” Toshinori shut the door of the car decisively and waved him off with a dazzling smile.

“Uhm. Okay.” Midoriya said, his eyes darting between the hero and the speeding car with obvious perplexity. “Mom won’t be here for at least another forty minutes. I can fetch that photo you wanted in the meantime. I think I know where it is… probably...”

“I’ll take you up on that, thank you.” Toshinori followed him across the parking lot and up the stairs of the apartment complex. The boy’s eagerness to please was a sight for sore eyes in this cold, self-serving world. “You really did something commendable today, you know? Not many people would be so ready to relieve the pain of those who hurt them. That villain owes you more than he’ll ever know.”

“Oh…” The boy fiddled with his keys as a light redness tinged his cheeks. “It’s nothing, really. It isn’t my place to judge anyone... let alone steal from them. I just hope he’ll get better soon.”

“I’ll keep you up to date on his condition, if you want.”

“Oh, you don’t need to! It’s fine!” Midoriya’s instinctual politeness clashed against Toshinori’s no-nonsense availability. It was a fierce battle, but one didn’t become the number one hero without developing a certain skill in staring people into reasonableness. Midoriya surrendered with a small smile. “...I-It would put my mind at ease though.”

“Then I shall.” Toshinori claimed with finality. “Honestly, I wish I could have done more today for you and Tsukauchi. You two took care of all the heavy lifting and data collecting while I just stood around doing nothing the whole time.”

“You did, didn't you…?” Toshinori’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Well, he hadn’t been expecting that candid a confirmation of his uselessness. Midoriya flinched and started flailing about in obvious distress as soon as he realized he’d voiced that thought aloud. “N-No! I mean- I don’t mean that you were- What I’m saying is that you didn’t really need to come. But you did anyway! F-For my sake, I get that. Because you promised you’d help me out, even if you surely have better things to do with your time, and… I truly appreciate it. Really.”

Toshinori laughed softly. Yes, ‘truly appreciative’ was indeed the boy’s default mood whenever he was graced with the barest amount of consideration, as far as the hero had witnessed in their short acquaintance. He didn’t think it was some sort of hero-worship-related response either, the kid just seemed that sensitive to it. “Don’t worry about it. It’s part of the job.”

“Is it?” Midoriya finally opened the door and they stepped inside. He let out a small chuckle of his own as they removed their shoes. “I guess I have new insight to add to the online speculation about All Might’s decreasing workload. I guess it is to be expected if yo- if he’s taken to follow up on all his cases so thoroughly.”

Toshinori had to fight back a traitorous cough. “W-well, there is really no need for me to overexert myself nowadays as I used to do in the past.“ He started, automatically supplying his PR-certified response to any inquiry on the topic. Goodness, people really did notice, didn’t they? It was hardly a new concern, but still… “The crime rate has been decreasing steadily, and the industry is so saturated with heroes that there’s someone ready to intervene almost at any place and at any given time. And those heroes could use the money and exposure way more than me…” Toshinori trailed off as they made their way to the living room. The boy was regarding him with unnerving attention, as if memorizing his speech word for word. “There are other reasons too, of course…”

Midoriya cocked his head to the side curiously, expecting further elaboration. Then it clicked, and he fleetingly glanced at the hero from head to toe with open contrition. “O-Oh! Of course! Your… Sorry, I forgot.”

That simple sentence confused Toshinori so much that he couldn’t help but gape back. The silence grew very awkward very quickly. “...Uhm. So, that photo of yours?”

“R-Right! I’ll go look for it! Make yourself comfortable! Be right back!” The boy bolted fast enough to leave metaphorical dust clouds behind him.

Toshinori wandered to the nearest chair with small steps. He forgot. That was quite the feat, while literally standing in front of the sad, wrecked husk that Toshinori had become. Or maybe the kid hadn’t realized that his appearance was a relatively recent development. That seemed more likely. Perhaps he had interpreted his vague answer about his quirk to mean that the number one hero had always been just that, a sickly, overachieving twig in a bodysuit keeping his own skeleton in the closet for nearly forty years.

Toshinori let out a sigh. Quite the uplifting impression he was leaving with this young one.

His circling thoughts were interrupted by a yelp, and the thundering noise of some heavy objects crashing just outside the living room.

“Midoriya?” Toshinori called, jumping to his feet. The second unanswered call had him by the source of the noise in a moment.

“I’m here! I’m fine!” Midoriya’s voice finally answered, from behind a half-closed door conspicuously marked as ‘Izuku’ by a familiar blond-banged nameplate.

“What was that?”

“Just… some stuff that fell down...” Toshinori approached it and peeked inside. Even from his limited perspective, he could see the boy sitting on the floor and rubbing his forehead, next to a tipped-over chair.

“And did that stuff happen to include you?” Toshinori deadpanned, inviting himself in... and pausing on the threshold. Taking in the interior of the boy’s bedroom. Which wasn’t the priority right now. He willed himself to ignore the star-spangled elephant in the room assaulting his senses and knelt down beside Midoriya, gently peeling his hand away from the sore spot. “Are you hurt?”

“No, no, it’s just a bump.”

“You should put some ice on it.” There were no cuts or outer signs or damage, which was a good start. Toshinori’s eyes fell on the bottom half of the toppled piece of furniture beside them. “...Did you seriously try to climb on a rolling chair?”

“I do that all the time. It’s steadier than it looks!” There was no appropriate reply to such a claim, but Toshinori’s judgemental glare was enough to make the boy squirm. “I’m fine, really-”

“Ice.” He pointed sternly at the corridor. Maybe there was still a minimal chance of preventing an oversized lump on Midoriya’s forehead from outing to Tsukauchi and other responsible adults the fact the boy had nearly cracked his skull within five minutes of being left in Toshinori’s charge.

“All right. Just a second.” Toshinori kept an eye on the kid, making sure he wasn’t struggling to keep his balance, as he made his way out of the room. Room that Toshinori was now free to observe in all its embarrassing magnificence.

A soft All Might carpet. All Might-themed bedding. Walls plastered with All Might posters. All Might-patterned curtains. Shelves and shelves and shelves of All Might action figures and books.

It was always… humbling to be reminded of how much passion and care people from so many different walks of life could put in something as trivial as collecting hero merchandise - his hero merchandise, more often than not. Popularity and revenue were Toshinori’s very last priorities when it came to his job, but, despite merchandising being exactly about those, he wasn’t opposed to the practice in principle. It did help cement the reassuring image of the Symbol of Peace in the collective mind, which was definitely one of his lifetime goals. It brought a sizable influx of wealth to the agency’s treasury, which he largely redirected to charity and assorted emergency relief funds. It did seem to spark genuine joy and entertainment in both children and adults. And, when none of these arguments were enough to wash away the vague sense of guilt that came with profiting off the love and admiration of Japan’s fine citizens, Toshinori reminded himself that there were much worse, self-destructive indulgences people could waste their savings on. Alcohol. Tobacco. Drugs. Troll 2 DVDs. The like.

Midoriya reappeared nursing an ice pack against his temple. “Sorry about that. The photo should be in one of those boxes.” He gestured towards the wardrobe that sported a brown cardboard box on the top, and then towards the floor, where its twin lay sideways after a presumably rough landing. They cut through the tape of the latter and, after Midoriya emphatically assured him that he didn’t mind him browsing through his personal belongings in the slightest, Toshinori joined the kid on the carpet in their quest for the photographic Holy Grail.

“I probably slipped it inside one of these…” The boy said, pulling out small piles of notebooks and publications. Toshinori confined his perusal to dated magazines, comics and books that didn’t seem likely to invade Midoriya’s privacy. The first box yielded no result.

“Maybe it’s in that one. Let me get another chair- oh.” Toshinori only needed to raise his arms and strain slightly on his toes to comfortably reach the top of the wardrobe and retrieve the second- crap, that was heavy. How the kid planned to pull it down himself while standing on wheels was beyond him. “Thank you.”

Toshinori was sitting cross-legged and flipping through an old gossip magazine lavishing pages and pages of speculation on the meager information they had managed to scrape together on his association with Dave - ah, those were the days… - when Midoriya finally let out a triumphant Aha!

“Found it!” He regarded his prize with joy, but his expression quickly morphed into concentration and then confusion. Toshinori held out his hand expectantly, and the boy deposited the photo into it while indicating a specific spot. “It’s, uh… my father’s this one.”

Toshinori looked at the man in question.

And froze.

“He doesn’t…” He heard the boy say distantly, as if from kilometres away. “He looks… a bit different from the picture in the police file…”

Toshinori coughed. He was different, all right. Subtly, cunningly so. Both men had short, snow-white hair, both had relatively plain features and pale complexion, both had faintly-colored eyes that could pass as blue under the right light. They were similar enough that they could be mistaken for one another, when described verbally. But the man in Tsukauchi’s file was a stranger to Toshinori. The man in this photo wasn’t.

“This-” The hero managed, between small bursts of coughs that he couldn’t restrain. “This is the man that- told you to keep quiet about your quirk-”

“Y-Yes.” Midoriya was gawking at him with obvious concern, and it only got worse when the hero’s words sank in. “I-I mean, he didn’t- he just- we sort of agreed that-”

“And the-” Toshinori covered his mouth with his hand, already tasting iron on his tongue as he patted his trousers to find some tissues. “The last time you spoke to him was…?”

“A little less than a month ago.”

Something inside Toshinori just gave up on trying to hold it together. He erupted into a brutal fit, vicious enough to shake his whole body and squeeze his eyes shut. He heard the boy asking something in alarm, and he felt warm blood trickling down his chin before he finally got ahold of a handkerchief to press against his lips. He hacked and spluttered for an interminable minute, his throat and chest tight and sore from the effort. Eventually it died down, and he found himself hunched over and bracing himself against the floor, wheezing and struggling for breath as something shuffled beside him. He turned to check on the noise, and saw Midoriya tapping on his phone.

“Don’t.” Toshinori rasped, swallowing down the remaining blood coating his mouth and reaching out to gesture at him dismissively with his clean hand. “I’m fine.”

“N-no, you aren’t.” The kid looked on the verge of fainting himself. Toshinori followed his horrified gaze, only to notice he’d sprayed plenty of little crimson stains on both the photo and the carpet, not to mention his own clothes. Damn, that was a mess even by his standards. “B-But- it’s okay, I’ll call an-”

Toshinori unceremoniously plucked the phone from Midoriya’s grasp, made sure that he hadn’t dialed any number, and tossed it on his bed. No need to make the situation even more headache-inducing than it already was. “I mean it. It happens. Don’t worry.”

Toshinori cleared his throat as he contemplated the ruined piece of evidence anew. At least he hadn’t marred the spot containing ‘Hisashi Midoriya’. Despite the less than optimal angle, there could really be no doubt. There was no mistaking that face for anyone else’s, it had been seared in Toshinori’s mind by more than three decades of pain and regret.

...Shit.

Shit.

Toshinori collected the picture from the floor and stood up to drop it on the kid’s desk, where it sat innocently surrounded by dozens of pieces of licensed All Might memorabilia.

“...So this is your father, and he’s alive and well.” He stated it aloud and with scorn, because he felt it was important for the universe to hear that its sense of humor didn’t fly with everyone.

“Ehr. Yes. Do you-”

“All right. Okay. Fine.” Toshinori turned on his heels and headed for the door. “Excuse me, I have to make a phone call.”

“...To your doctor?” Midoriya asked apprehensively, visibly starting to doubt the hero’s mental as well as physical well-being.

“No.” He almost stamped a huge, bloody handprint on his slacks before remembering that he still looked like he’d just slaughtered a pig and devoured it raw. “Can I use the bathroom?”

“Second door on the left.” The boy muttered, too stunned by now to object to any of Toshinori’s tangents.

Toshinori washed his face, neck and hands, and rinsed his mouth. He decided he couldn’t bother to do anything about the state of his clothes. He took care of scrubbing the sink too once he was done, making sure he didn’t accidentally leave any red smears on it. He dried his hands and fetched his phone.

“Tsukauchi? Sorry, can you make it back to Midoriya’s house? Yes, as soon as you can. ...No, but we found that photo. You need to see it, it’s… it’s him.”

He closed the call and stared at his reflection on the mirror. His brain didn’t produce a single coherent thought. He walked back to the kid’s room.

Midoriya was peering at the picture intently, even though he hadn’t moved it from where Toshinori had left it. The man’s eyes fell on the scattered blots on the carpet. In his experience, there wasn’t much hope of removing them completely, but it seemed rude not to try, at least. “Got any cleaning supplies?”

Midoriya blinked at him owlishly. “In the bathroom. Under the sink.”

One short trip later, Toshinori was back with paper towels and rubbing alcohol. He waved the boy off when he made to kneel down beside him to help. He handed him the ice pack that lay forgotten on the floor, and the kid pressed it back on his forehead mechanically as he sat on his bed. Toshinori could benefit from only a couple of minutes of silence before Midoriya spoke.

“You know him.”

“...Yes.”

“You’re upset.”

Toshinori wondered if it showed on his face, or if it was just an educated guess based on the half-baked spontaneous hemorrhage he’d just displayed. He didn’t reply, his attention ostensibly focused on dabbing lightly at each smudge.

“Why…” The boy’s voice faltered. “W-Why is there a photo of another man in the police records?”

Toshinori couldn’t hold back a deep exhale. He wasn’t sure he was the most qualified person to have this conversation with the boy. He surely wasn’t the most eager to.

“All Might.” He felt compelled to raise his gaze. Midoriya was pale, his eyes wide and shiny with unshed tears. His expression was heartbreakingly imploring. “Please.”

He was going to find out anyway, at least the bare bones of it. Kindness was one thing, cowardice was another. Denying him an answer at this point felt more like the latter.

“I know him because he is known to the police. He’s a villain.”

“...A villain…?” The information bounced right against Midoriya’s shock. Toshinori gave him a curt nod. “No… no, that’s… not…”

Toshinori could track the gradual, painstaking process of acceptance the poor kid was going through from the aborted expressions quickly blurring into each other. Horror, fear, confusion, disbelief. Tears rolled down his cheeks, and he clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle a sob.

“A-Are you sure?”

Toshinori hesitated. Was there any other possibility they weren’t considering? “Are you absolutely certain that that’s the person you’ve been talking to?”

“I… I’ve never met him in person. B-But mom has, and she’s been talking to him too. She said it’s him.”

“...Then I’m afraid there can be no mistake.” It felt like dropping a boulder on the child’s chest, and the way Midoriya crumpled onto himself, cradling his head in both his hands, reinforced that gut-churning impression. Toshinori made no effort to conceal the sympathy in his whisper. “I’m sorry, kid.”

“H-He said…” The rest of that thought was swallowed into distraught silence.

“He told you he worked for the government?”

Midoriya took his time to answer, and he did so with a half-choked snort. “He… he never did, actually. I thought… He said things that… made me think…”

Toshinori grit his teeth. Figures. That silver-tongued demon wouldn’t spare even a child from his precious little mind games. “I can imagine.”

The silence that followed was only broken by the boy’s quiet sniffles, and it was so long that Toshinori believed the kid to have exhausted his reserve of bravery for further questions. He’d resumed his ill-concealed procrastination via blood-cleaning when the next inquiry dropped.

“What did he do?”

Oh, man. What didn’t he do? “He’s been involved in a variety of criminal activities, both directly and indirectly. He’s… quite the nasty customer.”

“Since when? How long for?” Midoriya gripped his head even more tightly, his fingers digging deep among his curls.

Toshinori had the distinct feeling that his well-meaning honesty was now trespassing into inadvertent cruelty. “We should wait for your mother before discussing this any-”

“Please.” Midoriya’s head snapped up, and the weight and emotion of those emerald eyes pierced through him like a blade. “Please, just tell me.”

Fourteen years of lies. Toshinori couldn’t bear to add even one more to the heap. “...Since long before you were born.”

Midoriya’s head dropped anew. Toshinori got back on his feet, unsure whether a kind word or a pat on the head could possibly ease that burden even slightly-

The ring of the doorbell made them both flinch, bursting that odd bubble of private desolation that had enveloped the boy’s room. They made their way out of the room, Midoriya quietly trailing behind the hero as the man opened the front door.

Tsukauchi opened his mouth to greet them, and froze. His eyes immediately homed in on the blood liberally splattered on Toshinori’s clothes, and on the melted ice pack Midoriya was still absently pressing to his temple.

“...What happened?”

Inko Midoriya had the same dark green hair as her son, styled in a way that made something inside Toshinori’s chest ache with nostalgia and familiarity. She had the countenance of a demure, quiet, respectable housewife that valued stability and her loved ones’ well-being above all, and would never even conceive of starting a family with anyone any less sensible than she was.

That was why Toshinori was thrown for a loop when, upon being informed that her absentee husband was a criminal, she simply closed her eyes and bowed her head with a sigh and a resigned “...Yes, I am aware.”

Toshinori let Tsukauchi lead the questioning, as usual. Inko had met ‘Hisashi Midoriya’ (under a different alias, at the time) when she was twenty-six, working as a secretary at the main branch of Detnerat. The man had been introduced to her as a representative from another support item company doing some preliminary checks on Detnerat for a potential merger.

This was unusual, but not exceedingly so. In the nearly thirty years he’d spent meticulously dismantling All For One’s organization, Toshinori had gathered evidence of him personally handling certain aspects of his schemes with surprising regularity, even relatively minor tasks or dirty deeds that could easily and safely be entrusted to his subordinates. He hardly ever found any specific reasons for All For One’s direct involvement. Toshinori strongly suspected that the bastard simply didn’t enjoy the lifestyle of the cooped-up, invisible puppeteer, and sometimes just felt like wrecking some havoc with his own diabolical hands.

Inko had been charged with supplying him with quite a sizable amount of rather sensitive data, but since the CEO in person had given the authorization, she had performed her task diligently and unsuspectingly.

Now, Toshinori had been expecting the worst to emerge while questioning the circumstances that had led Inko Midoriya to her current marital status. Without exaggerating, the very worst. Any sort of revolting account of manipulation, coercion, even human experimentation, there was no low All For One wouldn’t stoop to. They had confined the boy to his room before starting for that exact reason.

But apparently the universe wasn’t done throwing curve balls at Toshinori that day, and what they’d gotten instead was the succinct description of what seemed to be, by all accounts, a perfectly ordinary and unassuming workplace romance. One instigated mainly by Inko herself, no less. Toshinori’s strained mind didn’t quite know what to make of that baffling information, so it promptly repressed it.

“We didn’t keep seeing each other after he stopped coming to the company, but I did reach out to him when I found out I was pregnant. That was when I became aware that there was much I didn’t know about him.”

“How so?”

“He told me.” Inko replied simply. “He was... forward about it, in a way. He said that he couldn’t settle down in any given place, nor spare the time for being part of a family. He offered to let me join him in his activities, but… the way he worded it made it clear that he wasn’t talking of any sort of legal business.”

“Did he mention any details about what his ‘business’ entailed, in general or in that specific time frame?”

“No, not at all. But considering how we met, I assume he must be involved in industrial espionage.” Grief, brief but intense, shadowed on the woman’s features for a moment. “I… I resigned from Detnerat as soon as I found out. He had been asking rather sensitive questions about the inner workings of the company, and… even though I never technically shared confidential information, I felt like I had exposed it to too great a danger because of my irresponsible conduct. And, honestly… I was afraid of what could emerge if I kept working there in my condition.”

Toshinori rubbed his hands in his lap uncomfortably. No job, a son on the way, a presumably disreputable partner to deal with… What a wretched situation to find oneself in.

“You said he offered you to join him? In what way, exactly?” Tsukauchi asked from above the pages and pages of notes filling his notepad.

“...I am not sure. I didn’t ask, I had no intention of getting caught in that sort of environment. Nor did I want Izuku to grow up embroiled in dubious activities from an early age.” Inko’s brows furrowed, and her fist clenched slightly. “...I didn’t want him to feel abandoned either though. I didn’t want him to grow thinking his father had deserted him. I asked Hisashi to grant us that, at least. Financial support and the decency to call, once in a while.”

Toshinori couldn’t hold back a sharp cough at that. Inko regarded him with a mix of concern and suspicion.

He couldn’t blame her for it. He had accidentally caused her a fair share of grief when, her son having forgotten to warn her to expect guests upon her return, she’d opened the front door and found a freakishly tall, gaunt, haunted-looking, bloodied stranger looming in her hallway. Toshinori had waited in a conveniently secluded corner of the living room, trying to make himself look as small and non-threatening as possible, while Tsukauchi delivered the proper introductions and deflected the few concerned neighbors her terrified scream had attracted. Not exactly brilliant, as first impressions went.

“And he agreed to that?” Toshinori croaked.

“Yes. I was expecting some resistance, but… he agreed almost immediately.”

Toshinori gaped at the remissive-looking, soft-spoken woman who had once been capable of browbeating All For One into exercising a modicum of fatherly commitment. This whole Midoriya case was getting more and more unbelievable by the hour.

Tsukauchi cleared his throat pointedly. Toshinori scraped back together what little dignity he had left and tried to soldier on.

“Please continue, Mrs. Midoriya.” The detective encouraged.

“There isn’t much else to say, I think. I didn’t hear from him for months after that. I contacted him a few days after Izuku was born, and we’ve kept in touch ever since.”

Tsukauchi tapped his chin with his pen for a few moments, his expression deeply focussed. Then he looked Inko straight in the eye.

“You are being… unexpectedly forthcoming about all this, if I may.”

Inko let out a deep sigh. “I was never under the impression that we could escape the consequences of Hisashi’s actions forever. As soon as Izuku was born, I decided that I would never subject myself or my son to undue duresses just to keep my husband’s secrets. I told Hisashi as much as well.”

Toshinori had to stifle another wet cough with his handkerchief. How on earth was this woman still alive?

“And he had no qualms about this declaration?”

“No. It rather amused him, actually. He said that any mother worth her salt would put her offspring’s safety above that of their parents. And… something about natural selection and survival of the fittest…” Inko’s eyes flickered upwards briefly, like those of a very normal wife exasperated by the very normal idiosyncrasies of her very normal husband. “He does go off on such tangents.”

“So you aren’t concerned about any possible retaliations on your husband’s part because of your cooperation with us?”

“Oh!” Her eyes went wide, almost shocked by the mere suggestion. “Oh no, I really don’t think he’d be capable of something like that.”

Oh, how very wrong she was. Toshinori frowned, admittedly perturbed by the level of trust All For One had managed to establish within the family without ever even deigning to step in their household. Precautions would have to be taken to protect the Midoriyas from the tragic fate that usually befell all those who were deemed traitors by the Symbol of Fear.

More and more questions followed. With his habitual thoroughness, Tsukauchi pursued a multitude of topics and leads that hadn’t even occurred to Toshinori, at least not so readily. Timing and means of communications, occasional postal deliveries to and from the family, details about the sums of money regularly deposited in the family’s account, and so forth. Toshinori was rather out of his depth here, but he tried his best to help Tsukauchi sort through the reams of documents, receipts, records, and diverse paperwork Inko produced at the detective’s request. By the time Tsukauchi declared to be satisfied with his preliminary inquiries, he had earned himself two plastic bags bursting with evidence, and Toshinori had developed a burgeoning migraine.

As they finally made their way to the entrance, Toshinori glanced at the door to Midoriya’s bedroom. Amidst that cascade of new revelations, they’d barely touched upon the topic of the villain attack and of Midoriya’s quirk with his mother. Toshinori felt genuinely sorry for the difficult conversations that were sure to follow between those two.

He hadn’t realized how late it’d gotten until he stepped outside the Midoriyas’ apartment. Sunset had come and gone, and the lampposts and the bright squares of the neighbors’ windows were the only sources of light in the moonless night of that unassuming residential area. As the door closed behind his back, squeezing into nothingness the rectangular glow framing him and Tsukauchi, Toshinori felt the darkness weigh on his shoulders and seep in his bones almost physically.

He felt, suddenly, extremely tired.

“I’ll drive you home.” Tsukauchi’s wasn’t an offer, so Toshinori didn’t refuse.

“Thank you.”

They walked to the car as his friend made a couple of quick calls to instruct some agents to watch the house until the next morning. The fresh night air would have felt like a small bliss to Toshinori on any other day, but in that moment it only rattled whatever unpleasant manifestation of his unease had lodged itself in his lung earlier that afternoon and hadn’t left since. He coughed a few times in his fist, then a few more on purpose to make sure he got most of the discomfort in his throat out of his system before he settled in the passenger’s seat.

The drive was quiet. Toshinori gazed absently out of the window, letting the new awareness sink in his mind like a stone in a pond. All For One was alive. All For One was still alive, somehow. Toshinori couldn’t fathom how. They had never retrieved the body, that was true, but there was precious little they had managed to retrieve from the location of their fight back then. It was nothing short of a miracle they’d found Toshinori himself quickly enough to lend medical assistance. The only reason why they’d been able to keep the public from learning of the accident was because it hadn’t happened on the mainland, and the tiny, uninhabited island that hosted it had all but been wiped from the maps. That his foe may have survived that disaster, considering the damage he’d sustained, was almost inconceivable. Toshinori was pretty sure he’d actually caught a glimpse of the man’s exposed brain after landing the last-

“Are you all right?” Tsukauchi asked quietly.

The corner of Toshinori’s mouth twitched upwards. “I’m never going to defy New Year’s fortunes again. Moving away from Tokyo was a terrible idea.”

“This is a good thing. If you hadn’t, All For One would still be out there, and we’d be none the wiser.”

Hell. Five years. For five years they’d been none the wiser. How much strength had All For One regained in five years, while Toshinori’s own slowly went down the drain? How much of his criminal network had he managed to rebuild? How many unnoticed, unreported atrocities had he been plotting and executing, unbeknownst to all? The mere notion made Toshinori’s skin crawl.

But Tsukauchi had the right idea, there was no point in brooding over the current situation. Things could have turned out a lot worse. If Toshinori had already chosen a successor and exhausted One For All’s embers, by now he’d be powerless and useless, and the burden of facing his revived nemesis would have fallen entirely on the new, inexperienced wielder. That truly would have been a worst-case scenario. But as things stood, he could still rely on his quirk for a decent amount of time. He could still tie this dreadful loose end himself before passing the torch, and he’d spare no effort in the endeavor. He’d pursue the monster to the ends of the Earth if he had to, even if it meant wearing himself down to nothing for the rest of his life.

Or meeting his gruesome, bitter end in the process.

Toshinori shivered.

“So,” he heard himself say, “where do we go from here?”

Tsukauchi gave him a stern, silent scrutiny, then he told him.

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #All Might #Toshinori Yagi #Naomasa Tsukauchi #deku #izuku midoriya #inko midoriya

21 notes · View notes

curious-menace · 4 years

Note

Can you do headcanons of any Riddler getting cared for and gentle kisses from reader after getting beat up? He needs some loves.

SO I MAY HAVE SUGGESTED THAT MY ULTIMATE FANTASY IS TO GIVE RIDDLER A HUG WITH BACKRUBS AS HE TELLS ME ABOUT HIS DAY AND I STAND BY THAT WHOLE-HEARTEDLY .

i freaking love this stuff so im going to do all of them mwahahah

post asswoop riddlers getting loves

Arkham riddler

He’s VERY quiet, which knowing him and his inability to stop talking, is bad news.

I paint arkham riddler as a cry baby and i stand by that. this is the hill i will die on. He’ll have dragged his sorry ass into your apartment or house , dripping blood on your floors but he wont bother calling for you. he’ll just sit at the table with his head in his hands having a lil pity party until you find him.

when you do finally get home, he’ll be looking like a kicked puppy. he’s gotten stuck in his own head, mentally beating himself up even more. he got a fright when you came in because he was so caught up he didn't even hear you at the door.

He’s literally sits there like a child with his arms up for you to come scoop him up. he’s not even sure why his first thought after getting beat up was to come here, he’s probably lead the cops here or something and that was so stupid and- you should probably give him a lil soft smooch on the head to stop him before he goes into a spiral.

he needs more emotional and mental care than physical. Talk to him while you're patching him up. any topic, it doesn't matter just keep him focused on your voice and not the one in his head calling him dumb.

he wont admit he wants to be held and coddled after something like this. get your softest blankie and 2 mugs of coco with marshmallows and just ramble at him. tell him about your day or ask him to explain something boring and complicated so he’s focusing on that rather than how upset he is. let him sit on your lap or between your legs on the sofa and watch how its made or mythbusters or something until he falls asleep. he should be ok again in the morning, he doesnt stay down for long.

Blacklight Riddler

He’s used to getting his ass kicked, either by batman, the other rogues or once he’s a PI, by unhappy clients and the people he put away. He might be tiny but he’s pretty tough.

even if he’s really hurting, his probably trying to crack jokes and tell blood and bruise related riddles. He doesn't like to see you worry so even if he’s in a lot of pain or a bit upset about things, he’s trying to make you smile.

he likes kisses on his bruises. even if he just banged his hand on the table he’ll come to you because he wants you to kiss it better.

He’s a decent fighter, unlike a lot of riddlers who couldnt fight their way out of a paper bag. He can throw punches but he lacks in defence and with his bad knee, dodging can be a little hard. even if he wins the fight he’s still likely to need you to patch him up.

He likes kids plasters. like hello kitty and spongebob. no im not joking, he ALWAYS wanted them when he was little and his parents always said no. now he’s an adult he’s going to use them whenever he damn well pleases.

if it was a particularly bad one, he’ll be ok in the moment even if he has to go to hospital. But he’s going to drop the facade at some point and let you see how upset he is. winding up in hospital after being beat was a common occurrence in childhood. even after doing it time and time again as an adult it doesn't make it any easier on him. he’ll want to stay in your bed, be close to you for few days until either he starts to heal or something snaps him out of his funk.

BTAS Riddler

he really prefers other people to do the fighting for him. well physically anyway. he can handle his own arguments...most of the time. He’s going to need you to nurse a bruised ego more than anything. he probably got dunked on my batman or crane and now he’s huffing.

i don't know if this counts as care and kisses but he clearly needs you around to keep his sorry ass alive. he hurt his side in a fight once and said he wasn't hurt. believable... until he started to act a little confused, a little dizzy. needless to say it worried you enough to take him to emergency care.

He was obviously in agony by now but he was still fighting with you the entire drive there, insulting you and insisting he was fine. its a good job you took him when he did, turns out he’d ruptured his spleen and would probably be dead if you weren’t around to act like his common sense.

he still hasnt apologised for that. or any of the other times you insisted on medical care to stop him from pushing up daisies. he just pretends like you know he’s grateful so he doenst have to admit he’s bullheaded, stubborn and worst of all, wrong.

if he has been seriously hurt, he acts more indignant about it than anything. he wants to be waited on and pampered while resting in bed. he can be a genuine pain to deal with, talking about how lucky you are to see him in such a vulnerable state and how you should be grateful he’s letting you do this for him.

He doesn't want to admit how much he actually needs you. his goons wont put up with him when he’s like this and he’s freaking paying them to do it. you do it for free and no matter how annoying he is you havent left him yet. he doesn't tell you but youve noticed he starts getting you more gifts about a week after he’s recovered. like its taken him a day or two to work out he should probably thank you for all you do.

Original Riddler

this riddler is just weird. like he gets a freaking hang nail and he pretends like he’s dying. but he could nearly lose a limb and he’ll say “tis but a scratch” and still try to hobble about like nothing is wrong.

actually he’s more like olaf “oh look i've been impaled.”. he probably tries to laugh off life threatening injuries like its nothing, taking maybe 3 steps before he collapses on his face in a blood puddle and lets out a tiny “help”

good luck moving his tall lanky ass around. better get a gurney and maybe those vets at the zoo who deal with giraffes. seriously if you want to take care of him you are going to need help or some sort of action plan and a go bag because with his limp butt this will not be easy.

he’s kinda like BTAS riddler in that he needs you to tell him the injury is serious. hes not dumb he just has a high pain threshold and genuinely doesn't realise that injuries are as bad as they are.

he can be a bit of a baby while being patched up. he doesn't like a lot of blood or gore, it makes him feel a little sicky. better give him your phone to play with like a kid at the doctors or put the tv on for him to watch while you bandage him. word of warning, he will pass out or throw up if you try to give him stitches.

i think you should focus your love and attention on him AFTER medical care. just focus on the job, be silent and as fast as possible to get it over with quickly. you should probably bring him something sweet too. no not just you, although you are sweet for looking after him. give him something sugary because he’s going to be light headed after seeing any blood. maybe you could give him a lolly for being a good patient.

Telltale riddler

this riddler is essentially a metahuman. he can REALLY take a beating and bounce back fairly quickly. just look how many times batman punched him in the face and it barely stunned him! he doesnt usually need patched up after a fight. maybe just a lil smooch and some hugs

he did really need your help after the whole pact thing. having his friends abandon him hurt like hell, more than any physical injury ever could.

after that, he clings to you. almost obsessively so; we know he’s got some serious mental illnesses but he usually has the worst of it under control, even without meds. now? it seems like he’s experiencing ptsd and is afraid to go anywhere without you, like you might up and disappear if you arent in his line of sight at all times.

i think this riddler might need the most intense care from you. hugs and gentle reassurance wont be enough. you’re going to be responsible for taking him to therapy, keeping him taking his meds and grounding him to reality. this is the kind of responsibility you took on when you got involved with him but i doubt you realised how hard it would be. i cant promise it will all be worth it but i can promise he wont ever forget your kindness.

the kind of care he needs after such a hard knocking down is just stability. im not one for romance or any mushy gushy stuff but please just pour your love into the cracks in this poor mans soul.

its hard going, but he has his moments. his gallows sense of humor is still there and hey, after him being in and out and gone for so long, it might be nice to have him around more.

Zero year riddler

INSUFFERABLE LITTLE SHIT THIS ONE. he could LITERALLY be bleeding out in your arms and he’d STILL be backseat driving on your medical skills. the temptation to just leave him there to bleed is INCREDIBLE.

he’ll drop the act eventually. he’ll ask and maybe even beg for your help. man has no shame and all the self preservation instincts of a lemming. dont get me wrong, he can be a total coward some times, only looking out for himself . but when he’s actually hurt ? not a fuckin clue. does this head wound need an ice pack or heat pack? is this spurring blood wound worthy of medical care? no idea. he was a very sheltered child who never got so much as a bruise so he has no idea what to do when he’s hurt.

he gets the everloving shit kicked out of him on a clockwork basis. like you could hear knocking on your door at 3 am and already be at the table with a first aid kit like oh its tuesday riddler must have broken his nose.

he takes entirely too much joy in making you patch him up. youre starting to wonder if he’s doing it on purpose just to see you in your little apron and latex gloves . he’s getting off on this and you know it but god help you, you just cant resist his dumb face asking for your help and would you also wear this pink nurses outfit while youre at it?

one time he lost a LOT of blood. he would be fine but he was pretty damn loopy from lightheadedness. while you were trying to get him into bed to rest he started flirting with you. can you believe the audacity? he’s lost 3 pints of blood and he’s still more focus on his libido?

he’s actually going to be both humble and grateful for your help when he finally comes round. dont get me wrong, he’s still a bit of a prick but at least he says thank you for saving him before he demands you kiss all his booboos and ouchies.

nonnie i am having a stroke. i was trying SO hard to just pick one but i COULDNT because i am WEAK for hurt and comfort.

theres a reason i have a tag that literally says “i have naughty hands and no self control”

someone needs to stage an intervention

got something you wana talk about? send me an ask or a dm! im always game to talk about our favorite curious menace 💚💜

135 notes · View notes

roman-writing · 4 years

Text

bring home a haunting (1/12)

Fandom: The Haunting of Bly Manor

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Taylor

Rating: M

Wordcount: 11,511

Summary: Dani almost has her life together, when a familiar face arrives back in town after ten years. A childhood friends AU written with @youngbloodbuzz

read it below or read it on AO3 here

“The sweetest thing in all my life has been the longing — to reach the Mountain, to find the place where all the beauty came from — my country, the place where I ought to have been born. Do you think it all meant nothing, all the longing? The longing for home? For indeed it now feels not like going, but like going back.” - CS Lewis, Till We Have Faces

—

I: 1987

—

The sound of water sloshing through the pipes was a constant drone in the air. Dani stared at herself in the mirror. Her hand rested on the tap, holding it open. Steam crept in along the edges of the mirror as hot water continued to stream into the white porcelain bathroom sink, pale tendrils framing her face like smudged fingerprints against the glass. She was still dressed in pajamas, her hair a rumpled mess. There were dark shadows beneath her eyes. Her face felt puffy and her stomach heavy, but above all else she just appeared tired.

There was movement behind her. The bathroom door opened and her head jerked up in surprise as the door frame squared around Eddie's tall silhouette. In the misted mirror, his glasses seemed to reflect all light, obscuring half his face in a gleam like the sun glancing across the surface of a windscreen.

His reflection smiled. "You still getting ready?" he asked. "We need to go in ten, if I'm giving you a ride to work."

Abruptly, Dani twisted the tap, cutting off the flow of water. She cleared her throat. "Sorry. No. I'll — I'll drive myself."

"You sure? I don't know if your poor little car will make it."

"No. It'll be fine," she assured him, trying to sound far more confident than she felt. Never mind that the local mechanic had given her a list of incomprehensible ills that plagued her car the last time she had taken it into the shop after it had broken down again. "Thanks, though."

"All right," he said, but still he did not turn to leave. "You know, I was thinking. We should probably sell it."

"Hmm?"

Dani had opened the mirror door to reveal a jumble of bottles and toothpaste and toothbrushes, only some of which were hers. She scouted around for what she was looking for. Even after a few weeks, everything still felt so displaced. She struggled to find the smallest item these days, be it her favorite sauce pan or a bottle of — oh, there it was.

"Your car," Eddie was saying behind her. "Don't you think we should sell it? We don't really need two. Not now that we're living together."

Dani froze with her hands cupped in the water of the sink. She could see her own reflection weaving and waving from the disturbance until her face looked disjointed. Like some sort of Picasso. An eye here. A jaw there. Scattered into separate chambers.

Without answering, she leaned down and splashed her face, rubbing at her cheeks until a foam lathered, eyes squeezed shut.

"Well?" Eddie asked.

She bought herself a moment by rinsing the suds from her face and reaching blindly for a towel that she had perched on a nearby rail for just that very purpose. When she spoke, her voice was muffled through the cloth, "I don't know. I just think —" She lowered the towel and wiped at her neck. "Wouldn't it be inconvenient? You having to drive me around everywhere?"

In the mirror, his outline shrugged. "I don't mind. More time spent with you, right?"

She offered him a weak smile, drying her hands and folding the towel neatly back on its rack. “You’re sweet,” she said. “But really. I mean — What if I need to pick up groceries on the way back from the school? Or what if I want to visit your mother? Or —?”

“All right. All right. You win,” he laughed, softly. He came up behind her, hands settling on her waist, gentle but heavy all the same. “Just think about it. Okay?”

The steam at the edges of the mirror had begun to fade, and Eddie’s features came into sharp relief. Looking at their reflection was like looking at the picture in their living room where they were posed for prom. Eddie’s hands clasped at her waist, and Dani still with that deer in the headlights smile. It was almost perfect. It was almost enough. Being a fresh-faced fiancée. Wearing rumpled pink pajamas. Living together. Watching a life unfold before her as though it belonged to someone else.

She shrank away from him in order to turn around. “I should finish getting ready,” she said.

He let her go but leaned down for a kiss. Instead, his glasses bumped the side of her face. Laughing, she pushed the glasses up his nose as he retreated with a wince.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Her hand was still lingering on the side of his face — scratch of stubble beneath her fingertips — and Eddie pressed a brief kiss to her palm before striding from the bathroom. Dani stood there, clutching her hand back to her chest, listening to his retreating footsteps down the hall. Something curdled in her stomach, though she hadn’t eaten anything yet this morning. She passed it off as hunger instead of guilt.

Eyes squeezing shut, hand clenching into a fist at her sternum, Dani inhaled a deep steadying breath. Then, opening her eyes once more, she turned back towards the mirror and reached for a hairbrush.

—

The coffee in the teacher’s lounge was always dark as sin and tasted of battery acid. Dani pulled on the tap, filling up her styrofoam cup until her hand burned and she had to hold it gingerly from the top with her fingertips. Enough creamer followed so that the coffee resembled milk more than the original brew. She tested it with a sip, crinkled her nose, and added sugar until it was barely palatable. It would still strip paint in a pinch, but it would also keep her going throughout the day.

With a resigned sigh, she carried the coffee over to the round table in the back corner of the lounge, where her piles of notes and textbooks waited. The binders sported multi-colored tongues, every section marked with a tab and her broad loopy handwriting, and there was a satchel of pens and markers in every hue under the sky. Taking a sip of her cup of paint thinner, Dani pulled out a plain black pen. She trailed her thumb down the tabs until she reached the desired section, and flipped open to the correct page. There, she began to record her meticulous notes. She would pause every so often to flip through a textbook and double-check some figure or another that she had convinced herself she had forgotten.

The lounge was mostly empty but for her. It was still an early hour, even for her colleagues. Here, she felt like she could actually work. Back home she would inevitably feel like she had gotten in the way. Not of Eddie. Not usually. Though sometimes he would wander over to the table while she was trying to arrange a lesson plan and distract her with talk of banalities that always made her hand slip, that always made her lose her place on the page. Other times he would complain about how her work sprawled and took over the whole dining room.

Mostly it was the house itself. Still so fresh and new and clean, walls pressing in like a stomach lining. Spreading all her work notes out felt like she was intruding upon the space of the napkins and cutlery. As though all of the items people had bought them for their engagement were more at home there than she was. A house of cardboard boxes. Of clothes. Of china. Stuff. Things. Their things.

Dani’s writing had slowed. She shook her head briskly and straightened in her seat. Another sip of fortifying turpentine, and she was scribbling away again.

“Enjoy the summer holiday?”

Dani glanced up at the sound of that familiar voice. Hannah Grose, seamlessly elegant in a wine-dark skirt suit, stood with her hand on the back of one of the chairs around the little table.

A smile broke across Dani’s face, and she said, “Yeah! And you?” She gestured towards the chair with her pen, adding, “Please.”

“Not much to report on the western front.” Hannah sat, delicately leaning her elbow upon the table so as not to disturb the sprawl of Dani’s notes. “But I hear that’s not the case in your camp. Congratulations are in order.”

Dani could feel her cheeks strain with the effort of keeping her smile in place. “Thanks!”

“Well?” Hannah asked, her eyes agleam with warm curiosity. “Go on then. How did he propose?”

“Which time?” Dani joked half-heartedly. When Hannah gave a little huff of laughter, Dani said, “No, seriously. He’s been asking me to marry him since we were kids.”

“Well, congratulations,” Hannah said. “Do you have a date planned? Or is that still in the works?”

Dani fiddled with the pen between her fingers, repeatedly removing the cap and sticking it back on with a nervous jab. The plastic clacked dully against the unfamiliar band of gold around her finger. “Oh, no. Not yet. We — uh — we’re going to wait a bit. Eddie just started his new job, and I’ve — well. You’re the one who asked me to teach sixth grade this year. And I’m excited, but also I feel so unprepared for a whole classroom of twelve year olds.”

“Don’t be nervous, dear,” Hannah said, and though her tone was soothing her small smile was teasing. “They can smell fear.”

Dani’s laugh was slightly too breathy and too short to be heartfelt. “Oh, I know. It’s just —” She made a flighty gesture with one hand, “— getting a new batch in. It’s always a little nerve wracking. There are so many names to memorize in the first week. And sorting out the dynamics of them all, how they interact, and — well, you know.”

“No, I don’t. Not really, anyway,” Hannah said. “I came up the ranks through an administrative route. Never had any classroom time to speak of.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Dani said.

Hannah gave Dani’s notes a nudge with her elbow. “What was it you were just telling me about the trials and tribulations of homeroom?”

This time when Dani laughed, it was far more relaxed. “The kids are the best part. Really. That’s why you do it.”

Hannah gave her a knowing look. “Yes. And that’s why I hired you.”

“Have I thanked you for that, yet?”

“Only once a year for three years.”

“My next gift basket is in the mail tomorrow, then,” Dani joked.

“Hang the basket and bring me a slice from the cafe instead.”

“With coffee?” Dani asked, grinning when Hannah wrinkled her nose at the idea. “You got it, boss.”

“Tea,” said Hannah primly, “is perfectly serviceable. Thank you. It’s eight thirty, by the way.”

Dani’s eyes widened and she checked her watch to find that Hannah was, in fact, correct. “Oh, shoot!” Hastily, she scraped together the loose papers, shuffling them back into their notebook. Tucking it beneath one arm, she snatched up her styrofoam cup and made a dash for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mrs. Grose.”

“Don’t forget to bring back a receipt for the slice!” Hannah called after her. “You must let me pay you back this time!”

“Put it on my next remuneration review!”

—

The kids were all filing into class, and Dani was hesitating at the blackboard. She held the tip of a piece of chalk against the dark grain. Her hand had frozen on the final downward stroke of the 'M' when she thought — should it still be 'Miss'? 'Ms.'? What were the rules?

The sounds of children jabbering away behind her, chairs scraping, things being thrown, urged her into action, and Dani wrote the name she had always written before turning around.

"All right, let's settle down, please." She waited until twenty-five faces were turned towards her in relative silence — as good as she could hope for given the circumstances — before smiling. Then, she set aside the chalk and picked up a clipboard full of names. "Hi, everyone. I'm Miss Clayton. Welcome to homeroom. Let's go through names. Make sure everyone's here."

It was the same, she told herself even as she meticulously took roll. How different could a bunch of twelve year olds be to her usual ten year olds? She even recognized one or two names from when she had taught a previous class. One of her former students waved at her from the back of a row of desks, and Dani smiled in return.

She skimmed right over the roll call and into the first introductions to the year. It happened so fast, that she hardly even registered a familiar looking name on the list. The boy in question merely raised his hand upon his name being called out, and Dani forged on to the next. With so many new faces to memorize, she did not even pause to mull over the presence of a Michael Taylor in her class. There were too many of them. Always too many. She never could keep track. Always remembering faces, but never names. Maybe if there were fewer of them, she thought. Maybe if they were younger.

They never were.

—

Even after two weeks back in the classroom, the bell ringing never failed to make Dani jump slightly. She nearly dropped her chalk from where she was drawing on the blackboard. Already behind her she could hear the scrape of chairs and the excited babble at the arrival of the weekend.

Setting down the chalk, Dani turned around and began wiping her hands against her skirt. She had to lift her voice to be heard. “All right everyone, don’t forget your permission slips for a trip to the community library! If you don’t bring back a signed form, you won’t be able to go, and you’ll have to stay here! And, Michael? Can you stay behind for a minute, please? I want to talk to you.”

Michael’s head whipped around at the sound of his name. A few other students shot him odd glances and his shoulders crept up around his ears. He shoved his books and notes into his bag — a dark blue canvas with silver stars that looked like they’d been painstakingly drawn on — then slouched at his desk until the others had all left.

Sitting behind her own desk, Dani brushed at the chalk handprints on her skirt — she was always a mess by the end of a school week; chalk everywhere — and gestured for Michael to come closer. He hesitated before pushing himself upright and walking forward until he stood in front of her desk. His brow was furrowed but his head was bowed, looking contrite, as though waiting for some sort of reprimand.

Dani gentled her voice. “Michael, I just wanted to -"

"Mikey."

She blinked, faltering. "I'm sorry?"

"My name," he said very firmly for someone who stood with such a stoop. "It’s Mikey. I don’t like Michael."

With a smile, Dani said, "Of course. Mikey. You’re not in trouble. I promise.” With a light tap of her palms against the surface of the desk, she pulled out a piece of paper from atop one of the stacks and slid it towards him across her desk. “This is your homework from Monday. Do you remember this problem here? Number eleven?”

Shrugging at the weight of his backpack, he nodded.

“Well, I kind of messed up,” she said, lowering her voice and leaning forward as though revealing a secret. “And I copied this problem from the wrong section of the book. The back section of the book, I mean. Most of the others didn’t even try to answer it, and those that did got it wrong. Except —” Dani tapped a finger against the edge of the page, “— for you.”

Mikey did not say anything. His gaze remained dropped, as though he were studying his shoes.

“Do you know what this ‘x’ is?” Dani asked, pointing to the math problem in question.

Mikey shook his head. “No. I thought it was like a question mark?”

“Yeah.” Dani smiled. “Yeah, that’s right.”

He glanced up at her, saw her watching him, and then hastily lowered his eyes again, shuffling his feet.

Leaning her weight on her forearms, Dani said, “I know you’re a transfer student this year, and you came from somewhere out of state. Did your other schools teach you algebra by any chance?”

Again, he shook his head.

“Okay.” She ducked her head down in an attempt to look into his eyes. “I told you: you’re not in trouble. I just wanted to know — do you like math? Because it seems to me you’re really good at it.”

“I guess,” he mumbled. His hand tightened around the strap of his backpack. “Can I go now?”

Dani toyed with the edge of the page of homework. Then with a sigh she leaned back in her seat. “Yeah, you can go. Have a good weekend.”

He murmured some pleasantry in response, but in the next moment he was gone from the room so fast she thought she must have imagined it. For a moment, Dani frowned after him. She pulled his homework towards herself, studying the page. Mikey’s handwriting was cramped and messy, but there was no mistaking the fact that he had written every answer only once. There were no eraser marks to be seen. He even showed the steps he took to reach his answers.

Her thumb traced over his name at the top right hand corner. Then, with a little shake of her head, she set the page back atop the stack of other papers and began to clean up.

Even after the kids had mostly left, there were always a few stragglers left behind. Some trotted through the halls in packs on their way to whatever extracurricular activities their parents had signed them up for. Dani kept the door to her classroom open, and the squeak of their shoes echoed down the corridor along with the sound of their fading voices. Tilting her wrist to check the time, she pulled out the latest round of homework assignments that had been handed back to her earlier that day. The set she hadn’t had a chance to mark yet.

Best to just get it done with now. Her car was clinging to the last vestiges of life and had landed itself back in the workshop earlier that week. She would be here a while until Eddie got off work.

She grabbed a red pen and pulled the first page towards her. The pen flicked officiously as she scanned through the questions, barely pausing until she circled the final grade at the top and set the page aside in favor of the next. And so on. And so forth. It was almost relaxing. As relaxing as a known constant could be. She could always rely upon the dependability of homework that needed grading. Just like she could rely upon the dependability of death and taxes.

She glanced up only rarely from her work whenever a flurry of movement flitted across the corners of her vision. A bird darting from a tree branch here. A janitor sweeping the floors there. Dani paused to push her seat back from the desk and make small talk, asking after the janitor's wife and kids until he shuffled along with a wave, pushing his long-handled broom, which looked more like a breed of shaggy dog than a cleaning implement. She had almost finished grading the stack of papers, when she glanced out the window towards the street. She looked back down at the papers, then did a double take.

That was a student sitting on the curb. She recognized that blue backpack with silver stars. Dani checked the time again. Nearly four in the afternoon now. With a hum and a frown, she returned to grading, but her gaze would wander after each finished page back towards the window.

Finally, she capped the pen and set it down atop the finished stack of papers. She would need to enter those grades into the system later, but that could wait. For now, Dani swept everything into her bag before slinging it over one shoulder. Her keys jangled from their lanyard as she locked up and made her way outside.

Mikey was still crouched on the sidewalk when she approached. Her shoes clacked dully against the pavement, and he turned to look over his shoulder at who was approaching him.

Dani smiled brightly. "Hi!" she said. "You’re still here?"

Mikey nodded, but gave no verbal reply. Some sort of magazine was hanging loosely from his fingers, half open and tucked between his legs as though he had been caught red-handed.

Setting her bag down on the ground, she sat beside him and craned her neck to get a look at the cover he was clearly trying to hide. "Wonder Woman, huh?"

His cheeks flushed in embarrassment, and he refused to look anywhere near her direction.

"You know," Dani said. "I used to wait up at night to catch all the episodes of the show as they were airing. The Lynda Carter ones? You ever watch it?"

His eyes were wide when he finally turned to look at her. He nodded. "Yeah. I love that show."

"I recorded them all," Dani confided in a whisper, as though the two of them were in on a secret. "Still have them on tape at home, though I haven't watched them in forever."

"My sister gets annoyed when I rewatch stuff too often," Mikey said. He had straightened his legs, and now the comic book was sprawled across his bony knees to reveal a few inked pages.

She nodded towards the thin paper booklet. "I never read the comics, though. Are they any fun?"

It was like opening flood gates. Suddenly, she found herself being regaled about the entire publication history of Wonder Woman, while Mikey gestured wildly with the comic so that the loose pages rustled with every motion of his hands. His face came alight when he spoke. Dani listened with amusement. She perched an elbow on her knees and propped her chin on her hand, nodding along, asking appropriate questions. Once she asked what was obviously a dumb question, for he made a face and explained her error in great detail.

The early autumnal sun was slanting through the trees by the time a boxy silver sedan rolled up to the other side of the street. Dani could see a familiar mop of dark hair and the gleam of glasses through the windows. The car puttered to a halt, engine idling, and Eddie pressed down on the steering wheel so that the horn blared briefly.

Dani waved in his direction and said to Mikey, “That’s my ride. Are you going to be okay out here?” She glanced down the street for any approaching cars. “Someone’s coming to pick you up, right?”

In answer, he held up the issue of Wonder Woman. “It’s okay, Miss Clayton. My sister will be here soon.”

“Okay, then,” said Dani. Slapping her hands on her thighs, she pushed herself to her feet, bag hanging from one shoulder. She walked towards the car with a smile and a wave back at Mikey. “I’ll see you next week!”

He did not answer. He was already nose-deep in his comic book again. Shaking her head with a small chuckle, Dani continued towards where Eddie was waiting for her, tapping at the dashboard. It wasn’t until her hand was on the chromed door handle that she finally registered what Mikey had said.

A sister. He had a sister. At first she’d thought — well, a sister who got annoyed with a brother who hogged the television set would surely be a younger sister. But a sister who drove to pick him up from school was definitely not a younger sister.

“Danielle, are you all right? You look a little pale.”

The sound of Eddie’s voice made her jerk half out of her skin. She hadn’t even realized he had rolled down the window.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice catching in her throat. “Yeah. Can you just - Can you wait a second? I’ll be —I’ll be just a second.”

Dani shoved her bag through the open window into her seat, then whirled around and marched back across the street. Her hands were clenched into fists at her side. She could feel the bite of her short nails into her palms. Something acidic boiled in her stomach, twisting it into knots, until she stood over Mikey, struggling to find her voice.

“You said you had a sister?” she asked. “An older sister? And — And your last name is Taylor?”

Looking puzzled, Mikey shrugged. “Yeah?”

This was impossible. There was no way. For a long moment, Dani stared at him, his brown hair, his brown eyes, his narrow shoulders, the almost familiar shape of his nose and face.

Dani cleared her throat and tried to sound nonchalant. “And what — uh — what’s her name?”

With a quizzical frown up at her, Mikey turned a page of his comic book to where Wonder Woman was punching stars from one of her foes. “My sister?” he asked, as if it were the most bizarre question in the world. “Jamie. Her name’s Jamie.”

“Right,” Dani breathed, feeling like she’d just received a blow to the space beneath her ribcage. “Right. Of course. Sorry. I’ll just — Bye.”

Without another word, she turned on her heel and strode back towards the waiting car. She willed her breathing to even out, even as she felt something coil around her sternum and tighten with every step. Yanking open the door, Dani slipped into the car. She pushed her bag down to her feet and pulled the door shut behind her.

“Everything good?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah,” Dani lied, her voice sounding oddly high even to her own ears. It was difficult to swallow; her throat felt too tight. A rush of blood flooded through her ears in a deafening crash. She stared fixedly at the reflection of her own clenched hands in the slanted windshield, willing them to relax even as her knuckles went whiter. “Fine. Everything’s fine.”

And Eddie didn’t question it at all. He merely shrugged, put the car into gear, and drove away.

—

It stayed with her afterwards. Like a bruise upon her skin, blue and purple, tender to the touch. That cloying sense of the air too thick. Molasses on a hot summer day, the dark shadow that clung to her heels in sunlight, haunting her every step. She couldn’t breathe with it, couldn’t escape it.

Jamie. Jamie, here. Jamie, home.

Somehow Eddie didn’t notice. It completely passed him by, the way her eyes darted around as they stopped to pick up groceries, her clenched fists held tightly to her sides, consumed with the uneasy notion that she might turn around the corner and Jamie would appear, as if summoned by the gravity of Dani’s pounding heart.

It should’ve been easy — like most things eventually — locking it away. Erasing it. She had managed now for years, days, months. Except now the very thought of Jamie being so near again, so tangible again, made her somehow indelible. As if she’d always been there. Waiting. As if she’d never gone. It felt altogether at once like being peeled and stripped away, down to an exposed nerve.

Dani wished she could say she slept easy that night. Instead, after spending much of the witching hour staring at the ceiling, she finally succumbed to the sound of Eddie’s soft snores, his arm splayed across her waist, only to wake up feeling as if she'd been cracked open and hollowed out. Somehow, in between the moments of stumbling out of bed and driving up to the blue bungalow across town with Eddie in the small rental truck behind her, Dani managed to go through the motions of call and response. Her limbs moving, her mouth speaking all of their own accord, and she could only watch it happening. She pulled on the turn signal. The click of the light like an errant drip of a tap. It was only when she was cutting the engine to stare up at the house that was once hers, that something tightened in her chest, shunting her back to earth.

Carson met them by the front steps where he sat in his studded leather jacket that he wore regardless of the weather, two takeout cups in hand.

��Took you long enough,” he grumbled, standing and offering one of the cups to Eddie who reached him first. “Thought I was gonna have to drink these myself before they got cold.”

Eddie huffed a laugh, taking the cup. “Yeah, we wouldn’t want that,” he drawled before helping himself inside the house without a backwards glance, taking a long sip from his cup.

Carson stared after him for a moment before turning to Dani with a smirk, and said, “Someone’s in a mood.”

Managing a chuckle, Dani folded her arms around herself. “Yeah, he uh, he’s just eager to get it done, you know? Realtor wants the place empty by three today.”

“Well, in that case,” he said, holding out the last cup, his smirk softening to something kinder.

“Oh, thank you,” she said, taking it. The brush of his fingers against hers was warm and welcome. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Sure, I did,” he responded with a shrug, and nudged her to take a drink, “Go on.”

At the first sip of what Dani had thought was coffee was instead a sweet and rich hot chocolate. Her eyes went wide.

Carson laughed at the expression on her face. “Thought you could use a little something sweet today.”

She smiled at him over the plastic top and took another longer sip. “Thank you,” she said, “For coming. You didn’t need to, but —”

“— You needed some extra muscle, which I’ve plenty of.” His grin seemed rueful. There lingered in Carson more of the boyish youth that Dani had seen in Eddie so many years ago. He wasn’t as gangly or as broad-shouldered as his older brothers, but he was always, without fail, a comforting presence in an otherwise rowdy O’Mara household.

“And yet none of your other brothers showed up, I see,” Dani said.

“Yeah, well,” Carson shrugged against his leather jacket, hands stuck into the pockets. “Guess, I’m just the only responsible one.”

“I knew there was a reason why I liked you best.”

He winked and lowered his voice. “Don’t let Eddie hear you say that.”

With a snort, Dani reached out and ruffled his perfectly coiffed hair so that it more resembled Eddie’s unruly curls. He ducked his head and swatted her away with a whine of complaint. She laughed when he stepped away to carefully fix his hair in the reflection of her car window.

“You leave your pomade at home again?” Dani teased. “Thought you never left without it.”

She could just make out his face in the reflection, nose scrunching up as he raked his fingers through his dark hair until it was suitably tamed. The door of the house one over opened, and a young man strode out, wearing a bathrobe and clutching a mug of coffee. Immediately Carson straightened, as though he’d been tapped with the wrong end of a cattle prod.

Dani waved. “Hi, Jason!”

Her neighbor lifted a desultory hand while he fumbled with his letterbox. “Last day?” he asked, voice raspy with sleep.

“Taking the last of it now,” she said.

Jason shut the letterbox and scooped up the newspaper that had been tossed onto his lawn earlier that morning. “Let me know if you need an extra hand.”

“I should be all right. That’s what Carson’s for.” She gestured with her hot chocolate towards Carson, who had his hands jammed back into his pockets and was now leaning against her car with an odd expression on his face.

Jason glanced over and nodded, no more than a jerk of his chin up, before walking back into his house with the newspaper tucked under one arm. The muscles in Carson’s jaw were clenched, standing out like the ropes of a sailing ship.

After the door to Jason’s house had swung shut, Dani asked, “I thought you two were friends?”

Carson grunted a wordless note. “We had a falling out a few months ago. Anyway —” He turned on his heel, grin back in place, and started making his way towards her house. “Show me the heavy stuff. Come on!”

By the time they first made their way inside, Eddie was already hauling out boxes filled with her things. The tops and sides of each cardboard box had been painstakingly labelled in Dani’s hand, the letters neat and blocky. Carson slipped by Eddie with an exaggerated pose as if squeezing through a tight space as they passed one another in the door. Eddie paused, arms laden, and turned his face to Dani while she climbed the steps leading up to the entryway. The extra step allowed her to press a chaste kiss to his cheek and, mollified, he continued on his way towards the truck. Once inside, she found that Carson was already heaving an armchair up with his hands. She moved out of the way so he could trot after his older brother, leaving her momentarily alone.

The house was bare. Most of her things had already been carted away the week before. The transition into their new shared home had been gradual, just like everything else in their relationship. Eddie settling in first and coaxing Dani along as though she were a particularly nervous show dog that had slipped the collar. Looking around now, hands on her hips, Dani felt like an intruder. Like she was an archaeologist who had wandered into someone else's burial site with a rusty torch and hammer.

It almost looked bigger now that it was so empty. Her footsteps echoed too loud on the wooden floors, the sound traveling further and longer. The bare walls once peppered with paintings and photos now like a skeleton expanding its ribs, waiting to expel her in one long sunken breath. Her thumb gradually drifted to her mouth as she took it all in, biting hard at her nail and skin, fixedly eyeing the spot where once a small reading nook used to be.

The sound of footsteps behind her was harsh and loud to her ears. “Hey, what did I tell you about that?” Eddie said from beside her suddenly, his hand gently pulling Dani’s away from her mouth.

She swallowed heavily and pulled her hand carefully back to hold into a fist by her side, and said, “Yeah, I know. Sorry. I just —”

“I don’t like you hurting yourself,” he said, frowning. She couldn’t help but let her shoulders slump at the concern in his eyes, and only managed to give him a tenuous smile and a nod. “Look, we’re almost done. Soon we’ll be out of here in no time and we can finally just focus on our home. Just let me and Carson do all the hard work.”

“I can help,” Dani said. “I want to help.”

He sighed. “Danielle -”

“I have my inhaler in the car. I won’t keel over and die,” Dani said.

“Hey, Ed, buddy, what happened to that deadline, huh?” Carson said, leaning heavily on the wall and pointing behind him to the kitchen, “You gonna help me with this thing or not?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, and briefly placed a hand on her shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen with muttered grumbling. Dani grinned after him before catching Carson’s eyes, chuckling and shaking her head as he winked at her before following Eddie.

“Gotta give her a minute to breathe, Ed.” Carson’s voice was soft, but still Dani heard it all the same and wrapped her arms tight around herself.

Clearing her throat, she strode off in the direction of her old bedroom. The bed had been taken away and put in their new spare bedroom for guests who might come to visit. The carpet still bore indentations from where the posts had once sat. Eddie had already been in here; the boxes were gone. Dani glanced around for any last remaining items that might have been forgotten. The closet door was slightly awry, and with a frown she pulled it fully open. There was a single wire coat hanger hooked on the bar that stretched across the closet. Her hand reached out to take it, when she froze.

There, tucked away into the corner beneath one of the built in shelves, was a small wooden box. She could hardly remember the last time she had seen it, let alone opened it. A layer of dust covered the top. Kneeling down, Dani pulled the box out and into her lap. She blew the dust off and had to wipe a bit more with the edge of her sleeve. It was made of plain wood with a bronze latch fastening the lid shut. Her thumb teased the corner of the latch. She worried her lower lip between her teeth before steeling herself and lifting the lid open on squeaky hinges.

Nestled inside were a series of photographs, faded with age. Something clenched in her chest as she touched the first one with trembling fingers.

She and Jamie looked so young, and they were. Barely fifteen. Jamie's arm flung around her shoulder, arm outstretched to snap the photo while she pressed a kiss to Dani's cheek even as Dani laughed and elbowed her ribs. Swallowing down the urge to be sick, she slipped the photo aside to see the next. Jamie was younger still. Her arms were outstretched as she balanced her weight on the narrow steel bar of the abandoned train tracks beyond the fields that surrounded the town. Dani could remember the day she took this with crystal clarity. The days of summer in those years had been longer somehow, stretching on into warm endless nights.

She was a furtive grave robber, flicking through picture after picture, exhuming a past that she hardly recognized herself in now. And pictures weren’t all that were stored here. There was a band shirt that had been half eaten by moths over years of neglect. An old Zippo lighter with scratched edges along the chrome plating. A necklace that was actually just a worn old half dollar coin pierced through and hung from a cheap chain. A cassette tape labelled Jamie’s Mixtape (1978) in a messy slanted scrawl, long missing its protective case. And finally, an old battered copy of Valley of the Dolls, where if she were to flick it open, she would find a pressed blue morning glory hidden among the pages.

She gently ran her hand over them, still trembling as if the living memories within the treasure trove thrummed under her skin with its own heartbeat.

In the distance, she could hear footsteps and the back and forth between Carson and Eddie in the living room as they manoeuvred a couch through the front door. When the footsteps drew closer, approaching down the hall, Dani hurriedly stuffed everything back into the box and shut the lid.

Carson leaned in the doorway. At some point he had shed his leather jacket, so that now he only wore a white undershirt that was two sizes too small, tucked into his jeans. “You good here? We’ve loaded the last of it into the truck.”

“Yeah,” Dani said. She pushed herself upright, clutching the box to her chest as though it were an heirloom. “Yeah, that's everything.”

His eyebrows rose and he nodded towards the box. “What do you got there?”

Dani’s grip tightened. She could feel the grooves of the box pressing into her skin. “Nothing important.”

—

Dani went about her routine on edge. At the supermarket, gripping the shopping cart between her hands and turning down the different aisles. At the gas station, stepping out of her beat up old car to work the pump. At the school, peering out the window at all the parents dropping off their kids in the parking lot. At the local cafe nearest the elementary school, picking up a newspaper and a slice for Hannah. Hoping for a glimpse of Jamie and dreading any encounter with her all at once.

Except Jamie never appeared. And Mikey sat at the back of the class, doodling in his notebook, not paying attention but knowing all the answers regardless whenever Dani called on him to participate. She could always see him after school sitting on the curbside and reading a new comic issue, or thumbing through a book from the paltry school library or scratching at his homework with a pencil. Not once did Dani loiter long enough to see him get picked up, and she felt a stab of irritation that he should be left alone for so long. But it wasn’t her business, and he got along well enough with the other kids during recess.

Dani was still stewing silently over the whole affair at dinner with her future in-laws. She sat at the dining table, chewing at the skin of her thumb, with Carson at one elbow and Eddie at the next. Mike, Judy’s soft-spoken stooping husband, sat at the head of the table, while Judy herself set the last of the platters down and invited everyone to tuck in.

“How’re the kids this year?” Judy asked as she spooned peas onto her plate.

Dani made a noise in the back of her throat, before lowering her hand into her lap. “Yeah, they’re great! I — uh — I actually have a transfer student.”

Judy made a sound to indicate that she was still listening even while she passed a platter across the table to Eddie.

“He’s really smart,” Dani continued. “I don’t really know what to do with him. He — well, he always looks a bit bored, to be honest.”

“Don’t they have some sort of advanced program for kids like that?” Mike asked. He had already tucked into the food even though his plate was only half full.

“I’d need to talk to the parent or guardian first,” Dani said, her stomach flipping at the thought. The peas had made their way around the table to her now, and she slowly scraped the last of them onto an available corner of her plate. Swallowing heavily, Dani concentrated hard on the steady movements of her hands, and said, “Judy, I don’t suppose you’ve heard of anyone new coming to town?”

Judy’s mouth was full. She frowned thoughtfully as she chewed, and swallowed before answering. “No, I haven’t, now that you mention it. I’ll have to ask around the ladies at the book club if they’ve seen anyone.”

Any hope Dani might have nursed of learning something new about Jamie’s presence in town flickered out like a snuffed candle. “Thanks,” she said, already feeling the conversation wander towards other topics. “Can you pass the salt, Carson?”

—

Sitting here in her Sunday best with Eddie’s warm hand in hers and a book of hymns in the other, Dani was sandwiched in the pew between her fiancé and her mother. Karen smelled sharply of cheap mall perfume, her dress pressing in tight on her ribs. The priest’s voice echoed from his place declaming near the altar, but Dani wasn’t listening. She was too preoccupied with the way her heart pounded in her chest, the clench of her stomach and the restless nerves that someone might have seen her.

She hadn’t planned on going to the movies yesterday, not at first. Not until she had seen the ad in Saturday’s morning paper, an art house theater two towns over advertising a one-time showing of Desert Hearts. It had caused such a stir in the community a few years ago that any curiosity Dani had felt toward it had died and shriveled up inside of her. Yet her Saturday afternoon had been free, and Eddie had been mercifully busy after helping her move the last of her things.

And now Dani sat in the same church she’d been going to her entire life, feeling like a marionette whose mouth was puppetted by invisible strings as she joined the others in song. The priest leading them through a hymn wasn’t the same man who baptized Dani as an infant. The bench she was sitting on wasn’t the same she sat in week after week. The woman on her right was virtually nonexistent. The man’s hand she was holding loosely in her left wasn’t the same man who she grew up with, he wasn’t the boy who asked her again and again to marry him.

This Dani, this new Dani, lied to her fiancé and drove an hour out of town the day before with a whispered prayer on her tongue for her car to just hold on for once, for just one more day to see a film that left her blushing scarlet and her stomach dropping not uncomfortably, sitting alone in the dark with a carton of untouched popcorn. This Dani would return to her car, and her first thought would turn to whether this would be the kind of movie Jamie would have picked as her choice of their weekly film showing — knowing immediately that the answer would be 'yes.’ And just as abruptly as the thought appeared, she promptly squashed the idea of even contemplating such a question.

Dani’s voice faltered, wavering over the words as a flash of guilt washed over her when the heat returned to her skin. She looked up at the cross, hanging on the back wall over the priest’s head, and glanced furtively at Eddie to see where he was in the verse, praying no one had seen her stumble. When service finally ended, and the ritualistic gossip on the front steps had been entertained, she allowed herself to be led outside. Eddie’s hand was warm and steady, completely enveloping her own, pulling her to the warm air where it finally felt like she was able to breathe again.

She felt a heady rush of relief when her mom begged off brunch, claiming to suffer from a headache as she walked to her car with a half-hearted wave. Relieved two-fold when Eddie needed to run off to the office for preliminary work for Monday, kissing her on the cheek in a goodbye that she barely registered before rushing off to his car. Until she was only left with Judy.

“So,” Judy asked, and for a brief terrifying moment Dani thought she might know, she might have finally seen her. In the end though all Judy said was: “How about that lunch?”

Judy linked their arms, pulling her in close until all Dani could do was smile and say, “Lead the way.”

The bistro Judy directed them to was relatively new, Dani had passed it multiple times over the last couple weeks but had never actually gone in, always driving by with casual curiosity and a bemused but charmed smile at the name: A Batter Place.

“You’re gonna love it,” Judy said, guiding Dani in with an arm linked in her own, “Their macaroons are to die for.”

Gamely, Dani smiled along to Judy’s enthusiasm as Judy pointed to various fixtures of the restaurant, steadily ignoring the strain building in the back of her neck. It wouldn’t be fair to say that Judy made her nervous. There were too many good intentions behind her warm eyes and her warm hugs, always with her hands full of containers of hearty food, always holding on a little longer than Dani expected, like she was afraid Dani would drift away. Judy, she knew, at least cared.

Perhaps that was why, after settling in their seats and ordering their lunch, Dani hid her hands under the table, fingers trembling as they picked at the skin of her thumb.

“So, how have you been, honey?” Judy asked over her cup of coffee, smiling that kind, good-intentioned smile. “I feel like I’ve barely seen you since school started up again.”

A small pressure valve released in Dani’s chest, and she finally allowed herself a real smile. “I’ve been keeping busy, and well — you know how it is with a new school year. This year especially is different.”

“Because of the higher grade?”

“Right. And I just — I want things to be perfect, you know?” Dani said, and chuckled ruefully, “Though twenty-five twelve year olds will certainly be a challenge.”

This she could manage. This she could at least be grateful for, the way Judy allowed the conversation to steer towards something that filled Dani with a sense of purpose, smiling proudly at her over the din of conversation around them with no mention of Eddie or long overdue wedding planning.

Judy took a pointed sip of her coffee. “Well, I know you like the challenge, but you can’t forget to take care of yourself,” she said, her lips pulling into a familiar smile. One to be used when nearing a cornered animal. Dani’s stomach sank, when Judy continued, “Now, I know you and Eddie need time to get used to living together, doing all the things couples have to learn to do alone but, you don’t have to steer clear of the house forever. I know we all recently just had dinner together but —”

Dani glanced away.

“— You could come over at any time. Like yesterday! What were you up to yesterday? I would have made lasagna for you.”

“Oh, uh —” Dani gave a nervous breathy chuckle, hoping to hide the grimace at the memory of the two women who had stared brazenly at her when she had exited the art house theater yesterday, Dani in her too bright blouse and high jeans, looking frazzled and out of place. She took a long sip of her coffee, hoping to hide the same feeling under her skin now. “You know. Busy.”

Judy waved her explanation away with that same smile. “Oh, well, never mind that. It doesn’t matter now. There’s always next weekend,” she said, and her hand reached over to clasp Dani’s before she could hide it again. “I’m just hoping I get more time to spend with my favorite future daughter-in-law before things get too crazy. Wedding planning and teaching a class of twenty-five kids is one thing, but thinking about raising a baby is another.”

A moment passed before Dani could process the words. A baby. Of course.

“Oh,” was all Dani managed to say, a polite smile frozen on her face as Judy’s grip on her hand tightened in a way that anyone else would have found comforting. The hand that Dani so wanted to pull away, to press against her chest. A pressure building inside her ribs, pulling her skin taught and straining at the edges. A ringing in her ears that sounded more and more like the whistle of a tea kettle or the whine of an over-revved engine.

She was only saved by the grace of their food arriving, the pressure abating to something manageable as Judy freed Dani’s hand to make room for their plates. It gave Dani the opportunity to down half of her coffee, hot enough to scald, and to clench a fist under the table, her nails pressing hard into the soft skin of her hand.

At the first bite of food, Judy hummed and sank back into her seat. “Now that is delicious,” she said, gesturing with her fork. “Go on, take a bite.”

Dani took advantage of the moment, letting the previous topic of conversation pass over them untouched as she pulled her own forkful of food in her mouth. She blinked in surprise.

“Wow,” she said after swallowing, sharing an incredulous chuckle with Judy. “That is really good.”

“I’m telling you, this new chef knows what he’s doing,” Judy said with a grin, as if she had known exactly how Dani would have reacted.

It should have been comforting, being so well understood. And for the most part it was. Afterall, Dani had spent much of her youth at Judy’s table, being fed day in and day out as if she were Judy’s own. Always having a safe haven. A home away from home, where she would be welcome. No questions asked. It should have been an absolute solace. Yet somehow, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being made of glass. As if she were standing there and Judy was looking right through her at someone else that didn’t exist.

The bell attached to the door rang as it swung open, and the sound drew her back to the table, almost startling her. She swallowed down an unexpected thickness in her throat, ignoring that steady pressure in her ribs, and shared another unassuming smile with Judy, taking a second bite.

“We should come here again,” Dani said, hoping to alleviate some of the pressure that was building in her lungs.

“Then it’s a date. Next Sunday.” Judy smiled wide.

It was so easy, making Judy happy, making her smile wide and bright like she’d won the lottery. It was something Dani was good at, pleasing others. The very thought of speaking up and potentially ruining the moment was enough to cause a vein of dread to thread its way through her. Yet something in that moment caused Judy’s smile to flicker, the sound of the bell ringing again as the front door swung open with a squeak of unoiled hinges. Judy’s eyes glanced over somewhere behind Dani’s shoulder and they slowly widened to an expression Dani had only seen once before — when Eddie announced their engagement during family dinner.

“Jamie Taylor?”

Dani tensed and turned around, and sure enough, there she was. Jamie Taylor herself. Dark jeans, big work boots, and a brown jacket, strolling into the bistro like she’d never left town. Like the air from Dani’s lungs hadn’t been sucked out by a gut punch releasing every single pressure valve at the very sight of her.

“Oi, Sharma! Whatever happened to you saying you could fix those hinges without my help?” Jamie’s voice rang clear across the room.

“Danielle, honey, you didn’t tell me that Jamie was back,” Judy said in a rush of breath, already out of her seat and walking toward Jamie like a woman on a mission, as if there wasn’t a hurricane forming within Dani’s chest. As if a swell of feeling wasn’t rushing through her as she sat unmoving with wide eyes attached to the lines of Jamie’s back, to the curl of her hair, unchanged, unkempt, and yet completely different.

Whatever Dani had expected to feel upon hearing that voice again, it wasn’t to feel all of it at once. She didn’t know which feeling to land on, watching Jamie turn at the sound of Judy’s voice, catching sight of the familiar lines of Jamie’s face as they twisted in surprise and fell into a charming smile as Jamie conceded to a tight hug from Judy; the fluttering of happiness, the rush of anxiety, the desperate desire to flee, the shock that belied the anger and muted resentment.

In the end, Dani just sat there, unable to move and unable to look away.

The pair pulled out of the hug, with Judy briefly and affectionately framing Jamie’s face with her hands like she used to. And Jamie rolled her eyes good naturedly with a crooked smile, burying her hands in her pockets. It was like no time at all had passed. They were teenagers again, and Judy was sending them off back home from dinner with warm hugs and piling their hands with leftovers in tupperware.

When Judy gestured over towards their table towards Dani, it was all she could do to not run and excuse herself to the washroom, to not slip out the back door. But it was too late, tension coiling in her body as Jamie’s head turned towards Dani and their eyes finally met.

It was suddenly incredibly hard to breathe. Dani blinked, and the look on Jamie’s face at the sight of her — startled, mouth agape — was gone, and all that was left was something entirely unfamiliar. A polite placid smile as Judy talked her ear off, answering Judy’s questions and gesturing across the counter towards a handsome man with a thick moustache wearing an apron. Even so, Jamie only had eyes for Dani, her gaze occasionally roving back, her expression unreadable.

Before Dani could do more than stare, Judy was guiding Jamie back to their table, a hand on her back. Dani’s stomach twisted itself into a knot at their approach. Her heart began crashing against her ribs until it was all she could hear. Jamie was looking at her with that crooked grin, and Dani didn’t know what else to do but stand from her seat, faintly dazed, a hand brushing against invisible lint and wrinkles along her sky blue dress.

“Look who I found!” Judy said as they pulled up to the table, as if Dani hadn't been on the verge of a nervous breakdown in the last minute. The last decade, if she were being honest with herself.

All Dani could do was give a trembling smile. “Jamie,” she said, almost breathless, the name feeling foreign on her tongue. “Hi.”

Jamie’s grin shifted into something like a smirk, gaze drifting over Dani so fast that she felt it on her skin like a flash fire. “Danielle,” she said, and Dani’s smile faltered. “Been a minute.”

“It has,” Dani said in between barely gritted teeth, the feeling in her stomach souring.

“I was just telling Jamie how this is the first time I’ve brought you here,” Judy interrupted, oblivious as ever. Jamie’s smirk dropped back into something softer, an eyebrow quirked and her head tilting curiously. “How today of all days, that we all walk in the same restaurant together. It must be kismet.”

“Don’t know about that, Mrs. O’Mara. Was never much one for kismet,” Jamie said with a shrug, looking so much like she’s sixteen again that a dull pressure returned to Dani’s chest. “World’s too chaotic for that.”

“And yet here you are.” Judy shuffled back into her seat and gestured to Jamie. “Come, come sit. Just for a while until your takeout is ready.”

It was only by the grace of luck and Judy’s affection for Jamie, that she gestured toward the chair next to her instead of Dani. Jamie didn’t argue, taking the seat, and Dani following after, almost a second delayed from the shock of it all. She could feel Jamie’s eyes on her as she settled in her chair, but Dani kept her attention low and focused on her food, feeling distinctly like she was in a dream.

“Danielle, truly, I can’t believe you neglected to tell me Jamie was back,” Judy admonished with a teasing grin.

She clenched her teeth. Dani had a hard time believing it herself. “Must’ve slipped my mind," she said.

“How long have you been back again, honey?”

“About two months now,” Jamie said. At the admission, Dani finally pulled her eyes away from the table to look up at Jamie, lounging back in her seat like she had all the time in the world, noticeably avoiding Dani’s gaze.

Two months. Two months, and not even a phone call. Not even a letter. Dani took another heady swallow of her now lukewarm coffee in an effort to ground herself. Some things just never changed, she guessed.

“We were so worried when you left, after — after everything, especially. We all were. I thought about you for so long afterwards. Kept you in my prayers,” Judy said, and while the words were sobering with the memories of those days, Jamie’s expression remained unchanged, detached and ambiguous, the corner of her mouth quirked.

“Then I guess I have you to thank,” Jamie said, “All that praying must’ve done something good. Mikey and I have been getting on quite nicely, if I do say so myself.”

Judy gasped, a hand clutching at her chest. “Oh, Mikey! That sweet boy, how is he? Oh, I can’t believe it’s been so long. He must be — what? Eleven now?”

“Twelve actually,” Jamie said, then chuckled. It was something new. The way her eyes turned just a bit brighter, her smile more gentle, as she reached into her pocket to dig out a beat up leather wallet, flipping it open towards Judy. Judy gasped again, holding onto the wallet with a laugh. “Twelve years old and already reaching my chin," Jamie continued. "The little gremlin’s gonna have me beat by next year at this rate, I swear.”

“He’s wonderful,” Judy said, her eyes alight with emotion, “Gosh, he looks just like you. Except for the eyes, those sweet brown eyes. He’s definitely going to be a heartbreaker.”

“Not on my bloody watch,” Jamie grumbled.

“Have you seen him yet, Danielle?” Judy held out the wallet to Dani, who had to refrain from recoiling back, as if Judy was holding out a live snake.

“I have,” Dani admitted quietly, “He’s one of my students, actually.”

“Oh, so that’s what all those questions were about the other day,” Judy said, and tapped Jamie playfully on her arm resting on the table with her wallet. “What did I tell you? Kismet.”

Jamie flipped the wallet shut and returned it to her pocket. “Mikey did mention the name once or twice. Miss Clayton this, Miss Clayton that, and I thought: what are the chances?”

Dani swallowed down a scoff and the bitterness brewing in the back of her throat. Her left hand ached from clutching it so tight in her lap, knuckles white, crescent-shaped grooves in her palm. She stretched her hand out and ran it through her hair, her fingers trembling as they smoothed down the gentle waves and curls she put in that morning.

“Ah, so he’s done it then,” Jamie said, apropos of nothing. She leaned forward on the table, staring so abruptly and intently that Dani shifted away in her own seat slightly, hoping she hadn’t noticed.

It was the first time Jamie had fully addressed her since that singular hello. Dani frowned, that ever present knot in her stomach twisting tighter. “Sorry?”

“That nice big shiny rock on your hand.” Jamie gestured down to the aforementioned rock, and sure enough, there was her engagement ring, shining bright against the afternoon light pouring through the window. “Must’ve cost a damn fortune.”

Dani had thought the same, when Eddie had dropped to his knee, proffering up the box where the ring lay, his face flickering through a wide array of emotions — adoration, anxiety, hope. At the time all Dani could think, staring down at the large square cut diamond, was that it looked heavy.

“But isn’t it gorgeous?” Judy gushed, reaching out to grasp Dani’s hand to pull it closer for Jamie to see. Dani breathed out an awkward laugh at the sudden motion but let herself be dragged along. “I went to help him pick it out, and — gosh, well, we all know how many times he’s asked over the years. Our Danielle always liked to keep him on his toes. I just about died at the news when they officially announced the engagement a few months later.”

Jamie whistled low. “I can imagine,” she drawled.

Judy continued to ramble about the announcement. She released the hand that Dani tried to surreptitiously and swiftly return under the table, hoping to hide the desire to shrink under the table as well. Meanwhile Jamie seemed to be only half-listening, watching Dani with a tilted head and a sharp glance that left Dani feeling like a strip of overexposed film. Her eyes strayed to Jamie's old scar against her will, landing on the long stretch of a pale line that started from her lower lip and descended down towards her chin. It was usually hard to see, but today it was easy to find in the light of the room.

Dani swallowed thickly and glanced away.

“So, how’d he do it?”

“Mmm?” Dani looked back up, a little dazed.

Jamie’s head tilted pointedly towards her. “Ed,” she said. “How’d he go about it this time? To be honest with you, I had my bets placed on senior prom night, like he’d always planned. Flowers in the park after the dance, and all that rubbish.”

“He told you that?” Dani frowned.

“Wouldn’t shut up about it.”

“Oh.” Dani fiddled with the ring, glancing down at it. “No, it was um — “ She smiled, a frail subdued thing, only to fold her right hand over it, covering the diamond so that it dug into her palm, “ — it was during a dinner date.”

Jamie lifted an eyebrow. “In public?”

Dani nodded. “Yeah.”

“Christ,” Jamie breathed, looking somewhat horrified.

“Language, sweetie,” Judy piped in, seemingly instinctively.

And like clockwork, Jamie ducked her head sheepishly. “Sorry,” she said, not looking sorry at all.

Judy laughed, patting Jamie’s arm. “Gosh, just look at us,” she breathed, her eyes shining as they bounced between Dani and Jamie. “I still can’t believe it. Me and my girls back together again. Who’d have thought?”

Dani breathed out a chuckle, her cheeks aching from the force of holding a smile in place, not knowing what else to say. And what could she say, really? That none of this felt familiar? That it all felt so wrong? That after years of absence, to finally be just arm’s length away from Jamie, only to feel like she was meeting a stranger wearing a familiar face?

No. No, that wasn’t right. She worried her lower lip between her teeth, but Jamie had never stopped watching her. A shared look passed between them and it was there, finally, that she found something warm and tangible. The ghost of a memory of sitting across the table from each other at Judy’s during dinner, sharing a secretive knowing smile, while Judy gushed over Dani’s help in the kitchen, or admonished Jamie for yet another skinned knee. A smile pulled at the corners of Dani’s mouth, slow and real. Jamie blinked, her gaze softening as she mirrored Dani’s smile, and for the first time in a long time, Dani felt something in her chest unspool.

A bell rang. Jamie glanced away, and the moment was gone, leaving Dani chilled in its absence as if she had stepped out from a warm building and into a storm.

“That’s my cue,” Jamie said, sounding just as she had before, as if nothing had transpired between them. “Can’t let the kid starve without some lunch.”

She moved to stand but Judy’s hand held her in place. “Don’t think you can get away again this time without at least letting me give you my number,” Judy reprimanded not unkindly. "We got a new one at the house, you'll be surprised to hear."

Grinning crookedly, Jamie said, “And I imagine you’ll be wanting mine, then?”

Judy pulled out a pen from her purse and waggled it back and forth. “You know me too well.”

Grabbing a spare napkin, Judy jotted down a series of numbers. “Now don’t you forget to give me a call, all right? I want to hear all about your time away,” she said, handing over the pen and napkin for Jamie to rip out her piece, and note down her own number. Dani’s eyes strayed down to the confident, angled numbers, just barely able to decipher them from her vantage point. “And I hope you know, you and Mikey are welcome any time over for dinner. I want to meet that young man. See if he’s anything like his older sister.”

The words were fond, but Jamie snorted all the same. “Don’t you worry, Mrs. O’Mara. He’s my better half.”

Dani rose to her feet out of politeness when Judy stood to give Jamie a parting hug. For a terrifying moment, she thought Jamie might expect one from her as well, but Jamie only lifted her eyebrows and nodded before turning towards the counter to collect her order. She didn’t glance in Dani’s direction again as she left, pushing through the glass door and striding off down the street with the breeze in her hair. Dani watched her go, jaw aching from how hard she was clenching her teeth together.

Judy sat, and Dani followed suit as though she were simply mimicking Judy’s movements. “Jamie Taylor back from the dead after ten years. Imagine that.” Judy chuckled to herself and picked up her fork. “Feels just like old times, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Dani breathed. “Just like old times.”

#thobm #the haunting of bly manor #dani clayton/jamie #bring home a haunting #dani clayton #jamie taylor #cfau #roman writes #FINALLY

129 notes · View notes

gladerwolfstarkimagines · 4 years

Text

Azula x Female reader series: Part 1

Reader is Azula's personal maid and has been since childhood. You enjoy your job, not just because you’re in love with the princess but also because you’re very good at it, shown by the fact you’ve worked closely with Azula for years without a scratch or banishment on you. When Azula Zuko Mai and Ty-lee are sent to the Ember Islands Azula brings you too but when boys at a party start flirting with you Azula reacts badly, very badily. You argue and she demands you return home but after a talk with Zuko you realise Azula's actually jealous. When you confront her about it the confident scary princess is replaced with a shy bashful girl.

Part two here

Part three here

Part four here

Part Five here

Part Six here

----

You felt free here on the Ember Islands. Sure this was work and you had to tag around after Zuko, Azula, Mai and Ty lee, but nobody here knew who they were so they couldn't boss you around too much. So here at this party you’d been invited to by some boys at the beach you were literally free, your royal companions all dispersed and none of them called you to follow them so you roamed around happily content. You basked in the feeling of relaxed happy people, everyone here was so friendly. You'd naturally been nervous and suspicious when they'd started talking to you for no reason but they just seemed like nornal teenagers so you talked back and soon found yourself laughing and joking with the people unaware the others were having a worse time than you, Zuko and Mai were arguing and Ty lee's advice riled Azula making her more and more angry as she watched you chatting and smiling with some boy.

You were still talking to the boy who’d invited you when he tensed smile gone as he fixated on something behind you. You turned to see Azula stood there, an expression on her face you knew well, anger. "Y/n i need to speak to you" she told you turning and striding outside before you could reply. You excused yourself and followed her unsure what you’d done. Mai and Ty lee watched you, Mai sending you daggers so you supposed it must be bad. You reached outside and shivered at the cold but Azula didn't seem effected. "what’s wrong princess?" You asked her hesitantly. Azula spun to face you and you knew this wouldn't be good. "Whats wrong?" She laughed "whats wrong? I invite you here and you embarass and humiliate me". You frowned "Azula I'm sorry but how?". "Really? Tell me you’re not naive enough to think those boys just wanted to talk to you?". You blushed and frowned "Azula we were just talking...". "You are my personal maid! Your actions reflect on me y/n". "I know that Azula, im sorry if i disappointed you". "You are a royal maid you should not be consorting with peasants!". You nodded bowing your head "im sorry princess". Azula was made angrier by you using her title, something you’d dropped here on the island and Azula was annoyed she’d come to like it which spurred her on further. "but then you obviously think high of yourself, flirting with my brother, how long have you liked him?". "Zuko?" You asked completely shocked "we weren’t...". "He doesn’t like you" Azula snapped "he argued with Mai and was using you to make her jealous, if you were wondering Mai didn't like you before and certainly doesn't now". You gulped "ill apologise to her, i didn’t mean anything...zuko just came up to me". "Zuko? are you so familiar you forget his title?" Azula snapped, angry you used her title and not his, "like you’re such good friends". "No i...its just a habit I've gotten into here, I'm sorry princess". Azula glared "well it appears i shouldn't have invited you here, you were clearly not ready, it was too much for you to handle, you have disappointed me and will return home immedietly". You were stunned "you're sending me home because of tonight?". "Yes, i think it wise to keep you and my brother seperated". You gasped "but i don’t even like Zuko Azula! He doesn't...i won't speak to him the rest of the trip if that is what you want?". Azula did feel a surge of excitement at your words and was tempted to agree and make you promise never to speak to zuko again, you would just speak to her, but she bit back her desire and stood taller "no that won’t do, you are to leave here, go straight to the villa without speaking to anyone, pack and go to the boat to head back to the fire nation where you will wait for my return, understood?". You went to argue but her glare made you stop and you gave in "if that is what you want Azula". She hated the way you said her name now, it almost made her feel guilty. Azula pushed that thought away and barged past you, not even looking at you.

You walked through the party eyes fixed on the door, ignoring the friendly people who called your name, and walked straight out onto the street. You started in the direction of the house your head swimming at Azula’s mood swings. She’d been fine the whole trip, why was she acting this way now? You hadn’t been concentrating where you were going and paused on a path lost. You saw someone up ahead and walked closer when you saw they were throwing things. You hesitated and went to walk away when you saw it was Zuko. He was clearly angry and you thought it best to leave him alone and started back up the path when he looked up. "Y/n?" He asked spotting you "what are you doing out here?". You swallowed uncomfortable, already breaking a promise to Azula "im lost, i was looking for the villa". Zuko frowned "you’ve gone way past it, what’s wrong?". You looked at him shocked "nothings wrong" you said hastily and "i just need to return there and quickly". Zuko nodded "let me guess Azula’s orders?". You nodded avoiding eye contact "can you tell me how to get there please". Zuko nodded and started walking in that direction but you didn’t follow. "I think it’d be best if you just told me, you do not need to show me". Zuko looked at you confused but shrugged and told you the directions. "Why do you need to go there so quickly anyway?" Zuko asked "is Azula meeting you there?" He asked carefully. You felt heat rise to your cheeks and shook your head "no she..the princess wants me back at the capital". Zuko frowned "why?". You sighed in frustration, why couldn’t he just let you go? "I angered her at the party" you shrugged and zuko frowned "how? You were friendly and happy..how did that...ah Azula was jealous". You looked at him shocked "what?". "She was jealous, she asked you to come, you were supposed to be here for her and her only, yet you were giving your attention to other people" Zuko’s eyes showed he recognised something and he lowered his head "she was angry you talked to me wasn’t she?". Zuko saw your reaction and nodded "y/n im sorry, i was childish i saw Mai talking to another guy and wanted to make her jealous too but i didn’t know any other girls so i talked to you, it’s my fault Azula snapped at you". You were amazed a royal had apologised to you and stared at Zuko who waited for your response. Finally you coughed and looked at him "it’s not your fault prince Zuko". Zuko frowned but knew you were uncomfortable so nodded "she was just jealous that’s it". "I don’t believe the princess gets jealous" you couldn’t help saying but Zuko shook his head. "she’s only human y/n, just like i got jealous seeing Mai talking to that guy she got jealous seeing you talk to that ched guy". You blushed at what zuko was implying and too late he realised what he insinuated and tried to back track but couldn’t. "Can i please go?" You asked him and Zuko nodded "of course..so you go back along this path for about 3 minutes then.." when someone called his name. Your blood froze as Azula appeared on the path. Her smiled dropped when she saw you were with him. Zuko saw you tense and stepped forwards "Azula...". "I told you to go home did i not?" Azula asked you "you defy me again?". "Azula she didn’t..." Zuko started but Azula cut him off "leave us brother, i have to handle y/n". Zuko stood his ground but you nodded to him "go prince Zuko, i need to speak with the princess". Azula laughed "you give my brother orders?". But Zuko glared "can it Azula, you’re getting what you want aren’t you?". Azula’s eyes flared but she didn’t say anything, watching Zuko until he was out of sight and then the two of you were alone on a dark path.

Azula launched into a verbal attack stating all the ways you’d angered her and you let them wash over you watching her. She was jealous, what zuko said was true! You’d known Azula was a possessive person but didn’t think shed be so possessive over you, that she’d care enough to be..the thought made your stomach flutter and Azula noticed your expression and glared "are you even listening to me?". You frowned and looked up at her "are you jealous?". Azula spluttered her eyes bright with rage "jealous of you! Why on earth...". "Not jealous of me" you said quickly aware you had to tread carefully "of Zuko and that guy at the party". Azula stiffened and glared at you "why would i be jealous of them, because they spoke to you? You certainly hold yourself in high esteem". You shook your head "there would really be no reason to be if you were...i was merely talking to them, nothing else, it wouldn’t even matter if they wanted more because they’re not my type". Azula snorted "why on earth would i care what your type is?". "Just so you know my loyalty to you will never be questioned, especially by a boy Azula, boys...they’re not my type". It took Azula a second to register what you were saying and then recognition showed in her face and she lowered her gaze from you. She actually looked slightly flustered, something you’d never seen and you watched eagerly. Azula nodded "i see that is...good to know, not because...just it’s useful to know that is not an issue, for your loyalty that is!". You nodded softly, still Azula could barely meet your eye and that made you smile. "I still think it’d be a good idea for you to return home however" she said softly "you know i cannot go gack on a punishment". "Of course princess" you bowed and Azula paused "but i will be back soon anyhow, so really you’d just be preparing things for my return, yes?". You nodded "everything will be in place for your eagerly awaited return princess". Azula grew embarassed again and you almost laughed to see you could have this effect on the great and powerful Azula. "Head for the boat now" she told you "you can still make the midnight boat, I will send you your belongings tomorrow". You nodded and bowed "thank you princess" and walked away. You could feel her eyes burning into your back and couldn't help but smirk. Maybe things would be more interesting in the firenation now...

-----

Ngl I loved when we got to see the normal(ish) teenager side of Azula! Not sure if im gonna make this into a series or not but I’ll see.

533 notes · View notes

tomdiddlyumptious · 4 years

Text

T.H| My Mortal Enemy

Summary: you really dont wanna dance with him

Warnings: uhhh language per usual other then that idk-

A/n: I actually wanted to create a series with princess!reader but i wasnt sure.

A LOVE TRIANGLEEEEE OMFGGGGG prince!tom x princess!reader x timothee chalamet

“Y/n suck it up” “suck what up?” “Your stomach” you took a deep breath in and grunted when she pulled thhe strings of the corset.

“Fuck you” you sighed, holding onto your stomach while she laughed “you have to dance with him, theres no way around it” zendaya said, tying the strings together while you complained.

“Im not dancing with him! Ill just dance with timothee” you commented, wiping the sweat from your forehead before she grabbed the hoop skirt, telling you to step into it.

“You’re becoming queen and toms becoming king. There’s literally nothing you can fucking do” she muttered, picking it up and putting it on your hips, quickly closing it. “Im not happy with that”

“Honey please. Clearly” she glared at you, and you smacked your lips and raised your hands in the air, the detailed white skirt, small roses and small patterns, coming over your head and down ontop of the hoop skirt.

“Beautiful” she smiled, looking at you in the mirror while you stood there shoulders slumped. “I look like one of those creepy baby dolls”

She hit you in the back making you stand up straight “you wont get anywhere with that attitude, you go in there with confidence and your head held high. For tom..... i dont know what hes gonna do but dont let that ruin your mood”

“Thanks that means so much-“ “shut up” she ordered, eyeing you as you kept your lips sealed tight. She grabbed the heels and bended down on her knees, snatching your foot making you almost fall.

“You know i couldve had someone else doing this for me. You dont have to-“ “i need you to look your best, princess” she muttered, slipping the shoe on and doing the same with the other.

“Im not marrying that scoundrel, harrison” he said, his helpers helping him while harrison watched, laughing at him. “If you wont i will,” “shut up” “you dont even like her” “so?”

He stared at harrison with daggers, while harrison played with a smirk on his face. “It cant be that hard. Just a dance and youd never have to make contact again” timothee shrugged, swirling the ice in his glass.

“You dont know i feel towards her” tom whispered. “Well you obviously hate her, but shes the most beautiful woman in this palace, everyone thinks so!”

“Eh id rather marry zendaya” “zac will kick your ass” harrison said, “thats besides the point” “tom just be quiet” tim said and tom furrowed his eyebrows at him.

“You literally talk about her all the time. If you have such a problem let one of us dance with her” he offered. “Why would i do that?”

“Because you hate her!” They both shouted at him. “I-i dont hate her....i just have se negative feelings about her”

“Then why do you talk about her all the fuckin time?”

He didn’t know how to answer that. He didnt know if he loved you or hated you. It was whatever he felt in the moment.

And that left him with a sigh and a shrug “i dont know”

“You look absolutely stunning!” Zac said, his arm wrapped around zendaya while Had a smile in her face. “She thinks she looks like a doll, a creepy one”

“Welp that isnt gonna get you anywhere...” “exactly what i said!” “Can i please take off these heels?” You asked hopping on one foot to scratch the back of your ankle.

“Nooo! Come on!” Zendaya urged and you groaned, walking with them following behind you.

The ball room was.....beautiful. Fancy tables and chairs everywhere, the special table on the other end of the room for the king and queen.

The room was filled, cheers and glasses clanking, laughs leaving people lips. And then someone cleared there throat loudly, when you looked over it was your beloved mother, “the queen is here!”

She walked over, the room quiet as gasps left people lips, muttering things like “since when does y/n wear ball gowns” “she looks stunning” and things like that.

Her hand found yours and you did a small smile, letting her pull you wherever as zendaya and zac found thier table.

She pulled you to your fancy table. “Now y/n i need you to behave” “but maaaa!” “No excuses! Make everyone proud okay, i know that boy can be a handfull”

“How do i look?” He asked, running offly late. “I mean you arent trying to impress anyone-“ “you look great” tim cut harrison off, patting toms shoulder “so can we please leave”

And you sat there, bored, for once in your life time crossing a leg over the other and helping yourself with cherries while tom watched from afar, his mother walking him over.

“You look wonderful y/n, both of you do” she smiled, rubbing toms shoulder and looking at you. “Thank you ms. Holland”

“Please- call me niki. Were gonna be a family after all” she said, making tom roll his eyes and bite his lip, looking away then looking back. “Yeah we are” you smiled and like that it was only you two.

“I dont like you” “and what makes you think i do?” You questioned, raising an eyebrow while he crossed his arms “the least you can do is act like a gentleman, as far as anyone knows we are happy together” you said making him nod, sitting up and clearing his throat.

“Sooo.....wife” you cringed at his words but let him continue “how are we gonna do this?” You only shrugged “we can sleep in separate rooms or something” “sounds like a plan” he genuinely smiled at you, handing you another cherry as you squinted your eyes at him.

“I dont know if you poisoned this” you flicked it back at him, making him let out a small gasp before throwing it back “you arent worth my time, i would waste a dime trying to kill you” “i dont know if i should take that as a complement or not” your eyebrows furrowed and he sighed, looking away from you.

“You know, i dont know why they have such a problem with each other” harrison said to tim, currently at their own table, throwing grapes at one another and cracking jokes. “I dont think we’ll ever find out” he said in response, eating one of the grapes.

AnD iT WAs TiMe TO daNCE

The strong piano played, filling the halls as everyone watched you and tom.

You both maintained eye contact, his hand tight on the side of your waist as yours was tight on his shoulder, squeezing each others hand that was shared in each others.

“Im never doing this again” he whispered, basically nose to nose with you. “Do you think i want to?” You rolled your eyes. “I dont care if you want to! I just know im not doing this”

“Well grea-“ he dipped you and you almost gasped, frightened making tom silently chuckle before lifting you back up, now chest to chest.

“Your a fuck-face” you muttered. “You love it” he shrugged, “why are we doing this anyway”

“I dont know, why do you hate me?” He asked making your jaw drop. “Why do you hate me?!” You aggressively whispered.

“They look happy” zendaya said, zac, haz and tim all circled around the same table as they watched intently “ehhh” they all let out at the same time, in their own bubble, tim leaning back in the chair and Harrison slump with his legs open, zac resting his face on his knuckles as he silently blowed spit bubbles.

“I hate you because you hate me!” “I only hated you because you hated me!” “Bullshitttt” he bit his lip and you aggressively stomped on his foot with the edge of your heel.

He let out a small whimper and a fuck you making you have a smile on your face. “Dont cuss at me” “im pretty sure my foot is bleeding, fart face” “shut up” “but you literally called me a fuck face!”

“Shush!” He still whimpered in pain when he moved, “im sorry” you said, feeling guilty. He did a small smile “that isnt gonna make my foot better is it?”

“Well what the fuck do you want me to do! Kiss it?” “That wouldn’t be so bad” you groaned and looked away from him, to keep yourself from looking at him you easily pressed your head on his chest, making his breath hitch and his heart spead up, the piano relaxing a bit so you both moved slowly.

“Awwww” everyone said together making tom blush hard, your arms came up to circle his neck while his silently made its way to your waist. “Y/n why are you doing this?” He asked, whispering in your ear as you let out a small “i dont know”

“Well- can you n-not?" “Not what thomas?” “Be all bubbly with me!” You looked up at him with your eyebrow raised “im not being bubbly”

“Yes you are!” You sighed in response “but dont you feel better! Not everything has to be so negative” “well this is bluntly awkward” “well then stop making it awkward!”

“Yeah they are in love with each other” zac said, everyones eyebrows furrowed as they looked at you both, a different look and vibe coming from the both of you.

The piano slowly ended, you and tom panicked.

“Kiss me!” He ordered. “Why would i do that! We barely even get along!” “As far as they know we are a happy cuddle” he mocked your voice. “Im still not kissing you” “if you dont kiss me im gonna kiss you”

“Fine-“ “hurry up!” “You sound loke you really wanna kiss-“ before you could finish he pressed his lips on yours, his hand pulling you closer as his other hand came up to the side of your face, and SUPRISE you fucking kissed back!

Although you both you never would never admit it, you both loved the kiss.

Your lips where soft and to your suprise his lips werent chapped, his hands were gentle on your face as you also pulled him closer, your arms still circled around his neck.

Everyone at the tables jaw dropped, zendayas more but that didnt change the subject that you both kissed, and it looked like you both were gonna sit like that till end of time.

“No fucking way” haz muttered, looking at everyone else’s expressions and they were the same.

An audible noise came when you both pulled away. “That- that uh....wasnt s-so bad” he did a small awkward chuckle. “Yeah.... i uhhhhh”

“Uhhh” you both looked away from each other before tom pulled you back to your private table.

“Im still shocked” tim said, everyone agreeing as everyone else clapped for them. “So they just decided to love each other” zac shrugged, “yeah something like that”

After that whole thing was done, daya, tim, haz, and zac locked you all in toms bedroom for questions. “What is this about?” You asked, taking off your heels and getting undressed infront of everyone.

“You and tom” his eyebrows furrowed as he started to get undressed himself. “What about it?”

“Uhhh helllooo! Are we gonna act like that fucking kiss DIDNT happen?” Daya waved her hand in the air, before crossing her arms. You and tom silently looked at each other “it was his fault”

He smacked his lips and threw himself on his bed, throwing a tantrum, kicking air. “I thought we werent gonna tell anyone!”

“So you admit it!” Haz said, a wide smile on his face as he clapped his hands. “Zendaya the corset please” you said, she came over and undid it for you. “Can i have a shirt please?” You asked, looking back at tom and he nodded getting up, searching through his drawer.

“SINCE WHEN WERE YOU BOTH BUDDY BUDDY?” Tim said, and tom shrugged “I guess we just feel differently about each other”

“And it was because of that kiss wasn’t it?” Zac smiled while daya had a childish look on her face. “It’s happening! Give me my money!”

“You guys betted on us?” You asked, thanking tom when he handed you a shirt. “Wait wait wait wait, what the actual fuck. What in the fucks is going in here because this is confusing!” Haz said, getting a headache “i swear if that kiss never happened they would be ripping each others head off”

“Zendaya more loose please!” You said and she eyed you, “help her tom” she said, crossing her arms. “Uhhh...okay” he shrugged, walking over to loosen it more.

“HUH?” Everyone shouted, watching as he loosened it and then made you turn around to loosen the front. “Somethings not clicking-“ “no because this isnt adding up”

You put the shirt over your head and pulled the corset off of you under your shirt, he helped with the hoop skirt since you already took off the actual skirt.

“Im really confused” zac said, sighing as everyone who betted gave zendaya 100 bucks, including him.

“We all are, zac” tim muttered, crossing his arms as he watched you both communicate. “Tom when your done lets talk!”

And timothee and tom went outside of the room, tom leaning against the wall as he waited for him to speak. “Youre only doing this because we said something about her, right?”

“I dont know what you’re talking about, timothee” “yes you do. Youre only doing this because you know i have feelings for her” “I actually didnt know that but okay”

“Yes the fuck you did” tim pushed him, toms eyebrows furrowed as he pushed him back. “No i didnt” tim pushed him to the floor, a large thud heard making you all whip your heads to the door, hearing a punch made you walk slowly to the door.

“You knew i had feelings for her and you took her away from me, you dont even like her!” “What?” You whispered, looking over at zendaya before they all rushed to the door, ear hustling.

Tom tackled him to the ground, aggressive punches thrown at his face until tim rolled both of them over, now his turn. “I hate you! You were never there for her! Made her mad- sad- and everything that she doesnt fucking deserve!”

You decided it was time to come out, opening the door and telling them both to stop, Zac pulling tim off of tom and Harrison holding tom back.

Tom sent daggers at tim while tom did the same. “And now she likes you. Ive been working so fucking hard to win over her heart but you- you have to ruin everything” tim finished, pushing zac off of him before turning to you.

“I hope youre happy” he scoffed and walked passed, flipping tom off. “Wait!” You said, chasing after tim while tom looked back, jaw clenched as he watched you run off.

“Y/n leave me alone” “i just want to talk” you caught up to him, both of you power walking. “I never knew you had feelings for me timothee! If you would’ve told me sooner I would’ve never done the thing i did today” you said, looking at him while he still looked ahead, before he looked at you.

“Im not mad at you y/n. He-he knew that i had feelings for you and he took advantage of it, i-i” he sighed and you pulled him into a hug, “im sorry”

I dead ass dont know if i should do a part 2 or not. THIS IS WHY I SAID I WANTED TO MAKE A SERIES- IM SO MAD AT MYSELF-

#tom holland x reader #tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland x black!reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland au #tom holland blurb #timothee x reader

59 notes · View notes

a-libra-writes · 4 years

Text

A Dragon’s Fire - Daenerys x Red Priestess!Reader

heyo! this was requested by an anon who originally wanted an assassin w fire magic, and i compromised w a red priestess who was an assassin but decided not to hurt dany (bc that seems neat!) but ive been in the shit this week so ... i wrote something fluffy instead. I know, im a big fail, lol. I hope yall enjoy it anyway

Summary: Dany has a big gay crush. That’s it, that’s the fic

“Is she everything you hoped for?”

Y/N did not answer the man behind her. She focused on the flames in front of her, dancing in the brazier into familiar shapes. She had seen them for many years. It’s why she was chosen by the priests, and since the red comet fell from the sky, they whispered if she listened close. Here, in the dragon queen’s palace, she could hear the fire inside the dragons.

The bear knight’s metal armor and annoyed tone was not enough to distract her. Y/N reached her hand into the fire, it shaped into a dragon that sat in her palm. She didn’t feel the fire, but her red silk sleeve was burning.

Jorah disliked her silence, but he disliked many things about Y/N. When he first saw her fire tricks, he thought they were illusions, but the heat of them said otherwise. Then there was the first time she set upon Drogon…

He suppressed his shiver and set that memory aside. “The khaleesi wants to see you.”

Y/N closed her palm, and the dragon slivered out, flying back into the brazier. The flames glowed blue for just a fraction of a second. She waved her hand over them, and the fire smothered itself. Smoke rose out of the hot coals, but those too began to rapidly cool.

She wondered if the knight was still unsettled by her magic. Even the khaleesi had moments of awe and uneasiness, although she was fond of watching. Y/N stood, her silk robes gently scraping the marble floor. Jorah was already walking away, and she made no effort to run to catch up to him. She knew where Daenerys was.

The chambers Daenerys set aside for her council was well-lit and had an impressive, engraved table at the center of it. Its legs used to be harpies made of carved marble and ivory, but she had them removed for dragons made of onyx and rubies. Y/N liked the change, and how they glittered in the light. Perhaps she was biased - her own ruby hung around her neck, although it was far larger and smoother than any gemstone Daenerys had seen before.

The girl’s purple eyes lit up as Y/N entered the room. Y/N couldn’t help but return the sentiment, giving her khaleesi a smile. She was pleased there was no one else in the council room. “You wished to see me, khaleesi?”

“Yes. Jorah, you may leave us.”

Jorah didn’t protest, but he did shoot Y/N a look before he left the room and closed the doors. Y/N noticed there were no Unsullied in the chambers, either.

“I talked to him about what he said the other day,” Daenerys said after a moment of silence. “Ser Barristan, as well. They don’t … In the Seven Kingdoms, your sort of magic is seen as a dream. Unreal.”

“As unreal as dragons?” Y/N tilted her head, and Daenerys tried not to focus on how her hair slid across her bare shoulders. When Y/N first entered her service, she wore modest robes that covered nearly every inch of her. Since then she had adopted a more elegant, free style, at Daenerys’ subtle suggestion. She was pleased with the result.

Daenerys set her thoughts straight. “True. The reason I called you here was to locate Rhaegal. I haven’t seen him flying overhead in some time.”

“Nor have I.” Y/N touched the ruby that dangled by her collarbone. It was held with a simple gold chain, and anyone could have missed the way it seemed to flicker. It could have been a trick of the light, but Dany knew otherwise. “Would you like me to find him?”

Of course Y/N knew how to do that. She knew how to start and stop fire, how to dream about it, how to see into it. It was only logic that she could find it. She once told Daenerys that the dragons were beings of fire, swirling and living heat. She looked at them like …

… Well, not how others looked at them. It was hard to puzzle out Y/N’s expressions and thoughts. You could ask her something directly, and she’d have some sort of strange answer, or she’d just stay quiet. Daenerys could tell when Y/N was thinking something over, at least. Her pretty eyes would lower, and she’d touch that ruby - was it hot to the touch? It seemed like it - and she would be gone. Sometimes she stayed very still for hours, staring into fire, or staring into nothing.

But she’d always have an answer eventually.

Daenerys’ knights warned against Y/N’s counsel, telling her not to listen too closely to the words of a strange woman of a strange religion. Even Missandei had commented on the followers of Rhllor’s intent to convert King Robert and other places, and the strange magics they could possess. They warned her as if she did not know how to think for herself.

It upset her, but Y/N took such words in stride. She often seemed to know what others thought and said about her, and she did little to stop it. Missandei had warmed to her, Ser Barristan did not think she was any real threat, but Ser Jorah remained unconvinced and wary. Grey Worm did not like talk of magic or priests, but he had no real ill thought of Y/N, and Daario liked to ask her all sorts of ridiculous questions for his own amusement.

“I have found him, khaleesi.”

Daenerys couldn’t believe her thoughts had drifted again. Y/N often had that effect on her. “Where? Can we ride to him?”

“We could. He is in no danger, he is simply occupied with…” A soft smile came to Y/N’s red lips. “Something he has not seen before. That’s why he’s been away.”

“What could possibly interest him for that long? He’s been gone for days.”

“Shall we find out, your grace?”

Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah would warm her against this, ask her to take one of them or the Unsullied on the trip. Grey Worm would ask to escort them, Missandei would worry and send guards after them anyway. Daario would want to come along. Daenerys looked to the open, blue sky. There was still plenty of sun left.

“Let’s be quick,” She said, already giddy even if they hadn’t stepped a foot outside of the palace yet. “Missandei will keep them busy. Do you want to share my horse?”

Y/N was not an adept rider, but she still said, “That is alright, khaleesi. I can ride my own.”

Daenerys tried not to feel disappointed.

The danger outside the protective walls of Meereen was real, but Daenerys comforted herself with the fact that Drogon and Viserion often flew about these hills, and no one had seen them leave. Y/N said it would not take long, that they’d return toward the end of sunset.

Why do I keep believing her? Daenerys asked herself. She glanced aside, watching the woman reposition her reins. Her normally serene facade was broken everytime she rode a horse. She was not afraid of the creatures, but she had only recently learned to ride, and the beasts weren’t always fond of her.

“If you keep moving like that, you’ll make him nervous,” Daenerys said. “There’s no need to clutch the reins so tightly, either.”

Y/N nodded, and tried to relax her posture. Luckily, she picked an agreeable horse. Daenerys recalled the saddle sores and aches she received when she learned to ride. Her handmaidens gave her a balm to ease the pain. Maybe she could find that for Y/N.

I’ll ask someone to deliver it to her. I couldn’t give it to her myself - no, who says I can’t? But what would she think…

It was hard to tell exactly what Y/N was thinking, but sometimes she slipped, like now. Her brows were slightly furrowed as she righted her posture, and once she was satisfied with it, she kept glancing down at the ground, or at the horse’s ears. Y/N pet his soft neck, then slowly reached up to scratch between his ears. She jerked her hand back as her horse shook his head and made an annoyed sound.

“He didn’t like that,” Daenerys laughed, and it was adorable how Y/N gently laughed, too. She was usually so subdued, so quiet, so … what Daenerys used to be.

“But his ears are so cute,” Y/N went back to petting his neck, which he much preferred. “Doesn’t it make you think of a cat.”

“No, not at all.”

“Not even a little? There were some strays I’d feed at the temple. Their ears would twitch when I came by. They could smell the food in my pockets.”

Sometimes Y/N would speak of the temple she grew up in, or the other Free Cities she had travelled to, the friends she had known. Perhaps if she showed this side to the others, they would trust her more, but Daenerys was happy to have it to herself.

The grass thinned and made way for rocky hills and in the distance, orange and yellow canyons. The sun was beginning its descent, and soon the sky would match those oranges and yellows. Y/N stopped her horse.

“We can walk from here. Do you hear him?”

Daenerys stopped her own horse and listened. There was the slightest breeze, some distant bird calling, the sound of her horse’s nicker and …

She shook her head. “If he’s close, we would have heard him by now.”

Y/N dismounted with some inelegance, but she fixed her clothes and just smiled. “Maybe you will when we get closer.”

They tied the horses to one of the few trees in the dry area, and Daenerys followed Y/N’s lead.

It could be a trap. She could have men waiting there, or there could have been someone following us …

The thought was fleeting, and Daenerys fell in beside her. They both changed to more practical clothing, but Y/N still had a shimmering red cloak tied around her shoulders. As they walked, Daenerys began to hear something strange. It was faint, but as they came closer…

“Water?” She looked at Y/N.

Y/N’s sweet lips curled upward. She often smelled of smoke and spice, and Daenerys wondered if she tasted that way, too.

They came to the edge of a small canyon, which could be better described as a deep ravine. Water glistened at the bottom of it, and more importantly, the deep green scales of her dear Rhaegal. He lifted his wings high and water spilled on his back.

“What is he doing?” Daenerys asked, but she was answered just a moment later. Water spewed up from the ground in a huge geyser, all at once, and Rhaegal happily opened his mouth and snapped at it. The water fell in thick droplets all around the dragon, the ravine and the two of them.

Y/N pulled her red hood over her head. Daenerys wiped her brow. “You didn’t tell me to pack a hood.”

“Apologies, khaleesi.” Y/N giggled. She peered downward. “If we’re steady, we can walk down to him.”

Rhaegal’s long tail lazily swung back and forth in the water. He was resting, and it only submerged his arms and legs, but he was content. Daenerys noticed all the charred bones scattered around the ravine. She wondered how much was in the water. Her feet found stability, and she carefully followed a natural, steadying path downward. Y/N was just ahead, although she wasn’t as confident in her descent.

They came to a small landing and had to stop there. The rest of the way was simply too steep. Rhaegal seemed to just notice them then, and Daenerys’ heart swelled as her child lifted his head and gazed at her with his sharp eyes. They weren’t merely brown, but bronze, with all the steadiness and strength that metal held. She touched his nose and muzzle, marvelling at how much he had grown.

His eyes quickly flashed toward Y/N, and Daenerys felt his growl vibrate underneath her hand. She frowned and quickly said, “No.”

She remembered Y/N’s first encounter with Drogon. That was also the day she had taken the strange, beautiful priestess into her court.

Just like with Drogon, Y/N showed no fear. She stepped forward, but she didn’t make an attempt to touch the dragon. She lowered her hood, and Rhaegal’s long, black pupil tightened.

Daenerys felt the heat of his breath as he snorted through his nose. She tensed, forcing herself to stay calm as she repeated her order. “No.”

The geyser blew again, and Daenerys didn’t flinch. Rhaegal watched it rise in the air, then pulled away from his mother to open his jaws at the water again. His black teeth glittered in the setting sun.

Daenerys looked to Y/N. The priestess was so calm and steady, so unaffected … except Dany caught how her shoulders sagged in relief.

“He isn’t like Drogon,” Daenerys said, remembering that day. “He wouldn’t have hurt you.”

Y/N replied simply. “Drogon did not hurt me.”

Had you been any other woman, he would have killed you. Except ...

It took days for the servants to remove the char marks on the marble, and some of the melted pillars were still being repaired. Daenerys was half tempted to leave them like that, as a warning to any potential enemies, but it was unsettling to think it may have been Y/N that was burned away.

Except, she didn’t. Her red robes and long hair did, but her necklace and body remained unharmed. Daenerys and her court watched as the fire arced around her, singing away everything but skin and metal, and that ruby she never removed. Y/N looked Drogon straight in the eyes, even as they were obscured by his fire.

His temper always was the worst. She had done nothing but approach Daenerys too quickly. Jorah was the one who pulled her back behind one of the pillars, and Daenerys remembered how the heat licked her arms as it tried to reach around the marble. Daario had pulled Missandei to cover behind the other pillar.

Drogon almost never came to the palace, he always wanted to be in the sky, yet he came down on that day. And when the fire cleared and the floor was charred black except for a small circle … He stood back, and Y/N still looked at him. She only trembled slightly.

She isn’t any other woman.

The geyser blew again, and rained down upon them. The water’s heat didn’t bother her, but all the dust from the ride was stuck to her skin, and the water didn’t clean it off. She had dust in her hair, too, and probably some stray pieces of grass.

She smiled. It had been some time since she was properly dirty after a ride, and she looked forward to a perfumed bath and brushing her hair when she got back. Daenerys glanced to Y/N, who was occupied with watching Rhaegal. She also had dirt on her cheeks and neck, and some in her hair, and maybe if she wanted a bath afterward, too…

Daenerys reached forward and tried to rub some of the dirt off her cheeks. It didn’t work, but Y/N’s pretty eyes went wide. She didn’t pull away. “Khaleesi?”

Daenerys stepped forward, gently moving her palm so she had Y/N’s whole cheek. Just as she thought - as she dreamed? - the priestess’ skin was flushed and warmer than anyone she’d touched before.

“You can say my name,” Daenerys said. She tried to tease, but her beating heart and their closeness made her breath catch. She thought Y/N was wearing color on her lips, but perhaps they just always looked like that?

“Daenerys.” Y/N tried it out, and the dragon queen felt like a girl again, feeling her heart soar at hearing her name on those lips. She leaned in, bringing Y/N closer to her. Their foreheads brushed, and the warmth between them turned to heat.

A piercing roar broke through the sky, and cut straight between them. Daenerys recognized the sound at once, and it distracted her as Y/N jumped away. The woman’s cheeks were as red as her cloak.

Above them, Viserion broke through the clouds and bellowed down at his brother. The first cry was for Daenerys, and the second was probably a command for Rhaegal to move aside. The green dragon made room for his brother, and the water reached the top of the ravine as Viserion splashed straight into it. Y/N pulled Daenerys back before the muddy water could splash all over them.

Daenerys was far too overheated and flustered, and the sight of her children amusing themselves only gave her a little relief. At least Rhaegal was alright.

Y/N had pulled her hood back down, and it was a shame. At least her lips were still visible through the shadow, although looking wasn’t as good as tasting.

“We’ve been gone for a long time. Let’s ride back.” Daenerys led the way out of the ravine. Y/N said nothing until they were back to the horses, who were understandably spooked from the dragon that flew overhead not fifteen minutes ago. Y/N held her horse’s reins and tried to soothe it, and Daenerys helped, touching the priestess’ hands perhaps more than was needed.

Y/N didn’t pull away, and that gave Daenerys the courage to kiss her cheek. The soft dyed linen brushed her own cheek, and she caught a whiff of perfume.

The priestess giggled, and it was a better relief than the breeze that was slowly blowing across the hills. “Please, Daenerys. I’m covered in dust.”

“I am, too. Let’s wash up when we ride back - together?”

She caught Y/N’s bright eyes under the hood, and they sparkled as she blushed and tugged the hood further down. “Yes, that would be lovely.”

So it was decided. By the time they reached the gates of Meereen and entered the Great Pyramid, Y/N had dropped her hood and her easy, serene face had returned. She disregarded the suspicious looks, she gave an easy nod to Missandei, who returned a tentative smile. As far as anyone knew, Y/N’s mind was wrapped in her usual visions and prayers.

Until Daenerys brushed her dirty hair aside and smiled at her, then Y/N’s cheeks blushed and her eyes widened in that adorable way. She let the khaleesi take her hand, entwine their fingers, and guide her to the great baths. Y/N’s red cloak fluttered behind her, drawing attention to them. Some Unsullied guards probably saw, and surely others, but Daenerys didn’t care.

She’s like fire, and I am a dragon - how could she bring any harm to me?

#Daenerys Targaryen x reader #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #libra fics

337 notes · View notes

seokiloquy · 4 years

Text

Coffee Diet - Kozume Kenma

AU: Tokyo Ghoul

Requested

Tags/Warnings: GN! Reader, Gore, some angst (Though both aren’t too heavy or graphic I think), probably a poor representation of the manga/anime cause I haven’t actually read/watched it all the way through despite wanting to

Word Count: 3.3k+

Kozume grunted. His kagune, the source of his inhuman power, made strikes at his cannibal attacker, forming a bone-like needle that stabbed down at the unknown ghoul. The concrete shattered like thick glass upon impact as the ghoul continued to dodge.

Tokyo (especially its many outskirt neighbourhoods) had a ghoul problem.

“You’re in the wrong territory if you think you can get away with that.”

The other ghoul only laughed, continuing his fast steps. The laugh itself was painful, scratchy and high pitched. It made Kozume wince.

The people of Kozume’s neighbourhood knew of the danger that lay waiting outside their doors, and thus an unspoken rule had been made among them. Don’t be outside past sunset. Those that did take a nightly venture typically were found mangled and half-eaten by morning. Broken bones peaking through bloodstained flesh, large bites taken out of their thighs, and torsos ripped open; delectable looking meal for a ghoul gone rouge. Kenma wouldn’t agree.

The dark alley that the ghoul had run into was walled off.

His opponent's black greasy hair hung over most of his face like a curtain, only letting a single black and red eye, and a sharp-toothed smirk poke through the strands. His hair swayed as he spun around.

“What does territory matter if there’s food to be had?” The ghoul screeched before his powered ghoul organ seeped out of his body and shot toward Kozume. It scratched his cheekbone, barely missing his eye, thankfully, but would take time to heal unlike any normal would.

Kozume hissed at the cut, willing his own kagune to slash at the ghoul who began climbing up the sides of the brick walls. The sharpened bone just missed the man’s food as he scurried over the ledge.

“See you later!”

The false blond stood there, yawning and rubbing his black and red eyes that were pinned to the building’s top. Heat from the rising sun began to warm his back. With the new light and extra heat, the tired ghoul raised his arms, stretching, as he took in his familiar surroundings. The port, or at least near it. Kozume stepped out of the alley to see the broken concrete that was left in his chase.

Another yawn escaped him before he tucked his hand in his red sweater’s pockets and walked the other way. He needed coffee.

Kuroo’s shop, as lovely of an atmosphere as it created, was in the middle of a garbage dump. It didn’t help that some of that outside aesthetic carried into the cafe itself. The bell pierced into Kozume’s ear canal as he opened the front door to the dingy sight. Stained counters, chipped porcelain, yellow lights that were so off-putting that they stayed off all the time. It’s always been dark and gloomy, until today.

“Welcome! Take a seat, I’ll be right with you.”

That’s new.

Kozume stood in the doorway, watching your form dance and sway behind the bar. He noticed the music playing, soft and completely unnatural for the cafe. Your uniform, definitely not assigned by Kuroo, was crisp and clean, black shirt sitting on your form nicely. It was modest and professional. Maybe not assigned, but definitely Kuroo’s style.

He watched as you placed a small cake at another regular’s table, patting the old man’s signature plaid jacket on the shoulder. Whatever you said made the man laugh and twirl his fork happily.

His golden eyes, now settled after his too-early walk from the destroyed park, were trained on you as he sidestepped over to his usual seat in the corner next to the window. He sat, and took his eyes off your bobbing head as you turned around. His brow furrowed. The table was clean. Kozume looked around the cafe, noticing the lack of dust and stains.

He didn’t see you drop off a cup of coffee at a table, or walk his way until you were right in front of him.

“Hi, what can I get you?”

He jumped in his seat, causing his bobbed hair to billow out for a moment. Oh no, the look in your eyes immediately told him that you could see his rosy cheeks. He coughed. “Black coffee, please.”

Your smile was perfect.

“Hey, Kenma!” An unlikely saviour with black spikey hair appeared from the doorway. Kuroo strode over and waved you down as he slid into the seat across from Kozume. “Ah you got a scratch,” he hissed, immediately putting pieces together in his head. His head turned your way. “Do you mind getting me a coffee too, (L/N)?”

Kozume’s eyes followed you as you placed your pen and notepad back into your pocket and walked toward the counter.

“(L/N)’s new, just started yesterday and all the regulars love the new energy already. So tell me, what happened?”

Kozume sighed, looking down at his hands. “More keep coming. One disappears and another shows up. I’m too tired for this.”

Despite his vague tone, Kuroo knew what Kozume was talking about and sighed immediately. He leaned back in his chair. “I’ll be able to help you out soon enough, (L/N) has gotten a good hand on things, but I don’t want to leave them alone in the shop too suddenly. You understand.”

Kozume did understand. You, the human behind the counter, were a breath of fresh air in the musty town. You didn’t know, you couldn’t have. The demeanour of someone in the know in this neighbourhood wasn’t that positive. He knew that he wouldn’t get any help until you knew of the cafe’s main purpose.

“Take your time, I can handle it for how.” Kozume yawned and gestured to his marred cheek. “This guy might be a pain to deal with though.”

Just as he finished speaking the TV that hung above his head began to rattle on about destruction occurring at their neighbourhood’s port.

Kuroo winced. “That’s a pain, all right.”

Two white cups of black coffee hit the table's surface. Kuroo thanked you as you stood straight and reached into your apron’s pocket. Next to Kozume’s mug, you placed a large band-aid as you ripped open a disinfectant wipe. “May I?”

He nodded and let your fingers gently turn his chin in your direction. The wipe glided smoothly over his cheek but stung. He hissed and pulled his head back.

“Sorry, it’ll be over in a second, I’ll be quick. Can I finish?”

Kuroo stayed silent as he watched Kozume get cared for by his employee, only speaking when the barista left the younger ghoul’s side with a kind smile. “You’re blushing.”

“I will kick your ass,” Kozume sneered before lifting his mug up to his lips for a quick sip. “Why’d you hire a human anyway?”

Kuroo mirrored his friend’s actions and drank some of his well-brewed coffee. “They don’t hold any ill will toward Ghouls if that’s what you’re wondering, maybe a bit scared. But (L/N) is very kind.”

Kosume continued to yawn through their conversation, occasionally looking your way, only to immediately turn his head as soon as there was a chance of you catching his stare. He didn’t realize how long it went on until he heard your footsteps heading for the exit.

Kuroo twisted, resting his arm over the back of the chair to face you putting on your coat. “Walk home safe!”

“Will do!” Your smile glittered before you pushed the door open and walked through.

Kozume’s eyes continued to follow you through the glass until you turned out of sight.

“Do they live far from here?” he asked Kuroo, questioning his warning.

Kuroo slapped his hand on the table twice, gathering the energy to rise to his feet. He grabbed the long since empty mugs, whose stray coffee had begun to dry on the sides. “Only a 5-minute walk. But (L/N) has to walk through alleyways to save time, and well, even during the day, you can’t be too concerned for one’s safety.”

“Ah, Kozume! Black coffee again? Would you like some food with that?”

Kozume’s stomach churned at the thought of putting something other than coffee into his system. “I’m alright, just the coffee is fine. Thanks.” Hands stuffed in his pockets, he walked to his corner. “And Kenma is fine.”

“Then, please, call me (Y/N).”

The cafe smelled cleaner than the weeks prior. Cleaning solution seems to sit right under Kozume’s nose and punch him every time he breathed. Taking his seat, he immediately noticed the lack of smudges on the window.

Kozume tried to give you a kind smile as you set his cup of coffee on the freshly cleaned table. He could feel heat crawl up his neck and settle underneath the skin of his cheeks. He gulped, readying himself to separate his lips and speak.

“You seem drained, has work been alright?” You beat him to the punch.

“Ah ya, work.” He didn’t have a job. “It’s been alright, just a bit draining because of the night shift. How has school been?”

Kuroo was quick to get you both well acquainted after your first meeting. He carried conversations until Kozume was willing enough to speak for himself. The blond was thankful for that, knowing that if he had been left alone by your side no familiarity would have been built.

“Oh, the usual. I have a few assignments to finish but nothing too overbearing. I did read an interesting article about social relations and hierarchy of ghouls in society. It was a bit depressing but educational.”

Kozume choked on his coffee, hunching over the table as he lifted a fist to his mouth. Just as the ragged coughs began to subside he felt your hand gently rub his back, sending him into another fit of coughs.

“What’s the assignment about?” he asked, settling down.

He noticed the concerned look on your face as you pulled napkins out of your pocket and set them on the table. “Ah well, I’m studying public health and humanities, and my prof told us to choose a disadvantaged group to write about. Yada yada, so on so forth. I chose ghouls.”

He gestured for you to sit with one hand, waving at Kuroo with the other as he wiped down the main counter. You smiled and took the seat across from him.

“You believe ghouls are disadvantaged?”

Your brow furrowed, pondering. “Well ya, in some ways. Maybe not in strength and power, but ghouls are rather hated in society don’t you think?”

Once again, while preparing to speak, he was cut off by the overhead TV switching audio. Listening to the graphic words coming out of the reporter's mouth, Kozume sighed and raised a hand to push against his temple.

The distressed look on your face made him pause. A pit grew in his stomach as your concerned face turned to Kuroo, who was calling you back to your station. You were quick to bring back your smile. “Enjoy the coffee, and rest when you can.”

Kozume returned your smile meekly but was focused on the grotesque details the reporter listed, unable to stop himself from imagining you, defenceless, in that sort of danger. He couldn’t stomach the coffee.

“(Y/N), I really don’t think I should leave you here alone after dark.”

You sighed, looking to your boss with an unimpressed smirk. Kuroo squinted, lips pursing as he watched your knowing smirk turn humorous.

“Testu, don’t you have work to do at night? My walk home may be a lot safer, if you get to that, no?”

Kuroo cursed, punching the wooden counter with a dull bumping sound. He groaned. “How did you know?”

You laughed, shifting the position of your hands on the wooden poll and continuing to sweep the floor of the empty cafe. “I study! It may not be so obvious but don’t you think I’d pick up on you being a ghoul after a few weeks?”

“I mean maybe, but I was hoping you didn’t know!”

A light scoff shot off your tongue and through your teeth. “I would think you’d be relieved, now you don’t have to be so cautious around me.”

Kuroo picked up the washcloth he had been holding earlier off the counter and began to wipe the wooden surface down again. “No harm in caution. Even if you do know.”

“Ya, ya, just don’t show me a severed limb. I can’t do gore.”

Kuroo laughed and tossed the damp towel onto the edge of the metal sink. His arms shifted to his back to aunty the black apron around his waist. “Are you sure you’re okay here alone?”

The TV’s sound changed to the news’ intro tune as you grabbed the remote and turned it off. You gave the ghoul a warm smile. “I can handle it. Go go.”

The sun was already over the horizon by the time you were ready to leave. You stood on the inside of the door, punching in the pin code to the security lock. It beeped, giving you the warning to leave and lock the door. Once done, you pulled your sweater a little tighter on your shoulders and shoved your hands in the pockets.

You focused on the sound of your rubber souls stepping on the concrete and the occasional tick of a pebble getting kicked. Street lights flickered, or at least the ones that were working did. Walking upon a burnt out light, you took the marker to turn down the neighbouring alleyway.

Two steps in was all it took before you lifted the collar of your weather over your nose. The putrid smell wafted your way from the dumpster. “Ugh, it’s not garbage day tomorrow is it?” Setting closer towards the opposite wall, you help your breath and face forward. Until the burnt-out light flickered on.

You halted, head frozen forward as you looked out of the corner of your eye. Immediately your stomach churned and your throat began to pulse uncomfortably.

First, you noticed the pool of dark red blood that was slowly growing, nearing your shoes. Then it was pieces of loose skin and grey hair, stained as they floated in their puddle. Your heart seized at the sight of a ragged plaid jacket that was recklessly torn. You searched higher.

A single red iris surrounded by a black gloss stared at your profile. The rest was obscured by pin-straight greasy hair except for a large, inhuman smirk that showed off shark-like teeth covered in blood.

You cautiously removed your hands from your pockets, watching the poorly dressed skeletal like figure’s hunch move up and down as he breathed.

One beat.

You saw his claw-like fingers hold the wrinkly hand of the severed arm like a possessed lover. Your foot shifted.

Two beats.

The ghoul’s head tilted, revealing a tube-like pound of pink flesh hanging from his fangs. You gulped.

Three beats.

You ran.

Pulse already off the hertz, you sprinted with all your might to the flickering light at the other end of the alley. A stupid move, but taking the time to turn around wasn’t an option. Each step sent a jolt into your stomach. Your footsteps were much louder than before, but your blood was drowning it out. The lamp was so much slower now.

You froze suddenly. Stopped by a tug on your arm. Vertigo suddenly hit and the lamp was pulled further away. Then you recalled the tug, and noticed the increased pulsing in your arm, then felt your sweater become sticky and heavy. You looked to the side and down.

Were bones supposed to stick out like that?

You hardly registered it’s presence before the spike-like bone was torn from your limb, sending you into another fit of screams.

The light at the end of the alley flickered again, before going completely dark.

His heart raced, blood pumping through his ears like crazy.

“Calm down Kenma! You can’t go crazy like this!”

“I have every right! You heard that scream, didn’t you? It was (Y/N)!”

The blonde’s kagune went wild, thrashing about and nearly knocking Kuroo over in the process. Said ghoul didn’t flinch, only brushing away the agitated organ with a push of his own.

“I know, but you have to—”

He was off, launching into the air and onto the rooftops, following the smell of your spilt blood before Kuroo could finish his sentence. The black-haired man swore, quickly following suit.

The sight was expected, horrifying, but not surprising.

Whoever’s intestines were falling out of the ghoul’s mouth, Kozume couldn’t tell, but he wasn’t gonna let the ghoul he had been hunting get another chance to make a meal out of your body if he could help it.

“GET OFF!”

Something cracked as the long-haired ghoul’s body flew off yours, smashing against the brick wall of the alley. Kozumes sharp-pointed kagune pinned him through the stomach to the cracking brick.

He only gave you a glance. The sight made his stomach churn as if he were trying to eat a regular meal. Torn skin, visible bone, and blood everywhere. He wanted to vomit.

Behind him he could hear Kuroo’s feet land in the massive pool of blood, making it splash slightly. Their clothes would have to be trashed later.

Kozume gritted his teeth. Despite his boiling rage at you being injured, he managed to hold off his brutal assault against the bloodied ghoul until he heard Kuroo zip away with you in his arms.

Even in your current state, you’d be safer away from the scene.

“I don’t think (Y/N) is going to be able to work for a while.”

“Some of the regulars are spooked, but relieved.”

Whatever was holding your arm like a boa constrictor was making sleep really hard. You groaned. Why did your stomach hurt?

“Ah, look who’s up.” Kuroo’s voice was as teasing as always.

Your sight was blurry when you finally came to. The first thing you noticed was the aggressive pulsing in your arm and stomach followed by a warm hand on your shoulder. You tried to shift.

“Ah stupid, don’t do that.” Kozume’s voice, despite a slight rasp, was as gentle as ever.

You sighed and squinted towards Kuroo who stood at the end of — what you were quick to realize— was your hospital bed. His arms were crossed and the smirk he wore was humorous. “Kuroo, if you say a single word, I will gladly risk further injury to fight you.”

Kenma shut his eyes and rubbed your shoulder before reaching for a hot mug from your bedside table. Kuroo walked around to the opposite side to help you sit up. You watch a thick red sweater fall off your shoulders and onto your lap, in front of your bandaged stomach.

Kenma spoke quietly, “Your sweater was torn to pieces.”

“Like my body?” you joked, only to get a sour look from the man in return. “Sorry.”

He sighed again and handed you the steaming mug. “Here, drink this. You need food.”

Kuroo walked back to the end of the bed, letting Kozume take care of you from then on.

“Coffee is considered a food now?”

Kuroo let out a short chuckle, making you tilt your brow in his direction. Kozume coughed, placing the mug down quickly to lift his red sweater off of your lap. He draped it back onto your chest, tucking it between your shoulders and pillow, then slowly guiding your arms through the sleeves.

You rubbed your hands together for warmth as Kozume offered you the hot mug again. You took it, thanking him with a shining smile. You once again failed to notice the rosiness of his cheeks, even if Kuroo didn’t.

“You won’t be able to stomach anything else, sorry.”

Why did this take me so long to write…. Oh well. -Bacon

Posted: 14/02/2021

#kenma x reader #Kenma Kozume #Kozume Kenma #kenma kozume x reader #Haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #x reader #oneshot #oneshots #haikyuu oneshots #haikyuu reader insert #reader insert #aus #haikyuu aus #fluff #haikyu #haikyu x reader #anime x reader #anime

36 notes · View notes