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shoyostar · 8 months

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FIREWORKS.

── SHINSUKE KITA ┊ HAIKYUU!!

raining in japan m.list. // hq. masterlist.

premise. the perfect fireworks display ending to your first date with kita gets cancelled due to unforseen weather changes; and he seems more upset about it than you are.

content. shinsuke kita / f!reader. somewhat established relationship (first date). set pre-timeskip.

word count. 2k-ish

soundtrack. rainy tapestry : lamp.

19:57

“Attention all park-goers, the fireworks display for tonight is cancelled due to the untimely weather.”

The overhead speakers loudly declare several times to the entirety of the amusement park of the recent development, with a few still turning their heads in confusion at the sudden announcement.

“Please make your exit out of the park, and have a great rest of your night.”

Kita’s hand is grasped firmly in your own as he leads you out of the designated fireworks viewing zone, in tow behind you both are the several hundreds of other disappointed families making their way out.

Unclear at first glance in the darkness of the night, rain clouds have already begun to form over the park. Light trickles of rain start to shower above, quickly increasing in intensity at an alarming pace and drenching those caught in the downpour.

Dozens of children can be seen and heard crying into their mother’s laps across the viewing area, covered in hastily bought clear ponchos while holding their extinguished sparklers. Some quietly trudge behind their parents in sadness, their sneakers and socks getting soaked by the puddles of water that have begun to form on the ground while they walk.

Passing by a small girl sitting on a bench crying to her parents about missing the fireworks show, the slight dip in Kita’s usually relaxed expression doesn’t go unnoticed by you. His hold on your hand tightens ever so slightly the more saddened families he walks past, the pace of his footsteps quickening with each puddle he unintentionally splashes in.

“.. I’m really sorry,” He manages to speak after some time, the exit of the amusement park becoming clearer in the distance with a sigh.

“I didn’t know it’d rain so hard tonight that they’d have to cancel the fireworks display.”

Your head perks up to meet his own as you give him a sympathetic smile, “no, it’s okay. You couldn’t have known this would happened in advance.”

It was true, nobody had prepared for this outcome at all. The weather forecast for the night said it would only be a light drizzle; with the park’s staff not even being aware of the cancellation until fifteen minutes before the viewing, when they were told to rush out the emergency ponchos and begin handing them out to the guests who were waiting for the fireworks show before one of the staff got on the loud speaker to address the viewers.

“I know, I know,” Kita runs a hand through his hair disheartenedly, eyebrows knitting in frustration when he pulls the both of you underneath a nearby overhang to shield you from the ensuing rain. “it’s just, awful that our first date ended up like this.”

Kita’s pristine, cleanly pressed and ironed white shirt is now stained with little specks of rain, wrinkled with splotches of water lining the chest area and his watch decorated in tiny droplets that slide off and drop to the ground. Eyes shifting around the entrance, the other families slowly begin to trickle out group by group just as disappointed as before.

The crease in his eyebrows becomes more prominent than before, his frustration clearly showing with how he stares angrily at the soaked stone tiles beneath your feet with a huff.

“I can’t believe this..” you hear him mumble underneath his breath, looking up and around at your surroundings when the rain begins to pick up, several families standing around nearby as some are looking at signage for bus routes or getting into their cars in a hurry.

“Our first date, and I’ve already screwed it up.”

Your stare quickly hardens at his words, “You didn’t screw this up,” comes a sigh, eyes flickering to meet his.

Even in the chaos that surrounds the two of you, your quiet words manage to reach his ears when you notice the way his gaze visibly softens upon seeing the concern your eyes hold for him. His shoulders relax, untensing as his arms fall to his sides.

You’ve never seen Kita so frustrated before, and over something he has no control over. He’s always been levelheaded no matter the circumstances, usually being the type of person who doesn’t go undeterred when things don’t go his way or how he intended.

But you can’t deny the annoyance displayed prominently on his face and in his body language when it’s presented right in front of you. The way his knuckles tense when he feels the rain beginning to come down harder around you two, bouncing off rocks and soaking into the grass below.

The calm mask that Kita normally wears seems to slip off for a brief moment as he visibly swallows, shoving his hands into the damp pockets of his pants. An awkward laugh bubbles it’s way up his throat in his attempt to soothe over the situation.

The smile he gives you doesn’t even reach his eyes.

“Ah, I’m sorry things had to turn out like this.” He apologizes again, like he’s been doing repeatedly in what only feels like the past fifteen minutes; an attempt to assure you that he genuinely is. “I really am, is there anyway I could make this up to you?”

You shake your head, “I told you it’s fine, you don’t need to keep apologizing for this, Kita.”

“But it’s not fine,” he laments, grimacing when the rain from his hair trickles and drips down onto his face, wiping the raindrops away with the sleeve of his shirt. “I wanted to do something special to end off tonight,” his voice is tinged with disappointment, a reflection of his own self-frustration.

He looks away from your eyes, staring off to the paved parking lot ashamed, “Someone like you deserves a better first date than.. this.”

You scoff at his statement, huffing when he keeps depricating himself, “Kita, what’s so bad about this first date, hm?”

Kita’s face morphs into something of somewhat confusion, stuttering lightly when he turns back to face you. He chuckles unsurely like you’ve just told a good joke, “What do you mean? Do you not see what’s happening around us right now?”

He gestures to the still remaining families surrounding the entrance of the amusement park nearby, the children having calmed down but still visibly deflated by the rain and cancellation of the fireworks. Most are preoccupied with a device or toy of their choosing while being shielded from the rain by coats, signage or the strollers of their younger siblings.

Disgruntled parents stand just out of reach trying to figure out the best routes to take home, arguing with the park’s staff about refunds for the fireworks show while heckling them about the poor management and lack of communication with the staff and park-goeres.

The chill of the wind can be felt through your soaked clothes, goosebumps rising all over your arms that cause you to shudder. Everything begins to slow down to what seems like a barely moving standstill; anything from outside of your little bubble with Kita being reduced to a snail’s pace in your eyes.

The movements of those surrounding you become like smear frames in the distance, the raindrops still raging on even more heavily now serving as the only remainder of reality; the only constants being the sounds they make when they fall from the darkened sky up above onto the two of you.

“Does this look like a perfect first date to you?”

Kita’s question snaps you back momentarily, the pace of the world resuming in an instant. He turns to face you; arms crossed over his damp shirt and wearing a skeptical expression on his face that is mixed with something else that you can’t quite discern otherwise.

Confusion, frustration, desperation?

Your lips purse in thought for a brief moment, which he takes as his answer as he rambles out another hasty apology before you can even respond. “See what I mean? Look, I’m so sorry about all this. I swear, if you let me take you out again next time I can do better—”

“Shinsuke.”

The sudden use of his first name shocks him into silence, gulping as he waits for your reply. A sense of worry envelops him when you don’t respond immediately, uneasiness in his voice when he speaks again.

“Yes?”

Stepping towards him, the feeling of the soaked soles of your shoes slosh around in the puddles underneath make shivers shoot up through the calfs of your legs. Kita’s gaze follows you expectantly, eyes afraid to leave yours when you reach for his hands from deep inside of his pockets.

They’re cold to the touch from the cold rain and wind chills of the night when you hold them in your own, thumb brushing over his dry knuckles and settling into the folds of his palms.

“You haven’t even asked me about how I felt about the date yet.”

Kita blinks owlishly, his eyebrows unfurrowing as confusion settles into his face again at your response before letting out an unsteady laugh, shoulders shaking with mirth.

And the timid smile he shows you this time does reach his eyes.

“I’m sorry, my dear,” he apologizes again, this time more freely before pulling you in closer by the hip. His head settles into the crook of your neck with a hum, “What do you think of the date then, hm?”

Kita’s breath feels hot against your skin, a sharp contrast to the chill that circulates in the air around, carried through the rain and wind in it’s journey. Bodies swaying blissfully in the darkness, hidden away from the blaring headlights of the cars pulling out of the parking lot underneath the overhang.

Sparkling specks of water drip and fall down around you, pooling into that puddles that have for sure already begun to ruin the bottoms of your shoes. Rainwater has begun to seep through the soles, your socks becoming victim to the nature of your circumstances.

The wet fabrics of your clothing clings to the sides of your figures, the image of Kita’s collarbone and upperhalf of his chest glazed underneath his shirt.

Kita’s hair is fully drenched, now clumped and pushed to the side from when he ran his hand through it. Droplets of water litter his cheekbones and eyelashes in perfect spheres, cascading down the edge of his jawline in a resemblance of tears.

Even when soaked to the core, like a housecat who was caught in the sudden rain; Kita looks as handsome as the day you returned his feelings.

Your voice is low, settling into the background sounds of the rainfall. “I think, that our date was wonderful;” you reassure him, “even without the fireworks.”

Kita looks unsatisfied with your answer, confused and asking you questions in rapid-fire succession. “But the fireworks were the whole reason you came here—” He begins to say, “Aren’t you, disappointed..? That you didn’t get to see them?”

“No, Shinsuke,” you chuckle, “I didn’t come for the fireworks, I came for you.”

As wonderful and flashy as fireworks are, and indeed what could be considered major highlight of a trip for many of the visitors of the amusement park, your heart was never dead set on seeing them.

Fireworks can be seen anytime, but your first date with Kita can never be repeated.

“I’m pretty sure you didn’t come to get rained on at the end though,” he chuckles, bringing a hand out of his pockets to cup your warm cheek. The warmth radiating from your skin defrosts the chill in his palm almost instantaneously, “I wished to have a very dry end to our date, preferably,” his choice of words makes you snort.

“You wanted a dry end to our date?” You repeat jestingly, “Maybe you don’t actually like me in that case, Shinsuke.” His head drops in quiet laughter, “Fine, fine. I’ll rephrase what I meant then.”

His fingers smooth over your jawline tenderly, eyes soft and heart full of love. “I wished to kiss the most beautiful girl underneath the fireworks as the perfect end to our date, how does that sound?”

“Who said it had to be under the fireworks?”

“No one,” he smiles, “But it would’ve been very romantic if we did.”

A grin of your own tugs at your lips, “We can still kiss right now if you want.”

“While we’re soaking wet?” He laughs, drawing his face closer. His hands itch to grab hold of your face and pull you in, but he holds himself back in fear of overstepping his boundaries.

“Are you sure?”

Kita looks to you for permission, lips barely an inch away from your own. The steady rising and falling of his chest is accentuated by his sopped shirt clinging to his frame, hot breath fogging up in the cool night air.

You nod, without a doubt in your mind, finally connecting the distance between you two. Kita smiles into the kiss, eyes closing in satisfaction while his hands stay planted at your hips, never straying away from their hold.

The taste of rainwater is evident on both of your tongues, the two of you giggling as the twinkling sounds of rain and ripples of the puddles flow through the atmosphere around.

Kita’s the first to pull away, hesitating when he chases your lips one final time before reeling his head back to catch his breath.

Even in the darkness, only illuminated by a street lamp several feet away; Kita’s cheeks are rosy with euphoria, eyes crinkling with sparks of happiness flying throughout.

His forehead leans against your own, the wet strands of his hair sticking to his head. The whites of his teeth gleam when he smiles, quietly whispering for your ears to hear only.

“Maybe I should make sure it’s raining when I take you out on a second date.”

reblogs are appreciated .ᐟ ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

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dduane · 1 year

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Meanwhile, at Twitter: #ReceptioGate

This is sufficiently epic that I hardly know where to start. The tl:dr version at its briefest:

Plagiarists at a supposedly London-based institute steal a well-known medieval scholar’s blog posts and images and take credit for them. Scholar discovers this and proceeds to call them out. Plagiarists double down and deny, issuing legal threats and telling the scholar his blog has no value, ha ha. Scholar continues to produce increasingly detailed receipts. Others join in the hunt and find (among more plagiarized docs and images from other sites) that the institute is a Potemkin structure built of stolen and falsified material. More receipts emerge through a whirlwind of squawking recriminations and hijacked and badly shopped stock photos of people, buildings, signage...

(shaking head in utter bemusement) It just keeps getting more complicated by the moment as the fake institute starts trying to vanish its online naughtiness in real time, while infuriated researchers document the alterations and vanishings. ...Just go over there and look for #ReceptioGate tags. Alternately, visit this detailed (and still growing) summing-up:

https://twitter.com/paularcurtis/status/1608146988511690753

(lies in bed, still shaking head in astonishment) ...Ye gads. But if you needed a scandal in full flower, this should honestly do to be going on with...

And today’s lesson, my cousins: DO NOT PISS OFF ACADEMICS. When they come for you, the thousand cuts you’ll suffer may be paper cuts, but boy howdy, you will bleed. :)

#ReceptioGate #jeeeez #but the crap people will try to pull

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torobatl · 2 months

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I was talking to my partner tonight about how terrible DSC is lab safety wise amd it was really funny.

“No eye washing stations, no signage indicating what type of lab it is, no fire alarms, no emergency alarms, only one fire extinguisher-“

“Well, there are more, but they’re right next to the live nuclear cores.”

And then she gave me the most horrified look like I was Clovis Bray and had built the space station myself.

#btw i love her

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silent-sanctum · 1 month

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I hope you're doing fine mijin🤩💗....

Can I request a fic where the stone ocean group survives and jotaro meets his wife(the reader) or ex wife that's upto you

Aha! A 2-for-1 special! Also, hiya @jotarosimpforever and to you too anon 👋 I'm doing fine thank you! Sorry it took this long to answer your requests, I'm currently on vacation so I was busy doing stuff 🫡 But here it is! A post-Stone Ocean fic featuring domestic times with our favorite DILF 6taro 😘 Hope you enjoy ♡

Way Home - Part 6! Jotaro x Reader

word count: 3.3k

“Breaking news: The recent events people termed as the “Shifting Skies Phenomenon” comes to an abrupt halt, resulting in mass casualty midst the confusion of countless civilians worldwide”

The scene was in complete chaos just the way it was for the past few hours. Where it was due to destruction as the heavens changed hues, from burning autumn to midnight void and back in a blink of the eye, now everything and everyone were in complete loss of control, emergency respondents dispatched to numerous vehicular accidents and spontaneous locations with crowds sporting spontaneous injuries.

Where others wouldn’t know what else to brand this phenomenon but “otherworldly”, you knew it as a catastrophic Stand attack.

And you’d come to know these information because of none other than your own husband- A solitary individual who opted to keep his responsibilities a secret from the people he loved, to sacrifice his happiness and suffer a life of “kill-or-be-killed” if it meant giving his family the normal life he could never have.

If it weren’t for circumstances that got yourself involved in one of these Stand encounters, you wouldn’t find yourself falling into the rabbit hole that was learning the nature of Stands, and eventually taking up a managerial role in an exclusive private organization as one of their agents. If it weren’t for that eventful day, you wouldn’t be able to meet Jotaro.

That stoic, abrasive, yet loving man…

Images of him smiling at you with fondness glazing his sharp blue eyes flashed in your mind as you imagined the same man charging head first into the battlefield to save and protect his and your only daughter from this grand scale threat.

And with the sky and the Earth’s gravity returning back to its usual state, you should be relieved knowing the enemy was defeated.

But without being there to witness how it ended, you gave into overthinking, imagining the repercussions that were dealt to achieve the cost of such victory.

As if snapping back to reality, you found yourself running through a plethora of bustling Speedwagon Foundation employees, almost crazed and frantic. The organization was just as rushed and busy as the rest of the world was with one half of the Foundation attempting to get shit under control by getting in-contact with non-government networks for aid and support, and the other half accommodating injured civilians to help reduce the local hospitals from overcrowding.

And just as what’s written in paper, you’ve received information that a chopper had just arrived with 2 members of the Joestar family onboard, injured from a fatal fight. You wasted not even a split second to bolt from the safety of your room and here in the private foundation’s building.

You rounded a corner, pushing past a couple more of people until you were met with a signage that read “Medical Wing”. You’ve studied the place’s layout enough times since Jotaro first brought you here during your orientation. While the place crowded with panicked and wounded civilians, you knew that the Foundation had exclusive areas and services reserved for the convenience of the Joestar bloodline.

Frustrated, you were desperate enough to seek the first nurse you could see and ask where her family was, but you’d find out that wouldn’t happen. Your hurried steps led you to the emergency room and instead of a random nurse, your attention landed on a teenage girl with messy space buns and torn clothing sitting on one of the benches lining the hallway leading to the operating room.

With one arm in a cast and her waist bandaged, the young girl had her free hand curled into a fist, head bowed as she struggled to hold back her sobs.

At the sight of her, your eyes welled up with tears. “Jolyne…”

In an instant, she jerked her head upright at the sound of her name. It took her a couple of seconds before she saw you standing a few feet away from her. Like mother and daughter, Jolyne’s face crumpled into one of sadness, the tears that she held back now rolling down her cheeks. “Eomma-”

You crossed whatever distance was between you and your child and brought her into a tight hug. “I’m sorry,” she started. “I’m really sorry mom.”

With ease, you withdrew enough for you to do another quick scan over her body. “Are you hurt bad?” You grasped her shoulders with a hand, the other reaching up to cup her wet cheeks. “Does it hurt anywhere?”

Your questions only sent Jolyne into another sob, breaking into tears the second you showed your extreme concerns. “I-I’m fine, but appa-”

You paused. “What… What happened to him?”

“He protected me, my friends, b-but…” She furiously swiped at her eyes despite her sobs. “He’s injured the most. He was bleeding everywhere and now-”

You kept yourself as calm as possible, even if you were on the brink of collapsing yourself. “Where is he?” Jolyne pointed to the double doors leading to the operating room.

Your heart caved in at the thought of your husband laying unconscious being worked on by surgeons and nurses to preserve his life. With a heavy and shaky sigh, you nodded as you willed yourself to not cry in front of your daughter.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do better,” Jolyne cried. “I’m sorry for letting that stupid accident with that asshole happen that led to dad going through all this bullshit for me-”

You quieted her as you pulled her into another hug, softly caressing her head. “It’s not your fault, pearl,” you said with a whisper. She continued to sob as she buried her face on your shoulder. “Your father knows that too.”

Gently, you led your daughter to one of the benches and sat her down with you beside her. Considering you’d thought the worst before arriving at the Foundation, you looked at the closed double doors with a newfound sense of reassurance. Another sigh.

“Let’s just wait and hope for the best.”

---

The consistent beeping of his vitals echoed throughout the dimmed room and you were left alone with Jotaro, still unconscious with half of his face heavily bandaged together with his throat, an oxygen mask fit on his nose and mouth.

Jolyne visited minutes earlier and told you that she’d be checking with how her other friends were doing.

An hour ago, you and Jolyne stood up immediately as soon as the surgeon stepped through the swinging doors. To everyone’s relief, they managed to stabilize him from his critical state.

According to him, your husband had a pre-existing heart condition that caused his pulse rate to beat at irregular, rapid intervals. Combined with the knowledge of him having to exert excessive strength despite waking up from a comatose state and the heavy amount of stress piling up the past few months, his body had chosen to shut down the second his adrenaline depleted.

Thinking about that again made you scoff through your tears. “You were always an impulsive idiot…” Saying those words caused your eyes to swell again and sniffle.

But what’s done was done. The doctors did what they could and all you can do was to sit beside him, holding his hand with both of yours, praying that he’d recover faster, enough for him to wake up and calm your worrying heart.

Without realizing, you ended up falling asleep still sat on your chair by his bed. You didn’t know how long time has passed in your slumber and you couldn’t be bothered to find out. All that mattered right now was staying by your husband’s side, letting him know, in spirit perhaps, that he wasn’t alone and that you were with him now.

In a way you couldn’t perceive, you somehow felt like he was comforting you as well. A comforting chill would brush against your cheeks, hair, shoulders, or hands and you welcomed the sensation like an old friend.

Eventually, time would pass from mere hours to days and throughout it all, you continued to stay where you were- always making sure to watch over him with persisting hope.

Today marked the 15th day since his admission in the Foundation’s infirmary ward. His fresh bandages still wrapped around the half of his face and throat. His assistive oxygenation was removed the week prior once his vitals stabilized within normal range.

By now, you stayed so much in the medical room that your responsibilities started to catch up as evident with the numerous phone calls and text messages alerting you from your pocket. You figured you’d answer a few and explain the circumstances surrounding you and your family.

That time, you stood by the window hoping to receive better signal. You were in the middle of arguing with a non-compliant employee that worked under your supervision, and through their whining in the speaker, you picked up the sheets shifting behind you.

On that cue, you turned around with supposed foolish hope but in clear daylight, there he was- stirring into consciousness, brows furrowing and scrunching as his eye slowly opened.

You never hung up on someone this fast before but you dropped whatever conversation you had and rushed over to Jotaro’s side, immediately reaching to grasp his hand. It took him a bit to adjust to the natural light, but he lolled his head to you and locked eye contact with you.

You exhaled a shaky breath. “Jotaro-ssi?” With a weak baritone voice, he croaked back your name with instant familiarity. Your eyes welled with new tears. Right then and there, he grunted as he struggled to prop himself upright. “W-What are you doing? You just woke up. You’re supposed to rest!”

At this point, you didn’t realize you started crying when you light-heartedly scolded him. You gripped his hand tight with frustration and relief, teardrops spilling onto your skin. He’s awake. Thank god he’s awake. “Do you know how much of an idiot you are?! I told you you shouldn’t jump into dangerous situations so recklessly! And now look at you! You should be taking your time and recover lying down and here you are forcing yourself to sit! You really are an idiot-”

“I missed you.”

Your heart skipped a beat and whatever ramble you had left trailed off into the thin air. Jotaro sat there patiently, watching you wistfully with hooded eyes. In your hand, he turned his palm upwards and interlocked his fingers with yours. He had that usual air of stoicism in his expression, but there was no mistaking the wet sheen glossing over his aquamarine eyes.

That was all it took for you to break into a sob as you gently wrapped your arms around him in a soft embrace. You felt him tuck his face against the crook of your neck, his tears pooling on your skin in silence. “Next time, tell me at least. Alright?”

“Mm…”

“Don’t scare me like that again, you hear?”

“I’m sorry…”

“You ass.”

---

It’s been 6 months since then and after the chaos had settled across the nation, the Kujos returned to their seaside villa, settling in for the time being to adjust to the new life after the time phenomenon.

Slowly but surely, every member of the family began to live their lives the way they wanted to- Jolyne would often leave the house to hang out with her best friend Ermes and potential boyfriend Anasui, one day bringing home a kid in baseball uniform named Emporio waiting to be adopted into the family, you returned to work to help the other agents in the Foundation, and Jotaro begun to resume teaching in university, choosing to take a break from field research to give him time to rest.

And considering the stress of the whole Stand ordeal they had dealt with since they were 17, you could get used to a mundane life like this.

The early morning sun beamed a warm orange, filtered through the curtains before it could touch both you and your husband. You opened your eyes to find yourself side-lying on his arm to face a still-sleeping Jotaro, tucked bare-chested underneath the sheets with his face mushed against the pillows

You huffed and snuggled closer, nuzzling to bury your nose on the crook of his neck. With a feather-light touch, you raised an index finger to gingerly trace the faded scar across his throat, the shallow dents across his collarbone, the scar on his left shoulder, and the one on his abdomen. One-by-one, you took the time to feel the skin of each in contrast to the rest. “You’ve been through so much…”

He stirred possibly from your tiny motions and soon enough, the arm you lied on curled in to pull you into his hold.

You couldn’t help but giggle as you looked up to see your husband glance at you with sleep-ridden eyes. You propped yourself on his chest and with your chin planted on your overlapped hands flat on his pecs, you whispered out a simple, intentionally-cute “Good morning~”

Jotaro smiled back. “Morning.”

“Break day?”

He nodded.

Life never felt so ordinary after what had happened but you could get used to this. Where every moment in this new era, they could live out the rest of their lives as a normal couple with a normal family.

And what’s a better way to start their new lives but with the domesticity of a newlywed pair.

Both you and Jotaro started the day accomplishing your morning routines- you in the bathroom washing up, he on the balcony to simply soak in the early morning sun. You made your way to the dining area where he stood by waiting for you with two steaming mugs of coffee in his hands. You took one, returned the favor with a chaste peck on his cheek, and went over to cook breakfast for the family.

On cue with the smell of bacon and eggs permeating throughout the house, two pairs of footsteps bounded down the stairs and barged into the area.

“Well good morning to you too Jolyne,” you glanced at her companion with a smile. “Emporio.”

“Going out again?” Jotaro said, glancing at the duo. “This early?”

“Ermes is gonna go shopping for the new line of clothes that got released yesterday. She invited me and Emporio over saying it’s going to be ‘her treat’, but I know she’s lying,” Jolyne said, picking up a toast from her plate and another to offer her adopted brother.

“Is that pink-haired guy going?”

“His name’s Anasui dad and no, he’s not going,” she puffed her chest. “It’s girl’s day out today.” You and Jotaro looked at the blond boy beside her. “He’s not tagging along. I’m just dropping off Emporio at the nearby bookstore on the way out.”

“And I can find my way back no problem,” Emporio said as the teenager slowly pulled him with her to the door. “I won’t take too long.”

Jotaro still had his doubts from where he was on his seat, but knowing your little girl was able to survive a life of imprisonment and was able to get around the harsh facility, you smiled at her. “Alright. Be back by 9!”

“I will!”

Once the duo were out of sight, you and Jotaro were left alone to themselves. “Nothing like seeing your kids all grown up, huh?” You said as you took a bite of your eggs. He hummed a sound of acknowledgment. “But that just means we have the day to ourselves.”

At that, your husband couldn’t help but smile.

And just as you said, the rest of today consisted of simply staying indoors and “hanging-out” with each other in a life of old-couple domesticity. You cooked the meals and he washed the dishes. You did the laundry and he helped in folding them. You dusted the shelves and he vacuumed the floors. You picked today’s playlist to listen while doing chores and he chose what movie to watch.

Then there were instances in-between chores where either of you can’t help but hover close to one another, seeking each other’s touch and affections. May it be when you’re cooking and Jotaro passes by stealing a piece of sliced vegetable, you sneaking behind to pat his ass when he’s drying the plates, him momentarily resting his chin on your head as you wait for the washing machine to finish, him offering you a glass of water in the middle of dusting, or ending up in a never-ending banter over genres of media.

By the time they finished everything, including the short time freshening up, the afternoon began its transition to night as the skies changed its hue from blue to orange.

You shared one look with your husband and with one wistful stare, he rose a hand to you and you held it. With no worries plaguing your mind, you and Jotaro slowly walked down the stairs to the coast, hand-in-hand. A gentle breeze blew a strand of hair across your face and before you could, he tucked it behind your ear.

Both of you walked across the sand until you stopped a few meters away from the gentle waves.

Jotaro took the initiative to break apart from you, only to step behind and engulf your body with his long coat with his hands still in its pockets. You smiled and leaned back against his chest, closing your eyes as you do so.

For a few minutes, the couple simply stood by, basking in the ambiance- the refreshing sea breeze against your skin, the soothing crash of waves, the birds chirping above. The sea was your comfort place after all, and it was his too. Despite it being months later, you cherished every calm walk such as this as if it was the last.

You’ve never felt at peace this much. It was so nice.

“23 years…” You glanced up at Jotaro when he spoke. “For 23 years of us knowing each other, finally… Finally we can just live like this.”

You chuckled. “Makes it seem like we’ve just been married and this is our honeymoon even though it’s been years.”

“We’ve been fighting the world for most of our lives. Is it strange that until now, I’m still not used to this kind of ‘quiet’? As if I’m cautious that someone could appear at any moment?”

You shook your head, your gaze drifting to the horizon as you thought of your next words. “It’s not. It’ll take some time for us to adjust to this new normal. For all our habitual anxiety to disappear. Hell, it might not go away entirely.”

“But I can assure you this-”

You stepped out of his coat and turned to face him. From this angle, you looked at Jotaro with a smile bearing all the gooey fondness you had in your heart. Gingerly, you rose a hand to his face and with tender care, traced the vertical scar lining the right side of his face. From the top of his brow, down to his blind eye, until your fingers stopped at the bold line of his jaw.

Only then, your hand returned to cup his cheek with your thumb stroking the smooth line of his scar. “Whatever may happens next, I’ll be there with you. Work, people, lingering Stand users… I’ll stay by your side, hm?”

With hooded eyes, Jotaro leaned against your palm and laid his hand over yours. “I can’t say much to change your mind anyways.” He huffed. “You were always so stubborn.”

You chuckled. “You’re not wrong.”

Getting on to your tiptoes, you planted a soft kiss over his cheek, nose, and his lips last, to which you lingered on for a second longer. Pulling away, you wrapped your arms around him and buried your face on his chest.

“Our lives are finally ours, starlight.”

You closed your eyes as you felt him tuck his chin on top of you, an arm wrapping around your waist, and a hand caressing the back of your head.

“Then let’s live them together, sunshine.”

#jotaro x reader #jojos bizarre adventure #jjba #jotaro kujo #god i love writing domestic couple life like yes #give me that wholesome stuff me

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srbachchan · 5 months

Text

DAY 5801

Jalsa, Mumbai Jan 4/5, 2024 Thu/Fri 1:54 AM

🪔,

January 05 .. birthday greetings to Ef Akhil Swami .. wishes and 🙏🏻🚩 ..for a wonderful day of the birthday from the day of the blog day ..🤣

When routine goes , it takes with it the route of everyday life , incessantly .. the rhythm loses its timings its beat its practicality its all .. you enedeavour for one and never reach it .. the mid way barriers divert attention, much like the road safety signatory, too late in the day and time for you to read understand and make alternatives .. they are never kept some distance from the diversion announce, to be able to make the adjustment .. they are placed where the diversion starts ..

'ATTENTION DIVERSION AHEAD'

but you are already at the head .. too late baby .. and bang into the signage .. which now faces the other way due to the impact .. misleading and misguiding the next ..

😂

So much to be in thought and write .. but the write is better written off .. for the emergence of the 'storied fact' be the impact of the 'impotency' prevalent .. the surrogacy of matter prevails .. waters shall ever find a flow .. wherever in whichever ..

for the moment the alternatives of our futures :

THE DUCKY DUCK DISH ANTENNAS ..

Love ..

Amitabh Bachchan

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 2 months

Text

Brothers

Maybe one where Roman or Remus have a very bad anxiety attack/spiral & the other helps them outta it and comforts them? Just some h/c creativitwins. – oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat

Read on Ao3

Warnings: hypothermia, remus has abandonment issues

Pairings: none

Word Count: 4093

In the Imagination, where one brother is as warm as the fire burning evermore in the hearth, another may be trapped in the freezing gales. They come as a pair: do not separate them.

The metal screeches and whines as it buckles under the force of the crash. Remus tightens his grip over his mouth, squeezing himself further into the corner. The walls shudder and shake as the low groan of the machinery resets. He presses the shaking fingers of his free hand to the burning cold metal wall and inches forward. His breath freezes in his mustache. She risks a glance over his shoulder.

No shadows, no nothing, he’s still undetected in this frozen hellhole. He grits his teeth against the bitter chill and inches forward.

Slam!

Another crash of whining screeching metal and the reverberation smashes into his ribs. The force of inhaling the cold air so sharply makes his lungs burn and his throat weep. How long has he been here? How far has he come?

How close is he to getting out?

It’s so cold. It’s so fucking cold. He covers his mouth with the end of his sleeve just for a second, just to get the itching burning freezing sensation off of his face and the moment he takes it away, the steam from his breath has already frozen. He grits his teeth and keeps going, edging through the massive sprawling halls in the hopes that he’s just moving somewhere.

Would it kill this place to have any fucking signage at all? Even just a set of emergency lights being like ‘hey, in the event that it’s brutally fucking cold and you need to get out before you turn into a living ice cube, head this way?’ Hell, Remus would even take flashing disco rave lights over the cold indifference of the flickering buzzing fluorescent things embedded in the ceiling.

Slam!

Remus jumps and hisses at the protest of his aching muscles. Can’t fucking slow down. Can’t stop moving. Stopping means giving in to the cold.

Dread creeps steadily up his spine as he keeps moving through the endless bleak hallways. What if he’s trapped in here forever? It’s so cold, he knows he’ll die if he stays here too long. he’s already been here too long, he needs to get out of here yesterday, and the slamming sounds like it’s getting closer, but that’s impossible. It’s impossible because it’s coming from behind him, always behind him, and it’s still getting closer. Is it moving? It can’t be moving, something that big, that dangerous, moving that quickly, that’s—how—how could it be doing that?

Slam!

Finally, finally, he sees a fucking door. A big one, a big sliding door like garages have. He sprints for it—or at least, he tries to, but his legs have long ago iced over and trying to make his knees bend and unbend is like pulling them through frozen tar. He stumbles and slams into the wall, grunting in pain, but he lands close enough to the buttons to jam his thumb into the one that says ‘OPEN.’

With a hissing grinding screech, the door slides upwards, closing a wave of freezing snow through the now gaping opening. Remus winces, huddling behind the corner of the wall, squinting to peer out through the mess. Concrete pillars loom out of the storm, but nothing else.

He risks a glance behind him.

Slam!

No time to waste. He ducks through the door and winces as it immediately begins to slide shut. Frantically he scrabbles for something to prop it open, for a control panel on this side, but there’s nothing but burning cold metal and unyielding concrete and the door shuts with a resounding thud that’s quickly lost in the gale of the storm.

Alright. Well, he’s out here now. This is fine. This is fine. He definitely won’t die quicker out here. He definitely won’t die more painfully out here. He definitely knows all of the bad things that could be out here, that could be lurking behind the white clouds, that he might not even be able to hear over the rush of the howling winds. Speaking of those, his ears hurt almost immediately and his head is already aching from the sheer force of the wind smacking his eardrums. He rushes for the closest pillar, trying to huddle behind it out of the wind, but the wind is coming from everywhere and there's no relief from being pressed up against the freezing concrete. He glances behind him for the door but it's already disappeared in the blinding snow.

Forward it is.

Despite the fact that he knows it won’t do anything, he keeps going from pillar to pillar, just to have something to hold onto as the icy winds race around. Surely, surely has has to be close to something, something else that will get him out of the wind for even a moment, something he can just rest up against for a second.

Pillar after pillar after pillar after pillar and everything in Remus shuts down except for the parts that have to move his body and the repeating words of next one, next one, next one, next one…

He has no brain left to remember that there can be an infinite amount of next ones.

Be it mercy, spite, or sheer boredom, the pillars come to an abrupt halt at the edge of a vast, flat plain. The concrete under his feet drops off onto an icy white ground that stretches out as far as he can see—which isn’t that much through all the wind and snow. Still, just as he did with the door, he hangs back for a moment, clinging to the pillar, glancing over his shoulder at the shadows of the others behind him. Could he go back? Plead for some entry back into the freezing building with the grinding and smashing machinery? Or should he venture into this unknown freezing nothingness where the wind and snow could strip his flesh from his bones?

From the distance behind him, he hears a great shuddering groan and yeah, no, that’s his cue to get the fuck out.

He steps onto the ice and starts to trudge away from the pillars. They disappear in a swirling rush of ice and snow and he hunches around himself, just to keep going. Just keep going, just keep going. Where is he going? Where did he come from? What was in that building? What were the pillars for? Why was it so cold? Why is it so cold? Why is he here? What did he do? Why does the world hate him? Why can’t he be better? Why can’t they just tell him what to do to make all of this stop?

He loses himself in the snow.

After crunching through countless hours of mind-numbing limping, he glances up and sees a dark smudge on the horizon. He squints through the gale but can’t see anything more. He keeps going, having to shield his eyes and face every once in a while before looking back up just to make sure he wasn’t imagining the smudge. But it grows larger and larger and larger still, until he can make out a tree line slowly approaching from the horizon.

He doesn’t even have the energy to be excited about it. He just keeps trudging forward. The wind bites into his exposed flesh everywhere it can, sinking icy fangs into the cracking skin on his hands, his face, his ears. His head is splitting—or it should be, with all the cold wind rushing past, why can’t he feel his head hurting? He tries to raise a hand to paw weakly at his head but his fingers just slide off uselessly. He doesn’t even have the energy to panic.

From the distance, he hears the thud, thud, thud of massive footsteps.

He looks up.

Coming from the snow, he sees a hulking dark mass coalescing in front of him. Paws the size of his torso, a head that looms several feet above him, eyes that pierce through the wrath of the storm.

The wolf comes to a stop in front of him, steam billowing from its mouth and nose.

Remus stumbles forward, one of his useless heads making to stretch up to his nose, but his arm refuses to raise. A soft and frightened keen leaves his throat as his legs buckle into the snow. His head feels fuzzy. It’s so cold. It’s so cold.

The wolf’s maw opens, teeth the size of Remus’s arm, and leans down to close his jaws around him.

At first, he attributes the fact that he can’t feel the pain from how cold he is, only to feel a different rush of wind as he’s lifted up into the air. He manages to open one eye enough to see the movement of the paws as the wolf carries him through the storm. He lets his head flop the other way and comes alarmingly close to one of those giant piercing eyes. The wolf huffs as quietly as he can with him in his mouth and keeps moving, getting closer and closer to the tree line. His warm breath is the worst thing Remus has ever felt and he never wants it to go away, ever, and he slips into a half-conscious daze as the wolf makes it to the forest proper.

Out of the worst of the wind, the sounds of the wolf become more distinct. Twigs and branches alike snap as he picks his way through the trees, his massive head swinging back and forth to safeguard the precious cargo in his teeth. A hysterical part of Remus wants to cuddle one of the teeth, just to have something to hold onto. But his arms are still refusing to work and his hands burn every time he even thinks about moving them to get warm, so he just whimpers and lets the wolf carry him through the trees.

It suddenly occurs to him how funny this is. He’s being carried by a wolf. He’s in the wolf’s mouth. He’s in a snowy forest and a wolf is carrying him in his mouth like he’s a chew toy and he’s all cold like a piece of ice. Hysterical giggles start to bubble up out of his throat, each one falling like an ice cube and shattering against the ground as the wolf walks on. Babbles and snatches of what might be words start to slide from his blue-bruised lips.

“Wolf,” he mumbles, “forest, cold…stopping for me…stopping, stopping…carry me…carriage me…couldn’t stop, could not stop…stop for me…carriage held me…”

He’s not sure how much time passes but slowly, he realizes that the air isn’t biting into him anymore. The wind isn’t rushing past him anymore. The wolf’s paws aren’t crunching into the ice anymore. He doesn’t have the strength to turn his head and see where they are. The wolf lets out a soft growl and begins to lower him.

“Oh, what’s this?” He hears another voice. Who is that? “Did you bring me something to—Remus?”

The wolf growls again, firmer this time, and he hears the pitter-patter of footsteps and something touches his shoulder.

“Re? Re, can you hear me? Fuck, you’re freezing—“

Roman? Is that Roman? Remus tries to roll over a little bit, just to see him, and Roman’s face swims into view.

”Ro…”

“Oh, Re,” Roman says breathlessly, arms around him, “what have you done this time, huh?”

“It was cold.”

“I’m sure it was, you’re like a little ice cube.” Roman slides his arm under Remus’s knees and picks him up like he doesn’t weigh anything. “Come on, let’s get you all warmed up.”

Over his shoulder, Remus sees the wolf lie down and put his head on his paws. He lifts his useless fingers in a pitiful attempt at a wave and the wolf huffs.

”Come on, Re,” Roman murmurs, carrying him inside the—cabin, they’re in a cabin, the wolf brought him to a cabin— “we’re gonna get you all warmed up, okay?”

“Cold,” Remus gasps, “so cold—“

“I know, Re, I know. Come on, I’ve got you now.”

The warm air hits him like a live wire, suddenly he’s shivering and twitching so much Roman has to tighten his grip just to keep a hold of him. Pain lances through his limbs and he whimpers, trying to hide in the lea of Roman as they move through the cabin.

“Shh, shh, I know, I know, I’ve got you, it’s okay,” Roman keeps murmuring as they make it to the bathroom, “I’ve got you now, I’ll take care of you.”

He lets out another noise when Roman starts to lower him, but it morphs into confusion when he comes to rest on something…soft? Roman kneels down next to him.

“We need to get these wet clothes off,” he says softly, “can I help?”

Well, considering Remus’s hands are about as helpful as a jackhammer for a migraine, he nods and Roman begins to dreadfully peel him out of his frozen clothes. Some part of his brain registers that this should be funny, shouldn’t it? Roman peeling him out of his clothes? But what makes it so terribly unfunny is that it hurts. It just hurts. It’s cold and then it isn’t as cold but then that starts to burn and so he wants the cold back but he doesn’t want the cold back because the cold hurts and he doesn’t want to hurt anymore, he just want it to stop, make it stop, make it stop—

“Shh, shh,” Roman keeps whispering as Remus jerks and whines, “I know, I know, I’m right here…”

Even the warm air from the bathroom is too much; He’s still shivering like crazy which is…probably a good thing, because that means he still can shiver, but still, his muscles are protesting every time he jerks and shudders. Roman just hushes him again, patting the—towel, it’s a towel, that’s what Remus is sitting on.

“Hey, come on, lie down for me, okay? I’m gonna go get some blankets and warming packs and we’ll get you all warmed up, okay?”

Remus latches onto his sleeve when he tries to stand up. “D-don’t go. Don’t l-leave me.”

“I’m just going next door, I promise—“ Remus whines— “you’ll watch me the whole time, okay?”

But Remus just clings onto his, still whimpering and shaking and Roman closes his eyes for a long moment.

Shuffling comes from the other room and the door is nudged open by a still-large-for-a-normal-wolf-but-much-smaller-than-it-was nose as the wolf carefully deposits blankets and warm packs into the bathroom. Roman murmurs his thanks as he sets about getting Remus sitting upright against his own chest, pressing the warm packs carefully against his chest and neck.

“We can’t warm you up too fast,” he whispers as Remus shudders, “we have to be careful, okay?”

“Warm…”

“Yeah, buddy, you can be warm now.” Roman adjusts his hold to make them more comfortable. “What were you doing that got you so freezing?”

Remus shakes his head, turning to rest his cheek against Roman’s shoulder. “Warehouse. Office building. Giant. Cold.”

“You—you were in a warehouse? Or an office building? What were you doing in there?”

“Hallways. There were so many hallways. Big thing. Slam. Sounded close. Had to go.”

“You were in an office building with a lot of hallways, and there was a big thing slamming into something close to you?” Remus nods. “Okay, do you know what it was?”

He shakes his head, whimpering at the shock of pain in his fingers. “Had to go.”

“Okay, okay,” Roman soothes, turning his head and blowing warm air over the spot behind Remus’s ear, “you had to go. Where did you go?”

“Big door. Outside. Concrete pillars.” Remus shivers again. “Snow. So much snow.”

“Is that where the wolf found you?” Remus nods. “Okay. I’m glad he found you.”

“Is he…still there?”

“I don’t think he wanted to stay that size, I think he’s gone back to waiting outside for us. But he’s still there.”

Another pained whimper leaves his lips and Roman tightens his grip a little, rocking them back and forth. As he starts to come back to himself, he looks around the bathroom. The walls and floor are made of a soft gray stone, a bathtub right across from them and a shower tucked against the far wall. Behind him, he can see the shadows of the sink and cabinets. A basket sits at the base. He’s sitting on a peach towel with a blanket draped haphazardly over him. Roman’s ice packs are a dark blue.

“How are you doing,” Roman murmurs after another moment, “you feeling a little better?”

“Mm.” Remus tries to flex his hand and winces. “Hurts.”

“I know, bud. That’s probably a good sign, though, yeah?”

“Mmpf.”

Roman chuckles and nuzzles his head against Remus’s. “We’re gonna get you a little warmer here first, then we can move you to a bed and get you all bundled up. do you think you can drink something?”

“Cold?”

“No, I’ll get you some warm water. That’ll help.”

“Not hot chocolate?”

Roman laughs again. “No, Remus, we have to be careful, okay? Once you get a little bit warmer, then we’ll see.”

Remus pouts, not that Roman can see it, but lets himself be snuggled back against Roman’s chest. Roman reaches over to switch out the warm pack, the brief absence leaving Remus oddly bereft before another one comes to replace it.

“Can I close my eyes?”

Roman sighs. “If I were Logan, I’d be able to tell you if it was okay if you fell asleep, but I don’t know.”

“I said close my eyes, not fall asleep.” There’s a telling moment of silence. “…fine.”

“Come on, you want to stay awake for your hot chocolate, don’t you?”

“That’s cheating.”

Roman laughs and gives him another gentle squeeze. “Come on, Re, you’re doing great. You can do it.”

Remus grumbles half-heartedly, but Roman’s right. The cold is slowly giving him his body back, even though the pain has yet to fully abate and he’s still fucking freezing. But Roman has him, he’s inside now, and he’s actually safe.

Something twinges in his chest.

After a while Roman pronounces him safe enough to move and coaxes him to sit up. He quickly wraps another blanket over his shoulders so none of his warmth escapes and ruffles Remus’s hair.

“I’m gonna go get you some warm water, okay?”

Remus mumbles some form of acquiescence and Roman smiles, getting up and walking out to the rest of the cabin. Remus hears a sink turn on and the sound of a cup being filled, and after another moment, Roman returns with a mug and a straw sticking out of it.

“Slowly, now,” he says and he couches down and holds the straw up to Remus’s lips, “take your time, okay?”

The warm water feels fucking great as Remus drinks it. It pools in the core of him and he can just imagine it’s like a hot spring, making him thaw from the inside out. Which was probably the point. Would be better if it was hot chocolate, though.

“Patience, Re.”

“Doesn’t a hot chocolate spring sound great, though?”

“We can work on that when you’re not a little Remus ice cube.”

“We’re literally the same age.”

But Roman makes him drink the warm water and sit there for a little longer until he can at least move around without feeling like his limbs are about to shatter off. Then he’s picked up, swaddled in blankets, and carried off through the cabin.

“Since when are you this strong?”

Roman just laughs at him. “You haven’t been paying attention then, hm?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Roman laughs again. “Don’t laugh at me, Roro, answer me!”

Roman does not, in fact, answer him, but he does put him down on a fucking huge bed. It’s literally half the size of the bathroom they were just in, covered with blankets and furs and pillow and Remus is letting out a soft noise before he can stop himself.

“It’s okay,” Roman says softly, pulling back the covers and coaxing him under everything, “there, that’s better, isn’t it? You feel okay?”

Remus is most definitely not okay, because now he’s in this big warm bed with all these blankets piled on top of him and it’s the most comforting warm weight he could possible imagine and it’s all soft and cozy and it smells like pine and cinnamon spice and he’s with Roman and he’s safe and he’s still so so cold but he might be able to be warm now and he’s crying and sobbing and shivering.

“Oh, Re,” he hears Roman murmur, and then warm hands are bushing tears from his cheeks and ruffling his hair, “hey, hey, shh, shh, it’s okay, you’re okay, you’re safe now.”

‘Wan’—wan’—wan’ you,” Remus gasps out, “come—please—please!”

Roman pulls away and he lets out a broken whine but then the bed is dipping and the blankets are shifting and warmsoftsolidsafereal Roman is sliding in next to him and opening his arm and Remus wraps himself around him like a Kraken.

“Fuck, Re, you’re still freezing.” Roman pulls him close and lets him curl up under his chin. “You come here, I’ve got you. I’ll keep you safe.”

“I was so scared,” Remus sobs out, “it was so cold, I was so scared, so scared—“

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, it’s okay—“

‘“There was nothing! There was no one, it was just—just so cold and so grey and everything hurt and—and—“

“Hush, Re, shh, shh, shh…”

��—it’s gonna keep happening, everyone’s just gonna l-leave and I’m gonna be on my own and cold and it’s gonna come smash me apart ‘cause you won’t—won’t want me anymore and I’m so cold, I’m so cold, don’t leave me there!”

Roman goes quiet. His grip never wavers even for a second, Remus still sobbing and clinging to him like a wet cat. He can feel Roman’s chest shudder under him and then a warm mouth presses against his ear.

“I’ll never leave you there, you hear me? Never. You’re my brother. I’ve lost you too many times already. You’re fucking stuck with me, okay?” He presses a fierce kiss to Remus’s head. “I’ll come get you every time if I have to.”

“I’m so scared, Ro,” Remus whimpers, “I’m so scared.”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. It’s okay, you can be scared, I’ll be here to help.”

The thing in his chest unspools ever further and he just collapses into a heap of tears in Roman’s arm. The bed is warm and his brother is here and that’s all he needs to worry about right now.

“Hey,” Roman murmurs into the quiet room, “you okay?”

His head hurts from being cold and from crying, his chest feels like he’s run a marathon through a frozen tundra, and his body aches like nothing he’s ever felt before.

But he smiles weakly and nods, nuzzling his head under Roman’s chin.

“Can I have my hot chocolate now?”

Roman chuckles warmly. “Tell you what. Let me get you some more hot water, you have a little nap, and then when you wake up, I’ll make you some hot chocolate.”

“Can I have a warm shower too?”

“And a warm shower too.” He ruffles Remus’s hair. “Now go to sleep, you menace.”

“Your face is a menace.”

“See, that’s how we know you’re tired, because you’re resorting to the ‘your face’ jokes.”

“Your face is a your face joke.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Your face doesn’t make sense—ah! Hey!” Remus yelps as Roman tickles up his back. “No, no, no!”

”Are we done with the ‘your face’ jokes?”

“Your face is—eep!”

“Are we?”

“Yes! Yes, okay! I’m done, I’m done!” Roman chuckles and rubs firmly at Remus’s back to soothe any phantom tingles. “How am I the menace?”

“‘Cause you’re my brother and those are the rules.”

Remus grumbles but doesn’t pull away. Roman keeps running his fingers up and down his back, humming slightly.

“Shh, Re. Go to sleep now, okay? Hot chocolate and warm shower when you wake up.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“…promise you won’t leave?”

Roman tightens his grip and tucks their heads together. “I promise that too.”

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#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #fic #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #roman sanders

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