#he is distinctly baby daddy shaped

[rae-gar-targaryen]

Danny Ramirez via Instagram, 2023.01.18 - Paris, YSL

[suzukiblu]

Day thirty of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU. And yes I DID win NaNoWriMo, thank you for asking. ❤ This is the last day of NaNo, obviously, so I'm gonna take a little bit of a break from this fic due to being just sliiiiightly burned out from writing 1k+ a day in it for the past month and all, but I intend to start editing it and posting chapters of it on AO3 in the next week or two, so it'll be both easily bookmark/subscribe-able and updating on there soon!

They go through all the boxes, Tim suffers a bit for it, and Kon laughs and makes him suffer more, the bastard. It’s fun, though, even if now Tim would really prefer to never stick his hand in another box ever again in his life. 

The last box Kon directs him to is full of layers of distinctly cashmere-esque fabrics, and Kon smiles a little and ducks his head again. Tim is disgruntled, but charmed. 

They wander through the exhibits, and Tim feels pretty good about his activity-picking when he realizes Kon’s stopping to look at all of them and actually seems interested in all of them. They have to circle back a couple of times so Kon isn’t doing anything too super-powered in front of other guests, but they do hit all of them. Some of them are more interesting than others, in Tim’s opinion, but Kon still tries them all. Tim wouldn’t complain even if he were bored out of his mind, though, given how invested Kon gets in sorting and mixing the tables full of colored glass beads and making waves and whirlpools in the water fixtures and manipulating the kaleidoscopes and chimes and everything else. 

Kon spends the least amount of time with the auditory and olfactory stations, though he’s happy to try all the little hors d'oeuvres that Tim assumes are supposed to be covering “taste” for the exhibit. Visual he seems generally curious about, but definitely tactile wins. Like–far and away, does tactile win. They spend twice as much time at the tactile stations Kon is least interested in as they do any two of the others. Tim doesn’t mention it in case it’s not on purpose. He still doesn’t want to make Kon feel self-conscious or anything. 

Anyway, the tactile parts of the exhibit were the whole reason he picked this as a date activity, so what, is he going to be bothered by having made the correct deduction or assumption or whatever? Not freaking likely. Actually if anything he’s going to need to privately gloat to himself about this later. Bask in it a bit. 

Also take some notes for future dates and things to buy Kon and whatever else. 

More cashmere, to start. A lot more. 

Tim sneaks a few more pictures of Kon as they walk from station to station. Kon laughs at him every time he catches him and takes one of him too, which is incredibly flustering. Tim cons him into a few selfies in self-defense, which turns out to be a terrible idea because it still involves him ending up in pictures and, worse, involves him ending up in pictures with Kon, who takes the excuse to press in close and kiss his cheek and just be all kinds of appallingly adorable, the asshole. 

Kon uses the first picture he took as Tim’s contact picture and makes one of their shared selfies his phone background. Tim is mildly mortified but also desperately wants to earn lockscreen status, which is a terrible idea because what if Kon ever takes his phone out around the team or Red Tornado or, god forbid, Bruce? 

Tim should definitely make sure Kon doesn’t put him on his lockscreen. 

. . . but like, if he did . . . 

There’s a clay station. Kon stays at that one the longest, making weird little abstract shapes and surprisingly accurate miniature versions of the sculptures tucked away in the corners of the gallery with TTK. Tim hadn’t even noticed him looking at any of the sculptures, but in retrospect he never actually needed to “look” at them, did he? And on that note, Tim guesses the accuracy shouldn’t be any kind of surprising either–Kon must have a really good sense of spatial awareness, if nothing else, and of how things “should” be shaped. 

By the time they get through the last station of the exhibit, they’ve been at the museum almost twice as long as Tim’s most optimistic estimates had allowed for and he’s had to sneak off to the “bathroom” for five minutes to push their reservation back an hour. Tim has absolutely zero intention of rushing Kon, especially if he’s having a good time, so it just makes more sense to reschedule than to put him on a schedule. 

Though he did have to actually make sure to go into the bathroom to do it, since Kon might’ve noticed him not heading that direction. Tim doubts Kon’s paying attention to what anyone’s doing in the bathroom, for obvious reasons, but he still probably would’ve noticed the date he was briefly concerned might be a supervillain just ducking around a corner to make a phone call ten yards away, no matter how Bat-stealthy said date was about it. Like, that seems like a stupid thing to expect him not to notice. 

They stop by the gift shop on their way out–well, Tim detours Kon to it with subtle herding, anyway–and Tim manages to convince Kon to pick out a couple of things. He ends up with a couple of sort of fidget toy-type puzzles and a little three-pack of little tubs of a clay-like play sand in bright colors, which Tim thinks is probably meant to function as some kind of stim toy and was probably something specifically sourced to go with the event, and Tim “accidentally” throws in a couple of fancy candy bars from the front register. Again: Kon needs calories that weren’t directly sourced from cafeteria food from a definitely-not-OSHA-compliant cloning lab. 

Maybe Tim can send Kon a fruit basket or ten while he’s still stuck at Cadmus. Those probably come in tropical themes. 

Alternately, maybe he can just kidnap Kon outright and trap him in a nice new cul-de-sac until he gets used to it. He could get him actual groceries, then. Lots of them. Fruit and vegetables and entire spreads of “things that weren’t made in an OSHA-noncompliant cafeteria”. That’d be nice. 

Also he could send that Hawaiian food truck by on the daily, if they were up for it. 

They share the candy bars on the walk to the restaurant–meaning, Tim takes two perfunctory bites of each and tricks Kon into eating the rest with basically zero effort–and it’s . . . nice, honestly, just walking around together. Just being together. Not that this is new knowledge, after the mall, but it’s still novel enough that Tim can’t help indulging in and enjoying the experience. They don’t usually get much time alone together, much less time that isn’t spent either fighting supervillains or dealing with emergencies. So–it’s nice, yeah. 

Tim likes it, he means. 

They make their adjusted reservation, and Kon peers around the restaurant awkwardly as they’re led to their table. Tim resolves to do whatever it takes to get him to relax, up to and including embarrassing himself in some way or another. He’s probably going to do that anyway, given how most of these meet-ups have been going. 

“Does it qualify for ‘nice’ enough so far?” he asks once they’re seated, and Kon blushes, then flashes him a grin. 

“It’s okay, I guess,” he says, then bites his lip with a brief flicker of insecurity as he glances down at the menu–specifically the prices on the menu. “Um . . . are you sure you wanna spend this much on me, though . . . ?”

“I want to spend my entire trust fund on you,” Tim says matter-of-factly, and Kon lets out a weird little laugh and ducks his head again. It works a little better this time, since he has the menu to hide behind right now. 

“I already like you, man,” he says, which is still inexplicable but not something Tim is actually gonna argue with. “You don’t have to keep buying me stuff.” 

“I like buying you stuff,” Tim says. “I’m gonna keep doing it as long as you’ll let me.” And after that, he’ll figure out a way to sneak doing it. 

“Just because you like it?” Kon says, glancing at him over the top of the menu. 

“Because I like you,” Tim says. “I mean, no offense to the hostess, but I wouldn’t enjoy buying her dinner this much.” 

Kon bites his lip, then ducks his head again. His face is red. Tim feels the urge to kiss him again. He probably should’ve found time to do that on the walk over or something. Or as soon as he first saw him. Or just at any point so far tonight, because the urge is getting seriously distracting now. 

“So when you said you wanted to go somewhere after this too . . .” Kon trails off, flushing darker. 

“There’s a late show at the planetarium about the sun’s role in our solar system and the life cycle of stars,” Tim says. It might be too loose an association, but . . . “I thought you might be interested in checking it out.” 

Kon stares at him for a moment, then turns absolutely crimson and hides behind his menu entirely. 

“Okay,” he manages, his voice a little cracked. Tim’s pretty sure he could’ve said he’d rented them a hotel room and gotten a less embarrassed reaction. So . . . that’s a thing. 

Okay. 

“I really do want to spend the money on you,” he says. “Apartment and all.” 

“An apartment,” Kon says, glancing over the top of his menu at him again. “And bills and groceries and an . . . allowance.” 

“Yes,” Tim says. No point in beating around the bush, he figures. It’s all things he’s already told Kon anyway. 

“And not just because I saved your life,” Kon says. 

“Not just because you saved my life,” Tim agrees. “I just want to give you those things. Or anything you want, really. Which–well, what would you want?” 

“Um,” Kon says, just barely lowering his menu as his eyes skate away. “Well . . . could we like . . . keep hanging out outside the theoretical apartment and stuff? If we did . . . that?" 

Tim feels something absolutely giddy and absolutely painful in his chest, hearing that question. Just–what does Kon think, that he just wants to toss a lease at him and never see him again? Or just only come over to . . . actually, wait, maybe Kon does think–ugh. Ugh. Fuck, that is not what he’s trying to make Kon worry about here. 

“Yes,” Tim says firmly. “As much as you want.” 

“Mm,” Kon says, biting his lip again. His face is still red. Tim wants to give him every single thing the world hasn’t given him, which he knows for a fact is a truly fucked-up and probably borderline-insurmountable amount of things. 

But he still wants to give it all to him anyway, and then think up a few more things besides.

[clevermonkey93]

Mr Frilly part 2

Part 1

Jaskier makes pizza with Geralt and Ciri. It’s cute and fluffy. Oh and they flirt.

also on ao3

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Jaskier wasn’t nervous. He absolutely wasn’t nervous. Except he was. He totally was because he had a dinner date – was it even a date? It’s just dinner, come on Jask – with a gorgeous hunk of a complete dork of a dad that was utterly besotted with his angelic little gremlin. And Jaskier had just met him. Just met Geralt and Ciri and already he was determined not to blow it. Frankly, Jaskier didn’t care if Geralt wasn’t interested – he's probably ten years older than me, he’s got a kid, he might be straight-straight not just kinda straight – but he so desperately wanted to spend more time with them both and get to know them.

God knows he could use some more friends. Valdo seemed to have left their relationship with all their mutual friends, but I suppose that’s what happens when you date a guy from university for four years and just make friends with all his music friends and –

Jaskier wanted so badly to get this right.

Which is why he stood outside the Rivia house – a beautiful old tall town house which Jaskier would have bet has one of those gorgeous long winding gardens – with a distinctly not-rubbish film and some flowers. A simple but beautiful bunch of wildflowers that Jaskier had stared at for at least fifteen minutes at the shop after he’d left Geralt and Ciri in confectionary. He’d decided to risk it but they’re white and delicate so if he's read the vibe completely wrong they’re obviously for Ciri.

He knocked. Geralt said not to ring the doorbell because next door has a baby.

Oh God I should have changed. Why am I still wearing my shopping clothes and this dumb scarf –

“Hey, Jaskier.”

Jaskier looked up to see Geralt at the doorway, long white hair tied up now and an apron at his waist – oh man why is that sexy?

He had a flour smudge on his cheek and his shirt was covered in flecks. Jaskier was about to tease him and ask why he’s only got a tiny apron when he's wearing a black shirt when he heard footsteps behind the man.

“Mr Frilly!” Ciri cheered as she joined them in the doorway. She was wearing a full-size apron which on a child should look utterly ridiculous but she was also wearing an expression that said she was in charge.

“Already started on dinner I see!” Jaskier said with a grin.

Geralt looked down at his shirt and gave a very sweet shrug before standing to the side and gesturing for Jaskier to join them inside.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he offered. Ciri had already bounded back down the hallway so Jaskier shuffled in and started to wiggle his shoes off with his feet. This inadvertently drew attention to the flowers in his hand.

“Uh, I brought these,” Jaskier started, studying Geralt’s face carefully. Beneath the white smudge of flour there was a distinct pink blush. He didn’t think Geralt looked uncomfortable but oh God it’s so hard to tell. “I brought these.” He repeated quietly.

Jaskier inched the flowers forward to Geralt and thank God he took them. Geralt smiled. No doubt there, that was a proper nice smile.

“Thank you, Jaskier,” he said softly. Jaskier felt Geralt's hand on his shoulder and he was about to say something when –

“Daddy, the dough has gotten SO big!”

Jaskier and Geralt shared a little laugh before Geralt lead him further into the house.

The kitchen was in surprising order considering the state of the chefs, and Jaskier and Geralt walked in to find Ciri proudly holding up a bowl of proofing dough.

“I’ll show you how to make a base,” Ciri said excitedly.

“Wash your hands, Ciri,” Geralt reminded her and Jaskier also took his turn at the sink. As he dried his hands, we watched Geralt dig around a cupboard for a vase, as though he hadn’t used one in a long time, before carefully arranging the flowers to sit in the middle of the kitchen table.

It was a wonderfully sweet evening. Jaskier and Ciri both managed to get covered in flour as they tried to shape pizza crusts while Geralt seemed to be able to do it blind and helping them at the same time.

Jaskier had figured they’d be using tomato puree (he won’t admit to how many years at university he’d lived on pasta and tomato puree) but Geralt brought over a pan of homemade tomato sauce that smelled so good. Even better was the proud little smile he made when Jaskier told him how good it smelled. Best yet was the blush and sudden inhale Geralt didn’t manage to hide when Jaskier couldn’t resist sticking a finger in to try a lick.

“Toppings!” Ciri exclaimed as she carried what Jaskier assumed was a stack of everything from the fridge. Cheese quickly went absolutely everywhere as they each assembled a pizza and it turned out the pair had a tradition of making an extra Frankenstein pizza with every topping.

They loaded them into the oven – “Daddy's going to build a pizza oven in the garden next spring,” Ciri excitedly informed Jaskier. “But they’re still good in the oven.”

Geralt started to clear up while the pizzas cooked, and Ciri immediately vanished. Jaskier stood next to him at the sink to dry things up.

“Thank you for asking me over,” Jaskier said, even though it was clearly Ciri that asked. “I'm really glad I’m here.”

Geralt Hmmed at that, and Jaskier had started to notice it might be his default setting but it sounded like a happy Hmm at least. “What would your Saturday night have been otherwise?” Geralt asked.

“Oh, um,” Jaskier hesitated and dammit he knew he was blushing but he’s going to think I'm so naive and just struggling and – “Well, I’m usually performing at some venue or another, if I’ve managed to get any bookings.” He looked over at Geralt and he seemed interested, not like he suddenly regretted inviting a hipster over, so, “I sing and, uh, play guitar. Among other things.”

Geralt nodded, and definitely didn’t look at Jaskier's mouth when he bit his lip nervously, except Jaskier definitely saw his eyes dart down.

Jaskier shrugged. “But nobody knows me around here. Not yet anyway,” Jaskier laughed quietly. “I’m on at the open mic night this week at Posada's –”

“The live night at The Mandrake is pretty good,” Geralt cut in. Jaskier couldn’t have contained his smile even if he’d tried. Honestly, so many people laughed at him for still trying and –

Breathe, Jask.

“Yeah? What kind of music do they usually have? I mean, well, a lot of my covers usually go down really well, but I also play a lot of my own songs,” Jaskier asked as he dried up the last bowl. Damn it, he was starting to ramble. But he looked over again at Geralt and the man was nodding, and Jaskier thought he might have Hmmed again. Silently though. Jaskier got a little distracted again watching Geralt dry his hands on Jaskier's dish towel and then start to put things away.

“Hmm? What sort of things do you write?” Geralt finally asked, and he definitely stood closer than he needed to as he reached around Jaskier to pick crockery up from the counter.

Jaskier was absolutely not about to reply something like meeting hot dads at the supermarket when the oven timer beeped loudly.

“Pizza!!”

Jaskier jumped a little at Ciri's sudden – immediate – reappearance and although he had no real reason to blush, his cheeks felt like they were on fire.

Geralt laughed ever so quietly. Jaskier eyed him carefully as the man's mouth turned up in the slightest smirk. Oh, Geralt was teasing him.

Jaskier flicked the dish towel at Geralt before joining Ciri at the oven, taking the mitts from her before she could try to hurt herself carrying too many hot pizzas. They took the pizzas to the lounge and before Jaskier could worry about where he should sit, Ciri sat him in the middle of the sofa because that’s where guests sit, Mr. Frilly.

“What film are we watching?” Ciri asked, sat on the floor in front of the telly to get to the DVD player.

“Oh!” Jaskier popped up again and went to his bag. “Have you guys seen The Princess Bride?”

Ciri had not and Gert agreed it was a not-rubbish film. Not that Jaskier would have judged him too harshly if he didn’t liked his favourite film.

He sat between Geralt and Ciri as they ate pizza, and Jaskier definitely agreed it was at least the best pizza in town and quite frankly until he tried ‘Papa Vesemir's’ pizza, he was willing to say best ever. They watched the film, Geralt and Jaskier both half watching Ciri watch it for the first time. When Geralt took his hair out from its bun, Jaskier couldn’t help but reach over to tuck a stray lock behind his ear before Geralt tied half of it back anyway.

Away from the warm kitchen, it cooled down quickly in the lounge so Geralt pulled the throw blanket over them from the back of the sofa. He laughed softly when Jaskier stole the opportunity to tuck in closer as his arms were raised, and then laughed properly when Ciri used Jaskier's distraction to steal his frilly scarf.

Jaskier must have dozed off towards the end of the film because he woke up to Geralt carefully easing him up from leaning against his chest as the credits rolled. “Just putting Ciri to bed.”

Ah, yes, parenting to be done. Jaskier blinked himself awake somewhat while Geralt followed Ciri upstairs. As he listened to muffled arguments about whether she'd brushed her teeth for long enough and how many stories she needed before sleep, Jaskier took their cleared plates back to the kitchen.

He was putting the last of the clean dishes away when Geralt reappeared.

“The princess sleeps?” Jaskier asked softly. Geralt Hmmed at him, leaning against the door frame in a way that looked far too good for him to not be aware.

“Are you awake now?” Geralt teased, and Jaskier admirably resisted sticking his tongue out. Really though, he only resisted because he finally closed the distance between them and leaned up, hopeful, towards Geralt. He was pretty sure, but Oh god what if he really had misread things –

Geralt kissed him. He kissed him softly, steadily and with a firm hand holding Jaskier's hip to his waist.

Jaskier sighed, only loud enough for Geralt to just hear. “Yeah, I'm awake.”

[musutofu]

【 Round Trip 】 Drabble

♡ pairing | ᵞᴬᴺᴰᴱᴿᴱ Shouji x ᶠᴱᴹ Reader ✑ word count | 1.7k ✎ genre | yandere ✗ warnings | kidnapping, mentions of pregnancy prompt | 33. “Do you really think you can get away from me?”

Memories are a curious thing. Flimsy and finicky, unreliable with the finer details of things while still holding truth in the broader strokes. Trying to see into the past as it’s been recorded by your mind is like looking at an old photograph that’s been left in the sun for too long. It’s dried and cracked around the edges, brittle to the touch. The slightest prodding at the loose ends of a feeling or sound could lead to it crumbling to dust as you try to keep it in the palm of your hands. And like the dust of former memories you’re beginning to lose yourself in the passage of time. Sunlight has leached your colors into a pale rendition of your former glory, bleached out spots of detail completely until you’re not certain what had filled the space once upon a time. It feels like you’re still there–the old you–standing just at the edge of your periphery, out of focus and only slightly tangible but every time you try to look the wraith strays further from sight. Soon, if you sit idle and let yourself erode to dust, there’ll be nothing left to grasp at. You’ll be gone. And a new person that isn’t you will be left to fill the empty shell left behind. But, if there’s one thing you remember about your life from before, it’s that you were never one to take things lying down. You got up and you fought. In your currently degraded state it’s hard to imagine standing up for yourself at even the smallest grievance and such a large offense that looms behind you has made you turn tail and run. And, for better or worse, you have no choice but to keep going. The deed is done, the betrayal completed. There’s nothing but rage left in your wake and memories of past punishment ring clear in your mind. The sharp, metallic taste of blood floods your mouth at the thought and your jaw pops open to be certain you haven’t bitten a hole in your tongue. You haven’t. The only lingering pain that’s physically tangible are aged a few hours. Throbbing bruises decorate the skin of your thighs and hips, dark bruises across your neck and chest in the shape of half moons; the fruits of your laborious night. A joyous occasion that trumped any and all physical boundaries and left you battered and bruised. “Mommy,” you jump in your seat, so lost in the liberation of the journey that you’d forgotten you absconded with a passenger. “I have to use the bathroom.” In the backseat your daughter is squirming in her car seat, hands wringing her seatbelt as she rocks forward and back as if she’ll be able to fling herself out of it with enough momentum. “Sit back, Chie-chan. It says there’s a rest stop at the next exit. Can you hold it for a little longer?” She slumps back in her seat with a huff, scrunching her nose at you in the rear view mirror in a way that makes her look like an angry puppy. She’s inherited much of her father’s appearance, including his elongated face. For a moment you find yourself annoyed with her just for looking the way she does. Having the audacity to even remotely resemble him while in your presence, but you catch yourself before you can go further down that dark path of resentment. It’s never the child’s fault for being born and if not for your daughter, your life would be only darkness. All the light in recent memories are because of her and you find the heinous thoughts of hatred rescinding from where they intruded. As you wait outside the bathroom for Chie to come out you wonder if your absence has been noticed yet. Probably. Shouji’s schedule rarely changes and he’s been getting home around this time every day recently. It’ll be a few hours before he realizes you aren’t returning and, if you’re lucky, a few more until he’ll be able to find you. The plan is to be on a plane overseas by then. Just as you’re strapping Chie back into her car seat, your phone rings. You’d been certain to turn off all location services and log out of any SNS accounts you’d had open in the hopes of going incognito but without turning it off or, at the least, to do not disturb, Shouji can still try to contact you. And he has. A picture of him lights up your screen as you pull out of the parking lot going only a little over the speed limit. “Chie-chan,” she’s happier now, perking up at your sing-song tone. “Remember how I told you we’re playing hide and seek with Daddy?” She nods excitedly. “That means we can’t tell Daddy where we’re going, so when I pick up don’t mention it or we’ll lose, okay?” “Okay, Mommy!” You answer the call on the sixth ring, putting it on speaker and passing the phone back to Chie. As expected, Shouji isn’t happy with your disappearance. His voice is tight with repressed anger as he greets you. “Honey,” he’s trying his best to not sound upset, “where are you?” “Hi, Daddy!” Chie says before you can make up a lie. She starts babbling on about her day in that way all kids can. A constant stream of information that doesn’t stop for a breath and adds in the most minute details lest you not know what color her shoes are today. Shouji doesn’t interrupt her but you can hear him moving in the background, probably pacing at the thought of you slipping through his fingers after years of keeping you under lock and key. He trusted you not to run from him after all these years and it makes you wonder why you did. Beside the obvious kidnapping and forced lifestyle as a Hero’s housewife he’d been the perfect husband, but something inside you broke last night and the suffocation you’d felt in the beginning came back with full force, weighing heavier and heavier on your chest until you’d made it out the front door. The feeling of weightlessness has only gotten better as the miles fall away behind you. “Mommy!” The car jerks as you jump again, always so afraid of the slightest reproach, even from your child that’s so much like your husband. She’s looking at you in the mirror with those big, dark eyes as if you’ve missed something important. “Yes, baby?” “Daddy asked if you went to the doctors today.” Your hands tighten on the steering wheel at the memory. It was all feigned excitement and empty thanks as the doctors congratulated you on your pregnancy and healthy baby. It was the only reason Shouji had left you the car keys. When you were pregnant with Chie he took you to all the appointments himself, not wanting to give you a chance to run. Unfortunate for him that he thought you wouldn’t now. “I did!” The persona is back. The perfect wife that will surely become your permanent personality if you’re caught. She’s sweet and docile, answering everything with an innocent, coquettish tone. “It’s too early to know if it’s a boy or a girl, but they’re healthy. The doctor gave me some vitamins.” “Mommy, are you sick?” Chie is suddenly upset at the mention of medicine. “No, baby, Mommy is fine.” Shouji soothes her. “She just has to take special medicine so your new brother or sister can grow big and strong.” “I want to meet them.” She’s pacified by her father’s words and you’re glad for it as the airport comes into view. Your takeoff time isn’t for a few hours but you’d rather not start the wait with a distraught child. “Soon, baby. We’ll meet them soon.” It could be all in your head but it sounded like he put extra emphasis on “we” and you’re not sure you like that indirect promise. We means together and together means going back. You take the phone from Chie after pulling into the parking lot. Before Shouji can protest, Chie pouts her goodbyes and hangs up. You let her keep your phone to watch cartoons as you wait at the terminal. Somewhere between episodes five and six, you doze off. Wakefulness finds you much more comfortable than when you’d fallen asleep, the scratchy cushion of the plastic airport chairs doing little to cradle your body as you slept. The cushion beneath you now is decidedly more comfortable and you roll over to indulge in a few more moments of relaxation, though it drains away immediately as your nose catches on a scent that will be forever ingrained in your memory. It’s the distinctly masculine scent of Shouji and as you gain your bearings, suddenly fully awake, you realize it’s all around you. The walls of the cage you’d thought you’d escaped are looming up around you as Shouji’s arms lock you to your bed, hands trapped between your bodies now that you’ve rolled towards him. He knows you’re awake. His hand gently traces shapes up and down your spine as you try your best not to cry or scream and wake Chie from where she’s probably sleeping in her room down the hall. “I know you’re awake, honey. Can I see those pretty eyes?” You indulge him, but only because you fear what he’ll do if you don’t. He’s being kind now, but that can surely change after the stunt you’ve pulled today. “There she is.” He coos at your tearful eyes. “How did you find us?” “Do you really think I’d let you use the car with no way to track it. You running off was always a possibility. I didn’t want to take my chances no matter how good you’ve been as of late. Do you really think you can get away from me? Do you honestly think I’d let you run off with my children?” His hand caresses the skin of your stomach as he goes on. “I’m yours. You’re mine. You’re my wife and the mother of my children. I want you here,” he’s whispering now, cuddling you closer to his chest. “So don’t try to leave me again. If you do, I’ll chain you to our bed.”

[nevergettingoverwincest]

Outsider POV ficlet inspired by 1.09 and how much we love Missouri T.T

Despite what some people thought, Missouri Moseley couldn’t see the future. But it didn’t take a fortune teller to see the grim life in store for the two Winchester boys. 

The year after Mary died, John spent a good deal of time pacing a hole in her living room rug. She put on cartoons for the boys to watch and let them eat cookies on the couch while she talked to their daddy. Dean sat with his brother in his lap, skinny boy arms wrapped around the wiggly baby, soothing Sam when he got restless. 

A boy that age ought to have been energetic and exuberant, especially after the sugar rush of half a package of Toll House snickerdoodles, but Dean had barely spoken since the fire. He watched the world through huge, solemn eyes, obeyed John’s directives silently, and always had one hand on his brother. Sam cried when Dean was out of his sight. 

No, it didn’t take a fortune teller. 

Still, when they walked back into her life after almost two decades of silence, she didn’t notice immediately exactly how dark and tangled the threads of their lives had become.

“Sam and Dean. Let me look at you. Goodness, you’ve grown up.” 

Dean was still recognizably the boy he’d been - freckles and fine features, still keeping one eye on Sam at all times. She could feel it in his head when she brushed his thoughts, a constant awareness of his little brother. It was familiar. He’d been the same way as a child. 

Sam was a knot of grief and fury so much like his daddy she had to bite back the impulse to say something. He wouldn’t have appreciated the comparison. There was also confusion and fear radiating off him - second sight of any kind was never a gift. 

It wasn’t until they were on her couch talking about the old house that she noticed it. 

“Boy, if you put your boots on my coffee table, I will wack you with a spoon,” she scolded Dean, and as Sam laughed Missouri felt the flare of amusement from his mind. After it swept a current of affection with such an edge of heat that she sat back, startled. Sam’s eyes were still on his brother, smiling so widely his dimples showed, and his mind was bursting with a temperature of love that was distinctly un-brotherly. 

Curiosity was a curse almost as much as telepathy. Missouri couldn’t help looking closer. 

Dean was scowling, mind buzzing with a faint edge of genuine annoyance, worry for Sam’s well-being and agitation at being back in Lawrence, but also an ember of something softly joyful at seeing Sam’s face lit up. It was relief and affection and hunger. 

Missouri made it a matter of principal to never look deeper into a person’s mind than she had to, but she couldn’t help probing the strata of that feeling. In it, she found memories of two boys entwined - sharing beds and the backseat of a car, stealing kisses when no one was looking, exploring one another with hands and mouths. 

Then Sam asked about John and she shook herself out of the present and into memories. 

Given that she had nearly missed it, it was embarrassing how easy it was to see once she knew to look for it. There was a current between them that ran deeper and hotter than family ties. They sat with their knees nearly touching, bumping elbows when either of them shifted. Each of them had a space shaped like the other in his mind and they sang to one another. There was a depth of heartache and care and shared history that she was accustomed to in long-married couples. 

She would never have noticed it in Dean alone, because it was so similar in quality to what she remembered from him as a child. Possessive and protective. The desire to hold Sammy and never let him go. Somewhere along the way, in the bitter tangle of their memories that she had barely skimmed, that desire had morphed into something more. 

Missouri swallowed hard. She’d known the road their daddy was walking wouldn’t be easy for them, but she would never have guessed… but she wasn’t a fortune teller. 

When she came home to find John Winchester on her couch, she didn’t even have to look past the jumble of his thoughts about his boys to see that he didn’t know. Of course he didn’t.  

“John Winchester, I could just slap you. Why don’t you go talk to your children?” 

“I want to. But I can’t. Not until I know the truth.” 

“Typical.” She heaved a sigh. “You know, those boys of yours have had an awfully rough time.” 

John rubbed a hand over the stubble on his face, looking exhausted. “I know. I know, Missouri, but it was the only way. I’ll do anything I goddamn have to, to keep them safe.” 

And she was struck by how the certainty in his voice and mind echoed his sons. The absolute conviction that they were doing nothing wrong.

[caelenath]

Sweet Child of Thine - chapter 4

First post of 2021! I’ve been away a little while. November was spent participating in the wonderful insanity that is NaNoWriMo (I won!) and December was spent catching up on everything I had neglected in order to win.

But now I’m back with a new chapter for my pre-canon PRSPD story. Cross-posted to AO3, FFN, and caelenath.com.

Length: 1664 Warnings: concerns child abduction Chapter summary: Mirloc finally learns what young Sky’s power is.

4. power

In addition to being fragile, human children were also voracious, absurdly so for their size. Before the sun had even reached its peak in the sky, the boy was complaining of hunger again. Mirloc had another full day and then some before he was due to deliver the boy to his acquaintance, so he decided he had best procure a more substantial supply of provisions if he wished to survive that time with his sanity intact.

Leaving the boy locked in the room once more, the mercenary went out and found a market the size of a modest skyport, in which there were entire sections dedicated solely to sustaining the young. He studied the endless aisles of foodstuffs and supplies for a few incredulous minutes before deciding it was nigh on a miracle that humans didn't die of exhaustion before their pitiful offspring reached maturity.

He selected an assortment of items based on the children pictured in the labels—all smiling brats with similar expressive round eyes—as well as a book of pictures to keep the boy occupied. When he was content, he had proved to be an industrious sort, carefully studying every inch of his quarters that he could reach before learning how to amuse himself by throwing the colorful object Mirloc had stolen in the park at the forcefield in the door and watching it bounce off helter-skelter.

This was indeed what the boy was doing when Mirloc returned to the house. After inhaling more food, the child took an interest in the picture book and it wasn't long before he'd left a sticky finger mark on every page. When he reached the end, he began again, leafing through more slowly. His little pinch grip was tight, leaving a new crease in the paper with each turn. at one point, silent tears began dribbling down his face and Mirloc decided to investigate.

The boy looked up in alarm at Mirloc's approach, but the mercenary ignored his wet eyes and looked down at the book in his hands instead. On the page was a dark shape, literally just a large brown square with shifty eyes and two short legs, unusual nonsense even for a child.

"Does this picture frighten you?" Mirloc asked.

The boy shook his head. "This is Daddy's book," he said, pointing at the brown square. Another tear rolled down and he scrubbed his arm across his face with a sniffle, but after a moment, his weeping began in earnest.

A distraction was in order, but Mirloc had no interest in reading about an anthropomorphic shape the color of loam. However, if human children were like other types of children he had known, then any yarn would do.

"Would you like to hear a different story?" he asked.

* * *

The day went from too long to too short in an instant.

After a fruitless afternoon in the search for Sky, a lead finally came through in the evening, albeit a tenuous one. The manager of a superstore on the east side of town had filed a theft report with the PD after noticing a most unusual thief while reviewing the day's security footage. Gene had in turn shared the report with SPD immediately when he noticed the kinds of items that had been taken—baby food, cereal, cookies, a picture book, and some children's clothing.

Jay reviewed the footage with Nate and Mori in the command center. It showed a distinctly non-human character wandering through several aisles of the store before he began plucking items off the shelves. Each one he selected seemed to disappear into thin air before he moved on to the next. The three Rangers exchanged puzzled looks.

"Maybe he has a picky kid at home?" Nate mused when the perp paused in the cereal aisle to look up and down the literal wall of choices.

"Or a few?" said Mori. "The target age for those supplies ranges from zero to four or five. The cereal's kind of a tossup. My guess though? He doesn't have a clue what he's doing."

They continued watching as the perp went on to pick up some nonfood items, then entered an unoccupied aisle in the home décor section and vanished.

"Hey!" Jay slapped the control to pause the video. "Where'd he go?"

They reversed the video and re-watched the segment several times before Mori had the sensible idea to slow the playback speed. It took several tries and adjustments, but finally they were able to see that the creature hadn't vanished into thin air after all, but into one of the decorative mirrors on display.

Jay was vaguely aware of his teammates watching his reaction, but all he could think of was the mirror in Sky's room at home. It was part of an old dresser that held Sky's clothes and spare blankets. If this creature, whatever he was, had in fact taken Sky, was that mirror the way he had gotten in and out of the house unseen and unheard? What exactly happened to the things he made disappear that way?

Elsewhere in the Delta Base, Kat was running a facial match against SPD's vast databanks. So far nothing had come up, but the perp's image had been shared with all PD and SPD units anyway. If nothing else, he could be picked up on shoplifting charges.

As Jay watched him in the video though, troubled by the purple skin and sinister eyes, he wasn't sure whether or not to hope this was the person who had his son after all.

* * *

The boy awoke crying in the middle of the night, frightened by bad dreams and refusing to go back to sleep. Perhaps the mercenary's earlier stories of nebular serpents and walking shadow monsters had not been the best choice.

Mirloc went to the washroom to wet a cloth and wiped the day's grime off the boy's face along with his tears. The cold dampness made him shiver, but the gesture seemed to soothe him nonetheless. Mirloc then squeezed the cloth hard to wring a single droplet of water into his palm. It lit up with a golden light that matched the glow of the mercenary's eyes.

Curiosity trumped fear as the child crawled out from the safety of the bedclothes towards Mirloc's hand. The light from the droplet reflected in his widened eyes like twin candles, making them look almost as yellow as Mirloc's own.

"Is it magic?" he asked.

Few places in the universe had a word for what Mirloc could do, and Earth was not one of them. He said no and braced himself for more questions, but they never came. Instead, the boy lifted his own hand and that mysterious blue energy he had demonstrated the day before flashed briefly around his small digits.

"I can too," he said.

Mirloc glanced at the shielding device around the boy's waist and wondered if this might be the time to solve that particular mystery. "Will you show me if I remove this?" He tapped the device with a finger.

The boy nodded.

Hoping he wouldn't regret his decision, Mirloc unfastened the device and laid it aside. The boy made a fist and this time the blue light rippled and pulsed uninhibited around his entire forearm. He moved it in a clumsy circle to create a translucent blue wall that hung in midair like nebulae out in space. His young eyes were narrowed in un-childlike concentration.

Mirloc cautiously stretched a hand towards the glowing wall and was astonished to feel neither heat nor the potent charge of electricity emanating from it. Then he remembered what the boy had said about the forcefield in the doorway.

The child was a living weapon.

The mercenary stopped just short of touching the blue energy—because that would have been foolhardy—and when he dropped his hand, so did the boy. The blue wall dissipated in an instant, gone like it had never been, and the child seemed unaffected by the effort.

"That is very good," Mirloc said. "You have a very special power."

"What yours?" the boy wanted to know.

"I can travel through reflective surfaces." From the child's blank stare, it was clear this explanation was beyond his comprehension, so Mirloc tried a different one. "Anywhere I can see my own face, no matter how small—" He gestured at the water droplet in his palm. "—I can use it to go anywhere I wish."

"Anywhere in the world?"

"Anywhere in the universe."

The boy's eyes widened. "How?" he demanded.

"How do you make your forcefields?"

"Science."

That was not an answer the mercenary had expected at all. "How do you know that?"

"Mommy says so."

Not his Ranger father, Mirloc noted.

"I want to go home," the child said, a whine creeping into his voice just as Mirloc was starting to find him tolerable, amusing even.

"Only if you behave," the mercenary reminded him. "If you like, I can tell you a story about my home."

The boy nodded eagerly, so Mirloc sifted through his memories for an appropriate one. Thus far, his life had involved far more stories of darkness than of light, but the latter were not forgotten even if it took him several moments to find his way back to them, back to the time before he began wandering the stars. Few knew—and most would not believe when they looked at him—that his life had begun in a place of light and of great beauty.

The memory he finally chose was older than this babe could ever fathom. It was of a place with three suns, shining walls, and heat so fierce, it scraped your insides to breathe it in. It was the last place Mirloc had known peace, and belonging, and the last time he had walked in light instead of dark.

As the mercenary recalled this fondest place, the child fell asleep and did not wake again until the sun had risen.

~

Chapter Notes

The picture book that Mirloc steals for Sky featuring “a large brown square with shifty eyes and two short legs” is a real book. It’s called Square.

[myhockeyworld87]

Nervous Regrets - Tyler Seguin - Part 6

Requested: No

Word Count: 3922

Warning: Cursing

POV: Reader

Notes: Total fluff piece. Currently finishing part 7.

The last twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind; to call it a roller coaster of emotions would be too cliché. It was more like that carnival ride, the one called the Zipper; the long-armed ferris wheel type ride that held several free flipping cars, that caged your body in, as it rotated around and around. Spinning constantly, flipping you through the air when you would reach the peak of the arm; the ride left you giddy and nauseous all at the same time. In your teens, it was your favorite ride; now in your late twenties it was a metaphor for your life.

Last night you had no intentions of telling Tyler you were pregnant; in your circle of friends you were known as everyone’s confidant. The fact that you couldn’t keep your own secret wasn’t lost on you. There was no going back now, but what your next move with Tyler was going to be still had you guessing. From the moment you’d found out, you knew Tyler would be a part of the baby’s life; never questioned that. Clearly you hadn’t anticipated the joy he would experience; while not at first, it was quite evident at the end of the night he was excited about being a father.

 So, here you were, sitting on your couch in an old pair of Dallas Stars sweats; eating ice cream straight from the container, while you watched your baby daddy play hockey. While said baby, could not be seen yet; you were obviously taking this mom indulging in her favorite foods’ thing seriously. The only thing missing was the pickles, and since they made you nauseous even before you were pregnant; you had an inkling you wouldn’t be running to the store any time soon. It felt good to watch the Stars play again; you’d blocked them out of your life, just as you had Tyler. Oh, you still kept in touch with some of the wives and girlfriends, not so much now; but the first few weeks you did. It felt odd sitting in front of the television, when it was a home game; the norm usually being sitting in the designated wags section. While you didn’t quite belong there anymore now; this didn’t feel quite right either. But really was there anything in between?

 “Come on ref, that’s a fucking horrible call?” you yelled at the tv, then spooned another bite in your mouth, as you watched Rads get called on some bullshit high stick. Thankfully Tyler wasn’t on the penalty kill unit; it was added stress neither him or you needed. With about four minutes into the second, a bad turnover by the Kings had Tyler dangling the puck around the goalie. Weaving in and out looking for the perfect shot; you hadn’t realized you were on the edge of your seat. Faking to his left he shifted at the last minute, completely fooling Quick in the process; the puck skidded over the goal line, sounding the horn. “Score,” shouting at the empty living room, you cheered.

 Finishing the game, and the container of ice cream, you turned off the tv and headed to bed. Weeks of sleeping, still hadn’t prepared you for this tired feeling pregnancy brought with it; your body was exhausted. Mentally however, you couldn’t make your mind stop spinning; thoughts of Tyler occupying them. When you met him, he’d been your Prince Charming; sweeping you off your feet into a love so grand there was no other possible ending then happily ever after. That Cinderella wasn’t knocked up at the end of movie, after the prince had cheated on her; was something Disney must have omitted. Being the heroine of this fairy tale was going to take more than a pair of glass slippers that was for sure; hopefully, in sleep you’d find a godmother, that brought you sage advice and wisdom instead of a dress.

 When morning came however, you were no further ahead than you’d been the night before; so, getting up, you headed to work. The day went blessed easy in the morning; it was the afternoon that turned into a cluster fuck. First, Andrea brought you in a beautiful bouquet of red roses, long stemmed placed in an exquisite vase; they were the classic, something every woman dreams of receiving. It was who they were from that had you frowning. The card read simply, Hope you are feeling better, Always, Robert. Somehow you had pushed thoughts of him to the recesses of your brain. Despite his possessive nature, Robert deep down was a good person. He deserved to be told face to face, that things between the two of you weren’t going to happen.

 The second time she walked in, Andrea wasn’t carrying anything; which didn’t disturb you; that was not until she held your office door open for not one, not two, not even three; but ten gorgeous arrangements of flowers; all in hues of lilac. That the color was a melding of both blues and pinks wasn’t lost on you; though it surprised you Tyler would come up with it. Delicate blooms of roses, hydrangea dotted with small sprigs of baby’s breath adorn most of the vases. However, one stood out, while it still contained roses, this one had a unique flower interlaced in it; star shaped little blossoms ran up and down the stem. What stood out was the fragrance, sweet smells of springtime filled the air; giving off an aroma of new beginnings.

 Apparently, the florist had come along to deliver the massive number of flowers; she saw you take interest in the bloom. “It’s a hyacinth, the flower of forgiveness. In the world of magic, it is said to symbolize love and happiness as well as protect it’s recipient from harm.” Handing you the card that went with the arrangements, she turned to leave. It read simply, I’m sorry. I’ll never fuck up again. Love For All Eternity, Tyler. That’s when you noticed that damn single tear was back.

 “Thank you, so much. They’re all so extraordinary.”

 “Your welcome my dear. You must be very special and he must be extremely sorry. It’s not every day I get a call with such specific requests. Most men think the rose covers it all. But yours, he knew what he wanted before I could even make suggestions. Trust me they weren’t easy to find at this time of year either, or I would’ve done more than one bouquet.” She walked out the door, and that’s when you lost it. Dropping down into your chair, you sat there and sobbed. Sure, Tyler had sent you flowers after he cheated; now that you thought about it, they’d all been roses. Always in various shades and color, but always just vase after vase of roses. That he had specifically requested these for you this time, meant more to you than every rose he had ever bought you. Your heart melted a little more, the ice thawing so that even you weren’t sure if it existed. He’d said he was sorry, practically begged for your forgiveness, swore it wouldn’t happen again; you weren’t sure it was possible, but this, this was telling you that perhaps you should at least try. It wouldn’t be easy but maybe, just maybe if you did you both could find peace and be able to move forward together.

 The hour you took to collect yourself, put you behind with work and had you staying later than you anticipated; which meant you were running late when Tyler showed up. The small apartment was something you rented on a month to month basis as you tried to determine what the best living arrangement for you and the baby would be; it was nowhere near the house you’d lived in with Ty. Running to the door to answer it; you were still in your work clothes. “Hi Ty! Sorry I got caught up at work and ran late. I just need to change.” He stepped into the apartment, taking in all the surroundings. It had been furnished when you rented it, everything very clinical and clean, nothing that spoke to the person that lived there. All your belongings still in storage. “Have a seat, do you want a drink or anything? God, I think I have some wine or something here, not that I’ll be joining you.”

 “I’m good babe. I’m not drinking anymore either.”

 You were halfway back the hall to your bedroom, when what he said actually registered in your brain. Sliding your heels off, you had to know more “What? Why aren’t you drinking?”

 “I just…I don’t know. You can’t drink, I kind of feel like it’s something I can do with you; at least until the baby’s born.” No wonder you loved this man; that he wanted to do even something this tiny meant more than words could ever say. Entering the bedroom, you quickly grabbed a pair of jeans and a loose flowy top; thank god jeans were made with spandex in them nowadays, not knowing how many more times you’d be able to put them on this easily. Grabbing a pair of chunky wedged sandals, you headed back out to the living room; back to Tyler.

 “So where are we headed?”

 “I already told you, that’s a secret. You ready to go.” Excitement was radiating off of him; it was contagious.

 “Yeah, I just want to grab a quick protein bar. I think someone’s feeling a little snackish.”

 Chuckling he responded back, “Would that be you or the baby? Because I distinctly remember you used to always have snacks in that suitcase you call a purse.”

 Playfully, you swatted his arm. “So, I like my snacks, nothing wrong with that. Besides I also remember a particular someone, who would dig in that so-called suitcase, for something to eat on a regular basis.”

 “You got me there, babe. You did pack two didn’t you,” this while winking at you.

 “Of course.” With that, the two of you strode out the door, to the car. Being ever the gentleman, Tyler came over and opened the door for you; that he took the seatbelt and proceed to buckle you in was new. “What are you doing? You know; I can buckle the seatbelt.”

 “Just making sure you’re both safe and snug in here.” This over-protective thing was going to take some getting used to; though it did tear down yet another wall that you had built up against him.

 The drive was silent; soft music playing in the background; nothing like the drives you used to take. When his hand would be in yours or on your thigh; music as loud as it could be, you both singing the whole way, Tyler mainly off key. Reaching your hand over you began to scan for a station you both enjoyed. “What, you didn’t like what I had on?”

 “Ummm, no, not really. I thought we were in a freaking elevator,” chuckling you added “in a museum, run by dead people.”

 “It’s supposed to be soothing and create a loving environment for the baby.” Raising an eyebrow, you looked at him, like he had just grown three heads.

 “Where did you come up with that?”

 “I read it in one of my daddy baby books.”

 “Oh!,” it was the only response you could think of; your mind still grasping at the fact that he was reading a book for expecting fathers. That wall you thought about earlier was definitely crumbling now. “So, did you learn anything else,” this said while you worked your way back to the station with the elevator music on it.

 “Hmm, that you should start to show soon. That the kid is the size of an apple, pear or orange; that seems to vary depending on what book I read. Oh, and that we should be able to find out the sex at that next ultrasound you mentioned.” He seemed to really be doing his homework. “Do you want to find out the sex?”

 “Ummm, I hadn’t given it much thought. What do you want to do? I think it’s a decision we both have to make. Like I don’t think I could stand it, if you knew and I didn’t. It would drive me insane.” People always said that life was full of surprises; you kind of felt that statement contradictory. There truly weren’t many really authentic surprises left in life, but the miracle of life itself. However, knowing would make things so much easier, you’d be able to pick out the color of the baby’s room, buy all his or her clothes in appropriate colors, even have his or her name all ready. You really could go either way, and maybe this decision could be up to Tyler.

 “Hmmm, I think it would be fun to know. I kind of remember one of the guys talking about doing a baby reveal or something; which sounds like a lot of fun.” Well that decision was made; we’d be finding out at the next ultrasound it seemed. “But you know, when are we ever gonna get a surprise like this. Maybe when we have the second one, we can find out the sex, but I think this first one I don’t want to know. If that’s ok with you?” Woah, and here you thought that there were no real surprises in life, that statement right there was one; first that he didn’t want to know, second, that he was already planning your next child, together.

 Your stunned silence, had Tyler looking over at you wondering if you’d heard him. “Yeah, I agree, I don’t want to know. Unless it’s like super obvious or something.” Staring out the window, you tried not to focus on images his words evoked; a happy loving family, Tyler playing with your toddler on the floor of the living room, while you fed child number two. It was something you hadn’t let yourself think about; hadn’t seen this as your future after everything that had happened. But here, now, hearing his words; the picture was so real, you felt you could reach out and touch it. Shaking yourself, you brought yourself back to the present; seeing familiar homes pass by. “Are we going to the house?” While you’d made headway today; you weren’t completely sure you were ready to walk back into the home you once shared.

 “Umm, no.” His short answer was all you received. A few more turns had you slowing down to the apparent destination. The large house loomed in front of you; recognition dawning on your face as the vehicle made its way through the gate. You’d been here before, probably driven past it over a hundred or more times; always with this same man by your side, but never up the drive to the house itself. To say that the look you gave him was questioning was an understatement.  “Surprise!” That, that was the only word he said, it really didn’t give you any answers.

 He seemed so pleased with himself; yet you had no clue as to why. “Ok, I’m gonna need a little more than that Ty. Surprise, what?”

 “It’s the house, the one we always talked about raising our family in.”

 “I can see that. Why are we here?”

 “I bought it, for us.” He stated it that simply; smiling brilliantly at you. That you needed a deep cleansing breath before you even thought about replying back to him should have made him at least sense your mood; instead the lovable idiot just continued to smile.

 Massaging your temple, from the headache you could feel forming; you spoke as calmly as possible. “You did what? Tyler, what the hell are you thinking?”

 The smile that lit up his face dropped instantaneously. “I thought this could be a fresh start for us. Plus, we’ve always wanted this house. It came up on the market a few weeks ago; obviously I didn’t buy it then, we weren’t together. But I called yesterday and it was still for sale, so I had the realtor start working on everything, it’s practically ours.”

 “We’re not together now Ty. Why would you have him start the whole process? What the hell were you thinking?” That wall, which had been crumbling before, was now being rebuilt by a dozen stonemasons; their incessant pounding making your brain hurt. “Is this some grand gesture to get me to forgive you?”

 “Yes…no. God I can’t do anything fucking right with you; can I?” His head crashed against the back of the seat and he blew out a frustrated breath; hands clenching the steering wheel in front of him.  “I’m trying here. I really am. Can you just go inside and look at the place? Not for me, hell not even for you; but for the baby?” The pleading sound in his voice had you halting progress on the barrier around your heart.

  “Ok,” you relented; it wouldn’t hurt to just look at the place. The door to the house opened then and Tyler’s realtor stepped out; suit and tie all business like, ready to make the sale of the year. Opening the car door, you got out walking around, matching strides with Tyler. Greeting the realtor, you tried to keep an open mind; you’d dreamed about what the interior would look like, this was finally your chance to see it. The massive double doors opened to an understated entry way; an elegant dining room off to your right. The place was tastefully decorated; not ornate or too elaborate, more relaxed as if the people who lived here truly made this a home and not some decorated show piece. The office on the left, was light and airy, not heavy with wall to wall bookshelves; a family portrait hung above the fireplace. You couldn’t help but imagine your own family’s photo hanging there.

 Continuing the tour, next you saw the kitchen; flashes of you baking and preparing meals for Tyler and your children popped into your head. It opened up to a family room; where you saw the kids playing with the dogs. Walking down the hall, you entered the master suite, enormous in size it looked out onto the pool; a king size bed fit easily into the room. Images of you and Tyler rolling around on the bed took control of your brain, arms entangled, bodies sweaty, moans filling the air; you looked away needing to shake the thoughts from your head. A sitting area off in the corner offered an opportunity to enjoy your coffee in the morning light. French doors leading outside to a private alcove overlooking the pool; a lounger large enough for two people covered most of the area. It was intimate, shielding its inhabitants from small prying eyes; a place the two of you could make love for hours on end. It was too much; you were standing outside and yet you needed air. Falling back on the sunbed you’d just sexually fantasied about being on with Tyler; you sat, taking deep breaths.

 Tyler whispered something to the realtor, who strode back inside the house; leaving the two of you alone. Sitting beside you, he quietly asked, “you ok?”

 It was a loaded question, physically you were fine; mentally you thought you were going to explode. “I don’t know Ty.” The look of concern that crossed his face, had you quickly following that up. “It’s not the baby, we’re ok. It’s just this…” waving your hand at the beautifully manicured landscape in front of you. “This is supposed to be our dream home and we’re just not in that place right now. I won’t lie to you; I wish we were.”

 Taking his hand, he made soothing circles up and down your back; the movement evoking all those images from just moments ago. “Babe, we’re going to get there. I know it’ll be hard, but just try to have some faith in me.” Turning your head, you stared into his eyes, searching for the trust he spoke of; wanting so much more. There was hope there, hope for a future the two of you could build. Love, so much love it made you ache; even a tinge of sadness for what had been lost. Finally, you saw it, that small glimpse of faith; that it came from the reflection of your eyes in his, is what surprised you. His hand stopped; simultaneously your breathing sped up. Even though the small voice in the back of your brain told you not to surrender; you pressed forward anyway. Taking his face in the palm of your hands, you brought his lips to yours; it was a sweet caress, filled with promises. Slow and gentle, the kiss left you dizzy; neither one of you fighting for control, just relishing the touch of each other.  Mouths fussed together as one; you could’ve stayed like this for hours, but softly you pulled away, resting your forehead against his.

 His eyes were closed, lids hooded so you couldn’t tell what was going through his mind. Why you thought you’d be able to know what he was thinking, when you didn’t even know where your mind was; you couldn’t comprehend. All you knew was that it was a start; a tiny move in hopefully the right direction. Taking a second waiting for him to look at you; when he didn’t, finally you said, “I’m still not sure you should buy this place.”

 Eyes flying open, he looked at you; grabbing your hands, he helped you to your feet. He drew you to the edge of the water by the pool. Standing behind you, he turned you to look at the expansive lawns. His hands encircled your waist, caressing your stomach, where your child grew. Resting his chin on your shoulder; he spoke, his voice low, “Can you see it? Right over where the water’s real shallow. The kids are splashing around with the dogs. I’m over there by the grill, cooking up some burgers for dinner. And right there,” pointing to edge of the pool. “You have our newest little one in your arms, rocking back and forth near the kids in case they need you.” That you could almost smell the burgers, bespoke of how vivid the image became in your head. You wanted, no needed it all; could only pray for it to become reality.

 That’s when it happened, you weren’t entirely sure what it was at first; but then it fluttered again. “Did you feel that?”

 “Was that the baby?”

 Tears sprang to your eyes; only this time they were tears of joy. “Yeah, I really think it was.”

 “Think he’ll do it again?”

 “I don’t know, maybe? Wait did you say, him?”

 “Did I? Hmmm, maybe I did.” Then as if the little one knew we were discussing him or her; it happened again. “I think he or she likes their new house.”

 “Tyler, don’t you think we should talk about this?”

 “Mmmm, too late, I already told the realtor to have the papers ready, for when we go back inside.” With that he took off running before you could smack him; playfully of course. Shaking your head at what had transpired in the last thirty minutes or so; you wandered around the property. Tyler, had gone inside, you assumed to sign said papers. Maybe, just maybe, he was right and this could be the new beginning you were searching for. 

[3rdgymbros]

two, now three.

Summary: He’d seen the blue lines already; they’d appeared almost immediately when he’d taken the pregnancy tests, but that had been in the morning when the light wasn’t good, taken quietly as Dazai had slumbered peacefully in their shared bed. Chuuya couldn’t have been sure it was a trick of the light, or a figment of his imagination.

Pairing: Osamu Dazai x Nakahara Chuuya ( Bungou Stray Dogs )

Author’s notes: Okay,,, so this work has MPreg, as well as a pregnant Chuuya and Dazai being a nice husband. This is my second soukoku fanfiction, and I'm still nervous about posting, so please be gentle when reviewing. Reviews fuel me to write more, and I already have a collection of "Aya as Soukoku's love child" fics planned!

Read on AO3!

He’d seen the blue lines already; they’d appeared almost immediately when he’d taken the pregnancy tests, but that had been in the morning when the light wasn’t good, taken quietly as Dazai had slumbered peacefully in their shared bed. Chuuya couldn’t have been sure it was a trick of the light, or a figment of his imagination. Now, he holds up the first test and squints at the lines.

Positive. A clear, dark positive. Same with the second one. He hasn’t made a mistake.

Chuuya sinks to the floor, ignoring the cold and damp, staring at the tests on his lap.

He can’t breathe. Panic wraps fingers around his throat and squeezes tight. The terror, again, of having something to lose. He isn’t perfect or good. He was meant for taking lives, not bringing one into this world. And he’s scared of warping this child so badly that it ends up hating its parents.

A baby. He’s going to be a mom. There’s a baby, nestled safely within him, fed by his blood, swimming in fluid. Half of him and half of Dazai. The thought plants a vision in his mind, a tiny child with Dazai’s dark cocoa coloured curls and eyes, fair and beautiful in his arms.

The panic dulls to a small point, the noose around his neck loosening ever so slightly. His baby. Their baby.

He puts his hands on his stomach. Chuuya exhales a ragged breath.

There isn’t a good way or a good time to tell Dazai, but Chuuya does it anyway, on a Saturday as the early morning sunlight streams in through the kitchen windows.

He inhales, and pretends he’s brave. “I’m pregnant.”

The silence stretches out. In the bright light of day, Chuuya sees a wall between them, with no way to scale it.

“Dazai?”

“A daddy,” Dazai says. As if he can’t quite believe it. “I’m going to be a daddy.”

Dazai puts one hand behind his neck and pulls him towards him. And then they’re kissing. Dazai’s mouth is soft and familiar, and the kiss leaves Chuuya breathless, his lips tingling. He can feel the imprint of a smile against his mouth.

Chuuya can’t help it. The relief and the happiness that washes over him is so strong that he laughs, the sound catching in his throat a little. “Yes, a daddy.”

“We’re going to have a baby!” Dazai picks Chuuya up and whirls him around in his arms. Chuuya laughs out loud, his feet flying out behind him and narrowly missing the stove.

All those weeks of anxiety melt away, dissolving like sugar in a cup of hot tea. For once, Chuuya’s not anxious or worried, he’s just happy, held in Dazai’s arms, buoyed up in a warm, bright place.

The morning sickness is new.

Being pregnant is new. But the nausea is constant, dragging him down, stopping him from thinking properly. For the last few weeks, Chuuya’s been rudely awoken at 5 a.m. to run to the toilet and vomit. At work, the merest whiff of blood makes him want to throw up; he’s been stuck working at headquarters for the time being. Eating supposedly helps, but he isn’t ever hungry.

Chuuya wakes up again, more nausea swimming through his veins than blood. He shoves his way out of Dazai’s arms – from perfection to cage in a matter of breaths – and streaks to the toilet.

He only just makes it in time before the contents in his stomach make a reappearance in a violent and noisy gush. He retches again, and again. There’s nothing left of his dinner from the previous night, but his stomach doesn’t seem to care. His hands tremble violently, his eyes watering and dimmed.

As he’s done for the past weeks, Dazai follows him, holding Chuuya close, murmuring nonsense words and reassurances, keeping burnished curls out of his face, waiting until the breath returns to Chuuya’s lungs.

The sickness is abating a bit, so Chuuya flushes the toilet with a scowl and wipes his mouth with a wad of toilet paper. Nausea still throbs dully in his stomach, but that is nothing new. “This is your fault and I hate you.”

“I love you too, Chuuya.” Dazai all but coos, still holding him in his arms.

Dazai talks to Chuuya’s stomach every night, even though he isn’t even showing yet. Dazai’s face is inches away from his stomach, his words making caresses of warm air on Chuuya’s skin. Dazai prattles on about everything and anything – from his day at work, to how Kunikida-kun wouldn’t give him a break, until Chuuya almost feels bad for the baby, who’s unable to have a moment of peace.

He deadpans, “You do know that the baby can’t hear you right now.”

“Mommy didn’t mean that,” Dazai assures the baby quickly, and Chuuya has to bite back a smile.

They’ve talked about baby names a long time ago, almost jokingly, lying together tangled in sheets and limbs, Dazai’s head pillowed against Chuuya’s shoulder, both of them bare-limbed and loose and relaxed. Dazai had always liked Shuuji, and Chuuya liked the name Aya, beautiful and colorful, yet so simple and elegant.

Chuuya brings up the topic of names again, threading fingers through hair as soft as silk. “Do you have any names in mind?”

There’s a beat of hesitation.

“Odasaku,” Dazai says, barely a whisper, and so soft that Chuuya thinks it’s just a figment of his imagination. He’s smiling, but it’s the saddest smile he’s ever seen, and his eyes are so far away, memories and sadness clouding them, wounds only made sharper with the passing of time.

The silence stretches on, but it’s comfortable and peaceful, tinged with melancholy and everything that goes unsaid but is instinctively understood, even without words.

“I think he’d like that,” Chuuya says, equally soft, and slips his hand into Dazai’s.

( They decide to name her Aya, if it’s a girl. )

Chuuya can hardly believe that this picture here on the screen in front of him is of their baby. Snub nose, delicate, intricate spine, legs curled up to fit into his body.

“At twenty weeks, Baby’s about the size of a banana,” Says the technician cheerfully. “The measurements look good. Everything looks good.”

“The baby’s so big,” Dazai says, gazing at the window into Chuuya’s body. His eyes are wider, his face softening in wonder, and it’s so unexpectedly tender that Chuuya feels his throat tightening.

“With all the food I’ve been eating lately, she’d better be.” Chuuya grumbles, but there’s no real heat behind it, only a mixture of fondness and exasperation.

“I was about to tell you the sex of the baby, but you guessed it.” Says the technician, typing something into her computer. “It’s a girl. A perfectly healthy girl.”

“Aya it is,” Chuuya whispers under his breath, and once again, he’s drawn to Dazai again instead of the screen. He’s never seen him looking so rapt. So in love.

( “We’ll have a boy next time.”

 “Next time?” )

Aya’s a kicker. She’s fussy and demanding, kicking Chuuya with every step. Chuuya’s been feeling sore all day, harsh pains cutting through his abdomen whenever she strikes. Dazai likes to joke that Aya’s inherited Chuuya’s strength, and he’s not mistaken.

“Listen, kid,” Chuuya mutters, his voice as firm as he can make it. “I know we settled on Aya, but I swear I will let Dazai name you if you don’t stop kicking me. And knowing him, it’ll be something stupid, and I’m not going to stop him. Do you want that?”

Chuuya’s answer is another taunting kick.

( It looks like Aya’s also inherited Dazai’s nasty personality. )

“I can’t believe this,” Dazai whines dramatically, settling himself more comfortably on the sofa, so that his head is pillowed on Chuuya’s lap. Rolling azure eyes at his flair for theatrics, Chuuya runs his fingers through soft curls, adjusting his husband in one smooth motion so that Dazai isn’t pressing down on his bladder. Dazai is warm, warmer than the August night, and Chuuya closes his eyes, soaking in the warm, intimate moment. “Aya, how could you kick for everyone but me?”

“Now she stops,” Chuuya says, pointedly addressing his swollen belly. “Finally tired yourself out, have you?”

“Aya – it’s Daddy.” Dazai leans over so that his face is inches away from Chuuya’s stomach. “Kick for Daddy!”

Aya, either responding to Chuuya’s exasperation or to her father’s voice, kicks Chuuya right in the ribs, and he winces. Dazai feels it, and he sits upright immediately, his eyes wide with surprise and awe.

“She moved, she moved, oh, Aya!” Dazai addresses Chuuya’s belly. “That’s my girl!”

Aya distinctly kicks. Dazai laughs.

Chuuya inhales, a sharp intake of breath; Aya’s been fussy all day, and now that Dazai’s around, the mischief seems to have been amped up one thousand fold. “She’s definitely your child.”

Dazai’s smirk has Chuuya’s toes curling.

Chuuya wakes up alone.

He wakes up gasping, his heart thumping wildly, an out-of-control drum rhythm. For one horrible second, he thinks that Dazai’s left again – without a word, without so much as a goodbye – but then he remembers that Dazai’s on a case with the Armed Detective Agency, and the relief floods him with so much force that it renders him dizzy.

He switches off his alarm and lies in bed, watching the milky white light steal slowly over the walls, waiting for his heartbeat to go back to normal. A swath of sunlight ticks upward over the scan photograph of their baby. Chuuya’s pinned it to the dressing table, a little white body, floating in a sea of black and grey. He’s already memorized it, every curve, every shape, and places a hand over his bump, imagining the baby floating in fluids, completely safe.

Under his hand and inside his body, Aya shifts. A stretching, an adjustment.

She nudges him, quiet today, and Chuuya wonders if they’re connected somehow, if she can sense his mood and the dullness of his eyes.

“I know,” Chuuya says. “I miss him, too.”

He stares out the window, but his little nudger doesn’t respond. For a minute, two minutes, nothing happens, while the early morning sun fills the house slowly, frothing upwards like champagne and Chuuya exhales a breath tinged with melancholy, now alone with his thoughts. Dazai won’t come back, he’s left us alone again.

“He’ll come back soon.” Chuuya presses a hand over his bump of his belly – even though he knows the baby is completely unaware of his fear and what’s going on – he still feels the need to soothe his child. “He’s at work. He’ll be back in time for dinner. He said so, remember? You’ll hear his annoying voice in the evening.”

Aya nudges him. Fleetingly, Chuuya sees a ripple moving near his hand.

A bubble of joy bursts inside Chuuya. If this is his baby offering comfort in the only way she knows how, he’ll take it.

It’s Chuuya’s idea to paint the walls of the guest room, now turned into a nursery for Aya.

Walls of light sunshine yellow, the colour of delight. She should have sunshine and music and happiness all of her life, and there’s a protective, deep-rooted maternal instinct of some sort, that would have Chuuya rip to pieces with his bare hands and teeth whoever robbed Aya of any of that.

Dazai is wrestling with the new can of paint, trying to get it open, and Chuuya’s laughing at how Dazai struggles, and suddenly, the lid flies open, and somehow Dazai ends up lobbing a glob of Copacabana at him. He manages to nail Chuuya right on his cheek – his aim had always been perfect, even when they were in the Port Mafia together, and his skills haven’t deteriorated with the passing of the years.

Amazingly, Dazai starts laughing, high and musical and airy all at once. Pointing and laughing, at the paint trickling down Chuuya’s cheek, now splattered all over his shirt.

Two can play at this game, Chuuya thinks, and with difficulty, he bends to dig out a big handful of paint and flicks it at Dazai. It hits him in the side of his head, right in his nest of cocoa-brown curls.

Dazai shrieks and then they’re ducking around the room, hiding behind the cot, the rocker, trying to make a grab for the paint while the other isn’t looking, using paintbrushes like catapults to peg each other.

( Their clothes are ruined, and they’ll have to buy another bucket of paint, but the soft kisses that Dazai presses to his lips and neck as they wash up in the bathtub makes it more than worth it. )

All things considered, being thirty weeks pregnant is fairly awful. Chuuya can barely fit in the shower, he can’t put on his steel-toed boots with laces, he huffs and puffs whenever he walks or climbs stairs, his ankles are swollen. There are itchy red stretch marks on his belly, he has to go to the toilet every five minutes and his back has been aching continuously for two days.

The only upside to it all is that it means Aya’s well on her way to being born.

He goes shopping for clothes with Kouyou. He’s seen what Dazai’s brought home for Aya, and he’s not impressed. Well, maybe a little, at Dazai’s ability to plunge his hands into a rack and pick out the most flamboyant pieces of clothing known to mankind.

The boutique is exactly what Chuuya’s pictured. It’s painted white inside, white walls and off-white floor-boards, with tiny beautiful clothes hanging everywhere. Teddy bears. Cuddly lambs. Handmade rag dolls. Everything safe and soft, in the color of jewels and nature.

The little clothes. The tops and dresses that he’ll pull over a downy head, the sleeves that he’ll arrange on a pair of chubby arms. The small shoes that he’ll fix over the tiny feet with that special curling reflex when you run your finger up a bare sole.

“A few more weeks till Aya’s here, hm?” Kouyou hums, gliding around the store non-committedly, picking up and eyeing a knitted green cardigan. “Are you excited?”

“I can’t wait to meet her,” Chuuya’s radiant, almost glowing as he adds a hat and some white pajamas to the pile of small clothes, which is now quite tall. “We finished the nursery yesterday.”

Red-painted lips curve upwards in a smile. “You seem happy. That’s good.”

And he is. Chuuya’s happy and contented, and this is his one small slice of happiness in a messed up world that he wouldn’t trade for anything.

Chuuya meets his sister’s eyes. “I was hoping you’d be her godmother.”

“I would be honoured.” She says, and wraps him up in a tight hug.

Aya comes into the world bloodied and howling at the top of her lungs.

She’s almost three weeks early. Chuuya likes to think that Aya’s inherited his temper and impatience, unable to wait, eager already to see the world. Just as eager to see them as they are to finally see her.

There is an eternity of constant, unadulterated pain that burns worse than the fire that of using Corruption, and a feeling of heat all through his body. The screams scrape his throat raw, mostly filthy curses for Dazai not to touch him ever again, all bared teeth and venom and claws that Chuuya spits out in the heat of the moment as Aya rips him apart from the inside out.

Then, nothing.

Nothing but a sniffle and a hiccup, impossibly high-pitched and small. And then a wail. The most beautiful sound that he’s ever heard.

She’s crying for her mother, her father, and it’s the most wonderful, the most terrible, sound in the world. The baby’s been thrust into a cold, confusing world, and she wants comfort, warmth, the people who love her the most.

“My baby,” Chuuya tries to say, every fiber in his body itching to hold her.

Not yet, they tell him, and this time, it’s Chuuya who wants to scream. Aya shouts in the midwife’s arms. She’s all red legs and arms, hands splayed, crimson curls and an open mouth. She cries, the strongest sound ever, full of life and health.

She screams when they cut the umbilical cord, screams when they weigh her and take her measurements, screams when she’s being wiped down and bundled up into a blanket.

Aya only stops screaming, her cries filtering away into nothing when she’s nestled in his arms. And whatever doubts he may have had about himself – the blood on his hands, how badly he would fuck this up – all vanish the moment he’s handed the hot little squirmy body, still smelling of blood and fluid, with her slick of red hair and the tiny, perfect limbs. Then he knows that he’ll fight and fight for this child, no matter what. That he’ll keep Aya safe.

Her eyes are half-open; her nose is a smudge. She looks like Dazai sometimes when he wakes up in the mornings. She’s all quiet smiles and gurgles, an unfurled mouth, squashed red cheeks, toothless gums. Aya blinks her eyes open; they land on Chuuya, taking him in, as he memorizes every crease of her face. Her eyes are bright green, shaped exactly like Dazai’s.

Aya smiles.

She’s still blissfully quiet and smiling when Chuuya hands the wriggling bundle to Dazai, settled beside him on the mattress. He watches the awe on his husband’s face, the way he instantly cuddles Aya to his chest. Dazai strokes a finger down Aya’s cheek, and she turns her head to gaze trustingly up at him. She squeals and flails, rosy lips puckering and tiny fists waving, nearly giving him a black eye.

“Just like your mother, huh?” Dazai remarks, the words clogging in his throat. His eyes are glassy. “Not even a day old and you’re already hitting me.”

She’s strong and real and alive and only minutes old. And she’s theirs.

Aya, aya, aya, Chuuya thinks, and in this moment, his world is no bigger than his husband and their child.

[frenchibi]

can’t control the weather

Secret Santa gift for @shoujomomo​ for the @haikyuuwriters​ exchange!

Ship: IwaOi Prompts: Single Dad AU, Fantasy Words: 1,7k [ao3 link]

Full fic under the cut! Please reblog if you enjoyed :D

“Daaaaa-ad!”

Tooru spins around, nearly knocking over the ceramic pot on the edge of the windowsill in his haste to put out whatever fire his daughter is yelling about - figuratively or literally (but he prefers not to think about that).

“Honey?”

“Dad, make it stop-” Hime’s standing in the doorway, holding both arms over her head - to protect herself from the downpour from a miniature rain cloud that seems to have materialized above her.

Tooru blinks, and then he rushes forward, dropping the cloth he’s holding so he can reach for her shoulders.

“Aw, pumpkin, you’re getting the floor all wet! How did this happen?”

“I don’t know,” she says, voice high and irritated, “it just started, and I can’t make it stop-”

Tooru eyes the cloud, then turns to reach for one of the crystals lying in the fireplace.

“Here. Hold this, and concentrate on it. Like we practiced.”

She nods, sniffling a little, and takes the glowing orange stone from his hands. As soon as it makes contact, her skin seems to absorb the glow, passing it along to her eyes and her hair, which turns from damp black locks to a soft auburn color.

Slowly, the rain cloud above her head curls in on itself and disappears, leaving nothing but a trail of puddles behind on the freshly mopped floors.

Tooru nods in encouragement as she opens her eyes, and is relieved to see a delighted smile spread across her cheeks.

“It worked!”

“Yes it did. Good job.” He straightens up and sighs. “...and now I have to mop again.”

He glances at the clock, and barely avoids a shudder - how is it already so late? Iwa-chan’s gonna be here in ten minutes, and he’s nowhere near done with the dishes and he hasn’t set the table yet and-

“...Daddy?”

His eyes widen at the sound of Hime’s terrified voice, and he’s just in time to snatch the crystal out of her hands before it bursts into flames.

She steps back with a gasp, and her (now red) hair seems singed at the tips even though there was no fire. The smell of something burning becomes extremely prevalent in a matter of seconds, and Tooru gives up on the dishes in favor of crouching down in front of his daughter and taking both her hands in his own. He needs to calm her down, first.

“Hey. Deep breaths, alright? You’re okay.”

Hime nods shakily, fingers curling around Tooru’s. She’s had to learn to be brave, but she’s still only six years old, and Tooru knows her own powers terrify her at times.

“...you know the fire won’t hurt you, pumpkin. You’ll learn to use it, and to make it your friend.”

Hime swallows thickly, and Tooru knows she’s fighting tears - as she’s always prone to do when she’s frightened.

“...it’s okay,” he assures her. “Really.”

She bites her lip, but nods again. He can tell that her heartbeat must be slowing, because her eyes have gone back to their normal shape and her hair is slowly fading back to a brown that resembles his own curls.

Never date shifters, his sister had said. They might seem alluring but they’re not worth the trouble.

He shakes the thought away - it’s way too late now, and he wouldn’t trade Hime for the world, even though his relationship didn’t work out, and he’s not powerful enough to train his daughter himself or save her from the general calamity that her raw magic power causes. But he knows how to help, and he loves her with all his heart.

That should be enough, shouldn’t it?

Tooru straightens up, but not without a little shudder - his old friend is going to arrive any minute and the apartment is a complete mess. Fantastic. What will he think-

He shuts down his panic by force, because there’s no use overthinking. He’ll see what happens in the next couple minutes, whether he stresses about it or not.

Never mind the fact that he’s about to see his best friend for the first time in four years.

Never mind the fact that he still gets butterflies whenever he thinks about him - even after all this time. Even after a very happy relationship. Even after trying so, so hard to forget.

Tooru exhales, and then he claps his hands together.

“Right. Okay. Hime, love, could you help me mop this up?”

She nods, and lets him lead her over to where he dropped the cloth from earlier.

“...it’s most fun,” Tooru says, “if you push the cloth over the floor as you go. Like this, see?”

Hime giggles when he leans over theatrically and pushes towards the first small puddle, the cloth splayed out between his hands in front of him.

“I wanna try, I wanna try!”

Tooru laughs, straightening up again. “Alright, here you go! Make sure to get all of the water, okay?”

“Okay,” Hime says, dragging out the word, her mind already set on the new task.

He watches her go with a smile playing on his lips - before he snaps himself out of it and turns back to the pile of dishes. Well. Not much time left. Now all he needs is a fresh cloth, and-

The doorbell rings. Because of course it does.

“Shit,” Tooru curses under his breath. So much for that.

Dodging the couch as he darts over to the door, he calls out: “Be right there!”

He catches himself before slamming into it, and stops to take a breath for barely more than two seconds before he opens the door-

And there he stands.

His eyes find Tooru, and he breaks into a smile brighter than the sun. Tooru could fucking die.

“Hey,” he says, sounding just as breathless as Tooru feels.

“Hi,” Tooru says back, and he knows he must be grinning as well. “I’m so glad you made it.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes at that, and Tooru feels his stomach jolt. Jesus.

“Of course I did. It’s been way too long.” And then, after a moment’s hesitation: “...come here.”

Tooru wants to make a case for stepping inside, but before he can protest, there’s a pair of very (very) toned arms wrapping him into a hug and he kind of forgets how to breathe.

It’s almost funny, in a bitter sort of way, how completely and utterly gone Tooru still is. It must be true what they say - you never forget your first love.

“...don’t break me in half,” he mumbles, at which Iwaizumi lets out a single barking laugh.

“Like you’re so delicate.”

They break apart, and his smile seems even wider than before.

“...aren’t you gonna invite me in?”

Tooru nods before he can overthink it (he can hear Hime darting around behind him) and opens the door wider to let him inside.

Which, on second thought, is risky as hell. Iwaizumi hasn’t seen Hime since she was a baby. He doesn’t exactly know about the nature of her powers - or that she has any at all, really.

Probably should have thought that through before inviting him.

Well.

“Just- you can leave your shoes on,” Tooru tells him, eyes already zeroing in on the puddles that are definitely still there, all the way down the hall.

“Hime…? Our guest is here, how about you come and say hello…?”

Hime pops her head around the corner, wide-eyed and, curiously, green-haired.

“Oh!”

She darts out into the hall, not without slipping a little on the water, and Tooru sees that she seems to be hiding the cloth less-than-efficiently behind her back. It’s… also green.

Iwaizumi turns, having just taken off his jacket and hung it on the coat rack, and his eyes widen as well.

“Hime-chan, is that you?”

She cocks her head to one side - of course she doesn’t really recognize him, it’s probably been too long-

“...Iwa….chan?” she asks, and Tooru almost chokes on his own tongue.

Iwaizumi laughs. “Good enough,” he says, stepping closer. “It’s been a long time - you’ve grown so big!”

And green.

Tooru hopes he won’t mention it. Maybe it’ll just stay that way, and he’ll be spared having to explain.

...who is he kidding, that’s extremely unlikely.

“Right,” he says, trying to move things along, “if you’ll just step through here - no, careful, uhm… we’ve had a bit of a… plumbing problem I’m afraid, so if you could just-”

He guides Iwaizumi to the living room, darting forward to pick up yet another (very green) cloth from the floor - he must have missed that one earlier.

“...sorry about the mess, uhm. We’ve been swamped.”

(Speaking of. Something’s not right. It smells distinctly… moist. Green. Almost like-)

Hime is tugging at his shirt, and she looks kind of worried.

“Actually, just - make yourself comfortable, and excuse me for a minute.”

He’s out of the room in three strides, Hime hot on his heels.

“What happened?” he asks, trying to keep his voice low.

“I don’t know,” Hime says, sounding just as panicked as he feels. “I was in the bathroom, and the plant looked thirsty so I gave it some water, and-”

Oh no.

Gingerly, Tooru steps up to the bathroom door - there’s liquid oozing out from underneath it, but it’s too thick to be water.

Actually, not too thick to be swamp water.

Oh boy.

He doesn’t want to open the door, but he knows he has to - better now than later. He reaches for the handle, bracing himself, and-

As soon as he has the door open a crack, it’s forced open the rest of the way and Tooru is pushed back by something large and very green . He’s all but buried in a cascade of leaves and vines, and he feels his clothes getting soaked up to the knee in what must be a mixture of water and dirt.

Hime squeals in surprise, and her entire body lifts two feet into the air, propelling her out of harm’s way.

There are hurried footsteps, and then the door to the living room opens - and Iwaizumi’s words seem to die in his throat.

“What’s going ...on…?” he trails off, eyes widening as he takes in the disaster unfolding before him.

Tooru scrambles to his feet, kicking himself free of what was formerly a pleasant little pot plant and has now expanded into a full-blown swamp all over his bathroom floor (and most of the hallway).

Iwaizumi looks like he’s not sure where to keep his eyes - but when they catch on Tooru’s floating daughter, they linger.

“...so. A plumbing problem, huh…?”

Thank you for reading!! Special thanks to @hajiiwa for proofreading and keeping me sane - and a very merry Christmas and happy holidays to everyone! :D

[dragonandtiger]

Digimon 00 - Fragments - 36

The Ryuzaki residence was alive with music and activity, guests filling all the luxurious rooms as they enjoyed the massive party hosted by Jin and Mina. From entertainment to food, the two spared no expense, ensuring that their guests would have much to do - and much to talk about afterward.

It was something that Keiko still wasn’t used to. While there had certainly been parties at the Makura residence, she was never allowed to really attend. She’d make an appearance, perhaps put on a performance for that woman to receive praise over, and then rushed out of sight, like a bird put back in her cage. She certainly wasn’t allowed to enjoy any of the food, even if the party was supposedly for her own birthday; it would’ve ruined her strictly regimented diet.

The feeling of watching on as the other children devoured her birthday cake as she was ushered away immediately after snuffing out the candles was one that she would always remember. And that memory was the reason why her plate was currently covered in nothing but cake - all of the cake.

Nyamon watched her partner with an amused smile. Her own plate wasn’t too much more balanced, with a hearty helping of confectionaries for herself, but she at least snagged a few pieces of choice meat to go with her sugary morsels. “Take your time, the food’s not going anywhere.”

“The best slices are always taken first,” Keiko said sagely despite the giddy smile on her face. “I just made sure I was the one to take them.”

“From every cake here,” Nyamon replied wryly.

“Exactly,” Keiko giggled before scooping up a buttercream rose with her fork and popping it into her mouth.

Nyamon chuckled before she turned her attention to her own plate. “Well, no one has a right to complain, so…”

“If someone does complain about my baby sister, they’re going to find themselves missing a few teeth afterwards.”

Keiko immediately turned to see Akane approaching from behind her. She began to say her sister’s name through a mouthful of buttercream, only to stop and cover her mouth on instinct before swallowing.

Akane had her arms full, not of food, but with a toddler in each arm. Keiko already knew Sera to the right, prompting her to unconsciously tucked her hair back over her shoulders, but the child in Akane’s left arm was one less familiar - a little boy Keiko only remembered being mentioned before.

The little boy was small, shockingly pale, with short, fluffy black hair and light gray eyes. He wheezed as he breathed, a little plastic tube attached to his nose that trailed off to somewhere behind him. Colorful bandages with smiling cartoon characters peeked out of his sleeves and pants, and some sort of pack bulged underneath the back of his shirt.

Keiko lost the sweetness of the buttercream on her tongue as she stared at the sickly little boy. “That’s… Tsuyosa, right? The boy you’re… nannying?” She faltered on the term, not sure if that was the correct way to put it.

Akane smiled in spite of Keiko’s reaction. “That’s right. This is Kigaru’s pride and joy.”

Keiko paused for a moment to remember the name, brow furrowing. “Kigaru is your husband… Mamoru’s friend, right? The guy who owns that big company?”

Akane nodded with an affirmative hum, enthused by the guess. “Right, right! He’s my friend too. The five of us have gotten very close since Tsu and Sera were born.”

Tsuyosa stared at Keiko intently, tilting his head slightly. His eyes were bright with fascination, as if he were scrutinizing her with great interest.

Keiko noticed Tsuyosa staring, that both babies were watching her. She also noticed how their clothes, well dressed but rumpled, matched in shades of purple and light blue, and that Sera held a stuffed doll with a crazy looking smile. The scrutiny made her feel more than a little self-conscious, as she had no idea how to interact with children so young that they could barely talk.

Nyamon turned to smile at her partner. “I guess children can’t help but like you.”

A gruff snort came from beside Keiko and Nyamon as Narakumon crossed his arms. “Who knows what these undeveloped humans think at this age? Do they even have thoughts-”

Tsuyosa turned his head to look at Narakumon, causing the Digital God to stop mid-sentence, stiffening beside Keiko in shock. Tsuyosa gave a small blink as he tilted his head in the opposite direction, then returned his gaze to Keiko.

Akane noticed Keiko’s awkward stance and let out a quiet chuckle. “Would you like to spend some time with these two?” She giggled again at the startled look on her little sister’s face. “Babies aren’t scarier than Digimon, are they? Don’t worry, they’ll be less intimidating once you get to know them.”

Mortification flushed Keiko’s cheeks with heat. “I-I’m not scared of them!”

“Excellent,” Akane said before nodding her head to the side. “Then let’s go to the playroom. They’ve been excited to play with their cousin Sakura all day.”

“I guess s…” Keiko paused, brow furrowing. “Wait, their cousin?”

Now it was Akane’s turn to look sheepish. “Ah, that’s…” She faltered for a moment before rambling out an explanation. “Well, Kigaru has always been like a brother to my Mamo-chan, and I’ve been helping take care of Tsu so long that he’s started calling me ‘Mama’ and treats Sera like his twin more than a friend.” She let out an embarrassed laugh. “Sera’s actually started calling Kigaru ‘Papa’ too like Tsu, and both of them call Mamo-chan ‘Dada’. It’s so cute that none of us have the heart to tell them otherwise, and we kind of enjoy being co-parents for each other’s kids.”

Keiko was silent for a long moment as she let Akane’s explanation sink in. “Oh.”

Nyamon blinked at that before she tilted her head. “Well, if it makes everyone happy, who cares? Blood isn’t the most important thing when it comes to bonds. Sometimes, it means nothing at all.”

Keiko nodded, her confusion fading into something much more solemn and certain. “Right. I’m not even the same species as Papa and Mama, but I won’t trade them for any other mom or dad in either world.”

Narakumon glanced at Keiko, his expression softening even as a light flush of embarrassment appeared on his face.

Akane relaxed and let out a breathy laugh. “Exactly. So go ahead and think of Tsu as your nephew too, okay? I’m sure that’d make him very happy.” She looked down at the children, her smile widening. “Hey, hey, can you two say ‘Auntie Keiko’?”

“‘Ntie Keike!” Sera chirped as she reached out towards Keiko with the doll, who grasped onto it with some reluctance. “‘Ntie! ‘Ntie!”

“Auntie Keiko,” Tsuyosa said after a pronounced pause. His voice was somewhat raspy, much like his breathing, but was still clear enough to hear.

Keiko swung the doll a little, eliciting a giggle from Sera who tugged on it and tried to swing it even further. However, her attention was more focused on Tsuyosa, as she stared at him in bafflement. She was used to babytalk from Sera and Sakura, and Tsuyosa appeared to be around their age, yet he spoke with surprising confidence in the shape of his words. “Wh… how old is Tsu?”

“He’s going to be two in a couple weeks,” Akane said before pausing to readjust her hold on the children. “And Sera is going on 18 months now.”

“He’s pretty smart,” Nyamon said, with a blink.

Akane winked. “Indeed he is. That’s what you get when your daddy’s a genius.”

“He’s wise beyond his years,” Narakumon said softly. He stiffened again when Tsuyosa glanced in his direction, though he softened a moment later. “He’s been through many things.”

Nyamon turned to stare at Narakumon, but he refused to meet her quizzical gaze.

Keiko considered what to say, but noticed Akane’s attention drift. She followed her sister’s gaze to some people staring at them. Although this party had been thrown by her family, there were others invited as well for one reason or another, and the certain looks those people were giving them told her that even her siblings had social obligations with judgemental people. It left her skin crawling, reminding her of the parties that woman threw.

“Come on,” Akane said cheerfully, snapping Keiko back to the present. She smiled as her little sister turned back to face her. “Let’s get to the playroom before these two start getting restless.”

Keiko looked back down at the tiny children and nodded in spite of her reluctance.

---

The playroom at the Ryuzaki mansion was very large and filled to the brim with toys of all sorts. With so many guests, there were already children running around, laughing and chattering as nannies and au pairs tried to keep up with their charges.

Keiko felt distinctly out of place in such a setting. She had never really been allowed to play with other children at any age, so it left her awkwardly trailing behind her sister as Akane set Sera and Tsuyosa down onto a plush couch.

“There we go,” Akane said in a singsong tone. “Now, you two wait here with Auntie Keiko while I look for Sakura, okay?”

Sera instantly climbed to her feet, bouncing up and down on the couch. “Sakura!” she shouted above the din, waving her doll around. “Sa - ku - ra! Sakura! Sakura! Sakura!”

The answer came quickly, as Sakura’s voice chimed out like a bell across the room. “Seeeeeeraaaaa!”

Akane blinked then laughed as she watched her little niece race past the other children towards them. “Well, I suppose that works too.”

When Keiko saw Sera leap off the sofa, she instinctively cried out, startled, but was surprised to see her little niece tumble into the fall and recover quickly, racing off on surprisingly steady legs to tackle Sakura into a hug. “Wow…”

Akane chuckled wryly and gestured Keiko to sit in the seat Sera just vacated. “That’s Sera. She’s very active.” She straightened up and dusted off her pants. “Well, I better keep an eye on those two before they try sneaking off to get into some mischief. How about you and Tsu sit and talk? You can read him a story if you like.”

Keiko glanced at the bookcase Akane gestured to and placed her plate of cake on one of the higher shelves, out of reach of little grabby hands, before finally sitting down. “Okay, sure, but doesn’t Tsu want to play too?”

Akane smiled, though there was sadness in her eyes. “Yes, he might, but if not, I’m sure he’ll be happy to spend some time with his long-lost auntie, right Tsu?”

Tsuyosa silently nodded, a timid smile on his face.

Keiko wasn’t sure how to respond to that, and watched as Akane hurried off to the other side of the playroom where Sera and Sakura were already trying to scale a rather sizable slide the wrong way.

Rather than race off after Sera, Tsuyosa instead moved closer to sit beside Keiko. He was silent and mostly still, save for a small movement to reach over and grip her hand. His own hand wasn’t big enough to take it in his own, so he ultimately grasped her pointer and middle finger with his tiny hands.

The action startled Keiko and left her feeling even more at a loss for what to do. She faltered, hesitating for a long, uncomfortable moment, before clearing her throat. “So, uh… What do you like to do, Tsu?”

“Sit,” Tsuyosa replied after a moment. “Read.”

Keiko’s eyebrows shot up. “You already know how to read?”

Tsuyosa nodded.

“Wow,” Keiko muttered before her expression softened to something fond. “You should meet my friend Ken-chan sometime. He’s a genius too, like you.”

Tsuyosa tilted his head before he gave Keiko a soft smile.

Narakumon watched Tsuyosa intently, his expression troubled. However, he opted not to voice his thoughts, instead mulling in silence.

Unfortunately for him, Nyamon was paying attention this time, catching the expression on his face. “What is it?”

Narakumon paused at that and shot Nyamon a quizzical glance, which was met by Nyamon’s cool stare.

“You’ve been acting weird,” Nyamon replied, flicking her ear.

Narakumon’s expression grew annoyed, though it softened again when Keiko turned to look at him. Even still, he hesitated with his response. “The boy. He can… sense me. Somewhat.”

“Eh?” Keiko blinked before she looked at Tsuyosa and followed the little boy’s gaze as it lingered on Narakumon again. “What does that mean, Papa? Not even the other Chosen Children can see you like this.”

“It means he has a high affinity for Darkness… and by extension, death,” Narakumon replied. “Though not nearly on the same level as you.”

Keiko stared at her adoptive father in disbelief before she looked back at Tsuyosa. “So then… Tsu could become a Chosen Child of Darkness… like me?”

“It’s… possible,” Narakumon said, reluctantly. “Though unnecessary.”

Keiko nodded slightly, furrowing her brow. “I guess so. Chosen Children aren’t natural after all…”

Narakumon gave a small nod, though his frown increased. “Still, for his affinity to be so well-developed this early in life…”

Keiko felt a quiet sense of unease settle in from the tone of her papa’s voice and she turned back to Narakumon. “Do you think bad humans did something to him too? Like when they made me and the others Chosen Children?”

Narakumon’s gaze shifted to the tube attached to the boy’s nose, and the little device it in turn was attached to by his back. “No. I believe… that life in general has been cruel to him.”

“What do you mean?” Keiko asked quietly, though a part of her felt that she would regret asking.

Narakumon looked like he was about to respond before he stopped. He gave a small shake of his head before he looked away. “It’s nothing. Nothing for you to be worried about… for either of us to be worried about.”

Keiko frowned and straightened up, leaning closer to Narakumon as she slapped her hand down on the armrest of the sofa. “Papa, I’m not going to stop worrying just because you told me to. Tell me what’s going on with Tsu.”

Narakumon was silent for a moment before he lowered his head. “He’s simply… a rather ill child. I’m sure his early years have been rough. But his parents are doing what they can, so there’s no point in getting involved.”

Despite the reassurance, Keiko felt herself being wound up all the more by Narakumon dancing around the subject as the gears in her head spun towards an increasingly sinister suspicion. “Tsu’s my nephew, so I’m already involved.”

“You just met him,” Narakumon replied.

“That doesn’t matter,” Keiko said firmly as she slapped her hand down on the armrest again to emphasize her point. “Blood doesn’t matter. Tsu is family too, Papa.”

Narakumon was about to retort when he paused, noting several women suddenly glancing at them both rather intently. “Keiko, we’re being watched.”

Though annoyed by the change in topic, Keiko looked to where Narakumon gestured. Three well dressed women, socialites by the look of them, were leaning close to each other just outside the playroom. Even over the sound of squealing children running around and playing, their “whispering” was far too loud not to be intentional.

“Look at that one,” said the woman with pearls around her throat.

“Oh, I know,” her replied companion with extra big lips. “Talking to imaginary friends at her age? Her mother must be so embarrassed.”

Keiko’s cheek twitched.

“Oh, my god,” a third women with too many rings on her fingers gasped, cutting the others’ gossiping off harshly. “Is that who I think it is? The little diseased boy?”

At her words, the other two stopped and turned to gawk again, focusing past Keiko to Tsuyosa. They immediately recoiled at the sight of him, and again when he stared back, clustering closer together like a herd of animals forming a line of defense against a predator.

“They actually let him in here!?” the puffy-lipped woman asked, with no small amount of indignation. “With all the other children!? What if he infects them?”

“And that’s their little sister too, isn’t it?” added the woman with pearls. “How completely irresponsible! She already looks so pale… could he have gotten her already?”

“Well,” the woman with too many rings huffed. “I’m getting my au pair to get my sweet little Hirono and Ichigo out of there right now.” She then strode off into the room, giving the sofa with Tsuyosa and Keiko a wide berth.

Keiko growled, curling the hand Tsuyosa wasn’t holding into a fist so tight it quaked. She had heard such talk far too often in the darkest period in her life, and she did not have any patience to listen to it now. The only things holding her back was her unwillingness to ruin her brother’s party and her promise to Akane to keep a close watch over Tsuyosa. She had to bite her tongue not to at least snarl out scathing insults to the gossipping biddies and cause a scene.

Tsuyosa interrupted Keiko’s thoughts as he squeezed her hand tightly, though clearly with little strength. He didn’t look up at her, instead staring at the ground. “Papa says I can’t get other people sick too. I’m not bad.”

Those words, spoken with such tired sadness, were a knife that pierced Keiko’s heart. “Tsu…” She glanced over at the women, seeing that two were still watching them. With a disdainful sniff, she turned away from the socialites and pulled Tsuyosa gently into her lap. “Hey, Tsu,” she said with a little more volume than necessary. “How about I read you a story? A nice long story.”

Tsuyosa paused at that before he looked up at Keiko. He was silent for a moment before a small smile appeared on his face. “Okay.”

Narakumon watched the exchange, and found himself ironically thankful for the obnoxious interruption. It had drawn not only Keiko’s attention away from him, but Nyamon’s as well, and saved him from a conversation he did not want to have with his daughter.

As a god of death, he knew the signs - he knew what to look for. And he also knew when there were just some things better left unsaid. Besides, as he kept telling himself, it wasn’t as if it was any of their business.

Death came to everyone equally.

---

The moon filtered in through the drapes in Keiko’s room of the Ryuzaki estate, casting its gentle light on the floorboards. Everything was still as darkness settled in, like a comforting blanket to ease everyone to sleep. In such comforting surroundings, it was only too easy for Keiko to fall asleep in spite of the fact that she wasn’t back home in Crystal Tower. After the party, with Akane and the children staying over, she was reluctant to leave just yet. Fortunately, Nyamon curled up beside her on her bed, she was able to sleep easy.

At least, until the peacefulness of the night was suddenly interrupted by the sounds of heavy footsteps and loud voices just outside her door.

Keiko was up and out of bed in an instant. In her adrenaline-fueled, half-asleep state, she at first thought she was back in Crystal Tower in the middle of some sort of crisis in the Digital World. It was only when she charged out into the hall dressed in pajamas with Nyamon close on her heels that she woke up enough to remember where she was, which added a new kind of fear.

Although the Ryuzaki estate was vast, Keiko’s bedroom was right next to the guestroom where Akane stayed with the children after the party. The door to that room hung open now, and the sound of a child crying and adults talking rapidly drew her close.

Inside was chaos.

Pacing on one side of the room was man with wild, long blonde hair streaked in purple, who Keiko belatedly recognized as her sister’s husband. Mamoru fretted about, carrying Sera in his arms and patting her on the back as he murmured what were supposed to be soothing words to his daughter, but the little girl continually wailed, inconsolable.

On the opposite end of the room, Mina was seated on the bed, cradling Tsuyosa in her arms as Akane knelt beside him, injecting needles one after another into various places on the poor young boy’s body. To Keiko’s horror, she saw Tsuyosa’s skin had turned blue in places, his raspy breathing more like ragged gurgling as he struggled for air even with a large oxygen tank on a cart nearby now hooked up to the tubes in his nose.

Nyamon stared at the scene in horror, her ears canted back. “What the hell’s going on!?”

“I’ve already called Kigaru, he’ll meet us there,” Jin’s voice came in loud as he was marching down the hallway to the room, distress clear in his voice even as he tried to keep it even and authoritative, as if he were in charge of the situation. “Everyone just stay calm!”

Mina was unruffled by the chaos happening around her as she kept Tsuyosa propped upright against her to prevent him from suffocating. She turned her gaze away to Keiko and Nyamon and spoke like the crack of a whip. “Keep the doorway clear! The paramedics are coming.”

Keiko jerked at the order, but did as she was told, darting into the room with Nyamon right behind her to stand out of the way next to Mamoru, despite how Sera’s mournful wailing hurt her ears. “What’s happening?” she asked, raising her voice to be heard over Sera’s crying as she plugged her ears with her fingers. “What happened to Tsu?”

It was Akane who answered, though she never looked Keiko’s way and constantly kept pulling items out of an unusually large open medical kit on the nightstand. “It’s fine, Keiko. Everything is fine. Tsu is going to be fine. This happens all the time. We only called an ambulance to get to the hospital faster, but this is nothing new for us. Don’t worry, everything is going to be fine.”

It was obvious to Keiko that Akane wasn’t just trying to convince her everything was “fine.” Unfortunately, it was also clear that there was nothing she could do to help; there was no foe to defeat, no castle to destroy and rescue the helpless child before her. All she could do was stay out of the way and listen to her niece cry as the paramedics arrived and spirited Tsuyosa away.

In the end, only Keiko, Nyamon, Mamoru, and Sera remained once the chaos disappeared - or rather, moved on without them.

By that point, Sera had finally tired herself out from crying, only occasionally letting out a sniffle and a tiny wail of “Tsuuuu…”

Mamoru sighed wearily as he rubbed his daughter’s back, bouncing her in his arms. “It’s okay, Sera, it’s okay. Tsu will be home soon enough.” His blue eyes turned apologetically to Keiko who looked skeptically back at him. “Really, it’s going to be okay. This has happened more times than you think. Tsu’s a fighter - he’ll be back home again in a few days.”

“No,” Narakumon’s voice cut in, not that Mamoru or Sera could hear, with the finality of a tolling bell at a funeral. It caused Keiko and Nyamon both to turn and stare at him. He stood beside them, staring out the window with his back to them. “He will not.”

“Papa?” Keiko asked quietly, her heart filled with dread. She completely ignored the confused look Mamoru gave her as she took a step towards her father.

“The boy will not be coming back,” Narakumon said, not looking at Keiko. “This man needs to not fill his daughter with false hopes that will only be crushed when her brother never returns.”

Keiko froze mid-step, her entire body going cold.

Nyamon’s eyes widened as her ears canted back.

Mamoru looked towards the window, but saw nothing. He cocked his head to one side then the other. “I… suppose you must be talking to your father right now? Narakumon, sir, er, that’s your name, right?” He paused, but the empty space offered him nothing. “Well, anyway, my apologies for not being able to have a proper conversation with you, but I was thinking that since you’re the digital manifestation of a god, perhaps, if it’s not too much trouble, would you mind lending Tsu a little of your strength?”

Mamoru turned to Sera and used a tissue to clean her face. “I know it’s asking for a lot and it’s probably outside your particular skill set - you being a god of data and computers and all - but from one father to another, I hope you understand why I thought I’d ask anyway.”

Narakumon stiffened but said nothing, staring out the window at the moon.

The tense silence settled over Keiko like a lead weight, threatening to suffocate her. The earlier conversation with Narakumon came back to her with an all new, terrible clarity. “You knew this was going to happen, didn’t you, Papa? That’s why Tsu could see you.”

Narakumon didn’t respond at first, mulling over his words, before he finally spoke. “I am a god of death, Keiko.”

The implication hit Keiko hard, rendering her speechless.

Narakumon could feel his daughter’s stare piercing through his back, which was all the more reason that he refused to turn to face her. “The spark of life in Digimon is not much different than the one found in humans. And even though this is not my world, I am still able to sense said spark… and see it grow dim. That boy’s spark… is all but extinguished.”

Keiko slowly started to shake her head, denial welling up within her. “There’s got to be something we can do for Tsu! How do we revive the spark? Tell me what to do, Papa!”

Narakumon paused at that. It was a struggle to find the words to continue, but somehow he did, keeping his voice even. “This is the natural order of this world. Death is a part of it.”

“Screw that!” Keiko snapped, clutching her fists. “The Digital World makes its own natural order, and Mama overturns death all the time!” She threw her arm out to her side. “I’ll go find Mama’s Chosen Child and drag her to the hospital to help Tsu if I have to!”

Nyamon gave a sharp nod as she crossed her arms. “It wouldn’t be that hard to find her.”

The sound of crying began anew, as Sera reacted to Keiko’s shouting. Mamoru rubbed his daughter’s back again, but kept casting a troubled gaze towards Keiko and the empty space.

“I’ll… take Sera to another room to calm her down,” he muttered before hastily leaving. It was clear to him that he was in over his head in this sort of situation and his priority needed to be to his daughter right now. “Please excuse us.”

Narakumon felt a spark of irritation at Mamoru’s interjection, as the conversation was stressful enough as it was, but allowed himself to be mollified by the man’s departure. He let out a deep sigh through his teeth as he tried to get his thoughts in order. It was hard enough trying to talk reason to his daughter when his own feelings refused to match with what he knew was logical. “The girl has no experience with using Tenraimon’s power. As it is, she’s using it to heal her own body’s sickly nature. You know that.”

Keiko flinched, her eyes sliding askance as a twist of guilt hit her, but she refused to look away for long. “Then Mama can lend Tsu her energy dire…”

An abrupt idea silenced Keiko before she could finish her thought, the gears turning in her head as she stared intently at Narakumon. “Papa, you said Tsu could be Darkness like me, right? Is that only because he’s about to die?”

Narakumon grimaced at that before he finally turned to face his daughter, his expression stern. “Keiko.”

“What if you made Tsu like me?” Keiko pressed, stepping closer to Narakumon, placing a hand on her chest. “What if you share your power with Tsu, would that save him?”

Narakumon’s expression grew exasperated as he let out another sigh. “Keiko, he’s a random human child that-”

“He’s my nephew!” Keiko snapped. “He’s family, and I’m going to save him, blood or no blood!”

Narakumon went silent as he stared at Keiko for a moment before he lowered his eyes, his expression twisting unpleasantly.

“She’s not thinking anything that you weren’t already thinking,” Nyamon said with a snap of her tail. “If you really didn’t care, you wouldn’t have that sour look on your face.”

“I have a responsibility to the Digital World,” Narakumon said softly. “And involving more humans would be…!”

Keiko closed the distance between her and Narakumon, taking her father’s hand in hers and squeezing tight. “He’s already involved, Papa. He’s not just some random human. He’s your family too. You’re his great-uncle.”

Narakumon paused before he looked at Keiko’s hands in his own, which seemed so small. It was hard to imagine that such delicate, small hands could wield so much destruction if he hadn’t been the very reason they could. And yet, despite carrying such capacity for destruction, they were still capable of so much kindness.

“It was… surprising,” Narakumon murmured. “The way he looked at me… tried to look at me. Even though he couldn’t see me clearly, he still at least sensed me and… wasn’t afraid.”

Keiko’s eyes softened as she smiled a little at Narakumon. “I haven’t spent much time with Tsu, but he’s really sweet. I’m sure he’ll love you too, just like I do, once he gets to meet you.”

Narakumon didn’t respond immediately as he stared down at Keiko’s hands, then let out a weary sigh. “You are an extremely ill-behaved Chosen Child, do you realize that? And so infuriating.”

Keiko’s smile turned wry as she let out a mischievous giggle. “I learned from the best, Papa.”

Narakumon chuckled softly before he finally lifted his head. “I believe it would work, yes. He has an affinity for my power, so-”

Keiko’s eyes lit up and she tugged Narakumon towards the door before sprinting off ahead. “What’re we waiting for? Let’s go!”

---

It didn’t take long to make it to the hospital using a couple Digital Gates. In fact, Keiko and Nyamon arrived not long after the ambulance arrived. Even finding the room in the emergency ward where Tsuyosa had been placed had been a simple matter after Narakumon checked the computer system. The only difficulty was getting past orderlies and nurses that tried in vain to stop a girl and her cat from tearing through the hospital’s ER.

The chaotic sound of doctors barking orders and beeping machines were drowned out by the door to the room slamming open with a well placed kick from Nyamon. She and Keiko ignored the shock of the medical staff inside, focused entirely on Tsuyosa lying in a bed with various tubes hastily inserted into his small body.

“You can’t be in here!” one of the doctors shouted.

Keiko brushed past the man and batted away the hands of two nurses trying to see her out. There was no time to hesitate. Tsuyosa looked even worse than before, only breathing now with the assistance of a machine, as the erratic chirps of the heart monitor grew only more spaced out.

“This is the only warning you’re getting,” Nyamon said as she followed her partner, her tail snapping out to smack one of the nurses that got too close. “Stay out of the way!”

Keiko called upon the Darkness and allowed it to consume her. The staff backed away from her as the light faded around her, alarmed by this child for more than the intrusion. The darkness crackled at the edges and grew beyond her body into the shape of the god of death with black wings unfurled.

The machines went completely haywire. The heart monitor pulsed so rapidly it turned into a high shriek. The lights flickered sparratically until one blew up, then another. The breathing machine lost its rhythm, and Nyamon hastily removed it before doing the same with the wires from the monitoring equipment.

Keiko placed her hands - and the shadow of Narakumon’s - on Tsuyosa’s pale chest and let the Darkness consume the dying boy completely.

One of the nurses fled into the hall, screaming as the lights went out completely and the equipment died. The only illumination in the room came from the flickering fluorescent bulbs in the hallway and the moonlight that shone in Keiko’s eyes.

Narakumon paid the panicking humans no mind, focusing instead on the small heartbeat in his hands. It was so faint, and the boy so fragile. He could feel the boy’s life trying to flicker away through his fingers and it reminded him that what they were about to do could very well finish him off - it begged the question of what right he had to make such a decision. But he was the god of death, and who else but he had the right to make such a call? The boy was doomed regardless. His choices were to die in a few hours with the assistance of various cruel machines or possibly live on his own, for as long as the Darkness within him would allow.

Besides, as much as Keiko was protesting Tsuyosa’s fate, Narakumon couldn’t deny… that he had wanted to save the boy, too.

With that in mind, Narakumon guided his power through Keiko, using his daughter as a medium to safely transfer it into the small boy, filling him with the Darkness he possessed. As the aura that had engulfed Keiko spread to the tiny child, the crest of Darkness slowly began to appear upon the boy’s forehead. The inverting silver moons glistened like the moonlight in Keiko’s eyes, before they illuminated Tsuyosa’s gray eyes with an ephemeral glow.

The faint heartbeat within Keiko’s grasp began to pulse a little quicker with each passing second, growing stronger. What had once felt so fragile was gaining strength right under her fingertips as the color returned to Tsuyosa’s face, the blue giving way to pale peach as he breathed easily on his own.

Detached though she was from herself, Keiko could feel her strength fade. The act of transforming Tsuyosa, of purging what was toxic and wrong within him far exceeded any act of violence she committed, and drained her of far more than what it took to grant Nyamon evolution to Ultimate level.

It was only when Keiko had given all that she could that she stopped, collapsing as the world around her disappeared into darkness.

---

From a dreamless sleep of darkness Keiko slowly awakened to a body heavy and sluggish with fatigue. A single thought was the spark that ignited her determination to resist the siren song of sleep coaxing her back into the realm of unconsciousness. She wanted - needed - to know what happened to Tsuyosa.

The first person Keiko saw upon forcing her eyes open was the comforting sight of Nyamon. Her partner instantly relaxed as their eyes met before giving her a wry smile.

“Good morning,” Nyamon said. “Or afternoon. Whichever you prefer.”

Keiko barely spared a thought to wonder how long she had been unconscious before she returned her focus to what was most important. “Tsu…?” To her annoyance, her voice came out faint, thick with fatigue, and she struggled all the more to shake the sleep from her body.

“Not here,” Nyamon said as she flicked her ear before she turned to stare off to the side. Keiko followed her partner’s gaze to find herself staring at the door to her bedroom, which was slightly ajar. “Your sister and brother’ll be busting in any moment now, once they notice the sound of your voice.”

As if on cue, Akane peered through the crack in the door. Upon seeing Keiko’s face, she threw her door and rushed inside. “You’re finally awake! Oh, thank goodness. We were worried. You’ve been asleep for a long time.”

“You really gave everyone a scare,” Jin said as he appeared behind Akane, hurrying inside. “Especially the doctors.” He paused before his expression grew wry. “Especially the doctors.”

“Is Tsu alive?” Keiko asked, unable to focus on her siblings’ relief when her thoughts were still filled with worry for Tsuyosa. She tried to push herself upward, cursing her body as it rebelled against her and demanded more rest.

Akane’s expression softened before she sat down on the bed and reached out to brush the hair away from her sister’s annoyed eyes. “Tsu is fine, Keiko. Don’t worry.” She let out a breath that could’ve been a laugh or some other more enigmatic emotion. “I don’t know what you did, but the doctors are saying his health is the best it’s ever been.”

“Which, you can imagine, just freaked the doctors out even more,” Jin said, with a chuckle. “They don’t understand what happened. And while I’m not entirely certain myself, I can imagine… it’s Digimon business, isn’t it?”

“I made Tsu like me,” Keiko said. With a sigh, she relaxed on the bed, relieved by the knowledge that her gambit had worked.

“She connected Tsu to Narakumon,” Nyamon elaborated. “It’s complicated, but it means Tsu will get better now.”

“The Digital World is sustaining him now,” Narakumon said as he appeared beside Keiko, looking down at her. “He’ll always have a weak constitution, but with the Digital World nourishing his flesh, he no longer has to fear his body’s impending collapse. He will live.”

“Good,” Keiko sighed, a smile gracing her face as she closed her eyes. “That’s good.”

Narakumon paused at that as he mulled over his next words before his expression grew serious. “You expended a great deal of energy to achieve this miracle. And while it does mean that the boy will survive thanks to your efforts, you… will not be able to fight until you recover.”

Keiko’s eyes snapped open as she fixed her adoptive father with a sharp look.

Narakumon was quick to lift his hand, cutting off Keiko’s protest. “Your body is taxed to nearly it’s limits - you’ve been asleep for days. You’ve only just now regained enough energy to wake. For that reason, you must be cautious and reserved in what you do until you fully recover. Is that understood?”

Although Keiko felt a surge of stubborn pride flare up inside her, it just as quickly fizzled out, drained by the fatigue still demanding more time for rest. “I understand, Papa.” She fought back the need to yawn, but ultimately could only minimize it. “I’m just glad I could save Tsu.”

Akane and Jin shared an uncertain look. Although they believed their little sister when she spoke of her “Papa,” it was always unnerving to watch her have a conversation with empty air. Still, that didn’t stop them from being ungrateful for what this unseen entity had done for Keiko, and now for Tsuyosa.

“Well,” Akane said after a moment’s thought, “thank you, Keiko, for saving Tsu.” She looked in the general area that Keiko had been looking, searching for some sign of Narakumon that continued to elude her eyes. “And thank you Lord Narakumon.” She clapsed her hands together and bowed her head. “We owe you for everything you’ve done for our family.”

Narakumon paused at that before his face turned red and he quickly looked away. “I-I didn’t do it for the praise of some human!”

Nyamon smirked. “He’s blushing.” Her smirk widened when the digital god of Darkness turned to glare death at her.

Akane couldn’t help but laugh at the thought.

A gentle knock drew everyone’s attention to the open door. Keiko was immediately greeted by a man she didn’t know. He was tall with chocolate brown hair and gray eyes, which were tinged with exhaustion if the heavy purple bags beneath his eyes were anything to go by. He looked fairly disheveled, as if he had thrown on the first set of clothes he could find - in this case, black sweats and a white silk shirt - before rushing out the door.

While the sight of the man was disorienting, Keiko quickly forgot him in favor of what the man held in his arms - Tsuyosa. The little boy looked far better than he had on the hospital bed, though he still sported the hospital band and blue pajamas with purple bunny print. He looked even better than the moment he and Keiko first met, as he no longer had a breathing tube, bandages, or even bruising left behind.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the man said with a weak smile. “But Tsu kept demanding to see his Auntie Keiko.”

Keiko immediately felt a jolt of energy at the sight of Tsuyosa and she tried once again to sit up, smiling wide at the sight of the little boy. “Hi, Tsu. You have no idea how happy I am to see you.”

Tsuyosa turned to stare at Keiko before he reached out his tiny hands towards her, making grabbing motions. In response, the man holding the little boy walked in to the room and placed the young boy on the bed beside Keiko.

“You look like shit, man,” Jin said, as he shot Kigaru a crooked smile.

“Thanks,” the man said, cheerfully. “I call it my ‘I’ve been at the hospital for three days’ look.”

“They actually let you take Tsu home, Kigaru?” Akane asked, shifting her gaze between Kigaru and Tsuyosa while the little boy grasped onto Keiko’s outstretched fingers.

“Oh, not at all~!” Kigaru said, still brightly. “They wanted to keep him longer for observation, but I told them that three days was enough. If they couldn’t give me a good reason why to keep him there beyond their own ignorance, I’d be taking him home. If they couldn’t figure out why he was healthy after three days and no other health complications came up, then they were wasting my time - and his. My son has spent enough time being hooked up to machines while sick, he doesn’t need to experience it when he’s not.”

Akane sighed with no small amount of relief, placing her hand on her chest. “I’m glad to hear it. It drove me crazy that they refused to tell me anything about how poor Tsu was doing.” She paused to look at Keiko. “They almost wouldn’t let Jin and me take you home after what you did at the hospital. They really wanted to study you.” She smile turned wry. “Good thing we got that paperwork pushed through to get Jin to be your legal guardian, huh?”

Keiko nodded uncomfortably, though her attention was still mostly captivated by Tsuyosa. She didn’t care much for doctors or their interest in the Digital World after the stories she heard from Narakumon and Tenraimon.

Nyamon smirked as she puffed up her chest. “I would’ve told them no anyway. With my claws.”

“I would have destroyed them all, if they had tried,” Narakumon said with a huff. “I would never-” He froze when Tsuyosa suddenly looked up to stare at him. However, unlike before, the boy focused directly on him, their eyes meeting. It rendered Narakumon speechless as Tsuyosa gave a small blink before reaching up to point at him.

“I see you,” Tsuyosa said.

Nyamon’s ears shot up as she stared at Tsuyosa, then Narakumon.

Instead of being surprised, Keiko smirked and tapped Tsuyosa’s hand to draw his attention back to her. “That’s my papa, Narakumon. Since I’m your auntie now, that makes him your great-uncle. It’s because of him and his power that I was able to make you better.”

Tsuyosa tilted his head, as if considering Keiko’s words. “Great-Uncle.” He glanced between Keiko and Narakumon before he turned his full attention back to Narakumon, a bright smile on his face.

Narakumon felt his heart skip a beat before his face turned bright red. “Y-you don’t need to look so happy.”

Keiko couldn’t help but laugh. “Of course he does! He finally gets to meet his great-uncle who saved him and his auntie. You’re a real hero, Papa.”

Narakumon made an incoherent noise in his throat as his blush deepened before he quickly disappeared, fading out of view.

Tsuyosa blinked. “Ah, Great-Uncle left.”

Keiko continued giggling even as she squeezed Tsuyosa’s hand gently. “Your Great-Uncle Narakumon does that a lot.” She winked. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it, Tsu.”

“I suppose we all will eventually,” Akane added with a tentative smile. It was unnerving that some sort of spectre they couldn’t see could just pop in and out at will around Keiko, but she wasn’t about to let something as silly as that get in the way of her appreciating everything Narakumon did for their family.

“I admit I don’t fully understand everything that’s happening,” Kigaru said as he stood in the doorway, watching the exchange. He then gave Keiko a weary smile. “But I do know this… you saved my son’s life - both of you. I… can’t deny that he would have died if not for you. I owe you more than I can ever repay… but I definitely intend to try.”

“I didn’t save Tsu to get anything out of it for myself,” Keiko said, almost offended by the idea. “I saved Tsu because he needed saving. I’m the Chosen Child of Darkness, and that means I have a duty to save the weak and innocent from anything that wants to destroy them.”

Kigaru stared at Keiko before his expression softened. “Thank you...”

“Why don’t you take a rest?” Jin asked as he reached over to grasp Kigaru’s shoulder. “Go take a nap. We’ll watch Tsu while you sleep in an actual bed.”

“And before you argue, you won’t be the only one napping,” Akane said with a crooked smirk. “If Sera can be convinced to nap instead of waiting up for Tsu, so can you.”

“And there’s plenty of guestrooms for you to choose from,” Jin said wryly. “Now take your pick and go to sleep.”

Kigaru glanced about the room before he gave a wry chuckle and rubbed the back of his head. “Alright, alright… I can’t argue with you all at once. And a nap does sound really good right now...”

“Night-night, Papa,” Tsuyosa said as he reached up his right hand to wave at Kigaru. “Nap time.”

Kigaru smiled gently as he returned the gesture. “Night-night, Tsu…” Slowly, and reluctantly, the man lingered a moment more before he finally left the room, slipping off to find some much needed rest.

Tsuyosa watched his father leave, then turned to Keiko. He gazed at her with wide gray eyes that sparkled with life and curiosity.

Keiko smiled at the little boy and reached out to ruffle his hair. “I know what you’re thinking. You feel something big inside you now. Something bigger than anything. That’s because you’re Darkness now, like me. That means you’re going to grow up strong and protect anyone who needs help.”

Tsuyosa smiled at that. “Okay, Auntie Keiko!”

The relief Keiko felt at seeing Tsuyosa wore away at her energy and reminded her of just how badly her body cried out for more rest. Frustrated though she was at still feeling tired even after sleeping for three days, and for the restrictions now placed on her for the foreseeable future, she didn’t regret her actions for a moment. Taxing herself to such a degree was a small price to pay to save an innocent baby’s life.

It was what Chosen Children should do, after all.