#hopefully it doesn’t stay dead though

[syrasenturi]

Hello everynyan

[cockaiine]

༊*·˚FUCK AROUND .ᐟ

you drive satoru home after a night clubbing, but he's waayy too drunk to watch over his words. what happens when he makes a confession? will he regret it later....or not?

ɞ⁺ contains : best friend!satoru gojo x fem! reader, drunk satoru at fist, suggestions of drunk sex, slight mention of car crash, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (stay safe n wrap it up!), reader gets called baby, riding position, semi-public sex (satoru has maids)

ɞ⁺ w.c : 3.2k-ish

ɞ⁺ note : came back from the dead yayy. thank u @screampied for beta reading i was too tired to look at it another time skfjklsdjg,, n thank u @satoruwiki i had a stroke writing the dialogue

You never imagined Satoru would consume that much alcohol, truly, you didn't.

“Mmm... give me a kiss... just one…” your best friend mumbles, his words slurred as he collapses into the car seat. In that moment, you're immensely grateful you didn't indulge in as much alcohol as you had initially planned; it's evident he's in no condition to drive you home.

“Satoru…” you sigh, shutting the door to the driver's seat firmly. “Please, spare me.”

The journey commences with a symphony of Satoru's complaints. He's a particularly whiny drunk, grumbling about the seatbelt, his discomfort in the car seat, and even about the moon, insisting it's following him. He just won't shut up, and you swear you'll poke his eye out. The street is shrouded in darkness, and you don’t own a driver's license; the last thing you need is an accident.

However, mercifully, he soon succumbs to a deep slumber, his face pressed against the cold windowpane.  You contemplate taking a picture to tease him with later, but ultimately decide against it.

When you finally arrive at his residence, the realization dawns on you that you have no means of getting home tonight. Summoning an Uber dressed in your current state past midnight doesn't strike you as particularly safe. Crashing at Satoru's seems like the more prudent option, unless he sobers up and offers to drive you home.

“‘Toru,” you poke his shoulder gently, “Satoru, come on, we're here.”

It takes several attempts to rouse him, but when he finally stirs, he startles, nearly banging his head against the window in the process.

“Huh-?” He seems marginally more coherent now; hopefully, he can manage to walk on his own. “Where are we?”

“Your place,” you reply wearily, fatigue seeping into your muscles, pleading for rest. “Come on, you spilled tequila all over yourself.”

“Did you drive?” His bleary eyes narrow slightly, heavy lids drooping.

“No,” you fib, “the car drove itself.”

“Oh,” he nods, a chuckle escaping you at his confusion. He appears on the verge of questioning further, but you beat him to it. Stepping out of the car barefoot, your heels abandoned in the backseat, you make your way to his side, opening the door.

“Come on. Can you walk?”

Satoru nods, lazily unbuckling his seatbelt and swinging his legs out into the open air. You wait outside the car as he lingers, half in, half out.

“Mm... you're looking real pretty, you know?” He remarks, causing you to roll your eyes, though a smile tugs at your lips.

“Stop that,” you giggle, feeling bashful under his gaze. You remind yourself he's still intoxicated, which somewhat explains his behavior.

What catches you off guard is when his hands find their way to your legs, fingers trailing subtly over the back of your thighs. You almost gasp at the unexpected touch, his innocent gaze meeting yours.

“Stop what?”

His slender fingers tug at the hem of your short dress. “This has been bothering me the whole night, you know? Standing in my way.”

“Satoru, you're drunk. Let's get you inside and—”

“Can't you feel it?” A frown mars his pink lips. “Are you that clueless? I've been trying to get with you for so long.”

Your eyes widen, cheeks flushing with heat. You remind yourself that he doesn’t mean it. Heck, he probably doesn’t even know what he’s saying. So, you open your mouth to respond, but he interrupts by pushing himself up and out of the door, causing you to stumble backward.

“So?” Warmth seeps into the small of your back, his fingers tapping against the fabric of your dress.

You weigh the situation carefully. It's a tempting opportunity, one you've secretly hoped for, yet it doesn't feel right. Despite Satoru's partial sobriety, it's clear that proceeding would be a mistake.

“Satoru,” you murmur, taking a step back to create some semblance of space between you. “We'll discuss this when you're sober, okay?”

Fortunately, the awkwardness doesn't linger as he quickly drifts back into slumber.

By the next morning, Satoru recalls nothing of the previous night's events. He's back to his usual self, waking you with a coffee and no questions asked about why you're still there. It's endearing, in its own way, despite his loud and sometimes obnoxious demeanor. You've known Satoru for so long that you've weathered worse.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks as you return from the bathroom, clad in his oversized T-shirt and shorts. He doesn't mind; in fact, he seems to relish the sight, finding comfort in your relaxed appearance.

“Yeah…” you yawn, covering your mouth with one hand while grabbing the warm mug with the other. “Couldn't leave this morning because someone had a bit too much to drink.”

“Oh, please, I know you're just using that as an excuse to stay with me,” he teases, smirking as you shoot him a glare. “It's obvious.”

“Aren’t you cocky?” you retort, bringing the coffee to your lips. The brew is exactly to your liking, a detail Satoru always remembers. “You were so whiny last night, I swear. I should've brought Sugu’ along instead.”

“You wouldn't have,” he insists, persistent in his belief that you wanted to be with him, even when the night didn't unfold as planned. “Who could resist going clubbing with me? It's the ultimate experience. A million girls wish they had the chance.”

“I know, they were all over you,” you remark casually, setting your coffee down on the table in his spacious living room, fingers absentmindedly fixing your hair. He's taken aback by your words, vividly recalling the night's details. “You were such a whore. Every girl grinded on your dick. What an accomplishment.”

A hint of unease crosses his features. It hadn't occurred to him that he'd been dancing with other women while you were there with him. And if he was with other girls... what were you doing?

His thoughts are interrupted by your sudden burst of laughter at his expression, likening him to a sad puppy. “Oh god, your face,” you laugh, wiping away tears. “Relax, it was just a joke.”

Gojo scoffs, feigning nonchalance as he looks away in embarrassment. “I knew it was a joke,” he retorts defensively.

“Of course you did,” you scoff, rolling your eyes playfully.

“What else did I do last night?” Satoru's voice carries a hint of hesitation, embarrassed by his actions. “Did I say anything weird?”

Your breath catches in your throat, a pang of anxiety coursing through you as he seems almost convinced of his own folly. You silently pray he doesn't remember; there's no need to make things awkward for both of you.

“No?” You quirk a brow, “You just slept. You snore fucking loudly, by the way.”

He studies your face and you feign indifference, though the awkwardness hangs palpably in the air around you. He doesn't remember, you silently implore.

“So rude,” he tsks his tongue. The tension in the air dissipates as he teases you about your comment, and you both share a laugh, the momentary awkwardness melting away. He stands up, leaving you with a mixture of relief and amusement at the exchange.

You relieve the longest breath, one you didn’t realize you were holding. 

You're relieved that he's forgotten the events of the night, unwilling to broach the subject in case his words were not genuine, merely fueled by alcohol. Yet, a small, twisted part of you wishes you had accepted his offer last night, even as you despise yourself for such thoughts. He would have regretted it, you reason. Who knows where your friendship would stand if you had acted on such primal urges. You remind yourself that you're not some animal; you can control yourself.

Despite your initial intention to leave by nightfall, you know deep down that you'll end up spending the night at his place again. It's a pattern that seems inevitable.

The day went by fast, and before you know it it’s already dinner time. Satoru stepped into the living room, where you’ve been unproductively lying down for what seemed to be hours on end. “Do you wanna go out to eat?”

“Hmm?” You look up from the phone, turning to face him in a position similar to a cat’s. “I don’t have anything to wear. Can we just order something instead?”

Satoru hums, walking towards the couch you lay on. With a huff you sit up, giving him space to slump himself manspread next to you. “I’m fucking starving”

“Where’s your cook?” You giggle. For a grown man, your blue-eyed friend’s cooking skills are less than average. With some luck, he can make scrambled eggs. Not that he ever needed to, his cook used to be a chef in a big restaurant. Considering the kind of money Satoru has, you’re guessing he left his job for a better opportunity; cooking meals for a single man. “Did he run away? Can’t blame him.”

Satoru shoots you a glare, containing his smile. “He opened a restaurant and left.”

“So he ran away,” You confirm, leaning your face dangerously close, “couldn’t handle you.”

“Are you implying I’m too much to handle?” he mimics your movement, nearly breathing in your face.

“You know I’m right,” you’re trying your best to stay put, but the way your breath hitches at the proximity does not help. You can only pray the heat you feel creeping on your face is not obvious on the out.

“You wanna put that theory to the test?” He quirks a brow, white lashes fluttering in the form of blinks and you’re nearly convinced he’s trying to charm you. “You know, handling someone comes in many forms.”

You cringe at his words, scoffing and turning away to hide your embarrassment. 

Satoru boo’s at you, “coward. You’re so boring.” 

“You’re so eager,” You retort, standing up and stretching your back, trying to keep space before you lose all form of restraint.

“Oh no you don’t,” You hear. Before you react you're pulled back to the couch. A gasp erupts from you when you fall onto the cushion, body too close to his own.

Heat rises, and silence falls. It’s not awkward, no. Just… tense. 

“You’re a terrible liar, you know?” He mutters, voice so sultry it makes your heart drop. It’s such a drastic change from his previous teasing manner. Although that stupid smirk remains. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” your voice comes out a whisper, a lot softer than you expect it to, surprising both you and him. You want to push him off you, tell him you’re best friends and this isn’t heading in the right direction. But you’re too old to care, too desperate to care. You’ve been waiting for this moment for so long now. You can’t lose it again.

“You do,” He isn’t taking arguments. “I remember last night very clearly actually…”

One finger tips over the exposed skin of your knee and up, whatever the shorts you wear leave out, tantalizing you and sending shivers down your spine. You gulp, eyes widening. He remembers..? 

“I’m surprised you didn’t take your chance,” he hums, looking down at where his finger meets with your skin. “So… wasteful.”

“What do you suggest I have done?” You tilt your head to meet his eyes, emboldened. 

His eyes meet yours, lips parted for a second, almost curious. “Allow me to demonstrate.”

Before you can change your mind, his mouth closes upon yours. He doesn’t give you time to process the situation, tongue invading your mouth while his hands take the chance to wrap around your middle.

Your hands find place on his shoulder, colder fingers rushing to the buttons of his shirt. He nearly bites your tongue, muscles dancing in no particular rhythm. He tastes like mint and lust. Exactly how you imagined he would.

He pulls away with a heavy breath when his shirt is unbuttoned. “Did you call me eager?”

“You’re so much sexier with your mouth shut,” you huff, feeling his palms sneak past the waistband of the shorts. 

“You hurt me, you know?” Satoru chuckles, one warm hand finding your jaw to bring your focus back to his face instead of the shit he wore. “Keep your eyes on mine, hm?”

There’s an effect he has on you, bringing out primal needs you thought you had buried well. “Or what?”

He brings down the shorts in one fast movement, earning a yelp from you. He chuckles, looking down at the thong you’d worn last night. “Came prepared, huh? How cute.”

Rolling your eyes, you move to straddle him. “You think you’re so funny–”

“I am,” He interrupts, groping the flesh of your ass. “That’s what got me here.”

You don’t care to deny his words, kissing him like you’re starved. You feel his cock harden against you, arousal evident by the way he groans into his lips.

His hands roam your body freely while his mouth explores the warmth of your mouth. He traces the edge of your bra, teasing the skin acing to be touched. He’s been waiting for this for very long now; to taste you, to feel you, to have you. It’s his goal, and he’s finally getting there.

“Fuck- Satoru,” You breathe. He watches your face, the string of saliva connecting you to him. He’s seen your face in dreams, but it didn’t look this good. He feels the adrenaline rush at the thought that this is caused by him. He is making you look like that. This is all for him.

“Yeah?” He asks, lifting the shirt over your head.

“I need it,” there’s despair in your voice. He feels a need to satisfy it. He plans to, at least. “Please.”

“So needy,” he smiles as you unzip his pants, pulling his hardened cock out of the boxers. “No prep?”

“Can’t,” You answer mindlessly, too focused on pumping your hand over the glorious length. He’s beautiful down there, making a part of you wish you’d done this earlier. But you don’t dwell on it, too enamored by his leaking tip. 

He grunts, biting his lip and throwing his head back. You watch his reaction, propping yourself on your knees. “Can I put it in, ‘toru?”

He huffs, looking at you with half-lidded eyes. “What are you waiting for?” his fingers run down from your waist to your hips, slowly drawing towards your thong. You hiss a breath when he slips his thumb under the fabric, feeling your heat before pushing the cloth to the side. “Go ahead.”

Your hips lower, feeling his tip against your fold. Your movement is slow, a little too slow for his liking. Satoru is no patient man, his grip on your hips tightens, pulling you down with force.

A loud moon escapes you at the suddenness, walls struggling to accommodate the vast stretch. It feels bigger than it looks, you realize, chest heaving under the pressure. You forgot to get a condom, but that’s the last thing on your mind right now. Nails dig into his shoulder, pushing your head against his chest to take a breath.

“Fuh-fuck,” You hiss, “too big.” 

Satoru hums, running his hands over your skin to coax you. “Can’t do it?”

“I–I can,” you grit your teeth. He finds a way to be a pest even with a pussy to shut him up. So you lift your hips, as if to prove your point, moving them slowly at first.

“O-ah–” He shuts his eyes, focused on the ecstatic feeling of your insides squeezing him, swallowing him whole. It’s better than his hands, better than any other girl he’s fucked to pass time. In a way, it’s so… you.

You do your best to maintain pace, to not become too fast just yet. You know you’d orgasm too early if you did, but he feels too good not to.

“Oh, fuck, s’tight,” his jaw clenches as his hands move to unclasp the bra, allowing your breasts freedom. Satoru looks at you, body begging to be adorned. To be worshipped. It’s what you deserve, so his hands rest on your hips as he brings his mouth to your chest, bringing you closer for a taste.

He starts with a little lick to your nipple, earning him yet another loud whine. You’re too cute like that. One set of fingers finds your other breast, fondling it with care. Your senses tingle, making you breathe harder and move sloppier, looking to feel his tip hit a certain spot you’re yet to locate.

Satoru grunts, mouth latching into your hardened nipple, sucking on the sensitive skin. Arms cage his head, giving him better access.

“Fuck– ‘toru…” your whines are a prayer, moving faster around him. His length stretches you so well that you feel him against all the right places, massaging your insides so well you need to cover your mouth to stop the loud noises. Yet you see stars when you feel it, a moan you’re unable to control running freely out of your mouth. You know the maids can hear it, mauve even walked across the room without you noticing. But it doesn’t matter, they wouldn’t dare bring it up.

“Yeah,” His breath comes out strained, pinching your nipple before moving to suck the other one. “Just like that, keep moving for me, baby. I–fuck—I know you’re close”

“So good,” you whine, vision blurring as you huff and puff. “So good, ‘toru–!”

Your confession of ecstasy makes him feel his edge coming closer, yearning for release.

Lewd sounds of squelching and moans roam the room unsolicited; you no longer able to control yourself, and Satoru not wanting you to.

You tug at his hair, moaning pronographically. Your hips nearly buckle at the friction but you’re too busy chasing your high to notice, moving like your life depends on it. The knot in your stomach feels too fragile, too ready to let go.

When Satoru feels the way your hips tire, he puts his hands to work, gently guiding them up on his cock before slamming you back down with an aggressive motion.

You nearly scream, eyes widening as the knot you felt suddenly exploding. Your eyes widen as your neck cranes back, pussy tightening around him all at once then letting go. You twitch around him, clenching and unclenching around his length to the point where he can barely hold it anymore.

“I’m gonna– shit I’m gonna come,” He groans, teeth sinking into the skin of your nipple, the sudden stimulation making you jerk.

“Inside,” You moan, “please ‘toru– i want you to come inside.”

As if on cue, his cock twitches and he releases white ropes into your walls, filling you up with warmth. Your eyes roll back, too much ecstasy.

You ride out your high, coming out longer than you expected. When you’re done, you slump onto him. You don’t recall ever being this worn from one orgasm.

Satoru relaxes into the couch, head thrown back and thoughts empty.

Your breath comes hot against the sweaty skin of his neck. You lick your lips, suddenly thirsty.

“You good?” He whispers, almost afraid if he were too loud he’d ruin the serenity that’s fallen over you. 

“Mhm,” you hum, not yet moving off his length.

“Again?” He asks after a few seconds of silence. You hear that smirk in his voice. 

You giggle in response, pushing yourself up. He’s out of you with a ‘pop!’ and a soft groan. You huddle to the other side of the couch, trying to catch your breath. “Give me a second.”

“Can’t handle me?” He challenges, and you’re urged to move back and ride him until he passes out. Maybe you will, but you need a break. 

“You’re insufferable,” You groan in response, reaching for the half-empty cup of water you’ve previously set on the table. 

“Please,” he rolls his eyes. “You love it.”

[palajae]

episode three. | park sunghoon

PAIRING ▸ host!sunghoon x reader

GENRE ▸ ouran high school host club!au, high school! au, romance, fluff, angst, humor

WC ▸ 3.1k

SUMMARY ▸ host park sunghoon: the strong and silent type. with his cold, tsundere personality and killer good looks, it’s hard not to fall for sunghoon. his connection to sunoo is of utmost importance; however, you could be the one to change that. (but be warned, he’s a man of few words.)

AKA episode three of the kiss, kiss, fall in love! series

AN/NOTES ▸ social awkwardness, not proofread

sorry okay it’s been a fat minute since i posted but FINALLY JAE has gotten the next part out ‼️ i really channeled the engene in me for this one lmao.

EPISODE THREE. Beware the Ice Prince!

seriously, you only started attending the en-host club because your friends did and you really had nothing else to do.   

you had heard several of the boys in your grade were in the infamous club, but besides that, you had no interest in “club” affairs. 

natty and lily wouldn’t stop talking about how “chivalry wasn’t dead” and how “god had favorites.” you figured by going, you could kill some time and meet some new people.

mainly due to the fact that you were attached to the hip to your… well, sketchbook. what better to utilize the people around you for your passion? 

and the most pretty ones were—obviously—found at the en-host club! 

by going there, you could observe and hopefully see some good art. 

while your friends had their favorite designated hosts and activities, your first entrance to the club involved a lot of awkward silence and muttering. 

“you mean, you don’t want to hang out with any of us?” sunoo—you think—frowns. 

you shake your head, stammering. “n-no! i just, prefer to be alone. i can just-like-sit in the corner or something.”

he brightens up and you breathe a sigh of relief. 

“i see. you just like the company?” 

you nod and the host smiles again. “that’s fine. you don’t have to be entertained by one of us. you’re welcome as much as you like! you could even sit by sunghoon!”

your eyebrows furrow as you follow sunoo’s line of sight to-

oh dear. 

probably the finest man you’ve ever laid your eyes on. 

a true work of art. 

your heart pounds uncomfortably in your chest as you glance back at sunoo.

“he doesn’t like to talk much either, so i think you two will get along well!” 

you look uncertainly at the controlled chaos happening all around the room, before back at sunoo. 

he nods encouragingly at you. “don’t worry. even though sunghoon looks like it, he doesn’t bite. in fact, it’s probably the opposite.”

holding your breath, you clutch your sketchbook tighter in your hands before approaching the table sunghoon was quietly sitting at. 

he didn’t even do anything, yet you felt so intimidated. 

wow, it was really stifling to be in his presence. awkwardly, you take a seat. and although he doesn’t move, you feel his eyes land on you. 

biting your lip, you hesitantly wave. 

that was it. no words exchanged. 

after a while, you finally began to relax. still, neither of you said anything. you even felt alright enough to open your sketchbook. 

your eyes would travel across the room, although they always landed on the same person. the one sitting in front of you, silently sipping his tea.

so you sketched. and you enjoyed it. so much to the point you returned the day after, and the day after. 

eventually, the hosts came to know you as a regular. they knew your exact order and your routine. the same every time you came—even without your friends. 

they understood that you simply appreciated sitting and observing. with all the things going on at the club, you enjoyed staying off to the side the most. 

like sunghoon. 

after the first day, you couldn’t work up the courage to approach and sit next to him when he wasn’t with sunoo hosting. 

that was fine. you had eyes. you could sketch him as long as you could see him. pages, filled with a variety of sketches, began to fill up your notebook. 

and most of them were of sunghoon. 

who were you kidding—all of them were of him. every outfit in every season, every expression of his (and he rarely showed emotion). you basically memorized sunghoon’s face. 

and in your time observing at the en-host club, you realized you had only heard him speak a total of six phrases: welcome, goodbye, yes, no, and thank you. 

he more than piqued your interest, but you were far too shy and unmotivated to do something about it. 

checking the clock, you sigh wistfully while putting your sketchbook back into your bag. as always, this was your time to leave. occasionally, one of the hosts would notice you leaving and wave goodbye. 

this time, you’re almost to the door when a tall figure suddenly appears in your line of vision. 

you falter, swallowing abruptly when you realize it’s sunghoon. he looks dashing in his pink hoodie and light jeans—someone mentioned the boys had a boyfriend concept today.  

you stare up at him curiously until he steps closer to you. your mouth dries up at the close proximity. you feel like you can hear your blood rushing in your ears. 

sunghoon doesn’t say anything, as per usual. instead, he walks over and holds open the door for you. 

for a second, you don’t move. and then it hits you. 

what the what the what the, he opened the door for you! 

you quickly squeak out a thank you before practically dashing out of the club room. you’re not sure if you heard or imagined the soft “get home safe,” coming from his voice. 

was he watching you? is that how he knew to open the door? why did he go all the way to help you? did he know what time you usually left? 

you fall onto your bed with a sigh. you were overthinking, and you were delusional. just a little bit. 

perhaps, you would work up the courage to talk to him next time.

you swear you’re not that delusional. most of the time it was you who was staring at sunghoon, sneaking glances at him when he wasn’t looking. whenever he was busy hosting. honestly, your best works were of his stunning side profile. 

but something feels different from that day forward. 

like…like sunghoon was the one staring at you. at first, you were sure you felt eyes on you. 

you would glance up from your sketchbook with a frown, glancing around the room. it was at that moment you would catch sunghoon turning away from you. 

but in what world would he be looking at you? 

he didn’t say a single word. 

it happened so often to the point where you would actually meet his eyes before looking away. you always broke eye contact first. 

this back-and-forth occurred four times before you decided to do something. yes, you counted. 

you decided to remind yourself that you only live once, and you took the chance. you finally stopped being a coward and sat next to sunghoon, one lovely afternoon. 

he seems almost shocked when you approach him, like your very first day at the host club. 

once again, no words were spoken. you simply smiled before taking the seat. unlike the other girls who usually fawned and squealed over him, all you did was sit and enjoy his company. honestly, he was so familiar to you at this point, you actually felt comfortable.   

and when you thought he wasn’t looking, you liked to sneak peeks at him as well. he was even more breathtaking up close. 

that became your daily routine whenever sunghoon was free. although it was absurd, you once thought that maybe he looked forward to sitting and watching with you. 

“what’s up with you and sunghoon?”

“h-huh?”

natty leans over from her desk to shoot you a look. “i mean, what are you two doing in the corner all day?”

you look down at your desk bashfully, “it’s not all day…i just enjoy his company.” 

lily laughs, “sure. i bet you have a lot fun staring at him.” 

you feel your face get hot as natty elbows her. “i think the two of you are cute. even if you have nothing to say to each other.” 

“yeah, i don’t know how you managed to get so close to him. sunghoon is pretty detached from the other girls. he’s just there half the time with sunoo.”

your heart quickens. was that true? 

lily sighs, almost face planting into the table. “what up with all the boys recently? heeseung has been so obsessed with that one student who i don’t even know the name of since they’re so busy studying all the time. and then the top two people of our class are constantly preoccupied with each other. at this rate, i’m gonna move to jake…”

you nodded in contemplation. she was right, you’ve seen heeseung following around your classmate like a baby duck following their mom. even weirder, the two smartest people in your grade started to sit together at the club. 

you were there for it all. 

“sim jaeyun? um, I’m not sure about him. he and riki have a lot of crazy fan girls,” natty wrinkles her nose. “hey, i did hear there was a new host! his name is jung…jung-something.”

“jungwon,” you finish for her. she nods, “i think he’s pretty handsome.”

“not as much as sunghoon though,” you unconsciously mutter. 

sunghoon can easily remember the first day you walked in, eyes wide like you were a kid on their first day of school. the corners of his mouth tilt up slightly. you looked like a baby kitten. 

he catches himself, focusing back on sipping tea while sunoo devoured his sweet treats. 

“do you want a bite, hoon?”

he shakes his head amusedly at sunoo’s bright expression. 

“you should stop eating so many sweets. you already had two slices of cake today.” 

while sunoo pouts and gets up to put his plate away, sunghoon refocuses his attention on you. he didn’t mean to—his gaze was just drawn to your presence. 

he watches wordlessly as sunoo approaches you. you looked so intimidated, sunghoon already felt bad and he didn’t know the reason. 

he catches himself again, internally chiding his own behavior. get a grip, you’re a host. 

suddenly, you’re approaching him. you look like a kitten again in front of him, just like when you first walked in. his whole body tenses. 

sunghoon waits, yet you don’t say anything. only a simple wave and that’s enough to light a fire in his heart. 

he’s surprised to see you sit down and pull out a sketchbook. he observes as you flip through the pages, trying to sneak a peek. but then he realizes he’s being kinda, really creepy. 

so sunghoon purposely turns away to focus. look anywhere but at the person sitting across from you, he repeats to himself over and over. 

after that day, he noticed you didn’t sit next to him. for quite a while. 

so, he chose to watch you. he watched you walk in every afternoon with a hesitant smile. he watched as you took the same seat near the window and pulled out your scuffed up notebook to draw. 

he watched how your lips pursed when you weren’t happy with a sketch, or how you would stop to think while looking around you. 

sunghoon liked the way your eyes lit up when you turned to a blank, fresh page. and when you would smile and greet the other hosts, gratefully accepting a cup of tea. even the look of concern you had on your face as you watched jake and riki do something stupidly dangerous again. 

the thing he liked the most, however, was when he felt your eyes on him when you thought he wasn’t looking. 

sunghoon’s not sure why, but he likes it. after all, he couldn’t say anything. he did the same thing to you. 

he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. 

that’s why, when you sit across from him one day with that stunning smile of yours, his breath hitched. 

sunghoon… wanted to say something. he tried, really tried, but no words would come out. he couldn’t think of anything to say. 

apparently, that was fine with you. you relaxed in the silence, so he did too. 

it’s not like he meant to, but he snuck a glance. he was so curious as to what you had been working on in that sketchbook of yours. he knew it had to be your prized possession, the way you carried it around everywhere. 

sunghoon certainly wasn’t expecting to see his own face, beautifully drawn. it was him from a few weeks ago, last week, and yesterday. he remembers the detective concept and outfits they adorned. 

you… you sketched it all. all this time, you sketched him? 

he’s truly speechless, and everyone knew it was hard to make the stoic sunghoon react. 

“…are you friends with y/n?” he randomly asks one day after the club had closed for the day, completely out of the blue. 

sunoo tilts his head, “we’ve talked. why?” 

heeseung pops by, “did i hear hoon’s got a crush? who could have warmed the cold tsundere sunghoon’s heart?”

although he wants to roll his eyes, he simply looks away. 

“y/n?” riki calls from where he’s playing catch with jake, “the one who doesn’t say anything and draws all day?”

“they could if they wanted to,” sunghoon remarks quietly. riki shrugs. 

sunoo watches sunghoon with an inquisitive expression. 

he’s never seen his friend act like that with the other guests before… 

“it’s his birthday soon?” the words spill out of your mouth without even realizing it. you stopped, overhearing some girls sitting near you. 

they eye you, and it registers in your head that they know you’re the one whom sunghoon often sits next to. you seem oh so close to him, and yet you don’t know his birthday? you feel embarrassed, making your way to your normal seat.

“hoon? yeah, his birthday is in three days,” sunoo nods. “why? are you planning something?” 

you’re quick to shake your head, flustered. “nono, i was simply curious… thanks for letting me know.” 

alright. you officially have three days to find sunghoon a gift. 

it’s only then it hits you. you know close to nothing about sunghoon. other than the fact that he was a host, you barely knew his likes or dislikes. heck, you barely even spoke to him. 

you’re doomed. all the other guests were probably going to get him extravagant gifts that were exactly to his liking. 

you? you scrambled to find something that would come in three days. and you weren’t even sure if he would like it. at the least, he could regift it to someone else if he really hated it. 

you clutch the small gift bag nervously behind you as you enter the host club. 

usually, decorations would be set up for the members’ birthdays. however, sunghoon never wanted a big celebration so they would get him a simple birthday cake every year. at least, that’s what sunoo told you. 

sunghoon wanted his birthday day to feel like any other ordinary day. you hoped you could stay true to that. 

or…not.

the sight of said host rejecting someone’s gift to him is the first thing that greets you. your smile immediately falters. 

he didn’t like gifts? your heart begins to race. crap, crap. what were you going to do? you couldn’t hide the gift—someone would find it. it was obviously who it was for, with the big fat words happy birthday printed all over the bag. plus your names written on it, addressed to sunghoon. 

your eyes follow him to his usual seat, only for your heart to drop. 

sunghoon looks around expectantly. almost like, he was… looking for someone (you). he does. almost immediately. 

if you move, he’ll see the bag behind you. heart racing, you decide to charge ahead and approach him. you couldn’t face a rejection of the gift you spent hours trying to find, but you also didn’t want to leave him hanging. 

you walk over nervously, doing your absolute best to hide the bag and appear unaffected. maybe he wouldn’t notice, right?

wrong. sunghoon was probably the most observant person on the earth. his eyes immediately fall to your suspicious hands.

it was over. his eyes flick back up to you with a questioning look in them. 

you close your eyes briefly, internally falling to your knees. well, there was nothing else to do. 

you nervously thrust out the bag towards him, hiding your face as you softly say,

“happy birthday, sunghoon.” 

you hold your breath and wait embarrassingly for the painful rejection. 

spoiler: it never comes. 

“thank you.” 

hearing his voice causes shivers to run down your spine. your eyes fly open. did he just…accept your gift? and more importantly, he spoke to you?!

he takes the bag and puts it aside on the table. 

“are you not going to open it?” 

he looks at your expectant expression before beginning to unwrap the gift. 

“i thought maybe we could share,” you mumble. 

sunghoon carefully opens the intricate wrapping to unveil the gift you ultimately decided on: a smooth, leather sketchbook with pencils. 

“now we’re matching,” you whisper before pulling out your own. 

“i… don’t know what to do with it.”

hearing his voice again still makes goosebumps appear on your arm. you stifle a laugh as you reach over to demonstrate. 

the real sunghoon watches in awe as you begin roughly drawing something in his new sketchbook. when you retract your arm, he’s finally able to see what you did. it’s a beautiful drawing of a cake and the words, happy sunghoon day! 

he glances up at you with wide eyes. you shrug and only look away. to your surprise, sunghoon determinedly picks up a pen and begins doodling as well. 

soon enough, the first page is filled with random drawings, doodles, and most importantly, meaningful connections. 

you both smile and silently laugh at each other’s drawings. sunghoon’s favorite is your drawing of a baby sunoo and his cake while your favorite is of sunghoon’s (rather awful, yet still recognizable) drawing of the seven hosts. 

this is the first time you’ve felt like you truly communicated with sunghoon, even if it was through a paper and pen instead of words. 

when the page is filled completely, you admire your collaboration work proudly. 

“thank you, y/n.”

your heart warms. “o-of course,” you stammer. maybe you were slightly very internally freaking out that he addressed you by your name. 

sunghoon must’ve seen your bashful expression because he reaches over to pat your head. nothing else had to be said, because in that moment, you felt all your feelings were conveyed. 

park sunghoon was supposed to be the cold and tsundere type of host. yet around you, he felt vulnerable, like you brought out a different side of him. 

as you sit across from him, sharing smiles, you wish this moment could last forever. 

all you can think is that sunghoon’s soul is so pure and needs to be preserved, protected. you really hope you can be the one to forever do that. 

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˙⊹ ੈ✰[Finding You Almost Dead]✰ ੈ⊹˙

-ˏˋ. rules + masterlist ˊˎ-

Fandom: Danganronpa

Characters: Aoi Asahina, Kiyotaka Ishimaru, Kyoko Kirigiri, Mondo Owada, Sakura Ogami, Genocider Syo, Toko Fukawa

Warnings: !!NOT SPOILER FREE!! Set in the killing game, some slight angst, and mentions of blood and injury, but no death.

Other: Established relationship, though it's not super obvious. Also, this one is long!! (also also don’t ask about the logistics okay I didn’t think too hard about the cannon deaths timeline)

A/N: The motivation for this one was crazy I banged this out in just a couple of hours. Anyways!! Please excuse any mischaracterizations, but if you want any other characters feel free to request them!! (Not just the first game!! I write for any of them + the anime!!)

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Kiyotaka Ishimaru

When he found you, you were in the fourth-floor music room.

You had lacerations all along your body, unconscious in a small puddle of your own blood

He and Mondo were together, and when they saw the door to the music room ajar, they decided to investigate, but once Taka saw your body, he just screamed, which attracted the others

Kyoko quickly realizes the lack of body discovery announcement and checks your pulse, stating that you’re alive

He Mondo carries you to the nurse’s office

He cries like…so much

He and Mondo stay with you in the nurse's office and patch you up, Mondo kinda acting as a guard dog, not letting anyone near you, and Taka doing his best to keep himself and Mondo calm while they wait for you to wake up

Once you do, he’s once again, in tears

He’s barely able to resist the urge to pull you into a hug, instead, he grabs your hands

He’s just so happy that you’re okay!!

He’s too relieved that you’re okay that he forgets to ask if you remember who attacked you, so Mondo does that

When you say you don’t, his worry increases ten-fold

What if they don’t find out who did it? What if they attack you again while you’re still healing and end up actually killing you? What if they attack someone else?

Insists on having a non-official class trail in the dining hall, and Kyoko ends up taking the lead as most people didn’t investigate because you hadn’t died

The one who attacked you was Genocider Syo

Why? You were ‘flirting’ with Byakuya

You laughed at him because he made a stupid face after Makoto said something he disagreed with. 

She cornered you and cut you up, but intentionally didn’t kill you and avoided lethal areas

Toko didn’t know but doesn’t feel bad

Syo gets shunned, so by proxy, Toko does as well

Though they didn’t interact with the others, other than Byakuya, who doesn’t treat her any different than normal so…

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Mondo Owada

When he found you, you were in the second-floor pool area

You had one stab wound in your abdomen, the knife lying next to you on the ground, you were unconscious in a pool of your own blood

Hina arranged for everyone to meet up at the pool to hopefully have some fun and get their mind off of the killing game for a while, so Mondo and a group of a few other guys were the ones to find you

He starts yelling at everyone around, which causes the girls to go investigate as well

Taka is the only one able to calm him down enough to tell him that you’re still breathing

It’s then he takes action, scooping you up and booking it to the nurses' office

Taka doesn’t yell at him for running in the halls for once

He tries to patch you up himself, but he has limited knowledge of how to do all this in the first place, and his hands shaking and his vision being clouded with tears aren’t helping either

So Taka does it for him while he holds your hands and cleans the blood off of you

Doesn’t want to let anyone close to you, other than Taka and maybe Kyoko, but even then he watching her closely

Does ask Kyoko to find out who did this

Also, he’s like…really pissed

Like infuriated

Swears he’ll kill whoever hurt you

When you wake up, he instantly scoops you up in a hug, accidentally squeezing your wound and hurting you

Almost drops you when you wince

He is hesitant to touch you at all after that because he hurt you!!

Of course, he asks if you remember who attacked you

When you say you don’t, he feels his temper kinda flare

He’s not mad at you, of course, but at the person who had hurt you

The one who attacked you was Leon Kuwata

Claims it was in self-defense because he thought you were a killer

In actuality, you just turned a corner and he was there with a knife, and tried to kill you!!

When it gets revealed that Leon did it, Sakura has to hold Mondo back so he doesn’t kill him

Leon is shunned, and Mondo is weary of everyone but Taka

Doesn’t let you out of his sight for a long while

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Aoi Asahina

When she found you, you were in the Science Lab Storage Room

You had a large impact wound on your head, blood pouring from the wound, and you, of course, were unconscious

When Aoi spotted you, she wasted no time rushing over to you

So she finds out that you’re still alive very quickly

She scoops you up and rushes you over to the nurse's office, tears streaming down her face

Thankfully, whoever attacked you hadn’t cracked your skull, just broke the skin

Once you’re safe in the nurse's office, and she’s patching you up the others arrive, having seen her running through the halls with your body in her arms

Sakura is the one who comforts her the most, a few of the others go to the scene to see what had happened.

At the scene, they find a wooden mallet, after some inspection Kyoko confirms it was the weapon, the size matching the wound on you

Once you’re patched up, she asks Sakura to keep an eye on you and she asks Kyoko and Makoto to help her question everyone to see if they can find out who did it

Byakuya would probably also help, but only because he doesn’t want to be attacked next and they need to find out who the dangerous ones are

After a while, Hina checks back in on you, to see that you’re awake!

She gently hugs you, careful to avoid the wound, and cries, saying how thankful she is that you’re okay

Asks if you can remember what exactly happened

When you can’t she feels bad that she wasn’t there to protect you

The one who attacked you was Hifumi Yamada

He had attacked you under Celeste’s instruction (Like the third trial of the game), but he hit too soft and in the wrong spot, so you ended up surviving

Hifumi would fess up almost immediately, spilling everything he knows about the plan and why

They both get shunned, Celeste refusing to acknowledge him after that

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Kyoko Kirigiri

When she found you, you were in the second-floor hallway

You were slumped against a wall, in an out-of-the-way area, with a few bruises on your body, but most importantly was a large impact wound on the back of your head, a splatter of blood on the wall showing where your head had been slammed against it

She very quickly notices that you’re not dead, and may or may not let out a sigh of relief

Thankfully, a few people are nearby, namely Makoto, Sakura, and Hina

Calmly asks Sakura to carry you to the nurse’s office, and for Hina to accompany you to help patch you up

She’s calm, mostly because she noticed the wound was only skin-deep

She stays to examine the scene, because even though you hadn’t died, you almost did, and she wants to figure out who attacked you

For everyone’s safety…but noticeably yours

It’s harder than investigating deaths, funnily enough, but she is able to gather some clues from the scene and starts to question the others

Once you wake up, she’s by your side as soon as she hears

One part to comfort you, another to see if you knew who had attacked you

You didn’t, but that’s okay, she's a detective, she’ll figure it out

If you want her to stay with you she will, but if you don’t mind either way, she’s going back to questioning the others

The one who attacked you was Mondo Owada

It was a heat-of-the-moment attack, and he didn’t even realize the damage he’d caused

He’d cave the second Kyoko put the smallest amount of pressure, apologizing profusely

Since he seems genuinely remorseful, half of the others are only slightly weary, while the other half shun him

Kyoko will only forgive him if you do, if you don’t however, she won’t either

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Sakura Ogami

When she found you, you were in Classroom 1-A

You had a stab wound on your shoulder, and another one in your side, the knife nowhere to be found

She and Hina had been wandering around together, but after catching a glimpse of blood they busted into the room, both shocked to see your body covered in blood and two stab wounds

Sakura is almost too stunned to move until Hina sees your chest move as you breathe

Sakura scoops you up, she and Hina are silent as they take you to the nurse's office

They patch you up, also in silence

Sakura is seething, though (You remember when Hina got attacked by Syo? Yeah, like that but even more since you’re so badly hurt)

Almost crushed the bottle of medicine she was holding

Once you’re properly patched up, she requests a moment alone

Even though you’re asleep, she grabs your hands and kisses the backs of them, quietly promising to not let any more harm come to you

She checks in on you frequently and stays for long periods of time, just in case you wake up

You thankfully wake up when she’s around, and she’s right by your side

Again, gently takes your hands

After a long stretch of silence, she asks if you remember what happened, or who attacked you

When you say you don’t, she doesn’t press or ask any more questions related to that

Will give you a protein shake

The one who attacked you was Sayaka Maizono

She had meant to kill you to escape, but stabbing people is much harder and much more traumatizing than she had anticipated

She gets shunned, even by Makoto

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Genocider Syo

She actually didn’t find you first, Toko did, but Toko fainted and Syo fronted, finding you in the third-floor Rec room

Freaks out, and runs into the hallway, chasing the nearest person down, putting her scissors to their neck, and threatening them

This person happens to be Makoto, and not far behind him is Kyoko, so the three went back to your body

Kyoko informs her that, while you aren’t dead, you will be if they don’t act quick

So, she scoops you up and runs you to the nurse's office

She tries to patch you up but doesn’t really know how resulting in loose bandages and her panicking over your body

Makoto and Kyoko are not too long after, and they help, though not without Syo watching their every move and threatening them if they make a wrong move

After they're done patching you up though, she makes them take at least three steps back

Stays in the nurse's office until you wake up, keeping everyone away

She even goes as far as to threaten Byakuya

She takes every step possible to keep herself from sneezing or passing out, so Toko doesn’t front

When you wake up, she grabs your hands and smiles in an oddly tender moment

Then asks if you remembers who attacked you, and then follows up by asking if she can kill them

When you say you don’t, she offers to torture everyone until she finds the attacker

Thankfully you don’t have to answer that, as Kyoko comes in, saying she knows who did it

The one who attacked you was Byakuya Togami

You’d ended up preventing a murder, getting everyone to get along, and ignore the motive this time

He thought the game was getting boring, so he took matters into his own hands

He hadn’t meant to injure you so severely, but he figured he hadn’t killed you, and you probably wouldn’t die from blood loss, so he left you there

Syo was furious and chased Byakuya down, Sakura and Hina having to hold her back so she wouldn’t kill him

Instead, she hurls insults at him, and the next few times she fronts, she tries to kill him all over again

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢Toko Fukawa (This one is a continuation of Syo’s!!)

She wouldn't front again until after it was revealed that Byakuya was the one who attacked you

When she next fronts, she’s confused

Firstly, she thinks you’re dead

You’re not, thank god

Secondly, you got attacked

Not very good

And thirdly, the person who attacked you Byakuya?

Toko immediately starts hurling insults at him, much like Syo had

She wonders how she’d ever liked someone so rotten

She hadn’t been obsessed with him for a while, but she still held a lot of respect for him up until now

Byakuya gets shunned, but he hadn’t interacted with the others much before this, so it doesn’t affect him too badly

The only real difference is that Toko insults him every time she sees him

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

[persevereforahappyending]

He Hung Up (Christmas)

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: “Christmas is literally in a few days, is the plan for them to stay through Christmas as well?”

Warnings: None

Word Count: 6k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Sam trudged up the stairs to her apartment, sighing as she got her keys ready. She just got off a long shift and wanted nothing more than to just relax. She wasn’t big on Christmas, but she was looking forward to the time off and spending time with her sister, it had been a long time since they got to spend Christmas together. Sam doesn’t really count last year because there was still a lot of recovering from Ghostface going on. She knew this year wouldn’t be perfect, but she was hoping it might be better, maybe she and Tara could make new memories and Christmas could become something they enjoyed again. She knew she was part of Tara’s dislike of the holidays, first their dad left and then Sam left. Sam had a lot of make-up to do.

The college was already on winter break but given Sam’s job she hadn’t gotten to spend any time with her sister, she barely got started on her Christmas shopping. Chad and Mindy left the first day of break, which happened to be the day after Tara’s birthday. Sam was glad the twins got to spend Tara’s birthday with her, it ended up being a fun night. The next day they flew back to California to spend the break with their mom. They all agreed to do a Christmas together when the twins got back, which just meant Sam had more time to pick something good out for them. She was hoping to get a little input from Tara, she wanted to do something football related for Chad and horror related for Mindy but despite her father being a serial killer that spawned a popular horror franchise she didn’t know shit about horror.

Danny also flew back to his hometown to be with his parents. So, the only thing keeping Sam from getting to spend the holidays alone with her sister was you. As Sam’s keys jingled, unlocking her apartment, she heard what she had been hearing every day since the break started, you. You had been over every day since the break started. The only good thing was that most days you left and went back to your own apartment, not that it mattered because you stayed all night and then were back by morning, sometimes Sam was eating breakfast, and you were already there, knocking on the door. Sam was trying to be nice though, it was the holidays and she’d hopefully have Christmas Day just her and her sister.

When Sam pushed open the door, she saw you and Tara curled up on the couch watching a movie as you not so quietly talked to each other. Sam glanced at the TV to see Gremlins playing. “Gremlins?” she questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah!” You exclaimed, looking at her like it was the most obvious choice for them to be watching. “It’s the best Christmas movie.”

Sam was taken aback giving you a look like you had two heads. “How is-”

“Don’t,” Tara tried to warn her.

“That a Christmas movie?” Sam continued her question.

“Well, you see Samantha,” you started, earning a quick glare from Sam, she hated when someone called her Samantha. “Gizmo,” you pointed to the little fuzzy guy who was currently on the screen, “was a Christmas present.” You clasped your hands together as if you were presenting a project. “The whole movie takes place around Christmas time. They’re decorating the tree, making Christmas cookies, and the gremlins even dress up like carolers.” You let out a satisfied huff at the end of your reasoning.

“But people are attacked and some of them even die,” she tried to argue. She wasn’t sure why she was playing into your game.

“People are attacked in home alone, but everyone considers that a Christmas movie,” you fired back.

“But there’s no death!”

You scoffed, waving off the claim. “Gremlins only has off screen deaths, those don’t count. Also, all that shit Kevin did? Those two guys should have been dead.”

“Whatever,” Sam said shaking her head. She saw your reasoning and it was pretty logical, not that she’d ever tell you that. She still wasn’t sure if she’d considered it a Christmas movie.

Sam tossed her stuff down and made her way into the kitchen, opening the fridge to see what she could make for dinner. “Oh,” Tara called out from the kitchen. “Can Y/N stay for dinner?”

Sam sighed, closing the fridge, and moving to stand in the doorway. “Again?” Sam asked some of her annoyance from the week slipping in.

“Yeah?” Tara asked, turning to face Sam. “What’s the issue?” Tara wasn’t glaring at Sam, yet, but Sam could hear the slight annoyed tone. Tara always got that tone when she didn’t get her way, specifically when it came to you.

“They’ve been here an awfully lot this week,” Sam started, keeping her voice as neutral as possible.

“So? It’s Christmas break.”

“That doesn’t mean they have to spend every second of every day here.” Sam ran a frustrated hand through her hair. “They’re usually just leaving by the time I’m going to bed and then they’re back knocking on the door before I leave for work.”

“So what?” Tara was now on her feet, arms crossed and glaring at Sam. “You haven’t been home, and I don’t feel like spending all day alone. Who cares if they’re here all day?”

“Christmas is literally in a few days, is the plan for them to stay through Christmas as well?”

“Maybe!”

“No,” Sam snapped. She didn’t mean to be so harsh; all the weeks of stress have just been building up. She hadn’t expected an answer and the fact that Tara didn’t see a problem in you crashing their Christmas sent her over the edge. “That’s where I draw the line.”

“What are you saying?” Tara matched her sister’s anger. “I can’t spend Christmas with them? They’re not allowed to come over and see me?”

“I want one day! One day of just you and me! I figured Christmas could be that day. We could finally spend a Christmas together, just the two of us.”

“What about what I want?”

“Don’t they have a family to go see over Christmas and they want to spend time with?” Sam saw a flash of something in your eyes, but she was to focused on Tara to recognize what it was.

“God! You-”

“Actually,” you spoke softly cutting Tara off as you slowly rose to your feet, gently resting a hand on her arm. “I’m headed back home tomorrow.”

“What?” Tara whipped around. Sam almost got whiplash from how fast Tara went from angry to hurt. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know I was having fun with you; I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“You leave tomorrow?”

You nodded. “Yeah, but I’ll call you every day and I’m getting back the day after Christmas.”

Tara crossed her arms pouting. “I was hoping to give you your present on Christmas Day.”

“I’m sorry,” you looked at her sadly. “I wish I could give you yours Christmas Day as well, but we can do Christmas the day after, yeah?” You smiled, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Just me and you. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“I guess.” Tara was still pouting but she seemed slightly less upset. “I still wish you would’ve had told me.”

“It’s not like it’s going to be fun. I’m not going to be doing anything, really.”

“Then why do you have to go?” Sam wanted to roll her eyes, of course Tara would try and convince you to not go to your families for Christmas.

“Spending time with family is important, right?” You raised your eyebrows, staring Tara down to make her agree with you. Sam didn’t know how you did it, you always got Tara to agree with you. If Sam had said any of the stuff you did, Tara would be nonstop, making nothing into a monstrous fight.

“Yeah,” Tara sighed. “I’m still going to miss you.”

“Me too,” you rest a hand on the side of her face, caressing her cheek. “Besides we still have tonight,” you looked up at Sam, silently asking her if that was still okay. Sam nodded; she could tolerate you one more night since it meant you wouldn’t be around for a few days.

“I guess,” Tara mumbled, wrapping her arms around your waist before burying her head in your shirt. You instantly wrapped your arms around her, pulling her in for a tighter hug. Sam wanted to roll her eyes, the two of you were acting like you weren’t going to see each other for months not a few days.

“Come on, lets finish the movie.” You kissed the top of Tara’s head, keeping one arm wrapped around her as you pulled away and led her back down to the couch.

**************************************

The next few days did not go as Sam had imagined. She had still been working crazy hours and after work she spent the night going from store to store searching for a present for Tara. She had a gift card at the ready to give to Tara, but she wanted something more personal. Tara had also been silently hostile towards her since you left. Sam was trying not to start anything; she was just hoping Tara’s mood would lighten by Christmas day. The only good thing was that Tara wasn’t actively seeking arguments with her, she was just pouting and giving Sam short responses. Every night Tara was on her phone either texting or talking to you. Sam knew it was young love or whatever, but you guys had just seen each other. She herself had barely talked to Danny since he left, they texted a few times but neither one of them was glued to their phone.

As she walked the streets of New York, searching for a shop she hadn’t already been in, something that would call to her, something that screamed Tara, she passed by a bakery. Sam stopped, looking in the window at all the Christmas themed baked goods, there were cakes decorated with snowflakes, cupcakes with little Santas, and various cookies decorated. Sam ripped open the door, stepped into the shop and purchased a dozen cookies. All the cookies looked great but before she could walk away from the window, she noticed some of them were decorated with characters or quotes from various Christmas movies.

As she continued to walk down the street, the box of cookies under her arm, she thought back to her childhood. Sam didn’t like thinking about her childhood, most of her memories were tainted by the lies of her mom, her dad leaving, the truth of her birth father, and the guilt she felt for leaving her sister. When she was younger and Tara was just a little kid who loved following her around things were good, they were happy. Christmas used to be a magical time for them, every Christmas eve they would spend the day baking cookies to leave out for Santa. A part of Sam wanted to bring that back, maybe not the leaving the cookies out for Santa part but the making their own cookies. Besides loving to eat the cookie dough, Sam remembered how big of a smile Tara had on her face, usually covered in flower, when they would make the cookies. Part of Sam worried about bringing it up to Tara, she knew Christmas wasn’t great after she left and Sam didn’t want to try and force old memories, just because she thought it’d be fun didn’t mean Tara would.

Sam sighed, she had been out a little later than usual and she hadn’t seen a single shop that seemed interesting. She was about to turn around when a life-size Wolfman figure caught her eye. She looked at the store front, seeing the windows filled with other movie related memorabilia and posters. She shrugged, deciding there was no harm in giving the little store a shot and opened the door. She knew it was the holidays, it was the day before Christmas eve and the store was closing soon so she was going to do a quick look around and see if anything jumped out at her.

The store was small but was stuffed full, wall to wall, ceiling to floor, there was product everywhere. There were posters, action fingers, DVD sets, a wide range of TV shows and movies. As Sam weaved her way through the rows of shelves she finally came to the register where there was a display case of collectibles. There seemed to be higher valued collectibles, things way out of her price range, but there were also knives and other weapons. The weapons were horror themed though, they were the same style from whatever movie they were from and then they had the villain of the movie etched into the blade. Sam’s eyes grazed over the Ghostface knife and landed on a Friday the 13th machete. The machete had Jason from different scenes etched all down the blade. Sam smiled at the old man behind the counter and pointed to the machete.

When Sam left the shop, she had some slight reservations about buying Tara a weapon. Luckily for her the man assured her the blade was dull and was meant to be a display piece more than anything. Sam made a note of where the shop was, she would have to take Tara there one day and she was tempted to come back and get the Michael Myers knife for Mindy as a gift.

As Sam juggled the box of cookies in one hand and Tara’s present in another, she caught a familiar figure out of the corner of her eye. She stopped dead in her tracks, turning to do a double take. Her mouth fell open, her brow furrowed as she watched you walk out of a pizza shop, pizza box in hand as you made your way in the direction of your dorm. Sam watched you from across the street, Tara hadn’t mentioned anything about you coming back to town early. Sam also hadn’t noticed any evidence of you being in the apartment since the night you left.

When Sam finally got back to the apartment, she kicked the door closed, making sure to hide the bag with Tara’s present. She heard Tara on the phone but paid her no attention as she rushed to her room to hide the present, dropping the box of cookies on the dining room table on the way. She quickly shoved Tara’s present in her closet, planning to wrap it before she went to bed, then made her way back out to the living room.

“Alright, night,” Tara said, smiling into her phone. “Have fun with your family and I can’t wait to see you when you get back.” Sam watched curiously as Tara waited for, Sam assumed you, to respond. “Love you too.” With that she hung up the phone and looked up at Sam with a confused look. “What?”

“Was that Y/N?” Sam questioned, turning her back to Tara to open the box of cookies.

“Yeah,” Tara sighed. Sam could see Tara’s pout without having to turn around.

“They still out of town visiting their parents?” Sam looked up, internally smacking herself, she was trying and failing at being subtle.

“Yeah.” She heard Tara leave the couch, her feet quietly shuffling as she made her way next to Sam. “Said it was kind of boring there and has only really been watching Christmas movies.” Sam could only hum in response, she couldn’t figure out why you didn’t go home for the holiday and more importantly she couldn’t figure out why you were lying to Tara about it. “Whatcha got there?” Tara nodded to the box.

Sam smiled, flipping open the lid of the box. “No way!” Tara said, reaching out and grabbing a cookie. “These are so cool. Where did you find them?” Tara mumbled through a mouth full of cookie.

Sam giggled, shaking her head at her sister. “Passed a bakery on the way home. Are they good?” Tara nodded, giving her a thumbs up.

Tara grabbed another cookie and plopped herself back down on the couch. Sam tapped her fingers against the dining room table, working up the courage to ask Tara what she wanted to. She grabbed a cookie, taking a bite as she sat in the chair next to the couch. She glanced at the TV to see Tara watching The Grinch.

“So…” Sam started off slowly, looking down at her cookie, it was a really good cookie. She flicked her eyes from Tara, who was already looking at her, to the TV, and back to Tara. “I get it if you don’t want to do it, but I was wondering if you wanted to make cookies tomorrow, like we used to do.”

Sam flicked her gaze from her cookie to Tara a few times, waiting for her sister to respond. Tara was looking down at her cookie, her brow furrowed as she was deep in thought. “We don’t have to,” Sam said softly, trying to reassure Tara that it was totally fine if she didn’t want to do it.

“No,” Tara said with a small head shake, finally looking at Sam again. “I’d like that actually, it sounds fun.”

“Great,” Sam smiled and turned her attention back to the TV. Which is how they spent the night, sitting in a peaceful silence, watching whatever Christmas movie popped up next.

***********************************

It was Christmas eve, Sam was off work, she had Tara’s present wrapped, they had plans to bake cookies later in the day, and everything was going perfectly just like Sam had always wanted. Sam couldn’t stop the nagging feeling at the back of her head though. She made breakfast for herself, and Tara and they were halfway through their second Christmas movie when she suddenly couldn’t take it anymore. Sam jumped to her feet, grabbed her keys, and walked to the door.

“I’ll be back,” she said, looking back at Tara before opening the door.

“Wait what,” Tara said, muting the TV. “Where are you going? I thought we were spending the day together?”

“We will, I just have to run out real quick, I forgot to pick something up.”

“I thought you wanted to make cookies,” Tara frowned.

“I do,” Sam smiled softly at her sister. “We will make them as soon as I get back. You’re going to like what I bring back.” Tara continued to pout. “Trust me, please, I promise you, you will love it.”

“Okay,” Tara mumbled quietly, curling up on the couch as she unmuted the TV.

Sam gave her sister one last look before rushing out the door. As a surprise to no one, the streets were bustling with people doing last-minute Christmas shopping. Sam pushed her way through the crowded streets, making her way to the college campus. There were hardly any students on campus, most having returned home for the holidays. Sam easily found her way to your building and up to your dorm room. She did a few quick knocks on your door, then bounced from foot to foot as she waited for you to answer.

The door was quickly flung open and standing before Sam was you, your mouth hung open, whatever you were about to say dying on your lips as you just stared at Sam. Sam bunched up her hands in her pockets, looking at you expectantly.

“What are you doing here?” you finally asked.

“What are you doing here?” Sam asked back, a little harsher than she intended. She couldn’t help it, you had a habit of just annoying her without even doing anything, she knew she had to work on that.

“I live here,” you said confused.

“Why are you lying to Tara?” Sam crossed her arms. “Why did you say you were going back home?”

You let out a defeated sigh. “You wanted Christmas to be the two of you,” you shrugged. “I didn’t want to intrude or ruin your Christmas.”

Sam’s eyes fell to the floor, it was so hard to dislike you when you were so considerate. You were kind of an asshole and Sam’s dislike was warranted half the time but deep down you were sweet. “Why didn’t you go home? Don’t your parents want to spend Christmas with you?”

You scoffed, refusing to meet Sam’s eyes as you looked down at the floor. “My parents haven’t spent Christmas at home since I was thirteen and deemed old enough to not burn the house down when left alone.” Sam frowned, she knew you didn’t talk about your parents much, Tara had said they weren’t super active in your life, but she didn’t realize how distant they actually were. “I don’t even know where they are right now,” you shrugged. “Somewhere warm.”

“Let’s go,” is all Sam said, turning to leave.

“Wait what?” you leaned half your body out the door.

Sam turned around, rolling her eyes at you. “Grab whatever you need and come on,” she waved her hand impatiently. “You’re spending Christmas with us.”

“Nononono,” you shook your head. “You don’t have to do that. I’m fine.”

“Get your shit and come on,” she snapped.

You quickly shut your mouth, ran back into your dorm, and came out with two presents in less than a minute. You silently walked behind Sam as she led the way back to the apartment. She never thought she’d say it, but it was actually unsettling how quiet you were being. When the two of you got back to the apartment, she went in first, tossing her keys on the table before closing the door behind you.

“What did you have to get?” Tara asked, not taking her eyes off the TV. Sam didn’t answer, making Tara look up, her eyes becoming confused when she saw you but quickly lit up. “What are you doing here?” she jumped up, running, and crashing into you for a hug. Sam shook her head; it hadn’t even been a week since you were here and yet Tara was acting like it was a lifetime.

“I never had plans to go to my parents,” you admitted, dropping your eyes to the floor in shame.

“What?” Tara asked, there was no anger in her voice, only confusion.

“They aren’t big on Christmas; I never spend it with them. I didn’t want to intrude and ruin Christmas for you guys,” you looked back at Sam. “And I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to feel bad, I knew you’d try and convince me to join you guys.”

Tara lightly punched you in the shoulder before pulling you in for another hug. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled into your neck.

Once Tara and you separated, the two of you followed Sam into the kitchen. Sam grabbed the ingredients and the three of you made cookie dough. You and Tara threw flour at each other, making a mess and though Sam would usually be annoyed she couldn’t help but laugh along with you guys. She’s pretty sure the three of you ate more of the cookie dough than you used to make cookies. When there were finally enough cookies to fill the tray, they popped them into the oven and moved to the living room, popping on another Christmas movie as they waited for the cookies to be ready.

When the oven dinged, you and Tara raced to the kitchen, nearly forgetting oven mitts as you moved to pull the cookies out. Sam had to push the two of you back before the two of you started grabbing the cookies off the hot tray before they had the chance to cool. She shooed the two of you back to the living room, forcing you both to wait for the cookies to cool before you all started eating and decorating them. With how excited the two of you were Sam wasn’t sure you guys would be able to wait to start decorating, you and Tara would probably eat all the cookies plain.

That’s how the three of you spent the rest of the night. You all decorated cookies together at the dining room table, eating cookies in the processes. Sam was focused on her decorating but every time she looked up, she saw you licking icing off your fingers, she wasn’t sure if you ever finished decorating one cookie. When all the cookies were eaten or decorated the three of you retired to the living room, Sam taking her usual spot in the chair while you and Tara cuddled up on the couch.

**********************************

Sam woke up Christmas morning to the smell of something delicious cooking. She rubbed her eyes, frowning at who could possibly be cooking so early. It wasn’t that Tara was a bad cook, she had to learn to cook after Sam left but she had never made anything smell this good. Sam couldn’t judge though; it wasn’t like she was a master chef either, she knew how to make enough things to allow them to survive and give them some variety, but they still did takeout the majority of the time.

Sam ran a hand through her hair as she walked down the hall and into the kitchen, she stopped, blinking a few times to try and clear her vision, she couldn’t believe what she was seeing, you were in her kitchen, cooking, and it smelled good. Sam looked around, seeing you were making use of the entire stove, cooking eggs, bacon and sausage, and pancakes at the same time. You flipped three pancakes onto a plate that already had a few, before pouring more batter into the pan, making three more pancakes.

“Morning,” you said, when you finally saw Sam. You kept your pace though, sprinkling cheese across the eggs before flipping it over, creating an omelet, then added more cheese on top. “We got pancakes,” you gestured to the plate beside you. “And eggs,” you gestured to the pan in front of you, before sliding the omelet onto a plate when the cheese was sufficiently melted. “And bacon and sausage,” you pointed to the other pan that was sizzling. “What would you like?”

Sam blinked a few times, still processing the site in front of her, it was just breakfast food, but everything looked so good, perfect almost, nothing was burnt. “An omelet, please,” Sam said, finally finding her voice.

You nodded, cracking another two eggs into the pan. “You guys didn’t have a ton of options but let me know what you want in it.”

Sam looked across the counter at the options, there was actually more than she thought there would be. “Just tomato and spinach.”

You gave a quick thumbs up before flipping the pancakes. You grabbed another plate, dumping all the bacon and sausage onto it. Tara came in, grabbing the plate of bacon and sausage and two separate plates with omelets.

“Morning,” Tara mumbled, taking the plates to the dining room table.

“Morning,” Sam replied, still watching you cook. She watched as you added the veggies to her omelet, flipped the omelet and added more cheese and veggies to the top of it. You flipped the pancakes onto the plate, Tara at your side the instant you were done and already taking the plate to the table. You quickly finished the omelet, sliding it onto a plate and holding it out to Sam with a smile.

Sam looked from the omelet up to you and back down to the omelet. She hesitantly took the plate but had to admit it looked just as good as everything else. “You can cook?” she couldn’t help but ask.

You just shrugged, turning off the stove as you followed Sam into the dining room. Sam set her plate down, taking a seat and got a full look at the table. The plate of pancakes, sausage and bacon, and a plate of toast was already laid out in the middle of the table.

“They can cook breakfast at least,” Tara said, shoving a fork full of omelet into her mouth. “Everything else, that’s debatable.” You scoffed, stabbing your fork into Tara’s omelet, and stealing a bite, she quickly slapped your hand, throwing a grumpy glare at you, making you chuckle.

“Thanks,” Sam said, looking down at the omelet.

You shrugged again. “It was the least I could do.”

Sam took a small bite of her omelet, and it was amazing, she hated how good of a cook you were. She almost wanted to say you could spend the night any night as long as you made breakfast in the morning. The three of you sat in a comfortable silence eating breakfast, slowly waking up the rest of the way. By the time you were all done almost everything was gone, except for a couple pancakes left over. Sam sighed, she hadn’t had breakfast that good in a long time, the diner she worked at didn’t even make breakfast that good.

The three of you moved into the living room, grabbing presents from under the little tree the sisters had put up. Tara and Sam exchanged gifts and then you handed Tara a little wrapped box, Sam was silently praying that it wasn’t a ring again. Her mouth fell opening as she looked up at you with questioning eyes when you handed her a present as well.

“Why is hers bigger?” Tara questioned, whipping her head around to look at you, holding the present she had gotten you out of reached.

You just chuckled at her. “Yours is more expensive?” you offered.

She narrowed her eyes at you but handed you the present. You happily took it, giving her a quick kiss. Without wasting any time Tara was ripping into the present you had gotten her. When she was done, she held a small jewelry box in her hand, it wasn’t a ring box though. Breakfast was good but if you had gotten Tara another ring Sam probably would have killed you. Tara lifted the lid, letting out a light gasp at the sight, she lifted the item out of the box to reveal a necklace. The necklace had a silver chain connected to a silver pendant with her birthstone in the center, it matched the ring you had gotten for her birthday. Sam might have hated the ring at first, but she had to admit you had good taste in jewelry. Tara held out the necklace for you, moving her hair so you could place it around her neck.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, pulling you in for a long kiss, acting as if Sam wasn’t still sitting right there. “Thank you.”

Tara then ripped into her present from Sam, letting out an exciting gasp at the machete. “This is awesome!” she held up the machete, a crazy look in her eye. Your eyes widened, instantly going to Sam, silently asking her if she was serious.

“It’s not sharp,” Sam quickly said. She could see you physically relax as she calmed your fears.

Tara pouted a little at the new knowledge but still twirled the machete in her hand, looking closely at the etching. “This is so cool,” Tara said again. “Thank you.”

You opened your present from Tara, jumping to your feet to reveal two videogames. Sam had no idea what the games were, but you were acting like a little kid, so she assumed her sister did a pretty good job. “Thanks babe,” you said, giving Tara a quick kiss, making her blush.

It was Sam’s turn; she slowly opened her present from Tara. “Holy shit,” she whispered as she took out the little box. Tara had gotten her ear buds, she had been looking at a pair forever because she wanted some for when she went for a run or to the gym, but she could never pull the trigger, they were always too expensive for her to justify. “Thank you.”

As Sam started to unwrap the box you had gotten her, she caught a mischievous smirk on your face. Sam almost paused her movements; she couldn’t even imagine what you had gotten her let alone what would cause that kind of smile on your face. Sam undid the rest of the wrapping paper, looking down at the box in front of her, she blinked a few times before glaring at you. You were smiling widely, nearly bouncing up in down in your seat.

“You’re an ass,” is all Sam said. She turned the box, revealing Woodsboro Monopoly, making you break out into laugh. Tara quickly slapped you but there was a small smile tugging at her lips as well.

“I’m sorry,” you said through laughter. “I couldn’t help myself,” you were practically wheezing. “I’ve had that for months.”

Sam couldn’t help but join in, lightly laughing at the game. “You know we did never get to finish our game.”

Your eyes lit up. “Yes!” you pumped a fist into the air.

“But I get to be the knife,” Sam said in a serious voice.

“Well, I’d expect nothing less.” Sam glared at your light jab. “I want to be the phone though.”

Tara groaned, rolling her eyes. “This means we have to suffer through another game of Monopoly,” she mumbled.

You gasped in offense. “It’s not my fault we were rudely interrupted last time,” you said.

Sam shook her head as she listened to you and Tara argued back and forth. Tara might hate monopoly, but it was only a matter of time before she conceded. You would probably even convince her to wait for the twins to be back and would probably drag Danny over and force everyone to play the new version they now had for game night. Sam relaxed into her chair, watching as you and Tara argued with smiles, you were slowly growing on her, not that she’d ever tell you that.

After presents the rest of the day was uneventful. The three of you just spent a lazy day lounging in the apartment, watching Christmas movies on TV again, even though you all had seen all of them within the last few days. When night finally came, Tara was curled into your side, your arm wrapped tightly around her as she was sound asleep with her head resting on your shoulder.

“Night,” Sam whispered, getting up to head to bed herself.

“Wait, Sam,” you called out, looking back but making sure not to turn enough to disturb Tara. Sam stopped in the doorway, looking back at you. “Thank you,” you whispered, dropping your eyes for a second before meeting hers again. “I really appreciate you inviting me over. This has really meant a lot.”

Sam nodded. “You’re always welcome here.” She looked away from you, opening and closing her mouth a few times. “Sorry, I kicked you out earlier.” You gave her a soft smile, shrugging lightly. “You’re now expected to join us every year,” she said in an annoyed tone, but you laughed, catching the playfulness underneath.

Sam went to bed that night with a smile. She had wanted Christmas day with just her and her sister but you joining them ended up making it better than she could have imagined. This ended up being the best Christmas she ever had, and Tara would probably agree with her. It seemed the cycle of tainted memories and disappointing Christmas’s were over; she was more than happy to make new memories with Tara and was even okay with you being in those new memories now.

You still annoyed the hell out of her, but she didn’t miss the way you brought a lightness to the group, even after everything that happened, even though you were still struggling, you managed to still find the humor in things. If Sam was being honest with herself, she was now looking forward to you joining her and Tara or the group for holidays, birthdays, and other big events. If anyone asked her if she were happy, you were there, she would deny it but inside, she was happy to have you around.

Taglist: @screechcat

[formulaforza]

miss americana and the heartbreak prince

—08. It's So Sweet —word count: 5.2k —warnings: none :) love, mackie... um... yeah. yeahhhh. sorry sorry sorry if you still read this fic. surprise I guess! its NOT as dead as you thought it was. See you guys again in four months. hopefully sooner if there is a God.

Charles, teeth dug into his tongue so hard he can taste copper, manages to keep from slipping up for the remainder of his time in Georgia. He swallows it down, chokes on an I love you everytime she looks at him for days that feel like an eternity. 

The flight out to France that marks the end of his stay had spent weeks serving as a dreadful backmarker, but now it was one of solace, saving him from himself. He knows better than to spit out “I love you” two months in. He knows better, but he also knows. Simple as that. He just knows. 

He’s good at keeping it down during phone calls and voice memos and FaceTimes because there’s no fucking way he’s stupid enough to say it over the phone. Whenever he does finally deem the time to be right, it’ll be inches from her face, with all the time in the world ahead of them. Her smile will be there, just waiting to be kissed. 

It definitely will not be while she’s grading papers or reviewing a movie or putting purple refills in her pen, even though he finds himself thinking just how plain and simple he loves her when she’s doing those things. 

– – –

Charles spends the holidays with his family in France, coming pretty much directly from his time with Chris and her family in Georgia. 

They quiz him like there’s no tomorrow about all of it; on Chris, and her family and her city and her life. He thinks he does a half-decent job at keeping his cards close to his chest; hiding his tells and acting completely normal and regular and plain about it all. 

Well. He can be coy and secretive to everyone but his mom. Mother’s always know when their sons are in love, and Pascale has always been particularly apt at seeing straight through her boys and the bullshit they try to feed her. 

He’s helping with dinner dishes—working hard to get those extra points towards being the favorite son this weekend—when she confronts him about it. He knows he’s in trouble. He’s never been able to lie to her in a way that was even sort-of convincing. 

“So, Chris…” she hums, drying three two forks at once with a damp towel. “Is this going to be something?” She asks. Charles shrugs, squeezing more blue dish soap onto the plate in his other hand. “That’s too much,” she remarks. 

He ignores the comment, moves the scrubbing sponge over the plate in small circles. “It’s new, still.”

“But you like her?”

He chuckles. Of course he likes her. He wouldn’t be dating her, traveling to see her, introducing her to his family if he didn’t at least like her. That’d just be cruel. “I like her a lot,” he says. I like her the most, he bites his tongue. He rinses the soap from the plate. 

Pascale nods, soft smile on her lips when she takes the plate from his hand, drying it carefully. “Just like, is that right, Charles?”

He knows what she means, what she’s implying. They both know she’s right, too, but he can’t stand to admit it. He feels like if he does, if he actually speaks the words out loud, there’s no way he’s going to be able to keep it in anymore. It’ll be breaking the seal, and he can’t. Not yet. He doesn’t have it in him yet. “Maman,” he says, and his tone is laced with her answer, soft and sweet and pleading in a desperate way. 

She smiles, sets the plate down onto the counter gently. It still clatters against the marble. “I know,” she hums, hand finding his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze.

Charles spends New Year’s Eve in London. He’s with his brothers and his friends and like, all of their girlfriends. He’s been pathetically texting her the entire trip going on about i’ll buy your ticket if you want to come and it would be so much more fun with you here.

What Charles doesn’t know is that Chris is on her way, and that she’d been planning the surprise with Joris for three weeks. After a red eye flight from Atlanta that lands a little before two in the afternoon in London, Joris manages to sneak off from the group to meet her at the hotel and give her a key to his room. She hides out there for most of the afternoon while Joris tries to convince the group to head back to the hotel for a few hours without spoiling the surprise of why they should go back to the hotel in the middle of the day. 

When he finally gets them back to the hotel, he waits fifteen minutes to text her the all clear, to let her know that she can come and execute the surprise. 

It takes her an almost comical amount of time to find his room, considering it’s in the same hallway as everyone else’ rooms, and only ends up being three or four doors down from where she’d started. When she finally finds it, she’s hit with a sudden wave of anxiety. 

What if he doesn’t want me here? She worries. Her hands get clammy and she stands there in front of the door like a complete idiot just waiting for her body to do something, to do anything. Finally, she brings her fist to the door and knocks. 

Voices are muffled and heavy feet shuffle on the other side of the door before finally, after what feels like an eternity of loud bickering from the boys about who’s going to open the door, Chris is face to face with Charles, stupid, toothy grin on her face. “Oh,” he says. 

Behind him, the guys jeer in French, but neither of them are paying any attention. Chris can't stop laughing, standing there, staring at Charles in the doorway. He stares right back, his eyes a window into the gears that turn behind them, processing… processing… processing so incredibly slowly. “Are you gonna hug me, or just stare at me?” She finally asks, and he laughs, snapping into reality, pulling her into a tight hug. 

“What are you doing here?” He questions, pressing a hard kiss into her hair, and then he laughs even harder. “How did you get here?”

– – –

Chris isn’t there for more than a couple days—she has to be back at work as winter break winds to a close, and Charles has training camp in Italy at the end of the week. It’s a quick visit, but they make the most of it, and they do get their new year’s eve kiss. 

It’s been, like, a month and a half since Chris was last in Monaco, but it’s been just two and a half weeks since someone posted a TikTok of Charles and her walking around Monte Carlo together. That means, it’s been two weeks of Chris stumbling upon, and falling down rabbit holes of, Charles’ fan accounts desperately trying to put a face to the back of the head of the girl in the video. 

She’s less interested in are they going to figure out who I am and more interested in are they at least, like, close? The answer is no. No, they are not even kind-of close to connecting Chris with him. It’s all models and friends and people he follows on Instagram and even one ex-girlfriend, but definitely no American kindergarten teachers. 

The fire is only fed, though, when on New Year’s Eve, drunk on Moscow Mules and equipped with the world’s most fashionable LED glasses, Charles is posted showing off the look. Under his arm, equally as drunk off espresso martinis, is Chris, engaged in conversation with Joris beside her. 

It’s been two-thousand twenty-three for fifteen minutes, and Instagram explore pages across the world are already filled with pictures of the side of her head and Charles’ goofy heart-eyed glasses.

Chris is too drunk to know, much less care, but when she does find out about it, she won’t be bothered. She thinks that maybe she never will be a big deal—certainly not as big of one as he seems to think it is. Nothing is going to happen, she tells him so many times it doesn’t even sound like a sentence anymore. Who cares if everyone figures out who I am?

January isn’t much but settling into a routine. They’re both busy with a million and one different things—just a little peek into any sort of future they hope to have together—and it’s the end of the month before they see each other in person again. 

Every post he makes on social media—every video, photo, story, mention, and repost is run through a microscope, carefully dissected searching for a repeat like and commenter, for an unfamiliar woman’s voice or a hand or a coat or a head of hair. Names fly around in a tornado of guesses, and none of them are correct. 

It’s an easy routine to fall into; scheduled phone calls, FaceTime dates twice a week, and sneakily sent texts in the middle of the workday. Sometimes it feels like they aren’t all that far apart, like he could walk out the front door and get into his car and drive for fifteen minutes and be at her house, eat dinner at the same table, fall asleep at the same time, in the same bed. Other times, they can feel every step of the four-thousand, six-hundred, ninety-five miles that separate them, when it’s all pictures of dinner and goodmorning texts seen three hours later and delayed, laggy FaceTime calls. 

It’s on one of those calls, where her face is frozen mid-conversation, that she’s gushing about how excited she is for some school event at the end of the month, the Art show, she’d called it, and when—after sorting out the camera issue for the time being—he’d asked for clarification on what exactly an Art show is, she’d explained the whole event with a big, excited smile on her face. 

“Oh my gosh!” She’d laughed, pulling her legs underneath her. “Okay, so, it’s the coolest thing. Basically, the art department displays all of the art the students have made so far this year all throughout the year, and the kids get to show it off to all their family. They set up a book fair in the library, and they serve ice-cream in the cafeteria,” she explains, “All the teachers go, and they bring their families, too,” she nods. “It’s really cool. I like to see how proud the kids are of their work.”

He decides then, in that very moment, that he doesn’t want to hear about this in text messages and photos and Facetime calls. He wants to be there—feel her energy, her pride, her smile. It just pours out of his mouth, what if I came? And then, before she can even come up with a response, If that’s okay, obviously. If you even would like, want that, you know. 

She bites down on a smile. “I thought you wanted to keep things quiet?” she chuckles, “be all protective of me and stuff?” 

Charles shrugs. “I don’t think anyone would believe I’m at a primary school’s art-fair in the middle-of-nowhere America.”

“I mean, I don’t care,” she explains, tucking her bangs behind her ears. “But you do. I’d love it if you could be there.”

He smiles. “You’d love it?”

“I would!” She laughs, leaning forward, closer to the camera. “You’d better come for more than just a day though,” she continues, slumping back against the couch behind her, picking at the cuticles on her thumb, raising her brows when she quietly adds: “I can think of lots of other things I’d love to do with you.”

He shakes his head, dimples digging into his cheeks. “You’re a tease, Christyn,” he taunts, and her head shoots up from her cuticle. 

“You have such a dirty mind, Charlie!” she laughs, and his cheeks burn at the nickname, at the accusation. 

“Don’t call me that,” he mutters, and she only laughs harder, smiles bigger. 

“Why?” She teases, crossing her arms over her chest, cocking her head to the side playfully.  “Because it makes you blush?”

– – – 

There’s really only one of Chris’ students that Charles knows by name: Quinn. Or, as Chris usually refers to her, my sweet, sweet, little Quinnie. Quinnie is not at the art show. Chris goes on to explain that she and her family are  never at any of the school events—no open houses, no field trips, no choir recitals or art shows or parent teacher conferences. If it’s not a free event that takes place during school hours, neither Quinn or her siblings will be there, and their Mother will never be there because she’s always at work. 

So, no Quinn to win over. He does, however, meet what may be the cutest kid he’s ever been face-to-face with in Landry, a little girl with two long brown braids and a strawberry patterned dress on. Landry is the first of her students to find their teacher, and completely ignores him to tug Chris’ arm towards the little girl’s artwork hung in the hallway. 

“I’ll be right back,” she says hurriedly, over her shoulder, letting the little girl pull her away. Charles nods and flashes her a quick wink before she’s properly whisked away, leaving him with nothing better to do than shove his hands deep in his pockets and analyze the artwork of primary school students. 

When she finds him again, no Landry in tow, she links her arm through his, leaning her head against his shoulder. “She told me I have a cute boyfriend,” she says.

“No, she did not,” He laughs, but his ears blush pink. 

“She did,” she nods. “She said you were ‘oh my goodness he is soooooo cute,’” Chris repeats, in a sing-songy tone. “I said, ‘I know right! He’s the cutest.’”

“Whatever,” Charles mutters, running his other hand through his hair. “Where’s the ice-cream at, anyway?”

Two styrofoam bowls of vanilla ice-cream slices—one covered in rainbow sprinkles, the other with chocolate syrup and a maraschino cherry—later, and Chris and Charles are sitting at Chris’ desk in her classroom, him in the green spinning chair, her on the desk itself. 

Two boys, who Chris refers to after they leave the room as Nash and Wyatt, are bouncing off the walls with excitement when they turn the corner into Chris’ classroom, their faces lighting up when they find her there. “Miss Elliott!” One of them shouts, half-out of breath. “The book fair has posters of your brother!” He explains. 

“Yeah!” The other chimes in. “I see-ed it when my sister was getting a poster of,” he takes a big breath, “of, uh, a princess poster or something.”

“Yeah, and I get-ted this one!” The first kid adds, unrolling the paper in this hand to reveal a black and white Fortnite poster, demonstrating the dances from the game. “Cool right?” He asks, and Chris nods. 

“So cool!” She says, “where are you going to hang it?” 

Charles leans back in the chair, spinning slightly side to side, eating his ice-cream and just observing the interaction. 

“Um, probably in my bedroom.”

Chris nods again, “perfect place for it,” she agrees. 

– – – 

He’s in Georgia for three days; Friday to Sunday, and spends all of it with Chris, almost entirely at her house. The art show is on Friday night, but he finds himself playing sleepover host with Chris on Saturday when Reid appears with a backpack, a pillow, and a baby blanket Chris tells him not to refer to as a baby blanket. 

Chase is racing in Los Angeles this weekend, and left town on Tuesday, leaving Hannah alone on Mom duty. That would be all fine, if the weekend didn’t fall on the one weekend a month she works. Bill, Cindy, Chris, and Hannah’s mom have been helping to pick up the slack left in Chase’ absence. 

It all comes together to result in him sitting in the middle of the living room, on the floor, surrounded by every blanket and pillow in the entire house on a Saturday night—a four-year-old boy sitting across from him, hanging on his every word, and his girlfriend in the other room making popcorn. 

He’s been tasked with coming up with, and executing the plan for a super, super, cool boy-fort that Auntie Chris can come into, I guess. 

A fort that fits into that description is a lot easier in theory. In Practice, however, he’s faced with the nephew he desperately needs the approval of, and a pile of purple and pink and sparkly and fluffy blankets and pillows. 

It takes all four of the dining table chairs, a curtain rod from the screened-in porch, a fitted sheet, and a box fan, but the fort is quickly commissioned, and gets Reid’s stamp of approval when he moves his pillow, favorite blanket, and definitely not a baby-blanket, baby-blanket into the build. 

Chris is behind them momentarily, knocking on the seat of one of the dining chairs before Reid permits her to enter. She crawls in, laptop and big bowl of popcorn in either hand. Reid is sandwiched between the two of them, Cars blanket covering his little frame, eyes glued to the screen while buttery fingers bury themselves in the popcorn bowl. 

Reid is asleep about five minutes after the popcorn bowl is empty, Chris running her fingers through his short brown hair while soft little snores leave his lips. Her head rests on his pillow, just above his head, and she watches the movie. Charles watches her, arm propped up at the elbow, holding his head up. She’s so soft. So sweet. It ties him up in knots. 

He feels like a child when she catches him staring, her eyes glancing over to him and making unexpected contact. His cheeks burn and his eyes dart away, back to the screen, to the movie. She giggles softly, barely loud enough for him to hear over his sudden mortification.  “Beautiful fort you’ve built here,” she says, and he looks back at her, meets her eyes properly this time. 

“Thank you,” he chuckles. “I’m thinking maybe I will make it my new career after racing.” Charles nods. Chris nods. A smile dances its way across her lips, turning the corners up gently. It makes him smile, too. “Charles Leclerc: Professional fort builder.”

“Oh,” She chuckles. “I can hear it now. You’ll be a household name.”When Charles wakes up, credits are rolling on the laptop screen and Chris’ hand is moving softly over his shoulder. He’s the bridge of his nose and picking the sleep out of his eyes and trying to get his bearings. All he’s sorted out so far is that Chris is here, he’s fucking boiling, and there’s a sleeping kid between them. He squints his eyes—like the dim light from the black credit screen is too bright for him—until she comes into focus. She points to the exit of the fort. “Bed,” she mouths.

“Well,” Chris shrugs, bringing a forkful of salad to her mouth. “I think you’ve won Reid over.”

Charles laughs on her phone screen. He’s in Italy… or Monaco… or… she’s not really sure, to be honest. It’s hard to keep track sometimes, when he’s always somewhere new. He’s in bed, wherever he is, the lamp from her kitchen casting the only light in his dark room. “Is that right?”

“Oh yeah,” she nods. “I had the pleasure of  reminding him you weren’t here this afternoon. He wasn’t happy with me.” She remembers it well, his declaration that Charles and Me are going to play games today, and remembers better the little, defeated oh, right after she had to remind him Charles had left the day before. 

Charles chuckles, shaking his head and rolling his eyes playfully. “I told him goodbye!”

“I know!” She says, taking another bite, her hand covering her mouth while she talks around the lettuce. “He thought you meant goodbye for the day,” she explains, swallowing. “Not goodbye for a while.”

Charles frowns. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize!” Chris laughs, poking her fork around her bowl. “I love that he likes you so much, it’s adorable,” she hums. “He’s absolutely devastated you won’t be at his birthday party, though.”

Charles scoffs, his mouth dramatically falling open. “No way. You didn't tell me it was his birthday!”

“Because it’s not for like, two weeks!” She defense, laughing. “I wasn’t even thinking about it.”

“When is it?”

She cocks her head to the side, already knowing what he’s about to say, and unscrews the top of her water bottle. “His birthday’s the sixteenth, but the party is the eighteenth.”

“I’ll be there.”

“No you won’t. You have testing.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yeah,” she insists. “On Monday you have to be in Bahrain.”

“Monday is not Saturday.”

Chris doesn’t tell anyone outside of Chase and Hannah that Charles is flying in, and they definitely don’t tell Reid about it, just in case it falls through for any of the million reasons it could possibly fall through because of. 

It was a last minute-trip, after all, and it seems like every second of Charles’ time is accounted for right now, so  Chris is prepared at any moment to get a text or a call apologetically explaining that he got pulled into something else. That call never comes, and she picks him up from the airport late Friday night, just in time to bicker in the middle of a liquor store about wine. 

“Absolutely not, baby.” He says, shaking his head, a truly horrified look on his face. 

“You don’t even drink wine!” She insists, holding a three-liter box of Franzia. “This is perfectly fine.”

His eyes go wide, brows raising like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “It’s in a box.”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s for a fifth birthday party.”

“It’s not for the five-year-old,” he argues, picking two bottles of overpriced chardonnay from the shelf. “We’ll get these.”

– – – 

Much to the dismay of the other, they show up to the party the next afternoon with one box and one bottle. 

Reid is upstairs playing with some kid that Chris is related to somehow, she’s sure, so their arrival goes unnoticed by the birthday boy. Instead, Chris is heaving the box of wine onto the kitchen island, greeting a visibly stressed Hannah with a hug. Charles follows closely behind, setting his bottle down next to her box, following the hug train to Hannah. 

“Look great, as always, Hannah,” He says, and Hannah laughs. 

“I’m a mess, the house is a mess. Reid,” she looks to Chris, “Lord have mercy on me, your nephew has dressed himself.”

Chris scowls, and then shrugs. Charles laughs. “He can be Chandler’s nephew, today,” she says. 

“He’s still your godson, though,” Hannah reminds. 

“Oh, don’t I know it!”

Charles takes Chris’ coat with his own, hands them both up in the mud room that’s just off the kitchen. He hears Hannah calling for Reid while he does it, telling him to come down and say hello to your auntie. Auntie Chris. He loves the way Reid says it—Annie Chris—or, when he really wants to stir some shit up, which Charles has come to learn is just about all of the time, Reid will call her Miss Elliott. 

Everyone hears him before they see him, little feet making heavy noises as they hurry down the stairs so quickly he might as well have just jumped off the landing and tuck’n’rolled his way into the kitchen. He’s bouncing on his feet, talking to Chris animatedly with his back turned to Charles when he appears in the mud-room doorway. Immediately, Chris is glancing up to him and covering Reid’s eyes with her hands, turning him to face Charles. “I have a surprise for you, Reidy.”

“What?” He squirms. “What is it?”

“More like who is it?” Hannah says, and Reid gasps. 

“Chucky?” He asks, and Chris is grinning at Charles, adjusting her hands over the boy’s eyes so one hand covers them both. With the other hand, she pokes Reid’s side right where he’s ticklish and makes him giggle. 

“Who?” She asks, his belly laugh making her laugh, too. 

“Sharles!” Reid exclaims, breathless from laughing so hard. “Sha-rle,” He laughs out, enunciating the poorly mocked accent.

“Wrong,” Chris says, and then takes her hand off his eyes to reveal Charles. 

Reid is slamming into Charles’ legs before he can even squat down to give the kid a proper hug, settling for just hugging his legs. “You comed!” He cheers. 

“Come on, Mate!” Charles says, ruffling the little boy’s hair. “You didn’t think I would miss such an important birthday?”

Chris watches the whole interaction with a giddy smile on her face. Hannah watches, too, while she stirs a crock pot full of nacho cheese. Reid fills Charles in on everything that’s happened to him since Charles left, and is already asking if Charles wants to go play catch outside with the football he’s gotten from his dad earlier that week, on his actual birthday. When Hannah slides behind Chris, between her body and the cabinets, muttering a quick behind you and grabbing a ladle from a drawer, she gives Chris’ shoulder a soft squeeze. 

– – – 

Chris is MIA when Bill and Cindy turn up, arms full of food and gifts for their only grandchild, but Charles is in the backyard, standing around a smoking fire pit with Chase and Reid and other people he remembers meeting from the wedding, but who’s names he wouldn’t be able to remember if there was a gun held to his temple. 

Bill and Cindy wander out shortly after they arrive, looking for the birthday boy, and Charles handles the introductions all by himself—a handshake to Dad, a compliment to Mom, and hugs for both of them. He knows how to charm. Knows he’s going to be working at it for a while, probably. He’s more than willing to put in the hours. 

“I didn’t know you were comin’, son,” Bill says, and Charles is nodding, hands in his jacket pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“Yeah, it was a kind of… last minute choice.”

“Aw,” Cindy hums. “What a sweetheart. How long are you in town for?”

“Just a couple days,” he explains. “Chris is off work this week, but I have to get to Bahrain in a couple days. Get used to the timezone and everything.”

“Ah,” Bill nods. “Season’s starting up again, that right?”

“Eh,” he shrugs. “It never stops, it feels like,” and Bill nods. 

“Don’t I know it, boy.”

“Is Chrissy planning on coming out to any of your races?” Cindy asks, linking her arm through Bill’s, leaning against him around the fire. “I know she told us that y’all are keeping it pretty hush-hush for now.”

“Eventually, I hope she can,” he says. “I don’t want to have her come if she doesn’t feel comfortable.”

Cindy nods, smiling to herself. “Smart answer, honey,” she says, and Bill laughs. “You’re a good egg.” Charles chuckles softly, if only because he doesn’t know what to say to that. He’s been called a lot of things over the years, but good egg might be a new one. 

Just then, Chris is pushing open the sliding door on the back deck, stepping out with her coat on, the hood pulled up over her head, her hands hidden in the sleeves. “Well, speak of the Devil,” Bill says, greeting his daughter with a tight hug. 

“Uh oh,” Chris laughs, following suit with a hug for her mom, too. “Y’all are talking about me?”

He’s come to learn that her accent is never anywhere as strong as it is when she's around family. He’s familiar with the pattern of it, and does the same thing after long breaks away from speaking English or Italian. It takes a while to settle back into translating your thoughts. He thinks it’s probably pretty similar, even if she’s not translating from another language. He thinks it’s cute, when the southern twang gets extra prominent. It’s cute, and it’s sweet, and she sounds like a movie character sometimes. 

She slots into her comfortable position at Charles’ side, and his arm is tossing itself over her shoulder before he even realizes it’s happening. It’s habit, almost, to keep her close. “Always,” he says. 

– – –

They’re cute and annoyingly couple-ey all night. He doesn’t care if she’s related to or friends with almost everyone here, he’s never not amazed at just how easily she can find home in any conversation. Sometimes he wonders if he looks as awestruck about it as he feels, watching her put on this masterclass with everyone she talks to—from passing, brief conversations about how good Hannah’s food is and how old Reid is getting, to the long, sit-down chats about work and her life and their lives. It’s so crystal clear that she makes everyone feel important—the most important person in the room—and he;s even starting to remember names. 

There’s a lot of names to remember. 

There’s nobody that feels quite as important to Chris as Charles does, though, he’s sure of it. In fact, he’s not sure there’s another person on Earth that could manage to make a social event into something so… recharging for him. She just radiates energy, truly. It’s in the atmosphere, just being in her proximity, just having an arm around her or their fingers intertwined or the smell of her perfume on his clothes is enough. 

He loves her so horribly that he’s almost sick with it. He’s biting his tongue all night. Hell, he’s even trying to talk himself out of the now months old revelation. 

Like, she drinks wine from a fucking box. A box. Of wine. And she sees absolutely no problem with it. She wants to drag him around to every person, to engage in every conversation. She changed her perfume or her shampoo or her laundry detergent or something, because she smells different than the last time he was with her. She drives like an elderly woman—Jesus fucking Christ, she takes the speed limit so seriously it’s hard to sit in the passenger seat and let it happen. She cried three times on the way from Atlanta. Three times, because she saw some roadkill that wasn't even identifiable, and couldn’t stop thinking about it.  She’s covered in glitter, like, all the time. And so is her stuff. It’s on her face and her hands and her clothes and every surface of her house. Glitter and spelling tests and like, six variations of the same travel coffee mug. She listens to country music as if it’s the only genre of music that exists, and she listens to it all the time. He doesn’t love her. He doesn’t. If he did, he wouldn't have been able to keep it in for so long. 

He doesn’t love her, and then she laughs and he can feel it in his fucking gut, feels the urge to laugh even when he doesn’t get the joke, even when he misses entirely what is making her so happy. He wants to laugh because she’s laughing and her laugh makes the world a better place and he loves her so bad it hurts.

last chapter masterlist next chapter

[yaut-jaknowit]

Hello!

I love your writing for Gawtin, and I was just wondering if you had the time for a request! Like, Gawtin is mated to a female reader, but the reader is pregnant with a yautja baby? Qui-koy will have a baby sister? Something fluffy and smutty too if you are comfortable! (If you do not have the time I understand, thank you for reading though! ❤️)

-🥹 anon

Baby Sister

Pairing: Gawin (female Yautja) x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, lactation kink (now you guys know where that question came from), wlw, angst,

Word Count: 6014

Summary: The father died and Gawtin helps take over the care and grows to love them. The brother of the Gawtin dies due to a hunt gone wrong. Reader is pregnant, early pregnant that not even a Yautja could smell it just yet. In the grieving process, the scent hides the pregnancy for some time before Gawtin picks up on it and lets Reader know. Reader takes the news as good, seeing this is the last gift to them from their dead lover. Due to the grievance, Reader searches for something to fill the hole in their heart. Gawtin is there.

Author Note: I'm so glad people love her as much as I do! This had me thinking. I had two different lanes to take. I choose the sadder one. Hopefully the fluff and smut make up for it.

P.s. There is 11 pages here. 11. I say to myself I need to do smaller to get through requests.... I can't. So, I hope the 11 pages of angsy, fluff, and smut make it up to you since it took a while to get to this....

Part 2

Masterlist

Ao3

He wasn’t coming home. Your home would be void of his presence now. Empty and silent. His laughter would never fill the rooms, the halls anymore. No children would roam the dwelling, running, sprinting.

A happy family.

Broken by his death.

It was a known fact every time he went out on his hunts, he may not return. But Bgiwl… This was Bgiwl. Nothing could take him down. He’s been in your life for a couple of years. Not a single creature he’s faced has dragged him down to meet Cetanu. He’s… he’s too mighty, too strong to be taken down and, and killed.

Nothing could kill him.

Until now.

Gawtin, his sister, had brought the news to you. You’ve met her before when she came over to catch up with Bgiwl or vice versa. She’s stunning, beautifully crafted both by genetics and hard work. The fact she doesn’t have a permanent mate at her side surprised you.

Then, there was Qui-oky. The sweet, adorable child that made you hopefully during all your intercourse with Bgiwl, it would take. It never did. Now, with him gone, you would have nothing of him to live with. You wiped away the tears that had stained your cheeks only for more to wet your cheeks. The tears would not stop, after an hour of the news was broken to you.

During that entire hour of your life, Gawtin stayed by you. Through haze, you can tell she’s struggling to figure out how to support you. The action alone has your broken heart aching even more. You cried a little harder and gripped tighter on her arm. Your head buried into her bicep as she stayed seated at your side, taking the drool, salty tears, and sobbing into her arm. With Gaston’s other hand, she reached over and began to softly pet your head. You sniffled at the action, tiredly coming down from sobbing to your hearts content. The Yautja began to purr a gentle tune that had your eyes beginning to droop. It helped slow down your heartbeat.

A hiccup broke the calm quietness in the room. With your brows furrowed, you glanced over to the origin and found a small form standing at the threshold of another room. Qui-oky.

At first, you smiled through the pain before the battle was lost. Tears poured down your cheeks all over again. The family you wanted with Bgiwl would never come. He’s gone. The only child that’s been able to run through the halls of your home was the child before you. You swallowed down the thick saliva in the back of your throat; struggling to get it down.

The female at your side gave your head a couple more pats before lifting herself to her feet. All the warmth was stolen back. You whined but stayed planted on the couch, unable to find it within yourself to leave this spot. She strolled over to Oky and bent at the waist to scoop him up. The child chirped at his mother and happily grasped at his mother’s face. Gawtin twitched her mandibles in reaction and tried to deter him. Qui’oky bonked his head to her temple in a love tap then pulled back, expectedly looking at her purple eyes. All he got was a deadpanned look from her.

Then, the little bugger twisted his upper body to look at you. You down casted your gaze to the ground and curled tighter into a ball on the cushions.

From the corner of your eye, you watched as Qui’oky nearly toppled over if it wasn’t for Gawtin’s hold, outstretching his arms towards you. You feel yourself tense, unsure if you were in the mood to handle the child. He wasn’t little for a one-year-old in terms for humans. He’s already walking and talking, though the majority of it is gibberish. But he’s much further along than any kid on earth. Would your kids be like him?

Fresh, hot tears stung your eyes at that internal question. You turned your head to the side to hide the fact you were going to cry again. A thick lump returned to your throat, blocking any words from being voiced. There are no children. There never be children. 

The sobs couldn’t be held back. A process stating all over again.

Days turned to weeks. Those weeks, your sadness still dragged on, pulled by your very own strength as you struggled to find your footing. Yet, every step of the way, Gawtin was right there with you. She held your hand the entire time, guiding you through the hours of the days and when the days turned weeks.

Later in your time Gawtin, you were curled up in her lap, head resting on her midriff. Such a minute little thing compared to the giant she is. She offered you comfort whenever you asked. Sometimes, you didn’t need to even use words. Just a look and she have you pressed against her.

Qui’oky is such a sweetheart. For the most part. As a kid, he still gets up to no good, learning the ropes of his world. He likes to figure out how soft human skin is, at your expense. There’s been a few added scars to you body from him alone.

Your fingers were slotted between her thick digits. Today was a lazy day. If there was a reason to be moving, that be your only motivation to be up. With your ear pressed to her chest, you felt and heard the rhythm of her heartbeat. Strong, loud. She was here, she was staying. She only went out to hunt for food and gather water every other day. You needed this. You needed her.

Her thumb rubbed along the back of your hand, engulfing the entire thing. The motion soothing and nearly lulling you into a slight slumber.

It’s been hard to sleep, even with time passing at the rate it has been. Yet, you believed every day that she allowed you to rest in her bed gave you a better night. A little less dead, a little less drowning.

The rubbing stopped and pulled you from your nearly unconscious state. You whined and tilted your head up to see if she would continue. Her chest filled deeply. Instantly, you began to grow nervous and pulled off of her midriff. “What’s wrong?” Those words falling your from lips immediately. Something was off.

Her free hand came up and cupped your chin to ensure you were looking her in her purple, piercing gaze. “When is the last time you have bled?” is her first question. Instead of answering you.

Bled? Like, a cut? Or… or that.

“You oomans bleed for their cycle. When is the last time you have bled?” Again? Why was she so pushy about it? But, her words confirmed your suspicions. You gave a week a shrug.

“I don’t know… it’s been a couple of months at least. I, I haven’t been paying much attention to it since,” you trailed off, unable to say those damning words. “But probably before… then. All this stress can through off the cycle.” It was the truth. You didn’t think about tracking it, especially after. There was no point. You had no one to have a child with. Those thoughts were bitter in the back of your mind.

Gawtin pushed you back to give her enough room to place her mouth to the crook of your neck. You shuttered at the feeling of her forked tongue slithering out and tasting your skin. “H-hey! What are you doing?” You wanted to be in the loop at all times, needing to be in control of the situation. Especially after everything came crashing down on you.

“You’re pregnant.” You blinked rapidly and jerked your head back. Then anger overcame the shock. You tore yourself from her lap and pointed firmly up at her.

“Don’t play games with me. Don’t!” you raised your voice at her. Hot tears prickling the corners of your eyes and blurry your voice. “I’ve not been near a male since then. It’s impossible!”

She followed suit and rose to her own feet, towering over you. You barely reached her waist. Her actions showed neutrality but your fear of angering rose to take control. Your feet stumbled back but caught the corner of a coffee table. As you fell back, a massive hand wrapped around your wrist and swiftly pulled you back to your trembling legs. All you could do in the moment was stand there, submissively lowering your head. You didn’t want her to be mad at you.

Her calloused hand returned to your cheek. “I do not lie. I smell the hormones, taste them even. Perhaps your sorrow overshadowed the scent but I can now smell it as clear as day. You are pregnant,” she assured and held you there, not allowing you a chance to even bolt from the truth.

The first thing you start to do is sob. It should be from happiness, relief but that’s not what you felt. The sorrow that filled you to the brim. Even as your knees give out, unable to hold you up, Gawtin scoops you up into her arms and hold you close. Her scent consuming everything. She sat back down on the couch and cradled you to her chest. A purr erupting from her sternum and vibrated across your skin.

The next thing you realize was waking up, face cleaned and body well rested. Confused as all can be, you slip out of the bed you’ve grown to know. Must’ve been a bad dread. You rubbed at your eyes and strolled into the kitchen.

An unfamiliar form stood in the living room. You immediately paused; muscles locked tight, ready to hide back away into the safety of Gawtin’s room. Expect, two sets of eyes found you first. Gawtin lifted her upper mandibles at you then motioned with a hand to come closer. You swallowed nervous and took the long route to stop just shy of Gawtin’s side.

Before Gawtin, another female stood in the main area of the living room. Face neutral and at ease. You can see by her scales she’s seen plenty of battles herself. For your own safety and assurance, you used Gawtin’s body as a shield. You kept a steely gaze on the new Yautja but didn’t dare step away from her.

Gawtin called your name and guided you from behind her to stand before her. “This is Fourta. She is the head medic for our village. I have requested her presence due to your pregnancy.” Your eyes widened. It wasn’t a bad dream. You gnawed on your bottom lip, the only thing holding back a sob.

Fourta gave a slight dip of her massive head. Her dark sea green blue scales shimmering in the low light. She’s from the sea clans. You recognized her form from times Bgiwl has taken you over to the coastal clans for supplies. What was she doing here? Your eyes narrowed again on her frame. She acted indifferent and stepped closer.

You tensed and stumbled backwards into Gawtin’s legs. The imposing female at your back placed her hands on your shoulder to hold you there. You swallowed nervously again and kept your gaze on her.

The sea green Yautja stopped her movements and knelt down to get closer to your level. It felt like someone trying to calm a terrified, stray puppy. You continuous eyed her. “I will not injure you, ooman. It goes against my oath as a medic. Yautja or not, you’re safe in my care,” she spoke in a soft voice that called to you like wind through the sails.

“I must check your vitals and ensure you are physically sound to carry this pregnancy through. There’s only been two recorded counts of a ooman carrying a hybrid. With little data, we have to be careful every step of the way. For both of your safeties.” The way she spoke, confident in her ability but also not cocky to show off.

A doctor, patient relationship to make this pregnancy as smooth as possible.

Yesterday wasn’t a dream. You were pregnant. This was Bgiwl’s last gift to you. Over your dead body would you let this fail.

Your head leveled out. You steeled your nerves with a full chest of air and stepped into her reach. Gawtin’s arms slipped off of your shoulders. “Okay, okay. I will allow for you to check me out but-“

“But anything that goes against her command, you will have to face me,” Gawtin interrupted and ate up the space you created between the two of you. Her heat washed over your back, blanketing you in a safety net. Her hands returned to your shoulders. Your body filled with confidence, head held up high and shoulders squared.

Fourta stilled and looked at the two of you before dipping her massive head. “Yes, of course, Gawtin.” Then, she stood back up. “Whenever you’re ready, I will begin my examination. At your speed and comfort.”

The new Yautja was true to her word, more so with the shadow of Gawtin being casted over her. Fourta was smaller than Gawtin by five inches, both by size and bulk. Gawtin was a hefty creature, yet not the largest Yautja out of the village. Fourta had a thinner body which is normal for the coastal clans, chest deep for the need for bigger lungs. Her arms having a slight fin on the outer sides to help with swimming.

A coastal Yautja wouldn’t dare to mess with a jungle Yautja in their own land and vice versa.

Once you were done with being poked and prodded, Fourta gave you more news. Three months. Three months along. Three missed periods you believed from the stress. Which, if you weren’t pregnant, you believed it still wouldn’t be working properly from everything you endured. So you don’t have a reason to worry at first.

Until now.

She left, leaving Gawtin with all the data they have about a hybrid pregnancy and birth. Information Gawtin would share with you at a later time. It was time to lax, to keep yourself calm during the duration of your pregnancy.

A way Gawtin knew was by drawing you a bath in her massive tub that could easily fit three female Yautjas comfortably. With soap and scents from a flower similar to lavender.

The clothing that was both a mixture from her and Bgiwl was pulled off of you and folded to the side. She didn’t even allow for you to take another step towards the tub. You were scooped off the ground and carried into the water. The perfect temperature for your body and newly growing baby.

Gawtin sat down on a ledge hidden under the water with you in her lap. You straddled her wide waist, arms surrounding her torso. The water drew away the tension in your body until you were lax against her. She rubbed the length of your spine, filling the curve of the bone. You groaned and tilted your head up. “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” you muttered and put your face on her sternum.

Claws zipped down your spine and drew a shutter from you. “I will be here for you.” Your eyes clenched shut, feeling the familiar burn of tears all over again. He said the same thing and looked where you are now.

“How’s this going to work? I-I’ve never be-en pregnant befo-re. I’ve never had a ch-ild before. I don’t know what I’m doing!” The hands left your back to cup your face and force your head up at her. “And-and without him! What am I go-ing to-to do?!” Your mewls and blubbering started again in full force. Your view blurred by the fresh set of tears staining your face. “I-I could die!”

As you opened your mouth to rant once more, a thumb brushed over your lips and silenced you. You looked up at Gawtin expectingly. “My brother chose you for a reason. Permant mates are not something we fool around with. He saw the potential in you. Though, he has gone to meet Cetanu, you are not alone in this.” When you tried to dip your head to curl into a ball, she followed your head with hers while keeping her grip firm.

“Each step through this pregnancy, I will be here for you. Along the way, the entire way. You will not be alone,” she stated with no room for an argument. You whimpered, cried slowly turning into hiccups. You raised your arms and placed them on her chest, water dripped off of your elbows.

“G-Gawtin,” you stuttered her name, doubt and hope both swirling inside of your eyes while gaze at her. Slowly, the green Yautja leaned forward and rested her forehead to yours. Your eyes fluttered shut and enjoyed to the peace brought to this moment. “Thank you.”

All she did was hum and began to purr. Even though you knew the position couldn’t be good for her back, she stayed for as long as you wanted. Her hands holding your face, forehead to forehead. A little spark burning to life in the ashes.

Your belly grew, your ankles were swollen almost all the time, and your breasts ached so badly. All of this affected your back. At times, you cursed your lost mate for the predicament he put you in without him being here to help you. As time continued on, you wouldn’t trade Gawtin for anyone else. Her knowledge of pregnancy, though alien, was extremely helpful.

Every week, you got a checkup from Fourta, taking what was necessary and making sure you were well. And you were. Well, besides the constant body aches but Gawtin let you know that’s okay. Every time, she would run you a bath to relieve aches and pains. Every time, your eyes would sparkle while looking at her.

Qui’oky, as if sensing your discomfort at the current moment, waddled over to you. He does this adorable little run, hands nearly up to his arm pits and head slightly bowed. Like a little bull charging towards you.

At nearly two years old, twenty-two months, he stood a head taller than your knee. His hands slapped against your thigh as he stopped, chest to your leg. Oky doesn’t speak English just yet but you were teaching him a little every time he was willing to sit down. Yautja children rarely ever stop. Always on the move, testing their limits about everything.

This was a precursor to your new life. You were thankful that Gawtin was allowing you time around Oky and learning the ropes before it becomes a real deal.

The child at your feet chirped again to gain your full attention. With how round your belly has gotten, you weren’t able to lean forward. Instead, you tilted your head. “What’s wrong, little Oky?” you cooed to the toddler and offered a hand to him. He clicked at you in a mixture of baby talk and true Yautja. You were able to pick up a couple bits and pieces but it was hard to truly understand him.

He gave a huff then ran away from you, doing that precious run. Your shoulders shook with laughter at his antics. If he was trying to cheer you up, he sure did it.

Your hand rested on your profound belly and softly rubbed the stretched skin. Fourta was slightly concerned on how big your stomach had stretched to accommodate your growing kid. She first thought it was twins, but a quick scan only showed one heartbeat. Big and mighty. Just like their father.

Her biggest concern was the birthing process. Despite every Yautja striving for a vaginal birth, for the safety of you and your child, a Cesarean section would be the best option for you.

Of course, it’s up to you if you would like to process down this road. Getting cut open and your baby pulled out doesn’t fit with your dread of birthing them. You wanted to hold them, cradle them close, be the first one they see. And the healing process afterwards. Everything would be left to Gawtin, more than usual. At least for a month, you would be useless. You had time to think. Every second was used.

A shadow cast over your form. With a hum, you titled your head up and was met with the gaze of Gawtin. There stood your goddess adorned in casual clothing nearly like your own, except the bra holding up your grown breasts. More stretch marks lined the skin there. Your body sensed as if your baby was large and needed a heavy supply.

In her arms was Qui’oky, a moss green blob with short, maroon tresses. He began to blabber nonsense to his mother. She responded as if she understood every word that fell from his mandibles. Then, Gawtin lowered herself to her haunches, still holding her little one. One of her hands rested on your knee. “Would you like for me to run you a bath?” she questioned, eyes soft as they gazed at you.

You smiled at her. “If you can peel me off of this couch, then I will happily accept your offer,” you jestered with a light laugh. Her own upper mandibles raised at your comment.

“Your wish is my command.” The green giant offered her arm for you to grapple onto. To which, you did with a firm grasp. As she stood back up, she pulled you along for the ride, eyes observing your entire movement. Once you were settled back on your feet, she guided you carefully to the bathroom, taking every stride at your pace.

If you were to ever move from this place, you would demand a tub like this to be in place. It was larger than an average hot tub, which was perfect for both you and Gawtin to fit in comfortably. The nudeness of the two of has long been a forgotten bother. Bgiwl drove the disgust and terror out of your system long before you met Gawtin. Gawtin has helped further.

Though before, you were grossed out by all your stretch marks appearing, they were a sign your baby was growing healthy and strong. Same with how large your belly has gotten. Your growing child was okay. Everything was going to be okay.

Gawtin settled you on a ledge under the water. The perfect temperature to fight off the ever-growing soreness that has woven its way into your very bones. “I will return,” she explained before spinning on her heel and taking her leave. You were saddened to see her go.

When she returned the room, it was without Oky. Every step she took towards the tub, a piece of clothing was stripped from her body. At the edge, she was fully naked like yourself. Gawtin carefully lowered herself into the calming waters. Then, the Yautja picked you up from your spot, took it as her own, and deposited you in her lap.

This time, you have your back to her torso, head leaned back to expose your throat. Your eyes fluttered shut as you go lax against the other mother. Her hands rested on your hips, thumbs running over the newly created bumps. There wasn’t enough coconut butter to save your body from the marks it has received. You reached above your head and carded your hands together behind her neck. The Yautja purred slightly and ran her hand up your side, gaining a shutter from you.

“There’s never enough words for me to show you my appreciation,” you uttered softly. Without her, you would be completely lost, even before learning about this pregnancy.

Bgiwl’s death still hurts, it forever will. But that hole he left was slowly being healed by Gawtin. Her presence, her words. Everything about her was healing. She filled what needed to be complete. You needed her more than she would ever know.

With your eyes shut, you felt her head shake. “There is no need.” That earned a huff from you. The hand petting your side left the skin there to softly grasp at your throat. Her thumb rubbed along your pulse, feeling it flutter like bird wings. “I told you in the beginning, I would be here for you. I am a Yautja of my word. I will stay. Through thick and thin.”

A whine built up in the back of your throat, eyes opening to stare at the blank ceiling. You shifted in her lap, still in slight discomfort. It was one growing for a while but you didn’t know how to relieve it. Your hands trembled, on the verge of rubbing at your tender breasts but stilled before making yourself a fool. You couldn’t do that in front of her!

Yet, the discomfort never vanished. It only grew worse even in the warm water shrouding you. You groaned and body your head with shame, doing everything in your power not to rub at them.

Your body was picked up and turned around to be chest to chest Gawtin. Green hands cupped your face and forced your head up again. You wouldn’t met her eyes. Not with the heat blazing to life beneath your cheeks.

“Your breasts, they hurt. Do they not?” Gawtin asked, as if reading your mind. You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded to the best of your ability. She understood. Gawtin hummed and let a hand drift down to rest on top of your collarbone. “If you consent, I can help relieve you of the pressure. My own would ache before the suckling came. My second to last one was the worse. A giant suckling too. Needed every last drop.”

The palm of her hand was incredibly warm against your skin that it was making it hard to say no. You should. You really should. No one’s touched you since… since Bgiwl. And this… this would damn you.

“What would that entail?” you returned, eyes wide and finally meeting hers. There wasn’t an ounce of judgment within them. Just understanding and something else you couldn’t pick up on.

Her hand didn’t move but her claws flexed, creating indents in your feeble skin. “I would help push the milk out. You are in pain from the pressure build up.” You knew she wouldn’t dumb it down. Most Yautjas don’t beat around the bush and just get it out. No reason too. It wastes precious time, especially in a hunt.

Your eyes still jumped wide. “Like-like a cow?!” Her explanation did make sense but… it felt wrong to do that. Yet, to ease your pain? The pressure was bothersome that just rubbing or using hot water couldn’t solve.

“I do not know what that is. Would you like me to?” Gawtin still offered to you, letting you have the chance to deny her. It was all up to you.

You gnawed at your bottom lip then glanced down at your swollen breasts. It sounded both alien and heaven sent to have her relieve you of this annoying pain. You pushed down your nerves then raised your head to find her purple irises. “Okay. Just, just be gentle. They really hurt,” you relented, inhaling a shaky breath.

“If you are worried about waste, if you would like, I can bottle it up?” Gawtin offered as well. That got you thinking. Yet, if your body is producing this much before you have given birth, you will be fine. You shook your head in denial. “Okay. Remember, you control this. If you want me to stop, say so. It is your choice after all.” You could help the way your body nearly sagged against her due to her words. She was a blanket of safety you’ve been craving for a long time now.

“Please.”

A calloused but softened from water hand first engulfed the entirety of one of your swollen breasts. You flinched at first but we’re swift to nodded your head to encourage her. Your bottom lip was trapped between dull teeth, eyes fluttering shut in reaction. The hand still on your face pinched your chin. “Open your eyes, pretty little thing. Need to see those eyes.”

Instantly, the room felt ten times hotter.

“Keep-keep going,” you begged with a shaky voice that didn’t portray confidence, but it was enough.

The first squeeze had you choking on your own breath. Your nipples highly sensitive. Beads of white milk dribbled out and rolled down the curve of your under boob. “Oh, fuck.” She ate up your noises like sweet treats. Some beads collected on her hand. She released her hold and brought her hand up. With her long, skinny tongue, she licked off the milk. You watched the way her pupils widened, turning black before her eyes.

Before you had a chance, Gawtin picked you up and placed you on the tubs ledge. She stood between you open legs, head closer to your chest. “Let me taste you. You won’t be in pain anymore.” If you didn’t know better, she was begging. She wouldn’t ever admit being as prideful as she is. All you could do was nod your head rapidly.

This time, both hands found their spot on your breasts. One squeezed again. You found her shoulders to be your anchor and groaned. The giant leaned her head in, tongue darting out and licking up a stripe to catch the drop. The roughness of her tongue laved over your nipple. You moan, legs spreading wider to accommodate her size. She was more than happy to eat what space you offered to her.

You slightly knocked out of the moment when her fangs opened close to your teat. She felt your body tense up and stopped before her mouth was too close. “Ease, little ooman. I will not hurt. Just taste.” You took a deep breath in and nodded to allow her to continue. She took it to heart.

With her mouth awaiting, she pinched your boob again. More milk was released with the extra force. She was quick to lick up the spilled milk. “G-Gawtin,” you moaned her name, body growing warmer.

It was onto the next teat. Your hips rutted down on the tiled floor dragging against nothing, not gaining any friction. You released another soft cry, nails digging into her shoulders as more was drawn from your nipples, drinking from you like a spring stream.

She may not be able to suckle. Yet, the way she messaged your swollen breasts, each given the same treatment every passing minute was heaven sent. Your bottom lip growing heavy until you could only pant and writhe in her hold. She drank from you, easing up your pain with gentle caresses.

The longer this drew on, the more clouded your brain grew. It made it hard to think, of anything more than just her sipping away at your milk.

The entirety of your body was on fire. Every nerve a lit anew. You’re buzzing with energy and ready for more. You tilt your head up with a pleasing gaze. “More,” you begged and canted your hips downwards, grinding against nothing but air. All the while, Gawtin watched and consumed in rapture. Your milk sweet on her tongue. She became greedy for more, pushing more out to swallow down her throat. “Please.” You were going to be the death of her.

Her hand not actively pulling your nectar out found its way to your hip, claws biting at your skin. If possible, you shuffled your thighs more open, inviting that hand to find your twitching clit. You knew she had to smell your arousal thick in the air.

A spike of frustration hit you. You snatched her wrist and forced it between your legs to ease the new, growing ache she created. “Touch me.” With the dizzy effect she caused you from just sucking your breasts, you were mindless and acting on instinct for the pleasure building up inside.

Gawtin was quick to act. Her thick digits rubbing circles around your puffy, swollen clit. You moaned out and leaned forward, head resting on her broad shoulders, back arch slightly due to you belly. A combination of water and your growing slick dripped down from the insides of your thighs. It didn’t take long for Gawtin to make you a hot, sticky, sweaty mess in the palm of her hands.

At first, you tried to get on your knees to allow her more access to your slick cunt. Yet, Gawtin forced you onto your back and pinned you there. Her mouth refused to leave its spot latched onto your nipples. Her hand continued to rub tight circles around your clit, drawing out moans. Your hands clawed at the tiled floor, unable to find a lick of purchase anywhere.

Your hips lifted off of the wet floor and grinded down on her hand. She growled in reaction and sent vibrations up your sensitive nipples that had you seeing stars. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you cried out, scrambling for an anchor but coming empty handed at Gawtin’s mercy.

All of your muscles locked down tight, more slicky drippling down to stain the floor and your thighs. Gawtin did everything in her power to draw your orgasm out, drowning in the very pleasure you begged for. Gulping down every drop of milk you produce, Gawtin soothed the ache in your breasts.

Your back relaxed to the floor while you laid there as a twitching mess. Your eyes drifted shut, chest heaving with each deep breath. A groan sounded from your drained body. Gawtin purred above you and gave each other your nipples a cleaning lick before pulling off.

“You have given me a taste, Treasure. Now, I will be hungry for more,” she growled while trailing her fangs across your skin up to your ear. You whimpered underneath her, back arching up again.

After caressing the shell of your ear, she pulled back to peered down at your lax form. “How do you feel?” her voice rumbled from deep within her chest. You cracked up your eyes to find her still hovering above you. One of her arms holding her weight by your head.

“Fucking amazing,” you breathed out. She laughed, shoulders shaking with the movement. With her free hand, she caressed with the back of her hand your cheekbone. “Anytime you want to do that, I will not deny you that.”

“Good. Your milk is so sweet and delicious. It would be hard to part with it after gulping it down.” Her free hand slid down to your emptier breasts and gave each a light squeeze.

“God, they feel so sensitive.”

“How long have they ached? I am surprised you had not done anything to relieve the pressure sooner. They were quite full,” she asked and swiped off a bead of milk that had been freed. Her tongue licked it off of her thumb.

All you did was shrug. “Probably for a couple of weeks. To be honest, I didn’t know if I could.” Again, this pregnancy was completely new to you. You didn’t know what you were doing.

“Oh, sweet ooman. From now on, if they ached, just a little bit, let me know.” She leaned down and got into your face. “I will be more than happy to relieve that ache.”

Fuck yourself twice. Your clit throbbed against your will at her words washing over you. To have this massive Yautja more than willing to drink you dry as your will was something you didn’t know you liked. But now, you could check that heavily on your list.

“I will allow free access to them.” A growl pierced the air. One of her mandibles twitched.

“I would not offer that up so freely, little ooman. You do not know what you are giving up.” You looked her straight in the eye.

“Take what you want.” Though, they were softened from the lack of milk, Gawtin found a different spot to drink from.

[yuesya]

Ryomen Sukuna, the double-faced specter. The undisputed King of Curses, who had claimed the title of Strongest in his time.

… Versus Gojo Satoru. The Strongest sorcerer of the modern age –the strongest by a wide margin. In this world, at least. Back in his own world, where everything (hopefully) hasn’t gone to hell in a handbasket, Geto Suguru can confidently say that it’s Gojo Satoru and Gojo Shiki who hold the title of ‘Strongest’ together between the two of them.

Suguru had never paused to think what the world might be like without them. Either of them. And in this strange new world that he’d been thrown headfirst into without any warning, in this world where Shiki doesn’t exist and Suguru himself is dead and Satoru is left to carry everything alone, it…

It means that Satoru says that he will face Sukuna by himself, and everyone else nods along to this like it’s a foregone conclusion. As if it’s only natural. And perhaps it is, and Suguru knows that Satoru has always enjoyed a challenge, but–

It’s not the same. It’s not the same. Even though rationally, he knows that the Gojo Satoru in this world isn’t his Satoru, Suguru can’t help but worry for him, even despite the smooth confidence that the other man wears like a second skin. His friends and students in this world worry too, but Suguru can see how a not-insignificant number of them also look like they can’t fathom the thought of Gojo losing.

Because Gojo-sensei is the strongest. Invincible. Immaculate and utterly untouchable, and there is no one else who comes close to approaching him.

(“Stay with us, Suguru?”)

… Suguru worries for him.

It’s why he remains at the outskirts of the battlefield, when Gojo clashes with Sukuna. Hovering, watching, as the two sorcerers tear apart their surroundings; bridges collapsing and buildings ripped apart like wet paper. Suguru himself is a Special Grade sorcerer, but the level of a fight like this remains a cut beyond him, still. Just the multiple back-to-back Domain Expansions alone would’ve been more than enough to kill him several times over. He can feel the hairs rising on the back of his neck at the cursed energy saturating the air, and the sheer power that they throw around so easily…

It’s something that he’s only ever witnessed from Satoru and Shiki before.

…

He doesn’t know how to describe it. In the aftermath of the single most destructive release of Hollow Purple that Suguru has ever seen, Gojo’s victory appears imminent. But even riddled with injuries and missing half his body as he is, Sukuna looks up with Megumi’s face and smiles, baring his teeth as he brings his hand up in a sharp slashing motion, and–

And something inside Suguru twists, blood thundering in his ears, and his reaction is entirely instinctive. Probably the result of one too many heart attacks that Satoru and Shiki have put him through over the years, if he’s being honest here–

Rainbow Dragon, the most powerful defensive cursed spirit in Suguru’s arsenal, falls to the ground in a spray of red-violet blood, sliced in half. It does not move again, and Suguru knows that it will never move again –his connection to the cursed spirit had been severed instantaneously.

But it’s worth it. Because this means that, instead of having his upper torso separated from the rest of his body, Gojo is only missing an arm and a good portion of his shoulder. It’s his right arm, though, which isn’t good; he’ll need to regenerate the limb in order to form seals for his techniques with his hand–

“… Geto?”

“Gojo,” Suguru returns breathlessly, and then there’s no more time for idle talk. Not when Sukuna laughs, and falls upon them, already having healed from his own wounds –grievous wounds that would’ve killed any other sorcerer three times over. Not when the demon is somehow able to cut through Gojo Satoru’s Limitless technique, how is that possible?!

They struggle, and fight, and do their best. It’s not enough. Suguru and Gojo aren’t as in sync with each other as they need to be against an opponent like Ryomen Sukuna. And while Suguru is a Special Grade sorcerer, he’s not a Special Grade the way that Gojo and Sukuna are–!

Even so, Suguru grits his teeth and fights, tooth and nail, because the only other alternative now that he’s well and truly involved in this (as if he could turn his back on Satoru, any version of Satoru) is to give up, and Suguru refuses to do that.

… Is this how I’m going to die?

…

In the brief instant right before Suguru knows that he is about to face certain death, when his mind is only full of an endless refrain of Satoru, Shiki, somehow–

Sukuna stops.

The monster puppeteering Megumi’s body freezes, and looks upwards. It takes a moment for Suguru to register this odd, odd reaction, and he…

… he can’t exactly blame him.

Because when Suguru decides to take his chances and glances upwards himself to see what suddenly caught Sukuna’s attention, it’s abundantly clear that there’s something wrong. The sky –pulses, for lack of a better word. A strange sort of ripple that materializes in this space without any rhyme or reason, before it stretches open, a yawning circle of something–

Something–

Nothing.

Everything.

… What opens up in the sky in this moment is a chalice of purest darkness, overflowing with brilliant light. The frozen dawn, wrought with evening stars. There are flames curling within ice, meteorites shattering into dust, entire galaxies that wither and bloom–

It doesn’t make any sense. It’s utterly incomprehensible. Suguru stares up at the yawning, gaping maw of– of something, surely, but at the same time he doesn’t know what he’s seeing at all. Infinite possibilities, finite endings. Suguru stares and stares, trying to make sense of what he’s seeing, but the more he peers into that unfathomable void in the sky, the less he can decipher from it.

It’s… almost as if his mind simply refuses to register what he’s seeing.

Then, there is a hand.

A pale, white hand, reaching out with open fingers splayed into the air. And he does mean white, alabaster-white. The hand is followed by a slender wrist, than an entire arm, and a shoulder–

… It’s a person, that much is evident from the humanoid form. The towering creature that emerges from the hole in the sky is most certainly not a person, though. In terms of size, it’s probably large enough to rival Mahoraga. And in terms of color, their coloring is wrong.

White. Solidly stark-white, like a statue carved from marble. A flawless and unblemished human form, to be sure; a distinctly androgynous work of perfection that cannot be mistaken for anything other than unnatural.

Two arms fall down at its sides, while two more sweep out with palms faced upwards. The creature also has two heads. One is attached normally to the body as a regular human would be, while the other is offset slightly above it, much like an attentive brother overlooking his sister from behind, for all their eerie similarities–

–hold on just a fucking moment.

That’s… holy shit. Holy shit. Suguru knows those faces, would know it anywhere, even on his deathbed–!

His mind promptly short-circuits at the mind-shattering revelation. It takes a solid moment, before he’s finally able to loosen his tongue enough to speak again.

“… Satoru,” Suguru whispers disbelievingly, hoping against hope and knowing what he sees down to his very soul. “Shiki?”

What the hell. What the hell.

Suguru, his beautiful, beloved, utterly mad lunatics say to him, voice sweet and ringing with dual-toned laughter. Never play hide-and-seek with us like this again.

[exaltedfuzz]

Hi! Do you have some personal HCs regarding how Lana dealt with the grief of losing her parents? She'd known them her whole life compared to Ema, and I love to think about (read: make myself sad about) how she managed to balance that and trying to do the best by her only remaining family.

Hello! Honestly, if a question contains “do you have some personal HCs regarding [...] Lana”, the answer is almost definitely yes, and this is no exception! Thanks for the ask. I’ve got a couple scripts in early stages around this very topic, so I don’t want to spoil too many of my thoughts in case I ever want to make a comic about them, or something. (Honestly, I should just write fanfic at this point… I have a rough piece of prose writing in the works that I'll attach part of under the cut... A little teaser.)

Around the time Lana would have had to start taking care of Ema, I think I’ve settled on it being most likely between 16 and 18, since I think if she hadn’t had to stay put for Ema, she’d have moved away to go to uni. So she’d be in a pretty tense time in her life anyway, with exams coming up, and whatever teenage stuff she was dealing with. I imagine that when she got the call saying that her parents were dead, she didn’t have much time to grieve alone before Ema was asking what was wrong, and her focus had to very quickly switch right onto making sure that her sister was ok. In general, I think the thing with Lana is that she’s massively self sacrificial, so her coping mechanism became doing the best possible job she could for Ema, and in that, there wouldn’t be much time for grief between making sure Ema was fed, making sure she was getting good grades so she’d manage to get onto a law course (so she could earn good money to put Ema through college), making sure she could drive, so they could shop and get places…

Here she is...

I think one of the biggest struggles in the early days was learning how to drive. She would have probably been about to start lessons, or just started, (if we assume she was 16 or so) and her parents just died in a car crash. But she’d just have to get on with it, because it was necessary. (She doesn’t have the best record with cars, does she?)

Since Ema says she “used to be so gentle, always smiling”, I think that this was the image of her that Ema experienced most often, so it’s safe to say that she was really patient with her. Ema was probably the only thing that kept her going at a lot of different points in her life.

I expect there would have been some really rough moments though, once Ema was off to sleep and she was alone in a house much too big for a teenage girl and a baby. I like to think that they at least got to inherit a house. (They deserve a little bit of a break, don't they?)

Here's a doodle of her in the first few seconds of having to acknowledge the fact that she's on her own. This is based on a line from the thing under the cut.

And, as promised, here's a little bit of writing. Rough and underdeveloped, I think, but hopefully enjoyable.

The landline didn’t usually go. If it was important, her parents would call her cell. But it did go. Three times, consecutively. She could recall it all. Ema, sitting up at the table with her, eating her pot of yoghurt and drawing in the back of Lana’s notebook. Lana’s textbook laid out in front of her - this was the one thing she didn’t remember. It was physics, that much she knew, but she just couldn’t bring herself to care about whatever was on that page after the rest of what she learned that night. She was smiling, Ema was too. She couldn’t keep her sticky little hands off of Lana’s pens and pencils. It was achingly normal. So familiar. Her parents would have a conference, or a party, or a theatre trip planned, and she was old enough to look after Ema, so she did. She was good with her.

So when they told her to not wait up, to make sure Ema got a little snack if she was hungry, to call them if she needed anything, it was normal. Another night in, another night of making sure Ema didn’t get too curious about what all the fun things under the sink were, another night of studying, another quiet night. She liked them. Sure, it was hard to be saddled with looking after the most curious baby to ever have little hands to grab with, and it was hard to not feel like she was missing out whenever her friends would go out, while she was here, eating carrot sticks and cucumber to try to encourage Ema to follow suit - those days still tasted like hummus in her mind. But it was a labour of love, and Lana was happy to sacrifice her time for her baby sister.

She tried not to be bitter. She didn’t want to be, because Ema was such a joy. But when she’d sit up at the table, nose in her books as always, and she’d hear all the fawning over the youngest Skye, she did feel left out. When Ema was born, Lana stopped getting so many little treats. Her parents used to take her out with them to these excursions. It was a lot of fun to get to talk to the scientists who worked with her mum, she loved seeing the crappy plays that the amateur dramatic society put on, she’d always end up getting sweets and snacks when her dad took her to the shops, and it just kind of stopped when Ema was born. It was a hard time for Lana, but she couldn’t resent Ema. She had a silly smile, and little hands which wanted nothing more than to squeeze Lana’s fingers, and poke around at her face. Holding Ema in her arms while she conducted her first scientific experiments on the elastic potential of Lana’s nose almost made her cry.

She told her parents then that she wasn’t ever going to let anyone hurt Ema, and she’d done her best to make good on that promise until her life was once again torn out from under her feet with the SL-9 incident, and she found herself constantly hurting Ema all on her own in her self absorption. She never forgave herself for that. Ema did, though. She was always so excited to come and see her on the other side of that visitation room, and she still told her everything, like Lana made sure she knew she could. Her eyes looked sad, though. Lana had watched those eyes as they changed from barely betraying any conscious thought, to when they quirked half closed with Ema’s newfound sarcastic smirk. Lana wasn’t quite sure she liked that. Her baby sister was older than she was that night by now, and she definitely didn’t seem like she could handle looking after a kid. What must Lana have looked like?

She knew what she felt like, that’s for sure. Of course, she stood up, with a sigh, on the third repetition of that irritating ringing, and held up the phone to her ear. She was so ready to tell whoever was on the other side that they didn’t need double glazed windows.

“Hello?”

“Is this the Skye residence?”

It was cold. Maybe they did need double glazed windows. Lana hesitated before she responded.

“Ah, yes?”

“Am I speaking to Miss Lana Skye?”

“...Who is this?”

There was too much blood rushing through Lana’s head for her to really hear what the response was.

“Sorry, could you repeat that last bit?”

“There’s been an incident involving a Mr. and Dr. Skye.”

She didn’t care about the rest of whatever he said. Something about investigation being open, something about intensive care, something about an escort car to the hospital being arranged. She could not speak, and her eyes failed. She leant forward, one hand white knuckled around the phone, the other now beginning to bleed with how Lana was chewing at her thumbnail. Ema was still babbling on the other side of the kitchen-diner. She never wished Ema would shut up, but she didn’t want to hear her making these silly noises as if their lives weren’t about to become impossible.

Lana was about to put Ema to bed. It was late. She didn’t remember the time. It was easier that way. She was supposed to be giving a presentation tomorrow at school, and she wanted to be sharp and awake for it. She wasn’t really planning on staying up much longer herself. Certainly not to wait for her parents to get back. She supposed they never would, now. She recognised the way this officer spoke from all the stupid cop shows she watched. She didn’t need it spelled out for her. She mumbled out a thanks, and hung up.

She always hated crying. She couldn’t stand it. The way her breath sounded as it shuddered out of her made her feel weak, and she wasn’t weak. She couldn’t ever afford to be, and that was all she could think of. Lana didn’t notice Ema getting out of the chair and unsteadily walking over to her, and her little grasping hands reaching for the hem of her jumper managed to ground her again. She looked over her shoulder at her sister. Eyes so wide and full of questions, all of which Lana realised, in that moment, she would have to answer. She must have scared her with the way her eyebrows furrowed and the way she grit her teeth, because Ema pulled a little sad face at her.

“Why are you crying?”

Ema wasn’t really that helpful sometimes. Lana swallowed, and looked for an answer. She tilted her head up, closed her eyes, and covered them with her hand, before breathing.

All she could manage to choke out was confirmation: “I’m very upset.”

What a useless statement.

Ema wasn’t ever satisfied with one answer. She just kept asking why. Lana knew that you had to be honest with kids when they had complex questions, so she picked Ema up in her skinny arms and held her while she explained. Usually, she was delighted to explain everything about the world to her sister, but this was hard. Not as hard as seeing Ema’s little pout as she tried to comprehend, though.

As she sat in the escort car on her way to the hospital, as if their presence would miraculously bring their parents to life, she kept holding Ema. She kissed the top of her head and tried not to cry on her soft hair. Her stomach turned as she thought about what the last thing her mum had said to her was. It had escaped her mind until now, and she wished she could let it escape her mind forever.

"No boyfriends over, alright? Be good. Love you. See you in the morning."

She supposed she'd never get to tell them now that there never would be any boyfriends. It was selfish of her to care about something so trivial, so she tried her best to push it to the side. Ema never had to know, either. It wasn't important.

She didn't end up giving her presentation. Or going to school, for the next few days. Ema was at home, so Lana was at home.

[t0ast-ghost]

Hmmm mmmmmm I have so many boys thoughts and since I’m not sleeping tonight I guess I’ll write them down:

(Spoilers for the Boys season 4. Don’t cry over spoiled milk show! Go watch it for yourself)

- Truthfully I didn’t like Hughie in the second episode they just made him (super forcefully) bring up his mom. I did really like all his other bits though especially the stuff we’re getting into with a-train (really hope they actually go through with giving him plot, since he’s supposed to be the main character and all that or whatever)

- every time a character got close to another I legitimately asked if they were gonna kiss

- butcher is my wet cat sad puppy murdering babygirl, he’s slaying this season by actually communicating and I hope it stays that way

- This is the second time I’ve seen Jeffrey Dean Morgan play a horrible person willing to weaponize children for their cause… and he’s good at playing that part (I feel they gave his character a lot of what Butcher was in the comics)

- I really do like what they’re doing with A-Train

- I really do hate what they’re doing with Annie and Firecracker, I get they have to have personal conflict but this feels shallow and although it’s believable that this grudge would last I think there should have been more thought put into the stakes of their relationship (Curry and Moriaty’s acting was so good for the bit where Firecracker threatens her but the stakes are so low and the hatred in the writing doesn’t feel built up enough for her to have that big of a reaction to the threat)

- Going back to Hughie and his mom, I think Quaid’s acting for the bits with his mom were phenomenal, I could relate to his frustration and his sadness was palpable. I think a lot of their moments didn’t feel great and I couldn’t put my finger on it but the conversation about how her depression lead to her leaving felt like the truth finally came out and now it’s hopefully going to feel a bit more like things are moving forward for them

- I’m a little surprised they actually had a character like splinter. Simply because he felt straight out of the comics, and I know how much they’ve veered away from the comics. I really liked the scene where Butcher got to take out a bunch of them simply cause he got to be good ‘ol Billy Butcher

- Homelander has me on a roller coaster because I was going to write a post while watching about how they write him really well in a mindfuck kind of way because you slowly start realizing you’re relating to his character and you can understand his actions, and right before I wrote that post he told the deep to suck off a train and I stopped dead in my tracks. I was legitimately scared in that moment because that also felt like something out of the comics but the difference is that the tv show wouldn’t or at least didn’t go through with it

- Homelander this season is even more brilliantly acted, and seeing him with Sage is a new interesting experience. I was trying to figure out Sage’s motivations and I thought I knew but really I didn’t know because I was trying to say she was fighting for a cause. That is wrong. She is constantly manipulating the people around her but it is solely to benefit herself and her happiness. Yes, she helps Homelander and is honest with him because that is the best way to keep herself happy and alive. She’s smart enough to know that manipulating him or trying to agree with everything he says will be a dead end. She’s still trying to please him and is ultimately playing by his rules but she’s the smartest player because she knows being inauthentic will only end up losing you power, and if you’re on the end of two hot glowing red orbs anyway, why not at least have an actual say

- The gore is going well so far. I’ve appreciated it. Especially the beetlejuice-esque scene where Kimiko has her face torn off and you only see the back of her head and the reactions

- Ryan has so many good scenes. His scenes with Homelander are punctuated by quiet, you can hear every thought screaming through, but what would saying any of it actually accomplish? His scenes with Butcher are so heartfelt, I’m glad they’re finally able to talk. But Ryan still dealing with his grief and guilt is heartbreaking. And on top of that him thinking that the closest person to his mom seemingly hates him and would never want him adds so much to the emotional confusion that he’s experiencing. He obviously needs to leave Homelander, but he still doesn’t want to leave his dad which makes sense because this is currently the only source of love he has from anyone and it was promised unconditionally (even though it is very conditional)

- Frechie’s gotta tell that guy that he killed his family but I was really glad they gave him a boyfriend. I forgot that him and Kimiko weren’t a thing so I got really excited that Frenchie was getting to be awesome and polyamorous. I am glad that Kimiko has asserted that they are friends tho

- I am so intrigued by the brain worm

Thoughts upon second rewatch:

- Opening could’ve been bloodier or more horrific. They toned it down :( but the flesh and blood melting off that guys face was pretty good. And the Todd scene is pretty horrific.

- The way Ryan and Homelander speak in unison about people being ants is so telling, and makes sense with the later context of Homelander wanting Ryan to be an exact replica of himself

- The way that Ryan in this season is so focussed on fear, because he is scared but the people around him won’t admit to that, so when Butcher finally communicates with him and tells him that he’s most afraid of dying without making amends I think that finally gains Ryan’s trust back

- They really are changing Butcher’s character, he’s not just ‘do thing to get thing and it’s justified by the end result’ he’s finally thinking about the people around him and considering them even if the results aren’t fast. He doesn’t give the info to Vick, he doesn’t drug Ryan, and he’s really trying to help even if he is still being a shit about it

- The talk between Vick and Homelander in the opening is sooooo good cause of HL’s little voice crack, he’s losing it

- KIMIKO PAINTS HER NAILS!!! they’re blue :)

- I feel like Hughie’s hatred towards Vicky is forced upon him. Like I guess he hates that she lied to him (but if he thought about it he’d realize that it’s reasonable for her to want to hide her powers especially since she’s been shamed about them for most of her life) and I get they have very different views with her under vought’s thumb and all. But since they’re recruiting A-Train I’m wondering if there’ll ever be a bit of a redemption for her cause I feel like wanting supes to be allowed to live like normal people is not a bad thing, it’s just that she’s working with people who view supes as superior

- “He killed that poor cunt in broad daylight, and they fucking cheered.” Alongside Homelanders “I save people, they cheer. I fucking kill people, they cheer.” is like, they both understand this fact. Homelander will get what he wants no matter what and Billy wants to take him down a notch. Same as always and yet so many changes.

- I missed that the acid that Hughie threw on Vick was Frenchie’s creation the first time around. Also missed Hughie’s failed pep talk, I love that loser. I didn’t miss that no one else is able to understand Kimiko, which sucks

- I want Karl Urban and Simon Pegg to be in the same room again but that’s just my star trek fan talking

- Is that the first time Hughie and Butcher properly hug in the series?

- There’s a weird obsession with phones this season. Especially with hanging up on people. Also an obsession with “no/yes, sirs” which I think is them upping the show of power dynamics

- I thought that octopus sounded familiar. It’s Tilda Fucking Swinton.

- “He always knew he was destined for greatness, because he came from greatness.” Good job guys. I see your little joke

- I did not notice that all the guys setting up Firecracker’s stage were splinter who is played by Rob Benedict (Chuck in Supernatural)

- One of the background noises at the Truthcon mentions an “Alex Jones look alike contest”

- When Ryan throws Koi against the wall in other shows that would be his turning point. The point in which there’s no going back for him. So I’m really glad that it’s just the point in which he needs to talk to someone, that it really does upset him. Unfortunately he goes from one horribly emotionally repressed man to a slightly less emotionally repressed man who is dying

- I hope whoever that person that Kimiko knows turns into a new found family member

- M. M slowly realizing why Butcher was such a bitch to everyone on the team. And it’s because no one listens. Ever. Unless you’re actively threatening them in one way or another

- I don’t know what that bloody metal rod in Sage’s room means even after a rewatch. So I guess I’ll find out.

- Closing thoughts; bring in more A-Train and Hughie moments (also get people to call him Reggie so I don’t have to write A-Train every time)

Hughie has weed in his desk

If y’all wanna talk about this with me (especially after reading all that) feel free to do so

Uhhh more thoughts here

[rose-pearls]

That's the kind of heartbreak time could never mend

Summary: this wasn't the plan, yet there you were victor of district twelve of the 75th Hunger Games

Next Part

This wasn’t the plan; this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

The blood is coating your fingers as you desperately try to put pressure on the wound, hoping that somehow it would save her even though deep down you knew it wouldn’t. The canon went off seconds ago, yet you were still trying to bring her back.

Her blond hair was coated with blood and her eyes were wide open, full of fear. Tears were coming up and you tried to breathe again but somehow you weren’t able to. 

“Such a sad story isn’t it?”, you hear behind you and you close your eyes at the words.

“The little sister of Katniss Everdeen lying dead at our feet.”, he continues to talk but you just feel sick, silently begging him to just stop talking and just kill you. 

“It’s quite pathetic, a sister that is an ace with a bow and then the other sister.”, you can feel the anger come up, the anger at his words is getting louder and you want to scream.

“Killed with just a sharp knife, unable to defend herself. Now here we are just the two of us a pathetic girl from district twelve and a future winner from district two.”, he continues to gloat about his win, but you just feel the blood sticking to your hands, a voice that reminds you of Haymitch that tells you to not take the bait, but you can’t help it. Emotions are running high and the main one right now is revenge.

He is still gloating as you get up from the body, water around the both of you getting stronger, he smiles cockily as he sees you get up.

“Now, how about we give the people a good show?”, he comes closer, and you laugh coldly at his words.

“You’re an idiot, you know that right?”, the boy laughs and looks at you up and down.

“I’m pretty sure your mentor told you to first kill me and then Prim. But you didn’t listen, did you?”, he seems surprised at your words, and you know you’re right.

“You should’ve listened to your mentor.”, you say lowly, but the boy doesn’t let that get to him.

“Wanted to give them a good show, after all we are at the 75th Hunger Games.”, he yells through the arena, and you can imagine the people in the Capitol screaming in joy at his words.

“Oh, we will give them a good final, just a shame you won’t be able to live to see the glory of it.”, that seems to make him stop for a moment and he turns back to you, not saying anything for a moment before laughing, his laugh resonating through the arena.

“Confident, I like that, hopefully you can back it up sweetheart.”, you feel sick at his words but before you can say anything Caesar Flickerman’s voice can be heard.

“Congratulations you are the last two tributes left. Now as you know you weren’t revealed your training scores before going into the arena. Before the final starts, we will tell you both what your final score was.”, the boy smiles with a cocky grin towards you and you look at him unimpressed.

--

Haymitch knows it was all going to be going to hell the moment Prim died, Katniss was in a state of shock and hysteria and Peeta had taken her away. Finnick, Johanna and Mags were next to him looking at the girl holding onto Prim’s body.

“That is going to destroy her.”, Finnick whispers and he has to agree, the whole plan was to bring Prim out of the arena and the girl had been ready to sacrifice herself. He knew it had been a lot to ask of her, but she had managed it, giving up her integrity by killing the other tributes to defend Prim and now the girl she was supposed to protect was lying dead.

The camera had been focused on her and her reactions as Prim took her last breaths and the canon resounded. Haymitch sighs and looks at his other tribute looking at Prim with wide eyes.

“Common don’t stay there, he is just behind you.”, Johanna whispers and Haymitch knows that she is right, the boy from two was not going to be giving them a break.

“Common you idiot just kill her.”, he hears Brutus whisper, and everyone turns to look at him. Enaboria glares at Brutus and he shrugs his shoulders.

“He has an opportunity, he should take it.”, Johanna scoffs and Haymitch tries to ignore their voices. Mags put a hand on his arms, and he smiles at her, trying to tell her he’s alright.

“Such a sad story isn’t it?”, they hear the boy say and the room falls silent, all of them looking at the screen.

“The little sister of Katniss Everdeen lying dead at our feet. It’s quite pathetic, a sister that is an ace with a bow and then the other sister”, Enaboria is looking at the screen furiously and Haymitch can understand her, the boy has an opportunity to win, and he is wasting it by talking.

“Killed with just a sharp knife, unable to defend herself. Now here we are just the two of us a pathetic girl from district twelve and a future winner from district two.”, someone scoffs, and everyone turns to see Beetee looking at the screen disgusted.

Haymitch is trying to tell her not to take the bait but the camera focusses on her expression and he knows she is going to get revenge. She leaves Prim’s body and gets up, hard eyes looking right through the camera making Enaboria swear.

“You’re an idiot, you know that right? I’m pretty sure your mentor told you to first kill me and then Prim. But you didn’t listen, did you?”,”, the cold words ricochet through the room and Johanna snorts at her words while the boy looks stunned. Enaboria and Brutus are shaking their heads and one of the two whispers ‘idiot’ under their breath.

“You should’ve listened to your mentor.”, the words are loud and clear and Haymitch can’t help but feel proud at her words. Most mentors are now in the room looking at the screen with undivided attention.

The boy screams that he wanted a good show, and he sees Mags shaking her head at his words.

“Oh, we will give them a good final, just a shame you won’t be able to live to see the glory of it.”, Johanna laughs loudly at her words and some mentors look at the screen impressed. Finnick’s smirks at her words while Enaboria is trying to look composed.

Caesar’s voice comes through and at his words the whole rooms attention is undivided at the screen. 

“District two Mercurio, a ten.”, Brutus and Enaboria let out a sigh of relief and Haymitch feels sick, this was going to be a shit show, the boy is looking at her with a smirk and she is still looking at him unimpressed.

“District twelve Y/N,”, the voice stops for a moment, and everyone looks at each other but Haymitch is still looking at her.

“A twelve.”, the awe can be heard in Caesar’s voice, and the room erupts in chatter for just a second before they see her take out a sword and she charges at the sill shocked boy.

“He should’ve killed her when he had the chance, he is going to die.”, Brutus mumbles and Johanna snorts at their words, she seemed happy to see the girl in power.

Haymitch has to stop himself from thinking of her score, a twelve, that has never been seen before. Everyone is looking at the fight between the two with wide eyes. The boy is trying to respond to her attacks, but he seems to not be able to, at one point the girl slams her swords into his and makes it fall to the ground. Mercurio falls on the ground and his sword is just too far for him to take it.

“This isn’t for Prim, because she wouldn’t have wanted this.”, they hear her say and Haymitch can’t help but feel his heart break at the reminder of Prim.

“This is for district twelve.”, the words are strong as she holds the sword to his neck until she takes it away and plunge it into his chest. 

The boy’s eyes widen at the action, and he stutters a few words before she takes the sword away making him fall at her feet. 

All of the mentors are silent, watching the boy struggle to breathe while she is looking at him with tearful eyes as the canon goes off.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of the 75th Hunger Games-”, Haymitch feels partly relieved but as he looks at her looking at her hands full of blood, he feels sick. She falls on her knees and a sob breaks through her lips as she looks at her hands. 

The helicopter can be heard in the distance, and he prepares himself to go and collect what is left of her, he knows she will be a shell of herself. Johanna smiles at him reassuringly, Finnick and Mags doing the same and he feels grateful.

The hallways are filled with people running left and right, Cinna joins him with Effie, the escort looking worriedly at the closed door of the hospital.

“She will be alright, won’t she?”, he would normally tell her something sarcastic, but he isn’t able to, he just looks at the door while Cinna tries to reassure Effie.

The door suddenly opens and the three of them get ready, a few doctors get out and scream orders around before he sees her.  Her hands are still covered in blood, and she looks pale, she is looking everywhere like she is expecting someone to jump on her.

She sees them and Haymitch gets closer to her, trying to do it slowly to not scare her but she looks at him with teary eyes coming towards him looking scared.

“I’m so sorry Haymitch, I tried to save her, I did but then-”, she continues rambling and Haymitch tries to calm her down, but she continues muttering the same words with tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Hey, hey, calm down, it’s okay.”, the girl is trembling like a leaf, and he tries to calm her down but a doctor arrives and quickly uses a product to calm her down making Effie gasp in surprise.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, it should’ve been me.”, she continues mumbling while her eyes are closing, and she falls on the ground at his feet.

Doctors quickly come and take her away and he tries not to let his emotion take the best of him. He hears Cinna muttering something and turns around to hear him better.

“She is going to be a big part in your plan Haymitch. You just need to get her back to that girl in the arena”, the rebellion, he knows what Cinna means. She had that will to fight and was ready to defend a girl that wasn’t even her sister. People had loved her, and he knew she could bring change, alongside the Mockingjay, he just needed to get her ready for it. 

So this was an idea I had and I couldn't stop thinking about it! I'm not sure if it will be a Finnick, Johanna, Peeta or even Haymitch story but I hope you liked this!

[002yb]

Hi Toney, I am so happy that you're feeling better, I got a bit worried when I didn't see any new posts from you.

What do you feel about Jason's reaction to Jaybin getting displaced in the timeline and popping multiple years in the future, and suddenly there is Jaybin and all of his barely hidden hero worship and utter love for Dick. And Dick is so good to him, and so smitten and Jaybin is so precious and blushy and two steps away from fainting every time dick hugs him or ruffles his hair, and Jason is so jealous cause dick is being better to Jaybin than he ever was to Jason in the past. But they're both Jason!!

#i am really happy to see you again on my feed #hopefully I'm not coming off as rude #curse you ADHD

Hey there, thank you for your concerns!  Though I’m sure it’s apparent, the posting is still lacking – sorry about that.  I appreciate that you like seeing my posts come across your dash though.  Thank you so much. ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡

Jason being put off by Jaybin because 1) he’s treated better than Jason, 2) he’s envious of the positive attention freely given to him and 3) Jaybin is stupidly naive and Jason knows there’s only disappointment waiting for him; he’s just waiting to get taken advantage of and hurt.

What’s more, he’s insecure.  Because Jason has always had this belief that everyone preferred who he was to who he is.  This experience only confirms that for him.

Needless to say, Jason is terse when Jaybin is around.  He’s not kind at all; par for course though – it’s him, at the end of the day

And it’s not like Jaybin complains about Jason’s aggression, confused as he is (because wtf happened?  why is he such a bitch??), but Dick notices and is none too pleased.

Which leads to dickjay fights as Dick comes to Jaybin’s defense

And Jason just loses it because insecurity gets the best of him.  Because he’s convinced that he’s no good as he is.  That’s why they’re all always fighting, why Jason is always toeing lines and watching his back.  Because he came back wrong – twisted.

Maybe it would have been better if Jason stayed dead.  Because they could have kept Jaybin and not been burdened with the scraps that came back.

Maybe Jaybin hears it:  ‘We die?’

And Jason snarls, all bared teeth, a wounded animal pushed into a corner:  ‘Yeah, because you were looking for something you’ll never fucking have,’ and despite himself Jason’s voice breaks because, ‘Family.  Love.  Grow the fuck up.’

What’s to love?  What’s to want?

Just Jason being so cruel to his younger self because he hates how dumb he was.  But also?  He hates how easy it is for Jaybin to trust and love and be loved.  Because Jason doesn’t have that.  Not anymore.

And Dick is ready to intervene.  He doesn’t know if he wants to snap at Jason for being so cruel to a child (himself!) or if he wants to comfort him because Jason is wrong about his perceived lack of value/worth, but also?  He wants to throw down because this dumbass – projecting his own feelings over Dick’s.  But then again, reevaluating everything because maybe Dick (and everyone) haven’t been as forthcoming or forgiving as they should have been.

So Dick ends up being paralyzed because Jason is volatile and Dick can take him in a fight, but that’s the thing – he can’t fight him in light of Jason’s despair.  He doesn’t know how to comfort him though.  Doesn’t know how to– fuck.  Doesn’t know how to love him.

A devastating realization that takes the fight right out of him.

But it’s fine, because Jaybin is there to throw down.  With that ornery brand of kindness that is uniquely Jason.  Just Jaybin being able to read Jason because they’re the same.  Because Jason hasn’t changed as much as he thinks from back when he was fifteen and hurting.

Something something Jason’s vulnerabilities being exposed by himself.  A weird therapy of sorts with confronting past and present.

Which eventually leads to dickjay.  In the form of one of the Jasons blurting out about their crush on Dick and that’s when everything stops because uh oh.  Both Jasons turning with matching blushes and flustered expressions at where Dick stands off to the side, wide-eyed and overwhelmed because there’s just a lot going on, y’know?

And yeah, eventually Jason reconciles with his past self.  Maybe Jaybin would get a kiss from Dick before Jason ever gets a chance and Jason is left blustering because why the hell is he such a cheeky little bitch, omg. ///A/////

Which leaves Dick and Jason with the fallout of everything.  And Jason doesn’t want to do any of it; forget it.  Only Dick won’t leave it alone.  No attention would be given to the crush, but Dick would make sure Jason knows that he’s loved.  And he’d make better efforts in showing it.  And being more understanding to Jason’s perspective; being in his corner.

During which time Jason falls in love a lot more because he’s so weak to kindness.  And Dick’s heart breaks because it’s not anything at all (only it is and he knows that now).

Something something slow burn healing of relationship which leads into a tentative friendship which leads into a strong partnership and eventually that undying crush gets addressed lol.

[mooniemilkieway]

Laughing Jack Headcanons 🎪🩸

.𖥔 ݁ ˖༘⋆𐦍⊹₊ ⋆｡˚ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

(Credit to @/ sillyhoneybear2)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

.𖥔 ݁ ˖꩜

⛧ Laughing Jack can hide in mirrors and can pop up inside of them. He usually does this if someone is being vain and wants to taunt them to hopefully make them insecure not only about themselves but how they perceive their reality. This is also his favorite method as it’s usually easier for him to manipulate people into doing his favors.

⛧ Laughing Jack can get very, very obsessed with someone if they treated him right and who he considers a “friend.” He also has extremely bad abandonment issues but just kills people because he is afraid that they’ll either leave him or that he doesn’t see them as “worthy.”

⛧ LJ has two different dimensions that he holds and likes to refer to them as his “kingdoms.” One of them is his usually abandoned carnival purgatory where he keeps his zombie minions where he resurrects when he kills them and sends his victims he’s trying to kill to push them further into insanity. His other one is a very colorful carnival with a hotel that the people he took can stay. It’s very, very rare that he does this but it’s usually people who are in danger and needs a safe place to be in and who Jack deeply cares for. (If you want to think what it could look like just think of Bowser’s carnival from 3d world lol.)

⛧ Laughing Jack would definitely tease you about your height, a lot. He would rest his elbow on your head and pretend that you are an arm chair. He would sarcastically ask where you are even though you are literally right in front of him.

⛧ He is very protective. If anyone even tries to lay a finger on you, he would teleport in front of the attacker and would mess them up badly.

⛧ Laughing Jack has hemomancy or the ability to control or manipulate blood. He does this to his proxies or slaves or if he needs an advantage in a fight or in one of his killing sessions. It does make sense considering how he can orchestrate his dead minions.

⛧ When Laughing Jack gets angry, he has the ability to grow taller and his eyes will turn pitch black with “cracks” coming from his under eyes

⛧ Laughing Jack has made a “child’s-like” storybook based on his origin story about his relationship with Isaac and how he felt during his 13 years of being trapped in his own box.

⛧ He also has really horrendous claustrophobia. He hates being in tight spaces or small rooms because it reminds him of his imprisonment in his box.

⛧ His favorite flowers are Angel’s Trumpets because they remind him of well, himself. Laughing Jack was technically an angel created in heaven and he is now considered “deadly” just like angel’s trumpets. In fact, he would use these flowers to make his candies poisonous by picking the petals and rinsing them with water creating a liquid.

⛧ He can show his reflections in mirrors and can be seen on digital cameras but for some reason he won’t appear in polaroid pictures. This is just a weird case even Laughing Jack couldn’t really explain why or how.

⛧ Laughing Jack has always wanted to have his own bakery. He has thought of killing children to make his desserts and what not but he also has thought about just opening up a regular bakery with no killing involved.

⛧ Laughing Jack in a way does have frost powers. The only thing relating to that he can do is drop the current temperature to freezing in a small area where his victim lays.

⛧ Laughing Jack would get off-guard and even get flattered if you compliment his appearance. So if you’re in a situation where he could kill you, just say he looks very handsome and he’ll be in his thoughts, giving you sometime to literally run.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖꩜ 🎪🩸

[mismatchedtwins]

Mismatched Twins - Take Four

“Tell me again why we can’t just teleport?”

The injured turtle clutches at Donnie as he leaps from one floating rock to another, face pressed against his shoulder at the sudden changes in gravity. Like any Leonardo predictably would, he’s doing his best to pretend that each jump isn’t affecting him. Donnie knows that the ribs pressed against his carapace have to be causing some discomfort, even if they do have a solid layer of plastron.

He keeps refusing Donnie’s offers to break, so Donnie presses on.

He’s only a few pounds heavier than April, probably due to the shell, but Donnie’s spent years dragging things around the lab, so he knows his endurance can last far longer than his body believes that it can. Though, it has been driving him nuts, that something about his physique has felt oh-so-remotely off since he… arrived in this prison, but he’s doing his best to think about important things.

Not the small fire burning his ankle or the nail in his shoulder every time Leon moves his arm even lightly. Things like, getting home to the brothers that watched him… transport away at April’s hands and who have probably written him off as dead.

He has to get home. They have to know he’s okay.

“Leonardo.”

Donnie grips the rock as he gets his footing, grateful for the strange pulls of gravity between the masses that occur in Dimension X and this strange, broken dimension. He doesn’t know how long he’s been moving, but the fluid jumps ease the burden.

“Ninpo… batt’ry low.” His companion sounds tired, but he’s still conscious, and that’s really want Donnie cares about. “Can’t re…charge. Need to pre…preserve it.”

“Inconvenient.” Donnie mutters as he finally locates a good area for a pit stop. “Stay with me, Leon. Just a few more bounds.”

“Not sleeping.” Leon mumbles. “Not…asleep.”

“Keep it that way.”

Donnie hurries his pace, only stopping when he stumbles and almost loses his balance. He takes a couple breathes, ignoring the fuzz in his peripheral. Leon notices and offers his continuous, halfhearted, “Put… medown. I can w…walk.”

“Don’t see much of a point.” He states cooly as he soldiers on, “We’re practically there.”

Leon shifts, “Where..?”

“Hopefully, a safe place for you to rest.”

“I don’t need-”

“I’m one word away from dropping you.” Donnie lies as he finally crosses the distance. “You’re not the only turtle who could use a break, you know.”

No snappy reply to that one. Donnie tries not to let that worry him.

He sticks the landing and then carries Leon across the homestretch. There’s a small enclosure a couple feet away, not big enough for two, but wide enough for one of them to curl up in. Theoretically.

Donnie kneels down next to it and the weight drops from his back.

He’s grateful to see an exhausted, but conscious turtle surveying him apprehensively. He looks to the side, face scrunching.

“You don’t expect me to crawl… ‘n there, do you?”

“Once I’m done with your check-up, yeah.” Donnie offers helpfully, pressing hands on both sides of his jaw and checking his pupils in the relative dark. “Because I’m going to look around and I don’t want you to be a sitting duck.”

The turtle yawns and digs his phone from his belt. It’s one of those shiny, smooth, compact phones that can do a million more things than Donnie’s glorified walk-in-talkies can do. Donnie tries not to ogle as he taps the function for the flashlight and then offers it.

He mutters a thanks and pretends like the random burst of jealousy never happened as he confirms that Leon’s pupils are behaving appropriately. He turns it off afterward upon seeing the battery was nearly halfway dead, certain that they should preserve it.

Leo doesn’t seem to share the same sentiment. Upon it’s return, he immediately opens an app to flick through it.

Donnie turns off his phone and pockets it.

He earns an indignant squawk and baps the hand that reaches out.

“Too much exposure to screen light awakens the brain.” He recites the private factoid that he has never once told his brothers ever for his own sanity. “I’ll give it back once you rest.”

“If you wanted to ditch me this much, you coulda done it back there.” Leon’s grin doesn’t reach his eyes, too laced in pained exhaustion. “Would’ave saved you some time.”

“You need a nap.” He scolds, trying not to think about how much he sounds like his own bossy brother. Oh, Leo. “And I need to confirm that we’re not going to starve here.”

“Dehydration’ll get us first.” Leon points out as Donnie moves on. That’s a morbid thought, but entirely accurate. “Not if I can help it.”

“You gonna pull water from rocks?”

“Don’t exactly have any godly powers on my side.” Donnie states wryly. “So I’ll have to make do with what I do have.”

“Which is…?”

“Science.”

“…Science.”

“Science.”

“What does that even…” Leon shakes his head. “You know what? Don’t care. Not napping.”

“And why not?”

“Cause you like jumping off cliffs for fun.” Leon pokes his face with a smirk. Donnie knocks the invasive hand away, pressing a finger to the vein in his neck. “Someone’s gotta keep you alive.”

Donnie huffs, shoving memories down when three other turtles told him a variety of the exact same thing. “I can take care of myself.”

“You jumped off a cliff.”

“Okay, technically, I only took a few steps.”

“You walked off a cliff.”

“I was testing a reasonable hypothesis.”

“Mhmm, mhm, mhm.” Leon nods patronizingly before he drawls, “Totally get that. And that’s why I’m here. To talk you out of testing dumb theories that could kill you, don’tr-”

He blinks, abruptly, body going stiff. Donnie furrows his brow at the strange slur of words, but lets him stew in his thoughts, appreciative of the new silence that comes with it.

“Okay, nap time.” Donnie proclaims when he decides that Leon isn’t going to die if his body shuts down for a bit. “We’ll keep moving once your body has recouped.”

“You really expect me to sleep here?” He eyes the hidey-hole like he expects it to turn out to be a monster’s mouth.

“Yep.”

Leon doesn’t move. Donnie scowls irritably.

“If you do not rest, you cannot heal.”

“Can and am.” Leon preens, waving a hand down his plastron. “This fine bod was made that way. Goat man says that my body’s always getting better even as I get worse.” His face blanches, “Hey, that sounds less complement-y than I remembered…”

Donnie attempts to process past the blatant ego. “Goat man..?”

“Y’know.” Leon rolls his hand. “Draxum.”

Donnie can’t fathom why this kid thinks he should know that name. “Maybe I should double-check for a concussion.”

“You telling me you’ve never heard of Draxum?” Leon gives him a funny look. “Mad scientist? Ooze wielder? Cafeteria lady? Dad-not-dad? Big part of the Mad Dog backstory?”

“See, now you’re just spitting out words.” Donnie grumbles as he cups his cheeks and lifts his head, more to annoy him than for medical analysis. “Hold still.”

Leon only waves his arms, words mashed like his face. “He t’rew me off a wroof!”

“That’s nice.” Donnie hums with a calculated condescension, smirking when his prisoner attempts to scowl. Leon shoves against his plastron and squirms free, indignant as Donnie releases him and holds up his hands in surrender. “It was awful, actually! It was a really tall building! Really tall!”

The high and whiney tint to his voice reminds him of when Mikey is in serious need of some feeling validation. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he gives him a more solmen nod instead. “Sounds it.”

He eyes him, suspicious. “I could have died. I would have!” His voice drops dramatically. “If Raph hadn’t caught me.”

“Raph catching Leos when they fall off tall buildings is a universal constant.” Donnie notes to show that he’s being very attentive. “This Draxum, scientist, lady, goat man, is not. Got it.”

Leon continues to give him the stink eye. Mikey usually complains a lot longer than this, so Donnie isn’t sure if it’s an appropriate time to move on to what really matters or not. “So…”

“Tell me a bedtime story.”

Donnie stares at him. “Excuse me?”

“You want me to go to sleep. I want you to tell me a story.” Leon decides with a bright grin. “A really good one about these brothers that you won’t stop blabbing about.”

Donnie feels like he missed something. “…Why?”

“Limited time offer, guy. Take it or leave it.”

He hesitates. “And then you’ll sleep?”

Leo lays himself down and scoots into the mini cave. With little room left, he gets comfy on his plastron, “Bedtime story. Go!”

“Aren’t you fifteen or something…”

“Less questions, more story, aaaand go!”

“I feel kinda-”

“Guuuuy-”

“Fine!”

He smirks, chin happily settled on fist.

Donnie bites his lip.

“Here, I’ll help! Once upon a- now here’s where you start- tiiime…”

Hoping to shut the turtle up for five minutes, Donnie starts telling the least daunting, embarrassing, or traumatizing recent memory that he can recall: namely, that one time Stockman turned a bunch of bugs into mutants and started robbing banks, giving Donnie the chance to save the day with his harnesses.

Even if no one mentioned that bit.

Which wasn’t important. They all did their part.

Besides, they were really cool. Mikey reassured him of that.

“…And it turns out, Raph apparently learned some super secret phrase from Splinter to help him keep calm in the battle. It really ticked Leo off that he wouldn’t share it with him.”

He chuckles as he recalls his ‘older and maturer’ brother arriving into his lab to slam the door and pathetically snivel to him about it. “Raph was super smug about it until Splin-ter…”

He trails off and his smile fades when he catches the look on Leon’s face. It disappears as he faces away, stretching his arms with a dry smirk. “You are really good at that.”

“Oh, heh-?” Donnie rubs the back of his neck bashfully as heat crawls up it. Usually, it’s Mikey who gets attention for that sort of thing. “G-Good? At-?”

“Lying.” Any humor disappears. The heat drops down and burns in his chest. Donnie narrows his eyes. “I wasn’t lying.”

“Spoken like a true fibber.”

“You’re the one who asked me to-!” Donnie starts, hand at his chest, but Leon meets his gaze cooly. “I was waiting for you to slip up.”

“Slip UP?!”

“People usually do. Especially with a lie as detailed as this one.” He squints at him. “You’re almost as good as me.”

Donnie can’t believe the audacity. “What POINT would there be in lying to you?!”

“Make me eat up your sob story so I help you out.” Leon explains simply before he shrugs. “S’what I would do.”

“It is not a sob story, and I don’t need your help!” The blaze spreads, so he wrenches himself to his feet and stomps away. Leon calls after, “Don’t go jumping off any cliffs!”

His fists clench. “I DIDN’T JUMP!”

Donnie expects him to shout after or, shell, even transport beside him since he just admitted to being a liar, but he goes quiet. Donnie gives himself a few minutes to seethe before he drags himself back to his companion. Leon’s carapace is to the entrance, body tense.

Not sleeping. More than likely pouting.

Such a Leo move…

The sudden prodding ache reminds him of his mission.

Right. Back to worrying about important things.

He exhales and shakes off the invisible hand smashing in his chest. It gives some reprieve for him to focus, trying to dig up even the smallest facts that he knew about Mikey’s stories in Dimension X.

They had confirmed that Mikey had only been there several hours, which is good, because Donnie’d had plenty of trouble calming Leo’s irrational crisis over whether or not he was still the oldest. It was way too many hours wasted on an afternoon where he actually wanted to be sleeping. He’d never have made progress if the timeline had been expanded to months. If that had been the case, Leo would have had to fork over his big brother title, as degrading as that sounded.

Donnie can’t imagine what it would have been like to be separated from his family for that long.

Mikey had been all too eager to go into deep specifics about his time in Dimension X. Donnie forgot most of the unimportant things, but he’d estimated that Mikey’d eaten all his pizza reserves with the first hour or two there. Then he’d tried a variety of… Randomly described objects that ‘looked tasty’ before he’d settled on the Squeebles.

Supposedly, they’d had the texture of milkshakes, but not any definite flavor. They were yummy, boosted his “savageness,” and didn’t appear to have any negatives effects.

It would be good information to have if there was a single glimpse of life in this place at all. Is there even a working ecosystem?

He hasn’t even seen any boom rock trees or signs of the familiar silver bases. There didn’t seem to be much of anything. Not that he misses the Scatterpillars or elemental giants or Kraang worms.

Donnie shudders. Definitely not.

Then again, if the Kraang have access to cloaking domes, then what does that mean for these Krang?

Donnie sighs. He’s getting nowhere like this.

Mikey managed to explore and master miles of Kraang territory before they reached him. Sure, Mikey had his photographic memory, but there has to be a way to get similar results. There must be a way to replicate the kind of… Oh. Hm.

Donnie checks on Leon. He remains faced away.

Good. He stretches out his arms, cracking his knuckles. Might as well try. What does he have to lose?

….Other than every trace of his dignity and self-respect.

He exhales in a huff. Okay. Head in the game. Think Mikey.

What would Mikey do?

Or better yet, what would Savage Mikey do?

Climb anything climbable. Swing from anything swingable. Wander around touching absolutely everything that he doesn’t understand. Stick unidentified objects between his toes.

….Yeah, he’s not doing that last one.

Donnie starts walking. His first instinct is to just wander, but Mikey’s more of a moth-to-a-flame kinda of turtle. So he chooses the random piece of curved metal in the distance. He ignores the knee-jerk reaction to dismiss any action that he doesn’t understand, obeying the urge to climb up and leap-frog to the next hunk.

A hollow clang greets him on the fourth landing. Donnie lifts a hand to look at the silent print left behind, brushing away more of the grime that reveals a light pinkish color. He slides down immediately, moving to the next large structure and finding a similar hunk of charred metal. He traces the bottom, where metal merges with rock, and debates how it got there. The metal almost looks seared in by some kind of intense heat. Was it purposeful?

He peeks around it, curious eyes trailing to a high point up ahead; tall but thin metal sheet slotted sideways into the ground. He fires his grapple and launches up to it, pulling himself to a comfortable crouch. His new weight doesn’t budge it, so he stands.

There’s a massive crater taken out of the island. Whatever’s left of the missing spot must be floating in the atmosphere around it. The destruction is mesmerizing. Of course, whatever the history of this dimension was, Donnie gets the feeling that it was not pretty.

He wonders if the Krang knows what it is. Maybe those horrors are part of the reason that he was so furious Leon brought him back.

Donnie’s eyes lock on movement in the distance. His eyes widen with interest and, because it’s definitely something Mikey would look into, he slides down to the ground and takes off in a sprint.

He heads towards the landmark. It’s the only chuck of faded pink with black stripes, so it’s not hard to track. He trips at the spike of pain up his leg when he nears his destination. He ducks behind a smaller rock, down on one knee with a light hiss. He wouldn’t let Leon waste bandages on it when the bleeding had already stopped.

If only the pain would copy.

Rubbing the sore limb, he peeks around with round eyes.

There’s a… creature squeezing through the doorway. It has one foreleg and two hind legs, bright pink tentacle-looking appendages sprouting from its back. The rest of its body is also a color scheme of pinks and purples, a dull yellow eye on the leg underneath the clashing jaw. It appears stuck, wiggling and gurgling and straining to get through the minuscule opening.

Donnie lowers a hand to his belt, startled when he realizes that his t-phone is gone. He knows it’s the right pocket because of the extra padding. Only Leon’s remains. He searches every pocket, horror and fury tight over his chest. How?! When-?! Seriously!?

He’s been here all of five minutes and he’s already lost his t-phone?!

That’s what he gets for harnessing his inner Mikey.

He looks back to the creature. Its struggle is becoming weaker and weaker. It raises its head and makes a high sound, like it’s calling out.

Donnie feels a tug at his heart, but he’s not stupid. He waits until the fight leaves it and it slumps to the ground, panting and gurgling, before he stands up. The half-lided eye locks on him, tentacles turning in his direction, but he keeps a passive hand outstretched. “It’s okay, little… creepy. Alien? Thing. I’m a friend.”

The creature squirms. Donnie moves over to the metal, feeling over it, searching for a way to dislodge it from the ground. He finds a corner to stick his fingers and braces his foot against a spot that’s a different tint of metal. He tenses his posture and yanks.

He cries out as nonexistent barbwire locks down on his shoulder. His vision whites and his hands cut into the metal, but he stands his ground and it eventually gives way.

He falls down with it, heavy weight bumping against his knees before hitting the ground. He quickly runs shaky fingers over his shoulder, because with his current string of luck-

He exhales in relief. Not dislocated. Better keep it that way.

Just to confirm, Donnie rolls his shoulder. Immediate pain, but the joint feels stable and nothing is oddly tingling. He flexes his fingers, reaching his arm above his head. Again, pain, but there’s apt motion.

Positives.

He can work with this.

Donnie looks up. Behind the compact metal is a wide tunnel.

Donnie can’t tell how long it is because it descends into an impossible darkness pretty fast. The creature garners his attention when it shifts. It attempts to rise, only to crumble before it can get its footing, flickering eye shutting with a gurgle. The tentacles on its back flail with a lot more life than it seems to have, extending towards Donnie as he watches curiously.

“Oh man.” It doesn’t look hurt. Donnie stands to move closer, yet unsure if he intends to offer comfort or a medical examination.

Can he rightly complete an examination of a creature that he doesn’t grasp the biological make-up of? Would this be one of those times that Leo glares at him and warns about ‘boundaries’?

That usually has something to do with sentience. Interesting query.

How sentient is it? Only one way to find out.

“Are you okay?”

The creature doesn’t answer or even move. The tentacles continue stretching out, getting tangled in one another in futile attempts to get closer to him. It’s cute, in a grotesquely ugly kinda way.

He crouches and reaches out. “Hey, there. I-”

“NINJA SNATCH!”

It’s only Donnie training that allows him to dodge the swift grasp of this entire turtle chucked at him. He gets a glimpse of the shocked expression before he’s crashing into the wall. The turtle peels off like an old sticker and falls back in his carapace as Donnie stomps over, glaring down at him. “WHAT are you DOING here?!”

“Saving you.” He winces before pointing to Donnie’s leering figure. “And, your welcome.”

“Saving me from what?” Donnie gestures to the creature. “This half dead thing that’s in desperate need of help?”

“Yes.” Leon climbs to his feet with a grunt. “That, but say it again more heroically. And with gratitude.”

“I was perfectly fine-” Donnie indignantly turns to head back to the little guy, only to fall face-first when arms lock around his leg. He yelps as he goes down. “‘EY!”

“Don’t touch it!” Leon demands. “It’s evil!”

“It’s dying!” Donnie shoots back. “Helpless and weak and pathetic and would you let go of me!?”

“Not if you’re gonna TOUCH IT!”

If that turtle had been fifty percent less heavily injured, Donnie could have pulled a couple of unsportmanshiply moves that would have set him free. Unfortunately, he has a conscience. “If you insist, then I won’t touch it. Now will you let me go?”

Leo lets go. “No problema.”

“Big problema.” He mocks. “You’re supposed to be asleep.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“We made a deal! I kept my end!”

“That does not sound like a deal I’d make, no.”

Donnie bites down a growl. How is this guy a Leo again?

“What do you say we get moving. Yes? Double yes? Oh, wow, Leo, you’re such a genius why didn’t I think of-”

“We can’t leave it.” Donnie looks at the creature. The tentacles are lying flat on its back, and Donnie can’t tell if it’s breathing. Was it breathing before? “It needs help.”

“If Krang wants his pet, he can come help him.”

“Pet?” Donnie repeats urgently. “That’s the Krang’s?”

“What did you think the tentacles were? Decoration?”

Donnie hesitates as his companion sits up. “Krang’s or not, we can’t just leave it to die.”

“What is with you?” Leon groans as if Donnie was being the unreasonable one here. “Do you want to become a mindless freak?!”

“Firstly, rude. Secondly, it’s not its fault it has different sentience!”

Leon pats his legs, expression bored. “Okay, there’s no way you don’t know about the Krang infection.”

“No! I don’t!” Donnie’s heart races. “What is a Krang infection?”

Leon narrows his eyes. “The Krang stick their tentacles in you and you transform into a zombie slave. Then those guys stick their tentacles in other people. Or rip them to shreds. They probably did it to most of New York. How did you miss that?”

“Because I wasn’t in your New York?!”

Leon only frowns at him. Donnie looks back at the creature. “So- so if I had touched that…”

“You’d be infected. And I’d probably have to kill you.”

Donnie stares at him. He doesn’t smile.

“So… Are you gonna kill it?”

Leon leans to the side to squint. “Seems kinda dead already.”

“Yeah.” Donnie admits quietly. He gets to his feet and goes over, careful to keep distance between him and the limp creature.

Leon trails after him and pulls out his sword to poke it. “What’s wrong with it?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t look injured.” Donnie’s hand goes to his belt again, only to come up empty. “Urgh, right, no t-phone.”

“T-phone? Is that what this is?”

Donnie’s head whips around. Leon tosses his t-phone in his hand. “What’s the T stand for?” He snickers. “Turtle?”

Donnie hurriedly swipes it back. He taps the screen, only to get greeted with a countdown. “You locked me out?!”

Leon shrugs carelessly. “I’m really bad at guessing passwords.”

“You-?!” Donnie spits out a frustration sound and spins to stomp away. He ends up inside the entrance, glaring at this surroundings. The heat fades as he approaches the wall.

Leon remains outside. “Um, guy? Where… You going?”

The wall is cool metal. The entire tunnel could very likely be man, er, Krang-made. The grim on his palms says that no one has been in there for a while. “It came out of here.”

“Sounds like a good reason to head the opposite direction.”

Leon has a point. But, would Savage Mikey head back?

The dark is making his skin crawl. Especially with the knowledge that a Krang creature came out. Could there be more?

Would Savage Mikey want to know? Maybe.

Donnie doesn’t. It’s illogical. And dangerous.

And yet. And yet.

It could be beneficial. It could be part of a base or ship. It could be something else entirely. If there’s some abandoned tech in there that could answer some of his questions... That could get him home.

Should he risk passing it up?

No. He can’t. Savage Mikey wasn’t willing to let anything stop him from reaching Leatherhead.

Donnie can’t let his uncertainty stop him from reaching his brothers.

He resumes his examination and touches the black stripe. It is, in fact, not paint. “Look at this. It’s some kind of… vine.”

Leon stays in the entrance. “I have bad experiences with vines.”

“It’s a sign of life.” Donnie looks deep into the tunnel. “I want to see where it goes.”

“Just a suggestion… What if we… Didn’t? Do that?”

“We don’t have to do anything.” Donnie moves forward, switching out the phones. “You do whatever you want. We both know it’s what you’ll do anyway.”

“Aw, come on, man. Don’t be like that!”

Donnie’s confident that he has every reason to act however he pleases. Unfortunately, common sense has him hesitating.

“…What are you so scared of?”

“I’m not scared.” Leon whines, but the way he looks at the vines, fingers scratching lightly over skin, Donnie begs to differ.

He might have believed him, one broken agreement ago, but he’s tired and pained and his patience has already worn thin.

Leon’s first mistake was admitting that he was a situational manipulator. He could easily be drafting an lie or excuse right now. It could be trick, and he was not about to get played.

He was too smart for that.

Besides, he had things to do. More important things.

“You’re welcome to wait.”

Donnie glares at him, pointedly clicking on the flashlight that’s thankfully accessible from the Lock Screen, and then starts his trek into the tunnel. Leon calls after him, but since his name is not and never will be “Guy,” Donnie confidently heads into the dark.

With a soft, “eugh boi,” Donnie hears padded steps follow him.

Previous Current Next

[mermmarie]

BAYVERSE BOYS - CARING FOR YOU WHEN SICK 🐢🧡❤️💙💜

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Authors Note: I’m sick, so how about some headcanons about the (Bay) boys taking care of you when you’re not feeling well? 😘

No warnings. Rated E for everyone??

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OVERALL: (General headcanons that apply to all the turtles) 

Due to the boys genetic engineering, they wouldn’t be susceptible to most human illnesses (if any at all.) So, you wouldn’t have to worry about quarantining away from your mutant boyfriend.

One of my personal favorite headcanons for the Bay Boys (thanks to @dontlookatmytmntcollection) is that they run hot. Their warmth would be comforting and somewhat medicinal (depending on the type of aliment you have.) 

Looots of face kisses. Even though they can’t contract your illness, it doesn’t mean they’re down to play tonsil hockey while snot’s dripping from your nose to lips and you’re trying to hack up your lungs every minute. So, you settle with kisses on your cheeks, forehead and ears.

“Babe, I can’t come down to the sewers, I’m sick.” “... Aight. I’m coming to you then.” NOTHING, would stop these boys from coming to your aid when you’re not feeling well. I mean, it is their responsibility to take care of the citizens of New York. They’re definitely not using your illness as an excuse to get out the lair and cuddle with you till sunrise. 

MICHELANGELO

Mikey doesn’t like being contained to one spot or activity for too long, so he wants you to recover quickly which means: staying hydrated!! He’ll make sure you’re sipping water every quarter hour, and you’ll have consumed at least three liters worth of fluid each day you’re sick.

However, you being sick does make for a great excuse to stay in bed and play video games. He’s definitely busting out the handhelds, or he’s bringing in a bigger console for you two to start an action-adventure story game together!

If he’s not with you, he’s blowing up your phone with jokes, memes, and funny videos to make up for his absence. After all, laughter is the best medicine, right?

Makes you ‘Get well soon’ cards, and leaves them strewn about your place for you to find when he’s away. If you don’t already have a vase for flowers, he’s bought you one and filled it with your favorite kind. (If it’s allergies that’s got you down, he’ll make sure to get fake flowers because you still deserve them! Just ones that won’t kill you! Lol!)   

RAPHAEL

Surprisingly, Raph is the only one out of his brothers who’d be fine with staying in bed with you all day. He hates it when you’re feeling bad, and just wants you to get well soon. So, if that means resting up and getting some good sleep then so be it. The man’s natural heat helps relieve sinus pressure and soothes you to sleep, so you’re grateful for his presence. (Even if he takes up most of the bed.)

The others don’t know this, but Raph is really good at mani-pedis. He’ll trim, file, and shape your nails, as well as pushing back and clipping your cuticles to remove any dead skin. Color is up to you, which he also does surprisingly well for how large his digits are.

Sews you a shawl every time you’re sick. Which hopefully, is not too often, but even so– Raph’s a pro at it, so it doesn’t take him long to whip something up. It’s unbelievably soft and retains heat like it’s him draping his arms over your shoulders instead of the cotton fabric.

He knows how important it is to maintain nutrients and keep your energy up when sick. To save you a mess of dishes and utensils, he puts together dump-n-go meals in a slow cooker! It ranges from soups, to stews, to pastas, and oatmeal. They’re all very tasty and there’s a good amount of leftovers for the next day!

LEONARDO

Remember how I mentioned that Leo would be good at massages? Well, you’d be getting a lot of facials when sick. He’s working on your sinuses to release pressure and unblock your nasal passages. He makes sure to do this before you lie down for bed, that way you’ll sleep easier. 

Cleans your whole damn room/house. A clean space makes for a clean mind; not to mention sanitization helps with a quicker recovery period. And since there’s not much else for the two of you to do when you’re down and out, he might as well tidy up. It’s nice to not have any cleaning to do once you’ve recovered.

Depending on the severity of your sickness, Leo will suggest a workout. Nothing too strenuous!! Just something light, like yoga or walking to get you active. You’ve most likely been stationary for most of your illness and your body could use stretching. (I personally should probably apply this practice to real life, hahaha…)

This may come as a surprise, but you watch a lot of trash TV together when you’re sick. Leo is one of those guys who thinks he has no interest and is above that kind of content, but snaps his head to attention when some drama goes down. And nothing makes you feel better than watching someone else’s crummy life play out on the big screen.  

DONATELLO

Has immediately placed a ‘clean bill of health’ order on a delivery app, and sent it to your residence. The order consists of: over the counter meds, neti pots, electrolyte-infused drinks, multiple humidifiers (if you don’t already have one), and a boat load of tissues. You think it’s too much tissue until you’ve gone through multiple boxes in just one day…

Like his orange-clad brother, he would propose playing some video games if you’re feeling up for it. Although, unlike Mikey, he’d suggest you play something competitive or involving horror. It’s to get your heart pumping and blood flowing. Of course, he’s creative in his remedies!

He draws up perfectly temperature baths for you with essential oils to ease your congestion and Epsom salt to relieve your muscle aches. He also throws in some bath bubbles cause it isn’t only about feeling better! He wants you to relax and have some fun too!

If you got homework that needs done, housework that requires fixing, or bills to be paid, Donnie’s got you covered. The last thing you need to do while recovering is stress over tasks that he can easily take care of while you’re sick. (Not to mention, he takes much pride in being your go-to man.) 

[en-geneisaxx]

𝐴 𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑑ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑛 𝑎 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑦𝑒𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑖𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛 𝑎𝑠 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑣𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑚 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑎𝑡𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑖𝑔𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟. 𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠 𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑝𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑖𝑛 𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑠𝑝. 𝑂ℎ, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑝𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑜𝑛: ℎ𝑖𝑠.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞!𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐘/𝐧

Warnings/content: Death, mentions of killing, stabbing, abuse, angst (not sure if I did this successfully but oh well), yandere behaviour (m), high school au, fluff, stalking (through camera), threatening, mdni, lmk if I missed anything!

A/n: HEY HEY HEY! Came back from the dead after writing 8 drafts for this one fic (gonna make it two long fics bc hopefully starting a fresh clean draft will help me out for once). I hope you guys enjoy and feedback is always welcome!

PLEASE, 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆, 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃/𝐎𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐄. (This acc applies to every author out here, especially if we spend sm time on writing these). The lack of sleep I had just to make this decent is concerning. We, writers, work hard on our fics, so we wish that it spreads to many audiences as possible

Once again, if you ever read, I hope you enjoy!

Part 1

To start off high school, which school will you be attending? Turns out it’s your brother’s school:

Karasuno High.

September has started, and it’s your first day of High School. You walked together with your older brother, Daichi, who’s going to leave once it’s your second year. You felt quite disappointed, for you liked hanging out with your brother. For many, that’s a special case, because there’s always the stereotypes of siblings on bad terms with each other. However, being brought up in a strict environment, you found comfort in each other. Simply put, the two of you depended on each other, and it was mutual. 

Being in such an environment has taken a toll on your mental health and personality. At first, your parents were so kind to you, bringing you up like a normal child. But, once your tutoring started at the age of four, they gave you the harsh treatment. It was cruel, because you were only young, yet they threatened to disown you, just for not doing the day’s worksheets. They made you cry, hit you, abused you, changing you from a bubbly E to a “depressed” I. Yes, people had made fun of you as you got older, calling you “depressed” or “emo”. It was normally based on your attitude, the colours you wore the most, how you presented yourself. Tired of trying to prove your classmates wrong, you decided to play along to their judgements. You know the saying, ‘You are what you pretend to be’? Turns out, that was true, and you had problems changing it. 

When you’re alone, talking to yourself, you’re so chatty and energetic. You make yourself as the life of the party, cheering up all these imaginary people that live inside your head. That was the consequence of being delusional. You did know it was fake, yet when else could you act so happy? It was what kept you going in hard times, so you decided to cling onto your dreams for a little longer. 

Though, the extra education has certainly helped you in your studies and grades. From the start onwards, you were well-known for your brilliant mind and excellent grades. People had the impression that you were smart, and had always thought luck was on their side when you made your appearance to their team. You enjoyed that, the feeling of being admired and respected. That was the motivation to keep your grades top-notch, to stay as the model student. You wouldn’t dare stain your shining reputation. Sick? Doesn’t matter, you’ll miss out on your lessons, and you’ll miss 20% percent of your attendance. Being behind anyone annoys you, or more like scares you, because you know your parents are going to be asking questions on why you weren’t top of the class. It’s frustrating, because you give your all in lessons anyways. 

So, having an opportunity to be with your brother more elated you, easing your nerves of attending this new school, a new chapter in your life. You still felt nervous, the social anxiety getting to you, but hopefully there’ll be people you could get along with, right? Despite all the names, people still liked talking to you, interacting with you like a normal person. You’re surprised how you managed to fit in, because you were quite behind in terms of trends and other popular things due to your parents restricting the apps on your phone. Remembering that you weren’t an outcast, you continued walking to your school with your brother with slight confidence. The scenery was making you forget about those kinds of situations anyway, for the breathtaking autumn leaves caught your eye. The vivid colours of orange, yellow and green made you feel calm and relaxed, enjoying the joyful splatters of paint that swirled across the blue canvas you were portrayed in. The sunshine added to the beauty, making things look so much more aesthetic. 

It was just a normal school building, but knowing that this is a new start excited you. New school, new classmates, and possibly new friends. You happily strided through the school, forgetting that you needed to find your classroom. Luckily, helping you was one of Daichi’s priorities, and he pulled you by the collar before dragging you to the correct corridor. You noticed that the people on your floor weren’t that tall, until you saw a big, blue-haired giant with an orange shrimp. The contrast intimidates you, and you almost quickly shake it off.

Almost.

You, from the corner of your eye as you watched the pair argue past you, saw Daichi looking at them for a second too long. That sparked the curiosity in you, lips parting to ask a question, but that couldn’t even be asked because you, now, have reached the door of your class. Daichi checks the time, and his rushed manner gives you the impression that he had somewhere to be. He sighs, placing his hands on your shoulder, “Y/n, I know you’ll do just fine. But, if you need me, I’m on the third floor, the last classroom in the corridor. I got to go now, class is going to start. I’ll meet you after school at the gym. Good luck!” He says before fast walking through the corridor. You look at your class, First day, gotta do well. You were relieved when no one seemed to pay attention to your entrance, busy talking to one another. You scanned the room, looking for a decent empty seat and-

HANG ON, THE SEAT IN THE BACK CORNER NEXT TO THE WINDOW IS EMPTY!? You thought the people were crazy for letting such a seat be vacant. Nevertheless, you claimed the area as yours, setting out your equipment before looking outside, waiting for your teacher to come.

“Hi, um…” An unknown voice reaches out to you. You hum in acknowledgement of his presence, focusing on finishing the last bits of your notes. But honestly, if only you looked at the owner, would you have focused your attention on something so much better, so much worthwhile. He notices this, and smiles, sitting in the chair from the desk ahead, letting you finish. He knows how important studying is, being studious himself. 

You continued for a minute or so, stretching your body before tidying up. You had almost forgotten the extra person, who was so damn quiet.

“I assume you’re done, Miss Sawamura?”

Finally, you snap your head at the man, and never did you think you would lay your eyes on someone so perfect. He was a beautiful mix of cute and sexy, and his voice went straight to your clothed womanhood. Not to mention that mole next the left side of his warm brown eyes, and his fluffy silver hair. His body was incredible, sneaking a glance at the unbuttoned area of his white shirt. He was everything you could’ve asked for.

“I love you.” You sighed dreamily, catching the boy off-guard.

“H-Huh, can you repeat that?” He acts innocently, knowing damn well what he heard. 

“I-I said, ‘Yeah, I am.’” What a pathetic lie you thought I couldn’t even act it out properly… “But, anyways, why do you ask?” 

“Oh, Daichi asked me to collect you. He’s busy with the team right now.” He answers. “By the way, I’m Koushi Sugawara. I’m the vice-captain of Karasuno, the official setter andddd your brother’s best friend!” He says proudly, boasting about all his achievements. He laughs when he sees your gleaming eyes, your figure that’s amazed by how blessed he is. “C’mon, let’s go to the gym, and there we can see Daichi.”

“HUH?!” Shouts a very offended and confused Sugawara, “WHAT DO YOU MEAN I’M NOT THE OFFICIAL SETTER ANYMORE?”.

Daichi sighs, tired by repeating the same thing, “Suga, the first-year setter is really talented. Though you have experience, he’s just…” He thinks of the right word, wary of Sugawara’s furious glare. Instead, he just leaves it like that, unfinished.

“What about me being vice-captain?” He asks agitatedly, hoping he’ll agree to that since Sugawara’s a role model after all.

“Suga, you’re almost on the same level as crazy as Nishinoya and Tanaka…” 

“I’M SMART THOUGH, AND I ALWAYS BEHAVE WELL!” He reasons, hands flying about in the air.

“What you’re doing right now says otherwise. And plus, Ennoshita is a good choice too. He could actually be the vice-captain instead.” Daichi crushes Sugawara’s heart, stretching his body, unbothered by the silver boy’s sad look. 

“The best friend’s bit is true…right?” The poor boy mumbles, but loud and clear enough to hear. 

“I dunno.” Your brother jokes, but Sugawara took it personally. He starts being emotional, moody and hurtful to others. You thought it would be too early to do physical contact with this angel, but you couldn’t help it. 

You wrap your hands around him, head on his shoulder, the two of you rocking gently as you both clung to each other. First time meeting, and already you two are acting like a loving couple. You gently pat his back as he finds purchase in the crook of your neck. The whole gym is quiet, everybody is too busy watching the scene that’s taking place before their eyes. 

“Suga, you can be my best friend. My sweet Sugar…” 

His ears perk up at this, a pink blush colouring his soft cheeks. He found this cute, he found you cute, and he was touched by your actions towards him. He nods his head, which is still buried in your neck, flaming hot as a result of his blushing, and hugs your waist even tighter. 

“Thank you, Angel.”

“HEY, Y/N!” Nishinoya, the grade school-looking kid, who turns out to be a year older than you, shouts, running to you, “WHAT WAS THAT, ABOUT EARLIER?!”

Tanaka chimes in too in agreement, “YEAH, YOU MADE US FEEL LIKE THE SINGLE ASSES WE ARE.” 

They reenact the scene -horribly- as you stood there, awkwardly watching a summary of what had happened just a few hours ago. You thought it was yesterday, for it was a midnight blue sky instead of the ombre of oranges, pinks and blues with the blazing sphere raised in the air. You circle around a nearby lamppost, distancing yourself from the herd of animals as you wait for your dearest brother to come. Checking your phone, you stare at it blankly, unsure of what to do due to boredom. Randomly, you click on the calendar app, suddenly being reminded of Suga’s birthday. 

“Y/n!” Sugawara calls, waving his hand in the slightly cold night air. He wore a blue scarf and a black jacket, nose, cheeks and ears having a dash of pink. When he got closer to you, he enveloped you into his arms, pissing off Daichi. 

“Ugh, enough with this ‘couple’ activity, let’s go home…” Daichi groans out.

Home. Gosh, with how perfect the day was did you forget that your parents existed. Did you forget you can’t have a boyfriend? Crushes were allowed, but not boyfriends. Your mother clearly stated you can only have a boyfriend when you’ve finished your studies. Man, and you decided to take uni, so it’ll take until after 20 years or so…

As you two linked arms under the gentle light of the mysterious moon, you continued to dread what would happen if you and Suga really got together. Because, right now, it’s more like Suga’s doing this as your best friend. 

Hah, there’s no way he’ll like me, right?

Is this first love at sight?

When Sugawara first saw you, it was when you were on the stands, little you cheering your brother and his team. As Sugawara made his way to serve, a wave of panic crashed into him, losing his self-composure and staring ahead to the many people who eyed him, including you. Luckily, you managed to save him right before the referee blew the whistle for him to start:

“Sugawara-san!” You shouted, “Don’t feel scared, everyone on your side of your court is your teammates, and teammates help each other, not hate each other!” 

Maybe it was at that moment did Sugawara want to stay by your side. He suddenly saw you in a different light now; just you two in a light, before an opening was seen by him. 

Wait, did she just let me see the best place to serve?

As the whistle blew, Sugawara looked at you and the spot one last time, before closing his eyes and hitting the ball. He didn’t know which team got a point, for everyone was shouting. But, when he heard your voice, you became crystal clear.

“Way to go, Koushi!!” You giggle happily, clapping your hands in such a joyful manner. He was so happy you were there, but he wished you could’ve come to more games. 

Hang on, can I make her come to more games?

He tries to think of a plan, before he realised it would be incredibly simplistic, now that Daichi told him an important piece of information.

“Haha, Suga! You know the girl that cheered you on? That was my sister, Y/n.” 

He laughed internally for how things were going the way he liked it. If you were his sister, then he could see you more by using Daichi as an excuse. Oh, and the two boys were going to the same school: Karasuno. Knowing all this, he knew he just had to wait…just a little longer.

And now that time has come. He knew that you probably forgot him, because it was quite some time ago. However, now he’ll take every opportunity he can to spend time with you, whether it be through hanging out with you at break, giving you lunch boxes at lunch, or bringing you to the gym. Anything with you will satiate his hunger for you.

Simply put, he liked you – too much.

“Hey, we need to talk.” States the elder, sitting on your bed as you spun in your chair. He had a serious look on his face, causing you to straighten your back and look at him. He deeply exhales, “Whatever you’re doing with Suga, stop it. I won’t hesitate to tell our parents.” 

That alone made you livid. You burned with such anger, so much it broke the scales. He’s even threatening you? The fuck? You sometimes had thought lowly of your brother, especially when you were fazed by wrath, but never did you expect him to be such a dick. 

“How fucking dare you.” You cursed through gritted teeth, your self-control on the edge of disaster. Your knuckles turned pale-white, eyes darkened with fury as you stared at the bastard. “You know damn well how bad my life is, yet you won’t bother helping me when I see the light?” 

“That light’s not supposed to be Sugawara’s – in our parents’ eyes, I mean.” 

“So what, you gonna act all good and treat me like shit too?” You wouldn’t even try showing an ounce of respect at this point. 

“Firstly, I don’t like the language you’re using. Secondly, I’m just trying to protect you. You know the rules, there’s no point in breaking them.” He reasons.

“Don’t protect me, not when I’ve finally found a reason to be happy.” You said coldly, staring into his soul with such emotion. 

“You can’t keep that reason if our parents find out.” 

“Then they can go and fuck themselves for all I care.” You said bluntly before facing your desk, touching up on some notes from class. He sighs, knowing it’s utterly pointless to try and help such a stubborn sister. 

“Don’t come to me when you fall into despair. This was your choice, I was only trying to save you.” 

November.

It’s the month of the Inter-High Preliminaries, where other volleyball teams fight to go to the Nationals. The team has been training hard, getting experience from practise matches. They used it well and have managed to defeat the Iron Wall of Date Tech, yet it just wasn’t enough to beat the powerhouse school: Aoba Johsai. 

Kageyama, the tall, blue-haired giant, was stressed beforehand about that very match. Their setter, Oikawa, was better overall in some things, even winning the ‘Best Setter Award’. The two setters went to the same team: Kitagawa Daiichi. To Kageyama, Oikawa was a role model, a person to look up to. 

Oikawa was different. Instead, he looked to Kageyama as a person to beat, to look down upon. You see, when Oikawa was the only best setter in the team, he was relied on a lot, being the control cell tower. However, his abilities started going into a declining process, affecting the team in general. So, in his eyes, who made it worse? Young Tobio Kageyama. 

Kageyama had been playing volleyball in elementary school. When he joined Kitagawa Daiichi, many were surprised by his good sets. So, often, he would replace Oikawa, making the elder sit on the bench, fuming.

It drove him to just practice, practicing until he was better, until he got stronger. It led to Iwaizumi having to knock some sense into him each time, for Oikawa was overworking himself, and losing his self-control. An example of this is when Oikawa was practicing his serves, something Kageyama wished to do. Asking his elder for advice, he approached Oikawa, asking if he could teach him how to do his amazing jump serves. However, he viewed Kageyama as a monster, a monster like Ushiwaka – the ace of Shiratorizawa. So, he attempted to punch him right there and then. Why? Because he was afraid, he knew Kageyama had potential, enough to beat him. 

That’s how Oikawa improved for the better. How he was able to use all that training to beat his underclassmen. He may seem cocky, but really, he’s humble. He knows his strengths and weaknesses and tries to improve. That’s how he was able to bring out the best of his players in his sets. That's right, he was always able to make his team stronger, probably from his experience of improving and understanding himself.

 He’s loved by many, especially girls, but he’s never really found the one. 

Until you appeared.

There: a sweet girl who isn’t like those noisy little fangirls. A humble person like himself. He grew an interest in you, and, through annoying Hinata and Kageyama, brought himself to you. 

“Hello there,” He gave a flirtatious smile, “what’s your name, pretty?”

You couldn’t lie: he was handsome. That tall height, the hair, his looks - he was another beautiful boy. But, there’s a problem – what about Sugawara? He was basically your first crush, someone you would die for. Moreover, you said he was your happiness. But what about Oikawa? What about the very man who’s asking your name in such a sexy manner? 

Wait, but I’m not Suga’s girlfriend, so he has no control over me.

Wrong. Sugawara believes that he can control you, and wouldn’t mind getting rid of the problem that’s blocking his way into becoming your forever. You should’ve been smarter if you wanted the poor handsome man to live, because now Sugawara’s gonna eliminate the problem – and fast.

“I’m Y/n…Y/n Sawamura.” 

Ah, Sawamura as in their captain’s family name?

“Oh, are you Daichi’s sister? I never knew he had one…” His eyes drift off to the floor, before smiling and meeting yours again, “That won’t stop me from asking you out though-”

“What are you doing with my girl?” Sugawara asks coldly, eyes piercing his soul. It gave you the chills, the way Sugawara looked so scary, like he was mental. Oikawa was taken aback by this, eyes blinking in confusion,

“You have a boyfriend? Mr. Refreshing is your boyfriend?” He looks back at the two of you. You didn’t want to answer, because you didn’t really know what kind of relationship you are in with Sugawara. You guys said you were best-friends, yet you two never really acted like one without romantic feelings. 

But you didn’t need to put everything on the line right now, for Sugawara brushed by him and dragged you away. That firm grip made your hand ache, and you begged for him to stop. Only until you guys got away from the crowd did he finally speak…and change. When you hissed in pain when trying to make your hand move, Sugawara got on his knees and started kissing it, saying his apologies in a chant, looking up at you with doe eyes. You’re shocked by the contrast, how could he have switched everything about him so quickly? Your bodies press as he brings you in for a hug, stroking your hair with his hand and the other rubbing your back in small circles.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n…Just don’t hang out with other guys, ok?” 

Fuck. It was so calm and gentle the way he said his subtle threat. It was so calm and gentle yet those words itself choked you, making you feel trapped. It didn’t feel as good, for it was suffocating the way Sugawara wanted to be with you 24/7. You were bewildered with yourself: do you like this or hate it? You’re not pushing him away, yet it feels weird. 

You hear Hinata calling both of your names, looking for you guys. You two separate yourselves from the hug, coming out of the abandoned corridor and following Hinata to the courts. 

Just before the game started, Oikawa said to you,

“Hey, pretty, if I win this match, you have to go on a date with me, ok?” He didn’t even bother letting you answer, running out of the doors and joining his team.

33-31. Who were the victors? Was it the devastated team that fell silent and on the floor in despair, or the standing powerhouse team that cheered in victory of defeating the ‘wingless crows’? Oikawa smirked in your direction, knowing he’ll get a date with you.

Or so he thought. 

“That bastard…” Sugawara mutters,

“I’m gonna kill him.”

“Y/n~” Oikawa waves at you as both your teams meet up with each other. The crows express their annoyance and anger to the thriving plants, and they reciprocate it back. 

“Oikawa,” Daichi forces a fake smile on his face, “what makes you say my sister’s name, but less know her?” He questions, with Sugawara pressing his shoulder more firmly against yours. 

“Why, we met each other. And,” His eyes look at yours, “remember the deal? Give me your number, I’ll text you when we meet again.” He rummages in his bag for his phone, while Daichi yells at him.

“WHAT DEAL DID YOU MAKE WITH MY SISTER?” He looks at you, fuming, “WHAT DEAL DID YOU MAKE WITH HIM? WHAT DO YOU MEAN ABOUT ‘MEET AGAIN’?” 

Oikawa was first to take a step out of his line, going through your bag until he got your phone. Everyone just stood there, shocked by this rude awakening. After successfully obtaining your number, he winks at your team, waving his phone in the air before heading off with his teammates, the victors. 

“Ah, I forgot.” He aims this directly at Sugawara, 

“Beat ya to it.”

Sugawara wasn’t going to have this. He stares at the disappearing figure as he mentally foreshadowed the upcoming events very subtly, 

“We’ll see who gets the last laugh, who’ll stand victorious in gaining Y/n’s love.” 

 “Y/n.” Daichi started, the urge to scream at you was in favour of winning, “why did Mr. Oikawa know your name, tell us about some kind of deal, and even have your number?” 

You wanted to cry, overwhelmed by the events that happened in less than a day. 

“Daichi, I think Y/n should stay with me.” Sugawara stated nonchalantly, as if he didn’t abuse his right as his best friend just to have you all for himself. Daichi nods in agreement, thinking he should trust Sugawara since the silver-haired boy was smart overall. 

“Yeah. Y/n, you’ll stay with Sugawara when we get back to the hotel.” He gets inside of the bus as the others hop in. You sit in the window seat at the back, head pressed against the window as Sugawara sat next to you, taking sneaky glances as you look at the scenery. Finally, you shift your head onto Sugawara’s shoulder, the two of you talking as everyone on the bus fell into a deep slumber.

“Suga,” You play with his hands, “I want you to cuddle me later.”

This was so unexpected for the both of you, because you never really asked for these things. However, you felt like you needed a hug, comfort, and that only Sugawara can only provide that. 

“Of course, Sugar…” He puts his chin on your head, “I’ll be the one who does these things to you,” His hand strokes your face as you try to fall asleep, 

“I’ll be the one you only gonna need.”

It was a good few hours on the bus before you guys reached the hotel. Everyone stands outside, yawning in fatigue after a long and tiring day. You cling onto Sugawara for support, to which he willingly helps as Mr. Takeda gives out his speech.

“You all did well. Just because you didn’t win doesn’t mean you weren’t good.” He was about to continue before Kageyama cut him off.

“But we weren’t good enough. Us losing proves that.” 

Sugawara whispers a ‘Wait for me for a few seconds, Y/n.’ as he helps you stand up, before marching over to Kageyama with annoyance. 

“Stop being negative! That’s what makes us feel bad. We did our best, and it’s better to lose proudly because of how hard we fought rather than not giving our all. You need to understand that this isn’t the last, and that there are many opportunities! All we need is to rest, reflect and get ready to improve. Stop dwelling over the sad stuff and focus on what to do next!” 

Kageyama was about to resume his degrading speech, but Sugawara prevented him from doing so. 

“Negativity….Be gone!” He jabs Kageyama in the chest, earning a pained yelp from the official setter. Everyone laughs at this, with Asahi adding, “Yep, I know how that feels like, Kageyama..” to the fun. The team settled down inside, eating a hearty meal despite crying all over again, and, now, prepared to go to sleep. You shared a room with Sugawara, plopping down next to him as you gave him a big hug. The two of you stayed like that until your phone vibrated, holding a message. 

“I really wanna see you again, but I wanna make things special. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but it will be my first ever date, and so I wanna make it memorable. Meet me at 7pm at this hill on Christmas Day. See you, pretty.”

“He wants you on such a nice day, huh…” Sugawara sighs, “Do you want to go?”

“I kind of need to though,” 

He smiles, “I’ll make sure you won’t have to.” 

“Really?” You were shocked and confused, how could he?

“Mhm,” He pulls you into a hug again, “you’ll never have to see him,

 ever again.”

December 25th

Date (Meeting) with Oikawa. 

You stared at the reminder for the day, feeling quite nervous about…everything. This was your first date, yet you wished it could’ve been with someone you felt close to, someone who felt like a boyfriend. Oikawa was just a victorious gambler, winning the grand prize of taking you out. He did seem quite handsome, but that was pretty much it for his first impression. 

Ignoring the upcoming event, you go downstairs to eat lunch, surprised that Sugawara was there. He might have given off your entrance to Daichi with his eyes, and you wished you stayed upstairs just for a little longer. You swear you could’ve passed out right there and then when you saw Daichi’s hell-like figure, his anger spreading throughout him like flames. The way you couldn’t see his eyes, how you couldn’t even hear him breathe; it all terrified you, leaving you in a petrified state as you forgot how to breathe yourself. 

Suddenly, you were in a world of black.

[Now playing: Lucifer – Enhypen ]

You gasp, taking a deep breath as you wake up, realising you were back in your room. Making sure you weren’t in a dream, you check your phone – 20:13. 

Geez, I’ve been knocked out for this long?

Feeling thirsty, you get out to get a drink, before the feeling that you’ve forgotten about something haunts you. 

What is today?

You check your phone again, December 25th – Christmas. But what could you have forgotten? Was it you didn’t text your friends with merry greetings, give them the presents, or eat a Christmas meal? It was bothering you, until you focused on the time. Time; only then did it hit you: you were supposed to meet up with Oikawa. Checking the messages app, you press on his contact, shocked when you haven’t received a message. Hearing the frightened screams of your mother, you rush downstairs, listening to the TV as your family panics.

“Good evening. Police have sent warnings to the people of the Miyagi Prefecture in particular to watch out as Aoba Johsai Setter, Tooru Oikawa, was found dead near a hill today. Many are surprised by the sudden death, and experts have said that this was an act of murder. Investigations are taking place as they try to find the murderer responsible for the murder. This has brought devastation to everyone as they try to indigest the news. 

This was the case of the Christmas Day Murder.

Tooru Oikawa, may you rest in peace.”

Without knowing, you cry as you felt an immense feeling of guilt, pity and regretfor the tragic death of someone who was genuinely nice. You wished you met up with him, gave him his prize, because maybe, just maybe then he would have lived to see another day. 

“Oikawa…” You whimper in despair, “I’m so sorry…” You kneel as pictures and videos of himself are played on the screen, regret evident with the crystal tears that cried for him.

Ah, how good that felt! 

Wipes himself clean as he, too, watches the news. He cackles, “GUESS WHO GOT THE LAST LAUGH NOW, OIKAWA.” He closes his eyes while grinning, taking himself back to that moment…

[ Now playing: My Love Mine All Mine – Mitski ]

Shit, I hope I won’t be late! He hoped, driving to the hill as fast as he could. He was so excited, occasionally checking his face every now and then, jumping out of his car and running up only to be met with the natural world. His joyous smile quickly faded as he looked around, sadly finding out you haven’t arrived yet. He sighs in disappointment, lips in a pout as he felt that he got here so fast for nothing – that he wanted, at least. Maybe he shouldn’t have come at all, so that he could have a chance to avoid the Harbinger of Bad News. 

Where’s Y/n? I miss her so much…

Hearing the sound of cracking twigs, he spins around almost immediately, your name slipping past his lips as he beamed. Yet, nothing was in his view. Without warning, he got strangled from behind, the owner of the arms that choked Oikawa still unknown, and slowly cut off his air supply.

The fuck!? How could someone have gotten behind me so fast? 

As the victim rolls his eyes back to his skull, his limbs start to weaken, giving up on fighting as he stands between the lines of life and death. Seeing that he was nearly as dead, the host grabs his knife, stabbing Oikawa’s body repeatedly until he was drained of blood, and when the stabber would be covered in the red ‘poison’. Looking at the bloody and scarred dead body that lay helplessly on the floor, he gave a very loud laugh, cutting away bits of his hair with his knife to keep as a trophy.

Walking away from the crime scene, he hums a song to commemorate the achievement:

“‘Cause my love is mine, all mine…”

“Y/n, why are you crying…” Daichi asks through sniffles, having a congested nose due to his endless release of tears. 

“The fact he was all alone…all alone while waiting just for me…Oh, I feel so horrible. I shouldn’t have been so judgemental of him, of his actions.” 

“I guess that was the price of overreacting…I think I got ahead of myself. I’m sorry, Y/n,” He looks up at the ceiling to gesture his apology to Heaven, “I’m sorry, Oikawa. You were a great captain, teammate, setter, and person as a whole. I’ll dedicate my plays to you.” He pats you on the back before heading to his room. 

“This was TV Asahi, good night.” 

Commercial came on, and so you switched off the electronic as you made your way to your bedroom, sitting at your desk. Your mind was just full of Oikawa, and you wanted to do something for him. Since you enjoyed drawing, you took out your pencil case and a sheet of paper as you drew the man himself. Due to never really having a normal meetup with him, you talked to the drawing as if it was Oikawa, secretly wishing he was in your room right now, whether it be as a living human or conscious ghost. 

It went on for hours, staring at the finished product before shedding one final tear of the day. It was nearly midnight, so you bid drawing Oikawa goodnight, tucking yourself in your bed covers as you attempted to go to sleep. 

[Now playing: Rises the Moon – Liana Flores ]

Do it for Oikawa…Do it for Oikawa…

Is this what guilt does to people? It haunts them? Does it manipulate them into thinking it was their fault? It made it hard to fall asleep, because he was supposed to wake up into another day too. 

This wasn’t what Sugawara wanted, and he wouldn’t accept this outcome. As he looked at your restless figure through the hidden camera he placed when lying you in bed earlier, he slammed his hand on the table, messing up his hair in frustration as he saw that you didn’t check your phone. He sent you text messages, one asking if he could come over to comfort you, but unsuccessfully couldn’t make it to your bed, by your side. 

He touches the screen, hand touching your pixelated figure as he wished you were in his arms, sleeping soundly under the moonlight. Don’t mistake Sugawara as a vicious, manipulative killer. He just loves you so much he yearns to have the exact same amount back. The thought of you caring for someone gave him the impression that he hasn’t got 100%. Therefore, he resorts to insane methods, such as death, to make you have one less person to care about. He just wants to experience the full package of you all for himself. For him, that isn’t selfish at all. Rather, he views it as a committed relationship between the two parties.

If it weren’t for any third parties, you would get a lover boy who just solely wants to make you happy. No death, violence, blood, but daisies and a refreshing breeze in your lives. 

They say that you needed a traumatic backstory if you ever became a monster, yet why didn’t he have one? His childhood was full of laughter and joy, as if he was blessed with the sunshine forever shining down on him. Why and how did his moon cover his sun will be left in mystery, but if it happened because of you, it could be because of love. A weird, deadly, but beautiful love. 

After sunny days, when the sun disappears from the sky,

Rises the moon…

[Now playing: I wanna be yours – Arctic Monkeys]

1 new notification

Y/n: Please come over.

You stare at your glowing white phone screen in the dark. Falling asleep seemed like a challenge, still disturbed the news of today. Having shivers down your spine, you needed warmth from someone, like Sugawara. 

Since waiting seemed to take a long period of time, your heavy lids start to come at a close. However, the last thing you see won’t be an empty space on the bed, because, just on cue, Sugawara makes it to your bedroom window, which you lazily unlocked. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Sugar.” He snuggles up beside you, arms around your body as he strokes your hair. 

“Suga…

What are we?

You try to keep yourself awake as you share your thoughts, “It’s just…the way we act to each other, what we’re doing right now, the nicknames…everyone who passes by us would think we were a couple.” 

“Were we not?” 

Wait, so for the past few months, we weren’t best friends?

“Y/n, I thought you would’ve known by now. I thought you liked me too.” 

Taking your hands in his, he confesses with his genuine love he has for you,

“You know, you make me sing songs all about you. Here’s one I hope you understand,

He looks at the feminine moon before diving his gaze to you,

“

My Angel, The Sun,

Won’t you find me

Loving, Attractive,

Sweet like honey?

Because all I ever really felt

Was bliss sent from the heavens above,

And that bliss was you.

I never really understood

What made me be so drawn to you

I just may just be, a little mad

In love with you, my obsession with you

Defied all others, even if they say ‘I love you to the moon,’

Because mine may not even exist

In this universe that may have a limit.

Darling, I just want to give you the best

Because you deserve happiness.

If they say, ‘I want you too,’

It got so scared because I don’t want to

Lose you by these ugly men

I can treat you better

All you need to do is put your trust in me

I promise I’ll give you magic.

I’m a Lucifer

But don’t worry, I won’t take away your wings.

You can go up to heaven

Just make sure you fly your way back to me,

I promise you, I’ll be all you need.

My love.”

A tear of affection escapes your weary eyes as you hear the heart of Sugawara through his words. Simple, but powerful that wins your feelings. 

“I love you too, dearest Koushi.” You say just as you press your lips against his in a passionate kiss. Nothing sexual, nothing for pleasure, just pure love that the two of you hold for each other. Though you wished the minutes lasted for hours, your bodies couldn’t handle a huge amount of time without breathing, and heavy pants heat the room. You untangle your hand from his, putting one on his face as you traced over his facial features, resting it on his cheek once you felt satisfied. He looks at you from above, taking in your image as if it was his last time seeing you. You both felt that being in each other’s embrace forever was enough, and you two wouldn’t ever complain. 

And that’s how you cuddled in bed with the murderer, who made sure to rid himself of Oikawa’s blood when taking a quick, celebratory shower. He found it cute how you never thought about the possibility of him being the killer that’s rising in the trending searches, clinging onto his body with a series of emotions, but mostly to seek comfort.

Poor Oikawa, if only the two lovebirds had made their feelings clear to each other the man would have possibly lived. 

But, perhaps it was the death of Oikawa that caused a slight disturbance in your smooth flowing relationship. 

Y/n, why must I chase you again when I did this for love?

You’re lucky, because I can wait for what will be mine, always,

My dearest Y/n, my sweet angel. You’re all mine.

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