#shou could never (lie)

[puddledfishhh]

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens (25)

[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: angst, tension, anxiety, a lot of half-truths ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard

Author note: For the purposes of this story, Lord Rodrik Arryn had a son and an heir, who in turn has a son of his own, to whom our Lady Strong was betrothed. I invented the lullaby in this chapter, so if you think it's weird, thank me, lol.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

After what he heard, he just vomited, unable to stop the convulsions that were squeezing his stomach, the rapid pounding of his heart or his terrified, ragged breathing. He could feel tears of despair and fear running down his cheeks as he coughed once more, panting heavily over the vessel − he felt like his whole body was twitching.

You will betray her at the moment she trusts you the most.

You will achieve victory, but she will never let you touch herself again.

You will put your child inside me, your bastard son, who will rule Harrenhal after our death.

He felt his stomach twist again in pain at the mere memory – he leaned over the bowl, feeling the gag reflex shake his body once more, but nothing left his throat.

He cried out loudly as if he were a small child, covering his face with his hand, leaning over the table, thinking about how much he needed his wife right now.

How much he wanted to snuggle between her soft, sweet breasts, to feel her smooth, warm hands stroking his hair, her heart beating beneath his cheek.

He drew in a loud breath, reminding himself that he had left her alone and that any moment spent in this disgusting place could have been her last; he reached for the cup of wine, rinsed his mouth a few times and spat the contents into the bowl, washing his face with fresh water, trying to calm himself.

This was part of their game, he thought, feeling his terror slowly begin to be replaced by fury.

He was sure Larys Strong had made her say it because he wanted him to believe that what was to come was destiny, not his and his grandfather's plan.

They wanted to manipulate him, to force him to leave her, to strip her of his protection, to destroy her.

No, he thought.

He was no longer a small child.

He left the fortress feeling that he had again unwittingly become the cold, empty stone he had been for eight years when she had not been with him, recognising that he had to keep a cool head.

He could not allow himself to be weak now.

He knew that if he just looked at her, if he just saw her face again and remembered what that woman had said to him he would simply burst into sobs, so to her disappointment he pretended not to see her.

The journey to the Eyrie, although spent in full sun and short, was unbearable for him and dragged on endlessly; he felt that waves of thoughts, suppositions and versions of events flowed through his mind one after another, causing complete chaos in his head.

What if Rhaenyra did not agree despite his lie?

What if she agrees, but demands the head of his grandfather and mother?

Whoever he was, his grandfather was his kin, his blood; all his life he had fought for them and their rights even if he himself often despised him.

How should he behave in such a situation so as not to let her down?

To fight? Declare war on them? Let her decide for herself once again which side she would stand on this time?

He pressed his forehead to the front of his saddle, clenching his hands on the ropes he held in his fist, feeling that he was descending into madness.

As they landed in the valley below the fortress he slid off his saddle, thinking that he had to share his plan with her, lest she accidentally say something herself that might destroy their credibility.

"− uncle −" She began, walking towards him, her face all pink and sweaty from exertion, unruly strands of her hair clinging to her skin.

His heart pounded harder.

You will come back here to face your nephew and you will take me, because you will decide that I am similar to her enough to satisfy your pain and longing.

You will put your child inside me, your bastard son, who will rule Harrenhal after our death.

He swallowed loudly, feeling that his vision was blank, his hands clenched into fists.

"− we'll tell them you're expecting my child −" He said coolly, sidestepping her, heading ahead, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible − he heard her draw in a loud breath as she moved immediately after him, terrified, trying to keep up with him.

"− what? − Aemond, we can't lie, not now −" She muttered, clearly terrified by this vision − he pressed his lips together into a thin line, furious that she was making this all even more difficult.

"− they must agree to our terms − I will not discuss my decisions with you −" He growled impatiently and stopped when her silhouette appeared in front of him – her palms slapped against his chest, a fury in her eyes that startled him.

"− you will − you don't know them as well as you do − Daemon can sense the lie, he will see it in your eyes − do you think that once they understand that you are manipulating them they will agree to whatever conditions you set for them? −" She asked with an irritation in her voice that he didn't like; he felt a cold sweat on his neck at the unbearable thought that she was partly right.

Fuck.

He stared at her for a moment, breathing heavily, feeling like he was about to faint, another disturbing thought flashed through his mind.

What had that whore said to her?

"− that fucking witch − what did she say to you? −" He asked uneasily, wanting to be sure she wasn't trying to manipulate his wife the way she was trying to manipulate him.

His Rheanys blinked rapidly and swallowed hard, as if his question made her uncomfortable − he felt an unpleasant twinge in his stomach at the sight.

"− that we should not return to Harrenhal − that I should watch out for myself and trust no one −" She muttered, and he felt his heart stop.

That we should not return to Harrenhal.

That I should watch out for myself and trust no one.

She warned her.

Why?

He felt that he understood absolutely none of this; the woman's behaviour seemed to make no sense to him, but that wasn't the worst of it.

The worst part was the thought that perhaps she really believed what she said.

That perhaps she really did see his betrayal and what he would do next in her dream or in the fire.

He stood watching her like a small, frightened child who was afraid to tell a parent that he had stolen and destroyed their favourite book unwillingly, who was afraid to admit his guilt for fear of punishment and what it entailed.

She must have seen what was happening to him in his gaze because she walked over to him and touched his upper arms, her scent, the smell of vanilla reached his nose.

"− husband, what happened? − if you have doubts, let's discuss everything − but please don't close yourself in the fortress of your mind −" She muttered pleadingly, her voice warm and calm, soothing, as if she understood that he was afraid.

That thought, the realisation that she knew him well enough that he couldn't hide from her what was happening inside him made him feel even worse.

He thought she would loathe him forever.

He swallowed hard as she cupped his cheeks between her hands and closed his eyes, feeling himself tremble all over, focusing only on her closeness.

"− uncle − look at me − I am your ally − I always have been −" She whispered tenderly making another wave of heat and fear surge through his body at the same time, causing something inside him to crack.

"You're your parents' child too. Just like me. What will you do when one of them demands the other's head?" He asked coldly, feeling his heart pounding like mad − he felt like he could hear in his ears the fast pumping of blood through his veins.

His wife furrowed her brows, shaking her head as if she did not understand what he had just said to her.

"− I will never agree to this − despite what your grandfather and your mother did to me, I will not agree for them to be harmed if you assure me to do the same − you know that I am not driven by revenge − and you? − you are the one who constantly doubts me, however, ever since I appeared in King's Landing you have been the one to let me down − yet I remain faithful to you − I chose you, uncle, when will you understand it? − when will you understand that there is no other way for me but by your side even if I come to burn? −"

She said in a trembling, angry, breaking voice from which a shiver ran down his back; he looked at her in disbelief feeling his body filled with guilt and shame.

You are the one who constantly doubts me, however, ever since I appeared in King's Landing you have been the one to let me down.

She was right.

She welcomed him with open arms despite the fact that he hadn't answered her letters for eight years; she didn't show him any kind of resentment, she didn't demand an apology from him, she lavished him with understanding and tenderness when he needed it, wanting to make things right.

It was he who betrayed her when Aegon became King.

It was his mother who forced her to drink the moon tea.

He was the one who made her try to take her own life.

He was the one who kept her locked up like a prisoner.

And yet, it was he who perpetually accused her in his head of the possibility of betrayal, as if he was just waiting for it.

For an excuse to decide that this was never going to succeed.

Despite this, she was now standing in front of him, being on his side, willing to fight alongside him for a future for them.

He felt a squeeze in his throat at this realisation, at the thought that there was never any other way for him than the one that would always lead him to her, to his beloved, to his friend.

To his Rheanys.

He lifted his hand, in some subconscious gesture of tenderness and closeness placing an unruly strand of her dark hair behind her ear, looking at her pretty face, at her bright, shining eyes, at her long lashes, at her swollen, moist lips − everything that belonged to him, that he could take every night.

He felt his manhood twitch in his breeches at the thought.

"Can I kiss you?" He heard her whisper and looked at her, seeing that she was staring at him exactly as she had then, that day when she had come to his chamber as a child, holding a small book clutched to her chest in her hands.

He leaned towards her without a word and closed his eyes, sighing in relief when her plump, soft lips pressed against his in a sweet, sticky kiss; she pulled away from him, stroking his cheeks and hair with her hands, but it wasn't enough for him.

"One more time."

He moaned into her mouth and locked her in the tight, strong embrace of his arms as her lips pressed against his again, this time as if she wanted to devour him, her wet, swollen lips sucking and licking him making him completely hard; he felt the lust, the hot feeling he shared with her shake his body as his eyes involuntarily filled with tears at the thought of what he had heard.

You will take me, because you will decide that I am similar to her enough to satisfy your pain and longing.

You will put your child inside me.

But he wanted her.

He wanted his childhood friend.

His lover, his companion, his joy.

She filled his heart with herself so much that there was no room in it for any Visenya.

"I love you." He muttered helplessly, feeling the words leave his throat without the participation of his free will. "I've always loved you."

He felt her gasp loudly at his words as her body trembled in his arms; his heart squeezed tight with pain as she wept quietly.

"− I feel that some weight has crushed you, my beloved − it covers you like a heavy black cloak − but I am by your side − I am with you − trust me − I know how to speak with them, I know them −" She mumbled out looking at him with a hot gaze full of affection from which he felt that nothing mattered anymore, that he couldn't fight himself or what only she could do.

He was completely helpless against her.

"− will you be by my side even when all is lost? − even if there is nothing left but darkness? −" He asked in a breaking voice, and she smiled, so sweetly, tenderly, joyfully that his hands clenched tighter on her body.

"− yes − don't go the path I could not follow − let me stay by your side − if I am to leave this world, I want to die in your arms −" She whispered softly, and he felt that it was over for him, that whatever he had been thinking about a moment ago, it didn't matter.

"− so be it − fall with me −" He breathed out, before his lips pressed greedily into hers, his fingers digging into the material of her leather coat enclosing her in his tight embrace, their tongues colliding with each other, licking with their soft sighs of pleasure.

He thought, panting hard into her throat, caressing her with a loud click of their saliva, that he could take her now, on the grass, in front of everyone, and fuck her so hard that the whole Eyrie would hear.

This, however, did not happen.

The sight of her would-be betrothed was the last thing he wanted to see − Ronnel Arryn seemed to him to be a boastful and self-obsessed man, focused only on the tonnage of his muscles and how he presented himself.

His grin full of mockery which he threw back at him, looking at the left side of his face made him involuntarily think how pleasant it would be to just slit his throat.

He remembered why they were actually there when they walked into the circular chamber where his uncle and half-sister were waiting for them − he pressed his lips into a thin line seeing that his sister-whore dared to wear his father's crown on her head.

He said nothing.

As his wife threw herself into her mother's arms, he glanced at Daemon; his uncle stood back leaning lazily against the wall, his chin lifted slightly in some sort of challenge, a lazy, mocking smirk on his face.

"Let's sit down." He heard his sister's voice at last, but he had no intention of obeying her orders; so he stood, looking at his uncle, who also had not moved from his place, stroking the handle of his Dark Sister thoughtfully.

"My husband has conveyed to me that my brother-usurper wants to pact over the succession of the throne he himself has unlawfully taken. I must admit that this is a quite ridiculous situation." Rheanrya began, and he rolled his eyes, feeling frustrated and impatient. His wife threw him a quick, frightened glance − he, however, just looked at her, letting her speak.

He decided that he would trust her.

His niece grunted loudly and looked at her mother, adjusting herself in her seat, tense.

"My uncle, Prince Aegon, had no choice. His mother is deeply convinced that her husband, my grandfather, and our King, revealed his final will to her before he died. She mentioned to my uncle about the Prince who was promised, about Aegon's dream. I think she misunderstood him, mother, I…" She paused as Rheanyra looked quickly in Daemon's direction − he and his wife exchanged quick, shocked glances between themselves.

He furrowed his brow, feeling discomfort in his pit, wondering what they knew that might have escaped his attention.

Her mother looked at her again, some strange glint in her gaze.

"Mother?"

"Aegon the Conqueror's Dream. A Song of Ice and Fire. This is the prophecy my father spoke to me about. Whatever Alicent heard, it did not apply to her firstborn son." She said in a trembling voice, as if it was obvious to her.

He felt rage at the thought that their father had shared with his daughter some prophecy, a future that was to befall their lineage, but did not consider them, his sons, worthy of the privilege.

Humiliation, shame and anger surged through his body making his words involuntarily leave his lips.

"You mean to say that our father only conveyed the contents of this prophecy to you, but you don't believe my mother that he could have passed on to her that he changed his mind regarding the succession?" He growled, his sister and uncle throwing him quick, warning glances.

"Calm down, nephew. You are speaking to the Queen." Daemon reminded him, and he looked at him with rage.

"She is not my Queen." He hissed, his hand sliding down to the hilt of his sword when he saw Daemon's fingers tighten around his Dark Sister.

"That's enough. We have met here because Aegon realises, as you do Mother, that his and your children's rights to the throne will be challenged, and the war will not end with your death." His wife interjected, startling him as did the rest of those gathered, his heart began to pound like mad.

What?

"Are you undermining Jace, my firstborn son's right to the throne?" Her mother asked in a trembling tone, clearly not believing what she was suggesting.

Her daughter drew in a loud breath and swallowed hard before answering her.

"He's a bastard, mother. Like me, Luke and Joffrey, he cannot inherit the throne. Will you cut off my tongue for those words? Will you deprive me of my head, father?"

He looked at her with his lips slightly parted, feeling that his mind was not yet able to comprehend fully what she had actually done.

She continued, however, as if the words were pouring out of her like a river.

"We just lie and lie and lie until in the end we ourselves don't know where the truth lies, but it is there somewhere, always, and sooner or later none of us will be able to deny it even if we beheaded all the men in the Seven Kingdoms."

He felt a surge of satisfaction and warm affection shake his body at her words, at her proof that she understood him, understood his pain, understood why her brothers could not be heirs to the throne.

How could he ever doubt her?

Her mother and stepfather seemed as shocked as he was, unable to get a word out.

"How dare you say such a thing? Your father, Laenor Velaryon, has recognised you and your brothers as his heirs. He gave you his name, he recognised you as his child in the eyes of the kingdom." Her mother muttered, clearly heartbroken that her own daughter was challenging her words.

"But the whole Kingdom knows, mother. Even if Jace were to sit on the throne after your death, his lineage will not be forgotten. Are you prepared to die knowing that neither he nor his children will ever be safe? That, like my uncle's coronation, his coronation would also be challenged by lords across the Kingdom?" She asked in pain, as if she herself could no longer bear what was happening, how far they had gone in pretending what was the truth and what was a lie.

He thought that he himself would not have put into words better what he thought and acknowledged with pride that his wife was a great speaker.

That even he would have hesitated and reconsidered what she had said if he had heard the arguments spoken in this way.

"I know what humiliation you experienced, mother, and how much suffering you endured. Believe me that I did too. I, too, do not believe my grandfather would change his mind on his deathbed. I did not and do not recognise Aegon as King, nor have I ever called him that or given him the honour he deserves.

However, if we do not find an agreement, war will break out not only in the Realm, but in our family. This is what King Viserys wanted to prevent at the last supper before his death. Mother, after all, you are siblings. Your brother, though a traitor, extends his hand, he is ready to relinquish the crown he stole from you."

An awkward silence fell; Rhaenyra looked over her shoulder at her husband, apparently seeking his advice. His uncle stared at her with clenched lips, clearly believing that she should fight for her rights no matter what − even at the cost of war.

His half-sister looked at her daughter again and swallowed hard.

"I can consider the terms my husband has conveyed to me, but I also have my conditions. I will agree that it is your children who will inherit the Iron Throne, and you will be named as ruler-regents only if there are two kings, and you will be one of them.

You and your husband will share the power of the Kingdom equally and neither of you will sit on the throne or wear the crown. Aegon the Conqueror's crown and my father's crown will be kept in the treasury.

In addition, my husband and I will sit on the Small Council, and deprived of their seats will be your grandfather and Alicent. In addition, Otto Hightower will be stripped of all other functions and privileges and will reside under our oversight in King's Landing.

Jace will inherit Dragonstone as my first-born son. If no male heir is born to you, the official heirs will be the children from my and my uncle's marriage, pureblood Targaryens."

He stared at her wide-eyed, feeling the cold sweat on his back, his heart pounding like mad as his mind tried to quickly analyse what he had heard.

I will agree that it is your children who will inherit the Iron Throne, and you will only become ruler-regent if there are two kings, and you will be one of them.

You and your husband will share power in the kingdom equally and neither of you will sit on the throne or wear the crown. Aegon the Conqueror's crown and my father's crown will be kept in the treasury.

She wanted the kingdom to be ruled by two kings.

She wanted him and her daughter to have the same title, the same privileges.

He saw his niece look at him, her eyes big with terror, filled with fear of how he would react.

No, he thought.

She was no longer her daughter.

She was no longer a bastard.

She was his wife.

When he had covered her shoulders with the cloak with his family crest she had officially taken his name, and who her father was no longer mattered.

Although he knew that the name her mother had given her was different, to him she was Rhaenys.

Rhaenys Targaryen.

His childhood friend, a woman he trusted, respected, loved, whose opinion and letters he had held deep in his heart for years, whom he would have consulted if he had become king-regent anyway.

The thought that she would stand by his side, that she would help him carry this burden, that she would be like a second, necessary pillar to support the whole crumbling structure that was their family, filled him, to his surprise, not with frustration but relief.

He nodded his head.

His wife sighed quietly, looking at him with hope, turning her gaze to her mother. Rhaenyra's eyes welled with tears of grief and sorrow as she nodded, sealing her decision.

She had agreed.

Gods, she agreed.

"Pass on my words to my brother. Let him know that this is not just about my pride, but about the welfare of the Kingdom and our family. That I respect my father's will and hope that he will do the same." She said dispassionately and he nodded, feeling his whole body quiver with emotion, his hands clasped behind his back clenched into fists.

"You are surely exhausted. My cousin has prepared chambers for you where you can rest to set off on your return journey as we will tomorrow morning. Let us have supper together. I have been separated from my one daughter for too long." She said matter-of-factly and he swallowed hard feeling that he had completely frozen.

No.

None of them could stay here.

He couldn't propose that they fly to King's Landing knowing that they would surely disagree, so in desperation he proposed something that shocked everyone, including himself.

"No." He said coolly. "We'll spend the night in Dragonstone."

His niece beamed all over, her cheek blushing with happiness, as if she didn't believe his words.

"Do you mean it?" She asked sweetly like a little child to whom he had just given a wonderful surprise.

He felt a squeeze in his throat at the thought.

"Yes." He replied calmly, glancing at his uncle, who was squinting, watching him intently. "As an expression of my goodwill."

Daemon tapped the tip of his tongue against the wall of his cheek and hummed under his breath, a tense silence fell between them.

His wife was right.

He had the feeling that his gaze was piercing him to the core.

He muttered under his breath and looked at his wife − Rhaenyra, like his niece, seemed shocked by his proposal, but also pleased at the prospect of her daughter returning to her family home, if only for a while.

"Well…I see no objection. Daemon?" She asked her husband, who looked at his daughter. Apparently, something in her pleading gaze made him decide to remain silent for the time being, as he merely nodded his head in wordless agreement.

He closed his eyes and sighed quietly in relief, feeling a huge stone fall from his heart.

He stepped back, allowing Rhaenyra to leave, just behind her the room left Daemon throwing him one vigilant, mocking look telling him that he knew there was something more behind his words.

His wife, however, overwhelmed by excitement and joy, seemed not to notice it − she ran to him and snuggled into him, clasping her hands on his back, his arms immediately enclosing her in a tight, secure embrace.

He hadn't betrayed her.

He would never betray her.

So why did he feel so guilty?

"There are no words in which I can describe my gratitude to you. "She whispered, burying her face in his chest; he sighed heavily, pressing his lips to the top of her head, stroking her soft hair and neck with his fingers.

"I'm proud of you." He said calmly wanting her to know that he admired what she had done, the calmness in which she had presented his side's reasons while showing understanding and respect for her mother's rights and heritage.

He thanked the gods that he knew when to shut his mouth.

She looked at him and smiled shyly, as if his words surprised and embarrassed her. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, pressing her soft lips to his, and he murmured low, feeling a tightness in his throat.

He should tell her, he thought with pain, but he didn't know how.

He didn't want to spoil this beautiful moment.

So he kept silent, but the guilt, the fact that he was hiding something from her, pressed down on his shoulders like a huge burden, through which he could experience neither relief nor satisfaction that Rhaenyra had agreed to their terms.

He never expected to fly through the skies beside Larax, Caraxes and Syrax, to ever see Dragonstone, to propose a journey there of his own accord.

He felt shame filling him.

As he and his wife stepped inside their fortress, where their children were already waiting for them, an awkward silence ensued. Jace and Luke stood behind a large stone table that resembled the shape of all of Westeros, looking at him in disbelief and horror. He shuddered when he saw that Rhaena was the first to rush ahead, sidestepping him and her father, enclosing his wife in a sincere, tender embrace.

"I'm so happy you're alive." She muttered in a breaking voice – his niece stroked her back with a smile.

"Me too." He heard her whisper.

After a moment, Baela joined them, throwing him a cold, warning glance along the way, from which he only rolled his eyes. He looked again at Luke, who swallowed hard and lowered his gaze, clearly unable to bear his presence.

He felt disgusted at the sight of them, two boys with cheeks flushed from shame, who knew full well that they did not and should not have any claim to the throne.

He grinned involuntarily at the thought, seeing how pale Jace was, that he understood for certain that their presence meant he would officially cease to be his mother's heir.

Satisfaction as sweet as poison coursed through his veins at the thought.

Jace drew in a breath at the sight of his grimace, his hands clenched into fists as if he felt like lashing out at him − he flinched when Daemon stepped in front of him, standing between them and shook his head.

Jace swallowed hard, furious, lowering his gaze to the stone floor beneath his feet.

None of them came up to greet his niece; only little Joffrey ran up to her and burst into tears screaming that she had left them alone.

They resented her for the side she had chosen in their minds.

She was the only reason they were both still alive, he thought with a sneer.

His half-sister, seeing the look on his face and sensing the tension that reigned around them, decided to take pity on them and suggested that they make themselves comfortable in the chamber that had previously belonged to his wife.

He accepted her words with relief.

As they stepped inside he felt a squeeze in his throat − her quarters were modest, filled with her scent, the windows of her room facing the open sea, the sound of which he could clearly hear. He walked deeper in, looking around her chests of drawers and wardrobes, her wooden bookcases filled to the brim with books, before his gaze finally settled on an ornate oak desk.

He swallowed hard imagining her seated figure bent over parchment.

"− is this here? −" He asked casually, running his fingers over the table top, noticing with a pained heart that it was dusty.

A sign of how long she had not been here.

His niece looked at him surprised and blushed, as if the mere mention embarrassed her.

"− yes −"

He sat down in the chair she sat in every time she wished to convey her thoughts to him, to put them on paper, which then flew all the way to King's Landing to reach his hands. He glanced towards the windows, wondering how many times she had deliberated on choosing the right words while observing exactly the same view.

He thought he was touched.

"− we should rest, husband − if that's what you wish, we'll have supper alone −" She said softly, her voice trembling with excitement and joy.

She couldn't believe she was home again.

He nodded, not knowing what more he could answer.

He had felt the tension all evening; his wife had shown him various books she had read over the years, which she had told him about in her letters. He tried to listen to her and nod, stroking her arm with the tips of his fingers as she sat beside him, flicking through page after page of one of the volumes, looking for the quote she had mentioned to him. Her question pulled him out of his musings.

"− uncle − will you tell me what troubles you? −"

He looked at her horrified and swallowed with difficulty − he only grunted, not knowing what he should answer like a child caught in the act.

"I'm tired." He replied acknowledging that this was partly true. She nodded in understanding, he closed his eyelids as her hand gently stroked his cheek.

"Let's go to bed."

He wasn't going to fight her.

He wanted to leave this place as soon as possible and get away from Daemon's disturbing gaze.

His wife pressed her lips together, seeing that he had put a dagger under his pillow before he lay down − however, she said nothing, knowing he might trust her, but certainly not her family.

He lay down beside her, sighing heavily, and closed his eyes, figuring that perhaps when he woke up the next day and realised that tragedy had been avoided due to his decision, his conscience would have a little more mercy for him.

He murmured contentedly as he felt her arms embrace him, cuddling his face between her breasts, the warmth of her body, her scent filling his entire lungs. He tightened his hands on her back, trying to focus only on the touch of her hands, on her fingers combing gently through his hair, on the lullaby she hummed softly under her breath, and from which his eyelids grew heavier and heavier.

When the moon rises

over the dark sky

When you hear from afar

my bitter cry

Know that I long

Know that I long

Know that I long

When the sun rises

over the bright sky

When you hear from afar

my joyful cry

Know that I'm home

Know that I'm home

Know that I'm home

And then sleep fell over him.

His lips clung to her soft, long neck, sweaty from exertion, heavy, drawn-out sighs full of pleasure left his lips as his hips with sure, deep, quick thrusts pounded again and again into her hot, fleshy interior.

"− forgive me − I've missed you − oh, my sweetest −" He breathed out, quickening his pace, sinking his nose into her dark curls, her moans muffled by the pillow she was cuddling her face into. Her body, though different, was just as warm, her scent, though different, was similar to hers.

It didn't matter to him, because she was there for him, because she had forgiven him.

"− I love you − oh fuck, Rhaenys −" He muttered, clenching his eyes, coming inside her at last, experiencing such immense relief that he cursed for another moment, rocking his hips inside her. He swallowed hard, worried that she wasn't saying anything, his fingers took strands of her hair from her face wanting to see her eyes and then he saw it.

Green irises, luscious as grass.

"− is it true? − is she carrying your child? −" He heard her voice as if from afar and suddenly he was standing in front of her in his chamber in King's Landing, feeling his heart pounding like mad, a cold sweat running down his back.

He felt a strong gag reflex and held it back with the remnants of his strong will.

He couldn't get anything out of himself.

What had he done?

"− answer me − is she carrying your child? −" His wife, his Rhaenys muttered in a voice breaking with pain and despair, her cheeks red from tears, her eyebrows arched in rage, in her gaze something he feared most.

Disgust.

"− I − I don't know −" He mumbled, trying to remember what had actually happened, how he could have done it when, after all, he had promised himself it would never, never happen.

He thought about how he hadn't touched her in so long, how he had missed her so much.

When she discovered that he had hidden the truth from her, what his grandfather had planned, that he knew what could have happened to them in the Eyrie but hadn't told her, she hadn't slept in his chamber, hadn't eaten supper with him, hadn't spoken to him or looked at him even though he had tried so hard to please her.

"− don't you know? − don't you know if you put your bastard inside her? −" She mumbled and burst out into a loud, miserable sob, hiding her face in her hands − he looked at her, panting hard, shaking all over, not knowing what he was supposed to say, what he was supposed to do.

"− HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME!? −" She almost screamed, falling to her knees as if without strength, whining loudly like some kind of animal, her whole being trembling and twitching in convulsions − he approached her quickly, kneeling beside her, trying to touch her, but she pushed him away.

"− my beloved − please − I was possessed by madness, I swear − I − I thought it was you −" He muttered, not knowing how he could explain such a betrayal, such humiliation she suffered because of him.

"− you thought it was me? − you fucked another woman and thought it was me? − gods, Aemond, don't touch me! − don't touch me −" She howled, her voice at once enraged, full of pain, suffering and grief, her eyes red with tears, her whole body quivering.

He was the reason for this.

He had done this to her.

"− my Prince − my Prince, quickly, your wife! −" He heard someone shout – he shuddered as he sat by the fireplace, gazing in horror at the figure of the guard who had rushed into his chamber.

As he stepped out into the corridor he heard someone's loud sobs and screams tearing at his heart; as he ran inside he froze noticing the figure of Rheaenyra kneeling on the floor, covering her mouth with her hand − his wife, and her daughter, was hanging from a rope tied to the frame of her bed, which was tightened around her neck, her dark hair covering her bowed head, her feet not touching the floor.

He ran to her trying to lift her, trying to pull her down, but he knew, felt, that it was too late, her body cold, numb, empty.

His face sank into her flesh covered only by the material of her nightgown muffling his loud, desperate scream.

"Uncle! Uncle, please, wake up!"

He opened his eyes and pulled himself up to sit down, panting heavily, feeling his heart pounding like mad – he could see nothing through the tears that one by one ran down his face, his body twitching all over in convulsions as if it had gone into a state of absolute panic.

"− easy, my love − breathe −" He heard someone's voice beside him, her voice – he looked at her as if he didn't recognise her, her eyes wide in terror, her hand stroking his shoulder reassuringly.

"− Rhaenys − Rhaenys −" He mumbled out like a small child calling out to its mother, bursting into sobs of relief and terror that shook his body − he snuggled into her breast, clasping his fingers on her back so tightly that she hissed in pain – however, she did not push him away and her arms enclosed him in a tight, secure embrace.

"− I'm here, my love − I'm here −" She whispered, again and again placing warm, moist kisses on the top of his head, combing her fingers through his hair.

For a moment he merely wept and quivered, unable to catch his breath, trying to calm himself, listening to her whisper, breathing in her scent, enjoying her closeness, the touch of her hand.

It seemed to him that it was hours before he began to breathe normally, before he realised that all he had seen was just a nightmare, that he was lying with his wife in her bed in Dragonstone.

That all was not yet lost.

He swallowed hard and clenched his eyes shut.

"− there's something − there's something I want to tell you −"

[delirious-donna]

Climb Me [Nanami Kento]

an: thanks to my lil 🕷 anon (and newest crush) for this tastiest of thirsts about the only smoking hot blond salary man in my life! (kinda turned it more into a short one-shot but I was vibing with it)

prompt: you're crushing on fellow teacher Nanami Kento, he finds out in a rather embarrassing way... how will he handle it?

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: thigh riding, bit of size kink, lots of groping and fondling, tongue sucking, lip biting, manhandling, classroom sexual activities, dirty talk, damn I want this man

Masterlist

The notebook caught his eye; deep purple in colour, clearly well-thumbed and definitely not meant to be here in the teacher’s lounge. Rolling his neck against the lumpy couch, he winced at the cracking noise before sitting forward with a grunt.

Nanami glanced at his watch and frowned. His next class was in ten minutes and if he were honest, he felt rather unmotivated to inspire the next generation on this particular day. Fixing his tie, which he had loosened upon entering the lounge, he lamented on how every day seemed to bleed into each other. It had been a while since anything new or of interest had occurred and he was starting to feel drained from the mundane.

With a sigh, he picked up the notebook that was stuck between the couch cushions and glanced at it curiously. Your name was emblazoned on the front cover, written in glittery silver ink. Nanami passed a finger over the lettering, his lips tilting into a thin smile at how juvenile it appeared.

He knew you were younger than he was, that you had only become a teacher at the start of this academic year and you were a shy little thing. Nanami could probably count the times you had spoken to him on one hand, and each one had been quick as if you couldn’t wait to retreat from his presence–was he really that intimidating?

At that rather depressing thought, he strode for the door, intent on delivering your notebook before arriving at his own class. Of course, things would never be that simple, nor straightforward when you worked alongside Gojo Satoru.

The white-haired whirlwind hurtled into him as soon as he ventured into the hall. A barking laugh bounced off the walls as Gojo clapped him on the back and effectively knocked the notebook from his grasp.

“Ah, Nanami, just the man I was looking for,” he thundered, “could you do your bestest friend in the whole world a favour?”

“If you are referring to yourself with that sentiment, Gojo, then the answer is no.”

Satoru pouted. Celestial blue eyes peered over the rim of his round sunglasses as Nanami bent to retrieve the book that had tumbled out of his hands and was now spread open at his feet. His eyes narrowed on the hastily scrawled text that he couldn’t quite make out, but that was definitely his name that he was staring at.

He was aware that Satoru was still talking, the man would continue to ramble away to himself forever, but Nanami held his hand aloft to cease the incessant drone.

Heat coursed through his veins, and something stirred in his chest along with the wild thump of his heart as he finally was able to read the line of text that referred to him. A sentence that you had hastily scrawled and then ringed again and again with fluffy cloud-looking borders.

Why does Nanami-san have to be so goddamn big and sexy? I want to climb him like a tree…

He was sure that he could feel the warmth spread up his neck, his collar suddenly felt too tight, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed the runny saliva pooling inside his mouth.

It would be a lie to say he hadn’t admired you, although always from afar. Nanami had been sure you were terrified of him and he had no intention of making you feel uncomfortable, but he wondered if that discomfort had been something else entirely…

“Will you do it?” Gojo asked, shaking his arm and offering a wide cocky smile.

“I wasn’t listening, and no. I’m going to be busy,” he replied, brushing his fellow teacher’s hand from his shoulder and pushing past him to his classroom.

He could care less for the deflated look that the snowy-haired menace threw over his shoulder, there were more important matters on his mind and a knowing smirk curved his lips.

No longer did he detour to return the notebook, oh no, he’d deliver it back to you safe and sound once the day was over and everyone had cleared out.

~

A determined knock shook you from your marking, letting the pen fall to the desk as you called for your visitor to enter.

Your mouth ran dry as Nanami Kento walked inside, turning to close the door before tipping his head in greeting.

“Nanami-san, what can I do for you?” you asked, impressed that you had managed to speak without tripping over your words. It was certainly an improvement on previous attempts.

It was difficult not to admire him as he stood near the back of the class. The collar of his white dress shirt had been loosened, his tie askew as if he had been pulling at them both with insistent fingers. The sleeves were rolled to his elbows and it only served in highlighting the taut muscles of his forearms.

Why did he have to look so fucking delicious? The coolness of his expression, the way that he seemed to caress you with his hazel eyes and the simple pleasure of how big he was.

“I found something that belongs to you and thought I should return it.”

“Oh? That’s kind of you, what is it?”

You wondered what he could have found, mentally scanning your memory of something you might have misplaced. Standing, you took two steps forward but froze in place as the sight of your personal notebook held in his large palm made your heart stop.

Oh fuck - no!

Your eyes widened, looking from the notebook to his face and back again. For a second you were sure he hadn’t peeked inside, that was until he winked almost imperceptibly. Heat rose to your cheeks in rushing waves and you swayed on the spot with your hand outstretched for the book.

Nanami chuckled and the deep baritone rumble felt as if the sound resonated within your own body. It stroked at you although he hadn’t moved, tightened every muscle and joint as you waited for him to hand over the notebook that held some of your wildest fantasies.

When he held it over his head, you swore it felt like the air was sucked from the room. It seemed like he had read a very specific piece of information and you would die of mortification.

“I suggest,” he drawled almost lazily, “that if you want it back, you better climb me for it.”

“You - you weren’t meant to see that,” you whispered, staring into the depths of the floor.

Polished shoes came into your field of vision, a strong hand flexing beneath your chin and forcing your head back up to meet his gaze. There was a prominent frown between his eyes, and you couldn’t help but admire his sharply angular face even if you did wish the ground would swallow you whole.

“Don’t be shy, you’ve no idea how much I’ve thought about picking you up and just settling you on my lap. You always look so… small, delicate and above all else - pretty.”

How you had ended up like this, you didn’t know. All you were sure of was how Nanami’s words had filled your soul with a confidence it had never previously had. His gentle, yet firm grip on your jaw setting your body ablaze with desire.

You had climbed him, desperately so. Knocking the offending notebook to the floor without a second thought as your arms hooked around his strong neck with fingers curling into the hairs at his nape. Legs circling his hips and your entire front rocking into the wall of muscles that was his torso.

Seated on the edge of your desk, he had you spread over one of his incredibly thick thighs. Your skirt bunched around your middle as his expansive palms dragged you along the length of him. Your pussy was drenched, clit throbbing from the friction of being pulled back and forth on his muscled thigh.

His mouth was surprisingly hot for a man who always seemed to remain composed, a deep groan rumbled in his throat at how you sucked on his tongue. The warm spicy scent and taste of Nanami filled your lungs and evaporated any sense of reason you might have had about making out with a fellow teacher in your classroom.

“Feel good?” he asked as you parted for much-needed air. His rough fingers gripped into the globes of your ass, bunching the lace of your panties until he was forcing the material between your slick pussy lips.

You nodded enthusiastically, drawing his lower lip into your mouth and sucking on the tender flesh in earnest. Nanami was manhandling you in a way that should make you feel violated, but it was too good. It was exactly what you wanted and more.

“Making a mess on me sweet little thing.”

He was right, there was a long wet patch on his navy slacks from how sopping you were from being manipulated along his thigh. Fucking yourself against the strong muscles that flexed beneath you.

Your orgasm was coming in fast; the combination of the friction against your clenching cunt, the large palms gripping into your ass as if he owned it and his delicious mouth teasing your skin was speeding you towards the finish line in haste.

“Nanami-san!”

Blond hair fell into your vision, urgent lips pressing open-mouthed kisses to your cleavage. His tongue flickered at your flesh, warming you up before sucking possessive purple bruises that would be hard to explain later.

“Kento,” he breathed against your collarbone, “call me Kento, my pretty girl.”

Gods, could he be any more perfect? It was as if he knew exactly what to do and say to set you off like a firecracker!

You shrieked as Nanami lifted you like you weighed nothing. He held you tight as he turned your body so your back was flush with his chest, straddling you over his broad thigh once more but this time you could feel the prod of his prominent erection at your lower back.

“Go on, be a good girl and get yourself off on my thigh,” he cooed, nipping at your ear.

Nanami groped at your breasts, squeezing the doughy mounds between his fingers whilst you rode his thigh to completion. The orgasm was staggering; stealing the air from your lungs, the balance from your limbs and the sight from your eyes.

White lights pulsed behind your eyelids as you gushed like a surging waterfall over his pants, ruining your underwear in the process. It would be embarrassing if it wasn't for the primal-sound growl that emanated from his chest. The almost bestial war cry that made you shiver whilst you floated back down from ecstasy.

“Atta girl. Now it's my turn, and I can't wait to see how goddamn perfect your little body is gonna look stuffed with my big, thick cock.”

You were so glad he found your notebook, even if you had no idea that it was Gojo Satoru that you needed to thank in the first place...

[gwaedhannen]

WIP (very much no longer) Wednesday

Thank you for the tag @melestasflight! Not tagging anyone else because it's very much no longer Wednesday (my dudes).

Here's some bits from A Million Dead and I?, wherein Finarfin sits in a garden for a few thousand years.

High King Arafinwë of the Noldor returned in triumph to Valinor, with his enemy humbled and cast into nonexistence, with scattered handfuls of the haggard and homeless elves of Beleriand-that-was looking for new homes in the West, with none of the family he thought to save. For many days he mourned with High Admiral Eärwen his wife, together remembering the sunken lands their sons had died for. At last he arose, and went to his councilors, and together finalized the plans he had proposed half a century prior, upon the eve of the long-awaited War. And when all the pronouncements had been published and the criers left their squares, Arafinwë laid the sceptre of his father upon the High Council’s table, placed the crowned helm Celebrimbor had forged for him upon his father’s throne, and departed from Tirion alone.

Arafinwë learns several things in the first few decades of vigil outside the Doors of Mandos. First: one cannot properly cry as a houseless spirit. “Oh Pianyellë, Pianyellë! I’m so sorry, I was so tired, I thought I could just lie down for a moment…” Second: robes which dry quickly are a necessity. “They never came back from a hunt, and I…I just didn’t see a reason to keep walking without them.” Third: the Grinding Ice was not only worse than he imagined, it was worse than he can imagine. “It…there were no Powers. There was no light. No judgement. He was dead, we’d already handed out his furs. I thought, I thought. He wasn’t using the rest anymore either, was he?” Fourth: his would not always be a welcome face. “You LEFT us, uncle. Left us to die, left us to ruin! It should’ve been you, down there, f-forced to watch as we fell. It sh–it shou…I should’ve been there! Atya, atya! If–if I was there, would…?”

I died at Alqualondë. Was trying to herd some Teler children away from the docks, get them somewhere safe. A sailor saw us, thought I was trying to kidnap them, ran me through. Can’t really blame him. I never had the chance to slay anyone, but…I knew I was going back to the docks as soon as the kids were out of the way. It…it took me a long while to grapple with that. I met the sailor, you know, back in there. Cleared the air between us. We looked for the kids, in the Halls and the tapestries. None of ‘em were there; they all lived! That…that felt pretty good, you know? I still did something, still had my little phrase in the Song.

I tried taking on a bear larger than I should have, and that was that. But the other hunters finished it off, and my furs weren’t too rent to still be useful. Sure, my once-betrothed’s been married to another man for two centuries now, but with the way we separated, he probably wouldn’t’ve had me back anyways. So no, I don’t regret it.

[heartofspells]

Holli... How am I supposed to choose between crush, you and along the broken edge?? 😭😭😭 (also a working sentence that. Crush you along the broken edge, yk)

But I'm going with along the broken edge bc I miss the boys

Ahahahaha! I might use that at some point, I won't lie.

But YES, you can have some Broken Edge! I also miss the boys and I'm going to be getting back to them very soon now that things have calmed down in my life (and head, ha!). Have a best boy Remus Lupin speech.

--

Remus remembers, once, when he was younger, too many days and questions in between, thanking the universe for the unthinkable, the never in his wildest dreams imaginable boy it had presented to him like a reward for hardship. He'd never stopped thanking it, not once throughout the years, no matter the pain that had come with all the loss. Never going away, Remus has been willing to fall on his knees every day since, overcome with gratefulness for having simply been allowed to lay his eyes on that dark head and those shining eyes. Even with losing him, with all the heartache that had come after, with that forever pit dug out in the depths of his stomach and the way his heart had always felt lodged just at the base of his throat, Remus had been indescribably better for knowing him, for hearing that ringing, barking laugh and watching that face light up like the first glimpses of the sun after a devastating storm.

Sirius Black – Padfoot – had altered him irrevocably, set his life on a path Remus had never anticipated, crafting his coming days in a way unfathomable before he'd existed within Remus' orbit, even if only for a while.

"Do you believe in soulmates?"

Staring at him, grey eyes guarded but sparking with curiosity, Remus isn't sure what he expects to come from the question. Possibly a bitter, head-tossing laugh raking out of a constricted throat, or maybe a sharp denial, claiming Remus to be mad. Whatever he may have guessed, it would have never been silence.

"Do you, Sirius?" he presses, leaning forward the smallest amount, barely a shift but still there, present and needed in the moment. Remus doesn't wait for an answer. "I never did. I never believed in most of it. Heaven and God, fate, some sort of predetermined destiny. Why would I because what have I ever been given to make it feel logical? Every good thing in my life always got ripped away in the cruelest, roughest way, you most of all. I lost you so completely, just like everything else I could never hold onto, and I told myself that was fine because…none of it was real. Nothing was ever meant to happen, sculpted into existence for a specific purpose. The strings of fortune were never on my side, except maybe for only a handful of months when I was thirteen."

Swallowing thickly, Remus chances a step forward, surprised when Sirius stands still, not offering to move. It seemingly shocks him as well, eyelids blinking over a mystified grey gaze.

"I still don't believe in any of it," continues Remus, voice soft, every part of him open, nothing held back, not ever again. "Not a paradise once we're gone from this world, not in some…some being watching every move we make, judging us, as if anything would ever care that much. I don’t believe things are meant to happen one way over another. I don't believe one part of it, but…soulmates. That feels different, somehow. It feels different because of you."

Shaking his head as Remus steps forward again, Sirius says sharply, "It's just pretty words. It doesn't mean anything."

"Maybe," agrees Remus vaguely, conceding a bit, "or maybe not." Sirius scoffs loudly, eyes shifting away briefly, but Remus doesn't react, watching him closely, cataloguing the pinch to his brows, the crease forming between them, the way his mouth wobbles so faintly that it's barely noticeable but there all the same. "What else could it be except that? We keep getting thrown together repeatedly, bodily running into one another, as kids, in the shop, through acquaintances that shouldn't exist in such a large place but somehow do. You get injured after years of nothing, no major accidents and here I am, searching for exactly you in everyone I've ever accepted, armed with the specific skills you needed in that moment all because of a…a fucking tragedy that tore us apart in the first place.

"None of it should have lined up, not even once, but it did and has, over and over again. You shouldn't have been exactly what I needed in that moment on that wall all those years ago, but you were, and you never stopped," pushes Remus plaintively, feeling breathless now, hands twitching to reach out and simply touch, just to reassure himself Sirius is still real and here. "The universe keeps tossing us together except it's not, it's giving, and for once in my life all I want is to be selfish and take because I want you more than anything else, past, present, or future. All I have ever wanted is you before I even knew you existed. I laid in my bed as a kid, staring at my ceiling, trying to keep the dizziness and sickness away, praying to a god I don't believe in for you, Sirius. Only ever you."

Want a snip?

[theinternetisaweboflies]

Gates to Heck Chapter 7

Shigeo teleported them back to Seasoning City and promptly threw up in a flower bed.

Ritsu used his powers to levitate Teru's prone form, while Reigen did his best to block them from view. People had been a lot more accepting of psychic powers in Seasoning since Claw attacked, but most of them had accepted that it was a problem.

Shigeo was probably also grateful for the privacy.

He had wanted to carry Teru himself, but Ritsu said that "Hanazawa has been through enough for one night without someone throwing up in his hoodie." Shigeo opened his mouth to argue, maybe that it was technically his hoodie.

Then he sighed instead, barely more than an exhale.

"Please be careful," he said. "I think his chest got hurt when he was struggling."

"I could carry him," said Shou. "I'm very gentle. I have hamsters."

"What does that even-" Ritsu started to ask, but Shou interrupted him.

"And I've never dunked my Shishou in a rice paddy."

"He isn't my Shishou!"

Teru had passed out while they were still arguing over who got to carry him. Reigen woke him right back up and made him name the Prime Minister and at least two Vocaloids. Teru rolled his eyes during the concussion check, but he definitely did it on purpose, which alleviated about five percent of Reigen's immediate concerns.

Anyway, the kid looked like he needed some sleep.

Teru's hair was plastered to his head with dirty water, which had also washed off the makeup he'd apparently been wearing. The skin around his nose was tight and technicolor. At least it didn't look broken, but he seemed to be having trouble breathing normally, whether from the swelling or his recent not-technically-waterboarding, which Reigen was trying not to think about while he was in a Family Mart because the cigarettes were right there.

They stopped at the convenience store on their way to Seasoning General to pick up a sports drink for Shigeo. He wanted milk, but Reigen insisted he needed to replenish his electrolytes.

Reigen bought him a carton of milk to drink later.

He also bought himself a pack of cigarettes to have much later, when there were no children around to see him freak the fuck out.

Teru regained consciousness in the waiting room. Reigen had been hoping to get him admitted first, but he had never encountered an emergency room that took its name seriously. They had been waiting for almost an hour when Teru stirred awake.

Reigen was worried about another teleportation incident, but apparently Teru didn't have the energy, because he started arguing instead.

"I don't need to be here," he said, and his voice sounded like he was the one with the smoking problem. "I'm fine."

Shigeo shook his head. "You don't have to lie, Hanazawa-kun."

"I'm not!"

"I think he's fine by his standards, Mob," said Reigen. "Drink your electrolytes."

Shigeo obediently sipped his sports drink.

"Reigen-san," Teru started, but Reigen cut him off.

"If you're worried about the hospital siccing Social Services on you, then you can unclench. I managed to convince them you're my nephew."

"You… what?"

"It was so cool," said Shou. "He didn't even give them a chance to ask any questions. He was just all, 'My sister is so irresponsible!'"

"Which is true," said Reigen.

"And, 'I only recently found out that Teruki has been living alone for years!'"

"Which is true."

"And, 'I'm going to make sure he gets the care he deserves from now on!'"

Reigen didn't say it this time, but the implication alone left Teru looking like he was going to bolt whether he had the juice for it or not.

"They do have some concerns about your medical history," said Reigen, casting about for a distraction.

"Huh? But I haven't been to the doctor in years."

"That's the main concern," said Reigen. "We might have to get you vaccinated at some point if I don't want the hospital siccing Social Services on me, but don't worry. We'll smooth it over."

Reigen shifted in the easily-sterilized plastic chair. If he was uncomfortable, he couldn't imagine how Teru felt.

"That's not it," said Teru. "It's not safe for other patients."

"Huh?"

"Why wouldn't it be safe?" asked Shigeo.

"I ended up in the hospital once, a few years ago," said Teru. He was talking fast, like he was afraid the waiting room nurse would actually finish processing their paperwork sometime that century. "Some do-gooder called an ambulance after a Claw attack. I was fine, but they wouldn't let me go."

"I still don't understand-"

"Claw attacked the hospital. No one died, but it… wasn't good. They threw an MRI machine. I had to tell every lie I could think of just to keep them from calling my parents or the Child Guidance Center. There wouldn't be anything to stop Claw from attacking me there either."

"They never attacked you at school, right?" asked Ritsu. "Why would they attack you at a hospital? Aren't there too many people?"

"People, but not psychics," said Teru. "Claw thought I knew other espers. Other kids. Maybe they even thought the Black Vinegar gang was some sort of Psychic Squad. We did get a bit of a reputation for levitating people."

"Oh," said Shigeo, "Your introduction."

It was hard to tell with the fever, but Teru might have blushed. "It's a good way to intimidate and immobilize at the same time, okay?"

Reigen was having a hard time following their conversation, but that had never stopped him before. "Claw's gone now, right? The names on your conspiracy-board were all crossed off. Ochinko-san was the last one, and he's in custody. You're not getting out of a checkup that easily."

"They can't even do anything," Teru wasn't giving up that easily either. "They can't do anything for a concussion or cracked ribs, and my shoulder's already back in its socket."

"They can give you painkillers," said Reigen, trying not to let his wince show. He hadn't even known about the dislocated shoulder.

"I don't want painkillers," said Teru. "They make it hard to think."

"You shouldn't be thinking if you have a concussion."

"I'm sorry, Hanazawa-kun," said Shigeo, which surprised them both enough that they stopped arguing.

"What?" Teru rasped. "What do you have to be sorry for?"

"I know you told me about how you can set broken bones with your powers, but I've never done it before, and I was afraid of messing up, so I thought it would be better to let the doctors set your ribs. I'm protecting and supporting them though. I hope that's okay."

That was probably a good thing, since Reigen was reasonably sure that you couldn't actually set broken ribs.

There weren't a lot of treatment options. Teru had been right about that. They could treat the pain, but the primary course of treatment for broken ribs was just holding real still and not breathing too hard.

Reigen's irresponsible sister had broken a rib in a moped accident sophomore year. She'd been laid up for a couple of weeks, and she'd recruited Reigen to help convince their parents it was just period cramps.

Their dad had bought it, but their mom had gotten suspicious around the second week.

Teru looked pathetic, still dripping slightly onto the laminate flooring. He still managed a smile for Shigeo. "You're amazing Kageyama-kun. I can't feel a thing."

"That might be the shock." Shigeo frowned infinitesimally. "We should get you a blanket."

Before they could get Teru a blanket, he was actually admitted. The kids insisted on coming too, so the nurse led them all to a small room that definitely wasn't intended to contain multiple teenagers. Another nurse took Teru's temperature and blood pressure while they all pretended not to notice his hands shake.

Eventually the doctor joined them.

"I understand you're having a rough day, young man," he said in what was probably not intended to be a patronizing tone.

Teru shrugged his good shoulder. He seemed to be in a fugue state. He managed a polite smile for the medical staff, but it was like he'd used up all his words trying to convince them he didn't need help, which had only convinced them he needed a lot of help. Preferably professional. Reigen wondered if he still had the number of that therapist whose patient was literally haunted.

"Can you tell me how these injuries occurred?" asked the doctor.

Reigen opened his mouth to answer, but his mind went blank as a fresh word document. He didn't have a single lie lined up. Some conman he was. They were going to get in so much trouble.

"Basketball is a dangerous sport," said Shigeo.

"I see," said the doctor, and that was that. Apparently he was used to teenagers. Although probably not teenagers like these.

Teru's polite smile slipped when the doctor threatened to X-ray his ribs, and Reigen wondered how many untreated injuries they would find.

Not untreated. He'd heard Shigeo earlier, no matter how much he wished he hadn't. Teru had been treating his own injuries. Setting his own bones.

Reigen reminded himself that he definitely wasn't allowed to smoke in a hospital.

Teru was released less than an hour later with a shoulder brace and a prescription for a mild painkiller. Reigen filled it in the hospital pharmacy while the kids tried not to fall asleep on each other in the waiting room.

It was past their bedtimes. Ritsu had called the Kageyamas to explain that they were with an adult, even if it wasn't a very responsible one. Then Shigeo took the phone and exchanged some quiet words with his mother that Reigen hadn't been able to overhear no matter how hard he tried.

Even Shou had called his mother, but that had been less about explaining why he was out late, and more about describing their adventure, with unnecessary emphasis on the part where Ritsu dunked Reigen in a rice paddy.

"Okay, kids. Let's go home. Hanazawa, you're with me."

"Can't he come home with us?" asked Shigeo. "We have real food at our house."

Sometimes Reigen couldn't tell if his student was giving him sass or just being blunt.

He cleared his throat. "That's why God invented takeout."

"I don't need to go home with anyone," said Teru, but he was universally ignored.

"Besides, do you want to explain this to your mother?" Reigen asked Shigeo, gesturing vaguely at Teru's everything. "Because I sure don't."

"Why not?" asked Teru. "It wasn't your fault."

"Maybe not," said Reigen, "but you would have been safe at home with only about half of your current injuries if I hadn't barged in and acted like I knew what was best for you."

"Probably not for long. He knows where I live."

"Okay!" Reigen clapped his hands together. "At the risk of sounding like a child abductor, you're definitely coming home with me. I'd invite the rest of you, but I don't think there's enough room."

"I'm coming too," said Shigeo. "I don't take up much room."

Reigen sighed. He only had one spare futon, which Shigeo should know, since he was the only one who had ever used it.

"Mob-"

"I already told Kaa-san."

"...What exactly did you tell her?"

Reigen was not intimidated by Shigeo's mother or her ability to narrow her eyes and see through every single lie he told, because that would be silly.

"That Hanazawa-kun is sick, and you're taking care of him."

Reigen sighed again. "Sorry, sick kid." That was what he had told the cab driver who took him to Teru's apartment that afternoon. Reigen could barely believe it was still the same day. The hospital clocks were just ticking over to midnight.

"Can we have a sleepover too?" Shou asked Ritsu.

"No."

"Come on! I can borrow Ritsu's Nii-san's futon. He won't mind. Right, Ritsu's Nii-san?"

"I don't mind," said Shigeo.

They argued about it all the way out to the hospital entrance, where Reigen called a cab to take them home. He slid into the front passenger seat while the kids crowded together in the back.

"Long time no see," said the cab driver. It was the one from that afternoon. The one who hadn't minded all the swearing. She glanced at Teru in the rearview mirror.

"Damn," she said. "You weren't kidding."

[anonymityisfunwriter]

The Twin Flame - Chapter 30: "This Love"

☀️Part of The Grumpy x Sunshine Series☀️

"In losing grip, on sinking ships, you showed up just in time..."

You needed to buy them more time. You needed to do that for them.

Sam begged you, pleaded with you. With Fury's warning and Steve and Natasha's appearance in your house, it was too dangerous. They could very well be onto you two. 

"I have to go," you announce to Sam, picking your repacked duffle bag up off the ground. 

"There's no way you're going!" Sam vehemently refutes. "First, you just got back. Second, we're sort of harboring fugitives in our house. It's a recipe for disaster."

"They'll know something's up if I don't go," you remind Sam.

"Tell them you're exhausted. You haven't even been back a whole day and they can't just send you on another assignment, it's too dangerous."

"You and I both know they can do whatever they want to me."

"You can't go. It could be dangerous. We don't know what they know," Sam desperately insists. 

"They don't know that we know about them either," you counter. "I promise I'll be careful. The longer Pierce thinks we're still with him, the more time you guys have to take them down."

Sam shuts his eyes, shaking his head, "I really hate that that makes sense."

"I'll be okay," you promise. "I'll see you in a bit, okay?"

"Okay."

With that, you take off, leaving Sam, Steve, and Natasha to make their plans.

You don't even remember making your way to SHIELD headquarters, all you knew is that you'd never felt dread quite like the one pooling in the pit of your stomach as the building looms over you.

You stare up at the building, steeling your resolve. You had to do this for them.

With a shaky inhale, you walk into a building that you knew so well. 

On this day, it feels like you've never been here before. There's no sense of familiarity. There's no ease in any of your actions. 

Before you can make your way to your locker or to get your mission brief, you see Rumlow expectantly standing at the lobby. His arms crossed over his chest and a cold expression, he scans the lobby, clearly waiting for someone.

The moment you step out of the revolving door, you know he's not just waiting for someone, he's waiting for you. 

His eyes snap over in your direction, he strides over, "Pierce wants to see you."

"Oh..." you manage to choke out, shocked by the abruptness of the order. 

"Problem?" he challenges.

"No, no," you quickly assure Rumlow. "Just had something- no, no problem."

"Good. He's waiting."

You weakly smile up at him, "Great."

You try to appear unaffected by Rumlow's suffocating presence. You try to make small talk, offer a kind smile that you know doesn't look even remotely genuine.

You can feel a sense of impending down creep up your spine. There was nothing normal about this.

Pierce liked to maintain a facade of warmth with you, he never summoned you. He'd invite you to the conference room, meet you in the briefing room. Never this.

By the time you're shoved into Pierce's office, the one formerly belonging to Nick Fury, your hands have gone cold with dread.

"What do you know about Captain Steve Rogers?" Pierce questions the moment you stand before his desk, wasting no time with fake niceties.

"Captain Rogers?" you repeat, pulling your lips in as you shake your head. As Pierce stares you down, it feels like he can hear every single one of your racing thought. You try not to think about the fact that Steve is currently sitting in your kitchen plotting HYDRA's demise. "Only by name."

Pierce purses his lips, scanning your face for the lie you're so desperately concealing, "That's good to know."

"Okay," you awkwardly lilt, clapping your hands in front of you. "Well, I think it's time for me to go. I wouldn't want to waste your time and I have a logistics meeting."

"Speaking of logistics," Pierce interjects. "I think it's time we reconsider a few of your own logistics. Your living arrangements in particular."

"What?" you humorlessly chuckle. You look over you shoulder to see Brock Rumlow still standing in front of the door with his arms crossed over his chest. "What are you talking about?"

"We didn't want to frighten you, but we believe there's been a breach of security within the organization. We think it best that you stay here."

"But Nick said-"

"Nick isn't here anymore," Pierce bitterly reminds you. "Steve Rogers made sure of that."

You bite back your defense of Steve. Your mind races, millions of pieces coming together to form a bone-chilling conclusion.

First, Nick Fury's last words to you. Stick to your gut, put your faith in the people you knew that you could trust without a shadow of a doubt.

Second, you knew you could trust Sam and Steve with your life.

Third, Pierce was the one keeping your schedule so jam-packed you could barely sleep let alone try to talk to Sam. He was the one driving the wedge between the person you trusted most. You knew you couldn't trust him.

What was so bone chilling was the look on everyone's face in the room. just about a dozen men, watching you, all armed and poised to attack. There were probably more outside.

You can't help but wonder how deep this whole thing ran. How many of your friends and colleagues would take you down if you stepped a toe out of line.

You were in the lion's den.

And you had two choices: fight or play along.

You lift your head to look at Pierce with a concerned, fear-filled look. "You're right. I don't know- I guess I never noticed."

"And how could you? It's our job to protect our Assets. We'll make sure you're safe."

"Thank you," you slowly exhale, lowering your head in submission at Pierce.

"I'm sorry to have to ask this of you right now, but it's imperative that we sort out everyone's allegiance, including Sam Wilson. It pains me to say this, but we believe, knowingly or unknowingly, he's leaked top-secret state secrets. He's told people about you, and that puts you in danger."

It's not much of a performance to put on a horrified look on your face. You were horrified, just not at Sam, "Oh my God."

"It's alright," Pierce assures you. "We just ask that you continue on, as normally as possible."

"But you just said-"

"We'll take precautions for your own safety, but you're our best hope of maintaining connections with Sam Wilson."

"You want me to spy on Sam?" you repeat, trying to suppress the look of repulsion that involuntarily forms on your face.

"I hate to impose such a heavy task on someone such as yourself, but it's imperative. Nick Fury believed in you, as do I."

You nod once. "I understand."

You'd never considered yourself that good of a liar. But you almost sighed a breath of relief as Pierce bought innocent, doe-eyed lie that spilled out of your mouth.

Thoughts kept racing in your mind. You focused on what you'd do the second you left this room. There was a side exit just down the corridor from your room. You could leave, hide. Warn Sam, warn Steve and you'd run. As fast as you can. As far as you can. 

"Rumlow will escort you back to your room," Pierce directs. Your blood runs cold when your escape plans are torn to shreds. Rumlow suddenly grips your bicep, prepared to drag you to your new room. "Can never be too careful."

"I- I appreciate it."

"But one more thing?" Pierce asks before Rumlow escorts you out. You turn back to him with a tight smile. He turns his head to one side with a smirk that can only be called sinister. "You're a terrible liar."

Your heart drops into the pit of your stomach. "Excuse me?"

"I'm going to give you one last chance to tell me everything you know," Pierce plainly offers, leaning over his desk to glare at you.

You look around the room once more. Now, the guns aren't slung low on the waists of Pierce's henchmen, but aimed directly at you. You grit your teeth and curl your hands into fists, "It's like you said, I don't know anything."

"Wrong answer," Pierce spits. His gaze shifts to Rumlow, whose guiding hand has turned into a death grip on your upper arm, as he barks an order, "Get what you can out of her...Then wipe her."

You jolt upright with a sharp gasp.

You frantically scan the room to see nothing but a still night. Your blanket feels soft even balled up in your clenched fists. There's a quiet hum of cicadas floating in the air.

Your chest heaves as you try to ground yourself back to the present. You can't tell yourself it was just a nightmare. It wasn't. Every moment of it was real. Every feeling was lived. 

The only sounds that fill your room are the sounds of your heavy, panicked breathing. You look out the window to see the bright moon still hung in the sky. 

You look at the alarm on the dresser and it hasn't even been an hour since you crawled into bed. 

The evening went quickly after your talk with Sarah.

There was an ease to being around Sam's family that made you feel at peace. And as that night went on, the peace turned to guilt. Everything always turned to guilt. You'd listened to Sarah's words and knew she was right. You needed to let yourself be happy. You just didn't know how.

So, you went through the rest of the motions of what you thought a happy person would do. Smile. Hold your head high. Hold yourself together. 

You went to bed early. Paced your room for a little. Talked yourself into getting ready for bed like any normal person would. Hell, you even went through the motions of laying down and curling up under a cozy blanket.

Just like any other happy person. 

But unlike any other happy person, you hated when sleep actually found you. You knew it was strange. It didn't make it any less true. You preferred the nights that sleep did not come. It was far better than being forced to relive your worst moments over and over again.

The warm night feels stifling. You rip the blanket off yourself, swinging your legs off the edge of the bed. You remain there for a moment, holding your head in your hands, just wishing that you could be like any other person. 

Just let yourself be happy.

Just let yourself be happy.

Just let yourself be happy...

But that was the problem, wasn't it? You weren't happy. Happiness was such a distant memory. The happiness you do remember... Well, there's times you're not even sure it was real. You're not sure that it wasn't just some clever facade that you'd fooled yourself into believing.

It was one giant puzzle that you couldn't solve. You're not even sure that you want to solve it. 

Worry consumes you. What if you don't recognize yourself once you're stitched back together? What if you don't like the person you've become?

Sam's words earlier sparked something inside you. His words sparked a runaway train of thoughts and memories that you hadn't allowed yourself to think about in months. 

It all makes you feel selfish.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. It shouldn't have been you. You weren't the hero of this story. Steve, a paragon of goodness and honor. Tony, who deserved to watch his child grow up. Wanda, who deserved her epic love story more than anyone else.

The words implant themselves in your brain before you can tell yourself that you didn't mean it: the world would be better off with them, without you. You were never meant to be. An accident. A mistake. 

You find yourself in one of the few places in the world that still felt like peace. Just outside your bedroom window. Legs crossed as you stare at the endless night sky. The cool night time wind is refreshing, if not a little chilling.

The quiet is soothing. You never liked the quiet before. 

You place your hands in your lap, shutting your eyes as you focus on your breathing.

Breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breath out... 

The flame that forms in your cupped hands is as natural as breathing. It's not quite burning you, but just hot enough that you feel the warmth of the flame lick at your hands and work its way up your arms. 

You open your eyes, feeling your racing heart slow with your practiced breathing. Like a pulse in your hands, it swells with every exhale and ever so slightly shrinks with every inhale. 

The flame flickers in your hand when the noise of the screen door shutting below you cuts through the night. 

You hear familiar footsteps creak down the porch and down onto the stone path that leads away from the house. 

"Bucky?" you call out. 

He jolts at the unexpected sound of your voice. With a terse exhale, he places one hand right over his racing heart, "Jesus, what are you doing up there?"

You don't answer the question, instead gesturing up to the sloped rooftop beside you, "Feel free."

He dramatically sighs with his hands on his hips, but even from the roof you can see the corner of his mouth twitching upright. "Really?"

"Unless you're too scared." You shrug, scooting forward to the edge of the roof. You reach out over the edge. A thick vine winds its way down the edge, stopping right in front of Bucky. 

With a feigned huff of annoyance, Bucky takes hold of the vine and climbs up. A laugh bubbles out of his mouth as he reaches for the edge of the roof to haul himself up. "God, I haven't snuck onto a rooftop since I was a teenager."

Finally taking a seat next to you, he looks at you up and down taking in the sight of you in your yellow pajama pants, and a wide grin forming at your fuzzy white bunny slippers. "Nice."

"Shut up," you laugh, nudging his shoulder with your uninjured one. "We can't all look cool when we're going to bed."

"You think sweats and a hoodie is cool?" he counters. You roll your eyes as a crisp breeze cuts through the cool night. Without thinking about it, Bucky unzips his sweater and puts it around your shoulders, "Here."

“Thanks.”

“Maybe now we put out the fire?” he prompts, his eyes flickering to the small flame in you've carried in your hand since he saw you up here. 

“Oh,” you chuckle, closing your hand to smother the flames. “Sure.”

"Why is it blue?" he blurts. He has to suppress the visible cringe that desperately wants to form on his face. Before you can even answer the question, he's backtracking, "Is that an inappropriate question, like too personal? I don't know a whole lot of people with powers."

"Joaquin has some theories."

"Does he?" Bucky sarcastically remarks. 

"I'll have you know that Joaquin is a pretty smart guy," you playfully defend. "A little goofy sometimes. Actually, he reminds me a lot of Sam. Except for the fan girling over Steve. But honestly, I think Steve would've loved it."

"You've successfully avoided the question again."

"He thinks it's me," you finally respond. "Like when I'm angry or something."

"So you're angry now?"

"No."

"Then we've already successfully disproved Torres' theory," Bucky matter of factly concludes. 

"No," you quietly hum. "Things always seem to burn brighter with you."

You weren't even sure if that was a good or bad thing. It was more a statement of fact.

For better or worse, things always burned brighter with him.

Like when he left. It hurt. It hurt too much. Far too much with how long you’d known him. The pain burned so bright you thought it was going to tear through your skin.

You often wondered why did it just feel like a hole had been punched in your chest? Being rejected by a person you thought understood you on some cellular, soul baring level, was a hurt that left you gasping for air.

You’d been left before. Many times before. You’d mourned. Grieved. Getting left by a person who was leaving of their own volition, mourning a person who was still very much alive, it broke you.

Still, you knew he was just being honest. It meant nothing to him. And that was fine.

"Did you ever figure it out?"

"What?"

"The day that Steve - when he put the stones back, you said that there had to be something. some grand scheme or something. That just because we couldn't see it, didn't mean it wasn't there. did you ever figure it out?"

You're surprised he remembered your words so exactly, practically word for word what you said. You're not even sure if you still believe that yourself. "No. I thought I did, but - well, life doesn't always work out the way we want it to, does it?"

"Definitely not."

You hum in agreement.

"Do you still feel it?"

You pause, really thinking about your next words. You want to tell him that it was nothing, that what you felt meant as little to you as it did to him. But you can't. You just can't.

Because even now, it meant everything to you.

Even after everything that passed between you two, after so long apart, the feeling still lie beneath the surface, thrumming to life with each whispered word, each passing glance, and every lingering touch,. "Yeah, I do."

He wants to tell you that he feels it too. He wants to give you the assurance that it's not just you. But you were always braver than he was, "Oh."

You chortle, shaking your head. "Don't worry about me. I know how to lose things."

"What does that mean?" he guffaws.

"Nothing," you shake your head. "It was just a joke."

"No, what does that mean?" he demands.

You vaguely remember how easily the truth came to you.

Once upon a time, lies just didn't make any sense to you. As a person who didn't understand or abided by the typical social contract, honesty was always what came naturally to you.

You didn't know how to be that person again. You didn't know if you should be that person again.

But you missed that person. You missed seeing the good in the world. You missed unabashedly laughing.

You missed smiling.

You didn't know if you could get back to any of that, but you figure you could at least start with the truth. Even if it wasn't a pretty truth. "I'm a very easy person to leave behind, James. I know that. I try not to take it personally."

You can tell Bucky's at a loss for words, so you try to paper over the cracks in the conversation, "Sam used to tell me that some people aren't meant to stay in your life forever. Some for a season. Some for a reason. And if you were lucky, some for a lifetime... I think I'm a season to most people."

"I don't think that's true. I think you underestimate how much you mean to everyone. To me." The words hang in the air for a moment. "And from what it sounds like everyone else did too. I know Steve did."

He doesn't mean to make it sound so bitter and envious, but the words spill out of his mouth before he can stop himself. It was one of the many elephants in the room. How many people hadn't implied that something went on between you and his best friend? 

The green eyed monster was taunting him, mocking him. 

You chuckle, "Are you jealous?"

He looks out into the vast night sky, refusing to meet your eye, "Yes."

The smile slides off of your face. "You shouldn't be. Jealous, I mean."

"Why? Because Steve's gone?" Once again, the acerbic words slip out of his mouth before any sense can kick in. You don't owe him an explanation. You don't owe him anything, least of all loyalty to him at a time when all he was to you was Steve's old friend. "I'm sorry. That- it's none of my business."

"You know, maybe I shouldn't be saying this to his best friend, or maybe I shouldn't be saying anything bad about our dead friend at all, but I always got the sense that Steve only ever saw potential. He didn't see the person I was, only the person I could be. He saw Sunshine."

"You always hated that nickname, didn't you?"

You chortle, "Steve was an incredible friend, so I didn't mind it so much."

"So what John and Zemo said?" Bucky insinuates.

"I actually don't know where that came from."

"I mean I'm just spitballing here, but you were incredibly close with Steve. Holding hands, hugging, touching each other," Bucky explains, his stomach slightly churning at the memory of how close you used to be with Steve.

"I've done all those things with you too," you point out. "Does that mean we're anything more than friends?"

Bucky clears his throat, avoiding answering the question, "Point taken."

"I loved Steve," you tell Bucky. "But I never loved Steve."

Bucky fights the urge to breathe a sigh of relief. Now that the insecurity was laid to rest, he changes the conversation, "You know, if you tell Sam this, I'll deny it, but I don't see how you could leave a place like this. It seems so you."

Warm. Sunny. Peaceful. All things he feels whenever you're near. All things he could see himself feeling here.

"I didn't choose to come here, you know? I love it here, but it still wasn't my choice. Seems like a pretty common theme, but no one's ever really asked me what I wanted. I don't really get to choose. And I don't want to be ungrateful, because I am-"

"You don't sound ungrateful," Bucky interjects. 

He remembers thinking the same thing of Wakanda and Bucharest. He loved both places. And in another life, he would've stayed.

Because in this life, the circumstances that brought him and kept him in those places, also kept him from ever fully loving them.

They never felt like home. They always felt like cage. And a gold cage was still a cage. 

"I liked D.C. Back when it was just me and Sam. It was easier. Of course, until it wasn't."

"Would you go back?"

"No," you admit. There's a beat of silence as you ponder what to say next. When you think about it, New York was the only place you'd ever chosen to live. It was Steve who asked you. It was a simple question of whether you'd like to come live on the Avengers Compound. He didn't ask Sam on your behalf. He asked you. He gave you the choice, put your life in your hands. It was the first time anyone had ever done that. Whether or not the question was genuine, you'd never know, but there was something about getting to make the choice that made New York feel like freedom. Even if it was short lived. "I loved New York. I'd go back there."

"So you're going to leave again?"

"I don't know."

"Do you want to leave?"

There's a warmth and joviality in your saddened smile that Bucky doesn't quite know what to make of it. Instead of answering his question, you abruptly ask, "Can I show you something?"

Bucky nods without a word, watching as you scoot back further up the roof and to your window. You swing your legs around, now sitting half inside, half outside. 

You look over your should with a half smile, just making sure that Bucky is following behind you. 

He chuckles to himself as he crawls through your window thinking that this is yet another thing that he hasn't done since he was a teenager in Brooklyn. He can't help but think about how you make it so easy for him to feel alive again, not like the 106 year old super soldier, but like Bucky, just Bucky.

By the time he crawls into your room, you're standing in front of the duffle bag seated on chair in the corner of your room. The yellow painted on the walls of the room look dull and faded. The room is shockingly devoid of any of your personal touches. 

He stands off to the side of the room as you pull your journal from your duffle bag. Just as he's about to ask you what you're doing, the contents of your desk catch his eye. 

From your desk, he catches a glimpse of the back of a photograph. It's not the charred edges that call his attention, but printed across the back of it. 

CaretakerNick Sam SteveTony Natasha Wanda Vision

His attention is pulled away when he sees his own name:

James...?

"They're mostly all gone," you answer when you see his staring at the list. "They're not all dead, but most of them are gone."

He tears his eyes away like he's been caught red handed rummaging through something of incredibly private, "I- I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to-"

"It's okay, I've been meaning to put that away," you assure him. You tenderly flip the picture over, showing him the actual picture. "It's the only picture that survived. And I just - I don't know, wrote the names of the people that meant the most to me. Then I crossed out the ones that are gone. I guess it made sense at the time."

"It makes sense to me."

You slowly exhale, "I owe them everything. I live for them."

Bucky knows that feeling all too well. He knows what it is to live for the people that you loved. He knows the readiness that settles deep within your bones when you're ready to die for those same people. 

And he knows it's no way to live.

Your eyes flicker to the bed. There's a contempt for it that flashes in your eyes that Bucky knows few understand. You shake your head, crossing your legs before sitting on the floor. You lean your back against the bed, the bright moonlight like a spotlight on the two of you.

Without a word, Bucky takes a seat beside you. Seated on the floor, he's immediately aware of how much closer he is this time. Much closer than before. He can feel the warmth of your palms that rest only a centimeter from him, your crossed legs graze his. 

You take a deep breath before you turn the picture over, showing him the faded image.

He looks at it for a moment, a vague familiarity strikes him upon seeing the little girl's face, "Is that-"

"That's me," you confirm. 

"That's amazing," he quietly awes, nudging his head to ask you permission to see it. You turn over your hand again, showing him the full black and white image. "How did you even find that?"

"The building that blew up?" You nudge your head toward the picture, "This is what I managed to save."

"That's really - I'm happy for you. That is good, right?" he asks upon seeing the pensive expression on your face. "It's not good?"

"I dunno," you shrug, you flip over the picture again to show him the back. On it the bottom right corner, in black smudged ink, is the date the photo was taken. "I couldn't have been more than two years old when I got to that place, you know?"

"That's... I'm sorry."

"I was just a kid. This," you flip the picture over again, examining the somewhat recognizable face that would grow up to be you. The photo isn't great quality, but even though you can clearly see physical resemblance, your mind whirls trying to figure out how you ended up here. "This is the girl that they were so scared of."

"People are scared of what they don't know."

"Sometimes I think that maybe - maybe Zemo was right," you admit.

"About?"

"About me. About super-humans."

"Wouldn't that make him right about me too?"

"It doesn't make sense, I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't exist."

No one had ever been able to figure out your powers, how you survived so long in that place when no other children did. Not even Tony Stark himself had ever come close to figuring it out. 

"That's very existential of you."

"Yeah, well, that's where I've been these days."

"Why'd you leave?" he asks again. 

"I guess I just realized some things," you absently drawl.

"Like what?"

"Did you know that Thor used to call me Rainbow Sunshine?"

"No?" he says, his eyebrows furrowing as you stare out into the dark horizon. 

"Tony, he called me Pinkie Pie. Steve. Natasha. They all had their little nicknames for me, for each other," you fondly recall, a sad smile on your face. 

"I don't-"

"They're all gone. They left. Dead. All my friends. Except Sam. And when we came back, it was five years later. The Compound was nothing but ash, all my things, everyone, it was all gone. Sam knew I had nothing left, he called Sarah and asked her to take the both of us in. When I was here, I just had this epiphany, right before Christmas. Sarah and the boys were handing these beautiful ornaments, I think every single one had its own story behind it. They each had their own stockings with their names on it. Sam was digging through a cupboard trying to find an old family recipe, and I just realized... I don't belong here." You wipe away the stray tears that fall down your face. "And it wasn't anything they said or did, it was everything, I guess. At first, I went to see if I could pull back any of the old team. It's silly but I thought I could bring back that feeling. Because they did feel like my family. But they're all - well... they're all gone. One way or another, they're gone, and I know people leave, I know that. But honestly? I just didn't think you were gonna leave too."

"I'm-"

"No, please, don't apologize," you interrupt him. You pull a small smile of assurance on your face, "That's my fault. Those are my problems. I make too much of things. Overstate my importance in other people's lives. See things that aren't there. I thought figuring myself out would give me something, anything, but I couldn't even do that."

"But you did."

"No, I didn't."

"You were just a kid. An orphaned kid, but I mean look at that?" he say, nudging his head toward the picture. "I don't care if that kid could read minds, could shoot lasers, was a part of 'the Big Three', you were a kid. And there's nothing that kid did to deserve what they did to you. Absolutely nothing."

By the time Bucky finishes talking, your eyes are glassy and far too choked up to say anything except, "Thanks."

"You were a cute kid."

"Thanks," you repeat. The silence floats through the air for a second while you regain the ability to speak. You clear your throat, nudging him with your shoulder, "Alright, I fessed up. Your turn."

"Me?" he scoffs with a slight chuckle, "What'd I do?"

"I don't know. What have you been up to?"

"Working on my list mostly," he grunts. "Court mandated therapy - Pretty sure my therapist hates me."

"What?" you theatrically exclaim, still keeping your voice just above a whisper as to not wake the rest of the house. "But you're so easy to get to know."

"Yeah, yeah," he humorously grumbles, rolling his eyes. He takes a moment before speaking again, deciding to be as honest with you as you were with him, "I spent some time with this guy, Yuri, but now I'm pretty sure I killed his son."

He waits for your head to jolt up, or for some revolted reaction from you, but it doesn't come. He doesn't turn to look at your expression at all. It's a long second before you speak, simply offering a murmured, "I'm sorry."

"Me too."

"You gonna tell him?" you ask.

Bucky immediately notices that there is no judgement in your eyes. Not even when he'd admitted to one of the many heinous acts he was forced to commit. "It'd be easier not to."

"You'll do the right thing," you promise him.

"Why do you think that?" he genuinely asks, wondering what it is you could possibly see in him that makes you so sure he's still a got a moral compass, let alone that a moral compass he actually follows. 

You raise your head off his shoulder, looking at him directly in his steel blue eyes. You notice that in the moonlight, his eyes look just a little more blue.

And the way his blue eyes shine tonight, it puts those Louisiana stars to shame.

You keep eye contact with him as you say, "Because you're a good person, James. You always have been."

"I went on a date," he blurts. 

You tear you eyes away from him. Even from your profile, Bucky can see the furrowed look on your face, "Oh?"

"I also left halfway through it," he adds.

You turn back to him with that same confused expression, "Why are you...?"

"Guess it wasn't right, you know?" 

You nod, "Yeah."

"I missed you. So much," he finds himself admitting, the darkness making it just a little easier to wear his heart on his sleeve.

You rest your head on his shoulder. And for the first time in a very longe time, Bucky feels a sense of rightness washes over him. He can't describe how overwhelming that warm, fluttering feeling becomes when you whisper back, "Me too."

This time silence settles over you and no one breaks it. He finds himself reach for your hand. Without looking, he instinctively finds the warmth of your fingertips. 

There is no hesitation or reluctance as you entwine your fingers with his.  

Bucky's not quite sure how long you both sit in the silence until he feels the grip in your hand loosen ever so slightly.

He looks over to you, he finds your eyes slipped shut, breathing slow and even. Asleep. 

He smiles to himself at your peaceful expression. It hits him how long it's been since he's seen you like this with all the stress and anxiety melted of your features. So quiet that he's not even sure he actually said it out loud, he murmurs, "You weren't easy to leave."

Even though he knows he could stay like this forever, he doesn't want you to spend what little sleep you get on the floor. Gently, and reluctantly, he twists his torso to scoop you up off the floor. 

He stands without you stirring once. He gently places you on the bed, lifting the tossed aside blanket over you. 

He begins to pull away after placing you on the bed. Like you know he's no longer next to you, you clumsily reach for Bucky. Your fingers softly grip his. You sleepily murmur, "Stay. Just this once."

Without a thought to the consequences or the implications, he finds himself agreeing. He finds that there's nothing else he wants to do but stay. Even if it is just this once. "I'll stay. I promise."

He drops your hand, quickly kicking off his shoes and tucking himself underneath the blankets beside you. 

In your sleepy stupor, you find yourself reaching out to touch Bucky's arm. Your fingers find his, but he doesn't take your hand. Instead, he moves his entire arm, tucking it around you to pull you just a little closer. "Is this okay?"

"More than okay," you murmur into his chest as you both drift off in the comfort of each other's arms. 

The Twin Flame Chapter List AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated 💛

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez@ludicbouquetfromearth@matchat3a@famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff@valoraxx@blue786sworld@buckyandgeraltsupremacy@geminigengar@ansaturn@ecolle@lexhalstead3@ybflkmj@mediocre-daydreams@shanye1112@thegirlnextdoorssister@toomanyfanficsbruh@moonlightreader649@breathtaking-cynthia@mirikusashes@beans-and-toast@niyahcoca@katiechikin@elxvrr@antiheroxsblog@infamouslyclumsy@krissydclayton93 @buckysbarne @deadheadwbedhead

[glatisant-questing]

Ryoma's Short Story from the Manyo no Shou Special Edition Booklet

This is the last short story from the booklet, and it's the only story that does not take place at the Nishi Hongan-ji Temple.

Sorry that I cannot find a way of translating the Tosa dialect of Ryoma in English though :(

This SS was written by 長野 和泉

(I went back later than I thought. I wonder if Chizuru is already asleep.) 

Under the dim light of the paper lanterns that floated in the darkness, I hurried towards the inn where I was staying with the person who interested me the most right now –– Yukimura Chizuru. 

We were traveling together to the east, gathering information while chasing after our former friend, Nakaoka Shintaro, who had turned into a fury. 

(If she’s asleep, it would be rude to wake her up.) 

I arrived in front of our room and opened the sliding door carefully, trying not to make any noise. 

And then…

“Ah… Ryoma-san. Welcome back.” 

Chizuru greeted me in a clear voice and with a smile. It seemed that she was doing some mending. She had a sewing box that she apparently borrowed from the hostess of the inn. 

“I didn’t expect that you’d be up at this hour. Didn’t you feel sleepy while waiting for me? You could have gone to bed first.” 

“No, not at all. I was just so taken up by the needlework that I didn’t notice time passing.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes, really.” 

She answered with a troubled smile while deftly tying up the loose threads, and then she stuck the needle into the pincushion.

But right after that, a tiny yawn escaped from her lovely lips.

“Ah…” 

“See, I know you feel tired. ” 

As I said that, I wrapped my arms lightly around her slender shoulders. 

She seemed embarrassed and shrank back. 

“Anyways, thank you. You must have been holding back your fatigue and waiting for me until this late.” 

“…!” 

Chizuru wasn’t used to being hugged by a man like this, and her body stiffened. But she didn’t seem to hate it, and when I gently traced along her shoulders with my palm, she seemed to relax a bit. 

At this distance, where we could feel each other’s breath and the slightest movements of our lips, she was clearly bewildered. After a while, she looked at me hesitantly. 

“But… Ryoma-san, you’ve been reckless lately, and I’m worried about you.” 

There was not a hint of a lie in her eyes. 

From her eyes and her words, I could tell that she was overflowing with concern and care for me. 

(To be worried about by a woman like this, it’s a man’s dream come true… )

With these thoughts in my mind, I stroked Chizuru’s hair gently while still holding her shoulders. 

“I’m sorry for making you worry. There’s a lot to do tomorrow too, so let’s go to bed soon.” 

As I urged her, I could feel Chizuru’s slender shoulders twitch under my palms. Her eyes, which looked at me intently a while ago, wavered with anxiety. 

“What’s wrong? Are you scared?”

Then she shook her head frantically, looking nervous. 

“N-no, that’s not the case…! I know very well that Sakamoto-san is not the kind of person who would do something strange without a woman’s consent.” 

“That’s right, you understand me well. I wouldn’t bother with a woman who doesn’t love me.” 

After saying that, I stared into Chizuru’s eyes. And then, I added this. 

“…Well, I do think you’ve come to love me a lot more than when we first met.” 

Then Chizuru’s cheeks turned all red in an instant. 

“H-how can you be so confident! I never said anything like that…!” 

“I said ‘compared to when we first met’, didn’t I? I’ll lay out the futon, so please wait for me.” 

She was fun to watch with her exaggerated reactions. I thought to myself as I got up. 

“Ryoma-san, I can lay out the futon…” 

“Don’t worry about it. Leave this to me. You can just go and change into your nightgown.” 

“But…” 

“You’ve been waiting for me all day, and you must feel rather lonely. So let me do the chores for you.” 

Chizuru thought for a while, but she must have realized that it was meaningless to refuse any more. 

“Then… thank you for your kindness. I’ll be right back.”

After bowing her head slightly, she left the room to change into her nightgown. 

After we both changed our clothes, we turned off the light and went to bed. 

“Good night, Chizuru. Have a sweet dream.” 

“Good night.” 

Chizuru’s voice from the futon next to me sounded relieved, and my heart was warmed by it. But…

 (I feel a bit unsatisfied if I just go to sleep like this.)

 As I thought so, I turned over lightly and called out to the futon next to me. 

“…Hey, Chizuru.” 

“What is it?”

 When Chizuru turned to look at me, I got up on my hands on the tatami and leaned over her futon.

 Her big eyes looked back at me with curiosity. 

I didn’t give her any opportunity for hesitation, and kissed her softly on the forehead. 

“…!”

 I felt her gasp. And then, her big eyes blinked twice. 

“Ryoma-san! What are you…” 

It was the second time I kissed her on the forehead, and besides, Chizuru was old enough to get married, so I didn’t expect her to be in such a panic. 

(Is she naïve or inexperienced…? I’m getting worried about a lot of things.)

This idea came across my mind, and I let out a bitter smile. 

As I was tracing her lips which were trembling out of confusion with my finger, I said.

 “I’m happy that you trust me, but I don’t want to be seen as just a safe guy. Next time, I’ll go for your lips, so be prepared.” 

I was half-serious. Chizuru was speechless, her face red and her lips quivering. 

(Seeing this expression on her makes me satisfied…)

 I lightly tapped her shoulders over the futon. 

“Well then, good night. Since you’re here, then I hope you dream of me.”

I said and returned to my own futon- 

“What are you saying! How can I dream of Ryoma-san after what you did… I don’t think I will be even able to fall asleep in peace!” 

Chizuru was so embarrassed that she covered her head with her blanket and decided to sleep. 

(Oh well. It seems like it will take some time for us to be able to have a mature romance. Well, there’s no need to rush…) 

I thought so as I closed my eyes and waited for sleep to come.

[pleathewrites]

bellow the fire into my deadened lungs

chapter 2 excerpt — important and embarrassing conversations read full story here

They all take care of Touya as he heals while trying to be discreet as possible. Keigo will go on patrol, Natsou will attend his classes but has a friend record each lecture he misses, and Shouto spends almost all of his free time back at Keigo’s apartment, now that his internship is over, what with Endeavor in a — 'satisfyingly' — medically-induced coma. 

No one tells Fuyumi. 

They all love her, especially Touya who misses his twin the same way he misses his tears. But they’re not sure if Fuyumi would tell Enji — who's bound to wake up eventually — where Touya is currently hiding, under the, ‘poorly led assumption that Enji is a changed man’ — Natsou’s words. 

The first week of healing is absolutely grueling. 

The second is worse. 

The third, though, is when Natsou declares it’s finally okay to take the bandages off. Something about how far quirk medicine has come in the past decade. 

When the bandages are off, Touya is completely shocked, “Natsou, what — how — there are barely any new scars. And —  fuck, my seams!”  Touya cackles wildly, twisting and turning his arms, “They’ve never looked this good!”

Natsou ruffles Touya’s hair, “Modern quirk medicine, man. You should probably take a bath, though. Warm water, different washcloths for each limb. Don’t put any dressing or creams when you’re done, wait at least two hours for all the heat to have left your burns. After that, it’s pretty much the same thing you’ve been doing. You’ve taken pretty good care of them these years — who knows, maybe you could be a doctor yourself,” He nudges, a cheeky smile on his face. 

Touya huffs a laugh through his nose, “Another life, maybe.”

Natsou leaves for class with a sad smile, his heart full of melancholy at the way this life has treated his brother

Touya is looking at himself in the large bathroom mirror when Keigo comes stumbling in, “Dabs, are you awake yet? I’ve brought some — oh!” The hero stops short at his opened bathroom door, looking at Touya with wide and sparkling eyes, “Wow. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you like this.”

Touya snorts, “Patched up instead of wrapped up?”

“Whole,” Keigo answers, walking up to Touya to take a closer look at him, “I can’t believe you guys did this without me and Shou.”

Touya shifts, feeling stupidly shy, of all things, and he looks back at the mirror, at his own reflection, “‘S not some grand event, Birdbrain.” 

He feels Keigo move, and the hero’s reflection joins his own, golden eyes meeting Touya’s reflected blue, “You’re so pretty.”

Touya’s heart feels like it’s going to burst out of his chest, and he averts his eyes away from their reflections and down to the sink, “Why're you saying that shit now? I told you, I know what you are.” 

Keigo hasn’t kissed him these past three weeks. The only times he touches Touya is when it’s medical and he keeps his distance. They don’t sleep in the same bed. They haven’t talked about it. Keigo doesn’t need ‘Dabi’ anymore. 

Touya doesn’t want to care. He doesn’t want the hero's distance to sting the way it does, wants to tell himself that he was using Keigo just as much as Keigo was using him, and that it all meant nothing. 

Touya’s a good liar, but, ‘how the hell does someone lie to themselves?’ 

“Because I’m always thinkin’ it, Dabs.” 

Touya whips around to face Keigo and puts two warning hands on the hero’s chest, “Stop it.”

“I — ” Keigo starts, his bottom lip jutted out and quivering for a second, before he presses his lips together and nods, “I’m sorry,” he steps back, “I — I’ve been trying. To give you space. I didn’t mean to cross a line.”

Touya turns his head away from Keigo and misses the way the hero’s eyes trace along the elegant column of Touya’s neck, misses the way black pupils dilate at the movement of his sharp Adam’s-apple, the way Keigo’s chest expands with a silently pining sigh. 

The swirls of the marble tile in Kiego’s bathroom start to move the longer Touya stares. His head is such a mess. He’s tired and lost, and although his body has stopped hurting, his heart doesn't. 

“I don’t like liars.”

“Dabi,” Keigo pleads, begging for Touya to look at him, “This isn’t the right time, but I need you to know. This, everything between us, it was all real for me. It still is,” Keigo’s short-taloned hand, the very physical testament of his words, lays on Touya’s cheek and urges him to turn, to look at Keigo and meet that pleading golden gaze, “You know when I’m lying. Look me in my eyes and believe me.” 

Touya wants to. That’s the part that horrifies him, makes him so fucking scared, because when he looks into Keigo’s heartbreakingly open and honest eyes, he wants to believe him. 

He closes his eyes and resigns, leans forward until his forehead meets Keigo’s own. 

Keigo whispers against his mouth, “I’m a double agent,” He finally confesses, “But I am on your side.” 

Touya nods.

Much later, after Shouto’s visit — “I honestly forgot what you looked like these past few weeks. I like this post-mummification-version of you better, Touya-nii.” — Touya and Keigo sit in the hero’s living room, tending to Touya’s new burns. Touya works on his right arm and Keigo kneels by his feet, wrapping his thigh — easy access due to the villain wearing only a tank top and boxers, borrowed from Keigo. 

Keigo decides to bring up the conversation he’s postponed in waiting for Touya’s health to improve, “So. What were you thinking, going off to fight Endeavor alone?”

Touya’s fingers twitch. He was honestly hoping they’d never have this conversion, just forget about it and stay cocooned in this healing nest of a dream world for a little longer.

But the world still orbits, the clocks still tick, and real-life does not pause. 

He finishes pinning the clean gauze in place and shrugs a shoulder, “Felt like the right time.”

Keigo scoffs, still focused on wrapping the gauze underneath his thigh, one hand gripping the back of his knee for leverage while the other loops the cloth under, “That’s such bullshit. What about the League? You have access to like, a hundred Nomus!”

And Touya’s a bit shocked, because —‘Is he mad I didn’t have a better plan to… kill… my father…?’

Keigo’s head whips up, and blazing eyes bore into Touya’s own, “What about me?” 

Touya snaps.

“Yeah, what about you? The same you that stuffed a body in a duffle bag for a fuckin’ mission? You killed someone, you stupid… Hero,” Touya’s chest heaves, and they both noticed how when he said, ‘hero’, for once, it wasn’t spiteful but had real weight. Like the word held some honor and Keigo broke it. 

Keigo sighs, pinning the gauze in place, and sits back on his rear, both knees coming up to rest his elbows on, “Yeah, but not on your orders.” The furrow of Touya’s thin brows makes Keigo explain further, “When I told the Commission about what the League wanted me to do, they… assigned me to do it. They could have found a way around it, but they didn’t. And they didn’t even do it themselves, they actually…”

Keigo’s voice starts to shake, and Touya leans forward, wanting to offer some kind of comfort but still feeling the protective resistance of his own mind take precedence.

“They brought a man in. Told me how to do it. And watched.” 

Touya slides off the couch and adjusts himself until his own bent legs brush the insides of Keigo’s, long enough for his toes to reach the side of the hero’s hips. He rests his back against the seat border. 

“There’s your reason then. It’s all fuckin’ tainted. Everything needs to be burnt to the fuckin’ ground, and it needs to start with him.”

“Dabi!” Keigo’s fists clench beside his temples and his eyes close tightly in frustration, “Gods, are you so naive to believe your single action would have changed anything!”

When his eyes open again, they’re incredulous and his golden irises look like they’re on fire, and Touya’s shocked at his outburst.

“You won’t be a martyr, Dabs, you’ll be the enemy, and the result will only end up in more heroes just like Endeavor, seeking for revenge on his behalf, completely ignorant to the man he really is. This... this is arrogance, stupidity — ” 

A lick of fury runs through Touya and he grabs the collar of Keigo’s shirt and pulls, “Watch it, Birdy. I get it, alrigh', but don’t fuckin’ call me ‘stupid’.”   

[ “You stupid, worthless boy!” 

“Why do I even bother, those born weak are hopeless!” 

“It’s not only your body, your mind is incapable, do you not see the bigger picture?” 

“Stupid boy, push through! I am making you strong, can’t you see that!”  ]

He lets go and tiredly leans back into the seat border, tilting his head all the way back until it rests on the seat cushion.

“I don’t care about the whole world, I care about four people. There’s no room for anyone else.”

‘Maybe five.’ 

Keigo scoffs, “Really? You read bedtime stories to Toga because you care about ‘four people’?” Touya’s heart tightens and he restrains his throat from swallowing too much, “You watch romcoms with Twice when he’s having a fit because you only care about ‘four people’?  You sleep in Shigaraki’s bed during the winter because you care about ‘four people’?  You — ” 

Touya balks, his head shooting up, “ — Wait, wha — hold on — how do you know about that?” He demands. 

Keigo’s eyes widen before his expression turns sheepish, “I…” 

Touya’s eyes narrow, “Birdie…” 

Keigo scratches the back of his neck, before booping his two index fingers together repeatedly, “I... So, Toga may have taken a few photos…”

Touya’s absolutely horrified, “You peeping-toms. When?” 

Keigo’s eyes make a show of dramatically looking up and around, trying to seem like he doesn’t actually remember clearly, “Uh, heh, she said it happened in November, but she told me around the holidays?” 

Touya groans, flopping his head back to the couch cushion. 

[ Shigaraki hasn’t stopped staring at Dabi ever since he turned off the television. He’s just been standing in the doorway, itching his neck in obvious stress. 

Dabi gives the guy the benefit of the doubt, “... What'd'you want, ya sandpaper reject?” 

Shigaraki hesitates for a moment, shuffling his feet, “... My room is fuckin’ freezing. Can you heat up my sheets?” 

Dabi sighs and thinks, ‘this again.’   

He gets up, knees cracking and spine arching as he stretches a bit, ignoring the way Shigaraki’s eyes deviate to the strip of skin revealed by the lift of his shirt. 

He makes his way to Shigaraki’s room, “You seriously need to buy a portable heater or somethin’. Think that psycho doctor can lend us a few bucks?” 

“Doubt it.” 

Dabi gets to the bed, flips covers, and heats up the area with his careful hands, “Alright, here ya go, Handyman, nice 'n toasty.” 

He turns around and starts to walk out the bedroom door when a small tug around his waist constricts his movement. His brows draw together in confusion, and he looks down and follows the pattern of bunched clothing until he spots two blue-ish fingers trapping the hem of his shirt. 

“I…” Shigaraki looks at where his fingers clutch at Dabi’s shirt before averting his eyes to the window, “There’s a blizzard outside, the bed is going to get cold quickly again. How... long will you be here?” He’s looking everywhere but at Dabi. 

Dabi deadpans, “Look, I’m tired as hell, you better not wake me up and use that creepy doctor’s slime quirk on me just to heat your bed again. I’m not a housekeepe — ” 

“ — you could just stay.” 

Dabi gapes, “Uh…” 

“I mean,” Shigaraki grumbles, seemingly irritated, but Dabi can see blood flow to his cheeks, “Your body radiates heat naturally when you sleep — ” 

“ — how do you kno — ” 

“ — so if you just sleep here, the bed will always stay warm.” 

Dabi’s about to say ‘no’ because he’s noticed the strange ways his boss has been looking at him lately, red eyes lingering a bit too long on stapled skin, widening a bit too much at blue fire. 

But he catches the heavy bags under those same red eyes, and he lets out a deep, resigned sigh, “Fine. Gods, this is the one time I’m actually glad you snatched the only queen mattress in this place,” — even though Dabi rarely ever spends the night at the League’s hideouts. Too much paranoia for infection. 

He slides under the already folded back duvet and makes himself comfortable, turning on his side so he faces the window and closes his eyes to the wild blurs snow. He can hear as Shigaraki shuffles around to probably put on his partial-finger gloves and the way his boss sighs deeply at the warmth of the sheets when he settles in. 

Before Dabi falls asleep, he hears a soft, “Thank you.” 

When Dabi wakes up, it's to the sun’s bright reflection off the fallen white snow and Shigaraki’s arm curled around his waist, soft puffs of air gently ruffling the hair at the back of his head. 

‘Oh my Gods.’  

Dabi can’t even get mad, really, he set himself up for this one. 

He heats up a pillow, wiggles out of his boss’s embrace, and shoves the pillow in his place, watching as Shigaraki mumbles a bit before snuggling into the pillow like a child. 

‘He’s just a kid,’ Dabi can’t help think, for a moment. 

He quietly walks out of Shigaraki’s room, closes the door with a quiet  ‘click’, and, unfortunately, bumps right into Toga. 

Toga’s eyes widen as Dabi silently wishes to incinerate himself, “Whaaa....” and then smiles deviously, “Dabi, have you and Shiggy — ” 

“No, you psycho, for fuck's sake,” Dabi quickly shuts the girl down, “Boss has no damn circulation. He was fuckin’... cold. Fuck off.” 

To his surprise, Toga actually backs off with a hum and a tilt of her head, “Hm. Well, I guess that’s good. You like your mysterious recruit, anyways, huh?” 

Dabi mushes a hand in her face, “Shut up, you watch too many damn movies…”  ]

“Tch, that little sneak acted so innocent,” Touya purses his lips before a lightbulb goes off in his head, and he whips his head to look back at Keigo, “So that’s why you got us personal heaters for Christmas.”

Keigo’s cheeks blush, “I, uh, also got Shiggy the fleece pajamas.” 

“Gods, you mama bird.” 

Keigo splutters at that, open palms frantically indicating towards Touya, “Says the literal mama bird.” 

“Shut up,” Touya feels embarrassed, thinking of all the things Keigo pointed out that Touya has always chosen to selectively forget. Acknowledging himself as anything close to human makes him sick, makes his head spin up and tangle itself within the greyed ethics he’s managed to hang onto in this new body. 

However, he’s not so sure he can compartmentalize pieces of himself like this anymore, not after Keigo, not after Natsou and Shouto and the way he’s lived this past month. 

He changes the subject, seeing an opportunity to ask something he’s been avoiding for a while, “I’m wondering — did you do it out of concern or to keep him away from me?” 

“A little bit of both, to be honest. Maybe, like. Forty-sixty.”

Touya’s a bit silent, after that. He thinks of what he really wants to say, what he needs Keigo to understand. 

“Look,” He starts, “I don’t ever wanna be owned. Feel like — property. And you... I dunno if it's a bird thing or what but, you…” Touya looks Keigo in the eye, feeling so, so vulnerable, “You look like you wanna keep me. And that really freaks me out.”

Keigo sighs dejectedly, “Yeah, I noticed you were different with me after I pointed out Shigaraki’s… interest. Felt like you didn’t wanna be alone with me, and on Christmas… I wanted to kick myself after the mistletoe thing.”

“I didn’t mind that. Christmas was — good,” Touya flushes slightly, before mentally shaking himself back to the real point of this conversation and muttering, “Patching my hip back up wasn’t.”

“Fuck,” Keigo whispers, starting to shake his head in something that looks like shame, “I’m so fucking sorry. My raptor instincts got the best of me, but that’s no excuse.”

“Can you control it? Your…  instincts?” Touya feels a bit like a dickhead for asking. He was there during the times Spinner and Keigo confessed to being stereotyped as things akin to beasts among non-heteromorphic people, but when Touya hears words like, ‘instinct,’  he needs to be cautious. 

“Yes,” Keigo says desperately, “I’m new to all this but, you gotta know, I don’t wanna own you, Dabi. I’d never put you in a cage. I was just jealous, but I had no right. Still don’t, especially now.” 

Touya takes the plunge, his heart racing a mile a minute, “Do you want it? The right?”

Keigo smiles, ever-so-kindly, and Touya feels a warm hand wrap around one of his ankles, his thumb stroking the bridge where healthy flesh still lives, “No one can have rights to you, love. I just want you, in any way you’ll let me.”  

Touya’s heart soars. 

He moves, crawling close to Keigo before fumbling into the hero’s lap, both men careful and slow around his fresh wrappings. Keigo’s hands fall to the dip of his back and the meat of his thigh, Touya’s cradling the hero’s strong jawline as if it were made of hand-blown glass, precious and one-of-a-kind. 

“I want the same,” He avows on pink lips.

Pink lips that slide into a beautiful smile, “I’m yours, Dabs.”

“Touya,” He corrects, sliding a hand around to tangle his fingers in blond hair, “I want you to call me Touya, when we’re like this.” 

Pink lips that round out, “Touya,” against his own. 

His whole body shudders. 

Pink lips that fervently surge up to claim his own. 

read full story

my other works

[dnangelic]

" I missed Valentine's ! " He admits in the midst of the hurry of their reunion, voice a little loud with exasperation and frustration and a huffy laugh that masks every other bad thing. Guilt pulls and rips at his heart but it isn't enough to take away the smile on his lips, that giddy, lovestruck dumb thing that hurts where a bandaid covers cracked skin on his cheek, but it refuses to budge ever since he led eyes on Daisuke.

" Here. " Shou returns from rampaging in his bag with a simple white box, one that matches the bandages covering the hand that's holding it. Right, he hasn't explained that, nor anything yet, really. But he has his priorities set, definitely right, and nothing is going to change that. Once unwrapped from the atrocious glittering ribbon that holds it together, the box would reveal a single, smooth, big heart of classical brown chocolate dusted with sugar. Would have been a rather lonely piece. That's what passed along Shou's brainstorming process before deciding to add a couple more pieces, two wings of dark chocolates to either side.

Would the shape and taste even matter when he's gifting them late ? He couldn't get any less lame & unceremonious.

" I made them myself, Kaa-chan helped, not sure about the taste, I'm a bad taste tester, I thought it's only fair that I gift you first this time, and I ... uh ... " He muses out loud, loses track after handing over the box, hands return to his pocket, hiding away what they can. He simply stares for a few seconds, big blue eyes reflecting a mind devoid of answers, excuses, apologies. There is only longing and whole damn lot of it. Shit. He doesn't know how to do this. " I'm a terrible boyfriend. "

( obligatory valentine ask. shou flavored. intrusive thoughts ALWAYS WIN when it's him. )

@espectres

shou missed valentines . it's true , isn't it ? there's nothing daisuke can say , neither to defend himself nor the other . there's no lie that can cover the fact up for either of them ; no laugh of his own that can undo the long absence of the empty space it fills . no bandaid that could be stretched over the niwa's own personal scratch and wound , a small blood-letting gash that left him missing and wanting for shou more than anything else .

--- and how long could an empty heart ever endure ?

darker and darker , duller and duller , the boy had been prodded and needled by all sorts of thorny worries that had managed to take root during the day . one after another , plucked out stinging from his thoughts and what felt like his heart's ventricles : shou hadn't run away from him ? ( he would have never . ) shou hadn't gotten tired , fed up with the likes of a thief and a fallen angel's curse , both monstrous in their own right ? ( he would have said so . ) shou was safe ? ( he had to be . please , don't try to do everything all alone again . )

faith had weighed itself against every dreary anxiety , and it's why at that familiar expression on shou's wrecked face --- bashfulness tender as split knuckles , the lovestruck daze of someone hit by a lead pipe , the scales of daisuke's own thoughts feel to snap and break , and his heart starts to pound . entranced by atmosphere alone , there's a waking relief that pools out even from the numb ache in his limbs , this overwhelming furnace-burning as his hands turned wintry cold . even his most wretched face remains dazzled with wonder like this , reds starved as empty plates and only now dining on every sight , granting a live , thrashing bliss and ecstasy .

shou was here . had come back ; returned to , for him . shou still loved him --- and of course , he still loved shou .

arms wrap about the other and a kiss lands itself on their cleaner cheek with one swift impulse . he can't help but cradle shou closely , tightly , coveting this above all , momentarily ignoring the proffered chocolates to embrace the other for as long as it might take 'til he was satisfied , and his form soundlessly changed again . holidays came and went , and so did excuses to give each other sweets or sugary dates punctuated by laughter . shou was late , but what did it matter ? even late was still a presence , one that the niwa would have done just about anything , anything for .

' --- but you're still mine , shou-kun . ' soft and light even in guarding possessiveness , his usual cherub-chime . speak of terror and he'd confess to the thought of losing the other without as much as a farewell to give above all else , like so many others before . whatever's happened , he doesn't ask , only separating himself to let a hand cup and palm the space below their tended wound , holding them like this : flushed and swept away by one of the world's most incredible creations .

shou should have stayed with him and stayed safe , but they could talk about it later . right now , he had his own longings , after all .

' the chocolate ... um , w-will you feed it to me ? ' anything's good , as long as it's from you --- but i bet you worked on it , didn't you ? ' i really missed you . ' it's not enough to simply receive , to take the other's chocolate heart and leave . ' we can still make up for lost time . ' and i want all that i can get ---

with you .

' happy valentines , shou-kun . thank you . you're the best ! '

[cosmiicorvid]

serirei swap!au !!!

some info about it (idk how to add the read more thing on mobil, sorry!!): also, there is a lot here but there’s also i didn’t add that i think abt a lot so feel free to ask me about it !! (pls i wanna talk abt it so bad)

- when reigen quits his job at the water cooler place, he never reads that one magazine, and instead is barely scraping by. he stays in his apartment a Lot.

- serizawa is somehow inspired to leave his room (undecided how yet) and open up spirits and such to help people and make a difference.

- toichirou shows up at reigen’s apartment. reigen, to this, says “look man you got the wrong guy, i’m not even an esper… but, i have nothing better to do with my life.” and joins claw.

- toichirou offers to embue his power on reigen for protection, but he declines. after some persuasion though, he does take the psychic embued umbrella.

- at the same time this happens… Serizawa is struggling every day at spirits and such, wanting to close the place up for good. but he always promises himself just one more day. until Shigeo shows up.

- at this point he’s basically “geez. i can’t just leave this kid hanging…” and promises to help him learn his power. he tells Shigeo that he himself doesn’t have powers, but used to, and knows enough to teach him. (this is the lie. he still has powers, however he refuses to use them.)

- during the season 1 finale… it works about the same. serizawa tells Shigeo it’s okay to run away, his power is given to serizawa, and then he proceeds to beat the crap out of everyone. this is an important moment for not just Shigeo, but for Serizawa to realize that holding his own power away may not be as great as he thought.

- during season 2 he opens up to the idea of maybe trying out his own power for the first time in a long time.

- i am… unsure how separation arc works still, so sorry :(((

- serizawa feels very guilty for mogami arc because he knows he could have done something sooner, but his fear held him back

- season 2 finale… this will be hard to explain with words. but!!! i know for a fact that when shou confronts touchirou, reigen is very fast to step in front it the kid to protect him. toichirou does not punish him for this physically, but does make him leave the room. this is when he meets Mob.

- the fight with Mob is again pretty similar, he absolutely refuses to fight him, but also refuses to give up on claw, though, instead of it being out of denial of the truth, it’s more a desperate cry of “i’ve gone this far, what’s the point now?”

- Mob teaches him that it’s never too late to make a change.

(bonus doodle of reigen protecting shou because … yeah )

[lieblogger]

something about lin lie's identity always revolving around violence but being kind anyways

i doubt I'd call him a pacifist but i like that he is a sword that always finds ways to be a shield you know. pan is built on selfishness but in that time he decides to spend it talking to civilians and helping them rebuild He asks why the agents are talking behind each other's backs if they're friends He chooses to check on white fox and reassure her he dives In Front of a demon for her and tries to snap her out of her hallucination and he takes shou-lao's heart by asking for it because he doesn't want to kill it he never wants to kill not really

like when he fights lin feng he aims for the shoulder, when he sees excessive violence he cringes and cries, when he kills demons he does it quick and i could get into whether or not i think that would weigh on his mind at all but the short answer is no. but it's fun to explore

I'm also not sure i can say it's an act of selflessness because I'm not sure if it is. "i don't want to kill gods because i want to go home" "i don't want to take shou-lao's heart because he's my friend and I'd feel bad" "I'm only helping you because i thought this would bring me closer to finding chiyou" all real quotes he's said (albeit super paraphrased) like he's avoiding violence but he's not directly trying to protect either. a reluctant sword that becomes a shield by accident or whatever.

This also doesn't mean he's Only saving people because it's the opposite of killing it's just. ugh i don't know anymore lin lie is the most selfishly selfless character i can truly articulate into words about vaguely why i like him but i think sam falls into this category too seeing as he has an entire conversation about being selfish. maybe that's why i like them both i don't know

[kiszka-jake]

Road Not Taken

Summary: Katie and Jake broke up right before he made it big, and she’s been keeping one big secret from him ever since.

Word count: 3.1K

••••••••••••

Chapter One:

Katie’s POV- Present Day

“Mommy?”

I rolled over to see my daughter standing by the side of the bed.

“Will you tell me a story about my daddy again?”

I smiled at her and pulled the blanket back. She giggled as she took a running leap onto the bed and snuggled in next to me. “If your daddy was here right now, he would be having so much fun teaching you how to ride your bike without training wheels. And he would definitely teach you how to play guitar”

She looked wistfully up at me with her big brown eyes and a part of my heart broke. She loves when I tell her things about her dad, but she hates hearing what she’s missing out on.

“Do you think he’ll be done with his secret mission soon and come home?” I stared at the ceiling while she waited for my answer. I know I shouldn’t lie to her, but she’s only five. It’s better to tell a five-year-old that her dad is a secret agent than it is to tell her the truth. I finally mustered up a smile and looked back down at her.

“Maybe! But you know he’s traveling to a lot of places on his current assignment.”She seemed satisfied with my answer as her eyes started to close. I ran my fingers through her brown curls and picked up my phone to see a call from my best friend Grace.

She didn’t even wait for me to say hello before she started speaking.“The new Greta tour is sold out. I know I’ve been telling you this for five years, but that money is Lyla’s too and I know you don’t let anyone help you but it-“

I had to cut her off or she would go on forever. Lyla’s dad and his money (and my lack thereof) is one of her favorite topics. “Gracie. Do you really think I’m going to call him up after not speaking for five years and just say ‘Hey Jake? Crazy story. You actually have a daughter and she really wants ballet lessons and a puppy, but I’m broke and can’t give her everything she wants. Mind sending some of your rockstar money this way?’ I don’t think that would go over well.”

She let out a long sigh and took a moment to reply. “I know, I know, I know. I only say it because I love you and Lyla and I want the best for both of you.”

“I know.”

We let the comfortable silence fill the air as we lingered on the call. Sometimes it’s just nice to know your best friend is there and ready to listen. “I just wanted to call and say I’m excited to see you guys tomorrow.”

I couldn’t hold back the smile growing on my face as I spoke. “We can’t wait to be back home either. Lyla can’t stop talking about going to Bronners again. I don’t know why she likes it so much.”

“And her auntie Gracie will gladly walk around the whole store and let her pick out whatever she wants.”

We hung up the phone and it was just me alone with my thoughts. Going back to Frankenmuth always fills me with anxiety. I’ll forever be known as ‘the girl who broke up with a rockstar and got pregnant by a rando and dropped out of Harvard’. Quite a title to live up to…especially when it’s not the truth.

I turned and watched Lyla sleep. She reminds me of him so much. They have the same eyes and the same big smile that is only reserved for the most special moments. As I started to fall asleep, all I could think about was all the memories waiting for me in Michigan.

——————————————————

“Mommy I see grandma and grandpa and aunt Gracie!” Lyla shouted as we walked out of the airport. I looked ahead to see them excitedly waving and I let go of her hand to let her run ahead. My dad spun her around and put her on his shoulders while my mom yelled at him to be careful.

“You know, ever since Lyla was born you guys never get excited to see me anymore,” I joked as I hugged my mom. “You’re just old news now,” My mom said in reply. I felt my anxiety fade as I watched the happiness on Lyla’s face grow. I had every right to be here. This is my home too, and I have nothing to be scared of. Jake should be off somewhere getting ready for tour.

“I did tell Lyla if she was good the whole flight you guys would take her for ice cream.” My dad smirked at me, “she could’ve been horrible and we would take her anyway.” I started walking away with Grace and turned around to wave. “We’ll meet you back home in an hour!” Lyla didn’t even say goodbye because she was too busy soaking up attention from her favorite people.

Grace raised an eyebrow at me as she unlocked the car,” Kroger stop for cookies?”

“You have to ask?”

We blasted the radio on the way to the store and it was like we were 16 again. I was still riding my child-free high in the cookie aisle when it came crashing down.

“Katie?”

I instantly recognized the voice. How could I not? It was the voice of the woman that was basically my second mother for years. I slowly turned around and smiled at Jake’s mom. The anxiety was back as I looked into the eyes of the kindest woman, who doesn’t know she has a granddaughter that would absolutely adore her.

“Hi Mrs. kiszka, how are you?” Gracie glanced at me, probably wondering why I was being so formal after all these years.

She scoffed at me while saying “you know it’s just Karen to you.”

“Of course” I smiled awkwardly.

“We’ve missed seeing you around here. The last time I saw your mom she said you were still in Boston?”

She was smiling at me so warmly, and I felt my cheeks getting red at the thought of this woman I respected hearing all the gossip about me.

I laughed a little as I began “yeah, I had to drop out of college but I’m still in Boston with my daughter.”

Her smile still didn’t waver as she reached out for my hand. “She did spend most of the conversation gushing about your daughter. She sounds like a great little girl.”

I started to smile too, “She just turned 5 and she really is amazing. I’m still planning on going back to school, I just haven’t had the time.”

Grace could tell I was still a little nervous and interjected. “Yeah, Katie is the best mom. Too bad Lyla’s dad is a POS or she could’ve graduated by now.”

Karen let out one of her signature booming laughs right in the middle of Kroger. I gave Gracie a side eye but was also silently grateful for her boldness.

“Yeah, he was just a typical Harvard douche,” I said. Karen gave me a sympathetic look as she let go of my hand.

“I’m sorry I never reached out to you when she was born. We were all just so busy with the band picking up and then life got in the way. The boys are in town this week for a visit and we’re having a party. You should come and bring Lyla. We would all love to meet her.”

I felt like I couldn’t breathe at the mention of the boys being here at the same time as me.

“Aren’t they on tour?” Was all I managed to get out.

“Not yet.” She tilted her head a little and came closer. “Whatever happened between you and Jake years ago is between the two of you, but I’m sorry I didn’t reach out to you. You’ll always be like a daughter to me and I would love to reconnect. We all would.”

I couldn’t let her take all the blame for our distance. I would’ve ignored her if she had reached out. “I’m sorry for ghosting all of you too. Our relationship meant a lot to me and it was separate from Jake. You know I’ve always loved your family.”

We hugged each other again as she started talking. “So come tomorrow and we can start over.”

“We will if we’re free”

She seemed satisfied with my answer as she turned to keep walking down the aisle. We stood there in silence until she was gone and Grace kept her eyes on me.

“I don’t want Jake to meet Lyla,” I whispered as I tightened my grip on the cookies in my hand. She took the cookies from my hands and looked me in the eyes.

“He already knows she exists and he’s a self-absorbed douche now so he won’t put it together. It’ll be okay.”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Jake’s POV- Present Day

I scrolled through Instagram stories without really watching any until I got to Grace’s. She usually just posts sunsets and lattes, but this time there was a familiar smile on my screen. I felt my heart race as I stared at Katie’s face and my eyes traveled down to the little girl sitting in her lap. She was a carbon copy of Katie, so it must be the daughter I heard she had. I sent the story to Ronnie and waited for her to open the message.

Jake: do you still follow Kate?

Ronnie: no because we’re all blocked….thanks to you. If this is your way of asking if she’s still with the dad, I heard she’s not.

Jake: I wasn’t asking

Ronnie: whatever you say

I put my phone down as I heard the sounds of my mom returning from the grocery store.

“Did you get everything we need for tomorrow?”

She was smiling at me like she had a secret. She put the hamburger buns away and ignored my question.

“Is that a yes or a no?”

She turned around with a chip bag in her hands and beamed at me.

“Guess who I saw at Kroger”

I sighed as I tried to think of an answer. I hated playing this game when it could be anyone from the town.

“I don’t know maybe Susan that used to cut our hair when we were 5?”

She rolled her eyes at me as she put the groceries away.

“No, I saw Katie and Grace. Katie’s in town visiting her parents with her daughter. I invited them to come tomorrow.”

My head snapped up at the mention of Katie coming over tomorrow.

“Why would you do that?”

She turned her head and squinted her eyes at me.

She began to speak slowly “You know..Katie had a similar reaction when I invited her. Are you ever going to tell us what happened between you two? You were always so cute together.”

I grabbed a banana from the Kroger bags and took a bite to avoid answering. She wasn’t letting me get away without an answer though. She stood and waited for me to finish chewing.

“That’s private information,” I said with a smirk as I walked back to the living room.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Katie’s POV- 5 years ago

“It hurts so bad,” I groaned while squeezing her hand. My mom pushed my sweaty hair back with her free hand and smiled down at me.

“I know it does. But it’ll be over soon and you’ll have a beautiful baby.”

The pain passed again as my dad walked through the door. I could tell he was still uncomfortable with the whole situation and couldn’t believe this was happening. He cleared his throat while he stared at my stomach.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to call the dad? We don’t care who it is, but he should be here with you.”

“David,” My mom said disapprovingly. “Is now really the time for this discussion again?”

I couldn’t meet my parent's eyes as I prepared myself to lie to them again.“I told you, it’s just some random guy I met in class that I went out with a few times. He’s not interested in being a dad right now.”

My dad was silent as he stared out the window. He was so proud of me when I got accepted into Harvard, and ever since I told him I was pregnant and dropping out, he’s been quiet.

The door suddenly burst open as Grace ran into the room. “I’m here, I’m here!” She yelled while yanking her suitcase through the doorway. She was panting as she looked around the room at all of us.

“Glad to see you’re still ginormous. Guess that means I haven’t missed the birth of my niece.”

“Or nephew” I replied with a laugh.

“No, it’s a girl. She and I already have a connection so I just know.”

My mom smiled as she embraced Grace in a tight hug and turned to me.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t want to know the gender.”

Grace glanced at me and I half smiled at my mom.

“I like surprises,” I said in reply.

I hate surprises. I didn’t find out because Jake always said he wanted to be surprised like his parents were for him and his siblings. Gracie gave my hand a reassuring squeeze as she read my mind. She’s the only person on the planet that knows Jake’s the dad.

After a few more hours, the doctor said it was finally time to push. My dad went outside to wait and my mom and Grace stood on either side of me.

I heard her crying first and then I heard Grace screaming it’s a girl. The nurse placed her on my chest and I looked down at the most beautiful thing I ever created. I felt an insane amount of love and peace while I held her little hand. She was always meant to be mine, and I was meant to be hers.

——————————————————

Later that night when everyone left, it was just me and her alone for the first time.

“I’m your mom” I whispered to her in the dark. I watched her little chest rise and fall as she snuggled against me. “I don’t know how we’re going to do this, but I promise you’ll always be happy.”

A nurse opened the door and stuck her head in. “Just wanted to make sure you guys are good in here.”

I nodded at her as I started to hear the music that was playing in the hallway. I would know that voice anywhere considering I heard it every day for years. She was turning to leave when I asked.

“Excuse me, do you know what song this is?”

She looked excited as she turned back around to tell me.

“The new Greta Van Fleet album came out today and it’s all we’ve been listening to. This one is called You’re the one. Have you ever heard of them?”

“No, I don’t think I have.”

“You should check them out sometime, they’re great.” She said as she pulled the door closed.

I looked down at the baby sleeping peacefully in my arms. “You were born on your daddy’s album release day.” I stroked her cheek and tried to get him out of my mind. I’m not going to let Jake ruin this day for me. It’s not every day you give birth to the most perfect baby.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Jake’s POV- 5 Years Ago

“Jake hurry up and get ready.” I looked to see Josh in the doorway. I stood up, grabbed my drink, and downed it in two seconds. He gave me a look and I knew what he was thinking.

“Come on, man. We’re certified rock stars now. This is what we do. Sex, drugs, and rock n roll, right?”

He kept staring at me as he answered. “Yeah, but I don’t want you to forget why you wanted to do this in the first place. Ever since you and Katie broke up you’ve been like this.”

“You gotta stop bringing her up.”

Every time someone mentioned her name, I felt like I needed a drink. Maybe I needed more drinks this year, but she broke me. That’s what she does to people.

We headed to the side stage and waited while we were being introduced to the crowd. It’s our album release party, I need to focus. We just need to do the Q&A and perform a few songs and then I can have another drink.

One of the production assistants that was at our ep release walked by and stopped to talk.

“Congrats on the album, it’s awesome.”

I muttered a thank you as I shook his hand.

“Is your girlfriend here for this one too? I can get her a good spot again.”

I mentally rolled my eyes and tried to not let my annoyance show in my reply.

“She’s not here man, but thank you.”

I can’t escape that girl today.

The crowd started screaming as we walked onto the stage. I sat next to Josh and let him take over answering the fan questions while I nodded and laughed when it was needed.

“Jake?”

I snapped my head up to Sam looking at me expectantly. A girl in the crowd cleared her throat and spoke into the microphone again.

“Sam just said you wrote most of You’re the one, so I was just wondering who it’s about” she was blushing and twirling her hair around while she stared at me.

I made myself laugh a little before I began, “I suppose it can be about whoever you want it to be, but I wouldn’t say it was written with anyone in mind. Just a general feeling of longing.”

That was a lie. It was written for and about one person. I heard the other questions being asked, but all I could think about was her. Her long brown hair that she always begged me to braid, the way she covered her mouth to laugh when Josh said something stupid, her green eyes filled with so much joy when she watched me on stage.

The crowd cheered again as we got up to play. I walked over to my guitar and felt peace when my fingers touched the strings. This guitar was always meant to be mine, and I was always meant for this. I looked out into the crowd and spotted the girl that asked me a question. I smiled shyly at her and figured I could find her at the after-party. I’m not going to let Katie ruin this night for me too. It's not every day you get to release an album.

•••••••

Please let me know your thoughts on the first chapter!!!

[abbatoirablaze]

Angel Of Death, Chapter 17

Word Count:  2.2k

Warnings:  mentions of being drugged, mentions of rape, noncon relationship, ptsd, mentions of slight Stockholm syndrome, woman being hit/slapped, mentions of blood, degradation.

“You can’t leave!”

“Try me, Ransom,” you whimpered as you pulled your son to your car, “Barnes is out of commission in a hospital bed.  Fowler’s got a sling and stitches because Barnes’ arm blew up and shrapnel tore the shit out of his arm…Curtis and Ari are banged up from trying to save my mom….I have to run…”

“I don’t want you to leave me…” Ransom begged.  He gripped you firmly by your forearms and held you at arm’s length, “I can’t lose you and Charles, Nicola.”

“M-mom…I don’t want to go either…”

You looked at your son, heartbroken with your own choice.

“I’m sorry, Charles, but it’s not your choice, sweetie.”

“R-Ransom can protect us.”

“Sweetie,” you sighed.  Ransom let go of you as you dropped to your knees and your son met you.  You wrapped your arms around him and held him tightly, “we have to run, baby…Bobby’s not going to stop until he has you…but I won’t let him kill everyone to get to you.  They have families too…”

“I can protect you, Nicola.”

You looked up to Ransom once more, his eyes holding a special kind of hurt over the fact that you had commented that you didn’t want there to be anymore blood shed over you and your son, “I’d let him try all he wanted…but he wouldn’t get to either one of you.”

“I-I can’t take that chance, Ransom.”

“But mom…it’s the safest place,” Charles pointed out, “h-he burnt down the house.  He burnt down your backup.  He blew up grandma’s house.  W-we don’t have anywhere to go.”

“I have a penthouse on permanent reserve in the city,” Ransom offered slowly, “I haven’t used it in years…but I’m sure that I could do that.  We could sneak you in low key, and you can stay there as long as you want…I’ll even come with-“

“No one can come with us, Ransom,” you replied sadly, “I-I don’t think we shou-“

“Mom,” your son cried, tears stinging his eyes.  You looked at him sadly as he looked back to Ransom, “please don’t make us leave Ransom…let him-let him help us, mommy.”

“I’m still mad at you.” You said, looking at your son.

“He was right, mommy…”

You sighed, tucking your son in, not wanting to admit that he was right, “you wanted to stay there…”

“Yeah.”

“Why?  I thought you hated Ransom!”

“I’m tired mommy,” your son whined, snuggling more into the blankets, “I don’t want to talk about this”

“You like Ransom being around, don’t you?” you asked, frowning.  Suddenly you felt bad separating Charles from him, “You know…I only had us leave because mommy already caused enough damage…more people were starting to get hurt.  Mr. Bucky lost his metal arm and has to undergo surgery to get it replaced.  Mr. Nick has burns on his face and arms.   Mr. Ari and Curtis both were cut up pretty bad because they got caught up in a trap too…and grandma is gone now…and it is all mommy’s fault…I had to protect Ransom and Mary and Frank.  I don’t want him coming after them too.”

“Ransom would have protected us, mommy.”

“Charles, if there’s one thing you should know, it’s that you should never underestimate him,” you sighed sadly as you stroked your son’s cheek, “he-your father…he’s not a good man.  He never was…and he’s going to come for you.  I need to make sure that he doesn’t hurt Ransom or anyone else…I need to make sure that he doesn’t hurt you.”

“Do you love Ransom?”

You sighed, nodding softly as you looked at your son, “I do…but I’m not going to let your father kill him because I can’t protect you properly.”

“He’s not my father.”

“Yes, he is, Charles,” you replied, tears coming to your cheeks, “neither one of us have to like it, but that’s the truth of the matter.  Robert Pronge is your father.  He’s the one man that created you with me.”

“I wish he wasn’t,” he whimpered, “I wish it was someone else…”

“Me too, baby,” you answered, unafraid of the tears, “but I had to stop living that lie the day that he forced my hand.  Now get to sleep…we’re leaving early in the morning and we’re going to have a long day ahead of us.”

“W-we’re leaving?” he asked, “Mommy, where are we going?  Ransom is letting us st-“

“Robert won’t let us have any peace baby,” you told him sadly, “we have to run until I get a better plan in mind on how to stop him.”

“But mom-“

“Go to bed baby,” you say, a little more firmly as you cut him off with some authority, “we’ll talk in the morning.  I promise.”

He nodded sadly and you pressed a sweet kiss to his forehead before turning off the lamp beside him and walking out of the room. 

“Mommy?”

You stopped at the door and turned around, “yes baby?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, my sweet angel.”

Your eyes flickered open. 

Everything felt too heavy…too unfocused. 

You tried to shift in the warmth of the bed you were laying in, but you couldn’t move.  Your heart raced nervously as the unfocused, dark room became clear.  It stopped when you noticed the smug look on the one man you never wanted to see again. 

Robert Pronge was sitting on the edge of the bed in a pair of dark jeans and a striped shirt.  He held up his phone and pressed a button.

“I’m running late in my plans because of you.  But that’s okay…I forgive you again, my love.  You know, I was wondering when you would wake up.  Took a few hours.  Was starting to think I dosed you too much.”

You attempted to frown at the text to voice feature that he was using, but something was keeping your mouth busy. 

You raised your brow as you looked at him, disgruntled over the gag. 

“Be happy I didn’t cut your tongue out, sweetheart,” the robotic voice answered moments later, “my bitch of a baby momma did it to me when she thought she was being tough.  I guess I’ve got a soft spot for her though…I’d never hurt her like she did me…”

You went to tell him that you weren’t ‘being’ tough, but it only came out as muffled instances.  He chuckled shortly, the strangled noise seeming so foreign that you could barely tell it was laughter, and then he glared at you. 

“You’re getting weak, little one,” the voice played.  You squirmed under his touch as he let the phone play out his typed message.  His rough hands began to trail up your bare legs, to your thighs, and over your core.  You shivered under his touch, previous memories filing back into your head, “you know…I followed you all the way from that bastards’ place.  I know all about your relationship with Drysdale.  You’re such a useless slut, Nicola.  What kind of woman would jump into the bed of all these men?  You come back from Italy after hiding our son away, and you just go right to Charles.  Didn’t even spare me a fucking glance.  I loved you.  But you told me that little bastard was Charles’ and not mine.  Your father fired me, stating some bullshit that you were in love with Charles and he was ending ‘our relationship.’  He didn’t have that authority baby.  I let Kemp take care of him though.   All so that you would come back to me…and you did.  You let me come home to that tight little cunt.  God, I missed it.  I missed feeling you underneath me as I pumped you full of me.  But you’re just a fucking whore that was searching for the information she wanted.”

You whimpered as he pulled out a knife and cut away at the underwear you were wearing.  His knife traced along the front of the sleepshirt you were wearing until it was cut open.  He smirked, tracing the knife up your throat and jaw, before tapping it over your lips.  With another small chuckle, he placed the knife on the night table and ripped the fabric from your body.  He eyed you hungrily and you felt the same scared little air you’d felt when you were a teenager. 

“You fucked Lloyd too…didn’t you?” the voice asked.  At that, he cupped your core, thrusting a digit into your dry channel, “let him cum in my pussy?  You fucked Drysdale, jumping right on into his bed when you thought you got some information that you wanted.  Thought you got some clarity into who killed that wimpy son of a bitch you were going to call your husband.  The only man that deserves that title is me.  The god damn father of your fucking child.  But you’re just a whore, Nicola.  A slut that’s only good for two reasons.  A set of holes that fucks and sucks, and the woman that bears my children.” 

At that, your eyes widened. 

Children.

You whimpered, fighting against the binding, but it was no use.  It was tied too tight for you to move much, let alone get away.  But even through that, you stopped when you felt the harsh pressure on your face, and it went to the side. 

Robert had slapped you. 

Your eyes held firm on the sideways view you were left with, refusing to look at the man who you’d endured so much abuse through before. 

“Just need to learn your place, you little fucking princess,” his voice growled as he slapped you again.  Before you could answer, he’d grabbed you by your jaw and forced you to look at him.  Those dark, dangerous blue eyes both captivated and terrified you, “and your place is underneath me in my bed, taking my cock.  Bearing my children.  Becoming my wife.”

“Rober-“

“You don’t get to fucking speak,” he growled, pulling you back onto your bed, “mommy and daddy are out in Europe, visiting friends, and they left he pretty princess in the castle with just me…the only words I want to hear from that little mouth are ‘thank you Bobby’ or ‘more.  Fuck.  More!’ I want you begging for my cock as I fill you up.  Want you thanking me for cumming in that tight little cunt.  Do you understand me?  You’re going to beg me to.”

“Y-yes.”

“You’ll fucking learn,” he smirked dangerously as he pulled you into a bruising kiss.  You whimpered against his touch, and he only smiled more, biting your bottom lip.  When he released you, he moaned, “god you taste so sweet.  So sweet, baby.  My sweet, dumb little baby.”

“Bobby.”

“What did I say?”

“I-I love you,” you whispered the lie.  His dark eyes lightened slightly, and his smirk became softer.  You leaned up, knowing that treating it like a real relationship always made him gentler, “I-I just wanted to say I love you, Robert.”

“See,” he offered softly, “you’re learning your place baby…it’s not so bad, is it?”

“No…”

“And soon, we’ll tell your father about us,” he offered again.  You nodded, playing into his little ‘sweet’ test as he rubbed your flat stomach, “and we’ll create a little family of our own.  We’ll do it right, baby.  I promise.  I’ll put a ring on your finger and everything.”

“Wh-whatever you want Robert.”

“I want you to give me a son, baby…”

You screamed in anger, ignoring the bruises that were forming on your face from his punches and slaps as you tried to fight him.  He slapped you one more time and you bit into the gag, feeling blood dripping down your jaw. 

“Are you done?”

When you didn’t answer, his hand gripped your jaw, forcing you to look at him.  He smiled and stroked your cheek.  You whimpered, your aching features wanting nothing more than ice and time to heal.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Nicola,” the voice said calmly, “but you never fucking learn.  But maybe that’s partially my fault.  When your dad fired me, I should have come back sooner.  Should have fought harder for you.  I told you that I was going to be the father of your children.  Your husband.  And you seemed so happy about it when we were together.  So, I just assumed that when you came into power, you’d come for me.  Come for the man that really had your heart.  But instead, you stayed with Charles.  Like a scared little bitch.  But that’s okay baby.  He’s dead.  Your father is dead.  Even your mother.  Everyone that pulled us apart is gone.  It’s just us.  And we can be a family…I still owe you for cutting out my tongue…but it’s nothing you being a good mother to our children won’t fix.  I’ll keep you so full of me and we’ll make sure that we have a nice, big family.  It’s been about five weeks since you brought Charles back…and I’ve had nearly five weeks without him since he’s known I’m his father.  So five more kids should suffice…all I gotta do is cut out that little implant in your arm and then we can get started…what do you say, baby?  You, me, Charles, and five more little bastards running around?  God…I hope they have your eyes.  You have such pretty eyes.”

Chapter 18

Tag List:  @lohnes16, @lala415

[espectres]

do u ever see a page that just has SO MUCH GOING ON CUZ

"chill" CHILL!!! has anyone ever told Ritsu to just chill ??? cuz he omg, he truly desperately needed to hear that, especially with how easily he slipped into his vaguely sinister "no one understands me" attitude whenever someone mentioned Shigeo??? and this time is no exception except now he has someone to just tell him OFF!!!!

we see a lot of ppl cowering under Ritsu's standard brooding terrifying 13 y/o nature but SHOU IS NOT HAVING IT IN THE SLIGHTEST LMAO, very ready to take this emo boy DOWN all brutal & well-meant <3

the fact that Shou specifically says that it makes Ritsu feel MORE inferior??? Implies that Shou is already AWARE of Ritsu's ever present inferiority complex despite being around him for like half a day!!! And he's already taking it for fucking read and acting on it and calling it out like he sees it and ACCEPTS IT !!! Shou sees shit Shou points out shit.

That one panel with their auras, god it'd have been so pretty had it been animated, their auras just flaring around them in a colorful haze in the middle of a cinematic void of black, a moment of silence for this lost opportunity.

SHOU YELLING AT RITSU!!! TO STFU!!!!! You're Shou's new friend and Shou is so freaking confidant about everything he's doing and that meams if he thinks you're talented and strong and smart then he's qualified to confirm you're just talented and strong and smart and you are in fact just that!!!!!!!!!

the fact that all of Shou's relentless brutal and undaunted confidence stims from the URGENCY OF BELIEVING HE CAN DO THIS. HE CAN BEAT HIS DAD. And if he is not confident enough then how on earth is he supposed to fight the fear that eats him on the inside???? Shou's fucking terrified and he's making a scene to hide it, always has been.

He also refuses to let someone who reminds him so much of himself and his struggles like Ritsu be left in the darkness of inferiority and fear that Shpu himself has been experiencing, it doesn't matter to him if he just straught up fucking lies, Ritsu should stop saying he's weak and should stop talking about his OH SOOO STRONG OLDER BROTHER cuz to him Shigeo is a fucking wimp and Ritsu should stfu about him!!!!!!!!!! ( up until that point at least lmao ) Like my guy is so confident it breaks my heart. im gonna cry.

The way Shou goes about phrasing things is so simple and childish, "else your life would suck" ? "trouble-maker of a dad" ? That's a life full of trauma and violence and that's his terrorist father who practically mass murdered too many to count. I can't do this. He's so 13 years old.

He mentions freeing everyone cuz he's acknowledging the presence of his lackeys, people who want Claw to be done & destroyed but never got enough strength to do anything, people who want out but you can't just walk out from an organization like Claw without having your life in danger, he mentions freeing everyone because he is aware of the kidnapped kids and brainwashed people, he wants to free everyone and himself too, becuz really he just wants a normal simple life where he could call his mother and not lie to her face about his dad turning into a psychopathic terrorist.

Something I like is how Shou's lackeys don't really serve a big purpose when it comes to battles and plot and things like that, yes they helped with the pacing of action when Minegishi showed up but that is so minor it's barely there. The sole purpose of Shou having lackeys is to demonstrate how much of a responsible and capable person he is, how he proved himself so much that adults saw enough good reason to put their faith and power in the hands of a 13 y/o, Shou is such a ruthlessly honest unashamedly intense ball of enthusiasm and confidence, and he makes such a good leader and supporting friend throughout the most bizarre spontaneous plan you could ever see, which btw made so much sense it just sounds weird out of context, but that's for another post.

[shinraapologist]

light novel reread, vol. 1 ch. 9

this is a HUGE chapter, not necessarily length wise, but in plot and relevance and personal interest. i have a lot to say about it.

this is the first instance in the series of narita playing with nonlinear storytelling. i have my gripes about narita, but his writing is incredible. the way he weaves narratives together to form one cohesive story is absolutely masterful. the complexity he works with amazes me. i love the amount of absurdity and fun he allows into his prose and his plots while still not being afraid to go dark with his subject matter, without ever going so dark that it ever feels too voyeuristic (altho that could be the target audience of teen/young adults) (ya disease even). narita is a huge influence to my own writing style.

neither namie or seiji are done any justice in the anime. i love the anime dearly, but on my second more in depth read of the novels (so far) i cant help but notice how much was lost in the animation. something i think frequently, and will likely bring up again later in the series, is that i think the anime deserves a reboot. my proposed drrr reboot would be four seasons (24 or so eps each) following the 3 light novels to a season format of the 2010 release. (for anyone who hasnt read the novels, season one covers the events of volumes one to three while x2 follows volumes four to thirteen; it does break the season into three with the shou/ten/ketsu format, but theres just way too much to cover well in 36 episodes.) i absolutely love the pacing and charm of the 2010 release, to be honest.

i love this passage about shooter and celty. its something else that doesnt quite translate to the anime. in one of the later authors notes of the series, when the 2010 release was announced, narita mentioned that either he or a fan expressed concern over the novels translating well to an animated format. while i do love the anime and think it's a decent (and even at times incredible) adaption of the source, i think drrr truly shines in its original format.

theyre best friends, your honor.

shizaya shippers.... you guys know they got forced to go on sushi dates right? like i dont tend to see many shizaya posts or actively seek them out so i have no idea if this is common knowledge but its driving me insane. they canonically got forced to go on sushi dates. and get threatened by simon.

theres just so much to say. theres so little to say because it says itself. if anyone could truly understand celty besides shinra, its shizuo. two monsters, both struggling with their own desire to fit in with others. i absolutely adore shizuo, nearly as much as i love celty and shinra, and now that he's added to the story you're gonna have to hear me say a lot about him.

(mikas in pajamas because she broke out of the yagiri lab earlier, shes barely recovered from surgery probably) this is how celtys face is described in the novel.

seiji stabbed shizuo in the ass by the way

theyre best friends, your honor. every time you see shizuo slap his face in the anime, hes drunk as fuck.

shinra, about to lie blatantly to celty: im not honest, sincere, or wise. but you are! love you babe <3 celty: wait you like me?

the only thing really stopping celty from wanting to be with shinra right now is her insecurities. something i love about their relationship is that celty knows shinras full of shit, and she doesnt tolerate it, while at the same time never genuinely seeming particularly bothered by it. the times we see her most agitated with him, its because he's either pushing a subject he knows he shouldnt or because she's overwhelmed or flustered by his abysmal flirting. she knows hes a lying morally bankrupt little asshole and shes like. but wait. i dont have a head how could you even like me

celty, while being plagued by the deeply human emotions of anxiety and self doubt, still isn't sure whether she truly feels emotions. she's so horribly self unaware. i love her.

celty has such a pleasing character arc coming to accept herself and her emotions. theres a scene in sh where celty has a very celty-esque little anxiety meltdown and startles a few characters, but mizuchi, the protagonist, is described as "long since having to come to terms with how truly human celty was".

i guess i had a lot to say about this chapter because i have a lot to say about shinra and celty (and shizuo) at any given moment. so far, this has been my favorite chapter of volume one.