#six years ago. So yeah she can do those things now. But she should’ve been able to back then. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ashleyh713fanfics · 7 months

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Dazai X Odasaku!Sister Ch9

Chapter 9: "You Are Not A Good Man"

Summary: Dazai fights between the darkness of what he has always known and what Odasaku wanted for him. Oda's sister finally meets Chuuya, our favorite angry ginger.

Warning: pm! fifteen year old dazai, Dazai self destructing, Odasaku death mentions, Dazai torturing himself and everyone around him, manipulative behavior from both sides, Mori mentions and grooming themes, underage drinking, talks of suicide, pm! fiftten year old Chuuya being a good boy. I gave Oda's sister a name but you can imagine it as y/n.

(This is chapter nine of my fanfic "Timeless" which is now on A03. It carries on from the three part intro I posted a couple days ago. I'll link it below to fully understand the story. Oda's death has been moved up to when Dazai is fifteen for plot purposes. Asagao's ability is to stop time for up to six seconds.)

Three Part Intro Here: (just cause the first chapter is so long)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

A03 Version Here:

Word count: 7k total

Moving down the familiar port mafia base, Dazai shoved his hands inside his pocket begrudgingly, his feet shuffling as he thought about the annoying conversation he was probably going to have.

Yet the one thing that occupied his mind the most was the red haired dork he had left behind.

And yeah, the last thing he probably should’ve done was leave Oda’s sister unattended in a port mafia owned building, knowing that she had a habit of not following directions and staying put. She had run away from Ango three weeks ago after all, what was to stop her from doing the same thing here?

It was no secret that she liked to cause trouble, in more ways than one.

But unlike the agent, Dazai didn’t underestimate her. Yes, leaving her alone wasn’t preferable but he also knew that she was fully capable of handling herself if someone did decide to step out of line and mess with her. Hell, she could probably outsmart and kick the asses of every incompetent subordinate in the building if she wanted.

The truth was, she didn’t need his protection, not in the way that Ango thought she did. Asagao was calculating when she wanted to be, even if she was limited by the effects of alcohol currently. She was still a force to be reckoned with and the boy wasn’t worried in the slightest at the fact that he had just left her in a den of wolves.

And in some sort of way, the boy looked at this little opportunity as a kind of test, wanting to see just how the girl would react to his way of life. Most people wouldn’t have been able to handle his port mafia lifestyle but Asagao, he knew that she could.

And not only that, he knew that she could thrive in it if given the opportunity.

Was it wrong to think that though? Was it fucked up to hope that she would be in danger while he was gone just so he could see the full extend of her capabilities? That was probably not something a good person was supposed to do, but what could he say? The situation was too perfect to pass up.

Humming to himself at the thought, Dazai then frowned at the shift in air only to vaguely feel a burst of air approach from his left, causing the boy to quickly duck in order to just merely miss a kick in his direction. “You piece of shit, there you are! I’m gonna kill you!”

Already groaning at the sound of his voice, the brown haired mafioso simply closed his eyes before turning in order to meet a very familiar head of ginger

Ah, right on cue. “Aww Chuuuuya, did you miss me that much? And thanks for the offer but dying by your hand doesn’t really interest me at all.”

Watching Chuuya shake his head in exasperation, the boy grumbled back, clearly bursting at the seams from unkempt anger the entire day. “Shut up! You left me alone to take down those losers by myself. Do you know how outnumbered I was because you decided to ditch?!”

Dazai only raised an eye though, mocking his pathetic partners immediately.. “Oh boo hoo, I thought the famous gravity manipulator could handle a few measly thugs, but it looks like you are more incompetent than I thought if you’re complaining about this much. Pity, I thought you were at least a little useful to me..”

The boy then shrugged his shoulders only for his partners to immediately wrap his gloved hand around Dazai’s jacket in order to shake him around as usual. “Screw you, I did take down all those idiots by myself! They didn’t stand a chance!”

Dazai then replied halfheartedly, his finger in his ears in order to block out the ringing from Chuuya’s shouting. “Then what’s the problem? The job was done, wasn’t it? Unless you just like yelling to hear yourself talk?”

That only seemed to make the hot headed mafioso even more angry though, his fingers tightening on his partner's jacket before yelling even louder than before. “The problem is that you ditched for nothing just to make me look like an idiot!”

Scoffing in response, Dazai smirked. “Oh Chuuya, you don't need my help for that, you do that to yourself..”

Then the bandaged boy simply lifted his hands out in defense before smiling in wistful memory of today's events. “And if you must know, I was very busy. I told you, I promised a lovely young lady a good time. What kind of man would I be to deny such a wonderful request?”

Dazai then thought back to the adorably drunk Asagao that was waiting for him back at his apartment. And though he loved pissing off Chuuya, tonight this was the last place he wanted to be.

Closing his eyes in exasperation, Chuuya then caught the silence in his idiot partner's gloat before forcing himself to let go of the boy with a grumble. “Listen, I don’t care about what kind of fucked up disgusting shit you do in your free time or what kind of brain damaged girls you manipulate for your own selfish whims. Just know that if you pull that shit again, you’re gonna regret it.”

Dazai only raised an eye in amusement though. Calling Asagao brain damaged, what a way with words he had. It’s like he was implying that he was forcing her to date him. If only Chuuya knew just how wrong he was, about how opposite he had everything.

How would he react to knowing that Asagao was the one who pushed him into this relationship? That for once, it wasn’t the demon that had made the contract but rather the angel.

So much so, the mafioso felt his lips curve upwards before a short chuckle escaped his lips at the idea, causing Chuuya’s head to turn in angry confusion. “What? What the hell are you laughing about, mackerel? What’s so damn funny?”

Shrugging his shoulders in response, the boy then forced his lips closed before shaking the thought away. Nah, this slug didn’t deserve to know about her, at least not yet. “Oooh it’s nothing. But really, you’re so scary Chuuuya. I’m practically shaking from fear..”

Then all at once, he watched the red haired kid start to get wound up again, his words practically seething through his teeth in order to point a finger in his direction. “I mean it, dickhead! I’m watching you..”

Dazai only rolled his eyes though, responding in a millisecond. “How can you watch anything? You can't even see that high..”

And just like that, the momentary calm was broken as Dazai watched Chuuya’s control completely snap, much to his satisfaction. “Fucking basard..!”

Yet that’s when a new voice seemed to enter the space, stunning the two bickering children immediately as he strolled up behind them rather unbothered. “Dazai, there you are.”

Widening his eyes, Chuuya then turned to the voice before immediately falling to his knees in a sign of respect as Dazai simply remained silent. “Boss..”

Mori simply nodded his head in return, unbothered by the bickering he had just witnessed. “Ah, Chuuya, you’re here too. Seems like you two are just as explosive as ever.”

Crossing his arms over his chest in a huff, Dazai frowned, knowing that the reason he was stuck with this little brat was because of the boss in the first place. “It’s your fault for making me deal with something so unpleasant all the time.”

The port mafia boss didn’t seem bothered in the slightest thought, his lips giving a cruel short chuckle before seemingly getting right to business. “Yes, well I suppose you’re right. Now Chuuya, if you would excuse us. I must speak to Dazai alone.”

Almost immediately, Chuuya responded, his body snapping back up before giving another small bow of his head in response. Whatever the boss wanted, he would gladly do.

Besides, it finally got him away from the bandaged bane of his existence, and that was a blessing in itself. “Yes boss, of course..”

The boy then turned around only for Dazai’s mocking gaze to follow his steps before calling back to him all at once, almost like he wanted the last victory. “See you, Chuuuuya. Maybe the next time we meet you’ll be able to reach the top shelf! I highly doubt it though, petite mafia!”

All at once, Chuuya felt his eyes twitch, his fingers curving through the leather of his gloves in order to force his feet to continue to move and obey their boss’s wishes. But that didn’t stop him from muttering cruel obscenities inside his head all the same.

Stupid annoying little prick, picking on my size like that. He’s lucky the boss is here or else he’d be dead! God, I hate him so fucking much!! Why did I have to be stuck with a guy like him?!

And even though his threats were unsaid, Dazai still gained a sense of satisfaction from them, his lips twisting into silent victory as he watched his favorite little toy stomp away.

------

Mori led the boy straight to his office as Dazai watched him descend into his usual chair, virtually unbothered in order to turn towards his favorite little executive with his usual calm and collected smile. “Now Dazai, could you please share with me why you were absent from the job I assigned to you and Chuuya today?”

And although his smile was seemingly unbothered, Dazai sensed the threatening aura that always laid beneath. Too bad for him though, the boy was never shaken by his attempts of intimation.

Because of that, Dazai simply shrugged his shoulders, his own lips showing hidden intent, like he was up for the challenge. “Easy, cause it was boring and I didn’t wanna.”

The port mafia boss only frowned though, his expression dropping to a disappointed pout in order to lace his fingers under his chin.

Perhaps to anyone else his response would’ve been seen as unacceptable, but Mori already knew Dazai’s cruel mannerisms like the back of his hand. “Now that’s not very nice. I thought we had an understanding between each other when I offered you the executive position.”

His voice came out scolding, like you would do to an unruly child but the executive knew better to take his words at face value and think it was that simple. Nothing about Mori was simple after all, he had learned that the day they had first met.

Because of that, the bandaged menace called him out on it, Dazai’s fingers crossing around his own arms with a huff. “Oh please, we both know the real reason why you offered me that job. It was so you could keep an eye on me and protect your dirty little secret.”

And for a moment, Mori paused, seemingly taking in his answer before his fingers dropped from his chin with a simple nod. “Right you are, Dazai. You are the only one that knows the truth after all. That I killed the precious boss and took his place.”

Normally the man wouldn’t have ever admitted such a thing but he knew it was pointless to continue the charade, especially since it was Dazai that had figured out his true intentions long ago.

Why he had given him the position of executive, why he held the boy so highly, it wasn’t without reason.

Dazai only nodded back though, his eyes rolling in exasperation. “And I’m your accomplice for it all, I was the only witness to the previous boss’s demise. I know I know. I get it already. If you’re really that worried about it then you should just silence me permanently and get it over with.”

It was something that had tied the two together long ago. Dazai could still remember it like it was yesterday, the day his tiny little eyes accidentally caught the sharp metal scalpel as it slid across the previous port mafia boss’s throat.

After the event it was concluded that the old boss’s will was for Mori to take over but only he and Mori knew the truth, that the doctor had lied to the entire place in order to take the boss’s position.

And since that day Mori had regarded the two of them as partners in crime, always reminding the boy of his place in all of this over and over again like a broken record.

It was almost like he was worried that Dazai would ruin everything with just the slip of a tongue. Instead he used that little secret to try and tie him down to his side.

Mori simply waved the idea away though, almost like he had already read the boy’s mind. “Don’t be silly. There would be no benefit to kill you like that. If I really wanted you dead then it would already be done. I’ve already stopped multiple of your suicide attempts in the past year, I’m not going to let all that taxing work go to waste.”

You see, that was one thing the port mafia boss had figured out fairly quickly. For as much as he wanted all the loose ends of his little evil deed erased, the man knew it wasn’t that simple.

In a sick way, he needed Dazai, he needed him to keep their little lie going because with the boy gone, the old boss’s members would suspect him of the murder.

But that was easier said than done. When he had proposed his little plan Mori thought he was tying himself to a sad pathetic weak and stupid suicidal kid that he could manipulate to his own hand.

Yet almost instantly the doctor realized he had made a mistake, a grave miscalculation on his part.

For you see, Mori had learned very quickly that a monster like Dazai couldn’t be tied down. He couldn’t be manipulated as easily as he first thought. And now by putting himself in this deal he had also undoubtedly tied himself to an evil even he himself couldn’t predict.

But then again, that also made everything all the more enticing.

Dazai only pouted his lips though, not liking his annoying response. He knew that the guy had stopped his fair share of attempts and the boy still wasn’t happy about it. “Boo. You’re no fun, Mori.”

Mori waved his childish manner away though, his eyes planning in clear calculation in order to go for the nearby teapot that was just out of reach. “Everything I’ve done has been for the benefit of this organization. I will always do what I think is best for the port mafia, and that includes the assassination of the precious boss. A change of power was necessary, and when the time comes for another change, I will allow the transition wholeheartedly.”

The bandaged boy then watched as the boss tipped over the pot into his cup as Dazai truly thought about the meaning of his words. Was he saying what he thought he was? Was the guy really that dedicated to the mafia?

Narrowing his eyes, the boy questioned curiously. “So you’re saying that you’ll allow someone to murder you in cold blood and take your position just like you did with the old boss?”

It was an interesting idea, being aware of your own humanity and your own imminent demise. Was that how Mori lived his life, knowing it was a fleeting moment, that he was just a small chess piece in the grand scheme of the port mafia’s legacy?

Mori then closed his eyes, thinking about Dazai’s accusation before simply putting the teapot down onto the table in order to turn back towards the clueless boy with a knowing look. “Precisely. But only if it is someone worthy enough to do so. Everything has a time and a place, and when that moment arrives, my executioner will be hand picked by my own design.”

The air was silent then but the boy could feel his skin prick with devious unknown intent as Mori stared through Dazai’s nonexistent soul for what seemed like forever.

And though the kid was curious about his plan in all of this, the only thing that could stick in his mind was one perplexing thing. For someone so against suicide, you sure have thought a lot about your own death. What a hypocrite you are, old man.

Yet before he could truly stew on the matter, Mori waved the idea away in order to change the subject completely, or so the boy thought at the time. “Now, onto other matters. How are you holding up? I’m sure Oda Sakunosuke’s tragic death has taken quite a toll on you. It truly was an unfortunate event after all.”

At the sound of Oda’s name, Dazai then felt his entire body tense without permission, the words dying in his own throat all at once. Just the mere mention of his old friend was enough to make him internally unravel.

And he suspected that was the point, that’s why Mori had brought him up. To gain a reaction, to put him in his place and take control of the conversation for the first time since their meeting. Dazai hated it, he hated the kind of power anyone had on him with just one simple name.

So much so, the kid’s words came out bitter, not wanting to talk about this. “Why does it even matter to you? You don’t care that he’s gone. He was a low level lackey in the port mafia. Odasaku had no value to you.”

Dazai knew that was the truth, Mori didn’t care. Because of Odasaku’s morals and his refusal to kill, his position in the mafia was bottom tier at best. He was the equivalent to an errant dog, doing odd jobs here and there. He meant nothing to the organization and therefore he meant nothing to Mori.

That’s right, the boss was only bringing him up to get under Dazai’s skin, to make him squirm and act out. There was no other reason for it then to shove his own weakness straight into his face.

Mori took the boy’s reply with a collective air though, almost like he knew the kind of response he would get. “That may be true, but he certainly had value to you, did he not?”

And he did, to the boy, Odasaku was the most valuable person and thing to have ever existed. He was the closest thing to a friend or a family he had ever had. No one would be able to understand that, not even Oda’s own little sister.

Feeling his own lips screw shut in order to hide an emotional reply, Dazai shoved his hands into his pockets with silent despair. He didn’t want to pour his non-existent heart out to Mori but he also didn’t want to lie and tell the man that Odasaku was insignificant.

Because he wasn’t, he would never be.

Mori eyed the reaction silently as well, his expression unchanging before finally looking away from the boy in order to stare down in silent thought. “I must say, you are taking everything quite well, better than I expected.”

There was something different in the man’s tone then, something that Dazai couldn’t quite pick out. It was like there was something else laced in that sentence, something that sounded like..disappointment?

But why would Mori be disappointed in his reaction to all of this?

Wanting to dig deeper, Dazai frowned. “And what did you expect?”

Mori then snapped his gaze back up before speaking distantly, like he was listing off some sort of checklist in his mind. “I expected that I’d be saving you from another suicide attempt, that I’d find you in some sort of ditch alone and broken beyond belief. That’s usually how people grieve the deaths of important friends and family.”

And for a moment, Dazai paused. Was that what he was supposed to be doing? Was that the proper response to grieve someone’s death? He didn’t know, considering the boy wasn’t anything resembling normal.

He was already broken beyond belief though, even before Odasaku’s death. He had always been a sad amalgamation of what he should’ve been. How could you break what was already broken? How could the shattered be even more shattered? Perhaps it wasn’t possible.

Perhaps he was too numb to feel any of that.

But even Dazai knew that was a lie, that for a split second while holding his best friend’s dying body he had felt something. It had been what Mori had described for a split second. Grief, devastation, self-destruction, they twisted into him even more than before.

He felt the painstaking loneliness stuck to his skin whenever he tried to move around Odasaku’s apartment, he felt the numb pointless burn of the alcohol when he only poured one drink instead of two. Such human emotions, in those small moments Dazai knew what they were, even if he didn't want to admit it.

Yet if that was the case, why hadn’t he crumbled under it all? Why wasn’t his body succumbing to the pain of the loss? That’s what Mori expected, that’s what should’ve been the logical conclusion. Why hadn’t he given up all together and tried to kill himself again?

Then all at once, the boy had his answer.

Asagao.

Oda’s little sister, she was the reason he was just barely hanging on these last few weeks. She had fed him letters, memories and moments that were so new to the boy that it felt like Odasaku hadn’t disappeared from this world entirely.

Whether on purpose or not, she had given delusions to keep going, to wake up just in order to read another entry from his best friend’s fingers. Those letters, they meant everything to him. They were his lifeline, the boy depending on them just like Asagao did for her entire life.

And yes they were fleeting, they were just temporary spells in the end. He knew that, he knew that one day there would be no more words to read and Dazai would have to face that.

But not today, he didn’t have to do that today.

He wondered if she knew that, if she knew just how important Odasaku’s writing was to him? That they were just barely keeping him afloat even now?

And Asagao also, just her very presence filled a void that Dazai thought would never be filled again. Her living, breathing body, her tangible touchable skin, they filled his grief filled soul with a shaky wavering peace he knew wouldn’t last.

She wasn’t the real thing, but she was close enough to Odasaku for him to keep trying. To be a good man, a good person. That’s what both siblings wished, what they believed for him.

And he wanted to do that, for them.

Just then, Dazai’s internal thoughts were shattered as he heard Mori’s soft chuckle, the sound filling up the entire room in order for the man to sigh. “Then again, it should be expected that your reaction to grief and death would be different, considering you have always been different, Dazai.”

Not fully understanding, the boy then allowed him to continue, his voice coming out in a cruel edge. “Anyone else would look at you and see a child but you and I both know that’s never been the truth, not really. Not after all the blood and death you’ve shed over the years. Such an innocent yet simple term could never fit you.”

Sure, by looks and hypotheticals Dazai was a fifteen year old boy but Mori knew that was no excuse to underestimate him. The boy was young, yes, but he had already seen far more evil and monstrosities than an old man. Each experience had twisted and changed him into something more complex than just a sniveling child.

And Dazai agreed in a sense. He knew he wasn’t normal, he wasn’t like the happy and carefree Odasaku or Asagao. He never fit inside that box but in those moments with them the boy liked to pretend, to wish for another outcome then just the demon that resided in his heart.

This hopeful and trying side of him that he had displayed tonight with Asa, that wasn’t like him. He had never tried to be kind before, to give anyone anything like he had given her Bar Lupin.

And though it was selfish, Asa told him that it didn’t matter. That just the very act of trying was enough for her. It was so tiny so minuscule and yet Dazai wondered if that was truly enough? Could he really honor Oda like this? He wasn’t sure.

But the fact that he hadn’t completely disregarded the idea, that he hadn’t given up yet was new. It felt almost human in a way, his desire to keep going and prove to Odasaku and Asagao that their words about him being a good man could be true.

He would pretend, he would imagine himself as something more than a monster.

And maybe if he pretended hard enough, then someday it could be real.

Realizing he needed to say something, Dazai then turned his head, curious to hear what a man like Mori would have to say on the topic. “If I’m not a kid than what am I?”

The boss had his answer immediately, seemingly countering the boy’s delusions with sharp truth. “Why, the demon prodigy of course. It’s what you've always been. Anyone else would be foolish to think otherwise.”

It was like he was calling Dazai out with his words, like he was trying to shut down his silly little “pretending plan” but even still, the executive couldn’t abandon it. He didn’t want Mori to be right in any sense, but especially for this.

Leaning back into his chair, Mori then smiled once more, the corners not reaching to the edge of his face before carrying on his thoughts. “Speaking of which, I’m in need of your help. Chuuya successfully completed today’s raid and we were able to capture one of their colleagues. The thing is, it seems like he needs a little more..persuasion..to tell us the rest of his plans..”

Dazai knew what he meant immediately. Torture. He wanted him to be the demon prodigy and torture this guy for information.

And normally he would’ve jumped at the chance to play around with some pathetic enemies but Asagao was still waiting for him and he knew this job wasn’t going to be an easy one. “I see, and you want me to do it?”

Mori only nodded his head though, pushing his fingers back under his chin with a hum.“Think of it as your makeup assignment for missing the mission.”

Oh, so that’s how he was playing it. He was blackmailing him for missing that stupid boring raid by asking this. And Dazai knew that if he refused then Mori probably would look into the reason on why he missed the raid in the first place.

And that would lead him back to the pretty little redhead that was in his apartment right now. Long story short, if he didn’t do this job, then there was a risk that Odasaku’s sister would be found out.

He was giving him this option as a way out, as an alternative instead of digging into his life. And though the boy wanted so badly to counteract his little game, the risk was too great. Oda would be horrified if Asagao ended up in the port mafia.

Because of that, Dazai simply took his hands out of his pockets before smiling back in challenge, just to push his buttons. He couldn’t be too eager about this either, or else it would raise suspicion. “And if I say I don’t wanna?”

Mori seemed to find amusement in the question though, his eyes narrowing in victory before reading his favorite port mafia executive immediately.

“Oh, I think we both know that’s a lie.”

-----

Stomping his feet in pure lingering frustration, Chuuya made his way back to his place, still muttering under his breath because of the dipshit encounter with his least favorite person in the entire world. Fucking Dazai, always putting him a bad mood like this.

What was that guy's problem anyways, always pissing him off like this? It’s like he enjoyed it or some shit. Hell, he probably did, that little asshole would.

Thinking back to their unpleasant conversation, the boy then turned the corner before shaking his head with a new list of obscenities.

Just what was that guy saying anyways? There was no way he was out with a girl all this time. What kind of brain dead freak would ever hang out with him anyways? Nah, he was bullshitting him, he had to be.

Chuuya then turned back around in order to put his arms up in a huff only to feel his hand connect with something solid on accident as a small female groan was heard to his left. What the hell was that?

Yet that’s when the boy’s eyes widened as he caught the sight of a hunched over figure in front of him, the strangers hands covering their face as Chuuya felt his stomach dropped in guilt. Ah, shit, when did she get there!? He didn’t mean to hit her like that!

Panicking almost immediately, Chuuya hunched over, his hands moving in all sorts of directions before speaking at a million miles a minute. “S-Shit, are you okay? You came out of nowhere. I didn’t see you.”

The mystery girl only waved her only free hand away though, seemingly unbothered that the ginger had almost knocked her out. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it. This happens a lot..”

At that, Chuuya felt him raise an eye. “You getting hit in the face happens a lot?”

What the hell did that even mean? Why wasn’t this chick yelling at him like he deserved? He had just hit her, unintentionally or not he was still in the wrong.

She only seemed to laugh though, finding humor in the sentence in order to lower her hand a little bit so he could see her large round framed glasses on her face. “Yeah ha ha..I don’t have the best eyesight…”

And though the glasses were surprising, it didn’t change the facts. The way she was still holding her face was concerning itself. “Still, it’s my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going. Are you sure you’re okay?”

That’s when the girl simply nodded her head in order to put her hands out in defense with a goofy little smile of reassurance.“Yeah, of course. Look, I’m perfectly fine! No need to worry!”

Yet just as soon as she said that, Chuuya watched a thin line of blood trail down from her nose in response, his eyes hollowing in horror as she simply touched the sight with a nervous laugh. “Ah..ha ha..would you look at that..”

All at once, alarm bells started to go off in the boy’s head, running through every horrible possibility. He did hit her pretty hard, what if he broke her nose or gave her a concussion? Oh, he hoped not. Then he’d feel even worse than before!

Reaching his hands forward, Chuuya’s fingers then swept under the blood in a panic, ridding himself from the sight only for more to take its place. Oh, this was bad. “Ah, damn it. You’re bleeding!”

The glasses girl only shrugged though, still giving him that goofy unbothered smile in order to reply softly. “Just a little, it’s..”

Yet Chuuya was done hearing her downplay the situation, the boy simply grabbing onto her hand in order to pull her off the ground with a frustrated huff. “Is your brain broken? Come here already..!”

With the way she was acting he was sure that she had a concussion of some kind. No one would ever act this calm about this mistake, especially here in a port mafia owned building.

Dragging her over to the lobby bathroom, Chuuya quickly threw open the door before pointing to the fancy plush waiting area sofa with hastily command. “Sit.”

She complied a second later with the boy practically pushing her shoulders down in a rush only for her to put her hands up in reply. “Hey, I promise. I swear I’m okay. You don’t have to..”

Yet that’s when her words were cut off immediately by Chuuya’s hand, his thumb and forefingers latching against her nostrils in order to make her dip towards him with annoyance. “Lean forward and don’t move. The bleeding should stop in fifteen minutes or so.”

It was a trick he had learned from an early age while in the sheep. A lot of the younger members would get nosebleeds fairly easily so this was basically secondhand nature to the boy.

And it seemed like the mystery girl knew that as well, her voice coming out rather nasally and strange considering his hold on her. “You’re really nice.”

Chuuya couldn't help but scoff though. “Did you forget that I caused all this?”

She only pouted her lips in response though, not at all bothered by the truth. “You didn’t mean to though. You said it yourself. Besides, it’s kind of my fault too. I’m not the best with new places. It was bound to happen.”

Shaking his head in exasperation for her answer, the boy then caught something else in her sentence. “Speaking of which, who are you? You port mafia?”

He had never met this girl before after all, and though he was fairly new to the port mafia himself he knew he would’ve remembered her. She was too odd not to.

And not only that, she seemed way too nice to be in a dark place like this. A little naive and stupid also. Definitely not good traits to have in the mafia. Which either meant she was new or she didn’t belong here at all.

A moment later, he had his answer, the girl giggling to herself in a cutesy manner before smiling back. “Me? Oh no, not at all. I’m just visiting Osu.”

And because she didn’t use Dazai’s last name, Chuuya had no idea who that was, his head lifting in confusion. “....Osu?”

She then attempted to nod under his fingers, beaming with child-like excitement. “Yeah! I’m gonna surprise him with a sleepover! Ah, I really hope he likes it. I want to make him just as happy as he makes me.”

Her feet then began to kick happily underneath him with hidden joy as Chuuya couldn’t help but wonder who this guy really was. Sleepovers seemed kind of childish for the port mafia but then again she seemed so happy about it. He hoped it went well for her.

Feeling her tilt her head up without permission, the red haired girl then added. “And what about you Mr. Ginger? I take it that you're port mafia.”

It was a conclusion that was fairly obvious given the place that they were in. So much so, Chuuya barely gave much thought to her clever deduction in order to latch his fingers even tighter around her nose in order to pull her head back down. “Yeah I am, so you better listen to me and quit moving or else..”

She took in his threat immediately before another apologetic smile crossed her fingers. This guy was really serious, huh? “Okay okay sorry.”

Then all at once, Chuuya felt his shoulders relax, the anger dissipating only for that same heavy guilt to sink in. “I’m sorry too, for hittin you like this. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

This girl wasn’t even a port mafia, she was just some guy's girlfriend or something. She had probably never even seen blood in her life and he had done something so horrible to her. A thousand apologies would never be enough.

She only batted her eyes though, still not angry or spiteful in the slightest. “What were you thinking about?”

Almost immediately, her words brought back the annoyances of the night, Chuuya still hearing Dazai’s ear grating insults in his ears. “Just an annoying bandaged dumb ass I have to work with. He pisses me off, that’s all.”

What Chuuya didn’t notice though, was the way Asagao perked up at the sound of his description, her voice coming out rather curious and coaxing. “Bandaged dumb ass?”

Nodding his head in fury, Chuuya then grumbled to himself before forcing the distaste down his throat. “Yeah, but it’s not something you gotta worry about. That guys not worth anyone's time, especially yours.”

God, he knew that Dazai would’ve eaten this poor girl alive if he was here. She was too good for everyone in this place but especially for a monster like him. He would crush her innocent little soul into nothing.

If only he knew, right?

But naive little Chuuya didn’t know, his lips fixed into a frown only for the female stranger to say something rather out of pocket. “Sounds like you two are close..”

Close? What kind of joke was that? Yeah, the boy guessed he was close to Dazai in some capacity but not any he wanted to be. They were partners, forced to be stuck together. That’s it. Just what was this girl saying, what was she inferring from his words?

She didn’t think that two were…friends…right?

Because that was disgusting.

And he wanted her to know that. “Close?! You gotta be fucking kidding me, I hate that guy. I’m just forced to work with him, that's all. Calling me a dog all the damn time.”

Seriously, just what was this girl thinking? The day he actually became close to a guy like Dazai would be his last fucking day of earth.

Yet there was something in his sentence, something at the end that caused Asagao’s head to tilt back up against his hand as her lips parted open in some sort of delicious realization. Oh, so this is your dog, Samu. I can see why you love him.

And for a moment, Chuuya paused, sensing something different in the air.

Just why was this innocent girl looking at him so deviously, like a predator finding a new prey? It kind of creeped him out, like a horrible case of deja vu. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Yet just as quickly as it appeared, it disappeared, the girl’s head tilting back down in order to kick her legs back and forth with some sort of hidden delight. “Oooh nothing. Just thinking, that’s all.”

The way she said that, it sounded so similar to Dazai that he couldn’t help but cringe, pushing his fingers away from her nose all at once.

But that was silly, that bastard was just getting in his head. The two couldn't be alike. She was too nice to be that twisted.

Shaking the idea away, the ginger haired boy then took a step back before running his hands under the sink next to him with a huff. “Right..well that should be good enough for now. When you get back to Osu or whatever, make sure he takes care of you.”

Then he watched as the red haired girl seemingly hopped to her feet before giving him a small smile in return. “Thanks..”

Her tone was open ended, like she was looking for his name. And because he didn’t see the harm in it, the boy compiled. “Chuuya.”

Nodding once, the girl then pulled her hand out of her pocket for him to shake before repeating the gesture. “Asagao.”

He took her hand reluctantly, shaking back and forth before the two kids made their way out of the bathroom only for Chuuya’s head to ring with concern. She wasn’t seriously going to wander around by herself, right? That was a horrible idea.

Pushing his hand to her shoulder, the boy then reeled her back in question. “You know, this isn’t the kind place you should be walking around alone..”

Yet the girl simply put her hand up before laughing at his worry, almost like the thought hadn’t crossed her mind. “Oh, it’s okay! I’m not alone, I’ve been getting some help. And here they are now. Did you find everything I asked for boys?”

Then Asa simply lifted her hand up before waving a group of scary suited men over to her, their hands full of various pillows, snacks and other items that Chuuya assumed were for her supposed “sleepover” plan. “Yes miss.”

He couldn’t help but gawk at the sight though, seeing the small cute girl sandwich herself between them before patting their shoulders without a care in a world. “Perfect, now let’s go! We don’t have much time.”

Just who was this girl? And how had she commanded this group of mafia guys to do her bidding? There was no way, right?

Yet before he could come up with an answer he heard Asagao call back to him, her hand waving as she beamed joyfully from a distance. “Thanks again Chu Chu!”

Almost immediately he felt his lips twist in annoyance for the nickname, knowing that’s not what he said when he introduced himself. “That’s not..”

Although before he could finish the sentence, she was gone, leaving him to wonder just what kind of hurricane he had unknowingly got himself into.

“...my name..”

-----

Feeling his own feet carry him down the dingy steps, Dazai soon found himself back in the port mafia basement, his fingers lingering over the knives in order for his dull lifeless eyes to pick up the blade like a cruel cold welcome.

He had picked up these weapons hundreds of times before and this was no different. It was like muscle memory at this point and the boy fully knew what was coming next.

Dazai then seemingly slipped into his own internal thoughts, the warm lights of Bar Lupin and the soft blush that crossed Asagao’s face just a few hours prior. Such things were so lively, so real that he had almost forgotten the damp lonely feeling of where he originated from.

In Odasaku’s apartment, in the presence of Asagao he could block out the evil inside him, he could ignore the pull to destroy and to trample, but not here. Just by the shift of the air he knew that here there could only be darkness and corruption.

He couldn’t be a good man here, it was impossible to be.

But perhaps that was the point, that’s why Mori had brought him here. Because he was getting too comfortable, he was beginning to delude himself from reality. He had told himself that he could change, that he could be more than a monster.

And the boy still wanted that to be true, for Odasaku and Asagao both.

Pushing open the rushy hinges, Dazai then made his way to the shackled prisoner before him in order to immediately dig his knife into the man’s shoulder and twist and blade in muscle memory as he cried out in agony.

And as he felt the familiar sickening joy course through every single one of his muscles, the boy knew that it was wrong. That he shouldn’t have felt such satisfaction in making this man squirm. That’s not what a good person was supposed to do.

Yet he did, his body, his fingers, his muscles all twitched in satisfaction with the only thing that had accompanied him since he was a child. It was familiar, pulling him further away from his original goals by the second.

Simply because this was what this fucked up world had made him to be.

That’s right, he was the demon prodigy, he was shaped and misformed to be this way, a perfect monster of the port mafia. If Asagao saw him then he would think so also. She would take back her belief in him.

And though he tried to keep that fragile hope of change, with every stab and scream he physically felt it begin to slip away from him. This isn’t what Odasaku would’ve wanted, it’s not what Asagao thought he was..but this was all he had..

As a boy, as a child, Dazai was never given love, he never knew a gentle touch or a kind word. He didn’t grow up with normalcy or any sort of mundane. He went to bed with murder woke up with blood on his fingers and the sound of deafening screams.

Sometimes his own, sometimes not. But the fact remained clear as day even so..

This was what he was good at, whether Dazai liked it or not.

And that only showed just how different he truly was to Oda’s precious little sister. The things that Asagao had lived through were great but she had gotten away where he couldn’t. She could see more than his pathetic little world.

She was free where he would never be.

Another stab, another trail of blood seeped across his fingers only for a dark mocking voice to fill his ears and drown out his victims screams, his own thoughts and guilt corrupting him to insanity.

You are dishonoring his memory.

He knew that. He knew that so well, that by doing this, by torturing this guy he was going against everything that Odaskau wished for him. But he didn’t know any different, he couldn’t know any different. He wasn’t worth anything else but this.

You are making his little sister's words useless.

Damn it, he knew that also, okay?! A haunting memory, a foolish statement, that’s all it was. She called him a good man but what he was doing was in no way the truth. He knew she’d be disappointed like this, seeing him bathed in blood, torturing this man because of own inability to change.

Fuck, he hated it, he hated himself for being so incompetent.

What did she possibly see in him? Why did she call him precious? He wasn’t precious, he was a joke. A pathetic unfunny fucking joke. Didn’t she see how he was crumbling, how much of a failure he truly was?

Gritting his teeth against his own chaos, Dazai’s own demons tormented him once more.

You are not a good man.

And as his bloodied knife raised into the air once more, the demon prodigy knew the truth, his mind screaming it like a death sentence.

No, I’m not. I’m sorry.

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sheisobvious · 2 years

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some old stuff I found on pinterest (and below interesting things) - Part 1

Picture 1

“One minute Taylor is busting out lyrics and being adorable in front of the camera, and the next she is like high-fashion model”

Q: What type of music are you into right now?

TS: A Late’80s pop. One of my favorite songs is “She Drives Me Crazy”, by Fine Young Cannibals.It was so ahead of its time.

App she loves – 8MM vintage camera

TS: “It lets you put a cool, 1960s-style filter on iPhone videos and gives clips a moody grain”

Picture 2

COSMOGIRL 2009

TS: "My newest hobby is going to wal-mart and putting my CD in front of others in the rack. I have no shame in it!"

Picture 3

Seventeen Magazine (2008)

Q: Do you think that he ( the guy from “Should’ve Said No”) secretly likes being named in your songs? TS: Yeah, probably. Those kinds of guys like getting attention – because I mean, what else is he doing? He’s probably with six different girls who don’t know that they’re being played.

Q: Has he (Drew from “Teardrops on My Guitar”) contacted you?

TS: Actually, he showed up in my driveway a couple of months ago, and it was like in the movies where at the end the guy shows up in your driveway, and you have this awesome kiss – except it’s three years too late. I’m like, Why didn’t you do this years ago ?!? He was stranger by then, so I felt like I didn’t know him anymore.

Q: Do you ever write songs about anyone other than yourself?

TS: “Tied Together With a Smile” is about a girl I knew my freshman year. She was absolutely Miss Popular, a pageaant girl, and she looked perfect every day! Always had the cutest outfits, always looked teh best at prom. But sometimes when you get a litle closer to people who look that perfect, you realize that they don’t feel perfect.They feel they’re ugly. And that’s what happened with this girl- I became closer friends with her, and one day she confessed that she was bulimic.

Q: How did that make you feel?

TS: It was really hard for me to take. But I never want to make someone feel horrible. do not deserve to be treated like that. I try to reason with them and be calm about it. After a while, I was just like, "You don't need to do that anymore." So I played that song for her, and I said, "Who do you think that's about?" And honestly, I don't think she ever did it after that.

Q: Have you ever felt bad about the way you look?

TS: Everybody does! Everybody looks in the mirror and is like, I wonder why her eyes are huge and mine are smaller. But I realized that if you’re lucky enough to be different from everybody else, don’t change.

Q: Do you ever wonder what it would be like to be someone eise?

TS: Oh, my gosh, if I were a different person and I could start all over, I would want to be Hayley Williams from Paramore! I think she’s awesome, and their music is amazing. But you know, I love country music more than anything in the world – I would never change what I do.

Picture 4

“I’ve seen a lot of you get new cars”, she joke to those who worked on the album (Fearless)

Picture 5

YOU (2009)

FAVORITE BOOK – Who Will Cry When You Die? By Robin S. Sharma. It’s a self-help but It’s na easy read. Every page has a new thing you can do to show the people you love that they matter to you. It makes you appreciate what you have. I have a lot more good days now that I’ve read that.

STYLE ICON – Cahrlize Theron. Thank you for saying I look a bit like her – taht makes my whole week.

BEAUTY PRODUCTS – My favourite lip colour is Dragon Girl by Nars;l realy like Armani make-up and there's a perfume that l get when ľ'm in the UK called Midnight Rain by La Prairie. And I love Jo Malone candles.

I: As ever, she sounds too good to be true . It might be one reason why. If we're being honest what eveyone realy wants to see is Taylor Swit being a litte bit naughty. Surely the teetotal Pollyanna façade must have cracks? Anyway, wouldn’t a bit of teenage rebellion be healthy?

TS: “I've been given the freedom to do whatever I want. I'm 19 –if want to storm out of the house and go to a club and get drunk and take my clothes off and run naked through Nashville, I can do that. I just really would rather not. I's as simple as that. It's not like I’ve been beaten down by some corporation that's forcing me to always behave myself - l just naturally do. Sometimes people are fascinated by the fact that I don't care about partying. almost to the point where they think it's weird.l think when we get to the point where it's strange for you to not be stumbing around high on something at 19, t's a warped world.”

Picture 6

PEOPLE, 2009

Q: You just gave a $250,000 donation to schools you had previously attended or worked with. Why schools?

TS: The schools that I went to and the amazing people I got to learn from relly turned me into who I am, and I wanted to give back.

Q:If you’ve done all this by the time you turned 20, what do you want to do bu the time you turn 30?

TS:I think I’d like to have made a couple more albums that I’m really proud of. I’d like to have a house. I’m not the kid the girl who makes a goal for herself of getting married or starting a family. I’ve never really put a timeline on those sorts of things. So I don’t have any personal goals by the time I’m 30.

(midnight rain vibe)

Picture 7

Q: What would you say is your biggest love “don’t” ?

TS: No one wants to be with someone who desperately needs them. You should want the other person and love him, but you shouldn’t need him. If you depend on him for your happiness, that’s not good ,because what will you do when it ends?

Picture 8

TIGER BEAT

I CALLED THIS ALBUM RED BECAUSE.. “all the different emotions written about on this album, they’re all about the tumultuous, crazy, insane, intense, semitoxic relationships that I’ve experienced in the last two years. In my mind, all of those emotions are red.”

(I think this is the first time I see her referring to this relationship as toxic before 2022)

Picture 9

BOP 2012

Taylor Swift looks down at the floor as she talks about the songs on her new album, Red (it comes out October 22). "They're sad, if I'm being honest,"she confesses. Tay's big blue eyes get a little teary as she thinks about her life right now.In the last two years. Tay says she's felt "all of those emotions, travels around spanning from intense love,intense the workd with frustration, jealousy and confusion." She also admits. "There's been this earth-shattering. not recent, but absolute crash-and-bum neartbreak."

(in this interview they are weird about her parents divorce)

#taylor swift #mine #tsedit #candy swift #tswiftedit #tsedits #tswiftart #tswiftcreatorsnet #tswiftedits #taylor swift lyrics #taylor swift interviews

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industria-adastra · 7 months

Text

[Vampire Knight] - If I'm to be reborn, I'll find you (again, again, again) - CHAPTER TWO: ruler of my heart (you outburn the sun)

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Summary: He hates her, he loves her, he hates her. He misses her. (The only place he can have her is in his dreams)

Note: Hopefully I'm getting better at this updating consistently thing but yeah zero's chapter. Next chapter is going to be kaname/yume focused again sorry zero or zeki enjoyers.

------

He’s not the first one to hear of the news. In fact, he’s neither the second, nor third (and so on) recipient of the fact that Kuran Yuuki is dead. Zero doesn’t hear it from the Chairman, his teacher, Kaito, or even from one of the vampires. In hindsight, perhaps he should have been more suspicious, should have questioned the way paperwork always found its way to his desk unceasingly—leaving him with no time to focus on the outside world.

Zero simply hears of it in passing whilst heading out for lunch, through a conversation between two nameless hunters—discussing it like changes in the weather.

“Did you hear? Kuran Yuuki is dead.”

“Another pureblood gone, huh… Wonder if it was her brother that did her in?”

“The rapidly decreasing execution missions would likely clue you into the answer.”

“Right, right.”

It’s hysterically, laughably casual in the way such information comes to him.

(It can’t be real. It can’t be real. It can’t be real—)

The world seems to stop on its axis, and Zero wonders if he should’ve simply ignored his desire for shio ramen today. After all, it’s not like he has an appetite now. His stomach roils with discomfort at the thought of food, and his throat itches for a scant few seconds before it burns. A sandstorm swirls and tears at his flesh. Mind blank, Zero goes where his feet wish to travel, content to let his mind stay in a haze.

He ends up in the association bathrooms, throwing up nothing but paltry strings of bile and choking on his spit.

There is too much work to be done. The vampire world, for one, was going through a massive societal upheaval. Zero simply couldn't do anything more than throw up into an association toilet before being fed an ungodly amount of paperwork as if he were some humanoid paper shredder.

And maybe it's because more than four years ago, just over a year ago—with Ichiru dead in his arms—he's finally refined a true and tried method for every loss he's been through. Every thought of her is locked behind a glass vault, buried six feet under, the key left behind to collect dust. Zero works through papers and decimates his targets with the same ease. Every stroke of his pen is enforced with the explosive sound of his gun, of ashes in the wind. Rinse and repeat, his days all blur together in their sameness.

Months later, on a job just like any other, Zero walks into a department store and sees a long coat, hanging neatly from the racks. Stupidly, he thinks, ‘Yuuki would probably say I should get it if she saw it.’ And then, oh, how it hits him at that very moment.

Yuuki is dead.

Apparently, it had been the pureblood Shirabuki Sara. A pureblood through and through, she’d sent pawns to do her dirty work.

But she’d miscalculated the consequences of her actions, as all those high up on their thrones of arrogance were prone to doing so.

So she too, is dead, consumed by the pureblood king Kuran Kaname—he’s slaughtered more influential vampires than any hunter ever would in their lifetime. In the privacy of his thoughts, Zero thinks that had he the power and madness to do so, he would’ve too.

Sanity is both a blessing and a curse, because there is nothing else for Zero to turn to but his thoughts alone.

Roaring water fills his ears, and Zero sits, unmoving on the wet shower tiles. Steam fogs up the room, blurring his vision. He watches the water run down the drain for hours, washing the grime caked on his body until his fingers are all pruned and his skin is red with heat. His stomach is growling at him, and the water bill is for sure going to shoot up with this, but Zero can’t bring himself to care much about the future right now.

(Any second now, she might barge into the bathroom to demand usage of the shower, to dramatically proclaim that he’s spent too long hogging it, to threaten to turn off the hot water in a minute even if she never ends up doing it.

But this apartment houses only him, and is far away from that Academy, far away from all those precious yet painful memories. The tiles aren’t even the right colour, beige, off-white, and an intense white that could be comparable to that of a strobe light. The shampoo and body wash he’s bought—the same one she always used in the Academy, a subtle floral scent of roses—only serve to highlight all the differences he can find between his current bathroom and the one in his memories.)

The doorbell suddenly rings, insistent and unfaltering like a military march. Zero is sure it’s been modified because there’s no way a regular doorbell could be so annoyingly loud like the one he has. With the way it’s blaring in his ears every second, it’s clear that whoever’s behind the door won’t take his silent refusal as an answer.

The water continues to flow into the drain, taking with it the numerous dissolving blood tablets strewn across the wet floor.

For a moment, Zero allows himself to be deluded by the idea that it’s her behind the door—-she’d always been as stubborn as a mule when she put her mind to it. But it is the sound of the doorbell that echoes in his ears, not an annoyed rat-a-tat-tat followed by the creak of an opening door. What follows is sandy blond hair and the glint of spectacles. They stare at each other for a moment, the headmaster and him. Nearby, the water continues to flow.

Even now, Zero can never truly parse the emotion behind those glasses of his.

“You know she wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

And even now, the headmaster’s words are as precise as his killing blows. Hearing them, Zero flinches. They stab into him, tearing open wounds until the pain is nothing but white numbness. But the mention of her, as always, pushes him to move on the legs of a shambling corpse. His hand slams against the bathroom tiles; the force of it is always degrees lower than it could be.

“How do you know what she would’ve wanted?” His words are acrid, angry in a way he doesn’t want to explain. “She’s gone. She’s not coming back.” Zero grits his teeth, looking straight at Kaien Cross’s eyes before he spits out a final bout of venom. “She’s been dead ever since she became one of them.”

Yet like always, the headmaster’s calm never wavers. “You know, that it’s always been her. No matter if Yuuki,” the sound of her name, said aloud, led to the tiles cracking under his hands, “stayed human or not, She’ll always be Yuuki. Maybe she changed and grew up a little—faster than I would’ve wanted or liked—but at her core, she was always, always Yuuki. She didn’t die that day. You knew that fact as well as I did.” And here, Zero feels the weight of the executioner’s blade above him, about to drop. “Otherwise, why do you try so hard to keep them as separate entities, even now, when she’s truly dead and gone?”

Zero drops to his knees painfully, leaving marks of destruction behind on the walls. He covers part of his face with a hand, contemplating further denial with the truth laid out so plainly before him.

“I never…”

“You never told her your true feelings, and now she’s gone. Because it was easier to accept it if you felt as if you'd already mourned beforehand.” The headmaster’s voice is soft, almost as if reminiscing a similar scene. He crouches down and puts a hand on Zero’s shoulder. “Let it out, Zero. It’s only me and you now.”

There are no tears left for him to cry, but his throat tightens, and Zero hiccups out words all the same.

“I loved her. But she chose him.”

A ragged breath cuts his words short before Zero finds the strength to continue.

“I still loved her, even to the very end.”

The sky glows with a mix of different vibrant, brilliant colours—it’s an intensely beautiful scene, so much so that Zero wants to throw up. A cacophony of emotions welled up in him, knowing that such a view would be forever denied to the girl who was the most like the sun. He almost wishes that a storm would suddenly start, right at that moment.

But the sun continues to glow with a detestable radiance, and the days continue to go by relentlessly. The world does not wait for one man’s grief.

He goes back into his bedroom and sits on his bed. Afterwards, he brings out Bloody Rose.

A click, and he watches as the empty magazine drops to the ground with a heavy thunk. Mechanically, Zero goes through the familiar motions of reloading Bloody Rose. The gun hangs loose in his hands. When it’s done, still holding Bloody Rose, his arm raises, up, up. Its silver muzzle points under his exposed chin without even the slightest tremor, pressing firmly into the soft flesh.

He thinks about a girl, who, long ago, had rushed into a different room and wrenched this very gun out of his hands. Thinks of a life preserved for reasons he refused to believe was out of love. Thinks of a life, gone because it was loved so dearly.

The sunlight pierces through haphazardly closed curtains. A clock ticks in the background. He lets both the gun and himself fall on the bed.

His door is still closed.

(She’d wanted him to live)

Her blood still resides within him. But it lies, still, silent. Not a single iota of warmth flows in his body; it is ice in his veins in contrast to Kuran’s acidic poison. Were Zero to close his eyes and attempt to delude himself, he would simply fail from the get-go. Because Zero has always been faced with hard truths; so many times, he sees them over and over again—in the mirror, in the way he used to bite himself by accident and in the hunter’s bracelet on his desk.

She is gone and he must swallow down that bitter truth like the way he mindlessly consumes blood tablets.

(They scrape his throat, going down and making it uncomfortably dry; it tastes of overly sugared cough syrup; and he doesn’t want to, doesn’t wish to accept a world without her in it.

But her blood still lies.)

He dreams of her. Not always, but sometimes he does. On those days, when he wakes up, Zero can’t seem to muster up the strength to get out of bed. It’s easier to bask in the what-ifs and could-beens, or the has-beens and bygone halcyon days. Breathing is easier, living feels easier, being carried by fantasies and memories. He always has to stop himself from getting too carried away—because ultimately the world does not care. Time continues to march forward, the Earth continues to spin on its axis and around the sun.

Sometimes Zero wants to curse at her. Because no matter how easy it was at that moment, reality would always settle in as an infinite weight, caving his lungs beneath him. But he could never stay angry at her, no matter what she did, or what she became. Before, he had sworn to kill her—but really, he wouldn’t have minded had she put him to rest instead.

"Zero? Did you fall asleep in the stables again? Geez, what's with you always showing up late for the transition periods!" She punches him forcefully in the back a couple of times, unrelenting even in the face of his annoyance and mild pain. (He wouldn’t have it any other way)

“Ow, ow, ow, ow—! Oi, would you quit it already?” He turns to slap a large hand over her forehead, pushing her away from him with great resistance on her part. “I’m here now, aren’t I?” Zero doesn’t say it, but her puffed cheeks and flailing limbs make her look as ridiculous as she is cute, and he’s almost tempted to flick her in the forehead for good measure.

“Yes, yes, alright now stop pushing me!” She glares up at him, arms folded in annoyance. “Don’t forget that as the prefects, we have an important job to do—which means, stop being late!”

“By important job, you mean stopping a bunch of idiot classmates from throwing themselves into the slavering jaws of humanoid beasts?” Zero raises a wry eyebrow, watching her face gain a mildly exasperated look. When he turns to jab at the inevitable mass of lovesick, occasionally fanatic day-class students to further make a point, Zero finds that there’s no one there.

Right.

He turns back to look for her, but there’s no one there.

When Zero cooks breakfast for his birthday, he takes care to watch his food burn, forces it down his throat and makes sure it stays put. The eggs are rubbery, the toast is burnt, and the bacon is like chewing wood, but somehow he devours it with as much eagerness as a regular bowl of shio ramen.

She used to make such god-awful food.

(Zero finds vials of blood on his doorstep that day.

He practically guzzles the pills instead.)

"Hey Zero, I think this would look pretty good on you." She takes out the long coat with a flourish, holding it up next to him with a contemplative expression. Zero stares back blankly at her, knowing little about the intricacies of what was his “colour”, or what “went well with his eyes”. Sure, he has some preferences, but he finds that he doesn’t mind watching her pick out his clothes for it.

(It’s oddly domestic in that way, and he dreams of what could’ve been—had they been normal, had they not had destiny and duty looping around their necks like a noose)

The next day, he goes and buys himself another coat. Staring at its dark colours and its simple design, Zero wonders if this could’ve been something she would’ve chosen for him.

(He never wears it. Dust collects on the cloth, tints the fibres grey and overrides the fresh store-bought scent, but he never wears it.)

"Zero, we can stay together for the night, just like before—I’ll watch over your dreams, and you can watch over mine, ok?" Under the warm covers, she whispers this to him, and their fingers intertwine together. Her hands have always run colder than his, but even so, her hands are freezing—as cold as the dead.

When he wakes up, the space beside him on the bed is cold.

It has always been cold.

There is no grave, no stone marker, but he supposes that the Kuran Manor serves well enough as a reminder. The rumours don’t paint a pretty picture—the king of beasts, almost mad in his sobriety; the king of beasts, living only for memories and promises; the king of beasts, someone who’d crush you underfoot for his dreams without a second thought.

Standing in front of the tall, dark and rusting iron gates, Zero can almost choke on the overpowering scent of roses. They’re everywhere, in full bloom, mere buds, wilting or decayed. It’s a smell that only reminds him of what could have been, and what he let go of, of that fateful night in the academy.

Were it him, he would’ve planted sunflowers instead.

(Zero doesn’t enter. He knows how much Kuran hated him entering any space deemed as his own. It wouldn’t change now, half-mad as they both were.)

Violence is, perhaps, the only outlet that Zero knows will never let him down. There is release to be found when he hunts down level Es; there is no need for emotion, only cold, pure logic in which he can execute his duty as a protector (that he’d already failed so many times before). With every shot of his gun, every blast of the hunter’s sigil and every vampiric body blown apart into dust and ash, Zero puts to rest the grievances of so many others—but never his own.

Kaito no longer makes any sort of comment about such trips, only there to stop him from presumably losing his head and forcing the association to find yet another leader (or so he says, but they both know part of the association would be thrilled to find a reason to off him). Sure, Kaito mindlessly chatters about the surroundings and his day, but they both know that saying anything about her—no matter how sound his reasoning could be—would create a one-way ticket to the end of their friendship.

He tried, once. (“You can’t keep doing this to yourself. You have to accept the fact that she’s gone and that she didn’t choose you.” He’d paused then, reproach evident in his face before he continued. “She was a pureblood first.”

“She had been human.”

“Had.”

“And so had I been, once.”

“…Just don’t get yourself killed.”)

It’s nice to have someone stay. But he’ll never say it. People can’t stay simply because you want them to. Their decisions have always been their own.

Perhaps the universe had an ironic sense of humour if he was back to teach Cross Academy’s Day Class ethics of all things. The headmaster clearly made a mistake in forcing him to do what he flippantly called a “much-needed change of perspective”. Somehow Yagari, of all people, seemed to think that it’d be good for him to take up such a position in addition to his duties as both a hunter and the president of the hunter’s association.

“You’re a good kid, but you need a better head on your shoulders,” is all Yagari says on that matter, and off Zero goes into once more dealing with teenagers—this time as an adult rather than one of their peers. He half expects it to be just like before.

But it’s not.

Revealing the truth of the Night Class to the Day Class means that there are no more barriers between the vampires and humans of Cross Academy. Without the distance, there is not enough room for worship, and what is left are only two kinds of being, all simply trying to live in a new world.

Teaching ethics really means “filling in the gaps” so that vampire-human relations will go more smoothly. Unlike his mentor though, Zero thankfully doesn’t need to use either express or implied threats of violence to get his students to listen. And he finds that, with the truth revealed, the Day Class students now behave in much calmer ways—ironically, the truth had perhaps “humanised” the vampires for them.

They listen carefully to his teachings; Zero does his utmost to drill them into their heads, complete with drawings that are only marginally better than her toddler scribbles. He’s sure that when he’s out of sight and earshot, they laugh about it, just as they laugh alongside the vampires they’d once thought of as unreachable.

Watching it all from a distance, it almost feels unbearably nostalgic yet melancholic—because this had not been his world. Had she and Zero never been torn apart from the natural way of things, reborn and reforged in blood, they would have never met.

(He wonders if he would’ve dismissed her as nothing but a monster. If their old classmates would have thought of her as another pseudo-goddess to worship.)

Zero watches two worlds meld, and is not quite at peace, but at the very least, the memories, the “what ifs” here do not hurt.

However, it doesn’t take long for him to resign. In the end, Zero is better cut out for other things, rather than becoming another face in the crowd of the headmaster’s rampant eccentrics that he calls teachers. But, sometimes, seeing the world that she wished for, finally, slowly, starts to be created… The air is a little lighter, even as his throat aches. She would’ve liked to watch the two different classes fumble through cooking on their own.

Maybe he’ll make ginger pork stir fry tonight.

It’s years before he meets Wakaba Sayori again. Zero nearly forgets about her wedding, were it not for the Headmaster’s, and Kaito’s constant, unceasing reminders via letters and spoken words. The final nail in the coffin is the wedding invitation itself. If he doesn’t attend the wedding, he’s sure that someone will come to physically strong-arm him to the event.

The wedding itself is a rather small affair, given Sayori’s background and what he remembers of Aidou’s proclivity for dramatics. Maybe it was Sayori who’d wanted it. Or maybe it was a joint agreement. Zero doesn’t know either of them well enough to say, but he prefers it this way.

Staring at the happy couple—in the back of his mind—Zero morbidly wonders if death will also do them part earlier than expected. He’s quick to shut down that train of thought as soon as it appears. He wouldn’t wish such a feeling on anyone.

After the event, Zero keeps his copy of the wedding photo, keeping it safe with the other one that marked his first year of high school. Against the glossy sheen of the new photo, that one looks all the more faded; the new photo always feels as if it’s missing something.

She would’ve loved to see the wedding; would’ve been the maid of honour, lovely in gentle pinks and a happy blush on her cheeks.

He startles at the vision, dropping the photo book with an unceremonious thud.

The burn in his throat has never gone away since that fateful night of snow. But it’s now a familiar constant, easily relegated to the back of his mind. What does it mean? Zero doesn’t know, only watching as society changes, and as people grow to create a world where there could be true peace.

But it feels easier to breathe for himself, even as he continues to breathe for her. Zero isn’t sure if he’ll ever stop breathing—living—for her. It’s alright this way, and the dreams now leave him feeling more…fond rather than wanting.

It’s only a glimpse, but years and years later, Zero gets a chance to see how Kuran Kaname now fares in this still unfamiliar world. Despite his achievements and the iron-clad grip he has on the rest of the vampires—key in fostering the new partnership between humans and vampires—he rarely shows his face. Does the smell of roses, in its various stages of life, cling to him like a parasite? Or maybe it’s the other way around, with roses built within everything he owns, everything that he is.

As Zero contemplates, he thinks back to the regularly replaced sunflowers in his office and his flat.

When he sees him, Zero gets his answer.

Lounging on his throne, the smell of blood, dust and decay is attached to him like that of a rose with its thorns. Kaname Kuran stares emptily at everyone and nowhere, only occasionally opening his mouth to send orders. Within his hands is a resin-encased rose, looking worn and smooth from the years. His clothes don’t quite fit what he’s supposed to be, refined King of the Vampires. Rather, dressed in loose clothing, the apathy in his gaze, Kuran almost reminds him of—

(Zero tries not to think about it)

After so long, even hate will cool. They both loved, they both lost. It is a reality of the world that they live in. That she could not ever see the dream she wished for come to reality. In fact, looking at this sombre, cold, alone figure… He almost pities him. Kaname Kuran, top of the world but with no one left.

Could they see what Zero sees? The old Night Class no longer stands nearby, but at polite distances, looking almost weary. It was the kind of weariness that he was most familiar with.

After all, the hunter association had always looked at him this way.

Zero at least has the headmaster, has Kaito, has his teacher. Kuran has no one at all.

Even beasts could be pitiable.

(Yuuki knew that best, didn’t she)

Maybe it’s only fitting that he’ll die from protecting a child who looks so much like Yuuki. Not quite in the flesh, but more so in spirit—and wasn’t that the most important, most beautiful quality about her? Especially now, memory half-baked and succumbing to erosion over the years. In the face of time, it all crumbles to dust, just like his body is now; not even sure whether it is his or the bodies of mad vampires he’s slain.

Zero can see her crying, tears wetting his shirt, mixing with the dust in a way that he’d be mildly disgusted by were he not currently dying. “It’s alright,” he says, reaching out with hands that only smear more dust into her hair. Zero isn’t sure if the garbled sounds reaching his ears are truly words or not. Maybe the girl is speaking, maybe the girl is simply sobbing.

Or maybe he is already dead.

When he closes his eyes, Kiryuu Zero dies before a young girl’s eyes, leaving nothing but a pile of empty clothes and a silver gun.

The incessant ringing of an alarm is loud and annoying enough to cave metaphorically his skull in with its shrill noise alone. Grumbling, Zero burrows deeper into his blankets, covering himself fully in an attempt to block out the noise. It doesn’t fully work, but a partial solution is better than no solution at all, so Zero gets right back to falling asleep.

The heavyweight landing unceremoniously on top of his body puts an abrupt stop to that. “Zeeroo! We’re gonna be late for school again!” Ichiru whines, digging his pointy elbows right into Zero’s sides, knowing full well the exact location of his arms. He’s lucky that Zero loves him.

“Gerroff me, Ichiru,” he groans, the sound muffled by the blankets, gently shoving away at the incessant prodding. “We don’t even have to wake up until ten minutes later.”

“How do you even know that?” Questions Ichiru, switching up his tactics and physically smothering Zero in another attempt to force him out of bed.

“I pay attention in class rather than daydream about the divorced neighbour next door.”

Just as Ichiru is about to retaliate with a few choice words, the bedroom door bursts open to herald another arrival. “Zero! Get up, we're gonna be late!’ Kuran Yuuki rushes over to drag him out of bed with strength contrary to her small size. “Get up you lazy bum!” She promptly drops him on the ground, ignoring his affronted yell and Ichiru’s snickering in favour of rifling through his wardrobe.

“Good morning Yuuki!” Ichiru cheerily waves at her from Zero’s bed, delighting in the extra chaos and suffering added to his brother’s normal routine.

“Morning Ichiru!” She absent-mindedly chirps back, piling the different pieces of Zero’s uniform onto one arm. Halfway through, Yuuki looks back at Zero. “Oi, get up Zero! Aren’t you supposed to be the one with the best attendance record out of all of us?”

“I shouldn’t have messed with your alarm,” Zero grumpily mutters, not bothering to get up from the floor. From above, Ichiru barely attempts to stifle his laughter. “Stop laughing, Ichiru.”

Unfortunately for Zero, Yuuki could hear him perfectly well. Her body snaps around just in time for Yuuki to let out an outraged cry of, “You what?!”

At that, Zero groans, and Ichiru only laughs louder and harder.

(He wouldn’t trade this for anything else in the world)

#my writing #angst #vampire knight #fanfiction #zero kiryuu #kiryuu zero #tw grief #tw: suicidal thoughts #cw: suicidal ideation and an attempt #i really did not expect zero's part to get so long #but tbf this has been happening to my writing #i just keep thinking i could flesh out some parts more and then boom another couple hundred words or even 1k added with just one scene #radiant zeki #zero goes through it but it's arguably not as bad as with kaname because he has people to pull him back and tell him he's being dumb #and he knows it too #unlike kaname who literally has no one else who can tell him he's being stupid without fear of being killed

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sukirichi · 4 years

Text

— out of reach | gojo x reader

request: Girllllll I just read your jealous gojo fic and my heart went 📈📈📈📈💥💥💥 youre now one of my fav writers 🙏🧎‍♀️And the spicy parts 😫😫😫 💖 If your asks are still open, could I please request a fic where GOJO has a size kink 🥺🥺🥺 my 5’1 ass is obsessed with that shizzzz

pov: you’re gojo’s childhood friend and roommate – which leads to utter chaos – or perhaps utter bliss?

warnings: size kink, lots of teasing, lots of cursing, dirty talk, choking (probably not in the way you think), body worship, lots of size difference scenes, slight manhandling, overstimulation, thigh fucking, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (don’t do this irl guys) + unedited fic :D

notes: idk what happened here LMAOOO but i loved writing this one because i’m short as hell too lol. thanks for this request anon, i hope you like it! <3

word count: 10.5k

masterlist !

If you’re going to be honest, having Gojo as a roommate is something completely unexpected.

Not only are you two from entirely different worlds – him as a jujutsu sorcerer and you as an average human who can’t see curses – but he’s also just someone who is entirely out of your league. He’s respected and looked up to in his field of work, while half of your co-workers don’t even know your name, much less notice you in function parties where you mostly just nibble on sushi before calling it a day and turning back home.

You and Gojo met in elementary school. You could tell from the way he’s surrounded by servants and stern looking adults, firm hands on his small shoulders, that he was different from everyone else.

Apparently, he comes from one of the three big clans in the jujutsu world or whatever. You honestly don’t care about any of that, because Gojo refuses to act maturely about his role in the clan. You still remember how quiet he was on the first day of school, never smiling and keeping to himself despite your persuasion to eat lunch with him or play with him after school in the courtyard.

You miss that Gojo Satoru – the quiet, serious kid who was far too gentle in his actions yet firm in his words and beliefs. When you were still a little girl, you admired how he seemed older than his age, a wistful look in those azure blue eyes of his that you’ve always loved.

To you, Gojo Satoru was your hero. You’ve always been one of the shortest kids in class, and it didn’t help that you really loved pigtails all the way until middle school that made you an easy target from immature people who’s being hit way too fast by puberty and growing each passing day. You never minded your short stature because really, it’s just height, but you couldn’t ignore how your confidence dwindled each day when they called you several array of nicknames.

Too shy to fight back, you’d laugh it off or force a smile.

Gojo wasn’t having any of it. He’d break his silence and immediately pull you to his side (which only made things worse because Gojo was one of the tallest kids in class, further emphasizing how small you are right next to him) before threatening to smack the kids right in the face.

The threat should be enough to land him detention, but because he’s Gojo Satoru, the golden kid everyone loved, they took his word seriously.

At the age of eleven, you started seeing your best friend as your knight in shining armour. Gojo basked in this, growing protective and always glaring at whoever snickered when you walked past them. Sometimes he even bared his teeth to hiss at them, which was honestly so ridiculous now that you think about, though the message – the threat – always came across loud and clear.

So yeah, you love Gojo, you still do.

Years flew by and the two of you grew apart due to work and also as a part of growing up. You still kept in contact, messaging each other once a month to ask the other how they’re doing. His work kept him extremely busy though, and Gojo didn’t want you involved in the dangers of what he’s doing, so he makes sure to keep a safe distance.

Until six months ago, you hear a banging on your door. You’re just about ready to throw hands because your former roommate moved out to live with her stoner boyfriend, leaving you to shoulder all the bills and responsibilities of maintaining a two man apartment.

A sneer forms on your lips as you swing the door open, a scowl already on your face. You assumed it was your roommate who returned to get the pair of lace panties they left in their room, but instead, your childhood friend stands before you, taller (seriously, how has he not stopped growing?) and definitely a lot hotter than the last time you saw him.

One thing leads to another, and now it feels like there was never such distance between the two of you with how easily you both fell back into a comfortable – yet chaotic – rhythm and routine of being each other’s roommate.

Not that you mind, of course. Gojo’s definitely changed a lot from when you were kids. He’s no longer that stiff or sensitive when it comes to others. In fact, it seems like he loosens up a lot more with age, because you can barely recognize the man living under the same roof with you now.

For one thing, Gojo is loud. Like really talkative, won’t shut the fuck up and speaks like he’s in a screaming contest with someone. It doesn’t matter if you’re taking an important phone call or sleepwalking at three in the morning to pee, Gojo is always creating some sort of ruckus.

You’d never admit it out loud, but you loved it. You love him.

He’s definitely a lot more enthusiastic and fun to be with now that both of you have grown up, or in Gojo’s case, simply aged. His maturity reversed backwards because it feels like you’re taking care of a little kid.

Not only does his body clock is practically non-existent, he’s also horrible when it comes to taking care of himself and being punctual with work.

Fortunately for him, you love him, and you both leave for work at the same time. You always wake up earlier to prepare breakfast so you’d both have energy to start the day – although you highly doubt there’s really anything that depletes his endless source of one.

Sleepily walking through the kitchen with your fist rubbing at your eyes, you rummage through the refrigerator for some eggs when you realize there’s none.

Huh, you think to yourself, scratching your scalp. You’re sure that Gojo went grocery shopping last week since it’s his chore to do the outside stuff like buying groceries and throwing thrash, so where did it go?

You open shelf by shelf, checking each corner and shoving cans aside to look for the tray. With a glare, you stand on your tiptoes to pull the pantry open, only to have your mouth fall aghast because it’s all there – right at the back where you can’t reach it!

Fucking Satoru, you grit your teeth while heaving your body up onto the counter. It’s a struggle because not only are your muscles still half asleep, but because the shelf is right in your face, and if you’re not careful enough, you could hit it right with your face and fall over. Of fucking course you know Satoru did this to make fun of you – and now you retract your statement over your best friend.

It’s all a lie.

He’s a pain in the ass. Why do you even bother cooking for him and letting him live literally just a room away when you know he won’t stop pulling shit like this?

Because, the nagging voice in your head tries to mock, he’s your best friend and you can’t really say no to him. This makes you huff as you carefully pull the tray towards you, hooking two fingers at the edge while your other palm grips at the end of the counter for support. No thanks to your short limbs, you’re practically hogging the shelf by now in an attempt to reach it. You look ridiculous, that’s for sure, and you make a mental note to keep Satoru’s windows open tonight so he freezes to death –

“Aw, cupcake,” a sing-song voice emerges from the other side of the room. “You look so adorable. You should’ve woke me up if you need my help.”

“Fuck off, Satoru,” you flip him off. The man only laughs, the rambunctious sound echoing off the walls. It’s way too early in the morning and he’s already so damn loud; something builds up at the back of your head out of frustration already. His grin only gets wider when you finally got the eggs and clutch it your chest, setting it down on the counter while wiping your sweat away from your face. “Freeloader,” you mutter under your breath, ignoring him when he happily skips over to you.

“Ouch,” he places a palm over his chest, although you both know he’s never really affected by anything. “So what’s for breakfast today? You?”

“You know, I can kick you out anytime I want. I’m being extremely nice even going as far to cook you breakfast before you leave for work, so don’t test my patience.”

“Exactly, my best friend is so kind,” Satoru grows the audacity to rest his arm on your head. This triggers a reflexive response from you; shoulders tensing up and hands curling into fists beside you. “I would totally date her if she wasn’t such a temperamental little devil,” you nearly stab him with a fork with his statement, which he thinks he’s being so sly for but you heard it, and you’re most definitely not pleased with it. “Okay, I’m kidding! I’m going to go shower now!”

You roll your eyes at him and heat the pan over with some oil, muttering under your breath that you’re really going to kick him out soon. As if things couldn’t get worse – as if Satoru couldn’t get any worse – he smacks your backside in the process before darting to the showers.

“Gojo Satoru!”

“Morning, best friend, love ya!”

You were right. He is a pain in the ass.

“You don’t always have to walk me to work.”

“I know.”

“So why’re you still here? I’m not a little kid anymore,” Contrary to your words, you stick closer to Satoru when the morning rush of workers and students begin to crowd the streets. Your best friend notices this with a small smile, his hand resting on the small of your back. “Don’t even try, Satoru.”

“I wasn’t saying anything.”

“I know that look on your face,” you fiddle with the buttons of your uniform, sighing when Satoru follows you inside the bus after tapping your phone for two seats. It’s not a surprise to you anymore that most of your expenses are spent by him, for him, and he lazily sprawls his long limbs across the seat before you pulling you down right next to him.

As much as you hate this man, especially because he smirks at the attention he’s receiving from women – even men – in the bus, you have to admit he’s warm and smells damn good. You bite the inside of your cheeks, looking around in slight self-consciousness before inching a little closer, just to feel his warmth. He’s comforting – irrationally so – so you set your bag between the both of you to keep your sanity. “If you keep doing this, Principal Yaga might fire your ass because you’re never on time.”

“Trust me, cupcake, he won’t. I’m too valuable for that.”

How you saw that coming – you can’t tell anymore. The bus ride is relatively quiet and eventless, with you dozing off every now and then because you’re never a morning person. Thankfully, Satoru is more respectful this time around, lolling your head until it drops to his shoulder. After that, he snakes his arm around your waist before resting it on your thigh as a way to say you don’t have to head bang every damn second and just sleep.

On any other occasion, you would’ve hated it. You always look so small whenever you’re in Satoru’s presence. It doesn’t help that he’s long and lanky, either, his slender fingers effortlessly caressing your thigh while almost your entire body is flushed next to him. But right now, he’s too warm, too soft, and you’re too tired that for just a little bit, you allow yourself to relax.

A beeping wakes you up a moment later. Opening your eyes, you push yourself off Satoru when you see an old lady reaching for the handles. No one gave up their seats for her even as the bus driver asked her to find a seat lest she’d fall.

“Grandma, here, take my seat—” You’re about to stand up and offer it to her when Satoru tugs you by the wrist. Because of your small, wobbly composure, pulling you to him takes little to no effort. You end up on his lap, sitting on him as if you’re nothing but a small, dainty schoolbag. Satoru is clearly enjoying this because you feel him breathily laugh on the back of your neck, charming – annoyingly so – as he gestures to the now empty spot beside him.

“It’s no worries, Grandma. She’ll be fine,” he gestures to you, patting your head like you’re some puppy. “Please, take a seat. The bus is already moving.”

“Satoru, get off me,” You wriggle yourself from his hold, which only ends up in wasted effort because this big oaf doesn’t even budge. He even bounces you on one of his thighs, and you dig your nails into his arms as a silent plead for him to stop. He ignores this, ignores your small whines and the apparent embarrassment that has you debating whether to punch him or hide yourself in the safety of his uniform.

“She’s a feisty little one, isn’t she?”

The old lady watches the two of you banter, giggling behind her wrinkled hands. “You’re an adorable couple.”

“I think so too!”

“You’re so going to pay for this, Satoru,” you grumble, face planted onto your palms. This is it – the worst day of your life. It’s even worse because despite your protests, you have to admit his lap is actually comfortable. You’ve already known this before after countless times of cuddling with Satoru during movie nights, but its different when you’re both out in public. It feels...oddly intimate and maybe even romantic when he rubs soothing circles at your back, almost as if apologizing for this event. Most of all, you just hate the way something pools beneath your stomach at having him so close to you like this. “This is so embarrassing. I’m practically crushing you with my weight.”

“Please, cupcake, you barely weigh anything. I could easily lift you off with just my finger,” when you elbow him in the chest, Satoru only laughs, raising both hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’ll stop teasing.”

You give up. No one seems to be paying much attention to any of you anyway, so you sigh, letting yourself hide in the crook of his neck as you watch the city pass through the windows. Your body moves as his chest rises and falls from his breathing, the movement oddly comforting. It’s embarrassing �� it really is – but at least the grandma was comfortable until Satoru drops you off near your building.

“You don’t have to walk me all the way there.”

“Why not? You don’t want people to see us together or something?”

“No,” you stare at him from the corner of your eye. It’s no secret Satoru is attractive. This bastard knows it too, judging from the way he confidently and arrogantly swaggers next to you, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he walked with no care in the world. “My co-workers keep asking me for your number every time I tell them we’re not dating. It’s getting annoying at this point how they go Satoru this and Satoru that.”

“Am I hearing it right? Is cupcake jealous?”

“I’m not jealous, I’m disgusted,” you correct, “They don’t know how much of a pain you are to have around. They’re so focused with your looks that they completely overlook the fact you can’t even wash your dirty underwear!”

Satoru frowns at this, pointing his finger to you as if you’ve accused him of a huge crime. “Hey, I wash my underwear.”

“Yeah and last time you did, you mixed it with whites! My work uniform turned a stupid shade of blue! Now I can’t picture the colour of your boxers out of my head and it’s giving me a headache!”

“Wow, Y/N,” the smirk on his face and the sudden drop of nicknames lets you know you’ve said something wrong. Even behind his blindfold, you could tell his eyes are just sparkling with amusement. He’s enjoying this way too much. “I never thought you’d ever picture my boxers. I mean, I don’t mind showing it to you if you ask nicely—”

“Ugh, you’re so hopeless. I’m going to work.”

Gojo laughs when you jog away from him. He catches up with you in a matter of seconds, only having to take a few steps forward before he’s right beside you again. You’re unsure if you should be annoyed it’s so easy for him to always be right next to you, and how he almost always is right next to you while you prefer running away. It muddles with your heart and mind so much you pinch the bridge of your nose, trying not to be swayed by the sickeningly sweet sound of his laughter. “I can’t pick you up later, okay? I might work overtime!” (that’s a lie since Gojo prefers shopping and sightseeing)

Both of you know that’s a lie. Gojo never works overtime. He’s going to work for a few hours and so and call playing around with his students as “on-hand learning” before he goes shopping for stupid souvenirs and wild-flavoured mochis, then end his day by sightseeing and coming back home.

“Wasn’t expecting you to,” you mumble, waving goodbye to him as the office doors close. Slowly, Satoru’s grin and enthusiastic farewell fades into view until nothing but the pale, silver walls of your office greets you.

Funny how you claim to hate this man so much, yet the moment he’s out of sight, everything becomes dull and pointless.

It’s an absolutely shitty day. Your equally shitty boss blames you for something you didn’t even do, all because his incompetent secretary – who you’re sure he’s sleeping with – lost this month’s report and claimed she handed it to you last week when you’re not involved in that kind of work. Logic doesn’t come by them because your boss publicly humiliates and scolds you, calling you all kinds of names until tears are streaming down your face.

You slam the door shut the moment you get home, kicking your shoes off as you head straight to your room. You don’t bother taking your makeup off anymore as you change into a loose shirt and floral cotton shirts, padding to the kitchen after seeing Satoru is well nestled into the couch.

At least someone’s had a good day.

Seeing as the sink is empty, he probably hasn’t eaten dinner. This makes you sigh, because when will he ever learn to look after himself? He’s literally like a child.

Satoru pauses whatever he’s watching before he hovers over you, head tilted to the side as he gazes at you with curiosity. You ignore him and begin to set down some bowls and chopsticks for dinner, all the while Satoru is studying every inch of your tightly pulled face. “Bad day?” he concludes.

“Hmm.”

“Bad day it is then,” he nods to himself. “I can cook dinner, if you want.”

“And have you burn my apartment? No thanks,” you scoff, pushing him aside to retrieve the pans when you see that he’s placed them above again, even after you’ve reminded countless times to just leave it near the holders in the sink. “Ugh, why do you keep putting the pans in this shelf? You know I can’t reach this. I’ve had enough with you pulling pranks on me, and don’t think I’ve forgotten you placed my shampoo above the shower head today, you idiot,” you snarl and hop over the counter again to get the pans, trying your best to fight back the tears that are threatening to fall. “You’re really bothersome, you know that?”

“Then why don’t you kick me out?” he challenges, completely oblivious to how you’re struggling – both physically and emotionally. “You always complain about me being a nuisance here, but you’re not really doing anything to keep me out.”

“Because where else would you go?”

“Technically, I have a room back at the Institute.”

“Yeah, but because you’re so stupid and reckless that you got kicked out of your own home,” you spat out, and you watch as Satoru raises a brow at your statement. Banter is common between the both of you, but something about the intensity of your gaze lets him know you’re serious this time around. “I don’t even know how Yuuji puts up with you. That poor Megumi is right when he says you’re insufferable. You’re good for nothing!”

Satoru scoffs, “Fine, if you hate me that much, why didn’t you just say so earlier? I could easily pack my bags and go since I’m just making everything harder—” Satoru doesn’t get to finish what he’s saying when your hand over the counter that acts as support slips under you, and you fall, legs bent awkwardly while you scream, preparing yourself for the impact. The pan is long forgotten, your only thought was oh my god, so this is how I die.

But it never came, and you keep your eyes shut tight even as warm hands cup your ass. Satoru is breathing hard under you. Finally gaining the courage to crack an eye open, your breath halts when you see that he’s sitting on the floor, with you safely nestled between him.

Satoru has always had pretty eyes, but it’s rare he takes off his blindfold off even when he’s home. This is one of those rare occurrences that he seems like a normal human, dressed in a gray sweatshirt that hands low from his collarbones and magnetic blue eyes staring right back at you. His touch is gentle, almost as if he’s afraid to hurt you, and his voice that is usually loud and teasing comes out breathy and hesitant.

“Are you okay?”

Your gaze drops down to his lips. He’s close, so close, that if you just lean a little closer you could – you snap out of your daze. “Get off me.”

“Cupcake, you’re the one who’s on top of me,” his voice falls an octave lower, eyes flitting down to your clothing – or rather the lack of it – before Satoru takes a deep breath. “Did you really have to wear that?”

“I have the right to wear whatever I want in the comfort of my own home.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” he raised a brow, this time completely in control of himself as he gazes back up at you with a burning gaze. You see nothing but the way one corner of his lips tilt up, almost teasing, and he looks so much like a shit-eater that you feel heat crawl down your spine.

You push yourself off him but your bent foot behind you slips, and you fall forward with your hands clutching his strong shoulders. Satoru catches your leg behind you, drags it forward until your knee is pressed in between one of your warmth, very much still enjoying the way you wriggle away from his hold. He knows his effect on you – but you deny this wholeheartedly.

“Careful, cupcake. This isn’t a slip and slide.”

“I hate you so much,” you bare your teeth at him, slapping his chest until he finally lets go of you. Turning your back to him, you pick up the pan and begin preparing your dinner, muttering curses under your breath as you heat up the stove. “I’m kicking you out tomorrow.”

“Why not now?”

“Eat your damn dinner first.”

Dinner after that is awkward. Although Gojo is someone who can wolf down his meal in three seconds, he takes his time in eating to start conversation with you. Sometimes he asks decent questions like how your day was or he’d talk about something stupid, but he’s quiet the whole time. He even volunteers to do the dishes before retreating to his room, coating the house in silence.

It almost feels like you’re all alone over again.

You’ve gotten so used to him being an utter mess everywhere that when he’s not trying to piss you off and actually giving you the much needed peace, you begin to hate it. Memories of the rude things you’ve said to him a while ago play and in your head, and you bang your head against the wall repeatedly.

How are you supposed to apologize to Satoru now?

The answer doesn’t come until you stare at your walls, wide awake at midnight. The house is still eerily silent and you don’t stop shuffling around your bed in discomfort. Many times, you wished that Satoru would shut up and leave you alone, but now that he’s actually done that, it feels weird. Uncomfortable. It feels wrong.

With a grunt, you kick off the sheets and carefully tread to his room, knocking lightly in case he’s already sleeping. “Satoru?” you call out, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “Are you awake?”

You’ve seen Satoru angry as kids before, but what would he be like now? Would he still want to be your friend? Would he still annoy you by hiding your things somewhere you can’t reach? Or would he be the who is now out of reach? If he leaves...who’s going to walk you to work? Who’s going to complain he doesn’t want to do groceries but buys you things you don’t ask for but want anyway? Who’s going to keep teasing the living daylights out of you if not him?

All these thoughts claw at the back of your mind until your bottom lip trembles. You hate how weak you feel; how you’re never careful with your words.

You never meant it when you said all that.

Your train of thought is cut off when the door swings open, revealing an equally tired-looking Satoru. At the sight of you peering up at him with glossy eyes, he pushes the door wider and steps closer to you, his large hands cupping your face as he leans down in worry. “Cupcake,” his brows pinch together, “Did something happen? Is something wrong?”

“I just wanted to apologize for everything I said,” you blurt out, “I was just tired from work and my boss was being shitty, so I wasn’t totally myself that time and I’m really sorry I took my anger out on you. I didn’t mean it when I said you’re insufferable and that I’m kicking you out so – yeah,” you breathe out, trailing your gaze downwards to stare at your feet instead. It’s difficult to look him in the eye right now. When you finally gain courage to speak again, it barely comes out as a whimper, your hands delicately tugging at his shirt. “Please stay. I like having my best friend around here.”

Satoru doesn’t answer.

You’re about to look up at him just in case you’ve said something wrong, or worse, he refuses to forgive you, but then – “Yeah, I know you wouldn’t kick me out. You’re too much of a darling to say no to me.”

Sigh. Satoru laughs when he sees your shoulders deflate, absolutely shattered in exhaustion. Hiding your smile to now show him you’re relieved, you punch his chest that really feels like a fly had accidentally flew into him. “Way to ruin the mood, Satoru. And here I thought I could have a serious conversation with you for once.”

“Apology accepted,” he beams, tilting your chin upwards so you could look at him. Even in the darkness of his room, his eyes glow, leaving you hypnotized in its beauty. “Plus, I think I’m the one who should apologize. You’re right; I haven’t been the best roommate and I am a freeloader,” he scratches the side of his head in thought. “But I do buy you food all the time though.”

“Yeah, with my money,” you counter, but you don’t really care anymore at this point. You’re beyond elated you’re both fine now, and you shyly gesture to his big, warm bed that suddenly looks so comfortable. “Can I stay here for tonight?”

“You want Satoru’s bear hug?”

“Yes, I do.” There’s no hesitation in your words and you don’t complain anymore when he easily picks you up like a ragdoll using only one arm. He’s surprisingly gentle when he places you both down on the bed, sheets warm and soft as it blankets over you.

It would be perfect – except it’s so damn awkward.

Gojo’s long limbs are everywhere. Your face is pressed into his chest, both your legs tangled together. His arm is sprawled over the curve of your hip, his hand nearly grazing your ass that’s barely covered by the thin material of your shorts, but if he shifts, he’ll end up cupping the back of your thighs which is equally uncomfortable.

He seems to be stuck in the same position because you’re so small, and your knees are grazing his groin. Had he known you’re going to sleep with him, he would’ve worn underwear or even boxers under his sweatpants.

He’s never told you before, but he prefers to sleep in the nude. Satoru only picked up the nearest pair of pants when he heard you knock, and even then, he didn’t have the time to wear a shirt.

Your breath is hot on his skin and he’s so sensitive and aware of all your movements. Satoru clears his throat awkwardly, shifting until his arm lightly holds your back instead, but then he pulls away as if he’s touched fire when he’d unknowingly fiddled with your bra clasp instead. It’s so painfully awkward that Satoru chuckles above you, while you scrunch your nose, silently praying to the heavens above that he won’t hear how loud your heart is beating right now.

“Why is it so hot in your own room?”

“Maybe it’s time you get me an AC.”

“You wish, Satoru,” you mumble beneath him, making yourself as comfortable as you can with your cheek resting on his bicep. It’s not the softest pillow considering he’s pretty muscular, but he’s warm and smells like mint spice nevertheless. “You’re really not going to put on a shirt?”

Satoru sighs, a long and loud one that is extended for dramatic purposes. Suddenly, he pushes your knee off of him, grimacing and thanking the darkness that you can’t see how much he’s struggling right now. “Cupcake, this is hard for me as much as it is for you. You’re barely wearing anything.”

“Since when have you cared about what I wear?”

“I’m a man, Y/N,” is what he reasons with, “You’re lucky it’s me. Had it been someone else and you crawled into their bed wearing these—” Satoru pinches the waistband of your shorts, and you squeal in protest, only making him laugh afterwards before he lets it go and the material snaps back at your skin, “—poor excuse of what you call shorts, I can’t guarantee they’ll give you a peaceful night.”

You know exactly what he’s trying to hint at. Still, it’s hard to believe that Satoru is capable of seeing you that way.

It’s not that you feel you’re unattractive. You know you’re pretty and have been out on many dates, but it’s easy to feel that you’re not sexy when you have the height of a thirteen year old and you’ve been constantly chastised about it.

Satoru’s not-compliment compliment has your heart skipping a beat, and you scoff in response. “Shut up,” you warn lamely, “I want to sleep.”

“Then let’s sleep, cupcake.” You don’t know if it’s because you’re utterly exhausted that you doze off seconds later or if Satoru’s words just held power in them, but soon all thoughts of anything unwanted drifts out the window, his arms keeping you close, completely safe and sound until the worst nightmares couldn’t even come close.

Hot. It’s extremely hot.

You crack an eye open to try and find the source of this uncomfortable heat, but you freeze when you realize you can’t feel your muscles from the chin down. Panic rises in your throat once you see the current predicament you’re in, and a scream rips through your throat so loud that the birds outside scurry away in a flurry.

You’re wrapped in Satoru’s blanket and comforter, rendering you unable to move because of how he’d treated you like a burrito wrap. Even your toes are captured inside this hell, and only your head is able to wriggle side to side.

“Satoru!”

The culprit comes out of the shower a split second later, his hair dripping wet and only a towel hanging low from his lips. If you weren’t so hell-bent on killing him, you would’ve been speechless at the way water drips from his hair down to the curves of his abs, going down down down into a place only your darkest imaginations could take you.

Satoru bends over in laughter as he whips out his phone, jumping from angle to angle and side to side to take photos of you. “Fuck,” he howls, slapping his thigh while you snarl in an attempt to break free. “You’re a lot cuter than I thought you’d be.”

“Satoru! Get me out of here!”

“No, this is way too gold. I’m sending these to my students.”

“Satoru, I’m serious!” The devil incarnate himself falls deaf to your please.

Maybe it’s because the violent intent has coursed through your veins so strongly that a surge of energy and strength overcomes you, and soon, you’ve rolled out of the blanket. The fresh air nipping at your heated skin is most welcomed, but right now, you had a mission to fulfil: obliterate Gojo Satoru.

The platinum haired man is still laughing to himself, too distracted in scrolling through the best photos to send to his students that he doesn’t notice you escaping and zooming straight right at him.

The momentum is enough to catch him off guard until you end up on top of him, short arms clawing your way through to snatch his phone. Satoru yelps when his phone lands out into the living room and your hands come down to choke him. You don’t have plans to kill him, but you want to hurt him enough to remind him you’re not someone he can fuck with.

You’ve just about had enough of this man and you’re so sick of him!

Satoru yells out a “Hey!” when you let out a battle cry, using your legs to kick him back when he tries to sit up. Your plan backfires when your hands slip down his wet skin and you fall face forwards, hands barely touching the ground for support when your lips come crashing down on his.

He stills underneath you. It takes a moment for you to realize that holy shit, you’re kissing him and his lips are so soft that has you scrambling back, but Satoru doesn’t let you.

His large hand comes up at the back of your neck to pull you forward. The sudden movement makes you gasp, and Satoru slips his tongue inside when you do so. You no longer remember how you got here or try to make sense of what’s going on, because he feels so good, tastes so good that you bury your nails in his hair while he ravishes your mouth.

You’re so tiny that his hand cups your entire buttcheek almost possessively, a low growl emanating deep in his throat when your tongue eagerly intertwines with his. Satoru tastes like heaven and everything about the kiss is sloppy – tongue clashing with one another and teeth nibbling at the other’s lips. It’s clear both of you can’t get enough of one another as you moan in his mouth, shamelessly grinding on his crotch, suddenly thankful that you’re always wearing thin clothes when you feel him harden underneath you.

“Fuck, baby,” he pulls away to breathe, a string of saliva connecting the both of you. “Yeah, just like that,” There’s something empowering about the way he pants at your ministrations, especially when you roll your hips faster across his erection. “Keep going, baby, you’re doing – fuck – so well.”

You smirk at his praises, latching your teeth on his neck to suck marks on them. Satoru groans at the same time you muffle your moans through his skin, his hands sliding under your shirt to tug the cups of your bra down. You nearly lose it when he pinches your nipple, bolts of electricity running down your spine at the contact. A moan breaks through your lips just as you come right there and then, the wetness of your sudden orgasm barely hidden in your flimsy underwear.

“Feel good?” he teases and drags your shirt down to the other side, but the post-nut clarity hits. And when it does, it hits hard.

Fuck. You just came from Satoru’s simple touches, and he’s so unsatisfied, still painfully hard underneath you but nothing but panic and regret washes over you like a strong tidal wave. Suddenly, you grow lightheaded as you push yourself off him, fixing your bra while ignoring the confused and hurt look on his face.

“I gotta go to work,” you run out the room, feeling your body tremble as Satoru runs after you. “Make yourself breakfast. I’ll eat on the way out.”

“Y/N, wait!”

You know you’ve just ruined everything – that nothing will ever be the same after that – but you’re scared, utterly and remorsefully so, that you slam the door right in his face as if you don’t have any idea how much you broke him.

You’ll never forget the way Satoru’s face fell when you left.

Just as you thought, nothing is the same after that. The tension is so thick around the apartment you make an effort and go out of your way just to avoid him and the apartment completely.

It’s cowardly – you know this much – but do you ever try to fix the friendship you cherish but shattered completely? You don’t. You don’t because it only crashes down onto you now that maybe your feelings for him aren’t just platonic, after all. It’s even worse because you touch yourself at the thought of him filling you up when he’s asleep, all because you want him so bad and the mere presence of him has your brain malfunctioning.

It isn’t entirely sexual either. Yes, you want to fuck him badly, but it scares you down to the core even more because you want so much more than that.

Now you understand why you always say he’s a bother but never asked him to leave. It’s because you like him, actually romantically interested in him. It makes sense now why you always felt so annoyed whenever your co-workers asked for his number, or how you’re immediately pissed off when Satoru talks about this hot woman he saw at work. You always chalk it up to an excuse you just hate how he can’t keep in his pants, but it isn’t true at all.

It’s because you actually like him – and you’re at a loss on what to do or how to deal with it.

The next few days feels like hell. Satoru isn’t stupid; he knows you’re avoiding him. He stops teasing you eventually and even buys takeout all the time when you lock yourself up in your room right after work, refusing to cook dinner or even eat all so you’d be spared the torture of looking at him.

He’d knock at your door and ask you to eat, but other than that, he’s respected your distance.

You feel like the most terrible person on earth. You don’t miss the way dark circles line under his eyes or how he’s lost his spark, barely even speaking to you when you’ve come or about to leave for work.

You’re alone the whole ride, as well, and it only dawns on you how lonely you are when Satoru isn’t always annoying you all the time.

But it doesn’t make sense. Why is he so bothered by it? Didn’t he regret it? It’s painfully clear you’re not Satoru’s type. You’ve seen the women he dated before, and you’re not close to them so why does he seem like he’s struggling with this as well? Or maybe...he’s just sad that his friend is avoiding him.

Yeah, that has to be it.

Satoru is a man. He was probably turned on at that time, but after giving some thought about it, he probably wants to keep his distance too. He’d be insane if he ever actually wants to date you – his best friend out of all people – because he’s Gojo Satoru and he could literally have everyone else.

You don’t care that you’re a coward.

You don’t care that Satoru is sad to see you this way.

You don’t care because you know he’ll reject you, you know he’ll be weirded if you admit your feelings for him. To him, you’re like his little sister. There’s just no way you two would work out. For now, you have to get comfortable with the uncomfortable. You just need some time to get over your feelings for him, and when you’re confident you won’t fall for him again, you’ll mend your friendship.

You just need time.

“So, Y/N, you still don’t want to give us your friend’s number?”

“Yeah, Y/N, you should share it,” your co-worker encourages by jabbing her shoulder to yours. It’s a lazy Friday night and the staff went out for dinner. You don’t usually come to these hangouts since dinner with Satoru is always much more fun, but he’s the last person you want to think about now, so you happily join them. Now, though, you’re starting to regret ever coming here. “If he’s really single like you said, then it shouldn’t be a big deal to ask for it.”

“Well, since you want it so badly, why don’t you ask him directly for it instead?” you snap, feeling anger begin to trickle. All you wanted was just one day where you don’t have to think of him, but of course they had to bring him up. It’s also annoying how they can never seem to get the message across that you don’t want them dating him. “Why do I have to be the messenger?”

“We haven’t seen him much. Doesn’t he always walk you to work?”

“He’s been busy with his job, that’s all.” And also because I’m avoiding him – so now he’s avoiding me too.

“He’s a teacher, right?”

“Oh, come on, guys, don’t be so dense,” your senpai chugged her drink rather loudly, catching the attention of your nosy co-workers who wouldn’t stop pestering you for his number. “Look at how uncomfortable she looks. It’s obvious she doesn’t want you guys to be involved with her friend for a reason. Think of how weird it is for her too if ever her co-worker and best friend dated. She’s going to feel like a third wheel.”

“I’m not—”

“That makes sense,” your co-worker nodded beside you, “Are you sure you just don’t like him though?”

“Ew, why would I?” the food began to taste bitter through your lies, “He may be tall and attractive, but as his roommate, I’ve seen his ugly side. Satoru is a complete slob and can’t even cook to save his life.”

“I don’t mind cooking for him all the time if I were to be his little housewife.”

“That’s never gonna happen,” your words came out harsher than it was, and you laugh it off with a wave of your hand when your co-workers’ eyes widened. “I’ve been living with him for six months and he’s never brought anyone home or told me he’s going on a date. I told you already, he’s a no strings attached kind of guy. He’s nothing but a one night stand.”

“You have to admit he’s still sexy though.”

Right. You hide your groan through another shot because there’s no way of convincing them otherwise. As much as you hate to admit, you’re actually jealous on how freely they could talk about him like that, but then again, it’s not like you and Satoru were dating – or would ever date, for that matter.

They start to leave one by one when it starts to get late, leaving only you who’s still desperate to avoid Satoru. Nothing prepares you for when the sky darkens and a storm comes pouring just as you’ve left the closing shop, the rain drenching and soaking your clothes through and through. Running under the nearest tree for shelter, you shiver. It’s cold – way too cold – and curse yourself for not bringing a darned umbrella.

The nearest bus stop is like what, fifteen to twenty minutes away? Your teeth are chattering and your legs are shaking, and you fumble through your phone as you dial a number you know by heart before you even realize what you’re doing. “S-Satoru?”

“Y/N,” the surprise is unmasked in his voice, something shuffling in the background before it falls silent. “Is everything okay?”

“Uhm, are you busy right now? It’s fine if you are, I’m just—”

“I’m training with Yuuji, but what is it?”

“Listen, I,” you inhale sharply when coldness bursts through your body, making you shiver and press yourself closer to tree to get away from the rain. Above you, thunder crackles before the rain grows heavier and angrier. “I forgot to bring an umbrella and I’m absolutely soaked right now. The nearest bus stop is fifteen minutes away and all the buildings here look so shady—”

“I’ll be on my way. Text me where you are,” You nod and thank him, too cold and numb to realize you’ve just broken days of silence. You lose track of time under there, hugging yourself until your lips turn blue. It doesn’t take long before Satoru shows up minutes later, his hair equally drenched and sticking flat to his eyes free from his blindfold while he pants, hand on his knees. “Thank goodness you’re safe. I rushed here so fast I forgot to bring an umbrella.”

After seeing Satoru drenched like that, something snaps within you. He doesn’t seem bothered by the fact the rain is unforgiving as it slaps the pavement, and your heart breaks when you see that he’s more concerned for you – even after you’ve given him the silent treatment. “You idiot! Now you’re soaking wet too, you’re going to get sick!”

“Highly unlikely,” he shrugs. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

“But what about—” Satoru suddenly carries you before draping his coat over your head, running until he found a cab to hail. He immediately asks the driver to turn up the heater while you tremble on top of him, not caring anymore that you’re sticking so close to him for heat.

Satoru doesn’t let you go all the way inside the apartment. He sets you down on the couch where you take off your wet clothes in haste, too cold with teeth chattering that you silently take the hoodie and boxers Satoru offers you, making sure to keep his gaze averted the whole time. Once fully dressed, you snuggle back into the sofa’s comfort, stiffening when the couch dips beside you.

Not a moment later, Satoru towel-dries your hair, leaving your mouth and throat dry with guilt. Even after you’ve unnecessarily been a bitch to him, he’s still so kind with you.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Satoru...” you twiddle with your thumbs just as he starts to ruffle the towel in your hair, making sure to squeeze water out of the strands as he dries it. “About what happened the other day—”

“It didn’t happen if you don’t want it to,” his voice is cold’ monotonous and so emotionless you’re rendered speechless. “You can forget about it.”

“I...”

“You regret it, right?” he’s done with drying your hair, and he stands up to place the wet towels in the sink as you watch him stride all the way there. He’s changed his clothes too; looking comfortable in a plain white shirt and some grey sweatpants, looking every bit the domestic boyfriend you’ve always wanted but can never have. “It’s fine. We can forget about it and go back to normal,” to emphasize his point, Satoru winks at you, though it does nothing but make your heart sink.

“What if I don’t want to forget it?” your voice is small; hesitant and wavering with fear. “What if...the only reason I pulled away is because I wanted more of you?”

Satoru’s back freezes as he sets the towel aside. At this point, your heart is pulsing on your tongue, and you dig your nails onto your thighs when Satoru sits down next to you, right next to you. He’s silent the whole time; eyes calculatedly piercing through yours. Your breath hitches when his hands that are burning hot against your cold skin cups your jaw before his thumb runs across your lips, his eyes turning dark at your reactions.

“And what if I said I felt the same way?”

“I,” you gasp, closing your eyes because it all feels so surreal. “I like you, Satoru. I like you a lot and I—” he doesn’t let you finish. Soon, you find yourself in his lap with his hands cupping your cheeks while he smashes his lips onto yours.

Satoru is absolutely feral. He’s breathing hard and almost angry, even, with the way his teeth are biting down to nibble on your lips. You moan when he drags you closer, your clothed centre rubbing on his thigh with delicious friction. “You have no idea,” he rasps down on your lips, “how much I’ve fucking liked you ever since we were kids,” Satoru pushes his hoodie aside, revealing your sweet neck to him, and he doesn’t waste his time in sucking and abusing the poor flesh so he can mark you as his. “I’ve always wanted you, Y/N, it’s always you, always you.”

You fist his hoodie when Satoru sinks his teeth down into the juncture of your neck, his hands curious and exploring every inch of your body. He knows you’re naked underneath his clothes, but it’s a different thing when he actually feels your breasts right on his palm. Satoru tweaks the hardened bud in his fingers, growling when you moan at the contact and use his thigh to get off.

“You—” you gasp as you expose your neck to him, wild and needy as you keep rubbing your heat over his thigh. “—talk way too fucking much,” you scold, finally pushing his lips away from your neck. Satoru chuckles at your eagerness but you silence him by flinging his boxers off of your body and somewhere far away, exposing your heat slick with arousal right in front of him. His pupils blow in excitement, hands coming up to grab at your hips, but his attention is taken away when you nibble on his ear to whisper, “Shut up and fuck me.”

The simple command is enough to make his patience snap. In a flash, you’re pinned underneath him, whining and moaning when his finger meets no resistance as he slips it inside. “You’re that needy, huh?” he laughs even louder when you lose it, humping yourself on his finger because it’s not enough.

“Satoru,” you beg, clutching his bicep when he adds another finger in. “More.”

His fingers are so long, hitting places that your small ones could never reach. He begins to scissor his way in, his fingers deliciously rubbing against your velvety walls while pumping them inside and out in a speed that causes you to squelch around him.

It’s absolutely lewd how you’re eagerly spread out before him, but your head is clouded with lust, no longer hindered by shyness out of your need to cum. Your chest is rising heavily, his thumb now rubbing against your clit as he coaxes you to cum. “Tell me what you want, baby,” he kisses your cheeks, eyelids, nose, anywhere but your lips, his voice so gentle and innocent as if he’s not knuckle deep inside you. “Tell me how you want me.”

“Inside,” you whine, gasping when he brushes against a really sensitive spot that has you clamping down on him. “‘Toru, fuck, just fuck me.”

“Beg for it,” he smiles against your skin, relentless and harsh as he keeps pushing inside you. You feel him everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Another finger adds in until you’re dripping enough on his palm and staining the couch, but neither of you care. “I said, beg for it.”

“No,” you hold back, nearly crying out when he pulls your fingers out of you. That sudden emptiness is back again, but you don’t want to beg. You’ve never begged another man before, and this won’t be the first time you’ll be doing so either. You refuse to let him have the upper hand despite the crystal clear fact you’re already soaking wet for him, but because you’re stubborn, you only fumble with his sweatpants to spring his cock free.

He’s already dripping with pre-cum from the slit, his cock hard and angry. Despite his arousal, Satoru stops you from going further, using only one hand to trap both your wrists. “Beg for it,” he demands again, his other fist already pumping down on his shaft.

You nearly cry at the sight. Both of you are aware that Satoru is capable of pleasuring himself, but it’s not that easy for you. Your small, dainty fingers will never be parallel to the pleasure his long cock could give you. All you had to do was beg for it. He’s right there, within reach, if only you’d just –

Impatient for your answer, Satoru takes you by the hips and discards your hoodie in the process, sinking you down his cock, inch by delicious inch. You don’t hold back from the sensual and high-pitched moan that leaves your lips. He’s long, and the tip of his cock just about brushes your cervix when he bottoms out. He feels so good, so warm and huge and filling you up right where you want him to be. Your head falls down on his shoulder as you begin to roll your hips, but Satoru has had enough.

“Fuck, look at you,” he presses on the bulge of his cock visible through your abdomen. “You’re so fucking small – how do you take me so well? I could ruin you. Do you want that? Do you want me to ruin you?”

“Yes, yes, fuck.”

“You think you can just leave me hanging like that, huh?” he slaps your ass, eliciting another moan from you and making you clench around his cock. Satoru falters for a moment. Before you can react, he stands up, your legs wrapped around his waist with nothing but his tip hitting inside you. “You’ve been so fucking mean – leaving me wanting you like that and ignoring me for days. Do you think you deserve this, huh?” Satoru kicks his door open at the same time he loosens his hold around your ass, making you slide down his length the next second.

“Oh, fuck,” you cry out just as Satoru begins to bounce you, your breasts following the motion of him fucking deep into you. “Fuck, Toru, that’s too—”

He’s so eager to fuck you, to make a mess out of you and have you losing your mind over his cock that he doesn’t even wait until you’re both on the bed. You no longer register when your back hits the pillow, or how your arms are frozen when he pins it above your head.

“You’re so beautiful,” he praises as he watches you clench around him. You’re so small and his eyes zero in on the way your abdomen bulges then flattens again every time he pounds into you, rolling his hips in a way that has you screaming and thighs quaking. “Beautiful, beautiful, perfect,” the moment his hands grip at your hips to pin you down, you know he’s not going to stop. And you don’t want him to.

Satoru latches his lips around your right breast, gently grazing his teeth over it while his other hand pinches and rolls the pebbled nipple between his fingers. He feels so good – and you’re crying already by the time you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer.

The room is filled with the smell of sex, the sound of skin slapping against skin combined with his breathy grunts and your moans like heaven on his ears. Satoru wants you to feel how much he loves you – how much he adores you – and the pace he sets is torturous. He snaps his hips against yours and presses down on the bulge of his cock through your belly, chuckling when you tighten more around him.

Your head lols to the side, tears falling down your pretty face because of how rough he’s being. But you don’t complain, not when he’s filling you in so deep and he’s kissing you everywhere, touching you everywhere, making you feel nothing else and nobody else but him.

“You’re amazing,” he rasps, watching the way your tight cunt sucks him in greedily as if you don’t want him to go anywhere else. “You take me in so well – you really want me to destroy you, huh?”

“Satoru, please,” you finally plead, “I-I’m cumming, I want you, I need you, oh,” you squeal when he finally lets your arms free. You look so precious, so innocent, and he doesn’t let up his pace. He plants his feet into the ground and his strokes begin to grow sloppy, your tight walls encouraging him to go faster, go deeper.

If possible, Satoru is only even more fuelled with the way you look so precious and innocent in that moment. His touch is gentle in comparison to the way he’s mercilessly plowing into you, using his thumb to wipe away the tears streaming down your cheeks. He knows he’s too big for you, that much is obvious from how much you’re already overstimulated just by his size, but your nails sink down on the flesh of his ass as a silent plead for more.

“Fuuuuck, I’m so close!”

“Yeah?” He fondled your clit, loving the sight of your small body creaming down on his cock. “Come for me, sweet girl. I want to feel you coming on my cock. Come on, tell me you’re mine. You’re made me for aren’t you?”

“Yes, Satoru, fuck,” you squeal, throwing your head back for a second when he keeps hitting your g-spot that has you seeing stars. Your toes curl and your hands fist the sheets behind you as he keeps impaling you with his cock right then and there.

You looked perfect; so perfect to him that he’s basically using you for his own pleasure at this moment. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, back arching and nipples brushing against his chest.

In that moment, you grow needy to have him even closer, tilting up to blindly search for his lips. Satoru complies; leaning down and leaving open mouthed breathy kisses that’s a mix of you moaning and crying around him, while he struggles to do so when he’s cursing at the feeling of you coating his cock with your juices. Satoru looks down at your tiny frame trapped in his arms, his voice husky as he groans once he saw both of your arousal absolutely leaking out of your wet cunt.

He’s so close but you’re already over the edge, scratching at his back at the overstimulation. You’re still so sensitive from when you came and Satoru doesn’t slow one down one bit. He loses his rhythm as his thrusts go sloppy, and Satoru buries his face in your neck as his cock twitches inside you until he bursts with his cum leaking out of your hole.

Satoru’s arms give out beneath you, his chest colliding with yours but not enough that he’s crushing you with his weight. You’re both breathing hard and panting, his dick softening inside you.

He pulls back a moment later to slide out his sensitive cock, wincing while he watches pools of cum gather in your pussy before it drips out. It isn’t until he’s witnessing the mess he’s made he realizes how you’ve been so good for him; taking him all the way in despite your quivering frame. It dawns on him now just how tiny you are when he pulls you close to him; you’re practically hanging off his chest with how small your body is.

He wonders how you’re able to fit all of him, but he’s grateful nevertheless. Satoru shows his appreciation by peppering kisses all over your face, his hand snaking down to caress your inner thighs.

“Hmm,” you moan into the kiss, jolting when his knuckles brush against your sensitive clit. “Satoru, no,” you whine while pushing his hand away, and he shushes you with another kiss. “’M too sensitive, please...”

“It’s fine, cupcake, it’s fine,” his nickname for you is back again, and you lean closer to him just as he begins to massage your sore legs. “You did so well for me, cupcake, you know that? You’re such a good girl for me,” too fucked out to have a comprehensive answer, you only nod in response, spreading your legs open again and ignoring the warm stickiness between your thighs as Satoru kneads your abused flesh. You feel him kiss your temple before he leaves to get a towel and cleans you up. Meanwhile, you’re so tired you’re about to doze out in his bed.

“Hey,” he soothes, bundling you up in his arms until you’re tucked in the safety of his body. So small, he coos inside his head, watching as you fold yourself even smaller while your eyes flutter. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you sigh into his shoulder, “I feel good. Thank you.”

Satoru doesn’t really know what you’re thanking him for. He feels like he’s the one who’s mostly indebted to you after everything you’ve done for him. You’ve already fallen asleep before he gets the chance to tell you how he feels, so Satoru only covers you both under his blanket, making sure there’s no more space between you out of fear you’ll distance yourself from him again.

But he doesn’t have to worry about that because you’re right next to him, and you’re never out of reach.

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mediocre-writerr · 3 years

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last christmas [natasha romanoff]

natasha romanoff x fem!reader

summary: there’s this weird tension in the air this christmas at the avengers tower as Nat’s hidden past comes to light

*not my gif*

There’s this saying that goes around during the holidays: “It’s the most wonderful time of the year!”

Yeah well...that’s a lie.

It’s not that all of it was terrible, but your holiday memories turned sour and it all started three years ago. You and your girlfriend Natasha were spending the holidays together.

You had known Natasha for a couple years. You had met her at the bar that you work at. There was an instant attraction to her, I mean...how could you not? She was gorgeous with her short red hair and perfect red lips. It was hard to find her anything, but gorgeous.

For some insane reason, she felt the same about you. You thought she could do much better, but apparently she didn’t think so.

Anyway, things were going great. She was bold enough to ask you out on a date and next thing you know poof...it’s been two years.

You remembered the day where everything went wrong, “So, you’re leaving to go to Budapest on a business trip?” you asked her, “But Christmas is in two days,”

“I know moya lyubov, but this is an important trip. I promise you, I’ll be back,” she reassured you.

The red head wrapped her arms around your waist, pulling you in closer to her. You looked up at her green eyes with a small pout on your face. She raised her eyebrows up in amusement at your pouty eyes before kissing you once more. With a soft sigh, you finally quirked your lips up into a smile. You could never stay mad at her for too long.

Ha! Turns out you can. Natasha never came back after that business trip. You thought something had happened to her. Honestly, you feared the worst. She was by herself in a foreign country, anything can happen.

And the fact that she never came back for you. That was something that you thought Natasha would never do.

Until nine months later you saw her on the TV one day. New York was in complete shambles, luckily enough you were out of town visiting your family on a...personal issue, so you didn’t have to deal with being there when Loki tried taking over.

“There’s a band of superheroes here in New York fighting off Loki. Apparently, they call themselves the Avengers. The group consists of six heroes: Captain America, Iron Man, Thor, Hulk, Hawkeye, and Black Widow,” the news reporter said.

Pictures and videos of the heroes fighting off Loki were bright in the dark room of your childhood bedroom. And that’s when you saw her. The beautiful redhead who captured and broke your heart at the same time.

You were enchanted by her. The way that she was able to fight off the bad guys like that. How beautiful she looked while doing it. She was still alive and breathing and that made your heart soar. You hated yourself for thinking those great things about her, when you should’ve been focused on how much you hate her right now.

She lied about everything. What her job was. Who she actually worked for. And it didn’t hurt that she lied about it, it hurt more that she just didn’t trust you with that information.

Your anger quickly faded when baby cries overcame the reporters voice. You hopped out of bed and to the crib that rested in the corner of your room. Quickly, you scooped up your baby boy into your arms and rocked him gently. His cries slowly diminishing as the familiar bright green doe eyes stared back at you.

You walked in him over to the TV, “Nathaniel, this is your other Mom, can you wave hi to her for me?” you whispered to him, eyes flooding with tears. He made a little noise and you smiled softly, “Nice job buddy,”

You and Nat always talked about having a family together, but it was hard. Until Stark Technology found a way, at first it didn’t make sense how Natasha got on the list to try it first. But finding out she actually works along side Tony Stark it makes sense now.

Before she left for Budapest, you guys tried for a baby. You were going to be carrying ever since the doctors told her that she wasn’t able to. The two of you tried for months, but it didn’t work. Until a week before Christmas.

You were going to surprise her on Christmas. You were going to have her open her gift and have it be one of those cheesy: “I love my Mom” onesies. But she left and never came back.

After seeing her on the news, you decided to stay in your hometown. You didn’t want to have any chance of seeing her of Nathaniel. If she wanted to come back for you, she would’ve already.

“Does anyone else notice that Nat gets extra grumpy and cold during the holidays?” Banner whispered to no one in particular as Nat stormed out of the kitchen, annoyed.

Clint let out a sigh, “I know the holidays are rough for her. Every time I try to find out why, she threatens to hurt me or yells at me...or both,” he said.

“Apparently she was lying low out in New York before your mission in Budapest. I’ve honestly been trying to figure it out myself why she’s always such a Grinch during the holidays,” Steve added onto the conversation.

“You guys know that we have million dollars of resources, right? Look up her name in the database bada bing, bada boom,” Stark chimed in, looking over the newspaper crossword.

“Why didn’t we think of that?” Steve asked.

“Because you’re stupid,” Tony replied.

The billionaire sighed, putting down his newspaper before calling after FRIDAY. He pulled out Natasha’s file, looking over her past. He was about to give up, finding nothing that he didn’t know when something caught his eye.

“Ah ha! It looks like our little Black Widow co-signed on an apartment with a Y/N Y/L/N back before the infamous Budapest mission,” he spoke up.

Clint furrowed his eyebrows, “Y/N, why does that sound so familiar?”

“When I was looking for a serum we stole from the HYDRA base, I saw a note in her bag addressed to Y/N. I didn’t get to read it before she punched me for going through her stuff,” Bruce added on.

Steve looked at the rest of his team, “Tony, can you find where Y/N is now?”

“Already one step ahead of you Cap,” he stated, “She is currently residing in her parent’s house back in her hometown. And she...oh,”

“What?” the blonde haired leader asked.

“She has a kid, who’s three years old. No father or other guardian on record,” he mentioned.

“Budapest was three years ago...” Clint added, putting together the pieces in his head.

All of the boys looked at each other, raising their eyebrows, “Do you think she knows?” Banner asked.

“Y/N would be here if she did,” Steve said.

“Well, I know what to get Nat for Christmas,” Tony said, standing up from the barstool he once resided in. The rest of them quickly following him to the quinjet.

While the boys went off in search of you, Nat distracted her by training relentlessly. She was never a fan of the holidays. She never got to celebrate it like the rest of her teammates. Until she met you.

You were the reason why she started to love the holidays. When the two of you celebrated your first Christmas together, she fell in love with the holidays, almost as fast as she fell in love with you. The way that you decorated your apartment with flickering lights or the smell of gingerbread cookies that would greet her every night she walked through the door.

But she started getting deeper into SHIELD training and eventually join the Avengers Initiative. Her intention after Budapest was to always go back to you, but that all changed when HYDRA agents captured her.

“Boys, boys, look. I don’t have any information for you,” she fluttered her perfect eyelashes at the HYDRA agents. A teasing smirk rested on her face as she continued on, “So, why don’t you let me go and we can have our own fun?”

A HYDRA agent let out a laugh, slamming a folder down onto the table, “Well, I think it’ll be fair if we trade information,” he opened up the folder, showing pictures of you entering and exiting your apartment.

Nat was calm, cool, and collected on the outside. But on the inside she was screaming and freaking out, “Y/N Y/L/N, someone we’ve seen interact with you countless times in the couple years. We have an agent right now with a sniper pointed at her window. Give us information or she’s dead,”

“I don’t have information for you and I don’t know who that is,” she fired back. From the corner of her eye, she could see Clint knocking out the guard on top. And before the agent could even react, an arrow was going through his heart.

“Nice shot,” Natasha said through her earpiece.

“Who’s Y/N?” he asked, avoiding her compliment.

She shrugged, “No idea,”

From that moment the Russian assassin avoided contact with you at all cost. If these HYDRA agents were able to take photos of you going in and out of your apartment, there’s no telling what they’d do when they really want to get back at her.

This was the only way she knew you’d be completely safe. Even if it did break her heart in two. She needed to keep you safe, from her. Natasha started punching the bag harder as tears started filling with tears.

There was a time though where she was going to go back for you. It was after The Battle of New York. She watched as Loki destroyed the city that she loved and even watched as he destroyed your shared apartment building.

Before getting shawarma with the team, the red head ran to the place she once called home. The building was ripped in half. There were apartments visible to the street as the walls were ripped apart.

She was about to enter the apartments when she saw her old landlord sitting there on the steps, distraught, “Hey! Is Y/N okay? Where is she?!”

“Natasha?” he asked and she nodded, “Y/N’s not here anymore. She moved away nine months ago,”

“What?” she asked, but it came out more as a whisper.

“You didn’t know?” she shook her head, “It didn’t sound like she was coming back,”

Nat punched the punching bag so hard that it fell off the chain and onto the ground with a loud thump. She sniffled softly as she quickly wiped the tears away from her emerald eyes.

“Uh Y/N!” your mom called you from downstairs as you were finishing combing Nathaniel’s hair.

“Yeah Mom!” you shouted back.

There were a few moments of silence before she responded again, “There’s some people here for you!”

You scooped your son up in your arms as you pattered down the stairs. You stopped at the doorway, your mouth opening slightly as you noticed the people you saw on the news all those years ago.

“Can I help you?” you asked.

“You’re Y/N Y/L/N, right?” a blonde man asked and you just nodded, “I’m Steve Rogers, I’m a friend of Natasha’s or well, we’re all friends of Natasha’s,”

You nodded and tried to hide the fact that your heart dropped at the sound of her name, “I know. I’ve seen you all on the news together. What do you want?”

“We want to take you to see her. We think that she really needs you,” another man who seemed a lot nerdier than the rest spoke up.

You scoffed, “She needs me?” you put Nathaniel down, telling him to go off and play before you spoke up again, “She left me three years ago. I took care of our child by myself for three years. If she needed me, she would’ve came back for me, but she never did,”

“She’s tried reaching out, I just don’t think she really knew where to find you,” he spoke up again.

“Don’t you guys have high tech resources. If she wanted to find me, she would’ve,” you fired back.

The man you recognized as Tony Stark, shrugged at all of them. Silently, telling them that you have a point. Another man spoke up, you think his alias was Hawkeye, “Natasha’s my best friend. I know that it may not seem like it, but she really needs you. And she’ll be over the moon to know that you have a child together. She never would’ve left if she knew that you were pregnant. There must be a perfectly good explanation to why she didn’t come back. It’s not like her to leave the ones she loves hanging,”

You thought about it for a second. The archer had a point, “Nat!” you called out to your son and all the Avengers eyes seemed to soften at the common nickname. You heard his small footsteps running towards you, “Come on, we’re gonna go on a little trip,”

The quinjet ride was an hour long and it was awkward to say the least. I mean what are you supposed to say to your teammate’s long lost girlfriend who also has a long lost kid? That’s a little hard topic.

Nat showered up after her mental breakdown in the gym and settled on the couch. It was a little more quiet than usual. All of the boys were too quiet. She shrugged it off, finally happy for some peace and quiet when the elevator door dinged.

“Great,” she murmured under her breath as the doors opened.

Clint and Bruce were standing there, pivoting on the balls of their feet. The redhead raised her eyebrows up at them, “What did you do?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Clint tried to brush it off like it was nothing.

But with one shot at Bruce, he caved in, “We have a Christmas gift for you!” he blurted out and Clint hit him, sending him a glare, “I’m sorry! Look at her, she’s scary!”

Natasha groaned, “You guys know that I don’t-”

“Do Christmas, I know. I was told multiple times actually. Until I sorta flipped that around for you,” you stated, stepping from the elevator.

Her mouth was agape at the sound of your voice as she shot off the couch. You stood there with your arms folded, trying your hardest to not run into her arms, “Y/N...” she asked breathless, “How- how are you?”

“If I’m being honest, really pissed at you right now,” you bluntly stated.

Nat grimaced at the venom lacing your tone, “I wanted to go back for you I did, I just-” she struggled for the right words to say before you cut her off.

“Just decided to lie to me about your job and never come back?” you asked.

She shook her head, taking a hesitant step towards you, “No, no that’s never what I wanted to do. I did it to keep you safe. Your identity was compromised by HYDRA. They knew who you were, they knew how much you meant-still mean to me and if I went back for you then you would’ve been a target and I couldn’t let that happen,”

“She’s Y/N Y/L/N,” it all started clicking in the archer’s head, “She’s the one that the HYDRA agent was interrogating you about back in Budapest,”

The redhead gave him a look, “So you didn’t like about Budapest?” you questioned.

“No, I just lied about what I would be doing in Budapest,” she mumbled.

You scoffed, “That still doesn’t make up for the nine months I had to go on without you thinking that you were dead! Until I see you on the news with these guys fighting a God from another planet Nat! Or the fact that you lied-”

“Mommy!” a little voice exclaimed running towards you.

“Nathaniel, wait!” Steve’s voice boomed through the tower.

You went down on your knees to catch the little boy, “Hi buddy,” you whispered.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I was trying to keep him distracted, but he heard you call his name and he took off running,” Steve mentioned.

“It’s okay, thank you,”

The Russian assassin was eyeing the little boy in your arms. His features looked vaguely familiar, but it was the piercing green eyes that gave it away. Her matching green eyes started filling with tears.

“Is that-” her voice broke, trying to conceal it in front of her teammates, but it was no use when you merely nodded.

“It was supposed to be your Christmas gift before you left for Budapest,” you told her.

Your son, nuzzled his face into your neck, acting shy around the usually confident woman. You pressed a kiss to his forehead softly, “It’s okay buddy, can you say hi for me?” you asked him softly.

“Hi,” he whispered meekly.

She sniffled, “Hey-” she stopped before looking briefly up at you, “What’s your name?”

“Nat,” he whispered once more.

You didn’t think it was possible for her eyes to fill with more tears, but apparently it was, “Nat? After-” she couldn’t even finish her sentence as her throat tightened even more.

“After you,” you whispered, “His full name’s Nathaniel, but I call him Nat,”

Even though you were mad at her two minutes ago, you couldn’t help but feel your heart soar at your family finally whole for the first time in three years. She looked back up at you, “Can I?”

You nudged your small son towards her and he hesitantly moved himself over. She stared at him with loving eyes which caused tears of your own to fill. Nathaniel wrapped his tiny arms around Natasha’s neck and hugged her tightly and that’s what caused all of the tears to spill from the Black Widow’s eyes.

Natasha looked back up at you with tears streaming down her face, extending her arm out towards you. You walked over to the two people you love most in the world and joined their group hug. The redhead immediately placing a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered to the both of you, “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry I lied. I’m sorry for everything,”

You sniffled back your own tears, holding her close, “I forgive you,” you whispered back.

Both of you finally settled down your tears, as you pulled away, “Mommy, why are you crying?” Nathaniel asked with a soft pout on his lips, “Are you sad?”

You let out a breathy laugh and before you could wipe away your own tears Nat’s soft thumbs were already there wiping them away for you, “No buddy, I’m just really happy right now,”

He turned to Natasha with the same worried pout, “Are you sad?”

She shook her head, “I am extremely happy and grateful right now,”

You grabbed Nathaniel from her, carrying him in your arms. She smiled widely at the two of you, tears still staining her cheeks.

“I want you to introduce you to someone, Nathaniel this is your other mom,” you told him and his eyebrows twisted into confusion at first before smiling widely.

“Mom!” he screamed, extending his arms for Natasha to carry him.

She laughed loudly, wrapping her arms tightly around him once more, “I love you buddy and I love your name too,” she told him, winking at you causing you to roll your eyes playfully but the smile on your face never faded.

Maybe the holidays were the most wonderful time of the year.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff imagines

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kyberphilosopher · 3 years

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Hiss

[Part ii. of Bite] Jason’s been resurrected, only to find he’s been replaced as Robin. Luckily, an old enemy of the Batman has the attributes to help. Word Count: 6465

Warning[s]: guns, crime, language, crude humor, Mitski, non vegetarian reader, age gap, glorified taskmaster ally. Following part i the readers official gender is not disclosed.

“Uh, Jason? We might wanna let god fix it, because if we fix it, we’re going to jail.”

☈ - ✮ ✭ ✮

Six months. That’s how long it took for Jason to die. Six. Whole. Months. In an abandoned warehouse, in some foreign country that he couldn’t even remember. He’d been fifteen, small for his age but fifteen nonetheless, when that clown had beat him. And what had Batman done? Nothing. He’d let him sit in that warehouse, in that foreign country, with that clown at age fifteen- for six months. And he had done nothing.

Not that it really matters now. It had, at one point, to Jason. He’s in denial that it still does. But to Batman? Oh, it never mattered at all. How long had it taken Bruce to replace his son? A week? A month? No, it had been six months. Barely. And the clown? He was safe and sound, very much alive and loose as he usually was. Batman had put him in Arkham, after a while, but of course it hadn’t lasted for very long. Jason’s death? That was permanent. At least until there was a new and improved and very much replaced Jason running with Batman, six months later. That was permanent too.

So one can imagine the confusion you felt when you opened the door to find a very much alive ex-Robin on your apartment doorstep.

201 Arkham Street, apartment 317 Gotham City, Gotham County, New Jersey

That’s the address given to him by the Riddler. Putting him in Arkham seemed to be one thing that the Batman had got done during Jason’s little time away. Clearly it had ended up well enough for at least one person. Jason hadn’t even needed to threaten the Riddler out of riddling. In less than ten minutes, Edward Nygma had revealed the Mockingbird’s address, who they like and don’t like, what their suit was made of, and finally their name. Batman had always assumed Riddler and Mockingbird were best friends, birds of a feather with all the times the they’d seemed to make some kind of appearance by the others side. Some friend Riddler was now.

Jason had snuck into the Batcave recently, and while going through files, decided to take a glimpse into Mockingbird’s just for the sake of curiosity. He wasn’t expecting much. When he was fifteen, it had been near empty. But sure enough, the file had been expanded upon relatively greatly in the past- what? Four years? That sounded right. But one thing that hadn’t changed was your seemingly long standing friendship with Edward Nygma, the Riddler. Still, so much for it.

Batman had seemingly made a note of allies of theirs, then crossed out multiple names. Poison Ivy, Bane, Deadshot- and yes- the Riddler, stayed. Scarecrow, Black Mask, and Catwoman were all shockingly crossed out. Jason hadn’t expected the last one. Below the allies were the list of crimes. That had changed too. They’d gotten more violent towards the end of the list, straying away from the Mockingbird that the ex-Robin had known. Mockingbird had picked a fight with Dick’s Nightwing enough times for Batman to make a note of too. Before Jason could get to the new pictures of Mockingbird, he quickly closed the file. Didn’t need to see anymore.

So based on what he had gathered, you should’ve looked different. He’d memorized your face when he was fifteen. Was expecting it to have changed compared to then. But when you open the door and Jason’s face to face with you, Mockingbird, it’s like the first time. Only your eyebrows have gotten slightly darker, and your eyes have rung with dark circles.

✮ ✭ ✮

The same can’t be said for Jason Todd, however, who you let into your apartment rather quickly.

You’d done your research on him, too, but only after you’d heard about his death. A death which was confirmed. After locking the door and beginning to turn around, he answers the question before you can ask.

“Superboy and Lazarus Pits.”

“Ah,” you respond, crossing your arms. The man stands tall in your living room, though it’s not forced. You’ve got no idea what a Lazarus Pit is, but it seems to have changed the Robin you knew before. He was scrawny before. He puffed his chest out before. He had something to prove before. Now his broad shoulders make him look bigger naturally. He could reach up and touch your ceiling with no effort. His face and jaw are masculine and strong, eyes bright green and blue and cyan like you remember. That’s how you know it’s Jason Todd.

“It’s because of the power struggle, isn’t it?” says Harley beside you as you both look over the side of the roof, her flat on her belly and you crouched on the ledge in watch.

“Hm?” you’d tossed back through your voice changer, not even looking away from the busy street below.

“Jay killed the Robin,” Harley chirps. “You know- Batman’s little boyfriend? In the shorts and the tights with the flips and the kicks? Oh, that kid went bing, bang, boom. Jay’s been real pumped about it.”

This had made you turn to Harley Quinn. You looked at her over your shoulder, still in position. Though you hadn’t thought about it at the time, it was a good thing she couldn’t see through your mask right about now.

“The kid?” you say at last.

“Yeah! Jason Todd! Ya’ know him?”

Harley doesn’t look at you, bubbly as ever in her own world. But you watch her for a moment. Then you turn back around to the direction of the street. “No.”

“Well I’m sayin I bet that’s why there’s so much crime goin’ on now. Old Batty’s got it...”

“I heard,” you tell Jason, before he can go into further detail. He nods once in understanding, in line with a breath, and then looks around the room. Your apartment is small, seemingly in decay, and looks like a shithole. Just like the rest of the building.

“Mockingbird, I presume,” he offers finally. “Y/N L/N was it?”

You nod once, holding your gaze at the ground in thought before taking a step toward your kitchen. It’s close by to the living room. So close, in fact, that your island counter practically touches the back of your couch. “Robin,” you greet in turn.

“My name’s Ja-”

“I know what your name is.”

Just then a sprinkle of dust falls from your ceiling, mixing with dirt and shit and pollen. “Nice place,” Jason condescends.

“I’m sorry,” you put your hands on your counter as you lean in to look at him. “Weren’t you under the ground not too long ago?”

“Weren’t you in jail not too long ago?”

“I never went to jail.”

“But your buddy Ed did didn’t he?”

Your eyebrows crease, and Jason notices you lean forward a fraction of an inch more. He got to you. “How do you know about Edward?”

Jason Todd gives a small smile. His right hand reaches up until it’s poking the side of his head a few times. “Bat knowledge.”

You frown tightly. “Don’t do that. I didn’t like that.”

“You like beating up Dick Grayson?”

You shift. “Yeah. I did.”

“And Catwoman? Huh?”

“Yeah,” you say a little louder. “I did. What wonder boy? You wanna see the scar to prove it?”

“Okay,” Jason huffs. He closes his eyes, his jaw clenching, and then he speaks softer to control himself. “Okay. I’m not Boy Wonder anymore, or wonder boy. Don’t call me that.”

You look him up and down. His eyes, his jaw, his brows. The Robin you knew those years ago. He’d been beaten and blown up. He must’ve cried for help.

“Okay,” you say, equally as soft. “But just for the record, I haven’t been the Mockingbird for years. Can’t really call me that either.”

“Why not?” Jason Todd questions, turning around so his back faces you while he observes your apartment. You can see his muscles through his shirt.

Because you were just a kid. Because I liked you. Because you didn’t deserve it. Because Batman didn’t help. Because you were replaced. Because most of my friends laughed it off. Because I couldn’t go after Joker myself. Because I got angry.

“Just grew out of it,” you shrug instead, turning around. You open your dirty fridge and pull out a bottle of lemonade and two glasses. “What are you doing here, Jason?” you say as you pour the drink, your back now turned to him.

“I need your help.”

“Whatever with?”

“I’m thinking of getting a little...” Jason’s voice goes low into something like a masculine purr, “...revenge on Batman.”

“You came back from the dead,” you turn around with two glasses of lemonade, “to get revenge on the Batman? That’s your great plan?”

“No,” Jason says simply. He’s since turned around so he’s facing you. “Screwing with the Batman is just a piece of the fun. He’s nothing.”

Jason accepts the glass that you hand to him. You sit down on your couch in front of his figure. That simple motion is enough to bring out some more dust from your walls. “So what’s the revenge?” you take a sip of the sweet, gritty liquid. It coats your teeth strangely in seconds.

“New Robin. Ever heard of Tim Drake?”

You stop your sip, looking up at the big, broad Jason. You can already tell where this is going. “Uh, Jason? We might wanna let god fix it, because if we fix it, we’re going to jail.”

His brows shoot up. “You hit me in the face with a pipe.”

“I didn’t hit you. You walked into my swing. But you wanna go after the kid, Jason? Really?”

“Yeah.” He crosses his arms so his forearms flex.

“Tim Drake?”

“Yeah.”

You roll your eyes in thought. On one hand, you hadn’t been Mockingbird for years. You stopped when you were eighteen, and you’re twenty one now. Not that it’s helped you very much. You’re still struggling in a shithole, broke and unhappy and no longer able to afford school. And Tim Drake hasn’t really done anything wrong. But on the other hand, Batman is a dick, and you really stopped liking him after what happened to the former Robin. You’d wanted to go after him and the Joker for it, but you’re not far enough in the Gotham food chain for that. Trading swings with Selina was as close as you got.

“Alright.” You stand. You’re not even close to Jason’s height. “Lay out the deal. You got a suit?”

✮ ✭ ✮

And that’s how you and Jason Todd ended up on a roof that night. You, at the crisp age of twenty one, and he at what you suppose is his version of nineteen. Still working on wrapping your head around that one.

You’ve pulled out your Mockingbird suit from under the bed. It was a bit dusty, but not hard to slip into. Everything seems in place. It’s just old. Your voice scrambler is still working okay and all the eyes light up efficiently. Jason’s got a suit too.

“I don’t,” Jason answers, his face suspicious. His eyes are twinkling as he looks down at you. It’s so hard to believe he’s just a boy- or was, last you saw him.

“Don’t worry,” you tell him. “I got you.”

You lead Jason to your room, into your closet, and into a space even farther back where an illuminated glass case the size of several yard sticks stands. It must cost more than your whole apartment. Inside of it is a metal suit like a military uniform, similar to Bruce’s Batsuit but with an Arkham emblem over the chest.

“Call it the Arkham Knight. You like it?”

“Where did you get this?” Jason steps forward, raking his eyes up and down the design. Bruce would hate it.

“I stole it from the Batcave.”

“The whole display case?” Jason snaps to you. Then his brows shoot up and he takes a step closer. “How do you know where the Batcave is?”

“How did you know where my apartment is? And yes, I took the whole case. It was just sitting there.”

Jason turns back around to the suit. It’s growing on him. He admires it. It’s perfect. The Arkham symbol will put the Batman into a state of despair. “Hard to believe you and Selina aren’t friends anymore.”

“We never were,” you mutter back. It’s really not his business that you ended so many partnerships because of his death.

“You’re sure this is the place?” you question. It sends Jason into a state of euphoria, hearing the distorted villainy of your voice again. It feels like the first time too, just like when he saw your face again. It feels how it did when he was fifteen and infatuated with the Mockingbird. It’s almost dizzying. It’s just strange to hear it knowing that now you’re on the same side.

“Yeah,” he answers through his helmet. His voice is distorted too. “This is the place.”

You’re overlooking a Gotham street at night, something you’ve both discovered vigilantes, heroes, and villains do a lot of. Smoke fills the air along with police sirens and building lights. You’re positioned in one of the outer districts though, away from most of the commotion.

“I can’t remember the last time I was here,” you say, half to yourself.

“I can,” Jason says back. “When I ran with Batman. Last year. I was fifteen.” Jason's voice drops. “Or was I...”

You frown behind your own mask. Of course. Jason died four years ago, and he was fifteen when that happened. He came back- you’re not sure when- older and stronger and behind on the changes of the world. He must not know about social media, or the latest television crazes, or the new roads in Gotham. It makes you sad.

All Jason sees when he meets your eyes through his visor is several red slanted lines. You’re both unreadable through your helmets.

“There’s a good restaurant down on this corner,” you both turn back to the street, crouching in wait. “Maybe B-Man likes it.”

“He never eats,” says the ex-Robin. “Never sleeps. Never does anything.”

“You know he broke my buddy Scarecrow’s bones last Halloween?” you scoff. “Literally for not knowing where Black Mask is. Your old boss is weird as hell.”

Jason cocks an eyebrow you can’t see. “Thought you weren’t friends with Scarecrow anymore?”

“Anymore? B-Man keeping tabs on me?”

“He keeps tabs on everyone,” Jason shakes his head. “You’re just a file.”

“Hm,” he hears you say. Contemplate, more like. You speak again after a moment of silence. “Well Scarecrow and me are fine, thank you for asking.”

Jason scoffs. “He your boyfriend or something?”

“My boyfriend’s over in Metropolis.”

Oh.

“How’s your girl?” Your head snaps to Jason at once, hands twitching around. “Or guy.”

He tosses a look to you that you can’t see, but you can guess at. Somewhere between ‘what the hell’ and ‘why the hell’ and an eye roll with furrowed brows.

“Come on. Rose Wilson seems your type. Ooh, Artemis?” You suddenly nudge his arm with your elbow. “Batgirl? Is it Dick?”

Another look is thrown your way. This time it feels more angry. “Whatever, Robin,” you offer lightly.

It dawns on you that perhaps Jason has never had a partner before. That seems more likely, especially after thinking about his situation, and suddenly you feel bad. It’s too late to vocalize an apology now though.

“Fine,” you say at last. “Let’s just stop talking.”

“Let’s do.”

✮ ✭ ✮

It starts raining not long after that.

The drops bounce off your suits harmlessly. There’s still no sign of this Tim Drake and Batman.

“Hey,” you break the silence. “Has anyone ever told you you look exactly like a statue?”

“Must be a resurrection thing.”

“Yep.”

The rain falls harsher.

“So,” Jason begins. “I have to ask. How do you do the- the…” he spins his pointer fingers around rapidly.

“What the fuck are you doing? What is that? No- what is that right there?”

“The thing that you do.”

“I’ve never done that in my life, Jason. What is that? Finger jiu jitsu?”

You hear Jason suck in a breath as he turns away. “You think you’re so funny.”

“You asked me for help. And between the two of us- who has died here? Not me. I’m hilarious.”

“Oh,” he scoffs. “So hilarious.”

“You seemed to think so. When…” your voice trails off. You almost wanted to mention that night in the warehouse to him. A memory of him looking up at you, his hands bound behind his back as he stares in wonder flashes in your mind. But it doesn’t linger for long. Movement in the street catches your eye. “Jason.”

Both your heads snap down to the place below. Sure enough, after a few seconds, a figure steps into view of the moonlight. A skinny kid with dark hair and a bright red and yellow costume. He looks younger than Dick or Jason.

“That’s him,” your partner says. He reaches behind his back and pulls out a long rod. It unfolds with a click that you recognize- the click of a gun.

“What?” you furrow your brows. “Woah- what?”

“I’m gonna shoot him,” Jason tells you casually, fiddling around with the weapon. It’s coming into shape more and more as a sniper rifle.

“That is a child,” you whisper hiss. “He’s like ten!”

“I don’t think he’s ten,” Jason puts his eye over the scope. “This is revenge.”

“Please, do not shoot a child for replacing you in your job of tightie whities vigilante.”

Jason huffs through his mask and looks over at you. “What did you think this was, bird?”

“I thought we were just like, gonna kick him in the balls or something! This is exactly what I meant by ‘we are going to jail’! I told you we should’ve let god fix it!”

“He’ll be fine.”

You knock the rifle out of the Arkham Knights hands with a bang. It clambers across the roof top until it’s nearly over the edge, half on half off.

Jason and you go down at once, shoulder to shoulder in a tackle. Thunder booms overhead. Through his visor, Jason sees you raise a white, gauntleted fist back in a punch, aimed right for his face. Luckily, he manages to catch you by the torso and neck and throw you off.

When he pushes himself to his knee and foot in a kneel, he looks up to find an exact replica of himself. Not literally, of course, but looking at you is like looking into a mirror. Your hand is placed on the rooftop the same way his is. Your knees are bent at the exact same angle as his own. When Jason cocks his head to the side slowly, yours follows him at the same time. So this is what it means to fight the Mockingbird.

He decides to reach for the gun at the side of his leg. He manages to fire once- and miss- a bang going off that he’ll be lucky Drake doesn’t hear over the storm. You knock the gun out of his hands easily, dodging a punch to the stomach before countering with one of your own to his face. It hits the exact same way Jason’s do. He sees your knuckles coming closer to him and almost thinks they’re his own.

Next idea is toss you off the building. Key word: you. Not him.

Jason grips the back of your head through your hood, reaching around. He carries you with him while he stands, tensing his abs as he feels you hammer your elbow away at them. It’s the knee to his crotch that makes him let go and let out a strangled groan.

But before anything else can happen, you spring forward at him in a pounce. Your palms latch onto his shoulders. His feet disconnect from the surface of the roof and the both of you go backwards until neither one of you are on the building at all, over the side.

Jason gets tangled in the emergency stair well. His metal suit clangs against it as he falls and tumbles down, either causing or saving some head injuries. You hit your back on an old street light before landing in a trash bin.

This is it, you manage to think to yourself. Lying in a garbage bin in Gotham at night. And in the rain. This is rock bottom.

I am going to kill everyone on the block for this, thinks Jason.

✮ ✭ ✮

You do eventually get up and remove yourself from the garbage bin. Jason sits at the bottom of the stairs, watching you. You do not exchange words. He does, however, follow you down the street as you essentially stomp.

“Ma’am,” he offers quietly to a gawking older woman.

You enter a small restaurant. More of a diner, really. The door jingles as it opens, and Jason watches you walk to the side until you find a table by the window. You sit down with a huff, tapping one of your helmets red eyes. He shuffles into the space ahead of you, nearly skirting the table across the floor with the bulk of his own muscle and suit. He can feel your judgy eyes on him as he clambers into the seat like a large, run down father.

“Hi there,” a chirpy waitress bounds. She’s a large, redheaded woman in a bright yellow uniform and a hat with a spring connected to a plastic burger on top. It is ridiculous, funny, and you are sadly not in the mood. “My, aren’t you two some interesting looking people! We don’t get a lot of men of metal around here!”

You both look at her silently, masks on but hatred seeping through boredly.

“What can I get you tonight?”

“A gun,” you drawl tiredly, rubbing your palms over your mask.

“We’re not sellin’ those right now, my dear. Something else?”

“Two cheeseburgers would be fine,” Jason speaks up for you.

“Two burgers,” the waitress repeats with a smile, writing it down in her burger notepad. Her cheeks are rosy as she beams happily. “And should I be expecting Superman?”

“Die,” you snap to her, watching her hurry off to the kitchen. Then you put your head down in your folded arms on the table.

Jason glanced around. It’s empty except for the two of you and some dumpy guy in a trucker hat with wide eyes. “What’re you staring at?” Jason all but barks. Normally, he tries to make himself as unnoticeable as possible in public. Not very confident or secure, it seems. But now he’s tired. He just fell down about a million floors worth of metal stairs. It’s late and he lost two of his guns.

“What?” you raise your head, also looking at the trucker hat man. “You’ve never seen two people in superhero suits before?”

“Beat it,” Jason orders.

The man is quick to stand and speed walk away. Still you egg on, “get out of here, bozo!”

“What a fuckin’ prick,” Jason grumbles as he watches the man trip down the street through his view from the window, the door still ringing to signal it’s been opened.

“Yeah,” you agree tiredly.

Your nimble fingers reach up and back to push your white hood from your head. Then they click against the sides of your face and pull the helmet away, revealing your face. You inhale as if you couldn’t get enough air before. Jason watches you, still as a statue, his visor giving him the luxury of being able to monitor your breathing.

“Now what?” you gripe, rubbing your eyes. It can’t be comfortable with all the armor on your hands, but you don’t seem bothered. You must’ve gotten used to it by now.

The Arkham Knight ahead of you only cocks his head to the side slightly. Silent with his helmet. “I’ll help you punch Tim but that’s as far as I’ll go.”

“Why are you defending this kid?” you hear Jason breathe in return. For a split second, electricity runs through you at the sound of his distorted voice, the way his body looks in his suit of armor and how unreadable he is through the helmet. It shocks you all the the way down to your crotch.

“You know,” you begin, eyes widening and voice quieting with a sudden nervousness. “He’s just a kid. Younger than you were.”

Jason scoffs and turns his head away from you, now looking out the window. Gotham is dark and damp outside. “Bullshit,” he scoffs. Then after a few seconds and continues. “Tim Drake and I are the same age.” His head pulls back slightly, fingers giving a strange, sudden twitch. “Or were. We’re-”

You’ll never know what Tim Drake and Jason Todd were. Jason never finishes his sentence, and only his suit flashes with little codes and details to let you know he’s still alive in there. Besides that, he’s as still, lost in sudden thought. You frown and lean in a bit, tapping your elbow with your fingers while you shift uncomfortably. “You’re nineteen, Jason.”

His head twitches again. Now you know he’s heard you. “I’m two years older than you,” you reason. “You’re nineteen.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Why did you let me go?”

Your eyebrows scrunch and unscrunch. Another wave of electricity shocks down your body, but this time it’s because his voice sounded more like his own. You could hear it under the layers of metal and distortion. But option one is to respond to his question by pretending you don’t know what he’s talking about. That seems like it’s for the best.

“You were just a kid,” you tell him honestly. He silently presses you on. “And I just- I looked at you and I…” I really liked you, kid. Best night I had in years. Made me smile. God, you had to stop working with so many other Gotham city villains just for making jokes about the kid. “You were fifteen,” you say, looking away. “Just a kid.”

Jason watches you. Again, your head turns so you look out the window. He would’ve expected that to be the end of it, but you continue. “Why didn’t you turn me in?”

Jason’s about to pretend to not know what you’re talking about, because it seems like it’s for the best that way. But then he remembers you can’t see anything through his helmet. “What’re you talking about?” he gruffs.

“You saw my face in that warehouse,” you press. “If you had told Batman, I would’ve been to jail. Maybe Arkham. But that never happened. So why didn’t you tell him?”

I was obsessed with you, Jason’s mind screams. In love with you! It hisses, which makes Jason cringe. “Guess you were a kid too.” That’s right. You were seventeen back then. What is that? Last year of high school? You balanced a criminal career and the required education for a minor at the same time. Where were your parents during this?

Jason bites down on his lip hard. Parents. Should shut up about that, probably.

“I’m uh,” you bite your lip and then lick it. “I’m sorry for pushing you. On the roof.”

He shifts. “It’s nothing.”

You turn back to the window. Your arms uncross from atop the table and go to rest in your lap. This close and this still, Jason can make out all the details in your suit. It’s impressive. Kevlar and rubber and plastic, the Riddler had told him. Not the gloves. That’s metal and plastic.

“So,” Jason decides. “How do you that?” Your brows crease in confusion. He tries to do the finger motions he’d down before, which makes you cringe. “The mirroring. And the fighting and the…” he goes through the motions again. “It in your helmet?”

Your confusion sinks away. A new expression washes over your face as you lean in. One finger reaches up, poking your temple and you smile softly. “Bat knowledge.”

Just then, the waitress saves the day. “Two cheeseburgers for the scary suit people!” she beams, setting the plates down. For a second, her breasts are pressed into each of your faces. Jason first, who does not move and you can’t see under the helmet. You bite back a snicker but instead seep a childish look. Then you’re next, and you can feel Jason’s silent laugh under his Arkham Knight suit as your eyes go wide. “Enjoy, dears!”

“Boobs,” you shiver. “Just got boobs in my face.” And then Jason watches you carefully pick up the burger in your dangerous gloves, and take a bite.

Indeed, for the first time that night, the man in front of you reaches up and pulls off his own helmet with a click. You watch it be taken into his large, veiny hands and passed to the edge of the table, against the wall of the window. Then your eyes wander up to his face, which makes you chew slower.

A strong face. Sharp jaw, perfectly in line nose. Lips always pulled into a scowl. Bright eyes with tired circles and scars across his skin. There’s a streak of white in his dark hair you hadn’t noticed at all before, though now it’s practically blaring you in the face. Jason Todd is very handsome.

“What?” he says behind his burger, raising it to his lips but freezing before he can bite into it.

You shrug and focus again on your burger. You hear Jason bite into his own.

“I don’t have any money,” you tell him after a moment, swallowing down a bite.

“Me neither,” Jason answers. He nudges his head towards the window. “There’s an ATM across the street.” You nod in response.

A few bites in you speak again. The minutes have been filled with the noises of chewing and swallowing and yummy meat and cheese. “You ever heard of Mitski?”

Jason swallows his bite, which are bigger than yours. “What?”

“Mitski,” you repeat. “The singer?” Jason shakes his head. “You seem like you’d like her. My boyfriend hates her.”

Jason’s brows twitch.

“Why aren’t you with him?” he questions, taking another bite.

You roll your eyes. “Too expensive. He’s-”

“But he lives there.”

“He just didn’t offer,” you shrug. “I don’t have the money anyway. It’s fine.”

Jason cocks a brow. Your own boyfriend didn’t offer to get you out of this shithole?

You roll your eyes. “We haven’t talked in a long time okay? He’s busy. I’m busy.”

Both of Jason’s brows raise now, almost playfully. “Busy with what?”

You’d be offended if you weren’t busy trying to answer. What were you busy with? After you graduated, money went dry with university. It became less frequent after retiring from the Mockingbird mantle. Most of your jobs were minimum wage and short lived. You’re a bartender now, but not somewhere that’ll keep you going probably. Most days you sit around the apartment or run errands, sometimes hosting Ivy. Last time she’d been over, she’d given you a plant that had quickly died and spoke about Harley quite a bit. And Riddler obviously doesn’t come over anymore. Scarecrow had once but he’s off doing god only knows now.

“Shut up,” you hiss. “What are you busy with?”

“Controlling crime in Gotham,” Jason takes a bite.

“How’s that working out for you?”

“Well.”

“You know you didn’t have to ask me to do this,” you say. “You could’ve just asked someone else. There’s a lot of people in Gotham okay with child killing.”

“I wanted you,” Jason explains. He’s quick to speak again to keep you from thinking about his words. “You were the first person I thought of.”

You’re nearing the end of your burger. “How did you find me?”

Jason shrugs mid-chew. He’s almost done as well. “Riddler.”

“Gave me away that easy?”

“Yep.”

You chew your last bite. It was a good and hearty burger, the cheese melting perfectly against the patty and your tongue.

“You want anything else?” Jason asks.

You watch the street outside, eyes squinting on the ATM. “Jason,” you mutter. “Jason.”

✮ ✭ ✮

Three men snicker as they load up dark blue duffel bags. They’re slimey and smelly, like an old sewer. Money falls from the machine like a waterfall.

Their success doesn’t last long.

One of them comes in contact with the Mockingbird’s elbow and slams his head into a brick building. The other two are just inexplicably on the ground, incapacitated while the Arkham Knight stands overhead.

“Fuck,” you breathe through your helmet. “I missed this.”

Jason’s just picked up the duffel bag when the sudden sound of sirens blare through the air. It’s close. Too close.

“Well that’s no good,” you mutter. You turn to Jason, taking a sharp step forward. “Give it to me.”

His brows furrow under the mask.

“I’ll pay the waitress,” you say. “You run.”

Jason reaches behind his belt and shifts the weight of the bag into one hand. A gun appears- a small handgun. You duck down as he raises it at you, holding your head down as the BANG! rings through the air.

You stand back to your feet, bracing yourself at the sudden sight. The Arkham Knight charges you, but only to pick you up like you’re nothing and jump through the glass window he previously shot at. The adrenaline makes things hazy, but you can see the blue and red lights now. It doesn’t matter. The two of you fly across what turns out to be a pawn shop, burst through the back door and back room until you hit the cold outside air of Gotham again. Multiple doors slam shut behind you. You’re both out of breath and panting, and it’s raining again. This time in an alleyway.

But the cops won’t follow you out here.

It’s quiet besides the panting from you two. Jason has more endurance, you’re sure, but you can hear his breathing inside his helmet. He lets the duffel bag slip out of his grasp as you double over. “I did miss that,” you offer. “Running from the police.” The Arkham Knight just continues his breathing.

“Thank you,” you tell him.

✮ ✭ ✮

Two days after the incident, you enter your apartment lazily. Your keys are tossed onto the island counter before you wander through your mail. One of your letters is from Ed in Arkham, warning you about “some big guy asking about you”. A bit late for that now. You haven’t heard from Jason since that night.

It isn’t until you go to sit on your couch that you notice a large, nearly bursting open envelope. Your fingers stretch to reach it, examining it. No return address, but written in pen in sloppy letters is the word “Bird”. Luckily, it doesn’t feel like a bomb. It feels more soft but firm.

You open the envelope. Your breathing hitches, breath slowing when you see what’s inside. Then a smirk comes over your face.

Just then, dust falls from your shitty apartment ceiling.

✮ ✭ ✮

A week after the failed Tim Drake incident, a young man decides to pay a visit to your building. He is tall and strong, with raven hair laced with a white streak at the front. He frowns at everything, ducking his head to make himself smaller and less noticeable. He cares not for being perceived by other people. He’s well aware of how he looks.

The man’s knuckles tap against apartment 317. He shifts, looking back and forth. The man is quite attractive in is casual red hoodie and jeans, but he wants to be out of the open as soon as he can. After a moment, there is no response from inside.

He scrunches his brows and knocks again. When he takes a step closer, he can hear something from the inside. Music. A piano and drums and maybe an organ?

Jason twists the door knob with ease and steps ahead and inside. The apartment is completely and totally empty. The music becomes louder and more clear. It’s a female singer he doesn’t recognize.

Only the bones of the kitchen remain. Counters, cabinets, a sink, and an old fridge. There’s mold in the corner of the space. But in the middle of the floor where the couch and living room used to be is a cluster of things. Things meant for Jason Todd.

The man eyes the pile for a few seconds. Then he sets towards it. The first thing he recognizes is a CD player with the volume turned all the way up. He still doesn’t know the song.

Besides the player is a suit he’s quite familiar with. It’s clunky, but folded as neatly as it can be given that it’s made of metal. On the top is the helmet that gives it away. The Arkham Knight suit. It sits on a dark duffel bag in front of a small white piece of paper with the promise of ink inside. Jason decides to open that first.

You’re coming back… and it’s the end of the world…

Haha! I knew you’d show up!

Jason nearly rolls his eyes at the first sentence.

Thanks for the money. I know it was you. Thanks for the fun night too. Sorry about hitting your balls. They felt really big if that makes you feel better.

It didn’t.

I was thinking of Metropolis, but what do you know, me and the boy toy decided it might be better to hold off on it. I got a bit of dirt on the kid by the way. You’ll find it on the back of this paper. Oh and I hope you like the Mitski soundtrack. I bet Drake’s the kind too. I’m going to keep the Mockingbird suit if you don’t mind. I guess our night of fun kinda reignited an old flame. Don’t even think about coming after me.

Son of a bitch, Jason internally screams.

I have a gift for you though. You get the Arkham Knight. You look good in it. And a little something extra in the bag by the way.

Love, Mockingbird.

I just need a quiet place… where I can scream, how I love you…

Indeed, inside the duffel bag Jason Todd finds some cash and red fabric with an R emblem over the chest. He doesn’t need to pull the rest out to understand what it is. He decides not to question how you got his old Robin suit or when, but lets himself smile a bit, his chest expanding with his breath. It’s a real smile too.

You’ve given Jason everything he needs to go after Tim Drake himself.

✮ ✭ ✮

I hope I’ve ruined everyone’s day. You think I would let the reader and Jason be happy together? You absolute baffoon. Maybe I’ll make a part three for gits and shiggles though. I’m not sure about this one. Definitely more based around their interactions than the drama unlike the first one. It was fun though. I hit the paragraph limit. I think I did a good job with the chemistry. I do apologize for giving the reader a real set in stone age though. I don’t like to to that because I think it takes away the point of having a ‘reader’. Also if you’re vegetarian please just eat a cheeseburger it’s so good y’all are weird. Oh and fun fact I just got a Red Hood tattoo on Saturday! Look at me go!

Tagging everyone who asked for a part ii: @yunho-leeknow @fyowyn-writes @martianmilfhunter @beardedfandiplomatprofessor

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forlove2020 · 3 years

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Suptober Day 9 - Body Mods

In retrospect, Dean should’ve known better.

Claire has been hanging around more lately, and that's not a bad thing; it’s quite the opposite. Cas loves to spend time with her, and no matter how many cruel age jokes she makes at his expense, Dean is always happy to see her.

Jack adores Claire; he follows her around the house talking nonstop. He asks Claire unending questions on a wide array of topics. Her childhood; hunts; Kaia; nail polish remover; community college; Batman; even her favorite color of crayon. Nothing is off-limits.

Despite her surly attitude and gruff replies, Claire is genuinely fond of Jack. She lets him get away with a broader scope of questioning than anybody else, and though she’d never admit it, she’s flattered that he considers her to be his sister.

She fits in with the three of them seamlessly; the short visits are almost always good ones, and Dean and Cas give her the guest bedroom whenever she wants or needs to stay longer. To Jack, Claire is a cool older sibling whose attention and affection he will do anything to keep. To Dean and Cas, she’s their surrogate daughter. Odd as the dynamic may be, it’s worked well for everyone so far.

That’s why, when Jack goes on a trip with Kaia, Alex, and Patience, it doesn’t raise too many alarms for Dean. It isn’t as if they’re going on a hunt - Donna’s cousin has a water-front cabin on Lewis and Clark Lake that the kids are renting from her for four days. They're on a vacation, which still seems like a strange concept to the more seasoned hunters in this Post-Chuck world.

Dean and Cas did some discreet digging through archives and local news stories to gauge the likelihood of the young adults running into danger while on the trip, but everything seemed aboveboard in the area. There were a few drownings in the lake a couple decades ago during a really rainy year. Nothing that causes Cas concern or creates any worries that keep Dean up all night.

Claire, Kaia, Alex, Patience and Jack are at the lakehouse for a grand total of six hours before they find a case. Turns out the teenagers that drowned in the lake during the early 2000’s were murdered, and now they’ve come back as ghosts to finish off the innocent descendants of their murderer: a reclusive fisherman who'd committed suicide only two months prior.

Just frickin’ peachy.

Dean is halfway through packing up his rifles and his fishing rods when Cas stops him with a hand lightly pressed to his sleeve. “Dean. I think we should let them handle this.”

“What? No - c’mon, Cas, they’re just kids. We can head out and have those ghosts ganked by tomorrow evening, and then you and I can sit by the lake, stick a blanket on Baby’s hood and lay back under the moon and stars....”

Cas smiles, and brushes a kiss to Dean’s jaw. “Well, I think that sounds nice. Romantic, even. But they’re not kids, Dean. They can handle a couple of ghosts without us.”

“Jack’s a kid,” Dean protests. “I mean, he does look like a grown ass man, but we both know he’s only four.”

“Yes, he is four,” Cas agrees gently, “But he’s also the most powerful being to ever walk this Earth, and maybe even the most powerful person to ever exist. He’s not in any danger from a ghost or two. And Claire and the other girls are skillful Hunters. They may be young, but think of all they have each gone through, then look me in the eye and tell me you consider them still children.”

Dean blows out a breath, looking away. “Yeah, okay. Fine. God, I hate it when you’re right.” He leans in to peck a quick kiss at the corner of Cas’ mouth to soften the bite of his words.

Cas doesn't answer back, a look of supercilious triumph on his face. He can afford to be a gracious winner.

Jack updates them on the case frequently in a group chat that also includes Sam and Eileen, and Dean worries a little less with each text or gruesome photo of corpses Jack sends because it means they're all still safe and alive.

By nine o'clock on the second night, the case is solved. The ghosts have moved on, and the civilians are saved. Dean feels slightly weak in the knees with relief when he hears the news, and though Cas is the one who had made the argument to stay back, his tense shoulders finally relax.

Later that evening, the messages Jack sends them take on a strange quality. At first, Dean can’t quite put his finger on why he's bothered so much. The texts are unclear and stilted, and the photos Jack takes seem blurry, as if his hands were shaking when he snapped the shot. Dean squints down at the pictures on his phone because he is too stubborn to purchase glasses (Eileen has been ribbing him lately about couples who start to look like one another after a while; she says Dean now squints as badly as Cas). Everybody in the picture seems fine; they’re grinning broadly at the camera while warming themselves by a cheerful bonfire. It seems that they are roasting marshmallows. Claire and Kaia are cozied up together on a fallen log with a plaid blanket on their laps, Patience waves, and Alex gives the camera a peace sign: her mouth is open mid-sentence.

Dean’s eyes narrow suspiciously. They seem happy. Too happy.

The next morning as Dean goes down to the kitchen to start coffee, he checks his messages. Fewer and fewer texts came in as it got later, and so far this morning, no messages have been sent. He frowns, puts the phone back in his pocket, and gets started on making breakfast.

By noon, there are still no texts. Cas shrugs when Dean mentions the lack of communication, saying that he hopes it means they’re having a good time.

At 2pm, Sam calls Dean.

“Well?” Sam begins without preamble.

“Either they’re in some kind of trouble, or they're making their own trouble as they go along,” Dean answers shortly. Sam didn't need to say what he's thinking; despite hunting less and living further apart, they're still on the same wavelength. Sam and Dean grew up relying on one another when they had nobody else to depend on and that’s something that distance cannot diminish.

“Mhmm.” There’s muffled background noise on Sam’s end, and Dean hears him murmuring to the sleepy baby Eileen's just placed in his arms. “Cas worried?”

“Not yet,” Dean grunts, looking out the window. Cas has taken Miracle for a walk, but they’ll probably stop and check in on Cas’ garden after they’ve come back inside. “He trusts them.”

At that, Sam lets out a quiet huff of amusement, attempting not to startle his sleeping child. “Yeah, you’ve raised a lot of kids at this point, Dean. Cas hasn’t had as much experience with the kind of trouble they can get into. Hell, it’s not like he was ever even a kid to begin with.”

Dean sighs. He’s worried about Jack and Claire, about all of them, really, and he’s tempted to call Jack so he can try to weasel out some kind of information about what’s going on, but at the same time….

“I trust them too, Sammy,” Dean admits. “It’s hard as hell to relax, but they’re good kids. Good people. And they know we’ve got their backs if they really need us.”

“Aw, look who’s finally a grown-up,” Sam teases, “I guess love really can change a man. Hey, tell Cas from me that- ”

Dean hangs up on Sam. He can get away with it; they’re on the same wavelength after all.

At 4:50 pm, not long after Cas picks up and sets his phone down twice in a row to see if he’s missed any messages, Jack finally texts them.

Hi! We are packing up tonight and then we’ll be home tomorrow afternoon! XOXO - Jack

Dean and Cas squint at their respective phones with suspicion. Dean raises an eyebrow at Cas, who stubbornly refuses to engage in speculation by ignoring the pointed look Dean casts in his direction.

A full day passes. Jack sends them a photo or a text here and there on the drive home; a picture of bored cows munching grass in the fields, a comment on how much he likes the new single by Adele (Cas Googles it immediately), a hilarious meme about the Backstreet Boys, and so on.

What Jack does not do is mention the near radio silence he'd kept on the day before.

The sun’s just beginning to set as Claire’s car pulls up the long driveway of the home Dean and Cas built on an acre of property the Men of Letters owned. It is on the outskirts of the forest, above a portion of the Bunker so that the warding can extend into their house.

Cas opens his arms wide as Jack, Claire, and Kaia stumble out of the car, and Dean notices, as Jack sinks into his father’s arms, how the boy tries to hide a wince when Cas’ hands land on the space between his shoulder blades.

“So, how was the trip?” Dean asks casually, thumping Claire’s back as he goes to hug her. She winces even worse than Jack.

Interesting.

“We kicked ghost-ass,” Jack answers matter-of-factly as he cautiously extracts himself from Cas’s arms. Clearly, it’s a phrase that someone else used and Jack has adopted.

The bags under Kaia’s eyes seem deeper than usual; she must not have slept much lately. “It was a straightforward hunt. Jack did really well.”

“I never had any doubt,” Cas tells her warmly.

Claire clears her throat. Her face is haggard and she’s rolling her shoulders and neck like she’s uncomfortable, desperate to get back on the road. “Well, we’ve dropped the kid off safe and sound. Kaia and I are gonna hit it, we’re heading back to Sioux Falls tonight. Alex and Patience went straight home. We’ll see ya later.” She takes Kaia’s hand, and turns, preparing to flee.

“Not. So. Fast,” Dean thunders.

Everyone freezes. Cas alone looks confused, the others avoid Dean’s glare guiltily.

“Jack, shirt off,” he orders abruptly.

Eyes widening, Jack looks at Claire and Kaia for help, then turns his gaze pleadingly on Cas. “What are you talking about? Why? It’s too cold out here, Dean!”

Cas looks at Dean for a long moment, and silent but thorough communication passes between them. Cas turns back to Jack, folding his arms across his chest, and says neutrally, “I believe Dean must have a good reason since he’s asking you, Jack.”

“But Castiel, I...oh, fine.” Jack slumps dejectedly. He pulls off the flannel and the soft t-shirt underneath, and turns around so they can all see his back.

There, on the raw curve of skin emblazoned with vivid lime green ink, is tattooed the words:

Ghostfacers!

“Okay, look,” Claire interrupts at the sight of their expressions. “It’s not Jack’s fault! We had a couple beers at the bar to celebrate and then we went back to the house and made a couple pitchers of margaritas and...I think we probably did shots at some point too - and then were really reeaallly drunk and still drunk the next day, and the tattoo parlor seemed like a great idea at the time because there was this sale -”

“And what did you get, Claire?” Dean interrupts suddenly, because Cas’ long buried Wrath-of-God face just made an unexpected reappearance, and even though Dean’s mad at them for being so careless, he’s not quite angry enough that he wants Cas to kill both of their kids.

Claire’s face flushes crimson.

“It says ‘Claire ‘n Kaia 4 evah’ in hot pink. It’s spelled out like it sounds,” Jack explains helpfully. Claire buries her face in her hands, mortified, and Kaia cringes with sympathy.

Dean blinks. “Wow. That’s...uh.” He clears his throat and looks at Kaia. “Well. And what did you get stuck with, Good Twin?”

She shuffles, embarrassed. “Oh. Um, the sale was two for the price of one and there were five of us, so…” Kaia shrugs. Dean can’t help but laugh. This one's a smart cookie. The absurdity of the awful tattoos is making his irritation fade away.

Cas definitely isn't on the same page yet. He blows a breath out of his nose, aggrieved. Dean squeezes his arm, amused despite himself. “Easy, tiger. Kids do dumb shit like this all the time. It’s part of the parenting experience.”

“And when does the part of parenting that prevents them from being so idiotic kick in?” Cas demands.

“I don’t know, Sam still seems like a dumbass to me - so, maybe never? But these three seem pretty sorry. I think they've learned their lesson. Hangovers ain't pretty." The trio nod in miserable agreement.

Cas’ eyes narrow into thin slits. "No, Dean. I think what you meant to say was: you are grounded, Jack, until we're sure you understand the errors you've made. Claire, Kaia; you may technically be adults, but Jack was your responsibility this weekend, and because of this you've lost our trust. I will be calling Jody tonight to inform her of what's happened, and you will not be taking Jack anywhere with you in the near future." Cas raises his hands against the barrage of protests and complaints that immediately come his way. "Don't bother. I'm not changing my mind. I'm extremely disappointed in each of you." He looks at Dean with exasperation. “You deal with them, Dean. I’m going to go make dinner.” Abruptly, he turns and storms back into the house, and Miracle wags her tail, oblivious to the tension, following him inside.

What a drama king, Dean thinks fondly even as he rolls his eyes. God, I love him.

Jack, Kaia and Claire watched Cas go dejectedly. Dean claps his hands and chuckles. “Whoo boy, are you guys on his shit list.” He nods at the door. “C’mon, let's go and help Mr. Smitey with dinner.”

“Uhm, are you sure that’s a good idea? I don’t think we should get in his way right now.” Kaia seems nervous at the thought; she’d never met Cas during his initial Celestial Terror days.

Dean’s glad they’re disconcerted. Maybe Cas has put the fear of god into them…Dean darts a quick look at Jack. Uh, metaphorically speaking, of course. “Don’t worry about it too much. I’ve pissed off Cas way worse than this, let me tell you. Man….” He shakes his head at the memories. “Anyhow, give him some time to cool off and I’ll talk to him. We'll work it out. He'll forgive you guys sooner than you think." He nods at the door. “Now get in there and help him peel potatoes.”

The young adults file into the house with trepidation, leaving Dean to stand outside by himself. He stays there a moment, thinking of terrible tattoos and the poor choices that these kids, his kids have made, and then thinks further back to his own childhood, and how John would have reacted to the same situation. At first Dean smiles grimly to himself, then sighs and lets the pain of his past melt away, pushing it back into the recesses of his memory where it belongs. He's not the same man his father was; he's different in ways that Dean hopes are for the better.

He opens the door to his own house, this wonderful home he and Cas have built together after all of the years of sweat, blood, and tears that preceded, and he hears the sounds of life and love contained within. Dean smiles, genuinely this time, and goes inside, letting the door swing softly shut behind him.

END

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

I’m still playing catch up! Here’s day 9 on day 11...oh well! Any writing is better than none, y’know?

My goal is to make most of the Suptober 21 prompts I write one shots that will tie in to my work in progress fix-it fic (Destiel, Saileen, post 15x20, etc.)

Thank you for reading!

-V

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fruitcoops · 4 years

Note

eve you have been killing the content game lately!!! I have a suggestion for the team to do the cut video where someone guesses their starsigns!!

This was a really interesting fic to write, since I know next to nothing about astrology! It’s also the longest I’ve spent researching for a fic--I will apologize in advance for any errors I made. All the birthdays/ signs came from Haz’s page (@lumosinlove) and SW credit belongs to her! Hope you enjoy <3

Marlene was practically bouncing as the video began. “Welcome back to Lion Pride, everyone! I’m Marlene McKinnon, and I can’t tell you how excited I am for today’s video. Would you like to introduce yourself, Elaine?”

An older woman with her graying hair piled in a bun waved to the camera. “Hello! My name is Elaine, and I’ve been studying astrology for about forty years now.”

“We’re so glad to have to here! Today’s video is going to be a guessing game with some of our Lions players, where you ask them a few questions and then match their zodiac signs.” Marlene handed her a small pile of cardboard signs with strings tied to the tops.

“Oh, this is going to be fun.” Elaine adjusted her reading glasses and flipped through the zodiac cards. “I’ve never done anything like this officially, though it’s a bit of a hobby when I people-watch. Ms. McKinnon, would I be correct in assuming you’re a Leo?”

Marlene’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Uh, yeah, actually.”

Elaine nodded. “I thought so. Alright, where do I start?”

Marlene waved off-screen and seven young men walked in, lining up in a semi-circle behind them. “Take it away, Elaine.”

As Marlene disappeared behind the camera again, Elaine scanned the group. “This is very interesting,” she muttered. “You all play on the same team, yes?”

“We do,” James said.

Elaine’s lips twitched into a smile and she beckoned him forward. “Are you the team captain, then?”

“No,” he laughed. “Assistant captain, though. I’m James.”

“Nice to meet you, James. Were you popular in high school?”

James paused for a moment. “Yeah, I think so. I’ve always been pretty friendly and hockey helped with that.”

“You’re confident, and you don’t like sitting still.” She tapped her chin and gave him a once-over. “Can I take a look at your ears?”

“My ears?” James blinked at her, clearly surprised, but obliged and leaned down to her level.

Elaine made a noncommittal noise. “Ears say a lot about a person. Capricorns often have more vertical ears, but yours are quite round. You strike me as an Aries.”

James hung the sign over his neck and headed back to the line with a smile. “She just called you annoying,” Finn teased, giving him a nudge.

“Oh, no, Aries’ can be lovely people once they mature.” Elaine tilted her head and motioned to Finn. “Could you step up to the plate, dear?”

“Sure thing.” Finn kept his hands in his pockets, but straightened up a bit and rocked on his toes as he took James’ place. “My name’s Finn.”

“You’re certainly a fire sign,” Elaine laughed. “But you’re not quite an Aries. Are you a generally upfront person?”

“Pretty much.”

“What did you want to be as a kid?”

Finn smiled. “Anything where I could be around people.”

She nodded. “I thought so. Are you in a relationship?”

“Yeah, with those two.” Leo and Logan waved and Elaine’s smile widened.

“You’re a Leo, and a lucky one at that.” She carefully slid the sign over his head and patted his shoulder. “Good for you. Could the young man in the black jacket come up next?”

“I’m Sirius, it’s nice to meet you.” He shook her hand before taking a step back.

“Nice to meet you, too. You’re the captain, right?”

He glanced at the camera, surprised. “Uh, yes.”

“Well, you certainly could be another fire sign, but there’s something different…” She trailed off and drummed her fingers on the stack of zodiac cards. “Are you friends with our lovely Aries over there?”

“I’m the godfather to his son.”

Elaine held her hand over her heart. “Oh, that’s so sweet. You’re not another Aries or Leo, then. How much do you value your privacy?”

Sirius snorted. “A lot.”

“Are you in a relationship?”

He held his left hand up with a slight smile and inclined his head toward Remus. “Engaged for about six months.”

“Point him out for me, please.” Elaine kept her eyes on Sirius as he pointed toward Remus, then turned to the camera crew. “Did you all see that?”

Sirius frowned slightly. “See what?”

“You’ve been so tense and focused, but your whole face opened up when you looked toward him. I’m going to guess you’re a Scorpio.” She surveyed the group as Sirius returned to his place, then beckoned to Leo. “You have the prettiest eyes!”

“Oh, thank you.” He blushed slightly. “I’m Leo.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Leo. Do you believe in astrology?”

He shook his head. “Not really. I think it’s neat, though. Stars are cool.”

“Good. You’re young, and I’m glad you’re not letting it dictate your life.” She scrutinized his face for a moment. “Turn sideways, please. There are certain face shapes that are more common than others for specific signs…if we had an argument, would you apologize to me?”

Leo smiled slightly. “Depends on what it was about. I’m not very confrontational in the first place.”

“So you like keeping things equal?”

“I do, yeah. As you can probably tell, I’m not big on making hard decisions,” he laughed.

She smiled and shuffled through the cards. “I think you’re a Libra, but this was the hardest one yet. Which one is your boyfriend again? Not the Leo.” Her face brightened. “Ha! Leo with a Leo!”

Finn’s face split into a wide grin and Leo groaned. “Oh, god, he’s never going to let that go.”

Logan was still laughing a bit when he walked over. “Bonjour, I’m Logan.”

“Oh, this makes lots of sense.” Elaine looked between the three of them and nodded. “Are you a hothead?”

“Usually.”

“What sets you off?”

Logan exhaled slowly as he thought. “Most fights on the ice come from people pushing me or my friends around. I’m not one of those weird angry guys, though. There’s always a reason.”

“I bet there is.” Elaine laughed a little. “What are your thoughts on liars?”

He made a face. “Nothing good ever comes from lying.”

Elaine hung the ‘Sagittarius’ sign over his head. “If you’re not a Sagittarius, I need to find a new career. Could the Scorpio’s fiancé come up here?”

In his thick sweater and blue jeans, Remus was the polar opposite of Sirius. “My name’s Remus.”

“You are a sweetheart,” Elaine said with a laugh. “Oh my goodness, no wonder he got all mushy! Have you always played hockey?”

“I was supposed to be drafted out of college, but I got injured and became a physical therapist for six years instead. That’s how I met the rest of the guys.”

“Interesting.” She bit her lip. “Why did you choose physical therapy?”

He shrugged. “I wanted to stay close to hockey and help people. It was tough, but it made me happy.”

“Would you say people underestimate you on the ice?”

Remus hummed in thought. “I don’t know. I’m not a big guy, but I’m fast.”

“Well, all your friends are nodding behind you.”

“What?” He turned and they all hid their smiles in their hands. “Guys!”

“They do!” James defended. “Literally everyone we play against underestimates you!”

“Let’s say we get in an argument. Would you apologize to me?” Elaine asked.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “That depends. Was I right?”

“Yeah, you’re a Pisces.” She handed him the card, smiling. “Congratulations on the engagement. We only have one left, correct?”

Kasey shook her hand as he walked up. “I’m Kasey.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Kasey. Do you believe in the zodiac?”

“Nope,” he said. “But my girlfriend does, and she has cool necklaces and stuff.”

“You don’t strike me as a hothead.”

He shrugged. “I’m a goalie. It doesn’t usually come with the job description, but I’d take the gloves off for my friends.”

She flipped through a few of the cards. “You care deeply for them, then?”

“Absolutely. They’re basically my family by this point.”

Elaine hesitated. “This is a tough one. I’m going to go with Taurus, but I’m not one hundred percent sure. Are you patient?”

“With some people, sure. It varies.” Behind him, the others were stifling their laughter. Elaine gave them a look, but hung the Taurus card over his head.

“Alright, that’s everyone,” Marlene said as Kasey rejoined the group. “Raise your hand if she guessed you correctly.”

Five hands went up; only Leo and Kasey stayed still. Elaine clapped her hands happily. “Oh, I didn’t do too badly!”

Marlene ushered them into a line. “So, Elaine, how did you know James was an Aries?”

“He’s just…” She waved a hand in her air. “He’s very confident, though I feel like he’s matured over the past few years. Something big happened in your life that settled you down, right?”

“My son was born just over a year ago,” he said. “That definitely toned me down.”

“Thank god for that.” Finn muttered, giving him a playful nudge. James smacked the back of his head with a grin as he walked to the end of the line.

“It’s a good thing you’ve got your boyfriends,” Elaine said. “Leo’s often struggle with their identity when they’re younger, so it’s wonderful to see you’ve figured things out a bit.”

Finn blinked, dumbstruck. “Am I that much of an open book?”

“Yes,” the other six chorused. He paused for a moment, nodded, and made room for Sirius to step forward.

“Ah, I knew it!” She beamed at him. “Scorpio and Pisces are very compatible.”

“So we’ve been told,” Sirius laughed.

“You’re the hopeless romantic, aren’t you? Making up for lost time?” At his shocked expression, she her smile became gentle. “That’s usually how it goes. Don’t be afraid to be soft, okay?”

“Okay.” He hesitated a moment longer before joining Finn and James at the end of the line; James touched his elbow in solidarity while Leo walked forward.

“Oh, an Aquarius!” Elaine’s eyebrows rose. “I should’ve guessed. Well, that’s a good thing. You’ll be a good counterbalance for the reactive parts of Leos and Sags.”

“Thanks.” He looked faintly amused. “Can I blame Finn’s puns on his zodiac sign?”

She laughed. “Yes, absolutely.”

“It’s good to know there’s a reason for it,” Logan said as he took Leo’s place. “You guessed me pretty fast.”

“You were bluntly honest.” She shrugged. “Sags can be difficult to narrow down, but you fit right in for all the good parts.”

Elaine smiled when Remus stepped up. “You seemed really certain about me,” he said.

“You’re the most Pisces to ever Pisces, dear.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “You’re kind, but I don’t think you take any shit either.” At the back of the line, Sirius barked a laugh. “Oh, and he agrees!”

“He better!” Remus grinned back at him.

Elaine gasped when Kasey held up his new sign. “Really?”

He shrugged. “My girlfriend is a Taurus and some of that might have rubbed off on me.”

“Does she have a big personality?”

“Definitely.”

“Wow.” She gave him a quick once over. “There were some parts of Sagittarius that came through, but you were a tough one.”

“It’s the goalie face,” James called from the back of the line.

“Sorry,” Kasey said. “It’s a habit.”

“No, no, that’s alright.” She stared at him for a second longer before shaking her head. “You’re much softer than most of the Sags I’ve met. It’s hard to believe you and the Energizer Bunny back there share the same sign.”

“Did you have fun, Elaine?” Marlene asked as she collected the zodiac cards.

“I had a wonderful time, thank you so much for inviting me!”

Marlene smiled at the camera . “Thanks for watching, everyone. Be sure to like and subscribe for more Lion Pride content!”

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thisisarcanereverie · 3 years

Text

Should’ve Known Chapter 16

A/N: Hey sorry for the shorter chapter this time around. I’ve been so busy working almost everyday from 7 am til 8 pm that I haven’t had time to write.

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Wanda or Steve they are owned by Marvel, I don’t own the gif either.

WARNINGS:Angst, Swearing, the stages of grief, loss, dark themes, 18 + from here on out.

WORDS : 1,679

SUMMARY: Family Dinner leads to unexpected conclusions.

In case you missed last chapter

series masterlist

ULTIMATE MASTERLIST

You walked side by side with Steve and listened as he talked about his retirement on the moon. The way Earth looked from afar, how he sometimes just sat and watched as the Earth turned. Finally you came out of the woods and saw your beautiful wife on the porch, the gentle breeze made her fiery red hair dance in the last few rays of sunlight. You could see that she was anxious, her fingers fidgeting with the ring around her finger. You always found Wanda’s anxious quirks to be endearing, well you just found your wife to be endearing in general.

You said your goodbyes to Steve, you didn’t hug him but you did give him a small smile before walking to where your wife stood waiting for you.

You didn’t look back.

Immediately Wanda wrapped her arms around you, burying her face in your neck. You did the same, you breathed in her scent. You always loved how she seemed to always smell of roses and incense. Meanwhile she did the same, she reveled in the familiar scent of raspberries and your shampoo and conditioner, it calmed and ignited her nerves.

After a minute or so of just holding each other, swaying slightly, you both pulled away and walked hand in hand through the front screen door into your home.

“I put the kids to bed already.” Wanda said as she led you to the couch.

“Did they eat anything?”

“Yeah we had left over stew from last night.” Wanda assured you as she put an arm around your shoulders.

“We need to go grocery shopping tomorrow.” You said. For a while you just sat there in silence, Wanda’s arm around you while you curled into her side.

“We need to talk,” Wanda broke the silence.

“We do.” You agreed as you pulled away from her side slightly to which she responded by bringing you back to your previous position.

“When we decided to do this we thought Steve was gone.” Wanda began, “and now that he’s back, I...” Wanda trailed off. Scared to finish the sentence, scared of the chance that you might agree with her. You looked at her and sighed, Wanda’s fears weren’t unreasonable. Anyone would fear what this would mean, but over the past six years you grew sure of two things.

And one of those things was that Wanda Maximoff was the one; and no one would ever take you away from her.

Ever.

Even the great Steve Rogers.

You pulled her to you and pressed a loving kiss to her temple.

“You’re it for me Wanda Maximoff,” You said, “No one, not even Steve Rogers, can change that.”

You feel her shoulders relax as she leans into your touch, her green eyes bearing into yours intensely.

“You’re it for me too, Солнечный свет,” Wanda held your hands tightly, “No one else.”

---

That was a few weeks ago, after some time and a lot of discussion. You and Wanda finally decided to introduce the kids to Steve by inviting Steve to dinner.

You and Wanda and Steve met previously to discuss what to say, after calling Nick and getting him to babysit for the evening. You, Wanda, and Steve went to a quaint restaurant to discuss how things were to go.

Steve complied with Wanda and your decision to keep his relation to them quiet until they were old enough to understand. Until that time came he was going to be Uncle Steve.

He held out hope that one day, after a bit of time and healing, they’ll be able to call him dad.

Finally the day of the dinner came and the kids were so excited you were partly worried that they would exhaust themselves before dinner even began.

You had just strained the fettuccine noodles when the knock, signifying Steve’s arrival, came. You went to the screen door and was met with baby blue eyes and a tall build. You opened the door for Steve and motioned him inside. He rubbed his hands as he walked inside your warm home.

“Steve,” You started as you noticed two small gift wrapped boxes peeking out from his coat pocket.

“Yes?” Steve said innocently.

“What are those?” You asked, pointing to the boxes peeking out from his coat pocket.

“I knew if I asked you and Wanda would’ve said no.” Steve defended. You were about to argue before he cut you off. “I missed six birthday’s (Y/n), six. I just...I just want to give them something.” You sighed as you realized it was no use arguing with him once his mind was set.

“Fine,” you said, “but I don’t want you giving them gifts every time you’re here. Six birthdays is a lot and there’s a lot to be made up for, but presents isn’t the way to make up for that lost time.” Steve nodded in understanding before shrugging his coat off and hanging it on the hook beside the door. Just as he did, the pitter patter of two footsteps could be heard approaching. You notice Steve whip his head at the sound, eyes wide and excitement and nervousness evident. You grab his broad shoulder and give it a comforting squeeze.

Not a second later Lettie and Steve came into view along with Wanda.

It didn’t take long for the twins to notice the tall man beside you. Their eyes widened at the height of the stranger.

“Mama is that Uncle Steve?” Lettie asked, her sweet bell voice ringing through the tension in the air. Wanda momentarily looked at you before returning her attention to the small children in front of her.

“Yes,” Wanda said, “why don’t you and Stevie go say hi while I help Mommy set up dinner?” The twins nodded at Wanda before excitedly making their way to the blonde giant in the room. Wanda walked to your side as you both watched Steve and the twins meet.

When the twins reached Steve, Steve knelt to their height.

“Hi,” the twins said at the same time.

“Hi,” Steve said, his voice shaking slightly, his baby blue eyes never blinking as he took in the sight in front of him. The product of both you and him stood right there, breathing, blinking, smiling at him.

“Are you ok?” Stevie asked as a few tears slipped past the ex-captain's eyes. Steve finally blinked and quickly wiped the few stray tears from his cheeks.

“Yeah champ,” Steve assured him, “I’m fine, a bit of dust got in my eye is all.”

“That happens,” Lettie said before letting her small hand wipe the last stray tear on the man's sharp cheeks.

You feel Wanda’s hand hold yours as you both watch the first interaction they’ve ever had with each other.

“I’m Scarlet but everyone calls me Lettie and that’s my brother Steven but we call him Stevie.” She said as she pointed to her brother next to her. Much like father, Stevie couldn’t stop looking at the blonde before him. A curious look passed over his features before showing a small smile.

“Well it’s very nice to meet you both,” Steve said mustering up the courage to look away. “I’ve heard so much about you both,” Steve started as he stood upright and dug into his coat pockets and dug out two small gift wrapped boxes, “much like how your birthday was last month.”

The kids' eyes shone with excitement as they accepted the gifts, thanking him in the process. The twins were just naturally polite, they learned early on that it was only polite to say please and thank you when asking or receiving something.

The twins silently looked to you for approval to open the presents. You gave them a silent it’s ok before they tore open the colorful thin paper.

Lettie let out a thank you as she opened the box to find a necklace with a star pendant. Stevie did the same as he opened the box to find a compass, it was plain and looked close to Steve’s but it was a newer model.

Without any warning the twins enveloped Steve in their tiny arms. You could see it took all of Steve’s strength not to crush them in his arms and you felt for him. This was the first time since he was eighteen that he’s been held by someone of his family, the last being his mother before she died.

All too soon the kids let him go and ushered him to the living room while you and Wanda went to the kitchen to finish dinner.

You could hear from the kitchen how the kids laughed and talked excitedly with Steve and in a way it both warmed and uneased your heart. For so long it had just been you and Wanda. However, after today it would no longer be like that again.

You see Wanda lost in thought as she stirred the sauce in the saucepan. You gently wrap your arms around her middle and pressed a gentle kiss on her shoulder.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You asked her, Wanda continued to stir the sauce with her magic as she turned around in your arms to envelop you in hers.

“I hope we’re doing the right thing.” Wanda silently said as she pressed her forehead to yours.

“We are,” you assure her, “we are.”

You both stood there like that for a few minutes until the sauce began to bubble and was ready to pour over the noodles. After doing that and preparing the garden salad and grabbing the raspberry pie you had made earlier. You and Wanda set the table and soon enough you had called everyone for dinner.

Once everyone was sat down and served everyone began eating and light chatting in between bites. Steve recounted his retirement to the moon to the kids, in which they asked so many questions in which he gladly answered. Meanwhile you and Wanda shared a look, a look that said that everything was going as planned.

That was until...

“Are you our dad?”

TAGLIST:

@ladydmalfoy @bluemoon-icecream-blog @gaylor-okay @madz47

(Taglist is open)

#masterlist series #masterlist #series #angst #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rodgers imagine #wanda maximoff #wanda maximov #wanda marvel #wanda mcu #Elizabeth Olsen #Chris Evans #wanda maximoff x reader #scarlet witch x reader #the scarlet witch #x reader

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bethpeaches123 · 3 years

Note

So I loved the Oh it’s You update! I was dying when they were talking at the end of the chapter and Peeta is clearly entranced with Katniss...would you pretty please write an outtake of that scene in his POV- I would love to know what was going through his mind when she was talking to him about his marriage....about what he really wants lol

Okay my friend, here you go! It got a little long...hope you enjoy!

I'll be posting this to AO3 soon too, I just don't know if it'll be separate from the rest of Oh, it's you or if it'll be a separate thing.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Peeta sat at a table in front of the window of Brewed Awakening, his hands wrapped around the steaming mug of tea that Sara, the cashier had just placed in front of him. He smiled his thanks as she turned and walked back to the counter, him turning back to stare at the tea bag floating at the top of the mug.

It had been a rough few weeks since he and Delly had broken the news to Connor. Every time he thought about his son’s sweet little face peering up at him as he told him he’d be moving out of their house, and Mommy and Daddy wouldn’t be together any more, his heart physically ached in his chest. He hated that he was causing his favourite person in the world any sort of upset, especially his precious boy.

Peeta felt guilty. He’d tried for so long with Delly. They’d been together since high school, when they were just kids.

Back then, he’d been so fixated on Katniss Everdeen, ever since the day he’d met her, but could never work up the nerve to talk to her, let alone ask her out. He’d been so frustrated and disappointed with himself over it. Peeta had himself so worked up over it, he pushed her away as much as he could and vowed to move on.

The day Delly asked him to go to the Halloween dance in junior year, he accepted. She was a pretty girl who was sweet and bubbly, and he liked that. Liked how she made him feel. There was no real stress with Delly. No real excitement, but it was comfortable. Safe.

He didn’t really think much of the state of his relationship - he just thought it was normal to not be madly, hopelessly in love. He loved Delly, yes, but it was never passionate or all-consuming like the great romances in movies made love out to be. He went through the stages of a relationship with her, did all the things he thought he was supposed to. Delly seemed happy and so did both their families, so when they’d been together for a few years and she started leaving links to engagement rings open on her laptop, he took the hint and proposed. All the while thinking maybe things would become more passionate or...loving, once they got married.

But it didn’t happen. In fact, six months in, he realized things weren’t going to get better and was prepared to ask for a divorce, but then Delly announced she was pregnant. And he knew he couldn’t leave then. Becoming a father was terrifying but it was something he’d always wanted, more than anything else in life. So he decided to once again dedicate himself to his marriage and the mother of his child. And it worked for a little while. But forcing a marriage never works in the end, no matter how much you may want it to, no matter how much you want to put up a united front for your child.

The bell on the coffee shop door chimed as someone opened it and out of the corner of his eye he saw Katniss step inside. His body immediately started to tingle like it always did whenever she appeared. It was like his senses became heightened and hyper aware of her when she was around. He could feel almost like an electric current running through his veins.

She approached the table a few minutes later with her own mug and said softly, “Hey Peeta. How are you doing?”

He was about to reply with a smile and his prepared front, ready to fake it, when he looked at her and read it all over her face: she knew about the split.

He sighed. He should’ve known Madge would open her mouth about it. It wasn’t exactly a state secret, but he would’ve liked a heads up that people knew. That Katniss knew.

“You know,” he said blankly. She hesitated and then replied, “Yeah. Madge and Gale told me. I’m really sorry.”

“Yeah...not exactly great news.”

He pondered it for a minute and then just decided to be honest. “Is it weird that I’m...almost relieved?” he said softly. “Kind of like a weight’s off my shoulders?”

He thought about the way Delly had looked at him that last day. How resentful she looked. He never wanted a woman to look at him that way again. Suddenly, he realized who he was saying this to, and jerked back. He shouldn’t be discussing such personal things with Katniss. “I mean - I don’t mean that, I-I just...just feel...fuck. I don’t fucking know.” he stuttered. “I don’t mean it like that. No one wants their marriage to fail. I just tried for so long to make her happy but nothing seemed to make her happy. Or I never seemed to get it right. Could never get it right for years.”

He felt so defeated. But he didn’t want to talk about this with Katniss. Didn’t want her to think he was pathetic or a failure. Even though he felt like he was both. He was about to change the subject when she spoke up.

“Peeta...it could have been four years or forty years, it doesn’t matter. If it’s not right, it’s never going to be right. It doesn’t matter how much time you dedicate. Some things just aren’t meant to be. You shouldn’t have to try so hard in a relationship. Yeah, they take work, but not that much work. Not that much grief.” He watched her as she continued, entranced by her words.

“It should be...effortless, in some ways. Like when you meet someone, and you click, and it’s like… ‘oh. It’s you. There you are.’ Like you’ve been waiting for them this whole time and didn’t even realize it.”

Peeta stared at her, frozen at the words that seemed to tumble from her mouth. The click she spoke about. Oh, it’s you. It’s...you.

Like you’ve been waiting for them this whole time and didn’t even realize it.

Well, he realized it now. He still liked her. The pull he’d felt all those years ago to Katniss Everdeen was back. As much as he forced himself to try and forget about her, being around her the past few months had dragged those feelings right back up. Oh.

“Oh.” He hadn’t realized he’d said the word out loud. And that he’d been staring at her this whole time. He briefly watched as her eyes left his and flickered down to his mouth. Woah. What was that? Was she…?

Katniss coughed lightly and said quickly, “well, like I said: some things aren’t meant to be, no matter how hard you try. As shitty as this is, and as much as I’m sure it’s going to be difficult to work through, maybe this is the start of a new chapter for you. Where you can figure out...what makes you happy, without having to focus so much on making someone else happy. Besides Connor. Take some time to figure out what you really want.”

What he really wanted. What did he want? Right now...he could finally admit to himself that he wanted what was right in front of him. He wanted...her. He realized that the split from Delly meant that he was...free. He wasn’t elated by that, but it did make him realize that he was essentially on his own, once the paperwork went through.

What did he want?

“Yeah...what I really want.” Possibilities and future scenarios began to run through his mind. He didn’t realize he’d been staring at her, lost in thought, until she spoke again.

“Um, maybe we should take a look at this menu, hey? See what you’re thinking for it?”

Peeta was jerked from his reverie. Woah. Slow down. Collect yourself. Get it together. You literally just separated from your wife like three weeks ago. Calm down.

“Yes, of course. Um, there’s a few different options we could go with, like having a savoury package and a sweet package. I was thinking of a herbed goat cheese biscuit for one, but also…”

He pressed on, determined to push his earlier daydreams aside and focus on the task at hand. She seemed to space out for a minute and then made some comment about being concerned about keeping the hot items warm because it was cold in the winter, which made him laugh harder than he had in months.

When they had finalized everything, Katniss made to leave, saying something about another meeting. Peeta was reluctant, but he knew he had to get back to the bakery anyway. He stood up to pull his coat on as she thanked him again, when suddenly, she reached up and wrapped her arms around him in a hug.

He froze.

It was the first time they’d ever hugged. Katniss Everdeen had her arms around him. Katniss was touching him. He couldn’t let this moment pass him by.

He stiffly moved his arms around her and felt her warmth underneath his hands. He took a deep breath and inhaled. Fresh linen. Sandalwood. Vanilla. She smelled heavenly. He exhaled slowly and tightened his grip on her waist. He could feel her slight curves as he breathed in again and felt the electricity buzz through him even stronger. He could also feel the stress he’d been holding onto for so many months start to slowly pour out of him. It was incredible what a simple hug could do. But this wasn’t a simple hug. Maybe it had to do with whom he was hugging.

This was a turning point and he knew it. He was a goner.

~*~*~*~*~*~

#oh it's you #bethpeaches123 writes #oh it's you outtake #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #the hunger games #everlark #everlark fanfiction #everlark fanfic #mrspeetamellark

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faunusrights · 3 years

Text

yeah, all i got is this belly button lint: a happy huntresses short fic

wrote this real quick because i love thinking about the random crap fiona has in her Inventory(tm). also i just like thinking about these clowns in general, so,

"Okay, so, what's actually in your Semblance right now?" Joanna asks one day in third year, when Fiona and May have sneaked away to Robyn's dorm to lose at cards and help edit her new batch of flyers promoting union creation in the workplace. Fiona had given a couple a look and accepted them as good enough, but May is weirdly exacting about her standards and is currently trying to convince Robyn to nudge the text headers over by ten pixels to the right. That's why, as she's sat on the floor and wrapped up in the drama of watching Robyn try and slowly fail to ignore May's insistent pleas for her to boot up her editor, Fiona's caught just a little bit off-guard by the question.

"My Semblance?" she asks, and Joanna nods all serious-like from her place on the bunk above Robyn. Joanna often looks very serious, because she suffers from what Robyn calls resting thoughtful bitch face, so sometimes it's hard to gauge how actually serious about something she really is. "I mean, it's probably a mess in there right now."

"I keep forgetting you actually use it like storage space," Robyn adds cheerfully, having now progressed onto shoving May away from her laptop computer every time she tries to creep closer. "Since most Semblances are, y'know, combat-only things or like... special occasions, I guess. And yet here you are, telling people you really don't need a bag for all your groceries!"

It is fun to flex on all the people struggling to carry like six bags to their car or their home, and Fiona preens. "Yeah, it's nice. I mostly keep things in it that I'd wanna have in an emergency, but it's been a while since I last sorted through it, so, who knows what garbage I've put in there."

"Tell me Robyn's braincell is in there too," May says imploringly, still trying to slide an arm around Robyn to get at the keyboard, but Fiona just shakes her head. She can't and won't be blamed for that particular disappearance any time soon. Instead, she rubs her hands together, scrunching up her face as she tests the edges of the Semblance. It's a funny thing, a Semblance like this--she never really has to think about it, but it's always just in reach, like this extra weight in her chest that she can totally forget about. It's strange to think about, so she often just doesn't.

"Okay," she starts, and she goes for the biggest item she can sense, which is an easy one to explain. In her hands materialises an acoustic guitar, worn and scuffed with age, and this attracts to attention of every girl in the room. "Well, this one's easy. This is my guitar, and honestly? If I ever leave it behind in the meatspace and don't pick it up on my way out the door, know that you've just seen my evil clone and you have to kill her."

Joanna blinks, and Robyn seems caught between asking about the guitar, the evil clone, and also the fact that Fiona insists on referring to the physical world as the meatspace. So, she does as Robyn does best, and settles on an expletive. "Shit! You play?"

"Been playing since I was... like seven? Something like that." Fiona shrugs, because she really can't be sure; her first vague memory of even seeing this guitar was a long time ago, her uncle telling her it used to belong to her grandmother who'd never managed to learn a damn thing on it. So, Fiona had taken up practice, if only because it was something for a little lowlands Mantellian Faunus to do during the long, cold polar nights and the endless sunshine of the midnight sun. "But, yeah, this is always on me in some form or another."

"You should've played it whilst we were on watch our last mission," May says, with a certain scowl that Fiona knows is 100% directed at their team leader, who is currently off doing... some sort of bullshit with their partner, no doubt. Gods, this team is a nightmare. "All those hours trying to stay awake so we could stare into nothing..."

"Sorry," Fiona says, and she means it. She'd intended to, but, well, she'd sort of chickened out. The echo in the mountains is kind of insane. "Next time?"

May nods, but Joanna cuts off whatever she's about to say next by waving her hands through the air like she can physically dissipate the conversation. "Okay, okay, cool, but now I gotta else you got hiding in there."

Re-compressing her guitar--and oh, is Fiona thankful that dematerialising and rematerialising it doesn't leave it out of tune--Fiona has a mental root around. "Uh, okay, so, we've got--"

In no particular order, she starts pulling things out: a pair of thick gloves for the brutal Solitas chill, an extra pair of socks (hugely understated by most, but never by Fiona), a ushanka that Robyn instantly cheers for, and a couple of jackets ranging from light windbreakers to thick furred jackets that feel like she's wearing a mattress around her ribs. Her Scroll and wallet are in there too, naturally, as are her keys and some extra ammunition, and she pulls out a load of old train tickets with a grimace. "Hm. I was meant to throw these away years ago."

"You're basically carrying around a wardrobe in there, then?" May asks in a way that'd maybe be a little teasing if she didn't look about as jealous as she sounds, but it becomes a thoughtful expression when Fiona shakes her head again.

"Bold of you to think I haven't got a whole pantry in here too," she says, and now Joanna looks very interested. "Check this out."

The first thing she pulls out is a gallon jug of clean water--endlessly fucking useful, she's found, especially when you're in some situation where you can't sit on your ass for an hour waiting for the water purification tablets to do their job--before pulling out a whole host of Atlesian MREs that she keeps around just in case shit really does hit the fan. Atlas rations are... not good, in a phrase, but she's owed them her life more than once, so, whatever.

"What dates are on those?" May quickly interrupts with a critical eye, trying to make out the printed numbers on the snow-patterned packets, and Fiona tosses her one if only to distract May's hands from trying to puzzle out Robyn's password when Robyn isn't directly paying attention.

"Things don't really degrade in my Semblance," Fiona admits. "I've tested it before on stuff with a short shelf-life, like cheese and milk, and honestly I can leave it in there for months and have it come out just as fresh as when it went in. Something to do with a sort of... internal stasis, I guess." Then, she adds, "One thing in my Semblance is a goldfish in a bowl, but he's part of a practical theory I'm running, so I can't materialise him for another fifteen years or so."

"That sounds very normal," Joanna says, and Fiona is glad she agrees as she barrels right over the inherent sarcasm.

As May agonises over finding the date, though, Fiona continues to unveil her pantry--there's plenty of snacks, like dried fruit and nuts and energy bars and chocolate, and when she reveals she carries extra for every member of her team and then some (then some in this instance being Robyn and Joanna, not that she'll admit it), Robyn looks delighted. "That's so sweet! Look at you, making sure nobody goes hungry. You're one in a million."

That's cute and very gay, but Fiona has a lot of stuff to be working through and so she keeps on going--there's a flask of coffee that, thanks to the maybe-stasis, is eternally hot, a bottle of dark Mantellian ale she keeps as, uh, moral support, and she blushes when she pulls out half an uneaten tuna sandwich. "I wondered where that went. Whoops."

May looks up from the MRE for a second, and then does a double-take as she takes in the sight of the very limp and sad-looking sandwich, made courtesy of the Atlas Academy cafeteria. "Wait! Isn't that the sandwich you accused me of stealing last month?!"

"Anyway!" Fiona says with a forced grin, quickly making it disappear back into the void where it can safely continue not existing. "I think the final thing in here is... wait."

She blinks, and suddenly in her hands are at least a hundred little booklets entitled The Pocket Guide to Communist Outreach, scattering right over the floor. Robyn yelps, and then reaches down the side of her bunk to pick them up. "Oh shit! I forgot I asked you to hold onto these! I thought we ran out, nice."

Joanna's face is in her hands, and May sighs long and hard before tossing the MRE back to Fiona with a distinctly pained expression.

"It goes out of date in a month," she notes with distaste, and Fiona just sucks it up without a word. She'll be thankful for it when they end up down a dark cave with no backup, but Fiona figures she'll sit on that one for a bit before being able to make the greatest told you so call in history. She can wait.

"So," she says, watching as May takes advantage of Robyn's momentary distraction to try and access her computer again. "I guess... do you wanna hear me play a song?"

Joanna watches as her partner leans too far over the side of the bunk, yelping as she nearly slams her head directly into the hard vinyl of the floor, and she grimaces. "Please do."

Grinning, Fiona finds her guitar again--somewhere buried, she mentally notes, beside the gallon of water but under the coats--and she slings the broad strap about her shoulders before settling it on her lap, crossing her legs tightly beneath herself before finding her place on the fretboard. After having not played since being back home, it relaxes her more than she'd ever realised it did. It helps to be surrounded by friends, though. Helps to be with family.

"I don't take requests," she adds, flatly, and Robyn laughs from her place on the floor before music fills the dorm, soft and deep and achingly familiar of a place far, far below.

But she's okay with calling this place home, too.

#is the title really a spongebob refer--#rwby #happy huntresses #fiona thyme #robyn hill #may marigold #joanna greenleaf #my writing #sorry this was in my brain for a while there sdfhjgsdfgjh #BUT ITS OUT NOW. ITS FREE.#what else would you have called this #fiona doesn't mention this but she also has emergency condoms and a literal handgun. just in case.#JUST IN CASE...

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thewidowsghost · 3 years

Text

Stay Strong, Alex - Part 1 (Alex Danvers x Fem!Cop!Reader)

So, you guys may have seen my update a few days ago about me binging 30+ episodes of Supergirl in like 4 days. I found the episode titled “Alex” to be one of the most interesting episodes I have seen so far, so I wanted to write the reader into that episode. This is definitely going to have another part or two.

Part 2

Part 3

The return of Jeremiah Danvers was something that the two Danvers sisters had been waiting for for years.

(Y/n) smiles at the youngest Danvers as Kara opens the door.

(Y/n) (L/n) knocks on the door of Kara Danver's apartment, a bouquet of

amaryllis resting in the crook of her arm and a bag in the other hand.

"Hey," Kara says with a smile.

"I heard there was a party?" (Y/n) asks, her gaze resting on Alex for a moment before resting her (E/c) orbs back onto Kara.

"Yeah, come on in," Kara says and (Y/n) steps through the doorway.

Alex crosses the room in a few strides, a nervous look on her face. "Hey, um . . ." Alex places a soft kiss on (Y/n)'s cheek. "Come in."

"Hey, sweetie," Mrs. Danvers greets, pulling (Y/n) into a hug.

"Hey," (Y/n) smiles, holding out the bouquet. "I brought these for you all." A mischievous smile spreads across (Y/n)'s face. "Might help spruce up Kara's bland apartment.

Kara's eyebrows raise. "Um, yeah, my apartment isn't bland (L/n)," Kara says, taking the flowers and putting them in a vase.

"Dad," Alex says, her hand resting on the small of (Y/n)'s back, "this is my girlfriend, (Y/n)."

(Y/n) can sense the nervousness in her girlfriend's voice and she glances up into her brunette's eyes before meeting Jeremiah Danvers's gaze.

Jeremiah looks at (Y/n) curiously before speaking, "Things have changed." Alex sighs with relief at the smile on her father's face and (Y/n) nods slightly at the man. "There is no man on Earth good enough for Alex Danvers. So it would have to be someone like you."

(Y/n)'s lips spread into a smile. "Flattery?" she asks, her eyes glimmering with amusement. "And, well, you're right. Alex does deserve the best."

"Oh!" Jeremiah steps forward as (Y/n) offers the bag to him. "And you brought . . . Tequila!" Jeremiah grins. "Okay, she's family."

There's a knocking on Alex's apartment door as the woman sips on her glass of scotch.

Alex grins and lets her hands rest on (Y/n)'s shoulder, a fond look in her chocolate brown eyes.

. . .

"Yeah," Alex calls, her eyes slightly closed.

(Y/n) opens the door and steps inside her girlfriend's apartment. "Hey," she says softly. She closes the door softly and walks over, concern taking over. "What's wrong?" she asks. "How was your dad's first day at the DEO?"

Alex doesn't meet (Y/n)'s gaze and her glass hits the counter with a thunk.

Alex reaches for the bottle of scotch, her movements sluggish.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," (Y/n) soothes, grabbing the bottle quickly and sliding it down the counter. "Alex, hun, I'm here," (Y/n) murmurs, letting her hand rest on Alex's knee. "You can tell me anything."

A tear runs down Alex's cheek and (Y/n) lifts Alex's chin with a gentle finger.

"Hun, you can tell me anything," (Y/n) murmurs.

Alex lets out a sob and (Y/n) wraps her arms tightly around her girlfriend.

(Y/n) scratches the last dog on the head as she leaves her job at the volunteer animal shelter.

"It's okay," (Y/n) murmurs, running her hand soothingly down Alex's back. "You're so strong, honey." Alex wraps her arms tighter around (Y/n)'s mid-section. "So strong."

. . .

(Y/n) bounds excitedly into the door of Alex's apartment and Alex jumps up from the couch.

"Hi," Alex greets, kissing (Y/n) on the cheek.

"You little butt," (Y/n) says with a grin and Alex shakes her head with a fond smile.

Alex leans down and (Y/n) kisses her on the lips this time.

"Cutie," (Y/n) coos with a warm smile.

"Says the woman who works with adorable animals all day," Alex scoffs, and the two flop down on the couch. "I don't know how you do it," Alex adds.

"What?" (Y/n) asks, turning to meet her girlfriend's chocolate brown gaze.

"Are you kidding me?" Alex asks. "You're an NCPD officer and you volunteer at the animal shelter on your days off." (Y/n) smiles shyly. "You're insanely badass."

There's a knock on the door and Kara grabs the pizza from the delivery man.

(Y/n) just shakes her head fondly.

. . .

"Thanks," Kara says as Alex waves a towel around as the smoke detector beeps.

"Alex, don't be embarrassed, okay?" Kara's boyfriend Mon-El tells Alex. "Okay, the first time I tried to microwave macaroni and cheese they had to evacuate three city blocks."

"That's an exaggeration," Kara says, handing (Y/n) a pizza box, "but I have seen less terrifying nuclear explosions."

"Well," (Y/n) says, opening the box, "I like pizza better than paella anyway."

"Yes, me too," Alex agrees and (Y/n) smiles at her girlfriend, taking a piece of the pepperoni from the box.

"I love ham and pineapple!" Kara says enthusiastically.

"Thank you," Mon-El returns. "It totally shouldn't work, but it totally does. How's my girlfriend, guys, huh?"

Kara laughs, "What?"

Bank robbers, zero," Mon-El continues. "Supergirl, two."

(Y/n)'s expression turns steely and she gazes at Mon-el as he continues, "What do you even need cops for in this city?" Mon-El laughs.

(Y/n) steely expression turns into a glare and Alex chokes back a laugh. "He's from a different planet. He doesn't even know what he's saying," Alex tells (Y/n).

"No," (Y/n) says, her expression blank, "he's right. Why bother trying to talk someone down when Supergirl can just force them down?" she asks, turning to stare at Kara. "Twenty-six hours of 'What do you want, how can I help you?' good old-fashioned hostage negotiation wasted."

"You're not upset that I caught the bad guys and got everyone out safely, are you?" Kara asks and (Y/n) just rolls her eyes.

"I could've gotten them to free the hostages," (Y/n) retorts, her eyes blazing angrily.

"Maybe," Kara replies. "But they're in jail now, where they can't hurt anyone. That's all that matters."

"The point is, you can't just punch your way out of things, sometimes you have to use your words," (Y/n) snaps.

"I did what I had to do to get those people out of there."

"I think what (Y/n)'s trying to say is that what you do is amazing when we're up against . . ." Alex pauses.

"A giant purple monster or a half-cyborg murderer, sure," (Y/n) continues. "But most of the time, police work requires a more delicate touch."

"'Delicate?'" Kara questions, taking a sip of her wine.

"Yeah. You broke a guy's arm and you gave another one a concussion," (Y/n) glances over at Alex. "And that was after you knocked the roof of a National City landmark! And now, it just has a big, Supergirl-sized hole in it."

By this point, Alex's eyes had gone wide.

"A thousand things couldn've happened from the time of your call to the hostages walking out," Kara argues. "Maybe, yeah, sure, I broke some walls, but I got everyone out of there safely and that is a win," Kara's voice had raised at this point and Alex and Mon-El were exchanging bewildered looks.

"Well, you should've asked," (Y/n) returns. "Officers are losing their jobs left and right, but you never look before you leap."

"Because I can fly."

(Y/n) scoffs, "Okay."

Both Alex and Mon-El clear their throats.

"Well, as being something of a superhero myself," Mon-El pauses. "I can say that sometimes it's better to punch, than, than to talk."

"Sometimes talking is more hurtful than punching," Kara says, taking a bite of her pizza. "Obviously, I've upset you, (Y/n). I'm gonna go."

"No, Kara, don't do that . . ." Alex says softly.

"No, it's fine. Thank you. Thanks for dinner," Kara says, getting to her feet, grabbing her purse.

Alex glances over at (Y/n) desperately.

Kara leaves the apartment and Mon-El follows mouthing 'Sorry' as he closes the door, a piece of ham and pineapple pizza in his hand.

Alex gets up from her chair. "I know you're upset about earlier, but I really . . ." (Y/n) stands up and moves to stand in front of her girlfriend. "I just want you and Kara to get along."

(Y/n) drops her gaze from Alex's brown eyes and Alex softens. She leans over and presses her lips to (Y/n)'s.

"Where are you going?" (Y/n) asks as Alex moves towards the door.

"I'm going to go talk to Kara," Alex says.

"Well, be safe," (Y/n) murmurs.

"What could happen?" Alex asks, walking over and kissing (Y/n) softly again. "I'm just going to see Kara."

Word Count: 1399 words

So yerp, this is the first part.

Taglist:

@procrastinatingsapphictrash

#alex danvers x reader #alex danvers x fem reader #alex danvers #supergirl x reader #supergirl x fem reader #fem reader #reader insert

103 notes · View notes

bevioletskies · 3 years

Text

the first time (ever i saw your face)

summary: On their six-month anniversary, Apollo and Klavier decide to pose a seemingly harmless question: what did they think of each other when they first met? As it turns out, the topic is a little more complicated than they originally thought.

word count: 4.9k | read on ao3

a/n: For @klapollo-week, day one of seven (prompt: "firsts"). All seven of my fics take place in the same continuity! However, each can be read as a stand-alone, with the exception of day seven being a sequel to day five.

This fic takes place at some distant point in time after Spirit of Justice where Apollo and Trucy have learned that they’re siblings. Mild spoiler warning for the end of Apollo Justice; warning for brief mentions of alcohol. Fic title is from the song The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face by Roberta Flack.

“...why does this look like something out of a direct-to-streaming movie adaptation of a YA novel that has a three-star average rating on Goodreads?”

“If you’re trying to say you don’t like it, baby, you could just say so.”

“No, no, I - I’m actually kinda into it. It’s like we’ve walked onto the set of a staged proposal, though if you ask me to marry you right now, I will start laughing.”

Klavier sighed. “I’m starting to think the phrase ‘romance is dead’ was invented specifically for you.” Nevertheless, he tugged gently on Apollo’s hand. “Come on, liebe, I got our favorite snacks, I queued our favorite movies...and before you ask, nein, there is no engagement ring, so stop looking at me like that.”

“I’m not...totally opposed to getting married, you know,” Apollo added as he followed Klavier. “It’s just...it’s a little early for me. This is only our six-month anniversary, after all.”

“Fair enough,” Klavier hummed, the two of them settling down in their spots. He’d learned long ago that Apollo wasn’t one for flashy, photo op-worthy dates, that he preferred more intimate, low-key settings. And so, for their six-month anniversary, Klavier had taken them to his family estate. He had cleared out the conservatory overlooking the garden of all its furniture, filling it with blankets and pillows, drapes and string lights, and a projector whose screen covered the entire back wall. It reminded Apollo of what he himself had done for their three-month anniversary - because apparently, he was that kind of person now - when he’d planned a weekend’s stay in a cozy lakeside cabin. “A conversation for another time, ja?”

“Yeah, definitely.” Apollo draped one of the blankets over his and Klavier’s laps, then lowered his head to rest on Klavier’s shoulder. Smiling, Klavier turned to briefly kiss Apollo’s temples, then reached for his laptop so he could start the movie. They spent the first fifteen or so minutes in companionable silence, sharing a bag of popcorn and a bottle of wine while they watched, until Apollo eventually spoke again. “...weird, isn’t it?”

“The movie? Not particularly,” Klavier shrugged. “If anything, I’d say the plot twist is a bit predictable.”

“No, not the movie. I mean...this.” Apollo gestured aimlessly. “You and me. Us.”

Klavier’s expression darkened somewhat. “Are you...having doubts about our relationship, Apollo?”

“Wh - no, no, not at all!” Apollo protested, sitting up. “It’s just...I guess it’s mostly weird for me. Like, if someone told me, say, a couple years ago, that I was gonna be in a relationship with you, of all people...hell, can you imagine if someone told me that on the day we met? I-I wouldn’t believe it!”

“You weren’t shy about your distaste for me, true,” Klavier agreed, his slight frown relaxing into an amused smile.

“I don’t think that’s an...entirely accurate assessment of, uh, of how I felt,” Apollo said carefully.

Now it was Klavier’s turn to straighten up, looking at him curiously. “Really?” he asked. “Then what did you think of me when we first met?”

“You first,” Apollo retorted, seemingly on instinct. He then softened. “I mean, only if you want to. I’m kinda curious.”

“I don’t mind,” Klavier reassured him, setting down his wine glass so he could squeeze Apollo’s hand. He hesitated, thinking it over. “...I expected to hate you from the very beginning, to be perfectly honest. And, for a moment there...I did.”

Apollo’s eyes widened. “Wh...what?”

“‘Disgraced Defense Attorney Dismantled By His Disciple’, I believe the headline was,” Klavier continued. He then smiled wryly. “A bit dramatic, if you ask me. But then again, I’m not a big fan of alliteration, so I might just be biased.”

“Did you really hate me?” Apollo’s shout had dropped to a mere whisper. “Because...because you didn’t wanna believe it, did you? About…what had happened. What he’d done.”

“It wasn’t all bad memories, all the time, you know.” Klavier gently released Apollo’s hand so he could brush his hair out of his eyes, though he kept his head ducked low. “We had our moments, him and I. We weren’t close, but...we weren’t estranged, either. In fact, I...I first heard your name from him, not from the papers.”

“He told you about me.” It wasn’t a question. “I guess I should’ve suspected, but I never really knew what your relationship was like...before. I mean, he never once mentioned having a brother, so I kinda assumed…”

“As everyone does,” Klavier shrugged, far too casually for Apollo’s liking. “Anyway, your question was about you and me, not me and him, ja? He told me all the usual things people have to say about you - loud, eager to please, a little bit sensitive. I didn’t think much of it at the time, other than the fact you had a strange name.”

Apollo rolled his eyes, sinking back into the cushions. “Wonderful. Fantastic. Glad to know I made a great first impression.”

“And then when the headlines came along...and Mama and Papa called…” Klavier’s face darkened once more; he cleared his throat. “I looked you up. I hadn’t bothered when I first heard your name, but I had to know. Still, I...I found almost nothing. No photos, no social accounts...nichts. Just a single line on a college graduate roster and the same articles I’d been reading before.”

“...I see.” Apollo fiddled with the ends of his blanket, just so he would have something to do with his hands. “So, when we finally met in person…”

_____

The first thing Klavier noticed was Apollo’s eyes - large, round, expressive to a fault. The color of melted chocolate, though in the sunlight, more akin to the color of honey. Those eyes of Apollo’s, curious and maybe a little bit accusatory, narrowed right at him as he arrived at the entrance of People Park. He internally winced at the sight of Apollo’s companion, who was arguing with the police officer standing guard at the scene. Despite the time that had passed since he last saw her, he could never forget Trucy Enigmar-now-Wright.

Are you working for Phoenix Wright now? Klavier wanted to ask as he approached them. Why? Don’t you know what he’s done? Don’t you see what he’s become?

“I must say I'm used to being inspected by the ladies...but this is the first time I've felt this way with a man,” he said instead, leaning forward to smile somewhat condescendingly at them. Klavier was momentarily struck by how similar they were - how their hair was the exact same shade of brown, how the dusting of freckles across their identically shaped noses matched too perfectly, how their furrowed brows and perplexed frowns were one and the same. The only difference was their eyes, hers more the color of a stormy sea. Perhaps there’s a song lyric there? Klavier mused to himself. Ach, now is not the time.

“Mr...Gavin?” Apollo said disbelievingly, his eyes now widening. His arms, previously crossed tightly against his chest, fell to his sides. The motion caught Klavier’s eye, drawing his attention to the glint of the golden bracelet sitting on Apollo’s left wrist. He wondered if there was some sort of significance to it, what with the way Apollo clutched it tightly with his right hand.

“Ah, fräulein,” Klavier continued, his eyes flickering back upwards. He wondered if she knew him, if she recognized him at all. Clearly, Apollo had no idea who he was; he wasn’t sure how to feel about that just yet. “What is a sweet morsel like you doing in such a dismal place? Can I help?”

“Yes! The police man officer fellow here won't let us in!” Trucy complained, huffing. She brandished an envelope in Klavier’s face, nearly swatting him on the nose as she did. He flinched slightly, surprised by how brazen she was. “We even have a letter of request!”

Klavier’s smile softened into one that was a little more genuine. He couldn’t help but be instantly charmed by her. “You must be exhausted, standing out here. I will take you to the scene of the crime.”

“Ooh! Really?” Trucy exclaimed, brightening. Apollo looked skeptical in comparison, his intense gaze traversing the length of Klavier’s body. Usually, he would have preened at the attention, been flattered by the obvious interest and maybe made a show of looking back, but he knew that wasn’t what Apollo was looking for. I am not him, Klavier thought fiercely. I am not the one you trusted, the one who taught you everything you know. I could never -

“By your leave, officer,” Klavier said with a nod and a wink. He barely heard the officer’s affirmation over his own thoughts. Then, he turned back to Trucy and tilted his head towards the park. “Very well. This way, fräulein.”

Trucy’s giggle was sweet, melodic, as she happily followed him through the entrance. He made a show of lifting the police tape for her to duck under, which she seemed easily amused by. Apollo, meanwhile, was left standing on the street, staring at them incredulously, before he finally seemed to register what was happening. “Hey! What about me?!” he cried. His voice gets raspier the louder he gets, Klavier couldn’t help but observe. Interesting.

Once Apollo had caught up, Klavier turned to grin at them both, teeth clenched beneath his lips. Trucy was rocking back and forth on her heels, beaming back, while Apollo had braced his hands on his hips indignantly, like he had something he wanted to say and was just waiting for the opportune moment to say it. Ach, those eyes, those hands, those freckles, Klavier thought rather stupidly. Wait - you’re not supposed to think he’s cute, Klavier, hör auf!

“On that note, enjoy your investigation,” he remarked. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the flash of a white lab coat further into the park that told him he needed to leave if he didn’t want to be reprimanded - or worse, Snackoo-ed.

“Thank you! Will we see you again?” Trucy asked, hopeful.

Klavier hesitated. Apollo still hadn’t said a thing about the obvious elephant in the room, still staring at Klavier like he was a ghost. He wanted Apollo to say something, anything, to ask questions, to start the conversation that he himself admittedly didn’t want to take responsibility for. But Apollo was clearly stunned into silence, and any courage Klavier had had when he first walked up to them moments ago was long gone.

“Ask the wind, fräulein. I'll be riding on it,” he said, shooting them one last saccharine smile. He could hear the click-click of Ema’s shoes against the cobblestone as she approached. With that, he turned and left, his chest aching in confusion.

_____

The silence was heavy, heavier than Apollo expected. Klavier had turned the movie volume down long ago, leaving them with nothing but the sound of their own quiet breaths. “Makes sense,” Apollo finally said, shooting Klavier a sympathetic smile. “To you, I...I jumped ship from one corrupt defense attorney to another. At least, that’s what it seemed like at the time, right?”

“Part of me wanted to confront you right then and there, but I didn’t want to do it. Not in front of everyone, especially not in front of her. But the other part of me...I just wanted to learn more about you. To get to know you before I decided whether it was a battle worth fighting. Whether he was worth defending.” Klavier then smiled back; now it was his turn to drop his head onto Apollo’s shoulder. “Besides, you were cute, and I’m weak.”

“‘Were’, huh?” Apollo teased, nudging him. “Well, I’m glad Trucy’s presence, your curiosity, and my cuteness apparently deterred you enough to walk away. To think, what would you have done if you didn’t think I was cute - ”

“Achtung, you’re such an arschgeige sometimes,” Klavier groaned, laughing. “Anyway...I got my answer in court soon enough. I could trust you, and he...he wasn’t worth defending. Not one bit.”

“No, not at all,” Apollo agreed. “Still, I’m...I’m sorry, Klav. Not for what I did, I mean, I-I had to, but just...how it all played out. How messy things got. Whenever we, y’know, come here to see your parents, I still see that look in their eyes. It’s that face that you make when you think no one’s looking.” He swallowed. “Mr. Wright says Trucy does that, too. Less now that she’s got me and Mom, but…well.”

“It wasn’t you, Apollo, it was me. It all started with me believing he wouldn’t lie to me.” Klavier’s laughter was bitter now. “Anyway, I’m starting to think we’re all a little too observant for our own good. None of us can ever let things go, nein?”

“We’d be horrible lawyers if we could,” Apollo chuckled, rubbing Klavier’s arm reassuringly. “But fine, fine, I’ll stop psychoanalyzing you now. It’s my turn, anyway.”

“I want to hear this,” Klavier said, snuggling closer. “Lay it on me, baby. Tell me how you fell for me in two seconds flat.”

“I’m gonna lay into you in two seconds flat if you don’t let me talk,” Apollo said dryly, elbowing him again. “I, uh, I don’t think I remember it as clearly as you do, but…”

_____

“Excuse me, coming through.”

It was a voice, a smooth, musical voice, polite but firm, that caught Apollo’s attention first. He turned in its direction, confused by how familiar it felt, how similar it sounded to another voice he knew, but with a light, lilting cadence and a strangely affected accent whose origins he couldn’t quite place.

“Ah! It’s you! Mr. Gavin!”

Apollo’s eyes widened, his heart pounding wildly in his chest, then narrowed at the sight before him. Striding towards them with a swagger in his step was a man who, as far as Apollo could tell, was supposed to be behind bars. Only, his skin was a few shades darker, his hair a shade or two lighter, and he was wearing, for reasons Apollo couldn’t fathom, eyeliner and leather and chains instead of a neatly-pressed suit and wire-rimmed glasses. Who’s THIS guy? Apollo thought, his stomach turning.

“I must say I'm used to being inspected by the ladies...but this is the first time I've felt this way with a man,” the man said, leaning in close; his smile was a little wider than Apollo would have liked. Apollo also didn’t want to think about how pretty he was, how long his eyelashes were or how smooth his skin seemed to be. This can’t be him, Apollo decided, though he was still frozen in place. He could only vaguely feel Trucy’s fingers tugging gently on his shirt sleeve. No, it can’t be - it’s not - but who -

“Mr...Gavin?” Apollo said stupidly. He felt a phantom pinch on his left wrist; he released his arms from where they were crossed so he could rub the spot where it hurt, though the moment he touched it, he realized he hadn’t been in pain at all. The man’s eyes flickered down, following his fingers in curiosity, before moving back up to continue smiling beatifically at Trucy.

“Ah, fräulein,” he said; he was practically simpering now. “What is a sweet morsel like you doing in such a dismal place? Can I help?” Apollo barely managed to refrain from rolling his eyes. Of course, he internally sighed, he’s one of those guys.

“Yes! The police man officer fellow here won't let us in!” Trucy whined, shoving the envelope in the man’s face. Apollo had to bite back a laugh at his startled expression, a contrast to his otherwise indifferent smile. “We even have a letter of request!”

“You must be exhausted, standing out here,” the man murmured sympathetically, eyes sparkling. He seemed intrigued, though Apollo couldn't blame him. He supposed he and Trucy looked like a completely mismatched pair. “I will take you to the scene of the crime.”

“Ooh! Really?” Trucy exclaimed, her entire face lighting up. Apollo tried not to smile himself; her energy was infectious. Then, the man’s words finally clicked in his mind. Wait - really?! But why would he - how can he - who is he?

“By your leave, officer,” the man ordered, winking. A pleasant shiver went down Apollo’s spine, one that he was trying his best to ignore. No good was going to come out of that train of thought, not when this man was clearly someone he needed to worry about - though in what way, he wasn’t sure yet. He seemed too generous, too open. Whether he was a police officer, a detective, or, god forbid, a prosecutor, Apollo didn’t trust him not to lead them astray, not one bit. “Very well. This way, fräulein.”

Before Apollo knew it, the man was walking away with Trucy in tow, leaving him behind. “Hey! What about me?!” he shouted, jogging after them. By the time he caught up, both of them were grinning at him amusedly, as if watching him trip over his own feet was some hysterical inside joke. Huffing, he braced his hands on his hips, ready to open his mouth and protest. The man’s gaze briefly travelled down to his hands once more. What’s that all about? Apollo wondered, confused. What’s he looking at? Is it my bracelet? It’s not that weird, is it? Wait, or can he tell that it’s -

“On that note, enjoy your investigation,” the man said, speaking a little quicker than he did before. He suddenly seemed distracted, like he couldn’t wait to get away from them.

“Thank you!” Trucy chirped, bouncing up and down on her toes. “Will we see you again?”

“Ask the wind, fräulein,” the man said, recovering. He seemed almost too focused on Trucy, like something about Apollo bothered him. Maybe he already knew who Apollo was, what Apollo had done. Was he angry? Resentful? Waiting for the right moment to strike? A shiver of a different kind tingled throughout Apollo’s body at the very thought; the phrase “kill them with kindness” was coming to mind. “I'll be riding on it.” He then left without another word, leaving Apollo to stare stupidly after him, his heartbeat in his throat.

“...who was that?” Apollo exclaimed, stunned, as if he wasn’t confused enough by everything else that was going on. His mind was racing with possibility, with anxiety that he really, really didn’t need. Before he could get into it, however, his jumbled thoughts were quickly cut off by Trucy’s surprised cry.

“Eek! Apollo, look - a c-corpse!”

_____

“...interesting,” Klavier said after a moment’s silence. “Did she really think the mannequin was a dead body?”

“Seriously, Klav?” Apollo groaned. “Surprised you didn’t fixate on the part where I thought you were pretty.”

“‘Were’?” Klavier echoed mockingly, grinning. His expression then sobered. “So...mixed feelings all around, it seems. I suppose it shouldn’t be all that shocking, though. We weren’t...total strangers, after all.”

“You practically were to me,” Apollo murmured, tangling his fingers in Klavier’s hair. Klavier leaned into his touch, his eyes fluttering closed in contentment. “At least you knew I existed, while I...he never…” He then shook his head. “Y’know, I-I’m not sure if I really wanna think about this anymore. Not if it makes us think about him.”

“It’s not one of our happiest memories, nein,” Klavier agreed, humming. “I like where we are now...where we can trust each other. There’s little I hate more than ambiguity. And not knowing how I was supposed to feel about you…”

“Sucks, right?” Apollo let out a hollow laugh. “But at least we were on the same page, in a, uh, weird way. I guess that’s always been our thing. Even when you’re driving me up the wall in court - which is all the time, so don’t even question me, I see that look on your face - we’re, y’know, generally working towards the same goal.”

Klavier’s fingers danced along the length of Apollo’s forearm, tapping out a rhythm that Apollo couldn’t quite pick out. “I’d like to think so. I was never really sure until...ach, well. You remember.”

_____

Apollo was still trembling as he exited the courtroom with Trucy by his side. She was putting on a brave face for them both, but he had a feeling that she was more torn up about what had happened than he was. He wanted to comfort her, to reassure her somehow after they’d learned the truth behind her biological father’s death, but for once, he was completely speechless.

“Polly?” Trucy’s voice was tentative. “I’m...kinda hungry.”

“I...oh.” Apollo looked at her curiously. Out of all the things he’d expected her to say, that hadn’t been one of them. “Do you wanna get something to eat? We could go to Eldoon’s if you want.”

“No, that’s okay,” Trucy reassured him. Her face then lit up. “I was actually thinking about the courthouse café! We can get cake and drinks and stuff. A little sugar goes a long way!”

Apollo smiled softly. “Sure, Trucy. Whatever you’d like.”

And so, they found themselves a small table at the courthouse café - and maybe calling it that was rather generous on Trucy’s part - with two thick slices of Swiss rolls and tall glasses of milk tea. Admittedly, Apollo still felt numb, but Trucy’s running commentary of her thoughts on the trial kept him going. “Now all we need is for Vera to wake up,” Trucy said, gripping her fork with determination. “I’m still so worried about her! What if she doesn’t - ”

“We can’t think like that, okay?” Apollo said, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. “We gotta have hope. That’s all we can do, you know?”

“I guess,” Trucy murmured, chewing her bottom lip fretfully. She went quiet for a minute or so, poking at the last bits of her drink’s half-melted ice with her straw. “Hey, um...Daddy says he’s meeting up with a friend later today, and he wants to have dinner. And when he says ‘friend’, he usually means Mr. Edgeworth. You know, the prosecutor?”

“Yeah, I’ve definitely heard of him.” Apollo sat up a little straighter at the word ‘prosecutor’. In his stupor over the whole ordeal, he’d barely spared a thought for Klavier; he could only vaguely guess how he was doing. “What about him?”

“I was just wondering if, maybe, you’d wanna...join us?” Trucy suggested. He’d never seen her so hesitant before. “For dinner, I mean.”

“...oh.” Apollo paused. “No, uh - not today, sorry. I should really go home and sleep all of this - ” he gestured aimlessly “ - off. I feel like I need to sleep for, like, three days straight.”

“Sure, of course,” Trucy nodded, smiling faintly. “But….you’re still coming back to the agency, right? Maybe not tomorrow, but like...in a few days?”

“Yeah. Yeah, definitely,” Apollo promised, surprised by how quickly he’d responded. In all his hesitation, his doubts about law and what it was meant to be, what it could be, he was finally starting to feel like the Wright Anything Agency was where he belonged.

After they finished eating, he and Trucy parted ways after a long, much-needed hug on the courthouse steps. Apollo then went to fetch his bike from the rack adjacent to the courthouse parking lot, only to spot a familiar face lingering nearby, seemingly in no rush to leave.

“...Gavin?” Apollo said carefully.

Klavier turned sharply at the sound of Apollo’s voice. His smile was a touch too wide, his eyes suspiciously glossy. “Ah, Herr Forehead,” he greeted, ducking his head; his voice sounded trapped in his own throat. “Good show in there, as always. You never fail to impress.”

“Thanks. Hey, um - I’m surprised to see you’re still here,” Apollo commented, taking a few tentative steps closer. “Don’t you have somewhere...better to be?”

“Not really, nein.” Klavier let out a short, forced laugh. “I have paperwork to do, I’m sure. But it can wait.”

“...right.” Apollo cleared his throat awkwardly. “Thanks, by the way.”

Klavier blinked. “Entschuldigung? What for?”

“For agreeing to summon your brother, and...y’know, everything after that.” Apollo found himself oddly fascinated with a few stray pebbles on the ground, nudging them around with the toes of his loafers so he wouldn’t have to look at Klavier’s face. “Look, I-I’m not gonna pretend like I know what you, or Trucy, or Mr. Wright are going through. I’m mostly on the outside looking in, so. All I really know, if I know anything at all, is that, uh...we did the right thing. Yeah?”

“Ja.” When Apollo looked up, Klavier was also deliberately looking elsewhere, staring off into the distance at nothing in particular. He’d displayed a whirlwind of emotions back in the courtroom, but none of them were quite the same as the bitter expression he was wearing right now. “...Apollo?”

Now it was Apollo’s turn to do double-take. “Huh? Wh-what is it?”

“Danke schön. For...everything. I honestly don’t think I could’ve done...any of that on my own,” Klavier confessed, his voice thick with emotion. “And I think I...I think I’m going to take a little time away from the prosecutor’s office. Not for long, mind you. Just...I need some time off. A week, maybe two. Some distance, some perspective...it would make a world of difference, achtung.” He then turned to face Apollo directly for the first time since they started talking. He looked tired, defeated, even. His posture, his expression - Apollo felt as if he was seeing an entirely different person standing before him.

Without thinking, Apollo took the last few steps forward and closed the gap between them, wrapping his arms around Klavier and pulling him close. Klavier let out a startled noise; then, he hugged Apollo back, sinking his weight against Apollo’s, his forehead dropping to Apollo’s shoulder. His exhale was long, unsteady. “Take care of yourself, okay?” Apollo said, fingers digging into Klavier’s back, his face buried against Klavier’s bicep. “And if you ever wanna talk about it...I-I mean, I’m sure I’m not your first choice, but still. I’m, uh, I’m around.”

“Danke,” Klavier murmured, barely above a whisper. They stayed like that for a moment, maybe a moment too long, just holding each other in the middle of the courthouse parking lot for anyone and everyone to see. Klavier’s breath trembled against Apollo’s ear; Apollo half-expected his knees to give out from underneath him. Then, he slowly detached himself from Apollo’s grasp, carefully schooling his expression into something more Klavier-like, something brighter and blander, his teeth blindingly white in the mid-afternoon sun. “Anyway, I should really get going. That paperwork isn’t going to take care of itself, ja?”

“Oh, uh. Yeah, don’t I know it,” Apollo said, letting out another strained chuckle.

“Until next time, then,” Klavier said smoothly, winking. “Auf Wiedersehen, Herr Forehead.” He didn’t wait for Apollo’s send-off, instead turning and heading over to his motorcycle, humming and twirling his keychain expertly between his practiced fingers. Apollo watched him peel out of the parking lot, silently wondering if he’d said all he wanted - no, needed - to say.

_____

“Of course I remember.” Apollo held Klavier just a little bit tighter. “But, y’know, again - not our best moment. Not by a long shot.”

Klavier lifted his head from Apollo’s shoulder so he could kiss him briefly, gently. Apollo smiled against Klavier’s lips, cupping his jaw so he could bring him closer. “But I’d still say our first kiss is more of a memory worth reminiscing over. Wouldn’t you agree, liebe?”

“It was a little dramatic for my taste,” Apollo teased, pulling back so he could affectionately nudge his nose against Klavier’s cheek, his fingers lightly pressed into Klavier’s sides. “But you’re into that sort of thing, so I’ll give it a pass. Still, let’s just agree not to cry all over each other ever again, okay? It was honestly kinda gross. And wet. And not in a fun way.”

“You’re saying you won’t cry when I propose?” Klavier asked, pouting exaggeratedly. “Because ach, I know I will.”

“Who says you’re proposing?” Apollo retorted, grinning as he prodded Klavier in the chest. “What if I get there first? What if, while you’re getting down on one knee, I just whip a ring box out of my pocket - ”

“Then I really will lose my scheisse,” Klavier murmured, his lips ghosting across Apollo’s skin. “I’m going to hold you to it, baby.”

“Can’t guarantee it’ll happen, but I’m definitely gonna try,” Apollo said, turning his head to capture Klavier’s lips once more. The two of them exchanged slow, lazy kisses for a few minutes, fingers loosely tangled in each other’s hair. In the background, the movie continued on, long forgotten; not that it mattered, seeing as they’d watched it together many times before.

Eventually, Klavier carefully detangled himself from Apollo. He passed him his wine glass, still half-full, then reached for his own and lifted it above his head. “To making new memories, ja?”

“Are we really cheers-ing ourselves? That’s pretty self-serving, literally,” Apollo said dubiously, though he still raised his glass all the same, amused by Klavier’s dramatics. “But hell, why not? To new memories that don’t involve us crying, sneezing, yelling - ”

“You make us sound like absolute disasters, achtung,” Klavier protested, chuckling. “We’re not that bad, are we?”

Apollo took a sip of his drink, then leaned in close, so close that his nose brushed against Klavier’s, his wine-stained, kiss-bitten lips stretched into a fond grin. “Nah. I think we’re doing just fine.”

_____

a/n: Welcome to my first entry for Klapollo Week 2021! I've never participated in any fandom challenges/events before, so I'm super excited to see how this goes. My plan is a little overambitious, with all seven fics set in the same continuity, but in a different order. For example, this fic is actually the last, chronologically speaking, while day seven's fic is set in the middle. If you're wondering why they were crying during their first kiss, you'll have to wait until then 😉

Don't worry about any of that, though, you don't need to read the others to follow along! Day seven is technically a sequel to day five, but it can be read as a stand-alone, though I think it packs more punch if you read it after day five. They're also the longest; every other fic averages out to about four to five thousand words, whereas five and seven are over ten thousand words each. Brevity is the soul of wit? Not in my Google Docs, I am wordy as hell.

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Likes and reblogs would be much appreciated. Hoping you're all safe and healthy and doing well ❤️

#KlapolloWeek2021 #klapollo #kyodoroki #klapollo fic #ace attorney #ace attorney fic #myfic #long post #i've made that dumb goodreads joke before lmao #anyway happy klapollo week y'all!!

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