#then WHY. THE FUCK. ARE YOU STILL. USING ENTIRE FUCKING SENTENCES IN THIS TASK?!!?!?!?

[theflyingfeeling]

oh for fuck's saaaaaaake 😐

[puppetoffthehook]

A Haircut Makes A Man

Trigger warnings: f slur, abuse, physical harm

Inspired by this art by @kyrosh

Billy was just trying to help Susan by washing the dishes from dinner. Neil was working late apparently so everyone else had already eaten and they were doing their own activities. Max was in her room reading her comic books and talking to Lucas over the handheld radio they all used. Susan was watching Magnum P.I. reruns in the livingroom. The quiet and the repetitive task at hand were actually kind of soothing.

He should’ve known it wouldn’t last. Didn’t matter how close to Christmas it was.

The front door opened and closed and Billy heard Susan greet his dad as he started on drying the dishes. The older man’s footsteps approached the kitchen and stopped suddenly, making Billy’s hackles rise.

“Welcome home, Da-“

He didn’t even get to finish his sentence before those footsteps came nearer much too quickly. He felt a rough hand in his hair that yanked with all its might until Billy fell with an agonized yell. The blonde scrabbled to untangled the fingers from his curls even as he was being bodily dragged by his hair. He kept yelling at his father to let go, he hadn’t done anything wrong. Today Neil Hargrove decided his son’s appearance was wrong.

Neil always hated the mullet but never did anything about it before. You look like a fag. Good for nothing. White trash. Billy loved it because it was masculine enough that no one aside from old fucks like his dad gave him shit for it and he’d still see a hint of his mother in himself when he looked in the mirror. Her blue eyes. Her blonde hair. Now he looks in the mirror as his father pulls him up and all Billy sees is a boy with tears cascading down his face yet again.

“I’m just about sick of looking at you traipsing around this house looking like a faggot with that fucking hair!” Neil practically throws him onto the toilet and Billy sits in terrified silence. His scalp is screaming and he’s certain a chunk of hair was fully removed, if not then he’s fucking surprised. The older male digs through drawers until he finds what he’s after; a pair of hair shears Susan uses to trim Max’s hair.

“Dad-“

“Shut your damn mouth, boy.” Billy stills as his father reaches out and roughly grabs his jaw. It hurts but he tries not to react. “Real men don’t have long hair like this shit on your head. A haircut makes a man, son, and you’re finally going to experience what that’s like.”

Billy knows it’ll happen no matter what he does - his father made up his mind the moment he entered the kitchen - so why not add injury to insult? “Cutting off my hair won’t make me less of a queer on Christmas, Dad.” The fist connecting with his teeth was worth it. Neil couldn’t deny that no matter what he did, he still had to live knowing his only son was gay.

That fire bled from him the moment he felt the shears hacking away at his curls. Tears came to light in his eyes which only made his father sneer at him. Every snip of the blades meeting where they cut made the teen wish he could just throw his dad off and run, just get the hell out and never come back. But he knows he’d come back by nightfall.

One final snip and the last curls fall. He’s heaved up from the toilet and forced to look at himself in the mirror. His dad is grinning that awful, hateful grin and Billy just looks horrified. “Who would’ve guessed under that pussy hairdo you had the makings of a real man!”

He looks just like his dad aside from the curls on top of his head. It makes him sick. It makes him never want to look in a mirror again. The blonde stands deathly still as his father trims the cut to make it even - his military barber days paying off in this display of control. “I don’t want to see it any fucking longer than this or I’ll shave your entire head, William. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.” Spoken clearly and to his liking, Neil threw the shears in the sink and told him to clean it all up. Billy looked in the mirror and saw his father’s hateful eyes looking back at him. His eyes, not hers. He can’t look at himself because he can’t see her anymore.

He shaves his mustache that night and decides he’ll try to grow the mullet back before graduation.

[otherpeoplesheartachept-2]

Day 2: Alternative Universe

Doctor Brody performs a routine check-up, that’s all, no avoiding an unfortunate crush on her coworker and Nurse Practitioner, Wellbelove.

(or, another star trek au fic, set after Strictly Professional)

Length: 840

Warnings: none

Read on AO3 or below the cut!

“Hold still please, Ms. Wellbelove,” I say, trying to get a clear scan of her arm.

“It’s Nurse Agatha, and you really don’t need to do this,” she argues, pulling her smooth green arm away from me for the third time.

“Weekly check-ups on all injuries of this matter are required. I’m sure you’re aware of that, Nurse.”

I reach for her arm again; Agatha lets me turn it over and take a look. The skin looks fully healed from the bite, but carnivorous plants from Bopek can cause lasting issues under the skin. I run my medical scanner from elbow to wrist, so I can get a clear image of Agatha’s muscles and blood vessels.

“Sorry,” I say to her when her face scrunches up. She can feel the scanner’s waves going through her in a way that humans don’t, like a tickle but painful is the way she described it to me once. I try to be mindful of that, Agatha thinks I need to improve my bedside manners.

“I’m fine,” she says, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “And I feel fine, nothing out of the ordinary,” she huffs.

“And I’m just here to make sure of that, per Starfleet medical practitioner protocol,” I retort, trying my best not to focus on the warmth of her skin on mine. And trying my best not to focus on how cute it looks when she tucks her hair behind her ears. Agatha must know I usually delicate these check-ups to other medical officers, but mercifully she doesn’t point this out.

I look to the screen above her examination table and pull up last week’s scan to compare. Her muscle tissue hasn’t healed as quickly as I’d like, but Orion’s cells divide slower than many other humanoid species.

“Your muscle looks like it is healing as-”

“as it should, though a little slower than most humanoids, yes yes,” Agatha finishes my sentence for me, looking at the scans of her arm.

“Back to my point, now we care about Starfleet practitioner protocol, and weekly check-ups, but when you are on death’s door because of a mysterious space fever, and I am tasked with taking care of you, then the protocol is bullshit and you can handle yourself. Is that how it is?”

My traitorous face heats up at the memory. I should have known she’d find a way to throw that in my face.

“That was different, Nurse Wellbelove.” But we both know it wasn’t.

I was acting foolish and unprofessional two months ago. I had succumb to a fever infecting nearly a third of the ship’s human inhabitants. I was delirious, my inhibitions dangerously lowered. I couldn’t be around Agatha. Couldn’t have her standing at my bedside, taking care of me.

She brought me my meals, as if I couldn’t use the replicator myself. She checked my vitals hourly. She even offered to help me shower and dress, so I could change out of the uniform I was wearing, soaked in sweat. That was the final straw. It was all too much. It conjured images of domestic bliss in my fevered mind. I couldn’t trust myself not to do something incredibly stupid in that state. I’ve managed to keep my promise of a professional relationship for nearly a year now, I wasn’t going to fuck that up because of a little fever and a persistent crush on my nurse practitioner.

“How was it different, Doctor?” Agatha asks with feigned innocent curiosity. “I was doing my job, concerned about you, and the entire starship’s health. Is there some reason it couldn’t be me monitoring your health?”

She’s leaning closer to me now, looking up with her deep brown eyes. I’m still holding her arm.

I’m certain Agatha knows why I demanded she leave me alone two months ago. Which makes this all the more embarrassing.

I clear my throat. I meet her eyes which is a mistake. My uniform suddenly feels far too warm. I can’t figure out what to say that won’t reveal how absolutely pathetic I am.

“I hold no prejudice against you, Wellbelove,” I state, avoiding her question but not her gaze.

“Then what is it? You treat me differently than everyone else on this ship,” her voice gets lower. Agatha takes the hand I have on her arm and laces our fingers. Her palm is warm.

She’s trapped me in a corner.

“That’s not-”

“I treat you differently,” she says, like she’s handing me a piece to a puzzle.

But she’s just teasing, she can’t be serious.

“Well, I am the Chief Medical Officer, you’re supposed to do that.”

Agatha rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile on her lips.

“So, am I free to go, Doctor?” Agatha asks, emphasizing my title.

I ignore how Doctor from her lips makes me feel and tell her we’re all done. It’s good to know she’s healing well.

Maybe one day I’ll admit how I feel about Agatha Wellbelove, but today will not be that day.

[moonlight-melts]

Still burning

Hi I have prism brainrot :)

I don't have a lot to say here. Timeline-wise, it's late enough in the story for Charlie to refer to Goro by his first name.

I reference a book throughout my narration. That book is a plot device I made up and does not exist. Sorry, I know these are killer one-liners, but sadly I made them up 😔 /j

Charlie mentions "[...] everything I've done [...]" Don't look for what he's talking about, I never explicitly mentioned it before. But to give you a vague idea, he works part-time for a newspaper that used to have... Peculiar means of obtaining information.

Warnings: this contains depiction of a suicide attempt (in the past), violence, abuse and anxiety. There's also an extremely vague depiction of dissociation and self-harm urges. This is again dialogue-heavy because these two TALK SO MUCH they'd belong in a theatre play.

Please REBLOG my writing! Thank you!

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸

A book I like has a line that goes "And when I look in the mirror, I see everything and nothing all at once, because my rage blinds me as much as it brings me clarity."

For a while, I wasn't sure what the author meant by that. But now, as I stare at my own reflection, it makes sense. I'm this close to punch the glass, making a wreck out of my hand, because it shows me things I don't want to see. The scar at the corner of my lips. The incensed glint in my eyes. Even as I look down, my hands give it all away. They shake, clenched on the edges of the sink.

Goro's words are going round in my head. I know he's right.

"One wrong call, and we're all dead."

It's true.

One misstep and we're all dead. I know it. I know it, and yet my hands still shake because holy fuck, why.

Then I remember why.

I remember the tears in Yūki's eyes. Shiho's face as she leaped off the roof. Naoya's request on the Phan-site. Goro's grudge against the world.

I remember how the entire world fucks people like us over.

I remember the bruises, the whimpers, the sobs and the screams.

I remember how hard we believe we can't be saved, or save ourselves.

I remember the nights alone trying to fight off the nagging urges.

I remember the scars we all bear, physical or not.

I remember our despair.

That's why.

That same book, later, says "In my violence, I find peace. In the end I'm one with the storm." and it brings back to my mind a reflection I had a little while ago on the paths we all took. Because our only common point, really, is our anger.

Yūki, Shiho and Naoya are all conflict-avoidant to a fault. Their anger is subdued, dismissed, and expressing it is a hard, painful task.

Goro is bitter. He's seen the worst and he isn't sure why he's even fighting anymore. His anger boils, unrelenting, yet exhausted.

As for me...

That's when I realise I stared crying. I'm not sobbing, but the tears roll down my cheeks by themselves, ignoring my frustrated attempts at wiping them.

As selfish as it sounds, the world around me disappears, leaving only me and me and me and me and...

A hand on my shoulder.

It jerks me back to reality so suddenly that my knees almost give out.

-I really don't understand you sometimes, seriously. I get not wanting to be a burden or whatever it is you have in mind, but this is just dumb.

-Do you really need to be an asshole about it?

-I don't see what you're talking about. I'm stating facts. What you're doing is stupid. What were you even thinking about?

-I was thinking about... I gesture vaguely. Everything. "One wrong call and we're all dead." And I know what -or who, really- I'm fighting for, and I don't wanna let anyone down because that happened to all of us so much already that...

I don't know how to finish that sentence. Goro sighs (because of course he does) and hands me a tissue.

-I wonder how you do that, sometimes.

He admits after a bit.

-How I do what?

-There's so much... Tenderness in your resentment.

He spits the word out like it's in a foreign language, and I really can't help but snicker.

-What's even funny about this?

-Nothing! The way you say it is just...!

I'm laughing for real now, and it definitely chases away what was left of my angry tears.

-Will you stop?!

Goro is starting to sound annoyed, but I can hear a hint of a smile in his voice. As I calm down, I ask:

-What do you mean by "tenderness"?

-You're driven by your need to... Protect others. You want to make them feel safe. I find it odd.

-Well, it might be to you, because your motives are essentially your own revenge and, more generally, your own self -not that it's necessarily a bad thing. You've been wronged-

-That's putting it lightly.

-Mh, but all that to say that you're just frustrated and tired out of your mind. I have another mentality, is all. I don't want what happened to me or to any of you to happen to anyone else if I can help it.

He clicks his tongue.

-See? There it is again.

-Kindness, gentleness... They're choices I made. It doesn't erase everything I've done before, but...

-But?

-It proves that people can change. I chose not to be bitter, but it's fine if you take another path.

Change is scary. It's hard. I know that much.

-Is it?

A sour chuckle escapes his lips and his voice sounds uncharacteristically small.

-Yeah! We're humans. We react differently to stuff. That's pretty cool, really. Being a human is neat.

He shakes his head, but he's smiling.

-Really, I don't understand you.

-That's why you love me.

-Huh? Are you sure about that?

-Aw, come on!

As we laugh (together), I face myself in the mirror one more time and I remember another quote from that book. "Love is not a remedy to everything. It doesn't fix anything. But sometimes, it makes things okay. That's enough."

Indeed, I think as I look at Goro's smile and remember Yūki's, Shiho's and Naoya's.

That's enough.

[percontaion-points]

Court chapters 64-67

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Chapter 64

“There’s not a lot more to tell,” my uncle says. 

Macy looks down at her sleeping, shivering mother and answers, “Oh, I think there is.” 

He sighs. “She didn’t want you to know. Neither of us did. We wanted to keep you away from the front lines.”

MACY, YOU WERE EIGHT. 

“So why didn’t the queen do something?” Macy asks. “If Cyrus didn’t kill Mom because he feared retaliation from the Witch Court, why didn’t Imogen parlay that into a pardon for Mom?” 

“She did do something,” Uncle Finn explains. “She got him to commute her sentence from death to life in prison.” 

Macy’s laugh is harsh and painful to hear. “And she thinks that’s fair?”

The stupidest part about this conversation is that Macy is acting like her father (and everybody else) literally went “Rowena has been sentenced to be tortured and imprisoned for all time! Oh well, there’s literally nothing we can do about that!” She’s getting angry at her father when he literally tells her a single sentence about what happened, immediately followed by a “and then”. This conversation would have been over already if she didn’t stop interrupting him to get angry every two seconds!

“You’ve had ten years to free my mother. It’s my turn now, and I won’t fail.”

Sweetie, you came into the vampire court and were caught within seconds. You’ve literally already failed. 

“And here I thought I was going to need an insulin shot to get through the cute little family reunion. Looks like a ball gag would have been a better choice.”

Chapter 64 summary: Finn tells them that Rowena owed the Crone a favour. But when called upon, Rowena failed at her task. We don’t know what this task was, but I think it was to spy on the vampire court. She was to be put to death by Cyrus, but the witch queen is Rowena’s cousin, and she managed to reduce the sentence to life in prison. Throughout the entire thing, Macy keeps interrupting to be outraged that her dad failed, despite him telling her over and over that they worked for YEARS to even get that much. She’s an immature brat, and I’m fucking over her bullshit. 

Chapter 65

And falls into line with the rest of us as we follow Cyrus to the front of the dungeon and upstairs, where I’m afraid the real torture takes place.

Chapter 65 summary: The previously unknown Vega sister shows up. Finn identifies her as Isadora; Hudson still doesn’t know who she is. 

Anyway, when nobody wants to go with her, Cyrus shows up. He tries to get somebody to go with him, but when there’s still no takers, he kills a random freshman girl. The group then follows him upstairs. 

Chapter 66

I just wish I knew how to stop it.

Chapter 66 summary: As they go to an unknown location, Cyrus decides to point out how fucking stupid Grace has been since the get-go. With the prison, but especially when she literally walked into his court. Grace knows he’s right, but doesn’t verbally acknowledge him. 

For some reason, this needs to take 5 goddamned pages. 

Chapter 67

Cyrus cuts him off mid-sentence by plunging the metal rods deep into Liam’s chest. Macy screams. Jaxon rattles his restraints as he tries to break free. And the rest of us stare, speechless, as Liam freezes mid-argument. 

[Image description: A screenshot from Avengers: Endgame of Thanos. He is a large, purple alien with a wrinkly-chin, wearing black armour. He stands before a battlefield that’s on fire, although this is blurred with distance. It is captioned with “I don’t even know who you are.” End description]

Because Isadora is Cyrus’s secret weapon for stealing magic and right now, she’s taking every single drop that Liam has.

Chapter 67 summary: Cyrus chains them up, and Grace tries really hard to keep his attention focused on her. It’s nothing but a Hail Mary to allow her friends a chance to figure things out. 

Cyrus then quotes, word for word, something that the bloodletter had said about the gargoyle army. Surprise, they were sold out. However, I can’t pretend to be surprised that it was some random background character. A “friend” of Jaxon’s who was barely mentioned in passing. Cyrus stabs him with these metal rods, although it doesn’t kill him right away. 

Isadora then goes over, puts her hand on the rods, puts her other hand on “daddy” (the books word, not mine), and begins to channel all of Liam’s energy into Cyrus. 

[mythvoiced]

❝  why so silent?  ❞ hermes

@astremourante | PHANTOM OF THE OPERA / SENTENCE STARTERS

---

Contrary to popular belief - that he himself nurtures into building such a reputation - Hermes is busiest among the Gods. The other Olympians don't have to actively keep to their tasks to continue being the divinities of their domain. The oceans and the skies continue to thrive even without Zeus and Poseidon to constantly keep them alive.

Artemis spends most of her time away in the woods, surrounded by nymphs and silence; Apollo glows whether or not he's in the sky and makes sure he glows near some beautiful youth who'll slip into his arms before they realise what they're getting themself into.

The only other divinity busy as he is is Hephaestus, and that usually by choice, where Hermes is always running, delivering messages or souls, above, below, and beyond, because he has to.

Because... he's the least obedient and the most ordered around god in the entire pantheon.

So, one might argue that the reason he isn't floating around Amelia's head for once, trying to breathe into her skin to soften her enough to crawl under it, is due to the heavy bag he's methodically digging through, reading notes, making them disappear into nothingness with the snap of his fingers, focused and for once apparently intent on organising himself in some capacity.

And one might even be right.

More correct, though, would be assuming that he's using this sudden burst of a thirst for order to his fullest advantage... to drag that question out of Amelia.

When he turns to glance at her, he does so without the mocking blinking or the sound-shattering width and speed of his easy smile, a trickster god, accompanied by the sound of coins dancing around while he speeds across the sky.

He looks at her as though tolerating what he's stuck tolerating, like a god looking down at a mortal, wondering offhandedly who had even put it there.

Then his head tilts to the side, and the smile returns. Tastes a little like his caduceus in flames, tastes a little like burning feathers, tastes a little like broken bones and his father's thunder in his veins, tastes a little like a despot setting a town on fire because one man had wronged him with the wrong kind of smile at the wrong time, in the wrong place.

Gods can devour with wrath as much as with lust.

He leans down. There's a respectable distance between their faces, but he can still count her freckles like this, pronounced just enough, reminding him why exactly he wants to count them with his tongue.

Oh, the things he could do with his ton-

"You're getting on my fucking nerves, Amelia," he says, pleasantly, kindly, low through his smile, dropping the words directly onto her lips, towering just enough for it to matter.

Then he pulls away, and his smile fades into something softer.

Not soft per se, just... easier. Casual. Just a guy. Just a god smiling at a prey he's decided against eating just yet, a satyr he's not quite up to skinning today.

"Though, I'm assuming that doesn't matter to you, does it?" he plucks a bundle of letters out of his leather bag, neatly tied together with an old, yellowed string. It loosens the knot on its own, ancient Greek lettering rearranges itself on the paper to become legible once more.

The paper is wet, dripping slightly.

"These river Gods, by the sky," he complains, mutters into a sigh, before he starts shaking the bundle, droplets flying in every direction, the drying technique of the century.

Pleasant and cold, smiling at Amelia once more.

"I'm not like my father. I respect a 'no'. But I'm not like my brother either. I will leave. I will lose interest. Do you owe me anything? Why, no, why would you. Are you getting on my nerves acting as though I owe you something?"

He lifts a corner of the first letter. Disgusting.

"Yes."

He throws the undle onto Amelia's table, since this place and maybe the whole world belongs to him, apparently. Then he turns, leans into Amelia's space again.

And this time, he's close enough to bite her open if he wanted to.

"I think it's time we define some official rules for this little game of ours, don't you think?"

[vigilvntes]

Walk Me Home - Bruce Wayne x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: this is just a lil bit of fun. i think it was a request, someone asked for batman x civilian!reader with the prompts "you're pretty"/ "you're drunk" + "can i hold your hand?" so this is what came out of my brain :) might do a part 2 at some point <3 im literally about to see the batman again in like 5 minutes so like ,,, good luck to my brainrot <3

Warnings: mentions of violence/harassment, mentions of alcohol / being drunk, language, batguy is quiet and reader is a mess (if i'm not writing adrian im writing an adrian core reader ok that's who i am <3), not proof read or beta read but we die like men! <3

Word Count: 3k+ bc i have no self control!

Summary: you get escorted home by none other than Gotham's own protector.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

The streets are quiet, except for the echoing of heavy boots against the sidewalk followed by the frantic clicking of your heels.

He walks so damn fast. Which shouldn't surprise you, really. He probably has better things to be doing, and the light shining in the sky is proof of that. It's not that you're not grateful for the escort home, you're just not entirely sure why he's using his time to walk drunk you back to their place.

He'd helped you out with some creep in a back alley — and by ‘helped you out’ you mean he kicked ten bells of shit out of the guy in five seconds flat and left him incapacitated on the ground. It was impressive, actually. He helped you up, you said your 'thank you’, and assumed that would be the end of it. You assumed wrong.

It's not your fault that you just so happened to be heading in the same direction. You tried to be quiet, to keep your distance to allow him to disappear into the night, but your clicking heels and blurry vision from the numerous shots and cocktails you'd downed at the club made that a difficult task. He didn't turn around, didn't question why you were following him. He didn't say anything, actually.

But he stopped walking when he came to the end of the street, which made you stop too. He was silent, but he turned his head and glanced back at you, and you felt yourself panic.

“I— Shit. I'm sorry. I just live this way. I wasn't following you, I promise.” You reassured him quickly.

He probably didn't need your reassurance, you had quite literally just watched him take down a man in two swift punches. He could kick your ass if he wanted to. “I'm gonna take a right here, and… leave you alone forever, now. My place is like, five minutes away, so — Oh, okay. You're going right, too. That's— Yeah, perfect.” He'd already set off walking before you could finish your sentence, leaving you in the dust.

So now you're trailing behind him, feeling like you're running a marathon as he attempts to cover four miles in under a minute. Okay, maybe you're exaggerating, but you really can't keep up with him. He's like Lightning McQueen if Lightning McQueen was real, not a car, and kind of goth. That thought makes you smile to yourself.

“Hey, uh… Batman?” You call out. No response. Okay. “Alright, uh… Vengeance? Do you still use that one? I haven't really been keeping up, so…?” No response, again. You figure he doesn't go by Vengeance anymore. ���Look, uh— Mr. Batman-Vengeance-…Dude-…Guy?” Wow. That's… wow. You make a mental note to slap yourself for that one later. “Could you slow down a little? Please? You're walking like, really fucking fast.” You feel slightly guilty for asking him to slow down. From what you've seen, he's a busy guy, and he probably has other places to be. But then you remember that you never asked him to walk you home, he made the choice for himself. So you feel less guilty.

He stops walking, and you stop too, almost in shock that he actually listened to you. You're still for a few seconds, and then you see his head turn, and you notice that he's glancing back at you expectantly. And then you remember that you asked him to slow down so you could catch up, and that he's stopped for your benefit. You break out into a jog— well, you try, anyway, one hand wrapped around the strap of the bag on your shoulder. Your heels are scraping against the pavement and you're one wrong move, one wayfaring stone on the pavement away from falling flat on your face. You keep your eyes locked on the ground, only looking up once his boots come into view.

You sigh in relief. “Fuck, man. You're speedy.” You reach out and grab his gloved hand. “You could probably clear the 100m in like, seven seconds flat. Which is cool, by the way." You reassure, nodding your head. "No hate to you.” You walk ahead, but you're stopped dead in your tracks when you realise you're pulling against his heavy, very much unmoving weight. You furrow your brows and tug on his hand, trying to prompt him to move, but he doesn't. So, you turn to him. “Hey, why aren't you—”

His jaw is tense, and you can see the way the veins in his neck are straining under the pressure. You can't quite make out whether he's angry, and it's freaking you out. He doesn't make eye contact with you, but he's looking down at something. You follow his line of sight, casting your eyes in the direction you think he's looking until you see your hand wrapped around his fingers, and it all makes sense.

You let go of his hand like it's hot coal, looking at him with wide eyes. “Shit— I… I'm sorry.” He clenches his fist, so hard that you can hear the leather of his gloves squeaking. “I don't— I'm not sure why I—…. Shit.” You really don't know why you took his hand. It was a mindless decision on your part, really. Something you'd do to a friend or a man you're drunkenly stumbling home with. But he's not a friend, nor is he a date or someone you're taking home to bed. He's literally Gotham’s protector. He's Vengeance or Justice or… Batman. He's Batman. And you thought it'd be a good idea to hold his hand. Fucking idiot. “I'm sorry. That was… that wasn't cool of me. I should've asked first— I mean, I shouldn't have done it in the first place, but I definitely should've asked.” You let out an awkward laugh before falling quiet. He's staring at you. Actually, his eyes are flitting between your face and his hand, which is still somewhat outstretched and balled into a fist. You don't know what comes over you, and you feel so fucking stupid for it, but you're already in too deep to be able to stop yourself. “Can I… Can I hold your hand?”

That crippling, awkward silence takes ahold of you, suffocating you like a python constricting it's prey. Your cheeks heat up, you're sure they're bright red, and you can't even bring yourself to meet his gaze. God, you're so fucking stupid. So awkward, and stupid, and weird. Which is saying a lot, considering you're stood not even a metre away from a guy who's dressed like an armoured bat. You're just about to back away slowly under his intense stare, to walk yourself home so you can wallow in your own embarrassment in the comfort of your bed, when you hear the leather squeak again.

When you look down, you're surprised to see that his hand is no longer clenched. His fingers are spread apart, almost… inviting. He's still tense, and he won't look at you, but you think he's silently telling you that you can hold his hand. Now you're wondering whether you should take his hand. It would be useful, he's a fast walker and you'd like to keep up pace. But you're also sure that he doesn't want to hold your hand, so maybe it'd be easier to refuse and then the two of you can walk separately again. But then would it be rude to refuse him now? Fuck, you have no idea but he's staring at you now, probably waiting for you to say something or do anything.

So in a split second decision, you reach out and take his hand again, nodding your head just once to affirm your choice.

He looks between your face and your intertwined fingers for just a moment before he sets off walking again. At first, he tries to maintain his pace from before, but now that he has extra weight latched on to him (you) he seems to find that difficult to manage. You're still lagging behind, practically jogging, struggling to keep up even though your hand is in his and he's pulling you along with him. You're surprised you haven't fallen flat on your face yet. Eventually, he gives it up, and brings himself down to a speed that works for both of you. It's not too slow, not too fast. It's good enough for you to steadily maintain in your heels, and you don't feel like you're going to be pulled to the floor at any given moment.

The two of you are quiet, aside from the occasional ‘take a right here’ or 'it's a left here’ coming from you. There's not much to be said, after all. He's a masked vigilante-turned-hero and you're holding his hand for no particular reason. Well, there is a reason, it's just not a very good one. You're sure you could have managed stumbling behind him alone.

Your head is still spinning from the drinks, and you feel yourself knock against him a few times as you walk down street after street, the cold armour of his suit pressing against you and covering you in goosebumps. Every time you stumble in to him, you mumble a quiet apology, and he remains silent. Which is why it comes as a surprise to you when—

“How much further?”

His sudden decision to cut through the silence makes you jump, and you whip your head around quickly. You can't quite make out whether that voice is his. It has to be, obviously. There's no one else around. But it's so soft and quiet that you think there's no way it could have possibly come from him. But it did. You're staring up at him so obviously, with the most in incredulous look on your face. “Oh. You talk.” You say eventually. He tilts his head down, and you see his eyes glance from left to right, almost in confusion, before they land on you again. “Shit. Sorry. That was rude. I just— I don't know. I assumed you're mute, or something.”

A beat of silence. Then, “It's selective.”

You nod slowly, a small smile on your lips, “And you make jokes.”

“I wasn't joking.” He mumbles under his breath, but you hear him.

“Well then, I'm flattered that you're talking to me.” You tease. You're trying to break the tension, just a little.

“How much further?” He repeats, turning his attention back to the street ahead.

“Uh… Like, maybe five minutes.” You answer slowly.

You swear you hear him scoff. “You said your place was five minutes away ten minutes ago.”

Wow. Alright. You fight the urge to bite back, to tell him that he didn't have to walk you home and that you're perfectly capable of making your own way from here. But you're not brave enough for that, and after the incident in the alley, you're grateful for his help and his company. So instead, you sigh, and say, “Yeah. I don't know why I said that. I think I— I don't know. I didn't want you to think I was following you. And I didn't wanna inconvenience you. So I just… said I lived close by. And then you started walking the same way, and you kinda never left. So I'm pretty much still inconveniencing you.” You give him an awkward, thin lipped smile.

“You're not.” He mumbles. It's barely audible, and you're not sure if you're meant to hear it, but you do.

You fall into silence again, though you're finding it hard to maintain. You're buzzing from the conversation you just had with him. It's thrilled you to your core and you want to keep talking to him. Apparently it's not enough to be walking hand in hand with him like some strange couple returning from a 2000s pop vs 90s grunge rock club night. So you decide to make conversation, as awkward as it may be.

“So…” You start, and he looks over at you immediately, caught off guard. “Is that like… your real voice?”

His mouth opens and closes a few times as he tries to figure out how to respond to you. Eventually, “Yeah.”

“Oh. That's cool.” He's still staring down at you, and you can see by the way his lips are parted that he's totally and utterly confused. You are too, honestly. “I was just asking because, uh… y’know, guys in movies and… other heroes, they usually have those weird, gravelly voices. Like they make their voices deeper. If you were in a movie I imagine you'd sound like, uh,” you clear your throat, dropping your voice, “Hi, I'm Batman. I live in Gotham and I walk drunk people home in my spare time.” You laugh at yourself, but he doesn't look so amused. Oh for fucks sake. Why did you do that? You don't even have an explanation for why you thought that was a good idea. You just keep digging yourself in deeper.

Your smile drops. He's quiet. You're quiet. He's staring at you. You're staring at him. You're not sure what to do, and honestly you're considering just dropping to the floor, curling up and dying right then and there. But then you see the faintest twitch at the corner of his lips, and he turns his head away from you, and suddenly you don't feel so embarrassed. It's encouraging to you. So you decide to continue.

“I'm glad you don't sound like that, though.”

“Why?” He responds quicker than you expect him to, and it throws you off for just a moment.

“Oh. Well… I don't know. I just don't think it'd suit you. I like your voice. It's really nice.” Soft and soothing, strangely. Completely opposite from what you thought he'd sound like. It suits him, in a weird way. He's the people’s protector, and you can understand why, because everything about him just seems so… trustworthy.

It's not just his voice that you like, though. As you walk down the street, trying your best to keep your eyes firmly trained forwards, you glance at him occasionally, and you come to the conclusion that you really, really like his face, too. The more time you spend looking at him, the more attractive he becomes to you. Sure, you can't see half of it, but that's not going to stop you from admiring him. You think you're being subtle, that you're stealing glimpses of him, but really you're staring right at him. And although he's not looking at you, he can feel your eyes on him.

“What?”

That's the second time he's made you jump, but it's a sure-fire way to break you from your Batman’s-absolutely-incredible-jawline-induced trance. You blink hard and shake your head. “Sorry.” You cant even begin to count how many times you've said sorry tonight. “You just have… a really nice face. I know I can't see much of it, but you have a really, really,” you pause, “strong jawline. And your eyes are really beautiful. I bet you have a cute nose, too. Soft lips. You're just… you're really pretty.” You admit. Honestly, you don't have it in you to be embarrassed or to cringe at yourself anymore. The hint of a smile he gave you just a minute ago was a major confidence boost to you. The alcohol helps too.

His jaw tenses, and he's trying so hard to look anywhere but at you. You're starting to wonder whether you've made him feel incredibly uncomfortable. But then you swear you feel him squeeze your hand, and although the streetlights are dim and barely illuminating what you can see of his face, you swear there's a tinge of pink to his cheeks now. “You're drunk.” He mumbles.

“And you're pretty.” You retort.

“Drunk.”

“Pretty.”

“Drunk.”

“Pre— Oh. This is me.” You say, stopping suddenly in front of the familiar small gate, and he stops too. There's disappointment laced in your tone. You don't want him to go just yet, but you're home. He's done what he intended to do, and he'll leave just as quickly as he arrived. You sigh, “Well, this has been… nice. Really. Uh, thank you. I really appreciate what you did for me.” You press your lips together. It's so quiet between the two of you now, and you take that as your queue to leave. “Okay. Good night. And thank you, again.” You smile at him and untangle your fingers from his. Maybe you're crazy, but you think you feel him grip on to your hand for just a moment longer.

Oh, fuck. He can't do this to you. Not when you're drunk and your feelings are so, so vulnerable. You have to walk away. You have to remind yourself that he's just being nice, that you don't know him, and that you'll never see him again after this. That one kind of stings, and you're not entirely sure why. No. Snap out of it. He's literally a stranger. You don't know him. But he's been so nice to you and tolerated all of your annoying, drunken rambles. And he's so pretty, and— No. Just walk away.

You take a deep breath and turn away from him, pushing your gate open and making your way through. You're doing so well. Just don't look back. You don't need to look back. It's okay. You leave your gate to shut on its own, and you're listening out for the familiar clang of metal, but it never comes. Instead, you hear heavy footsteps. You whip your head around and he's there, closing the gate gently, about to follow you up the garden path and the flight of concrete stairs that leads to your house. “W— I'm… What are you doing?”

“Walking you home.” He answers. His voice is steady and moderated, as it has been all night, but there's something in his tone that screams ‘duh, isn't it obvious?’.

“But I am home.” You tell him, pointing over your shoulder at your house.

“Not all the way home.”

“I— I think I'll be—…” You stop yourself there, glancing down at the ground then up at him. “You know what, I might need a little help up the stairs.” You smile at him and offer your hand to him. There's a second of hesitation, but he takes your hand and the two of you make your way up the path. His boots, as loud and intimidating as they may be against the concrete, have become almost a… a comfort to you now. It's probably too soon to call it that, but you like hearing his footsteps in tandem with your own. You ascend the small flight of steps that lead up to your porch slowly, with little to no problem. You wobble on your heels a few times, but he's there to steady you, so it's okay.

Soon enough, you're at your front door. You drop his hand and dig around for your keys in your bag (not without the classic ‘oh shit, have I lost my keys?’ moment), pulling them out and unlocking your door. Now you're really not sure what to do. You're home. You're safe. He's walked you here. You have your hand wrapped around the door handle, and he's still here, waiting behind you for…. What? You're not so sure.

You turn around slowly, nervously. You feel like your heart is going to jump right out of your chest. “I… Uh, do you wanna like, come in?” You ask quietly. “For a drink, or something. I think I have like— I don't know. A few beers in the fridge.” Did you seriously just ask him to come in ‘for a drink’? Maybe you meant it literally, but you know what it implies. It's never just a drink. And you know that.

“I don't think you need anymore drinks.” He says.

You can't even bring yourself to be offended. In fact, you're relieved that he took your words so literally instead of considering the implications. You let out an airy laugh, dropping your head, “Yeah. You're probably right. Ignore me."

Silence takes over once again. Fuck. You hate the silence. You're staring at each other, both completely still. It's weirdly tense, and you're unsure as to why that is. “I'm… I'm gonna head inside.” You mumble, though you make no effort to move, or to push the door handle down. You're completely frozen to the spot.

You're surprised when he moves first, taking a step towards you. Fuck. Oh fuck. What is he doing? He's standing over you now, towering above you, actually. You're eye level with the bat right in the middle of his chest plate, and for a moment you're completely transfixed by the steady rise of his chest. You're not intimidated by how close he is, by how he's looming above you. He's done nothing but make you feel safe the entire time you've been with him. It's okay. He's close to you, and that's okay. You're okay. You actually... like being this close to him. He's crowding you against your door, pressing your back against the cold wood, but you don't care. You like it.

All you can hear is your breathing, shaky and ragged. It's all you can focus on. You feel like you're losing your mind, waiting for him to do something— anything. To make any move at all. When you finally gather the courage to look up at him through your lashes, you realise he's staring down at you. His lips are parted, and his eyes are lidded from what you can tell. You have no idea what he wants, what he's doing, but he looks so pretty. You want to reach up and remove the mask. Not because you're desperate to know who he really is, because you truly don't care, but because you want to see all of his pretty face like this.

He leans down slightly, and you feel yourself start to panic just a little bit. Your faces are so close now. Just one jolt upwards from you, just one more slight bend of his knees and you'd be kissing the Batman. Holy—

Holy shit. Is he going to kiss you? Is he— Fuck. Will he kiss you? He's— He's going to kiss you. Holy fuck. He’s— “Are we gonna kiss now?” You blurt out, the tension finally becoming too much. Your question is followed by a prolonged moment of silence.

His reply comes in the click of your door latch, and the slight creak of hinges coming from behind you.

He opened your fucking door.

You're completely taken aback. Confused and reeling because… what the fuck? Did that just happen? You can add Batman being a fucking tease to the list of things you didn't expect to happen or find out tonight. Fuck. You probably have the dumbest look on your face right now. You're completely lost for words. Judging by the way his mouth is opening and closing ever so slightly, you think he feels the same.

“Good night.” He mumbles, stepping away from you, and you silently mourn the loss of his body close to yours. Maybe it's the drink talking, but you miss it already.

He's about to turn away from you, but you reach out and take his hand in yours. You smile at him, squeezing his hand gently. “Good night. And thank you, again.” He nods in acknowledgement, and you loosen your grip, allowing him to make his way make his swift exit, though your hands are still touching until the moment you're no longer in reach. You watch him descend the steps and quickly make his way down your path and out of the gate, his boots beating mercilessly against the ground. But before he can disappear into the night, you call out one last thing to him. “My name is (Y/N), by the way!”

He turns to look at you from the gate for just a moment, and you swear you see the faintest hint of a smile on his lips, though you cant be too sure. And then, he's gone, and you're left wondering when you'll see him again. If you'll see him again.

You might just.

[time-shardz]

Ennead x AMAB GN Reader

The Servant of the start

PT:1

Ok I know I wrote GN reader but I don't see enough male reader shit in the community so yeah.

I don't see enough Ennead(Manhwa) x reader stuff I mean it basically doesn't exist so I decided to take the liberty to write something for it this is part one

I would put this on any other fanfiction website/app if it wasn't the fact I wanted to get a few chapters out before I wrote a entire fic for this

So enjoy

This idea isn't mine and is completely inspired by a Quotev fic I started to read so here's the link

Book Of Promos

Why did the world pick me to do this?

Why am I even here?

“I am Ra the God of The Sun

And who are you~?”

I didn’t ask for this…….

Ok that’s a lie I did say I wanted to change the plot of Ennead.

But this isn’t what I had in mind

“You who stood on this very hill on the power of chaos with me who are you?”

“Almighty Ra God of the Sun,I am but simply a lowly being with the honor of being in thy presence”

I bow down lowly to pay my respects as even though this wasn’t my home dimension I knew it would be a bad idea to anger a god.

Ra seemed amuse as I tried very hard to not make eye contact with her bright eyes.

Why must I be the one chosen to be sent to another world?

“How about I give you a purpose and a name?”

What?

“Rule beside me and you and I will make the start the creation of this world~”

Oh no oh nonononono

And get more involved with the plot?

That in itself is a death sentence and I will end up with just as high of a chance to get raped by God.

I simply wish to be a quiet NPC and watch from the sidelines

“Ra God Of The Sun it would be a honor to rule beside a great God as yourself,But I must decline as I am not equipped for such an important task to assist the creation of this world”

Ra’s eyes widen and she walks down closer to me her fingers clasp my chin and force me to look up at her

…..

Wtf is this so hot!?-

“Are you sure~?”

“Yes thine is sure Almighty Ra”

Ra smiles

Why is she smiling

What is she gonna do to me!?

Ra pat’s my head

“Very well From this day on thy name shall be (Y/N) thee shall be the first and forever loyal servant and will serve me and my future children”

.

.

.

.

How did this happen?

“Kekeke”

I look at the white haired individual in front of me in shock.

Where was I?

I was just returning home from the manga shop after I finally got the entire physical collection of the Ennead Manhwa.

Despite the fact I had long finished reading Ennead having the physical copies definitely felt different to only reading it online.

And now I was in this vast empty space

“Hey hey heyyyyyy~ are you even listening to us?”

I snapped out of my thoughts

I flinched as I saw the black mask with one eye stare into me

I gulped

“W-Who are you?”

The entity seemed surprised to hear me speak

“Finally your listening to us again”

Us?

“Thine name does not matter but what matters is thy is dead”

I’m dead?

.

.

Well finally,I actually made it further in life then I believed I would

“You don’t seemed worried”

I stare the being dead in the eyes….eye?

“Man have you seen Gen Z? Like at this point we could go through WW3 and not give a flying fuck”

The being stops for a second and seems to be thinking until it floats back a bit further from me

“Kekeke oh humans are still so amusing after so long,though aren’t you curious on how you died”

…..I didn’t think about that

“How did I die?”

The smile on the entity’s mask seems to grow wider showing some sharp canines

Are those real?

“I believe you humans call this trope truck-kun”

….

I really died to a fucking truck

Am I about to be isekaied rn

“Yes”

I was startled back

“I how- when?”

The entity smiles in amusement

“Of course I’m capable of reading minds I just decided if I want to or not”

Ok that is so embarrassing if he heard what I said earlier

“But yes thee shall be quote on quote isekaied”

“Where am I going?”

Suddenly the mask’s eye closes and it’s grin seems to sharpen.

I nervously redirect my attention to the entity’s tail which swishes around in a strange way.

It looked like how a cat’s tail would swish when it decide to play with its prey

I felt a cold shiver go up my spine

“That is for you to find out darling~”

Suddenly the entity seems to groan in pain and sigh

“Looks like our time is over dear,but I will try talk to you more along your journey,good luck”

Secrets of the Archive

•Originally these were gonna be called secrets under the Sun and secrets under the Moon for some of them

•Y/N wished to be a NPC but already knows their chances of being one is the same chances of Cale getting his slacker life

•Y/N will have some hidden powers cause I mean of course the unknown Entity doesn’t want their play thing to be destroyed so fast

•The unknown Entity says us for a reason

•Thine means I,Thy means your and Thee means you in ancient times

[talistheintrovert]

pat in episode 6: an overanalysis

the thing is, Pat is smart.

Like, I know we know that rationally, but the narrative does such a good job of framing him as sort of a dumbass, and Ohm plays him as so chill, that it's SO easy to forget how fucking smart Pat is.

He's an engineer. He's gotten good grades his entire life, and constantly goes toe to toe with Pran.

He's really smart.

Which is why it's so much fun to rewatch episode 6. Because the first time you watch it, you're spending the entire time just being stressed for him, sad for him, yelling at the screen when he's antagonising the architecture students just so Pran will look at him.

And then when you rewatch it, you can see him analysing all of it.

He's constantly walking right up to the line and then toeing it, to see what makes Pran push him back.

He tries talking, but that doesn't work.

So he tries going over to his house.

Then he follows him to the excursion.

He tells him when he can make him talk, Pran loses. And in that moment, Pran doesn't react, so he keeps pushing.

He gets in his space, constantly.

He bothers him in front of his friends, on purpose, but he never says or does anything to let Pran's friends know what's actually going on - despite how he was feeling on the night they kissed, he doesn't actually want to reveal their secret to Pran's friends if Pran doesn't want him to.

And then they're paired together for that task. And he tries to challenge him again. "Avoiding eye contact means you lose." And against all odds - it works. Pran looks at him.

And that's when Pat gets it.

He still implores him to talk, but it's clearly more trash-talk than his previous pleas, it's got more of a playful edge to it, and that remains for the rest of the episode. He's no longer following and begging - he's fronting and teasing. He's appearing where Pran is, but only so he can antagonise him. He's antagonising his friends too. It isn't about getting him to talk to him anymore; it's about showing him that nothing's changed. They're still in a rivalry. They can still be that. Nothing has to be broken.

And then they have that conversation on the beach when it's just the two of them and he understands it even more, because of the way Pran doesn't finish the sentence. "If our families weren't enemies..." That's when Pat knows that Pran knows exactly what his feelings are, as opposed to pushing him away because he's confused or regrets the kiss - Pran likes him, and now Pat knows it.

And he also knows that Pran isn't ready to admit it yet.

Because Pran also said, "Speaking to you nicely - I don't know how." He's telling him, albiet implicitly, that he's not ready for this conversation yet, that he doesn't know how to interact with him when they remove their rivalry from the table.

So Pat goes back to business as usual. He's even willing, and waiting, to get beaten up by Pran's friends, just to keep their whole rivalry going. And then they don't come, so he knows they must have been stalled somehow.

When he sees Pran on the beach, he grabs his arm to stop him from running away again and he doesn't say anything this time. He just waits and he looks at him, and he keeps holding his arm, and eventually Pran stays. He knows there's no use trying to beg him again, so he's long since abandoned that. Now, when he's not playing up their rivalry, he's just going to be as earnest as possible.

"KISS?" is his only attempt to bring it up again after the revelation from the previous beach conversation, but he's not pushing it. He's asking questions, he's looking at him all fond - it's not an argument or even one-sided begging like the beginning of the episode - it's an invitation to Pran more than anything else. Something to let him know it's okay to talk about it. Pran tells him to mind his business, like Pat wasn't even there when they kissed, like it's not his business that they basically silently confessed their love to each other just days earlier. And there's that fucking look again! Pat looks over at him and it's amused disbelief at the statement, but you can also see him processing it, analysing it; and then he tells Pran he doesn't like Ink like that. Pran seems surprised at the change in topic, and tries to ask questions, but Pat turns it around, responds the way Pran did earlier.

And Pran falls for it.

He starts bickering and teasing him, which is so clearly Pat's intention that it hurts. Seriously, go back and watch this scene but only watch Pat, it is actually physically painful to do.

And then when Pran finally turns and faces him, actually looks at him, and asks him why he can't just admit that he likes him, Pat's response is, "You like me already." That's not an answer to Pran's question, it's a challenge. Because he knows Pran doesn't actually want the answer to the question, knows that if he answers it with the truth, Pran might run away, might shut him out again. So he toes that line again; throws down a glove, waits for Pran to push back.

That little laugh Pat does when Pran says "it's so obvious you're the one who likes me" and his lack of denial at the statement just kill me, because it's like a tiny victory lap. He doesn't need to deny that he likes him, he knows he likes him - he just needed to get Pran fighting back, actually engaging in a conversation about the fact that they like each other, even if neither of them say it at all.

The first one to fall in love loses.

They've both already lost.

Pat knows this already.

He's just waiting for Pran to come around.

And he's willing to do anything to make it happen.

[haitaniapologist]

ALL FOR US. ( favorite crime part 2 )

pairings — hanma shuji x female!reader, mentions of chifuyu x kazutora.

genre — angst, fluff.

warnings — an unhealthy obsession with using dashes instead of commas, sentences with strange structures and grammatical errors because english isn’t my first language, SPOILERS for episodes 21 and 24 of the first season of tokyo revengers, SPOILERS for chapter 74 of tokyo revengers and the black dragons arc, mentions major character death, a pregnancy, depression thoughts, smut, pregnancy kink, fingering, overstimulation, edging, lactating kink, typical violence, kisaki tetta.

word counting — 15.1k

songs — all for us, labrinth ft. zendaya.

tagging — @tooweirdforyou @aetheriaess @etheralyonn @lonnie19 @sincerelyraylene @chronic-claire-universe @harufilms @softbajis @markedsweetly @severellamahottub @sanzu-s

notes — phew, part 2 is here!!! it was a long ride since i first had this idea, and i can't believe i finally finished it. i hope you guys will enjoy it as much as i did!! reblogs, comments and likes are appreciated <3 also, natsuki is the name i choose for chifuyu and y/n's mom so i wouldn't be calling her just mom the entire fic jdaghjjsd

DARK CONTENT AND NSFW THEMES UNDER THE CUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !!!!!!!

“what the fuck are you doing, shuji?”

he blinked his golden eyes slowly, finally regaining control of his senses. the last thing he remembered was seeing you get in your car, and a tormenting feeling inside his heart. what was that? hanma never felt anything like that before — it was like an animal was tearing his heart apart, and he was still alive to feel that. his knuckles were bleeding and his cheeks were warm with tears still freely falling from his eyes.

oh, yes. he lost you.

he lifted his head, meeting tetta's hard glare. what happened? he couldn't remember much more than your crying face and you running away from him.

“did you kill her?” kisaki asked impatiently. he already lost takemichi to kazutora — someone he should have killed when he stepped his foot off jail, but tetta never thought he would be a stone in his way — but managed to kill chifuyu, at least. he let the task of dispose of you to hanma, as he had promised many years ago. but he wasn't expecting to find his second in command on the ground floor, bloody hands and tears on his face. that was a pathetic sight, but he hoped that meant that you received the same fate as your younger brother.

shuji didn't understand what tetta wanted from him. “kill her? did… did you mean y/n?” that couldn't be true. he didn't remember kisaki asking him to do that — and as if hanma would kill you. tetta knew he couldn't do that. he could live with the fact that you hated him and never wanted to see him again, but at least you were alive. he could still see you and know you were okay. but you dying? that was one of his worst nightmares. “why would i need to kill my wife?”

kisaki eyes widened from a fraction of seconds, a realization striking him. he never thought hanma was capable of loving someone, and that's why he gave him the task of winning your heart. but maybe, he hadn't thought about the power you would hold over shuji — power enough to make him change and be capable of thinking about someone else that wasn't him. shuji loved you, and that was something that tetta couldn't predict in his plans.

and he hoped that such a foolish feeling wouldn’t mean his downfall. if kisaki lost what he minutely worked to have because of love, he would make sure to hunt you and shuji to the depths of hell.

“why, shuji?” he asked with venom dripping from his lips. “because your pretty little wife is a fucking traitor, just like her brother. she was helping him to take us down, did you notice?” he spat, observing gladly how hanma's eyes widened with pain. “and she's now probably whoring herself to kazutora as we speak.” kisaki could hear hanma's heart breaking, and that amused him. shuji needed to be the man he was before he met you — and if that meant that kisaki needed to break his heart with his own hands and then mend it as how he liked, he didn't care. “o-oh, you didn't know she's seeing him behind your back?” he asked in faux surprise, watching as his friend's eyes were tearing up again.

kisaki watched as life drained from hanma's eyes, like a bird flying for the warm land in the winter, helping him getting up. his plan was working out. “i'll help you get revenge, my friend.” he murmured, his hand on hanma's shoulders, trying to comfort him. fool.

“those matsunos have nothing but treason running in their blood, and we'll make sure to spill them to the whole world to see what happens when someone tries to stab our backs.”

—

you stopped at your mother's doorstep, not knowing what to do.

the last time you were there was when you married shuji, when you left your mother's home and went to live in a penthouse with your husband. could you still call him that? you didn't know.

after you calmed yourself down inside the car, you thought of what you would say to your mother. it wouldn't be easy to inform a mother of her son's death — and a dark side of you wished she was there to witness what happened. it would be easier for you, at least. what could you say to her? how could you tell that chifuyu, her dearest baby, was now dead? how could you explain that you watched the scene unfolding in front of your eyes but you were a coward, and didn't help your brother? you should be dead in his place. it was the natural course of life — you were older, and you were supposed to die first.

you took a deep breath, your shaky hand pressing the doorbell. it was funny how your mother never wished to move you from the same apartment he first bought with your father, even though you and chifuyu had the money to buy something bigger and in a better neighborhood for her. but she always denied yours and your brother’s words. she couldn’t leave precious memories like that.

and if you tried hard enough, you could hear chifuyu and keisuke laughing in the hallways.

you pressed the doorbell again, panic flooding in your system — but the door opened, and you watched with teary eyes as your mother broke down in front of you.

matsuno natsuki knew what happened the moment her eyes fell on your figure.

your dishevelled hair, teary eyes and bloody hands. that could only mean one thing: chifuyu was dead. she didn't mean to fall down to her knees and cry painful tears — almost tears of blood, as the virgin mary did when she watched what the romans were doing to her son. she needed to be strong to comfort you, chifuyu said. you would be there to watch him die,

“mama.” you whimpered, hugging her. it was the only thing you offered to her. “chifuyu is dead, mama.” you cried on her shoulder, feeling as her shaky hands tried to hug you back. "i'm sorry, i'm so sorry, mama."

you two cried for what seemed hours, until your and your mother's sobs became whimpers, and you managed to get her from the ground. you seated her on the sofa, making cold water with sugar for her.

“i knew he was going to die.” natsuki whispered, her eyes glued on her husband's photo. oh, dear.

you gave her a puzzled look, seating next to her. was she talking about a sixth sense mothers had regarding the safety of their children? you remembered when keisuke died and how his mom knew something happened to him.

you watched as your mother drank the water, and she looked so small — so young. she had always been young, but you never noticed that. too young to lose her husband, too young to raise two children alone, too young to bury a child. “your brother… he came here this morning.” she started, and your eyes widened. “he knew he was being targeted by kisaki.” she put a hand on your shoulder, her touch comforting, but you could see how she was struggling to not cry more. your mother never showed her weak side to you or your brother, ever. she had always been your rock, and your heart ached, seeing how she still tried to stay strong just for you. “he left something for you.”

what?

natsuki walked to where she had put chifuyu's letters — one for her, another for you — your dumbfounded eyes following her every movement. she prayed and prayed that things wouldn't reach the moment she would need to read what her son wrote for her. she handed you the paper, and you took it as it was the most precious jewel you ever saw. “why don't you go to your room, my sweetheart? i’m afraid toman's men will arrive soon to inform me about chifuyu, and i don't know what they could do to you.”

right. you were still a traitor.

you nodded, hugging your mother tightly, hoping that your arms could translate what you wanted to tell her. the hug ended when the doorbell rang again, and you rushed to your old childhood room, trying to ignore all the memories you had in it. it was hard, but you needed to focus on what chifuyu wanted to say to you.

taking another deep breath and seating in your old writing desk, you opened the letter:

y/n/n,

i'm trying to find words to say to you. but nothing comes to my mind — because how can i write a goodbye letter when i'm still here? how i can put into words what i'm feeling now? goodbyes weren't easy for you, for us, and i hope i can make mine more bearable for you with this letter. kind old-fashioned, isn't it? but i can't trust any other way of communication. he can't know that i know what is going to happen.

you have been with me since i was born. i never knew a world where my older sister wasn't with me, guiding me and making sure i didn't trip on my own feet. did you know my oldest memory is with you? i probably never told one about this, but i remember you looking down at me when i was in my crib. you said nothing, but i could see in your eyes how much you loved me. you were always looking out for me, and i knew how much of a troublesome kid i was. and for that, i apologize. but i was nothing but a child, and now, as an adult, i wish i could still give you such kind of troubles. not this one.

but i'm now the one looking out for you. if you're reading this, then i managed to protect you as always did with me.

you know a world without me. even if you don't remember it — you know. and you need to remember it and learn how you used to live back then. in a few days, i'll be nothing but ashes, nothing but ancestors and my memories and dreams will build our family grave, and i hope they'll be carried by you and takemichi. in a few hours, i'll be with dad and keisuke again, and i can't wait to tell them how beautiful you were as a bride. i'm sure they are so, so proud of you. as i am.

don't ever feel guilty about my death. it isn't your fault, even though i know you'll feel it is. you did not fail your job as my sister. i've made peace with it, really. i'm ready to die — but not ready to leave you, mom and kazutora behind. i can't make peace with the fact that you three will cry over my dead body, or i can't make peace with the fact that i'll never see my nephews and nieces. but that's ok. i'll watch over them. that's the least i can do for you.

i can't guarantee to you that your life will be easy now. i can't guarantee that it'll get easier to wake up and remember i'm dead, but i'm sure it'll get steadier. i thought about what i would feel if you died, and it was almost like a part of my soul died too. the world wasn't turning like it did, and the ground was rocking beneath my feet like an unquiet sea. but you are stronger than me, and i know you'll learn to live like that, like the sailors do. i could never. that's why i hope i'll be ashes by the end of the week, instead of you. but, promise me one thing: be happy. that's all i ask of you.

i'm whispering the words i hope will find you when you read this letter. i whisper your name, y/n, and i whisper the most important thing:

i love you, sister. i love you.

i love you.

your forever little brother,

chifuyu.

p.s: i've already forgiven shuji. i can't know if he'll have a role in my death, but it isn't easy to get away from kisaki's manipulation. remember that, please.

p.s 2: if you ever have children, name the girl shinobu and the boy after me. that's my last wish.

ps. 3: i’m just kidding. i just don’t know how to end this. i don’t want to die, but it seems to be my fate. i’m sorry. i love you.

you didn’t know if you should laugh or cry. he was thinking about you, about how you would react and how you could live with him. how much pain chifuyu went through knowing he was going to die? what was he thinking? why didn’t he ran away instead of showing himself at the meeting and accepting his fate? why did he stay and make you and your mother suffer because of him? why? why?

why your brother had to die?

new tears were now streaming down your face, but you didn’t have enough strength to sob or scream. you just wanted to wake up from this nightmare and be able to call your brother to gossip about your friends’ life, or help your husband get ready to work. you just wanted to have your life back the way it was. you cried and cried, and cried. it was the only thing you could do. you didn’t notice when your mother entered your room, only acknowledging her presence when she made you lay down on her lap, her hand stroking your hair. she did the same thing with you when you noticed your father was never going to return home again, and you almost laughed at how miserable your life had been — a dead father, a dead boyfriend and a dead brother. who was going to be the next? a dead mother? a husband?

“mama, am i cursed?” your voice was small, quiet, but filled with sorrow.

natsuki needed to be strong, but seeing you in such a state broke her heart. if she could, she would be the one feeling your pain — you didn’t deserve any of that. “of course not, dear. but we can’t predict what will happen in our lives.” she stroked your hair, hoping that the act would comfort you. it used to do, at least, but you weren’t her baby anymore.

“i should have listened to you, mama.” your thoughts only prompted you to cry harder. “if i… if i had taken care with shuji, i wouldn’t be here today.” crying for both my brother and my failed marriage. was shuji such a heartless man? did your love for him blinded you to all the bad he had done or could do?

natsuki inhaled deeply. she didn’t know what happened between you and your husband, but it was clear that her son-in-law knew something. chifuyu seemed to think that, and being the second in command to kisaki meant that he and toman’s leader shared secrets. “we could never have thought that things would end like this, y/n. you didn’t listen to me, but weren’t you happy?”

you nodded.

“then that’s what mattered to me.” her hand left your hair and she helped you get up. “we don’t know what the future holds for us, but i think you should take a bath. i’ll be there with you.” she smiled at you, and you did what your mother said. the walk to the bathroom was a difficult one. the house was still the same, and you had many memories about running in those halls after chifuyu or peke j, sometimes both, because they were annoying you. it was like chifuyu said — you felt as if the ground beneath your feet was like an unquiet sea, the earth wasn’t turning like it always did. something was missing.

natsuki helped you bathe, cleaning the blood from your hands and washing your hair. you hoped the water would be enough to clean you — both physically and spiritually. would you ever be able to life with the guilt of not being able to help your little brother? you both cried and laughed reminiscing memories with your brother and father, and even keisuke did a cameo in them.

now dressed and seated in front of your father’s altar, you heard your mother speak again. “the funeral will be tomorrow morning. toman will defray all of it.” you only nodded. shuji would probably be there. what would you do? what would you say to him? the ring in your left hand was now heavy. you were the only that left him, after he finally said he loved you, but could you forgive him? did he want to be forgiven? “they said to me that chifuyu died protecting kisaki from takemichi.”

you scoffed. tomorrow would be even harder.

you hugged your mother one last time before going to sleep. it wasn’t the same bed, but you still could see your teenage self wrapped around shuji arms, giggling and squirming in his hold, or even smell the brand of cheap cigarettes he used to smoke at the time. a sigh left your lips, and you noticed your phone on the night stand. your mother probably put it there, and you started to look through your messages. kazutora and naoto were asking how you were, and you answered them with a heavy heart, informing them of the details about the funeral.

putting it back on the furniture, your eyes tearing up again when it buzzed with new messages.

shuji: the bed is cold without you

shuji: come back home please

shuji: i love you

—

the house was cold and empty, but shuji could see you in everything.

at first, he thought he was hallucinating.

he could still smell your rose scented shampoo and your cologne in the whole house. it was like someone had played a prank on him and sprayed it just to see him more miserable — but he could hear you laugh too. he could feel you inside the penthouse, and he cursed himself for letting you do all the decoration. at any corner his eyes laid upon, he could see a part of you. how you cared for your family and friends, how you were passionate about baking, how you loved him.

but the worst was the bedroom.

it was filled with you. your clothes, your jewels, your hair products and makeup, your favorite photos and everything you held dear to your heart. he picked up the photo that was on your night stand, his heart clenching — him, you, your mother and chifuyu in the day you became his wife. he lost all of that, and for what?

the sheets were still warm it seemed, and they and your pillow still smelled like you, hanma noticed when he managed to lay down after a cold shower. if he focused enough, he could feel how warm your skin was beneath his fingertips and feel the outline of your curves pressing against his body, or hear your heartbeat in his ears and feel your butterfly kisses against his jaw.

the bed was cold without you there, and shuji didn’t know what to do. how could he fall asleep without your warmth as his lullaby?

kisaki’s words were resonating in his head. was you really cheating on him with kazutora? it was almost impossible, but tetta was his friend and shuji was sure he would never lie to him. but he trusted you too, and even if you were helping your brother, it didn’t make sense that you would cheat on him. you still treated him the same, albeit being a little distant, and never stopped showing him your love. however, if you really were, you and shuji were even. he helped someone murder your brother, and you cheated on him. he was willing to forgive you, it that was the truth.

turning his head to smell you on your pillow once more, he reached for his phone, texting kisaki. you were in your mother’s house as he had predicted, and unharmed, as he promised too. hanma thanked him, and in return received the details about his brother-in-law’s funeral. he felt as a hypocrite by going, but everyone thought chifuyu died trying to protect kisaki from takemichi, as no one would believe he was the judas. tetta wanted to frame hanagaki as it, and since he was arrested, it was easy to go with that narrative.

before shuji could think better, he was facing your contact photo. it was you two, in pajamas, doing face masks. he smiled fondly at the sight of it, typing what was in his mind.

you: the bed is cold without you

you: come back home please

you: i love you

he didn’t care if you had really cheated on him. he was willing to forgive anything just to have you at his side again.

the screen glowed and shuji watched as how typing appeared and disappeared, his heart racing every time he could see you were formulating an answer for him.

y/n: go to sleep, shuji

y/n: it’s really late

oh, how good it was to see you calling him by his first name.

y/n: we can talk tomorrow after the funeral if you'll be there

y/n: good night

he smiled at the text, texting you a good night and putting his phone again on his night stand. tomorrow, he would gain your forgiveness, even if he needed to beg on his knees and scream to the world how much you meant to him.

—

the ground still felt like an unquiet sea beneath your feet, but you were getting steadier.

it wasn't easy to wake up and remember what happened to your brother, and after crying a little more both in your bed and in the shower, you were ready — as you could be — to attend his funeral. you were wearing your mother's clothes, an old black dress of hers that was the one that fitted you, with your hair styled in a ponytail and the heels you were wearing the night prior, which the men who visited your mom returned for you.

you didn't understand why kisaki was being too kind to you. if he knew you were helping your brother, thus being considered a traitor, why didn't he order the men to kill you yesterday? wasn't it easier to kill two birds with just a stone?

that were the thoughts haunting you during the funeral.

you were on your knees next to your mother, receiving everyone's condolences. it wasn't easy, especially when the old toman boys came. smiley, angry, peh, pah, mucho, and even hakkai — you shared teary eyed smiles with every single one of them, and you were grateful to kisaki, in a twisted way. your brother didn't die as a traitor to the eyes of his friends.

the worst, however, was when it arrived shuji’s time to talk to you both.

his eyes were in you since he arrived, and you tried your best to ignore it. but from time to time you stole a glance at his way, your heart aching to see him in such a state. you never saw your husband looking so miserable, but you needed to remember that he deserved that. did he really think that you would be willing to accept the fact that he helped someone murder your brother? it was strange, what you were feeling. shuji deserved that, yes, but you wanted nothing more than to just kiss his pain away.

you watched as he prayed in front of chifuyu's casket, his smiling photo a bitter reminder that you would never see him looking like that at you. you lowered your eyes as soon as shuji kneeled in front of you and your mother, but you couldn't escape him, as he bent over in a formal apology form, his forehead in the ground. “i'm sorry, mother.” you heard him say before he got away from your line of vision, probably hugging your mom. you didn't tell her what happened. she didn't need to know more details about last night, as you didn't want to suffer more. but she knew. she was your mom, after all.

“thank you, shuji, dear.” you heard her say, and you thought that was it. but you soon felt your husband's hands on your shoulders, and you just rested your face on his chest. you couldn't look at him. “meet me in front of the lake, in five, okay?” he kissed your hair, and you took a deep breath when his warmth left you.

after him, kisaki came.

you wanted to throw up, your fists clenching in anger at your sides. how dare he? tetta was the one who pulled the trigger, the mastermind behind chifuyu’s death, he didn’t have shame to appear in his funeral with a sorrowful look on his face? you felt as if you couldn’t breathe, and when he approached you and your mother, you noticed how your nails managed to draw blood from your hands from how hard you were pressing them to your palms. you had never felt so much anger in your life, and you wanted nothing more than to break his glasses on his face and beat him to death.

his arms were filled with thorns sticking on your skin, and his smile a blade that aimed at your heart, and his words were the most dangerous venom. “you’re lucky shuji loves you, y/n.” he murmured in your ear while you were in what people would call a friendly embrace, but you felt inside a cage. “or else your mother would be crying over two today. behave, sweetheart.”

you got up as soon as kisaki started to talk with your mother, your legs taking you to any secluded place they could find. you needed to get out of there, you needed to get out of kisaki’s grasp and plans. his warning meant only one thing: if you tried to carry on your brother’s plans, you would meet the same end as him, and neither your husband nor anyone else would be able to stop tetta from killing you. and you couldn’t do that to your mom, no. she already lost chifuyu and your dad, but, at the same time, changing toman was what chifuyu and keisuke wanted.

it was like you were a trapped bird and kisaki was your master.

you noticed you were in the lake when your eyes found shuji’s, dark bags under his golden eyes, which were reflecting pure misery.

“i didn’t think you would come.” shuji started, taking a step closer to you. you saw how his hands were twitching at his sides, as if he was doing anything he could to not touch you. and he was. hanma wanted nothing more than to feel your skin on his fingers and comfort you, as hypocritical as that sounded.

you reverted your eyes to the water, the way his eyes were burning holes in your body was too much to bear. “would you blame me if i did not?” you asked, observing your reflection on the water. shuji soon appeared too, and it was better to look at his reflection than to his face.

“no, but i was hoping you would come.” it was almost like the words were blades that hurt his throat just by saying that, but shuji wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to see him again. but your text last night said otherwise, and he hoped he could save the shreds that your once strong marriage was. “forgive me, y/n.” hanma knew that words could mean nothing — his line of work only proved to him that, because lying to him was almost as drinking water — but he wanted you to believe him. he never had been so sincere in his whole life. “believe me when i say that i love you, because i do.”

“shuji, i… i don't know if i can.” you answered, closing your eyes when you saw his face changing from one full of love to one full of despair, the tears streaming down his face visible even in the water. but you needed to support your convictions, even if they would hurt. “not… now, at least.”

shuji’s face disappeared from the water, and your eyes followed his movements. he kneeled in front of you — the same way he did when he asked you to be his wife — and rested his head on your belly, hands on your hips you fought the urge to put your hands on his hair and stroke it, like you used to do when he was too stressed. “y/n, please… i don't know how i'll live without you.” his words were like a million paper cuts on your skin, too agonizing to support. you didn’t even care anymore about the tears.

“i… you will…” you will learn, was what you wanted to say, but the words were stuck to your throat. he needed to learn, as you should too.

but his next words took you by surprise.

“is this because you're cheating on me kazutora?”

“w-what?” was what you managed to say, too shocked to form any other sentence. you and kazutora? shuji was kidding, right? kazutora… kazutora was in love with your brother. you were playing matchmaker before everything happened. it took you a while to forgive kazutora for stabbing baji, but, when you did, he became like a little brother to you too. and when he expressed his feelings towards chifuyu, you were beyond happy. your brother deserved someone that loved and cared for him until the end of the world — as you and shuji had been.

“so it's true.” you were used to that tone of shuji — the toman hanma, the reaper — but he never used it with you. desperation started to bubble in your heart, and you needed to make him believe you were telling the truth. it wasn’t fair — yesterday you were thinking that your marriage had been a lie since day one, and now hanma is thinking you were cheating on him?

you gripped his shoulders when he tried to move away from you. “what the hell are you talking about, shuji? i would never cheat on you!” you almost screamed, seeing how hurt he looked from just that thought. “and tora… he loved my brother.” you didn’t know why you were telling him that. your husband didn't deserve to know anything about kazutora’s life, but that was the only thing you could say for him to believe you.

shuji gulped. he wanted to believe in you, he did. but it was your word against kisaki’s. “tetta, he… he told me you were cheating on me with kazutora.” you realized with horror that what chifuyu said was right. shuji was tied to kisaki’s manipulation like an insect in a spider’s web. “and helping your brother, too.”

“and you believed him?”

your words were harsh and shuji felt as if you slapped him. he… he should believe kisaki. they knew each other since their teenagers dreams, the reaper and the pierrot, and tetta never lied. but by just looking at your expression shuji knew you weren’t lying — he could read you as an open book. maybe kisaki was wrong? maybe he just thought you were cheating on him.

“i was helping my brother, yes, but i would never cheat on you, oh my god.” you added, releasing shuji from your hold and trying to escape him. he didn’t deserve your tears or even your pity, if he thought so low of yourself, his own wife.

but shuji wouldn’t let you go so easily. why were you helping chifuyu? why did you want to take toman down? didn't you love him? if toman ended, he would go to jail for god’s knew how long, away from you. was that what you really wanted? to see your husband behind bars? “... why?”

you understood what he wanted to know, your hands now cupping his face. “because of you.” you answered quietly, hearing the birds singing. “toman… toman became too dangerous.” you explained. you knew what gang life was, but everyday toman started to have more and more shady work, and that wasn’t its purpose. the gang was created to protect people, and not to kill innocents. tachibana hinata’s death had been your last straw. why kisaki needed to kill her? you remembered her as takemichi’s sweet girlfriend from middle school. you were afraid that someday you would be awake at 3am by a text saying your husband had died in a mission. “i did not… i did not want our kids to have the same fate as me.”

“the same fate… as you?” shuji asked with confusion lacing his voice, leaning in your touch.

you took a deep breath, his face becoming blurry by the tears in your eyes. “i didn't want them to wake up one day to their father never coming back home again.” it was hard to speak of the family you two wanted in the past sentence, but you didn’t know if shuji would agree with your thoughts. “i didn't want them to feel the same loneliness i did on father's day, or hearing other people calling their fathers heroes and not knowing what to say when their friends asked about theirs.” you smiled down at him, sadly, remembering moments from your childhood that no child needed to go through. it was painful to watch all the other kids doing drawings and cards, saying how much they loved their father, telling each other how cool they were, while your work would be deposited on a gravestone and your memories of your father were starting to fade away. you couldn’t even recall the exact color of his eyes anymore. “i didn't want to be the one to tell them their father died.” not like your mother did on a saturday morning, you and chifuyu still in your pajamas, hugging each other. “i didn't want them to know you only from my memories, shuji.” like chifuyu did.

“princess…” he got up from his knees, trapping you in his arms. that time, however, you embraced him back, and relief washed over him. you were worried for him, about him — you weren’t cheating on him. you were a traitor because you loved him, because you wanted to have a family with him. tetta would understand that.

you two stayed in each other’s embrace for a few minutes, and hanma was hopeful that things would go back to their normal. but your next words were like a bucket of cold water someone turned on him.

“i think it's better if we don't see each other for a while, shuji.”

it was as if someone ripped a bandage from his skin without warning, the bruise opening up again and dripping blood. “w-what?” he asked, holding you by your shoulders, as if he could shake sense into you. didn't you love him anymore? but your gaze was determined, and shuji knew he wouldn't be able to change your mind. you were too stubborn, he came to learn, and when you had an idea in your mind, you wouldn't back down. but he hoped — no, he dared to plead — that the gods would change your mind. “n-no, i can't. the house, my life is too cold without you with me, y/n. i won't… i won't be able to.” he tried to reason, and you almost have in at the sight of his golden eyes pleading to yours.

you smiled sadly at him, your hand cupping his cheek to wipe the tears falling from his eyes. “didn't you say you would wait for me forever if you needed to?” you remembered that day as if it happened a few hours ago — how shuji cupped your face between his large hands, after you said you wanted to take things slow, to be able to heal properly and because you liked him too, and it wasn’t fair to him if you started a relationship while still grieving over keisuke. the room smelling like his favorite brand of cigarettes, and his eyes hooded with affection, and how tears freely fell down your cheeks after he made you that promise.

he nodded. it was the only promise he was able to fulfill.

you stroked his cheek, and hanma could die from the love dripping from your eyes. he didn't deserve any of that. “i'm not saying i won't ever be able to forgive you, but i need some time. to put my thoughts in place, to mourn my brother and to find myself again.” sometimes, when someone you love hurts you, you should stay some time away from them to heal and be able to forgive and love them again — your mother whispered to you when she thought you were sleeping, and you took her words to heart. this time, you would listen to her.

“please.” you murmured, watching as hanma's shoulders slug down and as his face could cause envy to a puppy trying to have their owner to give them food. but it was for the best, for the both of you.

shuji tightened his grip on your shoulders, but sighed, defeated. “o-okay.” he answered, and you tried to not dwell in the quiver his voice made when he agreed with you. his eyes were glistening with tears of sadness and something you thought was determination. “just promise me that you'll never take the ring off of your finger, princess.” he demanded, and you almost laughed at how imposing he looked. but you nodded, nonetheless, and he gave you a teary smile.

“can i kiss you, one more time?” shuji asked, apprehensive, afraid that you would deny his request. but he needed to feel your lips on his one more time, to have a memory, in future sleepless and cold nights, to remember why he was going through such martyrdom.

you didn't answer him with words, but, with your hand still on his cheek, you brought his head down, connecting your lips. hanma almost moaned at the feeling of your soft skin against his lips, and he caged you inside his arms one more time.

the kiss tasted of tears, which were freely falling from both of your eyes, and shuji held you as if you could break at any moment, his touch on the bare skin of your back was almost like an ember, as if he wanted to bruise you — and, if anyone else dared to touch you, they would know who you belonged to. your touch, however, was gentle and caring, like a summer breeze gracing his cheeks. but, at the same time, shuji felt that you wanted to mark him too.

you reluctantly broke the kiss, the burn on your eyes becoming too much for you to bear. shuji kissed your forehead, one last time, and you watched as he distanced himself from you, walking back to the funeral's salon.

“goodbye, y/n.”

“goodbye, shuji.”

i love you.

—

it wasn't easy in the beginning.

you used to sleep and wake up feeling shuji's warmth, and now, waking up in a cold and small bed, without all the pillows you had in your husband's penthouse, was strange. but you grew used to it — and, as chifuyu said, the ground started to feel steadier. you stopped waking up with sorrow running through your veins, and started to see the beauty in the little things life had to offer. maybe it was the birds singing, or a cat wanting you to scratch their head — you started to smile more and feel like yourself again, even if you felt something missing in your heart and soul.

you also needed to learn how to live without the luxuries shuji's job offered to you, as your mother income was made up of your father's pension and the money you and chifuyu would deposit to her. she now had a part in the income of all of your brother's bars and clubs, but it wasn't like before. you learned again how it was to live without maids and personal chefs, and while you missed the comfort that brought you, it was good to connect yourself with your roots again.

and, when kazutora offered you a job in the pet shop chifuyu was helping him open up, you didn't hesitate to agree.

you hadn't worked in at least seven years, since toman started to make enough money for shuji to sustain you, and you had forgotten how good it was to do something you loved. the look of love on a kid's face when you showed them a kitten, or the grateful words you would receive from elderly people when they came asking for suggestions about how to take better care of their dogs was something that kept you going and waking up everyday. you had found a new purpose in life, and, this time, was solely yours.

you were reminded of shuji in the smallest things. in the smell of coffee in the morning, to a pack of cigarettes someone forgot in the pet shop, to the way the sun shines in the sky — golden exactly like his eyes were. you couldn't watch sitcoms without remembering how he liked to make fun of the characters with you, or you couldn't see a man wearing a suit, or your head would turn so quickly that it would give you a whiplash because you thought it was him. there was now a hole in the place shuji used to be in your world, a hole that you constantly walked around in the daytime, like a moth to a flame, and falling in the night — you missed him like hell, and the ring in your finger was heavy, reminding you that you and hanma once had it all, and now you didn't even know if he was fulfilling his promise. however, you managed to make peace with the longing you had for your husband's presence, and started to live with it as if it was just a friend.

but some days were worse than others.

there were days when you woke up and you wanted nothing more than to just curl yourself under the covers, days when a kid's smile didn't bring a sincere one to your face, and you just wanted to hear hanma shuji's voice and feel his kisses on your face. but you had kazutora, and you both understand each other. you two had lost the same people, and he understood better than anyone what you felt. his company was like the sun rays on a cold winter day, and you and him learned together how to cope with your mourning and sadness. no one could ever replace chifuyu, but kazutora was a warm reminder that you still had sisterly love to give to others.

but did shuji still love you? was he keeping his promise of waiting for you, or when you felt you were ready again to face him, he would dismiss you with a disgusted frown on his handsome face?

—

hanma was miserable.

everywhere he looked, he saw you. either it was in the way the towels were folded in the bathroom, to the lilies resting in a vase inside his office. you were everywhere in his life, haunting and making him remember his sins, and he wondered if you felt the same as he did.

he knew you were faring well. shuji kept his most trusted men to observe you and make sure that nothing bad happened to you, as well to inform him of your well-being. every day one of them returned to tell him that you seemed better, that you smiled more and that you were still wearing your ring, shuji felt as if he was the happiest man alive. if being away from you meant your happiness, he would gladly stay away until you were ready again.

but he missed you. oh, how he missed you.

he missed your sweet smile and your hands caressing his cheeks. he missed the feel of your smaller hands intertwined with his big ones, and he missed how you would trace patterns on his tattoos. but he missed being loved, he missed your eyes shining with love every time he arrived home, and he missed your tight pussy clenching around him. his fist was nothing compared to your cunt.

shuji couldn't go out with the other toman's executives because all the fun was going with you — to see you dancing and having fun, to see you dressed in the finest silks the world has to offer. he didn't need excuses to drink anymore. he already did it, either to forget the pain or to try to remember how it was to hold you, to kiss you, to feel you.

however, you words of wanting to make toman better because of him haunted his thoughts, and, little by little, shuji started some changes inside the organisation. of course, he didn't tell tetta that it was solely because of you — hanma said it would put them in good eyes with the police once more, so they would leave toman to their devices once more — but kisaki knew you had something to do with shuji's change of demeanour. how he started to donate his money to orphanages and shelters, and how he started to finance the building of schools and hospitals. it wasn't much, but his job stopped being just dangerous missions.

shuji also started to donate to kazutora's petshop, and help it as chifuyu was. you didn't know, of course — shuji made kazutora swear he would never tell you.

and he tried to stay away from you, how he tried. but two months after chifuyu's funeral, shuji appeared in the pet shop.

he wasn’t supposed to. he made a promise, but shuji felt as if he was going crazier and crazier each day he wasn’t graced with your smile. he endured sixty days, but he couldn't do more. he texted kazutora — they couldn’t be considered as friends, but they were on better terms since the bloody halloween — to see if you were working that afternoon, because hanma needed to get just a simple glance of your face.

and he did.

you looked up when the bell over the door hung, and a happy smile made its way to your lips before you saw who it was. “hello, and welcome our shop! how can i hel—” you felt your throat dry at the sight of your husband’s golden eyes, and your smile faltered, hands shaking and breath speeding up.

the urge to run up to the bathroom and throw up was huge, but you already had done that today. and in the days prior too, and you wondered if it wasn’t a signal that your world was going to be flipped down again by him.

“y/n.”

his voice was hoarse, but it held so many emotions. you were glowing in hanma's eyes, and he never saw you looking so beautiful. he had seen you with designed dresses made by the finest stylists, but you were something else with your hair in messy pigtails, comfy jeans and a white t-shirt under a green apron. you had bags under your eyes, and shuji hoped he wasn't the cause of that.

“shuji… wha— how can i—” you didn't know what to say, because you want to say it all. you wanted to say how you missed him, how you thought you were getting better, tell him all about the new shows you watched with your mom and every good thing that happened in your life. you wanted to ask him if he still loved you, if he thought of you as much as you thought of him, if you haunted his dreams like he did with yours.

but shuji just smiled at you, and you swore the sight was more beautiful than all the stars in the galaxy.

“i'm here to…” to see you again, because i miss you so much that it makes my heart bleed. “adopt a kitten.” he didn't know where that wish came from, but maybe, with a kitten, he would have an excuse to see you again. “the house has been too lifeless since you left.”

you just nodded, feeling your eyes burn, averting your gaze from him to the counter. he seemed well, but his eyes weren't your husband's eyes anymore. they were emptier, and you knew it was your fault. “tora is the one who helps a person choose a kitten. he'll be back soon, i think.” and you hoped too, because you wouldn't be able to be in shuji's presence for too much time.

“alright.” you heard him answer, your eyes now glued to the computer's bright screen. you suppressed a yawn, too annoyed with the fatigue that was plaguing you these past few weeks. you mother was worried, too, and she thought that maybe it was time to either see a doctor, or talk with your husband. a message popped in your phone from the clinic, and your eyes found shuji's again — his looking a little worried from the notification's sound.

you answered your confirmation, eyes returning to your husband's, who was looking at his hands. “it was just my doctor's clinic to confirm my appointment tomorrow.” you explained, cheeks heating up. “i'm not… seeing anyone else, if that's what you were thinking.”

relieved washed through shuji's body, and, before he could answer — saying that he also wasn't seeing anyone else — kazutora's black and blond hair popped from the back door, and he gave shuji a puzzled look.

“he's here to adopt a kitten!” you answered before shuji could, and he gave kazutora a sheepish smile.

“very well, then. follow me, hanma.” shuji did what he was told, following kazutora to the back room, smiling politely in your direction. the back was full of kittens and puppies, and shuji felt as if he died and was in heaven — the atmosphere was something he never experienced before, and all the attention the little ones were giving him almost made him tear up. he didn’t care if he showed up in that night’s meeting with fur in his suit.

kazutora’s voice took him from his daydreams, and hanma almost chocked on his own spit at this question, a puppy in his hand. “are you here to actually adopt a kitten or just to see y/n?”

“woah man, i didn't remember you being so straightforward.” he answered promptly, feeling his ears heating up. shuji actually didn’t know why he said that — peke j absolutely loathed him when the cat was still around, saving some time when he was sleepy and hanma was smoking on your balcony and peke j asked for some head scratches. he still had some faint scars from the times your brother’s cat caused havoc on his hands.

kazutora chuckled, changing the water of the animals. “well, years in jail can change someone.” hanma knew he was just joking, but he felt guilt creeping his spine hearing that. he was one of the main reasons why kazutora spent so many years there, and he didn’t want to be reminded of his past mistakes — because of you, and how much pain that day brought to you. “but i'm being serious, hanma. a kitten is a being, which needs love and the best things in the world, and i need to know if you'll be a good tutor or not.”

shuji contemplated if he should just tell the truth or if he should tell a little white lie.

“the house is cold and lonely without her.” he decided to be honest with kazutora, and hanma frowned at how his yellow eyes widened. what, he couldn’t believe shuji had feelings and felt more lonely than he ever in his entire life felt without you? “i was already thinking about getting a pet before everything happened.” you were thinking about that, but kazutora didn’t need to know.

he didn’t enjoy the smile kazutora gave him. “do you have any color preferences?”

“black.” was shuji’s answer, while he crossed his arms.

it was because of peke j, and kazutora knew it. but besides that, black cats were always seen as a sign of bad luck, and hanma used to relate to that. “okay.” the pet shop’s owner answered, picking up a small black kitten, and its big green eyes were glued in shuji’s face. “we have this one.” kazutora explained, handling it to him. shuji held the kitten gently, observing how it wanted to play with his earring. “all her siblings were adopted and she's the only one left. y/n likes to play with her a lot.”

he involuntarily smiled, thinking about how you enjoyed playing with your brother’s cat when you were too stressed, or the many old photos he had of you doing that.

“then it'll be her.” shuji decided, holding the little kitten to his chest. “she's cute.” he smiled down at her, already enamoured by her big green eyes and little black nose. it would be a good addition to the family, and she would keep him company while he awaited for you.

“you really loves y/n, don’t you, shuji?” kazutora said out of nowhere, watching as the toman executive got familiarized with the black kitten. but he asked on your behalf — kazutora heard your concerns many times, always wondering if your husband still loved you.

“of course.” shuji answered, sorrow lacing his voice. “we don’t give the power to destroy us to someone you don’t love.”

kazutora smiled sadly, mentioning hanma to handle him the kitten. “i’ll be taking care of the preparations for you to take her home.” he explained, stroking her black fur. “y/n deals with the paperwork, and you should talk to her now. shuji nodded, giving him a small smile and exiting the back room, finding yourself too entertained with what you were doing at the computer. its light reflecting in your face only made you more breathtaking, but shuji cleared his throat to get your attention — he could stay the whole afternoon just looking at your face, but he had a meeting to go to.

“kazutora said you are the one who does the paperwork.” he didn’t know how to approach you without being too forward, and ask if you were ready again and if you still loved him. but he was just there to see you, because you were supposed to be the one who would dictate your own time.

you nodded, and mentioned for him to get closer to the counter. “did you change any of your info?” you asked cautiously, because you still remembered everything about him. a soft smile made its way to your lips when you saw shuji shaking his head negatively, and you started to fill the adoption form. but the silence was too heavy, and you could feel the intensity of his gaze watching you. “what kitten will you adopt?” you asked, both out of curiosity and because of your job.

“the black kitten.” hanma answered, his eyes concentrated on your face. “kazutora said she’s the last one from her siblings.” you hummed, eyes scanning the form. she was so cute, and you were glad shuji was the one adopting her. because if no one did, you were going to — but your mother already had a hard time dealing with peke j, and you were sure she wouldn’t want another black cat in her home.

you send the form to be printed, walking towards the printer to get the sheet. “do you have a name in mind?”

shuji smiled down at you while you handed him the paper, taking his black pen from his suit pocket to sign it. “guinevere.” he watched as you cutely gave him a puzzled look, and how realization struck your face. excalibur. he still remembered peke j’s first and lame name? you probably told him that in the first stages of your relationship, when you used to snuck him in your room without your mother or brother knowing he was there.

“it’s a cute name for a cute kitten.” you acknowledged, your eyes fixed in the paper. “i’ll miss her.”

the words slipped from shuji’s mouth before he could think twice. “you can visit her whenever you want, you know. it’s still your home, too.” it was as if he was a teenager again, waiting for your answer and reactions to his pick-up lines. he saw how your cheeks gained a reddish color, his heart hammering inside his chest. it didn’t matter how many years had passed, he would always be in love with you, as if you two were still sixteen and fifteen.

“shuji, you…” he couldn’t say things like that, without a warning. it was just like when you two were young again, and you wished for that time to come back. you weren’t sure if you would’ve done something different — probably not, your memories with shuji were kept in a dear place in your heart — but things were easier. “you can’t say things like that.”

you felt his hand on your cheek, and you unconsciously leaned into his touch. “if you ever forget how much i love you, remember that i’m willing to give up the stars if it's necessary to have you at my side again.” he stroked your cheek before kazutora made his presence known, handling hanma the kitten’s box and what he would need to take care of her, leaving you missing his warmth once more.

shuji waved at you and kazutora, and you two repaid the gesture, your eyes watching him leaving with longing on them. “wait, isn't shuji going to pay for the things?” you asked, curious eyes now looking at kazutora.

“well.” he started, tidying up some things inside the shop so you two could close it. “he’s donating a good amount of money every month here to the stray puppies and kittens, and i felt bad for charging him, since he’s already donating.” kazutora smiled at how your face lit up at the mention of your husband donating his money for something, and not only using it to buy luxurious things for both him and yourself. “i also heard he’s donating to the building of hospitals and schools, too.”

you tried to hold back your tears, but you couldn’t. you were way more emotional than ever those past few weeks, and kazutora promptly hugged you. “your love made him a better man, y/n.”

—

“what is this?” kisaki asked angrily, watching as his second in command was playing in the ground with a black cat. he knew hanma was a wild card since day one, but tetta never expected that.

shuji frowned at him. “this is what it looks like.” he shrugged, shaking the toy so guinevere could chase it. “i adopt a cat. meet guinevere, tetta. she's like your niece or something.” hanma watched with amusement in his eyes as kisaki sneered at him, but tried to play with the cat nonetheless. “atta girl.” he whispered as guinevere bit tetta's hands — at least something she learned from you.

“fucking brat.” kisaki murmured, sitting on the leather couch of shuji's office.

hanma followed his friend, leaving the kitten to her devices. he hoped he had tired her enough so she could sleep while he talked with tetta, and then the two of them could go home. “what is the matter you want to discuss today?”

kisaki adjusted his glasses. “the police.” he started, an annoyed frown on his face. “that idea of yours, of donating money and try to be a beneficent organization for a few months, was a good one.” an idea that was inspired by what you said to him, actually — but no one knew that. shuji hoped that when he told you what was happening, you would be happy to know that toman was changing. “but they're still nagging us.”

he knew what kisaki wanted. “maybe we could try to protect people instead of just killing them?” shuji offered a piece of his mind. “so we can pose publicly as the good guys for once. it can be just a planned situation, so we'll have control of what will happen and what will not.”

hanma could see the gears working on kisaki's mind, and he felt confident that your — and chifuyu's, too — dream could be a reality without the blood that was spilled.

“i knew that being without y/n would do good for you, shuji.”

“yeah, whatever.” he dismissed tetta's words with a waving hand, already knowing what he was going to say. that you were a distraction, that he shouldn't let love be too important to him, and all of that. just because he preferred you alive, even that meant being away from him, and kisaki preferred the woman of his affections dead, it didn't mean shuji was weaker. “anything else, tetta?”

kisaki narrowed his eyes, eyeing hanma from his head to his toes. “you know that i only didn't kill y/n for your sake.” shuji nodded, remembering how he begged his friend to not lay a hand on his wife — it had a good explanation for what you did, shuji was sure of it, and you had. but kisaki didn't buy it, and shuji needed to beg on his knees so you would be spared from the same fate as your brother. “don't make me regret my decision, hanma.”

he watched as tetta exited his office, running a hand through his face. he needed to have you at his side again, because if he didn’t, any day you would appear dead and shuji would have a little souvenir waiting for him at his door.

—

natsuki watched as you fidgeted with your fingers while waiting for the blood test to come out.

she knew you and hanma were ready to take the next steps and, before everything that happened, she was beyond excited to have her first grandchildren. but now, watching as she was the one accompanying you to the doctors instead of your husband, she wasn’t so sure if a pregnancy was what you’re needing right now. it was supposed to be shuji there, hugging you by the shoulders while you two waited for the results of something that was supposed to be a happy moment. the unshed tears now in your eyes told her otherwise, but it was your decision to distance yourself from shuji for now.

words of comfort weren’t needed at that moment, and when the doctor stepped out you tightened your grip on your mother’s hand.

“congratulations, mrs. hanma.” the doctor smiled warmly, and your heart fell to your belly. “you’re pregnant. the due date is seven months from now.” you shook his hand, a teary smile on your face. you hoped he bought your story — your husband had an emergency at work and you called your mother to accompany you — and that he couldn’t read your tears as tears of sadness, because that was what they were.

the arms around you weren’t the arms you were expecting, but your mother knew how to calm you. “it’ll be alright, dear.” she whispered in your ear, and you tried so hard to not break down in sobs. your relationship with your husband seemed to be on better terms than you thought, but would shuji receive well these news? he already thought you were cheating on him with kazutora, what if kisaki managed to manipulate him enough for him to think the baby wasn’t his?

and, of course, your brother’s words on his letter were a cruel reminder that he would be the best uncle ever, loving and doting your children as if they were his own — but he wasn’t there to share that moment with you.

you drove your mother back home, saying to her that you needed to run some errands for kazutora and would be back soon, but she knew where you were going. you parked in a convenience store, near the cemetery, to buy some peyang yakisoba, as well as some other sweets. the walk there was lonely and sorrowful, your thoughts running a mile per hour in you head, and you would never be used to going to your family's grave because of your brother.

but the first stop wasn't the matsunos' grave.

you looked at the stone as if it was an old friend of yours, and, to some extent, it was. you didn't know how many times you visited it through the twelve years since keisuke died, and you felt as if he needed to be the first one to know. because before he was your boyfriend, he was your friend too, and you thought that if he was alive he would be thriving with the news. you placed the peyang yakisoba at the feet of the grave, lighting an incense and praying.

“i'm pregnant, keisuke.” you whispered, your hand caressing your belly. it was strange to think about it — the words didn’t sit properly on your tongue, and they had a bittersweet taste. it was just like yesterday that you were still a teenager, riding around with the toman boys on keisuke's bike, laughing and your only responsibility being school. now, you were a grown woman, married and carrying another being inside your womb.

would you be a good mother?

you wiped your tears, getting up from the ground, kissing your fingers and pressing them on the stone. it was funny how the distance between the bajis' and your family's grave wasn't long, and you were happy to know that even death couldn't separate your brother from keisuke.

but you stopped in your tracks when you saw a familiar figure seated in the front of the matsunos' grave, your heart hammering in your chest at the sight of your husband. it was just yesterday that you saw him, but it felt too long ago.

the words coming from his mouth were incomprehensible to you, but you understood what feeling was making your heart hammer inside your ribcage. it was love, pure love — the same love that you felt before your brother died, soft as snowflakes falling on your skin in the first snow of the winter, the love that burned your heart with passion and made it anew just to be burned again. not the love that had a tough grip on your heart, that made your heart clench with pain and your throat dry with unsaid words.

you watched as shuji left the grave, slowly walking towards it to tell the news for your brother and father.

you knew what you had to do when you arrived home.

—

going to visit your family grave made shuji think he was being forgiven by his sins.

it was a total lie and he knew that, but doing something he didn’t even do to his dead relatives made him feel like your brother and father were slowly forgiving him. it was good to stay a while in a quiet place, just him and his thoughts, and sometimes a cigarette. shuji didn’t know if your father smoked — because you were too young when he died and didn’t remember — but he hoped he was happy with the brands shuji was gifting him. for chifuyu, though, he remembered what chocolates he used to like, at least.

arriving home had been a torture for him, even with guinevere. the kitten had proved to be a good companion to him, and shuji could speak freely to her — because he knew the cat wouldn’t judge him, because she couldn’t understand what he was saying. guinevere was his own therapist, and she didn’t even know it. but the house was still too cold and lifeless without you, your nonexistent presence like a shadow over his shoulders.

he sighed when he felt his phone vibrating, putting guinevere’s food on her little pot before reading it.

y/n: hi shuji

y/n: we need to talk

y/n: when you are free?

with a hammering heart and trembling fingers, shuji read your message over and over again. it could only mean two things: either you were going back to his arms, or you would ask for a divorce. he hoped it was the first conclusion, but he couldn’t help and be afraid — what if you found that being without him was better? what if you stopped loving him?

you: hi princess

you: im free tonight if you want

you: do you want to have dinner here?

you: we can order italian food from your favorite restaurant

before he could know your answer, hanma started to tidy up the house. the maids always did a wonderful job, but the atmosphere in it was too… strange. he opened the windows, the curtains, putting some music and lit some scented candles you left behind. guinevere looked at him curiously, following her tutor closely, trying to play with the ends of the curtains. shuji checked his phone again, smiling at your response.

y/n: of course! can i arrive in 30?

thirty minutes was what he needed to feel like himself again to meet you.

you: i'll send you a car in 30, then, princess

you: see you soon

—

you were nervous getting ready, but shuji's words from yesterday calmed you. he still loved you, and you hoped he would be thrilled with the news. you grew used to it, especially after your visit to the cemetery. you mother's words soothed you too, and you knew she was excited to be a grandmother.

finishing the last bits of your makeup, you heard your mother calling for you, saying the driver already arrived. you forgot how it was to have such luxuries, such as private drivers and maids, and felt quite overwhelmed with shuji's words. but you hoped he was just looking out for you, and it isn't a trap from kisaki. you trusted your husband, yes, but the fear was always lingering on you.

biding farewell to your mother, you went down the stairs, smiling at the familiar face of the driver. he was the one who drove you on the night chifuyu died, and you were happy he didn't lose his job because of you. the drive to your once penthouse was peaceful, with a little bit of traffic, but not something that would interfere too much. you wished you arrived there quickly, so you could end your suffering.

shuji was waiting for you at the entrance, and you couldn't help but see the parallel between that night and now — this time, shuji was seeing you arriving and not going away.

“hi.” he greeted, almost breathless, and you wished you had worn more fancy clothes. you weren't expecting to see him wearing a designed shirt and trousers — and so you opted for a cotton shirt and a cute skirt, not in the mood to use tight dresses. “you look amazing.”

you laughed at his words, cheeks blushing as if this was your first date, hugging shuji by his waist. the action took him by surprise, but you needed that — needed to feel his warmth and feel his skin, to make sure you aren't dreaming. “if i knew you would be still wearing your work clothes, i would've put more effort in my appearance.”

shuji felt confident enough, because of your actions, to kiss your forehead, his arms around you like you were a prized possession. “stop that, y/n.” he scolded you, leading you to a way you knew like the back of your heart. he was taking you home. “you look breathtaking wearing anything.” and he meant that. the same glow you had in the pet shop you had now, but something was different.

you squeezed the hand that was leading you to your once shared penthouse, and you hoped he couldn't hear your heart beating loudly. you decided to tell shuji about your pregnancy after dinner, because, if he didn't react well, at least you two shared one last fun dinner.

he opened the door to you, and you almost teared up at the sight of your home. everything was like you left, nothing was out of place — as if the penthouse was just waiting for your return. you noticed the table already made, and you smile fondly at shuji's attempt to do something you always did to him. “the table is magnificent.” you murmured, watching as his cheeks gained a reddish color.

shuji scratched his neck in embarrassment at your words, but started to smile seeing you interacting with guinevere. his two favorite girls.

“is she giving you too much trouble?” you asked with the kitten on your lap, pampering her little face with kisses as you used to do in the shop. she reminded you a lot of peke j, and you remembered fondly the day you arrived from school to your brother taking a bath with a cat and using all the hot water.

hanma shook his head. “no. she's an angel, actually, and i'm sure he's happy that her mom is home.” he noticed how your eyes widened at his words, and he cursed himself for being so forward. shuji would just drive you far away from him at the end of the night.

but you smiled, nuzzling your face on guinevere's black fur, and shuji saw the whole world beaming down at him. “yeah? you're happy mommy is home, baby girl?” you kissed her little one last time before she got too annoyed in your lap, blushing under your husband's gaze. “should we eat? the food will get cold.”

dinner went smoothly. you updated shuji in everything that happened in your life since your brother's funeral — how you were working with kazutora, how you found a passion for taking care of animals and in painting and baking, all the shows you watched with your mother that you thought he would like. and thus, he told you about how the gang was going. you were surprised to know that they — not just shuji — were now donating a part of their income to charity, and that hanma didn't kill a man since chifuyu died. it was as if nothing happened between you two, as if you two weren't away from each other for two months. you laughed and chatted as if it was a normal night from shuji coming back from work to the safety of your arms.

“so.” hanma started, curiosity eating him alive. “you wanted to talk?” it was the only thing in his mind the entire night. you two talked about a lot of things, but it seemed that you were hiding something. ever since he referred to you as guinevere’s mom you started to react differently when he touched some subjects.

you took a deep breath, intertwining your hands over your lap. “y-yes.” shuji didn’t like the way you stuttered, and you noticed the worry in his eyes. it’s now or never. “i'm pregnant.” you decided to be short about the announcement, like ripping quickly a bandage from a healed wound, so it could hurt, but it would pass. “and i… i will carry it.” you smiled at you, a hand protectively on your stomach, where your womb was. you wondered how love could be born so fast just from a few words from the doctor. “i know it's selfish of me to ask it because i was the one who decided i wanted to stay away from you, but i want to go through this with you.”

in a swift movement, shuji was kneeling in front of you, hands on your thighs. “are you saying…”

he couldn’t believe it. it was what shuji dreamed every time since you left him becoming reality right in front of his eyes, and he didn’t know how to react. he hoped you could sense the happiness he was feeling irradiating from him, because he thought he never felt such a thing before. and you smiled at him, and hanma could melt under it — you were a goddess offering forgiveness for him, and he would gladly accept it.

“if you want me back, i'm all yours again.” you whispered, hand guiding his sin one to rest on your belly. “i didn't stop being.”

he almost broke down on sobs by hearing such things leaving your mouth and from the feeling of where his child was growing. what did he do to receive such a blessing? “i love you. so, so much.” he whispered it like a prayer, words tasting like honey on his tongue. you would never be used to hearing him saying that. you've waited ten years for shuji to profess his love out loud for you — even though the first time wasn’t in ideal circumstances — and it was worth it. “can’t believe you’ll make me a dad.” shuji thought out loud while lifting your shirt to look at where his child was resting.

you giggled, both from his words and from the kisses he was pampering your belly with. “you are the one who made me a mom in the first place.” your fingers found themselves on his hair, stroking the double coloured locks.

“yeah, you’re a mommy now.” your giggles died at how husky his voice sounded, your grip on his hair tightening.

“shuji.” you whimpered, and your husband took this as his clue to get up and finally kiss you after two months. the feel of your lips on his, now, that you were his wife again, was better than he could ever imagine. your hands gripped his designed shirt while he lifted you up from the chair to kiss you properly.

“fuck, i missed you.” he whispered against your lips, a determined gaze on his golden eyes. you watched breathlessly as your husband took off his glasses aggressively, and you had time to wonder if he didn't break them before shuji's lips found yours again, his kisses desperately and full of longing. “i promise i'll kiss you now for all the kisses you denied me these two months.” he promised before claiming your lips once again, and you could only agree with his words by reciprocating his actions with the same intensity.

soon your legs were wrapped around shuji's middle, and your hands opened the buttons of his shirt while he walked you to your shared bedroom, his lips — and yours, too — red and swollen by the kisses. it was a sight you missed seeing — hanma’s golden eyes widened with lust and love directly to you.

your back hit the mattress with ease, and you helped your husband getting out both yours and his shirt, his punishment hand unclasping your bra. “holy shit.” he whispered, massaging the soft skin of your breasts with both hands. “they’re bigger than i remember.”

“it’s because—” your explanation was cut by the feeling of shuji’s tongue encircling one of your nipples, a gasp leaving your mouth at the contact. “i-i’m pregnant.” and they were sensitive too — you didn’t remember squirming so much in other times hanma did that before. it was good, but you were too impatient to enjoy it properly. “i need you, shuji, please.” you whispered, tugging at his hair to get his attention.

with a plop sound, he stopped his ministrations. “i can’t wait until they’re leaking milk.” his words made you blush, and shuji smiled at your blushing face. he could never grow tired of you and your reactions to his filthy words. ���what do you choose today, princess? sin or punishment?”

both offers were tempting, and you couldn’t think straight with the trail of kisses shuji was leaving in your skin. he stopped with his hands on the waistline of your skirt, fingers ghosting the warm skin there. “i asked you a question, y/n.”

“p-punishment.” he drew out of you, and alongside your answer, both your skirt and panties were discarded on the floor.

shuji hummed happily, his fingers running through your folds. “this wet already, princess?” you nodded meekly, whimpering every time his thumb ghosted over your clit but not applying any pressure there. you moaned loudly when a finger from punishment entered your clenching hole, the thumb drawing faint circles over your throbbing bud. shuji’s finger didn’t stop, and he added one more, pumping in and out of you at a merciless pace, smiling growing bigger every time you whimpered at the loss of contact on your clit — he was bringing you to the edge and back, and you couldn’t do anything.

“it’s what you asked for, y/n.” you groaned in annoyance, tears in the corner of your eyes with the fourth ruined orgasm.

you whimpered again, feeling the coil in your stomach growing bigger and bigger, squirming under him. “but i want to cum, shuji. p-please.” you begged, blinking your pretty eyes at him, and he cooed in faux sympathy. “n-no one can make me cum like y-you, please.” you tried again, breathing starting to speed up and hand gripping his arms.

“you want to cum, princess?” you nodded eagerly, a soft smile on your face, which soon became a frown at the loss of his fingers inside. shuji shoved them in your mouth before you could protest, and you licked them obediently, tears now falling from your eyes. “then you’ll cum around my cock, like you always did.” he promised, taking off his trousers and boxers, aligning the tip of it with your entrance.

you were expecting a little tease before shuji’s cock entered your gummy walls, like he always did, but he probably was desperate enough to feel you clenching against him, entering without a warming. he hissed at the sensation of your walls sucking him, and you lowered his head so you could kiss his lips. “fuck, y/n.” he murmured against your lips, not moving yet, adoration shining in his eyes. “you don’t know much i missed it, m-missed us.”

“me too, l-love.” you whimpered, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

just like when he was using his fingers, shuji’s pace was merciless, but you couldn’t ask for more. both of you were desperate for each other, breathing heavily and moaning each other’s name shamelessly. you almost screamed when your husband’s thumb found your clit again, and your eyes begged for him to let you cum this time.

noticing how your walls were clenching even more around his length, shuji stroked your cheek. “cum for me, princess.”

you came with a cry of his name, and shuji followed you — the way you clenched him was too much to handle. he slid out of you, reaching for a cigarette in the night stand. you scooted closer to his body, mind still a bit foggy, resting your head on his shoulder. “you were so good to me.” shuji pressed a kiss to your forehead before mentioning you to light the cigarette, a peaceful smile on his face. “when i finish this, i’ll run a bath for you, alright?”

you just nodded, too tired to think about something to say, nuzzling back in his body.

“i can’t wait to know the gender of our baby.” you commented after your mind came back to its normal state, shuji hands rubbing circles on her back, you smiled down at the small bump on your belly, imagining what life would be with a little you or a little shuji running down the halls. but you were afraid, too, especially of kisaki’s reaction. he said for you to behave, and you thought you were, but you weren't sure if he would be happy to know you and shuji reconciled.

“neither do i. i hope it’s a girl.” your husband smiled down at you, but it turned on a frown after seeing the worry expression on your face. shuji knew what you were thinking. “y/n, princess, look at me.” you did what you were told, watching as shuji disposed of the cigarette, his attention solely on you. “i will never let something happen to our little family. tetta can cry and throw tantrums as much as he likes, but you are the love of my life and i’ll never do anything to hurt you again, even if it costs my position in toman.” he sealed his promise with a quick kiss, and you sighed happily, your hands resting on your belly.

“but now, let’s take a bath. we have two months worth of sex to replenish.”

you giggled at his words, letting be carried by your husband to the bathroom.

everything would be fine, as long as you had each other.

—

“papa, papa!” you heard a childish voice murmuring, excitement on their voice. “when i’ll be able to wake up mama?” you heard shuji’s laughing quietly and telling the child to shush.

mama? was this child talking about you? it didn’t make sense. yesterday you had dinner with your husband to tell him you were pregnant and… wait. that didn’t make sense, at all. you already had a child, didn't you? hanma shinobu, with black hair just as her father and blue-green eyes she inherited from her uncle. but you were pregnant again, you were sure of that. the soreness in your back told you that.

“it’s almost time, shinobu.” he said, and it took everything in you to not open your eyes. everything was confusing — because you were sure yesterday you and shuji reconciled and you told him you were pregnant — but maybe you just had a really vivid dream of something that happened in the past. you heard the girl laugh, and you bit your lip to not let your giggles out.

“mama!” she exclaimed climbing into your lap, and you opened your eyes, being graced with your daughter’s beautiful eyes and her… black and blonde hair? “did you like it, mama? i made papa dye my hair so i can match him, and match uncle chifuyu when he was younger!” she told you excitedly, bouncing up and down on your lap.

you shot your husband a dirt look. what was he thinking when dyeing a four-year-old’s hair? but you smiled at shinobu, the nostalgia of seeing the same glist of mischief your brother once had in your daughter’s eyes almost making you tear up. “you look beautiful, baby. i'm sure uncle is happy to know you love him enough to want to match with him.” she smiled at your words, and you held her closely to your chest, kissing her hair.

“good morning, princess.” shuji said sheepishly, sitting next to you in bed, one arm encircling your shoulders.

you smiled, feeling his lips pressing against your forehead, and shinobu hugged you tighter, seeing her father displaying affection towards her mother. you giggled at your little girl, giving her a kiss on her forehead. but you weren’t exactly happy — you had a beautiful family and a beautiful house, but you were melancholic. especially when shinobu mentioned her uncle. but you couldn’t remember why.

“shin, my baby.” shuji started, noticing how down you looked. “why don’t you go play with guinevere a little? papa needs to talk to mama.” the little girl whined, but did that her father said, not before receiving kisses on her cheeks from the both of you. your hand rested on your belly, and you sighed.

your husband hugged you once more, his sin hand resting in your growing belly. wasn’t it smaller?

“mikey went to the philippines.”

oh, yes. mikey killed chifuyu and everyone who was in toman. how did you forget about that? that’s why you were so melancholic. your brother’s death was still fresh in your mind, but you were happy he lived enough to meet his niece. but not his nephew, and you suffered for your little boy growing in your womb.

shuji caressed your belly. “i know you’re worried that he’ll come for you, but i’ll kill him before he lays his hands on you, princess.” your heart fluttered inside your chest at your husband’s words, and you nuzzled on his side. you were so lucky to have someone like shuji with you — even though your relationship started rocky, with him tying up your brother on christmas day before meeting you at a church’s stair, you couldn’t see yourself without him now.

“like izana will let you, shuji.” you teased him, and he chuckled.

“hey, i’m your big and strong husband, okay? being married to the reaper has its perks.” he tried to resonate, but shuji knew izana was stronger than him. but he promised him that mikey would never lay a hand on your, and he knew tetta would make sure izana would fulfill his part on the deal — shinobu was his goddaughter, and if anything happened to her, hanma was sure kisaki wouldn’t hesitate to kill izana, mikey and kakucho.

you squinted your eyes. “speaking of being married to the reaper.” you started, and shuji gulped. he knew what would come next. “why the hell did you dye shin’s hair? she’s four!” you knew shuji was wrapped around shinobu’s fingers — and you were too, because she was too adorable to receive a no — dyeing her locks would make your mom go crazy.

“she wanted to look like her uncle.” shuji explained, and your heart clenched inside your ribcage. she was spoiled by all her family and your husband’s friends, but chifuyu always had a special place in her heart. “and i couldn’t say no, not after… you know. but i managed to convince her to make it like mine, because she wanted her hair all blonde.” you and shuji shared sad smiles, and you hugged him tighter, inhaling his scent. “but let’s get breakfast, shall we?” your husband helped you out of the bed, and you smiled at how big you bump was.

the due date would be in two months, and you already knew what name your little boy have — chifuyu, just like his uncle.

if it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t be here now, eating breakfast with your husband, while your little girl played with the family’s cat.

you couldn’t be more grateful to your brother.

lil note: if you didn't understand the ending, y/n and hanma are now in the manila timeline due to takemichi's time leap!!

[stellalunatmblr]

The Flower Path | Chapter 5

Genre/Tags: isekai (kinda?), bangtan x fem!reader, not poly, oc!bestfriend, surprise romantic pairings; rom-com (romance as a subplot), slow burn (the slowest of burns holy moly i cannot stress this enough), fluff, angst  (will update tags along the way)

Status: Ongoing

Summary: What would you feel if you find yourself transported to the world of a cheesy web novel? Ecstatic, of course (well, among other things), except you’re stuck being the main character’s best friend slash sidekick. Fair enough, you don’t think you’re main character material anyway. Determined to get through your life that has changed all of a sudden, you try to keep yourself in the shadows of your “best friend.” Let’s just try to get through the last year of high school in peace. You thought it was gonna be easy – like a walk in a flower path– but the thing about walking that road is that there are bound to be thorns along the way.

Inspired by the web novel and manhwa: Inso’s Law

Word Count: 5.8k

Chapter Note: it took me sooo long to get this out because i took a few days off for myself after finals, but hopefully i can make more progress with this story now.

i’m not really satisfied with this chapter because i felt like i wrote so much yet not enough? it’s certainly not a filler chapter because i dropped a lot here, but as i was writing it it felt like a filler so i was in so much dilemma idk.

masterlist

-

There was a shift in the group dynamic following your conversation with Jin—a culmination of all prior occurrences, really—though it was more evident from their perspective than yours. You interacted with them more, letting yourself go yet being rooted where they were. Minyoung gave you an earful after you returned after skipping classes, but when she noticed your new satisfied glow, she backed down and let you be. She still whacked Jin on the back for it, but you didn't need to know that. All he had to say about it was, "Totally worth it."

The group attempted to meet more regularly to make up for missed study group meetings, even if you are not always complete. With examinations approaching and the start of the sports season, the group has been increasingly busy.

Minyoung laughs fondly as she gazes at your sleeping form, hair disheveled and lips open, snoring softly. She didn't want to be the one to wake you up and disturb your seemingly blissful sleep, but she wouldn't even let the other three boys she was with play rock paper scissors with her to see who would want to take on the task. She takes a seat beside you on the mattress and gently shakes your shoulders.

"Wake up," she whispered, attempting to softly yet quickly wake you up. You simply hummed and wrapped yourself in the duvet completely. She pouts and realizes that her strategy isn't working, so she chooses the other approach. She lays her entire body on top of yours, ensuring that she is pulling her weight down.

"Wake up!" she sang repeatedly in a (annoying) sing-song tone, and she knew you'd lost when she heard you groan.

"It's so early Minyoung, what the fuck," you grumbled as you pushed the covers away from your face, and she just chuckled.

"Come on, we don't want to be late for the assembly!" She resorts to patting you repeatedly until you become frustrated and wake up on your own. She hears you groan again and murmur something about "why did I take this job," and she finally lets up and lifts her weight off of you.

“Your dad cooked us breakfast. Come on, the guys are waiting in the living room.” As soon as she finishes her sentence, you sit bolt upright in your bed. 

“I’m sorry, what?!” You yelled at her and she winced a little.

“The guys— just come outside.”

The sight that greeted you in the living room was the three musketeers—as you like to call them—lounging about in your house, making themselves feel at home. They were too at home, you think, because they were sprawled out comfortably on the sofa. You were so glad you hid the photo albums in the corner of your closet, or else they might have gotten their grubby little hands on them. They all took a look at you as you seemingly have a mental crisis. What were they doing in your home on a weekend at 6 am? Before you could even begin to pester them about it, your dad comes out from the kitchen. 

”Have breakfast before you leave. I’ll go ahead, sweetie, we have early prep for work.” Your dad gives you a tender kiss on the forehead before nodding at your companions and disappearing to the foyer.

Minyoung nudges you back to your room. “Go change, we’ll wait here.” she says and right after, you hear a snicker.

“Nice pajamas.” Taehyung mockingly remarks with a smirk and you look down on your clothes; a pair of silk pajamas with a repeated pattern of a cartoon bear print on it. You roll your eyes. There was nothing wrong with your clothing! You flash him the fakest smile you could muster and flip him off, earning some muffled laughter from his two companions.

“Did my dad let you guys in here? I should scold him about inviting strangers into the house.” You crossed your arms and looked down on them.

“Minyoung vouched for us.” Jimin says with a gentle smile. 

“Besides, we’re not just anyone, we’re your friends.” Taehyung adds as-a-matter-of-factly and reclines back on his seat. He looks at you as a pout forms in your face and you look away, not bothering to refute his statement. His grin grew wider and he chuckled. So something really did change, huh.

“Guys, help me with the food! We don’t wanna be late for roll call.” Minyoung’s voice reverberates from the kitchen and you all shuffled to get moving.

The five of you arrived at school fifteen minutes early for your scheduled meeting. Today was their first volleyball practice match of the season, against a team from another school. The managers and advisers worked quite hard to secure this practice game, especially because it was against a rival school and it needed all of your persuasion abilities to secure it.

It wasn’t until the schedule for this game was set that you met Yoon Sumi, your co-manager. You wondered why it took so long for you to see each other, given that you were both in the same year and she was in class 5, the room next door. When you first met, she greeted you with a grin and a warm, cheerful voice, and you were taken aback by her overall presence and elegance. You also notice that she is well liked by many people, as evidenced by the greetings she receives in the halls while you walk alongside each other. She possessed an aura that you couldn't quite put your finger on but knew was pertinent. But it wasn't any of those things that piqued your interest in Sumi; it was the color of her hair that surprised you the most.

You've seen other people with different hair colors— usually black or brown, with a mix of people with night shades. Though they're not as unique and bright as your friends', they're nonetheless uncommon and unnatural to see for you but seemingly normal in this world. Those people wore the darkest hues and were barely apparent. Sumi was an oddity; she had dark blue hair that was barely noticeable but otherwise shone brightly when illuminated. When she is under the sun, her hair seems to shimmer around her. It was similar to how Minyoung's light hair drew attention, but not exactly because Minyoung, like your other friends, exuded a certain glow that only they could muster.

You were naturally careful around her. You could tell by her hair that she had a role, probably an important one at that, but you don't know what it is yet. For the time being, it's best to be cautious with her and not let your guard down. You've already let down your guard enough around your friends.

"You guys are here," Sumi notes, a warm smile on her face, as the five of you approach the vehicles that the students will use to travel to Haneul High.

"Yep, captains must be on time," Minyoung responds with a kind smile.

You took it upon yourself to walk over to where the gym carts are parked next to a mini-bus and pull out your list of things to bring to the game. As you ticked off items on the list, you sensed a presence alongside you.

“Need help with that?” Jimin asks as he looks down on the items in front of you. You just shook your head gently at him.

“No, thank you. I have a list, anyway. I’ve got it all covered.” You reply and get back to what you were doing. He told you to find him if you do require assistance before backing away and getting back to where his friends are.

It wasn't long until both teams' members arrived, understanding how important punctuality is to being a good athlete. You were in charge of the girls' team's roll call, and they boarded the minibus as you called them. You were wrapping up when you noticed that almost all of the guys had boarded their designated vehicle—a van— save for their captain. Jungkook stood frowning, waiting for all of his members to be called before boarding the vehicle himself. You approached them while signaling Minyoung to board the bus.

"Hey," you said as you approached Jungkook and Sumi, who was looking down and double-checking her clipboard.

Jungkook shifted his eyes to you and scratched the back of his neck, causing your brows to wrinkle.

“All good. We can go now.” Sumi looked up and smiled at you before turning away, but you stopped her before she could go.

“Wait,” You said as you looked at the van in front of you. “Are you sure we only booked a van for the guys? They seem.. Cramped in there.” You remark and you see Jungkook perk up from your peripheral vision. You look towards the van, where the guys are struggling to find a comfortable position, their bags taking up some of the room.

“Oh, about that..” Sumi took a nervous glance at the boys’ team captain. “They only had the budget for a van.” You saw Jungkook frown even more at her words.

You sigh and run your palm down your face, frustrated. There's no way all of these guys are going to be comfortable all cramped in that van. You don’t understand why the management didn’t just allow you two mini–buses or maybe even one big bus, considering you were all going to the same venue anyway. They have different budgets based on their performance during sports seasons, and the boys' budget was cut over the summer, but this was only for a practice game; They didn't have to be too frugal.

You hear footsteps approaching from behind you and see Minyoung. She inquires as to what was causing the delay, and you provide a brief explanation.

"We only have enough seats for us, the coaches, and the managers," she says, nodding to the bus. "But we can fit some of your items on the bus, Jeon."

You nod at her and she turns to Jungkook again. "How about this: grab everything important from your gym bags, and we'll transfer them onto the bus. It won't really change much, but it'll give you guys enough room to be comfortable." She proposes, and Jungkook considers for a few seconds before accepting. He walks to the van to deliver the message to his team.

Some of them shuffle out and go through their bags, while Taehyung appears to be fighting to hold snack packages in one hand and his open bag in the other. You sighed and rolled your eyes.

"Leave the snacks Tae, you'll be fine without them for half an hour," you reprimanded, but he whimpered exaggeratedly.

"But here's the thing: I won't!"  You turn to Jimin, who is standing next to him, and communicate with him through your eyes that you need help in dealing with his friend. He chuckles and grabs the snacks, stuffing them inside his bag.

"I don't mind having my bag on my lap. Let him keep these," Jimin says, and you sigh in defeat. It's fine; you shouldn't spend any more time on this than you have already.

“Uhm, let me take those.” Sumi offers her hand to their bags and Taehyung hands her his, giving a small thank you.

Everything was settled soon after and you departed from the school to head to Haneul High, which was a little over 30 minutes away. You opted to sit alone in front, Sumi having beaten you to sit beside Minyoung. You didn’t mind, you were going to catch up on some sleep anyway – well, a nap more likely.

Minyoung’s teammate shook you awake as you arrived and you groggily thanked her. She politely smiled before leaving the bus.

“Minyoung?” You inquired about your friend's whereabouts to another team member who was passing by your seat, and she pointed outside the bus.

“She’s already outside.” She says. Without being the one to wake me? You thought it was strange because Minyoung typically took every opportunity to be near you, even when it came to the most mundane things. It wasn't a big deal that she didn't wait for you to get up; it was just a little out of character for her. You take the net bag with the balls and assist the driver in unloading the drink coolers from the bus.

"___, let us handle that," Someone from the girls’ team says, taking one of the cooler's handles from your grip. She motions for a member of the guys team to assist her, and two of them approach, taking the cooler with them.

You swiftly approach and greet the Haneul High team's manager, who was a guy who oversaw both their girls' and boys' teams, as well as a junior manager whom you learnt was being trained to take his place. He welcomes you and tells you that you can head with the rest of the group to their gymnasium, as Coach Kai was led away by them to greet the rival team's coach.

You were left alone for a bit, so you took advantage of the opportunity to look around. Considering it being a weekend, there were a surprising number of students present. You're not sure, but you think you spotted students carrying banners and walking towards the gym. Did they get those for the game? It wasn't even an official match. You look around to find Minyoung walking towards you, breaking away from her conversation with her teammates.

"You should've woken me up," you say, a disgruntled tone in your voice. She pinches your cheeks and coos at you.

"Sorry, I was so wrapped up in conversation with Sumi that I didn't notice I went straight off the bus," She said and you just grinned and shook your head.

“Nah, it’s fine. You should go ahead and warm up with the rest.” You tell her and she jokingly salutes you with a “yes ma’am” before turning away and gathering the girls inside the gym.

“Hey, I’m coming with the girls’ team, you can head with the boys. I think they’re starting their game first.” Sumi says as she approaches your side and you nod at her.

The teams split up opposite sides to warm up, because the gym can house three courts— which is significantly larger than your school's gym, with adequate space in the center for spectators. However, it meant that it blocked your view of the girls' game. Your initial assessment of the audience was correct; they were there to watch the game, but it became clear that they were also there to see the attractive players on your team. The legendary seven princes, if you will. At the very least, three of them. You overheard a few murmurs about how they heard about the Seven Princes of Kkotgil, as if it were some sort of lore that your school had, but in fact it was just seven teenage boys with obnoxiously colorful hair (and extremely good looks, but you're not one to admit that).

The captains bow to each other before tossing a coin, and your team receives first serve, followed by a whistle signifying the start of the game. You were almost ecstatic since the opposing team barely held the ball up at the very start, you could hear them shouting as they communicated with one another, and they were able to return the ball, although too busy doing so to execute an attack. Okay, they got this. This is an opportunity. Your team easily received the ball, and you notice Jungkook yell something as he prepares to attack. The setter rapidly moves to the center of the attack line and raises the ball.

But instead of passing to the captain, he passes to another attacker, who misses because the ball was a little short. What? Jungkook had the perfect setup for an attack, with a clear hole in the other team's position from his side. You furrow your brow as the other team huddles around with a small cheer. What was up with that? This isn’t good for building momentum. 

The students who were watching cheered, albeit there were a few disappointed murmurs mixed in, no doubt expecting the doe-eyed captain to show off his skills.

You see Jungkook shake his head a little before huddling his team. You took notice of how they didn’t immediately gather to the center, save for Taehyung, who was also a starting player. Jimin enters the court in the back line as the libero, tapping his friend on the back as they get ready to receive the opponent's serve. You notice with keen eyes how frantic they are with their plays. The opposing team was nothing exceptional, keeping their plays simple and straightforward, but it worked. It worked because they established a connection on the court that allowed them to communicate their plays and inform the rest of the team of their next move. You recognize that that was something your team lacked as the game went on.

You sigh as the ball lands on your court once more, Jungkook smacking the wooden floor in frustration after missing the ball by a hair. It doesn’t help with his frustration that the opponents seemed to be acting smugly towards him on purpose, as if taunting him to break his resolve. Coach Kai's presence looms over your shoulder, interrupting the notes you were taking.

“I’m calling time-out. Your notes are good, you should take this first one. I need to talk to the opponent’s team adviser.” He says and taps you on the shoulder.

“Yes, coach. Do you want me to record their game on my phone?” You asked but he shook his head no.

"Just keep taking notes. I trust those boys to get their shit together," he says, chuckling and turning away before doubling back. He whispers, "Don't tell anyone I said 'shit'," before walking away and calling timeout after a rally. You simply smiled at his antics and returned your attention to the team. 

They approach the bench, and the team gathers around each other, accepting their bottles and taking a swig of their sports drinks.

You approached Jungkook first, walking close to him. You begin with, "Hey."

"Oh, hey," Jungkook says, his brows furrowed and his eyes fixed on the currently vacant court, as if visualizing something. You hand him an electrolyte drink before pulling him towards where the rest of the boys are.

"You guys are stiff and hurrying your plays," you start. "I understand this is a practice game, but you guys need to get it together," you say as you look at the opposite bench, where the Haneul High team was. "At first glance, they don't appear to be doing anything complicated, but they're all connected, which is why they make it work with the most basic plays. You guys should communicate more in court."

You return your attention to Jungkook, urging him to appeal to his teammates. He clears his throat and nods. He begins, "She's right, here's the plan..."

Someone in the group snickers, and you notice Jungkook stiffening beside you, his jaw clenched. You look at Junghoon, who was huddled with two of his teammates, all of whom appeared to be close friends of his. Jimin takes a step up beside Jungkook, as if analyzing the situation. You shifted your eyes from the committee in charge of the timer for the time-out to Junghoon and his posse. Growing impatient with the boys for not making progress with the discussion on how to work on their play, you stepped in.

"He's your captain, Junghoon. If you're going to act like a child, you should be on a playground rather than a court," you remarked sternly with a sharp glare his way. You see them straighten up and you feel the tension grow slightly.

"Then, ___, you should be our captain instead. At least you can tell us off.” he replies with a slight smirk and suddenly you feel like you overstepped. You should've just talked to Jungkook on his own and left him to deal with his teammates. You felt like a jerk, as if you'd unwittingly taken his place.

You were ready to turn to him and apologize when you felt an arm pull you back. "Don't," you hear as you turn to find Jimin nodding at you “He needed that.” 

"He can handle it," Tae adds. They tap you on the shoulder, and you see Jimin nod at you again, so you reluctantly step away from the guys and focus on your notes instead.

Jungkook exhaled through his nose and closed his eyes. He needed to calm down and get his shit together. He cleared his throat to grab everyone's attention. 

"Whether you like it or not, I'm the captain of this team, and believe me when I say I'm looking out for everyone's best interests. Now..." he said, the tone of his voice stern and his eyes filled with rekindled determination. "If you can't respect me, respect your sportsmanship at the very least. You're an embarrassment of an athlete if you lose on purpose just to spite me."

Everyone seems to quiet up and look aside in shame, so he interprets that as a signal to continue. He tells the team the strategy, and they all nod, but his mind lingered on his teammates' words after they had left. At least you can tell us off.

Has he been too lenient? He felt embarrassed that he seemed to be failing miserably as a captain. He was so consumed with the weight of last year's loss on his shoulders that he didn't realize he wasn't keeping the team in check. Maybe he was so consumed with remorse over getting his position despite the... trouble he had caused last year that he wanted to make amends by not being too tough on his team. He knew now that his decision was catching up with him. Because he feels he owes them for last year, he was unable to establish his role and authority with the team, to the point where they listened to the manager more than their captain.

It was difficult for him to try to prove himself to the team when he himself did not believe he deserved the position after all that had happened. It was unfortunate for him that only their senior members got to vote on who will be the next captain in line, because his batchmates appeared to disagree with their decision. But he's here now, and if he backs down now, he won't be able to make up for anything at all afterwards.

They return to the game and play better this time, but they still lose the first set since they were unable to catch up on their mistakes before the timeout was called. Coach Kai returned to watch them play and instructed you on what else you should put on your notes for him to work on with the team when they returned. Your team eventually loses 3-2 against the opposition. It bothered you more than you expected, especially since the other team didn't make any really noteworthy plays. You haven't seen much of your team's practices, but you know they can put together some good combinations when they try. You're baffled as to why they didn't try now.

Jungkook was even more upset than you, considering he was the team's leader. He was able to rally the team to win two sets, but it wasn't enough to propel them to victory. He thinks he needs to reassess how he communicates with his teammates and how he deals with them. For the sake of the team, he must put his own objectives and guilt aside.

Minyoung approaches you after a cooldown routine with the joyful news that they won their practice game versus Haneul, as you suspected based on the cheers on their side of the court. They had a lot of supporters here for an away game; It was most likely because of Minyoung's popularity.

You pat her on the back and congratulate her. Sumi is standing next to her, congratulating her as well. You smile at the two of them and go back to double-checking the teams’ things, comparing them to the list you have. You were all loading the stuff into the bus after lunch when you noticed Jungkook still standing there, staring at their van from afar. You turn around and assist the driver with the coolers once more before backing up and letting him close the compartment.

After a head count, you were ready to enter the bus with Minyoung when you were stopped by Jungkook calling out to you.

"When we get there, don't go home yet. Wait for me," he says directly to you, catching you off guard.

"What do you need her for, Jeon? After the briefing, we still have more training to do," Minyoung tells him.

"I just need to speak with our manager," he says, his tone annoyed.

"I need to speak with her as well," she argues, adamant and protective of you.

"All right, let's all go together," he says, turning back to you. "Wait for us 'til after training," he demands, rather than requesting of you.

You were about to smack him in the face for speaking to you in that manner, but you recall that you owe him for earlier and retract your claws. Even if he didn't wait for an answer, you just sighed and nodded.

When you return to school, the teams go directly to the gym for a quick review of their games and the areas coach Kai wants them to focus and work on. They rush to practice and work on their plays, and you notice a teeny tiny improvement in communication with the boys' team, but there was still notable tension in the air. You have no idea what their deal with their captain is, or with each other in general, but you can only hope they work it out before the official season starts.

You had to wait for another four hours of training, but you made yourself useful by finalizing the other teams that were scheduled to have practice games with Kkotgil, which they would come to your school this time. Sumi chose to stay and work with you after seeing that you were also staying behind. After their training, the coach dismisses both teams, and the captains immediately rush to your side. 

"Let's go," Jungkook says, waving farewell to his other two friends, who waved back to you and Minyoung as well.

Sumi gets up from where she was sitting next to you. “Are you guys having a meeting? Do you need me to be there too?" She inquires of all three of you, and you turn to look at the other two since you, too, were unsure.

"No, that's all right, Sumi. Thank you for today." Jungkook bows politely and says, "You worked hard." Minyoung follows suit and Sumi lets out a smile that crinkles her eyes. 

“Alright guys, don’t work too hard. You need proper rest, too.” She nods at them and then at you before gathering her things and leaving.

You three go to a nearby café and order before deciding where to sit. Even after your orders had come, Jungkook was looking about and stalling.

"Just go right to the point, Jeon.” Minyoung informs him before stuffing a piece of cake in her mouth, "She's waited long enough to hear what you have to say."

He sighs and braces himself. “I.. heard that the coach seems fond of you.”

Minyoung drops her fork on her plate as you choke on your strawberry milkshake.

"Wait, do I have to be concerned about that?!" You sat up straight and questioned him loudly in panic.

He stuttered around his words, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “No! No, not at all. That's not how I should've phrased it."

He really should not have! Thank God, because you were about to call the cops for a second there. Minyoung chuckles from beside you, uttering a weak "what the fuck was that?"

He scratches at the nape of his neck, a nervous fidget you notice he does sometimes. He sees you and Minyoung offer him a little grin, which is enough to ease the tension in his shoulders.

"I was wondering if you could be the one to bring up budget renegotiation to him since he might actually listen to you," he says quietly.

Minyoung lets out a small “Oh.” as he says that, and you look back and forth between the two of them, wondering what this was about.

"There will be a meeting before the season officially begins, and that will be the final time the budget may be renegotiated. I need your help in convincing the coach to at least equalize the numbers with the girls' team." He turns to face Minyoung. "I sincerely hope you don't mind."

She gives him a kind grin. "Certainly not. In any case, we're all vying for championships."

Wow. It seems like just yesterday that they were attempting to claw each other's eyes out. You'd think this is a positive thing. It was a superficial rivalry anyway, arising from the same problem they're attempting to solve right now.

"But, why me? And why the coach? Shouldn't the discussion take place with the volleyball team's adviser instead?" You ask them.

"Well, you see, the adviser is there for formality since every sports team needs one. Coach Kai is the one in charge of and oversees all of our activities." Minyoung answers for you.

You exhale a quiet sigh before turning back to him. "I'm not sure I have a say in that, Jeon. I'm still new to the team, and I feel like I'd be pushing it if I tried to discuss money with him."

"But all I ask is that you try. I need you to at least help me in negotiating," he continues with desperation and you turn to look to Minyoung for advice. She reciprocates with a nod.

“Uhm.. Okay," you say, and you watch him breath a sigh of relief.

"I'll help in any way I can, too," Minyoung adds.

He gives you both a sincere grin. He was relieved that his misguided hostility against you didn't drive you away from him, because you were both genuinely nice people. With you agreeing to his request, his shoulders relax a little as he thinks he's one step closer to redemption.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°

You hand the folder to the Volleyball teams’ adviser and she thanks you for your work. You bow to her before approaching the Coach's desk.

“Coach, we’ve finalized the request for this weekend’s practice game. Sumi couldn’t make it today but here’s the paperwork she asked me to hand in.” Coach Kai accepted the folder in his hands and thanked you before dismissing you, but you stood still in your place.

“Uhm.. Coach, it says on the schedule that a meeting will be held next week for the sports teams before the official season starts.” You ease into the conversation. He hums in response.

“Right, thanks for reminding me of that.” He didn’t bother looking at you; eyes fixated on the work on his desk.

“I was wondering if I can talk to you about the budget? The boys’ team’s in particular.” You prompted and you saw him pause to look at you. 

You prepare to whip out your persuasion skills as he mulls over what you said.

“Why?” He simply said and you were dumbfounded for a second before picking yourself back up.

“Jeon asked me to bring it up.”

He brushes his chin with his hands as he thinks again. "But he didn't tell you why their budget was cut?" 

"T-they lost the championships last year," you stammered, unsure. Jungkook didn't tell you that explicitly, but that's what you've heard, and that's all you know about what happened.

Coach Kai nods as if thinking of something, and you nearly breathe a sigh of relief until the next words he says.

"He didn't say why they lost, did he? Come back to me when you know everything, and I'll be more than willing to negotiate with him," he adds, turning away from you, signaling the finality of his statement.

You entered the classroom from the rear entrance, close to where Jungkook sat. You sat next to Taehyung in the vacant chair before tapping Jungkook on the shoulder to relay the news. He turned to face you, and consequently, Jimin too, who was seated beside him.

"About the thing you asked me to do..." You looked at him, then at his two friends, both of whom were staring at you, since you weren't sure whether he wanted them to know. He nods to signal you to proceed.

"Coach refuses to hear about renegotiating the budget through me when I had no knowledge why and how the cut happened," you continue, seeing his shoulders droop as his two friends gaze at him in surprise, having no idea what you guys were up to.

"He says he'd be more than willing if you told me everything, though." You continue, and he stiffens in his seat.

He could talk to the old man personally to avoid having to reveal all his wounds to you, but now that the coach knows he wants to negotiate through you, he knows the old man is dead set on having you know what happened. He really wants to torture me about this, huh. He returns his gaze to you and sees you waiting for him expectantly to say something. Jimin and Taehyung mirror your expression as they wonder how their friend will handle this. The events of last year were only known by a limited number of people, which included the whole team and the team advisers, after all. Having another person know would be like poking on his wound and opening it further, and he’s not sure if he can handle that.

You can all see through his eyes that his thoughts were racing a mile a minute. Jimin pats him on the shoulder reassuringly, and he seems to snap out of it. He stares you in the eyes once more before saying, "Forget it," and turning his back on you. You hear Taehyung audibly sigh beside you.

You were puzzled by his response. He had such resolve in his eyes when he brought up the subject to you, and now he's going to give up on it just like this? You tried to let it go, to believe that it was his decision and that it was now out of your hands, but you can't help but be bothered now that you already had one foot in the door.

Taehyung ruffles your hair to jolt you out of your trance before asking you to return to your seat, which you did absentmindedly, attempting to figure out where to proceed from here.

-

taglist: @reallysparklychaos @lovebun-19 @shownusshoulders @missseoulite @potaetopic @bbsantc @moderndaychihiro @bear-hugs-and-kisses

[jungle321jungle]

All Kittens Are Black In The Dark: One

Parenting is hard in general, but Janus and Logan learn it can be even harder, especially when your baby isn't entirely human. But that doesn’t mean they love him any less. 

aka Lociet adopts a baby werecat!Virgil

Ao3 - Masterlist - Other Chapters

~~~~

One

Logan gave a frown as his handiwork before he undid it once more. Despite two weeks having passed between, the papers were signed and they brought Virgil home from the hospital, he had yet to improve. He gave a sigh as he moved the three week old back into the crib momentarily before heading off in search of his husband. It didn’t take long to find Janus, the man was sitting on their bed reading something which looked suspiciously like the work he had promised to put away.

“It’s not work,” he said as Logan entered.

Logan raised an eyebrow, “Oh? Then what is it?”

“Some of the papers Virgil’s doctor gave us.”

Logan paused, taking in Janus’ too casual expression and the slightly annoyed look he hid behind those beautiful eyes. “And what’s the paper behind it?“

Janus gave a blush at being caught before he set the papers aside. “Did you need something?”

“I need the ‘expert swaddler’ to help me out.”

“You’ll get it soon enough,” Janus promised, leading the way back to Virgil’s room.

“It seems no amount of practice nor watching or reading instructions helps me learn such a task,” Logan sighed. “I didn’t think this would be one of the things I struggled with.”

“You're really just overthinking it, Lo. All you gotta do is turn him into a little burrito.”

“I'd rather have a baby than a burrito.”

“Why not both? It’s not too too late, we can probably order f-” Janus stopped abruptly both in his sentence and his actions. He had just been a step inside the nursery, and then he froze blocking Logan from entering.

“Do you mind?”

“Logan.”

In his years with the man he loved, Logan had learned to discern Janus’ thoughts and feelings solely by his tone. He could tell when his love was excited, stressed, sad, happy, angry- or like now- terrified.

“What is it?” He asked quickly, panic spiking as he pushed his way into the room. His eyes immediately went to where he had left their son moments before- but it was clear to see that the baby wasn’t there. The crib held nothing, but a few lumps under the blanket he had attempted to swaddle with. Where the fuck is Virgil?

Unsure what else to do, Logan rushed forward and removed the blanket to discover what was beneath it. An empty newborn onesie, a diaper void of a baby and... a kitten?

The animal looked far too small to be- well anywhere, and it had black fur and bright purple eyes. In the far depths of his mind Logan wondered if that was natural eye color for cats, but at present his heart was still attempting to erupt from his chest at the lack of his child.

“Logan,” Janus said again. His tone unchanged as he grabbed onto Logan's arm as if trying to ground himself. “Tell me you’re pranking me,” Janus demanded.

“I left him here,” Logan asserted. “I-I was just going to get you and then you could help me and the three of us could just- I don’t know! I’m not hiding him!”

“And what’s with the cat?” Janus asked, stepping forward to look at the small animal. “No, not important! Where did you put him?”

“I didn’t put him anywhere!”

“You must’ve!”

“I didn’t,” Logan said again, turning around. His eyes ran across the room looking for some sort of explanation. Virgil was three weeks old. He couldn't move on his own, and they were the only ones in the house, so how- “Give me your phone!” He shouted suddenly turning to face Janus.

“What? Why?”

“I left mine in the bedroom, we can check the baby monitor! That’s the point of it having video right?”

Janus’ hands fumbled for the phone in his pocket but when he had it out and the app was opened, both of their gazes were glued to the screen. And quite frankly this version of events was far more bizarre than anything Logan could have hypothesized. Because how else could one describe the sight of a human baby transforming into a cat?

And yet, somehow there was Virgil. His tiny torso was covered by the small blanket, just as Logan had left him, and then his body began to shrink and change and black fur came to be, and then underneath the blanket were a few small lumps until the frightened parents walked in.

Silence rang loud in the nursery, as Janus played the footage again and again and again. It just didn’t make sense. But despite the many questions they had as to how this had happened or how long it would last, there were more pressing questions at the moment. For example… How do you get a kitten to stop crying?

The mews were soft and continuous as the kitten-baby cried, but neither Logan or Janus were exactly fit to know what to do. It was easy to see that his diaper was impossible to be the issue, so the next logical choice was to feed him, but what?

Janus was quick to begin googling, while Logan began the bizarre task of trying to comfort Virgil. He was more than careful to scoop Virgil’s small form into his hands, and bounced him that way- hoping it would make any sort of difference. But given the way the mews continued, he doubted that Virgil thought any differently about his actions.

“This is useless,” Janus grumbled, scrolling through links. “Everything says their mother’s milk or a substitute, but nothing says what to do if we don’t have that. We have formula, but can you give a cat baby formula?”

“Not sure,” Logan shrugged as he attempted to pacify Virgil with small head pats, but the news only increased so he sighed and retracted his finger. “But we can't give him normal milk, cats are lactose.”

“What? Then are cats given milk in every movie?”

“Unimportant,” was Logan’s only answer as he handed Virgil to Janus who awkwardly took him and held him close to his chest.

“Oh, um alright... right. Should we try, like a tiny amount of formula. Like a sip or two?”

Truthfully Logan’s brain was just about fried from the insanity of this dream he was yet to wake up from, so all he could do was head to the kitchen to make a bottle.

Small mews of protests wounded Logan in a way he had never felt before as he moved the bottle away. Logan’s eyes met Janus’ who only looked back to Virgil and ran a finger over the kitten’s back in what was hopefully a comforting manner. But no words were spoken as the clock ticked on. This night was a long one, and neither he nor Janus had managed to sleep. They just sat or laid on the nursery floor with a blanket and Virgil between them. Virgil had slept a bit (after they had finally fed him a bit more after seeing no horrible effects), but overall the family was exhausted. But it’s because they were awake, that Logan got to watch as the kitten’s limbs lengthened slightly and the fur seemed to recede and vanish until the newborn he recognized returned.

While Logan was frozen by the sight, thankfully Janus had the sense to get a diaper and clothes for their baby who was quick to fall asleep once he was dressed (and swaddled). The moment Virgil was asleep, Janus rose and walked out the door and Logan was quick to follow. They walked in silence to their bedroom, where Virgil was placed in the crib beside their bed and where Janus promptly collapsed on the bed and patted the area beside him.

Logan took a deep breath as he first moved to look at Virgil. His baby looked just as normal and perfect as he had before, like he had never changed at all. His hands moved slowly as he moved to touch his baby’s head and when he did, he felt as if all the tension he had been storing within him melted away. Despite whatever the fuck had happened, Virgil was okay.

“He doesn’t even look bothered,” Janus commented.

Logan gave a hum of thought as he laid down beside his husband, “We should go to the pet store tomorrow. If this is a regular thing we’re going to need stuff for it.”

“Shouldn’t you be questioning how this is even possible?” Janus yawned.

“I’m focusing on what we can do. And currently? That’s just coping.”

They hadn’t told anyone, given they weren’t sure what exactly to say or if they would even be believed. But then again they weren’t even sure what had happened or why, rather all they knew is what they had seen that night, and yet afterwards life had proceeded like the baby’s transformation had never happened- like it had been one strange shared dream. And truthfully Logan was willing to believe it was, until it happened for the second time. Just like the first time, it had come out of nowhere.

Logan gave a pancake a flip before his gaze drifted back to Janus who sat at the kitchen table looking half asleep as he fed Virgil. Silently he wondered what had occurred at work, but Janus looked like he needed food and sleep more than a venting session. When Janus’ questioning gaze turned towards him, Logan turned back to the late “dinner” he was making and busied himself with not letting pancakes burn. Truthfully he had no understanding of what it was about breakfast for dinner that Janus loved so much (outside of the fact that he got away with not cooking for the night), but it was the one thing he could cook without Janus chastising him for using too many or two few spices. It’s not like it was his fault that every recipe either didn’t have what it needed to match Janus’ tastes, or that it didn’t tell him to add things to it. Baking was so much easier. Everything was defined, while cooking had too much “feeling” involved in its steps for him to comprehend enough to please Janus (he always thought it tasted good enough himself).

“Logan.” Janus’ tired yet alarmed voice drew Logan to turn around to find his husband looking wide eyed at a kitten in the bundle of clothes and blankets that were Virgil’s.

“He…” the rest of Logan’s words didn’t seem to care about leaving his mouth as he watched Janus gently set the bundle and cat on the kitchen table.

“Well congrats,” Janus said dryly. “We’re not insane… and you’re burning the bacon.”

Once breakfast-dinner was done (but slightly singed), they ate in silence as they watched the kitten lie on his clothes and bite at a now too big pacifier apparently quite content. But then again, what did babies really have to be concerned about?

“It’s been a month,” Logan started as he sorted out his thoughts. “And it happened when he was three weeks initially. So maybe it’s a monthly phenomenon? What else is monthly… the moon?” As a stupid thought rose in his mind, Logan stood and moved to the closest window and looked out scanning the sky. But seeing nothing he moved to the next at a different angle, and then another before he saw what he had been thinking about. “A full moon.”

“So you’re saying… that we adopted a werewolf? Or some sort of cat variant of one?”

Exhaustion hit Logan all at once as he returned to his seat, “Do you have a better explanation?”

Janus made a noncommittal sound into a bite of pancake. “I guess it makes as much sense as everything else.”

Truthfully Logan absolutely hated the fact that this was the concept that made the most sense. “And shortly after he turned back the sun rose if I recall correctly.”

A soft mew came from Virgil as he nestled further into his blankets searching for warmth. So Logan reached over and pulled the other side of the blanket onto Virgil’s back and he was thanked with a slight purr in response as Virgil made himself comfortable.

“I have more questions rather than less,” Logan sighed. “Babies can’t even roll over at this age, and yet a kitten this old should be able to walk on its own.”

“Well considering he’s human most of the time maybe that’s dominant in his genes or something? That’s how biology works right?”

“In a simplified manner, yes.”

“Do you think the adoption agency would allow us to contact the mother if we said he has a genetic condition?”

“I… I don’t know. We may need proof to do so, like a note from a doctor. And I don’t think a picture of Virgil like this would work in this case.”

“Do you think that’s why the adoption was closed?” Janus asked softly. “It’s hard to believe they didn’t know about… this.”

“It’s a possibility, but more than that it’s a risk. So many would react far differently than we did. They could have tossed him out or worse.”

Janus reached out a finger and gave Virgil a light pet between the ears before he spoke. “We waited years to have a baby. We’ve been rejected by parents, and had parents decide to keep their baby, and just had the whole process go south.” He gave a soft yet rueful laugh, “I still remember when we first started the process and you did all the research. You told me it could take years for a baby and I had just rolled my eyes, I thought you were being dramatic. But this process is what’s dramatic... We haven’t waited this long to be fathers to be stopped by whatever this is. All I care about is that Virgil needs us, and that we need him.”

“That’s all that matters,” Logan agreed with a slight smile as he took Janus’ free hand in his own. “We’ll figure it out. But we’re going to need to avoid planning things on full moons.”

Janus gave a soft but real laugh. “That we can do.” ~~~~ One - Other Chapters

[buckyownsmylife]

Fuel to the Fire - Chapter 12

The one where Andy isn’t the type of man you can deny, even if what he wants is for you to become his mistress.

Andy Barber is a feared mobster and your best friend’s husband. There were more than enough reasons never to look at him twice. But when he lets you know that he wants you, there’s little you can do to stop the terrible trainwreck you know it’s coming your way.

for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist.

“You’re going out?” Your legs were still wobbly as you made your way out of the bathroom, hoping to leave before Andy woke up. He’d showed up unannounced after lunch and while that didn’t hold any surprise in itself, you knew your plans for the day would at the very least shock him.

“Hm? Oh, yes.” You tried to pick up the dress you’d chosen to wear yesterday, when the text came. Amazing how three hours can run by when you’re stressing about what your friend is going to think of the clothes her husband has bought you. And then when you woke up, you ended up deciding that red was too much, so blue it was.

God, you hated being a woman sometimes.

“What are your plans for the evening?” A part of you was surprised he wasn’t just angry that you hadn’t left your weekend completely open so he could take over all of your free time. But then again, when didn’t Andy surprise you?

“I’m going out for drinks with a friend.” That had him sitting up on the mattress, quirking an eyebrow at you.

“Friend?” You almost laughed at the expression on his face, if you weren’t so nervous about the entire situation.

“Erica,” you admitted.

“Ah,” was all he had to say. It was quiet as you put on your makeup, until you noticed that he had stopped moving behind you, like he had given up on his task of putting on clothes.

When you focused your vision on him through the mirror of your vanity, you found out why. “Are you… Are you pouting?” Because yes, he was. Andy freaking Barber was sitting right behind you, bottom lip fully jutted out as he stared at the back of your head.

You just couldn’t figure out why.

“I missed your shower!” He nearly whined, and oh God, why did that make you so wet?

“I-I didn’t know you…” You didn’t even finish your sentence. He got out of the bed and went straight to you, beard tickling your neck as he nuzzled the skin there.

“Didn’t know what?” He questioned. “Didn’t know I wanted to fuck that little pussy as the water fell over us?”

So yeah. Was it really that terrible that you let him drag you to take another shower, just so he could fuck you right before you had to go meet his wife?

You couldn’t feel guilty about it. Not when he was so deep inside of you, his warm breath hitting your cheek as he fucked you from behind, pressing your body against the cold tiles of the shower.

“Oh, fuck,” you’d cursed while he groaned against your shoulder.

“So fucking sexy,” he’d muttered, nipping at your skin. “I hope you think of my cock while you’re sitting next to her. How it felt to have me inside this little pussy, just before you went out to meet my wife.”

Being reminded of why it was that he was so fucking aroused brought an unexpected anger to your core, making your arousal simmer that much more intensely. “Do you think of my pussy when you’re fucking hers?” The question escaped you before you even had the chance to acknowledge what had prompted it, your hands curling into fists while you still tried to find a hold on the wall against which you were being fucked.

Except Andy stopped his thrusts at your question, and you were too scared to turn around to meet his gaze, verify which expression painted his face. At least he was still hard inside of you, cock throbbing at the sudden lack of stimulation, while you held back from moving your hips to keep climbing that mountain of bliss or apologize for what he’d provoked from you.

Finally, a chuckle reached your ears - having been pressed right against the shell of one of them. “You know what?” He whispered, hands pawing at your ass before he squeezed your cheeks, forcing them apart so he could drill into you even harder, reach even deeper. “I like it when you show your claws.”

It was only a matter of seconds and a few more thrusts before you clenched around him, milking his release, which was quickly taken by the water that ran over the both of you. While you kept holding yourself up against the wall when he pulled out from you, he made quick work of wiping his cum away and reaching for a towel, looking back over his shoulder to smirk at you.

“I’m sure you’ll be mindful of who tries to lay a hand on you tonight, hm?”

The question still resonated in your mind when you entered the club. It wasn’t an environment you found yourself comfortable in, and not only because the floor was made of marble and the cheapest drink was a bottle of water that cost twelve bucks.

The music was too loud, the ambiance too dark, and they tried to make up for it with a dozen different signs in neon lights, but all it did was make you confused and a bit dizzy. It took you longer than you cared to admit to be able to locate Erica, and you were surprised to realize that it was because she was a part of a group of about eight women, and not by herself or with two or three friends, like you were used to seeing whenever she did find the time to go out with you these days.

“Oh, hey!” You awkwardly greeted, waving and trying not to focus on any of the unfamiliar women, who all wore jewelry much more expensive than anything you’d ever purchased with your own salary in your life.

“Oh, hi!” Erica was quick to get up and approach you. Something in her expression made you believe she was surprised to see you, like she didn’t expect you to actually come join her. “You’re here!”

You offered her a smile and tried to hug her, but she quickly leaned in to give you the air kisses you were now used to receiving from her. “You did invite me,” you reminded her, already feeling like an intruder despite the text message that still sat on your phone - the one you even answered to, letting her know you’d meet her tonight.

“No, I know!” She shrugged like it was no big deal, turning her back to you to get back to her seat and leaving you to follow her and stand by her side, as there were no open spots close to where she was. “I just didn’t expect you to actually come, that’s all.”

… Now, what the hell were you supposed to say to that?

Nothing, apparently. You couldn’t come up with anything to answer and she didn’t make any effort to strike up a conversation with you afterwards. In fact, she didn’t even introduce you to her friends, whose eyes you could feel on your body, judging your outfit and most certainly your lack of a (rich) partner.

You had no doubt she’d told them all about your job, working for her husband. “So…” You tried to think of something to say, still standing by her side like a fucking guard dog. God, this was uncomfortable. Your palms were sweaty, but you refused to wipe them against the fabric of your dress and give these women something to talk about, as stupid as it was.

“Hey, since you’re here,” Erica interrupted, pulling on your sleeve to catch your attention, as if it wasn’t already on her. “Could you go grab me a drink? My glass is empty.” She showed you the champagne flute, and you frowned. Something about this situation didn’t sit right with you, making the bottom of your stomach feel acidic and your mouth, completely dry, but you didn’t know what to say, so you just nodded and accepted the bill she was offering you, coming back with her drink and depositing it in front of her.

“Keep the change,” she smirked, and that’s when you froze, hearing the snickers and laughs from her friends, who surrounded you. Your heart shattered, you were at a loss for words, but before you could find it in yourself to say something about it, she frowned, eyes focused on your neck. “Is that a hickey?”

Your heart gave you an indication of its survival as it began to pound against your chest, and you instinctively raised your hand to cover the spot where you knew Andy had sucked on earlier that day. If you were in a better mindset, this reminder could have been the anchor you needed to realize Erica didn’t deserve your heartbreak. But as it were, you were still too shocked at her behavior, and the disgust in her tone made it very clear what it was that she thought of you.

She might not know her husband had been the one to give you the mark, but her judgment made you feel dirty and wrong all the same.

You did a good job of hiding your tears from her and her friends, turning your back on them and leaving the nightclub the same way you’d arrived, not even half an hour earlier. Only in the backseat of an Uber did you silently weep, both for the friendship that you considered buried and the friend who you knew didn’t exist anymore.

Yet, you still found yourself wondering. Did Erica know about Andy’s infidelities? If she didn’t, would she still love him if she ever found out?

Did she even love him now?

One thing you were certain of: she would never get all of him back, the way she might have believed that she had. Not now that she meant absolutely nothing to you.

[rayofsunas]

s/o has freshly shaved legs. [2]

A/n: requested by anon, teehee. thank you!! also, not genshin related, but I just saw levi in the new season and whew, he could STILL get it if he asked :) also, to my readers out there, when I bring up “shoulder rides”, I know some some people may not feel comfortable with that (which is okay!), I didn’t type that to not include everyone, that’s why I wrote “he’s going to give you shoulder rides if you feel comfortable.” key word is comfortable, you guys can imagine this scene or not, it’s intended to not exclude anyone, despite size, etc. I only bring this up because I know a lot of readers may feel left out, but by insinuating comfortable, you’re free to imagine this or not! I hope I made sense/wasn’t rude <3 ;-; happy reading!!

Summary: s/o has freshly shaved legs.

Parings: Diluc/Reader, Xiao/Reader, Childe/Reader (all fem reader)

Warnings: swearing, nsfw themes implied, fluff?, crack

Word count: 1.5k

Diluc

Diluc is a pure GENTLEMAN, so he feels very guilty ogling at your legs

he’s drawn in because of how smooth and buttery (probably some lotion or oil he assumed) they look

eventually, after becoming embarrassed for staring, he’ll find the will to stop

after all, he’s a GENTLEMAN

but that doesn’t mean the thought of your legs leaves his mind, you’re dead fucking wrong

he can’t stop thinking about how soft they looked

if only he could reach out and touch you, just once, just for a second

goodness, he hates the way he feels and surprisingly, when Kaeya stops by the winery for his daily drink, diluc may or may not confide in his friend, brother, 

poor diluc, he’s too respectable and truly thinks it’s WRONG

“why can’t I stop staring at her legs?” he will mutter more to himself. “I feel disgusting.”

“well, she’s hot for one-”

poor Diluc, Kaeya is NO help, he only wants to flirt with you

Kaeya will continue to apologize and make cocky comments, but in the end he reassures it’s natural for lovers to feel this way

poor Diluc part 2

let's just say when he returns late in the dead of the night he refuses to even look at you

he’s so disturbed, poor boy, you’re probably his first s/o and he feels dirty for thinking lewdly about you from just seeing your thighs

he dips to your room so fast, he just wants to sleep it off

You were shocked, to say the least when he didn’t give you his usual hug and kiss on your cheek. Maybe he had a long day? That’s usually always the reason. But even then, before he retired for bed, he made sure to show some kind of affection. 

“Diluc, sweetheart, where are you going?” You called after him, ignoring how the servants kept trying to grab his jacket and hang it on one of the coat racks; he was having none of it.

“Bed.”

“Oh okay, wait, we can walk up together-” He was gone from sight. You sighed in annoyance, you disliked when he became distant. Nonetheless, you dismissed the three servants for the night and began traveling to your room.

Eventually, you arrived in your bedroom to find Diluc laying on the bed, clothes from today still on, as well as his boots. You clicked your tongue. Did he have to wear his boots in your bed? 

“Not even your boots are off?” You had said, shuffling around the bed to tug your lover's shoes off. He heard you grunt, seemingly having trouble with the simple task. 

In the meantime, he had taken notice of how you had shrugged off your robe and it was somewhere else in the room, leaving you only in a simple cotton nightgown. It wasn’t revealing at all, simple and classy how he liked it, but god damn it your legs were exposed.

A simple nightgown, that’s all it was, but why couldn’t it reach your ankles? No-he should not have such standards for you, especially when you’re comfortable. Why did he have to be so lewd...

“Was today a hard day? I didn’t see you after you left the winery earlier... Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.” He huffed, you mocked him, sitting next to him on the bed, eyeing him carefully. You shifted and although it wasn’t meant to reveal any more skin, the movement had... 

“I’m not a very good mind reader, so you’re going to have to tell me if somethings wrong-”

“Please don’t sit like that...”

“Like what? This is a normal sitting position.”

“Yes but...” He’d huffed again. You knew Diluc well enough to know that he wouldn’t say anything else, it seemed he was already having trouble enough.

“Are you being a horndog?” 

“A what- I’m sorry who are you?” He teased, though utterly confused. “You’ve been hanging out with Aether too much.”

“It’s okay, I saw you staring earlier. I don’t mind.”

poor Diluc

Diluc.exe has stopped working

he can’t believe he was stupid enough to stare AND get caught doing so

you’ll simply just respond by saying, “It’s okay, Diluc. I don’t mind, it makes me feel attractive. At least I’m doing something right.”

lol, it doesn’t matter though, he’s a blushing mess 

all he can think is that he’s better than kaeya, he has standards for himself, staring at a woman's thighs is NOT respectable

even if you’re his fiancee

Xiao

says he doesn’t care when you show him how smooth your legs are

ARGUES and SASSES you when you say you know he’s entranced 

he continues to say no

well guess what, he’s a stone-cold liar

he’ll probably stare once or twice, but otherwise won’t let you distract him

instead, he’ll touch your legs in private (as long as it’s okay with you)

he claims he doesn’t care, but he enjoys how soft they are

like wow

never in his life did he think someone could be so soft

all he wants to do is touch your legs, but sadly he has his duties

I think he’d be the type to touch your calves when in bed (just laying, pls no sexy times)

like when you’re both getting ready for bed, he’ll guide your leg to lay over his waist so it’s sorta hooked around him, and he’ll just rub your calves pls

he likes giving you a massage, it's his way of showing physical affection

and although it does lull you to sleep, the gesture is also comforting for him too

he loves your soft legs

pls don’t ever stop shaving as long as you’re comfortable (he loves you with shaved legs or not)

he may or may not become a little baby if he can’t touch your soft legs

like he’s not gonna shed tears

but, he’s gonna be BITTER AF

SALTY, is the right word

You just wanted to get up to use the bathroom, hell you were gonna pee your pants. But Xiao would not let go. Unfortunately, he’s a light sleeper, so he felt you shifting in the bed when you went to get up. 

“Don’t leave.” He whispered. 

“I have to pee, Xiao.” You said, guiding his prying hands away from your leg. 

“Your legs, soft. Please sleep,” He muttered incoherently, smoothing a calloused palm over your thigh. 

You frowned at the black and teal haired man. “I’m legit going to pee myself if you don’t let go.”

He didn’t answer. In conclusion, he’d fallen back asleep.

Childe

you knew better than to wear skirts, dresses; anything that revealed your legs

or else you’d be the subject of your boyfriend’s comments and staring

this was your own doing, childe thought, your fault

when he’s caught staring by you or anyone, he doesn’t care

as long as you’re comfortable, he doesn’t care that he stares at your legs

some of the elders around Liyue Harbor will scold him for his rudeness, calling him inappropriate

they dislike him so much, not all, but a good handful

but he DOES NOT CARE 

as long as you’re comfortable, he’ll continue to stare as long as he’d like

yes, even if he’s a perverted horndog, he’s still a respectable perverted horndog, he’s going to make sure you’re okay with everything he does/says

pls, he’s going to give you shoulder rides if you feel comfortable, just to nuzzle his cheeks into your inner thighs

and he’ll run his hands over smooth knees

he LIVES for your smooth legs, also just wanna say he doesn’t mind if you haven’t shaved your legs either, you’re gorgeous either way 

he’s the ultimate horndog and does not try to hide it, like Diluc and Xiao

he’s like Kaeya, but let’s be real he’s not going to try and fit every flirtatious comment into EVERY sentence like him

he’s more of a physical guy ;)

he’s going to leave lingering touches on your legs, pinch them teasingly, do whatever as long as he gets to touch them

just gonna say this, but kisses on smooth thighs? muah, he does this and has zero shame

not even during sexy times, he’ll do it if he’s laying his head on your legs and they happen to be exposed

he does not care, he can do whatever he wants, this is his way of showing his affection towards you

“You’re going to suffocate! Get your head out from between my thighs,” You scolded the orange-haired man. He chuckled, giving you very nonchalant vibes.

It was getting harder and harder to ignore the passersby’s stares, why did they have to be so nosy? Well... this wasn’t necessarily something everyone wanted to see, even if it was entirely innocent, it did look highly inappropriate. 

“Plus we’re in public, Childe!” You noted. 

“Please, who cares!” He taunted, nuzzling his head even further. Your face flushed hot. 

“Your legs are soft.”

“Yes, but do you have to do it like that? This looks wrong-”

As I said, he does not care!!

2.4.21, rayofsunas

[rocorambles]

Proving A Point

Pairing: Toji x reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Yandere, Dub-Con/Non-Con, Degradation, Murder, Violence, Gore, Borderline Necro??? But not really??? Listen...there is a dead body and things are done in very very close proximity to that dead body so take that as you will.

Summary: You make the mistake of accusing Toji of being jealous of sorcerers and he proves that he has nothing to be envious of.

Steady...Steady…

You wince as your stomach grumbles in complaint, hunger eating away at your patience and concentration. But you steel your nerves, stubbornly shaking your head and willing away the pangs in your abdomen as you focus on your surroundings, eyeing the cameras and employees, waiting for the right moment…

Skittish eyes. Rustling. Quick movements.

You tamper the pep in your step, hiding the glee in your face as you casually stroll outside of the sliding doors, leaving the grocery store and its shoppers in your wake, baggy sweatshirt much less roomy as you walk away. Your fingers itch to immediately grab the banana tucked inside your bra, but you know better.

Patience is a virtue. Out of sight, out of mind. And you wait, fighting every urge to run far away and dig into your stolen loot, sighing in giddy relief when you finally turn the corner, blocks away from the scene of the crime.

It’s almost animalistic how you practically rip off your hoodie, letting your precious cargo of fruits, bread, and chips fall to the ground. You plop on the ground, hand wrapping around the banana still tucked in the fabric around your chest, but you freeze at the sound of amused chuckling.

Your fight and flight instincts war inside of you, teeth baring, body back on its feet as you gauge your intruder. But your heart drops in your stomach when you take in the large muscular figure, the feral scarred grin leering at you from down the alley.

Years alone and left to fend for yourself have made your survival instincts strong and you know just from a brief glance that you don’t stand a chance against the man slowly meandering towards you. You’re no stranger to using your body for protection, money, just another night under a warm roof and you can only surmise that’s what he wants, that he’s just another predator in search of hapless prey. So you brace yourself, willing your body to relax as it trembles, letting it go limp as he draws near.

But you open your eyes in shock, looking warily on as he plucks the banana still nestled in your bra and peels it open, holding the opened end to your lips.

“Don’t let me interrupt your meal.”

You gape, eyes flickering between the yellow fruit and the amused face of the man in front of you. Back and forth, back and forth.

“If you’re not going to eat it, maybe I’ll have it. I’m getting kind of hungry anyway-”

“What is this? Some kind of weird foreplay?!”

Hunger makes your tongue sharper than you intend as you angrily chomp on the soft fruit before he can pull it away from you, your hands ripping the rest of the banana from his grasp as you quickly shove the rest in your mouth, uncaring of how ridiculous you look. So what if you look like an oversized furious chipmunk, cheeks bulging as you rapidly chew, scowl set in place? You’d be damned if you let someone else take your hard-earned food, even if he does look capable of choking you with his bare hands, and your eyes linger a little too long on the ways his shoulders and biceps bulge in his tight black shirt.

But his next words have you snapping back to attention, nervousness curling inside of you.

“I saw your little stunt back there. Not bad. How long have you been stealing to provide for yourself?”

You immediately deny his words, feigning ignorance, beads of cold sweat trailing down the side of your face the longer he just impassively stares at you as you continue stuttering.

Had you misjudged him? Was he some kind of undercover cop?

“What if I told you I could keep you off the streets, find jobs that would pay enough money to put a roof over your head, keep your stomach full?”

Your head snaps up, hope fluttering inside of you, your voice coming out more desperate and shaky than you wish.

“You won’t turn me in?”

The man snorts, bending down to pick up the rest of your meager belongings and food, not even looking back to see if you’re following as he begins to walk away, arms laden with your possessions, silently commanding you to follow him. And like a duckling imprinting on its parent, you instinctively trail after him without a single question about where you’re going, what jobs he’s talking about, or who he is. But as you exit the narrow alleyway and get ready to merge with the bustling street, he pauses, turning around to gaze at you as he answers one of those questions.

“I’m Toji. No last name. Just Toji.”

Neither of you dwell too much on what exactly brought the two of you together, what had Toji curiously watching as you skillfully and efficiently stole your next few meals and deciding to tuck you under his wing, what had you eagerly following after the man like a lost puppy. The harsh conditions and day-to-day survival of your lives don’t give either of you the luxury of wallowing in loneliness or the warmth that builds in your chests the more time you spend together.

But on nights after a successful job, bellies full of food and alcohol, bodies lazing on a cushy hotel bed where you splurge and rest for the night, neither of you fight the way your limbs naturally entangle, the way your lips meet in the dark, the way it feels so damn right to be together.

You learn about sorcerers and curses, shuddering when you become aware of an entire world that surrounds you. Toji laughs when he gifts you a pair of glasses that helps you see the evil around you and you scream, jumping in his readily outstretched arms, clinging onto him in fright.

Toji learns that aggressive shows of confrontation and brute force aren’t always the best answer (even if they are the most fun option) and he follows your lead, letting you quietly sneak around, swift hands dexterously picking locks, easily plucking and pocketing stolen goods. It’s your turn to laugh when he pouts at not being able to use his blade, strong arms crossed in front of his chest as he impatiently waits for you to finish your task.

But despite the months you spend together, you never get used to the crimson stains he returns with, eyes always averted and looking anywhere else when he deals a final blow. He knows if you had a choice, you’d always opt out of joining him on these specific types of requests. He knows it’s selfish to force you along, to make excuses as to why he needs you by his side as his sword guts yet another sorcerer. He knows he should feel some shame for the way you dry heave and vomit the contents of your guts at the sight of the countless corpses he forces you to look upon.

Yet all he feels is annoyance laced with guilt and fury at the pity in your eyes, the softness in your gaze as you watch him slay another individual who just happened to be born with cursed energy, the gentleness with which you handle the fallen bodies. Maybe that’s why he keeps on dragging you with him assassination after assassination, gloating about his new moniker “Socerer Killer” in front of you despite your clear discomfort towards the title.

But maybe the unspoken punishment is too soft for you, too subtle. And Toji scowls when you begin to question him and his motives, angrily growling right back at you when you raise your voice as you argue with him about his drive to kill every sorcerer he crosses paths with.

You plead and beg for him to reconsider. Sorcerers are humans after all, just with special abilities.

Toji wonders if you’d still think that if you met anyone else from the Zenin clan and both of you back down, your arms wrapping around him in an attempt to soothe and comfort as you see his mind and eyes glaze over in painful reminiscing.

It’s during one of these sessions that you utter the lines that end up being your downfall.

“Toji, do you think that maybe all your hate towards sorcerers is just jealousy? Are you jealous that you weren’t born with cursed energy like they were? Because if that’s what it is, there’s nothing to be jealous about-”

“What the fuck did you just say?”

Harsh language and cursing are all things you’ve come to expect from Toji. But what has you paralyzed with fear and a desperate need to make things right is the pure animosity and seething rage in his voice.

You whimper as a large hand reaches to grip your face, squishing your cheeks painfully, forcing you to lock eyes with fierce emerald orbs.

“I’m not jealous.”

He abruptly lets go of you with that sentence, turning his back on you, slamming the door in his wake. And you know you should be grateful that this is the extent of his lashing out. Yet somehow your heart aches more in his absence and you almost long for more of his heated words, even a spiteful strike as the days drag on without his presence.

It’s embarrassing how much you miss him, how accustomed you’ve grown to him being around. But you can’t help the way you scramble and flail in your rush to greet him as he finally enters your bedroom almost an entire week later. And he snorts when he easily catches you as you stumble and topple into his arms, tightly flinging your arms around him and holding him in silence, nuzzling and inhaling his scent as you bury your head in his chest.

You don’t miss the way a large hand gently rests on your head, the way he lets himself bask in your embrace. But all is not forgiven or forgotten and you warily listen as he barks at you to get ready, telling you he has another job for the both of you, grimacing when a razor sharp grin cuts across his face when he tells you it’ll be a messy one.

If there’s one positive attribute about Toji, it’s that he’s a man of his word. Your stomach churns, nausea swirling inside of you as he uses his bare fists to seemingly break every bone in the target’s body, unnecessarily cruel as he drags out the sorcerer’s death. The victim’s agonized screams fill the air and you clamp your hands over your ears, wishing you were anywhere but here, hesitantly stepping towards the exit, but stopping at Toji’s curt command for you to stay put.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh finally stops and you let out a shaky breath, tentatively lowering your arms as you turn back to face Toji, waiting for his exit plan. But your eyes widen when you see the sorcerer’s chest still rising and falling, still hanging to life by a fraying thread. And realization weighs down on your shoulders like a ton of bricks when Toji beckons you over, pulling your reluctant body until your back is pressed against his chest.

He places the hilt of his sword in your hands before gripping your hips, holding you still as his thumbs languidly rub lazy circles through the fabric of your pants. Hooking his chin over your shoulder, he watches the tremble of your arms as you vigorously shake your head side to side, eyes dizzyingly flitting between the half-dead sorcerer laying at your feet and the sharp point of the weapon your holding.

“Toji, I don’t- I can’t-”

“Kill him or be punished. Pick your poison.”

You know there’ll be hell to pay if you don’t follow through and every ounce of self-preservation screams at you to put your own well-being above the pitiful stranger on the ground. But when you lock eyes and see the fear and pain, see him as just another human like yourself, you know you’ll never be able to forgive yourself if you deal the final blow, know that his death will haunt you, curse you, for the rest of your life.

You’re terrified as you begin to loosen your grip, getting ready to let the object clatter to the ground, knowing full well Toji will be livid. But before you can fully release the sword, strong hands wraps around yours, forcing you to hold the blade once more, and you scream as Toji guides your hands, forcing you to cut through flesh, muscle, skin, and bone, the body parting like butter beneath the overwhelming force. Hot crimson splatters decorate the both of you and all you smell and taste is metallic copper.

All you’re cognizant of is the dimming light in the sorcerer’s eyes, the way your hands are still holding onto the weapon buried in your victim’s guts.

Murderer. Murderer. Murderer.

You don’t know anything except the need to flee, to separate yourself as far from the crime scene as possible. And your legs jerk back to life, only to give out on you as you’re forced to the ground, body unable to do much against Toji’s brute strength as he forces you on all fours on top of the still warm corpse, your limbs encasing the figure, eyes unable to look anywhere but straight down on those vacant eyes.

“Take a close look, sweetheart. Still think I’m jealous of a pathetic meat sack like that? Still think I care about having cursed energy? His special little powers didn’t help him much, did they?”

Toji’s laughter rings in your ears as your shaky arms struggle to hold your bodyweight up, trying to create as much distance between your torso and the hardening corpse beneath you, your eyes clenching shut, trying to block out the gruesome scene. You’re so focused on your predicament that you barely register calloused hands pulling down your pants and underwear, leaving your most intimate parts on display.

But Toji’s never been a fan of being ignored, especially by you, and you wail as he suddenly shoves his cock inside of your dry and unprepared hole, the pain and force of his thrust throwing you off balance and fat tears stream down your face as your body falls on the lifeless form beneath you.

Fear, pain, and disgust coil and slither inside of you as you futilely flail and try to lift yourself off the body beneath you, loud sobs escaping past your lips as your face is squished against a much colder visage, your tears and saliva mixing with the congealed blood on the sorcerer’s face. But every time you try to push yourself up, Toji rams into you from behind, and you instinctively tip forward, trying to escape, trying to pull away from him, only to further trap yourself against the corpse.

“God, you’re such a fucking crybaby. He’s dead, get over it. Look. There’s nothing to be so upset about.”

A new wave of salty tears trail down your face as Toji uses one hand to pin you down, forcing your lips to connect with colder, stiffer ones in a mockery of a kiss. He pauses his relentless thrusts to boisterously laugh as you fight against his hold in renewed vigor, fueled by your disbelief and terror.

“Alright, I guess that’s enough punishment for you. Don’t want you to die from shock. Let me make it all better.”

If you thought the ocean of negativity you had been drowning in before was bad, this is worse. So much worse. And a disgust so thick, so potent, so irreversible washes over you, seeping into every part of you, as pleasure begins to flicker and grow deep inside of you. Toji knows every inch of your body inside and out, and it’s pathetic how quickly your pleas for him to stop become lewd moans and wanton sounds as his fingers rub and play with hardening nipples and clit, as he angles his cock at just the perfect degree that has you seeing stars, as his teeth possessively bite down in the junction of your neck.

You don’t want to feel good, not like this, not here, not sprawled on top of a man you had just killed in cold blood. But it’s hard to think of anything else other than the arousal and lust fogging over your morality, over your humanity as Toji turns you into a well-trained mindless slut desperate for him, for pleasure. And he smiles victoriously as you stop resisting, letting your body mold against the corpse beneath you, uncaring of how absolutely sinful and depraved you look as you moan and drool like a bitch in heat, writhing shamelessly against the body underneath you.

He knows the image is going to be seared into his mind for life, fap material for years to come, and his hips stutter, his tempo fluctuating as his balls tighten, his thrusts becoming even more feral and desperate as he chases his end. And when you cum first, convulsing and milking him of all his seed, pushed over the edge by the brutality of his pace, he spills thick white spurts deep inside of you, grunting in satisfaction as he slams balls deep into you one last time.

It’s amusing how you’ve seemingly had a complete change of heart, looking almost at home and at peace as you continue laying on the motionless sorcerer, body twitching and eyes rolled back in your head as you laze in post-coital bliss. His softening and spent cock twitches in interest again as a sticky trail begins to trickle out your used cunt, mixing with the blood of the broken body beneath you. And it takes all his willpower to refrain from having you, tasting you all over again.

You’re still on the clock after all and there’s payment to be collected.

But as he coldly barks at you to get up and tidy yourself up as best as you can, smug satisfaction swells inside of him as he watches you exhaustedly pull your panties and pants back up above your ass, a dazed pleasured look on your face as you quickly make your way to him, tucking yourself closely to his side and leaning into his body heat.

You always were a clingy and needy thing after an orgasm. But he can’t bring himself to mind, sneering as he tosses one last backwards glance at the dead sorcerer you’re leaving behind before finally settling into a self-satisfied smile as he pulls you in closer.

Cursed energy and all...no sorcerer could ever make you feel as good as him.

[luminnara]

I wonder what Dick would be like trying to flirt on the lead up if the mission, trying to be smooth and cool before screaming next to Weasel. The back track of trying to be cool again after than freak out would be glorious and I would probably fall for it, lol

Dick Hertz x fem!reader

This ended up way longer than intended and I am not mad about that lol

Sfw but raunchy!

Requests for oneshots and HCs are open!

You were no stranger to the concept of the suicide squad.

Thanks to your own colorful past, and powers that you couldn’t always quite control at first, you were stuck serving out a long ass sentence at Belle Reve, the shittiest shit hole of them all. Your only escape from the mundane, high-security monotony was the occasional mission from Waller.

The Suicide Squad—more officially known as Task Force X—was the latest installment in Amanda Waller’s series of highly classified, top secret, black ops teams. She chose Belle Reve’s most infamous criminals, many of whom had extraordinary powers and even more extraordinary reputations, and tossed them together on incredibly dangerous missions. You knew she didn’t care whether you lived or died, but successfully completing such impossible tasks always cut time off your sentence, and with nothing else to do with your time, you always thought it was worth the risk.

And besides...you hadn’t died yet.

So when Waller approached you during your daily yard time, you already knew what to expect.

“Yeah, yeah.” You grumbled as you followed her into the exam room and plopped down in the same old chair. “I know the drill. I go off mission, you blow my brains out.”

“—with the explosive device implanted in the base of your skull. Correct.” Waller said, unimpressed.

“And what, you have to give me a fresh one?” You raised an eyebrow as the doctor made you lean forward. “Lose the button for the last one or something? Or are you afraid that just one won’t do the job?”

Waller looked even less impressed. “I suggest you put a lid on that attitude today.”

“Why?” You winced at the feeling of a thick needle pushing into the back of your neck. “Jesus, fuck! Seriously, how many little bombs do I need in my head?”

“Good luck, puppy.” The doctor sneered as you stood up to follow Waller back out into the corridor.

“This is a black ops mission.” She continued with her usual spiel. “Your commanding officer is Colonel Rick Flag.”

You gasped. “The Colonel Rick Flag?”

She turned to glance at you.

“I have no idea who that is.”

You could hear her sigh in exasperation. “Suit up and go outside to the transport. You’ll meet the rest of the team and fly out to Corto Maltese.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Yeah, the Suicide Squad was a nice distraction from your shitty everyday life...but putting your ass on the line for someone who didn’t give a shit whether you lived or died, and who was always hovering above the button that would splatter your brains all over the wall, wasn’t exactly the greatest feeling in the world.

Waller waited as you ducked into a room to change. There was a black box waiting for you, and upon opening it, you couldn’t help but grin at the sight of your old gear. The dark gray leather suit fit like a glove, and your gun had been cleaned and polished after your last mission, the painfully bright fluorescent lights reflecting off of the barrel with a gleam. You grabbed your gloves and strapped your ammo belts on before buckling a gray carbon fiber mask on.

Wearing your own stuff always lifted your spirits. It was the suit you’d been arrested in a few years ago back in Metropolis, and after seizing it, the feds had been nice enough to give it some upgrades with newer tech. Anything to make you a better government-sanctioned killing machine, you guessed, and it’s not like you were gonna turn it down. After all, killing was how you ended up in Belle Reve in the first place, and it was one of the only things you were good at...it just made sense for Waller to want to put your near-inhuman skills to good use.

You walked out to join her again, lugging a canvas bag of equipment and supplies along behind you.

“Pick that up and carry it correctly.” She snapped as the doors at the end of the hall opened.

“Why don’t you eat my—“

You interrupted yourself by groaning at the bright sunlight as it hit your eyes, raising a hand to shield your face as you managed to spot an armored truck waiting for you.

“You’ll have a lot of new teammates.” Waller called after you. “Be on your best behavior. I’m not responsible for anything they do to you.”

“Probably just a bunch of old farts like always!” You yelled back as you jumped up into the back of the vehicle.

Two guards sat down on either side of you as you got yourself settled in. There was another woman already waiting, her skin orange, her hair in a high ponytail that seemed to be pulled through the top of her helmet. She was regarding you with very little interest, and that was absolutely fine with you. You had a few friends within the Belle Reve prison complex, and you weren’t necessarily looking for more.

The ride was short and uneventful. You passed through a few gates that took forever to open, waited for a few security checks, the usual shit. When the truck came to a halt and you hopped out again, you were at a small airbase hosting a few hangars for planes and helicopters, one of the latter already sitting outside. Guards from Belle Reve were lining the circle of armored vehicles, and as yours joined them and the back doors were opened once more, you grimaced at the bright sunlight.

“Afraid of a little sun?” The orange woman laughed, baring her teeth at you.

“Hurts my eyes,” you mumbled, jumping down after her.

You landed on pavement, looking down at your feet in an attempt to avoid the oncoming headache you knew was imminent. When your shoulder rammed into someone, though, you had to look up anyway.

What you saw wasn’t exactly what you were expecting.

A good looking blond guy was looking down at you, a cocky grin on his face. “Whoa, didn’t realize we were getting a babe this time!”

You glared at him, grateful for the mask covering the lower half of your face.

He couldn’t see you blush that way.

“Little girl’s got some ammo, huh?” He reached for one of the belts strapped across your chest,

Your hand flew up to grab his wrist and you held him in a Vice-like grip, your glare more pointed now. “Touch me, and you can see some of it from behind your eyeballs.”

Blondie whistled lowly, relaxing his arm. “You’re tough, huh? I like that in a girl.”

You dropped his wrist and rolled your eyes. “Still gonna like it when I’m ripping your balls off?”

You could swear he was swooning on his feet. “Baby, you are a goddamn tease...”

“Oy, Dickhead!” An Australian voice rang out, “back off!”

His grin faltered for a moment, obvious disappointment flashing over his face. “Oh. Got a man already. Damn.”

“Who, Boomer?” You grinned, unclipping your mask as you turned to wave at one of your only friends. “Nah, I’d never fuck that wanker.”

“I heard that!” The gold-toothed Aussie yelled.

You let out a loud laugh as you looked back to blondie.

You were caught off guard by the actual, genuine look on his face. He was admiring your smile now that your mask was off, his eyes lingering on your lips for a fraction of a second longer than they should have. He was trying to be smooth, you could tell, and most people wouldn’t have noticed something so slight...but you were an assassin working your way through a couple life sentences, and you weren’t most people.

It all only lasted a moment before the cocky grin was back. “So, after this, you wanna come back to my cell, maybe we could, you know...” he waggled his eyebrows at you, making a hip thrusting motion you almost couldn’t believe a grown criminal was making.

“Maybe focus on not dying first, slim.” You patted his chest before turning towards Boomer, leaving blondie to stare after you—or more precisely, your ass—with a dramatic, longing look.

Your friend was regarding you with an amused expression. “Flirtin’ on the job? Didn’t think you had it in ya.”

“Shut up.” You punched his arm a little too hard and he winced. “Who is that guy, anyway?”

“Dick,” Boomer said, rubbing his arm.

“Don’t call me a dick—“

“No, dumbass, that’s his name. Richard Hertz.”

“...very funny, Boomer, but there’s no fucking way his parents named their kid Dick Hertz.”

Boomer shrugged. “Believe me or don’t, I don’t care. Either way, it’s the truth.”

You scoffed and stole a glance over at your new admirer. He was tall and pretty well built, platinum blond hair short, lips pulled back in a grin that showed off straight white teeth. He was dressed in all black, two guns holstered to his chest, and as he messed with a Belle Reve guard by pretending to reach for one, he looked like an overgrown child who should not have been allowed to hold onto firearms.

“Please tell me he’s got a cooler name,” you groaned.

“Why? So you can scream it at night?” Boomer cackled. “He goes by Blackguard. He’s pretty strong from what I hear. Prolly pretty fun in bed, too.”

You wrinkled your nose and rounded on Boomer. “Shut up.”

“You like him.” Your friend grinned. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. Just remember to name your kid after good ol’ Uncle Boomer.”

You gave him a rough shove and he stumbled back a few steps, laughing like a madman the entire time.

“Hey!” One of the guards barked at you.

Rather than pushing your luck with your armed babysitters, you huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. More cars were pulling up, dropping off the rest of your comrades, and while Boomer was distracted with them, you stole another glance at Dick.

He was still messing with the same guard, and was receiving some harsh warning glares in the process. Was he a complete idiot, or was he so cocky because he could actually handle it? He had to have ended up in Belle Reve for a reason. It wasn’t the type of place you went to for innocent misdemeanors. And if he was chosen for a Suicide Squad mission, that meant that his sentence was long enough to warrant risking his life to lessen it...and it also meant that he was useful.

When he winked at you, you realized with a start that he had totally noticed the way you were checking him out.

Fuck.

“Time to load up!” A voice yelled, saving you from any further embarrassment.

A few minutes later, you were strapping yourself into your seat on the chopper, pretending not to notice as Dick struggled with his seatbelt across from you. The guy sitting next to him had to help, and when you finally couldn’t help yourself, you let out a quiet laugh from behind your mask.

Dick’s head shot up to look at you, that cocky grin plastered to his face again.

“Wish you were over here helpin’ me,” he said bravely. “Rather have your hands down by my—“

“Dick.” Colonel Flag warned as he stood above you all with his gun in his hands.

Boomer let out a loud laugh at the unintentionally dirty euphemism and you snorted.

“What? Just makin’ some conversation,” Blackguard said, leaning towards you with a wolfish glint in his eyes. “You don’t mind, do ya, Princess?”

Your cheeks were heating up behind your mask, and he could see the way your eyes crinkled slightly with your smile.

God, he wished he could see your smile again.

“Hey guys, sorry I’m late!” A familiar voice said. “Had to go number two.”

“...Good to know.” Flag sighed as none other than Harley Quinn herself hopped in.

“Harley!” You called, reaching for her with grabby hands as she looked for her seat.

“Hey there, baby!” The pale blonde woman greeted, slamming her equipment bag into Savant’s head. “Hey, Boomer!”

“What’re you doin’ back in prison, Harls?” Boomer asked, hanging onto the nylon mesh cage behind him as he stretched his arms out.

“Got road rage. In a bank.” She finally found a spot between you and Javelin, and as Flag checked everyone over, the chopper took off into the air.

The lighting was dim and red, the thrumming of the helicopter blades blending in with the white noise of the pressurized cabin. Save for that, it was quiet for a while, everybody either sizing each other up, or, in Dick’s case, imagining how you looked under your suit.

“So, uh...how much longer you in for?” He asked you.

You raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I don’t exactly think I should be talkin’ about sneakin’ into your cell while Flag is here to rat me out about it,” Dick grinned.

You caught the colonel rolling his eyes.

“Hey, that never stopped anybody,” Harley said brightly.

“Boutta be in a whole big ass jungle,” Boomer elbowed you in the side. “Plentya room in there to be alone.”

You groaned as Dick gave you a sly grin.

“Y’know, this mission’ll be over in no time.” He said, stretching his arms out behind his head. “I’ve got some wicked ass powers. I got this.”

“Oh yeah?” You asked, recognizing the way he was trying to peacock and impress you. “Not worried about anything?”

“Baby, I’ll carry this whole team. Just you watch.”

“I’m looking forward to it, Dick.” You bit his name out as more of an insult, but he didn’t seem to care, giving you another wink.

He obviously thought that his flirting and posturing was working...but you were pretty sure he was just annoying. Cute, but annoying. Maybe good for a hook up here or there...but that was about it.

“We’re in a butcher’s freezer, Harls!” Boomer called from the other end of the bench. “Surrounded by dead hogs hangin’ on hooks. Only they don’t know it yet.”

“Leave ‘em alone, Boomer!” She called back with a laugh.

You chuckled at your friends, leaning your head back as you settled in for the flight. Harley was complimenting Javelin’s accent, you still didn’t know what TDK stood for, and Boomer was just starting to mess with him about the fact that all names were made of letters when the freaky weasel-thing next to Dick stole everyone’s attention.

It was one of the strangest creatures you had ever seen. Human height, covered in mangy brown fur, with big bulging eyes and a mouth full of sharp little teeth all made it both fascinating and concerning to look at, and as it made a few disgustingly wet retching sounds, Dick nodded towards it.

“Yo, is this a dog?” He asked.

“...What?” You asked in disbelief. He had to be fucking with you, right? There was no way he meant it.

“Is this thing a dog?” He repeated.

“A...a dog?”

“Yes.”

“What...what kinda dog do you think it is, mate?” Boomer asked.

“I dunno, I’m not familiar with all the breeds.” Dick gave him an incredulous look.

“I’m gonna go with Afghan hound.” TDK said.

“Since when does an afghan hound have bloody thumbs?”

“Oh my god, is it a werewolf?” Harley asked excitedly. “I’ve wanted to meet a werewolf for ever!”

Dick was already up and struggling against his restraints. “Yo, they sat me next to a werewolf?!”

“That’s not right,” TDK agreed as his neighbor slammed into him in his desperate attempt at an escape.

Boomer was laughing loudly, and you couldn’t help but join in. “You’re seriously scared of werewolves?”

Dick glanced up at you as he tried to unbuckle his seatbelt. “Yes, I fuckin’ am! So fuckin’—get me out! I do not fuck with werewolves, there is no fuckin’ way—“

“Maybe you should hop onto your new girlfriend’s lap!” Boomer cackled, jabbing a finger towards you.

“Poor baby,” you cooed, and as you saw the look in Blackguard’s eyes, you were pretty convinced that he was about to try to tear his way out so that he actually could.

“Hey, hey, he’s not a werewolf!” Flag yelled over the commotion. “He’s a weasel, he’s harmless! I mean, he’s not harmless, he’s killed 27 children, but I—I think we got him to—I think he’s agreed to this, so relax.”

“Thought you were super tough?” You asked as Dick calmed down and caught his breath. “Gonna carry the whole team?”

Rather than the snarky flirtation you expected, he actually looked a bit defeated. When you raised an eyebrow, though, he took the prompt, and the most desperate backtracking you had ever seen began.

“Yeah, well...” he scoffed, trying to give you a cool look. “Caught me off guard, that’s all. No big deal.”

“Off guard? Isn’t guard, like, in your name?” You teased, your smile genuine behind your mask. Alright...he was winning you over now. He was an idiot, but...maybe he was a lovable one.

He faltered for a second. “I-I mean, yeah, well...”

Flag was shaking his head. “Get into position to drop!”

Everyone unbuckled themselves and collected their things, lining up to jump into the ocean off the coast of Corto Maltese. When you saw that Dick was back to struggling with it, again, you smiled to yourself and leaned down in front of him.

“For what it’s worth...” you said as you pulled up on the metal tab, your hand dangerously close to his crotch, “I wouldn’t mind shacking up somewhere in the jungle with you.”

He stated at you with wide eyes, disbelief written all over his face. He really was cuter when he wasn’t putting on such a dumb, cocky facade, and he jumped up as quickly as he could to follow you.

You just laughed as you straightened up and walked away, Blackguard right on your heels. As the door opened and the big, dark ocean came into view below you, you felt a hand brushing against your hip and a firm chest press up against your back. You realized you could have stayed right there forever, patiently waiting to see how far he was brave enough to go...but you were both members of the Suicide Squad, and you had a job to do.

“I’ll see you down there, Dick,” you said, turning your head slightly to glance at him.

“See you on the other side, baby,” he grinned.