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renecdote · 1 year

Note

how about "this reminded me of you" if it sparks? <3

Hi Kate ily I hope you don't mind that I took some creative liberties with the dialogue here <3 It also got way longer than expected oops so enjoy 4.4k of these two being ridiculously in love.

Also for @starlingbite who requested the same prompt.

[Read on AO3]

The package shows up on the doorstep on Wednesday afternoon. Eddie is supposed to be at work—the last shift in the cycle before their four days off—but instead he kissed Buck goodbye at the door, made him promise not to do anything too dangerous, then stayed home to look after his sick kid. He’s expecting groceries when the doorbell rings just after five p.m., not the lumpy grey package left by a USPS driver who is already climbing into his truck and driving away.

Eddie skims the label as he shuts the door—sent to: Evan Buckley; description: boyfriend hoodie—curious because he doesn’t remember Buck mentioning anything he ordered recently. He doesn’t open it, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted. He pulls out his phone instead and types boyfriend hoodie into the search bar, only hesitating a moment before he hits enter. A dozen links pop up, but none of them are all that enlightening. Eddie is left with no clearer idea of what a boyfriend hoodie is and a vague disgust at how expensive they are to buy. He’s pretty sure that if Buck ever put together a budgeting spreadsheet it would look something like:

Food $200

Data $150

Rent $800

Hoodies $3,600

Utility $150

And Eddie knows he’s so, so far gone for his boyfriend. He knows he has been for a long time. But damn he’s got it bad because he knows that if Buck put a budget like that in front of him, he’d never be able to talk him out of spending a fortune on all his cosy, tempting hoodies.

The doorbell rings again, cutting into his thoughts, and Eddie leaves the package on the dining table to collect his groceries. Milk and eggs and the deli bacon Buck likes go in the fridge, oranges in the fruit bowl, crackers and pedialyte left on the table, everything else in the pantry. He checks on Chris—sleeping, no warmer than he was an hour ago when Eddie brushes a hand over his forehead—and somewhere between folding laundry and ladling chicken soup into a cup, the mystery of the package slips to the back of his mind.

****

Buck tries to sneak in when he gets home, but Eddie is dozing on the couch, half awake in case Chris needs him, and he hears the rumble of the Jeep’s engine before the door is unlocked.

“Hey,” he greets sleepily, “you’re early.”

He’s not really: it’s twenty past eight. Eddie is just so used to calls taking them overtime, or lingering in the station at the end of a shift, or the hell beast that is LA traffic in the mornings. Their shifts end at eight, but he rarely sees the inside of his house any earlier than eight forty-five.

“Hey,” Buck echoes, yawning. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

Eddie shakes his head, swallowing back his own yawn. “Nah, I’ve been up for a while.” Sort of up, anyway. “How was work?”

“Busy,” Buck answers. “I missed you.”

He looks tired, which means he probably didn’t get much sleep in the bunks. Hard to tell whether that was because of the busy or the I missed you though.

“How’s Chris?” he asks before Eddie can question him further. “Is he feeling any better?”

It hits Eddie sometimes, in the moments he least expects it, that he’s been coparenting with his best friend for far longer than either of them realised. Buck letting himself into the house, asking how Chris is when he’s been sick—none of it feels new. They could have had this conversation just as easily three years ago as they are today. The only difference is that now, after Eddie has reassured his partner that Chris seems to be on the upswing, he can tip his head back against the couch and Buck will lean down and kiss him; first on the forehead, then, when Eddie pouts upside down at him, on the lips.

“Hi,” he murmurs, eyes crinkling with his smile, and Eddie can’t help smiling back at him.

“Hi,” he echoes. Thinks: I missed you too.

Buck starts to straighten up and—it’s fine, he’s not going to go far, but—a sound of protest catches in Eddie’s throat and he reaches up and snags his boyfriend by the hoodie string and—

Oh. The hoodie!

“You got mail,” he blurts, sitting up so fast he almost smacks Buck in the head.

“Mail…? Oh!” Buck’s eyes light up as he grabs the package. “I didn’t think this would be here until next week.”

“You bought another hoodie?” Eddie asks, trying to sound casual and probably failing. He hopes it’s a nice blue that will bring out Buck’s eyes. Or the kind of pink that makes his lips pop. Or that burnt orange he looks so good in. Or green, or white, or maroon, or purple. He’s pretty sure Buck doesn’t own a purple hoodie yet.

“Actually,” Buck is already ripping open the packaging, his grin bright and unrestrained, “this one is for you.”

Eddie frowns, confused. Why? he almost asks. We both know I’d just steal it from you anyway. And then Buck gets the hoodie out of its packaging inside the packaging (Eddie mourns the environment) and holds it up, the material unfolding to show a grey-blue hoodie that says I stole this from my boyfriend on the front. He blinks. Reads it again.

“Doesn’t it defeat the whole purpose if it’s for me? I mean, if you give it to me, I didn’t really steal it from my boyfriend, did I?”

Buck rolls his eyes, but his grin hasn’t faltered. “I can wear it a few times first, if that helps.”

“I think you should,” Eddie agrees, reaching out to run his fingers over the white letters. They’re embroidered, thread bumpy under his fingers, not the plastic feeling of writing that will flake off after a few too many washes, and when he dips his fingers under the hem, the inside is so soft and cosy he almost shivers just thinking about wearing it.

“Dad?”

They both turn—and Eddie’s heart thumps, a pain that doesn’t really hurt, at the way Buck responds just as easily—to find Christopher making his way towards them.

“Hey, buddy,” Eddie says. “How are you feeling?”

Christopher shrugs, rubbing at his eyes. “I’m thirsty.”

Buck’s hand presses against Eddie’s shoulder just for a second—I’ve got it—and then he’s moving into the kitchen while Eddie fusses over Chris, checking his temperature and getting him settled on the couch and convincing him to try a piece of toast.

“Buck,” Christopher says between nibbling bites of toast, and Eddie watches Buck shake himself back to attention, the long shift starting to catch up with him. “Do you really need another hoodie?””

Buck blinks, slow and cat-like in his confusion, and then his face twists into such exaggerated affront that Eddie has to bite his cheek on a laugh. The packaging is still scattered on the dining table, the new hoodie hanging over the back of a chair, and Chris couldn’t have seen who it was addressed to, but he didn’t even question that it would be Buck.

“There’s no such thing as too many hoodies,” Buck tells Chris mock-seriously. Mostly mock, anyway; Eddie knows there’s a part of him that really believes there is no such thing as too many hoodies.

Christopher’s teeth poke out with his smile. “But we live in LA.”

“LA gets cold,” Buck insists, the same way he insists whenever anyone brings up his absurdly large jacket collection (“it’s not just me! why does no one ever talk about all Hen’s sweaters?”). He looks at Eddie for help, but Eddie just shrugs.

“Kid has a point,” he says, as if he doesn’t spend half his time stealing from his boyfriend’s side of the closet.

Buck grasps his chest in mock betrayal, but there’s a smile pushing at the corners of his mouth.

“Now I know you’re feeling better,” he says, tousling Christopher’s curls while Chris giggles and ducks away.

It’s overwhelming, sometimes, how much Eddie loves them both. His heart is doing that thing again, that hard thump that makes his breath catch, and when Buck glances at him—you okay?—he just shakes his head, smiling back: I love you, I’m okay.

Buck reaches out to take his hand, tangling their fingers together: I love you too. His eyes in the morning light are a pale, glittering blue and Eddie leans over and kisses him, just because he can.

****

Eddie has been expecting to be taken out by the germs from the moment Chris first pushed his food around his plate on Tuesday night and said he wasn’t hungry.

Somehow, it’s Buck who catches the bug next. He crashes for four hours while Eddie putters around doing housework, sleeps right through lunch, and when he wakes up in the afternoon, he’s achy and shivering.

“I’m okay,” he still tries to insist, slumped at the kitchen table while Eddie watches him warily, putting all the sandwich fillings that were offered and rejected back in the fridge. Christopher and Buck are more alike than they both know, their appetites always the first thing to go when something is wrong.

“You’re sick,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “I don’t know why you’re denying it, it was bound to happen.”

Buck grumbles. “I was fine earlier.”

Eddie thinks back, tries to remember if he missed any sign, but Buck really did seem fine earlier. It doesn’t really reassure him; Chris seemed fine when they picked him up from school on Tuesday as well.

“Go lie down,” he suggests. “The sooner you give in, the sooner you’ll be able to kick this bug.”

More grumbling, but Buck goes to lie down on the couch. Eddie mentally files that under feeling worse than he’s willing to admit. He stands by the table for a moment, listening to Buck and Chris through the open doorway (a muted “hey buddy,” and, “sorry I got you sick, Buck”), the sound of a cartoon explosion on the TV, a funny line of dialogue that should get twin laughs from the couch but doesn’t.

Definitely feeling bad, Eddie thinks, and it’s not like it’s the first time germs have been shared around between the three of them—he’s lost count of how many times they’ve huddled on that couch and taken care of each other—but it still makes his heart squeeze.

When he checks in on them fifteen minutes later, Christopher is fast asleep at one end of the couch and Buck is huddled under a blanket at the other, eyes closed but not sleeping. His face is flushed with fever heat, but even under the blanket, he’s shivering.

“Are you cold?” Eddie frowns, checking Buck’s temperature with the back of his hand.

Buck shrugs, lethargic. His face is half hidden by the blanket, but there’s a tight little scrunch between his brows that means he probably has a headache as well.

“Okay,” Eddie says, quiet. “Hang on.”

He heads for their bedroom, but the dryer beeps so he backtracks to the laundry instead. He pulls out the clean clothes, dumping them all in a basket to be dealt with later, then fishes out the new hoodie that he threw in with the load earlier. It’s warm in his hands, feeling even softer and cosier than it did coming out of the packaging.

“Here,” he says, smiling as he drops it in Buck’s lap. “The sooner you wear it, the sooner I can steal it.”

“You might not want to steal it if I throw up on it,” Buck mumbles, but he puts the hoodie on, struggling for a moment with the left sleeve before his head emerges, curls sticking up in every direction. Eddie runs a hand through his hair, then kisses the top of his head.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t throw up on the hoodie,” he agrees, “but I’d still love you.”

“You always love me.”

Buck blinks up at him, pale and miserable, and even after all these years there’s a persistent thread of wonder in his voice, like he can’t quite believe how much he is loved. Like he can’t quite believe that they made it back here, together, after everything. Eddie can’t blame him because he still can’t believe it sometimes too. He doesn’t know what to do except kiss Buck again, holding him close and hoping that some of his warmth will soak through the layers between them. Buck sinks against him, boneless, and Eddie thinks they could stay like that forever, just holding each other, until Buck pulls away with a low groan.

They spend a while on the bathroom floor after that.

“You’re going to get sick,” Buck tries to protest, but it’s half-hearted; getting sick has pretty much been an inevitability since Christopher brought the note home from school a week ago warning parents that the stomach flu was going around. Once Buck was taken out, it became a certainty. It’s not like Eddie is going to move out of their bed until the germs are gone, after all.

“I’ll risk it,” he says, rubbing Buck’s back. He’d risk a hell of a lot more than a virus for his partner, but it doesn’t feel like the time to say it.

Buck shakes his head, but it’s not really a denial, just, “You don’t want this, Eds.”

Eddie kind of wants to shake him sometimes. To take him by the shoulders and say: I want you, remember? all of you? But he’s pretty sure it would be labouring the wrong point, right now, and it doesn’t really matter anyway because Buck is scrambling to get his head over the toilet again and Eddie can only grimace sympathetically and rub his back. Buck is right: he doesn’t want this bug. But he does want Buck and Chris, so. Germs are a pretty small price to pay.

****

He tosses and turns, sleeping fitfully, and by three a.m. they’re both sick and miserable together.

“Is this what they mean by ‘in sickness and in health’?” Buck asks the ceiling, and Eddie’s sluggish brain has to think through that for a long moment before he remembers:

“We aren’t married.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Buck’s voice sounds far away. “Should we get married?”

Eddie thinks about that for a long moment too.

“Probably,” he decides. And then his stomach twists again and it doesn’t really matter if they’re married or not because he’s too busy throwing up to think about anything except how awful he feels.

****

When Eddie does steal the hoodie, it’s mostly an accident. He wakes up freezing, desperately thirsty, and when he staggers up in search of water, he grabs the hoodie that has been tossed onto the end of the bed without thinking about it. It’s already over his head before he realises that it’s the one Buck was wearing when they crawled into bed.

The next time he wakes up, he’s too warm, Buck a long line of heat pressed up against his back, and he has to wriggle free to wrestle the hoodie off again. It’s damp with fever sweat and he tosses it on the floor in disgust. He just did laundry yesterday, but he’s already thinking about how they’ll need to do it again.

“Okay?” Buck asks, still half asleep.

The answer is yes but also no, I feel like crap, and I hate how never-ending housework is, which is all too much to explain. Eddie just groans and buries his face in his pillow. A sound catches in Buck’s throat, something vague and sympathetic, and he slips a hand under Eddie’s t-shirt to rub his back. Eddie shivers, pressing back into him.

“Your hands are cold,” he mumbles, but it doesn’t mean stop.

Buck shuffles a little closer and kisses the back of his neck: I’ve got you.

Eddie still feels awful, but he thinks he’ll feel a little less awful as long as he has Buck there rubbing his back. He knows this isn’t what either of them meant when they promised to have each other’s backs all those years ago, but it feels inevitable that they ended up here anyway. Buck’s hand moves over his skin, warm and solid and familiar, and Eddie wonders—lets himself wonder, the way he doesn’t usually dare—how it might feel with a ring on his finger. He’s pretty sure it would feel just like this; like home.

****

The hoodie spends two days waiting for someone in the house to have enough energy to do another wash cycle, then three more days at the bottom of the laundry basket waiting to be folded and put away. Buck is the one who finally puts it in the closet, his hands moving restlessly when they get home from a busy shift, jittery from too much caffeine and too little sleep.

“I love you,” Eddie says when he pulls oven cleaner out from under the sink next, “but if you’re going to deep clean our whole house, I’m going to nap without you.”

He’s exhausted, slumped at the kitchen table because even sitting up feels too hard right now, and Buck’s energy is starting to make him a little dizzy. He doesn’t think twenty-four hour shifts used to be this exhausting, maybe he should be more worried about getting old?

“Twenty minutes,” Buck bargains, already reaching for a cloth to scrub the oven with. “I just want to do this and then I’ll join you.”

Eddie considers insisting—he knows Buck is just as exhausted as he is and if he lies down for ten seconds he’ll probably crash—but compromise is the foundation of all good relationships, or so Bobby keeps telling him. It’s a foundation, Eddie is willing to concede, but he’s pretty sure the foundation of all good relationships is trust.

“Twenty minutes,” he agrees. “I better not wake up alone, Buckley.”

Buck smiles, like he can see right through the faux-stern Buckley to the heartfelt honey underneath, and ducks in to kiss Eddie on the cheek on his way to the oven.

“Twenty minutes,” he says. “I promise.”

****

Eddie is out as soon as his head hits the pillow, so he doesn’t know if it is twenty minutes, but when he wakes up and rolls over, he finds Buck sprawled on the bed beside him, dark green hoodie rucked up around his waist, one leg sticking out from under the covers, breath whistling faintly between snores. He smiles and closes his eyes. Chris is at school, the house smells vaguely like lemon disinfectant, he’s warm and comfortable and they have nowhere important to be. He can spare five more minutes before getting up, he thinks.

Half an hour later, they’re still in bed, wrapped up around each other, and Eddie has forgotten why he ever wanted to get up at all.

****

“Uh, isn’t that supposed to be the other way around?” Chimney asks, pointing between them.

Eddie glances at Buck, I stole this from my boyfriend embroidered right over his heart.

“Looks fine to me,” he answers, shrugging.

Buck grins. “You think I look fine?”

Eddie opens his mouth, a dozen answers to that on his tongue, half of them straying dangerously close to NSFW, but Hen beats him to it was a drawn out, “Oookay, save it for when we don’t have to stand here and listen to your foreplay, boys.”

Eddie can feel his cheeks turning pink, but Buck is as unrepentant and shameless as always.

“You could stand somewhere else,” he suggests, and he’s laughing when Hen smacks him in the arm.

****

The hoodie is traded for an LAFD one instead, relegated to Buck’s locker for the duration of their shift. Eddie isn’t fussy; he’s just as happy to watch the LAFD material stretch over Buck’s arms and chest and broad shoulders as he is any other kind of clothing.

Buck goes home with the hoodie tucked into his bag the next morning, but somewhere between walking in the front door and leaning against each other in the kitchen while the coffee maker works its magic, Eddie ends up wearing it. It’s like wearing a hug, he thinks, but that might be the way Buck’s arms are wrapped around his waist as well, a solid wall of heat at his back. Eddie doesn’t want to step away when the coffee machine beeps, but the lure of caffeine is strong enough to get him one step, two, three, cold as soon as his partner’s arms are no longer around him.

“Thanks,” Buck murmurs when Eddie hands him a mug.

Eddie kisses him, a quick peck on the lips, you’re welcome, and Buck catches him by one hoodie string to kiss him again when he starts to step away. The coffee mug in his hand dips and Eddie takes it from him, setting it aside without looking. The space the movement put between them is only there for a second before Buck hooks his hands in the hoodie pouch to pull Eddie closer, deepening the kiss.

“Have I told you lately,” he says between kisses, “that I love when you wear my clothes?”

Eddie hums, busy working his hands under the hem of Buck’s shirt so he can touch as much warm skin as possible. It takes him longer than it ordinarily would to string together the words to say, “I thought you bought this hoodie for me?”

“I bought it because it reminded me of you,” Buck agrees, his own hands under Eddie’s hem now, hot enough to brand everywhere he touches, “but you’re the one who said it doesn’t make sense unless it’s my hoodie.”

“And you said you’d just wear it a few times first,” Eddie reminds him, distracted enough now to frown, hands stilling on Buck’s waist. “Hang on, are you trying to steal my hoodie?”

Buck’s next kiss is more like a bite, teeth nipping under Eddie’s jaw; the promise of a mark that will sit just above where the hoodie might cover it.

“Right now,” he says, the same kind of promise in his voice, “I’m just trying to get you out of it.”

Eddie is more than happy to help with that. He lets Buck take him by the hand and pull him down the hall towards the bedroom, coffee forgotten on the counter, hoodie tugged off and quickly forgotten on the floor. Buck lips press against his skin right over this heart, right where the embroidered words would be, and Eddie feels like there is a mirror image of them etched into the beating muscle beneath his skin: my boyfriend stole this from me. He would have given it—has given it, a dozen times over—but every time he reached into his chest, he found Buck’s name already there.

I love you, Buck presses into his skin with his lips.

And Eddie holds him close and kisses it right back: I love you, I love you, I love you.

****

“Our hoodie.”

“Huh?”

Buck pushes himself up on his elbow and Eddie blinks up at him, his brain still feeling a little melt-y.

“It can be our hoodie,” Buck says, idly tracing a pattern over Eddie’s ribs, just because he can.

“Like a timeshare?” Eddie asks, musing, the start of a smile breaking through. “You steal it this week and I’ll steal it next week?”

Buck flicks him and Eddie grins.

“I take it back,” Buck says, rolling away onto his back. “It’s my hoodie now.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to push himself up on an elbow, going far enough to lean over Buck and kiss him, cradling his face in one hand. It’s just supposed to be one kiss, but Buck kisses back readily, arms wrapping around Eddie’s back, and it’s easy to lose themselves in it after that, the thread of conversation unravelling as they make out.

“Okay,” Eddie says eventually, the word quiet and breathy in the space between them. “Our hoodie.”

It gives him a thrill, the same way it always does, whenever he refers to the two of them as an our. Our home, our family, our hoodie.

Buck’s smile is a brilliant thing. It burrows in through bone and blood and tissue to reach the heart underneath, making itself at home.

“I love you,” he says, so sincere Eddie feels it in his chest.

“I love you too,” he replies, punctuated with a kiss. “You know Hen and Chimney are going to give us so much shit about this hoodie for the rest of our lives, right?”

“Oh yeah,” Buck agrees. “Maddie too. Don’t tell Chris, but she thinks I already own too many hoodies as well.”

Eddie laughs. God, he’s so, so far gone for this man.

“She might have a point,” he says, but he’s pretty sure it just sounds like there’s no such thing as too many hoodies.

Buck rolls his eyes, still crinkled with his smile. “See if I ever buy you a hoodie again.”

It’s an empty threat. And it doesn’t really matter anyway because—

“That’s fine,” Eddie answers. “I’ll just steal yours.”

He can’t be sure, really, which happened first: that first stolen LAFD hoodie, or Buck stealing his heart. He tried once, wine drunk with Hen and Karen, to answer their question about when he knew he was in love, but the only answer that came to him was I’m pretty sure I loved Buck before I knew him.

“I don’t think it’s stealing if I let you,” Buck tells him.

“You’re going to let me, huh?”

“Yeah.” Buck nods. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but I kinda like it when you wear my clothes.”

Eddie grins. “I might have had some idea.”

The proof is on the bedroom floor, or whatever that saying is. He never did understand why it was always in the pudding. It’s on the bedroom floor, and in the way Buck is smiling at him, and in the laundry all mixed up in the basket. It’s the way Buck kisses him, soft and lingering, and the way Eddie’s heart thumps once, twice, a pain that doesn’t really hurt. It’s our home and our family and our hoodie. It’s I love you and I love you and I love you.

It's the fact that they’re here, together, despite everything. Because of everything.

It’s kissing Buck again, and again, and again. Just because he can.

****

(Eddie wonders—lets himself wonder, the way he doesn’t usually dare—how it might feel with a ring on his finger. He’s pretty sure it would feel just like this; like home.)

#Eddie Diaz #Evan Buckley #911 Fox #fic #clothes thief eddie my beloved<3

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dottores · 2 years

Text

LITTLE DARK AGE

haitani ran x fem!reader x haitani rindou

summary: eight years later, you finally return to tokyo and find yourself caught in the middle of a violent gang war between the two most ruthless criminal organizations of tokyo’s underworld, forced to choose between blood and love.

genre: bonten timeskip, angst, forbidden romance, childhood friends -> strangers -> lovers, 18+ MDNI

warnings: fem!reader, gang violence, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, explicit smut, polyamory, profanity, MCD, unedited, MTBA

previous chapter -> masterlist -> next chapter

CHAPTER ⅩⅢ. AND WHEN THE SEASONS CHANGE, WILL YOU STAND BY ME?

TEN YEARS EARLIER.

There was something wrong with you.

Both of them knew it. Something had changed in you after that day at the delinquent center. Something had changed in all of them, really, losing Izana was just a blow that none of them were prepared to take. But Rindou had prayed, he had prayed and prayed and prayed that the change was temporary, that everyone would bounce back.

And most of them did, to some extent.

Except you.

He should have known better. He really should have. You might not have known Izana as long as the rest of them had but the two of you had clicked in a way that Rindou had never really seen you click with anyone before. Not even them. All those days and nights spent in the music room, the way the two of you would bounce ideas off of each other all the time, planning out your future, their future…

You had never dealt with loss well. He had known that since you were kids, when they had met you a little while after your family had been killed in an accident. You had always tried your best to pretend that you were fine but they knew you weren’t. Just like they knew now, even if you wouldn’t admit it.

And Rindou was worried. He was so fucking worried and he did not know what to do. This wasn’t like the last time you had distanced yourself from them, when you had gotten aggressive, and angry, and upset. This time was different. Because you weren’t aggressive, or angry, and you didn’t even seem to be upset even though Rindou knew you well enough to know that you were.

You were cold. Aloof. While last time you would have started yelling at them for bothering you and constantly trying to convince you to do things with them, this time you just brushed them off--you were tired, you were busy with meetings, you needed to eat, you had to talk to your uncle about plans for the future.

Rindou couldn’t remember the last time you had hung out with them. He missed the late night movies, he missed waking up Ran with you and forcing him to join the two of you, he missed you.

He didn’t want to linger on the thought, instead shaking his head and tilting his head up, letting his gaze drift up to the sky above Izanagi Headquarters.

It was going to start raining, it was dark, and the clouds were moving fast--too fast. Rindou let out a breath as he looked back over at Ran, who was still sitting back on his bike, hands pressed against the seat as he stared up at the building you were in.

They had come to try to talk to you--knowing that once you got back home you’d lock yourself in your room and either work on some more stuff for your uncle or pass right out and they’d lose their chance.

Rindou opened his mouth, preparing to tell Ran that they should head home unless they wanna get caught in the rain.

He didn’t get the chance.

“You should go in there,” Ran’s voice was quiet. There was a tone that Rindou couldn’t quite decipher. Rindou looked over his shoulder, lips turned down and hair falling in his face as he eyed Ran. Ran did not meet his eyes. “She needs you, Rindou. I don’t know why she’s pushing us away like this but I-we can’t just let her do this to herself.”

“She needs both of us, Ran, that’s why we’re here,” Rindou’s voice was dismissive. He didn’t understand what Ran was trying to get at, and he didn’t understand why Ran wouldn’t meet his eyes. Obviously you needed them, that was why they were camped out across the street from Izanagi’s godforsaken headquarters.

“Ran,” Rindou called for his brother again. Ran ignored him, again, only staring up to the top of Izanagi headquarters, lips tugged down into a slight frown, a strange look in his eyes, “She needs both of us.”

“Not in the same way.”

Rindou fully turned around, head snapping toward Ran, eyes wide, confusion brewing in his stomach as he mulled over what Ran had said.

Not in the same way?

“The fuck does that mean?” Rindou demanded. Ran looked away. “Hey, I asked you a question.”

Ran did not answer.

But he didn’t need to. Because Rindou knew exactly what he meant, and he did not know how to take it.

Unconsciously, he looked back toward the building that he knew you were in, a tight feeling in his chest. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t thought about it before. Rindou let out a shaky breath, eyes sliding shut for just a second. God, he had thought about it so much. Ever since you guys were younger--since that night at the Sugawara estate, really--all the nights that he had spent up with you, watching those dumb horror movies you loved that he hated, he always imagined how you would feel whenever you were curled up at his side, body pressed against his, the number of times he had debated on reaching out, pressing his lips to yours, it was uncountable really; and all the days he would spend wandering around Roppongi with you, unable to draw his eyes from your bright smile and lit up eyes, he imagined what it would be like taking you out on dates instead of just going out as friends, holding your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours.

“You know what it means,” Ran said, and Rindou forced himself to open his eyes and look back at Ran, lips parting to speak but he hesitated when he caught sight of Ran’s face. There was an expression on it that Rindou had never seen before--one that Ran was clearly trying to hide from his brother but hiding stuff from Rindou was nearly impossible. They knew each other too well for that.

Lips pressed tight and the corners drawn downwards, eyebrows lowered, eyes dull.

… He didn’t want this.

Or maybe he did on the surface, but deep down he did not. Rindou’s chest felt tight, he tried to push away the sick feeling that rose to his stomach, the tight feeling in his chest, so he could figure out why Ran didn’t want it, and why he was claiming he did.

Oh, his breath shook, he tried to steady it.

There was only one reason why Ran wouldn’t want him to be with you.

“I’m not doing that,” Rindou finally said, and he hated how his voice cracked, and he hated how much it hurt him to voice aloud. Ran’s gaze was dark as it shifted back onto him, angry. “I’m not, Ran.”

“Why the fuck not?” Ran demanded, and there was an edge to his voice that Rindou really didn’t like, one that promised violence. This was going to end in an argument, “You love her, don’t you?”

“So do you,” the words were bitter on Rindou’s tongue, speaking them outloud made him nauseous. Ran physically flinched at his words, drawing back, downturned eyes now wide and surprised. Rindou felt ill, taking his reaction as confirmation.

“What?” Ran asked, voice breathless.

“So do you,” Rindou repeated, voice steadier, more assured. “You love her too, don’t you?”

“No,” Ran said immediately, lying, and the rage hit Rindou so suddenly that he had a hard time controlling it. He was off of his bike in an instant, moving closer to Ran, blood running hot, skin burning.

“Why the fuck are you lying to me?” Rindou barely stopped himself from yelling at Ran, reaching out sharply to grab his collar. Anger flashed through Ran’s eyes, a type of anger that Rindou hadn’t seen in his eyes in years.

“‘Cause it’s not fucking true,” Ran knocked Rindou’s hand off of his collar, eyes dark and Rindou’s blood boiled. He reached forward again, this time with two hands, grabbing Ran’s collar again and shaking him.

“I thought we didn’t lie to each other, Ran, what the fuck?” Rindou’s voice choked, his vision blurred. Frustration hit him so hard it had him dizzy. You were cold and distant, Ran was lying to him, and Rindou didn’t know what to do anymore.

He wanted you, god he had wanted you since you were kids. But there was no way, there was no fucking way he could do that to Ran. He knew how much it took for Ran to open up to people, how hard and how intensely he loved--he couldn’t just…

Ran pushed him away, harder this time. Rindou grunted when his back hit the wall of the building next to them, his gaze snapped up, meeting Ran’s. “Shut the fuck up, Rindou,” Ran spat out, tone vile and venomous. Rindou nearly flinched, Ran had never taken that tone with him before. “Shut the fuck up and go to her.”

“I’m not doing that,” Rindou said, “I’m not fucking doing that, Ran.”

“Why not?” Ran hissed, “She fucking needs you, Rindou. All this time I’ve-”

The anger hit a peak, Rindou shoved Ran right back, forcing him to stumble back into his bike. Rindou’s hands were clenched tight at his sides, shaking. His whole body felt like it was on fire, and he couldn’t tell if he was angry or disappointed or upset--maybe both, really. Angry at Ran for lying, for trying to push him into a relationship with you when he knew that he loved you too; disappointed at himself, for having fallen so easily for you and not having even realized that Ran felt the same way about you, for being so obvious in how he felt; and upset because he knew all of those things he had dreamed of with you would never happen because he could never do that to Ran.

“I’m not going to get with the girl you love,” Rindou shouted, “It doesn’t matter how much I love her too. You’re my fucking brother, Ran.”

And Rindou wondered just how stupid he was over the past few years. He thought back to all of the times he had seen Ran act around you--the stolen glances and small smiles when he thought no one was looking, the way he was always looking out for you and making sure you were okay. Rindou had never realized Ran’s feelings had run as deep as they had, but how hadn’t he?

It had been fucking obvious.

It had been so fucking obvious.

All those times over the years when Ran had pushed Rindou toward you, putting you in situations that would bring the two of you closer together, pushing aside his own feelings because he knew that Rindou loved you. He felt sick to his stomach.

Rindou shut his eyes, taking a step back from Ran, “Ran, I can’t do that,” he shook his head, “I can’t do that.”

Ran straightened, pushing off from where he had stumbled back against his bike. He shot Rindou a livid glare, brushing off his clothes.

“Yes, you-”

Ran’s voice faltered, his gaze drifting off somewhere behind Rindou, a strange expression crossing his face. Rindou turned, following where he was looking, and his mouth dried when he caught sight of you exiting the Izanagi building, dressed nice in the outfit you had left the penthouse in at the crack of dawn this morning. You were talking to your uncle, walking toward an expensive car waiting at the front of the building.

Rindou took a step toward you.

He hesitated when you looked up from your uncle, eyes focusing in on where and Ran were waiting across the street by their bikes. Your name was on the tip of his tongue, he was ready to call out for you, to tell you to come over to him.

But you looked away.

Rindou’s throat felt tight as you took one look at them, recognized them, only to return to conversation with your uncle, getting into the car with him without hesitation.

Oh.

It stung. It stung bad. He remembered the days where you would flee school early, running to them giggling and excited, when they showed up at your classroom to pick you up before they got their tattoo, how your gaze had always been bright and thrilled to see them. He could practically picture the way you would raise your arms, waving to them before you would recklessly sprint across the street toward them, nearly giving both of them a heart attack..

But the car door only shut behind you, and even though the streets were loud and bustling with people, everything around him sounded far away and muted. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sleek black car as it pulled down the street, not until it was completely out of view.

His chest squeezed as he looked back at Ran, catching the hurt expression that flashed across his face as his eyes focused down the street where the car had disappeared to, all of the fight drained out of him as he let his gaze drop down to the ground, a sinking feeling rising through him that it wouldn’t quite matter what either of them had wanted.

NINE YEARS EARLIER.

Mucho had been next.

You felt numb as you walked ahead toward the warehouse that Mister Ayato and Mister Mado found out Ran and Rindou were at.

The sky was dark, gloomy--there had been no predictions of rain when you last checked the weather station but it really would be just your luck for it to start downpouring now.

You should be angry. You weren’t sure why you weren’t--you had told them over and over and over again to be back home by five at the latest. Now it was six, and you were going to be late to Mister Botan’s funeral.

Mucho had been next, and after Mucho, it was nearly Terano Minami—the leader of Rokuhara Tandai, the next gang that Ran and Rindou had decided to join under. And while there was no love lost between you and Terano, your first impressions of one another having been less than ideal, you couldn’t help the guilt that crept in you, festering once you had learned what had happened.

Was this your fault too?

You tried to atone for it. You did. You got Terano the best doctors Japan had to offer, the nicest hospitals, the most expensive treatments. But it wasn’t enough. They didn’t know when he would wake up, if he would wake up, even. And all you could do was wait. Wait for news, wait to find out if another person died because of you.

Maybe it would be best if you were gone.

You were tired of waiting. All you did your whole entire life was wait--wait for your uncle, wait for yourself, waiting for this curse to finally devour everyone you had loved.

Because you were certain of it at this point. The curse was real and it was only a matter of time before it took Rindou and Ran from you too.

You walked into the warehouse, ignoring the leers tossed your way by the unfamiliar men littered around the area. Your lip curled up in disgust as a particularly loud comment met your ears but you forced yourself to not acknowledge it--acknowledging it would only make them throw even more at you.

You didn’t really know where you were--well you did, this was apparently the base for the Kanto Manji Gang, the gang that Rindou and Ran and the rest of their friends were absorbed into after Terano had been beaten to the brink of death by its leader. But you had never been here before, you only knew this from the little information that Mister Mado and Mister Ayato had found out when you had mentioned the predicament to them. You had no idea what the layout of the base looked like, and you had no idea where Rindou and Ran were.

And you did not like the looks that kept getting thrown your way, and you liked even less the way that some of the men kept creeping closer.

Discomfort brewed in your chest but you forced yourself to keep walking, keeping your chin up and your back straight.

Your gaze darted around as you entered a larger room, and relief hit you like a truck when you caught sight of four familiar figures lounged in the corner of the room. You beelined straight toward them, irritation fizzing in your chest when you noticed they weren’t doing anything important to excuse their lateness. But you couldn’t hold it--the irritation fizzled as quickly as it came.

You paused several feet away from them, none of them noticed your presence and your eyes focused on Rindou and Ran. Your chest felt tight when you noticed the easy smile on Ran’s face as he leaned back against the wall, talking to Mochi and a scarred man you didn’t recognize, when you noticed how Rindou was relaxed on the ground, shooting jabs back and forth with Shion.

Izana and Mucho were not there. You could almost imagine Izana lounging on a nearby crate, chin propped on his hand as he watched over them. You could see Mucho standing next to Mochi, half-amused and half-annoyed as Rindou and Shion’s jabs grew more intense.

Maybe it would be best if you were gone.

Once again, resentment and fear stirred in you but you pushed it back down, smothering it.

“You should be home,” your voice came out duller than you intended for it to. You stared ahead, down at Rindou and Ran, watching as their heads snapped toward you, eyes wide and expressions pale. “We are going to be late for the funeral.”

“It’s time already?” Rindou was pushing himself to his feet immediately, sharing a look with Ran.

“How’d you get here?” Ran asked at the same time.

“It is well past time,” you said in response, ignoring Ran’s question, “and you can’t attend the funeral in… that.”

You eyed the dark uniform adorning their bodies, shaking your head. You turned on your heel and started back the way you had come from, eyes catching a figure standing at the opposite side of the wrong--blonde hair, empty dark eyes trained on you.

He was familiar, you couldn’t quite place from where though. You didn’t pay mind to it for too long, instead only continuing on.

You were being cold to them, you had been over a year now. You knew it, and you felt guilty. So fucking guilty. You wanted to apologize, and tell them you missed them. It had been so fucking long since you did anything with them--more focused on learning from your uncle and the other Izanagi executives so you could learn the steps to start your own corporation.

You were doing what was best, you reminded yourself--the mantra you had begun to chant whenever doubt began to cloud your mind. Once you got your own company up and running, once you had the power you needed to keep them safe--from enemies, rivals, even that god forsaken curse--you would go to them, you would apologize and tell them everything, beg them to forgive you.

But until then, you had to keep your head on straight.

You heard Rindou and Ran call after you but ignored them, keeping your gaze trained ahead as you made your way out of the larger room and down the hall. Mister Ayato and Mister Mado were waiting in the car outside, dressed and ready to go to the funeral, you knew they were unhappy with Rindou and Ran but you had asked them to not start an argument over it--not yet, at least--and you hoped that they would keep to their word.

You were sure Rindou and Ran felt bad about losing track of time--and you knew you should be angry at them too, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to be. Maybe it was just the numbness of another loss, or maybe it was something else but-

A hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. You paused, turning to look at the offender over your shoulder--Rindou’s hand dropped from your wrist as soon as your eyes met his, you raised your brows.

“We don’t really have time to spare,” you told him, “What is it?”

You didn’t mean for your voice to come out as sharply as it did, really, but anger flashed across Ran’s face behind Rindou, anger that he only just barely managed to push aside as he forced himself to look away. Rindou didn’t say anything, so you only waited a moment before letting out a sigh and turning back around, continuing back toward the car.

Your family. Izana. Mucho. Nearly Terano. Now Mister Botan.

Seven people, six untimely deaths, and one brush with death.

Who would be eighth?

Miss Yua or Mister Ayato? Mister Mado?

Shion or Mochi?

Your uncle?

Ran or Rindou?

You felt sick to your stomach, your body felt chilled over, as if you had just walked out of a freezer, your head felt dizzy. Calm down, you told yourself, now’s not the time.

You could picture your mom’s excited smile as the four of you drove to your recital, your sister happily telling you about her day at school, your father squeezing your shoulder and telling you he was proud of you. You could see Izana sitting with you on the piano bench, humming along a tune as he strummed the strings of his guitar. You could see Mucho standing with Miss Yua, trying to learn how to cook from her, bringing you and Izana some bento he had tried to put together. You could see Mister Botan’s smiling face as you returned back to the penthouse after school, asking you how your presentation went today, and you could see him ushering you inside, grabbing you both some treats as he sat you down in the lobby and listened as you rambled on about your topic.

Maybe it would be best if you were gone.

Behind you, Rindou and Ran were talking but you couldn’t even make sense of what they were saying. It sounded like they were underwater, or you were, you couldn’t tell. Your vision swam as you continued walking forward, and you could feel how stiff your body was with each step.

The words rang through your head over and over again.

Maybe it would be best if you were gone.

Your eyes drifted back to Rindou and Ran, where they were talking quietly to each other, sparing brief glances at you before returning to whispering to each other. The guilt hit you again, harder this time, debilitating.

You loved them.

A part of you had always known it, since you were kids but you had only recently come to terms with it—when faced with an ultimatum from your uncle: head to a prestigious foreign university and jumpstart the process to forming your own company or wait to inherit Izanagi from him. The choice should have been obvious, there shouldn’t have been any debate… but it wasn’t obvious and there was debate.

Because you would have to leave them, and you didn’t know how long you would be, and they wouldn’t be able to join you, and you didn’t know if you could bring yourself to do it. Every time you thought of the years you would spend apart—all of the memories you would make without them, all of the space that would grow between you—it made you sick to your stomach, to the point where you were keeling over in your room and dry-heaving, trying to mask your sobs and heaves by turning up the television so they didn’t hear you.

You didn’t want to do it if it would cost you the only two people you had ever loved but-

Your family. Izana. Mucho. Nearly Terano. Mister Botan.

What if being here costed you them anyway? Except in a far more permanent way.

Maybe you were better off gone.

Tragedy follows you and it was only a matter of time before it took everybody else. It was only a matter of time before you were alone.

You slipped into the backseat of the car, resting your forehead against the window letting your eyes slide shut. You would lose everyone, you knew it. You could feel it deep in your bones.

… unless you left first, that is.

---

PRESENT.

“What the fuck did you do?”

Rindou’s ears were ringing as he stared off to where you disappeared to, doors shutting loud, damning. He could barely breathe, his hands shook as he held Ran in place.

“Rindou, what the fuck did you do?” Ran roared, “What the fuck did you do? Why the fuck would you do that? I thought you fucking loved her, I thought you loved her.”

Rindou grimaced as Ran’s elbow drove deep into his side but Rindou was certain that it was his words that had knocked the wind out of him, not the blow. I do love her, Rindou wanted to scream at him but he couldn’t form the words. His body seized at the harsh blow delivered to his gut. His grip faltered around Ran, giving him the chance to push off the ground and stumble toward the door.

What did he do?

He stared ahead for a moment, not moving, trying to come to terms with what had just happened.

He let you go.

Rindou’s body moved on his own as he threw himself forward, hand wrapping around Ran’s wrist as he yanked his brother back toward him before he could try to push the doors to the locker room open.

He felt numb, his body felt cold.

He let you go.

Ran thrashed against him, trying to push Rindou off of him, but he was weak, and was getting weaker with each passing second. He was stressing out his wounds, straining his body, and Rindou opened his mouth to tell him to stop but no words left his mouth.

He let you go.

“Let go of me,” Ran demanded and Rindou held him tighter, his heart felt like it was in his throat, tears stung his eyes. He could barely breathe, he couldn’t open his mouth to tell Ran no, he felt sick to his stomach. “Let fucking go of me, Rindou, you let her go, what the fuck is the difference? Let me go too.”

He let you go.

He did the right thing, didn’t he?

Doubt clouded his mind, he forced himself to repeat the words over and over and over again. He did the right thing--you knew what you were doing, and Ran wasn’t in any kind of fighting state. There was one gun, not enough bullets, if he had done as Ran said, if he had forced you to stay, they would have been gunned down, no question about it.

At least this way they had a chance. This way Ran had a chance.

But he let you throw yourself to the fucking wolves for it.

Was it worth it?

He felt as if the weight of the world had dropped onto his shoulders, he thought back to all those myths that you and Izana had been so interested in, and he wondered if this was how Atlas felt when he had to bear the weight of the sky.

He let you go. Was it worth it?

Was it worth it?

Ran would have died if he didn’t, it shouldn’t even be a question. Of course, he did the right thing, why was he even questioning it like this? Ran had always put him and his safety first, Rindou had to do the same.

But at what cost? Sacrificing you? The woman he loved? … the woman his brother loved?

Bile rose to his throat, he took another elbow to the gut from Ran--this time, he didn’t let go.

“Stop,” he tried to tell Ran, voice raspy and pain shooting up through his body, “Ran, stop.”

“Fuck you, Rindou,” Ran’s voice was shriller than he had ever heard it before, his eyes were wild. Rindou opened his mouth to tell him to stop but his eyes widened as Ran seemed to gain a sudden boost of energy, pushing Rindou away hard and sending him crashing back into one of the benches.

Rindou let out a string of vile curses, the pain of the metal digging deep into his side making his vision flash white. He forced himself back to his feet, preparing to drag Ran back down to the ground but he paused when he realized Ran hadn’t made any move toward the door.

His face was pale and his shoulders were slumped, he stared at the door with a sort of expression that had Rindou’s throat closing up with guilt.

“This is all my fucking fault,” Ran breathed out and Rindou shook his head, moving closer to him. He put his hand on Ran’s shoulder but Ran shrugged it off, looking away.

“Ran, it’s not-”

“I left the auction, Rindou,” Ran said, “I left the auction and put myself in the position to get caught. Which made her have to make the decision that led to me getting my ass beat. Which led to her breaking me out, which led to this. If I had just stayed in the fuckin’ auction hall like Kakucho said, we would not be in this position.”

“That’s not-”

“Fuck off, Rindou,” but there was no heat behind Ran’s voice this time and Rindou couldn’t look at his brother’s face anymore, he couldn’t stand the broken expression on his face, and he couldn’t stand the heavy feeling that kept pulling at his stomach.

He looked down at the ground, fists tight at his sides. You were talking to them on the opposite side of the door but he couldn’t make out what exactly you were saying. He should have faith--you always managed to talk your way out of situations. If Rindou had to bet, he would say it’s one of the things you were best at.

You would be fine. They would be fine.

He made the right choice by letting you go.

But Rindou couldn’t help the strange feeling that began to pass over him as he lifted his gaze back up.

His hair stood on end, the entire world around him tunneled as he stared at the doors to the locker room--something bad was about to happen, he realized, letting go of Ran’s shoulder and taking a step toward the door just as the deafening bang of a gunshot resounded through the air around them.

There were a lot of them. Too many of them. You couldn’t help the anxiety that started to pool in your gut, and you couldn’t help the way your eyes unconsciously started to dart around, searching for any possible escape routes. There weren’t any but you knew it wouldn’t have mattered even if there were one.

You couldn’t leave them here.

You kept your shoulders square as you raised your chin, eyes steady on the man at the front of the group. You did not recognize him. Tall, light hair and lighter eyes. He looked foreign. His gaze was cold, his smile was mocking.

You hated him.

You glanced back once, taking one look at the double doors of the locker room and after a second of hesitation, you moved, leaning down to pick up one of the weighted bars for lifting. Gritting your teeth as you bring it up to slide it between the handles, making sure that the door stayed shut and wasn’t able to be opened from the inside. The last thing you needed was for them to come out here and get themselves killed while you were talking.

You stared at the door for a moment, shutting your eyes as you pictured them behind it, and briefly, you wondered if that had been the last time you’d ever see them. You felt sick, and your hands shook before you forced them to stop, turning around, lips twisted down, eyes dark.

“If Sugawara wants Izanami, then they get to walk out of here. Alive,” you cut straight to the chase.

“You’re in no place to make demands,” the man noted, tilting his head to the side to eye you curiously. He holstered his pistol back at his side but none of the men with him lowered theirs. You kept yours steady in front of you. “I’m not going to negotiate with a gun aimed at my face.”

You grit your teeth--having the gun trained on their leader was the only sort of insurance you had right now, but you supposed it didn’t mean anything anyway. If you pulled the trigger, they would either just straight up shoot you, or at the very least subdue you and then kill Rindou and Ran.

Frustration bled through your skin and painted your blood black, you dropped the gun to your side.

Breathe in, breathe out. Think.

“What makes you think Kenji wants Izanami?” the man questioned, hands in his pockets as he took a step toward you. He looked at ease, relaxed, and resentment stirred in you. “We already have Izanagi-”

“Izanami is worth double Izanagi,” you interrupted, meeting his eyes, “and two night ago, I spent four hours talking to my lawyers in order to have it passed on to Kokonoi Hajime after I die. Bonten’s in a shitty spot now because you went after all of their current businesses, it won’t be as shitty once they have their hands on a corporation worth five trillion yen.”

The man’s lax position faltered, you kept your gaze steady.

You were lying. The company was still set to go to Takuya at your death but there was no way for them to know that.

Or they shouldn’t have a way, at least.

“Get Kenji on the phone,” the man’s voice was sharp and cold as he looked over his shoulder at one of the men behind him, who shifted uncomfortably at his words.

“Rui-”

“Now,” the man said harshly, waiting for the other man to scramble for his phone before turning his attention back on you. Rui’s lips twisted, “You’re a slimy little bitch, aren’t you?”

“I don’t like being backed into corners,” was all you said in response.

Rui smiled, it had your nerves on fire, “Neither does he,” he said ominously, and you couldn’t help the chill that ran down your spine at his words, the way every single cell of your body screamed at you to run, to flee.

Rui turned around, “Give me the phone,” he said, taking the phone from the other man and pressing it to his ear. You watched as he took a few steps away, speaking quietly to who you could only assume was Sugawara on the other line. You let out one steady breath, eyes taking one long look back toward where Ran and Rindou were on the opposite side of the door.

Did you do the right thing?

Now that you were out here, confronting them, you weren’t so sure.

No, you tried to convince yourself, no, you did what was right. There was no other option. Had you waited for them to come in there, they would have died.

Any option that ended with them dying was not actually an option.

You forced your gaze back to Rui, watching as he paced around listening to whatever Sugawara was going on about. You stiffened as he stopped midstep, looking at you from the corner of his eye, “Are you sure?” he asked before wincing, “... alright, alright, I get it.”

Rui walked back over toward you, you eyed him hesitantly as he held out the phone, “For you.”

Staring at the device for a second, your lips pulled down as you took it from your hand, holding it to your ear, “What?” you asked.

“It didn’t have to come to this. I gave you a chance, y’know?” Sugawara’s tone was a sort of faux-sympathy that made your skin crawl, “More than one, actually. But I gave you a real chance that night, asking if you wanted to make a deal for Haitani Ran.”

“You would have killed us both,” you told him, and Sugawara paused for a moment before snorting.

“Maybe,” he agreed, “At least it wouldn’t have been all three of you, though.”

Your blood felt cold, your breath caught.

All three of-

“It’s going to be a pain in the ass trying to cover this to Ichirou, you’ve caused more trouble than you’re worth,” the fake tone dropped, replaced by a sharp and icy one that made your mouth go dry, “Kokonoi Hajime won’t be able to do anything with Izanami, he and the rest of the Bonten executives will be dead by morning.”

Your head snapped to the side as movement rushed near your head, eyes widening as Rui raised his gun to your temple. Your lips parted, a cry of warning on the tip of your tongue to Rindou and Ran but there was no time.

You never had enough fucking time.

Your eyes slid shut instinctively as his finger twitched on the trigger. You wanted to apologize, tell them that you were sorry, that you had been wrong. You wanted to warn them and tell them you had failed, you should have known you would, you always fail without someone else’s help. You wanted to tell them that you wished you had listened to them, that you would have stayed in the locker room with them so you could at the very least greet death together.

You didn’t want to die alone.

But you couldn’t, because everything was happening too fast and you barely even had time to think, much less speak. The gunshot was deafening, your ears rung, and you waited for the pain.

You waited, and you waited, and you waited.

It didn’t come.

Blood and mush splattered against your face, in your eye, across your lips. You forced yourself to look down when you felt something fall hard against your foot and you could only stare at Rui’s unmoving body at your feet--half of his face blown off, gun discarded on the floor next to you.

What the-

You didn’t have time to try to figure out what happened, diving down to grab his gun before throwing yourself behind some lifting equipment just as another bullet hit the wall by your head.

Once you had some sort of cover, you looked around, eyes darting through the mirrors set up across the gym as you tried to understand what was happening. Sugawara’s men were taking cover throughout the room, half of them already dead on the floor. You couldn’t tell where the bullets were coming from--the entrance, maybe?

You tried to keep your breath steady but it was almost impossible under the circumstances. Every inhale caught, every exhale shook, fear was freezing your body, rendering you immobile.

Don’t let it control you, you told yourself over and over again. Rindou and Ran were still trapped in the locker room—sitting ducks, although you supposed it might be for the best, considering they would have come out at the first gunshot and gotten themselves killed in the fire fight.

Protect the door.

Breathe in, breathe out.

You focused on what was happening around you. Most of Sugawara’s men had their attention trained on the barrage of bullets coming at them.

Most.

Your eyes darted around, training in on a man aiming his gun at the door. It was a thinner metal.

The bullet would go right through, and you knew Rindou and Ran would be right on the opposite side of it, banging against the metal trying to get to you.

Breathe in. Aim. Breathe out. Pull the trigger.

The man hit the ground hard, blood spurting from his neck and pooling in his mouth, choking and spasming on the ground. You felt sick to your stomach but you couldn’t watch for long. You were forced to take cover again as his death caught the attention of one of his friends, who was aiming in your direction in an instant, bullets flying in the air just over where you had been standing.

Breathe in, breathe out.

You had to control yourself.

“I’ll cover you,” you heard an unfamiliar male voice say and your eyes widened as your gaze shot back up to the mirror, catching sight of the figure in the mirror making his way toward you, another covering his approach from a little ways back.

He was going for the locker room.

Realization hit you like a truck, all of the air was ripped from your lungs as you realized where exactly the man was taking off to. You couldn’t get a good angle from where you were kneeling behind the machine, but if you stood or tried to move, you’d be in line of fire of the man that was covering him.

You didn’t know what to do.

You could feel the anxiety beginning to claw at your chest again. You could feel the panic rise, the way your breath quickened, the way your heart raced. You were hesitating, you could feel yourself hesitating and you couldn’t stop yourself. Your fingers trembled around the gun, the world around you was somehow sped up and moving in slow motion at the same time.

You had to risk it.

You’d have one shot. Make it count. You kept your eyes trained on the mirror, holding the gun steady in front of you before pushing yourself to your feet. You swiveled, aiming it in the direction of the man approaching the locker room and pulling the trigger without sparing a second.

He hit the ground, and then so did you.

A searing pain shot through your arm, blinding pain, you felt like you were on fire and you gasped as your hand flew to your bicep where a bullet had ripped through and tore out a chunk of your skin on the side of your arm. You bit down hard on your tongue, swallowing the cry of pain. Tears stung your eyes and you tried so fucking hard to push them away because you couldn’t afford to have blurry vision right now.

Get up, you told yourself, forcing yourself back to your hands and knees, your ears rung, your vision spun, get up.

You held the gun tight in your hand, breath ragged as you tried to push yourself up but a large hand wrapped around your other bicep, yanking you to your feet. You tried to push away, panic flooding your system but whoever was holding you was strong, much stronger than you.

“Oi, relax,” a voice grunted, and you paused, breath catching as your eyes snapped to a hulking figure standing at your right. Blonde hair, pointed eyebrows, and familiar red eyes stared down at you.

“Hey, princess,” a familiar voice heckled from a few feet away, and now that you were slowly calming down, you realized that the gunshots had come to the stop, the chaos in the room having come to an eerie still, Sugawara’s men lying unmoving on the ground.

Madarame Shion was crouching on the ground next to Rui’s head. Mochizuki Kanji kept you steady on your feet.

“Long time, no see,” Shion finished, pushing himself to his feet, a wild grin on his face. “You look like shit.”

You let out a huff of laughter that sounded more like a sob. You couldn’t bring yourself to care, “Fuck you, Shion,” you said, but there was no heat behind your words as you leaned into Mochi while throwing your good arm around Shion. Your chest felt tight, the tears that had been building in your eyes spilled over as reality, relief, finally hit you.

You felt a hand grab your hurt arm gently, “Fuckers are using RIP rounds,” you heard Mochi mutter.

“Yikes,” Shion said, pulling away from you to lean down and look at your arm, “Ouch, yeah, that gotta hurt. Glad it’s not me.”

You shot Shion a withering look but he only winked at you, nodding to the door to the locker room, “You might wanna let them out of there. Preferably before they find a way to burn this place down. We’ve gotta get out of here, I’m sure they’ll be sending reinforcements up soon.”

You let out a breath, stepping toward the locker room. The pain had you dizzy on your feet for a second but Mochi’s grip on your waist tightened, you thanked him quietly before moving to the door. You stared at it for a moment, throat tight, before you forced yourself to push the weighted bar out from where it was holding the doors shut.

The bar hit the ground with a loud crash, you flinched at the noise before using your foot to roll it out of the way. You reached forward with your good arm, pulling the door open, and let it swing open with a dull thud.

Ran stared back at you from where he was standing half in front of Rindou. You weren’t sure how many seconds passed as the two of you stared at each other, trying to process what you were looking at.

“You’re okay,” Ran had never sounded so relieved before, voice little over a breath as he rushed toward you, with a sort of energy you really didn’t think he had left in him. Your throat felt swollen as you felt his arms wrap snug around your waist, pulling you toward him, flush against his body. Your breath was shaky, you buried your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling as best you could. Your fingers trembled against his back, his palm smoothed out against yours, blunt nails digging into your shirt.

“God, I’m so-” Ran cut himself off, pulling back to look at you. His hands slid back up your body, leaving a burning trail in their wake until they came to your face, cupping your cheeks more gently than you had ever seen him be with anyone before. His eyes raked over you, his throat bobbed, “I’m so fucking mad at you. I’m livid, you have no fucking idea, you-”

He cut himself off, taking in a sharp breath, “You could have died. You-you can’t give yourself up like that, not for us. You-”

He couldn’t finish whatever he was trying to say, instead only pressing his lips together and looking away.

“Your arm,” Rindou’s voice was quiet, tight. You looked up from Ran’s neck, eyes focusing in on Rindou’s face, catching the strange expression that was decorating it as he held your arm. His lips parted as if to speak but no words left his lips.

Guilty, you realized, he looked guilty.

“Hey,” Mochi said, “We don’t have time for the waterworks, come on.”

Rindou bristled, eyes darting up from you to glare at Mochi but his glare fell almost instantly, “Mochi? Shion?” he asked, surprise lacing his tone, evidently just having noticed them.

“No shit,” Shion said, ever the eloquent one.

“The fuck are you guys doing here?” Ran’s voice was rough as he spoke, stepping away from you to pick up a discarded gun from one of Sugawara’s dead men. “I thought Sanzu said-”

“Fuck Sanzu,” Shion interrupted immediately, “He’s a fuckin’ asshole. Kakucho got word of what was happening over here. He told us. We weren’t just going to leave you guys to die.”

“Shion,” Rindou said quietly, and Shion looked uncomfortable at the change in tone, and the gratitude in Rindou’s voice.

“Fuck off, don’t get all sappy,” Shion muttered, “Hurry up and get yourself armed. We gotta get out of here still.”

Rindou nodded, kneeling down to grab a gun, dropping the magazine out to make sure it was loaded before rising back to his feet, pressing his free hand against your back as he led you toward the door, Shion and Mochi taking the front.

You winced at the sound of glass being crushed beneath your shoes, trying to keep your eyes off of the dead bodies littering the ground, trying to keep your mind off of the pain that was numbing the entire left side of your body. You tried to focus on Rindou’s hand warm against your lower back, on Ran walking a little bit in front of you. But it was hard. It was so fucking hard. Your entire arm felt like it was numb and on fire at the same time, you didn’t even dare to look at the wound.

“I’m sorry,” Rindou said quietly, and you turned to look over your shoulder so you could see him but he only looked away. You tried to say something, tell him that there was nothing for him to be sorry for, but Shion was speaking before you could push the words past your lips.

“We cleared out a good number of ‘em downstairs,” he said, pushing open the doors to the stairwell, holding them open for you, Rindou and Ran to pass through. “But I’m sure more’ve already showed up.”

Mochi let out a noise of agreement, “Kakucho texted us while we were on the way up here. Said another car pulled in.”

“Wonderful,” Ran muttered.

“At least it’s not-”

Another gunshot, Shion let out a string of curses, letting the door to the stairwell slam shut just as another three were shot at it from down the hall, denting the metal where his head was. The look Shion threw at the closed door was nothing short of lethal, Mochi shared a long look with him as Rindou stepped in front of both you and Ran.

“Go,” Mochi told the three of you, and all three of your heads snapped toward him instantly, questioning. “You’re not deaf, I said go. Go.”

“We’re not leaving you guys,” Rindou snapped immediately, “Fuck that. We’ll take them out and then get out of here together.”

“It’s a waste of time,” Mochi shot right back, “Ran is hurt bad, so is she. You need to get the two of them out of here, get a head start. We can catch up.”

You shook your head, a bad feeling settling in your stomach, “No, we-”

“Go,” Mochi said, voice harsher, “Go. We’ll be okay. If anything, you guys staying is going to put us at more risk. We’ll handle these guys and catch up.”

You shot a desperate look at Shion, waiting for him to speak up and tell Mochi that it would be better for the three of you to stay to help but he only nodded, grimacing as another round of bullets was fired at the door, “Go,” he said, “We’ll be fine. We’ll meet you at the safehouse. Okay?”

You wanted to argue, and scream at them that this wasn’t necessary but even as you opened your mouth another wave of pain hit you, making you sway on your feet. Rindou steadied you, taking one long look down at you before looking at Ran, who was in an even worse condition. He let out a shaky, frustrated breath, forcing his gaze back to Shion and Mochi.

“Don’t die,” his voice was low, it edged on pleading.

Please don’t die, you echoed silently.

Shion only winked at the three of you, “Back at you,” he said as he motioned for Mochi to join him at the door.

Rindou looked down at you as he walked over to Ran, wrapping an arm around his waist, “You can walk on your own?” he asked, and you nodded, trying to push away the pain and dizziness. “Okay,” he said, “Let’s get out of here.”

---

Ran had passed out on the way back, his aggravated wounds having become too much for his body to handle. Rindou could barely stand to look at you.

Every time you would go into the other room to talk to him, he would turn away or leave the room after sparing one look at your stitched up wound. You tried to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, that it was your choice to go out there, but he would only scoff, shaking his head.

“I let you go,” he would say, voice low, defeated, and when you tried to grab his shoulder and force him to look at you, he would shrug you off and finally leave the room.

He couldn’t do this forever, you tried to convince yourself as you stared at the closed door to the bedroom he had claimed, debating on making another attempt. But even as the words crossed your mind, you knew that Rindou very well could do this forever--he was just as stubborn as Ran when he got like this, just as stubborn as you.

You sighed as you walked away from his door, making your way to Ran’s room instead. The halls were dark, and the safe house itself was chilly. You let out a shaky breath, arms wrapped around your torso as you kept down the hall. Your eyes flashed up to the clock—it was late, it had taken quite a bit to get to the outskirts of Tokyo to the safe house and you’d been there for a few hours already.

You wondered if Ran was awake yet, but you doubted it. He would have come to find you by now if he was, even if he knew damn well that you would have rathered him to stay laying down. You couldn’t help the way your mind began to wander back to Rindou, guilt churning in your chest.

He had done what you wanted—he had let go of you. And you knew from the look in his eyes, from the way his fingers trembled around your wrist that he didn’t want to, that it had taken everything in him to let go of your wrist and hold Ran back.

And you couldn’t imagine what must’ve been going through his head when the first gunshot was shot--thinking that he was the one that let you walk to your death, thinking that he did it for the chance to save Ran but now Ran was going to die anyway and you got yourself killed trying to save the both of them.

You didn’t blame him for not wanting to look at you but it still hurt. You wished you could go back to this morning, before all of this happened, when the two of you had just woken up, basking under the morning sun, still half-asleep and talking quietly to each other as to not wake Ran. You could have stayed there forever with them, Ran curled up behind you, Rindou inches in front of you—it had been good. It had been good for the first time in years, and now it was all shit again.

But at least you were together.

It was the only thought driving you forward. All three of you were alive, all three of you were together. You had to be grateful for the small mercies, not take the smaller things for granted.

You let out a soft breath as you shook your head, continuing down the dim hallway til you reached the cracked open door at the end of it. Ran’s bedroom light was still on, and you rolled your eyes at Rindou, realizing he had probably forgotten to turn it off before leaving the room earlier.

Slowly and carefully, you opened the door, wincing as it creaked under your push. You slipped into the room, not bothering to shut the door behind you, gaze flitting around the old room before you forced yourself to look at where Ran was still fast asleep in bed, laying still beneath the half-strewn off comforter.

You looked over his body, your throat felt tight and your eyes stung as you looked down at the dark bruises visible--they had only gotten worse with the jostling around in the frantic escape from the penthouse. The one on his lower abdomen had spread all the way around his side and, from what you could tell, back, it was an ugly black and red color, and you wished Miss Yua was around to take a look at the wound because you had no idea what you were looking at, all you knew was that it was bad and he was in pain.

His lashes brushed his cheeks as he slept soundly in the bed. Your hand drifted up to his cheek, fingers touching his skin so lightly that you could just barely feel him beneath you. He looked peaceful--more peaceful than you had seen him in a long time. And you knew from Rindou that he hadn’t been sleeping well--not for a while. You didn’t want to wake him, and you knew you should leave, let him get his rest but you couldn’t bring yourself to.

You didn’t want him to wake up alone.

You swallowed thickly as your fingers drifted down from his cheek, trailing down his body to absently trace the tattoos decorating his chest down to the bruises. Your fingers hesitated above them, a sick feeling churning in your stomach.

Your fault.

The words rang loud, deafening in your head. This was your fault. Your choice. Was there another way? Had Sugawara been telling the truth? You knew he wasn’t. He literally admitted it on the phone; he was a scumbag that would have killed Ran had he known just how close the two of you were, and then he would have taken you out too but a part of you couldn’t help but doubt yourself.

What if this hadn’t had to happen? Look at yourself, you can’t even protect the two people you love most.

You shut your eyes, trying to force the tears away. I’m sorry, you wanted to tell him I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m-

Long fingers wrapped around your hand, you opened your eyes and dragged your gaze back up to his face. Violet eyes peered up at you, brows furrowed, “It’s not your fault,” he murmured and you just shook your head and looked away.

“Hey,” Ran’s voice was low, rough from sleep, you forced yourself to look at him again, “It wasn’t your fault.”

“What if there was another option?” you hated how your voice cracked, and you hated how Ran’s thumb smoothed over the back of your hand, “I didn’t even give it any thought, Ran, there could’ve been something else. If I had just took a minute to think I-”

He reached forward with his other hand, palm, coming up to cup your cheek, fingers dancing along your cheekbone. Your words faltered as you leaned into his touch instinctively, eyes lidded as you looked down at him.

“There was no time,” Ran murmured, “You did what was best in the moment. You always do.”

You wanted to argue, to tell him no, he was wrong, but Ran’s expression left no room for any arguments. And even if it had, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to bring yourself to argue with him.

You didn’t have much fight left in you at all anymore. You wanted to give up, lay in their arms and let the rest of the world fade away. Fuck Izanami, fuck your uncle, fuck Sugawara, and fuck Bonten. All you wanted was them, in any and everything way.

“I’m sorry,” you told him, and you weren’t sure how many times you had apologized over the course of the past two or three days but it didn’t feel like it was enough. You were sure that you could chant it out as a mantra for the rest of your life, the only words you ever speak, and you would still feel like it wasn’t enough. There were no words to accurately describe just how sorry you were--not just for what happened to Ran, but for everything else too--and there was nothing you could do, no action to take that would convince yourself of your atonement, even if they did forgive you. “I’m sorry, I’m so sor-”

“Stop that,” Ran said quietly, squeezing your hand softly as his thumb traced over your cheekbone again, “I-”

Ran’s brows furrowed, confliction crossing over his face for just a moment before he let out a deep sigh, “I’m angry at you,” Ran admitted, “I’m so angry at you but… not for the wounds. That wasn’t your fault.”

You tried to look away but he turned your face back toward him, “Don’t do that again,” he said, “Ever. Don’t give yourself up. We don’t trade lives.”

You didn’t want to make that promise. You hoped that you could just stay silent and he would take the silence as an agreement but you should have known better than that. Ran’s jaw clenched when you didn’t respond, you could see his temper flare behind his eyes and you could see him struggle to rein it in.

“Promise me,” he said more insistently, his fingers pressing into your skin just a bit deeper, “Promise me.”

You let out a heavybreath, you tried to close your eyes but he only tightened his grip, making you keep your gaze steady on him.

“I promise,” you finally said after a few moments, even though you knew damn well you’d never be able to deny either of them again. “I promise.”

Ran inhaled sharply, eyes searching yours to make sure you were telling the truth even though you knew it was unnecessary, you didn’t think you’d be able to bring yourself to lie to him--either of them--ever again.

Ran leaned up, and you tried to stop him, noticing how his abdomen tensed as the pain hit him, but you were taken off guard as the hand on your cheek slid behind your head, pulling you down halfway to meet him. You inhaled sharply against his lips, hands frozen on either side of you, eyes wide just for a moment before your body reacted on its own, lips moving against his.

You shouldn’t be doing this, the thought made your hands tremble, but instead of pushing yourself away from him, you only shifted closer. The kiss was different from the one the two of you shared that first night--that one had been fueled by desperation, a loss of control, this one…

This one you wanted. And that wasn’t to say you didn’t want the one from the first night but you wanted this one in a different way, a more intense way.

You brought your hands up to Ran’s face, cupping his cheeks, you let out another shaky breath into his mouth and your eyes slid shut as one of Ran’s hands slipped beneath your shirt, smoothing over your back. His skin was hot against yours, burning, only a few touches and you could barely think straight.

This one was different. The noise you let out into Ran’s mouth would have been embarrassing under any other circumstances, you could feel your face heat up but Ran seemed to pay no mind, more focused on pulling you closer to him, tilting his head to the side to deepen the kiss. You didn’t quite know how to describe it but it had you dizzy, light-headed, not in the same way the one at the club left you.

A strange feeling passed over you as your body pressed flush against Ran’s, half on top of him as his hand slid down your body, wrapping around your thigh to hook your leg over his waist. You should be pushing him away. You knew that. This was wrong, and not just for the obvious reasons—Ran was hurt, you shouldn’t be putting more strain on his body but also-

Someone cleared their throat from the doorway. Your breath caught as you pulled off of Ran. His eyes were hazy, unfocused on you. The violet lidded in a way that had your blood running hot, but you forced yourself to ignore it, pushing up to turn around.

Rindou stared at the two of you, lips parted, an indecipherable expression on his face and a glass of water in his hand, one that he had clearly been bringing for Ran. He looked away sharply, placing the water down on the dresser before he turned on his heel and walked back the way you came.

Oh, you had seen this play out before, you recalled, guilt making your stomach drop as you forced yourself to your feet, you wouldn’t let it end the same way this time.

“Rin, wait,” you called, chasing after him. He was already three-quarters of the way down the hall by the time you caught up to him. “Rin,” you said again, voice catching, “Hold on!”

You grabbed his wrist, but he only shook it right off. Irritated, you went for it again, and this time, he turned it on you, maneuvering his wrist out of your hold and swiveling it to grab yours, holding it at an uncomfortable angle as he pushed you back into the wall, pinning you in place.

“Stop,” his voice was low and rough. You could see the hurt swimming behind his eyes, but it wasn’t just hurt. There was something else there. Regret? Acceptance? You couldn’t tell, “Just stop.”

“What do you mean stop?” you asked, looking up at him, trying to get your wrist free from his hand but you couldn’t, his grip only tightened. “Rin-”

“Stop as in leave me alone,” Rindou said, shaking his head and taking a step away from you, “I made my choice. I let you go. Go back to Ran.”

“You what?” you breathed out, there was a cryptic undertone to his words, one that you weren’t quite sure that you liked, “Rin, what are you talkin-”

“Stop,” he raised his voice, saying your name sharply, and you flinched back. He faltered at your reaction, shoulders dropping, if only slightly, eyes shutting. “Just go back to Ran. Please.”

“No, Rin,” you shook your head, mind running a million miles a minute. I let you go, was he talking about back at the penthouse? He had to be but it didn’t make sense. How did that relate at all to what was happening right now? “Rin, are you talking about back at the penthouse, I don’t-“

“I let you go,” Rindou said again, but there was no anger in his voice this time, only distress. “I let you go. I let go of your wrist and let you walk to your death, I let you go when he was fighting tooth and fucking nail to make you stay, begging me to at least let him go out there with you. I just let you go.”

You faltered, shaking your head and trying to reach back out for his hand but he stepped away, “Rin, I asked you to, that’s not-“

“No,” Rindou said, shutting his eyes, his voice was weak and all you wanted to do was reach out and hold him, “You don’t-you don’t understand. The first gunshot, when it went off. I thought you were dead. I thought you were dead and I had let go of your wrist, I let go so you could sacrifice yourself to try to save us. I let you die for nothing.”

“I’m not dead though, Rin, I’m right here and I’m okay, I-“ he didn’t let you finish. Again.

“That’s not the point, I forfeited any-“ he cut himself off, stammering over his words before he squeezed his eyes shut, rephrasing. “Ran fought for you, and I gave you up. I let go. Go back to him. I’m okay, really.”

“You didn’t give me up, and you didn’t let me go,” you cried out, getting frustrated with his stubbornness. You pushed his chest hard, making him crash back into the opposite wall. “You fucking believed in me, Rindou. Stop throwing a pity parade and-“

“Stop!” Rindou yelled this time, anger flaring in his eyes. And you felt overwhelmed, anxious, because Rindou was getting the wrong idea, understandably, and he was spiraling and you didn’t know what to do and you didn’t want him to feel this way. Because you didn’t want Ran, you wanted them both. “Fucking hell, I know you want him, I saw you two that night at the club. I saw you just now! Why the fuck won’t you let me do the right thing and walk away? Both of you, neither of you fucking give a shit about what I want. He didn’t back then, you don’t now. I’m trying to make this fucking easier on myself. I fucking know you want him and-“

“I want you both!” you shouted at him, interrupting him mid sentence. Rindou froze from where he was standing in front of you, and you froze too, mind spinning as you processed the words that you had just spoken out loud—the same words you had never dared to speak all of those years ago—before you spoke them again, quieter this time, less heat behind them. “I want you both.”

Oh god.

You didn’t move, keeping your gaze trained forward as soon as you fully registered what you had said. What the fuck was wrong with you? Now was not the time for this. You-

“What?” Rindou’s voice was little over a breath. You shook your head and took a step back. He matched your step, keeping the distance, “No, don’t you dare try to back out now. You don’t get to say something like that and then try to pretend you didn’t.”

Your bottom lip trembled. From the corner of your eye, you noticed Ran leaning against the doorframe of his room, watching you, and you had half a mind to snap at him and tell him to get back in bed.

Where had that come from? you tried to ask yourself. But you supposed that wasn’t the question—you had always loved them, from the beginning, the years abroad hadn’t changed that no matter how hard you might’ve tried to convince yourself and Rindou had pushed you into finally admitting it out loud.

You let out a shaky breath, hands fisted tight at your side, “I said what I said. Now isn’t the time though, we should talk about this once we’re out of Tokyo.”

“Technically we’re out of Tokyo,” Ran butted in, eyes sharp and curious as he watched you.

“You know what i mean,” you snapped right back, glaring at him, “Go back to bed.”

“Join me and I will,” he winked and you felt hot as you glared harder before looking away, the embarrassment slowly beginning to hit.

“I-“ you began, closing your eyes when you stuttered over your words, “We shouldn’t talk about something like this until we’re safe.”

“We’ll never be safe,” Rindou murmured and you grimaced, his words weighing heavy on your chest because you knew they were true.

“I don’t really know what else there is to talk about,” you tried a different approach, but from the way Rindou rolled his eyes, you knew it was going to go just as poorly. “I said what I said-“

You were cut off as Ran nodded at Rindou, and Rindou scoffed, grabbing your good arm and dragging you back into Ran’s room. You struggled, kicking the back of his knee and spitting out curses, but he only ignored you.

As soon as the door shut behind the two of you, another heavy silence settled.

“How long?” Ran asked, moving to sit back down on the bed, arm resting on his torso. You raised your eyebrows, waiting for him to elaborate, “How long have you known this?”

You did not want to answer, but they were not giving you a chance to change the conversation and you couldn’t think straight.

“Since we were younger,” you finally said, and they both shared a look. You tilted your head up, trying to hide just how humiliated you felt. “Kids, really.”

Ran snorted, taking a sip of the water that Rindou had brought him, “Could’ve saved me and Rindou a lot of arguments,” he murmured, amused and you forced yourself to look back down from the ceiling.

“What do you mean?” you asked but then your lips twisted down as you remembered Rindou’s words: he didn’t back then, you don’t now.

“Nothing,” they chorused at the same time and you glared at them.

“Are you kidding me? You’re making me answer all this shit but you won’t?” you snapped, moving to rise off the bed but Ran’s arm snapped out quicker, tugging you back down.

You scowled as your back hit the bed, wincing as you jostled your bad arm around, “That hurt,” you muttered, and he gave you a half-assed apology. You tried to sit up but his palm pressed against your chest, pushing you back down, “You’re not funny,” you told Ran.

His lips curled up into a sly smile that nearly had you squirming, “I’m not trying to be,” he said and you let out a half-nervous, half-irritated breath, looking to Rindou for help but he only pointedly looked away.

“Why did you leave then?” Rindou was changing the subject and you wanted to throw a fit because you knew you wouldn’t be able to stop him from doing it. “If you knew back then.”

“Because I couldn’t let my feelings get in the way of my goals,” you said right back and Rindou winced, looking away.

“We weren’t your goal?”

“You guys were always my ultimate goal,” you said quietly, giving up on trying to get Ran to let you sit up, staring at the ceiling. “But there were things I had to do first. I told you last night, the detours… there were just… a lot more than I thought. It took longer than I thought. But being with you guys, that was always my goal in the end. You guys are all I’ve ever wanted.”

Neither of them spoke for a while and Ran finally let go of you, you immediately took the opportunity to sit up, shooting him a glare before you settled back down, cross-legged between them on the bed.

“We shouldn’t be doing this now,” you spoke softly again, staring at your lap, “There’s too much going on, we still need to figure out how to get out of Japan and-“

“We’re not getting out of Japan until shit calms down, there’s no way. Unless you have a secret private airport you can bring us to,” Rindou countered and your shoulders slumped.

The only private airports you knew of were your uncle’s, and Sugawara would have eyes all over them right now.

“That’s what I thought,” Ran’s eyes danced with a sort of delight you hadn’t seen in them for a long time. Next to him, Rindou looked just as interested and an anxious feeling settled in your stomach as the two of them shared a look—they had always been most dangerous when they worked together. “So how ‘bout you sit back and relax and tell us everything this time?”

WC: 12.5k

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK GREATLY APPRECIATED !!!

— feedback on character development and story progression pls do not nitpick little mistakes — i didn’t even run this chapter thru grammarly 🥹

#ran x reader #rindou x reader #ran smut #rindou smut #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev smut #ran x you #rindou x you #tokyo rev x you #tokyo revengers x you #ran haitani x reader #ran haitani smut #rindou haitani x reader #rindou haitani smut #tokyo revengers x reader

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biographydivider · 9 months

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Based on a dream I had a few days ago; may I present my first attempt at writing the MM!boys. Donnie is in a bad mood mostly because I'm super duper tired and overwhelmed, but I've tried to keep him in character nonetheless.

Donnie had no idea how he'd been roped into this.

Well, no. He did. The kids wanted to go the the movies, and no-one else was around to take them. And dear Raphala had fallen in love with the tiny, hyperactive versions of themselves when they fell through a crack in the air last week - a side effect of a Mikey-and-Leo based portalling exercise gone wrong, thank you very much bretheren - and found himself literally incapable of saying no to them.

'They're just kids, Donnie. Be nice, Donnie. You might like being the eldest for a change.' Bah, is what he said to that. Bah! These were not his brothers. They were funhouse mirrors. The sooner Mikey could work out how to boot them back to their own dimension, the better.

Still. It was interesting to see the differences between the eight of them. Donnie leaned against a poster for the latest blockbuster dreck, tub of vanilla ice cream in hand as he watched the little Leo stammer his way through getting some popcorn for his brothers; blushing furiously as the lady behing the counter told him to enjoy the movie. His Leo would have turned on the charm in an attempt to get a free drink.

Now the smaller Raph? He was a ball of barely contained energy; spoiling for a fight, spatting with his Leo about who paid for what. No big bro vibes, which was intriguing. Donnie wondered if his own Raph would be this tightly wound if he hadn't had to force himself to have a gentler hand.

"Guys! Stop fighting! Look look look; they're making a new Gatoraptor movie! The poster looks sick!"

"Mikey, we don't even have Gatoraptor movies where we come from."

"So I gotta catch up before I go home!"

Apparently, a Mikey was a Mikey, no matter what universe you take him from. Optimistic, sunny and constantly bopping from place to place. Cute. The kids were apparently teenagers, but they reminded Donnie of when he and his brothers were about…

Something tugged on his belt.

"What about a scooter?" whispered a squeaky voice at Donnie's hip. "Does your bō turn into a scooter? Maybe with, I dunno, jet propulsion?"

Donnie looked down into the face of his own tiny counterpart; blinking up at him through glass-bottle lenses, gripping his staff in both hands against his chest.

Hm.

"No," Donnie said crisply.

"Oh," Tiny Donnie's sparkled like Donnie had gifted him a friendship bracelet, not given him the brush-off. "You GOTTA get a scooter attachment. Like, your bō could be the, the-the handles, and --"

"I can fly," Donnie deadpanned. "You can make your own bō into a scooter."

"Okay!" And off he scarpered, beaming and shaking his Raph's shoulders, talking about how 'Donatello totally just invited me to hang out and work on my bō!'

"Donnie, stop being such a pick-me."

"I'm not a pick-me. You're the pick-me, Leo!"

"Why me?! I wasn't even talking to you!!"

The Tiny Donnie was…chafing. There were ghosts of hints of whispers that they were the same person; their inherent sassiness, their mutual razzing of their respective Leos…Donnie had to admit, his young counterpart was ruthless in that regard.

But Tiny Donnie was overly eager and inexperienced; interested in tech but no more proficient (yet) than anyone in April's Computer Science class at school. They shared a love of media, especially anime and niche movies, but none of their favourites were known to the other. It left their relationship at one-sided, 'you-got-games-on-your-phone' hero worship and a begrudging, eye-rolling tolerance.

"Children," he called, quirking an eyebrow in their direction. "Let's go. In the words of my twin, let us vamanos."

"Oh, Big Leo?" beamed Tiny Raph. "That guy's the GOAT of all time!"

"You see him do that swisha-swisha stuff?" chimed in the small Leo. "He's amazing!"

Ah. They were Nardo stans. Nardo stans who couldn't use acronyms properly. Joyous. Donnie chomped on his ice cream spoon so hard he shattered the plastic between his teeth.

The movie he'd chosen was some superhero thing; all poorly rendered green screen and bad acting. Where was the pathos, the dramatic speeches, the practical effects?! Despairing sigh. Anyway. Donnie had done a little Von Ryan Engineering to make sure the entire theatre looked booked out on the box office systems so they had the whole place to themselves; mostly so he could settle himself into a chair about three rows back from the kids. They were already giggling and shoving each other and bulldozing their way through their snack quota.

"A real movie theater, guys! Inside!"

"M&Ms taste waaaay better fresh from the bag!"

"Hey, remember that time we snuck into the projection booth?"

"And Leo turned the security camera on?!" Tiny Donnie laughed so hard he inhaled a popcorn kernel and began to choke. "So - ack! - s-so cringe."

"That was one time!"

"This is way better, though. We get to sit in seats, this time! Oh my god; they move!"

"Ooooooooh…"

A chorus of squeaking chairs. Donnie closed his eyes and attempted to find that Hamato soticism that was meant to be inside him somewhere; or even just some standard Michelangelo goodwill and understanding.

That ambition wasn't to last.

That whole 'a real movie theater' conversation should have clued him in, tbh. The kids had clearly never been to see a movie before, and were grating on Donnie's last nerve before the trailers were over.

"Hey, I know that guy!"

"Mikey, pass my drink."

"Oh my god he kicked that guy's entire face off! Awesome."

"We could totally learn to do that, you know."

"Hoo! Haah! Hyah!"

Donnie could feel the blood boiling under his skin. He could actually feel little bubbles of rage and oxygen move along his arteries.

"Guys, shut up, I wanna watch," hissed the small Leo.

"'Guuuuuys, shut uuup…'"

"'I'm Leeeo, I'm the Movie Police…'"

"H-hey! Not cool!"

"Oh, have a nacho and calm down, Officer."

Now, Hamato Donatello was not opposed to a bit of call and response in his movies. You couldn't hear a scrap of Jupiter Jim dialogue for him and his siblings yelling over it on Movie Night. But that was in the confines of their own home! In private, among kindred spirits! Plus, you know. His family weren't annoying little doppelgangers from another world, wearing approximations of their faces and almost talking in their voices. How did Raph do it? Donnie would crack this; he'd find a way to channel that kind, nurturing, eldest brother vibe…

"Oooh, now they're kissing. Everyone shut up so Leo can watch the kiiissiiiiiing…"

"What?! I don't want to watch the kissing!"

"But you said you wanted to watch!"

"Ohhh, kiiiiisssssing…do you wish that was you and April, Leo?"

"What?! No!"

"Oh mwah mwah mwah, oh April I love you sooo muuuch, let me kiss your weird soft lips and smell your haaair…"

Oh. Okay. Now it was annoying and disgusting. And sometimes, a turtle needed to take action. Donnie pushed his goggles over his eyes and slammed his tech bo into the ground, setting off a flashbang prototype he'd been working on. For a second, everything went white; the theatre filled with blinding light, the echoes of the sonic boom reverberating off the walls.

Donnie flipped his goggles up from his eyes and stalked down the theatre aisle towards the four terrified little faces, their necks craned and eyes round from sugar highs, light exposure and terror looking back up at him.

"If you uncanny valley hatchlings don't shut the fuck up," Donnie hissed, leaning down and relishing the feeling of the unfamilliar swear word through his gritted teeth - Raph would have an aneurysm - "your world will be known as the home of the Middle-Aged Mutant SONLESS Splinter."

To his immense satisfaction, all four kids snapped back to face the screen, shuffling down in their seats.

"Yep. Yep. Shutting up."

"Yes, sir, absolutely."

"Never spoken before in my life, not gonna start."

As Donnie turned to walk back to his seat, he swore he heard a squeaky voice whisper;

"I told you he was a psycho. I'm gonna be so awesome in the future!!"

The future? They thought Donnie and his brothers were...

Oh. Oh, this could be fun.

A smile curved across Donnie's lips. You know what? Raph was right. Donnie could get used to this Being The Eldest business.

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #mutant mayhem #rise donnie #mutant mayhem donnie

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chenfordsrollisi · 28 days

Note

For me, you’re totally right!!! The writing has been so terrible lately. I didn’t know where else to rant, so I apologize in advance for the HUGE rant.

It’s getting annoying and tiring that we have to follow up with so many different storylines.

It doesn’t even make sense anymore. I mean, we have at least five more villains. Of course, we knew some from before but it’s STILL unbearable. They tried to fit so much into an episode when it could’ve fit into an entire season.

For reference, there were a lot of unfinished storylines:

- Rosalind’s accomplice

- People targeting the police and someone taking out the “guy” behind it (why was it brushed over???)

I don’t know about you but I’m TIRED of Monica. There was a lot of screen time that could’ve gone to the main characters of the show but it didn’t.

But what I’m hating right now is the way Everton treats Lucy.

IT’S INFURIATING. After Jackson’s death, it seemed like she had no one other than Tim or Tamara. However, she doesn’t have either at the moment.

IT WAS ALSO SUPPOSED TO BE HER DAMN BIRTHDAY!!! Why did no one say anything? They (Angela and Nyla) also brushed off what she said about having 12 undercover identities. I don’t know about you but they’ve never been encouraging.

It’s sad and disheartening that her friend is a LITERAL teenager and treats her better than everyone else on the show. With Tim out of the picture, she’s alone. I mean, what happened to everyone’s friendship? It used to be Nolan, Jackson, and Lucy. I know they used to date but I mean, come on, they moved on so why shouldn’t they stay friends?

The fact that Nolan’s more friendly with his ROOKIE is baffling. (I love Celina by the way, this isn’t a diss.

I mean, what happened to character development? We don’t see much of Aaron or Celina. They waste so much time with storylines that fizzle out the next episode and don’t matter anymore because either Angela, Wesley, or whoever can’t (legally speaking) touch the criminals.

I’m more upset that they ruined Chenford. For drama? This show won’t be getting renewed in the future, maybe there’ll be an eight season but come on…It’s upsetting how we won’t see Lucy and Tim together anymore. Wasted five seasons of my life only for them to break up and end their relationship in one.

Personally for me, I believe Lucy and Tim are the ones who have TRULY been through it.

I mean, I understand everyone else has their stuff. However, Lucy has been kidnapped and nearly died. Her parents aren’t even supportive of her career. Her best friend died.

TRIGGER WARNING (ABUSE/SUICIDE)

DOWN BELOW

!!!

While Tim was abused by his father, found out about his father’s affair, had to sell the house he was abused in, etc. He went to war and now the whole thing with Mad Dog jumping off the roof!

Meanwhile, everyone else is happy. Sure, they went through so much but they AT LEAST HAVE SOMEONE TO HELP THEM THROUGH IT!

THESE TWO HAVE NO ONE!!! They aren’t married or have good parents!!!

Sorry for my rant, feel free to ignore but I’m sad about the turnout of this season. I wished they somehow got married and moved into a beautiful house far away from this chaos, and had at least three children by next episode but that won’t happen.

There's too much to try and keep track of in too few episodes.

The pacing of the episodes is utter crap because they tried to cram a full season worth of shit (which is usually 20 to 22 episodes), into half a season of 10 episodes.

So the storylines are all over the place. The characters are running around like chickens with their heads cut off.

Don't apologize. I bitch a lot on this blog. No one I know in RL watches the show, so the only people I can rant to are other fans on here.

Where do you get 5 more villains? I thought it was 3. Monica, Blair and the guy who I think is mobbed up, that Lucy's working for as UC, and taking care of his kid. Who else do you think is involved? Oscar? I think he just did Monica a few favors. I don't see him as one of the villains of the season.

As for the unfinished storylines, I'd be very surprised if they finished them. The show has a lot of problems and this, and the timeline are major ones, imo.

I hate Monica and have ever since she came on the scene. All her BS doesn't interest me at all, and I want Angela to kill her.

Who is everton? I'm sure you meant someone else, because I don't know a single character with that name. So, I can't comment on it because I don't know. Do you mean Primm, the guy that stopped her from making Detective?

I hate that Lucy lost both Tim and Tamara this season. Also, don't get me started on the birthday bullshit. Tim's the only one who remembered and even did something for her.

John's supposed to be her friend, but ever since Jackson was killed and Bailey's stupid ass got with him, he's basically been like 'Lucy, who?'

As for Angela and Nyla, I'm already pissed that they were being assholes to Lucy earlier in the season. Angela only gets involved with Lucy, when it involves Tim. Nyla doesn't give a shit in any way.

John doesn't have time for Lucy. He's up his lame ass wife's ass all the time, and dealing with Celina's spiritual bullshit.

Honestly, while Celina has grown on me a little, I still like Aaron more and want him to have more screen time than her. But yet, I'm assuming their scenes were cut since there was only 10 episodes and they had to force the drama bullshit though, so their scenes were cut.

Yeah, I agree about Chenford. They've both been put through the ringer this season more than anyone else, and yet they get fucked over while everyone else gets to be happy. That's such bullshit.

I'll admit, I like drama. It makes shows interesting. However, when the drama and bullshit doesn't let up and my favorite characters are sad/hurt/lonely/abandoned all the fucking time, it doesn't make me want to keep watching, as it's too depressing.

#Asks #Answers #The Rookie #tv talk: the rookie

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psychameron · 3 months

Text

Untitled Apollyon Fanfic

Vikram was jerked out of his dream by someone sitting on his bed. Blinking in the light of his room, he peered blearily “The hell?”

Aditya was sitting on his bed. “Your mom sent me to get you; it's almost eight.”

Vikram blinked a few more times at the silhouette of his friend, information still tumbling around in his head. “Mom? Wait, did you say eight? As in, 8 am?”

“What other eight would I mean?” Aditya said, rising. “Why're you still asleep? You've been up and ready by 6:30 for the last few days.”

Vikram swung his feet around to the hab-block unit's floor and pushed out of bed. “If I ever sleep this late again, don't wait for mom, just come get me.”

“About to not be my problem, or so you say,” Aditya commented as Vikram rummaged around for clean clothes and started dressing. “Your mom says you're still gonna quit studying and get a job.”

“Tomorrow I'm 20 and they can't use my age to keep me out of the mines,” Vikram said, snatching up a brush off the floor and tilting the salvaged chunk of chrome metal that served as his mirror. He ran the brush through his hair and took the opportunity to break eye contact with Aditya. “I get a job, I get my own money, and I don't have to live with my mom anymore.”

“She doesn't like that,” Aditya said, stepping into the angle of mirror so he could hold Vikram's gaze again. “Thinks if you work the mines you'll wind up just like your dad.”

“I want my own money and my own place,” Vikram said.

“You mean you want somewhere you and Komal don't have to creep around.”

“It's different when you got a girlfriend,” Vikram said, fishing his mala off the repurposed vehicle chock that served as his night table. “I want to do what I want, and give Komal things. Like gifts. And maybe somewhere to live.”

“Man you are two kinds of crazy. You know anyone who got married at twenty that's happy?”

“I am tired of living in this hole in a wall studying some biochemistry crap on the hopes that maybe some day I'll get to shine some topsider's shoes while he calls me a good boy while I do 90% of his work and he gets 100% of the credit.” Vikram coiled the mala around his wrist, and pulled the guru bead to its proper position, to the right of his arm.

“Hey, in a few years that topsider might be me,” Aditya said.

“Gonna leave us cave bats for some penthouse apartment, drive a fancy car and go blind from all the sunlight?”

“If they pay me enough,” Aditya smirked. “I know you're sick of hearing it, but maybe at least finish school? The mines are always gonna be there and you'll get two years of peace from your mom before you can throw your hands up and say 'well I tried.'” A pause. “Not having to pay rent would be pretty nice, too. And who's to say you don't actually do well and get a real job where you get to sit down for a living.”

“Nah, I'd rather do real work.” Vikram picked his bag off the ground. “We ready to go?”

“Yeah, let's get moving.” Aditya shouldered his own bag. “Take some of the breakfast your mom made on the way out, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Vikram said, shooing him forward. “Let's get to school.”

Vikram sat in the light of central thermal reactor of Pahalagufa. Almost ten thousand people in the caverns used it for heat and electricity, but today Vikram used it for light, as well. Pages and pages of chemistry disappeared under his eyes as he pored over pages he'd been over dozens of times before. To the casual observer, he might seem to be studying. And after a fashion he did study. But his mind lingered on where his new home would be once he had paychecks from work in hand. From his vantage on the third sublevel of the cavern, Vikram could see nearly sixty percent of the habitation blocks like the one he grew up in. Most had the soft red glows of occupancy, but quite a few the green glow of an empty unit.

Most of them were barren metal cubes with little to recommend them to the average inhabitant of Pahalagufa, but a variety of factors made them the only option for the last three generations of workers laboring in Apollyon's massive mineral mines. Of which Vikram would soon find himself one, as soon as he could secure employment.

I'll need chairs, Vikram mused. Mom probably won't let me take any of hers. Bed probably won't be a problem. Or will it? I'll need a bigger bed for both of us. His brow furrowed as thoughts of nucleotides and phosphate bonds disappeared under logistical concerns. Beds are expensive here. At least, proper ones are. I should ask Komal if she knows a way to get a bigger bed.

As if conjured by his thoughts, Komal appeared out of the teeming throngs of people making their way through the avenues of the third level of Pahalagufa. Vikram pushed his textbook to the side and rose to greet her, but her posture and gait put him on edge. “Komal?” he ventured, reaching out to her.

Komal took Vikram's hand and tolerated his brief kiss on the back of her hand before sinking onto the same bench he was seated on. “Ugh, what a day,” she lamented.

“What's wrong?” Vikram asked, concern coloring his voice.

“Nothing,” Komal said. “Classes at my level are a nightmare. You'll see the same when you get to your fourth year.”

“You can handle it,” Vikram stated confidently. “Anything I can do to help, you say it and I'll have it to you before lunch.”

“I volunteered for the biochemistry track, it's my problem,” Komal said. “You said something about getting your own place soon?”

“Yes,” Vikram said. “My birthday is tomorrow, and once I'm twenty, then I can legally work in the mines. Once I have paychecks, I can afford my own place.”

“I don't understand,” Komal said. “Mining shifts and school are incompatible. You can't be in two places at once. You'd have to stop studying.”

“I know,” Vikram replied, preparing the spiel he'd rehearsed for days prior to this. “I will have to take a break from school in order to get the hours in, but once I've saved up enough I can quit working the mines and finish the biochem track, just like you. Depending on the pay that could easily be done in two years, maybe four if things are tight. Besides all that, once you have a big fancy science job you won't need me to support you.”

“Vik,” Komal said, her tone shifting to admonishment. “Do you know anyone who quit work in the mines and went back to school?”

Vikram blew out an exasperated sigh. “You sound like Aditya. Some people get sucked in and make it their lives but that won't be me. I know what I'm doing. I'm smart, and I have the most beautiful woman in the world to keep me on the right path.”

Komal smiled briefly at the compliment, but returned to her previous tone. “It is not worth it. Finish school. Once I have work in a laboratory I can recommend you for employment, too. It's only two years.”

“Don't, do not say 'it's only two years.' Two years is a lot different when it's under my mother's roof.”

“Your mother is watching the little boy she taught how to use a spoon learn about pheromone biosynthesis and G-protein dissociations,” Komal commented. “She's probably having a time, thinking about how she's going to be alone sooner rather than later.”

“It's an ending for her; it's a beginning for me,” Vikram protested.

“It is, but there's only one reason for you to do this, and that's because you want to be away from her.”

“She treats you like trash.”

“Don't change the subject,” Komal chided. “Whatever problem the two of us have, it's not worth you risking your future. I can deal with your mother hating me. I am not gonna deal with you fouling up your education just because you don't want to live with her.”

“Komal-”

“No, I've made my position clear. I'm done talking about this. These are next week's problems. We should be talking about your party.”

Vikram sighed. “I don't want a party,” he said, trying not to visibly pout.

“Well, too bad. There's going to be a party and sweet cakes and we're all going to tell embarrassing stories about you.”

Vikram released her hand. “I only want one thing for my birthday and apparently no one thinks I should get it.”

“Don't pout,” Komal ordered. “I have to go see my own mother about something. Try to pretend you're surprised and delighted tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” Vikram surrendered. “Did you make sweet cakes for me?”

“No, your mother did. She's a better cook.”

“All right. Will I see you again tonight?”

“Probably not. After I can get away from dad tomorrow for the party, okay?”

“See you then,” Vikram said, leaning in for a hug. Komal embraced him, and then disappeared into foot traffic of level once again.

Vikram watched her walk away, thoughts stewing furiously. Had he been any deeper in his mind, he would not have seen Komal drop something from her bag. Realising there was a very real risk of it getting kicked into a gutter and disappearing forever, Vikram sprang into action to recover it from crowd. Twice it was kicked by pedestrians and once more by Vikram himself, but a desperate dive allowed him to catch it. Cognizant of the possibility that he might also wind up being kicked, Vikram regained his feet and hurried back to his own bag before someone could decide an unattended bag was there for the taking.

On his way back, he turned the object over in his hands trying to puzzle out what it was. It had a clear plastic case, and inside he could see a disk that refracted blue light when another light source hit, turning a sharp purple in the red light of the thermal reactor's cycle. Resolving to ask Komal about it tomorrow, he stuffed it in his bag and made his way to Aditya's.

A half-hour later, Vikram sank down on Aditya's bed while his friend labored at a net terminal, punching calculations in and occasionally modifying an on-screen schematic.

“What're you working on?” Vikram asked, lacing his fingers behind his head and crossing his legs.

“Practice test for exams in a few weeks,” Aditya said. “I'm almost done.”

“Don't rush on my account,” Vikram said.

Several more minutes passed in silence. Vikram sat up and pulled the item Komal dropped out of his bag. He probed it further, eventually finding a latch along the meridian that would pop the case open, exposing the blue disk inside. His contemplation came to an end when Aditya said “Holy shit.”

Vikram looked up from his reverie to see his friend staring at the disk in his hands, slightly agog. “Where did you get a DORD?”

“You know what it is?” Vikram asked, anticipating Aditya reaching out for it.

Aditya took it from him. “Yeah, DORD stands for 'Digital Optical Retention Diskette.' It's a fancy recordable media. We've used a few in my CAD classes. You don't really see them down here in the caves, they're more topsider tech.”

“So not anything Komal would have normally?”

“I mean, maybe, she's on her last year of school, maybe they trust fourth years with this kind of stuff, whereas us engineering guys have to use them sooner.”

“And you said it's a readable disk?”

“I mean, it should be. If someone recorded something on it I could read it with a mod drive.”

“Do you have one?”

“Sure do, hold on...” Aditya said as he flipped through a few metal components jacked in to his net terminal, reading their serial numbers one by one. “Here we go, mod drive Escal-2, compatible with all DORD marks.”

Vikram inserted the disk in the Escal-2 drive, watching the intake actuators take in the disk and begin spinning it. A few clicks of the reading armature sliding into place, and preloaded program on the disk started.

A video player appeared on Aditya's terminal, opening on a scene from Apollyon's surface, far above them. “Welcome to the Almarta Laboratories, a subsidiary of Alandalus Biotech!” a spritely voice announced from the video's audio track. “We are proud to welcome you,” and it momentarily flashed the name 'Komal Mudaliyar' before returning to the view of the previous building. “to the Almarta family! An exciting career in biotech production awaits you.” The scene wiped away and another began, but the video fragmented and stopped abruptly as Aditya ripped the disk out of the mod drive.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” Aditya cursed, staring at the disk in his hand. “This is...probably private.”

“That was a surface-level biotech lab,” Vikram said. “I know the Almarta name. They were mentioned as a corp that doesn't discriminate against cave-district graduates, and thus a good place to work after graduation.”

“So...maybe Komal was looking at working for them?”

“Past tense. Looked. That video looks like something they send to new hires. As in, already hired.”

“We don't know that.”

Vikram shot his friend a look. “Komal already accepted a job with a surface-level lab. With a corp that provides on-site housing for employees. No way she'd sit through a three hour commute to and from work.”

“Vik,” Aditya began. “I thought the two of you were going to get a block.”

“I wouldn't be able to live on the surface. No way to get down here for classes.”

“We'd have to be apart for two years, except for holidays.”

“Or maybe...ah shit, I'm sorry. Maybe she's gonna move topside and then break up with you when there's 3 hours of funicular transport between the two of you in case you take it poorly.”

Vikram held out the disk's case, and Aditya replaced it. Vikram relatched the case. “Sounds like she and I have something to talk about before my party tomorrow.”

Sleep had some difficulty finding Vikram that night.

The habitation blocks of Pahalagufa would've been nightmarish for non-natives, constantly transmitting the dull hum of machinery and any raised voice from the neighbors, but to someone like Vikram, born there, listening to his neighbor scream at her husband about money spent on liquor that month was normal. Vikram's thoughts were occupied with how to confront his girlfriend about what was most likely an attempt to abandon him.

It took hours, with several breaks to watch shows on the hab-block's terminal but after 4 am his exhausted body finally silenced his restless mind.

Sleep was not restful, though.

Vikram walks the halls of Pahalagufa, but unlike the teeming throngs of workers commuting between work and home, he's used to, the halls are empty. He clutches his bag of books, trying to sling it over his back, but it gets incrementally heavier with each step until it unbalances him and he must drag it. He reaches out to Aditya, but his friend drags his own burden, a similarly overbalanced bag of books. Ahead of him, other students labor, some so weighted down by their books that they are resorting to pushing them along. At the end of the hallway, completely unburdened, floats Komal, less a student and more a goddess, untethered by gravity, one hand in the vitarka mudra and the other in the vajra mudra as radiance poured out from behind her, both her and the central reactor, the blinding light of the sun and the searing red of the thermal coils, at once both combined and also oscillating.

“Where I go, you cannot follow,” the Komal goddess stated, and though she did not address Vikram directly, he knew her words were meant for him.

“Wait!” Vikram cried, dropping his bag and making to sprint to her. As soon as he released the strap, creatures bubbled up from the hallway's floor, human in shape but heavily modified, with masks and hoses coiling around their waists, like someone had surgically implanted mining saftey gear to them. With each step forward, more of these miner-shades came forth, locking plastic-wrapped hands around Vikram's legs and dragging him down into the floor with them. “I won't go with you!” Vikram protested, trying to push them away, but there were so many that he had no hope. In an attempt to escape them, he turned back to his bag and seized the strap. The miner-beasts reacted as if struck, recoiling and re-submerging into the netherworld from whence they came.

Vikram tried to pursue the Komal goddess while clutching the bag, but its weight prevented him from making significant progress. And if he tried to abandon his bag once again, the miner-beasts would surge forward to drag him down again. A look to his left or his right would reveal his fellow students in similar straits; some of them dragged fully beneath the hall's surface by the miner-beasts. Vikram felt he should cry from frustration, but he could not. He kept trying to push forward while clutch his bag. The Komal goddess continued to rise, now almost past Vikram's reach. “Wait for me!” he called desperately.

Very suddenly his bag became even heavier, as though it was pinned down by something. Vikram looked back at it, and found himself staring up in to blazing red eyes and a mane of fire. The creature squatting on his big was enormous and yet also delicate, a massive humanoid form of fire and gold, yet it balanced its considerable bulk on only the single point of Vikram's bag.

THERE YOU ARE, it thundered, apparently not speaking and yet the words arrived in Vikram's ears just the same. TRYING TO HIDE FROM ME IN YOUR OWN DREAMS? It paused, as if waiting for an answer. NO MATTER. YOU ARE MINE NOW.

“Wha-what?” was all Vikram managed to stammer before the creature snatched him up effortlessly and dropped him into its yawning red maw.

Vikram was snatched from a sea of boiling oil by his mother's voice. “Vik, wake up! We have a million things to do and you cannot spend all morning in bed.” Bhairavi busied herself with scooping some of the chaos of her son's room into a managable pile. When Vikram groaned and curled further into his sheets, she pulled his pillow out from under his head. “This minute,” she insisted.

“Why does my face hurt?” Vikram asked, burying his face in his hands.

“You stayed up to late at Aditya's again,” Bhairavi stated. “Now get dressed, we have to eat breakfast and go to the supplier. If I'm going to make your favorite dinner, we need to get things.”

A half-dozen memories of his dreams, having his skin peeled off by tanners' knives rose in Vikram's mind and he sprang out of bed, only to hit his head on his mirror and go down in a heap.

“Vik!” Bhairavi exclaimed, rushing to her son's side. “You look like death. Go wash up and get dressed. I will check on breakfast.”

Pleased to be away from his mother so that he could reorder his thoughts, Vikram spent a moment on the floor trying to sort his memories from his awareness from the dreams he was just in.

Hot nails pounded into his forehead, bamboo stakes prying up his fingernails, cast into pit to be ripped apart and devoured by pigs-

None of it was real, all dreams. But his face burned, worse than how he imagined a sunburn would feel if he'd ever spent long enough in the sun to get one. His fingers itched like sand grit was pushing against the inside of his skin. He found his feet and trudged to the lavatory, scrubbing down his face washing his hands furiously, but nothing he could do would chase away the burning or the itching. Pushing down the immediate sense-memory of the boiling oil ocean, Vikram dried his face ran a brush through his hair, only to look down at it and see more hair than he was expecting to be pulled by the brush's bristles. “Is my hair thinning?” he wondered, compulsively checking his reflection in the lavatory mirror again. “I can't deal with this,” he said. He returned to his room and dug through his closet for clean clothes and scooped up his bag before heading out into the wider hab-block.

And he was greeted by a dozen faces, all smiling broadly, and shouting “Happy birthday!” The main area of the hab-block was decorated modestly, and significant amount of food was laid out.

Dozens of leering faces reciting Vikram's sins, while a figure in a smiling mask lashed his back into a bloody mess-

“What?” Vikram managed weakly, looking around in his still groggy state.

“We're having your party early,” Bhairavi stated. “Aditya I'm sure has something planned for later, but for right now you're going to have a party here.”

The next moments were a blur as a few of Vikram's cousins shook his hand and teased him about being twenty, as he undshouldered his bag, and some of his school friends telling him about his mother had been planning this for weeks and tracked them all down individually. All of this passed in a haze as Vikram tried his best to smile and be polite even though he was still stunned.

One thing cut cleanly through the haze, though. Komal was here, prudently far away from Bhairavi, but amongst the guests. All the sleep in Vikram's head melted away like a butter pat on a hot griddle, and the burning in his face increased an order of magnitude. Vikram's teeth clenched and every muscle in his arms and legs tensed at once. Vikram strode over to his discarded bag, pulled it open and obtained the disk he and Aditya viewed the previous night and crossed the room instantly, the party and his friends and family melting away until all he could perceive was a long red tunnel with Komal at the end of it.

Vikram stepped within arm's reach of Komal and brandished the disk's case where she could clearly see it. “What is this?” he demanded, tone making it evident that the situation was about to escalate.

Komal regarded him with confusion at first, then realization. “My DORD! I thought I'd lost it.”

“Your job offer from a topside corp,” Vikram said. “That you accepted.”

By this point, everyone present realized the situation developing. All eyes were on Vikram and Komal. “Vik? You're scaring me.”

“You'd have to live topside, a long way away from me,” Vikram continued. “What was the plan? Wait until you're in corp housing and then break up with me? Or just keep stringing me along and hope I lose patience with only seeing you four times a year?”

“Vikram Mehrotra,” his mother called, in the tone she reserved for correcting misbehavior.

“Vik, please, this is not the place,” Komal said, trying to move away from Vikram.

“I think this is exactly the place,” Vikram said. The itching in his fingers was nearly impossible to ignore. He reached out to Komal, intent on preventing her from moving away.

He never got the chance, because two of his cousins grabbed him by his shoulders and pulled him back.

Gigantic demons beating him with canes-

Vikram tried to pull away from them, but they had the advantage in positioning and numbers. Vikram's teeth clenched once again and the burning in his face was unbearable.

Thousands of maggots writhing beneath his skin, eating his muscles and defecating on his bones-

Vikram tried to twist out of their grip, but they held him fast. Until the skin on his fingers split and blood-soaked claws emerged, allowing him to rake his cousins' faces.

A crown of red-hot iron laid on his head by cackling imps-

Vikram's normally black hair fell from his scalp, making way for mane of thick red hair, somehow both dancing in flames and yet unburned. The burning in his face subsided as new fangs ejected his previous teeth from his jaw, causing them to fall to the floor of the hab-block with bloody clicks. Vikram tried to say “Don't touch me!” but all that came out was a primal scream.

Chased by horseback demons, lacerating his legs with sharpened sling stones as they approached-

The gravity of the situation had dawned on everyone by this point, and this time Vikram was borne down six assailants, who pulled him off his feet and down onto the floor of the hab-block.

Again, Vikram tried to say “Let me go!” but could only manage a snarl. He struggled against those restraining him, but against six other people he could not get the leverage necessary to free himself.

A cocoon of chains as he was lowered into a sea of boiling oil-

As the memory of sea of boiling oil cross Vikram's mind, one of the people restraining suddenly loosened his grip, abruptly trying to get away, screaming as he went. Vikram looked to another and thought of the red-hot iron crown, and he also recoiled, trying to claw a crown from his head. Any torture he could remember from his dreams he could inflict on another, or at least the sense-memory of it.

Now free from those dragging him down, Vikram rose, chest heaving, head still coruscating with red flames, claws scoring the floor of the hab-block. His eyes darted around, looking for Komal but not seeing her. The door to the hab-block still swaying on its hinges seemed to indicate where she'd gone. Stepping over the bodies of those who sought to trap him, Vikram picked up the disk again and made for the door.

Before stepping out into Pahalagufa proper, Vikram again heard his mother's voice. “Let go of me, I don't care, he is still my son!” Bhairavi rushed to her son's side. “Vikram, please, do not follow her. If people see you like this, they will call the police.”

“Mother,” Vikram said with a voice like green wood popping in a bonfire. “I hope they do.” He reached up his clawed hand and cradled the side of his mother's head, then inflicted the Hell of Bamboo Skewers on her, leaving her clutching her fingers in agony on the floor of the hab-block.

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 2 years

Text

I’ve had a weird day. A day where you randomly cry at silly things so I wrote this.

Warnings: female reader, angst, feelings, heartbreak, unplanned pregnancy, abortion, planned pregnancy, unbetad and edited

Out of all cities over the world he could have chosen he was here. He was here, two tables apart from you in this tiny restaurant. And even though he was sitting with his back towards you, you had heard his laugh, his beautiful laugh that you had longed to hear since… since the last time you had seen him.

Almost eight years ago.

Someone was talking to you and you turned your head, blinking your eyes as you looked into the concerned eyes of your husband.

He asked you if you were okay and you nodded, telling him you were tired, a fake but tired smile on your lips. He reached over, his warm hand brushing over your cheek before he kissed your forehead.

He was perfect. Literally every girls dream. He never once let you think that he didn’t love you. That he wouldn’t stay with you or give you anything you ever wanted.

But he wasn’t Javier Peña.

Your husband excused himself for the restroom and you nodded at him, watching him leave before your head turned to look towards where Javier had been sitting to find him looking at you.

You felt like your whole body freeze, your heart hammering in your chest as you looked into those dark beautiful brown eyes.

Whoever he had been with wasn’t there anymore, his whole attention on you.

Attention that had been like a drug for you back when you had been by his side, fighting against a different kind of drug all the way in Colombia.

When you had Javier Peña’s attention you felt like you were the most important person in the world.

It was addicting.

Addicting to talk to him, to touch him, to feel him. To spend time with him and only him during sleepless nights where his sole focus was you. You and how your skin felt against his. How you taste. How he could make you cry out in ecstasy while he mumbled words of affection into your ear you would repeat for yourself whenever he wasn’t around.

Having Javier Peña‘s attention was the best thing in the world.

Until you wanted more.

Until you had tried to make plans for after.

After work.

After Escobar.

After colombia.

You knew from the beginning about his reputation. About how he handled his… affairs. But silly you, you who was in love with a man had thought that you were different. That he was different. With you.

That when you told him about your positive pregnancy test after work, it would finally make him want to make plans for after.

Deep in the night when he thought you were asleep he had whispered the words you longed to hear from his lips.

I love you.

You dreamed that he would tell you that he loved you like you loved him with confidence. That he would step up and be a father to the unborn child that was growing inside of you. His child.

The last thing you had expected was for him to tell you that he wanted you to get rid of it. That he would never be a father. That this had never been more than sex for him.

He had left you in your apartment, tears steaming down your face as you broke down.

That night you had heard the moans from his apartment as he replaced you like you were nothing. Just a silly little girl who fell in love with a man who only wanted sex.

And so within a week of this night you not only had a new job in another country so you didn’t have to see him anymore.

No, you had done what he asked, and got rid of the child he never wanted.

Having no way of taking care of a child by your self. A living reminder of the heartbreak he had put you through.

And yet no matter how he broke your heart to pieces, every man who came after him stood in silent completion to him.

You never felt the passion you had felt with Javier again.

Maybe he had been the one.

And while you looked at him, now, in this bar after so many years of healing your broken heart you thought about how things could have done differently.

Of what would have happened if he had chosen you instead of himself.

Would you be married? Have more than one child? A house? A dog?

Would you be happy?

You saw him get up from his seat, making his way towards you. You turned away from him just in time to catch your husband coming back from the restroom.

You gave him a smile as he stepped towards you, taking your hand.

“You’re ready to get home?” He asked.

You nodded. He held up a bag telling you it was cake as he helped you up, his arm now on your lower back. And when you turned around there he was.

Javier Peña. Looking at you and the at your husband, who’s hand came to rest on your small belly.

Javier eyes focused on your belly before he looked up at you again.

“Can we help you?” Your husband asked, brows furrowed.

“Sorry. I was just… You both look so happy,” Javier said, a forced smile on his lips as he looked at your husband and then at you.

“We are,” your husband laughed and you smiled at him.

“Who couldn’t be when you’re in love with your husband and finally pregnant with your first child?“ You asked and for a tiny moment you could see all the emotions playing over Javier‘s face. You could see the silent question in his eyes and you hated the part of yourself who loved to see the broken look in his eyes as he realized what you had said.

“Do you have any kids?” Your husband asked. He was so excited to be a dad, spending all his time reading every book he could find in preparation.

Javier looked at you then, deep into your eyes and you gulped before you broke his stare.

He shook his head.

“No. There was this girl once but… I wasn’t ready.”

“Well, it’s never to late. I can’t wait to be a dad. I’m driving her nuts,” your husband chuckled bringing your hand to his lips to kiss it.

“You’re not. You’re every pregnant woman’s dream baby,” you smiled. “But let’s go home, I’m tired.”

“Yeah. It’s late. It was nice meeting you…”

“Javier,” he nodded towards your husband.

“Goodbye Javier,” you whispered, wrapping your arm around your husbands back. He kissed your cheek and you smiled as you walked out of the bar.

Leaving your past behind.

#drabble #my fic #Javier Peña #Pedro pascal #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #angssssst

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omgreally · 3 years

Note

I’ve been reading mandos intergalactic taxi service and UGH✨💕 the pining and fluff with the intimacy smut is just chefs kiss your writing style is amazing🤌🏽✨ I’ve been in such a Din mood lately, could your write like a confession drabble where the reader and din are pining for each other and din is dropping hints but the reader is like really not a hint taker lol pretty please with a cherry on top 😭💕 smut or fluff your choice I know you’d write it so well!!

BLESS YOUR HEART @liltangerineart and thank you! Next chapter of Taxi Service should be up tomorrow I hope!

In the meantime I hope you like this? Not a confession as such and more, uh, top!Mando than I intended, but he is bad at dropping hints. I like to think he would be very...straightforward 😎

Din Djarin/F!Reader - E - 1624 words - Oblivious!Reader, Infatuated!Din, frustrated yearning, angst and, of course, smut.

It's getting ridiculous.

He is a Mandalorian, one of the most fabled, the most feared warriors in the galaxy. Rumour and danger follow him as he charts a path through the galaxy that blazes bright, leaving behind myth and legend - people whispering things like 'I heard he killed a whole troop with his hands tied' and 'I heard he was eight feet tall, made of steel'.

He is a Mandalorian, who has never had to rely on anybody but himself - and yet here he is, sweating beneath his cowl whenever you brush too close, trying too hard to inhale the scent of you through his helmet's filters, memorizing the sound of your laugh.

It's like he's a foundling again - uncertain, insecure, nervous. And they’re not butterflies in the pit of his stomach - they’re bullets from an ancient slugthrower weapon, and he can taste metal at the back of his tongue whenever he tries to talk to you.

“Do you have someone, back home?” A clumsy overture, as obvious as it is stupid; Din winces beneath the helm but you don’t seem to notice - you just shake your head and shrug.

“No. Just me. I wouldn’t have left otherwise.” Loyal, he thinks, and the bullets in his stomach sting just that little bit harder.

He tries asking you more about yourself. How you became a bounty hunter. How many weapons you’ve handled. The different kinds of ships you’ve flown. Places you’ve been. But you never give up anything truly personal about yourself - you’re a cypher.

Maybe that’s why the Mandalorian finds himself strangely drawn to you.

He doesn’t know how to navigate this - not really. He has no experience with this kind of thing. It’s always been about the next quarry, the next job, and then it was about the kid, and now…

And now he’s stuck.

He wants to hit something, break something, feel the impact of his fists against flesh and bone. He settles for balling them up whenever you’re around, biting his tongue, and waiting til later to jerk himself off in pathetic, clench-jawed silence in the refresher.

“You slept late,” you point out the next morning as he emerges, stiff in more than one way, from his bunk.

“Couldn’t sleep last night,” he says, and he’s so tired, so frustrated that he adds, gruffly: “Bed was too empty.”

“Probably need more pillows,” you muse as you wander off to the kitchenette. “Cup of caf?”

“Extra strong,” he grunts as he leans a shoulder to the wall, and you’re oblivious to his glower.

“Coming right up.” A minute later, you press a mug into his hand. “I’ll leave you to it. No need to go hide, I’ll go find a bulkhead to look at while you take your helmet off.”

You grin at him, and he stares at you. You’re just about to turn away when he reaches up, and you go still, your smile slackening in shock as he thumbs the release latch under his chin.

The helm’s pneumatic seal hisses as it lifts, just enough so he can get the rim of his mug up and to his lips. He takes a long, slow pull, and while his vision is eclipsed by the rim of the helmet at the moment, he knows you haven’t left.

As he expects, you’re still there - staring at him as he lowers his helm back into place. Your mouth is even slightly open - lips parted - and he watches the dart of your tongue as you wet them before swallowing hard.

“I’m just...I’m just gonna,” you say, abortingly, and start to back away. You jump as your shoulder hits the hatchway. Din watches as you turn, hesitate, then hurry away, your shoulders squared defensively as if you can feel the force of his gaze on your back.

Alone, the taste of caf hot and bitter on his tongue, Din Djarin grins.

After that, he starts to notice. He starts to notice how tense you are when he’s close.

At first he’s not sure - but then, once, he deliberately brushes your waist as he moves past you in the cockpit to take the pilot’s seat, and you’re still standing there, frozen, when he glances back at you. You brush it off, but it happens again when you bump into him coming out of the fresher. When he reaches over your head in the kitchenette to fetch a ration bar from a compartment. When you lean over his shoulder to point out the coordinates to a refueling station. When he catches you yawning, falling asleep in the passenger’s seat.

“I’m going to hit my bunk,” you say, rising to your feet, your arms stretched above your head. Din turns slowly, and he catches the glimpse of a sliver of flesh as your shirt rides up. The words escape him before he’s even conscious of their existence.

“Want some company?”

Dank farrik, he’s been dropping hints and touches for ages - and he knows you’re affected by his presence, he’s sure of it now. They might be closer to butterflies for you, but his bullets are bouncing around in his gut right now.

“What?” you ask, half-laughing - as if it’s all some grand joke. “You gotta stop with the innuendo, Mando. I might get the wrong idea.”

“And if it’s not innuendo?” He’s flicked the ship to auto-pilot - on his feet - looming towards you. You’re caught in the hatchway, unable to step backwards to fall down the ladder, unwilling to turn your back. "If you've got the right idea?"

“What?” you repeat - licking your lips again. Your eyes are flicking back and forth from his visor to his hands. It’s almost like you're expecting a fight.

“I want to fuck you.”

The words are matter-of-fact but delivered in a low baritone, a gravelly rasp that lifts the hairs on the back of your neck. You stop breathing for a second - he can see it - and your leg twitches, just half a step backward - but then you swing it forward again, swaying towards him. Like he has you in his gravitational pull.

It’s all Din needs. He closes the distance between you, his gloved hands closing around your biceps, the leather worn and warm through your shirt.

He says your name, once, in a digital growl that curls your toes in your boots. And then it’s like an explosion - it all happens so quickly; there are hands and clothes everywhere and then on the deck, and in the aftermath you are in the Mandalorian’s arms, naked, your legs around his waist as he presses you up against the bulkhead.

His chestplate hits the deck - his flak jacket lifted above his head when you let him stop touching you long enough. You barely have time to appreciate the feel of his naked hands on your skin, cupping your breasts in his broad, smooth palms, thumbing your nipples all-too-briefly before he’s sliding down the zipper of his flight suit and baring a V of muscled flesh all the way to his groin.

“Mando,” you gasp as he frees his cock, as he maneuvers the throbbing, purpled head to drag through your slit. He finds you open and wet, lips parted for him, and he groans as he nudges against your fluttering hole. He doesn't hesitate.

He pushes in slow, for he’s a lot to take, thick and hard and the stretch is almost too much. You whine, your voice high and tight in your throat, and he soothes you with soft little noises and praise that makes you feel light-headed.

“Shhh, that’s it,” “You’re so fucking tight-” “Made to take my cock, mesh’la" and other words you don’t recognize. Eventually, he’s all the way inside you, his pelvis flush to yours, the scratch of hair at his pubic bone pressing into your mound.

You pant in his arms, eyes squeezed shut, a thin resin of sweat risen on your brow. “Move,” you order through clenched teeth, and finally you open your eyes to meet his visor and demand, “Fuck me, Mando.”

And he does - withdrawing his hips from the welcoming cradle of yours, his cock dragging back through you, and you can feel every ridge and vein before he’s spearing back in, jarring your back against the bulkhead. It’s a shock right through your system, and you can feel adrenaline flooding your veins, your blood pumping faster like you’re fighting for your life. You might as well be, for he does it again, and again, and soon he’s setting a punishing pace that hits against something soft and devastating deep inside you.

Your orgasm hits you like a blow you fail to dodge - winding you, knocking the air from your lungs - and for a moment all that matters is the blinding flash of pleasure through your nerves, the rolling wave that makes your cunt flutter in rippling spasms around the pulsing rod of his cock. He pins your hips with another vicious rut of his hips and then he’s coming, too, releasing into the impossible grip of your body, groaning with every spurt of spend he fills you with.

“Fuck,” Din summarizes, once you both can catch your breath - once your legs start to loosen, jelly-weak as he pulls out gently, lowering your feet back to the ground. He’s suddenly nervous - worried he’s fucked this up, done the wrong thing, lost patience and paid for it with your scorn.

But your smile is brilliant as you beam up at him - your face radiant - flushed and sweaty. You are beautiful.

“Next time, don't waste time dropping hints,” you tell him, and then you reassure him with a laugh, and the wonderful feeling of your arms around his neck.

For a while, he just holds you close. And for a while, the bullets in his stomach are gone.

#806 followers celebration #din djarin/f!reader #din djarin/you #din djarin smut #mandalorian smut #the mandalorian fanfic #mando/you #mando/reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #mando x you #mando x reader #mando smut

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blissfulparker · 3 years

Text

Pointing The Gun→ Bodyguard!Tom

Pairings: bodyguard!tom x royal!reader

Warnings; mentions of guns, mentions of being shot, isolation, smut

Summary; the daughter of one of London’s most royal families always has a gun pointed at her, Freedom restricted and never having one true friend or love in her life. Although one bodyguard, one safehouse makes everything change.

Wc: 6kish??

A/n; This has been sitting in my drafts for months but and I had a hard time wrapping it up but I finally figured it out(somewhat) Anyways, bodyguard!Tom is one of my fav AUs so I hope you guys enjoy

Staring out the window of the large office you had sat in waited in was an all too familiar feeling.

The tea served in front of you grew cold as it had now been an hour since you received it from the front desk assistant. You envied her, The women who only worked in the front of the building, an assistant probably not even earning more than 15 an hour, you envied.

She didn’t have to worry about her life on the line every second of the day. She didn’t have to worry about if her family was dead or alive. There wasn’t a red dot pointed at her chest nearly every second as a price tag held the hunt for her high.

Even if it wasn’t the most perfect life the front desk office assistant lived, the idea of going home to an animal or a lover, heating up leftovers and going to sleep peacefully was an action you wished you had.

The two men talked outside. One being your father, the other being a new possible bodyguard for you. The last one wasn’t the best, he didn’t get To know you that well and he was more of a robot than a human as he stood tall by your side, talked when needed but shut up the other half.

He quit to go work for some celebrity who’s name you never got. You only hoped she would hear him speak more than two words as you’re almost positive that the only words he ever spoke to you were ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’ as he left.

Your heart didn’t break though over that bodyguard that left you. your heart broke as your youth was stolen from you and in the next 48 hours you will be sent off on a private jet to a safehouse. A safehouse with some random new bodyguard promising to keep you safe until whatever threat was on you this time was cleared.

“She will be ecstatic to work with you.” You hear your fathers voice on the other side of the wall. Working was a poor term, ecstatic was even poorer.

“Thank you.” And there you listened as the poor boy signed away his life as he didn’t know what he was getting himself into. Thinking he’s only shaking hands with one of London’s most important family heirs to royalty and thinking he gets to have a getaway with the princess, he'll be lucky to even be alive in the next two weeks.

“(Y/n),” your father opened the door. Besides him stood a broad frame, a boy who looked to be around your age, you prayed for him even more.

A frown forms on your face when you realize his blood will be on your hands. His family will hate you and blame you for the loss of their boy.

He wore a tight black shirt that showed how strong he was, probably to show off that he is capable of helping the damsel in distress. Wears an expensive watch around his wrist, an older one, looks to be a family heirloom. Along with a ring on his finger, his fingers and hands look as if they’ve been broken before. You can tell he’s been in a position of a bodyguard before, the way he stands and holds himself. You could see him with a A-list celebrity but none that can harm him. Maybe a famous model who thinks she needs protection but she only needs to be protected from how many shots at the club she takes. Or maybe he’s worked for some actress who thinks she’s worthy but it’s just average. All of those things were Making his past jobs easy.

He thinks he knows what he’s doing, you tell yourself, what an idiot.

“Meet your new bodyguard, Mr. Thomas Holland.” Your father introduced and you only let your tired eyes glance over to the innocent man.

“You don’t have to call me that, Tom is alright.” He doesn’t reach out his hand. You mentally furrow your brows as the man always reaches out his hand to kiss yours as if this was the 17th century and princesses were the most respected people in the world. You could go as far to say that the office assistant was more respected than you.

You don’t say anything, you only look at him when he walked in but then turn your attention back to the city that rushed outside. Wishing you were one of the people running down the street late to work. Wishing you were normal.

“She’s a little distressed.” He mumbled words to Tom and then went into explaining the next 48 hours. The next 48 hours where you would be away from London and most likely on a remote island with only a radio to call back to land.

You knew the long painful drill all too easily. A new safehouse, a new start, a new everything you keep you safe.

Before you knew it the two of you were being walked out of the room. Pushed into a car and driven to a nearby airport where the two of you would start a new life for two weeks.

A new life where Tom would get himself killed.

The first night spent together was long, the two of you found yourself on an island, there were people, locals that didn’t speak English but you would most likely never see them again.

Tom led you into the house. You had to admit, maybe if you weren’t so caught up with the pain of thinking of the way you could die or the way your new and shiny bodyguard could possibly die, you thought he was attractive. He had a large frame, clearly fit. He had a sharpen jaw and deep brown eyes, curly chocolate hair and when his skin brushed against you it was soft, soft and he smelt of cedarwood and oak. A deep forest scent and soft skin, his teeth were white and straight and his lips...his lips you already knew tasted of the mint chapstick he had applied numerous times during the plane.

He held your bags for you even though you tried to hold them yourself. Even at one point protesting that if anything did happen, his hands were full.

He was a gentleman through and through as he helped you with most things already. He was more of a comfort than a bodyguard. He made dinner for you and reminded you that he was just down the hall. The thing you liked was that he cared and didn’t push. He didn’t try and push you into confessing things or sharing your life story—as some bodyguards did.

He also wasn’t too quiet, he offered you his care beyond just his strength and guns. He reminded you he was here, asked if you needed anything wherever you guys were, and had a small spark in his eyes that showed he cared.

“Good morning.” His words are sweet. You felt awful as he was kind to you and you were cold to him. “I made some coffee already.” He told you and you smiled at him.

“Thank you.” You mumbled. If he was going to be your bodyguard, alone in your safehouse for the next two weeks, you needed to get to know him. You knew the cold distant thing didn’t work, for it never did.

“I’m sorry.” You mentally cursed yourself as those were the first words that came out of your mouth. You hadn’t said much but the first thing that did come out was that.

“Why would you be sorry?” He looks over. On the couch, he has the news playing. Local news in a different language, they talk about farmers markets, local crimes, sob stories that you hate hearing about because it makes you sound spoiled.

“You’re getting yourself killed.” You told him and he got up from the couch, his coffee cup empty and he places it in the dishwasher.

“Oh yeah?” A stupid smirk formed on his face, it didn’t take a poet to read his face for every time that smirk appeared he was ready to tell a bad joke at an even badder time. “I don’t see you pointing the gun.” His arms fold.

A stupid smirk as if this was all a game. But This is the closest he’s been and the most he’s talked to you as a conversation.

“Still.” You walk past him and before you could go far he catches your arm. His smile slowly dropped as he sees nothing works with you. No amount of space or time would you seem to open up to him. Even if it’s only been a few days, he knew the longer he stayed quiet the longer you did too.

“I’m here to help you.” He promised. You never heard it from someone’s mouth. He was here to help you, didn’t mean he wanted to help you. He was being paid to keep you alive. You had to remember that.

“I know.” And you slipped away from his grasp and walked out of the room. “But you’re going to die trying.”

Leaving him alone, frustrated, and able to check off a few more things from the list of things you were said to be: Stubborn.

Tom knew exactly what he was getting into when he was asked to work for you. The daughter of a wealthy family with a dark past. Your father was a successful politician and businessman, your eldest brother becoming the CEO of a company he started, then there was you. The heir to everything they owned. If both your father and brother were to die, you would be the richest women in London, possibly even the world.

So people wanted you dead for a good reason, money. With the money you were the heir to, you could do anything in the world with.

There were companies out to kill you, people who were promised half the money if they were to kill you. Kill you like they did your mother, they killed your mother in hoping to get your father and brother and take over but it was too quick, they only killed her.

The man who murdered your mother was never found. He was rumored to be seen, rumored it was a family member, rumored to be many things but all Tom knew was that at eight years old, you were in the house with her and were the one to find the body. Now you were destined to have the same faith.

So when Tom stepped into that interview with your father, he knew he was signing his life away. He knew everything there was to know about you but he also thinks deep down there was a girl who needed help, that to keep her alive he had to listen to her.

Tom had found comfort in the large safehouse, it felt like more of a mansion than a safe house, he spent half his day in the gym, another half he found himself finally having time to read as this was his first bodyguard job where he wasn’t constantly on his feet. All in between he checked in on you, you who only came out of your room to get water, food, or any other thing you might need but you didn’t talk to him. You also were the first person he thinks he’s ever protected that he didn’t hear talk.

Once he protected a D list celebrity who was so far in her head all she talked about was herself so he guessed that being with you was a change of pace. But he wanted to know. He wanted to know what there was beyond what the media had presented of you.

The smell of spices and the heat that filled the house drew you out of your room that night. Tom, Tom wearing another tight shirt and sweatpants, cooked in the kitchen. He wore glasses, you didn’t think he wore glasses. You looked at his file, of course you did, he didn’t have any eyesight problems. He was allergic to daisy’s though, that made you laugh. Such a tough guy allergic to such a dainty flower.

“Do you need help?” You say as you lean against the kitchen door. He jerks his head up, shocked that you came out of your room as the past few nights have been dinner with himself.

“I-Uh-yeah,” he clears his throat. Step 1 of being a bodyguard, never let your client get you flustered. He just broke step one. “Can you cut the chicken?”

You nod, taking the knife from him and going over to the cutting board. Cutting the raw chicken into smaller chunks while he worked on peppers, adding them into the pan before taking the cut chicken from you and throwing it in there as

“Do you miss home yet?” You start a conversation, you were willing to get to know him. But not fall in love with him like he had maybe hoped you would. You would break his heart—quite literally as he would die.

“No,” he states. “My family knows I’m safe wherever I am, my best friend and brother is taking care of my house and my Tessa.” He comments.

My tessa, you think. Of course he has a girlfriend at home, someone as charming and attractive as him, he had a girl.

“Tessa?” You repeated and he nodded as he stirred what was in the pan.

“She’s beautiful, found her when I was around 14–“ found was an interesting way to say you got a girlfriend. Slightly disrespectful even. “She’s always excited to see me and is so spoiled, I mean she takes up half the bed and—“

“Tessa is a…”

He lets out a soft chuckle, turning to see your worried and confused face.

“A dog, darling. Tessa is a dog.” Your heart starts to beat normally again and you let out a soft breath. You shouldn’t even care if he had someone at home or not. If he was talking to someone or if he was more of a hookup man than relationship or relationship more than hookup. None of that should’ve mattered as you remind yourself he is only your bodyguard, you could control your hormones and control everything for however long you stayed here as you’ve done it before.

“She sounds lovely.” You say. “I’ve never had a dog.” You admitted. It was true, no dog, no cat, not even a fish as you were always gone, never around to take care of it.

“Really?” He has a higher pitch to his voice.

“No, we always moved around so much that I guess I never really got to settle down to have one.” You shrug and he leans against the counter. For a moment he takes in your beauty, something he didn’t even get the chance to do as he first met you. And you were gorgeous, he knew that from the pictures but seeing you in real life was different. Even if you just wore an older tee shirt and sweats, you had eye bags as he assumed you weren’t getting the best sleep. You were scared, he knew that.

“Maybe when this is all over I can introduce you to mine.” He offers before turning around and continuing to stir the meat.

“I hope you like burnt tacos.” He jokes and for the first time he sees a small smile and the small sound of a laugh leave your lips. If only he knew he was the first one to make a laugh leave your lips in a long time.

Tom was a funny man. Over dinner he told you joke stories about past bodyguard jobs he had. He told you about his childhood and he made you feel normal. Even though you knew it was wrong, you saw him as a friend. He made you feel normal, his cooking could use some work but it was the thought that counted—you had bodyguards cook for you before and it was way better but Tom allowed you into the kitchen letting you hold a knife without thinking you’re going to accidentally stab yourself.

“I feel so safe under the arms of a criminal.” You laugh as he finished telling you the story of when he was a kid he would steal candy from cinemas and small shops when he didn’t have any money.

“I was 11 and I know the wrongs now.” He laughs as he swallows the last bit of food before coming over and touching the small crumb that managed to get on your cheek.

For a moment, his touch was so soft and so settle you almost forgot what the feeling of butterflies felt like in your stomach. For the feeling of butterflies were forgien to you since relationships were mostly restricted. You’ve snuck away a few times as a teen, just to feel an act of rebellion but nothing romantic. Romance was almost laughable to you as something so sweet and so nice could never truly last like it did in the books and movies.

He clears his throat realizing he was too close, he leans back and looks down at his plate that was nearly empty but he didn’t want to stop talking to you. He liked hearing your voice and he knew in this moment, he was seeing the true you.

“So what about you? What crimes have you committed.” He teases and you let out a soft laugh.

“Not really able to commit crimes when you can never leave the house or never go anywhere. I guess my worse crime would be sneaking out.” You joke and he makes a small face.

“I guess that is rebellious.” He laughs and you do too. He feels bad for you, you had never had the normal childhood everyone else did. He told his whole story and he could see a small light in your eyes like you’d hoped for that too.

“Sorry I was...distant for a few days.” You don’t make eye contact with him. “My dad is super protective of me and I guess it just gets exhausting knowing there is a threat but always hiding, always being away, you never get a night out you know? I don’t think I’ve ever had a night where I’ve gone to a pub or even just a day where I’ve casually walked through town. I want that, you know?”

He doesn’t nod because he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what it’s like to always have a red dot pointed at his chest, well, he does but not the target they truly want.

“Yeah.” He moves his legs and offers to take your plate. You hand it to him with a thank you before getting up to help him with the dishes.

“You can go get some rest, I’ve got this.” You only stayed silent because you didn’t want to argue with him. You also didnt want to push your limits.

He was a bodyguard. Not a friend, not a lover.

Two weeks pass and you and Tom learn to know each other more and more. In the mornings you two have coffee, the afternoon you have lunch and go for a small run in the forest—you wear a hat and sunglasses for protection. Evening you two make dinner together and late at night you both find yourself reading in the living room—two nights ago you fell asleep and tom carried you to bed.

Tom was the kindest person you had ever met and you had met a lot of people. Not only was he kind but he was selfless, he put every need of yours in front of his even if it wasn’t apart of the job. He was the most of a friend you had ever had and quickly became your best bodyguard.

What worried you about Tom is how when you got back home, when the threat was cleared, he was most likely to leave as your father wasn’t fond of the idea of you having a bodyguard for too long. Your father claimed it was so you were better protected, that if they were a mole they couldn’t figure out that much.

So two weeks into living with him felt like the longest bodyguard you had. A bodyguard who actually said goodnight was nice as he helped you to bed when you were too drunk or tired.

“Careful Tom!” You had started using his name with less spite and more care. You two loved to find youselves in the kitchen seeing just who could fuck up dinner more.

“I'm not even doing anything!” He holds his hands up, maybe it was all the hormones but you dreamt about gripping on his muscles while holds you—

“You’re stirring too quickly.” You quickly snap yourself out of whatever thoughts would make you awkward for the rest of the night. “You'll burn it.” You come behind him and take the spoon. His eyes slightly red as he had already drank a little bit too much tonight. You found that your Tom drunk was giggly, playful, and teasing.

“I don’t think one could stir too quickly, Princess.” There were plenty of pet names. Princess, darling, Angel, peaches, he had an array of names. He seemed to love the one Princess.

“I think you are.” You take a sip of your wine and he turns down the temperature of the stove before grabbing plates.

Assembling two plates of food for the two of you. As you go to grab silverware, you stumble over the tile and Tom is quick to catch you.

You hiccup as maybe you’ve had enough for the night but still wanted to drink some more. Toms hands around your lower back is a forgien feeling. For the last time you think a man had touched you was when you lost your virginity at 17. Toms hands were large, rough, but at the same time so soft.

“I got you.” He says and you look down at his arms, the small space between your chests and then his lips but finally you make it up to look at his eyes. His eyes where he even the tiny of red, the glossy finish over them as you knew he was tipsy. You could tell something deep in his eyes saw something as well. He saw hope with you, hope that he knew he shouldn’t have.

“Think that’s enough drinking for you.” He takes your wine glass and takes a sip from it. You huff as he was much stronger so when you tried to grab the cup, all he did was put his hand out and stopped you.

Dinner was sweet as usual, you two talked and laughed. Having dinner with Tom at the small wooden table was the first time you had a home cooked meal at a dinner table since your mom died. Since you were eight years old. It was strange to laugh like this, you feel bubbly as you never expressed yourself like this to anyone else before and all it took was a few weeks, bottles of wine and many failed dishes.

“I think your cooking skills have improved.” You teased and he swallowed his bite before cocking his eyebrow.

“Darling, I am a good cook, I just...am rusty.” He jokes and you smirk at him.

“Sure…” you tease and he scoffs.

“Give me time I swear!” His words were harmless but you hated time. Time was limited. Tom was limited.

I’ll give you all the time I have, you think. If you could you would. You would give him all your time.

As you tried to get up from the table you nearly trip over your feet once again, catching yourself on the table but Tom is quick to come to your side and help you.

“Okay,” his laugh was so soft yet deep, you could fall asleep to the sound of his laugh. “Now we know for sure you’ve had enough to drink. Maybe we should get you to your room.” He teases and you roll your eyes.

Even though you’re completely capable of walking yourself, Tom walks you down the long empty hall to the bedroom with the slight crack to the door.

“I can walk myself.” You joke and he lets out a soft laugh.

“Yeah, you tripped twice tonight.” He teases and as you got to the door you stood in front of him. He wasn’t towering over you like other bodyguards you’ve had in the past, he was just the perfect height. Being this close you could see everything better, even if the hall was dim and only lit with the moon that was full and bright.

He had soft pink lips, a freckle on his lower lip and though they were thin they were a slight shade of red from the wine and the faint smell of mint came from the chapstick he wore.

You don’t even know you’re doing it, your hand subconsciously goes up to brush the soft scare in between his eyebrow. It splits the hair and creates a soft dent.

Your thumb brushes over it and tom doesn’t move, he only watches your face as you become amused by it. He becomes amused by every part of you.

“You have a scar.” You comment the most obvious and he takes a soft hold of your wrist.

“I hit my eye on the monkey bars, had to get stitches.” He told you and you move your hand down from his brow but he still holds your wrist. He doesn’t even realize that your hand now rests on his cheek.

You hold his gaze, the two of you were completely frozen. He can’t kiss you, he knows this. He was your bodyguard and nothing more, he was here to protect you and that was it. When he gets back to London, you and him will be parted and the only memories he can hold onto are the ones from the magazines.

“Tom.” Your voice comes out as a faint whisper. Almost as a squeak.

“I-I can’t.” He blinks away. He lets go of your wrists and turns around as if he were to walk away from you. He was so close and now he was walking away from you.

“Please.” You reached out for him and he clenched his jaw.

He didn’t know how long you two would be here, he also started to see you as something more. Morning runs filled with laughs, your afternoon reading sessions filled with blanket sharing and often times you falling asleep on his shoulder. Dinner was always the best, dancing and laughing over most of the time half burnt food.

“Your dad will kill me.” He comes back to being face to face with you. He was right, yes, but that was the last thing you wanted to think about.

“He’s not here, is he?” Your hands rest on his shoulder and he swallows hard. Hard enough you see his Adam’s Apple go up and down and his eyes find yours.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” He says. If only he knew his words were quite literally. You may one day be the death of him, and that was why you knew you shouldn’t do this.

“I’m not pointing the gun.” You use his own words back at him and before you can say anything else, he presses his lips against yours. His hands come around your lower back to press you against his body. You are already pulling at the lower ends of his hair, tugging at the nape of his hair as he’s pushed you up against the hallway wall.

He’s quick to take you into the bedroom and have you in your own bed, quivering under his touch as the moment he removes your shirt he is met with no bra, this entire time you have been walking around this house braless and that drove him crazy.

“So fucking soft,” he touches up your stomach and takes each nipple into his hand before taking attention to each one.

As he kisses down your body, he kisses over a faint scar, a scar that resembles one of a wound, a bullet wound. He looks up at your face and he sees how your eyes are screwed shut so he doesn’t take anytime ro question it. For maybe it was something better left alone.

To think that this entire time you were living with a sex god made you mentally slap yourself. He was selfless in every way as he paid all his attention to you.

“Shit darling, fuck you’re tight.” He comes down to plant a kiss on your lips.

“P-Please Tom, f-faster.” You cried and your wish was his command as he buried his face into your neck and your nails dragged down his back.

“I want to hear you,” his breath isn't even shaky as he pounds into you. “Let me hear who’s making you feel this good.” He told you and you didn’t hold back.

For nothing was around except trees and nearby lakes, although even the trees whisper, the trees head everything but the two of you don’t know that.

First it was one, then two, then three orgasms until you begged him to stop. Everything felt so good but so much, it amazed you how long he could go.

Moments after you two lay in pure silence, he cleans you up and makes sure you’re alright, you had never had someone take so much care after you two were together, but Tom took all the time with you.

“Was I too rough?” He asks and you shake your head. Your head rests against his chest and you trace soft circles over his chest.

The soft moonlight falls into the room, your bodies sweaty and intertwined with each other and for a moment you forget where you are. You forget that you are hiding in a safehouse and that Tom was your bodyguard and that when you got back to London he would be nothing but your protector. The closest he would come to touching you would be his hand pulling you out of danger.

“Do you want me to stay?” he looks at you, his hand comes to brush your face and for the first time you look at a bodyguard, look at him with such passion and answer,

“Stay.” With your sweet words and his soft touches, for once you feel a sort of calm. For once you don’t have to feel like you’re dying.

The next two weeks you spend with Tom in pure bliss. Feeling each other’s love everyday, each day was filled with more and more excitement.

You hadn’t had much updates on your threat, not much at all as the only messages Tom received were ones telling you guys to stay safe.

But everything had been too quiet. as you felt safe, Tom hated himself for not telling you the nights he woke up in a sweat with you by his side, swearing someone was watching you. Swearing someone watches as you slept. He neglected telling you that after you fell asleep, he looked around the house as something was off.

He no longer left his gun in one room as he always had it on him. You thought he was being over dramatic but he told you it was to keep you safe.

“Your hair is so soft.” You kisses along his neck as your hands are tangled in his hair. As he loves the feeling of your lips against his neck, he feels something is different. Someone was watching the two of you.

The feeling he felt as you woke up, restricting you from your morning jogs. The feeling he felt causing him to keep the blinds closed a little bit longer.

As he tries to keep his attention on you he fails. His grip tightens on you but even you know it’s not in a good way.

“What’s wrong?” You look up and his eyes are locked at the back door. Your eyes look over and you see nothing. you always could tell when a bodyguard sensed something. You knew when Tom woke up, pulled you closer and in the morning blamed nightmares, you knew where all the guns were even if they were ‘hidden’. The way you felt him tense like there was someone else in the room.

“Tom, you’re scaring me.” You move closer towards him and he snaps his attention back to you.

“Someone's here.” He says and gets up from the couch quickly and his hands were wrapped around you still. He had one hand on your lower back and his other hand reached into the couch and pulled out a gun.

“Go in the bedroom.” He ordered and you looked at him ready to protest. “This isn’t a argument Princess, go.” He nearly barks at you and you do as you’re told. You run to the bedroom and get the phone, the only phone that you’ve been able to have signal with and you make the call.

For years, you never cared about your life being on the line. Knowing your faith would go out the same way your mother did, you only hoped you hadn’t a child to watch you die. Now, you knew toms life was on the line and for the man who made you feel something for the first time in years. You couldn’t let him go. Your life had been filled with death and tom was the last person you wanted to see go.

The door opens and your head snaps up and you point a gun. Tom holds his hands up, he holds back a smile as he taught you well. Taught you better. How in the middle of the day he would teach you how to point a gun, how to shoot in case he failed you.

“You won’t fail me.” You remember saying. “You’ll never fail me. Although I might fail you.”

“We’re clear, for now.” He came to you. Helping you to your feet as you huddled in the bedroom corner. “You’re okay.” He promised. He was the first bodyguard to pull you into a hug, kiss the top of your forehead and make you feel safe. You swear, under the muffled sound of his lips pressed to the top of your head you heard him say, were okay. You wanted him to say it louder but this would do for now.

“Don’t go dying on me.” You held him tighter. “Please.” His heart broke at your words.

He didn’t know if it was right, he certainly knew that his job wouldn’t allow it but deep down he knows if you allow him, more than sex, he’ll love you. He can love you.

“You’re not getting rid of me that fast.” For maybe his jokes in serious times weren’t the funniest but he was here.

He can’t hear it, maybe it was his mind playing tricks on him but he swore he heard the soft I love you from your lips. Nuzzled into his shoulder tears fall and he holds you close.

He wouldn’t die on you, not unless you were the one pointing the gun. With him you were safe and for once, with you he was safe.

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13uswntimagines · 3 years

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Loose Lips Sink Ships (Soran X Swift!Reader)

Request: The Next Instalment of the Swift!Reader Universe where everyone finds out that the reader is dating Emily and Lindsey. Basically, 5000 words of the reader getting caught in compromising positions, having deep conversations with her sister and teasing some too invasive fans.

Other Parts of the Swift!Reader Universe

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Taylor considered herself a very perceptive person, especially when it came to you. From the time you were little, she could read you like a book. She knew to look for the tilt of your head when you were curious, or how you scratched the back of your neck when you were nervous.

But this, she had never seen before. Your thumbs twiddled on your thighs, patting out an erratic pattern that didn’t match any of your favorite songs, and your feet were tapping out a completely different beat. You also kept tucking your chin, completely refusing to make eye contact with her.

It wasn’t just tonight either. It was for the entire week you had been staying with her in her Manhattan apartment. She didn’t know if she could take another three weeks of you sneaking off to the terrace to make phone calls at midnight.

She sighed, turning away from the stove to lean over the island, taking a long drag from her wine glass and eyeing you carefully.

“Alright, what’s going on with you?” She asked, raising an eyebrow at you. You blinked up at her with owlish eyes.

“You’re acting weird,” she added with a shrug, turning to whatever she was making on the stove.

You took a large gulp of your drink and swallowed hard. You didn’t think you had been that obvious, but then again Taylor knew you better than anyone (well, there were two people who probably knew you as well as she did). Soon enough they would be just as good at getting information out of you as Taylor was.

“I’m just tired. Pre-season and national team duty are kinda kicking my ass,” You mumbled, rubbing the back of your neck, praying to god that she would take this excuse.

She nodded, tapping the spatula on the side of the pot before turning back to you and picking up her glass again. “I’m sure the media pressure isn’t helping that,”

You shrugged.“Everyone just expects me to be you, and it’s a lot sometimes,” You mumbled, absentmindedly circling your fingers over the rim of your glass.

Taylor’s eyebrows furrowed. She could tell you weren’t telling her everything, but if this was the route you wanted to take, then she wouldn’t miss a chance to reaffirm you.

“I know, and I’m sorry for that,” She said softly, reaching across the island to gently grab your hand.

You finally looked up at your sister, echoing her sad smile, and noting the worried crinkle by her eyes. “It’s not really your fault,”

She nodded. “I know, but all I can do is tell you how amazing you are as many times as I can,”

You held her gaze for a few more seconds, her seriousness giving you no reason to doubt her sincerity.

It didn’t matter what the media, or your family, said about your career. Taylor maintained that you were just as good, simply because you were you. She was your greatest champion and most trusted confidant.

You nodded, and she squeezed your hand before turning back to the stove. She knew pushing you to talk about what was really bothering you wouldn’t help. You would come to her when you were ready.

You watched her thoughtfully as she put the final touches on dinner, checking on a tray in the oven and stirring the things on the stove.

You were comforted by the familiarity of it, but the little voice in the back of your head reminded you that you also enjoyed this position when it was a different blond cooking for you (and the way Lindsey teased her while she cooked).

The three of you had been together for nearly eight months, and recently you had all decided that maybe it was time to stop hiding. The first step was telling Taylor, but you weren’t really sure how.

Your heart thumped in your chest at the thought of your two favorite women. Your girlfriends, you reminded yourself. They made you feel so many amazing, and terrifying things you had never felt before. Taylor always sang about those emotions, and you wondered if this was what she was talking about.

“Can I ask you a question?” You asked softly, and Taylor paused her stirring on the stove. That was always the cue you used when you wanted to have a serious conversation. When you were nervous about whatever the answer would be. The last time you had asked that you wanted to know if she would be upset if you skipped college in favor of going pro.

Her opinion mattered to you more than anyone else’s.

“You know you always can,” She said, avoiding looking over her shoulder (towards where she knew you were worrying your lip between your teeth).

“How did you know you were in love?”

Taylor paused, a pan halfway out of the oven, at the completely unexpected question. She should have seen this coming, she had seen the way those two looked at you.

She cleared her throat, straightening and setting the hot pan on some oven mitts on the counter, before turning her full attention to you. She took in how you seemed so hunched in on yourself, your eyes still glued to your glass.

“Well, She made me feel warm and bubbly like there was a hot spring in my chest. When anything happened, she was the first person I wanted to tell,”

You blinked up at her, your eyebrows furrowing. “Like you were addicted to her? Like when she smiled, it finally felt like you could breathe?” You rushed out and Taylor let you, giving you to work through your emotions, before she pulled you into a tight hug.

You had a very bad habit of bottling everything up and pretending that you were fine (something she was sure her career choice - and your mother- didn’t necessarily help).

“Did you feel scared of how much she made you feel?” You leaned into her touch, sighing when she ran her fingers through your hair.

“In the beginning it did, but then it was freeing when I realized that she would be there to catch me,” Taylor said, kissing the crown of your head.

You closed your eyes. You didn’t doubt that they would catch you, but the feeling of falling was terrifying. You were in deep and keeping it from your sister was difficult.

“Dinner looks amazing and I’m starving,” You mumbled, and you felt Taylor sigh. She had gotten a little out of you, but definitely not enough to curve her curiosity. All in good time.

“Let’s eat,” she said, kissing your hair and standing to make you two plates. She still had 2 weeks to get the rest of the story out of you.

****

You were in absolute heaven. Trapped in between the two warm bodies of your girlfriends, one set of lips moving with your own and another trailing kisses lightly down your neck.

Emily and Lindsey had spent one of their free days (between Adidas and other sponsor commitments) hanging out with you, and you couldn’t be happier. You spent the day exploring the city and checking off a massive list of stereotypical couple things the city had to offer. It had ended in a very romantic dinner at a little pub on the lower east side, and now some amazing kisses in your room at your sister’s apartment.

Lindsey’s hands slipped under the front of your shirt, her nail scratching lightly up your tummy and ribs as she pressed herself further into your back. You sighed into Emily’s mouth, tilting your head to both give her a better angle on your mouth and give Lindsey more room in your neck.

“Hm, we’ve gotta stop. Tay will be back soon,” You mumbled when Emily pulled back and turned you so Lindsey got her turn too.

You felt Emily sit up behind you to get a good look at the clock. “You said we had till 12, it’s only 11:15,” you could hear the smirk in her voice, even as she kissed your ear and made her way down to the patch of skin on your neck she knew drove you wild.

You bit your lip. It was one thing to ask your sister for relationship advice, and a complete other for her to walk in on it.

Lindsey gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Do you wanna stop?”

Emily paused as they both waited for your answer. It was sweet and comforting how they always made sure you felt safe and that you were enthusiastically consenting to whatever you were doing.

You shook your head and pouted. “No,”

Lindsey sent you a very indulgent smile, her thumb gently rubbing over your cheeks. “Then less talking, more kissing,”

You giggled into the kiss, a shiver running down your spine when Emily continued her ministrations in your neck.

You hummed into the kiss, very much enjoying how their bodies felt pressed into yours. God, it was like you just couldn’t get enough. It was so easy to lose track of time with them. It wasn’t until a loud slam of the door and your sister calling “Y/n, you here?” That you finally pulled away from the women.

“Shit! You two have to hide,” You squeaked, practically leaping from the bed. You threw Emily’s pants and Lindsey’s shirt towards the women on the bed, who were moving way too slow for your liking.

“Where?” Emily asked, tripping as she tried to hastily shove her legs inside her pants, while simultaneously glancing around your room in search of a suitable hiding space.

“I don’t know! Figure it out,” You said over your shoulder, taking a deep breath to hide your panic before you exited the room.

You carefully closed the door behind you, she would have zero chance of getting any information out of you).

“Hey kid, how was your day?” Taylor asked from the couch, looking over her wine glass at you. She opened her arms, and you immediately went to burrow into her.

“The best. I went out exploring,” Your entire face brightened (Taylor wondered if it was because you got to experience the city, or from the person, she was sure you experienced it with - ie the person(s?) who had left the hickey’s all down your neck).

“Where’d you get that shirt?” She asked after a few minutes, pinching the grey sweatshirt (which conveniently had a number 9 and the USWNT logo on it).

You blinked down at your outfit, your eyes widening, at your outfit, a pair of Emily’s Thorns shorts and Lindsey’s sweater.

“Oh, Umm,” you stuttered, racing to come up with a response when a bang echoed from your room.

Taylor’s head snapped in the direction of the sound “What was that?”

“Nothing Tay,” You winced at another loud thump followed by several giggles.

She raised an eyebrow at you and stood to go investigate for herself. She didn’t mind you bringing a significant other home (especially if they made you this happy) but she didn’t want them hiding from her.

“Are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to go find them for myself?”

You crossed your arms like a petulant child and pouted. “I also spent the day with Emily and Lindsey,”

“And?” Taylor asked, slightly confused. She liked the women and she thought you knew she would approve. Hell, she had practically given them the shovel talk already.

You sighed, hunching your shoulders. “They’re hiding in my closet because we were making out when you came home,”

Taylor giggled at how absolutely pitiful you sounded. She patted your shoulder “Well, I think the closet is a terrible place to hide. How about you get them out here,”

You nodded and stood to go retrieve the girls, slightly afraid of what Taylor was going to say to them.

“And y/n,” she said just as you got to your door.

You paused and turned towards her “Yeah?” You asked, tilting your head to the side.

“I’m happy that you’re so happy to be dating them,”

You smiled so wide that your cheeks started to hurt. It felt like a weight was lifted off your chest. No matter what happened going forward, Taylor supported you (even if you were sure she was about to give them one hell of a shovel talk and set up some serious boundaries).

You nodded and entered your room. Perhaps it was about time that you all came out of the closet.

******

You weren’t quite sure how you always got yourself into these situations. Maybe it was that you, Em, and Linds barely got to see each other outside of camp during the season, or maybe it was because the three of you were so sickeningly in love that you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.

Whatever it was, you, Emily, and Lindsey couldn’t seem to keep your hands to yourself (especially after you came out to your sister).

Even now, with the no girlfriends rule at camp, you found yourself pinned to the elevator wall by Lindsey’s hips, thoroughly enjoying the way Emily’s tongue was exploring your mouth (shivering slightly when Lindsey hit the sensitive spots on her neck) (with no idea how they thought this position was comfortable for them).

You were so engrossed in your kissing that you didn’t hear the ding of the elevator, or the doors beginning to slide open.

“Holy shit guys, at least let the girl breathe,” Kelley’s cackling caused all three of you to jump, and Lindsey to inadvertently knock heads with you.

“Fuck,” Emily hissed, working her way out from between Lindsey’s arms and your chest.

“Ow,” You mumbled, rubbing your forehead l, as Lindsey used a thumb to lift your chin so she could look at it. “You alright babe,” She asked softly.

Kelley laughed louder at the mess that was the three of you trying to untangle yourselves from each other, ignoring Alex’s glare (teasing someone while their cheeks were as red as yours were wasn’t something she felt comfortable with).

“Shut up Kelley,” Emily grumbled, pulling you off the wall so she could hug you from behind. You leaned back into the woman, taking whatever comfort you could. The three of you knew it was time to tell the team, but you hadn’t expected it to happen like this.

“How long has this been going on?” Alex asked softly after a few minutes. There was no way the three of you could be so comfortable around each other if this was a new thing.

“Almost a year,” You said, shyly looking up at Lindsey, who placed a very sweet kiss on your cheek while Emily placed the same on your other.

“Does Taylor know?” Alex asked at the same time Kelley said “I’m gonna need an exact date,”.

Alex slapped the back of Kelley’s head. “Not the time Kel,”

“Yeah, Taylor knows and is super cool with it,” Lindsey said softly, squeezing your hand.

Alex tilted her head, looking to you for confirmation. You nodded.

“Good, because I didn’t want to have to try and keep it from her,” The forward smirked, and you felt more heat in your cheeks. You all promised you would never mention that incident again.

“She was terrifying last time we saw her mad,” Kelley grumble, rubbing the back of her head.

“That was because you let Y/n surf in giant waves on her first time out,” Emily snorted, nuzzling her nose into the space behind your ear. Alex smiled softly at the sight of you so relaxed.

“Are you three going to tell the team?” She asked.

“You might have to if you are going to continue playing tonsil tennis in the hallways,” Kelley added, only for Alex to slap the back of her head again.

“We hadn’t really talked about it yet…” You mumbled. Both of your girlfriends squeezed you (Lindsey getting your gains, while Emily tightened the arms she had wrapped around your middle).

“Well, could you wait like 3 days? I have 20 bucks on you three taking until the middle of camp to come out,” Kelley asked, scratching the back of her neck. You rolled your eyes. Of course, they would have bets on you, but you weren’t about to bend over backward for it.

“You knew?” Emily screeched. Kelley cackled nodding wildly.

“You’re not exactly subtle,” Alex laughed. Anyone with eyes could see that you were head over heels for the women and that they were falling just as hard as you were.

*****

The internet fucking sucked. You knew that and found it relatively easy to ignore the mass chatter of the online world, but then again you had never been a part of such a disgusting report by some shady internet reporter.

All you had done was gone to lunch with Shawn Mendes, and someone had snapped a picture. The two of you had become good friends after spending so much time together on the 1989 tour. Now some random reporter was commenting on how you had confirmed your new relationship. It wouldn’t have mattered if you were anyone else, but Taylor’s fandom had blown up the small town reporter’s article.

Now they wouldn’t leave you the fuck alone.

“We’re not going to respond to it,” You huffed, crossing your arms adamantly in front of your chest, effectively pushing your plate of pancakes away. You squinted at the vets sitting across from you, completely baffled why they thought you would take any other route.

Lindsey’s arm around your shoulder righted, while Emily leaned in, almost conspiratorially. “Of course not, but wouldn’t it be fun to send the fans on a little goose chase anyway?”

Your ears perked at that. Taylor’s fans were always so fun to mess with. They made it so easy, particularly because your sister had trained them to always look for clues (that most of the time exist).

“And we have been talking about wanting to come out,” Lindsey added softly.

Your expression soured. You didn’t want to do this as a reaction. You wanted it to happen naturally.

“I don’t wanna do that in response to some asshole who doesn’t understand boundaries,” You pouted.

“But what if we did it our way?” Lindsey and Emily both asked at the same time. It was scary how in sync they were most of the time.

“Like get the team involved, tease the fans. At least show them that you don’t play for Mr. Mendes’ team,” Emily shrugged, trying to act like she didn’t care, but you knew she did.

You couldn’t help but smirk. You did love to mess with the fans.

“If you do wanna mess with the fans, I have the perfect picture” Tobin chimed in, giving you that little push you needed.

Emily raised her eyebrows at the woman, ignoring the glares the rest of the vets were sending her way. “Didn’t see you as a prankster Toby,”

“It’s artsier than anything else…” Tobin grumbled, flipping her phone to show you the photo she was talking about.

It was of you, Emily and Lindsey during a morning hike the team had taken. You were laughing, while both of their heads were tucked into your neck. You were the only one clearly identifiable, but it was clear you were smitten with whoever you were with.

“Ooo, I like that one,” You said, suddenly feeling excited. It was bound to send the fans into a frenzy because you couldn’t see who was making you smile so wide.

Tobin nodded and began typing out the post, before flipping it for you to read and ok. You giggled at the tag line “only those two knuckleheads could get you to smile this wide before your morning coffee”.

“Good?” Tobin asked, and you nodded enthusiastically. It was perfect, and coming out this way- with the help of your team- felt amazing.

“I have one too. You guys are too photogenic,” Christen said, pulling up her phone and begging to scroll through her photos (much like the rest of the team began to do). Were you guys really that obvious? No wonder they had bets going.

*****

Your teammates were having way too much fun. You shouldn’t have been surprised considering how private the women normally were, it must have been nice to get some time sending the fans on a wild goose chase. You were also surprised at how many photos your teammates had taken of you and your girlfriends. And just how many of those photos were perfect for the little game you were playing with the fans.

You could identify yourself on all of them, but Emily and Lindsey weren’t clear at all. But it was plain to see that you were very in love with whoever was sitting next to you.

“Did you see Alex’s picture? It's amazing!” You said, wiggling excitedly between your girlfriends. The three of you had taken a break from the team and decided to cuddle while you watched the fans go insane. (It was honestly one of your favorite places to be).

“Pshhh, no Pinos is totally the best,” Emily snorted.

You pouted. She nudged your side and placed a very sweet kiss on your pouty lips.

Alex’s photo of Emily and Lindsey throwing you into the ocean was totally better than the one of you shoving and chasing your girlfriends with birthday cake-covered hands.

“No, Kelley’s is totally the top picture in the bunch,” Lindsey smirked, nudging your chin with her nose from your other side.

You blinked up at her and looked at the photo of one of your favorite goal celebrations. You had literally leaped into Emily and Lindsey’s arms, but you were at least 3 feet higher than Lindsey’s head in that picture.

You bit your lip. It was a very good picture, one of your favorites actually, but there was one that topped them all for you. “They’re all pretty good, but I think I’ve got the best one,” You said softly, pulling out your phone.

It didn’t take you long to find the picture in question (it also happened to be your lock screen). You were smiling brightly at the camera, the reputation tour stage (lit for the song Dress) clearly behind you, trapped between Emily and Lindsey kissing each of your cheeks. Your girlfriends looked over your shoulders to catch a glimpse of your phone.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Lindsey asked softly. There was no hiding or pretending in that photo. It was open and honest (and a great picture of a fantastic night).

“Yeah, it’s like speak now or forever hold your peace,” Emily added, and you could practically hear her eyebrow raising.

“No, but I don’t wanna hide you two,” You shrugged. It was the balance you sister had worked her entire career to achieve. Hiding away meant that there was no commentary about your relationship from people you had never met (loose lips sank ships after all), but it also meant avoiding the little things that you longed to do in public.

You weren’t sure if you would ever be ready to face the media, but your desire to be with your girlfriends the way you wanted was just so powerful.

“You know we’ll wait as long as you need us to,” Lindsey said, using her thumb to tilt your chin and look you in the eyes.

you nodded, your eyes never leaving her concerned blue ones. “I know but, like-. I wanna be able to hold your hand or kiss you and not have to worry who's watching. I want to be able to take you on dates, and not care about if a camera can see us cuddling. I want to be able to post about how great you looked in a game, or for your birthday. I don’t want to hide,”

During your rant, Emily had wrapped herself around you from behind, resting her chin on your shoulder and rubbing her hands flat on your belly (which never failed to calm you down).

“We know darling, but once this is done, it can’t be undone,” She said softly.

You threaded your fingers through hers, glancing down to avoid Lindsey’s appraising stare (you never could get anything past them). “I didn’t think you were a Shakespeare fan,” You mumbled.

“I’m full of surprises,” Emily said, kissing her favorite spot just behind your ear. Lindsey cracked a smile too “we both are”.

“I know,” You nodded suddenly serious, as you carefully extracted yourself from your girlfriends and began to type up the Instagram post.

You passed them the phone when you were done, idly twiddling your fingers now that you didn’t have anything in your hands. “I’m gonna do it if you two are alright with it,”

“We’re fine with whatever you choose, we love you and just want you to be comfortable,” Lindsey and Emily both said, rubbing your back and arm respectively in a comforting motion.

“I know, and I love you too. Let’s do it,” you said clicking the button and closing your phone. You didn’t need to watch the comments roll in.

It wouldn’t be until the next morning that you would see your sister had also decided to chime in. And you couldn’t keep the smile off your face at her simple caption- love my sister and her girlies. For sure the best squad ever.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #soran x reader #soran imagine #taylor swift x reader #taylor swift imagine #taylor swift fanfiction

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slasherboyos · 3 years

Text

Different World | Chapter Nine

Word count: 3300+ (adsgf there is a reason for why I split chapter eight)

Date posted: August 6, 2021

Warning: Cursing

“Different World” masterlist: Link

Fanfic Playlist: Link

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Note: A nice chapter, but an important one! Also, there is some dialogue that seems incorrect, but it’s like that for a reason; just giving a heads up just in case! As always, feedback is appreciated!

Marko’s boots stomped down the dirt steps that led into the hotel. The plastic utensils in the Coca-Cola box of Chinese takeout were heard clashing with each other when he jumped down that final ledge.

“Feeding time,” He loudly called, announcing his return with dinner. “Come and get it!” You grumbled as you sat up; you were this close to falling asleep during this small pocket of calm, but, of course, proper sleep continued to elude you. That Walkman you have been thinking about buying was starting to become all the more enticing. In your tired state, you stayed put at the far left side of the couch as Marko distributed the food with a pair of chopsticks in his mouth. Dwayne sat on the other side with Laddie sitting between you two. You put your elbow on the armrest, resting your chin on your palm.

“Tired of me already,” Paul jested, gesturing to the empty spot beside him where you usually sat during meal times. You rolled your eyes and lazily stuck your middle finger at him with the same hand that held your head. David placed himself in his shirt-covered wheelchair.

“I’m not getting up,” you flippantly grumbled, leaning in further into the armrest. Your strained eyes watered as you yawned.

“Your grace, the finest of meals,” Marko chirped. You gave Marko a sleepy amused look at his exaggerated bow and horrible attempt at a posh British accent as he handed you a carton with a pair of chopsticks. You propped yourself up and leaned comfortably against the backrest, bringing your legs up to lay on their sides. You opened the flaps, stomach tightened from hunger, mildly excited to see what he brought you. He, indeed, did know what you liked. You offered some to Star, which she declined as per usual, before you dug in, starved without the help of your usual early-evening snack.

David offered some food, a carton of rice, to Michael, which was refused at first. However, through the power of peer pressure, Michael accepted the carton and a clear, plastic fork. While you may not have approved David’s methods, you were glad to see Michael eating something. You chewed your food and swallowed it. You closed your eyes in complete bliss, finally being able to get your food intake for the night. There was a chance that Laddie may not finish all of his food, so you silently plotted to take it when he was full. It would be a pity for that delicious takeout to go to waste, after all. Plus, it would help decrease the amount of food waste amongst you.

“How are those maggots,” David asked quickly and nonchalantly, which had a very casual tone compared to the substance of his question. The boys laughed and you groaned. You leaned back against the backrest, watching, knowing the direction that this was taking. Of course, they were not going to let Michael enjoy his first meal with them without a little bit of hazing.

“What,” Michael inquired, not comprehending the bizarre statement he heard.

“Maggots, Michael. You’re eating maggots. How do they taste?” Paul had no shame in continuing to chuckle. You hid your growing smile behind your hand. Given the countless times that David had pulled this trick on you, it was strange seeing him do it to someone else.

Michael gave David an incredulous smile before looking down to come face to face with a carton of what you could assume were squirming maggots in his eyes. Almost immediately, Michael dropped the carton and spit out the rice in his mouth and the cave erupted in howling laughter. Even David was almost doubling over with how hard he was laughing. You, much to your shame, also quietly chuckled, trying to stay quiet as if you were not finding this a little entertaining. He was so unsuspecting unlike you. While you knew from the start that they were vampires—though, you did not realize their mind-based abilities at first—Michael was oblivious, so he did not catch on as quickly as you did. Well, he did not catch on at all.

Star did not find this heckling as enjoyable.

“Leave him alone,” she begged, unhappy with the boys’ treatment of Michael, not that anyone listened to what she had to say. Michael realized that the rice was not a pile of maggots, but just plain old white rice. He looked up before looking back down at the mess, really trying to process that it was just rice.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” David gave an empty apology and you rolled your eyes. “No hard feelings, huh?” Michael swallowed his pride and answered,

“No.” Wow, this guy really wants to get on David’s good side. Michael was, at least, tame enough to take it in stride, unlike you. While his initial reaction was worse than yours, at least he did not immediately yell out profanities. David stuck his chopsticks in his noodles.

“Why don’t you try some noodles?” The boys started laughing again. You waited patiently to see what trick David was pulling out of his sleeve.

“They’re worms,” Michael deadpanned and you exhaled. They had an obsession with squirmy bugs, it seemed.

“What do you mean they’re worms?” David dug through the carton, playing dumb to Michael’s concerns.

“You’re still doing this,” you uttered. You sighed, “the joke’s over, guys!” Michael tried to warn him to not eat the so-called worms, but David used the chopsticks to shove more noodles in his mouth. He chewed on them obnoxiously before grinning, content with how he got under Michael’s skin.

“They’re only noodles, Michael.” Michael snatched the carton and looked through it, only to find just noodles. He must have thought he was losing his mind! To your surprise, he did not ask any questions and took it all at face value. You were a little worried about how easily he was absorbing this.

“You’re an ass, David.” He ignored your insult, which was probably in your best interest.

“Nice worms,” Dwayne mocked amongst the snickering. You reached over Laddie and swatted Dwayne’s chest with the back of your right hand, which he hissed at, though he was not in any pain from your back-handed attack. “(Y/N) is being mean again,” he tattled on you to nobody in particular. You raised your hands, physically expressing your annoyance.

“Are you tattling on—what are you, a child?”

“That’s enough,” Star asserted, which Paul responded to with,

“Aw, chill out, girl,” While Star had not liked this from the start, you were drawing the line here. While the prank was harmless, they did not need to be ridiculing Michael this much.

And you were not a fan of Paul brushing Star off like that.

You picked a small pebble and aimed for him, landing on his neck. “Hey,” he whined, but you could not care less about it.

“You’re all a bunch of asswipes!” You complained, swallowing what you had been chewing. “I am so sorry, Michael.” Michael appreciated your apology, though he was still embarrassed and very confused by what just happened. “They did the same thing to me, you know. Made me think I was eating caterpillars instead of french fries. And then Paul ate the fries that I dropped.” You threw your head back to get more food in your mouth as Paul chuckled, still clearly proud of himself for getting that reaction out of you when he had picked up the soiled french fry and popped it in his mouth. “They still pull shit like this with me all the time.”

Your gaze had drifted to Paul, who had his hand in the carton. Your warm smile—which appeared from reminiscing—dropped and your expression morphed into a disgusted one. You knew for sure that he did not wash his hands before deciding to use one as an eating utensil. With a disappointed sigh, you pinched between your eyebrows, exasperated, and expressed,

“Are you kidding—are you eating Chinese takeout with your bare hands?” He put the carton to his mouth as if he was drinking out of a cup.

“Why am I in trouble?” He spoke with a mouth full of fried rice and gestured to Dwayne, who was sitting beside you. Dwayne, now the one being put on the spot, froze, caught red-handed with his hand in his carton, and picked up some noodles. You scrunched up your nose and furrowed your brow. How you did not notice that happening right beside you was a mystery.

“Really? I expected this from Paul—”

“This is bullying!”

“—but not you!” As if to spite you, Dwayne picked up some of his noodles and shoved it into his mouth with a cheeky smile. “Marko is using a pair of chopsticks! Marko! And he’s...” You vaguely gestured to him. “Marko!”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” Marko yapped. You pointed at him accusingly.

“You know exactly what that means.” You were alluding to how much of an instinctual person he was. You were surprised with how he did not immediately stick his hand in his food without taking off his gloves when he opened his carton. “Michael, you know what he did the first night I was here?” Michael shook his head, almost smiling at the sight of you putting them in their place. “He threw a pigeon at me. A pigeon!” Everyone, including you, laughed at the fond memory, Marko being the loudest as he caught himself by putting a hand on his knee. When David calmed down, recalling the shocked expression you had when the bird was tossed at the back of your skull, he gave you a seemingly genuine smile. Seemingly.

You intentionally tried to make him feel more comfortable with your story of the pigeon attack. There was a part of you that did not like how he was to become a vampire against his will. While you could not do anything to change that, you could at least be a friend and hold out an olive branch.

Besides Star, Michael noticed how you were showing legitimate consideration towards him while the boys were messing with him with no restraints. You, while taking part in all of this heckling, had the decency to apologize and had your limits. He was still intimidated by your presence but realized that you may not be as menacing as you may appear. In contrast to your piercing stare, your smile lit up the room and you were a fun person to be around.

Of course, he was unaware as to just how doomed to stay with this group of misfits he was. He may have to deal with this taunting for the rest of eternity.

You picked up another pebble. It hit Marko's left temple and somehow landed in his food.

“Get fucked, pigeon-thrower,” you slandered.

“Ow! Dwayne’s right, you are bein’ a bitch!”

“Oh, you’ll get over it.” You picked up a third small rock and leaned forward to get a clearer shot. You harshly threw it onto Dwayne's bare chest.

“What was that for,” he complained, mouth full of noodles.

“Talkin’ shit about me.”

“I never called you a bitch!” Okay, maybe it was fun just being a general nuisance towards them, but that was not going to be something you said out loud. To keep things even between them all, you picked up one more for David. As you aimed, he put up a finger to make you pause.

“Do you really want to do that,” he challenged. Unluckily for him, you found entertainment in doing things out of spite. However, Unluckily for you, he caught the rock with a gloved hand and threw it back at you with force. You laughed with a mild shriek as you tried to shield yourself, but it hit your left shoulder.

“Ow,” you exclaimed and rubbed the ambushed area of your arm.

“You’ll get over it,” he mocked, repeating what you had said to Marko.

“You see what I have to deal with, Michael,” you joked. Paul threw the remaining fried rice in his carton at you. “Don’t throw food, dipshit! You'll get it in the cushions!”

“It’s maggots, (Y/N),” Paul teased. You took hold of a small display pillow, one that you have been sleeping with, and threw it at Paul. Too bad you missed. Paul mockingly said,

“Try again!”

David was lost in thought before he called out to Marko and whispered something in his ear as the excitement died down, the tone of the night changing drastically as silence engulfed the cave. You could decipher what was said. Marko nodded enthusiastically, giving a quick once-over towards everyone, before leaving and coming back with an ornate wine bottle.

Star became visibly concerned, quickly making her way to Michael’s side. Her reaction was enough for you to mirror that worry. There was no way they were going to turn him tonight, right? Getting Michael drunk to make the process easier hardly seems like the best strategy, if that was what they were doing. Plus, he did not seem like a wine guy.

David, with as much flair as he could muster, popped the cork and drank from the bottle. He opened his eyes, his gaze on Michael intense. He’s dramatic; I’ll give him that. You thought.

“Drink some of this, Michael,” David pressured, offering him the bottle. He quieted and harshly whispered, “be one of us.” You could almost see the ellipses that appeared in Michael's head. You were glad you were not the only one who found the dramatic nature David was talking with anticlimactic. Michael stood from the fountain and gingerly took the bottle from David by the neck. As Dwayne and Paul began to chant Michael’s name, Laddie stood and ran away, granting you another reason to be concerned. Marko joined in. Star moved closer to Michael; you swear that she was just about ready to jump out of her skin with how skittish she was being.

“Michael,” David called, egging him on.

“Yeah, sure,” Michael responded before putting it up to his mouth and taking quite a few large gulps of it. The boys cheered with David yelling, “Bravo!” Star took a step back, shielding Laddie with her left hand. You could not understand why she was so nervous, so afraid. It was just a little bit of wine! Are they seriously trying to get him drunk? Maybe you have overestimated the boys’ planning skills.

Or, this was just a part of their initiation. They could be building up to the actual turning, but all you can do for now is speculate. Hopefully, you will remember to ask one of them about it later.

“Your turn, (Y/N).” You swiftly turned your head to face David, not expecting the spotlight to turn to you.

“Me?” Why did they want you to drink from the bottle? It was not as if you were the one who was going to start walking amongst the undead as one of them; Michael was the one who was joining the clique.

“It's like an initiation,” Paul explained. “Drink it and you're officially one of us, sugar!”

“And don’t think that you’re done, Michael,” David warned as he handed you the bottle. He made brief eye contact with you before returning to look at Michael. “(Y/N) has already gone through it all; you’ve still got to show us that you’ve got what it takes.” Michael took a glimpse at you.

“What it takes,” Michael pressed.

“To be one of us, Michael.”

“And I have what it takes,” you asked. No one denied the statement. You were not sure what specific qualities they saw in you and what they may have considered a test of your worth, but you apparently fit the bill.

“Why else would we be having such a special dinner, (Y/N),” David stated. You chortled. It was not as if they served you a five-star meal from some fancy restaurant that only takes patrons that are dressed to the nines. Well, it was in such a fancy hotel, though collapsed, so maybe you could let it slide.

“All this is for me,” you entertained his statement.

“It is if you drink from the bottle,” Marko answered, sitting on the armrest and leaning towards you, giving you a prying look with raised eyebrows. You let out a hefty chuckle before looking down at the bottle in your hand, swishing the liquid in a clockwise motion, feeling the weight of it as it moved. With it in your hand, you got a closer inspection.

Though tacky, it was a beautiful vessel. It was a clear, glass bottle that was covered in gold plating. Over that, red and white gems decorated it. The red drink inside of the bottle was a vibrant red, bright and alluring. It made sense that they would choose such a drink.

Beginning with Dwayne, the boys chanted, growing louder with each one,

“One of us! One of us! One of us!” An involuntary smile grew on your face. In a way, you guess that you were one of them and a part of their social circle. You had grown to care for them and it warmed your heart that they thought the same of you.

It was just some wine, right? In a fancy sunken hotel like this, it would make sense to find such a fancy bottle among the rubble. And it made sense that this group of vampires would have some weird initiation rituals.

You brought the bottle to your lips and took a sip; you did not drink as much as Michael did, but just enough to get a small taste. That sample was enough given how the boys cheered as you felt it go down your throat. You did a double-take, not expecting it to taste like that.

It did not taste like wine, but it was nothing like you had ever drank before. It was strong, but it was from something other than the alcohol content. It was sweet with a bit of a spicy kick to it as it went down. You made a face, still trying to decide if you liked it or not.

“What is that?” You brought the opening to your eye before taking another sip. “Wow, that does not taste like wine.” One more time, you brought the bottle to your lips before concluding that you enjoyed the flavor; they chose a good initiation drink.

You gave the bottle back to David as you licked your lips clean. You sat comfortably with a bashful smile that you tried to hide with the side of your hand. It was as if they were happier with you drinking the wine than they were with Michael drinking it with how they cheered. They clapped to a rhythm and excitedly chanted again,

“One of us! One of us!” You brought your tongue to the roof of your mouth.

"You guys are way too excited for a little bit of wine," you dismissed, a laugh escaping you as you tried to seem unmoved. Paul hopped onto the box he was sitting on and jumped off to the other side. He raised the volume on his stereo, which was playing some rock song you vaguely recognized.

"Now, we really celebrate," David instructed as Paul jogged back and pulled you up.

"You're one of us now, (Y/N)," Marko cheered as he patted you hard on the back, stepping in front of you and facing you with a wide smile, which you mirrored when you recovered. He took notice of how your eyes completely softened while you smiled at him. Your expression was so real, so sincere.

Those high walls of yours had crumbled down to mere dust, allowing them to step in with ease, which was what you were afraid of, but you could not bring yourself to care in the moment.

You felt a hand gently stroke your upper back and you turned to see Dwayne, who was grinning boyishly down at you. As they left you, you could not deny how good you felt when they chanted your name,

"(Y/N)! (Y/N)! (Y/N)!"

➳ ➳ ➳

Taglist: @lililolli @iloveslasher @lostbetweenvampiresandmusic @bazingadotbizoff @motionlessgirl12 @petrelsrose @takemetotheweirdness @collieflower215 @ch3rrydoll @nataliewalker93 @fuzzyblanketsblog @cranberrypills @espurrisfabulous @dwight-y0u-sunflower-slut

If your tag is crossed out, I was unable to tag you.

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys dwayne #the lost boys david #the lost boys marko #the lost boys paul #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #marko the lost boys #paul the lost boys #the lost boys fanfiction #the lost boys imagines #the lost boys x you #slasher x reader #slasherboyos writes

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absolutepokemontrash · 3 years

Text

MC’s Half Demon and They Look Awfully Familiar Lesson 17

Series Masterlist

So, the aftermath’s here! This took significantly longer than I thought it would, but oh well. Enjoy everyone!

So, to recap where everyone’s favourite dysfunctional demon family are at right now: Belphie’s still guilt spiralling but he wants to make amends, MC is having a self worth crisis because of what happened, Lucifer was homicidal less than a day ago, and the rest of the brothers are very mad at Belphie.

So, a good little while passes, MC moves back into their room and doesn’t really come out or try to talk to anyone, Lucifer practically lives in his study, and Belphie holes himself up in whichever room that no one else is in.

Keep in mind, no one knows the truth about Lilith’s death yet because it never came up because MC isn’t a descendent of the human version of Lilith.

The brothers (sans Belphie) went and visited MC, who was very happy to see all of them, but everything felt kind of off, everyone was slightly on edge. But nobody brought it up because no one wanted to be the catalyst for the next big family fight, especially so soon after MC got hurt.

It had been almost a week and MC could barely cobble together the desire to leave their room. They had made themselves a prisoner in their own house right after freeing Belphie from his house arrest, how ironic is that?

Stupid…

How naive could they get? To think that just because they were family that everyone would welcome them with open arms? And how stupid would they have to be to believe that they were a proper demon like the rest of them? Demons were manipulative tricksters at their nicest, if MC didn’t understand that than they were a shit excuse for a demon.

Spending time lying in bed staring up at the ceiling wasn’t the best way to pass the time, but MC had grown tired of flicking through the same five apps on their DDD and had contemplated chucking it at the wall. With nothing to distract them, MC was alone with their thoughts.

Of course they couldn’t fend off Belphegor, of course they lost… they barely had any better a hold on their magic than they did when the year started. They weren’t a full demon, but they weren’t some weak little human either, but maybe things would have been better if they were human. If they were human, they wouldn’t have had magic, they wouldn’t have had a fighting chance at all. There would have been no shame in losing. But MC wasn’t a full human, they had their fighting chance and lost anyway.

“MC?”

Their head snapped towards the source of the voice. Through a bright gold glow, they saw an unfamiliar woman, her eyebrows were knit with concern. Not being able to muster up the energy to really be openly panicked, MC sat up and rested their head on their chin, then raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Oh! Um…” the ghostly woman puffed out her cheek and twiddled her fingers as her eyes darted around the room. “I didn’t exactly think this introduction through, my bad…”

It was MC’s turn to be confused, standing in front of her was a woman who didn’t look like an angel or a demon, yet somehow was able to cobble together the magical strength necessary to actually make herself visible to MC. And now, she was stressing about an awkward introduction.

“I’m Lilith!” The woman finally blurted out, she clamped her eyes shut and quickly stuck her hand out.

MC blinked at the outstretched hand like it was a completely foreign gesture. “…what?”

“Yeah! Um… I uh…” Lilith withdrew her hand and facepalmed. “I’m really sorry…”

“I-uh… Lilith? Like… Lilith, my father’s sister Lilith?”

“…yes?”

“…please explain.”

And Lilith did explain, she explained the ghost bit, how she can’t technically go up to the Celestial Realm nor does she want to, and how she’s kind of been playing guardian Fallen Angel to the entire family.

MC finally got to learn the reason the Grimoire was in the tomb, and why their father was so damn loyal to Diavolo.

Lilith also explains that she’s kind of the reason MC is down in the Devildom in the first place. Lucifer picked an entirely different totally normal human, but Lilith switched the files and MC was brought down instead.

MC still obviously had questions.

“So…” MC mumbled. “That’s why he tried to kill me.”

Lilith pursed her lips and looked away. “Yeah…”

MC let out an explosive sigh as their hand unconsciously creeped to their neck. MC’s fingers brushed over raised skin from barely healed over scratches.

“He wants to apologize.”

“What?”

“Belphie, he wants to apologize to you.”

MC snorted and rolled their eyes, they shifted over so Lilith couldn’t see their face. “Hmph… maybe if he grovels enough I won’t sic Cerberus on him…”

“You’re under no obligation to forgive him-”

“I know!” MC snapped, grinding the base of their palm against their eye to stop the tears that threatened to burst. “And I won’t!”

The problem was, Lilith’s story actually ended up making MC feel bad for him, which made them feel angry at themselves, which made them feel more upset than before.

On one hand, Belphie was motivated by the loss of someone incredibly close to him and never received closure because Lucifer kept Lilith’s “survival” a secret.

On the other hand, Belphie tricked, manipulated, and then tried to kill MC. That couldn’t just be waved off with an “oh he was just grieving”

After some deliberation, MC decided they were going to do one more thing to help Belphie.

“Father.” MC hit their knuckles against the door to their father’s room. The door opened almost immediately and Lucifer stood in the doorway.

“Yes MC? Do you need anything, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just need to talk to you.”

“Come in then,” Lucifer stepped aside and MC walked into the room, he closed the door behind them. “What is it?”

“I know about what happened with Lilith.”

Lucifer froze, MC did their best to hold his gaze and not waver.

“You need to tell everyone.”

“…how did you find out?”

“She um… told me. Lilith, I mean… she’s still around.” MC awkwardly twirled their finger in the air as they explained. “You’ve kept this hidden for too long, the secret has to be told so this can end.”

Lucifer wasn’t on board immediately, but eventually, he was convinced.

Everyone was gathered, including Belphie, and Lucifer explained what had really happened the day Lilith had died.

Of course there were shouts of shock and outrage that slowly melted into a melancholy silence. Lilith was still around, but her presence was so limited, but she was still there with them! Their sister was still there!

When everyone dispersed to go process the news, Belphie approached MC.

“H-hey.”

MC almost outwardly shuddered at the sound of the Avatar of Sloth’s voice, but they held firm and turned to face him.

Anything they wanted to say died in their throat as MC got a good look at Belphie for the first time in over a week. He looked like complete and utter garbage. His hair was a mess, bags lined the underside of his eyes, and his entire posture seemed to just droop like a wilting flower. Though, it wasn’t like MC had much of a platform to stand on when it came to critiquing appearance at that point in time, they looked just as awful.

“What do you want?” MC asked quietly, they had meant to put more force behind their words, but most if not all of their focus had gone towards not allowing their voice to break or waver.

“To apologize.”

So, Lilith was right, he was sorry. Rage bubbled in MC’s gut as they clenched their fist. How dare he think he could just, apologize and think everything could turn out okay?! MC opened their mouth to scream, cry, hurl every insult they had spent the previous week thinking about, but nothing came out. The anger subsided and MC deflated, they crossed their arms and gestured for Belphie to go ahead.

“Go on.” They mumbled.

Belphie’s gaze drifted to the wall, he clenched his pillow tighter to his chest, then looked back to MC. At least he had the decency to look them in the eye.

“I’m sorry for what I did, MC. I messed up and I hurt you. I blamed you for something you had nothing to do with, even though you were nothing but nice to me. No excuse would make what I did any better, so I’m… I’m sorry…”

MC gnawed on their lower lip and knitted their eyebrows. He sounded sincere enough, but MC wasn’t just going to roll over and forgive him just like that. They were still so angry and betrayed, but they didn’t want to be. Stupid feelings…

They took a deep breath and squared their shoulders, looking Belphie directly in the eyes.

“Okay.”

“…okay?”

“Okay.” MC repeated. “I’m not going to forgive you just to absolve your guilt, but I’m done with this. It’s over and I’m moving on. If you’re really sorry, don’t ever do something like that again.”

The tiniest glimmer of hope sparkled in Belphie’s eyes as he nodded. “I swear on my life I’ll never do anything like that again.”

MC stiffly nodded. “Good. Now, I’m going to my room. I have school tomorrow.”

When Belphie turned to go back to his room, Lucifer melted out of the shadows and stood next to MC.

“That was very big of you.”

“Thanks father.” MC mumbled.

“Are you sure you want to go to school tomorrow? I can ask Lord Diavolo to extend your time off.”

“No,” MC shook their head. “I’m ready. Besides,” They stifled a giggle. “I don’t want to miss everyone’s reactions to Human History.”

Wanting to watch demons freak out about weird parts of human history is a very valid reason to want to go to school.

Anyway, all eight residents of the HOL goes back to school, and MC’s cover story was that they had gotten the flu and was too sick to go to school, and Belphie had been brought back from the human world early. No one had the balls to question the seven rulers of hell, so no one asked any questions.

Luke was very excited to see his friend again, so excited that he got in trouble for talking in class. No big deal, lunchtime was still free for them to talk!

The day was perfectly normal, which was a blessing for everyone.

Diavolo officially deemed that Belphie was no longer a threat to the exchange program, so Belphie was allowed to return to his student council duties without issue.

Things between Diavolo and Barbatos and MC were quite… confusing.

For one thing, Diavolo was the crown prince and MC had really liked him before the stuff in the previous timeline and learning about exactly how he had secured their father’s loyalty.

And for Barbatos… he was just fucking terrifying.

“MC!”

The sound of Diavolo jovially calling their name jolted MC out of their thoughts. Thinking about the upcoming Demonology midterm would have to wait.

“Hello, Lord Diavolo.” MC knew better than to be openly pissed at the soon to be monarch, especially after everything that had transpired.

“Are you doing alright, MC? How has school been treating you?” Diavolo continued to pepper MC with questions with barely any gaps for MC to actually reply. Barbatos stood on the sidelines with a soft neutral smile on his face, which only served to unnerve MC more.

“I’m doing fine, Lord Diavolo. There’s no need for concern.”

Diavolo’s rampant questioning came to a stop, and MC swore they could see his expression fall ever so slightly.

“I’m glad to hear that, MC. If you need anything, just ask!”

He ended the interaction with a hesitant pat on MC’s head before walking off to his next class. Though, the presence of the butler still loomed behind MC.

“While I’m very glad you’re well, MC,” Barbatos said icily calm. “I must ask that you refrain from going into my room again.”

“Y-yes sir.” MC mumbled.

“Have a lovely day.”

Reason why everyone should be at least a little afraid of Barbatos #473

The relationship between MC and the Royals does end up getting repaired eventually, it’s just… really awkward for the time being.

Home was still awkward as all hell, the murder attempt definitely weakened the brotherly bonds MC had spent months repairing, and the hostility wasn’t doing MC’s emotional recovery much good.

“This is ridiculous.” Lilith’s voice popped into MC’s head while they sat at the dining table finishing up their homework. MC jumped slightly in their seat and frantically looked around for their aunt’s apparition.

“What’s got you spooked?” Satan asked from his place across the table.

“N-nothing. Just a chill.” MC quickly replied, trying to go back to their work.

“Nice recovery, MC. Very smooth.”

“Shut up!” MC thought. “What are you doing in my head?”

“If you want me to leave, just say so.” Lilith’s nasally childlike huff nearly caused MC to openly roll their eyes.

“No, what is it? What do you need?”

“I don’t really need anything, but look at this fractured house!” Lilith cried. “This is worse than the time Mammon stole everyone’s pocket watches!”

“Pocket…watches?”

“It was 1803, get with the program, MC.”

“Lilith, what are we talking about here?”

“Oh! Right! Well, this house is insanely divided and sucky right now, it’s terrible!” Lilith whined, as much as MC hated to submit to their ghostly aunt’s whining, she did have a point.

Just that morning Asmo just happened to neglect to paint Belphie’s nails when he went out of his way just minutes earlier to track down Lucifer to make sure his nails were painted. Later when Belphie walked into the library with Beel, Satan ended up picking up the cat and walking straight out. Satan walking out of a library was like a fish walking out of water.

That wasn’t the only thing either, Mammon had taken it upon himself to be a human (or demon to be more precise) barrier between Belphie and MC at almost all times. The only times when Mammon couldn’t do that was when the witches decided to summon him.

Levi continued to be a recluse, but on the rare occasion he did come out, there was no friendly hellos between him and Belphie.

Lucifer… well, he did a good job hiding his contempt. He had respected MC’s decision to let Belphie try and fix things and he himself seemed eager for everything to be fixed, but he wasn’t exactly aiding in the repairs. Every time he had to look at Belphie it was so expressionless that MC swore that Mammon could swipe someone’s wallet right in front of him and Lucifer wouldn’t even frown.

Even Beel, he bounced back the quickest in terms of being ready to be around Belphie again, but the even psychically linked twins couldn’t fully shake the feeling of distance between the two.

“Well, what do you want me to do? Last time I tried to fix this family’s problems I almost died.”

“H-hey, I don’t think you should joke about that just yet…”

“Bite me. I wasn’t joking.”

“Well… okay. But I can’t really manifest any power right now! Smacking some sense into Belphie really took a toll on my ability to do much.”

“Hmph…” MC thought long and hard, well, two minutes long. “We could hold a movie night.”

Lilith gasped and MC swore they could hear the sound of her clapping her hands together. “Yes! Everyone can hang out and eat popcorn! Oh it’ll be great! Build a Fort! Forts bring people closer together!”

The movie night was the first of many little get togethers that MC quietly orchestrated to get everyone back on speaking terms with each other. They weren’t a direct part of all of them, but they could see the good they were doing.

A small video game tournament, going out to eat together, just relaxing in the same room, all of it added up, and sooner rather than later everyone was back to… not hating each other.

The brothers are still brothers after all, there’s always that tiny instinct that tells siblings to try and ruin the other’s day

As for Belphie and MC’s relationship…

Things slowly but surely moved back to the way they were before. MC came out of their room to sit with everyone and hang out, everyone progressively let Belphie back into their lives, and the nightmares gradually lessened.

For the first time in a little over a month and a half, MC felt truly safe again, which was odd considering they were in their planetarium with someone who they declared they’d never forgive. They still hadn’t, but things had gotten better.

Belphie was doing his damndest to show that he was truly sorry about everything. It started off with small things; helping MC clean the house, giving them pencils when they didn’t have any, covering for them when they had dinner duty,

The little victories may not have seemed very noteworthy, but to Belphie and MC, they were everything.

“That’s Orion, that’s Orion’s Belt,” Belphie pointed up at the shifting ceiling of the planetarium, tracing each and every constellation that he saw and pointing them out to MC and Beel. The latter had seen these stars and heard Belphie’s explanations a thousand times over, but never tired of them. MC was staring up at the gorgeous sight of the human world night sky they had left behind with a small smile on their face.

“That’s Ursa Major,” Beel pointed up as he offered MC the bag of chips he was eating.

“Mhm,” Belphie quietly chirped, he then pointed to a nearby constellation. “And that’s Ursa Minor.”

“Huh, if you connect these stars, it looks like a pair of pants.” MC piped up, tracing the set of stars.

Belphie snickered and nodded. “Yeah, it kind of does.”

“Look, that one’s a spatula!” Beel pointed at a constellation, Belphie snorted and facepalmed.

“Beel, Buddy, that’s the Little Dipper.”

After a little while longer Belphie let out an explosive yawn and stretched out like a cat. MC and Beel yawned in response.

“I’m goin’ to sleep.”

“Belphie wait,” MC giggled. “You can’t sleep here!”

“Watch me.”

“You’ll get a sore back, Belphie.” Beel picked up Belphie and slung him over his shoulder as the Avatar of sloth began to snore, he then turned and sat MC on his other shoulder. “Bedtime for everyone.”

MC let out another yawn and rubbed their eyes. Maybe Belphie had the right idea, it was late as hell…

——————

Author’s Note: You ever know how you want something to turn out in your head, but the moment you go to write it down you kind of want to yeet yourself into oblivion? Yeah that’s what happened here.

The game itself didn’t give me much to work with in terms of how everyone would react if MC didn’t shrug off their near death, so… 🤷‍♀️ oh well! What’s done is done!

#obey me #obey me!#obey me! shall we date?#obey me shall we date #Obey me MC #Obey me Lucifer #Obey me Belphegor #Obey me Barbatos #obey me Diavolo #Obey me Beelzebub #Obey me Lilith #Obey me Headcanons #Obey me! Headcanons #Obey me fic #obey me fic #Obey me! Fic

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myhockeyworld87 · 3 years

Text

Under My Skin - Matthew Tkachuk

Word Count: 3,644

POV: Reader

Warnings: Language, Smut, NSFW

Summary: Matthew can be a pest but what happens when your ex, Auston Matthews get under his skin.

Notes: So I’m having a sad bitch moment and thought, why not post this. I finally broke down and wrote for this boy. Who knows if it’ll happen again...haha! At any rate hope you guys enjoy. Happy Reading!

Matthew first met you over a year ago when you’d moved to Calgary for work. You had just finished your degree and a job opportunity had landed you in the same city where he was playing. You’d been out at the bar with some co-workers and had caught his eye immediately. You were everything that Matthew was looking for in a woman, smart, funny, incredibly gorgeous, with a charm that seemed to draw everyone around you in. You were like a magnet and Matthew couldn’t resist your pull.

That first night he’d barely been able to talk to you. You’d been besotted with people left and right, and it seemed as though every time Matthew worked up the courage to speak with you, you would get pulled away. Matthew finally ran into you on the way to the restroom. Like, literally ran into you. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Matthew apologized steadying you with a hand on your waist. His hand lingered a little longer than necessary but you weren’t complaining.

“It’s ok I wasn’t paying attention.” You held up your phone in defense. You’d been so distracted by a text, that you really weren’t watching where you were going. “Did you ever have someone text you that you hoped you’d never hear from again?”

It was an interesting introduction to a conversation but then Matthew would take any opportunity he could get to speak to you. “Actually, yes.”

“It’s so annoying, right?”

“Well, there is a way to solve that problem.”

Your eyes held his with rapt attention, and Matthew could tell you were clinging to his every word. It was then that it struck him that he never wanted that look to fade from your face. “How?”

“Come have a drink with me and forgot about whoever it is on that phone.” You smiled. It was a bright, brilliant thing of beauty that Matthew swore could light up the night sky on its darkest days. He was sold right then and there, and with just that simple gesture you had no idea that you’d swooped in and stolen his heart that night.

You forgot about that text message fairly quickly and just settled into an easy conversation with Matthew. The night flew by and before you knew it, your co-workers were calling it a night and you were all heading home. Matthew asked for your number which you gave in hopes that he would call you soon. Little did you know that after you left, Matthew debated with himself on how long to wait to text you. Every unsaid rule in the code of dating said to wait for at least forty-eight to seventy-two hours before making a move, but Matthew was never one to follow convention. As he lay in bed, he decided to send you a quick message.

Had a great time tonight.

It was short and to the point, and Matthew figured if you answered then he would ask you out again. Unfortunately, for Matthew, he wasn’t the only one texting you as you crawled into bed after taking off all your makeup. You were just getting ready to reply to Matthew when another text came in. It was the fourth of the night from the same person that had messaged you before, Auston Matthews.

You hadn’t spoken to him in months, back when you were in Toronto, and you didn’t plan on speaking to him now, though he seemed to be trying his hardest to get your attention, just as he had been for the last couple of months. Your relationship with Auston had been nothing short of toxic. Oh sure, at first it was all hearts and roses in the beginning. Auston swept you off your feet with that charming smile of his, but then you were young and the flashy NHLer said all the right things, at first.

You weren’t normally one to tumble into bed right after the first date, though that’s what happened with Auston. He made it seem like you were the only one, but after dating him for only four months you’d found out that wasn’t true. Oh, he tried to brush it off, make it seem like he wasn’t cheating. That the panties you’d found lying tucked between the nightstand and the bed were some old fling and not some random hookup he’d brought home. You wanted to believe him and so you let your heart overpower your head and stayed with him until you’d literally walked in on him in bed with another woman. There was no talking his way out of that one.

It was an easy decision to break things off with him, though he kept trying to win you back. You were good for his image and he thought that he could keep you happy while he had some fun on the side. The only thing was you didn’t want him back, even though his friends tried to helped his cause. That’s when you decided to take the job in Calgary. It was an easy decision six months ago. Which is part of the reason it surprised you when he texted tonight. He was in Calgary for a game and wanted to talk. You’d honestly were debating seeing him when you’d run into Matthew.

Matthew, you sighed. His curly hair and shaved sides gave off this bad boy vibe, but as you sat there and talked to him, you’d realized he had to be one of the sweetest men out there. You hadn’t realized at first who he actually was. Auston had turned you off to the NHL scene altogether, so you no longer paid attention to the games, even if hockey was Canada’s major sport. Honestly, you wish you didn’t know he was in the NHL. It was part of the reason you were debating about answering him. Maybe you would just sleep on it and decide in the morning.

Meanwhile, Matthew was having a mild panic attack. He told himself that maybe you lived close to the bar and had already fallen asleep before you got his text, or that you’d turned off your phone the minute you got home. He constantly kept checking his, looking for those three little dots letting him know that you were sending something back. It was torturous.

You laid there all of twenty minutes before you decided that you couldn’t resist the curly-haired man that had captured your attention tonight. Grabbing your phone, you shot off a quick, I did too. You typed and erased it three times, wondering if you should add more before finally pressing the send button. There it was done, if he said something back, you’d go from there. Fifteen seconds later, you knew you were in trouble.

Maybe we could do it again sometime?

Matthew was sweating as he hit send. He’d never been this nervous before about a woman. They either liked him or didn’t, but you, you were different. He knew that from the moment he saw you. It was even more prevalent now after he’d spent most of the night with you.

I’d like that.

Was your simple reply back. One that had Matthew ready to jump up and out of bed with excitement. And so the texting went on for the next ten minutes until he finally ended up calling you. The two of you talked for over an hour, almost as if you’d known each other all your lives, and you completely forgot about the texts from Auston.

Matthew took you out three days later to an exclusive restaurant in the city. This time you told yourself you’d not make the same mistake you’d made with Auston. So, when the night drew to a close, Matthew drove you to your apartment then very properly walked you to the door and only kissed you on the cheek. It wasn’t what you expected. You’d thought he’d go for more, but Matthew wanted to do things right. He knew you were special and he wasn’t going to mess things up by sleeping with you on night one. He was in this for the long run.

That was over a year ago. Sure, it had been difficult at first to give him your complete trust, but Matthew had earned it and over time you knew that although he may be a pest on the ice, he was anything but that in your personal life. Now the two of you shared a home and were on your way to making a life together.

You’d kept your relationship on the down-low, staying off of all forms of social media to keep the wolves at bay. Which meant that no one, including Auston, knew that you and Matthew were dating. That was until he and everyone else saw you in the background of Taryn’s video for Brady’s twenty-first birthday. The picture highlighted Brady but behind him, there was Matthew nibbling on your neck and ear. Fans picked up on it right away, wondering who you were and Matthew decided he was tired of hiding the two of you. A week later he was posting a picture of the two of you holding hands on your way back to Calgary.

That was dozens of posts and months ago. Your life with Matthew was nothing short of amazing, until the Flames played the Leafs. Matthew was in Toronto while you stayed back in Calgary for work. It was an early game and you joined the other wives and significant others in a small little watch party. Drinks were flowing freely, so you really didn’t catch the exchange between Matthew and Auston in warmups.

Matthew was minding his own business as he stretched near the centerline. That’s when Auston started with the little jabs. “Nice little piece of ass you picked up Tkachuk.” Matthew was used to guys talking shit about all kinds of things on the ice, though normally it was about him being a dirty player or how Brady was the better Tkachuk on the ice; all that shit he could handle. He wasn’t used to someone taking stabs at you.

“Shut the fuck up Matthews,” he replied then skated away. If Auston was looking for a fight, he’d get one if he kept up this banter, but not until the game started.

It wasn’t until the end of the first that Auston got a chance to chirp Matthew again. “Tell me, Tkachuk, does (Y/N) still make the same pretty moans…”

“Finish that and you’ll regret it,” Matthew told him. It was the only warning Matthew was going to give. Of course, Matthew knew that you’d dated someone in the hockey world and that he’d been a verifiable asshole. He’d never pressed the issue too much as he was trying to turn that stigma about hockey players around. He never liked Auston, he was always cordial to him in non-ice settings but now that he knew he was the cheating bastard who basically used you; he liked him less.

Play resumed before anything else could happen and Matthew was sure to get in a few good checks in before heading back for the first intermission. When he was back on the ice for the second Auston picked up right where they had left off. “So, you like my sloppy seconds, Tkachuk?” Matthew saw red at the insult, and before he knew what he was doing he dropped his gloves and hit Auston. Inwardly, you cringed at the fight, not wanting to let on to the other girls that you had an idea what the exchange was about. Auston went down easy, with Matthew barely touching him, and so off the penalty box he went, while the Leafs went on the power play. You could see him just sitting there stewing, though you weren’t sure if he was mad at himself for letting Auston get to him or mad at you.

The game ended up tied in the third, and little did you know that Auston took the opportunity to get a few more digs into Matthew. “Does she get as wet for as she did for me, or do you have to work for it?” Johnny had to hold him back from leveling him after that, but Auston didn’t let up. “She was such a fucking slut for me in bed. You know I fucked every hole…” That’s all he got out before going down hard as Matthew planted a right hook to his jaw. But Matthew wasn’t done and went after Auston as he lay on the ice. Matthew was ejected from the game and the Leafs scored on the power play.

There was no interview after the game with Matthew, so you had no idea what he was feeling or how pissed he was. As soon as you got home, you tried to call him but it went straight to voicemail. You tried to tell yourself it didn’t mean anything that maybe he never turned his phone back on after the game or maybe they were already on the flight back to Calgary, as the team played at home the following day, but you just weren’t sure. So, you laid in the king-size bed you shared with Matthew, wrapped up in your favorite old t-shirt of his, simply staring up at the ceiling.

At some point, you must have fallen asleep, for you didn’t hear the door open or Matthew dropping his bag like you usually did. It wasn’t until he crept into bed that you finally knew he was home. He was laying on his back, hands behind his head when you finally rolled over letting him know you were awake. You’d thought about what to say to him before falling asleep but waited for him to say something to you. When he didn’t you simply whispered, “If you want me to go I will.”

“Go?” Matthew questioned now rolling on to his side so he could see you. “Why would I want you to leave?”

“I never wanted to be a problem for you, Matthew, especially not with other players.” It was part of the reason you’d never told him that you’d dated Auston, though you should’ve known that Auston couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

You went to say more, but Matthew stopped you. “You’re not the problem (Y/N). You could never be one.” His fingers ran up and down your arms lightly, just caressing your skin. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you too.” His lips found yours then, and you melted into the feel of him, savoring how his body started to relax against you.

“Auston’s an asshole.” Matthew finally said, when the two of you broke apart.

“Do I even want to know what he said?”

“Just shit to get me riled up, and it worked.” Your one hand went to the back of his neck, massaging the knotted muscles there. “I’m not stupid. I realize what probably happened between the two of you. I just don’t like hearing it.”

“We both have pasts, Matthew. We can’t change that, but you’re my future.”

He gave you a real quick peck to your lips. “And you’re mine. At least I don’t have to deal with him for a couple weeks.”

You pushed him onto his back before straddling his hips. “Don’t let him get under your skin, babe. When he starts to say something…” you looked him right in the eyes. “And you know he will. Just remind him how you’re the only one I want with me.” You flexed your hips before running your hands up his bare chest. “And in me.” Matthew’s hands went to your waist, where he played with the band of lace on your panties. “You’re more to me than he’ll ever be. Both here,” you taped your heart and then his. “And here.” Lifting your hips, you took your hand and cupped the length of him. His cock instantly hardened under your touch.

Your words spurred Matthew into action, for the next thing you knew he was ripping your panties, before shimming out of his boxers. His fingers went to your folds, where he found you ready for him. “Fuck you’re so wet.”

“Only for you Matthew. Only for you.” It was extra reassurance that you knew Matthew needed and tonight you’d give him as many as he needed. He guided your hips down onto his cock and you sighed out with pleasure as he filled you like no one else ever had.

As you grabbed the hem of your t-shirt Matthew whispered harshly, “Leave it on.” It was one of his Flames shirts; one that had both his name and number on the back. Leaning down you kissed him long and hard, before starting to ride him. It was slow at first, a pace meant to build you both up but not push you over the edge. His hands were everywhere, under your shirt caressing your breasts, wandering down your back to cup your ass, and moving up and down your thighs to quicken your speed.

Finally, he couldn’t take it any longer and he flipped your bodies so that he loomed over top of you. His thrusts were deep and hard, almost punishing if your body hadn’t wanted him so bad. “You belong to me.” He said as he flexed into you, pushing you up against the headboard.

“Yes, baby. Only you.”

“Who?” He asked again and you realized that he was not in the mood to hear any pet names.

“You, Matthew, you,” you answered knowing that he owned you both body and soul, just as you owned him.

“That’s right, baby.” Matthew's thrusts were deep and sure, as he knew what would bring you pleasure, and with a few more flexes of his hips, he sent you spiraling out of control, screaming his name.

“MMMAAATTTTTTTTTTHHHHEEEEEWWW.”

That was all he needed to catch his high and follow you down, your name on his lips. He rolled onto his side taking you with him; your breaths mingling together as you both calmed. Your nails skimmed down his spine aimless, something you tended to do after sex. Matthew always said he loved the continued intimacy it brought, and tonight it felt like you both needed that. His lips found yours, the kiss loving and tender. “I love you, (Y/N),” Matthew whispered while brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “And I promise, I won’t let Auston get to me next time.”

“Good, because you’re the only man I love Matthew, and the team doesn’t need you getting ejected from games because of me.”

“It won’t happen again.” You truly hoped that it wouldn’t but with Matthew’s temper you never knew.

It was a little over two weeks later that the Flames were taking on the Leafs, this time at the Saddledome, where you were in attendance. Admittedly, you were a bit nervous on the inside as to what would happen between the love of your life and the once lowlife that you'd briefly called boyfriend. You tried to shake off your nerves with idle chatter with some of the girls, but your eyes always seemed to drift back to where Matthew and Auston were on the ice.

Matthew for his part stayed away from center ice for warmups, just like he told you he would. It wasn’t until the second period after a blown whistle that Auston finally decided to poke at him. “How’s that girlfriend Tkachuk? You know if I told her I wanted her back she’d leave you in a second.”

“I doubt that Matthews. She told me you couldn't satisfy her in the bedroom. Something about cumming too soon.” Anger started to radiate across Auston’s face. “You should see a doctor about that.” Matthew skated away, completely ignoring anything Auston would be able to say back.

The game was tied late in the third once again when Auston tried to rile Matthew up again. Considering he had two assists you understood why they wanted your boyfriend out of the game. “It wasn’t me who had the problem Tkachuk, (Y/N)’s pussy was wider than the Grand Canyon.”

“Hmm,” Matthew taunted back. “Must be your small pencil dick, because she’s so tight it’s like a vice-grip around me.” Auston took offense and cross-checked Matthew into the boards right as the play began, earning him two minutes in the penalty box. Matthew laughed at him as the ref took him over. Auston wasn’t there for long, as Matthew scored the game-winning goal forty-some seconds into the penalty. You jumped up out of your seat with the rest of the girls cheering and screaming.

Even though they pulled the goalie, the Leafs couldn’t seem to find the back of the net before the buzzer sounded ending the game. You made your way down to wait outside the tunnel with the rest of the significant others. Most everyone was gone before Matthew finally came out, scooping you up in his arms. “Did you see that baby?”

“I saw Matty,” you told him, kissing him on the lips. “That goal was impressive.”

He finally set you back down on your feet. “No babe, that’s not what I meant. I didn’t let him get to me.”

“Yeah, I saw that too. I’m so proud of you.”

“Well, he can’t get under my skin about you, when I get to be all over yours.” His hands slid under your sweater and inside your jeans to cup your ass. “Speaking of your skin…let’s go home so I can get you out of all these clothes and see you.”

You kissed him, long and languidly, before pulling back. “I like that idea. I like it a lot.” The two of you left the arena hands interlaced just as your bodies would be as soon as you got home.

#Matthew Tkachuk #Matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk imagines #matthew tkachuk smut #matthew tkachuk fanfic #nhl smut #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey smut #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey fanfic #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction

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kashi-prompts · 3 years

Text

Prompt: (Above)

Pairing: Kakashi x wife!reader

Wordcount: 3,450

A/N: Hope you enjoy! :)

In the distance, the sound of a rolling surge of thunder passed through the clouds. You listened, hearing it echo in through the hills and beyond the horizon.

"Guess we'd better get a move on," you noted, looking up at the clouds that had rolled over your heads while you both traveled in conversation.

"We'll be alright," Kakashi told you, his fingers laced with yours, "how are you feeling?"

"How many times are you going to ask me that?" you asked him, your hand instinctively caressing your round belly. Eight months had passed since you had discovered you were expecting.

"I just want to make sure you are okay," the Hokage admitted, his profile set for the horizon. Despite the trace of irritation you had felt creeping up on you when he asked you the same question for the - what was it - fourth-time this afternoon, you knew he meant well. Sensing the drip of annoyance in your tone, his fingers squeezed yours to remind you he was just caring for you.

Even so, he was correct. You had hardly slept last night, your body feeling heavier than usual. As you had risen from bed, you felt your stomach contract in what you assumed to be false labor pains. They seemingly continued throughout the day, but you brushed them off. The doctor had reminded you to expect these. Certainly, the baby wouldn't be coming this early.

After all, this hadn't exactly been an easy pregnancy. The first and second trimesters had been saturated with successive days of nausea, vomiting, and high blood pressure. For the most part, the nausea and vomiting could be controlled, but the high blood pressure was worrisome to the doctors.

You rubbed your belly again, frowning as you felt the tight squeeze again. It quickly passed, and you hid it well. The pain was familiar. Your mind slipped back to the moment where your world had stilled at the question of whether or not you were having a miscarriage earlier in your pregnancy. The sudden pain and spotting were surefire signs of such. Kakashi had kept himself composed for the most part, but you had seen in his eyes how shaken he was by the situation.

"You're a high-risk pregnancy due to your blood pressure, Mrs. Hatake," the doctor had told you both that evening in the emergency room. "Take this medication and check in with your doctor every few weeks."

Orders had been obeyed, but the underlying threat of a miscarriage certainly shook you to your core until you finally reached the third trimester, where the chances of it decreased. Despite that, you still were high-risk. Kakashi watched you like a hawk.

"Thank you for this birthday gift, [y/n]," Kakashi interrupted your thoughts, bringing you back to the present day. You rubbed your round stomach more. "I'm excited to spend the next few days with you."

You nodded, smiling over at him. In his backpack were two gift certificates for the new hot spring the citizens of Konoha had been raving about recently. It was a bit of a hike, but Kakashi would never pass up a moment of peace to walk with you next to him. You squeezed his hand again and leaned into his shoulder, rubbing his forearm.

"I'm glad you like it," you smiled, "I hope it's everything people have been saying it is."

"I'm sure it will be," he said, lifting his chin to observe the darkening sky above. He hesitated for a moment, and as the profile of his lips opened to say another word, you felt the first raindrop hit your forehead.

"We still have some ways to go, don't we?" you asked, frowning as you lifted a hand to feel more rain falling onto it.

"Yes," he frowned, stopping on the path to turn to you. You looked up at him, watching his mind think. "This will set us back if we stay undercover until this passes."

A crack of lightning hit behind you in the distance, loud enough to cause you to jolt and take a step towards your husband. He lifted his hand protectively over your shoulder, knowing there was nothing to be afraid of but calming you anyway.

"Let's just find some shelter, for now, okay?" you asked, looking up at him from his chest. The outline of his jaw clenched in thought before nodding.

The storm continued to draw closer. The beats between the lightning and the thunder strikes continued to shrink as the rain began to fall harder. Eventually, the two of you settled for a slight indentation on the side of a mountain that one could barely call a cave. But it was enough to cover you both and then some as you huddled close together.

He smiled at you, laughing suddenly as he pressed your shoulders to his chest, "how typical. The one time I have a few days off, and it has to storm like this."

"I'm sure it'll pass soon," you reassured him, your hand stroking his knee.

"You feel o-"

"I'm fine, Kashi," you told him assuredly. "I just want to enjoy your birthday."

Twenty minutes passed, and the sheets of precipitation didn't seem to be letting up. His fingers danced on your shoulder, tapping in rhythm with the drips of water on the outside of the cave. You rested your head on his shoulder, your eyes feeling heavy. The crackling of lightning every few minutes caused you to brace your body for the rumblings of the thunder. You felt tense, waiting for it each time.

"At this rate, we'll have to travel into the night," Kakashi frowned after an hour had passed.

Sitting on hard ground, your body began to ache. Was the pressure building up in your lower back simply from sitting here? It felt different like someone was pressing down on your back from the outside. You took a deep breath, rubbing your chest to calm your anxiety that was beginning to bubble up unexpectantly. Above you, you felt Kakashi glance down at you.

"I've got to stand up," you told him abruptly, "my back hurts."

The silver-haired shinobi stood quickly, taking his wife's hand to help you up from the ground. Your round belly was prominent as you tried to balance yourself. Something was wrong, you surmised gravely. Or maybe you were just tired from the journey.

You had insisted on accompanying him after he had told you they would use the gift certificates at a later date. They didn't need to be used right now, he had told you. But again, you had insisted. He needed a vacation, and this was the perfect opportunity to do it before the baby arrived.

Now, you looked out the cave opening at the rain that was slowing. You stretched your back, bending your spine awkwardly in a crude attempt to alleviate the pressure. You grimaced, feeling your heart rate heighten with anxiety.

Another wave of thunder echoed in the mountains, loud enough to feel as though the ground had rattled beneath your feet. The tidal sheets of rain continued, the mist soaking your sandaled feet.

"Come sit back down," Kakashi advised quietly, touching your shoulder. For a few moments, you felt like time had warped, your eyes transfixed on the buckets of precipitation raining down on the ground a few feet away.

You felt your lower body seize, your organs feeling like they were being pushed out of your body through your skin. You inhaled slowly, swallowing hard as your eyes remained on the horizon. Your jaw clenched.

"[y/n]?"

His hand was on your arm, his face close to yours to try to meet your gaze. He could tell something was wrong by the way the muscles in your jaw moved. The breath in you had taken at the initial shock to your system finally let itself out through your mouth with a shaky exhale. His hand fell to your stomach.

Reaching over, you placed your fingers over his.

"[y/n]," Kakashi began as you looked down, leaning against the cave's rough wall. He let go of your belly as you closed your eyes, trying your best to control the chaotic, out-of-control feeling your body was producing. Your heart was pounding.

A calloused palm touched your jaw, pushing it up to meet his troubled gaze. You looked down, staring at the pulse beating at the base of his neck. You focused on that, feeling yourself slipping into a panic at the thought of birthing a baby in a cave miles away from a hospital. His hand dropped back down to the side of your belly, his palm radiating heat to your cold skin. You put your hand atop of his again.

"Are you okay?" He dipped his chin again to meet your gaze. You finally looked up, meeting his wide eyes. A sudden intense wave of pain hit you, and you gritted your teeth, clutching his fingers against your stomach as you began to slide down the side of the cave wall.

"[Y/N]!" The obvious, intense panic in his voice transmitted through your body. One of the many qualities you loved about him was his knack for remaining calm in situations that needed it. Yet, the sight of your water breaking as your knees buckled in pain undoubtedly shook your husband.

"What's going on?" He asked, his voice drenched with concern.

"It hurts," you managed.

"Contractions?" He asked, exasperated. You nodded frantically, panic rising.

"I can't have the baby here," you managed through hitched breaths, "it's too early. They're a month early, Kakashi."

"Dammit. I know, I know," he assured her, pushing his palm against the top of your forehead and moving your damp hair from your eyes. His eyes searched yours, the magnitude of the situation dawning on the both of you.

"Come, come back over here," he lifted you gently from under your armpit and guiding you away from the cave's entrance. Quickly, he took off his uniform jacket and placed it on the floor for you to sit on. Kneeling beside you, he let you rest your head in his lap, brushing his fingers across your forehead as he stared off into the distance, thinking with a furrowed, sweating brow.

"Stay here," he said suddenly, putting your head under his backpack.

You grasped his hand frantically, squeezing it as another wave hit you without warning.

"Please don't leave," you told him desperately, his fingers losing circulation with the amount of pressure you were transmitting from your body to his.

"I have to; it'll only be for a little while. I have to get help," the man who remained calm in every situation he faced was manic when met with the possibility of losing both his wife and unborn baby at his hand if he were to mishandle even the smallest of requirements to birth a baby. He was certainly not qualified and had little to no medical experience, barely enough to mend himself on a battlefield, let alone bring a baby- their baby - into the world.

"Please," you pleaded, riding out the same wave of pain through gritted teeth. A crack of lightning landed at the front of the cave, the sound jolting you and spiking your anxiety. Kakashi knelt beside you again, taking a deep breath. You took a few shallowed breaths as the pain dissipated. He weaved his fingers between yours.

"I have an idea," he said abruptly, turning to the entrance again. "I promise, I will only be a minute."

You nodded, rubbing your stomach again as you watched him run out into the sheets of rain. Your body felt heavy like there was no way you could even manage to pull yourself up if you had to. You were going to have this baby in this cave - you knew it. Kakashi couldn't carry you that far, and you wouldn't let him if he tried. You felt your throat constrict, angry with yourself. You shouldn't have ignored the signs. Your baby was coming, and you missed it.

"Okay," he said breathlessly, jogging back to you. "I have Pakkun heading towards the nearest village to get medical assistance."

"Kashi," you managed, feeling your eyes well with tears. "This is my fault."

His damp hand caressed your forehead, drips of rainwater falling from the tips of his hair onto your arm.

"No, it's not," he assured you quietly, "it's okay. I'm right here. I'm not going to let anything happen to you or the baby."

"I'm sorry," you managed, a tear falling through your temple into your hairline. He leaned down, pressing his lips to your forehead as his other grasped your hand.

"It's okay," he murmured against your skin. "It'll be okay."

"Oh gosh," you squeeze his hand again, feeling the unbearable pain trickle back into your system. It's unrelenting pressure causing havoc throughout your spine.

"Breathe," he reminded you, his lips against the shell of your ear. You listened, trying to calm your breath that had since become a chaotic mess of hiccups and yelps.

"What if-"

"Just breathe," Kakashi told you, gently placing his forehead against yours. His damp hair tickled your skin—the cooling rainwater a relief to your sweating body.

Twenty more minutes of unrelenting pain passed. The intervals between them growing smaller and smaller. The rain outside let up, the thunder rolling casually in the distance. You cursed at it.

"When will Pakkun be back?" you panted out, your jaw clenched.

Kakashi's eye was consistently on the opening of the cave, just as much as it was on you. You had seen his Adam's Apple bounce in his neck nervously at your question.

"Soon," he responded, "I'm sure he won't be long. The nearest village is-"

"Ahh-ohhh, no," was all you could manage. You could see stars in your vision, the pressure building in your whole body. You let out a cry, squeezing your husband's hand as he remained steady next to you. He gripped your hand back, his gloved fingers squeezing at your knuckles.

"This can't be happening," you cried, shaking your head.

"It's okay. Please, [y/n], it's okay. Just breathe."

"I have to push," you managed, your face shone with sweat. Stricken with anxiety, you heard him exhale next to you. You opened your eyes to look at him; his two charcoal eyes fixated on you.

"I'm so sorry," you managed breathlessly.

He shook his head, pressing his lips to your forehead again, this time more firmly. "Don't be sorry. I love you. Everything will be okay. Let's do this."

Wriggling your way out of your bottoms, Kakashi nestled himself between your legs, propping them up as they had taught him in all those birthing classes you had both attended.

"Oh," you heard him say, "Oh gosh. I see their head!"

Everything felt like it was on fire in your body: every nerve ending, every piece of skin, every ounce of your every being. Kakashi looked up at you, his gaze a mixture of worry and determination.

"You have to push," he told you calmly, rubbing your leg reassuredly.

"I can't," you breathed, trying to catch your breath.

"You have to. Remember to breathe. I'm right here; just breathe."

You gritted your teeth, pushing so hard you felt your ears block out. Heat rose up your neck as you let out a gritted yell. The pain was unbearable.

"C'mon, baby, just a little more!" You heard him say. The world felt surreal.

"Please, I can't," you whimpered, exasperated and exhausted. He leaned forward over your belly, grasping at the back of your head. Pulling his mask down, he pressed his lips firmly to yours, the sweat from both of your upper lips mingling.

"You're almost there," he whispered, staring directly into your eyes. "You're almost there. Just keep going. I'm right here."

You nodded, your eyes focused on his as he leaned back down. You took a deep breath in, gritting your teeth as you pushed as hard as you could. A small source of pressure was relieved as you heard your husband laugh joyously.

"Oh gosh," he laughed, his mask still pooled around his neck. You looked up, a baby covered in blood and mucus in his arms. The beaming smile on his face, the one you didn't often see, as he gazed down at your baby, was enough of a pain reliever if there ever was one.

"It's a girl," he looked up at you, his eyes glassed over with tears, "you did it, baby."

You leaned back, feeling delirious with joy and physical pain. Kakashi came up to you, your eyes never leaving the baby as he put her near you. The bottom of his shirt wrapped around the little bundle, a peak of his skin showing beneath it. Tears streamed down both of your faces at the sight of such a little thing. Clearly, she was small. But her mighty cries were loud enough to echo in the cave. You leaned up, touching the meager turf of white hair on her head. A joyful whimper bubbled up in your chest.

You felt his lips on the top of your head as you played with her tiny fingers. You felt him chuckle against your hair as the little one let out another wail.

As you stared at her, you were beginning to feel nauseous suddenly. The perception of the world slowly fading around you became evident. Like you were dreaming and waking up from the dream.

"Boss!" Pakkun's voice filled the cave, "I'm back! I have help!"

You tried to hold on, blinking as you held your daughter's tiny hand. Something felt wrong. Multiple people in nursing uniforms bustled into the narrow cave, their faces calm until they looked to you.

"Kashi-" you managed through ragged breaths. You looked up at your husband as his beaming face handed his baby off carefully to a nurse. As he looked back down, his smile vanished as your eyes closed.

"[Y/N]! [Y/N], are you okay?" you heard Kakashi's voice, pungent with anxiety.

"Move aside, Hokage-sama," a voice commanded.

The world lulled between darkness and reality. The pain increased while your head felt heavy, falling back to the earth below.

"Her blood pressure is dropping," someone called out.

"What's wrong with her?"

"We have to get her back to a hospital."

"What's wrong with my wife?"

"Please, Hokage-sama! Stay back!"

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

You woke up a few hours later.

Your body ached, and your confusion was high. Groaning, you reached down to feel your belly. Realizing it was significantly smaller than usual, your eyes shot open at once.

You were in a hospital room. A blood pressure cuff wrapped tightly around your arm, and an IV stuck in the crook of your elbow. Your confused state only heightened your anxiety. Frantically, you looked around the room as you uncomfortably sat up in bed. Your eyes landed on the opposite side of the room near the window.

The rustling of bedsheets had startled him, turning around to see his concerned expression gaze over at you. In his arms, a small bundle of pink blankets was tucked across his chest.

Carefully, he walked over to you, his gaze softening as he leaned down to kiss your forehead.

"I'm so glad you're okay," you heard him whisper, his voice cracking slightly. You looked up at him, the images of earlier flooding back to you. His eyes were full of love and admiration, smiling at you.

"Can I hold her?" you asked, looking down at the little bundle you had heard him coo at.

"You're her mother; why wouldn't you?" he chuckled, gingerly transferring the baby to your arms.

Looking down, you felt tears begin to flow freely down your cheeks. Kakashi leaned over, his chin resting at your temple as he wrapped an arm behind your head.

"She's so beautiful," you managed, your fingers touching her rough baby cheeks. Her squinted eyes slept peacefully in your arms. You had never felt such an overwhelming sense of love towards anything.

"Like her mother," Kakashi murmured, nuzzling his nose fondly against your temple. You felt wetness near your hairline, realizing he was also crying.

"Have you thought of a name yet?" You asked quietly, gently tracing your daughter's white eyebrows with your fingertip.

"I did," he said, looking back down at the child, "but if you don't like it -"

"What is it?" you laughed gently.

"Suki," he offered.

You thought about it, smiling as you looked down at this little thing you and him had created. Through such turmoil you had both gone through to finally get to this moment. You smiled.

"Yes," you said quietly. "Suki."

Beloved one.

#Kakashi x reader #Kakashi #kakashi x you #Kakashi Hatake #Kakashi x wife!reader #Feel dat angst #Hope you like it!#Kakashi imagines #Kakashi imagine #kakashi headcanons

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