#Okay enough wobbling in my inbox time to go to sleep.

[happy-tori-friends]

If you're still doing prompts,could I ask for one from the sick fic prompts, for Flippy and Splendid,with the prompt where one of them keeps falling asleep because they're just too tired,or something like that.Thank you,love your work!

of course! prompts (as well as asking me about headcanons, asking questions to get an in character answer, or popping into the inbox to just chat) will always be open for me to do :D

funny how i finished writing this one on the third day in a row of Extremely Fucked Up Sleep Schedule and while my grandmother has been sick. (i should go to be after this)

It felt like taking care of one's sick partner was a very… ‘boyfriend’ thing to do. It was also another aspect of helping people, so it was a no-brainer that Splendid came over to Flippy's house when he found out he wasn't feeling too well.

 Of course, it was also a bit of a pain considering that Flippy was surprisingly stubborn about not wasting the day doing nothing but resting. Splendid certainly understood getting restless and worrying about productivity, and he was definitely no stranger to pushing himself at times, but he still wanted for Flippy to just rest, at least while he was there. Perhaps he was a hypocrite, but if it was for the sake of his boyfriend's health, he had to be one.

Splendid had started up a pot of soup as soon as he'd arrived and, now that it was finished, he put some in a bowl. He carefully carried it over to the dining room table, before carefully raising his voice to call out. “Flip! Soup's on the table!”

It was louder than he intended, as often happened, but not loud enough to burst anyone's eardrums, hopefully. Splendid sighed, cursing his own lack of control over his own abilities. A slight groan reached his ears, however, and he stepped out of the room to see Flippy groggily rubbing his eyes.

“Sorry, I think I was on the verge of falling asleep,” Flippy murmured, gently setting his sewing project off to the side as he got up. “You said the soup is done, right?”

Splendid nodded, motioning for Flippy to follow him into the kitchen. As the green haired man sat down and offered thanks, he smiled. “Not a problem. Careful though, it's hot.”

A small laugh turned into a series of coughs, before Flippy picked up the spoon and blew on the soup it held. Splendid watched carefully, ready to get up and get a towel should a coughing fit cause his boyfriend to spill any. He was about to ask if Flippy wanted any tea with honey, before he noticed slow, drowsy blinks turning into Flippy dozing off mid-meal.

“Oh, careful!” Splendid gasped, catching him as he slumped and stopping him from face-planting straight into hot soup.

Flippy's eyes shot open, and he let out a small breath as he regained his composure, offering Splendid a grateful look. “I… guess I started drifting off again. Sorry,” he murmured hoarsely. 

The cyan haired man chuckled at that, letting go and watching the other begin to eat again. His gaze was more watchful, knowing that it could happen again. “I think you're more tired than you realize, Flip.”

Swallowing a spoonful of soup, Flippy frowned. “I guess…” he murmured, trailing off.

“Getting enough rest will make you feel better sooner, so how about after you eat, you go to sleep for a little while? As long as there aren't any emergencies, I'll stick around and I'll come right back if there are. Just in case you need me, okay?” Placing a hand on Flippy's shoulder, Splendid gave him a gentle smile, trying to encourage him that it really was okay to do so.

A series of coughs, a sigh, and a nod later, Splendid knew that Flippy had agreed. When he had eaten all he could stomach, the green haired man stood up, a little wobbly due to dizziness. The other followed suit, letting Flippy lean on him as he led him to his bed and tucked him in.

“Sleep well,” Splendid murmured softly, brushing sweat-soaked bangs aside and placing a kiss on the other's forehead. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Before he had even left the room, he could already hear the slight purring sound that the other made when sleeping. Splendid smiled softly as he gently closed the door, making his way to the living room and sitting down. 

Mission accomplished.

[yvesdot]

Since that zine got all the stretch goals reached, will you be releasing that vampire as liberation essay? I wanted to buy that zine so bad, but my own financial issues came up at the same time so I couldn't. But, I'd love to read the essay.

Good question! And my apologies for being silent on this-- though I asked about the orders (WE HIT 100!!!) shortly after the sales closed, I've been so busy that I haven't had time to look over the essay (originally written for a university class [ew]) yet. Since I work so sporadically, I didn't want to give a specific date and risk not meeting it.

Also, don't worry about not being able to buy the zine! I completely understand. I personally bought two extra copies so that people who know or meet me IRL might be able to buy one in the future if they weren't able to do so this run. Something Weird I Heard About Rebecca will ALSO go up for free on this blog once the zines have been shipped and are arriving with buyers, so don't worry—you'll still be able to read the story!

It's also really sweet of you to express interest; I often have no idea who is reading my work (or whether anyone is) so every ask like this is a big flare in the night, letting me know that readers are out there! I also know how intimidating it can be to send in asks, so another big thank you for inquiring (●´ω｀●)

tl;dr it's going to happen ASAP and thank you for asking!

However, if you want to hear more...

Disclaimer that this is not to make you feel guilty about my having a lot of work!! I just want to clarify what on Earth I've been doing this week to make it so busy. I will admit that some of my being 'behind' on things is due to a few days of sheer terror over unexpectedly testing positive for COVID (despite being a/low-symptomatic, thank God). Also, I just enjoy talking about my writing, so there's no pressure to read this if you're not interested in Everything I Am Working On Right Now.

With that said, if you are interested, here's the current list of priorities.

Patreon gets planned in advance and executed the week each post is 'due'. Done with everything for this month but the Newsletter, which I won't have to worry about for a week now (until the 24th, basically).

HOUSE RAINIER is a Choose Your Own Adventure x RPG x word crawl event I am running for Camp NaNo. I know from experience that I need to finish writing it ASAP, or I will not have time to get feedback or edit it by the time Camp begins... and I need all of it to be done, 100%, by the time I run the event. So I am finishing that this Sunday or Monday, if all goes well.

Patterned Seats and In Her Arms critique. I got critique on Patterned Seats this last week. I got critique on In Her Arms... let's not talk about that right now. The point is, I never organized these into usable feedback documents, so I have to do that before every individual feedback letter immolates itself.

YOU ARE HERE! The Vampire As Liberation. This is next on the list. Tragically, HOUSE RAINIER is a 20-page document, and the critique thing is moving slowly as a result.

LIT198A-02 students, put your hands up! I'm teaching a creative writing class, and I wrote a demo outline to show people... how to outline. Now I have to look it over, ensure it's readable, and figure out whether it's too long to assign as reading (vs. assigning some portions). This is 'due' by January 24th.

I recently got edits back on a piece submitted to a magazine, and they want another draft back in ~2 weeks. So: roughly before February begins.

I'm also in a workshop. Aren't I always? For this one, I'm writing a piece called Lend a Hand, Or a Knife, because we are writing fresh new things for workshop. This is the first time I have ever mentioned it on this blog. Fortunately, it's only a bit at a time, so I can work around it.

I'm still reformatting Exhaustively for print, and I recently hit a stumbling block with the subjectivity of How To Format. This is not a priority in the sense that it has to happen in some time frame, but I promised it to Max @goose-books, so I am going to get it done. Making books takes time...

Does anyone remember Forest Castles? I haven't edited it in a really long time—over a month, what with December's housekeeping and January's rush with the COVID and the sudden Camp NaNo planning.

I never finished the KAY outline. I worked on it during #10Kin1Day, and I got a lot done (10,000 words!), but there's still more to do. I'd like to do it. You can probably imagine from this list why I haven't done it...

I also wanted to edit my WIP pages to make them more comprehensible and accessible, and I have some pieces to submit hanging around my Drive. I even know where to submit them-- I just haven't had a minute to sit down and send them out! Hyeek!

I'm also realizing this schedule might look a little daunting... it doesn't feel that way! At least, it does not feel negatively daunting. It feels inspiring! I've got a big mountain to climb, which is just the way I like it. If you'd like to see me chip away at all this, come by a Twitch stream!

And, on behalf of everyone who might have been wondering what I've been working on lately but was too afraid to ask... thank you for asking!

[lotus-flowerz]

hi :D i hope you've had a good day! i was wondering if you could do one where xiao has a s/o that feels guilty about everything? like basically feeling like everything is their fault. heh it's a bit specific so if you can't do it, that's okay! xiao is just my comfort character :) (you can use g/n pronouns)

thank you in advance!

hi!! i'm so sorry this took so long. school is kicking my ass still and i have writers block, but i wanted to answer some requests. i currently have 4 more sitting in my inbox and i promise that they'll get done!

anyway, i struggle with this too, like REALLY struggle with it, so i hope i do this justice.

TW!! FEELINGS OF GUILT, ANXIETY, AND PANIC ATTACK

"Xiao! I'm back, where are you?"

You looked around your shared room at Wangshu Inn. It was empty, although you had begged Xiao to take a break today. Guess he hadn't listened.

"You called?"

He appeared suddenly, standing in the doorway of your balcony.

"I was just looking for you. I thought you were taking a day off?"

"No. I tried, but... I just couldn't bring myself to do it."

"Oh."

"I must go. Someone called my name."

And with that, he vanished.

You sighed and sat down at the desk in your room, laying your head in your hands. You had been at work all day, where everyone loved to take advantage of your kindness and generosity, while always blaming you when work got behind or something went wrong. You had tried for the longest time to curb your constant "sorry"s and those crushing waves of guilt that washed over you whenever something went wrong.

Guilt followed you around wherever you went, covering you like a warm blanket on a muggy summer day. And in this moment, you couldn't help but think: "Would he be better off without me?"

To get your mind off of this plaguing thought, you decided to shower and eat something. But even as you showered, and even while you ate your favorite meal, you couldn't stop this current wave of guilt. It was like every little guilty feeling you held back was all coming in at once. And at the front of it all, was that stupid thought.

"Would he be better off without me?"

You laid in your shared bed, facing towards your balcony. Usually, you slept facing Xiao, but now, you couldn't even bring yourself to look at his empty side of your bed.

You closed your eyes, willing sleep to come, but it evaded you.

"It's my fault he's so tired."

You squeezed your eyes shut, and took a deep breath. You eventually drifted off to sleep, but..

Xiao frowned.

"You're so draining, Y/n. This is all your fault!"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry- wait!"

"No! This discussion is over. When will you get it?? We all hate you. All you do is cause trouble! Get out of here."

"I'm sorry- I didn't mean to! I know it's my fault but-"

"Wskncj."

"Huh...?"

"Wakkxonj."

"What are you trying to say?!"

"WAKE UP!"

You bolted upright, panting. Xiao was standing above you, looking confused.

"I'm sorry to wake you, it just seemed as though you were having a nightmare. I would get rid of it for you, but I found I do not have enough energy to do so."

"Sorry.. did I disturb you?? I didn't mean to wake you up, I swear. I-"

"Y/n, I just got home and you were repeating 'sorry' over and over while tossing and turning. You didn't disturb me, you just scared me."

"I'm sorry."

"No need for apologies. Goodnight, Y/n."

"...Night Xiao."

You felt the bed dip beside you , and you felt his eyes on you.

"Y/n?"

"Hm..?"

"Tell me what's wrong."

Your eyes widened. You sucked in a breath, trying to think of what to say.

"I'm okay." you said, yet your voice wobbled. The jig is up.

He sat up and placed a hand on your forearm.

"Y/n, please. I can't fix it if you don't tell me what's wrong."

Your eyes welled with tears, and before you could stop it, you began to cry. You found you couldn't breathe, and that blanket of guilt was suffocating you.

Out- I need out, now. Out, out, out

You began to hyperventilate. You sat up, and attempted to get of the bed, before you were pulled back by Xiao.

He wrapped you up in his arms, holding you close to his chest.

"Deep breaths. I'm here." he whispered calmly into your ear.

He pulled you into his lap, holding you bridal style, your head laying against his chest as he held you firmly.

"I've got you now. No need to be scared, Y/n. I'm here. Shh.."

You tried to quiet your sobs, but that just made it even harder to breathe.

"Follow my lead."

He took an exaggerated gasp of air in, and you did the same. He held it for a few seconds, before releasing it slowly.

"Just like that. You got it."

He did it with you a few more times before opting to brush your hair out of your face and wipe your tears.

"I'll admit, I don't have much experience with crying mortals. I used what I knew from what I would want to be told in a state of panic, and by using techniques from my own panic attacks. Did it help?"

"Yeah.. it- it did. I'm so-sorry for making you help me."

"Huh? I helped you by choice. Now, what's wrong."

You hesitated; What if he left you?

"Would you be better off without me?"

"No. No way. You're my biggest comfort- my motivation to help others. What made you think I would be better off without you?"

"I-I just.. thought maybe that I was too much work. And maybe I'm the reason why you're so tired all the time."

"Who the hell told you that you were too much work? It's certainly not your fault I'm tired, either."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Not everything is your fault. Be nicer to yourself, my crystalfly. Go easy on your mind."

"Thank you, Xiao." you said, settling into your spot in your shared bed, facing Xiao.

He laid down too, pulling you into his chest and placing his chin on your head.

"Mmhm. Go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up because I'm taking the day off tomorrow. But so are you, okay?"

"Of course, love. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Y/n. See you in the morning."

[bubblyhoney]

three times you interrupt george

warnings: none! my first fic with no language are you proud of me ;)

tags: georgenotfound x gn!reader

words: 1355

A/N: pretty much every fic i’ve posted has been written a minimum of an hour before i post it— my b. anyways george is soft and he makes me soft enjoy

requests/inbox status: open

-

The first time you barge in on George’s stream is about four months into your relationship. He is starting to get comfortable being his online persona around you, and suggests rather than get on your train at 1 am, you stay over. “Like a sleepover?” you ask and watch his cheeks start glowing pink.

Yes, exactly like a sleepover.

The sound of the bedroom door opening makes him pick up his water bottle and immediately turn off his camera and microphone, indistinguishable from the unannounced bathroom breaks he usually takes. Turning towards you slightly in his chair, an amused expression grows on his face. You’re barely awake, hovering in his doorway with a crinkled t-shirt and basketball shorts pulled on haphazardly in the dark on your way out of the bedroom. (You don’t sleep in pants. That’s for heathens.)

“Water,” you croak, arms stiff at your side and blinking wildly in the fluorescent lighting of his flat. He tries to hide his smirk and pads over to you, passing you his water bottle with a huff of a laugh. His hand drops to yours, grabbing and rubbing his thumb into your blanket-creased skin. You’re cold.

“I have extra blankets in the cupboard.” He doesn’t let go of your hand. You nod robotically, draining the nearingly lukewarm water through that straw and— he can almost see life return to your face. When you hand the empty bottle back to him, you’re licking your lips and squinting like you’re having a staring contest with the sun.

“I’m gonna go back to bed.” Your voice is thick with sleep, nasally like it always is in the morning. You lift to scratch a hand at your stomach and lean your head forward, bowing to George at an awkward angle. In a second he knows what you’re doing and grants you one (1) forehead kiss before you’re trundling off to the bedroom on legs that function like stilts.

“Sorry guys,” he sighs heavily when he’s back in his chair. “Took a minute long nap and I feel so refreshed.”

The second instance of interruption comes on a day when he’s too entranced in some bizarre Minecraft challenge (with his camera off, for focus reasons) to notice you.

You walk up the stairs, hand on the railing, and expect to find your boyfriend zonked out on the couch with six pillows behind his head and an eye mask. Instead, he’s at his desk, eye bags a lovely shade of violet, with rimrod posture, clicking furiously at his mouse. He’s silent when you pass him to drop your things off in the kitchen. Silent the whole time you go to the bathroom, and silent the whole time you’re making breakfast.

The distance between his flat and your own isn’t monumental, but it is enough to make you exhausted on the train ride over. (It doesn't take much, truthfully.) That’s why you book the tickets hilariously early in the morning and have a perfectly-timed nap. Still, you wake up from it ravenous. And George has a horrible habit of ordering take-away for every meal, so you grab a couple ingredients for breakfast at the mart you pass every couple of days you’re here.

Today it’s omelets and bruschetta toast. George jokes you’re related to Gordon Ramsey distantly for the amount of posh foods you cook; you say you just have taste. Half a dozen eggs, a few veggies, a bulb of garlic, and a loaf of bread is barely £15 at the mart down the road. The rest of the ingredients lie barely touched in his cabinets. You work quickly and have two plates filled with warm and delicious smelling food in the period it takes him to die one more time in Minecraft.

Wobbling two plates and a glass of orange juice on one arm, you approach the backside of his desk on careful and slow feet. When you set his plate and drink down next to him he catches you by the wrist and brings your forearm to his mouth, pressing a kiss there and looking up at you with those brown eyes.

“Thank you,” he mumbles against the sweetness of your skin and presses two more kisses to your wrist. He pulls away and takes a large sip from the orange juice before spam-clicking the shift button at a familiar green character. You leave his station with a smile, feeling warm.

“Y/N!” he calls, leaning back in his chair with a hand on his stomach. “C’mere. Please.”

“Bossy,” you mutter, but get up from your place on the couch and trot over to him with a huff.

“Tell Sapnap what you put in the omelet,” is all he says before passing you his headset and snaking an arm around your waist. You stumble towards him but manage to get the headphones on before Sapnap starts spewing about a breakfast burrito he ate last week that had jalapeños and onions in it. One thing you never thought you’d get to discuss with the man was your culinary prowess, but it seems today is the day of surprises— George helps you bake a batch of salted caramel brownies after finishing up work, too.

He doesn’t even catch anything on fire.

The third time you catch George working is right at the end of a Gang Beasts stream with Karl, Tina, and Corpse. He’s just finishing his last wave goodbye and ending the stream when you shudder through his front door with a small bag in your hand.

“Good news,” you announce through a grin. “My GNF candle came in.”

“Your what?” He laughs, closing the browser with a click and sleeping his monitor. You dig the item out and place it ceremoniously on the glass of his desk. His jaw drops.

“Isn’t that cool?” You ask excitedly, nearly bouncing on your feet.

“Oh my God.” He picks up the squat candle, lifting it to his nose to catch a sniff. Hm. Pine. “I wish I smelled like that.”

You just shrug and take it from him, darting into the kitchen to produce a lighter and light the wick quickly. You take a deep inhale when the flame sparks and stills.

“Yeah, that smells nothing like you. You smell more…” You trail off, lips pursed and eyebrows drawn in thought.

“Manly?” He quirks an eyebrow at you. You ponder that and just take another smell.

“More sweet. Much sweeter.”

“That’s cute,” he admits, getting up and disappearing into his bedroom.

“Are you gonna take a nap?” You set the candle down onto the countertop, making your way into his room like you own it. He’s at his closet, tugging off his sweatshirt.

“Yeah,” he answers, muffled by fabric, and finally gets the collar of the hoodie past his neck. “Care to join?” The hoodie goes into his laundry basket and he tugs the covers of his bed back, flashing you a look. You nod, flinging your shoes off and into the emptiness of his closet before crawling into the center of his bed and flopping down halfway onto him. He makes an unsatisfied noise and shuffles onto his stomach. Giggling, you roll into a sitting position and get yourself under the covers.

“Warm in here,” you mutter and get situated. His accompanying pillow is soft on your cheek when you twist onto your stomach and shove an arm underneath it. He just hums in agreement and stares at you. “Hold on.” You plant an elbow on the space between you two and manage to press a firm kiss on his cheek. Okay, perhaps two. If it’s three then George is colorblind.

“Thanks. I guess.”

“Anytime, darling,” is all you say before your eyes are closing and you’re breathing a sigh that deflates your chest.

A hand grapples up your arm, scrambling for your own. You just smile to yourself and offer your palm to him. He takes it wordlessly and squeezes twice before letting your tangle of fingers drop to the sheets.

-

A/N: ask or send me some stuff!! requests, rants, anything. :D let me know what you think in the comments!

[whumperooni]

Belonging

Pairing: Enji Todoroki x Daughter!Reader

Word count: 3k

Tags/Warnings: incest, possessive behavior, exhibitionism, mentions of being roughly handled by your big bros while daddy was away u.u

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is written in response to a big brained, beautiful minded nonny <3 I was going to put it in the answer to the ask but I’m gonna chuck this in ao3 too so I’m making it a separate post.

THANK YOU nonny for this /chef’s kiss of an ask and please feel free to slide into my inbox again because this is primo content right here.

I hope you enjoy your crumbs <3

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

How long has Enji been away from home? Two days? Three days? Four? Certainly not away long enough for you to be in this condition.

Enji frowns despite the sweet kisses you’re peppering all over his face and grabs onto your waist, lifts you up and holds you back so he can look you over. You’re a mess- bruises on your wrists and hickeys mottling your neck so much he can’t see a speck of your natural color. You look tired, worn out and Enji can tell that you’re exhausted, that things have been busy since he’s been away for his team up. He’s not happy about the vivid bruises on your thighs or the fading carpet burn on your knees. He is really not happy about the bandage on your forearm. Enji’s frown deepens and you grow nervous before him- smile twitching anxiously and hands clenching at the fabric of one of Touya’s shirts that you’ve been made to wear. When he puts you down and reaches to grab your arm, you flinch- barely noticeable, so tiny in your movement; something that anyone who wasn’t him would miss. Enji’s eyes narrow, big hand circling over your wrist and he tries to soften his expression when he feels you tense up underneath him. Whatever has happened while he’s been away is not your fault- he knows this. He is furious that you’re so skittish from it, though. Again, not your fault- his sons are sure to blame. “...what happened?” You tense up even more- eyes darting anxiously around the room and smile wavering and fading from your face. He thinks that you might pull away from him whenever he runs his thumb over the bruises on your wrists, but you remain as good and obedient as ever and simply twitch in place where you are standing. “N-Nothing, daddy,” you mumble, lips trying and failing to smile once more. Enji frowns at you and you squirm under your father’s stern gaze- anxiety whipping through you and upset starting to creep all over your face. “It was just...they didn’t mean…” Oh, yes, they did mean. Enji scowls and he sets his irritation toward the bandage on your arm, has to clench his free hand into a fist so he doesn’t hold onto you too tightly. “What is this from?” he demands. “Give me the truth, little one.” Your bottom lip quivers and he can tell that you are torn. You are such a sweet daughter, a sweet sister- you cannot bring yourself to lie to the father that you love so much but you also do not want to get the brothers that you hold dear in trouble either. You are a good girl- you should not be in this position right now. Enji breathes in deep and he lets it out slow, tries to keep a leash on his temper. You are the only thing he truly loves in this world- his little one, his youngest, his perfect little girl. He doesn’t want to see you cry over something your brothers have done. Enji huffs and he pulls you closer to him, picks you up. Your legs wrap around his waist on reflex- arms looping around his neck and face burying into his chest as he positions you. There’s a quiet whimper from you whenever he cups your bottom and Enji feels his anger grow even darker when he feels you sniffle against him. “Are you sore there?” he asks, gruff as he totes you off to his bedroom. You don’t answer him for a  moment and even then you can only give him a tiny nod in response- arms clinging tighter to him. Enji lets out a tch and he’s careful as he sits down on the bed, as he sits you in his lap. Your upset is more than clear on your face now- bottom lip wobbling and eyes glistening with unshed tears. Enji frowns as your head lowers and he rubs your back with one big hand, touches your cheek with the other. “Did they spank you?” he asks. Your squirm in his lap- eyes averted and fingers curling into his shirt. Enji waits, patient, until finally your lips tremble and you give a tiny nod. “Touya-nii...he wasn’t...he wasn’t happy that I slept in Natsuo-nii’s bed,” you whisper. “They’ve been…” You trail off, nerves and upset skittering over your expression, and Enji grunts his annoyance as he eyes the bruises littered all over your body. “They’ve been fighting over you. Again.” A wince passes over you and you hang your head as if you are ashamed. There is a sniffle and that is all it takes to further cement Enji’s decision that his sons need a reminder of their place. “I- I’m sorry, daddy,” you whisper- eyes wet, lashes wet, voice trembling. “I- I tried to be good so they wouldn’t fight, but- but Touya-nii told Natsuo-nii that I- that I belong to him and it made Natsuo-nii mad and then- then Natsuo-nii was sad after and I tried to cheer him up and then that made Touya-nii mad and then- then they started fighting and then they kept dragging me to their rooms and I couldn’t- I couldn’t make them happy and I’m sorry, daddy! I didn’t mean to make them fight!” Your voice pitches with a whine of a sob and Enji grits his teeth, wraps his arms around tight so he doesn’t let his temper explode. “It’s not your fault, little one,” he tells you- gruff, stern, but soft for him. You sniffle against him, tears wetting the fabric of his shirt, and Enji rubs your back, places a kiss to your hair. “Tell me how your arm got hurt.” You sniffle, again, and it is pathetic, weak. It grinds at Enji’s fury more, but he closes his eyes as you press against him and seek comfort. “I- I fell,” you mumble to him, voice wobbling. “N-Natsuo-nii was holding my hand and- and Touya-nii didn’t like it so he...he grabbed my other one and he yanked me away, but I- I lost my balance and I fell...I hit it against the table and it...cut me…” Your voice gets smaller and more quiet with each word- reluctance to get your brother’s in trouble making it so hard to admit what happened to your father. Enji’s control snaps as he listens and his fire flares from him- something he is quick to put out whenever he hears your panic sounding against his chest. Enji breathes in deep and he buries his face into his daughter’s hair, holds you just a little too tight in his arms. “...okay, little one,” he says once his temper calms down enough that he can talk without growling every word out. “Did anything else happen?” You shake your head against him and it’s a bit too swift of a denial for his taste. He senses that there is more- knows that there must be- but he does not push; he does not want his little one to collapse further into upset. Enji takes another deep breath and lets you go, cups your cheek to smooth away one stray tear. “You’re a mess,” he tells you. “Come- take a shower with me and then we will relax.” You nod- one small, upset sniffle leaving you- and Enji presses his lips to your forehead before gathering you up in his arms and carrying you to the bathroom. He strips you down and reduces Touya’s shirt to ash- letting it fall into the waistbasket with a scowl. You do not comment on it, but you hug yourself tight- eyes wide and worried and body littered with bruises. They have been especially rough with you this time and Enji is not pleased. He is careful with you as he washes you- big hands moving as gently as he can manage but still firm as he washes your tangled hair, scrubs down your tired body. You relax as he takes care of you, melt under his warm fingers and let out soft, sweet noises as your father eases the anxious tension that has wound your body up so tight. He kisses you when you tilt your head back to look at him- your eyes half-shut and sleepy, a serene look on your face as he runs his hands over your breasts. It is a chaste kiss- loving and brief- and Enji feels a certain satisfaction whenever you sigh after, lean against his broad chest. “Daddy takes good care of me,” you mumble- words fuzzy with exhaustion and the gooey warmth spreading through your body and making your mind melt from much needed tenderness. “Not like…” You trail off softly, guiltily. Enji knows what you mean, though, and there is pride in him from it- a possessive, vindictive pleasure as his little girl nuzzles against him adoringly. You are daddy’s little girl- you always have been and you always will be. Enji finishes cleaning you and he sets you out of the shower to wrap yourself in a towel and wait for him. Your clumsy attempts to clean him before he does are cute, but he knows that you are tired and does not wish to push you just yet- he has plans and he needs you to rest while you can. He cleans himself and you wait for him obediently- wrapped up in a towel and yawning, propped up on the sink where he had sat you down. Seeing him emerge from the shower is a treat- water steaming from him and dripping down rippling muscles, through chest hair and a thick happy trail. A soft noise leaves you as you watch him dry himself and your cheeks pinken without notice despite heavy eyes and a fuzzy, tired mind that’s begging for sleep. Enji watches your soft thighs rub together and he goes to you, kisses you like you deserve- lovingly, hungrily but not forcefully. He breaks it once a sweet, low moan sounds from you and then he kneels, parts your legs and hooks them over his shoulders before burying his face into the honeyed crux of his little one. The bathroom echoes with your whimpers and mewls as Enji runs his tongue through your folds and burrows his tongue deep inside your cunny. He keeps your hips still whenever they begin to twitch, but he allows you to grab onto his hair, grunts with approval when you arch your back and whine out a needy little, “Daddy, please!” You come whenever he slips a thick finger into you- slick and warm insides fluttering and clamping down onto the digit as you cry out, grip his hair tight. Enji works you through it and he slips a second finger in at the peak of your orgasm, makes it trip into another and has you whimpering, gasping out “daddy, daddy, daddy!” “That’s right, little one,” he praises- voice coming out low and husky as your cunny clenches and cums around his fingers. “Who makes you feel good?” “Daddy does!” Enji hums, pleased by your mewled answer, and he allows you to ride out your pleasure before slipping his fingers from you. You look so sweet as you pant and flush- so worn out and vulnerable; a tender girl flustered by the dulcet, mellowed pleasure that you have been craving for days. You whimper whenever Enji stands- arms reaching for your father and eyes bright with needy tears. He picks you up and he kisses your cheek, cups your bottom whenever you wrap your legs around him and teases your wet, fluttering hole with a stretched out finger as he totes you off to the living room. The boys are there- arguing as always, in each other’s faces with heated, hissed words and glaring eyes- and they only look up when Enji slips a finger inside your cunny and coaxes a moan from you. Their reaction is immediate- heads snapping up and shock halting their anger only to multiple it. Touya’s lips pull back into snarl and Natsuo’s eyes widen, narrow as he watches your hips grind down against Enji’s finger. Enji glares them down as he eases another finger into your eager cunny, kisses your cheek when you whimper and cling to him even tighter. “Little one,” he asks, voice gruff but calm even as he glowers down at the furious brats that he calls sons, “who made you feel good earlier?” “Daddy did,” you mewl out- sweet and sleepy and showing the pleasure that is slowly wrecking your tired body. Enji hums and he spreads another finger to smooth over your clit, makes you moan softly and try to grind your hips against him. A growl rips from Touya and your lashes flutter from it, a tiny noise of worry leaves you and is instantly forgotten when Enji curls his thick fingers inside of your honeyed insides and causes your mind to blank from pleasure. “And who is making you feel good now?” Enji demands- hard and nearly imperious as you tremble and cling tighter to him. “D-Daddy is!” “Do you want your brothers to fuck you, little one?” Enji asks, narrowing his eyes in challenge when Touya takes a step toward him. A hiccup of a sob leaves you and you shake your head, bury your face against him with a whimper. Enji’s lips twitch with the hint of a smirk and he pushes you to answer with, “And why is that?” Another sob and you shake as guilt, frustration, repressed anger and upset at your brothers twine through you along with the honeyed, warm pleasure that your father is giving you. You sniffle- hips rocking against thick fingers and your syrupy, sticky juices leaking from you and coating your father’s hand. “Because- because,” you whimper as your heart pounds and your cunny throbs with need. “Because they’re- they’re mean! I don’t want- I don’t-” Guilt causes you to whine against your father and Enji hums as he teases a third finger against your entrance, looks over his sons. Touya is furious- hands clenched into tight fists and shaking with anger that’s close to exploding out. Natsuo, at least, has the decency to look guilty, ashamed. He ducks his head and looks away as Enji spreads your little cunny wider and makes you cry out as he slowly stuffs your squishy, warm insides full even more. “Who do you want then?” Enji asks- voice low and gruff. He grunts as your insides spasm around his fingers and his cock flexes against himself- hard and big and so ready to fill his sweet baby girl. “Who do you want to fuck you, little one?” You choke on a sob- the questions overwhelming your tired mind and your body racing toward another orgasm. You arch against him, head tilting back with a cry whenever he places a hot kiss to your neck. You can’t help the way you pant and shake against him and you can’t help your answer either, the way you moan out a loud, needy, truthful- “Daddy! Want- I want Daddy!” You cry a little after from guilt and need and the pleasure that is making your mind melt and your head spin. Enji lets out a growl of satisfaction and he slips his fingers from you- soothing you with a kiss whenever you let out a panicked whine. Enji slides you lower down his waist and presses the head of his cock against your fluttering hole, looks at his sons with challenge and superiority in his eyes, the set of his lips. “And who do you belong to?” Enji asks- voice low and demanding, making a desperate shiver crawl up your spine. You whimper and you lift your head from him, turn it so you can look at your brothers. There is no fear in your gaze- not like how there was over these past few days whenever they yanked you to and fro between them- and you shudder against your father- eyes heavy and cheeks flushed, body soft and pretty and clinging to him with pressing, loving adoration and need. “Daddy,” you mewl out sweet as honey. “I belong to daddy.” “Good girl,” Enji murmurs to you, sliding his cock into your eager cunny. “My good girl.” Choked anger tears itself from Touya and he snaps out a “fuck you” to Enji before stomping out of the room- singing the doorframe whenever he slams his hand against it in fury. Natsuo is frozen in place- eyes wide as he watches you come along your father’s cock- and he flushes from frustration, from anger whenever he finds himself hardening at the sight of Enji’s dick stretching your pussy and making your glistening folds part as he slides into you slowly. He clenches his fists whenever your moan and then he stomps out of the room- angry and needy as your chanted mewls of “daddy, daddy, daddy!” sound behind him. Enji smirks as his sons flee in a temper tantrum, smiles as he kisses your cheek and rocks his hips up to make you moan and go limp against him in pleasure. You nuzzle against him with a needy, tired whine and Enji hums his satisfaction at that, turns to carry you back to his room and his bed. “Shh, little one,” Enji tells you. “Daddy will take care of you.” A whimper leaves you and you tremble before giving a weak nod against him, clench around his cock even as he slips out of you to lay you out on his bed. “Love you, daddy,” you slur out through your pleasure and exhaustion, the overwhelmed feeling making your mind melt. “Love you so much.” Enji braces himself over you and he kisses your forehead, soaks in the soft mewl that sounds from you as he sinks his cock back into your honeyed insides. “I love you too, little one,” he tells you. “My little one.” You nod, panting and dizzy, and Enji kisses you, starts to fuck you slowly. You’re his. You will always belong to your daddy.

[inthehytes]

Hi gal! I love your college au! How about jasco and 🩹 for the prompt thing?

Hi friend! Thank you for your request, I was so excited to see it in my inbox 😌💗

—

“Bosco.” Jasmine whines as the brunette jostles her accidentally, sending a numbing pain up her leg despite the heavy painkillers she was on.

“I’m sorry Jas, we’re almost there I promise.” Bosco repeats the same sentiment they’d been repeating the whole way from the Uber and into their building. They’d never been more annoyed to see the elevator busted than they were then.

“You keep saying that,” she huffs in response, tired and wanting nothing more than to just lie down on the cold stairs for the rest of her life.

“That’s because we’re almost there. Now hold still for me yeah?” They help to prop her against the wall next to their door while they try to find one of their sets of keys in Jasmine’s giant purse. She eyes the clunky purple cast with disdain, trying her best not to cry. Not only had she broken her ankle but she’d shattered her dreams of a solo in their college’s winter showcase. She’d be lucky to be off of crutches by then. Never in her life did Jasmine feel as defeated as she did now.

“Alright baby, come on. Just a little further I promise.” Bosco hooks an arm around her waist and helps her limp to her bed, laying her gently against the pink sheets.

They move to grab the pillows from their own bed, using them to prop up the cast like the nurse had shown them before they left. They help Jasmine out her remaining shoe and into her favorite fuzzy socks. She sniffles quietly, eyes glued to the ugly ceiling as she fights the sob that threatens to escape.

Bosco’s by her side in an instant, the same worried expression they’d been wearing since coming to pick her up plastered to their face. She looks at them for all of two seconds before her lip wobbles and the sob finally escapes.

“Hey, hey, hey. Don’t cry Jas, what’s wrong? What do you need?” Bosco strokes the back of her hair gently, letting her cling to their other hand without complaint.

“Can you just hold me?“ she sniffles out, tugging at their hand until they relent and lay out beside her. She’s curled into their chest in an instant, well as well as her cast allows anyway.

Bosco holds her close and pets her hair while she cries, not even complaining about how wet their shirt is getting. Jasmine’s blinking blearily by the time she cries herself out, the mixture of painkillers and the general stress of the day leaving her exhausted.

“Sleep baby, I’ll wake you up in a little bit to take some more medicine.” Bosco soothes her after her third stifled yawn.

“Hey, Bos?” She whispers into their neck, thumbing the hem of their shirt idly.

“Yeah?” They hum, replacing their shirt hem with their hand and letting Jasmine play with the ring on their index finger.

“Thank you for coming to get me. And for helping me upstairs. And for all the help I’m going to need for a bit. I really appreciate it.” She leans far enough up to kiss their jaw in thanks, smiling when she receives one on her forehead.

“Anything for my best girl, now no more talking. The doctors said you need to rest.” Bosco shushes her quietly, fussing at the blanket over them for a moment before deciding it’s situated okay.

Jasmine is quiet as she nods off, out like a light once she really tries to fall asleep. She’s snoring softly against Bosco’s chest, her face half hidden in the fabric of their shirt. They stay awake for a while, watching the even rise and fall of her chest and smiling at how she nuzzles closer to them in her sleep. They kiss her forehead one last time before giving into the heaviness of their eyelids. Jasmine would no doubt be in pain and grumpy when she woke which meant Bosco would need all the rest they could get.

[secret-rendezvous1d]

can you write a part 2 abt just sitting on spencer's lap and making out :')

Okay... this one did so well and every now and then I go back and re-read it and feel all sorts going on in my brain-

Days off are a given in their line of work.

Some days are chaotic, completely mad with a strange energy and full of hectic hustle and bustle and active enough to have them on their feet for almost every hour of the day, that all they crave at the end of the day is a warm drink to calm them and a comfortable bed with fluffy pillows to lay their heads upon to gain a few hours of good sleep to feel refreshed and wake up ready to tackle another day of stress. The thrill of it all was something that made it worthwhile and was a reason to get out of bed and repeat.

Some days, however, were slow and boring. When the phone doesn’t ring with a P.D sheriff on the other line with fret and panic and worry in their voice as they explain a crime they had stumbled upon and needed the BAU’s help, when the inbox of their email folders were empty of recently sent messages with photos that were enough to give anyone nightmares and fear the absolute worst and be a warning to what kind of sick and twisted things they had to see. Walking into the unit felt useless, and there’s a sense of ‘why bother waking up?’, when Hotch turned them away because their help wasn’t required anywhere and being in the office took up space that didn’t need to be filled.

And you didn’t have to tell YN and Spencer twice.

She much rather enjoyed sitting on his lap rather than sitting on a a rather stiff and uncomfortable office chair, she much rather enjoyed his presence than a busy police department’s presence that were demanding new information to give to their officers, and she much rather enjoyed the alone time that they got together rather than being torn apart with orders. And he just loved being with his girlfriend and being himself, no having to worry that someone was watching them as they kissed goodbye and that they weren’t being spoken about since they had been office gossip from the get-go, and having nothing to tear his brain away from her.

“Feels weird to be free on a Thursday, doesn’t it?”

He shrugs in minor disapproval at her statement and tilts his neck back to look at her, the back of his head resting against the sofa cushion he was sat against, his hands placed firmly on her hips as she wobbles unstably on his lap to get a little comfortable. His eyes were focused on her, so golden brown and beautiful and enough to get lost in, and she couldn’t bring herself to look away from his face. Intimidating, almost, and a hint of darkness that was enough to tell her he was feeling a little naughty.

“What?”

She smiles and cups his face in her palms, her thumbs brushing over the slight facial hair that sprouted from his upper lip and curved around to below his chin, the flesh of his upper lip feeling soft when she caught contact. A major contrast with the prickly stubble that she rather liked the feel of.

“Nothing. You’re just,” she sighs happily and her shoulders hunch downwards as if a huge weight had been lifted from pushing her down, “you’re just very handsome and pretty and I could look at you all day. If I could stop blinking to stare at you, I would.”

“Handsome and cute, huh?”

She nods and drags her fingertips down his chin, following the sharp outline of his jawline before tickling down his neck, right up to his ears and down to the collarbones that protruded from beneath his skin. Goosebumps rising on his arms and legs, a bunch of butterflies set free in his stomach and a shudder building up in his spine as she dragged her fingers down his bare chest before letting them fall into the curves of his waistline. 

He slides her closer to him, his boxers bunching up underneath her as she tried to adjust herself as best as she could on his lap to keep some of her weight off of him, the fuzz of his thighs tickling the smooth skin of hers and his muscles tensing beneath her. His face nudged underneath her jawline, stubble sharp against her neck, his lips dragging across the skin as he left kisses behind. Introducing his teeth as he nibbled and tugged on the skin and left the faintest magenta-coloured bruises on her skin, in the wake of wet and open-mouthed kisses, her head tilting back to give him much better access.

She could feel him hardening beneath her as his breathing became shallow and restless and warm against her skin, and she was sure the crotch of her knickers were becoming damp with the arousal of the situation, her thighs tensing as she gripped him in an almost vice grip with her legs. Her hands travelling back up his chest, palms pushing into his shoulders as she found the back of his head, fingers hiding in his hair as she concealed the moans that tried to escape from her throat. Gripping on the brown strands as her hips momentarily moved back and forth.

“Jesus,” she hums, tugging on the strands of hair at the nape of his neck at a force that pulled him back so she could look at him, a hungry look that made her melt under his touch, “you drive me insane.”

“You drive me insane,” he croaks, lunging forward and planting his lips against hers, an eager feel behind his kiss that matched the hunger in his eyes, his hands holding your face still. Hunger for something a little more than just a hot and heated make-out session on the sofa. A thing string of saliva attaching the two of them together as he pulled away, lips red raw and his cheeks flush with something that definitely couldn’t be embarrassment, “no takeaway driver to ruin the moment this time.”

“All the way?”

“All the way and further more, baby.” xx

[daisybeewrites]

You Made Me Soup??

word count: 2.5k

warnings: lots of fluff, daisy gets a cold, daniel takes care of her :)

requested? yes

ship: dousy/daniel sousa x daisy johnson

Soooo this is the first writing that i’m posting on tumblr, let me know how I did in the comments! I’m a sucker for Daisy fluff, lets hope you are too b/c this is very fluffy. I appreciate any feedback and I hope you enjoy!

p.s. drop a request in my inbox if you have a fic idea!

Daisy felt like crap. She just got back home from a long, long mission that seemed as if it had dragged on for weeks (it hadn’t). More importantly, she felt like she hadn’t seen Daniel for weeks (she had, in fact, seen him just six days ago). The night air was chilly as she trudged up the stairs to one of her safe-houses. She frequently crashed here after missions, so she wasn’t surprised when Daniel opened the door and bear hugged her. 

“Umph.” Daisy was sore, and her head hurt like a hangover made of bees, but Daniel’s soothing presence relaxed her. He lifted her chin and gave her a deep kiss on the lips. Sousa would love nothing more than to hold her like this for a couple hours minimum, he knew that Daisy needed time to decompress by herself after missions. He helped her inside and shut the door behind them. Daisy's stomach growled. She peered inside the fridge and settled for a tomato and cheese sandwich. Daisy sat at the kitchen island and munched tiredly. Daniel sat on the couch and silently studied her. Something, he thought, is off. 

“Sweetheart?” he called. 

“Yea?” she replied, around a mouthful of bread.

“Are you, uh, feeling okay?” The genuine concern in his voice caused Daisy to sit up some and look over herself. 

“Do I look that bad?” she wasn’t offended, just surprised. There were a couple tears in the legs and one on the side of her suit from the brambles she had had to run through, and she wore dirt all over her face from the dust that had kicked up after she quaked the enemy assailants back about fifty feet. She honestly didn’t think she looked that bad. A tiny frown appeared on her face before Daniel quickly shut down her train of thought. 

“No, no, you look amazing as always,” Daniel got up quickly and stepped across the dark wood paneled floor into the old tiles that covered the ground in the kitchen. “No, Dais, that isn’t what I’m saying.”

As he reached her, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and brushed her hair out of her face. Daniel had to admit, she looked very cute when she was tired. However, he was too worried about how out of it she looked that he couldn't fully appreciate her adorable state. 

“Then what? Do I have leaves in my hair or something? I could’ve sworn I got them all out!” she began to comb her hair out with her fingers. Daniel just grinned. When she was satisfied that there weren’t any leaves in her hair, she glanced back up at him. His hands were on his hips, and he was using his new prosthetic leg that Jemma and Fitz had designed for him. She returned his grin and hopped off the counter so that she could wrap her arms around his gorgeous shoulders. Suddenly, her vision swam with little black dots and she couldn’t quite get her balance. Daniel reached out to steady her with a little more than worry in his eyes this time. 

“Look at that,” Daisy grinned wider, “I’m actually falling for you.” Daniel let out a low sort of chuckle and sighed. “Daisy, I think you need some sleep.”

Daisy patted his chest and nodded. “Probably.” As she said it, she let out an involuntary yawn, “Okay, so definitely. I need sleep.” 

Daisy began to walk back to her bedroom. It was cozy, and the colors reminded her of her bunk on the zephyr. There was a large bed with an old, wooden nightstand to match in the corner, and a few bean bag chairs and a short floor desk so that she could work at night. The bed was covered in comfy quilts and a soft, lavender duvet. No one would have guessed that a superhero lived here except for the hexagonal panels lining the walls, ceiling, and floor. Simmons and Daisy agreed to install them after Daisy almost leveled the house during a nightmare. It had been Daniel who suggested painting them, so that she wouldn’t feel as enclosed, like a caged animal. Daisy had been all for protecting those around her, insisted on it even. That doesn’t mean she didn’t feel weird having her bedroom look like the containment module. So, with Daniel, Coulson, and May's help, she painted the walls a homey grey and covered the floor in colourful mix-matched rugs. She left the ceiling white. 

Daisy trudged over to her bed and slowly started taking her gear off, but got stuck with the zips and hidden ties. 

“Hey, uh, Sou-” she coughed, “I need some help!” Her voice was muffled by the fabric of her suit. Daniel came to lean on the door frame. He smirked at the sight before him. Daisy’s arms were twisted behind her trying to undo a zipper, but had gotten caught while trying to pull it down. Subsequently, the material she had already loosened in the front rose up to reveal her tan, toned stomach. He walked over slowly and put his hands on her waist. 

“Mmmhm, Danny-boy, if you want me to sleep you need to just help me out of this damn suit!” she heard a chuckle and a soft ‘okay’ in response. He reached around her and undid the zipper, freeing her hands of the black fabric. She pulled the top over her head and went to get a sleep shirt. 

Daniel stopped her. “I’ll get it. You just relax.” 

Daisy was too tired to argue. She undressed from the rest of the suit and took the over-sized, comfy clothes he gathered. She pecked his cheek before going to the bathroom to wash her face and put the clothes on. Daniel watched her walk into the bathroom, a bright pink blush on his cheeks when she turned around and noticed him staring. At least he didn't cover his eyes when she changed anymore.

Daisy closed the door and turned the lights on in the bathroom. This was the first time she was able to good look at herself after the mission. She really did look like hell. The scars on her stomach and legs were a tad irritated from wearing her tac gear for so long, and her eyes also looked red. She ignored it and made a mental note to use the healing ointment Jemma had packed in her duffel bag on the red, raised tissue. She leaned forward to get a better look at herself. Her nose itched. Daisy quickly forgot about it as she finished getting ready for bed and slipped into the shirt and shorts that Daniel had handed her. 

When she stepped out of the bathroom, Daniel wasn’t there, but she could hear him in the living room down the hall. She still felt horrible, but the warm, coffee-and-vanilla scent that was just Daniel lulled her into a deep sleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.

When Daisy woke up the next morning, she felt absolutely disgusting. She grumbled as she tried to sit up. Her head was pounding, the pressure centered right between her eyebrows. She noticed the bottle of water and pills sitting on her bedside table, and promptly took them. Her nose hurt now, and her body was achier than it had been last night. She could probably sleep for another hour. Instead, she forced herself onto wobbly legs to take a scalding hot shower. The steam felt good on her muscles, and cleared her senses enough that she could properly breathe. She dressed in a clean t-shirt that she recognized as one of Sousa's and a pair of grey sweatpants (also Sousa's, Daisy stole them). Daisy trekked down the hall towards the warm, inviting couch. 

Daniel felt more than heard Daisy arrive in the living room, but only turned around when he heard a large crash!

“Daisy! Are you okay? What happened?” Daisy was currently laying on the floor next to a fallen lamp. 

“Ow…” she . “I turned the corner and this lamp was here.” 

Daniel crutched over to her, then gracefully sat down beside her. “Sorry Dais, didn’t know the lamp was an enemy combatant.” 

She gave a tired laugh. “I should’ve looked. I don’t feel great right now. I was practically sleepwalking down the hall.” 

Daniel looked over Daisy. He noticed she was wearing his clothes, and tried not to show exactly how that affected him. Daisy snapped him out of his reverie with a small sneeze. Without missing a beat, he handed her his handkerchief. Daisy still thought it odd that he had one, but felt extremely glad he did. Daniel thought he heard a low mumble of ‘cute square’, but couldn’t be sure. Daisy was definitely cute, even when sick.

Daisy groaned as she clutched her head. Daniel swung himself up, and she noticed his leg was... not a leg. Daisy smiled. Knowing that he felt safe enough in her house to relax and not wear his prosthetic made a little bubble of warmth blossom in her chest. Daniel reached a hand down to help her up, and with expert balance, helped her up to her feet. He pressed the cool back of his hand to her forehead. Daisy leaned into the touch. 

“That feels good. Like, really good.” 

Daniel gave her a quizzical stare. “Has anyone ever taken care of you while you were sick?”

Daisy was incredulous. “I’m not sick!” 

Daniel replied with a raised eyebrow and took his hand away from her head. She leaned forward slightly, chasing his hand before stopping herself. It dawned on Daniel that she hadn’t had parents to take care of her when she was a kid, and there was no way she would have let the team nurse her if she came down with something. 

“C’mere,” Daniel led her over to the couch and handed her a thick blanket. She took it and tried to spread it over her legs. Daniel laughed a little as she failed miserably. Daisy pouted and sighed, frustrated. Daniel took the blanket and flourished it, then laid it gently over her. 

“Square,” she teased. An adorable square.

“Your square, though.” Daniel grabbed her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm, then her knuckles and wrist. Daisy didn’t want to admit how good it made her feel. Daniel got up as he directed her to stay there. “I’ll get some stuff to help.” 

Daisy dozed in and out while Sousa gathered what he needed. She could smell something delicious in the kitchen, and heard Sousa walking around. When he was finished, he woke Daisy up with a shake of her shoulder. He carefully helped her sit up. 

“Let’s go,” he stated, with a mischievous smile. 

“Go... where?” she questioned. The look in Sousa’s eye was making her slightly nervous. No, not nervous... just jittery with anticipation. Huh. Daniel started to walk away, checking over his shoulder to see if she was coming. She quickly shook her head and got up. She followed him down the hall to the bathroom, where a warm bath was waiting. 

“Honey?”

“Yes, dear?” Daniel was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, and staring at 

Daisy as if she was the only light in the universe. His gaze made her feel all mushy inside, and she pushed down the tears that almost welled up. Daisy told herself it was because she was sick (but we all know it wasn't). Daniel broke eye contact and pushed himself off the counter. 

“I’ll be in the kitchen," Daniel winked and gave her kiss on the cheek, then left Daisy standing dumbfounded next to the tub. "Holler if you need me.”

She touched where he kissed and promptly undressed. The bath felt like heaven. If only she could keep her eyes open... 

She was woken around fifteen minutes later by the smell of something she could only describe as mouthwatering coming from the kitchen. She toweled off and put on a t-shirt and the shorts she wore the night before. She tip-toed to the kitchen and wrapped her arms around Daniel. Daisy rested her head in between his shoulder blades. She lifted her head and he turned around to place his hands on her waist, slowly pulling her in.

“I don’t think this is safe next to a stove.” Daisy quipped. Daniel murmured something incoherent in her hair. She peered over his shoulder to see what he was cooking.

“Soup?” Daisy questioned, “You... made me soup?” Daniel suddenly seemed shy. He looked away, unsure if he was stepping too far, or if she even liked soup. Even groggy and sick, Daisy picked up on this. She threw her arms around him and whispered into his shoulder. “Thank you, Daniel. No one's ever done this kind of thing for me.” 

His face warmed at hearing her call him Daniel. It wasn't often that she did that, usually she stuck to a silly nickname or called him ‘Sousa’ out of habit. 

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” Daniel leaned in for a kiss, but Daisy quickly leaned away. Daniel sent her a confused, pouty, adorable glare. 

“I-I don’t want you to get sick,” she stuttered by way of explanation, “You should probably stay away until I’m feeling better.” In spite of her words, when Sousa slowly leaned in, she mirrored his movements. 

“So, you do admit you’re sick.” Daniel whispered with a triumphant smile. Daisy wanted to argue, but realized there was no way out of this. She pushed him away and shuffled over to the living room, flopping dramatically on the couch.

“Yes, fine! I’m sick.” Daisy closed her eyes to go back to sleep, then remembered the soup that Daniel was currently pouring into bowls, and sat up. He brought it over and carefully handed it to her. She tried a spoonful and burnt her tongue the first time. When she tried again, she looked up through her lashes at Daniel sitting beside her, intently waiting for her verdict.

“Oh my god, this is amazing!” she half-moaned with delight. “You need to cook more often.”

Daniel watched her eat the soup quietly, and took her bowl to the sink when she was finished. When he got back, Daisy had turned on the TV and was watching Singing in the Rain. He smiled at the familiar picture. They spent the next couple hours watching old movies and cuddling. Daisy had protested at first, but gave in when Daniel threatened to tell Jemma she was sick. Daisy happily drifted to sleep with her head on Daniel's chest and the rest of her wrapped around him like a koala. 

She woke up early the next morning, and somehow got up without waking Daniel. She padded over to the fridge to pour a cup of orange juice, swallowing a couple pills to help get rid of the last dregs of her cold. She felt really good. Better than good, actually. She felt warm and loved and she had a soft smile on her face as she watched Daniel snooze. 

Little did Daisy know, Daniel had absolutely caught her cold. Daisy also didn't know exactly how needy Daniel is when he’s sick. 

A/N: how are you feeling? warm, fuzzy? good. that was my evil plan all along. have a great day and don’t forget to drink water!

[itskateak]

Mint Ice Cream & Bubblegum Kisses - Chapter Two

(Bucky Barnes x Single Dad!Reader)

Series Summary: Y/N L/N works as an intel specialist at the Avenger’s Compound. He scans chatter on the international - and intergalactic - level for any information that might be helpful to the Avengers and other agents. But he’s also a single father to a beautiful eight-year-old girl: Angelica L/N. It’s tough raising a little girl on his own and working a full-time job, but he’s managing. A promotion has him launched up in rank at the Compound, leading him to work directly with the Avengers team. The only problem is it’s a 24/7 job. Life around the compound gets a little strange when his daughter is added to the mix of enhanced humans and ex-assassins.

Chapter Summary: Adjustment to a new environment is always difficult, but Angelica seems to be taking it well. Y/N meets the other members of the team and watches as they take Angelica in as one of their own.

Word Count: 3.3K

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of bullying, like one swear word

A/N: The Scott mentioned is not Scott Lang. I'd like to make that very clear just in case there was any confusion. Updates should come much quicker. I just got hung up on this chapter for some reason. :P

Taglist is still open! If you want to be added, come stop by my inbox and send me a <3!

Masterlist

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Y/N brushed his hands off and sighed. He'd just finished unpacking the last of his things. The last week had been filled with packing boxes and making trips back and forth from the house. It was tiring and strange to move from the house they'd been in for ten years. He placed his hands on his hips, looking around his new quarters. 

The room was large with more than enough space for all of his things. Books lined up neatly in bookshelves, other trinkets scattered along the shelves. Pictures of Angelica hung on the walls, only broken up with a few nature shots. He straightened his shirt out and jumped as arms wrapped around his waist.

"Papa!"

"Holy - Angelica! You scared the living daylights out of me." Y/N placed a hand on his chest, his heart beating strongly. Angelica giggled and bounced past him to flop on his bed. Her hair was pulled up out of her face since she'd been working to set up her room, too.

"I need help hanging my fairy lights." Angelica rolled onto her stomach, propping her chin up with her hands. She kicked her feet back and forth idly, looking up at him with doe eyes.

"Well, I just finished up with my things so let's go do that," Y/N sat on the edge of the bed and gestured for her to climb onto his back. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he stood, shifting her further up. "We can finish unpacking the rest of your things, too."

"And then can we get some ice cream from Pop's?" Angelica asked, her legs swinging as they walked down the hall.

"Kiddo, I have to get some work done to set up my office for Monday. Maybe after school and the library tomorrow." He said, letting her slide a little. She squealed, tightening her grip around his shoulders. 

"Papa! Stop! Don't let me fall!" Angelica laughed, her hands clawing at her father's shirt.

"Baby, I'd never let you fall," Y/N grinned and squeezed her leg gently. "That time on the boat in Cape Cod should be evidence enough."

"I'd never heard you swear so much." 

"The water was cold and I didn't expect to fall!" Y/N defended himself. When she was six, they had gone to Cape Cod with a friend for summer break. On a particularly warm day, that friend had taken them out with a speed boat. Angelica had gotten a little too close to the edge when they were anchored and had slipped. He'd caught her, but in turn, fell overboard into the cold water. "I don't swear often around you but it just slipped out."

"Yeah, fourteen things just slipped out." Angelica snorted. "And the combinations used were just - mwah - Magnifique."

"Angelica Ellaine L/N, I will drop you right here, right now." Y/N threatened playfully. "And where did you learn that? Magnifique?"

"Our neighbor, Scott! He comes to visit Miss Irene sometimes to play dress up." Angelica waved her hand in a poor imitation of a drag queen's flamboyant gesture. "You better work, dahling! Yas!"

Y/N laughed and nudged her bedroom door open with his foot. She was just down the hallway from him, but with enough space in between to have some distance and privacy. He turned and let her fall onto the safety of her bed.

"Where do you want the lights?" He asked and picked the strand of lights up. They were little warm lights in plastic jars that mimicked fireflies in jars. Angelica liked them the most out of all of the ones she had since they reminded her of her favorite movie: The Princess and the Frog.

"Above my bed! They're really nice to read by." Angelica sat up and pointed to a location near her pillows. There were at least four piled up, as she liked having many, claiming that it felt like sleeping on a giant cloud.

"Okay. Scoot, then, so I don't step or fall on you." He gestured for her to move and she scrambled off with a giggle. "Be prepared to hand me the command hooks."

"On it!" Angelica rifled through a plastic bag, looking for the package of hooks. She poured a bunch into her hand and bounced back over to where her father was.

Y/N carefully stood on her bed, balancing on the soft surface. He dropped the lights at his feet and held his hand out for a hook. He centered the hook with the wall, thankful the bed was centered as well, and firmly pressed it against the ceiling. After giving it a second, he bent down to grab the lights.

"Do you want them to hang low?"

"And to wobble to and fro?" Angelica countered, placing her hands on her hips. "Can you tie them in a knot?"

"I'll tie you in a knot." He mock threatened, looking at her over his shoulder. She stuck her tongue out at him and he returned it. "Do you want them to hang low?"

"Can we play with it?" She asked, head tilted, her sass melting away now that she was focused on something else. He swore his child had the attention span of a goldfish or the brain of a monkey. She would see something shiny and get distracted very easily.

"Well, I need to know where to put the other hooks, you dork." Y/N hung the lights on the hook, perfectly centered. He grabbed one end of the strand and held it up, moving it to show different degrees of slack. "Tell me when."

"Uhhh.....there! Perfect!" 

"Yeah, that looks perfect." Someone said from behind them, startling them both.

They turned to see who it was and were greeted by a red-haired woman leaned in the doorway, arms folded over her chest.

"Hey, little monster. Don't think we've met." She smiled and gave a small wave to Angelica. "I'm Natasha Romanoff."

"You're Black Widow!" Angelica beamed, eyes wide. She was nearly vibrating with excitement, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "I'm Angelica."

"Nice to meet you, Angelica. I saw the door open and thought I'd come say hi. The others might stop in, too. Barnes and Rogers are on a mission right now, though, so don't go looking for the fossils." Natasha hitched her chin at Y/N. "Might want to move that to the right just a touch so it can be even on the other side."

"Thanks, Natasha." He held his hand out for a hook again. "Kiddo, you're starstruck. Hook, please."

Angelica didn't move and he sighed, shaking his head in amusement.

"If you ever want to learn how to defend yourself, little monster, then talk to your dad and come find me. I like the lights." Natasha winked and disappeared from the doorway.

"Are you gonna hand me a hook?" Y/N teased, turning to look at his star-eyed daughter. 

"Black Widow likes my lights." She grinned.

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"Okay, lunch break?" Y/N asked, stretching his legs out. He'd been on the floor for an hour or so unpacking the rest of her decorations and trinkets. The muscles in his thigh seized up and he hissed under his breath, massaging the side of his leg gently.

"Ugh, yes, please." Angelica bounced off her bed and onto her feet. "Carry me?"

"Ha, that's funny. You have two legs. You can walk." He snorted. "Come on, let's get some lunch."

Angelica slipped her hand into his and they walked together to the common room. She skipped along beside him, humming some random tune. She was settling into their new home well. He was afraid she would be uncomfortable with the new change and struggle to adjust. But everyone had been welcoming so far.

"And I told her she was crazy for doing it, but she just went in, guns blazing. Literally." A voice drifted from the kitchen followed by laughter. "I hate it. She's gonna get us killed one day."

"But you have some good stories to tell." Another voice, accented, floated into the hallway.

"Damn straight."

Y/N poked his head into the kitchen and smiled. "Hey, Sam. Wanda."

"Hi, Y/N. And mini Y/N." Sam Wilson leaned against the counter and waved at Angelica when she came into view. "I'm Sam Wilson and this is Wanda Maximoff."

"Nice to meet you. Angelica, yes?" Wanda's eyes crinkled up when she smiled. Her chin was resting in her hand and an unopened bottle of water rested just in reach.

"Yeah! And you're Scarlet Witch and you're Falcon, right?" Angelica bounced on the balls of her feet, her excitement lighting up her eyes.

"Wow, yeah. That's who we are." Sam said, looking to Y/N with an amused smirk.

"She's kind of a fan." He shrugged, looking at his daughter who was practically bursting with enthusiasm. When he'd told her the full details the week before, she had gotten up from the dinner table and bounced around like a kangaroo on a sugar high. Like many other kids her age, she looked up to the Avengers as heroes. 

"Well, now, I guess you're an honorary Avenger. Welcome to the team, little one." Wanda glanced at the clock and her eyes went wide. "Oh! I'm supposed to be training with Stephen in ten minutes. I should run and change."

"Yeah, you should. You know how he gets when you're late." Sam snorted, rolling his eyes dramatically in Angelica's direction. She giggled.

Wanda hopped off her stool, swiping her water bottle, and wiggled her fingers in a wave, red energy floating through the air around her hand. "See you around, little one." She left through the kitchen's other door.

"C'mere, kid. Let's pick a name for you." Sam rounded the counter and picked Angelica up, setting her on the stool. "I'm thinkin' something magic-related."

"Hey, Sam, have you eaten lunch?" Y/N asked, moving to the fridge to see what he could make. He looked through the drawers, finding it easiest to make sandwiches with what they had. 

"Nope. You offering to cook?" Sam sat on the other stool and reached for his phone.

"I'll make you a sandwich. I'm not cooking anything special." Y/N placed a packet of cheese and a container of ham on the counter. He grabbed the bread and a couple of knives, starting to make Angelica's favorite sandwich: ham and cheese with brown mustard and mayonnaise. Where his kid had picked up a love for brown mustard, he had no idea, since he didn't really care for mustard.

"Thanks, Y/N. So, Angelica. Let's get you a team name." 

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Y/N shifted his desk to face the door, moving it to be perpendicular to the right wall. That was one thing he hated about being in a cubicle. He had always hated it when people snuck up behind him. Now, with the glass walls, he could see when people came up to his office. The windows behind him also brought natural light. Another thing his cubicle hadn't had.

He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, a little too warm from moving things around. He dragged his desk chair around and sank into it, leaning back. There were plans he wanted to implement into his office, but that would happen over time. So far, he had a desk and a couple of monitors. Picture frames and smaller trinkets would decorate his desk and walls soon. 

At least there was a couch and an extra chair. He'd have to get an end table and a coffee table for visitors. But those plans were for later and not right now. What mattered was that he could work comfortably for the time being and have space for Angelica to do homework.

"Ooh, fancy!" Angelica, speaking of the little mischief-maker, appeared in the doorway. She ran towards the couch and jumped over the armrest, flopping onto the cushions with a squeal. "So, this is where all the super-secret stuff is gonna happen?"

"It's not that cool. I just have to stare at a screen and make sure no one's doing anything bad." Y/N swiveled in his chair with an amused smile. Maybe he should get a plant or two, he thought. Or one of those small fountains that provided bubbling water as background noise.

"Catching bad guys before they do the bad things is pretty cool," Tony said from the doorway, hands sunk in his pockets. "Nice to see you're getting all settled. If there's anything you'd like to add, just tell Friday and we'll get it for you."

"Thanks, Tony." Y/N straightened up, shifting to face the door. A teenage boy stood just behind him, looking like he didn't know what was going on. "Angelica, you remember Tony, right?"

"Hi, Tony!" Angelica sat up, her knees over the armrest. She waved enthusiastically.

"Hey, munchkin. I just came by to introduce one of our team members. He's here over weekends for training. This is Peter Parker. Pete, this is Y/N L/N, our intel specialist." Tony placed his hand on the shoulder of the teenage boy and pulled him forward.

"Hi, Mr. L/N." Peter smiled and waved shyly. He didn't know what to do with his hands after that, moving them to his hips, then clasped them in front of him before folding his arms over his chest and tucking his hands against his chest.

"And that's his daughter, Angelica. You two will get along famously," Tony pointed to Angelica, who rolled backward on the couch and bounced to her feet.

"Which superhero are you?" She asked, straightening out her skirt and using her foot to pull the leg of her leggings down since it had bunched up on her calf.

"I'm...I'm Spiderman," Peter said, lifting his shoulders in a slight shrug. He seemed very nervous like he wasn't sure about meeting them today. Y/N wondered if Tony had just dragged him down to his office without telling him what was happening.

"No way! You used to swing by our apartment like once every week!" Angelica grinned. "That's so cool!"

"Knew it - I called it. Didn't I call it?" Tony pointed between Angelica and Peter before turning his finger to himself. "Anyway, Pete. If you have any intel from in the field or if you need intel, Y/N's your man. It's gonna be great!" He backed out of the room with a smile. "Gonna be great!"

"Is he always like that?" Y/N asked, laughing. Of all the people he'd met so far, Tony was by far the most entertaining. He was unpredictable and had quite the personality.

"Uh, yeah. He's, uh...He's always like that." Peter nodded for a moment too long and the silence became a touch awkward. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Y/N. You, too, Angelica." He held his hand out like he was offering to shake someone else's, but since they were so far away...it didn't quite work.

"Please, just Y/N. It's nice to meet you, Peter. What you do is pretty incredible." Y/N smiled and watched as Peter's shoulders relaxed. He seemed to be an anxious individual around people he didn't know.

"Oh, uh...thank you." Peter's face turned pink and he looked at his feet with a shy smile.

 "Hey, kiddo. Don't you have some homework to catch up on?" Y/N turned to his daughter. Getting the attention off of Peter would probably help his nerves. 

"Awww, but it's Friday!" Angelica whined, wrinkling her nose up and looking at her father with disdain.

"And you have a week's worth of work to catch up on." Y/N raised his eyebrows in a typical fatherly way. It had been easier to just pull her from school for a week to move everything from their house into the compound and to get used to the new environment.

"Uh, I have some homework, too. We could do it together?" Peter suggested, hooking his thumbs under his backpack straps.

"You wouldn't mind?" Angelica asked, spinning around with a dazzling smile.

"Yeah. It's totally fine. I could use the company while suffering through geometry." Peter wrinkled his nose up in a similar manner, obviously not fond of the subject.

Angelica turned to her father with wide, questioning eyes. She was barely concealing her enthusiasm, beginning to bounce on the balls of her feet again.

"Why are you lookin' at me? You live here and I trust you not to get into trouble." Y/N said with a laugh. "You know the rules."

"Don't terrorize people. Pranks should be harmless. And snitches don't get cookies." Angelica recited, counting on her fingers. 

Peter looked between them with amused confusion. "Snitches don't get cookies?"

"Our neighbor, Scott, taught it to her at three years old. It's just been a thing since then." Y/N explained. "Scott's a personal accountant by day and a drag queen by night."

"I'm gonna miss seeing Scott." Angelica looked at her feet sadly. "He always brought the prettiest shoes."

"Nothing against us visiting Irene and Scott from time to time, kiddo. Now, go on. You've got a bunch of homework to do and I know your math teacher gave you a good amount." Y/N gestured with his head for them to go.

Angelica perked up suddenly. "Did you say geometry earlier?"

"Yeah?" Peter raised an eyebrow.

"You should show me some! I'm learning percentages right now, but it's super boring." She took Peter's arm with a grin and pulled him out of the office.

"Have fun and don't be a devil child!" Y/N called after her and she gave him a thumbs-up before passing his office front.

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Y/N scrolled through his phone aimlessly, laying on his stomach in bed. He still wasn't used to calling it his, since he'd only been living there for a week. The room was dark because of the late hour, but he wasn't quite ready to sleep. Having a kid didn't mean much time alone to just exist, so he would take every moment he could. Not that he didn't love his daughter, he did, but he needed those few hours alone at night to recharge and relax.

His phone buzzed with a text from a number he didn't recognize. 

???: Hey, Ciara. This is Larry. :)

Y/N: I'm sorry, I think you have the wrong number. I'm not Ciara.

???: Are you sure this isn't right? This is the number Ciara gave me.

Y/N: Considering I'm a guy and my name is Y/N, yeah. Pretty sure she gave you a random number. Sorry, buddy.

???: Oh...dang. Thanks for being so nice about that.

Y/N: No problem. Have a nice night.

???: You, too.

Y/N deleted the conversation, not worrying about it. It had happened to him before - on both sides - so there really wasn't anything strange about the interaction. He sighed and switched back to Facebook, looking at his feed. A memory popped up and he smiled.

Angelica's first day at school in kindergarten. She was smiling, a gap in her front teeth from losing her first tooth. Her hair was in braided pigtails and she was wearing a dress with a pair of Disney sister characters on the front. My little girl's growing up so fast. Lost her first tooth yesterday, and now she's off to school for the first time.

He remembered that day vividly. She'd been so excited when she came home, talking up a storm about the friends she had made and the things they were learning. When she went to bed that night, she slept like the dead.

The next day, though, was one he really remembered. She was supposed to do a "my family" drawing at school, and a few of the kids had noticed she had only drawn her dad. After saying she didn't have a mom, they'd teased her until the teacher made them stop.

When he picked her up, the only thing she said when he asked how her day went was: Why don't I have a mom? The car ride had been awkwardly silent after that, and he explained it to her over dinner. 

I'll always be here for you, though, Angel. I promise. Nothing in the world can take me away from you.

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Taglist:  @supernaturalwintersoldier​ @shadowolf993​

[naughtydaaikon]

Wonderstruck

Title: Wonderstruck 

Also on Ao3!

Fandom: Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun

Rating: T (warnings for some spicy kisses)

Word Count: 9,282 words (funny story, this was supposed to be like 3,000 words HAH.)

Summary: 

Hanako had never specified the time for when she would die. He didn’t seem to know either, other than the fact that it would definitely be this year. What if this is it? She thinks, icy horror stabbing at her heart like the honed blade of a butcher’s knife. What if this was the moment of her death?

Alone…

In an unfamiliar place…

Without Hanako-kun.

Was she going to die without even being able to say goodbye to him? Without even being able to see him one last time? The villagers squabble amongst themselves around her, but their voices seem far away, the sound of her own heart pounding more loudly than a large hand against a drum drowning them out.

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Nene has some important realizations in the midst of a precarious situation, and Hanako is amazingly stubborn about all of them. (Post Chapter 67 fic).

Notes: So, I’ve taken the plunge and written by own chapter 67 fic. I just couldn’t help myself. This entire arc I’ve been dying for some Hananene development. Okay. Let me be honest, I’ve been dying for a Hananene kiss in an unfamiliar place -- just like Nene described in her idealised love event. So, here I am! I hope that you all enjoy the fic. Please leave a comment on ao3, or here -- or in my inbox if you enjoy the fic! I love talking with other Hananene fans~

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“It’s one of those famed love events you always get to hear about! At an unfamiliar location! Then, a gentle kiss!”

 ----

Yashiro Nene had always been a dreamer.

It wasn’t uncommon for her to weave all kinds of intricate fantasies, whimsical daydreams in which she was the star of some fantastical romantic plot. The role that she chose for herself was often the same — always the beautiful heroine of her own dashing love story to be whisked off of her feet by some stunning prince who adored both her and her chubby, thick ankles. Heroines in stories always found themselves at the center of a magical adventure, whether that adventure was being spirited away by some powerful evil or experiencing the painfully sweet throes of first love. So, Nene couldn’t be blamed if she often craved a little bit of that for herself, too, right? 

Then, she wonders as she is surrounded by the unnerving masks of indifferent villagers while standing near the ledge of a very tall cliff. Why does it feel like I’m being punished for wanting those things?!

Nene had always been a little too idealistic, easy to mess with, and impulsive. Those were the characteristics that had first drawn her to Hanako-kun’s bathroom in the first place. She had wanted a wish granted — had craved love — at any price. Nene had wanted that affection even if it meant offering a part of herself to an apparition that she hardly knew. She hadn’t thought of the consequences of those actions, not until she was already covered in wet scales and breathing through slitted gills. Still, she likes to think that she hadn’t done anything quite so foolish since that point again! 

Well.

Then again, there was the time that she had nearly gone off to become a fish apparition for the chance at her own harem… and the time that she had gotten tricked by Natushiko-senpai because he was hot… and the time that Nanamine-san and Tsukasa-kun had nearly sent her off to nowhere because Nanamine-san was just a little too beautiful and the cakes she had been given were just a little too good… and…

Okay, but I didn’t do anything like that just now! 

She holds her hands up as the villagers advance all around her. They argue amongst themselves as Nene struggles to figure out just what was happening. Today had to have been the longest she had ever experienced. It was right up there with the time that she had gotten stuck in Shijima-san’s picture world and that really hadn’t been all that long ago. She had simply wanted to spend time with her friends at night during study camp! She would be able to make some good memories with Aoi. Maybe she had even hoped that someone special (who definitely didn’t have Hanako-kun’s face in her fantasies, no sir!)  would ask her out and pull her away from her friends for a little alone time. It was possible that she’d even get her first kiss if she were proactive enough! Though, most importantly, she would be able to distract herself from dwelling her shortened life span for just one night of peace and fun. 

Clearly, that was not going to be the case. Then again, since coming to Kamome Academy, was anything ever just simple?

Instead, Aoi had been kidnapped and was now behaving...strangely. She’d pushed them into the pit that had led them to this strange feudal hamlet that seemed to have been cut out of the fabric of time. It was a place that went against everything that Nene understood about boundaries. Shijima-san’s boundary was like this too. It was almost normal until something sticks out like a sore thumb, something that reverberates within one’s soul that this wasn’t quite right. Like a moon and stars that are far too visible to have been from Kamome’s rooftops in the brightly lit city of Tokyo, or in this case, a small town that was more at home out of the history books that she sometimes perused for friends.

No water that nipped at her heels, soaking her legs and bringing forth scales — no crooked and misshaped atelier that didn’t belong — just a small village filled with people who wore masks of kindness, so twisted by their own fear that they forced young girls to smash their bodies onto the jagged rocks at the bottom of a cliff in what was a vicious mockery of marriage. 

So much for a fun night with friends! 

A night that was supposed to be filled with fun and games with her classmates had quickly dissolved into a nightmare that she wasn’t sure that she could escape. Nothing was ever just normal at Kamome. Even taking classes, the most normal and boring part of being a high school student could quickly shift into something sinister amongst the sturdy halls of the school. She’s been sick with worry for Aoi from the moment that they had ended in this awful place.

It’s not fair! That thought plays on a loop track within her mind just as the mask clad villagers seem to finally realize that she wasn’t actually Sumire-chan. “I’ve been saying all along that I’m not Sumire-chan!” Nene screeches, hands balling into fists in a rage. Why is this happening? It had all happened so fast, and now, it only seemed to be spiraling even further out of control. Her belly aches, legs still weak from when she had been punched. This isn’t a wedding at all!

No, Nene knew weddings — they were beautiful events where two people would be joined in love forever. This… her eyes drift back to the cliff. She can hear the waves of the ocean crashing against the cliff-side and shivers. The wind shrieks, howling as it buffets her body. One wrong step and she might go tumbling over into the frigid waters below. The bride of death. 

This wasn’t love. 

She isn’t sure what this is, but Nene knows that without a shred of a doubt. Sumire-chan…. seemed so happy when she was talking about getting married to Number 6! She couldn’t have known… 

Nene suppresses a shiver, swallowing thickly as her legs wobbled. “What’s with all of this?” Then, they had meant to throw Sumire-chan from this ledge? They had meant to kill Sumire-chan like this? They had manipulated her feelings to lead Sumire-chan to her own death? She thinks of Nene’s sweet, forlorn smile back in the bath. She had thought that she seemed lonely back then, a melancholy permeating her features that Nene hadn’t been able to understand. Tomorrow is a very important day, after all. 

Had she known?

Had she known that the only groom that would embrace her beyond the large arched torii on this cliff was the frigid ocean waters as it swept her into the abyssal dark?

Her face grows indescribably hot, teeth clenching. “You call this a wedding?” Her pulse quickens, fury ballooning inside of her at the injustice of it all. “Don’t tell me you were going to kill--” she’s silenced with the threat of a sharpened bamboo staff being brandished towards her. “Kyaaaaa!” Nene had been met with many dangerous situations while in boundaries, but never anything that ever felt quite this real. The edge of the shaft looks as though it’d make quick work of her if she even so much as tried to struggle any further. One jab of that and… 

She doesn’t want to think about it.

Unease rolls like corrosive sludge in her chest. She hadn’t wanted to think about her own mortality during her study trip. It’d been plaguing her from the moment that she had learned of her fate while in the painted world even though she’d been showing a brave face off to Hanako and Kou. She’d only wanted one day to be a normal teenager, having a fun night with friends, cooking, and playing games without acknowledging the swinging pendulum that inched ever closer over her head. 

What if this was it?

Hanako had never specified the time for when she would die. He didn’t seem to know either, other than the fact that it would definitely be this year. What if this is it? She thinks, icy horror stabbing at her heart like a honed blade of a butcher’s knife. What if this was the moment of her death? 

Alone… 

In an unfamiliar place…

Without Hanako-kun.

Was she going to die without even being able to say goodbye to him? Without even being able to see him one last time? The villagers squabble amongst themselves around her, but their voices seem far away, the sound of her own heart pounding more loudly than a large hand against a drum drowning them out. 

She thinks of Hanako’s kind smile last night as he patted her head sweetly, bidding her goodnight. He’d probably stayed up all night to keep watch. She should’ve insisted that he sleep, but he had taken precautions to keep her safe, once more. He never worried about himself, after all. He viewed himself as nothing more than an afterthought. He was so gentle and she hadn’t even trusted him enough to tell him about Sumire-chan. 

I said I’d protect him, she thinks, blinking back tears, throat burning as a sob builds there. But I just let him take care of me again. I didn’t tell him about Sumire-chan and now I might never see him again!

No, she thinks, raw panic spiking as one of these villagers grab her wrist with a frigid hand. “No! Wait!” She’s pulled back against the person, but they were just too strong. “Stop! Let go!”

The voices of the villagers grow louder, echoing around her into a crescendo of sound that encircles her like a ring of fire. It’s deafening. Her knees feel as though they’re going to give out, palms growing slick with sweaty terror. 

“Well done catching her.”

“Drop her off just like that!”

“Congratulations, Kannagi-sama!”

“Congratulations!”

When had congratulations ever sounded like a eulogy? 

No, no — no! She can’t do anything like this. She can’t run, and even if she did manage to break away from this man, she’s sure that she wouldn’t be able to fight off the crowd. She’s trapped, nothing but a weak high school girl with no special powers besides her own impending death. She’s going to die. They’re going to trap her or make her walk off of that cliff, and Hanako was nowhere to be found. 

Nothing familiar was anywhere to be found.  

If she’s going to die, then she at least wants to see Hanako. At least once. There was still so much that she hadn’t told him or thanked him for. She hadn’t thanked him for agreeing to grant her impossible wish back in the painted world. She hadn’t even managed to thank him for protecting her from the moment that they had fallen into this den of spiders. She hadn’t even told him how she felt about it. Not properly, at least. She’d only whispered that secret to a boy who she had thought was nothing more than a copy in what was just a happy dream. No, she didn’t just like Hanako. This emotion was far greater than that. She can feel it filling up her heart, no -- her entire being like helium. 

Nene knows what this is.

She knows it by the way that she can use at least 50 different colorful adjectives to describe the exact hue of his eyes -- from the way that his smile sends her into near cardiac arrest. She’d grown so used to the unnatural coolness that emanated from his body that she had come to crave it. She felt safe in his arms. It felt right to be with Hanako. As though that was where she’d always belonged. It was almost funny, she was a girl who was always a little too silly -- a little too clumsy and a little too overly romantic to fit in fully with her peers, and yet the affection that she always craved -- that sense of this is where I’m meant to be -- came from the cold embrace of a ghost. 

And the last thing I said to him was good night. 

He… didn’t know that she loved him.

I love him, and the realization is so simple, so natural, that she wonders why she didn’t realize it sooner — and she’d never even get to tell him. It’s not fair! She’d realized that she truly loved a boy and he’d never even get to know? She’d die without even being able to tell him? That was the only thing that she’d ever wanted for as long as she could remember, and knowing that it was all about to be taken from her was just too much to bear. She was already going to die and couldn’t even do the one thing that she’d always wanted? Maybe it was a selfish desire, but it’s choking her, clogging her throat as she screams. 

“No! Hanako-kun!”

The wind howls, cloth fluttering all around her as she is suddenly pulled against the sturdy, cool chest of the person who’s captured her. The mask falls away from his face, revealing hooded eyes as golden as the incandescently lit full moon in the sky and the too-wide, almost feral smile that she never failed to make her heart feel as though she’s just finished running a marathon. Time seems to slow to a snail’s crawl as his hand entwined with hers, just as cool and comforting as it always was. 

“I’m heeeeeeere!~” He drawls, voice airy and cheerful, as though they weren’t caught at the mercy of a violent mob. Her throat tightens, tears of pure relief prickling at the corners of her eyes. Was she… dreaming? Perhaps this was some kind of elaborate hallucination just as she was pushed over the edge?

No —

He feels just as solid and cool as he normally did. A body that emanated no warmth, and yet Hanako himself was nothing but the balm of summer in the way that he made her feel. That was the same. It was really him!

Hanako-kun was here?

Perhaps it’s because he’s dressed in the same manner of the villagers and maybe it’s because the wind is still buffeting the two of them, but Nene is caught up within the magic of the moment. Hanako looks like something out of a storybook or a manga -- a powerful knight protecting a princess. She blinked back tears. He was here! He was okay! “Hanako-kun…?” She whispers, and this feeling that swells in her chest is more intense than the punch to the gut that she had received earlier. It feels as though she’s breathless, eyes still blurry with tears as she looks up at him. Had his smile always been this soft? His eyes, always so bright and filled with kindness — and perhaps… relief? 

He wraps his arms around her tightly then — so tight that it feels as though he doesn’t want to ever release her. There’s a slight tremble in his voice as he murmurs, “Sorry I’m late.” His cheek nuzzles against her throat, and she can almost feel the slight brush of his lips. It’s ticklish, but also so inviting that she almost melts into his arms. Hanako-kun was here. Relief rushes through her. Hanako-kun was here. Everything would be okay, now. She wouldn’t die with him around. Hanako-kun always kept his promises, after all.

She closes her eyes, sagging against him. She isn’t going to die. 

I’m not going to die… She repeats that thought to herself even as her knees buckle as her tension evaporates.

Maybe she’d even get to tell him —

“Sorry, but,” he flings the mask into the face of one of the more vocal villagers. The man cried out in pain as it collided with his skull, knocking him off of his feet from the force of the blow. “--The wedding is canceled!” The arms around her loosen, as one of his hands sliding down around her waist as he uses his other hand to rip the formal clothing off of himself, revealing his normal gakuran attire. Then, he squeezes her tightly, arm pressing her against his side. His cheek brushes against hers, much like a needy feline demanding affection. “I can’t just let some nobody out there take my assistant as a bride, right?” 

He speaks with such conviction, brandishing his knife towards the crowd. He’s still smiling, but the arm around her waist holds her securely.  Nene relaxes against him. If Hanako was here now, nothing could possibly go wrong. He squeezes her in a reassuring way and there’s something possessive about the action, as though he’s the one claiming ownership of her. 

Or -- perhaps, that was wishful thinking on her part. She so badly wants to be claimed by him. Her cheeks grow warm and she can’t help herself from throwing her arms around his shoulders and clinging to him just as tightly as he had done to her earlier. 

He’d saved her again. 

“You’re here, Hanako-kun!” She pulls back, and cups his cheeks, squeezing and stretching them out to make sure that he was really real. “It’s really you!” He laughs outright, then, eyes still focused on the people that were surrounding them. His voice sounds so merry that it’s enough to soothe some of her fear. 

“Yashiro, at least wait until we’re alone before you feel me up,” he teases, smile hardening as some of the villagers close in, finally regaining their bearings after Hanako’s sudden appearance. “We still have an audience of nosy pests here, after all.” He nuzzles her cheek again and she has to struggle to suppress the embarrassing whine that wells up in her throat. “You naughty daikon, you!” Nene flushes indignantly. He was really going to tease her right now? And was now really the time for daikon jokes!? “I’m not feeling you up!” If her voice was any higher at this moment, she’s sure that only dogs and small animals could hear it. 

Though, she can’t deny that there’s a part of her that wants very much to kiss him at this very moment. He just looks so heroic -- almost majestic as he bravely faces off against their enemies. It was at times like this that Hanako seems just as dashing as a prince out of her favorite novels. It didn’t matter that he was shorter than her, or that his cheeks lacked the angled sharpness of the men that she typically preferred. 

He was just Hanako -- the boy who was entirely dedicated to keeping her safe. The boy she loved. Her heart hammers. At least it was getting easier to say now. 

“Retrieve the Kannagi!” One of the villagers shouts loudly. It’s chaos as the angry group attempts to rush them. Weapons are drawn, pointed at them -- all manner of spears, swords, and sharpened bamboo as they jab the weapons towards the pair. “She must not escape!”  Hanako frowns, leaping backward as the crowd continues to approach. They were determined to have their sacrifice one way or another, it seemed. 

They’re trying to push us to the edge of the cliff! Nene realizes, horrified as they draw ever closer to the edge. 

“Yashiro?” Hanako asks, hand gripping even more tightly around her waist as her feet hit the edge of the cliff. “Are you scared?” 

She swallows anxiously, wondering just what kind of question that was. “O-Of course I am!” She tries hard not to look behind her. The rocks at the bottom of the cliff looked so sharp… “B-But, you’re not going to let anything happen to me?” She pauses. “Right?”

The grin that he gives her is more blinding than the sun itself. “Of course not!” He says, voice filled with confidence. “So, there’s no reason for you to be afraid, alright?” He nods as though confirming that simple fact to himself as well. His other arm joins the one tucked around her waist, eyes darting towards the cliff. He looks back at her, his smile growing wide and cat-like as his eyes take on a hooded appearance. 

“You trust me, don’t you?” Nene’s brows furl. Why was he asking her all of these questions all of a sudden? This was beginning to feel all too familiar, even if she couldn’t put her finger on why. 

“Y...Yes?”

“Good.”

The knife in his hand dissipates as though it hadn’t even existed. Why was he putting that away? Wasn’t he going to fight the villagers--

Oh no.

Nononononono.

He wasn’t —  

“H-Hanako-kun--” she says worriedly, “Hey, wait a second — AAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Nene screams wildly as he suddenly scoops her up into his arms, carrying her bridal style before he turns away from the villagers and takes and leaps off of the cliff. It feels as though her heart has leaped into her throat, as though her stomach had just dropped right out of her body. Hanako laughs merrily as the wind pushes against them like an assault. “Look out belooooow!” He calls out. If Nene weren’t currently screaming at the top of her lungs and clinging to him with all of her might, she would’ve wrung his neck. 

Her vision spots, a sort of fog entering her head. It’s as though she’d been thrust into static, white noise crackling in her ears.

Well, she thinks as the last traces of her consciousness begin to fade away. I’ll have time to strangle him later...

Among other things. 

-----

Nene awakes sometime later, groaning as she rolls onto her back. Something soft is cushioning her and she’s wrapped up as though bundled in a blanket. Her clothes are still wet, leaving her shivering as she grabs the edges of the blanket, holding it tighter. She can hear what sounds like dripping water, as though a glass of water has been spilled. There’s a rhythmic beat to the drip, one that is almost calming enough to lull her back to sleep. Her vision blurs as she opens her eyes, sitting up as she rubs the tiredness from her eyes. Wherever she was, it was dark. Only a small amount of light seemed to slither through openings that were in the ceiling or roof of this place. There’s some kind of stone surrounding her, as well. 

Was this… some kind of a cave?

She looks down, discovering that what she wasn’t actually a blanket, but heavy layers of clothing. They resemble the clothing that the villagers had worn. No, not the villagers… Hanako-kun had been wearing this as well when he had rescued her, hadn’t he? 

“You’re awake? Good,” she jolts at the sound of Hanako’s voice. He’s sitting beside her, knees drawn up to his chest. He gives her a small smile, cheek resting against his knees. His hands brush over her bangs. “You know, Yashiro -- it’s probably not normal to pass out like that all of the time. Those fainting spells can’t be good for your heart. Were you just that excited to be in my arms? For shame!” 

In his arms?

She’s puzzled before memories of leaping into the icy water below assault her. She must’ve turned into a fish! She was still drenched and her eyes narrow as she glared at the boy beside her. Jerk! It wasn’t the fainting spells that weren’t good for her heart, it was him! “A little warning would’ve been nice!” She barks back, sitting up fully now. She jabs an accusing finger towards him. “Why are you always throwing me from high places! That’s what’s not good for my heart!” she hits his arm, causing him to wince and rub at the abused skin. She chooses to ignore his innuendo-laden comment. Honestly! Did she have to be in love with such a perverted person?

Her heart flinches.

Right. 

She’d realized that earlier, hadn’t she?

That knowledge makes her grow strangely rigid. She covers a hand over her heart. It was pounding so loudly now that she worries if he can also hear it. Throughout that entire ordeal, she’d been afraid of dying and never seeing Hanako-kun again. She can still feel all of those emotions, taking up space inside of her, threatening to explode. Nene isn’t sure that she’d be able to put the lid on them again. 

Or if she even wanted to.

She’d made a promise to herself earlier, hadn’t she? 

It hangs over her head like a guillotine. Nene’s face grows redder, palms clammier as she sits rigidly. She had made that promise — and now she would need to make good on it. She casts a cautionary glance towards Hanako, who had already slid closer to her. “Hmm? I did give you a warning, didn’t I?” He wraps one of his arms around her, snaking it around her waist as his chin moves to rest on her shoulder. She’d long since grown accustomed to this kind of invasion of space from him. Though, with her earlier revelation in mind, it’s as though she can feel his embrace that much more. 

Even with their bond, Hanako’s body rarely had a solidness to it that seemed real unless he was touching her. He was like the moonlight filtering in through the cracks in a window. If she reaches out to touch him, he’d slip right through the gaps between her fingers fading into nothingness. 

But now? It’s as though every nerve within her body is heavily aware of him. As though she’s realized something, so vital, so crucial that she’s stunned that it’s taken her this long to realize that he’s always been right there. Solid. Firm.

Real. 

She only needs to reach out —

“You didn’t,” it’s an olympic feat to keep her words from jumbling together. It feels like her heart has been replaced by a drum, being struck with violent force. Did he hear it? He had to hear it! It was more like thunder than a heartbeat at this point! 

“You just asked if I trusted you and then flung the both of us off of a cliff, mister!”  She jabs an accusing finger against his chest, making him yelp and flinch back. Good, she had space. Space to think. Space was good. In fact, she scoots her butt a few inches in a different direction, putting even more distance between them. “Speaking of which, where even are we?” She’s sure that her voice is getting squeaky again. Kind of like she’s just breathed in a tank full of helium gas. 

Not good.

He casts a glance towards their left, amber eyes narrowing towards that direction and she sees the shining of sunlight in the distance. “I found a cave along the bank at the bottom of the cliff,” he explains, following her like a needy cat would. Nanamine-san really had been onto something with that comparison. Hanako captures her in his arms again, rubbing his cheek along the exposed clavicle of her throat and she’s sure that at this point, her heartbeat best resembles the rolling thunder of a storm. 

“I think we should stay here until it gets darker. Those people might have given up the chase by that point.”

It was a solid enough plan. The last thing Nene wanted was a fight, but the idea of staying alone with Hanako for that long was doing odd things to her insides. She feels all twisted up, like she’s a rag being rung dry as she sits behind him. Then again, she’d already spent an entire night alone with Hanako on the previous night. All alone in a darkened room, with nothing but the slight, dim lamp of a lantern to illuminate both of them. Come to think of it, that had been pretty intimate, hadn’t it!?

She hadn’t even considered —

“Aren’t you Gon’s lover?”

SKDFSLKDFS;KDFSKFIJS;LEDFSLFSF’S!

“At that point, we can search for Number 6’s Yorishiro,” Hanako continues, oblivious to her internal meltdown. “I’ll make sure that we escape as soon as possible. If I’m not careful you might just nearly end up as someone’s bride again,” his eyes sharpen as he glances at her out of the corner of his eyes, his smile dropping. He pinches her cheek as though to admonish her and Nene winces, releasing a whine of pure mortification. 

“It’s not like I wanted to get married! Everything just happened so fast — and where were you all that time, huh?” She turns in his arms, her annoyance enough to make her momentarily forget all about her dilemma. 

He had been beside her when she had first fallen asleep, only to be gone by morning. She couldn’t imagine that he had left her side after insisting that he’d stay awake in order to keep watch throughout the night. Hanako had been on edge ever since first arriving at this strange place, after all — not that she could blame him. Nothing had gone right since they had arrived. Even Hanako, who was normally as powerful and brave as a dashing knight had been subdued by Sumire-chan earlier. 

Nene can’t remember ever seeing Hanako so quickly bested, not even when he’d been beaten by Yako-san back in her boundary. Even then, that had been temporary. He’d been able to hold his own until she had finally found Yako-san’s yorishiro. 

To her relief — disappointment — she doesn’t know anymore — Hanako releases her, dropping his hands down to his side. He leans his head back against the wall of the cave, staring up at a small slither of light that peaks through an opening in the ceiling of the cave. “Our retainer friend found it prudent to incapacitate me while you took her place,” he’s dropped the teasing tone, voice going flat as his hands ball into fists, filled with tension. He uses one hand to pull the bill of his hat down, obscuring his eyes. “For a moment, I thought I wouldn’t make it in time.”

Large doe eyes widen, “You mean… Sumire-chan knew what was going to happen?” 

Hanako makes a soft sound of affirmation.

No — she’d seemed so genuine when speaking of her love for number 6. She’d wanted to marry him. She didn’t think that kind of emotion could be easily faked. Wait -- hadn’t the villagers said something about that? It was difficult to remember most of what was being said during all of the shouting and confusion, but one thing had stuck out. “To run from your duty… What a failure of a Kannagi you are. 

Duty.

If it was the duty of a Kannagi to literally wed death, then it made sense that a mortal would need to die to be with her betrothed. The villagers had all escorted her to the torii gate, speaking of marriage and showering her in congratulations, but had all grown panicked and angry when she had tried to run. Come to think of it, one of them had mentioned they hadn’t want to use the strange drug that they had poisoned her with. It all aligned in her mind neatly like pieces of a large puzzle being arranged.

“She… tricked me?” Nene asks faintly.

“She tricked us both,” he reaches for her hand, giving it a firm squeeze. “Remember what I said? She’s a retainer. Nothing but a puppet on strings--

“No!” Those words swell in her chest and then burst out of her before she can even stop them. “I — I know Sumire-chan isn’t like that!” 

Sure, it wouldn’t have been the first time that Nene had saw the good within someone who didn’t deserve it. She’s oftentimes naive, easy to trick, and impulsive, ignoring red flags that were waving right in front of her face. Hanako had told her that she was a sucker for hot guys and apparitions and with all of her past experiences, she knows that he’s right about that. 

Still.

She’d seen Sumire’s memories while in that dream-like state. At least, that’s what she thinks those feelings were. Glimpses of a life that had been cut far too short. Of feelings that had been manifested, and yet never fully requited. At least not in the way that Sumire-chan would have wanted. They had to have been her memories, right? It was like whenever she removed the seal of a yorishiro. Nene’s face scrunches up, lips pursed tightly and nose wrinkled as she thinks. Number 6 hadn’t shown a slither of remorse as he watched Sumire march steadily towards death. She tries to imagine what she would feel like in a similar situation -- if the person that she loved -- if Hanako had watched her die without even batting an eyelash.

Pain as sharp as a stab wound to the chest all but knocks the wind out of her. 

She can’t even imagine it. No — she doesn’t want to imagine it.

Those feelings… they couldn’t be just an illusion? She knows…. She just knows that Sumire-chan was no mere puppet. 

Hanako’s fingers cup underneath her chin, lifting her eyes towards his. “There’s no need to defend her,” he admonishes, lips pressing downward in apparent displeasure. His eyes harden. “You were nearly killed because of her. You understand that, right?” His voice has gone flat, like he got when there were all kinds of dark emotions swirling inside of him. She didn’t always understand it, but this was the side of Hanako that always unnerved her. He’s normally so playful, so kind to her that she often forgot that it existed at least until it appeared once more. He holds so many secrets, keeping his emotions bottled up inside of him, displaying them to no one but his own demons. 

It’s only at times like this that Nene truly feels her age. She’s nothing but a silly, 15-year-old teenaged girl. She’s Yashiro Nene — dreamy, reckless, and totally gullible and he’s the honorable Hanako-san of the Toilet. He’d lived a life that was drenched in blood, sin and now walked a solemn path of duty and  atonement in death. It’s always a little hard to wrap her head around. 

It was… frustrating. 

“That’s true,” she mumbles, sighing in a pleased way when he moves his hand up from her chin, cupping her cheek. It’s cool, lacking body heat as usual, but she appreciated the gesture, regardless. “But — I just… don’t think that she’s just a puppet, Hanako. She feels like she’s...real,” and if Number 6 had made her into his yorishiro — a real, breathing person with thoughts and feelings — then she must’ve been important to him? Had he changed his mind? If they had tried to make her take her place, then perhaps they were trying to save Sumire-chan from her fate?

Could she blame her for that?

If she could only be with Hanako-kun at the expense of another person, then…

She isn’t sure what choice she would’ve made.  She didn’t think that she could actually hurt someone knowingly, but also couldn’t be upset with Sumire-chan for her betrayal. There’s an ache in her heart that hasn’t subsided since she’d been drugged. A lonely longing that nearly swallows her heart entirely. 

Sumire-chan’s feelings...

She averts her eyes from Hanako’s oche ones, pulling the decorative haori snuggly around her shoulders and staring down at her knees. 

“She must’ve had her reasons,” Nene says confidently. That had to be it. She’s absolutely sure of it. 

“Yashiro.”

Hanako sounds disappointed, tone morose as he says her name like a parent scolding a child. “The only reason that she feels real is because she is a manifestation of Number 6’s memories,” he explains, though she can tell that there isn’t much patience within him at the moment. “She is a reflection of who he thought she was, but in the end, her will isn’t her own,” ochre eyes harden as his hand falls from her cheek and back to his side. She falls quiet, choosing to listen to him speak.

“He is looking for a kannagi,” he says softly. “To take her place. That’s why he took your friend Aoi in the first place. She’s not actually real. He wants to change that, as ridiculous as that even is,” when Hanako got like this, his words could become as corrosive as acid. 

“Why is it ridiculous?”

“Huh?” Her question clearly catches him off guard as his eyes are drawn back to hers. 

“Why is it ridiculous that he’s trying to find a way to keep the person that he loves by his side?” She asks quietly. She touches her heart; it’s throbbing with an emotion that wasn’t her own, and yet was so familiar. It’s a borrowed emotion, but it’s also her own. She understands Sumire-chan. She can even understand Number 6. “I think he’s being selfish like Yako-san was… and like how I used to be when I first sought you out for a wish, but I don’t think wanting to be with the person you love is ridiculous.” 

Her near-death experience was still too close. She’d been desperate to see Hanako, too. Just to see him one last time. Had that been a selfish wish? 

She’d even made a promise. 

Hanako’s brow furls, “Yashiro… what they’re doing is putting people in danger,” he says, this time taking her shoulders in his hands. He squeezes them, as though pleading with her to understand. “It put you in danger.” 

— And there it was.

Nene blinks, and the answer seems so obvious that she’s surprised that she hadn’t noticed it sooner. “You were afraid that I’d die.”

He nods, sighing as his head drops down, forehead brushing against her shoulder. “I.. thought that I wouldn’t make it to you in time. She had used her spiritual powers on me in the morning so there was nothing that I could do to stop those people when they came to get you. If I’d been any later…” 

If he’d been any later… 

That possibility remains unspoken, even as her chest grows tighter, something itchy forming in her throat. Words are lodged there and when she parts her lips, it’s hard to force her voice through them. “I would have died.”

“You would have died,” he repeats, nodding against her. His forehead is just as cool as the rest of his body. “We still don’t know when your lifespan will run out.”

That was true. 

Then, he lifts his head, smiling in that gentle way that never failed to make her belly throb with yearning. It’s such a kind, sad smile. It was less Hanako and more like Amane, the boy that she had seen in Tsuchigomori-sensei’s memories, though that wasn’t exactly right, either. Hanako was a role that he plays, and he hadn’t been Amane in many years. Or perhaps this smile was the real him? The person beneath the role. The person that Amane had become. 

He’d said before that the dead had no future — that nothing new could happen for those who had died, but… Nene’s not so sure that she believes that. He’d grown — changed, hadn’t he?

“Besides,” he tells her, giving her a playful but light flick on the forehead. “I told you that I’m going to grant your wish for you. You don’t doubt my abilities do you?” He pouts, donning the Hanako-san mask again effortlessly. A flirty gesture of a playful joke from him has always been an effective distractor for her, after all. She’s not sure why, but it makes her kind of angry. He’s rarely truly honest with her, not about his feelings at least. 

Perhaps that is what spurs her on.

She’s not sure where her confidence comes from. It surges in her chest, making her grab the collar of his gakuran as she tugs him forward and all presses her lips against his. 

He releases a startled gasp, even when their teeth clink together. It kind of hurts, honestly. 

I messed up! She thinks, absolutely panicked. Her lips were throbbing from where she had all but headbutted (lipbutted?) him, and she goes rigid against him. Their lips were still mashed together, but neither of them moves an inch. Nene can’t help but think that this was nothing like the books or even her own fantasies. Hanako’s lips were cold, and he was stiller than a block of eyes, his entire body taut with tension. He seems shell shocked, but she can’t exactly blame him.

She’d moved before her brain had even had a chance to catch up with her body, after all. Nene was a lot of things and a quitter wasn’t one of them. I promised, she thinks to herself, steeling her resolve, even if she wants to pull from the badly aimed first kiss and run for the hills. She promised that she would tell him how she felt about him, and she couldn’t continue to have cold feet.

After all, he’d been just as scared as she had been before… right?

He hadn’t wanted to lose her, either.

And if a first kiss ended this pathetically, she thinks that she’d actually drop dead from humiliation. So, she pushes through it, softening her lips so that the kiss became less of an aggressive assault and more of a chaste peck. Come to think of it, his lips were rather soft, weren’t they? They feel nice, inspiring a warm, pleasant feeling in her chest. She pushes closer, lips pressing more firmly against his own and Hanako makes a sound that sounds remarkably like a dying, yowling cat. 

It’s only then that she pulls back, face burning hot from her own boldness. “I’d never doubt you,” she says firmly. “I was just afraid before, back at the wedding. It was really scary but -- and for a second I thought I wouldn’t be able to see you again. That was scarier than when I thought I was doing to die,” she admits in a rush of words. Her heart thrums loudly, and suddenly it feels like the cave has grown excessively hot. She chances a glance at Hanako and nearly gasps herself at what she sees.

He’d been red back when she’d kissed his cheek before, too.  Though now, it was though his skin had been dyed with the color, splotches of color burning across his face. He gapes at her, as though she had grown a second head. It’s like his body has turned to stone. It feels like an eternity before he finally speaks. “Yashiro,” his voice is barely a whisper, trembling the entire time. “What are you doing?”

The answer seems so obvious to her that she almost laughs. Well, she would’ve laughed if she didn’t feel nearly just as faint. She’s sure that her face looks just as comical as his own. Though, his reaction brings her some relief. He’s just as out of his element as she is. “What do you think it means when a girl kisses someone, Hanako-kun?” She wants to sound sophisticated and sure, but her voice is chipmunk high. She’s sure she sounds just like Black Canyon-chan right now. She still can’t quite believe herself, either. She’d kissed him! She kissed Hanako! 

“I --,” he swallows like thick sludge is lodged in his throat. “You shouldn’t--.” he pauses as though trying to collect his thoughts. He tugs at the collar of his gakuran, fidgeting as though ants had crawled into his clothing. “You shouldn’t do things like that. I’ll get the wrong idea.”

Wrong idea? That statement throws her mind for a loop. How would he get the wrong idea from a kiss? She thinks that it’s pretty self-explanatory! Kisses usually only meant one thing, after all. He can’t be this dense, right? She had even told him that she liked him back in the painted world. She’s sure that he knows that, right? 

“W-What’s the wrong idea?” She demands, small hands balling themselves into frustrated fists. “I told you before, right? I like you!” The words are out before she can stop them, but she’s far too annoyed to even care about that right now. Her first kiss and he has the nerve to look like his favorite hamster had just died. 

His two index fingers press together as he fidgets, “I know,” he mumbles, then glances back at her, almost shy. “I just -- it’s probably not a good idea, you know.” She can tell what he must be thinking. He’s dead and she’s...not. Even if her wish is eventually granted, she will eventually need to leave the school and move on from Kamome academy. Her life would go on, and his wouldn’t.

It isn’t much of a future.

Nene had already thought about all of that.  If it wasn’t her shortened lifespan, she’d often spend her nights agonizing over her feelings for the ghost boy. It was love, but a doomed one. A relationship with a supernatural had a time limit, even in the best of cases. 

“There’s so much that you deserve,” he continues, and her breath hitches when he leans forward, lips brushing against her cheek. He hadn’t done anything like that since the incident with the confession tree. Her belly works itself into knots, especially when he wraps an arm around her waist. “I can’t give you any of that. I’m dead, Yashiro. I can only promise to fulfill your wish so that you can live to your 90s and go marry some lame fantasy prince.” He moves his free hand to ruffle her hair, smiling in that frustratingly self-sacrificial way. As though that was that. Like the discussion was over. 

It feels strange to hear him echoing her previous desires. True, before meeting Hanako, all she could dream about was being swept off of her feet by a tall, stunning prince-like boy. All of those wishes feel hollow now, like emptiness gnawing at her heart. 

She still wants love.

It’s just --

“I don’t want any of that unless it’s with you, Hanako-kun.” His eyes grow as wide as saucers, the light filtering from the top of the cave makes the gold within them sparkle like moonstones. He opens his mouth and she knows that he’s going to try to keep fighting her on this. He had so many reasons why this wouldn’t work.

I’m dead, Yashiro.

I can’t take you on dates, Yashiro.

I can’t grow old with you.

I’m bound to Kamome. 

You deserve better than me.

Unfortunately for him -- she doesn’t want to hear any of them. 

Nene surges forward, kissing Hanako again. This time, she sits up onto her knees, invading his space and taking his face into her hands. If she can’t convince him with her words, then perhaps she can convince through action? Nene tilts her head and parts her lips. There, that feels a bit better than just kissing with her mouth squeezed closed. Hanako’s lips are slightly moist. They shiver as she carefully another kiss to the corner of his lips, and then the other.

This didn’t feel as awkward as last time, but Hanako is still far too rigid for her liking. “We can go on dates in the boundaries,” she says as she pulls away. She loops her arms around his shoulders and moves to kneel in between his parted legs. Sometime in between her kissing him again, he’d sprawled back slightly, legs splaying and arms reaching out as though he wants to grab onto something, though he isn’t quite sure what. 

She brushes her lips against his lips again, softer this time as she opens her mouth experimentally. That feels… kind of nice, actually. There are no fireworks, but she begins to feel a slight, almost ticklish feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Even if you can’t grow old with me. I’m sure that we’ll figure something out. I just… I just want to be with you, Hanako-kun,” she draws back and makes direct eye contact this time.

She needs him to understand that.

None of those superficial things mattered to her anymore. It would all feel empty without at least trying to pursue her feelings for him. “And you -- you keep saying that I deserve better. But what about you, Hanako-kun?” He tenses at her words, and she knows that she’s nailed the true crux of the problem. Her eyes soften, and she presses her forehead against his. “Don’t keep saying that I deserve better than you. When I want you — and you — don’t you deserve some happiness, too?”

His eyes squeeze shut, pained. His voice sounds raw, as though he’d cry at any second, “I don’t -- Yashiro. There’s so much you don’t know--” “And I’m telling you that I don’t care!” She yells, cutting him off. It hurts to hear him speaking that way about himself. She knows that he’s killed -- his own brother, no less. But, she’s seen enough of his past self to know that he wouldn’t have taken such drastic action without there being some sort of reason. She didn’t know what that reason was, or if there was any excuse for murder. He’d promised to tell her everything when he was ready to and she was more than prepared to wait for him. 

There’s so much that she doesn’t understand about Hanako.

— But she can’t bring herself to judge him for any of it. 

His expression is one of slack-jawed shock like he can’t quite believe that she exists. She kisses him again, harder this time. She wants him to understand. No — she needs him to understand. Luckily, it’s this kiss where Hanako seems to finally regain some of his brain’s function. Or at least, his body has finally caught up to what was happening. He releases a soft, almost strangled sigh as his hands wrap around her. It’s a tight, almost desperate sort of hug. It’s like he’s never hugged anyone before in his life like he’s starved for her.

He clutches at her back, fingers digging into the fabric of her kimono as he finally returns the kiss. His lips part, mouth opening as he draws her bottom lip into his mouth. Nene whimpers, a thrill of pure heat blossoming in her chest. One of Hanako’s sharper teeth caught on her lips. It drags along the swell of the tender flesh, and while it stings, it also inspires a feeling inside of that that is so sharp that she can’t help but shudder.

What -- is this?

“Yashiro,” Hanako murmurs against her mouth. “Do you really mean all of that?” His question is a probing one. He sounds nervous, excited, and terrified all at once. He changes the angle of the kiss, inclining his head as his tongue swipes along the underside of her lip. If her insides had been jumbled up before, it was as though one thousand tiny butterflies had all been jammed inside of her belly now. She can’t stop the soft whine from escaping from her. He’d -- he’d just spoken, hadn’t he? 

“Y-Yes,” she admits, hands moving from their position up to his hair. She’s not sure why, but it feels right to do that. His hair is soft to the touch, like satin on her fingertips. Nene swipes his hat off of his head in her enthusiasm, and she’s not sure where it falls off to, nor does she care. “I want to be with you, Hanako-kun,” she repeats, feeling as though she is in a haze. Her brain feels like it’s filled with cotton candy or clouds as soft as the ones that had been in Shijima-san’s picture world.

She’d wanted to kiss him then, too.

He groans, this time ducking his head away from her mouth. She wants to protest from the lack of contact. Why had he stopped kissing her? Kissing had just started to feel very nice and she beginning to see what all of the fuss was about —  

He kisses the underside of her jaw and she whines. She wants to cover her mouth. She’s sure that sounded pretty embarrassing, but Hanako doesn’t seem perturbed by the sound at all. If anything, it spurs him on, his lips dragging down from along her jaw as he peppers kisses wherever he can find exposed skin along her throat. The collar of the kimono was high, and he couldn’t get as much access as she would’ve liked. 

Oh.

What is she thinking?!

“Yashiro — Yashiro,” he whispers her name against her skin. His lips part, open-mouthed as he draws the skin of her neck into his mouth. She trembles, goosebumps breaking out along her flesh from the feeling. Now that feels like fireworks. 

She finds herself on her back, Hanako sprawled out on top of her and she’s not quite sure how they ended up in this position. Her heart feels so full -- like it might burst at any moment. Hanako runs his fingers through her hair, combing his fingers through her scalp and it feels so nice that she can’t help but close her eyes and moan. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, but she grabs both of his cheeks, tugging him down to kiss him silent once more. 

“Don’t apologize.” Why would he be sorry for this? For making her feel like this.

For being as close to death as she was, she’d never felt more alive. 

“I just — ,” he struggles with his words. “I want this — I want to be with you, too,” his eyes burn, and as he draws away. No, she thinks breathlessly. I want more. Kiss me more — “I feel like I’m dooming you. If — if we’re together… then can I really grant your wish?” His hands tremble as he moves a hand down to cradle her cheek. “What if I want to keep you all to myself? I just...feel so selfish.”

More. More. More —

She kisses each of his cheeks and then finds herself fumbling with the buttons of his gakuran, if only to gain access to his throat. He sounds so stunned, head falling against her shoulder as he presses his body against her. Did he feel the same way that she did right now? He had been covered in so many bruises in the past when he was alive. She wonders if anyone had ever touched him with the intent of causing joy — and not pain. 

A tornado storms inside of her, feelings too intense for her to even put a name to overwhelming her. She can feel tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. Their situation wasn’t exactly a fair one. Two doors were set before her. Death or life. Both options would take her away from him. Though, when he holds her this way — and says such sweet, honest things, Nene thinks that she’d be alright with dying. At least if it was like this. 

Was this -- how Sumire-chan felt? 

“Then have me,” Nene whispers. “Let’s be together.” 

He chokes on what sounds like a sob, eyes glittering with unshed tears as he smiles down at her. He chuckles.

“So many wishes. How can I keep up with granting all of them?” He uses his fingers to wipe at the tears that had begun to fall freely down her cheeks. He brings one of her hands to his lips, brushing them against the back of her palm. “You’re so needy, Yashiro.” 

“It’s a boyfriend’s job to grant his girlfriend’s needy wishes,” she returns his smile. Then, she kisses him again, opening her mouth he can suckle on the tip of her tongue. She shudders -- yes, this is where she is meant to be. 

“Is that so?” 

“It is,” she affirms, quieting him again.

She isn’t sure how long they were meant to last -- but Nene does know this. 

She’d brave it all for him. 

---- 

The end.

----

[narusasu-on-crack]

2 for the dialogue ask 👀👀 ?? And , som angst blease u do it really well I love ur writing

“Stay with me...please?”

“You’re....leaving.”

Every bit of him is screaming in despair. He’s falling apart. Again. He can’t breathe. His chest aches, it aches so bad, he can’t breathe.

“Why?”

“I need time to think about what I’ve done,”Sasuke mutters, not even looking at him, “and I what I want to do.”

“But...”

‘You’re finally here. You’re finally by my side. Don’t leave again.’

“...you just got here.”

He sounds like a petulant child, but he can’t help it. He wants to rage and whine and scream. It’s all so unfair. 

“I don’t want to be here, Naruto. This village... these people are criminals in my eyes. I did lose to you. I won’t fight any longer. But you can’t make me stay here.”

“Why can’t you let it go?”

He regrets saying that as soon as he says it, because Sasuke grimaces, his brow furrowing in deadly glare.

“Why can’t you let me go?”Sasuke snarls, “Why do you want me here, Naruto?”

His lips part, but he says nothing. He has nothing to say. He doesn’t know. He can feel his heart slowly breaking into a million pieces all over again at the thought of Sasuke leaving, but he doesn’t know.

“I’m leaving. If- if you care about me,”Sasuke backs away from him, staring at the ground, “Let me go.”

He feels like he’s been punched in the gut. His chest tightens even more and his head is starting to spin. This can’t be happening.

“Wait, Sasuke-”

“What do you want?”

“Don’t go,”he begs, “You were gone for three years and it was torture. I couldn’t sleep at night because I didn’t know where you were or what you were doing. I couldn’t think of anything except how I was going to get you back because... because I need you.”

His face is barely half a foot away from Sasuke’s, and he can see the way the boy’s dark eyes shine with unshed tears.

“I need you here with me. I probably sound like I’m in love with you or something. Fuck it, maybe I am. And I have no idea how that works, but that’s how I feel, and you get as grossed out as you want later- fuck, what am I saying. My point is, please stay,”he almost shouts, “Stay with me...please?”

Their lips are almost touching. The thought makes his heart race. Sasuke’s looking at him, fresh tears streaming down his cheeks and his lower lip wobbling despite the fact that. he’s biting down on it with all his might.

‘Stop doing that,’he thinks, staring at Sasuke’s lips. They’re turning red because of all the biting. When he finally looks up at the boy’s eyes, he sees that they’re on his own lips. 

He feels his head spin and his heart race as he leans in, pressing his lips to Sasuke’s. His arms go to wrap around Sasuke’s waist and pull him even closer. He’s pressed so closely to Sasuke that he can hear their heartbeats. 

‘They’re loud,’he thinks giddily, tracing the curve of Sasuke’s jaw with his finger. 

He feels complete. Finally.

hello, anon, I am so sorry for this absolute shit I gave you after letting this ask sit in my inbox for literal millennia asdfs I really am sorry. good news is, I have a therapist now and hopefully I will be able to fix my brain and start writing stuff that’s not shit soon okay I’ll shit up now sorry I love you 😓💗

shit was this angsty enough? I actually wanted to make Sasuke leave Naruto hanging but I thought that was too harsh lmaooo

[obutsuwrites]

Play with Fire (dabi x reader, pt. 1)

Summary: “You summoned the fire demon Dabi to feel up his horns?” This brat. xxx basically fire!demon dabi smut that's a 2 parter coz i'm gross :3c smut is in part2~!

words: 1,777

my ao3 for more shitposts

my inbox b open 4 requests~!

She was positive this time the ritual was flawless. The wooden floor displayed various burnt circles, all failed attempts. Drawing a perfect circle required practice. The task took longer due to the woman’s poor eyesight. Each circle had been abused for her ritual. Flecks of spice decorated them. Squinted eyes observed the shape. A smile plastered across her face. Yes, this was it.

Without haste, the young woman began to prepare the circle. Spices and herbs sprinkled around the scorched area, candles set in an outer half circle. The website had dictated no less than six inches between the burnt circle and the candles. A measurement the woman abided by. She was never one to stray from the usual. A strict woman.

It was the woman’s craft that led her to this. She was a minor pyromaniac. Blazes would send the flesh on her arms into euphoric goosebumps. The delight almost aroused her. She felt like she could devour the flames and become one. A hot exchange of fire and flesh. That thought aroused her. Fire licking at sensitive flesh; her face flushed with pleasure.

She squeezed her legs together. Thoughts pooled against her; the moist fabric of her panties noticeable. The woman had stumbled upon the site by accident. Her nightly viewing consisted of the occult and found footage of infernos. The woman’s interest in the occult was merely a hobby. She had heard hushed whispers speak of despicable flame demons. Monsters that used to ravish ancestors. Originally, she had assumed them to be rumors. However, the woman’s hunt for knowledge had gotten the better of her.

☼

The website looked like it was out of ‘97. Poorly animated neon graphics decorated the page, the cursor a tongue-in-cheek broom. In big circle letters read the site’s title: ‘Occult for Dummies~!’. It was almost cute. A website obviously made by a student for some web design class. She had chuckled at the thought. Curious fingers clicked the first graphic: ‘How to Summon Him~!’.

Him?  

Tired eyes tried to decipher the page. Foreign symbols and phrases were sprinkled through the article. The article was confusing. As if the summoning of a demon was science. As if it were real. She clicked off the page. A tidal wave of sleep washed over her.

☼

‘How to Summon Him~!’ had faded into obscurity. The woman’s mind consumed with the routine of suburbia. Job, go home, sleep. A schedule of mundane. However, a particular event revived the memory.

It was Friday. Promises on the weekend were a privilege for her; a much needed break from the conventional pattern. Normalcy was a bore for the young pyromaniac. Habitual work peppered in with sleep was tedious somehow. This is why infernos excited her; their chaotic, violent nature. Brilliant oranges and reds popping against kindling. The aroma of smoke invoked a sense of peace within her.

She was headed home. The traffic backed against the mid-afternoon sun. Heat pressed into her back, the woman seeking relief from a rolled window. Bored eyes scanned the road before, no stop in sight. She sighed. A soft sound stuck in the humid air.

Seeing it had caused a lump of excitement to form in her throat. The woman’s eyes stuck to a blossoming cloud of obsidian. A fire’s threat against the horizon. Air rushed from her lungs; the organ now starved for oxygen. The woman anxiously glanced around, traffic still thick as syrup.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Wobbly legs escaped the vehicle, trembling hands fumbled with the locks. Arousal mixing with sweat. The sun beat against her. The woman’s face ablaze from embarrassment and exertion. She shuffled to the sidewalk. An inferno awaiting her. Passion budded in her chest. The smell of smoke was an aphrodisiac. Legs carried her in search of the blaze.

Eventually, whiffs of smoke evolved into the asphyxiation of smog. An audible moan echoed into the black cloud; the sensation of choking was erotic. Helpless.

Before the woman stood the ancient, smoldering bones of a building, the inside reduced to charred bits of wood; phantoms of a house. Fire no longer raged inside. Little orange sparks against dying embers. The woman sighed. She never quite arrived early enough to see a fire in full force. Hungry flames that engulfed man and structure.

‘Occult for Dummies~!’ ‘Learn How to Summon Dabi: the Demon of Cremation!’

☼

“Okay, now I need… Oh fuck, yeah, I need the paper,” the pyromaniac thought aloud. A scrap of paper somehow hidden among the mess of soot and herbs. After furious digging, the woman found it. She had scribbled the phrases that were necessary on a scrap of singed paper. Abuse from failed attempts had reduced the sheet to a palm sized remnant.

Archaic words sprang forth from the woman; the evoking of a chant.

☼

Oh my fucking god. Jesus Christ. What the fuck?

She awoke from a daze, joints aching from an uncomfortable position. Her hardwood floors offered no support. The woman blinked sleep from her eyes. Had… had she fallen asleep again? Anticipating a myth?

Doubt settled in the pyromaniac’s chest. Perhaps, she did. Fucking stupid. The woman stood up, feet smudging soot. She didn’t quite remember turning off the nights or… how stupidly cold it was. Goose flesh prickled against the chill. Moonlight cast into the room; a faint LED 61 the only other light source. An awkward laugh echoed from her. Right. Sixty-one.  

Frigid hands reached blindly against the wall. Light flooded the modest space. Tired eyes noticed nothing suspicious. The scrap of burnt paper was simply that charred. Blackened ash sat underneath the occultist instruction. Her eyes lingered at the soot. It felt wrong. Soot had not… Had not been there before.

An exasperated sigh escaped the woman. Nothing would get done with such needless paranoia. The very idea was ridiculous. No stalker or crazy neighbor would break in, only to leave a slip of paper in embers. Who would just burn one piece ? Such a pathetic sliver of paper would require kindling. No inferno wasn’t complete without kindling.

☼

No light filtered through the blackout curtains; the young woman instead experiencing the shrill sound of an alarm. Negative ASMR. Sleepy hands fumbled in the darkness, eventually disarming the alarm. Stale breathe expelled into the room. The woman’s body still trapped in sleep. Muscles slack against a willing body.

“What… What the --”

Before she could finish her muttering, a foreign raspy voice resounded through the door. His true tone muffled from the wood.

“Gonna let me in?” He sounded bored. As if it was a usual activity to break into a single woman’s apartment and stand menacingly behind her bedroom door! This guy is a fucking pervert. Quick. Quick. She sat up; her body thrown into survival. I have scissors! Adrenaline filled legs carried the woman to the bathroom, her legs quivering from fear.

A rough knock broke her concentration. Blunt scissors were poised in her grip. The woman now adequately prepared for an intruder.

“I know you’re in there. You move like a mouse.”

The man’s tone held a hint of annoyance. Obviously, her reaction was inordinary.

Soft footsteps thumped through the room as she attempted to move quietly. Action movies taught surprise attacks. Hot breath was forced from her lungs. Her chest felt ablaze. The desperate sounds only fueled her anxiety.

The woman found her voice. “Get the fuck out. I mean it. I -- I have a fucking bat, asshole!” She waved around the scissors, trying to emulate bravery. Perhaps, he would buy her bluff.

“Little bit of a brat. Oh well. Your loss, I guess. I was summoned by you anyway,” the mysterious man replied, a throaty chuckle muffled. A sarcastic undertone in his voice.

Summoned?

“I summoned you? What the fuck are you talking about? Are you mentally deficient?” she mocked, a trembling hand against the cold door knob. The woman’s doubt mirrored through the warped brass.

Anxiety shot up the woman’s spine as she felt the knob jiggle. Horror ate into her belly; the woman paralyzed with fear.

“You’re not the pyro that started all those shit circles?” he asked.

Shit circles?!

The woman turned the knob. The wooden door ripped open, scissors in hand. “Listen, asshole. You can’t break into my home and tell me how shitty it is!” The words boomed from her tiny frame; the woman hopelessly dwarfed by the stranger in her living room. “It took me fucking hours.”

She noticed his skin first. A tapestry of pale flesh and charred remains, stitched together by staples that glistened in the moonlight. Electric turquoise eyes watched her. A stoic expression bore into his face. Messy strands of obsidian framed his face; a distinctive pair of horns sprouted from his head. Miniature goat horns coated in the same obsidian with specks of dull blue. Silver mismatched earrings hung from his lobes, the man’s only garment a pair of black shorts.

“Holy shit. Are you okay?”

The scarred man’s gaze didn’t falter. “No wonder. You barely summoned me.” His eyes traveled down her form. The scissors stayed to the woman’s hip. This man was mentally unhinged.

A laugh erupted from the woman. No fucking way. NO fucking way.  

“I know what this looks like,” she said, a free hand gesturing to the various ashened circles that decorated her floor. No getting the deposit back now. “I had a mild fire. It’s fine now. Uh, are you drunk? Were you at a con?” She had to admit the horns looked hyper realistic. As if they were an organic part of him.

“No. Don’t you listen? You,” he pointed to the woman, “summoned me.” The mortal before him was a brat. Her behavior was unbecoming. She should be worshiping him, begging the fire demon to wreak havoc.

The woman’s brows pulled together. A pensive quiet overcame the two. Lack of sleep was apparent. Fuck. What was a question to ask him? ‘Hey Dabi, those horns a prosthetic?’ She racked her brain to conjure the next step from the article. A crucial aspect she had neglected to write down.

A trembling hand reached up and grasped the man’s horn. The appendage felt solid. Craftsmanship was obviously a concern. She rubbed the horn, a soft vinyl met her touch.

“These bad boys real?” The question rushed from her mouth; the woman not realizing how crass she sounded. An urge to tug on them crept into her.

He smacked her hand away. A stern look now painted on his face. First, a stupid brat summons him. Now, she’s fondled his horns. The man felt insulted.

“You summoned the fire demon Dabi to feel up his horns?” This brat.

[slurrmp]

#60 on the soul-crushing list I am READY

                            100 ways to crush your soul | inbox is open.

                                               @myghostmonument

                      “ It doesn’t have to be that way. Come with me. “

You had to say, for your first alien, you sure were handling it very well.

Well, except for the current empty bottle of whiskey that sat next to you on your desk and then the full one that was currently in your hand and resting on the arm of the chair. Staring at the wall, you continued to try and make sense of everything that had happened and the fact that the four people you had helped for almost an entire week, had entered a police box and suddenly disappeared right before your eyes.

The noise, it was like a wheezing, groaning sound something you knew you wouldn’t forget for the rest of your life. The breeze that came with it had sent a shiver down your spine and immediately you knew that your life was going to change forever. You thought cheating husbands and women who want to find their missing child was all your life was going to be - alcohol and sleazy bars, one night stands and the occasional interaction with a friend, but somehow a strange woman with blonde hair and weird fashion sense crashed into your life. You didn’t know whether or not you could go back to normal.

You had woken up in your bed the next morning, two bottles scattered around you and you had sworn that everything that had happened was a dream. A rather strange and random dream that should have told you to stop drinking before going to sleep but the evidence that was scattered around your apartment was more than enough to convince you that entire week had been real.

A sharp knock at your door pulled you out of your thoughts and your eyes snapped up to see a silhouetted figure standing just outside. Cursing, you almost stumbled out of your chair - placing the bottle of rum on the desk. Whipping open the door you spotted the blonde lady with the weird fashion sense standing on the other side. Your eyes narrowed as her face pulled into a bright smile.

Your name escaped her lips as her smile grew. “Thought I’d find you here! Good to see the TARDIS didn’t land me in the wrong time ... again.” She continued but somehow being faced with her again, you suddenly didn’t want to hear it. Any of it. Seeing her standing slightly in the doorway, with her hands in her pockets and just giving you such a look like she expected the world from you, caused you to panic just a tad. So you did the only thing that you would have done to anyone else.

Promptly shutting the door in her face. You turned around and leaned back against the glass, you tried to block out her voice. Her accent and the fact that it somehow made you feel so incredibly hopeful, calling out to you asking if you were okay. Closing your eyes you took in a deep breath and clenched your fists, which were by your sides. Okay … you could do this. Heaving in deep breaths for another five seconds - you finally found the courage to turn back around and pull open the door, to see the blonde still standing there with her nose scrunched upwards slightly.

“People usually say hello,” She started and you tilted your head to the side.

“Hello.” Well, it’s what she wanted but then it was silent. It would have been awkward, if the Doctor hadn’t suddenly pushed past you and into your apartment. You didn’t bother complaining, considering it would have probably just gone in one ear and then immediately out the other. Slamming the door, you watched as the flimsy glass that held your business name across the front, wobble slightly. You really needed to get that fixed. Taking another breath, you turned around and followed the Doctor into your small living room.

“It’s … cozy.” The Doctor spoke, hands still in pockets, like she was forcing herself to not touch anything or speak with her hands.

“It’s a shit hole.” You retorted and you saw the Doctor’s eyebrow twitch ever so slightly. Still not a fan of swearing then. “The only thing I can afford in New York on the salary that I have anyway.” You continued. Narrowing your eyes once more, you continued to follow the Doctor with your eyes as she noticed how incredibly bare your entire apartment was. “What do you want Doctor?”

But it didn’t seem to bother her greatly, since she turned away from your fire place - a beaming grin returned to her face as she made her way to your desk and then promptly sat down. “Well, the fam and I were talking …” A rise of your brow caused the Doctor to pause slightly, but she otherwise ignored your reaction. “And we all came to the decision that you should come with us.”

You stared at her for quite a while. You didn’t know if you should laugh or argue, but you the look on her face was serious. Deadly serious. “You can’t be serious.” Well ...

The Doctor raised her brows again. “Yes!” Standing up from the desk, the blonde moved closer to you but you couldn’t help it when you automatically took a step backward. You weren’t used to people being enthusiastic around you, mainly because they all gave you dirty looks and mumbled under their breath. Even the people you helped - sure they were grateful that you either a) saved their marriage, b) helped them get out of marriage, or even c) helped find their missing child, but you knew on the side that they gossiped and said that they had no idea how you got anything done around here. And you sometimes wondered that as well, considering the amount you drank. “I’m extremely serious...” Your name sounded weird coming from her lips. But in a good way. “We could use someone with your skills on board. Besides, the more the merrier.” Your eyes narrowed once more. You could tell that that statement was a lie, not so much as she didn’t want you, but that she was nervous about having too many people around.

A sigh escaped your lips as you shook your head. “I ... I can’t.” Licking your lips you looked down at the ground, shifting on your feet. “I’m needed here. I actually have clients you know.” Then booted feet filled your vision, so you looked up and met the Doctor’s gaze. “Besides, the booze on my shelf isn’t going to drink itself.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way.” The blonde tried again her hands moving around her. You noticed that she animated with her hands every time she wanted someone to pay attention. “Come with me,” once more, she said your name like it was the only thing in the universe that made sense. Sniffing slightly, you shuffled once more. Frowning, you cleared your throat.

“Shit...” you mumbled. What the hell does that even mean? Sure you saw them all pile into the wooden box and then watched it disappear into thin air, but what the actual hell does that mean? Where did it even go? “Ugh,” you groaned and scratched the back of your head. She was putting you on the spot here, all you had known were these four walls, this city and the assholes that ran it. Swallowing, you moved your head side to side. “Fine...”

“Yes! Oh, Yaz is going to be so happy,” The Doctor beamed brightly once more, it was like she didn’t have an off switch. “You also made a huge impression on Ryan. Never heard him speak so fast before.” You cut her off as you pointed a finger at her.

“But .. when I say I want to come home, you bring me the fuck back home.” You mood seemed to interrupt her excitement, you felt slightly bad about that. “The city doesn’t do well when I’m gone for very long.”

“You have my word,” The Doctor placed her hands on your shoulders and squeezed. “I promise, I will get you back home on time. Trust me.”

And well ... so you did.

[persorene]

okay, this is a birthday request (and i feel bad because i've requested it before but it didn't get answered so i feel like i'm banging on your inbox begging you to write it) - i was wondering if you could write something where corrin takes care of jakob while he's sick and he's secretly loving the attention

Happy birthday! And sorry this took so long. I actually had it half finished a few months ago and then just stopped for whatever reason. Hope you like it :)"Sitting down?” Corrin asked as she sat down beside her husband on the oversized sofa in their sitting room “Are you sure you’re Jakob and not an imposter?”Jakob’s head lay against the plush backing, his eyes closed and his breathing slow and labored. He managed a weak smile for his wife before the expression quickly faded.“Are you alright? You aren’t acting like yourself.”He nodded gently “I’m fine, my dear.”“I don’t believe you.” She said as her hands drifted to his forehead. He tried to dodge her touch but he wasn’t fast enough. She frowned as she felt his skin beneath her touch, he was dangerously warm. His eyes drifted open to watch her as she examined him. His usually bright, lavender eyes were sallow and languid, all the light drained from them, they were hauntingly framed by dark rings. His cheeks were tinged with a vivid scarlet colour that contrasted strikingly with his snowy features.“How long have you had this fever?” Corrin asked as she ran her fingers through his silvery bangs.“Not long. Two days…” he hesitated “Three days.”“What?! Jakob!”“It wasn’t this bad at first.”“But then you decided to work through it instead of resting?”He nodded “There’s so much work to do, Corrin, I can’t let things fall apart around here because I’m sick.”“You can’t let yourself get this sick. You aren’t a butler anymore, Jakob. You’re my husband, you’re a father and you’re a ruler. You can’t risk your health.”“Who will take care of this household if I laze about?” he grumbled, his usual zeal trying to surface from beneath his sickness.“It isn’t lazing, darling. I know it pains you to let go of your butler’s work but the servants are more than capable of handling the day to day responsibilities.” She soothed “Besides, the only thing that needs taken care of around here is you. And I’ll be the one to do it!”“You don’t have to, love. I’ll be fine. Maybe a quick nap and I should be-““No, no naps. You’re getting nursed back to health by me. Is that really worth complaining about?” she teased.He managed another feeble smile “I don’t suppose it is.”“Now, get up. You’re going to bed.” She said softly.He stood slowly, wobbling as he did. Jakob was dizzy from the fever and nearly toppled over onto his wife. Corrin quickly slipped an arm behind his back, steadying him as he regained his balance.“Are you alright?”He nodded again, his eyes turned down toward the floor.“I’ll hold you while you walk.”“No.” he tried to object “Please, don’t hurt yourself.”“I won’t. I’m just making sure you don’t fall.” She rested one of his arms around her shoulder, the heat radiating off of him was enough to warm her as well.He sighed heavily but let her lead him slowly through the halls of the palace, up the stairs and into their bedroom. She eased him gently onto the edge of their mattress, and stroked his hair back gently. Her nimble fingers quickly found the ribbon that held his long hair in place and tugged it free, sending the silvery waves over in shoulders.“Why did you-““Because you’re going to bed.” She chirped as she dug through their wardrobe and pulled out an oversized night shirt for him. She crossed the room once more, stepping directly in front of him as she began to untie and remove his cravat. Corrin slipped his arms free from his jacket and began to under the buttons on his shirt so he could remove the garment with ease.“You don’t need to dress me.” He said with a playful smirk.“I know, but I am taking care of the smaller bits so you don’t have to struggle with them.” She opened his shirt, exposing his chest “Now, I’m going to fetch some cool water. You change into your night shirt and lay down.” She walked toward the door, pausing before she exited and turning back to face him “I mean it, you need to be in bed!”He smiled at her she stepped out of the room and closed the door behind her. He slipped out of his day clothes and slid his night shirt over his head. From across the room, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Jakob grimaced at the sight, he looked nearly ghoulish, his skin was ashen and his hair clung to his face in a sweaty mess.  He groaned as his aching muscles worked to ease him into bed He tugged the blanket over his body in a slow and painful effort to make himself more comfortable. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this ill, it had almost certainly been when he was a boy. Back then, he was alone, suffering in silence in his room in the servant’s quarters. Corrin had clambered up the rickety stairs to find him, to Gunter’s chagrin, and tried her best to comfort him through the worst of it. And now, here they were, fifteen years later and she was once again taking care of him. He smiled softly at the thought of his lovely wife nursing him back to health. As much as he adored pampering her on a daily basis, he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed her attention. Between ruling Valla and raising their sons, she’d become rather busy and he was glad to have her all to himself, no matter how selfish he felt.The door opened quietly as Corrin drifted in, a large basin of cool water sat perched on her hip. She eased onto the bed beside him, her hand once against testing the warmth of his forehead.“You actually went to bed! I’m impressed.”“I would never deny a request from such a skilled physician.” He joked, his eyes still lay closed but his pale lips turned upward in a mischievous grin.“You’re adorable even when you’re sick.” She whispered, her gentle voice comforting him.The queen dipped a cloth into the basin and wiped her husband’s face with it. She rung it out and soaked it again, now running the cloth down his neck and chest before wiping his arms as well. Once more, she soaked the rag in the basin, with one hand, she brushed his silky bangs from his face and with the other she positioned the cool cloth across his forehead.Corrin slipped a hand behind his head, lifting it gently from the pillow a she pressed a glass of cold water to his lips “Drink, my love. You need water”He sipped slowly, trails of water trickled down the corner of his mouth and onto his chin as he worked to drink the fluid.“There now.” She whispered as she eased him back against his pillow and sat the empty glass on their bedside table.A soft knock at the door drew Corrin’s attention “Yes?” She spoke as loudly as she dared so as not to disturb him.“Your majesty?” A servant said in a hushed whisper “Is everything alright? Should I come in to help you?”“No, I’ll take care of him. But thank you.” She called back, immediately directing her focus back on the sickly man.“I can sing to you if you’d like, though I can’t promise it’ll be any good.” Corrin joked.“Actually, I wouldn’t mind. Just until I fall asleep.” Jakob answered.“Are you joking?”“Why would I be joking? My incredible wife offers to sing me to sleep after tending to my fever, why would I deny such an offer?”“Jaaaakob.”“You could hum instead.” He teased.“I can manage that.” She mused.Her hand drifted to his as she held it firmly, her thumb rubbing circles into his slightly cooler flesh as she began to hum an old tune Gunter had once hummed to her as a girl when she was sick.“I am the luckiest man alive.” Jakob whispered “You’re so perfect, I’ll never quite understand what I did deserve your affections but I will forever be grateful.”“Shh… Sleep.” She whispered “But, I love you too.”

[crunchie-morris]

Flyin'

Okay, I haven't published anything in f o r e v e r. I've got a prompt in my inbox I'm gonna try and write tonight, but if I don't end up finishing that, I wanted to get something out! So here's an old Jackcrutchie oneshot I wrote way back before I had Tumblr. Enjoy! ••• "Mmph," Crutchie frowned and poked his tooth with his tongue. "Mmph, mmph, mmmph...ow!" "Stop messin' with your tooth," Jack scolded, elbowing his friend. "Didn't you just tell me it hurt like hell?" "Yeah," Crutchie said, still poking his tooth. "But, it's gonna hurt more tomorrow." "Ah, you'll be fine," Jack chuckled. "I mean, you're Crutchie Morris. If you can take on that leg of yours, you can take on a root canal." Crutchie grinned at Jack half-heartedly. Then, he stood up,pausing for a moment to feel the cool New York air on his face. "Thanks. I should be gettin' to bed, though. Night, Jack. See you in the mornin'?" Jack looked up from his drawing for a moment to glance at Crutchie, whose face was etched with worry, as it had been all evening. "Of course. I'm the one takin' ya there, after ya tomorrow, Crutch." Crutchie smirked as left the roof and saluted Jack. "See ya." Jack saluted Crutchie back with one more encouraging smile before turning back to his sketchbook. Crutchie had spent the whole evening refusing to admit how nervous he was for his dentist's appointment the next day. "Technically, it's an endodontist," Crutchie had corrected when Jack had called it a dentist's appointment. "And, anyway, I suppose I'm lucky. If it weren't for Kloppman, I probably woulda done nothin' about my tooth, and that'd be no good. But, he actually paid for this, and that ain't cheap, so I better be grateful." "You got every right to be scared, though," Jack assured him. "Not that you won't be fine, though." A smirk appeared on his face as he added, "You know, the worst that's probably gonna happen to ya is you'll be all loopy from the medicine they give ya. That'll be entertaining." Crutchie grinned and rolled his eyes. "Whatever you do, don't put me on YouTube." "Aw, come on!" Jack feigned disappointment. "You could be the next viral sensation!" Crutchie chuckled and shook his head. "No thanks." Jack had patted him on the back and said, "Trust me, Crutch, you'll be a-okay." ••• "Morris, Andrew?" Crutchie's nervous foot-tapping stopped immediately as he looked up, fear crossing his freckled features. "You'll be fine," Jack gave Crutchie an encouraging smile. "For sure?" Crutchie asked, biting his lip. "For sure," Jack echoed. With that, the two made their way to the front desk. The clerk looked at Jack curiously. "Are you his guardian?" She asked. "You look quite young, sir." "Eh, kind of?" Jack offered. "His bills and stuff are probably marked under Kloppman, that's our group home director, but he's got a ton of other boys to look after, so I'm here in his place. I'm almost eighteen, though, Miss, plus I already got the papers signed by him." The clerk nodded understandingly. "Well, if you've got the papers, that should work just fine, then." "Wait, what kinda papers did he have to sign?" Crutchie asked, trying to hide his anxious tone. "Just some legal things, Mr. Morris," The clerk answered. Crutchie nodded, and quickly said, "Yeah, right, legal stuff, I knew that. Just boring, legal stuff, of course, it don't have anything to do with this procedure bein' dangerous." The clerk laughed good-naturedly. "You're in good hands, Andrew. Don't worry." "I ain't worried!" Crutchie shoved a grin on his face. "No, ma'am, not me! I'se just, uh, reassurin' Jack here." Jack rolled his eyes. "Remind me never to let you become an actor." ••• Jack sat in the waiting room, twiddling his thumbs as he awaited Crutchie's arrival. He had to admit, Crutchie's nerves may or may not have rubbed off on him, so he was now quite antsy as watched the clock. "Mr. Kelly?" Jack looked up, relieved to see them walking Crutchie in. "Crutchie!" He grinned, jogging over to his friend. Crutchie blinked several times as he looked at Jack, before his face turned up in a smirk. "Hey there, Jack!" "He did a great job," The nurse announced. "Now, he's probably going to be a little out of it for the next few hours, but once the medicine wears off, give him Ibuprofen and allow him to ice his face." "Will do,Miss," Jack said, taking Crutchie's arm and heading out. "Thank you!" Crutchie wobbled on his feet, looking down and stepping very carefully. His features turned up in another grin as he said, his words muffled by the cotton in his mouth, "Everythin's all...spinny, Jack." "Yeah, I'm sure it is," Jack replied, giving his friend an amused look. Crutchie tripped over his crutch suddenly, and Jack caught him just before he hit the ground. After the initial shock wore off, Crutchie broke out into giddy laughter. Jack couldn't help but laugh, too. "You need some help there, bud?" He offered. "I can carry ya if you wa-" "No!" Crutchie cut him off firmly. As Jack eased him upright again, he looked over at the older boy, blinking rapidly. "No way. Ain't no one carryin' me...never!" Jack rolled his eyes. "Even all drugged-up, you'se gotta be Mr. Independent, huh?" Crutchie nodded. "I got this." He announced, scrunching his face up with determination. Jack laughed again and the two made their way outside. It took a while, but they eventually got to the car and began on their way back to their home. Crutchie was silent for most of the ride, staring intently at the dashboard. Jack gave him a sideways glance. "You okay, pal?" "If-if we woke up with, with, like, superpowers," He began slowly in a serious tone. "Do ya think that-that we'd, we would all be able to fly? Or like, only some people could, like celebrities?" He paused before adding, "I bet Idina Menzel would be able to fly. She's cool like that." Jack felt a grin spread across his face. "I dunno, Crutchie. What do you think?" Crutchie looked deep in thought. He thought hard before responding, "I think that like...you could only fly if you believe you can fly." "Like in Peter Pan?" Jack asked, bemused. Crutchie's face lit up. "Yeah! Jus' like that!" He silent for a moment more before continuing,"Maybe...that's how things are right now, but no one, nobody...no one thinks they can, so-so nobody can! Ya know? I bet we can fly, but none-no, nobody believes that we can." Jack tried, but ultimately failed, to hide a snigger. Crutchie frowned. "See, see that's what I mean! You don't believe it, you think I'se jokin', but-but...but...what was I sayin', Jack?" As they pulled up next to the group home, Jack snuck a glance at Crutchie. "Flyin'?" He prompted. Crutchie broke out in a huge smile. "Oh, that sounds neat!" He exclaimed. "Yeah, flyin', that would, that'd be cool. That's what I was talkin' about." Jack shook his head at his delirious friend. "Sure was." ••• Once they got inside, Jack helped Crutchie to his bunk. Just before he was going to leave the younger one to rest, Jack heard a laugh from behind him. He turned around to face a massively-grinning Crutchie. "What's so funny?" Crutchie giggled. "You...ya look so funny." Jack smirked involuntarily. "What do ya mean?" "All...all blurry," Crutchie explained, gesturing to Jack. "And the room is still all-all spinny and it's so funny." "Well, I've been told I look quite good when I'm blurry, for the record," Jack teased, sitting on the edge of Crutchie's bed. Crutchie let his laughter die out before softly asking, "Can ya tell me about-bout that place?" "What place?" Jack asked. "The one with all the buildings," Crutchie slurred,, blinking over and over. "The ones with the clay, ya know? And the paintings you make and the green...ya know, the place?" "Santa Fe?" Jack grinned. "That's it!" Crutchie smiled. "Yeah, Santa Fe! I like it when you'se talkin'...talkin' all about that place 'cause when I'm all sad or mad- hey, that rhymed! But-but...when I'se upset, you talk about Santa Fe and then I feel happy. More than happy. Because...it's 'cause I know that you'se gonna keep me safe, 'cause you...ya tell me about Santa Fe, and you don't tell the other boys that much about Santa Fe! And, when we'se talkin' 'bout, about Santa Fe, you tell me the other things that you would never say to anybody else, and I say the things I'd never tell anyone-anyone else, and you never tell the other fellas what I says. So-so, that way, I know you really trust me, so I...I can really trust you. I'se never been able to really trust anyone before, 'cause they all leave. You know that. But, you'se...you'se real different. And, that's just great. So great." Jack felt a smile- a true, genuine smile- on his face for the first time in a long time. He looked at Crutchie, who smiled back hopefully. Laying back on the pillow next to Crutchie, he began, "Alright, I'm gonna need ya to close your eyes." Crutchie obliged eagerly. "Good," Jack responded, closing his eyes, too. "Now, come with me to a place where it's clean and green and pretty, and they went and made a city outta clay." He continued painting the city for Crutchie with his words until he felt a weight on his shoulder. Jack looked down to see that Crutchie was out cold, using Jack as his pillow. Jack smirked and muttered, "Maybe if ya dream hard enough, you can fly to Santa Fe." ••• Crutchie woke up to a heavy aching in his mouth. He groaned and rolled over, ready to attempt to sleep again, when his eyes landed upon a bowl of ice cream and a note on his nightstand. Smiling softly, he picked up the note and read, "Crutchie, I didn't put you on YouTube. You totally would have gone viral, though; you were hilarious. Sorry I couldn't stay with you, I had to go get the schoolwork we missed. (The next time Mr. Pulitzer says I'm irresponsible, show him this!) But, the nurse said to ice your mouth, so I brought you some ice cream, 'cause, hey, it's got the word " ice" in it. -Jack" Below that, Jack had doodled a small, smiling boy with a crutch and word bubble that said, "Flyin' sounds neat!" Crutchie shook his head and grinned. He was just about to roll over and go back to sleep when he noticed a little more text at the bottom. "P.S. I bet you don't remember any of the stuff you said about Santa Fe, but, if you do, thanks." Before going back to sleep, Crutchie quickly jotted down on the back of the note, "I don't remember anything I said, but if it was about Santa Fe, I meant every word."

[dothewrite]

Ringleaders - Chapter Three.

Here is the original ask for this prompt. Here is the announcement for this project!

Prologue. Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Four.

[This is legit like, 5k in one sitting and I thought my brain was steaming out of my ears. ‘Is the lady suspicious, or is Kuroo just dense?’ - coming to you in theaters now.]

It’s a Saturday, but Kuroo finds himself waking up to his six o’clock alarm anyway. It takes him at least four bleary eyed tries to slap the snooze button on his phone, and he groans with excruciating pain that once again, he is required to function for another day. He shifts, his phone clatters onto floor, and he dozes back off to sleep for two minutes, dreaming about throwing himself off a high building.

Breakfast isn’t much better. It’s slow, he pours orange juice into a bowl and his toast into a cup, and the sound of children playing outside sets his teeth on edge. It’s a nice neighbourhood he lives in, but with nice neighbourhoods come families, which means children. He almost runs one over when he starts his car to make his way to his lab back on campus. The look of betrayal from the distraught child glances off him like oil on water and he pushes his foot hard against the gas pedal.

There is one saving grace, however, is that he’s famous at work. ‘Nobody talk to Kuroo Tetsurou before it hits ten’ is an unofficial rule, and Tetsu reigns supreme as the lord of zombies in the bright corridors of exhausted academia. They don’t fear him exactly, because he doesn’t snap or grumble if he’s disturbed from his walking sleep. It’s just universally known that unless you’re really deprived of conversation, you’re not going to be very entertained with a man who can barely form words. It’s even worse if you ask Kuroo to do something for you in a hurry in the mornings. The last time he was sent off on a mission to deliver a package, he got lost for about an hour and a half and was finally found sleeping underneath a bench outside. They took pictures, and he had to see them pasted everywhere for a week, but he was too busy feeling relieved that they didn’t turn him into a meme to mind.

“Morning,” he hears an amused voice call after him, and Kuroo waves his hand tiredly in reply. Or tries to, but his fingers only manage to twitch oddly by his sides and the person chuckles and walks off. Kuroo smiles dumbly, although what for he’s no clue, and unlocks the door to his office.

The chair is simply too far, he decides with one eye cracked open, so he makes do with the wall to his immediate left.

Sleep had eluded him for far longer than usual last night, and he had found himself taking at least five sleeping pills before coming to the realization that if he had any more, he might be put in a permanent coma for at least five days. Not that it’s a terrible idea, but he prefers to actually feel like he’s sleeping, when he’s sleeping. Without any other options, he’d settled for actually counting sheep. They were kind of cute- black, round things that baa-ed happily at him until they started doing little tap dances in his imaginary field, and his mind finally shut itself down a few hours before sunrise.

He sinks down onto the carpeted floor and lets his head fall into his arms. There’s a voice that nags at him that says he’s not supposed to sleep at work, but as his eyelids start to fall, the darkness seems too soothing for him to resist. This time he dreams of little sheep-people, wooly centaurs, maybe, running around in what is now a slightly purple field, making happy giggling noises that sound suspiciously like this morning’s children. A rustling sound suddenly permeates his dream, and he shuffles uncomfortably against the concrete wall. Not too awake, the sheep people incorporate the odd sound into their movements, their thundering hooves suddenly making sounds like paper on carpet. Then, there’s a pause outside, and the sheep people pause too- before he hears a decisive knock on the door that startles him out of his crumpled position. Kuroo topples over sideways with an ‘oof’. He swears he hears a soft sigh on the other side of the door, but forgets it quickly when a pristine envelope stares at him from the floor. He prefers the sheep people, to be honest, but he picks it up anyway and gets to his feet.

It’s a daunting task, but he’s a big boy, and he manages to wobble his way into his expensive leather chair (straight out of his own pocket too, he was sorely disappointed when his petition for upgraded office supplies was soundly rejected) which he collapses into.

Kuroo turns the envelope over several times in his fingers, noting how there’s nothing on it except for an exceptionally penned ‘Kuroo’ on the top right corner and sealed with a traditional lick. He tears it open with a noise of satisfaction when it rips jaggedly under his finger.

It smells like tea leaves when he sniffs the page, and is filled with a handwritten message that looked like it had come straight from ‘Calligraphy for Dummies’. He’s never received anything from anyone who had writing down like an art form before, but when he looks down and finds the signature, he’s surprised by how unsurprised he is. Trust a poetry major to write like the Queen of England.

Kuroo, it begins, and the lack of any formalities gives him a tired chuckle. Here he was, expecting purple prose. I hope it isn’t too odd for you to receive a written letter in this day and age, but I thought perhaps this would be the best way to get your attention. I’m sure you have far too many unopened emails in your inbox for any of them to catch your eye. Kuroo grumbles at that, because she’s right. After the previous evening, I suspect you might not want to meet with me face to face either, so this was my only option. I’m using my best handwriting, even, which I hope you appreciate because my fingers are cramping.

I… can’t presume to understand your position. Admittedly I only know the cursory information available to anyone who asks the right questions, but I have noticed that you are rarely intercepted by people on campus regarding your extra-curricular activities. I took the liberty of guessing that you keep your personal and professional life separate.

I envy your ability to do so.

Kuroo blinks at that. The sentence jumps out at him with sudden honesty, sudden intimacy, and he can see the way it pens darker than all the other sentences so far. She must have hesitated, or perhaps struggled with writing it. The smirk slides off his face, and he sits up straighter in his seat. He doesn’t know what he did to earn her confidence, but his discomfort was no excuse to disregard her sudden seriousness, even if there wasn’t anyone else to see him in his office.

Nevertheless, I must have been an unwelcome surprise last night. I, of course, had my own reasons for being there and will not apologize for them, but I should have given you less grief, possibly. I doubt I’ll remember I even thought this later in the day, so please don’t hold me to that; I have a tendency to be insufferable, quite like yourself. At this, he has to be impressed, because this is the first time he’s been insulted so very articulately, and it makes him squirm a little in his seat. Still, I assume that I am a little wrench thrown into your plans, whatever they may be. I would like to assure you that I have no intentions of breaking the barrier between your two lives- quite the opposite, actually. However, with regards to your ‘organization’, because it has overlapped with my own interests if you recall specific parts of our conversation last night, I will not be able to completely leave this opportunity before me untouched.

I’d like to propose a truce. A trade. An agreement, of sorts, that I hope will be beneficial to us both. I will not jeopardize your position in exchange for some information that I hope will clear up some of my own involvement with my… struggle, with authority. Authorities. We are different, but not enough so, it seems. I hope you will consider this proposal carefully, and as I assume you already know where I hold my office hours, I welcome any questions or enquiries that you may have.

I await your favourable response.

Yours truly.

The letter ends with a very dignified swirl that Kuroo assumes is her signature, and he’s faintly impressed. Either she’s put a lot of thought into crafting an autograph, or she has, most likely, given him her actual signature on paper in an act of good faith. He lets the thick letter paper fall from his hands and the first thing he does is pull up his own email.

The contrast is quite startling, he has to admit. He thought his emails were okay until this morning, but clearly, he writes like a drunk baboon in comparison. Thx, one of his emails end in, and Kuroo cringes so hard that his forehead meets his desk with a thunk. He considers replying in kind, with a damn posh letter, but it only takes one more glance at her cursive script for him to sigh and give up that idea entirely. Perhaps he’ll draw a picture instead.

He imagines a little chibi figure of him with a thumbs up going ‘okay!’, and cackles loudly to himself.

Kuroo catches her after lunch in their commons when he slinks in for his fourth cup of coffee. It’s excellent coffee too- all the grad students had pooled good money together to get one of those high-end coffee machines with George Clooney in their commercials, and ever since then it’s become a local treasure. The line for it isn’t as long as it would be on a weekday, but he spies her sipping on her own mug in contemplative silence, a large book spread out on her lap. He hesitates for a moment, but slips out from his position in the line and makes his way over to her. It’s a big sacrifice, and he hopes she knows that.

“I felt like I was being summoned to court,” he sits himself on the armrest right beside her. She on the other hand, barely shifts, and the only sound he hears is her small breath as he smiles and her hair shimmies forward when her head dips.

He waits patiently for her to close her book- anthology- and she places it on the coffee table in front of her and sweeps her hair to one side to look at him clearly. Kuroo inhales sharply at the very vibrant grey he’s greeted with- almost violet under the right lighting- and he finds that he can’t look away at all.

“Sorry,” she says, her voice soft and careful, “I can’t stop writing like my thesis. I can’t stop dreaming about my thesis.”

“Wow, your major sounds like a riot.”

“Yours sounds equally fascinating,” and he has to grin at that, “’cus then I’d dream about numbers and I might actually just die in my sleep.”

“Feel my pain,” Kuroo laughs, and although she doesn’t laugh with him, he doesn’t miss the way the corners of her eyes crinkle.

He feels thrown off balance by this completely harmless chat. Funny small talk and charming quips were his actual specialty, as is being a piece of shit, and nobody is ever surprised to hear his distinctive laughter echoing through corridors or past stairwells. It all comes out when he knows he’s allowed to, and his mirth dries up sufficiently to make way for solemnity during the nights. He’s never had to pretend to be casual in front of someone who knew his occupation, and what’s even stranger is that this doesn’t feel out of place at all.

She’s smiling right back like she means each word, both now and in her letter, and Kuroo feels like he’s being left out of some grand secret. Like he’s falling into a trap, but when she blinks, her lips twist into an awkward smile that gives away her usual loneliness. He can’t help but feel his gut twisting around his chest. He can’t help but feel like he’s not lying at all, and the very thought unnerves him.

“Your letter,” Kuroo suddenly pitches his voice lower, both in volume and in pitch, and his face darkens. She leans forward in response, and once again her hair falls back across her face to hide her eyes from view. She’s no longer smiling. “I’d like to discuss it more, but not here.”

She doesn’t respond, her tightening fingers the only indication of her understanding, so he continues. “I’m going to be frank with you right now- I don’t like the sound of anything, or you appearing out of nowhere. You’re getting into things too large for you alone, but if you really want to hear what you��re asking for, I’m not going to stop you. That is, until I know exactly everything there is to know about you.”

“You have a hacker,” she responds quickly, “your types usually do. You can type in my name and find out more about me than I can tell you.”

“There are things you don’t know even about yourself.” Kuroo stands up briskly and she glances at him for a split second. His eyes are chilly, brows harsh and unforgiving and he watches with a small ripple of satisfaction when she shivers involuntarily and turns her stare back to her hands. “I’m good at tugging those things out of people. Data can’t tell you if someone’s lying, but I can. I’ll know how serious you are about this ‘trade’ if I see you later. Four pm, at the closed train station on the yellow line heading north. I wouldn’t be late if I were you.”

There’s a muted silence to her movements as she reaches for her book without another word and opens it again. Kuroo frowns at the lack of response, but chooses to turn away to finish filling up his mug like he had intended. The chatter doesn’t stop around him at all, indicating that their conversation had gone completely unnoticed, but the feeling of discomfort doesn’t leave him. Kuroo feels like something had slipped through his fingers and he had no clue what it was.

Setting an alarm for three fifty, he settles back into his office chair and tries to forget about the way her fingers shook against well-worn pages.

Although he had told her not to be late, there’s nothing hurried about the way he walks towards the empty station. Still in his regular college clothes, he looks less like a man on a mission and more like a geocaching young guy, but that doesn’t stop his hands in his pockets and the purposeful crunch of gravel underneath his always metal lined shoes.

His approach is by no means quiet, but she barely responds to his presence before her, favouring her Starbucks cup in her hands instead. It’s four fifteen, the sky barely darkening at all, and she sits as if it’s winter on the aged bench. There’s something wrong about this picture, Kuroo feels, it’s a complete contrast from her carefree behavior the night before and where he had spent an entire day feeling like he was being thrown around like an orca does with its prey, she sits curled into herself, protecting her underbelly from the predator.

It was what he wanted to feel like, and Kuroo’s achieved it. She’s here on his request, and he holds all the cards in his hands now, all except for her promise of silence, and that’s quite a lot of cards to be going on.

Yet when she looks up, straight ahead at the train tracks instead of him, he has to take a seat beside her before his determination fails.

“You’re focused on your leadership role a lot, aren’t you?”

Kuroo is glad that he doesn’t have to be the one to start the conversation yet again. “I never mentioned being a leader.”

“You walk like one. You talk like one. You most probably are one.”

“Excuse me for being obvious,” Kuroo replies, slightly affronted. The small tell-tale breath sounds again, but her smile doesn’t reach her eyes, not like it did earlier that day. He has no clue how he had noticed that, and so has no countermeasures against the light flush that touches his cheeks.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” she murmurs, “and you probably don’t view them as faults.”

“You’re right, I don’t.” Kuroo answers stiffly. “But I think you’ll find a psychoanalysis of me won’t get you closer to what you want.”

“No,” and this time she laughs out loud, “what does is a psychoanalysis of me.”

“Yup.”

“Alright then.” She shifts, and Kuroo finds himself looking into those grey eyes again. “I’ve nothing to hide. Give it your best shot.”

There’s a pause between the two of them, and Kuroo sniggers. “That suspense made me feel like I should pull out my hi-tech scanner. This isn’t Star Trek. Let’s just talk.” She’s the one with the quiet blush now, and Kuroo catches it anyway despite her efforts to hide her embarrassment. “You don’t seem like the type to talk to many people.”

“I don’t get along with many people.”

“Why’s that?” Kuroo finds himself actually curious. He’s been there, that socially awkward stage, and he’s still surrounded by it constantly (making small talk with Ushijima and Kenma feels like dragging an indoor cat out for walk), but there’s no mistaking the iron in her voice. This wasn’t just social awkwardness.

“They piss me off easily. I get pissed off easily.”

“Oho,” he smirks, “so the silent and serene type does have a fuse.”

“Yeah,” she shrugs, “I don’t mind annoying people, I just don’t like stupid people.” Her eyes sharpen in a way that Kuroo hasn’t seen before, not even during those dirty alley fights, and his fingers clench in his pockets. “People who don’t think from other people’s point of view frustrate me, so my ideology clashes with theirs quite often. I don’t have any political or organizational affiliations because of that, if that’s what you were angling for.”

“I can certainly see why you don’t like idiots,” he nods, somewhat empathetically, “you’re not too slow yourself.”

“You’re lucky I have brothers,” she eyes him amusedly, “your insults sting quite a bit.”

“Backhanded compliments, I’d like to think of them as,” Kuroo corrects. “I’m nice to my friends.”

Her eyes soften at that, and she looks away. There’s a taste of wistfulness that tugs at the corners of her lips, and Kuroo feels left out of some obvious secret yet again. “Are your brothers your only regular social contact?”

“Yes, I try to stay away from their friends. I’m not involved with whatever they get up to either, I just follow them on the evenings where they’re headed towards trouble. I don’t know who I end up fighting either, only that they’re after my younger brother in particular. He finds it fun and easy to scam drug dealers, you see, so I have to clean up his mess.”

“So he’s smart, but can’t finish his own battles, huh?”

“Precisely. They’ve nothing to do with why I want to know more. They’re just something I have to live with.”

Kuroo reckons it’s a bit more than that, but he keeps his silence. “Then tell me why you want to know more, and why you aren’t blackmailing me for something bigger.”

“I’m not blackmailing you,” she huffs, and she turns back to him with an exasperated look, “I know that’s what it sounded like in my letter, but how else were you to come to me? I’m going to keep your secret anyway.”

“Why?”

“Can’t you tell?” Her cup gives a low pop when her fingers dig into it mercilessly. “You’re so good at sniffing out lies and asking invasive questions, but you can’t tell what’s in someone’s eyes?”

“I can’t, not anymore,” and the honest admission astonishes him. Kuroo itches to clap a hand over his mouth, but the tension in his body is growing, and he feels like he’s being hung dry in a desert and he’s the only thing left, soaked and miserable underneath his own raincloud. This isn’t how it was supposed to be. “Can’t you tell?” He mocks.

She bites her lip between her teeth so hard that it leaves red marks. However, the sudden anger is draining, and there’s something too alike sorrow in her stare. It confuses him too much for him to feel irritated by it, and Kuroo finds himself at a loss for words.

“I’m always angry,” she finally says, and he feels it like a stab to his gut. “I’m always… searching for something, and I’m tired of not knowing what for. Maybe it’s just my indifference to everything, but the longer I sit still, the more I feel like I’m losing something.”

He knows. He knows so well that it feels like someone’s carving a ditch in his chest, and a memory of his merry band of misfits around a table floats up.

“I’m doing this for me, Kuroo,” she’s sitting completely straight and he doesn’t recognize this person at all. At the same time, he sees her every day, when he looks in the mirror, and when he goes to his headquarters at night. It’s been so long that he’s forgotten the name, forgotten what it looks like when it rises to the surface after it’s been buried into his bones for so long. “I don’t need anything bigger from you, because I don’t need anything. I want to know more because- because-,” he waits and waits for the words to stop choking her voice, “-because I can’t do anything by myself, but you seem like you know what path you’re on. I just want to be on my own path, that’s all. I’m curious about your organization because it’s the only one that the strays stick with, and I wish my brother joined your group instead of fucking around with drugs all the time.”

It’s a mess of statements, one after the other with no transition at all, and she slumps backwards onto the bench and hurls her cup onto the dilapidated train tracks. It skids to a stop, her incorrectly spelled name revealing itself underneath the dimming sunlight.

“Ahh…” she sighs, and he glances at her, “it’s been a while since I’ve felt so much about anything. I’m tired.”

“Yes,” Kuroo finds his tongue again, “I thought I fucked up and met up with the wrong person.”

“I’m normally quite calm, I promise,” she smiles, although it is quite tired, it’s genuine, and he can see the relief in her eyes.

“Your mysterious persona was done pretty well for someone with so much, uh, emotion.”

“It’s not a persona,” she grins, “and I can’t believe you thought I was mysterious.”

“You showed up in the sewage system in the middle of the night and said nothing. Seriously?”

She rises to her feet, still grinning, and he follows. Kuroo realizes that he’s a good head taller than her, and has to take a step away so that he can look down to see her face properly. “I just like being insufferable, like I said. Being annoying is what keeps me sane.”

“I suppose we have something in common,” he admits grudgingly, but he doesn’t feel as disgruntled as he sounds when he sees he relax. He’s said something right, although how that little comment had ended up being positive, he has no clue.

“So we’re good?” She asks.

“We’re good.” Kuroo nods. “There’ll be something sent to you tomorrow, if everything checks out.”

She looks a bit puzzled at that, but the smile doesn’t fade and she shrugs again. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

He nods again and lifts a hand goodbye. She mirrors his action, and he turns away before she does, heading back to his car the way he came.

“That was kind of you.”

Kuroo stops suddenly in the middle of the crowded pavement and someone bumps face first into his back. He waves a hand and apologies sheepishly at the disgruntled businessman who hurries along with a sour look on his face. Akaashi, on the other hand, says nothing and watches as his friend stumbles his way through basic social interaction.

“Were you spying on me again?” Kuroo sighs, and gestures for him to follow. Akaashi pushes himself off the wall with a kick and falls into step beside him. “Coffee?”

“The one two streets down has good seating,” Akaashi points out, and Kuroo hums, changing direction. “And yes, I was spying. It’s my job, Tetsu, the one you gave me.”

“The beast is free! Nobody is safe!” Kuroo cries dramatically with a hand over his heart. Akaashi rolls his eyes.

“Not men who slink off to abandoned train stations to meet up with girls.”

“Well? What’s the verdict?”

“The verdict is: you didn’t ask her very much.” Akaashi doesn’t sound accusing, only objective, and Kuroo feels grateful once again for so much tact built into one man. If it were Oikawa, or Nishinoya, he’d never hear the end of it. Or Tsukishima- it’d probably be inscribed onto his gravestone for all he knew. “You seemed moved. Do you trust her?”

“I think so,” Kuroo replies slowly, “oddly enough, she didn’t lie once.”

“A lot of people don’t lie about what they believe in. You’ve just been in this business too long.”

“I guess you could say so.”

Akaashi sighs again, this time fondly with a tinge of chastisement. Kuroo hangs his head at the sound. He doesn’t quite know what he did in a past life to deserve such a friend, but any time he tries to imagine life without Akaashi he feels a little part of his soul curl up and die.

“You’re really obtuse for an intelligent person; you should take a holiday and see if those brain cells grow back.”

“I don’t get paid for days off unless I’ve a doctor’s note,” Kuroo jokes, but Akaashi’s quiet, and Kuroo knows that his joke falls flat in the face of actual worry. “Maybe, ‘Kaashi,” he amends, “if I have some peace and quiet, maybe.”

“It’ll help,” comes the gentle reply, and Kuroo feels a warm hand brush against his. He takes it, and squeezes. “Maybe you’ll find some things you’ve lost over time.” Akaashi squeezes back. “Maybe you’ll realize why she didn’t seem quite the way you thought when you showed up.”

“You know absolutely everything, don’t you? You should have gone in my place with a mask of my face and would’ve done a better job being me than I did.”

“Obviously. But not everyone is as blind as you are, Tetsu,” and Kuroo laughs openly at that. “How anyone thinks that you’re intimidating is beyond me.”

“Dude, I’m just a cat pretending to know what I’m doing. All I really want in life is to sleep.”

“I see no inaccuracies in that statement.”

Kuroo smiles straight ahead, and something tells him that Akaashi is doing the same. Whatever strain he had been feeling earlier after his impromptu meeting seems to be melting right through his arm and out from the hand that still has Akaashi’s gripped softly in it.

“You missed your date, by the way.” Akaashi, Kuroo’s personal keeper, calendar and mother, adds.

Kuroo closes his eyes and tilts his head up towards the sky like he’s praying. “I know. I just ignored the messages.”

“And the phone calls.”

“And the phone calls,” Kuroo agrees.

“Do you want to be known to women as something other than a dick? Because I’ve got some news for you,” asks Akaashi, and Kuroo grins.

“I don’t care what women think. Do you think I’m a dick?”

“Quite a small one.”

“Ouch,” and Akaashi laughs. They’re almost there, their hands still linked in solidarity and companionship, and they push through the busy crowd with double the shoulders.

“Bokuto’s asked after you too,” Akaashi says, this time a little quieter, afraid to be overheard, “and I know you never avoid his messages.”

“Bokuto, my man! Does he just want to talk? Or has he painted some anti-government propaganda again, because I swear to god I can’t bail him out of trouble every damn time. How does he even manage to get his galleries set up when he’s always running from the police?”

“That’s a lot of frustration,” Akaashi smirks, “and I can answer all those questions for you but I shan’t. Be a decent person and catch up with your friends once in a while, please.”

“Aye aye, ma’am.”

The barista welcomes them with a bright smile the moment they step in, and Kuroo finds it surprisingly easy to return the greeting with equal vigor. Akaashi was right- the seating is fantastic, and they pick out a small corner next to a window facing a tall skyscraper opposite. He’s tempted to close his eyes and sink into a very deep sleep in his very comfortable armchair.

“No more caffeine for you,” Akaashi gives him a mild stink eye, “but I’ll get you fruit juice.”

He spins away immediately when Kuroo blows him a sloppy kiss, but Kuroo catches a glimpse of the small smile anyway. He watches as Akaashi joins the line with his trademark, unimpressed expression, and wonders if he should text several apologies now that he has a moment to spare. Kuroo pulls out his phone wearily and stares at it for a few moments before dropping it onto his slumped chest.

Eh, he had time, and a small nap wouldn’t hurt anyone.