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risuola · 1 year ago

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PROMISE pt. 2 — F. READER x GOJO SATORU

Satoru promised he will never leave you.

cw: fluff, manga spoilers (more like the fight between two characters from chapters 223-235 is mentioned, no details whatsoever), FIX IT FIC because we need one, reader is pregnant – labor is briefed through — 1,5k words

a/n: one of TWO endings to PROMISE – this one is fluffy, it’s a fix-it fic if you will, it’s happy and pretty. If you’re feeling angsty, if you want to rub some salt into the wounds, check THIS ANGSTY alternate ending out!

He made a promise, so he had to keep it.

It all felt abstract. Was Satoru really able to win? You knew he’s strong, hell, he’s the strongest, but still, can he beat Sukuna? Your breath hitched, you began feeling dizzy, and your stomach really began to hurt. Just few moments ago you felt like your little princess was sleeping, but as the time progressed, you began feeling pain. Your stress had to get to her finally and with all of your might you tried to calm yourself down even if only a little to not put your little one under the pressure of your nerves.

“Y/n?” Shoko squeezed your shoulder, “come with me, you really should breathe some air.”

“Huh?” You couldn’t even look at her, you were afraid that the second you take your eyes from the screens, something bad will happen. But you knew the worry in Ieiri’s voice, she spoke like this only when she faced something serious. “N-no, I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“Come.”

You didn’t know why she insisted, but you moved with great hesitance. And then it got to you.

In a matter of minutes, you were in another room, alone with Ieiri, as she was ordering people to gather everything needed because the moment you got in here, your waters broke. Yuji had to run for towels and clean clothes (which he did in a matter of few minutes) and Choso brought gloves and bottled water, because he insisted to help his brother. It’s not the best time, you thought. Your daughter still had a month to go, it wasn’t her time yet, but there wasn’t much you could do. It all happened too quickly, but maybe it was happening for a little while now and simply you were too focused on watching the fight, your mind too absent from what your own body signalized, because when Shoko checked, you were already fully dilated.

You imagined that day differently. Certain that it will be Ieiri who will deliver your baby, but you hoped for Satoru to be here, to keep your hand in his protective grip and you hoped for Megumi to meet his little step-sister. You thought it’ll look differently, that it won’t be a random, quite dingy room god knows where, you hoped it won’t be in the middle of a war. All of this didn’t matter, when you pushed for the first time. The adrenaline rushed through your bloodstream, your ear turned deaf to everything Shoko was saying, you just followed what your own body told you, pushing through the pain breathlessly for what felt like eternity.

And then, all of it was over. You barely registered when you cleaned up, dressed and Shoko used her abilities to heal your body enough for you to fight if needed. You walked back to take your place in front of the many screens, holding a newborn to your chest and with relief you noticed, Satoru was still standing.

“You alright?” Yuta asked, giving your shoulder a soft squeeze as he stood behind you.

“Yes. How’s he?” you replied, trying to analyze the battlefield. Satoru was still there, Sukuna was also looking good, all things considered. You should probably focus more on what just happened to you, but how could you, when your entire world was standing on the battlefield?

“Don’t worry about him so much, y/n. It’s Satoru Gojo we’re talking about. Better tell me how is she?”

She. Your daughter, the little bundle of love, now all in your hands. As you smoothed over the little cheek of your sleeping princess, you couldn’t help but wonder, if her coming to this world made even a fraction of a change that your husband’s birth made. She sure altered the balance of your world.

What you didn’t know, her appearance reached Satoru’s senses all the way back on the battlefield, and he grinned at the feeling. It’s like a wave of something unknown but at the same time very familiar hit him in the face and it gave him a kick of strength he never knew he needed. Now, he couldn’t lose. Not that he was planning to, but now, he just couldn’t.

“Oi, Megumi,” he called, looking at Sukuna that for the last couple of seconds stood there frozen, unable to move because the new, unknown feeling reached him as well. “You can feel her, right? Time to wake up Megs.”

“So naïve,” the curse chuckled, snapping out from the initial shock, “you still believe he’s gonna come back because of some brat being born? Oh, no, and let me tell you, once I’m done with you, I’ll make sure she’ll also be dea-“

The taunting tone was cut short when Ryomen tensed. Disoriented, he looked down at his hands, struggling to clench them into fists as they became stiff, fingers barely moving under the pressure of his muscles, as if he lost control over his own body. He groaned, pushing through with the movement, but stopped again, unable to make another step. Black markings glitched over his face and Gojo grinned wide.

“Good job, Megumi,” he praised. “Welcome back, kid.”

And then a rasped-out scream ripped through Sukuna’s throat, the one that’s desperate and annoyed, helpless once again as the vessel he had settled in began fighting him. So much work he had put into preparing Megumi’s soul to sink deep down into darkness, killing his sister, doing the ancient bath ritual, and now all of his efforts came into nothing, because what?

“G-gojo-“ a voice, much more familiar slipped over the tongue in Sukuna’s mouth. “Tsumiki, she’s dead, I-“

“It wasn’t you, Megumi,” Satoru cooed. “Suppress him, you can do it.”

“I can’t let him hurt my sister once again,” Fushiguro struggled, but the marks became more and more faded, and Sukuna’s cursed energy less and less apparent.

“Oh no, you definitely can’t.”

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. You couldn’t hear anything, Mei’s crows provided only with vision, but even without voices, you could tell something odd was happening. Megumi was fighting back, Satoru’s shoulders relaxed just slightly, but his features betrayed the relief he felt, the happiness interlaced through his features, clearly pictured by his wide smile.

And then, just like that, maybe few minutes passed, when he was right in front of you, kneeling before you. You could feel the touch of his hands over your legs, his warmth crawling over your skin.

“Hello there,” he said casually, his tone soft and plush as if he wasn’t just battling the king of curses for god knows how long.

“Satoru,” his name slipped through your parted mouth. You couldn’t believe he was there, and as you looked up and to the side, Megumi was there too, with no signs of black cursed markings adorning his light skin and his hair pushed down, just as he would usually style it, probably being a result of Gojo’s hand messing with it. He smiled softly, keeping his distance, but you could tell his soul was in the right place. Sukuna that now was trapped inside of him would be another day’s problem, you figured.

“Welcome back, love,” your husband brought your attention back to him. “And hello, little princess,” he then pushed his face upon the baby in your arms, examining the tiny miracle that you held close to your heart. He looked into the blue irises of his daughter, smiling at the familiar color that surrounded by light eyelashes created a picture of mini him, but somehow, even better, because he could already see this cute nose of yours, the soft, feminine features that she inherited from you. “So I was right, she does have the same cute nose as you.”

“Oh, Satoru,” you sobbed quietly, brushing your hand through his white strands of hair, now sticky from all the blood that got into it. “Is that really over?”

“For now, it is. Our boy is back, I’ll figure out how to tame Sukuna inside of him later.”

“Come here,” you reached a hand to Megumi, but he hesitated, afraid that he’ll lost control and hurt you or his little sister. Eventually, he gave up underneath your demanding gaze and you took him into you, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

Two strong arms of your husband then enveloped the three of you in the loving embrace and you couldn’t help but smile, finding his dried-out lips and pressing a kiss to them.

“I’m so glad you won,” you whispered to him, resting your forehead against his. “I’m so glad I have both of you back.”

Satoru just chuckled and Megumi smiled softly. Little that you know, it’s only because of the wave of new, fresh energy that bore so much of Satoru’s unique signature that spread all over the world the moment she was out of your womb. It’s her that gave your husband another impulse to act and it’s her who saved your foster son from losing himself completely.

Satoru promised he will never leave you. He promised that to your daughter and she herself made sure, he’ll keep that promise.

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zonotrichia-albicollis · 4 months ago

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I didn’t even like my great aunt very much. I always called her my Fox News aunt. She got weird and distant during covid and I just assumed it was because she was a Republican.

Then last year when she totally cut us off I assumed it was because she was transphobic because. I have 3 trans sisters and she’s a Republican.

But now I know that she was opening bank accounts with this random man all the way back in 2020. She was believing all these insane rumors he told her about us stealing from her or accusing her of affairs or even weirder stuff I don’t want to get into.

And she stopped hanging out with her friends too, not just us. Even her best friends who were at Christmas dinner every year my whole life, she stopped spending time with anyone except this creep and his (probably abused) longterm girlfriend.

I didn’t even like her. But the more I’m digging into this stuff, the more I’m realizing that the person I didn’t like wasn’t even really her anymore. I wrote her off when she was getting taken advantage of. I’m an Alzheimer’s geneticist and I’ve read so much about elder abuse and all I did was go “huh that’s kinda suspicious” when she signed over her estate to this guy.

And now she died believing my grandma hated her. and grandma has to live with the knowledge that her dying sister was taken advantage of by the handyman that grandma introduced her to. and it’s too late for any of us to do anything about it.

Giant personal vent time

This guy stole somewhere between 3 to 6 MILLION dollars from my grandmother by conning my great aunt into signing over her estate and medical & financial power of attorney to him literally on her death bed

I and my aunt have been working basically a whole second job the last 3 months trying to get together a legal case to go after this guy. And now my grandma wants to drop it. And no one else has standing so what the fuck can we do.

This man has absolutely done this to other ppl before, there is no doubt in my mind. I’ve seen his property records for just what’s publicly available in my county and it’s sketchy as hell. I am never going to get over this but there’s nothing I can do.

Gonna put like a million more thoughts in the tags because I’m losing my fucking mind.

#I know the legal system isn’t actually designed to protect people #but I still really thought there would be a way to make this work #I just can’t believe he’s gonna get away with this #but I know it’s not worth grandma dying over #and it really is noticeably speeding up her memory loss #but is there really no other way?#and she’s 80 years old and she’s going to lose her job because of this guy #and her sisters business that they ran together for decades is going to die with them #but what the fuck can I do. why do I even care #I never even met my step cousins until all this happened #and grandma was gonna have to retire soon anyway #and she can afford to retire #but when her sister died I was so scared she was gonna lose her will to live and die right after her #and I feel like once she’s not working anymore it’s 50/50 whether she goes like full church lady mode #or just sits alone at home resenting this one guy until she totally deteriorates #6 months ago I was worrying about whether I should be moving in with her because I was worried about her safety #and now I’m putting her through all this stress and pain trying to help fight this guy who totally screwed her over #Im not sure what I’m even invested in this for #like who is it helping? rationally it feels like it would help everyone more to just accept this #and focus on getting her ready for a comfortable retirement with a good home memory care aide #but the sense of injustice is killing me #and I know it’s hurting her that things ended up so bad #but maybe it’s not hurting her as much as pursuing a whole years long legal case in her 80s would hurt her #but this guy is just gonna walk away with all that money and zero consequences for his actions?#for taking my great aunt away from her whole family?#and letting her die thinking none of her kids cared and all her friends were just there for her money?#Im so mad. I’m never going to stop being mad about this

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petricorah · 1 year ago

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zukka ficlet - knee pain 1.6k

“Bleeding hog monkeys,” Sokka cursed through gritted teeth as the leather strap on his knee brace finally snapped off. It had been weakened in their last fight with Fire Nation stragglers. A few groups were less than excited about the new fire lord’s orders—aka, to stop the attempt at world domination—and had finally decided to fight back. The gaang had been traveling the past few months to subdue them. Sokka insisted he was going to help, even though his knee, still wounded from falling during their fight with the airships, wasn’t as agreeable than his mind. Putting aside his slight lack of speed and faulty reactions in battle, it was causing him insurmountable pain. He had engineered a knee brace to help, and it had reduced the stress on his joints and allowed him to fight closer to his previous abilities, but the brace was now nothing more than a tattered mess of singed leather and half melted buckles.

Sokka balled up the frayed array of straps and chuckled it into the river he was sitting next to—an action that sent pain clambering up his leg, and making him yelp with a certain high pitched sound that certainly wasn’t manly.

“Sokka?”

Sokka immediately flinched into upright position. “Z-Zuko,” he chirped, attempting to casually lean against the rock he was standing near as Zuko emerged from the woods. “Fire Lord Zuko. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Zuko rolled his eyes and walked up. “I told you to stop calling me that." He came to a stop in front of him, and Sokka couldn't help but admire him. His hair was getting even longer now, and it suited him.

It had been quite some time since the coronation. Lots of time together, working to undo the damage his father had done. Both by his side in the fire nation as his ambassador, and now, traveling again. So much had changed, and while he certainly looked more regal now, with his long hair and patterned robes, he still made Sokka's heart race like he had at boiling rock all that time ago. Perhaps even more so, as they'd continued to get closer as they worked—

"Dinner’s almost gone, and you weren’t back yet.” A teasing smile played at Zuko's lips, despite his attempts to appear stoic and wise. “I thought you were stuck in a hole.”

“Hey!” Sokka said, with an accusing wave of his finger. “You weren’t there for that.”

“Toph told me,” Zuko said. “Several times.”

Sokka clicked his tongue in embarrassment, feeling his cheeks warm. Damn Toph. In an attempt to make up for her and Zuko’s lack of a life-changing bonding trip, she’d taken to telling any story that made Zuko laugh—and most of those tended to be at Sokka’s expense.

“But I see you’re above ground,” Zuko said, his golden eyes passing over Sokka, seeming to glow in the dim light. “And in one piece. So what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Sokka said with a fake lofty air.

“You’re missing dinner,” Zuko said. “And it’s pig hen, your favorite.”

He never could get anything past him.

Sokka sighed in defeat and blew air to move a strand of hair from his face. “My knee hurts. I was trying to fix the brace, and I couldn’t, so it’s going to hurt more until I can get materials to make a new one.”

“You told Katara it didn’t hurt.” The words came in Zuko’s standoffish deadpan. Sometimes it was hard to tell when Zuko was just stating a fact in his rough voice or when he was being belligerent.

“Yeah, well. She’s having fun with Aang tonight. They’re all gross and obnoxiously lovey-dovey.” His looked away, at anything other than Zuko’s intense expression. Maybe if he studied the ants on the ground enough it would teleport him out of this conversation. “I’m not going to ruin that by making her bend water over my knee for an hour and then be all worried after.” He shook his head, and then met Zuko’s eyes again with what he hoped was a convincing smile. “It’s fine.”

Zuko’s stare was unnervingly sharp. Deadly. It was similar to the look he used to give them when they were about to fight, or the look he gave conniving fire lord generals who were faithful to his father’s old ways. Like he was really fucking angry and the only thing stopping him from setting things ablaze was Iroh’s voice in his head telling him to breathe.

But in an instant, it was gone.

“I’ll do it,” Zuko said curtly.

Sokka snorted. “You’ll do what?”

“I’ll work on your knee.”

“Yeah, thanks, but I don’t need my skin melted. When I do, I’ll give you a call.”

“Pain relief,” Zuko corrected, glaring at him like it should have been obvious that Zuko wasn't suggesting amputation by agonizing flame. “I’ve been…working on it. Uncle said the elements can learn from each other, so I figured there must be a way. I know your knee has been hurting so…I’ve been practicing.” He nervously rubbed the back of his hair. “It will help. Make it feel better, if only for a bit.”

Sokka blinked, staring at him with wide eyes. Zuko did all that for him? For him?

But Zuko’s pointed gaze snapped back to him, making Sokka’s heart flinch.

“It isn’t a choice. Either you do it with me or you ask Katara.” He stalked forward, almost threateningly, making Sokka take a half step back. “It would have been in a better place by now if you had rested at first. You can’t keep hurting yourself and pretending like it doesn’t matter—”

“Okay,” Sokka said, putting his hands up with a gentle laugh. Only Zuko would show he cared by trying to intimidate Sokka into taking care of himself. “Okay, we’ll do it.” He snorted, trying to offset the real emotions he was feeling with a joke. “What am I gonna do, run away from you?”

Zuko’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not funny.”

Sokka blinked. Maybe it would have been funnier if he hadn’t landed on his bad knee after saving Zuko from an arrow, but that was neither here nor there.

So he gave in and sat down, awkwardly, not knowing exactly how to react at what was about to happen.

Zuko knelt in front of him, which was already an image that made Sokka’s head spin, and then he rolled up Sokka’s pant leg, making Sokka’s entire body tense in embarrassment. But he didn’t stop him. He was just relieved that Zuko was so concentrated on his knee that he wasn’t noticing how much Sokka was blushing.

Zuko did a small motion with his hand, and flames erupted from his palm. But he concentrated, his eyes narrowed, and the bright orange fire subsided into a snaking ring that began to spin, controlled and glowing. It almost…moved like water.

Zuko placed it above Sokka’s knee, enough so the warmth radiated across his skin but didn’t burn.

Sometimes Sokka couldn’t fathom it. That someone he used to hate, sometimes even fear, was now someone he trusted so completely he’d allow him to not only bend next to him, but use it to help him, now, when he was vulnerable.

The heat was intense. Not unpleasant, but intense. Almost like it was blocking out the pain as it radiated up his leg, settling in his chest.

He let out a sigh, slowly settling into the position as the tension seeped from his shoulders. He hadn’t felt this painless in…a long time.

“I…I never did say thank you,” Zuko murmured. Zuko’s lashes were long, eyes downcast as he worked the flames under his hands. “For earlier.”

“You better not be doing this because you feel guilty,” he said. “Because I’ve saved your life about a hundred times by now. With that logic, you’ll be doing me favors until we’re both old men.”

Zuko chuckled. It was a low, good sound. A sound that made Sokka feel like he won a prize every time he earned it. A sound that made Sokka want to drop everything else and just focus on making Zuko smile.

“Gladly,” Zuko said with a low smile. “I’d do pretty much anything for you, Sokka.”

Sokka stilled, everything else fading from his view as he met Zuko’s golden eyes.

“But I’m not doing this out of guilt,” he continued. The heat pressed on, and the pain was gone from his mind. “I’m doing this so you don’t stubbornly give yourself chronic pain. Because I care about your knee,” he said. The flames dimmed, but his hand still glowed, and he slowly placed his palm against his knee. Sokka could feel the heat, and his heart was squeezing in his chest—

“And I care about you.”

His hand was still there. It was a marvel that Sokka’s brain was still functioning enough to form the thought that Zuko’s hand was on his knee as he stared up at him, saying that he cared about him.

Now. He should tell him he loves him now, right now, before he lost his nerve, again—

“Zuko, I…”

“We should get back,” Zuko said with a breeziness that Aang would have been proud of, and Sokka felt a rush of cold air as Zuko’s hand left him. Zuko stood, brushing himself off.

Sokka’s stomach dropped with a mixture of alarm and disappointment as the moment went up in smoke before his eyes. “Thanks,” he managed to blurt out.

“No problem,” he said. “Just one of the hundred of favors I owe you, right?”

“Right,” Sokka said in a faint voice. He let out a nervous, bubbling laugh. “We’ll have to grow old together just so you have time to make it all even.”

“Wouldn’t want it any other way.” Zuko smiled warmly. Of course it was warm. Everything about Zuko was warm.

Spirits. This would be the death of him, wouldn’t it? Loving this man who was so dense he would never catch onto any of Sokka’s flirting, and being so helplessly and terrifyingly in love he’d rather take an arrow to the heart than risk ruining their friendship? Was this just his fate now?

He stood, and subsequently staggered, his legs wobbly from a reason completely different than the pain from earlier, but Zuko steadied him. His warm hands holding his arm, the other on the small of his back, and he was so close that Sokka could smell the scent of smoke that followed him.

“You good?” Zuko’s voice was tinged with concern, sparking in his ear. “Is it still in pain?”

“No,” Sokka said quickly. “Just getting…used to it. It feels better. It feels great. I-I can’t wait for you to do it again.” Please.

Zuko blinked, some unreadable shock in his eyes at the words that had just tumbled from Sokka’s mouth, but his smile twitched onto his face. “I’m glad it worked,” he said. “And I can carry you. If it helps.”

Sokka’s face lit up in a blush and he smacked Zuko’s chest. “I do not need you to carry me.” I certainly couldn’t handle you carrying me. “Just…this. This is enough.”

Zuko readjusted, allowing Sokka to hold onto his forearm, the two slowly making their way back to camp. The pain from his knee was distant as he talked to Zuko about the earlier battles, relishing in ever laugh that he got.

Yeah.

This would be enough.

#zukka fic #zukka fanfic #zukka #myfic #me: let me just write this exact same scenario but a little to the left #kdjsdfk #chronic pain cw

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saintsir4n · 8 months ago

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CALM DOWN

in which brian gets mad!

___

“Hey! Hey! Back off — Vince outside, put down the vase, you’re not breakin’ shit in my house. Brian go upstairs, Summer you go with him, clean those bruised hands,” Dom’s voice carried through the living room that was practically turned on its head. One small conversation turned into a big argument and then it eventually got physical. “What did I say? No fighting on Sundays. It’s a day for family and you two do the exact opposite, so now everyone cool off until dinner's ready.”

Vince scoffed, his glare never left Brian’s retreating figure until Leon and Jesse pushed him outside. Letty followed Dom, deciding to help him with the rest of the food prep, whilst Mia and KeKe helped pick up anything broken to toss in the trash.

Carson rolled her eyes as she joined Brian in the upstairs bathroom. Her dress would’ve gotten ruined if she hadn’t moved away from her boyfriend who had tussled with Vince until Dom got involved and pulled them apart with Jesse and Leon’s help.

Brian was against the sink, watching as she pulled out the first aid kit in silence, brows pinching together when she didn’t say anything to him, and just sighed to herself.

“You’re gonna give me the silent treatment, really?” He exacerbated, as she pulled out bandaids, cotton pads and hydrogen peroxide.

“Just stop movin’,” she muttered when she got him to wash his hands.

“He insults us and I get the cold shoulder? I don’t believe this, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

She frowned, “There are no sides Brian, and drop that base from your voice, I’m not the problem here.”

He laughed in disbelief, “Oh, and I am?”

“I never said that," she sighed, trying to wipe the cuts as he winced at the pain.

“You’re not denying it," Brian stressed, annoyed that she didn't have a problem with it.

“You didn’t have to react," Carson hated violence and her boyfriend seemed to be constantly around it.

He scoffed, “So I’m just supposed to take his shit.”

“I never said that either," she retorted, "Hold still." Brian cursed when the hydrogen peroxide coursed over his open wounds, "Sorry."

“Then what are you sayin’? ‘Cause to me it just sounds like you think I’m in the wrong," he gritted out, body digging into the sink as he felt some pain. "That I’m the issue, and I should just sit back and let guys like Vince walk all over me.”

She rose a brow, “Guys like Vince?”

He rolled his eyes, “Here we go.”

“Here we go what?” She looked at him, seeing how heated he was getting about this.

“You’re focusin’ on that, really?”

“He’s my family so watch how you talk about him," she exclaimed.

“I’m your boyfriend and you’re actin’ like that don’t mean nothin’”

“You know that’s not true," her shoulders slumped. "You mean so much to me. Brian, you know that.”

“Do I?”

“You know you do.” She paused, pulling out a large bandage and cut it in half, “It’s just…”

“It’s just what?”

“You didn’t have to punch him," she stressed, applying some cream before wrapping his wounds.

“Yes, I did," he groaned, as she took a step back, “We hold hands and it’s a problem, we smile at each other it’s a problem, You sit on my lap and we kiss suddenly he can’t take it anymore and makes digs. If it’s at me I get it, he hates me, but the second he calls you naive, or an idiot, I'm not gonna sit back and do nothin'."

"Well I can see that," Carson gestured to his sore hands, "and I'm not some pushover, I can handle Vince, I'm just tired of the drama."

"He's the drama," he said, calmer.

"Says the guy with bloody fists," she teased, putting away the first aid kit and coming to stand between his legs.

"Well, they match his busted lip."

She couldn't help but laugh, "I appreciate you defending me, I do."

"I'll always defend you, you know that," Brian wouldn't let any harm come to her, even if it was just stupid words.

"But you need to keep that temper under control, you could've ripped my dress."

"Let me see," he cooed, trailing his hand down to the hem, "Sorry baby."

"Yeah I know, it's fine just calm down sometimes," she pleaded, with a pout.

"I'll calm down when he learns that I can kiss you whenever I want," Brian said, sternly, snaking his arms around her waist, "touch you, take you out and he can't do a damn thing because we're together alright? or I'll start thinkin' he's actin' more like a jealous ex and less like a brother."

"Alright, alright, you’re all cleaned up," she gently patted his chest, "lets go."

"Wait, wait, wait, let me kiss you, before we go down stairs, couldn't wanna get interrupted again would we?"

Carson laughed into the kiss.

—

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year ago

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The Bargain 2

Sequel to THIS

Warnings: financial stress and abuse, coercion, and some possible unmentioned triggers.

Character: Nick Fowler

Summary: Nick comes to reap his end of the deal.

As always, I appreciate all kinds of feedback. A like and reblog means so much to me! <3

Your mother thanks Constance for her tea. The nurse smiles and gives a soft ‘you’re welcome’ before offering anything else she may need. Your mother shakes her head and groans, lifting the steaming cup as hovers her hand over her hip, a gesture of her persistent pain.

She looks drawn. She doesn’t really have many good days. That day, she did her best. When you told her company was coming, she let you put on her makeup and chose favourite dress. Even though you told her she didn’t need to do all that. But you do.

You look down at yourself. A simple cobalt dress with short bishop sleeves. You did your best as well. That’s what you promised.

The doorbell rings. Constance comes out from the next room, “should I get that?” You nod, frozen in the silence. You wait and listen in dread.

Nick enters but you don’t glance over. You see his shadow but refuse to see him. You fight to keep your cool. You not break and holler at him to leave. This isn’t about you.

“Ah, sorry, I’m late,” he comes to you and kisses your cheek, his hand on the small of your back before he steps away. He nears your mother, “you must be Angela.”

“It’s a pleasure,” your mother offers her hand. He takes it and bends to kiss her cheek as well, “oh, you are so polite,” she preens, “I’m sorry, I wish I could get up.”

“No, not at all,” he assures, “I trust your daughter explained that I have everything planned. I reserved a private walk down the greenhouse for us, I heard you're a fan of roses, then there’s a nice teahouse nearby. They do a great royal lunch.”

“That all sounds wonderful. I will try to keep my energy up.”

“Of course, Angela. If you feel like we need to go at any time,” he offers, “I’m just happy to finally get to meet you.”

“Me too. My daughter… she never keeps secrets. To be fair, this was the last secret I thought she’d ever keep. She’s not the sort for relationships.”

“Yes, I know. I did have to work at her,” he retreats to stand with you, “it was worth it.”

“Yeah, sorry, mom,” you force out through your tight throat.

Nick takes your hand, his palm rough against yours.

“How rude of me, not to mention how beautiful you look, I love that colour on you, Angela,” he praises.

“Me, look at my daughter,” she swoons.

“Trust me, I can’t stop,” Nick turns to you, tugging you close. He presses his lips to your cheek again, “how lucky I am to get to do so for the rest of our lives.”

“Aw, so sweet,” your mother remarks, “I hope you don’t mind if I finish my tea first. I need the caffeine, my medications really tire me out.”

“Take your time, I’ll go get the car ready,” he affirms. He leans into you, lowering his voice as his lips tickle your temple, “I see you’re taking good care of her, sweetheart.”

You stiffen and nod, holding your smile. Your mother doesn’t notice the tension as she dabs a dribble of tea on her lip. She looks at the tissue dramatically. “Oh, dear, you’ll have to help me with my lipstick again.”

“Yes, mom,” you murmur.

“I’ll take good care of you,” Nick whispers sultrily against your ear, “as long as you do the same.”

He pulls back and pinches your chin between his thumb and knuckle. He makes you face him and you peer into his deep blue irises. He kisses you softly. Your mother aws from across the room.

“Now, let me just go get everything ready,” he squeezes your hand and slowly draws away, “this is going to be a great day, right, ladies?”

You nod and your mother sings her elation. Nick leaves and you stare after him. Your cheek twitches where he kissed it.

“He’s so nice, sweetheart,” your mother says airily, “I’m so happy you found someone like him. And his eyes, so gorgeous.”

“Mhmm,” you hum, and swallow tightly, “I’m so… lucky.”

#drabble #the bargain #nick fowler #dark nick fowler #dark!nick fowler #nick fowler x reader #the 355

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leejenowrld · 11 months ago

Note

I HAVE QUESTIONS!!!

for yn and jeno

- what songs do you dedicate to each other? like what songs do you think of when you think of the other?

- is there anything you regret (sexually?)

- how does it feel when you see the other upset and mad?

- do you get along with each others friends?

- who’s louder in bed?

- jeno, what’s your opinion on what seoyeon did to yn that one time?

<3333 i love this

what songs do you dedicate to each other?

yn - i love you by little mix. it’s a strong love ballad. i really resonate with the lyrics. it’s emotional, it’s powerful, it makes me happy, it makes me cry, it gives me life. the song perfectly encapsulates what it’s like to love lee jeno and what it feels like to be loved by him

jeno - here with me by dVvd, i don’t care what happens in my life, as long as i’m with yn then it’s all that matters. i just want her by my side, with me. we belong with each other.

(jeno) nothing on you by bruno mars, i wanna be yours, moments by one direction,

(yn) pretty boy the neighbourhood, style by taylor swift, glue song by beabadoobaee

is there anything you regret sexually?

yn - hm, i mean, not really? we always have fun and we always talk about what we should explore/what we liked and what we didn’t really like.

jeno - fuck no.

how does it feel when you see the other upset/mad?

yn - jeno gets upset very rarely. i’ve seen him cry like 3 times in the years we’ve been together. and each time killed me. if i think about it now then i will sob. you know that something hits jeno hard when it causes him to cry. all i could do was comfort him and hold him as he sobbed into my shoulder :( he cried himself to sleep all three times. i tried to hide my tears from him and not show him that i was getting upset but we ended up crying to each other all 3 times :( i want nothing in the world to ever hurt my man. like i will become violent at anyone or anything that makes him feel that way

and when he’s mad? oh he gets mad a lot. it’s not that difficult to calm him down for me, i’ve become quite good at it. i sit attentively and listen to him as he lets it out and then i actively calm him down, kisses on his temple, holding his hands, rubbing his shoulder, rubbing his cheek with my thumb, whispering softly to him. it’s all the small things that calms him down. he becomes very overwhelmed with anger and it’s gotten him into many fights, verbal and physical. he isn’t afraid to defend what’s right and that’s what i love about him, his priorities are so strong <3 there hasn’t been a time where he’s been in the wrong or he’s picked a fight for the wrong reasons. he doesn’t ever pick them. he’s mature.

jeno - yn gets quite sad and emotional, she probably cries in my arms every week and it hurts me every single time. she’s very sensitive and i don’t wanna call my girl weak but she takes a lot of things to heart, she feels everything and she feels it a lot. she can’t deal well with confrontation or any sign of misunderstandings and she just bursts open in my arms and lets everything out :( when she’s upset she begins hyperventilating and sobbing really loudly, she can’t get her words out and she shakes. so the first thing i do is drop everything for her and just hold her, put her in my arms, massage her hair, kiss her forehead, look into her eyes and whisper sweet things to her. i just wait for her to calm down before we start talking. it takes a while sometimes, sometimes she’s able to recover quickly. whichever one it is, i’m always so proud of her. she’s so strong. we always talk about what’s on her mind and what’s made her upset and i try my best to guide her through it and help her on what she has to do, i try to give her good advice. i’m so endlessly proud of her. she just has a big heart and gets overwhelmed a lot. i wish i could take away her pain.

jeno - my girlfriend doesn’t get mad, she has so much patience, more patience than i will ever have. but she can get snappy when she’s stressed and under high pressure. it’s okay though, it’s nothing serious. 9/10 she will always come into my arms and kiss me all over my face and apologise for being snappy with me

do you get along with each others friends?

yn - yeah! i love them. at first i was really shy and they all probably thought i was anti social. i’m sure they wasn’t too keen on me but i hope i’ve changed their minds :) they’re chill and good company, they make jeno happy and that’s all that matters. they’re incredibly caring and protective too. i’m someone who gets suffocated in the presence of others but none of jenos friends make me feel that way :)

jeno - yn has like… maybe three friends and one of them is me 😭 i’m joking. yn’s main friend is heejin and i do love her. mainly after seeing how good of a friend she is to yn. she always protects and defends her and she makes my girlfriend happy. yn has a habit of not defending herself, she lets people shit on her and treat her like crap but heejin always fights for her and it warms my heart. she fights back to all the girls who are so unnecessarily rude and bitchy to yn. once she punched seoyeon in the face and wow… i’m glad because she does things that i can’t do

who’s louder in bed?

yn - definitely jeno

jeno - what the fuck? it’s you

yn - [shakes her head] jeno doesn’t try to be quiet. he wants everyone to hear. it’s a kink i think. he says the dirtiest of things at the top of his lungs

jeno - it’s 100% yn. she will scream at the top of her lungs all night long. she will scream daddy, baby and jeno the most. even when she’s tired and so fucked out of her mind she still forces herself to have the energy to scream one more ‘JENO’ or ‘DADDY!!’

yn - he doesn’t care who hears or sees him, that’s why he always fucks me in the living room or in public, he wants people to see.

jeno - says the girl who rode my dick on the train home

yn - there was like one other person in the carriage and she was old and blind anyways!

jeno - well she wasn’t death, she could hear you moaning ‘daddy’

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sickficideas · 1 year ago

Text

no promises || kunizai sickfic

ao3! 7.4k, mild nsfw/emeto themes - please refer to this link for warnings/tags! request for @potatopersonal on ao3!!

"Is Atsushi -"

"We've got it under control, Dazai. I need you to take this, you're the only one in any real danger here and you know that," Yosano tells him in that scolding mother voice of hers that often reminds him that she's the older one.

She's holding a cup of activated charcoal, something that he's dreadfully familiar with. He's taken it against his will and of his own accord on many occasions through his time with the Port Mafia, and he thinks even once or twice at the Armed Detective Agency, but this time he's not the culprit of his own demise.

He realizes that Yosano isn't going to give in and that she's really asking him to take it right here, right now - so he does like she's asked of him and somehow manages to down the entire cup without a pause.

It always makes him vomit. Every single time, without fail. The texture is so awful, and on top of that, he thinks his body has developed some sort of gag reflex specifically for this substance because he's taken it so many times against his will.

He and Atsushi were both poisoned downstairs at the cafe just about a half hour ago, he thinks. They only noticed because Atsushi started to feel incredibly unwell. Dazai doesn't know if he didn't get hit as hard because he's been poisoned before, or if Atsushi had much more of the poison than he did - either way, he's much more concerned about him.

This has happened before, this exact scenario, back when Dazai was a Port Mafia Executive. He and Akutagawa were both poisoned in the same way, their drinks being spiked. Dazai's health back then was much worse and it took him a lot longer to recover, but Akutagawa was unconscious for two weeks. Dazai thought he would never wake up. He remembers Gin asking him if he was going to die. He can still remember tears in her eyes that he'd never seen before or since then.

He can't believe he's let this happen twice. Why was he so careless?

"Yosano, he's - is he unconscious?" Dazai hardly manages to choke out before he feels the charcoal push its way back up his esophagus. Yosano's well prepared, of course, with a bedpan under his chin just seconds before a gag forces everything to splatter into the pan. He sucks in a breath and groans.

"He's conscious, and I need you to stay with me, too," Yosano says. Dazai can feel himself getting seriously lightheaded, and obviously it's bad enough for Yosano to notice, too. "I need you to take more of it, I'm sorry."

Dazai doesn't know if he can stay conscious. He can see the black creeping into his peripheral and he knows that's a sign that he's losing the battle. He lets Yosano do what she needs to do and he helps her as much as he can in his half-conscious state. He's really trying to fight it. Yosano forces more of the active charcoal down his throat and it bubbles back up in no time at all. Dazai's not even sure where the vomit ended up this time.

“Put me out of my misery,” he chokes out.

“I can’t do that, Dazai, I’m a licensed physician,” she reminds him for the hundredth time. Mori sure didn’t have a problem trying to help him die, but he didn’t care much about the law. He starts wondering if Mori even had a license at all, but his brain starts to fog up, and his eyes unfocus.

He can hear her saying his name. She sounds desperate, but his body is starting to go numb, and he can't respond. He can't fight it anymore.

At least, if he dies, it won't be painful.

But Atsushi -

…

Kunikida hasn't been this stressed in a long time. He's very aware that his presence stresses Yosano out so he's kept himself out of the infirmary and he's been sitting on a stray chair across from the couch. He's trying to stay calm, but he's deeply concerned for Dazai. Yosano reported that he started seizing, which is a bad sign.

Atsushi is sitting on the couch across from Kunikida, his expression looking just as solemn. He's still hooked up to an IV at Yosano's request with how dehydrated he is. He's only just now started to improve after hours of dealing with a raging fever and vomiting - Yosano thinks that his ability is slowly starting to mend his body and allowing the symptoms to subside, with the help of her own ability. She told him to stay out of the infirmary because she had a feeling the smell of the antiseptic was making him feel worse, with his heightened senses.

Dazai doesn't have anything to help him out. No ability to heal himself, and no possibility of Yosano interfering, so they're not even sure if he should be improving at this point.

"Kunikida?" Atsushi starts. His voice sounds hoarse. He coughs a few times to clear his throat.

"He'll be fine. Don't worry. He's always fine," Kunikida tells him, already knowing what he's going to say. He straightens up. "I want you to go home as soon as Kyoka gets here. You need to rest and I know you won't be doing that here."

"But I don't want to go," Atsushi murmurs. His voice sounds wobbly. He's been crying on and off for hours, Kunikida wouldn't be surprised if he started again now, but he's trying to keep him in good spirits.

"I get it, Atsushi. Trust me," he sighs. He pushes his glasses up to the top of his head and rubs at his eyes. "But you need to look after yourself too."

"Will you tell me if something happens?" Atsushi asks quietly.

"Of course I will."

Thankfully, it's not long until Kyoka is back from the medical supply errand she was asked to run for Yosano. She's incredibly worried about Atsushi, it's obvious even for someone who rarely shows strong emotion. He cries into her shoulder for a while, and she lets him. He's so drained, mentally and physically, that no one tries to cheer him up. Kunikida almost hopes that the tears will tire him out and help him sleep.

They all wish Atsushi well before the two of them leave, and not long after, Yosano makes an appearance back in the office, gathering concerned looks from everyone inside. Fukuzawa has appeared, too.

"He's not improving the way I'd like him to," Yosano says quietly, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm keeping a close eye on him, but if he needs supplemental care I'll have to send him to a hospital."

Kunikida wastes no time in slipping inside the infirmary to see him as Yosano addresses the rest of the staff. He's at the one closest to the door. Kunikida's heart drops when he sees him.

Dazai's frame looks incredibly small and fragile in the cot like this. It's so rare to see him in such a state. Kunikida would have thought this is the kind of thing Dazai would never ever fall victim to, but he supposes every human lets their guard down. Even superhumans like Dazai.

Kunikida isn't sure if he's unconscious or not, but either way, he's in pain. Kunikida can see it in the way his face is all twisted up, the sweat collecting at his hairline. He wants to do something.

He sits down on the cot right beside his and sighs.

"What the hell have you gotten yourself into?" Kunikida sighs.

An hour or so passes, and Kunikida spends his time completely still at Dazai's bedside, trying to stay out of Yosano's way. Ranpo comes back from a job with the Yokohama police and quickly assures them that the attack on Dazai and Atsushi was an angry client of theirs. Ranpo knows who it is, and he's already on the case - and before long, he leaves to catch him, with Kenji in tow to apprehend him by physical means.

Kunikida was starting to worry it had something to do with Dazai's past at the Port Mafia. That would open a whole new can of worms. This is easy, something they can handle with no issue.

"One of my friends up in Tokyo is a poison specialist. I'll take the sample there and he'll help me create an antidote for him without using any abilities, that way it’ll work on him…" Yosano murmurs. Kunikida heard her mention she already tried ability-based antidotes she’s acquired, just in case there were somehow enough degrees of separation for it to work, but with no luck.

Yosano tells him this with a briefcase in hand and her lab coat, something she doesn't wear as often nowadays, letting him know that she's leaving now.

Yosano gives him a list of ranges for his vital signs to look out for, and any symptoms that could appear that would require a hospital visit.

"Shouldn't you stay with him instead?" Kunikida asks nervously, looking up at her. He's not sure about this. Dazai doesn't seem to be doing well at all, for the only doctor on their staff to leave him. God, his stomach is starting to hurt from the stress. “What if he has another seizure?”

"I trust you. If you think he needs to go to the hospital at any point, do that. Don't ask me first," Yosano says. "I know you'll do what's best for him. He hasn’t seized in at least an hour, so I think that’s over with for now.”

Kunikida bites his lip. He hopes she's right.

…

It’s almost eight o’clock in the evening now, and Dazai has been unconscious since the first time he had a seizure.

He’s stable. His vital signs haven’t changed, he hasn’t had any seizures, and Kunikida has checked in with Yosano a few times. She expects him to wake up soon. Kunikida started working himself up, horrified that Dazai has slipped into some sort of coma, but Yosano doesn’t seem to think that’s a possibility.

“Kenji caught the culprit. He’s been placed in a holding cell until they can prove his guilt,” Ranpo says as he hands Kunikida the report. He’s stopped by to hand it off to Kunikida. Kenji has already gone home.

“They didn’t take your word for it?” Kunikida asks, half joking as he thumbs through the pages. Ranpo doesn’t do a very good job at filling these out, so Kunikida usually has to fix most of it for him.

“The guy’s a cop, of course. So they’re protecting him,” Ranpo grumbles, mildly annoyed. “Sounds like he was after Dazai specifically. Couldn’t give me a solid reason, but I know he’s been a client before. He knows something about Dazai’s…previous job. I’m sure.”

Kunikida bites his lip. As long as the guy is behind bars.

“How is he?” Ranpo asks. “Stable?”

“Yeah. Yosano isn’t too worried about him getting worse too quickly,” Kunikida mumbles, “but he’s not getting better.”

“Be careful with him. You know how he gets around Yosano when he’s not in his right mind,” Ranpo warns, and that’s the last thing he says to him before he waves him off and leaves the Agency.

Kunikida finds himself standing at that front door, staring at the report cover, thinking about what Ranpo said. It’s only happened once - Yosano was trying to treat Dazai after he collapsed from a high fever, but he wouldn’t let Yosano touch him. It was the most hysteric that Kunikida has ever seen him. They weren’t sure what was going on, but obviously, Yosano specifically reminded him of someone from his past.

He's pulled out of his thoughts for a moment when he hears something fall.

He tosses the report on his desk and almost sprints over to where the sound came from, certain Dazai is the source of it. He turns into the infirmary and Dazai is crumpled on the floor, turned into himself, arms shaking and breath hitching. The fluid stand is on the floor beside him.

"Dazai, what the hell?" Kunikida starts, carefully kneeling down beside him. He reaches out to touch his cheek. His skin hot to the touch. Kunikida knew he was running a fever, but this seems much worse than before. He curses under his breath.

"Where is…where…" Dazai murmurs. His eyes are dark and unfocused as he tries to force himself off the floor. His arms are hardly support his weight. He’s shivering, Kunikida thinks, but he’s not sure if it’s from the fever, or from fear. His eyes meet Kunikida’s once he’s at level with him, but his expression doesn’t change.

"You shouldn't have gotten up, what are you doing?" Kunikida chides nervously. Dazai can't answer, and he pulls himself out of Kunikida’s way fast enough to vomit on the tile floor instead of his vest.

Kunikida curses to himself. It's just a splatter of bile and activated charcoal, it looks like, but he doesn't know if it's good that he's still throwing up like this. Dazai’s breath hitches and he gags again, this time, only spitting up saliva.

Kunikida reaches forward to touch him, to offer him a comforting hand or something, but the second he does, Dazai whips his head around with eyes wider than he's ever seen them.

He looks scared. Why on earth would he be scared? He didn’t look like this a minute ago, but Kunikida quickly recognizes this as the look from the time Ranpo referenced earlier.

Dazai scrambles to get away from him, he rips the IV that was somehow still attached out of his arm and somehow manages to stand himself up, but one wrong move has him crumpled on the floor again, right after his head made contact with the metal framing of the cot he was using for support. Kunikida is trying to keep his cool. He's only seen Dazai like this once before, he doesn't know what to do. Does he need to call an ambulance? Should he call Yosano?

"Dazai," Kunikida says, biting his lip to keep his cool. He stands up to get on the other side of him. He needs to get him back in bed, but the moment he touches his arm, Dazai flinches so hard that Kunikida is almost worried he'll hurt himself. He's sure he hears him whimper. God, his heart aches.

"Don't," Dazai mumbles. He's shaking, and his voice shakes with him as he turns his head away. Kunikida doesn't know what's gotten into him. He wonders if his fever has gotten so high that he's hallucinating.

"Dazai, it's Kunikida," he tells him quietly, tightening his grip on his arm. He needs him back to reality.

Miraculously, Dazai stops trying to get away.

Kunikida doesn't waste any time. He scoops him up into his arms and carries him back to the cot he was in earlier. He tries to lay him down, but Dazai's gripping onto his shirt, refusing to let go.

Kunikida takes his head and tucks it under his chin. He lets out a shaky breath. If Dazai wasn’t so out of it, he’d give him a talking-to about how much he scared him.

"Where…" he murmurs into Kunikida’s chest, still holding on.

"You're in the infirmary," Kunikida tells him. He almost wonders how Ranpo could have guessed this would happen, but of course it did. "At the Armed Detective Agency."

He feels him relax in his hold, just enough to let Kunikida worry a little less.

“I shouldn’t have left you alone. I’m sorry,” Kunikida says quietly, holding him a little closer. He can’t imagine waking up in a hospital cot by himself like that, in the dark infirmary. No wonder he was so freaked out, especially with that fever - Kunikida has concerns that Dazai’s fear just now was more deeply rooted in something else entirely, something that Kunikida will likely never be able to get him to admit.

Kunikida holds him like that for a while and Dazai starts to breathe normally. He’s not shaking as much, but he feels him shiver every now and then, and after long enough, Dazai barely manages to pull out of Kunikida’s hold to gag, and bring up more activated charcoal onto the bed sheets. He coughs a few times, but nothing else comes up.

Kunikida sighs. Of course, he can’t help it. Thankfully there’s plenty of other cots in here, so Kunikida decides he’ll move him to the next one. “Can I pick you up again?” Kunikida asks.

Dazai’s frame melts back into Kunikida’s hold to tell him yes with a whimper, and Kunikida scoops him up to lay him down on the other cot. This is probably better anyway, fresh cool sheets ought to do him some good.

Kunikida takes a comforter from a different cot to lay over Dazai, and he’s realized too late that his arm is still bleeding from where he pulled out the IV - not much, but enough to leave marks. He rummages through the supply drawers beside the cot to grab some gauze and wrap to wrap it up, at least, and as he carefully pulls it around Dazai’s arm, he sees his head tilt in his direction.

"Is Atsushi okay?" he asks, almost sounding out of breath at the effort it took him to say it. Kunikida is beyond relieved to hear him speaking coherently.

"He's fine, Dazai. He's home with Kyoka and she'll let us know if anything goes wrong," Kunikida assures as he closes the wrap. "Worry about yourself, for once."

Dazai doesn't seem like he's going to take that into consideration even remotely. Atsushi at least listened to reason.

Kunikida needs to place another IV for fluids. He’s been vomiting so much that there’s simply not another option - he highly doubts he can get him to drink any water. The problem is that Dazai hates needles, at least when anyone else is using them on him in this kind of setting. Kunikida has seen him refuse fluids at hospitals before because of it. Kunikida isn’t sure if it’s just a general dislike or if it stems from trauma, since Dazai is whiney about most things, but he’s afraid of making things worse right now.

“I have to put another IV in,” Kunikida tells him, a hand wrapped around his wrist where he just wrapped up his arm.

“No,” Dazai whines, childishly turning his head away.

“I have to, Dazai. You’re still throwing up, you’re dehydrated,” Kunikida tells him. “And I know you won’t be able to keep water down.”

Dazai doesn’t turn his head back, but he makes no effort in trying to pull his arm away, either. He thinks he realizes he can’t avoid it.

“Is it okay if I take some of your bandages off?” Kunikida asks.

“Use the top of my hand,” Dazai murmurs, his head still turned away from Kunikida.

Kunikida stands up to gather what he needs - he’s done this enough times to know how to on his own, thankfully. While he’s up he decides to wet a cloth for Dazai’s forehead, hoping that will help distract him.

He brushes Dazai’s hair out of his face, and his dark eyes peer up at him with emotions that Kunikida can’t quite read. His hairline is damp from sweat. He lays his hand over his forehead again and frowns before he lays the washcloth over his burning forehead, and he shivers, but relaxes just a bit once he gets used to the feeling.

He pulls up a chair on the other side of the cot and turns on the lamp to get started. “Can you make a fist for me?”

Dazai obliges. His head turns up and his eyes are glued to the ceiling, looking for something else to focus on. Kunikida takes note of how his breaths quicken, just a bit. Kunikida needs to distract him.

"You seem familiar with this situation. Am I correct?" Kunikida asks. Kunikida was at the cafe with them when it happened. Dazai shouted for someone to get Yosano as soon as Atsushi said he felt nauseous because it was far too soon after he complained of the taste of the tea. Dazai had his fingers down the poor kid’s throat to get him to vomit before Kunikida could even piece together what was happening. He’s been wondering if this happened to him before.

"Mhm," Dazai mumbles after taking in a sharp breath.

"So this has happened to you before," Kunikida says.

"Mhm," Dazai nods. At first, Kunikida thinks he's just going to drop it, because even though Kunikida knows about Dazai's past now, he's still not any more open to sharing the details. "Almost…this exact scenario. With me, and…my subordinate."

"Yeah? Someone spiked your drinks?" Kunikida asks, making sure he has good placement before he uses the needle.

"Mhm," Dazai mumbles. "My subordinate was…he was unconscious for two…three? Two weeks, I think."

Kunikida wasn't aware he had any direct subordinates, but he supposes it makes sense, given Dazai's rank as an executive. It's so strange how he's never mentioned anything even remotely alluding to their existence. He uses that brief moment to stick Dazai, and he flinches, but manages to keep his arm still enough to not pull anything out. “Good. Good job, that part’s over.”

“I hate those things,” Dazai murmurs feverishly. His breaths have gotten a bit faster now, and Kunikida makes a mental note to remind himself he still has to get him hooked up to the monitoring machines again.

“I know. I’m sorry,” Kunikida says gently as he starts to dress Dazai’s hand. He wants to comfort him, somehow, but he thinks the best thing to do for someone like Dazai is a distraction. "How long ago did it happen? Long time ago?”

Somehow, turning the conversation back around to the previous topic has worked a bit. Dazai focuses back on that. "Yeah, must've been…sixteen, I think."

"You had subordinates at sixteen?" Kunikida huffs, looking up at him for a brief moment. "How old were they?"

"He was…fourteen, I think," he breathes out. Kunikida bites his lip. He knew that the mafia recruited a lot of their members very young, after all, Kyoka stands to show that.

"You recruited him?" Kunikida says. It’s hard to imagine. Kunikida almost wonders if he’s joking, but he doesn’t have the energy for that right now. "A fourteen-year-old."

"I did," Dazai admits.

"Still alive?" Kunikida asks.

"Mhm. You've met him," Dazai says turning his head back towards him. Kunikida reaches forward with his free hand to readjust the washcloth on his head, as it’s started to slip.

Well, now Kunikida's intrigued. He keeps eye contact. "Who? That redhead?"

Dazai scoffs and rolls his eyes. "Hell no."

"Then who?"

"C'mon, guess,” Dazai says, Apparently, he’s gathered enough energy to mess him with. Kunikida will take it, it’s a good sign.

"I have no clue, Dazai. Tell me," Kunikida huffs, exasperated. He turns his attention back to dressing the IV catheter on Dazai’s hand, which he’s almost finished with. "I don't even know that many Port Mafia dogs by name. Akutagawa is the only one I can think of."

Dazai tilts his head to the side with a cheeky grin. The washcloth starts to slide down his face.

"You're kidding,” Kunikida blinks, reaching back up to fix it. “Stop moving so much.”

"Not kidding."

"You've known him the whole time?" Kunikida exclaims. He feels like he should be angry, but somehow it makes sense. Dazai always seemed a little too eager to brush off any mention of the so-called Hellhound of the Port Mafia. Kunikida thinks he even recalls Dazai slipping up and mentioning a detail about him that none of the rest of them knew, but that memory was lost to him until now.

"I couldn't tell you I knew him. That'd give me away," Dazai shrugs, this time, seemingly making an effort to keep his head still.

"Your information would've been helpful, though," Kunikida grumbles, attaching the line to Dazai’s hand to get the fluids going.

"You knew everything you needed to know. He's a Port Mafia attack dog and he'll kill anything he sees," Dazai says incredibly casually.

"And you've known him since he was fourteen, huh?" Kunikida asks, sitting back in the chair as he crosses his arms over his chest.

Dazai's expression changes, but it's an emotion that Kunikida doesn't quite recognize. "Mhm."

Kunikida can't really fathom any of this. A sixteen-year-old Dazai with a fourteen-year-old Akutagawa is just something his brain can't even picture - both of them younger than even Atsushi is now. Dazai having any connection to someone as cold-blooded as Akutagawa doesn't make any sense to him.

When he looks over at Dazai again, his eyes are lost. He's somewhere else. Kunikida doesn't know what life was like for him in the Port Mafia, but it can't have been good. He was already a major alcoholic by the time he joined the Detective Agency, and Kunikida still remembers the shiver that ran up his spine when he saw how thin he was under his clothes. He still doesn't eat meals regularly out of habit, it's something that Kunikida almost has to force on him, but he’s gotten much better about it.

Whatever happened to him damaged him much more than anything Kunikida could ever hope to fix on his own.

"Are you okay?" Kunikida asks him.

Dazai lifts his head with wide eyes like he's been caught doing something he shouldn't. "Huh? Oh, yeah."

“Let me get your temperature,” Kunikida says, taking the thermometer from the drawer out of the case. He sticks it under Dazai’s tongue for a few seconds and it ends up reading 102.3. That’s not horrible, but it isn’t good, either.

He looks back in Dazai’s direction to find that look in his eyes again, but this time, some of the color has started to drain from his face, and he notices him swallow thickly.

"You look nauseous," Kunikida comments.

"Uh-huh," Dazai mumbles. He burps into a closed fist and groans. "Need the pan."

Kunikida feels awful for him. Yosano couldn't give him a thing for his nausea because vomiting would actually help his specific situation according to what Yosano gathered, so he's probably been feeling horribly nauseous this entire time. Kunikida doesn’t see a bedpan in the drawer so he takes the trash bin and holds it under Dazai’s chin as he tries to sit himself up with a whine.

He spits into it, saliva getting caught on the sides as he huffs out breaths. He lays a hand over his stomach and groans. “Ugh…”

"Empty?" Kunikida asks. He can’t imagine he has much left in his stomach.

"No," Dazai breathes out, to Kunikida’s surprise, "won't come up."

Kunikida sighs. Of course. "Want me to help you?"

"Please," Dazai whines. He burps, and it sounds wet, but all that drips from his lips is saliva. "I suck at doing it myself, I… hrruk -"

A gag that brings up nothing, and Kunikida realizes he really will need help.

He's done this before. He's probably a pro at preventing overdoses because of Dazai, but this here isn't a life-or-death situation, at least.

He doesn't bother with gloves because he knows he'll wash his hands regardless, and he slips a hand past Dazai's saliva-coated lips, his other hand on the back of Dazai's neck to make sure he doesn't jolt back when his hand gets back far enough.

His mouth is warm, the insides of his cheeks are so soft. He’s trying to ignore the thought, but Dazai looks hot like this. His eyes red and tired, lips wet and almost swollen, cheeks flushed. Kunikida feels something he shouldn't in that moment, and he gets far enough back without realizing, and hot vomit spills over his hand without much warning.

It's not much. It's water and charcoal and bits of whatever is left in his stomach from lunch dripping down Kunikida’s hand and into the bin. Dazai whines and spits the bits left in his mouth into the bin. He breathes heavily over it and Kunikida haphazardly covers his hand in a layer of paper towels to avoid dripping Dazai’s stomach contents onto the floor on his way over to the sink, but he stays for a moment to make sure Dazai’s okay.

“Hurts,” Dazai groans. He burps over the bin, but of course, nothing comes up. He lays back but he holds onto the bin.

“I know. I’m sorry,” Kunikida sighs. He wishes he could do more to help him. “Will you be okay by yourself for a second?”

“Uh-huh,” Dazai murmurs, leaning back and pressing his hand against his stomach.

Kunikida remembers there’s a splatter of puke on the floor and on the cot Dazai was previously resting on that he needs to clean, but right now, he’s not keen on leaving Dazai out of his sight for too long. He washes his hands a bit longer than he needs to, and looks over his shoulder to check on Dazai one too many times - he hears him burp and gag a few times, but once Kunikida is on the way back to him, he’s laid back all the way, eyes screwed shut and breaths heavy.

Kunikida places the bin back on the floor as he sits in the chair again. He looks over the fluid stand and Dazai’s hand to make sure everything is still properly attached before he leans forward to flip over the washcloth on his warm forehead. “I’ll check with Yosano to see if there’s anything I can give you for that fever.”

“I just want my stomach to stop hurting,” Dazai whines, but he really sounds like he’s in pain.

“I know, Dazai,” Kunikida sighs, Yosano already told him that will have to wait until he gets an antidote. “Maybe we -”

“Can you…can you check on Atsushi for me?” Dazai asks, forcing his eyes open to look over at Kunikida. Kunikida finds it a bit out of nowhere. “Please.”

“I can do that,” Kunikida says. He hasn’t heard from Kyoka. Junichiro texted Kunikida a while ago to let him know he and Naomi would check in with the two of them occasionally to make sure they were doing okay, but that was all. He pulls out his phone and dials Kyoka’s number.

“Hello?” she answers nervously.

“Don’t worry. I’m just calling to make sure everything’s okay,” Kunikida says. He lowers his phone and puts it on speaker for Dazai to hear. “How’s Atsushi doing?”

“Kunikida? Is that you?” It’s Junichiro’s voice. He hears some shuffling, and suddenly Junichiro’s voice is much clearer. “Kyoka had to knock him out a little bit ago. He couldn’t sleep ‘cause he was so anxious. He was making himself sick.”

Kunikida’s shoulders sink. “Anxious about what?”

“He’s worried about Dazai,” Junichiro says a little more quietly, and Kunikida watches Dazai tense up in his peripheral. “We kept telling him he’d be okay. And you said you’d call if something went wrong, but…we had to use the last resort.”

Kunikida bites his lip as Dazai turns his head away.

“But I think it was good for him. He’s been sleeping well since then, maybe we should’ve knocked him out sooner,” Junichiro half-jokes. “Is Dazai doing okay? We’re worried too.”

“He’s doing fine,” Kunikida tells them. He doesn’t want to lie and say he’s better, but telling them how he’s really feeling will only worry them more. “Nobody needs to worry. We have everything under control and they’ll both be good as new once Yosano gets ahold of that antidote.”

They exchange a few more words before Junichiro tells him they should get to sleep too, and Kunikida realizes he’s probably in the same boat as Atsushi - he won’t be able to sleep in favor of worrying about Dazai, but he can’t sleep even if he wanted to. He has to make sure he stays stable until Yosano gets back.

Once he hangs up, Kunikida reaches to lay a hand over Dazai’s arm, but the way he’s breathing - so calmly - tells Kunikida that he’s fallen asleep. Kunikida almost has to wonder if he was getting himself that worked up over Atsushi in his fevered brain.

Kunikida gets him hooked back up to all of the necessary monitors while Dazai drifts off into a deeper sleep, and he changes the washcloth on his forehead, too. He looks so much more relaxed. His eyes aren’t screwed shut so tightly. He looks like he might actually get some good rest.

Kunikida presses a kiss up to his forehead before he changes the washcloth, and he sits back in the chair beside Dazai’s cot as he cracks open the report and gets back to work.

…

The rest of the night went by more smoothly than Kunikida could have asked for. He’s usually not a fan of pulling all-nighters like that, but he got caught up on the work he missed through yesterday’s situation. And even better, Dazai slept through the night.

“I have to pee,” Dazai mumbles as soon as he wakes up. The staff have started to file back into the building, Kunikida can hear it from across the hall, and the light has started to spill through the windows back into the infirmary.

Kunikida sits beside him on the cot to help him up, making sure Dazai doesn’t have any room to do another sprint across the infirmary like last night. He’s looking better, but he’s downright exhausted, shown in the dark circles under his eyes. It’s still obvious he doesn’t feel good.

“You won’t carry me?” Dazai pouts.

“Do you need me to? Or do you want me to carry you?” Kunikida huffs as he snakes an arm around his waist to help him up on his feet. His legs are still a bit wobbly, but he gets his footing, and uses the fluid stand pole for support.

“Want, need? What’s the difference?” Dazai complains with a dramatic sigh. He can tell he’s feeling better with how absurd he’s acting, but his fever is still there, Kunikida can feel it on his skin. “I want you. It’s that kinda sexier than saying I need you?”

Kunikida keeps a hand on his back as he leads him over to the restroom. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Hehe. Love you too,” Dazai jokes.

Kunikida makes sure he doesn’t need help going to the bathroom before he closes the door, and he busies himself with changing the sweat-dampened sheets on Dazai’s cot while he waits.

He’s surprised to see Atsushi standing in the doorway, looking horrified to see the cot empty.

“Relax, he’s just in the bathroom,” Kunikida says, dropping what he’s doing to meet Atsushi at the entrance, but the deep concern doesn’t leave his eyes. “What are you doing here, Atsushi?”

"Is he still not doing well?" Atsushi murmurs nervously.

"He's improved," Kunikida assures him with a hand on his shoulder, "You look much better. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Atsushi tells him. Kunikida won't take his word for it, he's not usually very honest about this kind of thing. He looks better than he did yesterday, but he can tell just by looking at him that he's nauseous with anxiety, just like Junichiro described last night. He takes note of the way he's breathing through his mouth instead of his nose to avoid the antiseptic smell.

"Don't worry about him so much. He's survived worse, hasn't he?" Kunikida reminds him with a chiding sigh, regardless of the fact that he's just as concerned. He can't pass those feelings on to Atsushi, especially knowing they had to knock him out last night to get him to sleep.

"I guess so," Atsushi murmurs.

"Who told you to come in today? You should still be resting," Kunikida tells him. He knows Atsushi came of his own accord. He’s here much earlier than detectives usually need to be - he probably snuck out.

"Um…well, no one, I just…I just wanted to make sure he wasn't…" Atsushi mumbles.

"I'll call you if something's the matter. Go back home, no one needs you sitting around here with how you’re feeling," he sighs, landing a hand on Atsushi’s back and walking outside of the infirmary with him.

Atsushi doesn't seem to be paying attention entirely, and Kunikida almost starts to scold him for not listening before he realizes that he's lost a lot of color in his face, enough to make him think he's about to throw up. Atsushi is much more aware of it than Kunikida, obviously and he bolts for the trash bin right inside of the infirmary to retch and gag once or twice before vomit spills past his lips. He’s shaking, breathing hard and clearly anxious, but thankfully, he seems to have only needed to vomit once. Even so, he coughs and forces a burp or two just to make sure.

He crouches down in front of the bin and leans his head against it, still visibly shaking. He's not in nearly as rough shape as he was yesterday regarding this. Atsushi doesn't seem to mind other people throwing up at all, but if it's himself, he almost makes himself even more sick with anxiety. Yesterday he was too out of it to really take in what was happening, but now he's fully lucid.

"I guess - this whole thing is a, uh…a good way to get - get over this," Atsushi stammers between shaky breaths, of course, still trying to keep a positive attitude. Kunikida can hear his breathing patterns start to get erratic with panic, and he hears him attempt to swallow back a gag.

"I'll be right back. Stay here,” he tells him after patting his back and heading back for the Agency Office, where Junichiro has since appeared with his sister.

"Tanizaki, can you take Atsushi home?" Kunikida asks. Normally he wouldn't bother a detective with a task like this, but he'd rather Atsushi be with someone familiar while he's feeling so anxious.

"Did he show up? With how he’s feeling?" Tanizaki asks, concern already washing over his face as he gets up from his desk. Kunikida assumes he and Naomi went home after Atsushi fell asleep. "He's still sick?"

"I think part of it might be nerves now. I don't need him hanging around and worrying about Dazai," Kunikida says, and Junichiro follows him back out into the hallway.

Atsushi is sitting against the doorframe with his knees pulled up tight against his chest and his head on his knees, mumbling something to himself.

"Hey, Atsushi, let's get you downstairs, yeah? You should go home and take days off when you can get them," Junichiro tells him gently as he crouches beside him. Atsushi seems to have given up on his image entirely as he leans into Junichiro. The latter's brow twists with concern and he brings him into a hug, and Kunikida quickly realizes that Atsushi’s crying. "I know. You'll both be okay soon. I'll see if Yosano can get you something to settle your stomach when she gets back, okay?"

"Kay," he mumbles into Junichiro's shoulder.

"Good. I know you hate it, but you're doing a good job," Junichiro tells him in a gentle voice that Kunikida doesn't think he'd be able to pull off. He ruffles his hair fondly. "You know how seasick I get, right? You're handling this way better than I do."

"I am…?" Atsushi murmurs, lifting his head just a bit.

"For sure."

Junichiro is much better at this than Kunikida is in general.

Kunikida waves both of them off as Junichiro leads him back to the elevator, continuing to talk to him gently, and Kunikida shakes off his concern for Atsushi as he notices his shoulders relax before they disappear behind the elevator doors.

Kunikida walks back into the infirmary and stops in the doorway to find Dazai peeking out of the bathroom like he’s checking if the coast is clear.

"What'd you do to that kid to make him worry so much, huh?" Kunikida sighs.

"Beats me," Dazai half-chuckles, clutching onto the IV pole as he walks out of the bathroom, looking less wobbly than before, but Kunikida still meets him to walk him back to his cot. Kunikida can see the hint of concern in his eyes, but Dazai doesn’t show it for long. "He went home?"

"He did," says.

"Hope he won’t be that upset when I finally end it all,” Dazai says, singing the words at the end.

“Well, he will, and so will everyone else, so go ahead and cancel your plans now,” Kunikida grumbles when they make it to the cot. He’s bewildered by Dazai’s audacity to say things like that sometimes, but he thinks he’s so disconnected from the reality of it that he just doesn’t understand. “You’re still dizzy.”

He observes that when he lowers him back down to the cot and Dazai’s head bobs a bit, just before he lays him back down. He’s not so pale anymore, thankfully.

“‘S not a big deal,” Dazai says. His head sinks back into the pillow, and he’s relaxed, Kunikida thinks. He’s not as tense as usual.

"Yosano should be back soon," Kunikida tells him. “She texted me earlier.”

"Mm," Dazai hums as his eyes start to fall shut again.

Kunikida lays a hand over Dazai's cheek. He's still warm, but he thinks his fever has gone down a bit. He’s hoping he’ll get the clear to get Dazai to eat something once Yosano is back. Kunikida probably needs to grab breakfast for himself, too.

"What'd I do to you?" Dazai suddenly asks with a dry, one-note laugh, just as soon as Kunikida takes his hand back.

Kunikida feels his ears get hot. "What do you mean?"

"You're more worried than Atsushi is," Dazai tells him with a little chuckle, thoroughly amused. "And you know how hard it is to kill me."

"I'm not worried," Kunikida scoffs. “Just making sure you don’t die. Do you know how annoying that paperwork would be? I have to pick up enough of your slack as it is.”

“Sure, Kunikida, whatever you say,” Dazai giggles to himself, “You love me. You took such good care of me and you’re so worried about me you can barely stand it.”

“Fine,” Kunikida grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. His face is red beyond belief, he’s sure.

“Say it back!” Dazai whines.

“You didn’t say you love me!” Kunikida shouts back at him with a groan. “How do you think this works, you idiot?!”

“But I do,” Dazai claims. His eyes soften, but there’s still a hint of that cheeky grin left on his lips. “I love you, Kunikida.”

He almost sounds sincere. “Fine. Fine, I love you too.”

Dazai looks incredibly accomplished, meanwhile, Kunikida wishes he could duck his head underwater. “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”

“Go back to sleep. You’re so annoying,” Kunikida grumbles, “you’re sure not acting like you were poisoned yesterday.”

“Aw, that’s mean, Kunikida. I still don’t feel good,” Dazai whines, and even though he’s just using it as leverage, Kunikida feels guilty, because it’s obvious he doesn’t feel good. “Will you lay with me?”

“Not a chance, Dazai. I’m not risking falling asleep and Yosano walking in,” Kunikida grumbles, rubbing his eyes as he slides his glass up on top of his head. His lack of sleep is starting to catch up with him.

“Aww, please? You’re tired. And I need comfort. It’s a win-win,” Dazai explains, but Kunikida shakes his head at him.

“I can comfort you from here,” Kunikida tells him. He takes his hand and squeezes it a little tighter than normal. He’s so thankful Dazai’s doing better. He’s not sure what he would have done if he took a turn for the worse. “I’ll lay with you tonight when we go home.”

“Your place?” Dazai asks.

“Pretty sure yours is a mess,” Kunikida confirms. He reaches forward to brush his fingers through Dazai’s soft curls, still damp with sweat at the roots. Dazai lets his eyes fall shut. “Don’t scare me like that again.”

“Mmm…no promises,” Dazai says quietly, and Kunikida squeezes his hand one more time as a reminder. Dazai may not be able to make that promise, but Kunikida will be there with him every time. He leans forward to press a kiss on his warm, flushed cheek.

And of course, despite his efforts to avoid getting caught, he hears Yosano’s voice, already giggling.

“Kunikida?”

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whereianonymouslypostfics · 2 years ago

Text

Complications

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: 0.5k

Summary: Childbirth

A/N: This is another ‘what if’ but never gonna happen. I just wrote it while my brain was a little gloomy. I am going to keep writing now. Taking a break from Wanda being in the dog house. Moving on to something fluffier.

Warnings: heavy angst, death, mentions of blood

The searing pain that shoots through Wanda is enough to blind her, and she screams as her body continues to fight despite the massive amount of blood that she’s lost. She can’t see where it covers the floor, but you do and you’re frantic as you look to the doctors that are moving fast to try and help her.

You don’t hear what they say, but they’re unlocking her bed and pushing her out of the room somewhere and you just follow after them. Your grip on your wife’s hand is beyond painful as the two of you stay connected as she’s rushed to surgery.

“Your wife is hemorrhaging. We need to do an emergency C-section.”

These are words that you’d only considered hearing in your darkest hours. It was your worst nightmare and you can’t find the words to respond as you look to Wanda to see her wide and fearful eyes. She looks between you and the doctor as you continue to near run down the hall.

“Y/n. You need—make sure they’re okay. P-please.”

You don’t know what to say to this and you honestly hate that you don’t have a response for Wanda before she’s rolled out of your sight and beyond your grasp. You have no power to do as she says, and if you did you’re certain you would make a different choice. Your wife is everything to you, and despite the intense desire to have a family with her, to meet your boys, you need her above all else.

You don’t get to say any of this to her, or even consider if she’ll be mad at you for it before you’re no longer alone.

Pietro nearly barrels you over as he runs up to you and grabs you frantically. He asks where his sister is and you just lead him to where she’d disappeared mere seconds ago. You’re both stopped from entering the OR of course, but you watch for as long as you can as Wanda’s put under and prepared for surgery before you’re practically pushed out.

“What’s happening? Y/n what the hell is happening??”

You turn to him in shock barely remembering when he arrived as you stumble over an explanation. You hit the important points regardless.

Hemorrhage. Emergency C-section.

High risk of mortality.

You don’t know how long you wait for someone to come out, but your friends all arrive before news of Wanda does. You hug them all and you’re crying as they shoot you stressed and frustrated looks. They wish you could be in there, but logically they know that it would put everyone at risk. Unfortunately the alternative is to watch you agonize over what’s happening just a room away.

An eternity later you are greeted by the horrific sight of a doctor coming out of the OR with bloodied gloves and a grim expression. You feel your legs give out as he tells you that your wife’s heart has stopped, and they can no longer hear your babies’.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Maximoff.”

The sound of your married name is what sets you off, and you collapse on the ground in hysterics. You don’t notice your friends come to your side as you realize that your dream of having a family has gone horribly, horribly wrong.

Masterlist

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda x reader #silver springs #silver springs drabble #silver springs au

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armandjolras · 7 months ago

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This will be rambly and overly personal, but ive been wanting to talk about Fosca as chronic illness representation, and why the musical version of her is especially relatable in this sense.

(I also haven’t read the book, so maybe some changes im attributing to the musical are from the book)

In the movie, Fosca’s illness almost seems an extension of her ugliness, meant to horrify the viewer. Ugliness takes focus as her main burden; we’re told that she was shunned for her looks as a child and are shown many jumpscare shots of her face. Sickness is merely a consequence of ugliness. When not acutely ill, she seems quite healthy, even energetic. (Obviously having seizures is a very serious illness in real life, i just mean the way it’s presented in the movie).

Most interesting to me, she doesn’t seem depressed at all; she’s quite upbeat and witty. Her manipulative toxicity in the movie doesn’t come from depression, but rather because she’s never been treated as a woman due to being an outcast, so she doesn’t feel she has to adhere to the decorum of one.

In the musical, I see Fosca’s illness as being much more than just an extension of being ugly. It appears to affect her continuously between acute episodes, and she moves wearily as if fighting pain and discomfort at every moment. While suffering over ugliness still caused her illness in this version, that ugliness is not as emphasised. We’re told that her parents loved her rather than shunning her, so she wasn’t an outcast, and she’s depicted as more pathetic spinster than scary Nosferatu.

She is also clearly depressed. In my opinion, her toxic behaviour comes not from flouting social norms, but from the desperation of depression. Maybe others also relate to being depressed and behaving badly as a cry for help, unable to stop despite knowing you’re being toxic, because you need acknowledgment from people. I see Fosca’s behaviour this way. Georgio is the first person who is nice to her, so she physically can’t stop trying to extract love from him by any means, even when she admits she’s in the wrong.

I relate to Fosca strongly in this. Since 2020 I’ve struggled with multiple chronic illnesses which have limited my physical abilities; today I cant even sit upright for more than 15 minutes, some days less. Since I dont have any family or friends in the country where I’m living, and went through diagnosis and surgery alone mid Covid, at times I’ve felt very isolated. In 2022 i could tell I was behaving a lot like Fosca — I didnt do anything super toxic, but I was putting too much emotional burden on my long-distance parents even as I knew I was stressing them out and upsetting them. It felt like such a compulsion, because I was scared and isolated and wanted someone else to know how much I was suffering so I wouldn’t be alone it it. I’m much healthier mentally now, but that took therapy and medication which Fosca doesn’t have. Its a terrible feeling to see your world getting smaller and your dreams becoming less possible, and going through that alone.

I’ve had a lot of frustration towards how my illnesses have limited what I can do, and i have to make an effort not to be resentful towards healthier people. The line “I read about the joys the world / Dispenses to the fortunate / And listen for the echoes” really captures this. “I know how soon a dream becomes an expectation / How can I have expectations?” When your world gets smaller, you have to give up your hopes bit by bit so you dont get hurt. “Look at me / No, captain, look at me / Look at me!” In her desperation she demands his attention, even when she knows she’s being rude and repelling him, she just feels compelled to connect with someone.

I know “I Read” can be interpreted as being about her ugliness rather than of physical illness, and maybe that actually is the correct interpretation. But I’m very convinced that musical Fosca is depressed in a way that movie Fosca is not, and most of her words and actions stem from that. I also believe that by placing less emphasis on her shocking ugliness, it only makes since that a lot of her suffering is due to her physical illness.

(And I also relate to Fosca’s final letter, where she says that appreciating the beauty in the world around you makes you want to go on living. Being ill has taught me to be much more grateful for small things in life.)

Other disclaimers: I dont mean Fosca’s suffering in the movie is NOT about her illness, in both versions its a combo of ugliness + illness. I just think they’re in different ratios. Also im not trying to be a Fosca apologist, I know shes super toxic and a stalker and essentially an incel, and also super annoying, I just understand her perspective. And finally I do like movie Fosca! Shes iconic I just relate to musical Fosca more.

#passion musical #sorry this is so personal and tmi I just wanted to share!#Interested whether others feel the same about movie vs musical fosca #its ok to interact with/reblog/etc this post btw

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tadpolesonalgae · 1 year ago

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ICBMTHY is sooo good. it gave me a lot of thoughts!

i know it wouldn't make sense for eris to be nice but that was so mean and for absolutely no reason? i hope she kicks his ass more but i also think this friendship would be what she needs to grow a backbone because right now it's painful to watch but the ic clearly isn't helping and azriel is making it worse

also azriel is being so mean too and i know it's for the angst but my dude really interrupted her booty call for no reason and then trapped her into a conversation to call her a burden like i know you've picked up better conversation skills in 500 years. like he's kinda right in saying she is naive (second hand embarrassing inducing so) and doesn't know how things work... then sit her down and explain it to her instead of attacking her, i would have jumped out of his arms and wouldn't even care about what happened to me bc i know he'd blame himself

ALSO her powers seem interesting, she glows?? like starfall?? that sounds fun and it kinda sounds that eris might be the one to help her with those powers at least for now (that line saying the ic would pounce on her powers and do all kinds of things to get them to work is so true though that's one of the things that annoys me the most about them)

anyway this story is seriously so good, i think you might be my favorite writer on tumblr. you genuinely know how to keep a story engaging and still have it make sense instead of just filling it with unnecessary smut to make up for it, even your heavily spicy ones always give something at least in the background. also i like how you play with characters, i think a lot of people write character too ooc but you manage to take the essence of the characters and change them how you need them without losing their true self. like how you write dark az and in this story he's kind of acting like an asshole but you still see bits and pieces of azriel in all of them

Honestly I agree Eris was a little OOC in that swan part—I’m deciding he was stressed from Father Vanserra breathing down his neck and he needed the comedic relief :)

But hey! She ended up actually doing something about it, maybe he will help her grow a little backbone—or rather feel it’s okay to hit back sometimes!

And yeah, poor Bas 😕 He was READY (I can’t promise any more of him though, I’m sorry 😭)

Things kind of escalated way too quickly when they were flying together; I’m putting that down as the whole IC being incredibly wary of Eris because of the Mor incident, and also the Autumn Court isn’t exactly known for being particularly fair or welcoming, so it’s kind of believable Eris would inherit those traits from his father :/

Also I feel like a surprisingly big part of angst (for me at least) is the edge of humiliation? How reader allows herself to be degraded and doesn’t really fight back or protest against it because she doesn’t see it as being wrong, more that it’s expected/deserved? I think most people respond stronger if it’s their dignity that’s being targeted, which helps with the angst because of how low one has to go to deliver a blow like that :)

I’m so excited to write more about her powers and how they manifest!!! Also about who’s going to try to help her, but who’s going to actually succeed in helping her and then how she manages with the new development!!

I suppose with Silver Flames (I know some people have mixed feelings about how the characters were written) they’d just been through a second war (civil war??) where they came so close to loosing so much, and despite how most of the IC has already been through one, I can’t imagine you can become desensitised to something as bloody as open, gratuitous murder to such a massive scale.

Anyway, that was a long-winded way of saying I can see how so many mistakes were made in the aftermath of the devastation of war. It’s not an excuse or a justification but I really don’t think it would be realistic for the characters to come out unscarred from a second war.

That last paragraph is just— thank you

I’m so happy people find those fics to be suitably engaging, and enough to continuously choose to interact with them.

The fact alone that you’ve taken your time to articulate how you feel is so important to recognise for me.

Playing with what certain characters might do while keeping it relatively believable is something I try to do, and it means so much to me that you think I’ve succeeded 🧡

#anons <3 #CBMTHY #thank you 🧡💛

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doverstar · 9 months ago

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Love the way you write your characters! Rose doesn't seem dumb at all! She's obviously got a lot in her mind and stress so sure she may not make the smartest decisions (ie not calling backup, following a stranger into a house) but it's not far from what we've seen in the show???

Thanks so much! Your thoughtful Ask has given me somewhere to word-vomit and process; excuse me while I do so-

The way I’m writing Rose is very intentional. And if that makes her seem OOC, that’s on me! She is very canonically smart and resourceful, but she’s not perfect - I never like her more than when she’s being incredibly emotional instead of being incredibly clever, or when she’s scared instead of being a confident girlboss, but she’s fighting through the fear anyway to save the day. I like Rose best because of how human and relatable she is. That’s what makes her remarkable as a companion - she’s the perfect equal to the Doctor because she’s not like the Doctor. She doesn’t figure things out right away, she doesn’t always do the wisest thing. And sometimes those are the things about her that help others most. She’s the most ordinary girl in the world - Doctor Who really needs that. And I’m trying my best to keep her in-character in that vein specifically!

I tried to communicate (maybe poorly!) in Lost and Rewritten that the reason Rose doesn’t immediately see the truth: that Will is the regenerated Doctor hiding out with his new companions, chemically engineered into believing he’s human - besides the fact that hi, who would put that together right away? - is because she doesn’t want to.

For Rose, Lost and Rewritten takes place only a year after Doomsday. Rose’s narration at the end of Doomsday is despondent - it’s implied that she doesn’t get hopeful again, doesn’t try to find the Doctor again, until at least like…two (???) years later canonically, when the stars start going out and Torchwood starts building the dimension cannon so she can get the Doctor’s help saving the universes. And bonus, she can finally go back to him.

So - Rose is fresh off of Bad Wolf Bay in LAR. She just lost the Doctor a year ago. She’s still in mourning, in a way. She’s spent a year convincing herself not to address that pain, because the Doctor himself told her they can’t ever see each other again, so how can she hope? There is no hope, it’s over. If she hopes, she gets hurt by the disappointment of those hopes. So for a year she’s built a little wall around herself and not cried and not socialized and just carried on, because the alternative is active misery and that’s too much. She thinks the best thing to do for now is to focus on her job at Torchwood and not expect the Doctor to burst back into her life at every little otherworldly encounter. It’s not obliviousness; it’s willful ignorance. Rose is choosing not to entertain the idea that the Doctor could come back -

Except that she totally is. In spite of herself. Because she’s Rose. She loves him and she’s selfish and she can’t help hoping he’d find a way back in spite of the danger. She can’t just give up on him or forget him.

But of course she’s not expecting him to have regenerated if he does show up. Of course she’s not expecting him to think he’s human. She’s seen all kinds of weird things, so Amy and Rory and Will and the Angels being intertwined, that she can believe, fine. (She even tested out the Void detector on Will and decided on her own that it was faulty.) But Will being the Doctor? Why would her brain make that connection until it’s super obvious? She’s just not there mentally. Not because she’s slow - I never meant to imply that she was stupid - but because she’s not willing to expect something like that. She’d be expecting Ten. She’s smart, and she’s capable, and she’s amazing, but she’s also a normal human being. That’s why her character is so great, I think.

Even with all Rose’s foreknowledge, I wrote LAR in such a place and time from her POV that immediately seeing the truth right in front of her was not an option. I personally don’t think she’d make all the right connections right away. And in a situation full of panic and confusion, she has been canonically shown to get stumped and maybe even give up until given the right push.

But I dunno - I mean, I’m explaining my train of thought, but my characterization could be off. I’m just trying to do what I’ve seen the show do with Rose. If she’s not brave, funny, kind, clever, selfish, human, she’s not herself. She’s a Mary Sue. But she’s one of my very favorite characters of all time, so you can see how I’d hate doing her an injustice.

#ask doverstar #asked #answered #rose tyler #dw #doctor who #bbc #timepetals #elevenrose #lar #lost and rewritten #doverstar writes #anon #anonymous #fic comment #opinion piece #writing #ask #fic ask

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iron-embers · 10 months ago

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Heya!!!

So I’ve seen your art of Hatomi and Shinjuro and it’s so sweet and it got me curious…

How did Shinjuro react when he realized that he had feelings for Hatomi?

Did he deny it? Did he stress out? Did he feel guilty? Knowing how much he loved Ruka, was it hard for him to move past his first love?

Vice versa for Hatomi too please?

I’m so glad ya think so, and I appreciate the positive feedback+interest on these two complicated adults figuring out feelings😆. I have had a long time (Too long) to really think about this and formulate how this strange relationship of theirs grew and strengthened throughout the years, so forgive the long explanation. Hopefully this helps organize my thoughts to the question😂

Everyone knows Shinjuro was extremely affected by Ruka’s passing, watching the love of his life wither away before his eyes and die in such a short time left him empty in more ways than one. While she wasn’t the main cause of his spiral, it was definitely the catalyst to finally give up. He didn’t want to be demon slayer, and most of all he gave up on being the proper role model to his sons; and he was ashamed for it, but it took a long time to finally admit it and take steps to get himself out of the drunken cycle. In the beginning he tried to busy himself with slaying demons, taking up mission after mission to get rid of as many demons as possible while asking himself that very question. Why do demons live on and yet the only woman he loved died? Asking himself that for so long, Shinjuro would wonder what is the point anymore, of killing demons only for them to comeback hundred fold, which leads to what is the point of teaching his sons flame breathing if it won’t help get rid of the demon problem, and why would it justify sending them to possibly die. For awhile he wonders why he was still alive after all the dangerous missions if flame breathing was a cheap knockoff, was he lucky, or did the gods have some sick sense of humor to not reunite him with Ruka……which leads to the unfortunate spiral of not wanting to care anymore. Because after everything he had been through, the main thing he took from it was loving someone will only bring you pain and suffering. Trying leads to disappointment, so why bother if he believed he was a failure to begin with…..and who would ever love a failure. Something he projected onto his sons to a degree, but to put it bluntly, he may act like he scorns and belittles them….but these are attempts at trying to disconnect them from him because he doesn’t want them ending up a failure like he believes himself to be. As Kyojuro said, he was once a passionate and loving father, but he changed. This was not overnight, to fight his own usual warm and passionate nature, Shinjuro resorted to numbing himself from dealing with the consequence of feeling….hence the alcohol. He refused to hope that he would ever find love again, not after loving his wife so much. Nothing could be like the warmth of her care, and how much he treasured her…and yet still died.

He is broken, he doesn’t want to be fixed, and he doesn’t want to love only to be hurt all over again.

Meeting Hatomi for the first time was supposed to be no different for him. He was so used to scaring people off with his attitude, or at least being scorned for his brash behavior, that most people would get the hint and back off. At the very least they would judge him for his alcohol abuse and treatment towards his sons. Hatomi on the other hand was a strange case. She came to the estate at the right time, he fired the last servant and he wasn’t exactly looking for a new maid. But even he realized that handling both a 10 year old plus a 4 year old that needs proper attentive care was something he mentally felt unprepared to shoulder seeing as how Ruka had been deceased for a few months now, he was stressed. Tired and fed up with the stress of two young boys needing attention and that’s when he kind of hired Hatomi? (That’s another Long story.). She did none of the above when it came to interacting with him. Hatomi was respectful, she never bothered him with questions, never judged or bothered him about his habits…she gave him space. Which he found was exactly what he needed instead of the overbearing nosey servants that he felt tried to rush him in his time of mourning, and would try to dictate to him of his need to focus on the children. Their intention was not bad, but for Shinjuro in his state of mind, Hatomi respecting his boundaries and picking up the slack that was his mental presence was a breath of fresh air he didn’t know he needed. In the beginning he was a little bitter to her, especially when she seemed to baby Senjuro and yet she would just simply smile, acknowledge his grievances with a professionalism that left him stunned. She didn’t give him any reason to dislike her despite her personal disagreements with his addiction (She showed she was uncomfortable with it, especially when the kids were around but didn’t tell him what to do because she felt it wasn’t her place. Less stress on Shinjuro she learned means giving him less reason to drink if she helped to make a calm environment) because she was patient with her understanding of his grief by giving him less to worry about, it gave him the opportunity to observe her. Overtime he noticed how adaptive she was to the situation between father and sons, prioritizing their needs and giving a stable environment, especially to a baby Senjuro who didn’t fully understand what happened to his mother and why his father was so sad. She gave them hope, encouraged their dreams at a time where he felt unable to, even he would admit he wasn’t the most hospitable employer. Shinjuro was slightly impressed with how experienced she was with both childcare, and maintenance of the household. She had a warm presence about her, calm with a wisened patience that did wonders for his bitterness. It almost made him curious about her background, but since technically he is not supposed to care, he never really pressed for it (He tried once while drunk, but the short response she gave sobered him up real quick). In turn, he gave that same respect to her. The main point was that she didn’t try to fix him, she just made sure that he would have space and an environment to where he can find his own way, no matter how long it took.

When he realized his feelings for her, it was two years into her time as a governess. Senjuro was 7 while Kyojuro was just turning 11, Hatomi made it a habit to tuck the boys into bed, finding ways to burn their energy so they don’t stay up and disturb Shinjuro. She would tell stories, talk with them and even play games until they went to bed. Shinjuro happened to be walking by, surprisingly sober enough that he heard a strange sound. Humming coming from their room. He peeked through the door and saw her humming to the kids, lulling them to sleep with a soft smile. That smile, calming yet with a sadness he knew nothing about left him to wonder, which came with curiosity….and an unfamiliar feeling in his chest. Unfamiliar because it’s been so long since he had that little first sign of affection and he thought he had smothered that with Ruka.

It was supposed to be impossible, and denial hit him like a train. (Too soon😂).

His way of dealing with it was denying that it was the romantic kind of affection, cuz that would lead to a myriad of conflictions and guilt he refused to think about. (Why add on to the reasons for his Sake addiction?). It was years of convincing himself it was a weird familial connection, that he had to see her as a family friend to protect what was left of his sanity because he had no energy left to stress about it. The guilt was there, but it was subdued telling himself that he just cared about her well-being. For the boys sake of course, cause they liked her and she took good care of them. That and while she had a similar aura to Ruka with her patience, it was a blessing in disguise that the two women had some defining differences….it eased the guilt but not enough to where the attraction faded, in fact it only got stronger with time. Considering how devastated he was about Ruka, the guilt he felt thinking he might be betraying her by feeling this way was immense and while he can deal with stress, that hopelessness thinking he must be a horrible man for feeling attracted to another woman. It took him 8 years after to even come to full grasp with how he felt about her, as he was coherent enough to know that acting impulsively with expressing it would ruin any line of trust they had. Shinjuro respected her as she was a widow as well, and wanted to keep his quiet affection for her honest, and with that, refused to take advantage of it. He knew what grief does to people better than anyone, and would never want to place himself in a situation where she would become just another object to ease the ache. Hence why he never said anything for a decade, you gotta respect his patience though.😂. The breaking point was after Kyojuro’s Death, when he did something that caused a bit of a mess that tested that tense trust, but after everything settled the once broken trust got stronger, strong enough to give him the courage to admit his affections….and finally open up to her about it. And she in turn opened up to him with her story, her past, and her motivation behind helping them. He realized that Hatomi had more in common with him than he thought, which was yet one more thing they bonded and comforted each other through such a difficult time. He found that she understood him, something he deeply admired and treasured.

A lil snippet into the story I had been writing for them…😉

He realized that she too was one who suffered much in her own life, and instead of letting it take her down the path he went, made the decision he was to weak to make. Instead of closing herself off like he had upon Ruka’s death, she found the strength to move on and heal. She instead dedicated herself to helping others in need, the consistency and nurturing gave others the strength to heal despite how broken and battered she was herself, she inspired those she cared for to keep going with such patient support. She too had lost someone she loved, and while the hesitation to love once more was present as for all these years was quite stubborn in putting her duties above personal feelings, it was not nearly as crippling. She did not let the loss discourage her from opening herself up to the possibility. Hatomi was strong, both her mind and heart….much like Ruka before her passing. Perhaps that was why he was drawn to her, while the traits were reminiscent of his late wife, they had their respective difference. Differences that he had come to respect and admire over the years, even if he never dared show it. He was afraid. He had always been ever since he had lost the only pillar of strength and stability, which caused him to spiral out of control. Too afraid to be around his sons that though despite looking so much like him, were a constant reminder of what Ruka left behind. Afraid and not knowing how to properly move on, did the only thing that drinking his sorrows away would allow. He pushed them away.

It might have been too late for Shinjuro, as his own shortcomings had an inevitable hand in his eldest sons death, at this moment …..he would not let himself be afraid anymore. He wanted to try again. He wanted to love and be loved again, because their passed loved ones would want both him and Hatomi to live and create new bonds that will strengthen their passion for life.

Sorry for the ramble, but as you can tell I had WAY TOO MUCH time to develop this relationship and any opportunity to share it is so much fun! Because I wrote too much I have no room for Hatomi in this ask so feel free to shoot a separate ask for her with how she felt on her end. Any specifics or questions I would be happy to answer! Thank you for the ask!

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fullmetalscullyy · 2 years ago

Text

day 8 - the confession

12 days - 12 oneshots | a collection of oneshots to celebrate royai

rated: g | words: 1890

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“They really weren’t kidding.”

Roy stiffened when he felt Riza’s breath on his neck as she leaned over his shoulder.

“You are hopeless at wrapping gifts.”

Despite her proximity doing unfair things to his heart and scrambling his thoughts, his defeat was still felt. It still tugged down his shoulders as they slumped.

“I’m trying.”

“I know,” she placated sympathetically. She patted his shoulder, and the unexpected contact sent a bolt of electricity across his skin.

Roy gritted his teeth while his back was turned and forced down his feelings.

They were strong. Incredibly so. He’d become a pro at masking them over the years to avoid making Riza uncomfortable. That was the last thing he wanted. They were good friends. Best friends. And he wouldn’t be the one to ruin it by blurting out that he loved her and had done so for as long as he could remember.

It was better to keep them buried deep within. He was fairly certain she didn’t feel the same way as him. There was nothing but platonic friendship between them, and there never would be an avenue for anything else, anything further.

And that suited Roy just fine. He would welcome it with open arms if it meant he even had a relationship with Riza. If friendship was all she was able to offer him, he wouldn’t hold it against her. He would still cherish it and hold it dear.

But it was getting worse. Getting harder to bury it all down deep and stop things from slipping out. Just a week ago he’d been compelled so strongly to reveal all that when he caught himself, when he realised where his mind had wandered, he’d been horrified.

Their friends told him to tell her.

He told them no.

They watched him suffer in silence but had been sworn to secrecy.

If he was going to do it, he’d do it his own way.

It wasn’t cowardly to keep it to himself. They’d been friends for forever and his feelings had blossomed and grew naturally. But Riza’s hadn’t. She showed no interest whatsoever, so Roy pined and suffered through it.

He’d rather have her friendship than nothing at all.

“I’m a lost cause.”

Riza rounded the table, shaking her head. “You’re not a lost cause,” she replied softly. “You just need some guidance. Some practice. Here.”

She placed her hands over his and began to move them.

Roy fumbled and gave himself a papercut.

“You okay?”

“Fine,” he managed to force out.

Roy knew she was staring at him in concern, but he kept his focus on the paper beneath his hands.

“What we need is some wine. I’ll get some. We can make a night of it.”

Riza wandered off into her kitchen and once he was out of view Roy gave up with the wrapping paper. His spine slumped and he pinched his eyes, bringing his fingers to meet at the bridge of his nose.

He was like a lovestruck teenager.

A hopeless fool.

His aunt told him he was stumbling now because it had been going on for so long. Emotionally, he was exhausted. He shouldn’t be putting himself under this stress, this fight.

He should just tell her or let her go. One or the other.

The latter physically pained him to think about.

Roy almost did tell her when Riza walked back into the room. She was stunning in the glow emitted by the twinkling lights which decorated her living room. An indulgent smile spread across her face as she approached, two full wine glasses in hand.

Red wine.

After taking a sip and thanking her, he realised it was his favourite wine.

She’d bought it just for him.

Roy’s heart clenched within his chest.

It was going to be a long night.

* * * * * * * *

When Riza suggested wine she hadn’t intended for them both to get tipsy. It was simply meant to loosen Roy up. He’d looked so tense and troubled she thought it might help. She’d scoured shop after shop that afternoon too for his favourite wine, ending up going into three different ones before finding one which stocked it. He’d been under a lot of stress recently from his job and looked run and worn down, so she’d wanted to do something nice for him. She’d wanted to treat him because he deserved it.

He deserved someone who would go through the effort to treat him like that.

They’d abandoned their present wrapping. It got sloppier and sloppier as time passed and they eventually ended up collapsing into a fit of giggles together.

Now, Riza was curled up on her couch while Roy lay flat on his back on the rug on her floor. Something in her mind urged her to tell him to get up so he wasn’t lying down, but it was fleeting.

Plus, he looked so good from this angle…

Hayate had eventually ventured over to him. Roy played with Riza’s pup, talking to him as if he were human and could understand him. Once Roy had fallen onto his elbows, then his back, Hayate had curled up tight against his side and started to snooze. It warmed her heart to know her pup trusted and liked him as much as she did. It was so important to her, but in her hazy thoughts she couldn’t really think why.

“I like this apartment,” he mumbled randomly to no one in particular.

“I like it too,” Riza agreed.

“I wish I could live here.” His eyes batted open, and he stared wistfully up at her ceiling. “It would be so good to live here.”

“Live here?”

He nodded emphatically. “I would love it. Living here with Hayate, with you. I would love it.”

The shock was slowly penetrating the hold alcohol had on her mind. What was he talking about?

“I would love it…” Roy trailed off and Riza thought he might have fallen asleep.

She swayed when she stood but took careful, measured steps over to him. Riza crouched by his side and peered over him. The urge to poke his cheek to check if he was awake was strong.

“Roy?” Fear started to creep into her voice, afraid he’d passed out on his back, and she’d have to move him.

His eyes blinked open when she gave into the urge and poked his cheek. A smile spread across his face. His eyes peered up into hers and although they were glassy, there was true, genuine emotion behind that.

It made Riza’s heart thunder within her chest.

“I’d love living here with you, just like I love you.”

The apartment was filled with a deafening silence as Roy peered earnestly up into her eyes, willing her to understand him. To reciprocate.

“We’d be so good together, Riza,” he slurred, but she could tell he meant it. There was honesty in his voice. He felt very passionately about this fact. “So, so good.”

His eyelids drooped and within moments he was asleep, snoring softly.

Unable to process his confession just yet, Riza turned him onto his side and sat down on the rug, facing him, dumbstruck.

She watched over his sleeping form, making sure he was okay, as she started to sort through her thoughts.

And, secretly, Riza was inclined to agree with him. They really would be.

Riza… She’d never dreamed he’d feel that way about her. He was always… not exactly indifferent but shrugged any implications off. It caused Riza’s heart to yearn – though she’d never tell anyone, too terrified to be rejected by the one person she cherished most in this world – but he was her friend. He’d always been her friend, for as long as she could remember. Her best friend. They shared a bond others commented on and mentioned how close they were. She supposed it was only natural her feelings would grow deeper over time. And it was only recently she’d come to the realisation.

The only issue was telling him.

Riza hadn’t the faintest clue how.

Not to mention the potential of rejection. Riza knew Roy would be kind about it, understanding, but she didn’t think she could live with the sting or the embarrassment if it happened. She didn’t think she’d be able to hang out with him anymore and that thought terrified her most of all.

No, it was best to play it safe.

Bury her feelings and suffer alone in silence.

She’d rather have Roy in her life than out of it.

He was her rock. Her safe place. She didn’t know what she’d do without him.

She loved him too.

* * * * * * * *

When Roy awoke he tried to turn but his back protested painfully. He let out a grunt and whimpered as pain shot up his spine.

Movement to his left made him pause. He thought it was Hayate but the sigh which came from the warm body lying across his chest was feminine. It most certainly didn’t belong to a dog.

It was Riza.

She’d tucked her head beneath his chin so it lay directly atop his heart.

Roy’s mind emptied. It blanked.

“Roy?”

He froze. Like a deer caught in headlights. A feeling of dread washed over him, but he didn’t quite know why. He searched his mind desperately to try and remember the previous evening, but it was a struggle. The memories didn’t come to him when he called upon them. Then he turned frantic.

“I can hear you thinking.”

He glanced down at Riza, still lying in his arms, staring up at him with her gorgeous eyes and a smile.

If anyone were to ask him his favourite colour, it would be the colour of Riza Hawkeye’s eyes.

The hand which she’d rested on his chest patted it lightly and made his breath escape his lungs. His throat constricted as he tried to swallow.

“Good morning.” He attempted to sound casual, but it came out as a croak.

Riza didn’t reply to his greeting. Instead, she cocked her head to consider him. He felt like he was beneath the microscope, but he remained captured by her scrutiny. He’d let her stare at him like this for eternity if she wished.

He’d do anything for her.

“Do you remember last night? What you said?”

Oh… Oh No. No, no, no!

Oh god. Had he – Did she –

Panicked, he searched her gaze. Riza didn’t appear angry at him, but he couldn’t be certain what he’d said –

“Relax,” she urged softly. She ran her hand over his chest and down his stomach, causing his muscles to jump and bunch up at the contact. “It was nothing bad.”

Roy swallowed and finally managed to get the words out. “It wasn’t?”

Riza shook her head and a slow smile spread across her face. It grew wider and wider, causing her eyes to twinkle with pure joy.

“Nope.” She even popped the ‘p’. “But I want you to remember it. Do you remember it?”

Roy grimaced. “I don’t –”

Then the memory hit him like a two-tonne truck.

“I’d love living here with you, just like I love you.”

Oh…

“And just so you know, I would love it as well.” Her eyes fairly sparkled with mischief and glee.

Hope seized him, fizzling out the panic.

“Because I love you too.”

kudos and kind comments are always appreciated :)

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feel free to send me an ask too!

#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #royai au #royai advent calendar #emma writes

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