#but i felt inspired w this one!! it's a relatively easy one too since i already did a lot of the math before heehoo | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

delusional-angel · 3 years

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a replaced!mc au pt. ii〚Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo.〛

"If I cannot bend the will of Heaven, I shall move Hell."

part unus

This series was inspired by the writings of @wafermelons and @pen-ink-therapy whose work showed me how cathartic writing and reading angst could be.

Imagine an alternate universe where the seven avatars who have come to love the MC with everything they have, reject them for another. Old wounds are ripped open and laid bare for all to see. Grudges are brought to light, but with it comes an inner peace MC hasn't felt since they became the emotional support of the seven demon lords of the Devildom. Through trial and fire, MC will begin a new journey and the brothers will lose what cannot be replaced.

Warnings: mental abuse, emotional abuse, acts of violence, suicidal ideation, poor mental health, angst, mentions of past death, MC chose violence.

Note: There will be n/sfw and yandere content in future installments because I am a ✨ w h o r e ✨

The look on Mammon’s face—for lack of a better word—was priceless. One sentence. One response from you was all it took to crack his face in two. Your softly smiling lips and impishly twinkling eyes didn’t betray your emotions like his did, but inside you were just as surprised at yourself. The sentence flowed from your lips like a cool breeze on a warm summer’s day. It should’ve hurt, or been scary, or sent you into a panic attack afraid of all of the things that could be done to you in retaliation for daring to talk back—but it wasn’t and you didn’t. You forgot what this felt like, defending yourself against those who sought to tear you down with their hands or their words. It was always scary at first. The buildup of anxiety that festered the longer you took to defend yourself, but once you did, they almost always backed down because they thought you were an easy target and you proved you weren’t.

It was like how a bully's face crumbled in humiliation when you snapped back. They thought you were prey to make an example of in front of your peers, but they were so wrong. You could recall a relative who thought their blood ties could excuse bad behavior, only to get settled in front of the whole family, consequences be damned. You forgot what this felt like. To care about yourself. To begin to love yourself again. When you defended yourself, no matter the outcome, you were affirming your worth and your dignity was not something that could be taken away no matter how daunting the foe. You stared the second strongest lord of the Devildom in the eye and quirked an eyebrow. If you were to die for this, you sure as hell were going to get your money's worth.

You had always been worth so much more than you ever believed, MC.

While you had been invigorated and ready for conflict Mammon’s face had cracked, but by the grace of Diavolo it didn’t betray the mayhem raging inside. His eyes were wide with trembling pupils as if he was having trouble focusing on the human standing not even two feet away from him. Mouth slightly agape, no sound came out. His brothers, the mighty avatars, were frozen where they were. Asmodeus had been curled up on the couch with a throw blanket, but now his eyes were wide, and lips a wobbly line. Belphegor and Leviathan who had been grabbing for Danielle who had been scrambling towards you, were now frozen with their arms extended.

Satan had been stalking towards you with nostrils practically flaring when your words brought him to an abrupt halt. Beelzebub who had been seated on a chair was now sat upright, confusion and concern marred his features as once again he was at a loss of what to do. Lucifer stood the closest to you and Mammon, but he too had paused. He didn’t register that a mere human’s words had halted his movements and if he realized or someone was suicidal enough to mention it, he would surely combust on the spot. The silence was going on too long for your liking. I mean, you had places to be tonight. They had wasted enough of your valuable time—time a mere mortal like yourself couldn’t get back—and you’d be damned before you let them take a second more. Hurry up and start the confrontation so you can get the fuck on.

“What’s the matter, Mammoney? Cat got your tongue?” You used the old nickname he once wore like a badge of honor. He’d go out of his way to have you call that name in public, wanting the world to know that he was yours. Things had been so good once. You were so happy. Don’t worry MC, you can be happy again. It just won’t be with him.

Mammon had to shake himself from his stupor. He hadn’t heard that nickname in so long, and for some reason unknown to him, his heart ached. However, he couldn’t think over these foreign yet familiar feelings now. His brothers were watching and he wasn’t about to let himself be cowed in front of them.

“What the fuck did you just say to the Great Mammon?” His canines seemed more prominent, and his eyes sharpened with a danger never intended for you before. His fists were balled and shook slightly, and you could see the you of the past throwing yourself out of the way, so terrified of an attack. That was no more.

Your smile never left your lips, you didn’t even hesitate, “You’re a goddamned hypocritical little bitch and caring about you was one of the biggest mistakes I’ve ever made.”

He stumbled backwards and the bubble burst. Lucifer was charging at you, drawing up to bring his full form over yours. He was darkness and the odor of burning blood and rusty iron from chains and torture. “MC! How dare you—!”

You turned your head to the left to lock eyes with the furious demon. The fallen. He thought he was so scary, but the flash in your eyes was murderous. He had always thought he was so intimidating. A word from him, and everyone would fall into line, but you weren’t one of them. You looked at him and all you saw was a waste of space. His booming voice that seemed to reverberate in the common room and the hellfire that was his eyes, did nothing to you. Instead, your own eyes were alight with unbridled rage at his insubordination.

“Shut the fuck up!” Your voice was a growl, a beast that long lay dormant inside was awakened and out to protect you. "I am your master and you will obey me."

Every demon in the room was thrown back as strong gales of wind spun with you at its center. All were tossed back from their spots and sent crashing into furniture or the walls around you. Beelzebub was thrown into a display shelf, glass and priceless antiques were destroyed beyond repair. Asmodeus was thrown up where his head hit the ceiling on a tender spot that sent tears blurring his vision. He fell on his side and could immediately feel the bruises forming. Belphegor had been ripped backwards where he skidded across the carpet and bumped into an end table that fell over to crush his thighs.

Leviathan was ripped from his seat and spun in the air where he was thrown at the door where his head collided with the doorframe. His vision blurred and mind raced, unable to latch onto any thought but of terror and confusion and the splinters stuck in his scalp. Satan felt a punch to his gut that propelled him back into the lit fireplace. It took agonizingly long seconds before his body registered the heat. Then, he quickly threw himself on the rug before him and rolled to extinguish the flames, being too stunned to even think of a spell to put them out. Mammon was thrown back where he slid across the carpet and against the wall. Family photos and memories fell from the surface onto and around him. Glass shattered and frames broke and a picture of you and him on a rare trip to the human world caught his attention. You were holding his hand and beaming like it had been the happiest day of your life.

Lucifer should’ve been the one out of the brothers who could stand his ground, but his knees were kicked in by some invisible assailant, and he was tossed aside like a ragdoll. His wings wouldn’t listen to him and appear to catch his flight, so he was cast aside like something insignificant, an indignation he was sure he had never felt in all of his days.

The epiphany came too late. The paltry amount of magic Solomon had leant you at the beginning of your first semester was overwhelmed by your natural talents. You were able to summon the brothers to your side without a formal invocation and they had been imbued with strength they had never felt before from a pact mate. You were far stronger than they had realized, but somehow the fact had been forgotten. Why did they forget? Because you never used your pacts. You treated them like friends and only called when your life was threatened. You never asked for anything, but a bit of their time and they couldn’t even give that. This time, your command wasn’t imbuing them with power, but draining them. While all of this was happening, no demon uttered a single sound, not even a pained groan from their throats, because that was your command: To shut the fuck up. Their bodies listened and obeyed.

You exhaled. You had been afraid for nothing! All this time you held your tongue, bowed out with your tail between your legs and avoided confrontation like it was a fatal contagion because you felt it could kill you. Your life had been threatened in every possible way it could be and you still had panic attacks at night. You would awake unable to move and the air leaving your lungs. You couldn’t breathe or make a single gurgle inside of your throat and your vision would begin to go spotty. Every time that happened you were taken back to your throat being crushed by the hands of someone you foolishly trusted. Your lungs failed you and desperately clawing hands made no scratch on the demon who straddled your weakening form. You couldn’t have done anything to protect yourself back then, and it had hit you long ago how insignificant you truly were.

You could be killed by these creatures who didn’t view you as more than a fly—they had killed you like the fly they saw you as—and every threat may have been filled with truth. Almost eaten in a fit of rage because you were close enough and food. Almost ripped apart because you dared to say 'no.' Almost maimed over a stupid game that didn’t matter. Threatened to be sold or killed or disfigured or tortured until you were actually killed and brought back like exchanging a faulty product for a new one in store. Maybe you had been replaced long ago by a new you who they didn’t bother to ask how you felt. A new you who forgave and forgot.

In the chaos, Danielle was the only one left untouched. There was a slight tremor in her legs as she walked towards you, but it vanished the closer she got. Her back straightened and eyes never left your own. She stopped short, not wanting to invade your personal space, not from fear but from compassion. “MC, are you okay?”

You always looked at her with a softness your eyes had lost towards the brothers, and your smile bloomed into something shy and incredulous. “You’re something else, Danielle. You know that?” She shook her head, worry evident on her features. She pointed towards your hand that glowed with the signature colors of the demons you were in a pact with. The sight soured your expression.

Raising it to get a better view, these colors once gave a feeling of security but now they were a ball and chain you needed to find a saw to cut off. You wiggled your fingers and glanced at her. “Y’know, I was tricked into making these pacts.” She perked up then. She didn’t know how it happened and she never asked because she felt it hadn’t been her place, but she had been waiting to hear your side of things. “I thought I was helping,” you turned away from her, her honest eyes doing something to you, “but I was the only one hurt in the end.” Your throat became sore.

“MC?” Danielle started.

“Yes?”

“I’m on your side.”

You laughed. Come on, now. This had to be a joke, but Danielle stared at you with a resolve that you knew you couldn’t shake. You shook your head as you gazed at her, “I wish that we could’ve been friends.” You smiled and she could feel that same shyness she felt when first meeting you. She had always wanted you to like her, but she didn’t get the chance. “You should go.” You inclined your head to the door. “There’s something I have to do and…I don’t want to scare you.” You couldn’t budge her. “I’m not afraid, MC.” She was already going back to her spot on the couch where she sat crisscrossed. “And I feel like I should be here. Everything needs to come out in the open and I understand if you hate me—.”

“I don’t, Danielle. I could never hate you.” You smiled and she had to look away and clear her throat. Please don’t look at her like that when she’s trying to be serious and supportive here! “Well, no matter what happens here, I just want you to know I’m on your side.” she forced her eyes to meet yours again. You shook your head again, but maybe you didn’t hate the fact that she was here. What was going to happen in this room would sever the ties that bound you to this house and everyone in it, but that thought didn’t scare you like it once did. As cliché as it sounded, you truly could see the light at the end of this tunnel.

Turning away from her, it was time to get started. Your voice was clear and even when you turned your attention to Lucifer who had pulled himself up from the crumbled heap he once was. “Kneel before your master.” Avatars were drawn from their positions and forced to form a circle around you. All were forced to their knees, crashing harshly against the floor and nearly shattering kneecaps. The loudest of the brothers, Asmodeus and Leviathan, weren’t allowed to even make a peep. It was so nice to not hear their shrill voices for once. You basked in the silence, but your attention never left Lucifer whose eyes tried to express every vile intent and curse he could muster, ruby red eyes shaking and mouth drawn tight. You weren’t satisfied.

“Lower.”

Shock appeared on every brother’s face. Even Lucifer’s eyes widened as he was forced down onto his elbows where his fingers laced before him as he faced the floor at your feet in obedience. This still wasn’t enough. “Lower. Face down, ass up.” The smile that adorned your features was salacious. His once proud form prostrated himself in the same humiliating position you had been in not hours before. Forehead pressed against the floor and his ass being the highest point about him as it was raised in the air, he looked like a servant in devotion to their master.

“I’ve called you here for one last family meeting. You will listen to every word I speak and commit them to memory where they will forever be engraved on your hearts. They will invade every moment of silence you’ll ever experience. They’ll haunt your dreams and never let you rest. If I had to suffer from your words, so should you.” They must obey. Their confusion and fear were tuned out in favor of their ears and minds focusing on you and what you had to say. What was going to happen? What do you mean you suffered? You didn’t care for easing their anxieties, instead reaching down to take a fist full of Lucifer’s always perfectly styled hair painfully by the roots to jerk his head up to face you. Your eyes scanned his face looking for something of substance or value. Your eyes were unreadable, and he could feel an anxiety from being judged rise inside of him. Finally, your eyes flashed as you came to your conclusion.

“You look pretty like this. No wonder Diavolo keeps you down here—on your knees where you belong.” If they could’ve there would’ve been audible gasps heard in this room. “Just don’t forget who else owns your ass.” The look on his face should’ve been memorialized, but you didn’t waste time on him as you released his hair—now messy—and his head fell to the floor once more.

You retook your place at the center of the circle and gazed at every face. Every single one you had cared for in some way, but now those feelings had burned to ash, and something new thrived in its place. You needed to quench its thirst. As far as humans go, you tried to be good and kind. You tried to extend the same kindness to others that you wish you had been given at some of your lowest points in life. You never wanted others to feel the same hurt you did, but at the expense of your own health? You should’ve treated others like they deserved to be treated, MC. Don’t be good and kind; don’t be their Lilith. Let that vindictive bitch inside out.

“There are some things I have to get off of my chest.” You started, “Everyone else got to share their feelings, so I should get a turn before I go. Just remember: You unloaded all of this on me to fix and didn’t realize you were giving me ammo.”

You walked towards Mammon, the look in your eyes felt so disconnected to what he was used to as you gazed down at him.

“I guess I’ll start with my first,” you grinned, but he couldn’t feel the butterflies he used to. He felt cold. “Everything you did hurt the most, Mammon, because I loved you.” His eyes widened and he struggled to open his mouth or even whine, but nothing would come out. His throat was numb.

“You always pushed me away, but I couldn’t help but care. I never felt safer than when I was with you, and I trusted you over anyone else.” You searched his eyes, and he could feel the emotion. You were hurting and he was the one who caused it. How did he let it get this far?

“I was so stupid.” Wait, what?

“Everything that your brothers had ever said was true. You’re lower than shit, and not even half as useful. You go on and on about being the greatest but you’re a slave to some fucking witches who’ve made you their bitch and you let them. Either you get trapped in schemes that anyone could see, or you throw yourself into shit chasing coin that you never get to keep. You debase yourself for things or money that mean nothing, and in the end, you’re left used up and empty. You’re the cheapest fucking thing on the market, but no amount of grimm can buy back the dignity and respect you lost. What’s the point of making a pact with ‘the Great Mammon’ if everyone gets a turn? How many people have you had to suck and fuck to get out of debt just to fall into an MLM? You ask for respect, but when have you ever been worthy? When have you ever been someone to be proud of?”

You stoop down to meet his eye level, his trembling pupils and glassy eyes can no longer reach your heart. “The Great fucking Mammon is a delusion to save your shit self-esteem from everything people say because you know it’s the truth. You’re a greedy pest with no sense of self-worth so you take and take from everyone around you to bring them down to your level.” You tap a finger to his heart, “But no amount of grimm will change what you are or what people say. The only thing that can make the change is you, and you gave up a long time ago, right? You tried to play the good guy with me, but that crashed and burned. ‘I’ll protect ya!’ ‘I’m your first man!’ But how long did that last, Mammon? You kept me alive for what—a few months?—And then watched your baby brother kill me. Did you like it?” You leaned forward, voice dropping to a low whisper that sent chills wracking his spine. “Did it satisfy something in you watching that pesky little human being killed? I bet you liked that I couldn’t bother you anymore. If the human was out of the way, you could have more time to chase that grimm! Mammon, you’re the second born and Belphegor’s the weakest. If you wanted to save me, you would’ve. For once, just accept the truth. If you really cared you would’ve done something about it, but you chose you brother over me. You all did. Give me back the time I wasted loving you.”

You gently touched the gold change around his neck, only to cruelly rip it from his throat. A spell in your mind, a reverse alchemy that regressed an item to its basic components had the ‘gold’ chain reduced to mere copper. You stared down at the mineral blankly, then chuckled. “Cheap and tasteless. Typical.” You dropped the ash and grains at his knees and stood up to find Leviathan. When your eyes locked on his, he wanted to shrink in on himself and disappear. His turn was coming.

“Leviathan, you were wrong. People don’t hate you because you’re some yucky otaku.” Your voice was reassuring like the times you talked him down from his self-deprecating tangents. He foolishly let himself relax. “Please smile for me.” You cooed and his muscles drew back to expose his pearly whites to you despite his eyes betraying his fear.

His tense muscles relaxed the moment before your foot collided into his mouth.

Your shoe was a battering ram against his teeth, knocking his head back with a snap and him tumbling backward and on his back. The entire time, he didn’t make a sound. Some teeth loosened while his front ones chipped and broke. His mouth wasn’t allowed to open despite filling with blood and fragments of a broken smile, so he had no choice but to swallow it all down. The blood wouldn’t stop but he choked it down all the same. Tears poured from his eyes pathetically, but he couldn’t even sniffle.

“People hate you because you’re a manipulative, whiny, bitch-ass bastard who sucks the joy out of every place you go. You’re almost as much of a blackhole as Beelzebub, listless and empty, and like your older brother you take, and you take, and you take. You take good will, you take patience, you take the last shred of sanity needed to deal with a pathetic fuck like you! You take more than a person can give and you want more, but Leviathan, I have to tell you—you’re not worth it and you never will be.” Your once low voice when berating Mammon rose an octave, showing how annoyed you had been with Levi all this time.

“The most insecure are always the loudest, and you never shut the fuck up. If you hate being such a bother, why don’t you just disappear? The third born and leader of a fucking navy, but you can’t make any friends or inspire anything but pity. You need your hand held just to leave your room, but at least you’re considerate enough to know that no one wants to be seen with you.” You sneered down at him. He had truly been an annoyance for so long. You found a kindred spirit in him, his raw insecurities mirroring some of your own, so maybe that’s why it hurt so much to be left behind by someone you thought understood you. “Now don’t go withdrawing into yourself now. You’re always so expressive when playing those video games with the other scrotes who only have experience with their free hands. You’re so good at games, that’s the only thing you can be confident in. But when you lose? Everyone loses. They lose a tooth, they lose a friend, they could even lose their lives. Misery loves company because the only company you can keep are those you ruin.

“You’re weak and bitter, and not everyone is going to fall for your shit. What else can you offer than that? What more can you bring to the table, Levi? Nothing and you know it. I'm sure you were as useless in the celestial realm as you are down here." Snot dribbled down his chin as you hissed in dissatisfaction. "That's why you fell, right? Not some grand purpose you deluded yourself into believing like Lucifer— you fell because you had nowhere else to go. If your brothers left you'd be all alone. Heaven knows you're not the best at socializing, and you'd be up there all alone with no one you could talk to. Let's be real, you won't focus on anything that isn't a waifu or shitty otaku cashgrab, because you knew they would see through you as the waste of space, bottom of the barrel, unwanted middle child you are." Your sneer dropped into a flat line and your voice became a grave monotone, "You were right. Shove a loli figurine up your ass, you fucking degenerate, and throw in the fucking towel.”

You were out of breath at the end, but felt so fucking alive. You had cared about him once. The social anxiety was real, and you wanted to help him and grow together, but he let go of your hand. You were just paying back what was owed.

You turned to Satan and frowned. His eyes were like those of a caged animal, parts afraid, but parts ready to rip the keeper limb from limb if they dared approach. “Well, if it isn’t Lucifer’s precious little boy. His happy little accident.” You grinned wickedly and his eyes widened. “An amalgamation of some of his worst parts, but nothing left to stand on your own.” You raised a finger and he rose to his feet without hesitation. “At least you know a few tricks.” You continued, “Maybe show me what you did to me that one time.” His eyes widened, as his body levitated in the air and crashed into the wall behind him. Maybe it was your own influence, but the wall around him seemed to erupt as he went back as far as the wooden and stone beams lining the foundation of the home. Dust and cobwebs and construction fell around him and sent plumes of dust around the room, but you just stood and stared with your hands in your pockets. “Make yourself comfortable.” You said and his body began to grind into the beams and plaster with every bit of harshness and pain you had felt tenfold. You could see the veins straining in his neck and chose to let him slowly grind to a halt. His skin blazed a brilliant red from beneath his shirt, up his neck and to his ears.

“Are you angry?” You raised an eyebrow with a bored tone. “You’re so predictable, but it makes sense. You’re a product of a single emotion so how complex could you really be, right?” You didn’t wait for an answer as you mused over his existence, “Born from rage, you were conceived from trauma, but lots of people were so don’t let that get you down. You were never wanted and never meant to be anything more than a product of the worst moment of Lucifer’s life.” Your smile widened just a bit and the lights were dancing in your eyes. “You’re nothing more than an extension of someone else, and because of that you’ll never be whole. You can read every book from the Great fucking Library of Alexandria, but that won’t teach you what it means to feel. You can read about people’s lives and their dreams, but that won’t give you your own. You’ll never be able to be anything more than what you were after the fall. Wrath and hate and violence. You’re no more than a shade with one purpose and that’s just to be. So fucking controlled by your rage, do you even have a free will or to this day, do you still unconsciously act on Lucifer’s feelings? Could you ever exist without him? Do you even exist now?” For once, it looked like the demon would shed tears from anger, but you didn’t care. The look on his face was kind of cute in a way.

“Also, before I forget, you’re a pretentious prick. Yeah, you’re well-read but how could you not be when it’s the only way you know to live? You try not to be like Lucifer, but you’re copy. Wake the fuck up. Everything you loathe about him you have right in here.” You point to your heart, “And that’ll never go away as long as you live. You could never exist without him, but he can without you, and you know that.” He stared at you from his crucifixion pose in the common room’s wall and it looked like all of the fight had left him. He almost looked like the cute kittens he loved so much. You had bested Wrath.

You turned on Asmodeus and could see the teeth chattering behind his lips. You stood above him and scrutinized his features. Was he beautiful? Well, everyone else said so. What were you not getting?

"The Jewel of the Heavens," you started, "turned public toilet."

The tears spilled from his eyes and that fueled you. You had cried in front of him so many times; His words dressed you down to every insecurity you stupidly shared when you trusted him, and he turned them into knives and spit poison at you. Everyone had flaws, but his fault was acting like he had none. He was a huge slut with no self worth, yet acted like something to be treasured. "Free to use."

"You think people like being around you? You think they love you?" You began, "but people only like what you can do for them or what you let them do to you, Asmodeus." Your voice took on the faux compassionate tone his would take when giving you 'advice' and you even gingerly placed a hand over your chest and tilted your head, eyes boring into his own. "People don't want to hear your opinions. It doesn't even matter if you lay there like a dead fish, because dildos and fleshlights don't need feelings."

"That 'love' is dopamine, sweetie. When people cum, they feel a rush of neurochemicals that trigger pleasure, motivation, and desire. People will say anything before post-nut clarity kicks in and one of the biggest little lies they'll say is that they love you." You looked down at him like you truly pitied him and maybe you did. Even you wouldn't let yourself be as delusional as he is. "People don't love you, but they sure love fucking you, and you're not too picky as long as someone throws a few compliments your way. When you tried to get me into bed after complimenting your hair, I thought: This bitch is a lost cause." You grinned recalling that memory that seemed so long ago.

Your brows furrowed and the smile you sent looked apologetic, as if you were trying to break the news gently, “Y’know, Asmo…” You started—spurred on by his puffy and red face, wet cheeks, snot, and shaking lips—“How your powers don’t work on me?” You stared him deep in the eyes with a smile that he once called beautiful. “Maybe I’m not immune, and maybe you’re just a basic little bitch.” His expression shattered into a million pieces and the tears were back in full force. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and I’ve always been able to see right through you. So, maybe I can see your disgusting insides on the outside? Something about you was always a little disgusting to me. Everyone and anything could touch you and your touch felt like an infection to me. I washed my sheets at least three times after you slept in my bed." you shivered involuntarily. "Something just made my skin crawl, y'know?” You added conversationally like you were shooting the shit on an average Sunday afternoon.

“You embody your sin just like the others and you’re good at what you do, but would your fans feel the same if they could really see you? The insecurities and the viciousness are really fucking ugly, and you do not wear them well, darling. You can fluff yourself up as much as you want, but we both know what you truly see in the mirror and it’s not pretty. You take care of yourself, but what’s left? Nothing. Asmodeus, you want love, but the only love you can get is physical and skin-deep. I promise you that no one could stand to be around you for five minutes if they had to do anything with you other than fuck. How could I stand you? Because I accepted it. I accepted the ugly parts because everyone has them, and I didn’t hold you to the impossible standards that you did.” You sighed as if tired with him and it all, “But for a former Jewel of the Heavens and fifth demon lord, you’re pretty fucking bland. Safe and without substance.

“You can fill the holes in your head and your ass, but you’ll never fill the one in your heart. You can’t give love and you can’t get it, sweetie. I pray you never lose that face cause you’ll really have nothing left.” You smiled as if giving heartfelt advice and turned your back to him just as quickly. He was shut out and discarded like last week's trend

Your eyes found Beelzebub but his were looking anywhere, but at you. He knew what guilt felt like, but never did anything about it. “There’s my big strong protector.” You could see his Adam’s apple bob. “Well, you’re good at protecting everyone else. You’ve got Lucifer’s back even though you don’t know what the fuck’s going on most of the time, and you could even back up a murderer over me.” His eyes found yours now. “You try to be the strong silent protector, but you’re more of a bitch-ass hypocrite than Mammon. Clap it up.” You clapped for him with a grin, “You’re as much of a drain as Leviathan and a one dimensional, listless bastard as Satan. You were always good at following the others, after all.

“You hold onto the past and let it tear you up inside and you eat to fill the emptiness for a little bit, but you’ll never be whole, Bumble Bee.” The nickname made his heart ache. “You’re an empty hole that’ll never be filled just like Asmodeus, and the same way you followed Lucifer into Hell, you’ll follow anyone because you don’t think for yourself and you're slow as fuck. If you weren’t a shadow or up Belphegor’s ass, you’d be nothing, and it’s sad you’ve never realized this. You think you’re kind and compassionate? You’re a dumbass that follows the leader, let’s not dress it up as something else.” You pulled out your ace. You didn’t care what would happen to you. After everything that happened, you’d sure as hell take someone down with you.

“Can we talk about Lilith? You should really stop blaming yourself. What else could you have done? I thought that it wasn’t your fault, but the second time you let someone be killed in front of you I started to notice a pattern. When it was my life on the line, you chose your twin—you always choose that trash in the end.”

You knew that your words should’ve gotten you killed, but your powers were too strong as your words penetrated their minds and nestled in deep. “Just admit it, Bumble. You don’t care about anyone else but keeping him alive even if he’s a genocidal maniac. It’s not sibling love, but dependency because you’re too afraid to live for yourself. No matter who it is, or what stake, you’ll always choose him. I did everything I could to help him for you. You cared so much and were hurting and I…” Your eyes got a little glassy and you paused to stare him down. “I wanted to help you forgive yourself, but you never should. You should live with your decisions for the rest of your shitty life and let the regret eat you from the inside out. I hope that at the end there'll be nothing left of you.”

You stood still for a moment before turning. There were no more smiles, but a burning ice in your veins. Violence hadn’t been your first instinct for so long, but gazing at Belphegor’s neck, it looked so scrawny and you could practically feel the bones breaking in your hands. “Belphegor.” You could feel the rage rolling from him in waves. He would have your life for what you said to his twin, but not if you had his first.

“Did you really think it was over?” You wanted to kick him, to crush his throat, to rip every strand of hair from his head, but that could wait. “What was it about you that made me want to help you? You had his eyes so I trusted you. I shouldn't have been so sentimental.” You gazed at him wistfully, but a chill ran down his spine. “Do you really believe I ever forgave you? Every time you hugged me, I wanted to throw up. When I was alone with you, I felt your hands around my neck and I was fighting as hard as I could, but no one came to help me. It took so long to die. I tried so hard but that meant nothing in the end. I felt myself die and everyone just watched. Surrounded by people, but I was all alone.”

They thought you had forgotten. This timeline’s MC had died, so those shouldn’t have been your memories! It should’ve been a clean slate. They stupidly forgot that if you remembered the good times pre death, how could you not remember the most traumatic event of your life? Your throat was growing tight, and you unconsciously touched you neck, “I can still feel your hands. I can feel the blood vessels bursting in my neck and eyes. You were the last thing I saw as I died, and to the end I was wondering what I did wrong. 'How did I make you turn on me? Did I offend you? I thought I had been helping.'

“But it’s okay, Belphegor. I got a second chance to see where I went wrong and I can see that you were always a greasy bastard so caught up in the past and your survivor's remorse sister complex. I wish God had wiped you out of existence before you even landed. You wanted to end humanity, but you should’ve started with yourself. The problem was always with you. Always you. Blaming your problems on others, you even blamed Beelzebub for saving your sorry ass and I hate that he saved you too. Meeting you was the worst thing that ever happened to me, and I wish I had listened to that arrogant bitch about the stairs, but you should know better than anyone that we can’t go back. We deal with the present.

“Do you think Lilith is proud of you?” his eyes were wild, silently screaming to stop talking, but you continued. “I’ve felt her since my first day here.” You said, and that was the truth. You had never been alone when you arrived, but her form was not enough to interfere or protect you. “She had always been watching you all… She saw everything but loved you anyway.” You were looking him in the eyes and the anger turned to pity at his foolishness, “She. Saw. Everything. She was there when you killed me, and she’s been angry with you ever since. When you fell from Heaven, you fell somewhere too low to reach. You’re irredeemable and I wash my hands of you."

You huffed and softly shook your head like a disappointed parent. “Just do one last thing for me, Belphegor." You looked at him now and he recognized that expression. After a long day of coddling the brothers, you would be emotionally drained but he still sucked every drop of attention you had to offer until you had nothing left to give.

"Close your eyes."

His eyes closed immediately.

“Now, fall into a never-ending nightmare where you’ll feel everything I felt."

You didn't second guess yourself.

"Die then revive and die again—"

He deserved far worse.

"staring up at your own face killing you.”

He was lucky you would let him live.

Beelzebub would’ve yelled out, he would’ve ran to catch his brother from falling to the floor in a heap, but he couldn’t do anything for anyone. Belphegor began to twitch and squirm on the floor, then he started to convulse and buck as if trying to throw someone off of him. His hands desperately clawed at his neck, trying to pry something off —perhaps a pair of hands that had a bone-crushing grip on his windpipe?— but he only tore into his own flesh, drawing bright red gashes. He wheezed, and you could see his chest desperately rising and falling as he choked down shallow breaths until his chest couldn’t rise any more. He fell limp for a few moments, and then reanimated again where he started the horrible cycle all over again. Seeing that your work was done, you turned to the last event.

“Lucifer,” you called softly to him like you did before entering his office, “Have you thought about what you’ve done? No, I’m not talking about the lies and the imprisonment. I’m talking about the threats and the violence and everything you’ve ever done to the first human in your care.” His mouth stayed sealed, and you smiled at the back of his head that was facing you.

Then, you raised a foot and stumped his head further into the floor.

One.

“You always acted like you were better than everyone else.”

Two.

“Because you felt like you were the lowest.”

Three.

“There’s a limit to how much you can fake it, Lucifer.”

Four.

“Everyone can see you for what you are.”

Five.

“An angel fallen from glory desperately clinging to a pride he doesn’t have.”

The violence made you feel a little better, but it didn’t help. You could never change a demon and he would never understand how much he hurt you. “Look at me, Lucifer.” He groggily raised his head and although the fight left his eyes, he was still alert and aware, and his body awaited your command. A brilliant red spread from his broken nose and across his face. How the mighty had fallen. “You hated me from day one and it’s always been mutual. You’re a pompous bitch who thinks he can micromanage everyone around him, and be the pinnacle of perfection we should all strive to emulate, but don't delude yourself, the only thing you can be proud of is your place at Diavolo’s feet. You went from being a lapdog for one master to another, and you don’t even see it. Maybe you’re not that smart after all.” You tilted your head quizzically. “I hate everything about you because you’re every trait I’ve ever seen in an abuser back in the human world. Mammon takes, and Leviathan manipulates, Satan rages and hurts, and Asmodeus tries to destroy people from the inside, and Beelzebub betrays, and Belphegor should’ve been destroyed so many times over.

“And you think you run a tight ship? You think you have the right to fucking discipline me, but you can’t even control your damn family! Everything was falling apart, Lucifer. Everyone hated each other and themselves, and everything was on the brink of imploding because you were too incompetent to keep your little brothers in check. One wanted to destroy humanity and you were too much of a pushover bitch that you couldn't give him a spanking—just sent him to his room and called it a fucking day. Excellent parenting, by the way! No wonder the others are goddamned tragedies: They're true testaments to your capabilities as a leader." You hissed through your teeth and looked down at him like an insect too much of a pain to even crush underfoot.

"You’re not superior, reliable or the most capable person in the room. You’re a wine mom trainwreck that’s trying to prettify the disaster that is your life. You're a fucking mess—a walking moral story to never be like you. Never in my life have I ever seen someone ruin everything they fucking touch! In this, you're truly superior." You clapped mockingly. "I may be a human, but you’re a disgrace, and unlike me, you don’t have the capacity to change. Stay bitter and twisted for all of eternity, you melancholic bitch. Every time you look in the mirror see all of the ways you failed everyone you ever cared about. Remember that human who almost trusted you and died for it.”

You stepped back and finally exhaled. Anxiety and self-doubt fell from your shoulders. Every way you thought you were undeserving of love was untrue, and you thanked whatever power was out there that you realized it before something irreversible happened. You had been teetering on the edge of oblivion for so long, and tonight may have been the night you ended it all. Checking your phone may have been the thing that brought you back. You chuckled and tilted your head back with your eyes closed. It wasn’t raining but you felt refreshed. “I wasted so much time here stressing over things that never mattered. Killing myself for nothing.” You sighed again and rolled your shoulders, already thinking of plans for the future. You had far too much to catch up on!

But first…You turned on Mammon once again, “Mammon, retrieve my grandmother’s ring in pristine condition. The same way you found it when you stole it from me. I don’t care if you have to lie, cheat, steal, kill or debase yourself in anyway—I want my fucking ring.” Your lips curled, “Even if you have to humiliate yourself, preferably with video evidence, do what needs to be done to get it back.” His face paled and lips trembled pathetically. You weren’t doing anything worse than what Lucifer would’ve done. Honestly, he should be grateful to have such a kind master.

“You have five minutes.” His wings were already ripping from his back and propelling him in the air. “Oh, and Mammon,” he looked to you, and you lifted the corners of your lips with your fingers mockingly, “Do it with a smile!” His mouth contorted into the pained open-mouthed grin of someone trying to hold back tears. You waved him off and turned around to see Danielle standing behind you.

“Oh! Ah… You saw all of that, huh?” You asked sheepishly. Danielle stepped towards you until you were as close as you two had been when she tried to press you back outside, so close you could almost hear her heartbeat pounding in her chest. “I didn’t want to scare you.”

“You didn’t, though!” She was reaching for your hands and taking them in her own. Her hands were so small and soft and a loneliness you had tried to ignore for months hit you at once. When was the last time you felt such warmth? Even holding another’s hand was now foreign territory and your hands shook with nerves. “I told you I was on your side, MC.” She affirmed like you should’ve never doubted her. “I don’t know all that happened, and I won't pretend to, but did they…were you…” She didn’t know if she even wanted to know, but it would explain so much! The fear and the panic attacks and the signs of PTSD were so familiar to her. She had witnessed similar symptoms from abuse survivors, and she had done her best to not isolate you, but then it came to the point that she had to avoid you for your own safety. She took a quivering breath, not aware that her hands held your own tighter and that she was shaking.

“It’s in the past, Danielle.” You squeezed her hands back and released them, drawing away from her as she desperately wanted to reach out and take your hands again.

“I’m leaving. I don’t know where I’m going, but forget about me, okay?” She was about to argue, but your smile and the tender hurt in your eyes silenced her. “You make everything better just by being. Stay here and be happy." You nodded your head affirming your beliefs, "You deserve to be happy.”

“But where are you going? I can go with you!” She was leaning into you, wanting to invade your space, but holding herself back. You tucked a loose stand of silky hair behind her ear and slipped away before she could grab you and never let go. “For now, just forget I was ever here. I want to disappear, but on my own terms.” You began walking to the room that was never yours and she followed after. You two had left the six remaining demons to kneel in the common room completely forgotten.

Slinging your bag over your shoulder, a strangled whine left her throat. You had already packed! You had planned to leave from the start. “If you don’t feel safe here, just tell me or Diavolo or literally anyone else and we’ll take you somewhere safe.” You looked at her with concern, “Do you feel unsafe here, Danielle?” She couldn’t lie. She knew that things were fine for her here, and she couldn’t lie to you just to follow along. She could tell you needed to be away from everything that reminded you of the pain, and that may have included her.

“I’ll be okay, but I won’t forget you and you can’t forget me.” She commanded and you laughed. You both returned to the common room where Mammon was already waiting with the others. He was out of breath and covered in foliage and sweat, but he had made it in time. Extending a hand, he placed your ring into your waiting palm and you turned your back on him without even a glance. Danielle watched you examine the ring and put it on your finger to admire. Your guard lowered the slightest bit as you gazed at the precious keepsake, and she fought the urge to reach out to you. She didn't want to ruin this moment of peace for you.

Soon, you looked up at her refreshed and ready to depart. “If we had met in the human world, I would’ve been drawn to you, y'know?" Your expression became bashful. "I really would've wanted to be your friend.” You said and that only made her sadder. “I wish we could’ve been friends.” She balked at that. “W-we still can be!” You looked at her carefully and then nodded. “Yeah... Yeah, you're right! I still have your number and you have mine.” An easy smile was on your lips as you were once again thinking of the future. “When I get to where I’m going, can I text you?” “You better call!” You both giggled and for a moment, things felt normal.

It was so nice to finally talk to her, but now that you could you were at a loss at what to say. All you wanted to do was open your mouth and let everything spill out.

“I… Danielle, I’ve died every day since being here. Things were so good for a time if I just forgot everything that happened to me and forgave it all, but I was killing myself to make others happy and I don’t want to die again.” Your eyes were glossy with unshed tears, and you tried to sniffle without her hearing. You could read her thoughts and stepped back before she could advance, “Please don’t. If you hug me, I really might break down.” She held her arms to her sides and tried to look composed. She wouldn’t make you cry.

“Promise to call me and I won’t.”

You sniffled and burst out laughing. “Okay, I promise.”

You stood around and smiled at each other while Belphegor spasmed beside you. Her eyes dropped to his form, annoyed that he was ruining her moment before your left.

“What are you going to do about them?” She pointed at him, but you were already walking to the front door. Turning back, you cast a glance at the wreckage you caused: the room that a literal twister had gone through, the blood and bruises and the broken bones and the demon trapped in a nightmare of his own design.

You smiled a devil may care grin, “That's not my problem anymore!” and shut the door behind you.

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

┊ ┊ ┊ ✫

┊ ┊ ☪⋆

┊ ⊹ ┊

✯ ⋆ ┊ . ˚

˚✩

You were on autopilot tonight. Your steps felt feather light against the cobblestone that once marked impending doom, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves around you and filled your lungs with fresh air. This time, you were leaving the House of Lamentation with no intentions of returning and the taste of freedom was sweet on your tongue.

You trusted your instincts to guide your way and found yourself at the gates of the castle. The iron gates stood tall and foreboding before you, but they opened before you could even stop and consider your options. A svelte silhouette stood beneath the moonlight, pressed uniform catching the light in his polished buttons and buckles. “Welcome MC, it’s a little late for a stroll, isn’t it?”

Another elegant figure stood beside the first, clothes and shawl glowing faintly from a fine material out of this world. Posture relaxed yet regal while the other was perfectly poised, they both felt familiar and safe to you. “Right on time! We were on our way to retrieve you, but you came to us.”

Stepping forward you grasped the outstretched hands waiting for your own, and left the shadows behind.

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚✩ ⋆｡˚ ✩

┊ ┊ ┊ ✫

┊ ┊ ☪⋆

┊ ⊹ ┊

✯ ⋆ ┊ . ˚

˚✩

To be continued~

Hey hey hey~ that line about fixing problems and being given ammo? Totally took that from @romancedeldiablo when we were chatting 😘

@romancedeldiablo @magneticwimp @yaboihack @jisoosupremacist @da-sinnamon-roll @idobvibing @kita-sds @neptune-cinths @anotakugardener @tinygremliin @bby-sparkler @crystal-freak24 @road-k1ll @nice-try-time-isn't-real @ghostl1ykisses @riordanversexreader @blacktailedfox @foxlikeeyes @prefesro @sadgirlstuffsstuff @ckapoteinterreson @flareon2005 @rose2889 @wawadraws12 @maessite @loev4eva @mythsofkairos @keshieowo @itsuki-yuuma @noodlesthesimp @galaxy-luvletters @here-queer-and-confused @gayassfuckinghomosexual @itshimbotime @pen-ink-therapy @deltatauri @scfftyy @beef-noodles-with-eggs @imasimpsstuff @books-and-catears @shoukuto @eunn @saintoshi @sunset-murders @gallantys @curatornil @azaleawisterias @sucker-for-angst-and-fluff @kittykitkatstrawberry @gene-san @obeythebutler @thesadpinkclown @smikys-stuff @ryokuu @jiminslajibolala @galactic-anarchy @venixxvoid @fallowdoe @comfydrem @sutsuxan @suunao @bear-likes-mushrooms @moontofuu @ellykralie @fuegy-fuegy @wonder-alien @reveltica @hislittlecumwhore @chosomybeloved @1On31y-1OOn3y-1Os3r @sukunas-cult-leader

#obey me angst #obey me replaced au #obey me replaced mc au #obey me imagines #i think the tone jumped around a lot but here you are~#obey me #tywrites

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bestiesenpai · 3 years

Text

Dirty Little Secret - Toji Fushiguro

I love a good meanie :) this was inspired by a thrilling convo i had femme reader lads, everyone 18+ 12.3K words

content warnings are as followed: dubcon, blackmail, age gap, manipulation, noncon somnophilia, pseudo-incest, cheating, infantilization(?), mention of guns, drinking, choking, burning(w/ a cigarette? Idk how to explain), a lot of different pet names lol and Toji calls himself daddy

It all started with the messy, bitter divorce your parents went through, leaving your mother a struggling woman all on her own. You tried to help with bills, tried to tack on a few side gigs here and there and get a couple part time jobs but it just wasn’t enough.

Until she met Toji and all the worries you two had about money just suddenly melted away. He wasn’t outlandishly rich but somehow he made enough money that both you and your mother could quit all the jobs you’d had to take on.

Your mother was ecstatic, positively thrilled about the newfound freedom she has. She’s able to afford luxuries she’d never been able to before and there was no need to worry about pinching pennies and scrounging for every last meal. You could live comfortably, but there was something about Toji that rubbed you the wrong way.

There wasn’t one singular thing that drove you to disliking him, it was all just a culmination of things. His cocky attitude, the way he acted like he owned the whole house the first time he visited, how he seemed to be eyeing you up in a way far less acceptable for a man that was meeting his new step-daughter. As soon as his eyes landed on you, it was like your mother no longer existed.

They got married faster than you could blink, a rushed ceremony done at city hall with a few random witnesses watching her take the surname Fushiguro. Your mother was beyond happy, and while you were happy to see an easy smile on her face again, the knowledge that Toji would be living with you now hung like a dark cloud in the back of your head.

“Careful there doll, wouldn’t want you to break a nail.” Toji teased as he saw you pick up a moving box that was left in the living room. He was moving his and his sons belongings into the house and you’d been tasked with helping.

“Shut up.” Glaring at him, you grabbed the box in a huff and stormed up the stairs, stomping your way into the room that was your step-brothers, Megumis. You’d only met him once at a formal dinner and he seemed nice enough. Far different than his father but strikingly similar in appearance. He was away at university in another city, only visiting every other weekend if he felt like it.

Lingering in the empty room longer than you should, you tried to steer clear of Toji. The physical labour of moving boxes had made him sweaty, a nice sheen building up on his forehead and arms that highlighted the taut muscles underneath the skin and underneath the tight black t-shirt he was always wearing.

“Why don’t you go sit pretty on the couch, hm? A little girl like you shouldn’t be trying to lift such heavy things.” Catching you coming down the stairs, Toji was sporting his usual signature smirk whenever he saw you.

“There’s still a lot of stuff to bring in and I don’t want this to take all day.” Standing at the top of the stairs, you wavered. He wasn’t making any move to get out of your way or to come up the stairs and the two of you were stuck in a staring match.

“But you’re just so delicate, are you sure you can keep up?” Toji finally started moving up the stairs, a large box in his hand that looked to be no trouble for him.

“I’ll be fine!” You snapped at him, backing up and out of the way to let him pass you.

“You sure about that?” Stopping right in front of you, Toji held the box out of the way so he could lean close to your face, almost brushing his hair against your forehead.

“I’m sure!” Face erupting in a hot flush, you scramble away from him and down the stairs. You can hear the dark chuckle leaving his throat and the incident has your hands shaking as you go to the moving van.

Starkly avoiding eye contact with him for the rest of the day, you take the pizza your mother ordered for the family straight to your room and don’t come out for a good while. She knocks on your door not once throughout the night, too busy giggling stupidly in the living room with Toji.

“Good morning baby girl.” Toji croons when he sees you appear in the kitchen in the morning, a hot cup of coffee in his hands as he leans against the kitchen counter. Your ears burn at the nickname, but you ignore him and go straight to the refrigerator.

“Hey!” Shuffling back when he slams the fridge closed in your face, another shout is caught in your throat as he looms over you, large calloused hand keeping the door closed.

“You just gonna be rude and not say good morning to your new daddy?” The smell of coffee and cigarettes hangs on his breath, fanning over your face. He’s cornering you against the refrigerator, using his looming stature to force you against the door entirely.

“Go away.” You whisper, but you want to shout, push him away and stand up for yourself. But something in Toji’s stare and the way he carries himself has you withering.

“I don’t even get a good morning kiss?”

“Huh?” Your eyes go wide when he grabs your jaw, tilting your face up and holding it there so he can lean in and graze his lips against yours. Slapping your hands on his chest, you struggle to keep him at bay.

“Toji, have you seen my car keys?” Your mothers shout from the other room rips away the quiet, tense moment between you two. Toji takes a few smooth steps back, shuffling back into his place against the countertop right as she comes into the room.

“Yeah, right there.” Flicking his chin to the kitchen table, there lies her keys.

“Thanks.” Grabbing them, she takes a glance at you and then a double take, furrowing her brows and pointing vaguely at you. “Sweetie, what’s wrong? Why are you making that face?”

“I-” A tiny flicker of your eyes to Toji has your face burning all over again and any words are lost on you. “I feel a bit sick.” Ducking your head down, you rush out of the kitchen, the passing cry of ‘go lay back down then’ from your mother going ignored as you slam the door to your room and lock it.

Toji leaves sometime after your mother does and for a while you’re home alone. Finally able to eat in peace, there’s a few things you’ve been wanting to do ever since you met Toji, one of them being snooping through his things.

He was secretive with so many things, it was only right that you get a little intel on him. You barely knew what he did for work, the only thing he said he did was ‘freelancing’ and that was it.

Walking through the open bedroom door, you steered clear of the things you knew were your mothers. The old dresser she had and her section of the closet was still exactly the same as before Toji came into her life.

But now there was a new chest of drawers tucked away in the corner of the room, rich dark wood that contrasted with the light color palette of the rest of the room. There was also a safe tucked under the bed and one in the closet as well, you’d seen Toji bring those in himself.

Opening the top drawer, it was no shock to find folded piles of socks and underwear, a few black tank tops. The second had more shirts, the third was the baggy pants Toji mainly lived in and the fourth had more fitted bottoms.

But sticking out from between a few folded pairs of slacks was a thick file folder with your families last name on it. It was in pristine condition and once you opened it, you saw that so were the things inside it.

Detailed records of your bank history, notes that had everything about you on them; your favorite food, color, your typical daily schedule, who you hung out with and all their personal information, the places you frequented and all the jobs you’d held in your life.

“This fucking stalker.” Reading over notes clearly written in Toji’s handwriting, the contents of the folder made your stomach churn. Shoving it back between the pants, you stood up properly and turned to the closet.

The safe in here was buried under a stack of folded clothes waiting to be hung up. Toji’s side of the closet was relatively bare, with the only thing hanging up being the lonely suit he owned that he wore to get married in.

Punching in all the possible number combinations you could think of - all the phone numbers you knew by heart, your home address and every birthday - you came up empty. There was no way to open the safe in the closet, and you had to abandon it.

The safe beneath the bed was heavy, nearly breaking your back as you tried to drag it out into the open. It was a thin black metal box with a long rectangular shape and the same number pad as in the closet. Only this time, when you punched in the last four digits of your phone number, it opened with a click.

What you saw inside wasn’t what you were expecting. Sure, Toji was a mysterious guy with secretive habits and a job you knew nothing about. You had barely information on him, yet you still weren’t prepared to see all the guns he had stored inside the safe.

There were long shotguns, handguns, revolvers and plenty of ammo and holsters. Even with the slight wear and tear on some of the barrels, you could tell Toji took good care of them as nearly all of them were freshly polished.

“Just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” Just as you reached out and skimmed a finger across one of the handguns laying innocently in the pile, Toji’s flat monotone voice sounded behind you.

Ripping your hand away, your head whipped over your shoulder to stare at him in terrified shock. He shouldn’t be home, you hadn’t heard him come in or the front door open and close. Frozen on the ground, you struggled to find the air to breathe.

“Such a nosy little thing.” Toji commented, his eyes drifting to the open closet door and the dresser drawer that you’d left ajar. “If you were curious about daddy, you could have just asked.”

“Why do you have these things?” What were you referring to? The guns? Records of your every move, down to how long your phone conversations were late at night?

“They’re for work.” Pushing away from the doorframe, Toji sauntered into the room, dragging his feet lazily.

“But-”

“That’s all you need to know.” He cut you off with a stern look, kicking closed the safe.

“Why...why do you have all those papers about me?” Came your next question. Looking up at Toji, you were suddenly aware of how you were presented to him. Sitting on your knees, hands balled up into fists in your lap, looking up at him with wide scared eyes - and he noticed it too.

“You’re my little girl, why shouldn’t I know everything?” Biting his lip as he looked down at you, Toji had to stop himself from grabbing your hair and shoving your face into his clothed cock. Instead he flexed his fingers, rolled his shoulders and used his foot to push the safe under the bed. Scrambling to your feet, you watched as the safe disappeared.

“What’s in the safe in the closet?” You were standing far too close to Toji for your liking, he was within less than an arm's reach of you and you could smell the dark woody aroma he liked to put on.

“Important shit. ‘Gumi’s birth certificate, passports, the usual.” Shrugging casually, Toji walked over to the dresser and kicked it closed as well. “Got some stuff for your mom and you in there too.”

Letting a lull fall into the conversation, you scurried from the bedroom when Toji went to close the closet door. You could hear him chuckle and mutter something under his breath upon discovering your absence, but he closed the bedroom door shortly after and you could hear him go down the stairs.

Hours later and your mother informed you she wouldn’t be home for dinner. Something about meeting up with friends for an unexpected late night outing and staying out past dark.

Left to your own devices, you tried to avoid being detected by Toji as you milled around in the kitchen and fed yourself.

“Sweetheart, that you?”

Keyword being tried.

Biting back a harsh sigh, you emerged from the relative darkness of the kitchen and into the living room where Toji was lounging on the couch with no shirt on, all his muscles and scars on full display.

“There’s my baby girl.” Toji broke into a smile.

“Yup, I’m here.” Rolling your eyes so you could force yourself to stop ogling his body, you turned halfway back to the kitchen.

“Woah woah come back!”

“What do you want?” Not keeping this sigh at bay, you quirked a brow at him.

“Ya know your mothers not here and I’m getting awfully lonely sitting in this house by myself. Why don’t you sit with me?”

“No thanks.”

“That’s too bad, sweetheart, ‘cause I wasn’t asking.” You can feel his hand wrapping around your upper arm before you even hear him getting up from the couch.

“L-let go!” Thrashing in his hold does no good, you’re thrown onto the couch like a doll in no time and Toji sinks in next to you, spreading his legs wide and throwing an arm over the back of the couch.

“Your mother wants us to spend more time together, get better acquainted and whatnot.” Grabbing the beer he had on the coffee table, Toji drinks until it’s empty and he crushes it in his hand. “And what better time than now?”

Huffing and puffing, you adjust yourself on the couch and try to focus on whatever Toji has playing on the TV screen. It’s some cheesy action movie made way before you were born, and while it makes you groan at the cliche plot points, Toji is having a grand old time.

“You want a beer?” Toji asks, picking up a can and cracking it open.

“No.” Shaking your head, the last thing you’d want is to possibly get drunk and lose your senses around him.

“Oh, oops.” Upon hearing your no, Toji not so subtly tipped the can over and let it fall into your lap, the beer inside spilling out onto your clothes.

“Toji! What the-” Leaping up and tossing the can onto the coffee table, you could feel the cold liquid seep into the fabric of your pants and underwear, even stretching to the back of your pants.

“That’s too bad, my mistake! Better go get changed.” Toji laughed, completely unashamed of what he’d done. Flipping him off, you stormed away. “Put your pajamas on, it’s getting late!”

“Fuck you!” Angrily walking to your room, you ripped off the wet clothes clinging to you. You were tempted to stay in your room the rest of the night, but there was no doubt that Toji would come up and drag you back down to the living room.

“Aw, don’t you look cute.” He teased when you came back down in an oversized shirt and sleeping shorts. He had procured a blanket from behind the couch and it lay on the arm.

“Ugh, it’s still wet.” Even though he’d grabbed a blanket, he hadn’t grabbed a towel to sop up the beer in the couch cushions.

“It’s okay, you can sit right here.” Grabbing your wrist, Toji yanked you onto his lap, wrapping an arm around your waist as you fell into him. Throwing the blanket over you, Toji forced you to lay against his bare chest.

“Let me go sit in the other chair.” There was a perfectly good arm chair a few feet from the couch you could sit on.

“Now how could we bond if you’re so far away?” He chuckled, hiking you back up as you tried to slide off him. Biting your tongue against any further useless arguments, you tried to get comfortable in Tojis lap.

“Be careful now, baby, all that squirming might get me excited.” Toji whispered in your ear, gripping the flesh of your waist tightly underneath his fingers. Chuckling again at how your body went completely stiff, he settled back into the couch and watched the movie.

Begrudgingly focusing on it as well, it was almost inevitable that you relaxed into laying on Toji, the smooth up and down of his chest expanding with every breath lulling you into a sense of comfort.

“This movie’s stupid.” You grumbled as a commercial hit. Your arms were crossed tightly, having gotten riled up at one particular scene for how predictable it was.

“S’not stupid, it’s a classic.” Toji replied.

“Still stupid.” Shaking your head slightly, you let out a soft yawn.

“Aw, is it getting close to your bedtime?”

“Shut up.” It wasn’t that it was particularly late, but sitting in the low light of the living room, under a cozy blanket with a warm body underneath you holding you tightly, it was more relaxing than you thought. Coupled with the quietness of the TV and the slow even breaths Toji took right by your ear, who wouldn’t get a little sleepy?

“Poor baby’s tired.” You could just feel the mocking pout on Toji’s lips. Shifting his hands and grabbing onto your thigh, he turned you to sit sideways in his lap, legs across him and your head securely tucked under his chin.

“Not tired.” Trying to reason with him was impossible, and you gave up once the movie came back on. With a secure arm wrapped around your back and his other hand resting snugly on your outer thigh, Toji had you right where he wanted you.

“Still awake?” Toji asked ten minutes later and he already knew the answer. Your breathing had gotten quiet and you’d fallen slack in his arms, and when he rubbed your back you let out a soft, sleepy hum and snuggled deeper into him.

Careful not to wake you, Toji dipped his hands to the hem of your shirt and tugged it up so he could get under it. Trailing his calloused fingertips up your back, he felt the bumps and ridges of your spinal cord as he went. Pushing under your arm, he got to where he wanted: the soft flesh of your breast.

Cupping it in his palm, Toji bit his lip to hold back a soft groan. He’d wanted to do this since the day he started dating your mother and learned about you. From the very first picture of you she’d shown him he was hooked and every subsequent move he made after was calculated to get right to this very moment.

A soft uptick in your breathing let him know that you could feel what he was doing, but you did nothing else as he pinched your nipple and rolled it between his fingers.

Pushing you to lay back a little, Toji crept his other hand up your thigh. Your legs were simple dead weight to him and with a few nudges he was able to get his hand down your shorts and cup your sex.

“Be a good girl and get nice and wet.” Mumbling to himself he pushed his middle finger through your folds, coming to your clit and grinning wildly. Rubbing it with practiced precision, Toji kept his ears trained on the sound of your breathing and he was prepared to keep going even if you woke up.

Pressing a few kisses to the top of your head, he cooed at the delicate sigh you let out. You were getting aroused, Tojis finger was starting to get slicked up and glide easier against you.

Pushing his index finger against your clit, he worked you up even further. The movie was forgotten on the television, all of Tojis focus going to you and the way your brows scrunched up at the feeling of someone else’s fingers against your cunt.

You weren’t wet enough for Toji to push a finger inside, but he was fine with waiting for another time. Just playing with your clit and pinching your nipple was enough for him for now.

Pressing his nose against the top of your head, Toji let out a shuddering breath when you came in your sleep. A few desperate whimpers fell from your lips, and your face screwed up a little, your body clenching as pleasure rolled through your sleeping form.

Taking his hand slowly out of your shirt, Toji laid it back on your thigh and tried to collect his own breathing. Getting you to cum in your sleep on his lap had riled him up more than he expected, the thrill of making you come undone without your knowledge going straight to his head.

It wasn’t long after that your mother came home, gasping at the sight of your sleeping body in Toji’s lap and delighted that you were finally getting more comfortable with him. Not wanting to wake you, she snapped a few pictures for posterity and had Toji carry you to your room.

“You want me to what?” Staring at your mother like she’d grown another head, you couldn’t hide the disdain at what she had just proposed of you in the late morning.

“I want you to spend the day with Toji! He’s going into town to do some shopping and I think it’d be a great way for you two to get closer.”

“I don’t want to get closer to him.” The memory of last night made your cheeks burn. You were far more embarrassed about falling asleep in his lap than you’d ever be willing to admit.

“C’mon (Y/N), I saw you two together on the couch last night! It was so cute, I want you to have more moments like that with him.” Your mother gave you a pout, one just begging to humor her request. The desire to say no was right on the tip of your tongue.

“Fine, I’ll go with him.”

“Yay!” Clapping her hands together lightly, your mother turned away and started to gather a few things to start her own day.

“Let’s be quick, okay?” Ten minutes later and you were sitting in the front seat of Toji’s vintage camaro.

“I think we should take it nice and slow today.” Toji replied, firing up the engine and drowning out your thoughts with the loud roar. It was hard to look at him, so you kept your gaze trained to the passing scenery outside.

“Did you sleep well last night, baby?” He asked as the car came to a stop at a light. Toji was staring right at you, a wide smirk on his face. Pressing your lips together, you refused to look back at him. You might have slept well, but waking up with slick coating your inner thighs ruined the entire experience, whether good or bad at all.

“Why do you care?”

“Ha! Why do I care?” His sharp laugh made you jolt, turning to glare at him as the car started moving again. “You must have slept well, you were knocked out on my lap.”

“Won’t happen again.” You grumbled, watching his hand fiddle with the radio and turn it to a random station.

“That’s what you think.” Giving your thigh a quick pat, Toji settled into his seat. Driving to the shopping district he had in mind, as soon as you stepped out of the car Toji was by your side with a hand on your back. “I’ve got some business to take care of first, let’s go.”

“Don’t touch me.” Shoving his hand away, it was right back where it was in seconds. A low wave of annoyance washed over you, but you started walking in the direction Toji was taking you. The annoyed feeling only grew as you passed people by on the street and women openly stared at him, not giving a care in the world about the gold band on his finger or the fact that you were next to him.

And he didn’t seem to care either. You could see the way he would look back at some of the women, sending them easy smiles or holding eye contact longer than normal. Walking into a jewelry shop, you were finally away from their prying eyes, but the hand Toji had on your back only got firmer.

“Want me to buy you a little something?” Toji whispered, leaning close to your ear.

“Like what?” You challenged, looking across the shop floor. There were countless expensive jewels just lying in wait behind thick glass cases.

“Whatever you want, baby girl. Just point and I’ll get it once I’m done.”

“Done with what?” Looking at him incredulously, you saw him nod to someone waiting against a back wall.

“Business.” Patting your back, Toji went to talk to them, slipping into a back room and leaving you alone on the shop floor. Trying not to stand out, you found an open chair and pulled out your phone, already bored.

“Finally.” You said upon seeing Toji appear in front of you after nearly thirty minutes.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, I was doing some negotiations.” Inspecting him further, you could see he was breathing a little heavier and there was just the slightest sheen of sweat above his brow.

“What, did you kill someone back there or something?”

“Almost.” He replied with a shrug. You’d meant it as a joke, but with the way Toji wasn’t smiling you couldn’t tell if he did too. Letting his eyes roam over the shop, he flicked his chin out. “Find something you like?”

“No.” Taking a step toward the door, you were tugged back by your sleeve.

“I bet you didn’t even look.” Toji chuckled, dragging you over to a case. “How about a little tennis bracelet, hm? We could add a little charm, how about a T?”

“I don’t want it, I won’t wear it.”

“Ah, sure you will.” Brushing you off, he waved over a sales associate. “Now, tell the nice worker what color you want, gold or silver.”

Walking out of the store with a pretty little bag in hand, you followed Toji to the next few stores he had to go into for ‘business’. Sometimes he was quick and you didn’t have to wait even a few minutes for someone to hand him a thick envelope that he tucked into the inner pocket of his jacket. Others, he’d slip into the backroom and you’d have to awkwardly wait around.

“Are we actually going to do some proper shopping today, or is this it?” You snapped after being dragged around for a good while. You hadn’t even wanted to come, but now you just felt like a kid being dragged around against their will.

“Relax baby, daddy’s done, he’ll pay attention to you now.” Toji teased, pinching your cheek and cooing at you.

“Whatever, lets go.” Swatting him away, you stormed off in a random direction, Toji’s laughter burning in your ears. It was your turn now to drag him from store to store, some you weren’t even interested in. Following you dutifully, Toji bought whatever you wanted regardless of price tag.

“Let’s go in here.” Toji stopped you right in front of a popular lingerie store. There were large adverts in the windows of scantily clad women dripping in lace and frilly garments, and there were a large number of people inside as well.

“You can’t be serious.” You blanched, watching in slight horror as he toed his way over to the front door.

“Cmon baby, you deserve something nice.” He said loud enough to have a few passersby giggle. Seeing your face turn from one of shock to embarrassment, Toji knew he had won. Following him into the store with your head down, you tried not to look at all the bras and panties displayed so prominently.

Taking a seat at one of the chairs near the front of the store, Toji kept his eye on you as you walked around. Seeing your fingers glide across silk and lace, pass mannequins in intricate pieces of lingerie, he couldn’t help but imagine you in some of them. He’d only gotten a taste of what you had to offer last night, and he already hungered for more.

“I think you’d look great in that.” He came up behind you as you looked at a bra and panty set, little red and white love hearts adorning lacy pink.

“Pervert.” Glaring over your shoulder, you tried to conceal that you’d grabbed a pair for yourself. “Go sit back down.”

“I get it, you wanna keep it a secret and surprise me.” Fishing out his wallet, Toji handed you the credit card he’d been using the whole day. “Take your time baby, I’m going to have a smoke.”

Making sure he left the store, you let out a sigh of relief at finally being alone in a place like this. It was bad enough he suggested it, but to have him watch you pick out underwear was downright mortifying.

Grabbing whatever you liked, you walked out with a sizable bag in your hand and a pretty long receipt. Toji was nowhere to be found outside the store, and as you scanned past the people milling about, he wasn’t on the street either.

You had his number, feasibly you could call or text him to find out where he was. But with a limitless credit card in your hand and newfound freedom, that was the last thing on your mind. He would find you eventually, say something snarky and tease you and then you’d be on your way to grab lunch.

“Excuse me, miss!” For a moment, you thought the gentle voice calling out to you as you walked down the street was Toji. But as you turn around and are confronted with a stranger, you’re reminded that Toji would never be so polite.

“Yes?” He was an average looking man, around Toji’s age.

“I couldn’t help but notice you walking around, you look so beautiful.” The man had a hopeful smile on his face, taking in your reaction to the sudden compliment.

“Oh, thank you.” Giving him a once over, you quickly spotted the silver wedding band on his finger.

“What’s your name? I’d love to take you out sometime.” Shuffling a tiny bit closer, the man was already pulling out his phone before he even finished the sentence.

“I’m s-”

“She’s not interested.” A heavy hand landed on your shoulder, yanking you back into a firm chest. There wasn’t a need to look up and see who it was, the distinct cologne wafting into your nose and the rough treatment was enough.

“Huh?” Bunching his brows together, the man looked confused between you and Toji.

“Huh?” Toji mocked, leaning towards him with a raised brow.

“I think she can speak for herself.”

“My baby doesn’t talk to insignificant flies like you.” Staring him down for a moment, Toji got him to turn tail and leave in a huff.

“I could have handled that myself.”

“Yeah, well I handled it better.” Turning you around, Toji smirks down his nose at you for a moment.

“What?” His look is unnerving, it makes your heart flutter a bit and that’s the last feeling you want to have for him.

“I deserve a reward, don’t you think?”

“A reward for what?” Scrunching up your nose, you recoil a little as Toji bends at the waist and presents his cheek to you.

“For coming to the rescue of a damsel in distress.” Tapping his cheek with one finger, he looks at you from the corner of his eye. “Don’t leave your daddy hanging, now.”

Looking him over, you weighed your options. It was only a kiss, an innocent little peck on the cheek. Where was the harm in that?

The harm came when, as you were leaning forward with your lips slightly pursed, Toji turned his head and kissed you square on the lips.

Jerking back in shock, you didn’t get far as Toji grabbed your chin to keep you in place. His lips were rough, dry and cracked and the scar on the edge of his mouth wasn’t helping in that regard.

Brushing his nose against yours, Toji didn’t keep the kiss going for long; even he had boundaries for being in public. Pulling away, he swiped your bottom lip with his thumb, grinning at your flushed face and slightly labored breathing.

“Daddy got you flustered?” He teased, taking the shopping bags out of your hand and holding them himself.

“No.” You reply a few seconds too late, your lip’s in a pout and your voice has a slight whine. Biting his lip, Toji scanned your face.

“God, the things you do to me.” Roughly grabbing your hand, he tugged you along down the street. “Let’s get some lunch, I’m fucking starved.”

“You’re back!” Your mother exclaimed upon your arrival, leaping up from the couch to hug both of you. She quickly hurried out of the way upon seeing all the bags Toji insisted on carrying in by himself, her jaw dropping in shock.

“Don’t gimme that look, babe, you know I had to spoil the little princess.” Toji laughed at her expression, dropping some of the bags into your hands and kissing your mother on the cheek.

“I-I’m just shocked...we never come back with that many bags when we go shopping.” Her voice was quiet as she looked between the two of you.

“You gettin’ jealous on me now?” Toji teased, poking her in the side and making her jump. “I was just following your orders, forming a closer bond with my new step-daughter.” Pointedly shielding the lingerie bag from her view, Toji passed it into your hands. “Maybe she’ll show you some of the outfits she bought, we even picked some out together.”

If by ‘together’ he meant he shoved a slew of tiny skirts and low cut tops into your hands in the dressing room and then bought them when you rejected all of them anyway, then yes, you could say you two picked some out together.

“Uh- yeah mom, I’ll show you some of the stuff later.” You nodded along, eager to escape the situation and hide in your room. Not waiting another moment after the words left your lips, you ran up the stairs and to your room.

Pouring out all the things Toji bought you, you couldn’t say you didn’t enjoy going out shopping with him. There was no limit to what you wanted, anything your eyes touched was yours in an instant.

“Knock knock.” Pushing open your door and swiftly closing it behind him, Toji held up the remaining bags. “You forgot some.”

“Thanks.” Reaching out to grab them, you didn’t get the chance as Toji set them down and stepped around you, grabbing the little bag from the first store you went to. Fishing out the velvet box, Toji opened it and dangled the dainty tennis bracelet from his finger.

“Put this on for me, will you? Wanna make sure it’s a good fit.” Dropping the bracelet into your hands, Toji chuckled when you struggled to get it on. “Need my help?”

“No I’m fine.” You said, pinching the clasp between your fingers desperately.

“Let daddy help you.” Grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer, Toji swatted your fingers away.

“Your fingers are too thick, how’re you ever-”

“Got it.” Releasing the bracelet, Toji watched triumphantly as it hung from your wrist. You barely mumbled a thanks before he was grabbing your wrist again, nearly pulling you chest to chest with him. “Now, what was that about my fingers?”

“N-nothing!” Slapping your free hand on his chest, your face burned terribly and only got worse as he laughed.

“No, no, go ahead and say it. My fingers are too thick, huh?” Grabbing your jaw, Toji slid his index and middle finger across your face until they came to rest on your lips. “Say ‘ah’.” Pressing your lips together firmly, you shook your head as best you could.

But Toji wasn’t one to take no for an answer and shoved past your lips, forcing your mouth open with his other hand and flattening your tongue. Clutching onto his wrist tightly, you looked up at him with watering eyes as his fingers slid too far back and choked you.

Growling at the sight of his fingers stuffed into your mouth, Toji dropped his other hand, grabbing your ass tightly in his hand and rocking your hips against him. Looming over you, Toji ripped his fingers from your mouth and slammed his lips onto you.

The kisses you shared before were nothing compared to this one. With a hand gripping the back of your head, Toji made sure not even a centimeter of space passed between you two. His lips molded to yours perfectly, mouths slotting together as he pushed his tongue in and claimed your mouth for himself.

Drool began to drip down the corners of your lips, sliding down your neck and chest and creating a glossy mess. It was getting harder to breathe the longer you went, your body quickly growing weak from lack of oxygen.

Gasping for air when Toji finally broke the kiss, your mind was spinning, barely able to focus on the fact that you were kissing your mothers husband and certainly not paying attention to the way Toji pushed you back onto your bed, body bouncing roughly on the mattress.

“God, I’ve been waiting for this moment.” Toji says with a sigh, climbing over your body and pressing his lips against the curve of your jaw. His hands pawed at your clothes, bunching up your shirt as he tried to get to your breasts.

“T-toji! Stop!” Letting out a scandalized gasp, your eyes flew to your bedroom door. Surely your mother would hear and come to save you.

“No need to be nervous, baby-” yanking down your bra, Toji palmed your breasts roughly, “daddy’ll make you feel good.” Sitting up just enough to yank your shirt and bra off, Toji held your arms down and stared lovingly at your chest, his cock twitching to life the longer he looked.

An argument had bubbled up from your chest, ready to spew out and knock some sense into Toji, but as he descended onto you, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and rolling it between his teeth, the words died just as quickly as they formed.

What was the use of telling Toji to stop when you knew he wouldn’t? There wasn’t a shred of doubt in your mind that if you yelled at him, told him it was wrong to cheat on your mother and fuck his step-daughter, he wouldn’t laugh straight in your face.

Fire back and ask why you think he cares about that? You’ve already seen the file he has on you and the lack of information he had on your mother. He’d already proven himself to be more than enamored with you and what kind of man would he be if he let something like ‘morality’ get in the way of what he wanted?

Moaning under your breath as Toji kissed and licked your chest, you had an argument with yourself brewing inside your head. You couldn’t deny that you enjoyed the attention he was currently giving you. He was confident in what he was doing, so sure of himself unlike some of the people you’d been with. The knowledge that came with being older was surely showing itself now.

Especially in the way he rolled his hips against yours, getting you to moan out a little louder this time, the sound coming from deep within your chest.

“Sound so pretty, baby.” Toji groaned, peeling himself away from you to shed himself of his clothes and to take the rest of yours with it. Letting out a low whistle at seeing you completely bare in front of him, Toji slapped his hands onto your thighs, peeling your legs apart to stare right at your cunt.

“Don’t look at me like that.” The pure animalistic look in his eyes had you throbbing, both with need and embarrassment. No one had looked at you like that before, unadulterated and hungry. Shyness crept in and you flung your hands down to cover yourself.

“No hiding, little one.” Smacking your hands away, Toji laughed at the pitiful, embarrassed whine you let out. “Aw, is someone getting shy? Can’t handle daddy looking at your messy cunt?”

“S’not messy.” You pouted, but it was true. A steady buildup of slick dripped out of you, coating everything between your legs and even dripping down between your asscheeks.

“You’re my messy little girl, aren’t you?” Ignoring your light protests, Toji laid himself down between your legs, making a show of putting your thighs on his shoulders and squishing his head with them. “I bet you taste as good as you look.”

With one last wink, Toji dove between your thighs, his tongue already out and ready to lap at your folds. The first touch of the tip of his tongue to your clit made you jump, hands flying down to grip his hair as your eyes went wide.

Flicking it a few times, Toji wrapped his lips around the bud, sucking hard as his fingers dug into your thighs firmly. You moaned just as loud as Toji did, the vibrations from his mouth travelling up to the ones leaving your chest.

Toji’s dream of being here with you, having you laid out on your back with his face buried in your cunt, had only gotten stronger as time went by. He nearly lost it in the lingerie store, seeing you walk so innocently around all the thongs and delicate lingerie. He had to leave to smoke a cigarette and cool down or else he would have dragged you into the dressing room in front of everyone.

Lapping at your entrance, Toji shoved his tongue in, his nose bumping your clit as he did. Massaging your walls, he drank in your essence, easily getting drunk off the taste and feeling of your thighs crushing his head. Painstakingly letting go of one of your thighs, he brought his thumb to your clit.

“Toji!” You gasped and your thighs got even tighter around him. Toji could barely breathe let alone think about anything but making you cum on his tongue and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Shoving his fingers between your legs, he slid them down to the hilt and felt your walls clamp down onto both them and his tongue. Your essence was everywhere now and he was sure the scent of your arousal would linger on his skin for days.

Putting his tongue on your clit again, Toji fucked his fingers into you. The obscene wet sound was music to his ears, a song he hoped to play over and over. Your moans had turned into babbles, your fingers carding through his hair as the pleasure washed over you.

“F-fuck-” Barely able to get the word out, you came on Toji’s fingers, whimpering loudly as he sucked your clit harder. You were sure you had crushed him for good now with how hard your thighs tensed up around him, but Toji seemed more than okay when they finally relaxed and fell to the wayside.

“What a good fucking girl.” Toji was breathless and lightheaded himself but he wouldn’t miss the opportunity to tease you, slap your quivering thighs with both hands and drink up your release. Your feeble hands were too weak to push him away, just a slight nudge on his forehead that he easily ignored.

Forcing air into your lungs, you got a moment's reprieve when Toji finally pulled himself away from your cunt. Your arms wound around his broad shoulders, pulling him into a half hug as your legs were hoisted up around his waist.

“You gonna let daddy take what’s his?” Toji whispered in your ear, blindly grabbing his cock and tapping tip against your clit.

“Yes!” You sobbed, nodding your head desperately. Glancing down between your bodies, you could see just how thick Toji’s cock was; his fingers surely did not compare.

Pushing the tip of his cock in, you could immediately feel the difference from his fingers. The stretch that his cock gave was unimaginable and you nearly broke into tears as he bottomed out.

“Hurts- s’too big-” Unwinding one arm, you pushed on Toji’s chest.

“Sshh, sshh, you’re fine.” He cooed, intertwining your fingers and pushing your hand onto the mattress.

“Toji…” Whining under your breath, you blinked away the mist of tears at your lashes and looked at him. “Daddy, please.”

The soft ghost of a smile on Toji’s face fell after hearing you call him daddy. His whole face fell, in fact, eyes going wide and pupils blowing out. The hand that was holding yours tightened, smashing yours into the mattress as his other flew to your thigh.

“Oh, you’ve done it now.” Toji could hardly get the words out before he was pistoning his hips, thrusting his cock into you at an alarming rate. He had intended on taking it a bit slow, savoring the moment more as he finally got to fuck you.

But that plan was gone and in its place was the plan to fuck you into the mattress, turn your brain and body into mush as he made you cum over and over again.

“Daddy! Slow down!” You wailed and in the back of your head you wondered if your mother could hear you, if she was outside the door just waiting to burst in on the two of you.

“Not a fucking chance.” Toji responded, voice muffled against the side of your neck. His tongue lashed out, hot and heavy against your pulse. Leaving bite marks along your skin, Toji growled into you, grinding his hips and getting a shiver down his back.

Already sensitive from your first orgasm, the second one came with no warning. Scratching your nails down Toji’s back, your feet dug into his back as your cunt clamped down on him. Any remaining sense you had, any thoughts about your mother or being caught were gone now, the only thing filling your head now was the drag of Toji’s thick cock against your walls and the way his balls slapped against your ass.

The sound of Toji fucking into you seemed to echo off the walls, mixing with the choked moans you let out and creating music to Toji’s ears. Every drag of his cock along your oversensitive walls, every thrust forward bringing another gush of your sticky release to coat his skin - all of it was heaven for him.

“Honey, have you seen Toji?” Your mother’s sudden call wafted down the hall as she came up the stairs, the familiar thud of her footsteps getting closer.

“Uh-” Your voice caught in your throat, fighting through the jumbled mess that was your mind to come up with a good answer.

“Better say something quick, I didn’t lock the door.” Toji smirked against your skin, forcing his hips to all but stop and grind painfully slowly against you, his skin just lightly catching your clit.

“I-I don’t know where he is.” Your tongue felt like lead, sitting stupidly in your mouth and barely forming the right words.

“Okay…” There was a pause as she trailed off and you could hear her right outside your door, feet shuffling a little as she thought of what to do next.

The sound of her footsteps trailed off and both you and Toji let out a gruff exhale.

“Finally.” He mumbled, pulling his hips back.

“Honey one more question, what do you want for dinner?”

“Pizza!” You screeched right as Toji snapped his hips forward. Burrowing your face into Tojis hair, you tried to stifle the squeals leaving your lips.

“Alright, I’ll see what I can do.” Waiting until her footsteps completely rescinded, Toji sat up on his elbow and smirked at you.

“Guess we’re having pizza for dinner.”

“Shut up.” Pushing his face back into your neck you avoided his teasing gaze. Chuckling to himself, Toji nipped at your skin.

“Now, where were we?”

Crawling out your room nearly an hour later with sweat on your brows and unstable legs, you tried to conceal the cum dripping down your inner thighs. Toji refused to let you clean up, sliding a pair of shorts onto your legs and telling you it would be a waste to get rid of the gift he gave you.

Sitting down at the table without him, you were thankful to be the only one there. No one could see the way you were trembling and squirming with every squishy gush of cum that seeped out of you.

“Hi honey.” Joining you a few minutes later, none the wiser to what had happened upstairs, was your mother. Greeting you with a soft smile, she was about to open her mouth to speak again when the front door opened.

“There you are!” She beamed at seeing Toji walk through the front door. Your brow furrowed at seeing him come through the door instead of walking down the stairs. He’d made a comment about climbing out of your window and acting like nothing happened, but you didn’t think he was serious.

“Yeah, went on a walk.” He shrugged, stepping into the house and holding the door open. “And look who I found on the way!” With a fake beaming smile, Toji waved his hand behind him as Megumi walked through the door looking as unimpressed as the day you met him.

“Megumi, you’re home!” Clapping excitedly, your mother shot up from her seat and to him, giving him a quick hug and taking the bag slung over his shoulder.

“Mhmm. Nice to see you again.” Polite as ever, Megumi smiled briefly at your mother.

“Go sit down at the table, we’re just about to have dinner!”

“Okay.” Nodding slowly, Megumi set his eyes on you, raking over your form as he took a seat across from you. The silence between you two was thick and you could tell there was something hanging on the tip of Megumi’s tongue.

“Hi.” You whispered, briefly making eye contact with him before looking at the wood grains on the table.

“Hi.” Sighing out the word, Megumi kept his eyes on your face, observing the way you bit your lip nervously and kept your thighs tightly clenched together. When his eyes dropped down to see the tennis bracelet on your wrist, you thought smoke would pour out of his ears.

“Getting acquainted with your new step sister?” Sauntering into the space, Toji roughly ruffled your hair, laughing at the way you swatted him away before doing the same to Megumi.

“You could say that.” The younger man replied, his eyes slightly narrowed looking between the two of you. Loudly pulling out the chair next to you, Toji sat down and slid his hand onto your thigh under the table.

“Alright, everyone, time to eat!” Ever the hostess, your mother appears without fail with the pizza you’d said you wanted for dinner.

As you ate, you could tell Megumi knew something was up between you and Toji. He always seemed to make eye contact with you whenever Toji’s hand strayed too high up your thigh and his thumb grazed your soaked slit. He was far too keen, sending you questioning looks whenever you would clear your throat to cover up a soft moan.

Left to clear the table with him, you couldn’t make eye contact with Megumi at all. The silence between you two was overbearing, made even more so when you went to the kitchen to wash the dishes.

“So, (Y/N)...my dad is fucking you, isn’t he?” Megumi’s abrupt question made the plate you had in your hands fall back into the sink with a loud clatter.

“W-what?” Staring down at the soapy water covering your hands, you could feel Megumi’s eyes burning a hole into your head.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you two at the table. And I saw him climbing out of your bedroom window.” Taking a clean dish out of your hand, Megumi peers his head into your personal space, forcing you to make eye contact with him.

“And what if he is?” The lump in your throat was bigger than you expected, choking you as you tried to speak. This was it, now that Megumi knew he would tell your mother and life as you knew it would be over for you.

“Don’t cry.” He said softly, wiping off a tear on your cheek you didn’t even know was there. “My dad’s sick, taking advantage of you like this.”

“What?” Hiccuping softly, you rush to wipe the other tears off.

“I knew ever since he started dating your mom that he was into you, I’m sorry I didn’t try and stop him.” Megumi sighed heavily, shaking his head as if to chastise himself. “I’ll have a talk with him and-”

“N-no, don’t.” Sniffling the last of your tears away, you force your voice to be steady. “I can handle it.”

“(Y/N), he’s not a good man, he won’t listen to you if you just tell him to stop.”

“I know, I just-”

“Then let me help you!” Clearly growing agitated, Megumi’s voice rose and his palm slapped against the counter, making you jump. There was silence, then the shuffling of footsteps with Toji appearing in the kitchen entryway with a furrowed brow.

“What’s going on here?” Looking between the two of you, his gaze settled on Megumi. “You, speak.”

“I know what you’re doing.” Megumi glared at him. Refusing to back down, he remained locked in a stare with Toji as the man approached.

“Yeah? And what that might be?” Coming nearly face to face with each other, you noticed how close in height they were to each other, with Toji only a few inches taller.

“You’re taking advantage of (Y/N).”

“Ha, and who said that?” Flicking his eyes to you, Toji chuckled. “Cause I know it wasn’t her.”

“You’re disgusting, you know that? You’re married to her mother for God’s sake!”

“Whoop-de-fucking-doo, you’re so observant.” Spinning his finger in the air, Toji pushed Megumi’s shoulder. “What do you plan on doing about it?” Quirking a brow, Toji didn’t wait even two seconds for a response. “I know you’re just upset I got to her first, kid. Now all you’ve got is your little hand at night.”

“That’s not true!”

“Even if it’s not, keep your fucking hands off what’s mine.” Hooking an arm around your shoulder, Toji pressed a kiss to your temple. “If I catch you so much as jerking it when she’s around, I’m kicking your ass.”

“Fuck you.” Megumi spat, his fists clenched at seeing Toji touch you so casually. It boiled his blood to see his dad treating you like this; there wasn’t a doubt in Megumi’s mind that you weren’t suffering with him around.

“Sorry, not into boys.” Letting you go, Toji slinked away to the fridge and grabbed a can of beer. Leaving without another word, as he turned the corner Megumi slammed his hand down against the counter.

“That fucking bastard.” He snarled, hanging his head low and trying to calm his shaking breath. Slowly releasing the tension in his body, Megumi stood up straight and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry, I need to take a walk.”

“Okay.” You whispered back, probably going unheard as he stormed out the back door. Leaving the rest of the dishes in the sink, you left the room as well, going up to your room and staying there for the rest of the night.

It’s deathly quiet in the house the following day. Any instance where Megumi and Toji are in the same room, the tension rises dramatically. Refusing to even acknowledge the others presence, Toji has already whisked your mother away for an impromptu date night at five pm, promising to stay out late with a biting tone directed at Megumi.

“Finally that dirtbag left.” Huffing as soon as the door is closed, Megumi slumped onto the couch. “I can’t stand him, I don’t get what your mother sees in him.”

“I have no idea.” You mumble, feigning disinterest and scrolling on your phone. In truth, whenever you had a moment alone during the day, Toji had come up to you and touched you, teasing you by cupping your ass or kissing you. All you wanted to do was go upstairs and relieve the burn between your legs, but no good excuse to leave Megumi alone came to mind.

“Some of my uni buddies sent me home with a gift, if you’re interested.”

“What is it?” Sending him a curious look, you watched him hop up from the couch.

“You’ll see.”

The gift in question was an unopened bottle of liquor one step up from the bottom shelf. It didn’t smell good when he opened the bottle and even mixed with some juice from the fridge, the burn as it went down your throat was horrid.

“Are you sure this can be called a gift?” You blanched, face scrunching up tightly in displeasure.

“When you’re on a budget like we are, yeah.”

“I thought Toji sent you money?” Swirling the liquid in your cup, you watched Megumi take a bitter sip.

“Why would I ever use his money?” Sure, Toji made sure Megumi’s bank account never hit below five digits, but that didn’t mean he wanted it or even asked for it. Leaving well enough alone, you turned on a random movie and kept drinking, keeping all mentions of Toji at bay.

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to get properly drunk, words slurring together and dumb drunk giggles shared between you. It was easier to get to know Megumi this way, his likes and dislikes and general personality; the harsh scowl on his lips was gone, replaced with a lopsided smile.

“I gotta take a leak.” Stumbling up from the couch, Megumi strolled out of the room, keeping his hand on the wall to steady himself. Flipping through your phone in his absence, a sudden text caught your attention.

(Toji): daddy’s bored baby, send me a little something

(Y/N): like what?

(Toji): I’d love to see you in that new lingerie

Giggling coyly as if he’d spoken the words directly to you, you kept a tight grip on your phone as you made your way to your room. Megumi and the movie on the TV didn’t even cross your mind as you closed your door and went straight to your dresser drawer.

It was a bit of a hassle getting your clothes off and then the new ones on, your vision was swimming and every few seconds you stopped to giggle at yourself and your lack of ability. Bumbling through sliding the lacy panties up your legs, you flopped onto bed and opened the camera.

Emboldened by the alcohol, you took several pictures of yourself for Toji. Nearly all of them were at least slightly blurry, some brazen shots of your cunt through the panties while others were tasteful shots of your breasts.

Sending them off with a few heart emojis and a little ‘sorry, I’m drunk’ tacked on, you clutched your phone to your chest as you waited for his reply.

“(Y/N), you in here?” Megumi threw open your bedroom door with no warning or second thought, his eyes bulging out of his skull seeing you spread out on your bed in lingerie.

“Gumi, get out!” Throwing your hands over your body, you let your phone fall to the floor. Stuck in a drunken stupor, Megumi didn’t leave the room, but he did look down at the text Toji sent you.

“Why is my dad texting you that he’s fucking rock hard?” Curling his lip in disgust as he read the message aloud, he scrolled up to see the previous messages, his mouth falling open at seeing your pictures.

“Megumi!” Snatching your phone angrily from him, you gave him a hard shove. “Leave!”

“(Y/N), don’t let him do this to you!” Megumi barely moved from the push.

“Just leave!”

“No! I won’t let him ruin your life!” Grabbing onto your shoulders, Megumi swayed slightly. “I know it can be exciting to get attention like this but- but don’t do it with him.”

“You don’t know anything.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you refuse to meet Megumi’s eyes. He’s silent for a beat, weighing whatever options are inside his head.

“I do know some things.” Licking his lips nervously, Megumi tilts his head and catches your eye. “I do know anyone is better for you than that nasty fuck. Even I’m better than him.”

“Yeah?” For some reason, you crack a smile for him. There’s something about how adamant Megumi hates his father that makes you laugh a little.

“Let me show you.” His voice drops and Megumi shuffles closer to you, the fabric of his t-shirt grazing your nipples through the thin fabric of the bra. The action, along with the way Megumi looks at you, has the heat between your legs picking up again.

You’re grabbing his collar and kissing him before you can take a full breath in, lips drunkenly smashing against each other as you stumble back onto your bed. Megumi’s hands go up and down your sides, grabbing and squeezing your flesh between his fingers.

Kissing down your neck, Megumi’s hand slides under your panties and he doesn’t speak on the fact you’re already wet enough that he can slide two fingers into your cunt with ease. Even if the fact does catch his mind it’s gone just as quickly as he grinds the heel of his hand on your clit.

Sloppily rutting into your thigh, Megumi lets out a pleased sigh when you tug his sweatpants down and free his cock. Jerking him off as you kiss, he swats your hand away when he finally gets fully situated overtop of you.

“Fuck.” You both groan as he slides in, your panties hooked to the side because both of you were too frantic to properly take them off. Megumi kisses you as he thrusts into you, noses bumping painfully together as you chase your high.

Even with Megumi looking exactly like him, you still find yourself wishing it was Toji above you. They sound nearly identical as well, Megumi’s groans a dead ringer for his fathers. Keeping your eyes squinted, you force the image of Toji to be the one in front of you and combined with Megumi messily rubbing your clit, you’re able to cum with a soft moan the same time as Megumi.

“Shit, I came inside.” When the glow of his orgasm finally subsided, Megumi pulled out of you with a hiss and slid your underwear back into place.

“It’s okay, I’m on the pill.” A decision you were happy about, remembering Toji had cum inside you as well. Sitting with you a few minutes longer, catching his breath and lightly petting your hair, Megumi comes to a slow stand.

“I’m going to take a shower, try to get some sleep.” Pulling your blanket over you, the two of you share a smile before he leaves. Your phone lays forgotten on the floor, all the ensuing text messages from Toji ignored as you fall asleep.

It’s not that he’s upset. No no, Toji could never be upset with you. He was more disappointed than anything. Coming home in the dead of night to an empty bottle of vodka on the floor and his son passed out drunk in his bed, and then coming to your room to see you still in the lingerie you’d sent pictures of with cum that wasn’t his smeared along your panties.

No, Toji wasn’t upset. But the way he ripped the blanket off your body could lead you to think otherwise. Staring at you, passed out and utterly helpless beneath him, the desire to ruin you had him rolling his shoulders. He was getting excited at the prospect of hurting you, teaching you a lesson in not sharing what was his.

Climbing on top of you, Toji spread your legs apart, a sick grin pushing his cheeks up. It wasn’t everyday he got to use his own sons cum as lube, and it surely wouldn’t happen again. But as Toji slid his cock into you and the squelch of it sounded around his cock, he couldn’t help but let out a deep, low laugh.

Lighting a cigarette over you, Toji goes slow in fucking your sleeping body. He doesn’t need to worry about your mother possibly wondering where he was; he had drugged her on the way back home. Megumi wouldn’t wake up even if you screamed, liquor was always a good nightcap for him.

Maybe Toji was a bit upset, because the longer he stared at you, the more irritated he became. He knew he would have to take care of Megumi later, smack the kid around a few times and send him on a train back to university. But with you, your punishment needed to be special.

“Wakey wakey, sweetheart.” He sang to himself, nearly dropping the cigarette dangling between his lips as he shifted forward and wrapped both hands around your neck. Slowly increasing the pressure, Toji’s eyes flew open in delight when you choked and sputtered to life.

“Toji?!” Your voice was practically none existent, there was hardly any air left in your lungs for you to make a sound. Your fingers clawed at Toji, struggling to be let go in your still drunken haze.

“Thought you could go and be a slut, did ya?” Leaning over you, Toji begins to pound into you. Although there’s a slightly softer give because you’re still wet, your cunt still burns painfully from the treatment and Toji refuses to be even the slightest bit gentle.

He lets go of your neck when your hands fall slack, clamping one hand on your waist as the other ashes his cigarette over your stomach, watching as it settles onto your skin.

“Le-let me go.” You force the words out between hard gulps of air.

“Why, so you can fuck my son again?” He cocks his head to the side and takes a long drag, blowing the smoke right in your face.

“How do you-”

“Cameras, baby. I put cameras all over the house and there’s a couple in your room right now.” Toji revels in your surprised expression and even more so in the pained one you give him when he takes another drag and puts the lit cigarette against your skin. You scream exactly how he wanted you to and he does it again and again.

“Toji! Toji stop, please-” You sob, trying to swat away the cigarette butt getting your hands pinned to the mattress instead. Looking down at your thighs, there’s several blooming burns taking shape, marring your skin and leaving bloody welts.

“Only if you stop being a slut.” Finally done with his cigarette, Toji flicks it onto your bed to be dealt with later. Planting both hands by your head, Toji sneers down at you. “Tell me, are you ever going to fuck someone else again?”

“N-no.” Tears cloud your vision and you shakily put your arms around Toji’s shoulders as he fucks you even harder.

“No what?”

“No daddy!” Fully wailing, you bury your face into Toji’s neck when he leans down close enough. “No no no no.” Your quivering little cries are all Toji needs to cum, slamming his hips against yours one last time before stilling completely. He breathes deeply as his seed mixes with Megumi’s, too much for your cunt to handle as it spills out when he pulls out.

“That’s what I thought.” Toji isn’t gentle when he removes himself from you. He’s even less so in removing your lingerie, ripping it to shreds with his bare hands and touting that it was ruined now. He leaves you alone for a few minutes, returning in only his boxers with a new shirt in his hands that he forces onto you.

Sitting at the head of your bed, Toji pulls you into his lap. His shirt does a good job of covering the burn marks littering your upper thighs, something you want to forget about sooner rather than later.

“I’m telling my mom.” The words fall slowly from your mouth, taking all your courage to say. Toji snorts, lighting another cigarette and blowing the smoke into the air.

“Life’ll get a lot worse for you if you become a little tattle-tale.” He says it calmly, meeting your eye when you pull away to look up at him. “Who do you think stopped all those debt collectors? Payed off this shitty house and filled not only your mom's bank account but also your fridge.”

“I-”

“Who’s gonna take care of her if I leave? You two certainly weren’t cutting it without me.” He’s right and you know it. The truth of the matter was that you couldn’t survive without Toji’s money and if your mother left him, the two of you would have an even harder time finding work.

The truth made tears burn your lashes and fall down your cheeks, hiccuping cries left your lips that were only slightly muffled by Toji pulling your head into his chest. Putting out his cigarette, he ran a hand down your back and cooed.

“Oh pretty baby, don’t cry. Daddy won’t do it again, he promises. So long as you promise to keep that little mouth shut and let him do whatever he wants. We got a deal?” Toji half nods your head for you, pressing a big kiss to your forehead.

“Daddy, m’tired.” Sniffling loudly, you force the tears to stop falling, biting your lip to stem the flow.

“Let’s go to sleep then.” Shuffling you under the covers, Toji follows suit. He smells strongly of cigarettes, the scent overtaking you as his head hits your pillow. Pulling you against his body, Toji grips your ass tightly. “Goodnight doll.”

“Goodnight.” Biting back another wave of tears, you push your head into Tojis chest and will yourself to go to sleep.

Being awoken with your step fathers hands around your neck had been scary and was imprinted on your mind for the rest of your life. But waking up in the morning with your legs over his shoulders and his face buried in your cunt was surely a memory that would stick with you as well.

“There she is.” Toji grinned, his chin glistening as he looked up at you. “Took you long enough.” Shoving his tongue deep into you, Toji stifled any opportunity for a response. Your heels dug into his back, hand shooting out to grip his messy bedhead. With how sensitive you were already, he must have been between your legs for a while.

Sucking on your clit, Toji groaned as you gripped his hair painfully hard, your back arching high off the bed as you came. Your body thrashed around, hands trying to pull Toji closer while also pushing him away. Pulling his mouth away, Toji rubbed his fingers against your clit in the absence of his tongue.

“Good morning, princess.” Laughing when you smacked his hands away, Toji sat up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, making a show of licking off all of your slick that coated his face.

“G-good morning.” Breathless from the ordeal, you dumbly kissed Toji back when he knelt down and captured your lips. You could taste yourself so strongly on his tongue and smell yourself on his skin.

Breaking the kiss, Toji helped you dress for the day. He didn’t make any mention or acknowledge the marks on your legs, only giving them a flitting glance as you pulled on some pants.

Walking down the stairs together, to your horror Megumi was already in the kitchen when you walked in. He glared angrily at Toji, giving the man a wide berth as he moved about the space. Slinking to the farthest wall, he sent you a pitying look and took a sip of the coffee in his mug.

“Good morning!” Your mother announced her presence with a loud yawn, barreling into the kitchen with terrible bedhead and a stumble to her walk.

“Good morning mom.” You couldn’t look her in the eyes, keeping your head bowed as you returned her greeting.

“Morning honey.” Toji smirked, kissing your mother right on the mouth and keeping her there for a few seconds.

“Get a room.” Megumi mumbled under his breath, rolling his eyes at the two.

“Toji, what’s that taste in your mouth?” Smacking her lips together as she pulled away from the kiss, your mother furrowed her brows. “Is that a new gum or something?” Making direct eye contact with you, Toji snorts and pulls her into a hug.

“Yeah, something like that.”

#tw: pseudoincest #tw: cheating #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

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uvobreakmylegs · 4 years

Text

Pretense

got inspired by @ramwrites‘s Inked piece. in the same story setting but it’s Hisoka’s s/o

Warnings: blood, mentions of death, very slight yandere behavior

The inside of the tattoo parlor was a lot cleaner than the outside, you decided. That's at least one thing it has in it's favor. Although that doesn't change the fact that you really don't want to be here. Especially since the woman in charge of the shop is not only willing to work for the Phantom Troupe, but also goes ahead in branding the significant others of the troupe.

'Branding' had been the way Hisoka described it, and it sounded pretty accurate. When you asked him why Chrollo would go so far to mark the partners of the troupe, Hisoka had answered with “boss just likes to make sure the most prized possessions of the troupe are marked as such. Cements it further for the more.... Resistant ones.”

Hisoka was currently wandering about the room, inspecting the tools next to the chair before looking to the artwork on the walls, softly humming to himself whenever he spotted a design that he liked. You were sitting in the chair at the center of the room, your legs dangling off the side as you waited for the tattoo artist to come back in. Your hands were folded in your lap as you tried to keep your mind from going crazy with scenarios of how this could go wrong. When it came to the Phantom Troupe, you wanted to have as little contact as possible. Being around them scared you, even more than Hisoka could whenever he got into that state where he was particularly unhinged. And while the woman doing the tattoo wasn't a member herself, just the fact that she was in close contact with Chrollo made you more than a little nervous.

On the other hand, Hisoka was relaxed, and almost seemed a bit excited as he came up behind you to rub your shoulders encouragingly. You turned your head to glare at him, but as usual, he smiled back at you, not taking the look you were giving him seriously.

“Alright, where did you want this thing?”

You turned at the sound of the woman's voice as she reentered the room. She sounded tired, and based off the way she grimaced at the sight of Hisoka, she was probably getting flashbacks to when she needed to tattoo the spider onto his back.

Hisoka tapped on a spot just below your shoulder blades.

“She wants it in the same spot as mine so we can match,” he said cheerfully, “isn't that cute?”

Stupid bastard.

“Sure,” she answered dryly before looking at you, “if you could take off your shirt and lay on the chair; I'll get the stencil out and we can see how the placement looks.”

You wordlessly obeyed, pulling your shirt over your head and folding it in your lap. When Hisoka took it to place it elsewhere, you laid on your front, holding on to the top of the chair to try and ground yourself.

You barely felt it when she placed the stencil on top of your bare skin, and Hisoka quickly agreed to the placement.

“All right, easy enough,” the woman said, more to herself than either of you. But she looked back to Hisoka, motioning with her head as she told him “you go back out to the lobby. I'll let you know when we're finished here.”

Hisoka shrugged.

“Alright then.”

A wave of panic hit you, and you struggled to find your voice for a moment.

“W-wait.”

They both looked at you.

“Could... Could he actually stay with me?” you asked.

Hisoka looked amused. The woman looked annoyed.

“Why?” she asked.

“I don't like needles,” you mumbled.

There was a certain level of disgust that she leveled at you in her gaze, and when Hisoka grabbed a chair and pulled it up so he could sit near the spot where your head lay, she asked “seriously?”

“How could I possibly leave her when she needs me?” was Hisoka's response.

“..... Fine. But you,” she said, jabbing a finger at Hisoka, “need to keep your damn mouth shut.”

Hisoka smiled at her.

She huffed as she got her tools ready.

And you lay still, letting out a small sigh of relief.

When you felt her hand press down on your back and heard the buzzing of the tattoo gun, you reached out for his hand, to which he obliged, taking your hand in his and gently rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

It stayed relatively quiet for some time, the only noises you could hear in the parlor being the soft music that played in the background and the constant buzzing of the tattoo gun. The tattoo was slowly taking form on that space on your back, the giant spiderweb with the number 4 in the middle.

She brushed over the areas where the needle had gone in every few seconds, wiping up the blood that came up after.

“This one bleeds a lot,” she grumbled.

“Oh? You aren't feeling nauseous at the sight of a little blood, are you?” Hisoka asked.

She glared at him, probably for breaking his agreement of keeping quiet.

“It can affect the end product if someone bleeds too much and I can't see the stencil because of it.”

“Aren't you a professional?” Hisoka shot back.

“I'm not saying I can't do it,” she snapped back, “it's just annoying.”

“Of course,” he answered, chuckling a little.

The woman chose to ignore him, turning her attention back to you and the design she was etching onto your back. Nothing more was said after that, and you found yourself focusing on the feeling of Hisoka's hand on yours. The callouses on his fingers, the edges of his slightly too-sharp nails that could cut through your skin if he really wanted to, and how his thumb continued to brush over your knuckles. Just that was enough to keep you calm in this situation.

“You need a break?” the woman asked you after a while.

“I'm fine,” you answered.

“Okay. Well, I need one, so let's take five,” she said, putting down the gun, “if you need the restroom, it's out the door and to the right.”

She left the room without so much as a word to Hisoka, who let go of your hand as he stood up and stretched his legs.

“There's a snack machine outside; should I get you something?” he asked you.

“I really don't want to eat anything from this place,” you said.

“Not even something sweet? Might be good for you, lift up your spirits a bit,” he said, rubbing the top of your head.

“I think you deserve a treat.”

You batted his arm away.

“I'm not a goddamn dog,” you grumbled.

He didn't react to the way you pushed his hand off of you other than to laugh a bit. He then turned away and left the room while you laid your head back down. It had been at least a couple of hours, and you hoped there wouldn't be too much left to finish with the tattoo. Too bad it was on your back and you couldn't get a good look at it to determine how far it was from being finished.

The woman came back in just as Hisoka did, the latter of which was holding a small bag of hard candies. They both sat back down, the woman looking over you and seeing that you hadn't moved at all.

“You sure you don't need a break?” she asked.

“I just want this stupid thing over with,” you answered.

You couldn't see it, but you sensed the way her eyebrows raised at your tone and how she looked over to Hisoka. The clown didn't say anything, instead ripping open the candy packaging with one of those sharp nails and popping a few of the sweets into his mouth.

After a few seconds of nothing happening, she seemed to shrug her shoulders and picked the gun back up to continue with her work.

“Didn't think you were so lenient, Hisoka,” she said after a moment, “the previous number four wouldn't have let his partner speak like that.”

Hisoka actually scoffed at that.

“Like I care.”

The woman didn't say anything to that and continued with the inking process. But now your curiosity was piqued, and you tentatively asked her “the other number four had this done, too?”

“Yeah. Can't quite remember what they looked like now, but he was one of the first to get his partner tattooed.”

“What happened to them after he died?” you asked.

“You mean after he-” she glanced to Hisoka- “killed him? Nobody checked up on them and they starved to death.”

You felt your blood chill at that. There were lots of painful ways to die, but starving to death would be such a long, drawn-out process; to just slowly wither away as you grew weaker and weaker as your stomach caved into itself and you lost so much strength you would no longer be able to move. Whatever fate had in store for you for when you died, you hoped it wouldn't be something like that.

Whoever that poor bastard had been, you hoped they didn't suffer for too long.

“Guess I'm not surprised you couldn't be bothered to let them out after you started with the troupe,” she said to Hisoka.

He shrugged.

“I didn't even know they existed until after they were dead. No one told me about this arrangement. Blame the other members who actually knew about the situation before you blame me.”

“You were the one to kill him,” she pointed out.

“If he wanted to keep his place he should have been stronger,” he said, placing another piece of candy into his mouth, “if it mattered that much to you then why didn't you let them out?”

“I'm not paid for that.”

“Ah, of course.”

There was silence after that, and another hour passed. Hisoka decided to entertain himself by slipping pieces of the hard candies past your lips one at a time, his sharp fingernails scratching your lips. You ended up slapping his hand away after a certain point, much to the mild astonishment of the tattoo artist.

“Still can't believe you of all people would allow that,” she said, “other members of the troupe would have been raging.”

“I don't like things that are broken,” Hisoka answered, running a hand through your hair.

“Pets are much more fun when they have a bit of bite.”

She couldn't see the way you glared at him for that comment.

The completion of the tattoo couldn't come fast enough, and it was of great relief to you when she finally pulled back and announced that she was done. She was saying something to Hisoka about how to take care of it to avoid infection, but you didn't pay it much mind, instead grabbing your shirt that Hisoka held out to you and pulling it over your head.

You paused ever so briefly during that, as you felt the sensation of something dripping down your back. You were quick to pull the shirt down the rest of the way, glancing back and finding some relief that she wasn't looking at you.

After receiving payment from Hisoka, you were both practically shooed out of the parlor. Despite her overall calm demeanor, she seemed to have little tolerance for handling Hisoka in large doses and wanted the clown out as soon as possible. It wouldn't have surprised you if he had decided to try and linger a little longer just to see if he could goad more reactions out of her, but he seemed to be just as eager as you were to leave.

The walk back to the hotel you were staying at was done in silence. That uncomfortable sensation was still there, running down your back and making you cringe as you felt like something was collecting above your waist.

The second the door of your hotel room was locked shut, you pulled your shirt off and exposed your back to Hisoka.

“Take it off,” you said.

“Don't you want to see how it looks first?”

“Hisoka, the blood packet is leaking. I can feel it pooling up at the bottom,” you hastily explained, “I want this stupid thing off of me.”

“If you insist,” Hisoka answered.

He reached forward, his nails catching on a particular spot just below your neck, and like peeling off a band-aid, Hisoka peeled off the sheet of texture surprise that he had placed over your back, the thin packet of fake blood he had hidden beneath the fake skin falling to the floor as he did so.

Just as you had said, there had been liquid pooling up at the bottom of the sheet, and when it was pulled away, some of the blood fell both onto the floor and your pants.

“Shit-!”

You immediately went to the bathroom, throwing your shirt to the side as you grabbed a towel off the rack and held it under the faucet. There was a coating of red covering your back, as expected, and you went about trying to clean the liquid off. Unfortunately, it seemed like your pants were permanently ruined. But you preferred that over that woman potentially discovering your ruse.

You managed to wipe the blood off, but you definitely needed a shower. Before doing that, however, you stuck your head out of the bathroom door to see Hisoka sitting on the bed, shuffling through cards as usual.

“I'm going to take a shower,” you told him.

“Just a moment,” he said, setting the cards aside and motioning for you to come closer.

With a sigh, you went to him, climbing onto the bed and allowing him to pull you onto his lap. You glanced at the side table, noting the sheet of nen that had been on your back for the past few hours sitting there. It didn't look like your skin anymore and was back in its normal form of a white sheet, though the ink that had been used was now embedded into it. The tattoo was larger than you had anticipated, and you were grateful you didn't actually need to have that thing permanently inked into your back.

“You'll be able to recreate that whenever you need to?” you asked.

“I do it all the time with mine, don't I?”

“Mm. Although I really have to question if that's going to be necessary. Are you expecting members of the troupe to just randomly lift up my shirt to make sure it's actually there?”

“You wouldn't want to risk a situation where it would be discovered that it wasn't there, now would you,” Hisoka replied.

“Fair enough,” you said with a shrug, “I guess I should just be grateful we went to all this trouble and you didn't just let them put that on me.”

“And allow the troupe to make a permanent mark on what belongs to me? Hardly. If I went so far as to mark you, I'd want my own brand,” he said.

“I don't know if I want that; you'd probably pick something stupid.”

He pouted at you.

“You're always so mean to me whenever we're alone; makes me feel like you don't actually like me.”

“I seem to recall something about pets with bite?”

Hisoka smirked, conceding as he nodded at you. Then, in a move that was somewhat atypical of him, he pulled you in closer until you were resting against his chest. You didn't question it or protest; there was that stupid part of you that genuinely liked the clown, after all.

The oddly quiet moment allowed your mind to wander, and your thoughts went back to what that woman had said about the original number four and his partner and the absolutely miserable way in which that partner had died. You didn't need to fear that same exact death; you were free to go where you liked, so being locked up with no food wouldn't be an issue if Hisoka unexpectedly died. At most you'd get kicked out of that room he had in Heaven's Arena, but that wouldn't be the worst thing that could happen.

The worst thing would be if Hisoka messed up and the troupe came after you because of it.

“You get so quiet whenever you're around the troupe. I think most of them would be shocked if they knew how you usually are,” Hisoka whispered.

It was true. You virtually clung to Hisoka whenever you were forced to meet up with the troupe. He always seemed to enjoy it, and not many of them bothered coming up to you. It was that part of you that worried you would somehow ruin his plans. Somehow, you would manage to let slip something you shouldn't and the truth would be revealed. Better to keep your mouth shut to avoid that scenario entirely and try to blend in with the rest of the significant others with their miserable expressions and occasional broken bones.

“When do you think you'll be able to fight Chrollo?” you asked.

“It's impossible to say. His movements are a mystery to everyone, so I need to wait for an opportunity to present itself.”

He ran those fingernails through your hair.

“So lets keep playing nice until then,” he told you.

“Mm.”

Play along until Hisoka got what he wanted, wait a few months after, and then he'd move on to a new obsession, a new opponent he wanted to fight. It was honestly a pretty miserable situation to be in, and yet you willingly stayed. Although if you did try to leave, you weren't so sure he would let you go so easily.

Hisoka wasn't a good person. And there was definitely something wrong with you for you to stay with him, even as he dragged you into dangerous situations that you'd never be able to survive without his help.

But one Hisoka running amok was better than the other twelve being allowed to continue as they were. At least there would be less people dying.

And still that question simmered in your mind: what would the troupe do to you if they found out Hisoka's true intentions?

You pulled away and he looked back down at you.

“Can I get my shower already?”

#hxh hisoka #reader insert #hisoka x reader #Hisoka #hisoka morow #hxh x reader

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mymedicine · 4 years

Text

Stardust

~7k of sweet fluff & painful angst w jazz singer harry

moodboard

sum - y/n reflects on her own insecurities, the nuances of her shitty job, and her past relationship with the most popular vocalist at the club while watching him perform.

warnings - alcohol, angst, swearing, self-deprecation, misogyny/workplace sexual harassment (it’s pretty light, relatively speaking, but I don’t want to undermine how wrong any and all harassment is, not matter how seemingly minor), excessive use of italics and the word “belong”

notes - this is inspired in part by the several years i spent singing in a jazz group, wherein i had to learn about 382404 jazz standards. Stardust is one of my all time favorites! anyways this is maybe a little different than a typical one shot, but i hope you like it anyways as i worked very hard on her :’)

“Didn’t you have a thing with him a while back?”

“What?” Taken aback, Y/N snapped her eyes open wide. Just the words brought a shiver down her spine and a nagging twist in her heart. “No…we uh…we almost…” She stammered hastily, herself not even knowing where the sentence was going. How could she even begin to explain their relationship?

“Almost..?”

“Yeah,” Y/N sighed, trying in vain to hide the longing in her voice. “Almost.”

The club was busy tonight, as it always was when its star vocalist was performing. The Fine Line had hosted hundreds of local artists in the seven years since its opening, but only one had managed to bring his show anywhere outside its four brick walls. Harry Styles had gone above and beyond, in fact. And now that he’d been picked up by a renowned pianist and the pair had and toured around the country together, his presence in the tiny club was rare delight. Never one to forget his roots, Harry was fulfilling his vow to return to the club that kickstarted his rise to stardom every year.

“Well, lots of people would be very happy to have ‘almost’…” she gave Y/N a pointed look, “…that beautiful man.”

Y/N knew Sarah meant well, but the words tightened the soreness she was feeling in her chest. Of course he was beautiful. It was blatantly obvious to everyone who laid eyes on his delicate chocolate curls, charming green eyes, and bright crinkly smile. But Y/N didn’t just see him; she knew him. And she knew he was just as beautiful on the inside.

“It was complicated.”

An understatement. Not a lie. No more lies.

Y/N moved her arm away from the bar as Sarah swiped a wet rag on the counter where she’d been leaning. It hardly mattered, Y/N reckoned. The bar would be stained with watered-down scotch and lukewarm Prosecco spilled by the hands of rich and poor alike mere minutes after the club opened for the night, and Sarah’d have to clean it all over again. Still, Y/N kind of envied the bartender. Sarah had a safe place behind the bar to stay busy in all night, away from too many hungry, unwanted gazes. Not only that, but it would be so much easier to avoid the stage (or rather, the man performing on it) if she didn’t have to deal with the rowdy patrons seated in the front row.

“Complicated?” Sarah repeated with a mischievous tone and that same pointed stare.

“Are you single?” she’d asked when a jolt of confidence suddenly hit her. Alcohol-induced confidence, of course. Her shift had been over for a half hour and John had yet to declare last call.

“Yes, well…it’s sort of complicated.” he’d replied, whiskey coursing through his own veins.

“Complicated how?”

“I just…” He trailed off and looked away from her as if searching for the right words, eyes gazing thoughtfully at the few patrons who were still lingering after his set “…consider myself married to my job…”

“In that case, I consider myself twice divorced and scorned.”

He chuckled, returning his eyes to meet hers from where he was perched on the barstool beside her. “That bad being a waitress? At least you got a show from an outstanding vocalist.”

“What vocalist is tha? I’m only here for the pianist,” she teased, nodding her head in the direction of where Mitch was chatting with a group of immaculately dressed, heavily made up women. Too made up, Y/N thought. The Fine Line was a humble hole in the wall jazz club where anyone could get cheap drinks and decent entertainment, not the goddamn opera house. She refused to consider that the reason for her hostility toward their appearances could be anything other than that. She wasn’t jealous—they were pretentious, overly obsessed rich girls who fawned over anyone with talent or wealth. Harry and Mitch, of course, had both.

Her irritation melted away as Harry laughed again, the sound somehow even sweeter to her than the dulcet singing for which he’d become famous.

“Yes, Sar.” Y/N crossed her arms, subconsciously moving her body away from the stools in front of the bar and the memories they held. How could she explain their relationship?—Well, it seems she couldn’t.

Sensing her friend’s unease, Sarah let the issue go. “Well, at least you’ll be getting nice tips tonight,” she said diplomatically. “You look extra pretty and ’s gonna be packed.”

Yes, one reason Y/N had meticulously ironed her black tea-length skirt and cream blouse (even though they’d both be covered by her apron), applied a smooth, thin line of eyeliner, and stuffed an emergency tube of glossy lipstick in her brassiere was in anticipation of the club being crowded with plenty of older men whose generosity depended upon her appearance as much as the quality of her service. An omission. Not a lie.

“Thanks.” Y/N smiled stiffly, “Hope it’s worth it.”

Complicated indeed.

Despite her mild annoyance and the growing ache in her heart, Y/N felt a surge of gratitude for Sarah. Before she took over for John a few months ago, Y/N had struggled to befriend any of the other staff at the club. The other waitresses were nice enough, but Y/N just didn’t have the energy to initiate any sort of friendship. The weight of her lost lover, her financial struggles, her personal unhappiness…it was too much to unload on a meaningless workplace friendship.

With Sarah, it was easy. Her alliance didn’t require any work or thought or feeling. She was easy to talk to and even easier to absently listen to as she talked Y/N’s ear off. Whether intended to take Y/N’s mind off her inevitable confrontation with her past or not, Sarah’s rambling was a welcome distraction. She prattled about the poor quality of the alcohol, her disbelief at the outrageous prices they charged, how “fucking freezing” it was outside, how she was excited to gush over the women’s outfits for the night, how insufferable their manager was, and how she hoped Harry’s pianist was as amiable as he was talented and handsome (and that she’d even be able to speak to him in order to find out).

Y/N eyed the clock above the bar as Sarah continued chattering and swiping a rag over each pint glass. The hands seemed to move faster than usual—far too fast for comfort. They were less than fifteen minutes shy of opening, which meant there was more than likely a line forming outside and that the man of the hour had already arrived.

He’d have come through the back door and sat himself in the makeshift dressing room back there, probably having some tea with honey and trying to stop himself from babbling to Mitch, knowing it killed his voice. Y/N wondered absently what he was wearing. She pictured him in a flashy suit with his hair tousled and messy, maybe some of his favorite clunky rings adorning his fingers. Her heart squeezed impossibly and though she knew he wouldn’t be in the dining room just yet, she shivered at the thought of his eyes on her, his hands on her, his voice in her ears.

She tried to busy herself with watching Sarah clean, but she couldn’t help her eyes from glancing at the clock. She fidgeted in her barstool, drumming her fingers on the counter as the minute hand completed yet another rotation.

At six fifty-three Y/N couldn’t take it anymore so she bid Sarah farewell and made deliberately slow work of walking to the ladies room. But of course, she couldn’t help but notice that there was a clock in there too. She fished out her lipstick, desperate for something to do. Still, her eyes flicked up to where it hung above the mirror and her unsteady fingers stained her chin with the pink gloss. She begged the clock to slow down—no where near ready for work. Would she ever be ready to return to the club knowing she’d be sharing the space with her past lover?

Six fifty-seven… She wiped her chin with the pad of her thumb…Fifty-eight…She smoothed the non-existent wrinkles on her apron…fifty-nine…

Time.

Seven o’clock. The Fine Line’s doors opened and hostesses ushered the eager guests inside. A warm din quickly filled the room as patrons flooded in, greeting the staff and chatting to each other. Y/N merely watched from the side of the bar as the happy, well-dressed people sat at bar tables, corner booths, and even couches near the stage where it was cozy and intimate. Behind the bar, Sarah was already serving the more eager customers and chatting with them effortlessly about their outfits and the weather. Y/N felt a surge of disappointment—no, anger at herself for being so useless. He wasn’t even in the room and yet, he affected her every move.

Finally at seven oh seven, Y/N plucked up the courage to pell herself away from safety and actually do her job. Encouraged by the icy glare her manager, Robert, was sending her, she plastered a fake smile on her cheeks and sauntered over to the back corner of the room to greet her tables before taking their drink orders. Prosecco, house cabernet, whiskey neat, water with lemon—all so predictable and bland.

At seven twelve, Harry took the stage.

She caught sight of him just as she was setting down the glass of iced water with lemon. The older woman who’d ordered the drink thanked her kindly, but her attention was elsewhere. Harry was anything but bland—this she of course already knew, but the sight of his handsome figure after so long nearly made her drop the glass.

Needing no introduction, he and his pianist sauntered into the spotlight seemingly from out of nowhere. Y/N watched helplessly from the back of the room as cheers erupted from the crowd almost immediately. She could only see glimpses of him through the shadowy backs of her patrons’ heads, and still, he was an absolute wonder to behold. He was shimmering head to toe in a glittery black and gold blazer with tight pants and shiny black shoes. Y/N couldn’t tell from where she was frozen whether he was wearing rings or any other jewelry, but she wouldn’t doubt it—even his hair seemed to be dancing with sparkle.

Y/N managed to escape her daze as Harry effortlessly took his place in front of the piano—center stage, right where he belonged. He stood behind the microphone, his bright smile partially concealed by the mouth of it. Even before he said a word, his confident stature and striking outfit accompanied by Mitch’s smooth fluttering of the ivory keys captivated the room. The cheers from the crowd roared louder, the sounds of clinking glasses and high-pitched whistles making his smile grow impossibly bigger.

Meanwhile, Y/N retreated back to the corner of the bar to…hide? To sulk? She wasn’t sure, but she leaned on the counter anyways and surveyed the room. Was this where she belonged?

“Good evening, my friends,” He murmured into the microphone, immediately silencing the room with his low voice and thick, alluring accent. Wide eyes and glowing smiles greeted him from every corner. He glanced around the room, taking in the dark faces and familiar cozy atmosphere of the club he’d grown up singing in—looking for something (or rather, someone).

“I’m Harry Styles…” He paused, smiling wide and shutting his eyes to let the soft piano chords wash over himself and the dining room. Mitch looked up from the keys at his friend and returned the relaxed grin. “And this is the incredibly talented Mitch Rowland…” Harry continued, “We’re gonna play some jazz tunes for you tonight. Please sit back, relax, have a drink or two. We’re all here for a good time.”

He gave Mitch a slow, confident nod, and so began their set.

Even with a narrow, partially obstructed view of him, it was exceedingly obvious to Y/N that Harry had outgrown The Fine Line. His voice cascaded off the stage, flooding the room and engulfing everyone in it. He improvised effortlessly, as if music was his native language rather than English. It was evident that he understood the difference between art and artistry. Art existed for sake of the audience, but the latter existed within the creator himself. He was a vessel through which artistry flowed and pictures were sketched without any paint, stories told without any words. It was a gift granted upon people like Harry, whose purpose on Earth was to share it.

He was smooth jazz personified, the epitome of serenity with a touch of spunk evident in his glittery outfit and playful tone. He managed to strike the perfect balance between traditional jazz and contemporary funk, booming forte and soft pianissimo, bubbly disposition and mellow temperament, relaxed and chaotic, carefree and attentive—it was precisely why the world loved him so much.

Y/N watched fondly as he reached up to hold the mouth of the microphone, and there it was—a glint of metal catching the light. His H ring was big and clunky around his finger, but still strikingly beautiful against the dim spotlight and his painted nails.

“My hands are cold.”

“Yeah? Should I warm ‘em up f’you?”

Suddenly his hand had engulfed hers. Just like that, they were holding hands. Y/N felt her heart threatening to leap out of her chest. His calloused, ring-clad fingers around hers sent waves of warmth through her palm, her forearm, her chest, the feeling so physically overwhelming that she stopped walking.

He followed her lead, turning to face her and take her other hand in his free one.

She couldn’t see much of his face in the darkness, but the stars cast a delicate glow on his prominent features. She could make out the outline of his crooked nose, his sharp cheekbones, his bunny teeth toying with his bottom lip.

“Hah,” he mused. “Knew you just wanted ta hold my hand.”

An icy wind ripped through her. She squeezed his hands a little tighter, ignoring the slight pain his rings gave her. She instantly felt warmer.

Being with Harry had been a fantasy—a lie, even. He was simply too good to be true. Just three weeks of diner dates and flower bouquets and jazzy serenades and whispered pillowtalk, and she was in love. Three weeks was all it took for Y/N to fall absolutely head over heels for him. Over a year had passed and she still wasn’t over a love that was built in three weeks.

As heavenly music pervaded the room and alcohol continued to flow, the patrons grew rowdier. Y/N was already on edge with the constant ringing of her ex lover’s voice in her ears and all the repressed love resurfacing, and each wandering hand and lingering touch pushed her a little closer to her breaking point. She was swamped with two tables both choosing to order hors d’oeuvres for the evening, which irritated her to no end (Who orders food at a jazz club? Especially this jazz club, where even the simplest drinks were barely palatable. The Fine Line would surely find away to fuck up charcuterie, and then she’d have to go and deal with their complaints about it).

“Excuse me, love. Aren’t you the waitress?” The man’s meaty hand stopped her in her journey to the back to fetch the food, snaking its way to the small of her back. Y/N shivered at the feeling of his sweaty palm through the cotton material of her apron.

Instinct told her to steal a glance at the stage. Did he notice her discomfort? Did he care? Do I care if he cares? She was no stranger to these kinds of interactions with inebriated men and he was still performing like he didn’t have a care in the world. She didn’t need him to save her from this drunkard or any of the club-goers hounding her.

Y/N put on a fake smile and looked up at his face, “Yes, sir.”

“Can you make me anotha drink?” He slurred.

“I can put it in with the bartender, just give me one moment—“

“That bitch over there?…” He make a sweeping gesture toward the general area where Sarah, too, was swamped. “Where’s the actual bartender?”

“Uhm, sir…Sarah makes all the drinks—“

“Bullshit, she’s just a girl—”

“Sir—“

An exaggerated eye roll, “—good for nothing little bitches, both of you—“

“If we’re all so worthless to you, why don’t you get the goddamn drink yourself!”

The man looked appalled, mouth wide open in a shocked silence. Y/N felt a tinge of satisfaction knowing she’d wounded him. But the tiny flame was quickly extinguished.

“Y/N!” It was Robert’s angry voice smashing through her joy like broken glass. He thundered over to her, coming out of nowhere just in the nick of time.

“Yes, sir?” She sighed, eyes trained on her feet. They were aching in her tight heels—just another affliction she’d grown accustomed too.

“That’s not how you talk to paying customers here! It’s barely eight o clock and you’re already on strike two for tonight. You’re lucky I’m feeling nice enough to giving you one more chance.”

Robert’s raised voice caught the attention of a few guests in the near vicinity. Y/N felt a wave of shame wash over her, like she was a child being reprimanded by her parents. For a moment, she absently wished that she was nine or ten years old again, with no responsibilities, no heartache, no problems. But she wasn’t a child; she was a grown woman and she needed this job to survive.

Y/N bit her tongue and uttered, “My apologies, sir,” through clenched teeth.

The scene seemed to have caught the singer’s attention from across the room. He finally caught a glimpse of her from the stage and Y/N could practically see his heart somersaulting in his chest. He paused for a beat, halting his languid swaying to focus on the glimpse he caught of her profile in the crowd. He could only see her face very faintly in the dark, crowded club, but it was more than enough. Y/N felt as if his gaze was stretching time…stretching until she felt the sting of a hand slapping her wrist at her side.

She snapped her eyes away from the stage and turned toward the source of the strike. Unlike Y/N, who couldn’t even seem do her job when he was in the same room as her, Harry recovered quickly once her gaze left his, blinking his own eyes as to escape the reverie.

Robert sent Y/N another dirty glare, seething, “Get back to work before I send you out for good.”

Y/N nodded meekly, taking a deep breath and forcing herself to carry on. She rubbed her sore wrist and bruised pride. It definitely wasn’t the first time Robert had given her a harsh censure, but that didn’t make it sting any less.

Meanwhile, Harry returned his attention to his performance. “This last song is called ‘Stardust,’” he mused into the microphone, effortlessly holding the attention of every patron in the club. “’S one of my favorites. ’S about love…and lost.” He paused, sending the crowd a charming smile. “Big thanks to Mitchy…” he gestured grandiosely toward the pianist, who played an impressive jazzy riff in response, “…and of course, each of you. You made me the man I am today, and I’m forever grateful.”

Y/N swore he looked right at her as a melodiously chanted those words. He knew where to find her now and his gaze was purposeful, intense, and unwavering. Not for the first time tonight, her heart felt like it’d stopped beating in her chest.

Harry hesitated to continue, happy green eyes lingering on hers while Y/N wondered absently if it was only his lover—only herself, that could see the longing hidden in them. She smeared on her best blank expression, no longer having the energy for even a fake smile, and focused on keeping her tray steady. She plucked four more full glasses from the bar and balanced them precariously on her tray before meandering around the dining room to the rhythm of Harry’s song. A year ago, the sound of his voice would have made her own heart sing. Today, each note twisted the knife in her heart a little more, torturing her with what she couldn’t have.

“Mitchy’s been teaching me a couple things…”

He had a beautiful baby grand in the middle of his living room. It was clear from the way the piano took up nearly the entire room that he invested in things he loved—not spaces.

“Oh yeah?” She wrapped her arms lazily across his chest, embracing him from behind while he sat at the bench.

Harry’s fingers glided across the keys and played a few random chords and licks before finally producing a soft, familiar melody. Y/N absently recognized the tune and smiled fondly, hoping he could feel her grin in his hair.

“Heaven…I’m in heaven…” he sang gently, easily falling into the swinging rhythm. Y/N felt the vibrations of his voice in her own chest, heart beating wildly.

His fingers continued floating over the piano, fumbling here and there, but nonetheless impressing her with his skill. “And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak…”

“…And I seem to find the happiness I seek…” Y/N clumsily joined him in the lyrics she vaguely knew. Her voice wasn’t nearly as effortlessly harmonious as Harry’s, but was equally as joyful.

“When we're out together dancing, cheek to cheek…” They finished in unison, a final resolving chord echoing between them. Only fitting, Y/N squeezed her arms around his chest impossibly tighter and pressed her cheek to his. Warmth surged through her from where their skin met, joy following close behind.

As he sang his final piece of the night, his voice glimmered throughout the room like, well, like stardust, Y/N thought. He was a star in every sense of the word, eyes gleaming, teeth shining white, and heavenly voice brightening up the darkness of the club. His blazer glittered in the light and cast bright refractions on all the walls as he swayed to the rhythm, while the heavenly sounds of his artful scatting convinced Y/N that she was indeed in the presence of an angel.

She felt his eyes on her all the way from the stage, even in the throng of drunk patrons and busy waitresses. It was impossible not to. The weight of his gaze and the rasp of his voice surrounded her.

“Though I dream in vain...In my heart it always will remain…the stardust melody, the memory of love’s refrain.”

The memory of love’s refrain? The last chorus was overwhelming. A strident ringing overshadowed Harry’s voice in her ears. Her vision blurred, the lights and the people and the glasses blending together and fading. The stardust melody...the memory of love’s refrain...in my heart...

Suddenly, as if all her limbs had disconnected from her brain, Y/N’s hands slipped from under the tray. Prosecco spilled all over her apron in the next instant, staining the once white fabric champagne. His song, his voice, his gaze…he’d rendered her useless.

She heard Robert’s booming footsteps before she saw him. “Y/N! How many times do I have to tell you off tonight?!” His voice sounded distant in her ears. Loud and angry, but far-away...as if he were calling to her from another world.

This time, the clamor didn’t go unheard by the guests, nor by Harry. He frowned visibly and stuttered. He began to rush his goodbye speech, quickly thanking the crowd.

“That’s strike fucking three,” Robert continued shouting and flailing his hands dramatically. “Get out. I don’t want to see your face here until next week!” His harsh words drowned out Harry’s final, hasty farewell reminder to ‘treat people with kindness.’

Y/N said nothing and remained frozen in response. She stood exhausted in a puddle of alcohol and broken glass, physically unable to carry on the facade any longer. She turned on her heel, desperate to be out from under both Robert’s furious gaze and Harry’s musical spell. As she stumbled toward the exit, she felt like her legs would give out at any moment and finally crumble against the insurmountable pressure. Harry’s were just one of hundreds of pairs of eyes that lingered on her as she struggled. She paused near the door and grabbed onto the coatrack for support, blinking away tears and choking back sobs.

Harry raced over to her, swiftly maneuvering his body through the crowd confused club-goers. When he reached her, he instinctively caught her wrist in his grasp. His rings were cold and sharp against her sore skin—the contrast between the cold metal and his hot palm familiar and comforting and painful all at once.

“Are you okay?”

She replied immediately, “Yes.” Not a lie. She still had a job for now, she had a decent coat wrapped around her, she had a bed to sleep on tonight, and she was breathing. She was okay.

He was panting, voice sounding raspy and strained from overuse. A drop of sweat trickled down his forehead and he flicked it away with the back of his hand. “Are you…are you sure?”

“I want you to have this.”

“It’ll never fit me, H. Your hands are even bigger than y’head.”

He reeled back, feigning offense with a furrowed brow, but he could only move a few inches away from her on his tiny bed they were sharing.

“Fine then, meanie. I won’ give yeh the pretty little chain I got for it,” he said tauntingly.

Y/N’s heart soared as she took in his impish smirk and dopey eyes dancing with a glint of happiness. She ignored his teasing tone, choosing instead to melt over his words. Of course he’d gotten her a chain, she thought—he always thought of everything.

He stretched his arm over her, shoving his bare chest in her face. Playfully, she poked her tongue out to lick his nipple, to which he exclaimed a melodramatic “Oi! Quit tha!” And laughter fell from both their lips as he reached for the drawer in his nightstand.

He pulled back but kept her tucked close to him, leaving just enough space to dangle the chain he produced from the drawer in between them. Y/N studied his pale, nimble fingers as they worked, opening the clasp and slipping his S ring onto it. As he finished, her eyes met his once again. His hair was in his face and the early morning sunlight cast a soft shadow of a single curl over his eyelid. Still, she could make out every detail of his eyes, every vision into his thoughts and shimmering fleck of emotion.

“Are you sure you want me to wear this?” She hummed pensively, not having to look away from his eyes to know that her fingers were tracing the swallows on his collar.

“Yes, but only if you apologize for bein’ mean ta me.”

She giggled again, the sound pure and lovely—like music to his ears. “I’m very sorry,” she humored him, “I love your big head.”

“Shut up, you absolute pest.” He gently pinched the skin at her hip with one hand, and with the other, slipped the chain over her head. She beamed at him, hearts in her eyes and love in her heart.

“Now I’m with you. Always.” And with that, he hauled her into the circle of his arms—right where she belonged, the sounds of her gentle laughter muffled in his chest as the sun rose to illuminate the morning.

Of course she wasn’t okay! She hated her life and she loved Harry. How could she not? He was brilliantly talented, funny, thoughtful, and charming—but in her eyes, oblivious to her internal struggle. She didn’t belong with him. She could never belong with him! A tired, talentless, immature woman destined only to wait tables and lie for the rest of her existence. Maybe she’d marry one of the Fine Line’s patrons whose hungry eyes lingered long enough, whose hands grabbed her waist tight enough. She’d bear his children and go on hating her life and craving something more. That was her truth. No more lies.

His expensive shoes thumped on the stone behind her as he ran to follow after her outside. The lights from the sign outside the club were making his jacket glimmer and shine as he moved, even in the darkness of midnight. She turned to face him, reluctantly meeting his eyes from where he stopped a few feet away from her.

Y/N waited for him to say something else. He’d run after her, after all. And yet, he was silent aside from heavy panting echoing his exhaustion and frustration. He was opening his mouth and frantically shutting it again, desperate to say the right thing but terrified of failing—again.

She felt her heart squeeze in her chest with every second passing in tense silence. Y/N had a hundred things she wanted to say to him, but all she could come up with was: “Thanks for the show, Harry. You were brilliant.”

He furrowed his brows and shook his head, “Y/N, wait…I—”

“Good night.” Her hands trembled by her side—for more reasons that just the bitter cold, as she turned to leave. He let her go, again.

It was a long walk home.

The cobblestone streets felt achingly familiar, yet entirely foreign underneath her. The gentle click, clack of her heels against the stones, the bitter chill and the whooshing sounds of harsh wind, even the glow cast by pale moonlight against the walls of alleyways was all the same. All the same, every goddamn day.

The only difference tonight was the sticky remnants of spilled Prosecco on her skin and the agonizing force of her emotions. The words of his song lingered in her brain, invading her thoughts and inevitably slowing her pace as she stumbled over her feet. She felt heavy and wearied with the cumbersome weight of her regrets and mistakes and shortcomings and insecurities returning with her former lover. It took everything out of her to leave him again. To break her own heart again.

Y/N knew she was lucky to live alone. She didn’t have to rely on a man to support her. She had a job, she had friends, she had a comparatively good life. But she’d never be good enough for him. Without the sight of him and the feeling of his skin on hers fresh in her mind, it might’ve been possible to force the thought out of her mind.

She stepped through the door and immediately noticed how her apartment somehow felt even colder than the bitter chill outside. She shut the door, ignoring the stinging draft and peeling off her heavy coat. Even with the physical weight gone from her shoulders, her muscles still felt tense, achy, and forlorn.

She hadn’t felt this kind of pain since…since she’d left the first time.

Y/N dug around her coat pockets and her medicine cabinet for aspirin or peppermint oil or something to numb the pain. Coming up empty, she retreated to her bedroom, where her eyes fixated immediately on her nightstand.

She paused as a tear strolled down her cheek as visions of what was inside the drawer invaded her mind. She’d blocked out his memory, thrown away his t-shirts, forgotten the sound of his voice and unlearned his habits. But she couldn’t throw away this tiny piece of him. To her, it was anything but tiny. Every one of her billions of neurons told her to get rid of the damn thing, but her one aching heart wouldn’t let her. It was the one thing keeping her chained to him.

Her hand hesitated at the knob of the drawer. She felt weak, jaded, and at the mercy of her agonizing memories.

The chain lay face up at the bottom of the drawer, the S as big and clunky as its counterpart, as shiny and beautiful as its owner. The sight of it sent a tidal wave of memories through her head and a fresh stream of tears down her cheeks. God, she thought, I want him so bad.

Clutching the ring and chain to her chest, she collapsed onto her cold sheets and finally let the sobs wrack her body. His raspy voice rang in her ears, the sweet melody of Stardust sounding dissonant amid her own voice, amid her worst lie of all—the lie that haunted her memory. I don’t want you.

A harsh knock knock knock interrupted the cacophony in her mind.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She leapt out of bed and furiously swiped the tears off her cheeks. She debated running to the bathroom to rinse her face, but another set of harsh knocks shooed away the thought. There’s really only one person it could be—one person who knows where she lives and knows she’d fall at his feet every single time. Her aching feet dragged her body across the cold floor to foyer. With a trembling hand, she turned the handle to her front door.

And there he was, at her doorstep in all his shining glory, as if he’d come to sweep her off her feet once again. His hair was frizzy and longer up close than it had looked onstage. The happy glint he had while in his element was absent from his eyes, now watery and pained but as big and beautiful as ever. She swore the moonlight had grown brighter as it shone on his figure, as if whatever higher power out there refused to let him exist for even a moment without a spotlight.

“Y/N, please hear me out.”

At that moment when the words fell off his lips, she’d never felt further from him—not even when he was hundreds of miles away in a city she’d never heard of singing for strangers she’d never meet. Even then, they’d be sleeping under the same stars. But with Harry right in front of her, standing at her door still clad in his glittery blazer, they were worlds apart.

“I don’t have to hear you out, H,” she whispered, the nickname slipping out before she could stop it. It tasted sweet on her tongue, but the sound of his name in her voice made her chest ache. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“I do, though. I- I…” He trailed off, looking down at his shiny black shoes as if hoping to find the words he was looking for in his reflection. “I didn’t make you feel wanted. I didn’t do enough to make you happy…to make you feel like, you belonged—belong with me.”

His speech sounded broken and clumsy. Y/N absently posited that for him, English really was a second language to music. Scatting came so easy to him. It was infinite—each note and syllable holding meaning, a line of his story, a feeling in his soul, a piece of his heart—not limited by the constraints of speech. How could he possibly find words in the English language to express how he felt about her? How he felt about himself? He sounded like he was suffocating, like he was drowning, like the stone floor was slipping out from under his feet.

Y/N could see his anguish. She recognized it. She lived it.

“You belong on the stage, Harry.” Keep your voice even, she chanted to herself, don’t let it show. That was her life. Chin up, lipstick on, hair slick, mouth shut. A constant battle between don’t lie and don’t let it show. She’d perfected the balance in the year since her relationship. But Harry, of course, managed to make all of that resolve crumble to ruins without even trying.

“I belong with you,” He told her desperately, himself not hiding any of his agony.

“No. I belong to the club. You belong to the music.”

Harry threw his head into his hands, rubbing his glossy eyes furiously. “Is it selfish of me to want both of you?!” He cried, shoving his ring-clad fingers through his curls.

Y/N’s breath hitched and she paused, not quite knowing what to say. Yes, she thought, it is selfish. You want the music, the fans, the money, the fame, and the girl. All I’ve ever wanted is you.

“Come with me,” he continued when Y/N didn’t speak. He reached both hands out as if to touch her, but seemed to think better of it and clenched his fingers into fists between them. “Come with me on tour and we can…we can—“

“I can’t.” She said evenly, desperately willing the tear in her eye to stay put, but she was exhausted.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re a superstar Harry! You’re America’s shining sweetheart! And one day you’re gonna realize that I’m not like you. I’ll only hold you back. I’m not enough for you. And I never will be.” She raised at voice at him. She knew it wasn’t fair to shout at him when she was angry with society, with herself. The metal S still clutched in her palm suddenly felt colder and heavier than before. The chain tangled in between her fingers, refusing to release its hold on her. Perhaps it was actually the other way around. Maybe all she had to do was let it go… Is this what I want? To let go again? To lie again?

“Don’t you get it Y/N! The way you see me, like…like some kind of perfect sparkling star…” He abandoned the invisible barrier between them and grabbed her cheeks between his palms, forcing her to look at him, “that’s exactly how I see you.”

The feeling of hands hot against her skin and the words leaping from his mouth like memorized lyrics ignited a supernova inside her—a familiar blazing fire of joy and guilt and love. She felt paralyzed in his grasp, unable to look away from his eyes where she swore she could see specks of gold dancing around the pools of green.

He continued after a beat, “To me, you’re the brightest goddamn thing in that shitty club! Your heart, Y/N—it’s made of gold! I love the music and I love Mitchy and I love the fame but I’d give it all up in a millisecond for you and regret absolutely nothing.”

His words strummed her heartstrings, the vibrations echoing through her chest, her lungs, her shoulders, and finally, her head. She inhaled a heavy breath, putting all her strength into staying upright and squeezing the ring to her palm. No more lies.

“I know you don’t believe me. I know you. I know you hate yourself, you lie to yourself, you think you’re not…you’re not enough…” “I know everything about you and I still love you…”

Y/N reached up and gingerly placed her hands on top of his, holding his palms against her cheeks. He silenced himself as she held the backs of his hands and moved them behind her head. She tore her eyes away from his, and stepped into him. With a strained exhale, she wrapped her own arms around his waist, the sequins on his jacket rough against her clenched fists which held his ring. The blazing symphony crescendoed inside her as she felt his arms squeeze her into his chest.

There were still so many words left unsaid, so many notes still unplayed. As Y/N cautiously stepped over the line between their worlds, she knew her insecurities would catch up with her. And Harry knew their struggle was far from over. They’d both left each other with uncertainty and guilt and longing and life like neither had never known before.

Their love was the stardust of yesterday, but the sun would rise tomorrow.

happy endings are for weenies. yes i am a weenie.

thank you for reading <3

please kindly reblog & let me know if you enjoyed!

#harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles #jazz harry #my writing

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cassyapper · 4 years

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loving you may mean losing you but i dont mind (jotakak playlist)

dont talk to me about the title of this thing im embarrassed enough

anyway but okay so!!!! very excited to share this!!!! this has been in the works since september but my picky ass finally found an adequate amount of songs so here it is!!!!!! my jotakak playlist (:

special thanks to my lovely and wonderful friend jade for helping me finish this this thing <3

track list nd why i picked the songs that i did under the break!

1. the predatory wasp of the palisades is out to get us! by sufjan stevens i chose this song because it’s all about internalized homophobia and being in love with your best friend as a kid which RLLY resonates w jotakak imo. esp cause in the song, stevens’ friend ends up leaving abruptly, leaving stevens to wonder about what couldve blossomed if they had stuck together and worked through the difficulties together, which JOTARO....THAT IS JOTARO-CORE esp cause kak also “leaves” (dies). so this song was a v obvious choice for me and in fact this song is what inspired me to create this playlist in the first place

2. we are beautiful, we are doomed by los campesinos! this song is abt being in love with someone but you both have ur issues so it’s kind of a mess. considering jotaro and kakyoin’s (to point it quite frankly) trauma and the fact that both of them do jack shit to try and cope with it healthily, this song DEFINITELY fits them. esp cause this song mentions physical fighting and the imagery that goes with it (”he got his teeth fixed/im gonna break them”, “i’ve got a fist on fire”, etc) and the entirety of the bridge/last verse rlly gives me these two’s vibes so! ya (:

3. love love love by of monsters and men this song is the singer feeling like shes completely unworthy of being loved by this important person in her life, particularly because she has NO idea how to show affection and love the (for lack of better word) “acceptable” way, or any way at all really. this REALLY has jotaro vibes cause he is one repressed motherfucker and as we see the entirety of his story, jotaro is full of love he loves so much it’s just he has no idea how to properly express it cause he’s scared essentially. but that didn’t stop people from loving him, in this case, that being kakyoin. hhhhHHh

4. ribs by lorde this song is about being scared of growing up but due to the lyrics being written the way they are, i kinda spin the interpretation of it to be the fear jotaro and kakyoin had on the crusade to egypt, as they were the youngest and didnt know if they’d make it back and everything is just incredibly overwhelming there is so much going on all the time those 50 days. i can do a full analysis on why but that would be kinda long LMAO. for now let’s leave it at they have a very Unique fear of growing up but it still fits with the lyrics. particularly the last bit of the song with the “youre the only friend i need” verses,,,makes me think of these two...

5. can i call you tonight? by dayglow i interpret this song to be about trying to figure out what, exactly, your feelings are for this very specific and important person in your life. since jotaro and kakyoin r both repressed and also suckers of internalized homophobia, i think they fit that theme very well. particularly with the whole “i feel like we’re close, but maybe we’re not actually? what are we?” theme going on in the lyrics, this whole song makes me think of jotaro and kakyoin figuring out their intense and sudden (cause again only 50 days but also, those 50 days had So Much going on) feelings for each other. also the “now i’m no longer alone” line in the chorus HHHHHHH that’s them

6. la la la love song by toshinobu kubota ft naomi campbell SO I KNOW THIS SONG IS KINDA JUST FLUFF but we need some light-hearted moments in this thing hjgg;. ALSO toshinobu kubota is canonically jotaro’s favorite musician so i wanted to reference that and this was my fav love song of his that i’ve found so far so (: also the “you are my shining star” line,,,heh

7. truce by twenty one pilots so this song is very soft. it’s about tending to wounds and taking a moment before continuing to push on. it makes me think abt jotaro and kakyoin taking care of each other on the journey (for example the lovers arc/n’doul fight). also the whole “stay alive, stay alive for me/you will die, but now your life is free/take pride in what is sure to die” makes me go fucking nuts that is. that fits these two to a T fuck

8. this side of paradise by coyote theory this song has big “two lonely people are in love with each other for the first time” vibes and OHHHHHHHHHH THAT’S JOTAKAK.... there are a lot of little lines that make me specifically think abt these two, such as “love so strong it makes me feel weak” (jotaro-core...), “if you’re lonely come be lonely with me”, “i’ll be yours if you’ll be mine” (wanting some security while ur in love for the first time is common but especially for these two i think it works spectacularly) but yea this song as a whole is just...ohhh them. theyre in lvoe HK;FNJFL

9. i saw you in a dream by the japanese house EVERY. SINGLE. LINE. OF THIS SONG IS POST-EGYPT JOTARO. EVERY SINGLE LINE. and the ghost the singer talks about seeing? they hadnt changed at all? they were such a pretty vision, a perfect hallucination? BRUH... just listen i could do a whole analysis on this song it all just fits jotaro mourning kakyoin throughout the years so so so so well it makes me feel nuts holy shit i just. literally every line. every line fits i am not joking. i cried when i first heard this song LMAO

10. video games by the young professionals SO LMAO obviously kakyoin’s epic gamer moves are being referenced but beyond that i interpret this song to just be the fun parts of being in love esp when ur young (backed up with the “kissing in the blue dark” and the “watching all our friends fall” lines). also the chorus just makes me want to cry cause just, happy jotakak moments PLEASE. “the world was built for two only worth living if somebody is loving you, and baby now you do” THEYRE NOT ALONE ANYMORE THEY FOUDN EACH OTHER IM GONAN WAILLLLLLL oh my god. im nuts theynkjNJKNJF also “i heard that you like the bad girls” please. these two shitty teenagers

11. ikanaide by sohta ft. yuki kaai this song is abt not wanting someone u love to leave u cause youll miss them obviously but also ur scared of how the time will change you and if it’ll make you unrecognizable eventually. big post-egypt jotaro vibes 😔 especially cause one part of the chorus translates to “i shouldnt cry, i shouldnt cry, but the truth is i want to say dont go” and im jus like OHHHHH NO IT’S JOTARO FINDING OUT KAKYOIN DIED jkfnNKJFNJDhkld

12. therefore you and me by eve ALRIGHT. god this song is one hell of a doozy. i interpret this song to mean being sincerely in love but youre in the wrong place/wrong time. considering the uh Whole Situation in part 3 there were definitely better times to fall in love for these two. jotaro and kakyoin try to be happy w the moments they do have (i think the second verse in particular adds to this sentiment what with the selfish ghosts part) but they want a better environment understandably so theyre also just kinda ignoring things until they can properly care for a relationship. but well...who knows if theyll live to make it to that better environment ):

13. mayonaka no door/stay with me by miki matsubara this song is a v sweet sentiment abt like “it’s not just heat of the moment!! i do care about u a lot!!” and asking the person u have feelings for to stick around. big kakyoin and jotaro vibes as it would be easy to call what they have a fling considering how relatively short of a timeframe they had but i genuinely think their relationship was deeper than just that and this song nicely reflects such. “jotaro and i will share a room cause we’re both students” fuckin head ass

14. a thousand years by sting oh sting.... so since sting is kakyoin’s favorite musician canonically i had to add one of his songs here as well but beyond just that i do think this song fits them!! it kinda gives me big “if not in this life, then the next” vibes which is a big uhhh thing for jotakak. they may be doomed to tragedy but the moments they have together make the tragedy worth enduring ironically i feel like this song is mostly from jotaro’s pov considering i dont think he ever completely got over kakyoin and this song def has that kinda sentiment but hey it fits them...

15. mr loverman by ricky montgomery SO FUNNY STORY i actually REALLY. REALLY didnt wanna add this song at first cause i felt it wouldve been...idk too cliche? i guess? and i was ALL kinds of picky when choosing songs for this playlist HOWEVER. eventually i relistened to it and read the lyrics while thinking specifically abt jotakak and it actually rlly does fit quite well KJDFN; another jotaro mourning song ): it’s not just the chorus tho the whole song fits jotaro immediately post-egypt but also i feel like some time around part 4 this sentiment would come back to him cause Yknow. Gays In Morioh and the mess of his family life back in america. it just aches for him cause while he’s happy josuke is happy he wishes he couldve had that for him and kakyoin too but yea jus ... them

16. you by petit biscuit an instrumental?? in a ship playlist?? yes that’s right much like mr loverman i was hesitant to put this song in cause it’s harder to justify since i dont rlly know much abt music (and not to b controversial but interpreting lyrics and interpreting music r two different things) however i really think the vibes of this song fit jotakak. it’s got a somber melody but the keys of the piano are high which im taking to mean “light in the dark” which. jotaro and kakyoin (along w the rest of the crusaders) were each other’s lights in the dark. also the ending samples a conference/lecture talking about space flight and like. star platinum. space symbolism. jotaro. yeah

17. saturn by sleeping at last MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM. this song is all about losing someone very close and important to you, but reflecting on the good they brought into your life rather than the pain of losing them. this song also has HEAVY space imagery which stardust crusaders is absolutely chalk fucking full of so also it’s a very philosophical song and considering that jotaro and kakyoin are both Nerds and both got a nice view of the stars/space in the desert with each other, im sure they had conversations similar to the one highlighted in the song. i think it’s a good note to end the playlist on cause kakyoin is dead and jotaro is the survivor but it’s not a mourning song so much as jotaro taking the love he had for kakyoin and pushing forward with it allll th way into part 6

but yeah that’s the tracklist! i might add or take away a song or two but this is mostly it (: hope yall enjoy!

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back-and-totheleft · 3 years

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"Hollywood rabble rouser"

Late one night in the summer of 2008, I found what turned out to be a stockbroker’s iPhone in the back of a NYC taxi. Turning it on in order to contact the owner, I noticed that amongst the stock watch apps and currency converters was an icon of Gordon Gekko, the corrupt market raider immortalized by Michael Douglas in Wall Street, Oliver Stone’s 1987 tale of insider trading and corporate excess. Intrigued, I hit Gekko’s pixilated face (it felt good) and a website flashed up with an entire transcription of his infamous “Greed is good” speech — one of Hollywood’s most iconic parables to the pursuit of unrestrained greed. Whoever owned the phone found those words as important as checking Facebook or texting his girlfriend. Gekko was his hero, his daily inspiration.

Watching back Wall Street a few weeks later as news of the Lehman Brothers collapse and global recession spread, it struck me that a whole generation of financiers must have grown up, like Charlie Sheen’s character Bud Fox, yearning to be Gekko. He was the business equivalent of a rapper wanting to become Tony Montana, another Stone creation. And some of these brokers, as we’ve all since discovered, were willing to trade money that didn’t exist in pursuit of pin stripe suits, corner offices, penthouses, boats, women, and stacks of cash. Perhaps the perks made the 22-year prison stretch Gekko received at the end of the film seem like a viable risk. Or they deliberately chose to ignore his downfall.

Inspired by financial fiends like Bernie Madoff, Stone decided to spring Gekko out of prison for Wall Street 2: Money Never Sleeps. Set in 2008, he is a reformed character that tries, and fails, to warn business leaders of the impending credit crunch. Many fans are understandably nervous about Douglas reprising his Oscar winning role, especially since his hair gel and brick phone have long been put into storage. Stone, who only agreed to direct the film because he felt that current financial climate lent itself to a sequel, understandably feels that it’s time for bankers to grow up. As the director of Natural Born Killers, JFK and Platoon he’s used to Marmite reactions. But, after giving Dubya an easy ride in W, will Gordon 2.0 be one step too far? Is the world ready for goody Gekko two shoes? Or will traders across Wall Street be deleting their “Greed is good” iPhone bookmarks forever? As they say on the stock market floor, let the bull charge.

Tim Noakes: When you were 18 your father got you to work on a financial exchange in France. Was that your inspiration for Wall Street?

Oliver Stone: No, it was a great summer job actually, because it was very exotic. My father was always into the stock market, into numbers. He loved that world in New York and I grew up on the fringes of it but I wasn’t particularly attuned to it. So it was a chance to see it first hand but I didn’t do very well as a trader. In those days you’d run from the phone booth in the back to the floor. It was cocoa and sugar. It was violent and busy. They used to elbow each other to get into the inner circle, like matadors. It was a real crush. I elbowed my way through it and got up to be assistant buyer, which was very complicated because you had to make the orders for everything right. You couldn’t screw up. A lot of money’s involved. So then I thought I should be one of the cocoa buyers. I was a little too ambitious for my own good.

Your father died before you made Wall Street. What do you think he would have made of it?

I think he would have appreciated that I had done a business movie. We always talked about it. He loved movies and he took me to them. We discussed them afterwards, which was an invaluable experience, and he would say that there weren’t many business movies. And there weren’t. There was not a specific genre. Hollywood was not into the business movie concept. It’s hard. I can understand why. It’s all financial talk, it’s not interesting to most people and it lacks those human emotions. Money is an interesting subject, however, for America. That’s why I addressed it in 1987. I thought, ‘Americans love money’, and what lengths they will go to get it is what that movie is about. Especially coming off Platoon, which is a different kind of movie. I was trying to prove that I could do something domestic with ‘Wall Street’.

The original was very much of its era.

It was the era of “Greed is good” and Reagan. With Wall Street 2, I’m obviously more mature, I’ve done more films, I have more confidence, I hope. I’m trying something a little bit deeper in the relationship field. There’s no Darryl Hannah in the movie. There’s a real English girl this time (Carey Mulligan). She anchors strongly the emotions of the film, because she is damaged. She’s the daughter of Gordon Gekko, if you can imagine what that can be like.

Michael Douglas once said that your style of directing is like taking people into the trenches. What did he mean by that?

He makes it sound like I dress him up in uniform and have a military hierarchy. Every single actor that I’ve worked with, and there’s obviously dozens now, you’d have to talk to every single one of them to get their perception. I would say some would disagree. Maybe Michael, because he hasn’t been in the military, would regard it as a military experience. I didn’t think of it that way. I think of a movie as an organisation that has to work at a very fluid pace involving a large amount of people who have to move quickly over a landscape. Call that what you will. It could be an adventure party or a military organisation. It’s really a satellite business. You form, you group, you rehearse, you shoot, you separate. It’s very nomadic. In that chemistry you bring together so many conflicting types of people who have different kinds of egos. It’s quite a mix. At the end of the day, if you look back at the — what is it? 19, 20 films — that I’ve directed, it’s just a mix of styles. Sometimes it really works with people. It clicks. I think Michael did great work on both films, so I’m very pleased with his result. My style might not have been good for him, but it works for other people. Some people, like Shia LaBeouf and Josh Brolin, were digging it. They loved the way I worked because it was intense and to the point and relatively fast.

Do you see yourself as a hard taskmaster or a disciplinarian?

No, I’m not a disciplinarian. I’m disciplined with myself and I think I try to lead by example not by imposition of my will. I try to lead by example. That’s just to say that people know that I’m trying to get this thing done. My approach is that we’re all in this together. The idea is king. We all serve that king. It is not a democracy, it is a constitutional monarchy, so to speak, with strong legislative power in the House of Lords. No, but the idea is king. I repeat that. Not the director. The idea. I serve the idea.

How do you balance the logistics with trying to create a piece of art?

Oh boy, if I didn’t tell you I wasn’t humbled so many times, you would not believe it. It’s a very humbling experience to make a movie, because you’re at the mercy of the elements. Of the winds and the weather as well as conditions that can go wrong — disease, sickness, bad tempers. All sorts of stuff can happen. Given that nature, to pull off a movie is extremely difficult. The editing room is another humiliation. All your mistakes are thrown back in your face. No matter how many good choices you make, and making a movie involves thousands of choices, you’re constantly having to question yourself again. I find it a very difficult position. I don’t think I enjoy it. I think I’m more experienced at it but I don’t think I completely enjoy it. I think sometimes it’s so painful you want to scream bloody murder and run somewhere.

What’s the cut-off point? How do you stop?

How do you stop? A famous director once said that every film is abandoned, never finished.

So you just let it go?

Some people won’t but I do let it go. I’m not looking for perfection. I don’t believe in it. I believe that a film is many things to many people and it changes over time. I think you have to feel good about it and about what you did. It hangs together and it’s going to be a story that can move an audience. It’s so difficult to pull off quickly. It takes time.

The world’s moved on since Wall Street. Were you apprehensive about creating a sequel to such a well-loved film?

Apprehensions? No. I’d have had more apprehensions if I’d had to do it in 1990, I think. Twenty-three years is a long time to call it a sequel. I think of it more as a bookend.

Don’t you think that’s laying you open for even more criticism? Look at what George Lucas did with Star Wars..

We’re not going back into that period. The beauty of this thing is that there’s a new period upon us, which is quite different, technically. It’s a different kind of Wall Street. The landscape has changed. It’s no longer 1987. It’s really a computer game now. The money has accelerated at a square root that is beyond belief from millions to billions. Hedge funds invest 30–40 billion dollars. Even to have one billion dollars is an enormous amount of money. When you hear these guys say, “Oh, it’s just a billion dollar hedge fund” it’s unbelievable arrogance. The heights are dizzying, and the losses are dizzying. It’s just unbelievable what happened. By all accounts it was a near-fatal heart-attack.

Were you planning on revisiting Wall Street is the crisis hadn’t happened?

No, that was the catalyst for it. It wasn’t the only reason. It was a wonderful idea for a script, that Gekko would be a different type of person. That he would start from the outside. He didn’t have power or connections anymore. Time had passed. He was dated.

Is Michael Douglas in danger of becoming a pastiche of what made Gordon Gekko good?

I feared that. That’s why we approached it in a wholly different way. Michael is playing it twenty-two years older, he’s coming out of prison. Michael has changed in that interim. He was a charming rogue, certainly, in the Eighties. You saw a lot of that in his subsequent performances. You saw a lot of Gekko in later films, so I think it was smart to move away from that pastiche, as you call it, because it would have been boring after a while. There are flashes of the old Gekko, which I love, but it’s not like the charming reptile, so to speak. It’s a different man now. I’m not saying that he’s a wholly reformed figure looking for a martyrhood, but what’s interesting about him is what he’s going to do, and how he’s going to play the game to get back. He has suffered extensively in prison, his family has fallen apart, his oldest son has committed suicide. It’s very tough on him.

How did you persuade Michael to get back on board?

Frankly, I didn’t convince anybody. I passed on the script in 2006. It wasn’t important for me to make it. I felt, what was the need to make this movie if it was going to glorify the pigs on Wall Street? They were really making money and it was ugly. There was a spate of books too like The Wolf of Wall Street, which was a big hit and they are going to make a movie out of that. There was kind of a surfeit and there was sickliness to it all. I got turned off by it. I passed, and I moved on with my life, and I did W and World Trade Centre and stuff like that. Then there was this crash and the crash changed the equation I think, I hope.

Do you think the original message of Wall Street failed because young traders ended up idolising Gordon Gekko?

That’s a very good question. Frankly, I wondered at times. The original Wall Street came about because of my experiences on Scarface. I was living in New York and I was hanging out with the dealers and the mob. That whole scene in Miami was a very shocking thing in 1982–3. Wall Street, was like Scarface north. I was suddenly seeing people my age, in their twenties, making millions of dollars, so easily, so quickly. Moving inordinate amounts of money. Also, snorting and drinking. The partying scene had really kicked in big time in the 80s. It was all new to me, so that’s how that was born. Then it went to excess. But I was very clear that Gekko was the antagonist in the movie, but as you say a lot of young people caught on to him. I do think, and perhaps I’m retrograde, that although he was not feted at the time the anchor of the movie is Charlie Sheen.

But no-one wanted to be Bud Fox.

Well that’s the movies. They want to be heroes. They want to make money. I did meet a lot of people in their 40s that said, “When I saw your movie I was studying this-or-that at this-or-that school, I was going to do history or medicine or law but then I saw the movie and I moved to Wall Street for that reason.” The the kicker was that some of them were multi-millionaires, one of them was a billionaire, and they had moved to Wall Street because of the movie. I said, “Oh boy, I wish I had a royalty on that.” These guys are really rich.

I find that quite worrying.

I gave birth to some rich people. But some of them did good. Some of them created something. That was the whole point of the original. Not to shit on Wall Street but to basically say, ‘Look, this is an engine of capitalism’. This can work. My father always felt that Wall Street was a good thing. It creates companies, it finances new companies, creates research and development, and it does. It still does, by the way, it’s not forgotten but it’s been buried in the greater picture of making bigger profits and more greed, but it’s still there. Wall Street is a good thing. It was a good thing and it can be a good thing.

Throughout your career critics have said you shouldn’t glamourise the people you put on the big screen. Do you like to provoke that reaction?

No, I like to make bigger-than-life characters but ‘World Trade Centre’ is about two very ordinary men who were real heroes. On Bush I guess you could say I supped with the devil and brought out all the reasons I thought why people voted for the guy. There is this fundamental thing which Americans like in him, and I was trying to root that out and how he became President.

You were criticised for making Bush too likeable.

You can fault that, but he was re-elected. I didn’t like him. I was very clear — I empathised. Empathy means I walked in his shoes, or tried to. As opposed to sympathised. I don’t agree with anything he said. Anything. I think he was a disaster. It was a nightmare eight years.

Do you think you were too soft?

No. I wish I’d done it a year earlier and it would have been more timely. He was out of favour when it came out, because of the economy, but frankly the movie was about the national security state which concerned me more.

Why are you drawn to these anti-heroes?

They don’t do me any good. Nixon, too.

I see a lot of similarities between Tony Montana and Gordon Gekko. In Scarface, Tony says “You need people like me to point the finger at and say, ‘That’s the bad guy’”. Do you think film critics see you in that light?

I think you’re right. I think film critics have me as a punch ball. It’s an easy target, I guess. I’ve been misidentified with the characters, but I think over time you see that there’s a whole assortment of different characters. But I agree, I think that’s true and I think that’s hurt me. It’s hurt my career as well as some of the political statements I’ve made and positions I’ve taken in documentaries I’ve made. They’ve hurt me too and they’ve given me a profile that’s not necessarily me, it’s just a profile. Absolutely.

There’s been huge furor recently that you’re reported to be attempting to humanise Hitler, Stalin and Mao Zedong.

I think it’s out of context. I did use the word ‘scapegoat’ and I think that was an unfortunate word, but frankly it’s a very interesting history that we’re putting together. We’re using the facts that we have, that are known but have been forgotten. There’s no question that Hitler had a big hand up the ladder. He didn’t come out of nowhere. He is a Frankenstein, he is a monster and I have no sympathy for him, but he was created by a Dr Frankenstein. That Dr Frankenstein is a very interesting mixture and you have to study cause and effect to understand history, otherwise you don’t learn anything from it. It’s my fault because I’m interested in the world, and I’m willing to go out there. I’m not trying to provoke, I’m trying to look for the truth. I’m trying to shine a light. For Christ’s sake, I feel like we’ve become so politically correct that you can’t do shit anymore. You’re not supposed to turn around.

Do you feel like you sometimes exploit sensitive subjects too much? More than some people can take?

Well, that’s why I like the English. They’re much more out there and they’re willing to explore subjects that the Americans are not. Having been to war, having seen the devastation America visited onto Vietnam, I cannot just be another typical American and live in isolation. My taxes are going as we speak to blowing up people in Afghanistan. I don’t feel good about that.

Back to Wall Street. Gekko says “Every dream has its price”, what’s the biggest price you’ve paid to get to where you are?

I’d have to talk to my psychotherapist, who I haven’t seen in ages. I suppose the price is that you do have long absences from home and normal quotidian values, at times. Your children grow up and you have to readapt to the fact that you haven’t been the attentive father. That’s a big issue, but I have been as attentive as I can be in taking care of them. Still, there’s gaps there. Divorces have happened. Those things.

I see Wall Street as epitomising the ruthlessness of the Eighties. During that era did you find yourself being a slave to the success that you had earned?

Yeah, I suppose everybody can become a mental slave to the need to produce. Remember, I was on a roll in the sense that I had to get financing for very complicated movies. I felt like I had a mission. To get JFK made in that era was very tough, still. You need heat. To make that movie after The Doors you need to keep rolling. In a sense I worked very fast, and hard, but I knew that I could get things done. Nixon was sort of the end of the line. I was making movies all those years. Platoon was impossible to get made. So was Salvador. Every single fucking one. ‘The Doors’. They were always problems. There were always tremendous issues. You asked what the price is? The price was to keep going fast, before they change their mind. The idea was ‘Wrap it up, get another one done’. These are tough subject matters. With ‘Nixon’ I’d done eleven or ten, I was exhausted. Frankly, I needed to take a break.

What kept you moving on? Obviously the pressures that you’re talking about manifested in different ways. You had your drug problems earlier on, but how did it manifest when the financing started to crumble down? Did you resort to those kind of vices?

I think there’s other factors. There was a lot of living. A lot of pain. Children. Divorces. This and that. But I think I have been very successful. I got movies made that wouldn’t have been done in the normal radar. They were not on the scope.

In Wall Street 2 Shia LeBeouf says, “No matter how much money you make, you’ll never be rich”. With all your success, do you empathise with that sentiment?

Of course I do. I don’t think money is the solution to happiness. Life is complicated, but certainly money can have the opposite effect. It can make you unsatisfied with life, and make life harder for you. There are two effects of it. One is that it leaves you unsatisfied, you always want more, as we see from these billionaires. Two, it leaves you falsely content and over-satisfied.

And you’re not either?

I don’t feel that way, no. I feel like I’m one trade away from disaster.

The new film is called Wall Street 2: Money Never Sleeps. What gets you off to sleep?

What gets me off to sleep? Sonata. Medication. I’m just joking. The best solution for sleep is having lived a full day and tried hard to live life fully. That makes you feel the reward of sleep.

-Tim Noakes, "The Hollywood rabble rouser sets his sights on a new generation of Wall Street wolves," Medium, Mar 3 2010 [x]

#medium #tim noakes #w.#wall street #wall street: money never sleeps #oliver stone

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sdottkrames · 4 years

Text

We have seen each other through it all

By: @sdottkrames for @an-odd-idea, my pinchitting for @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Rating: general

Relationships: Tony Stark & Peter Parker, Tony Stark & May Parker & Peter Parker

Characters: Tony Stark, Peter Parker, May Parker

Summary: Peter's first year at MIT was a bit harder than he anticipated, and Tony plans a road trip to help his spider-son feel better. But of course, there's some mishaps along the way!

Link to AO3: Here

“Tony, I thought this was supposed to be fun ?” Peter tried to grin, but it turned into more of a grimace through his chattering teeth.

“Yeah, it was. Until this hunk of junk decided to quit working.” Tony gestured to the heater in the corner of their motel room, which was wheezing and sputtering in an attempt to stave off the cold of the Wyoming winter. It wasn’t working. Tony had tried to fix it, multiple times, but it was so broken there was no repairing it. It needed to be completely replaced. He and Peter had decided to tough it out in favor of getting sleep, but they were quickly regretting that decision since neither of them were sleeping.

The pair fell silent, their breaths making clouds in the air. Tony could hear Peter’s teeth chattering and Friday reminded him quietly in his earpiece that spiders couldn’t thermoregulate. Tony forced himself out of the relative warmth of the ratty, though thick, blanket he was under and went in search of another one. He hissed as the little warmth of the blanket was abandoned, but pressed on.

What I wouldn’t do for this kid, he thought ruefully as he walked to the closet, which ended up being empty. Every closet was bare, and the front desk had already given them their allotted one extra blanket each. Tony groaned quietly and headed back to the bedroom, looking at the lump that was Peter on one of the two twin beds.

“FRI, how’s he doing?” He asked his AI, panicking a little when he didn’t hear Peter’s chattering.

“Peter’s temperature has dropped to 96 degrees Fahrenheit. Hypothermia occurs at 95 degrees. I suggest warming Mr. Parker up as soon as possible.”

Tony cursed. Last Christmas, Peter’s first Christmas back after the blip, had seen record cold temperatures. New York had nearly frozen. But when May and Peter’s heater broke, they hadn’t said a thing. May too proud to admit she needed help, and Peter too unsure of himself to ask for it. That had ended badly. Tony had received a panicked phone call from May when she came home from working at the hospital to find Peter barely conscious and ice cold. They had learned the hard way that their spider baby couldn’t thermoregulate. It had taken nearly three cups of hot chocolate, 5 blankets, and lots of cuddling to revive Peter.

Cuddling.

In a stroke of inspiration (and kicking himself that he hadn’t thought of it sooner), Tony grabbed the blankets from his bed and padded over to Peter’s.

“Scoot over, underoos,” he said, nudging the kid’s side.

Peter sluggishly rolled over, and Tony threw his two blankets over him, then crawled under the small pile. The warmth from their shared bodies and the extra blankets was almost immediate. They both sighed in shared contentment at the same time. He quickly wrapped his arms around Peter, rubbing briskly to encourage warmth.

“Are you s-s-sure you’re okay w-with this?”

Tony shook his head. Even after all the movie nights Peter had fallen asleep on him, the cuddles last winter, the hugs Tony had given him, the kid still didn’t believe he deserved to be loved and held and taken care of.

“How many movies are you going to fall asleep squished into my side before you believe that I really don’t mind it?”

Peter hummed unintelligibly in response, and Tony felt him burrow closer, Peter’s face finding a home in Tony’s neck, the soft curls tickling Tony’s nose. Peter’s eyes drooped shut.

“Alright, I know you’re tired, but no sleeping until we get your temperature up, okay?”

Peter nodded, but his eyes stayed closed.

“Okay, bud, talk to me. What’s been your favorite part of this trip so far?”

Peter lifted his head, and Tony grinned as he saw a little more light in the young hero’s eyes. It took a minute for Peter to think. Tony guessed it must be a hard decision. They’d been on the road for almost a week, and had stopped in a different spot every night. Philadelphia, the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame, Chicago, the St Louis arch, Mt. Rushmore. It had been a fun trip, albeit a bit chilly, but tonight had taken a turn for the worst.

The wind whipped outside their window, accentuating the thought and making Tony shiver. It was cold enough inside, he didn’t even want to think about the outside.

“I’ve loved all of it, but mostly just because I’ve been able to spend time with you.” Peter’s voice was small and unsure, but Tony’s eyes burned with tears he quickly tried to blink away as his heart melted . What had he done to ever deserve this kid? Suddenly, the bed felt a whole lot warmer.

“Don’t go making me soft, kid,” Tony joked, but his voice was thick and his arms tightened around Peter.

“You’re already soft, old man.”

Tony scoffed. “Alright. If you have enough energy to crack jokes, you’re warm enough to sleep.” Just to be safe, though, he called out to Friday. “What’s his temp, Fri?”

“97.8 degrees Fahrenheit.”

“Bedtime for the spider baby!” Tony said, and Peter made a few snuffling noises as he burrowed impossibly closer to Tony. Within a few seconds, Peter’s breathing had evened out and Tony knew he was off in dream land.

Tony took a few moments reveling in the warmth and comfort of holding his son before he drifted off as well.

***

“Tony, they are huge !! Like, I knew they were big, but they’re ginormous!”

Tony chuckled as they continued driving through Yellowstone national park, just 10 feet from a herd of buffalo (the cause of Peter's excitement).

This was exactly why he had planned this trip with Peter. Peter had come home from his first semester at MIT and Tony had instantly known something was wrong. There was a spark missing from those doe eyes, he spoke a little less, picked at his food a little more. It had worried Tony sick. So when May had suggested the two of them take a road trip together during Pete’s three week Christmas holiday, he had jumped at the opportunity. He instantly knew it was the right decision when Peter’s eyes lit up as they planned their trip. Tony let Peter pick all the spots, too excited by Peter’s excitement to shoot down any idea.

“Can we go see the geysers next? Old faithful has been on my bucket list for forever!”

“Sure, kid.” How could anyone say no?

Peter continued to stare and smile.

***

“You’re going to kill me. You’re actually going to kill me. When I die, I’m going to haunt you so bad.”

“Pete, if you can survive the vulture and green goblin, you can survive the bunny hill.”

Peter grabbed Tony’s arm, panic overwhelming him. He couldn’t seem to stand up right on his skis, and there were so many people around. He was sure that he would fall and someone would ski right over his hands or legs, or he would run into someone and knock them over and be left with crippling embarrassment.

“Nice and easy, underoos. The hill isn’t that steep. If you start going too fast, move your skis like this,” Tony turned his skis horizontal. “You’ll stop pretty quick, okay? I’m gonna stay with you the whole way, I promise.”

Peter swallowed and nodded, slowly inching his way down the hill.

Tony had learned how to ski many years ago. His father had deemed it below the Stark name, so Tony made a point to learn as a way to rebel and had fallen in love with the sport. Living in Malibu had hindered his ability to really practice, but he went once a year to Colorado or Utah and spent a week on the slopes, usually joined by Rhodey. When they’d planned the trip, Tony asked to stop at his favorite resort in Colorado, and Peter had enthusiastically agreed.

Now he seemed to be second guessing it.

“Pete, it’s okay.”

“But what if I’m not good?” Peter looked at Tony with such open vulnerability, and Tony’s heart ached for the anxiety he could see in Peter's eyes.

“Listen, the first time I skied, I fell on my butt more times than I can count. More times than I want to count. Everyone falls down the first time! If you fall, nobody is going to laugh, I promise.”

Well, Tony lied. Because when he fell, Peter laid there giggling, his worries forgotten in the thrill of speeding downhill, and Tony couldn’t help but laugh along. Then he fell down and it made them laugh even harder. It was a good 5 minutes before they were able to get up and ski again.

When they got back to their hotel room (thankfully one with a working heater), their noses red and legs sore, they collapsed together onto the couch. Tony automatically put his arm around Peter, and he felt the young hero snuggle closer.

“Are you having a good time, buddy?” He asked, his hand running through Peter's soft curls. Peter moaned quietly, his body slumping as the tension left under Tony’s gentle ministrations.

“Yeah, the best.”

***

It wasn’t until the second to last day of their trip that disaster struck again. They were driving in the middle of nowhere Iowa, Peter was asleep while Tony listened softly to AC/DC to keep himself awake, when suddenly Peter bolted up, wide awake.

“Everything alright Pete?” Tony asked.

”Bag. I need a bag,” Peter’s eyes were wide with panic as he looked for a plastic bag, and Tony knew exactly what was happening. He quickly pulled over, and Peter jumped out before the car was stopped. Tony got out and walked around, rubbing Peter’s back as he heaved into the snow.

“Get it all out, Pete. It’s okay.”

“This is so embarrassing,” Peter moaned.

“Oh, if you only knew how much Rhodey had to see me puke. Have fun your freshman year, but not that much fun,” Tony said, soothing his hand in circles across Peter’s back. “Feel better?”

“A little weak, and my stomach hurts still, but I think I’m okay to keep going,” Peter said, his legs shaking as he stood up. Tony looked on in concern, but Peter wouldn’t meet his eyes as they walked to the car. He hugged his arms around his middle, effectively closing himself off, so Tony let it slide to not embarrass him further.

They drove on in quiet for about a half hour, and Tony’s concern just continued to grow. “Pete, you know I’m being serious that you don’t need to be embarrassed, right? You musta eaten something bad. It’s okay, bud. We’ll just stop and get you some nausea medicine at the next Convenience store. It’s really no big deal.”

Peter didn’t lift his head. “I hate that you keep having to take care of me.”

“Whatdya mean?”

“I mean, like, you invented time travel for me! You nearly died for me. And then I can’t even handle college by myself because I just miss you so much.” By now, Peter was crying. Tears streamed down his face, and Tony had to use every ounce of his self control not to take his hands off the wheel to wipe them off. “And classes are so hard, and I just...I don’t know what I want to do with my life and I feel like I will just fail and disappoint you and May. And you take me on this trip to make me feel better,” he glanced at Tony. “I know you did it because you could tell I was having a hard time, so don’t try and deny it. And then you have to take care of me cause I can’t freaking thermoregulate and I’m scared to ski and then my stomach hates me,” he broke off in a sniffle, seeming to deflate after laying down the burden he’d apparently been holding on to for months.

Tony let the silence marinate for a minute before reaching out a hand and placing it on Peter’s knees. “Peter I need you to listen and really get this into your thick head, okay? I do not regret for a single instant going back through time to save you. When I lost you…” Tony pressed his lips together and willed back the panic inside him, though he knew Peter could hear his heart rate change. “It was the worst moment of my life. Having you back is the greatest gift in the world because you complete my family, Pete. So I don’t regret anything. And as for taking care of you, bud, I literally signed up for it when I decided to give you that suite. I made you my responsibility. And I don’t regret that either.”

He glanced at Peter and was relieved to see a watery smile on the kid’s face, so he pushed on. “And as for school, it’s hard your first semester. It is. But you are doing much better than you think you are.”

“Really?” Peter asked, his voice breaking.

“Guarantee it. And I promise you, you will never disappoint me or May.” He grinned at Peter, before amending his statement. “Well, we were pretty disappointed when you ran into a burning building with no back up, but you will never be a failure to us. You don’t need to be perfect or know exactly what you want to do right now. We love you just the way you are, bambino .”

Peter sniffled. “Okay.”

Tony squeezed Peter’s leg. “Well, now we got that outta the way, how bout some tunes?”

Peter laughed and plugged his phone in, playing some AC/DC softly. He was asleep again by the time they got to their next hotel, and Tony gently shook him awake.

“Ugh,” Peter groaned, before his eyes shot open and he desperately searched for a trash can. His eyes zeroed in on one by the hotel entrance and he rushed over, barely making it there before his stomach emptied its meager contents.

“Alright kid. Let’s get you to bed,” Tony said, rubbing Peter’s back, and guided him gently to the front desk and then their hotel room.

Peter flopped onto the bed and started snoring almost immediately. Tony shook his head at Peter’s ability to fall asleep instantaneously. With the sound of his son’s soft snores in the background, Tony brushed his teeth and changed into his pajamas. He figured Peter would probably have to throw up again eventually, so he laid Peter’s things out and let him rest for now.

Sure enough, Tony woke to the squeak of the bed and the click of the bathroom light, followed closely by the sound of retching.

“Oh, bud,” Tony sighed. Peter’s face was filled with tears again, and his forehead was shimmery with sweat. “You’re really not feeling good, are you.”

Peter shook his head.

“Alright. First things first, do you think you can get up to rinse the gross taste out of your mouth?”

Peter did, and Tony flushed the toilet and grabbed the clothes he’d laid out earlier.

“Okay. Let’s get you into some comfier clothes now.”

Tony helped Peter changed into his pajamas, Peter feeling too sick to be embarrassed. He wasn’t too sick to squeak in surprise, though, when Tony slid his arms under Peter’s, lifting the boy up.

“Tony! What’re you doing?”

“Carrying you to bed, spider baby.”

Peter sighed, and wrapped his legs around Tony’s waist, laying his head on Tony’s shoulders. It was exactly how Ben used to carry him when he was little. It was comforting to be held like that again. Being sick always made Peter feel like a kid again, just wanting to be held and coddled, and he forced back the embarrassment so he could fully enjoy the experience.

“Stop that,” Tony said, digging his fingers into Peter’s sides.

“Stop what?” Peter mumbled into Tony’s neck.

“I can literally feel you overthinking and feeling bad. I do not mind taking care of you; in fact, I enjoy it. So there!”

“Okay,” he whispered. Then added. “Thank you, Tony.”

Tony gently placed Peter onto the bed and smoother his hair back. “Not a problem, okay?” He moved to grab a water bottle and the medicine they’d gotten earlier. “Take some of this, and we’ll go back to bed. Hopefully this is just a 24 hour bug and you’ll feel better tomorrow.”

Peter took the medicine, but didn’t feel like going back to sleep. “Actually, do you think we could watch something?”

“Sure, bud. Whatever you want.”

As the soft sounds of Animal Planet enveloped the two, as Peter allowed himself to relax into Tony’s side, Peter willed himself to focus on Tony’s assurances. He committed those words to memory, something concrete, tattooed onto his very being.

Tony ran his hands through Peter’s head, scratching softly and making Peter’s eyes droop in pleasure, and soon they were both asleep.

***

Peter crashed into Tony, giving him the tightest hug. Tony hugged right back, just as tight.

“Thank you, Tony. I really had a good time,” he said, trying to hide the stupid tears filling his eyes by nuzzling into Tony’s shoulder.

Tony wasn’t fooled. He pulled Peter away and gently wiped his cheek. “No problem, bambino. Remember what I said. You’re never a burden. You’re never a failure. You got this.”

He and Peter had had a couple more conversation reiterating those truths, and they’d brought May into it on the way to drop Peter back off at MIT. They’d determined that Peter would come home one weekend a month, and they would go visit him one weekend as well. Peter had forced back the guilt and just allowed their love to fill him.

He hugged Tony once more, pulling May in for a group hug before giving her one of her own.

“Bye baby,” she said. “I love you so much. And if you need anything, I’m right there.”

“Me too, underoos,” Tony chimed.

“I know,” he said, and meant it. With Tony and May in his corner, he could do anything.

#the friendly neighborhood exchange #mine #i love my iron dad and spidey son #tw vomiting

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gellavonhamster · 4 years

Text

a room for one night

gen || R the Duchess of Winnipeg, Lemony Snicket, Bertrand Baudelaire, Kit Snicket || ships mentioned and/or implied: R/Beatrice, Lemony/Beatrice, Bertrand/Beatrice, Kit/Beatrice, Bertrand/Lemony || pre-canon

ao3 link eng || ao3 link rus

inspired by @beatricebidelaire‘s post that I can’t find now (tumblr search function, am I right?) but the idea was the following: two volunteers, the “there was only one bed” trope, but all they do at night is talk about Beatrice

“Should I sleep on the floor after all, perhaps? Lemony suggested.

R gave him a bewildered look. “I feel like we’ve slept in the same bed before often enough for you not to worry about propriety, haven’t we?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Lemony raised the edge of a dull bed sheet covered in light blue polka dots, and tapped on the base of the bed. “I meant the beer crates.”

They checked in the hostel early in the morning, left their belongings, and went out to explore the surroundings – not only and not so much out of tourist curiosity as to find the restaurant where they would have to spy on a couple of persons of interest to VFD tomorrow, select the table it would be the most convenient to spy from, and evaluate the escape routes just in case. After that they simply had to go to a café for root beer floats, and then they made the mistake of visiting a museum whose size they severely underestimated. The room had been checked for wiretapping and other unpleasant surprises of that sort earlier by another volunteer who was passing through the town but could not stay for long and perform the task that was ultimately assigned to Lemony and R. What that volunteer had not mentioned in their report was that the room had a sloped ceiling, so low in places that it was possible to bump one’s head by accident, as well as that the bed was essentially a mattress placed upon several beer crates put together. Though they were not happy about the ceiling, the bed, which they had a good look at only in the evening as they were preparing for sleep, only made them laugh.

“Ah, that’s what you’re talking about. Come on, if they keep this bed in a double room, it means it won’t collapse under anyone. And I assume that many have tried…”

“Your Grace.”

“I mean, this is a double room…”

“Your Grace,” Lemony repeated, shaking his head. Despite his deliberately disapproving voice, he was smiling. “Sometimes I cannot believe you belong to the cream of society.”

“That’s because you do not spend enough time among all that cream. It is sour at best,” R climbed under the blanket. Her legs were aching a little after wandering the town and the museum, and the dubious bed felt like a paradisiacal cloud to her. “Hey, what’s with the face? Are you all right?”

“Yes. No,” Lemony hesitated. “May I ask you something?”

R tensed up.

“Go ahead,” she consented. She had suspicions regarding what was bothering her friend, and she was not sure she wanted to talk about that.

“Do you hate me?”

R reached out and touched his forehead. Lemony frowned.

“What are you doing?”

Stalling for time, she thought, but what she said out loud, naturally, was a whole different thing.

“Checking if you have fever, since you seem to be raving.”

“R, I am being serious,” Lemony pushed her hand away softly. Both of them were lying on their sides, face to face, and in the mellow light of the night lamp Ramona could see it clearly that he was talking completely seriously indeed – she could read it in his eyes and on his lips. “I am not asking you for politeness; I am asking for an honest answer. If my company is oppressive to you, I will get a separate room, and tomorrow we can organize work so that our paths would cross as seldom as possible.”

Ramona rolled her eyes.

“Fine,” she spoke. “You want honesty? Here’s your honesty. No, I do not hate you. I love you, you fool,” and she wasn’t lying, wasn’t trying to spare his feelings. Lemony was her best friend from their very childhood. Despite his peculiar personality, it was easy for her to love him – it was a genuine, virtually familial attachment that was not complicated by anything superfluous.

“And Beatrice?”

He was watching her so intently and sadly that she couldn’t bear it and closed her eyes. She was silent. He kept waiting.

“I love her too,” she said finally. If her love for Lemony was simple and straightforward, then her love for Beatrice was disconcerting, at times uplifting, at times stupefying, and only one thing was clear: while there was friendship in it (in R’s opinion, no real love was possible without friendship at all), there was certainly nothing familial about it. “As if you do not know that.”

“I do,” Lemony confirmed. She opened her eyes again and looked at him. Of course he knew everything and even more. In the area of romantic feelings towards Beatrice Baudelaire he was no less of an expert than she.

R sighed.

“You know I would not come between you, now that she has finally made up her mind and chosen you,” she said firmly, to him and to that small nasty part of her soul that kept wondering why Lemony Snicket should get what she had been dreaming of. “I cherish both of you too much. That may come as a shock to you, but crushes come and go,” shit, she promised to be honest, but when one is not completely sure if what one says is true, that does not count as a lie, does it? “But friends like the two of you are hard to come by. Are you going to ask me if I am happy for you? No, I am not happy that the girl I liked chose you,” that was a good word, ‘like’, it made everything less significant. “But I am happy that the two of my closest friends are together, and doing fine. Well, as fine as it can be for the most dramatic people I know.”

“Hmm,” was all that Lemony said. He covered her hand with his. “I believe that you wouldn’t lie to me, and I want you to know that I am sincerely sorry that it all turned out like this. If I can do anything for you…”

“You can,” R propped herself up on one elbow. She was eager to be done with this conversation as soon as possible. The more they discussed that, the more she thought about Beatrice, and so the more difficult it was to let her go. And she had already decided that she would let her go – it could not go one like this anymore. She deserved better. All of them deserved better. Maybe Lemony and Beatrice enjoyed drama, but she preferred comedy. “Stop trying to set me up with every girl we meet that I say is cute. Or at least stop using literary quotes for that purpose, I am begging you.”

Now it was Lemony’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Ramona, please, I’ve already apologized…”

“We still have to face that receptionist in the morning, you know.”

“What’s wrong with quotes?”

“They perplex normal people. Some things exist for VFD internal use only,” R put her head on the pillow again and winked at him. “Now let us go to sleep already, shall we?”

***

“Do you think I should cut my hair?” Kit asked.

Bertrand looked up from the book, the preface to which was supposed to contain an encrypted message, and shifted his gaze to his friend. She was combing her hair by a rather dirty oval mirror. Usually Kit put her hair in a bun or a ponytail, and occasionally Bertrand (and many other people, in all likelihood) forgot how long and voluminous it was – a heavy brown waterfall.

“If you are tired of your current hairstyle, then by all means you should,” he observed. “What is important is your own opinion on that.”

“I see. I don’t even know what I expected,” Kit put the comb down on the only nightstand present in the sparsely furnished motel room, and started plaiting her hair for the night. “Bertrand and his famed diplomacy…”

Bertrand put the book aside.

“We can do without diplomacy,” he said in a tired voice, took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He and Kit had driven for four hours today, and tomorrow they had to drive as much. The heat was unimaginable, the air conditioner in the taxi kept acting up, they had already eaten all the food they had with them, and the only kind of food one could come by in that part of the Hinterlands were crappy hot dogs and candy sold at gas stations. “I remember Olaf used to shower your hair with compliments all the time, and I get your wish to do something to spite him, but if you’re going to cut it every time the two of you split up, you’ll go broke splurging on hairdresser’s services.”

“This is not ‘every’ time,” Kit threw her plait over her shoulder. “There will be no next time. And that has nothing to do with him. As to hairdressers, I can cut my own hair just fine. Now, if you like – I got scissors in my bag…”

“I think you should get some sleep and think about this in the morning.”

The bed creaked when Kit climbed onto her half of it. As the old guy at the reception explained to them, there were no single rooms in the motel. “You can have one room with no trouble,” he told them in a conspiratorial voice. “Not a soul for many miles around! No one will know.” That amused them: it wasn’t often that they got mistaken for a couple. Bertrand was under the impression that the two of them, in their glasses of the same shape and even often with a similar facial expression, must rather resemble relatives – if not siblings, then cousins. “Easy, B,” he heard Jacques Snicket’s voice in his head. “This is my twin sister, not yours.” Bertrand grinned.

“Olaf isn’t the only one who likes your hair, you know,” he pointed out. “For example, Beatrice said that they are, and I quote, ‘gorgeous’. She’s even a little bit jealous.”

“Is that so?” Kit said. It was as if something in her face changed when he mentioned Beatrice, but that might have also been just a trick of the light in the dusk – the floor lamp by the bed, the nervously blinking neon sign outside. “I see you and her have grown quite close lately.”

“We are working on a new production together.”

Kit was right, of course. He and Beatrice had been working at the same theatre for years, but they only really bonded lately, when the actor who was to play her lover had to leave on VFD business and his part in the play was given to Bertrand. Frankly speaking, he didn’t like Beatrice much until recently. He used to think her too loud and careless and pretentious, yet now the closer they got, the more he became convinced it was just another role that Beatrice used to protect her real self from fake friends, bootlickers, and the press. There was something extremely flattering in being allowed behind that façade, allowed to see the less kempt but at the same time more cosy space that it was hiding. Bertrand hoped to justify her confidence and not to lose her friendship – which was precisely why he knew well that at a certain point, they have to cease growing closer to each other.

“I am not saying anything of that sort,” Kit remarked. “It is logical that the actors playing a pair of sweethearts spend a lot of time together – it is necessary to practice… and so on.”

Bertrand turned off the floor lamp. It crossed his mind immediately that he shouldn’t have done that at that moment. It might have looked as if he didn’t want Kit to see his face or, for instance, to notice he was blushing. Not that he was actually blushing, of course.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “Your brother’s relationship is under no threat. I am not the kind of person who could do that.” He almost added “Not to him”, but stopped short. He wanted to believe that he was not the type to ruin someone else’s happiness in any case, but there was something especially important in not ruining Lemony Snicket’s happiness. For a long time, their interaction used to come down to the debates of varying degree of seriousness, the non-committal (at least at first sight) discussions at the get-togethers, and Bertrand’s sincere frustration that Snicket seemed to dislike him. It was only lately that a careful friendship had come into being between them. When Bertrand tried to analyze that friendship, he ended up overwhelmed with the same feeling of awkwardness that resulted from his attempts to analyze his growing closeness with Beatrice, so he just allowed that friendship to grow, trying not to think of anything too hard. Anything but one thing: Lemony Snicket certainly was on the list of people he never ever wanted to cause any pain.

“I know,” Kit replied. He couldn’t see her face: he was lying on his back, and she was on her side. But he could guess that she was smiling, and that her smile was far from being carefree. He couldn’t guess why, and he wasn’t sure he should. “Have you set the alarm?”

“For six, as agreed. Will you be able to drive at that unearthly hour?”

“You insult me,” now she must have been smiling from the bottom of her heart. “I could have driven all night without stopping for sleep. We’re in this doghole solely because I had pity on you, B. Appreciate it.”

“I do appreciate,” he turned over to his side too. The thin curtains provided no protection from the handfuls of pink and green light that the neon sign was throwing at their window. Bertrand could make out the stripes on Kit’s pyjamas and the thick plait on her pillow, reminiscent of one of Monty’s snakes in the twilight. He remembered Kit’s words about the scissors in the bag. “So, have you changed your mind about cutting your hair?”

“I have,” she answered, and he seemed to hear something strange in her voice and didn’t wish her good night, because he didn’t know what she, in turn, could hear in his.

#asoue #a series of unfortunate events #duchess of winnipeg #lemony snicket #bertrand baudelaire #kit snicket #gella talks snicketverse #snicketverse #my fic #beatrice x r #and other ships i don't have separate tags for #people talk and nothing happens: a classic fic by me #how soon am i gonna regret trying to write kit? we'll see #talk talk talk

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abundanceofsoph · 4 years

Text

SkyFire 2: Chapter 16

“Darling, Just Hold On”: Nov/Dec 2016

Word count: 4.7k

SkyFire 2 MASTERLIST

I’ve been debating whether to write this chapter for weeks and I’m still not entirely sure whether I should have skipped it. While I use real people's names and real life events in this story, in my head they’re all fictional characters since I don’t really know them or how they would actually act in any of these situations. I more just use their likeness and their situations to inspire the story so this chapter was something I didn’t feel like I should include. I tried not to focus too much on Johannah but I felt the bond between Louis and Aurora was so beautiful that I decided to keep this chapter in. I hope you understand why I’ve made this decision.

This chapter's also a bit longer than usual because I wanted to soften the blow of the angst with some domestic fluff. Anyway, we all know what’s coming in this chapter so I'll stop stalling and get on with it.

>Instagram posts

After the trip away, Harry and Aurora decided to stay in London in anticipation of attending the X Factor finale where Louis was going to perform his debut single with Steve Aoki. After the show, Anne and Robin would once again be joining them in New York for the holidays, but in the meantime, they were enjoying spending a few weeks at Harry’s Hampstead house and catching up with Rori’s friends.

One of those days they headed south to Wimbledon, walking the familiar streets of Aurora’s childhood, their winter outfits helping to hide them from prying eyes, however they were stopped a couple of times by observant fans. Aurora offered to take their photos with Harry but he asked them not to post until that evening so that they could enjoy their day without being mobbed. They headed for the Golden Stag as the sun began to set, grateful for the warmth that greeted them as they stepped through the doors. Greg was working behind the bar, his face lighting up as he watched them approach him and he walked around the end of the bar to sweep Rori into his arms. She buried her face into his shoulder as he held her tightly, feeling instantly at home in his arms.

“We missed you sweetheart,” he murmured while placing kisses to the crown of her head.

“Sorry it’s been so long,” she replied, squeezing him tightly one more time before stepping back from the hug.

“Just glad you’re here now,” he smiled. “Good to see you again Harry.”

“Good to see you too, Sir,” Harry replied, offering his hand and chuckling when Greg ignored it to hug him.

“Told you before you can just call me Greg,” he said as they stepped back. “You kids hungry? Grab a table and I’ll go let Helen know that you’re both here.”

They did as they were told, sliding into Aurora’s favourite booth that was close enough to the fireplace without being too hot.

Helen rushed out of the kitchen a few minutes later, beelining straight for their table and pulling Rori out of her seat and into a bone crushing embrace. “Oh, I missed you my darling,” she cooed, holding the younger woman tightly against her. “I swear every time I see you; you look more and more like your mother.”

“Missed you too Helen,” Rori murmured, her eyes glossy in response to Helen’s words.

“Now you’re both far too thin,” she clucked. “Let me get you some food and we’ll see if we can’t put some meet on those bones.”

Harry chuckled as she rushed back towards the kitchen and Aurora settled herself back into the booth. “I like her,” he said. “She reminds me of mum.”

“She reminds me of mine too,” Rori smiled softly, reaching across the table to take Harry’s hand in hers. “Always feel closer to her when I’m here. We should visit more.”

“Well once we buy a place of our own on this side of the river, we can visit all the time.”

“Sounds perfect.”

After dinner, Rori was eyeing the piano in the far corner, her lips twitching up in a slight grin as she remembered the hours she had spent sitting on that bench growing up. Her smile dropped as she once again berated herself for that stupid fall in the lobby a few weeks ago, knowing that she still had another week before she could wear her prosthetic and she was itching to play. “How do you feel about being my left hand?” she asked Harry.

“And what would you need my left hand for?” he asked, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips.

“When Louis was at tower over summer, he’d play the left hand for me on the piano before I got my prosthetic. Thought we could maybe try that out.”

Harry smiled widely. “Sounds fun. Lead the way.”

Aurora’s answering grin lit up her face and she jumped to her feet joyfully, grabbing Harry’s hand and tugging him across the room towards the piano. The pub wasn’t crowded, with only a few of the regulars on their stools at the bar, a few families finishing their dinner and a couple of young girls sitting by the door. Aurora had noticed the girls flicking glances towards her and Harry over the past hour, and she was pretty sure they were working up the courage to come over and say hi. She laughed as she imagined the stories they would tell their friends tomorrow about Harry Styles playing the piano in the little pub where they had dinner. Helen watched the pair take a seat on the old piano bench, smiling as they laughed, trying to find the rhythm. They stuttered over the start of a song a couple of times before they got the timing right, settling into the tune. Most of the patrons ignored the pair, a few of the regulars smiling softly at the familiar sound after so many years, and the table of girls by the door watched on with rapt attention. Both Aurora and Harry wore matching grins as they played, their arms slung around each other’s backs as together they wove the melody of familiar songs eventually beginning to sing, giving the unsuspecting patrons an exclusive performance that others would have paid hundreds of pounds to attend if given the chance.

xXx

After having dinner at the Golden Stag, Rori and Harry spent the remaining weeks of November meeting with both their wedding planner and their realtor.

The wedding planning was relatively easy going, seeing as how everything was booked in and ready to go. Aurora still had a few more dress fittings in the new year but otherwise everything was finalised for the big day in only a few months’ time.

The house hunting on the other hand was a little less under control. Harry had agreed with Aurora when she suggested that they look at apartments and penthouses as apposed to free standing houses. Her reasoning had been that she wanted to avoid the issues they’d had with fans camping outside Erskine House, and while they were hoping to avoid the publicizing of their new address, they both knew that it would only be a matter of time before Harry’s fans figured it out. Aurora loved his fans and was incredibly grateful that so many people recognised how incredibly talented he was and appreciated him, but she also got frustrated by how invasive they sometimes got about every tiny aspect of his life, and by extension hers as well. After deciding that they wanted an apartment, Aurora had stipulated that they buy south of the river so that she could be closer to Wimbledon, and Harry decreed that they needed at least 4 bedrooms in addition to the master suite. He planned on turning one into an art studio for Aurora, while another could become a simple recording studio, nothing close to the scale of her studios in Avengers Tower, but just a little something to make it feel like home. He hadn’t mentioned anything to Aurora, but the reason he wanted 2 bedrooms left over once they created the studios, was that he planned for one to be turned into a nursey while the other could remain as a traditional guest room for when their families visited. All of these aspects, as well as the need for plenty of room for Harry’s car collection had left their poor realtor, Lee, with the unenviable job of finding the perfect place for the young couple. He found them four different properties and set up private inspections for each.

The first was in Southwark and Harry was immediately impressed the moment they walked into the lobby and were greeted by the doorman. The security of the building was excellent and they both smiled softly at each other as they took the elevator to the 24th floor with Lee.

“Now this isn’t the penthouse apartment,” Lee explained as the entered the apartment. “But there’s only two apartments above you and there’s shared access between you and 3 other apartments for the rooftop garden.”

Aurora let go of Harry’s hand as they wandered into the main living area, large windows opening out to the Thames and a beautiful view of the city.

“The kitchen and entertainment area are all on this level with a bathroom off the entry hall,” Lee continued as they walked around. “There’s 4 bedrooms upstairs including the master suite with walk in robe and ensuite, with an additional bathrooms for the guest rooms.”

“Only 3 spare rooms?” Harry asked. “Not ideal.”

“I don’t really like the idea of climbing those stairs every day,” Aurora added.

“How about we head to the second property?” Lee asked, accepting immediately that this was not the right fit. “We can always come back if you change your mind.”

Harry motioned for Lee to lead the way and they headed back to the elevator. Once they reached the ground they climbed into Harry’s car.

The second property was only a few minutes away, still in Southwark, and just behind the Tate Modern. “I like the idea of just popping over to the galleries,” Aurora noted as they entered the apartment and spotted the familiar building out the window, the river and Millennium bridge also filling in the landscape sprawled out in front of them. While the building ticked off everything on their list, there was something missing that neither Harry nor Aurora could put their finger on. Whatever it was, the third apartment in Vauxhall was also missing it, leaving them with only one property left to view.

“It’s not available today but we can view it on Tuesday if you want to meet me there at 2pm,” Lee explained once they left the third apartment.

“That works for us,” Harry agreed, “we’ll see you then.”

xXx

They arrived in Battersea a few hours before they were meant to meet up with Lee to view the final property on his list, opting to grab lunch in a nearby café and then wander through Battersea Park.

“I used to come here a lot with my mum,” Rori said as they walked, arm in arm, rugged up against the cold wind blowing in off the Thames. “Used to love going to the kid’s zoo, but mum really loved all the flowers, so we’d come every weekend in spring.”

“It’s beautiful here,” Harry agreed. “We filmed a music video here.”

“I know,” Rori laughed. “As soon as the fans found out you were here, Ella actually came down after school to try and meet you all.”

“Really?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, and I would have been right next to her, but I’d already moved to New York. Still remember watching the video and just feeling so nostalgic. Think that’s why it was my favourite song for so long.”

“You never told me that was your favourite.”

“Because it’s embarrassing, Harry.”

“No, it’s not,” he argued. “I think it’s really cute they you were such a big fan. Imagine if you didn’t like our music. You probably wouldn’t have gone to that after party with me and we never would have gotten the chance to get to know each other if you hated the band.”

“It’s still embarrassing to remember I used to read fanfiction about the man who is about to be my husband,” she replied, laughing softly as they turned towards the river.

“I’m flattered,” Harry promised, kissing her cheek as she blushed. “Now let’s go see our dream home, hopefully.”

Lee was waiting for them outside the riverside apartment building, the ever impressive Battersea Power Station looming next door. The lobby was empty when Lee led them inside Scott House, using a key card to activate the elevator. He explained on the short ride to the 8th floor that the building was nearing completion and the first round of tenants were due to start moving in at the beginning of February.

The elevator opened onto a pristine hallway; the colour scheme monochromatic which was very much to Auroras taste. Lee turned right out of the elevator, leading them to the apartment’s front door, once again using the key card to gain access.

They entered into an entry hall that led straight into what Lee called the reception room, which flowed through to a kitchen/dining area. “This was originally designed to be 3 separate units, but they altered it to create one large 5 bedroom penthouse,” he explained as they entered. “There are 4 other units on this floor, but the sound proofing is state of the art, so you won’t be able to hear them. There’s a secondary entrance from the main hall into the apartment that leads directly into the kitchen so you can bypass the entry hall.” He pointed out the specific features of the kitchen and the enclosed patio that was marketed as a winter garden that ran the length of the apartment, looking out at the power station to their right and the river on the left. “Because it was originally three units,” Lee continued as he led them down a long hallway off the kitchen, “you get three parking spots in the underground garage.”

Aurora sensed Harry brightening at this, but her attention was focused on the 4 bedrooms, office space, study and utility room that Lee pointed out as they passed. Each bedroom had its own bathroom and built in robes with an additional walk-in situated in between them all. They returned back to the central kitchen via the winter garden, and Rori found herself falling in love with the property more and more with every step. In its unfinished state she was able to imagine the furniture she could buy to fill the space and the colours she would paint the walls, really making a home for herself and Harry.

“And now if we head back through the reception room,” Lee said as he directed them. “You have the master bedroom with the spacious walk-in and dressing room which lead through to the ensuite with a full size tub at one end and a twin shower head in the shower at the other end of the room. His and hers basins and marble tiling.”

“God damn,” Rori muttered as she looked around, picturing the décor she could add to bring out their personalities in the space. “H, I love it.”

“Me too,” Harry replied, equally impressed with the entire apartment.

“It’s not listed yet, so if you can organise the down payment, I’d say we can get it locked down within the next few weeks.”

“Let’s sit down and talk contracts,” Harry replied, watching as Aurora’s smile grew as they walked back out into the bedroom.

“How about you meet me at my office in the morning and we can go over all the specifics then?” Lee asked to which Harry agreed.

“You happy, love?” Harry asked, turning to see Rori standing out on the balcony leading off the master bedroom, looking towards the Power Station. She turned back to him, her face aglow with excitement.

“I can see us starting a family here Harry,” she replied, letting out a surprised squeal as Harry picked her up and held her tightly against him, kissing her cheek.

“Me too my love,” he replied. “Me too.”

xXx

They were lying in bed on a Tuesday evening in the beginning of December, Harry’s head resting in Rori’s lap as she sat against the headboard reading. She was finally able to start wearing her prosthetic again, so she was holding the book in her left hand, the fingers of her right tangled in Harry’s curls. His own hands traced patterns across her thighs, a comfortable silence stretching around them. That silence was shattered as Harry’s phone started ringing on the nightstand and Aurora barely looked up from her book as she passed it to him. His head was still resting in her lap as he answered the call and she felt him freeze against her, a soft gasp escaping his lips.

“We’re on our way,” he said softly, clambering off the bed before Rori could even get her bookmark in place. He started throwing on clothes as she asked him what was going on, and it was clear that he hadn’t heard her at all.

“HARRY!” she yelled, finally breaking through to him. He froze, turning to look at her, his eyes wide and haunted. “What’s happening? What’s wrong.”

“Jay,” was all he said, his voice barely more than a whisper and there was nothing else he needed to say as Rori felt her blood run cold, certain that the haunted look in Harry’s eyes was now echoed in hers. She didn’t say a word, but just as quickly got dressed and moved to pack an overnight bag for the both of them. They were out the door and in the car within minutes. They’d both known this was coming for a while, but everyone had been hoping that she’d make it past the holidays. It took them 3 hours to reach Doncaster, and neither spoke as Harry drove through the night. Aurora turned the radio off after the first pop song played, so at odds with the sombre mood inside the car that she couldn’t handle it.

It was well after midnight by the time they reached Doncaster and headed straight to the Deakin house. Harry texted Louis to let him know they were there, not expecting a reply and not receiving one, and they let themselves inside with the spare key. Despite the late hour neither Harry nor Aurora could think of sleeping and Aurora started tidying up the living room. By the time the sun rose, they’d cleaned most of the house and Harry had thrown together a casserole to put in the oven when everyone got home. They collapsed on the sofa; phones clenched in their hands as they waited to hear.

It was nearing lunchtime when they heard cars pull into the driveway and slow trudging footsteps reached the front door. Aurora was waiting with her arms open and Louis fell into them gladly, holding her tightly as he cried. Harry hugged a few of the girls before moving to Dan’s side and ushering them all into the living room. He busied himself making tea while Louis and Rori continued to cling to each other. No one spoke beyond quite murmurs of thanks and the young couple spent the day doing whatever they could to help, ensuring that the grieving family ate before turning in to bed later in the evening.

They left Doncaster Friday afternoon, driving back to London and leaving Louis with his family to be together before heading to Wembley the next day. They had assumed that Louis would be cancelling his appearance on X Factor, but he shocked both of them that morning when he announced he was going ahead with the show. They promised to be there and hugged everyone tightly before climbing into their car. Neither spoke on the drive south, both physically and emotionally exhausted by the past two days.

“I just spent the whole time we were there wanting to say something to help Lou, but I had no idea what to say,” Harry admitted once they dropped their overnight bags inside the entry hall of the house.

“There’s nothing you can say,” Aurora said, walking to his side to wrap him in a tight hug. “Not really. At least that’s how it felt when mum died. Anytime anyone told me it was going to be ok I just wanted to scream.”

“Did anything help?” Harry asked softly, his face buried in the crook of her neck.

“Ella stayed over at the hospital that first night. She didn’t say anything, but she just held me. Looking back now, that meant more than anything else. Just knowing that she was there and that I wasn’t alone. That’s what I’ve been trying to do for Lou and the girls, just make sure they feel that they’re not alone.”

“I hate that you ever had to go through that, but I’m glad he has someone that knows what it’s like,” Harry said. “Sorry that sounded really shitty.”

“No I get it,” Rori replied, “and I’m glad I can be there for him too.”

They trudged upstairs and collapsed into bed, neither having the energy or appetite to think about dinner and instead just cuddled up next to each other under the covers. They were silent for a while, both sitting in their own grief until Harry started shaking.

“I can’t help but think we’re going to do this again with Robin,” he sobbed.

“Oh Harry,” Rori sighed, holding him tightly as he cried into her chest. “You can’t think like that. Robin’s tough. He’s going to fight, and he’ll be ok. We deserve the win.”

“We thought that about Jay,” he pointed out.

“I know,” Aurora agreed. “I’m scared too but if I let myself think about it then it’s going to crush us Harry. We have to believe he’ll be ok because we don’t have any other option.”

xXx

They were backstage at Wembley, a little under an hour before the show was set to start and there were plenty of people rushing around getting everything ready. For the most part people were leaving them alone, aware of what had happened and thankfully giving them all space. The boys were all there, as were Lottie and Flic, however Dan and the rest of the kids had stayed back in Doncaster. Occasionally someone would come over to offer their sympathy, while Steve took care of all the technical problems in preparation for the performance. Louis had already gotten through the sound check earlier, mostly holding it together and now was just sitting quietly with his sisters, trying to prepare to go out in front of the sold out crowd, and live tv audience.

“Hey Rori, can we go for a walk?” Louis asked not long before he was needed on stage. She nodded, standing up immediately and following him out of the room. They walked the hallways of the backstage area with his arm around her shoulders and hers firmly around his waist. Aurora stayed quiet, knowing that Louis would let her know what he needed from her. “The night we met,” he finally said, “It was the AMAs, remember?”

“Yeah I remember,” she replied, her voice matching his near whisper.

“That was the first time you performed after your mum?”

“It was the first time on my own,” she explained. “I’d done a couple of smaller shows with the band but that was the first time on my own.”

“How did you do it?”

“It was different. I’d had a few years of missing her, so it wasn’t as fresh, but it was still really hard, especially since the song was about her. I know you’re really asking how you’re supposed to go out there tonight and I don’t really have an answer for that.”

“Yeah, I know, sorry. You’re just the only one I know who’s been where I am right now.”

“You never have to apologise to me Lou. I’ll help however I can because I wish I’d had someone who knew how it felt. But you have something I didn’t have; you’ve got your family and you’ll all get through this together. I guess the best advice I can give is that she loved watching you on stage. She really fucking loved it and she was so proud of you. So am I.” They both started crying and stopped walking to bury their face in the curve of each other’s necks. “I love you so much big brother,” Rori whispered. “We’re all here to help you and the girls through this. You’re not alone.”

“Love you too Rors. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she whispered. “Now go out there and show the world our song.”

“Our song?” Louis scoffed, a small chuckle accompanying his words.

Aurora smiled in response and even though Louis knew exactly what she was doing, he appreciated her giving him shit like she always did. Just this little bit of normalcy helped him to believe that she was right and that it wouldn’t always hurt this much.

“Of course it’s our song,” she joked. “I helped you write the chorus when you stayed with me over summer. I expect my royalty cheques in the mail soon.”

“Not a chance love,” Louis laughed. “You can have the family discount off the merch though.”

“So kind of you.”

xXx

Harry stood behind Aurora as the song began, his arms wrapped tightly around her, his chest pressed firmly against her back and his chin resting on the crown of her head. She watched in awe as Louis jumped around the stage, tears streaming down her face as each line of the song hit like the lashes of a whip.

The sun goes down and it comes back up The world it turns no matter what Oh-oh-oh, if it all goes wrong Darling, just hold on

Even though she’d been the one to help write them, Aurora felt as though every word was slicing at her heart. Like every word was a screaming plea for things to have ended differently. For her to still be here with them. For her to still be here with him.

As the lights came up and the crowd cheered, Aurora brushed aside her tears, taking deep calming breathes so that by the time Louis reached them she was ready to be the shoulder he needed to lean on.

xXx

They’d stayed out late with Louis, eventually calling it a night when Aurora could barely keep her eyes open any longer. They’d collapsed into bed as soon as they returned home in the early hours of the morning, exhausted both physically and mentally.

Harry stirred as the sun streamed in through the bedroom window, the angle disorientating until he realised that it was afternoon and they had slept away half the day. He also realised that the sun had not been what woke him as he watched Rori slip into a pair of jeans, struggling to do up the buttons one handed.

“Need a hand?” he mumbled, voice husky with sleep.

She jumped a little, startled by his question before she turned to him with a cheeky grin. “I do need a hand actually. I seem to have misplaced one of mine.”

Harry rolled his eyes at her joke and motioned her over to the side of the bed so that he could reach out and do up the buttons for her. “Why are you getting dressed? Come back to bed.”

“Gonna go see mum,” she replied, kissing his forehead before grabbing a sweater off the end of the bed and slipping it over her head. “Be back in a few hours.”

“You want company or is this something you gotta do alone?” he asked softly, sitting up and letting the sheets pool around his hips.

“It’s ok baby, go back to sleep.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Harry replied. “I’m coming with you unless you want to be alone.”

“I wouldn’t mind the company,” she answered, smiling softly as Harry climbed out of the bed and slipped into his own clothes, taking her hand before leading her out of the bedroom.

An hour later Harry parked near the Wimbledon Cemetery, rounding the car to hold open the passenger door for Aurora before taking her hand and walking by her side through the large wrought iron gates. They walked quietly past the older headstones until they reached the newer plots, following the familiar winding paths until the reached Louise Bennett’s headstone. The grass was damp beneath Rori’s knees as she sank to the ground, Harry’s hand resting comfortingly on her shoulder as she reached out to brush away the dry autumn leaves on the ground.

“Hi Mumma,” she whispered. “Sorry I haven’t been to visit for a while, it’s been a pretty wild year.”

NEXT CHAPTER

OR CONTINUE READING ON AO3

#skyfire #skyfire fic #aurora stark #dad!tony #iron dad #step dad #stony #stony fic #boyfriend harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #superfamily #Harry Styles #tony stark #ptsd #domestic fluff #angst #best friend louis tomlinson #minor character death #grief/mourning

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kuroopaisen · 4 years

Note

HEY it’s me the anon from a few days ago that told you they’d panhandle for the in between crumbs 👨🏻‍🦽 i read pt 1 again while i ate lunch after work and omgncnsms i forgot how much i loved them lowering their walls (and the hesitation that comes w sharing something personal,, tbh not me i just be sayin shit sometimes yk MFNSNSN) but i rlly wanted to ask how long the writing process took you (in general and for this fic), what order you wrote all the scenes in (1/2)

and your favorite scenes from the fic 🥺 or rlly anything you want i love hearing ppl talk abt their writing 🥺🥺 i might send more asks as i inevitably reread the series tho LMAO i woke up today and told my best friend (who’s been lobbying for me to watch more than half of season one,,,, My Bad) that i was rereading this fic for The Serotonin 🤝🤝 also to avoid confusion i’ll call myself pan anon for now!! (2/2)

PAN ANON that’s so cute!! real talk, thank you for showing so much interesting in this fic? it’s my lil baby, and honestly hearing that you’re literally re-reading it is so wild to me,,, i have trouble conceptualising it? but thank you so so much you’re so sweet :( i’m so glad i could provide you with that precious Serotonin, that’s all i want to do,,,

you’ve given me the space to ramble so ramble i did,,, and therefore it’s under a cut fklfds i’m so sorry but also thank you so much (if you do want to ask more questions, don’t be afraid to! although this is,,, v long so i completely understand flkjsklfj)

how long the writing process took

in general: depends on a lot of factors, to be honest! how inspired i am, how long it’s going to be, how developed the idea is,,, generally, I tend to work on fics when I’m inspired to do them, or i won’t touch them for a long period of time. so, it’s hard to give an exact timeframe.

for example, iwaizumi’s birthday fic (ataraxia) was banged out in about a day? concept, writing, everything – mainly because i was on a timeframe, but also because it’s a relatively simple fic. simple premise, gentle but simple emotions, simple outcome. and, because i was inspired (see: under pressure), it was easy to get it all out. albeit ataraxia wasn’t beta’d, which is a bit of a problem for it as a representative of my writing ssjfdklj

something like brat, a more thought-out piece, it might take a week depending on inspiration? brat particularly inspired me (and i wish i’d turned it into a multi-parter now, tbh), so it was easy to get into.

for something like this or little changes, it takes a bit longer? little changes took about three weeks from conception to end product! which leads to…

for this fic: this fic was a bit weird in that i had the idea in my head for a few months? sort of,,, little scenes, and the desire to write something about kuroo and nekoma’s manager, incorporating the theme of ‘an in-between kind of love.’ the actual writing process, however, probably took two weeks?

the first week was pretty lax, and then the second was a whirlwind. It’s honestly sort of a haze because I would write for hours straight? i don’t know what happened, and a lot of the first draft was not good by any means, but yeah. that was one wild week.

poor ren (@/w-yuren – if you haven’t checked her out, please do! she’s the auntie of the fic tbh) proofread all of it over the course of a week because i wanted to get it out by a certain date (i didn’t end up meeting this deadline but Oh Well).

what order you wrote all the scenes in

i didn’t have a particular order!! i would just go for the scenes that i felt most inspired to write. for this fic, it was the scenes that took place more around the middle that i tended to gravitate towards? i found it surprisingly difficult to write the beginning (probably because by the time i got there, i had their dynamic established in my head – meaning that them being strangers was difficult to parse), and i put off the ending because i didn’t quite know how i wanted it to end (the original plan had them going to university – the slowest of all burns).

favourite scenes

so one of my favourite scenes was the one where the reader is having a breakdown in the gym; i didn’t end up doing it as well as i would’ve liked, but it gave me a space to explore some emotions i haven’t really had the chance to in my fics yet. it’s a mini-example, for me, of how cathartic writing can be – before this i’d only written a short daichi fic featuring a reader who had anxiety.

being able to tease out those emotions, but having them received willingly by kuroo, was soothing? and i also enjoyed that it gave me some space to give kuroo his own development, too; we don’t know where his mother is canonically, so divorce is certainly possible. and, speaking as a child of divorced parents, that sort of thing really affects you – often more than you realise. getting to explore that concept without making it the main point of the fic was enjoyable, in some way? it feels like the wrong word, but i can’t think of a better one.

i also enjoyed the scene where kuroo’s feeling down, and both kenma and the reader notice. bc this is a fic and not a full-blown novel, the relationships both kuroo and the reader have with other characters inevitably fall to the wayside, so i enjoyed every opportunity i had to explore the dynamics with other members of the nekoma team. and because kuroo and kenma are so important to each other, it was a joy working out how that’d factor into moments like this (especially since we don’t tend to see kuroo be down, you know?).

I also enjoyed the “ethically sourced” scene just because they’re being such Dumb Teens and i thought the dialogue was naturalish?

i also like the scene at the end of part 2, because i like exploring how we conceptualise love versus how we experience it. kuroo’s very much trapped between the two in that scene, and i think it’s very much something a teenage boy would contend with. especially because the way he conceptualises romantic love makes it something scary, something that could threaten the relationship they currently have.

and finally, i really like the final scene for two main reasons. one, because they don’t need to say “i love you”; they both know. and they know, because they exchange the “i wouldn’t be who i am today without you,” which speaks to their friendship and how they’ve affected one another. it’s also the culmination of both of them realising that it’s okay for them to feel multiple kinds of love for one another, and one doesn’t transcend or smother the other.

two, because it’s a moment of genuine, comfortable vulnerability; something that they’ve always offered each other in one way or another, but it’s usually been one of them comforting and supporting the other. but in this scene, the vulnerability is shouldered by both of them (the reader betrays her vulnerability by giving him a thoughtful present, and kuroo betrays his vulnerability by tearing up and making his confession).

honestly i had some lofty ideas that i don’t think i totally made good on, but i like these scenes because they gave me the opportunity to explore emotions that i find very interesting, or that relate to my own experiences with love; it’s always been a very strange grey area for me, and since i like to write for catharsis, the in-between was an opportunity to reflect on that!

i love the friends-to-lovers trope because it focuses on that interplay between different ideas of love, but in a mundane context, what does that mean? how do you draw the line between the two? should you draw that line?

so i’ve rambled a lot (looking at this wall of text,,, i’m so sorry) but thank for you for letting me indulge myself aslkjd my vocabulary is very limited and i hope i don’t seem like a Tool.

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collecting-stories · 5 years

Text

Little Games - Peter Maximoff

Can I please request a fic where Peter is dating a mutant w/ pyrokinesis and they're on a mission w/ the other X-Men where she sees Peter get hurt and her powers like magnify and she takes out the villains and the rest of the team is like "Woah! That was terrifying!" But she just runs to Peter and starts fussing over him? Sorry if that's overly specific - @thecaptainsgingersnap

\\\

I don’t trust nobody and nobody trusts me – Look What You Made Me Do, Taylor Swift

Smoke settled over everything in sight, choking the breath out of you as you stood, acceleration marks marring the ground around you like a circle. You knew that later, when you got back to the facility, you would chastise yourself for losing control of the situation but for now that self-deprecating thought was pushed to the back of your mind and all you could think about was Peter.

He was your sole focus, the pained expression he had worn just moments earlier still playing in the foreground of your mind. You could hear Jean, beneath the pounding in your ears, as she helped Peter off the ground and checked to make sure he was alright. Scarred, yes, but he would live. He was at your side in an instant, a hand on your elbow grounding you. And suddenly, had you been breathing so heavily? You felt like you were returning to your body, the feeling seeping through your limbs as you unclenched your fists and looked to your boyfriend.

“What happened?” You tried to look at the damage you’d caused but Peter was quick to grab your face in his hands, keeping your eyes on him.

“It’s okay, let’s go alright?”

“Are you okay?” You tried to pull away from him but he was relentless. If you saw then you would be upset and he didn’t want you feeling guilty for saving his life.

“I am now.” He promised, kissing the bridge of your nose. Blood from a cut in his lip smeared on your skin.

Your relationship with Peter was fairly new and until this exact moment you’d been trying to keep things casual. All of this was relatively new and you’d been afraid of growing too attached. You were familiar with being left and feared that letting yourself get caught up in something would only result in more abandonment. If this facility was where you were going to live forever than you didn’t want to risk a relationship gone bad just because you let yourself get in over your head.

It was a newspaper article about Charles Xavier that led you both to Peter and to Massachusetts. What he said about mutations in the body made sense to you as someone who had been struggling with a lifetime of not fully understanding or accepting what you were. His article gave you some glimmer of hope that your mutation was not a curse but a gift.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You asked, hands running over his shoulders and down his arms as you tried to inspect Peter. He was smiling, and easy grin that contrasted with the bruising beginning to manifest along his jaw and the cut on his forehead.

“It’s alright,” he repeated. When your hands brushed his he grabbed them, lacing your fingers together. “I’m alright.”

“We need to leave,” Jean urged behind you. Her hand grasped your arm, tugging on your sleeve to try and get you to come with her. Even though you could feel her hand your eyes stayed focused on Peter. You squeezed his hands, trying to reassure yourself that he was there in front of you.

Just minutes earlier, it felt like hours when you were standing here in front of Peter like this, and entire of soccer team worth of men and women sent to attack you and the mutants you lived with, had been incinerated. Afraid to approach you had stayed back through the fighting, worried that the powers you had only begun to learn control over would overwhelm you. On the sidelines was exactly where you would have remained through the entirety of the outbreak if you could have. In fact, you had urged Charles to let you stay back but he insisted that you were ready.

You knew you weren’t ready.

“It was an accident.” You insisted, following Charles down the hallway at a quick pace. You felt like you were having a harder time keeping up with him than you did with Peter when he was trying to be slow for you. “I told you I wasn’t ready!”

“I’m not looking for excuses,” Charles replied. “We don’t want people to think we’re a threat. We want them to realize that mutants are just like them, we just have different abilities than they do.” It was the same speech that you’d been hearing since you moved in. A short time but still you felt like you knew the words by heart.

Everything had been fine on the sidelines but then Jean lost her control and suddenly it was four on one against Peter. He would’ve been fine. You knew, after the fact when you were lying in bed staring up at the ceiling, that he would’ve been alright. Peter was perfectly capable of defending himself in a fight but you had seen them gain the upper hand and all you could think was that Peter needed help. Then one of the men he was fighting against grabbed his body, holding him in a grip as the others hit him and you lost it. All the hours of training that Charles had devoted to you, perfecting your control, went out the window.

And everyone watched in abject amazement as you incinerated the men and women around them. You were shaking, from your fingers to your feet, you could feel your entire body vibrating with adrenaline as burned up ashes that used to be human beings surrounded you, dark lines shooting out from your feet like accelerant. You could only see Peter, a little bruised but alright, staring back at you with an unreadable expression. Though you spent the entire ride back to the facility fussing over his well-being it was him who went to you first, making sure you were okay.

And even now, once you were home and safely sequestered in your bedroom away from everyone’s judgmental gaze, he was still worrying about you. He knocked and then let himself into your room even though you hadn’t answered. Lying face down on the mattress you were trying to convince yourself that things weren’t as bad as you knew that they were. You’d lost control. Control was vital. Control meant everything. Without it you were the freak that everyone thought you were.

“Hey,” Peter’s knocking was in perfect time with his greeting. You hadn’t locked the bedroom door and he twisted the door knob, letting himself in. The lights were out and you were under the covers. You heard his footsteps on the hardwood, a rare moment when he was walking slowly, careful of spooking you. The mattress dipped when he sat down and you shifted the blanket to peek out over it. “You know you saved my life, whatever Charles said, screw him.”

“Peter,” you sighed, sitting up in bed, “He’s right though, I lost control-”

“No you didn’t. What you did out there was incredible. That’s who you are. You didn’t lose control you saved all of us.” Peter explained, an unusually serious expression on his face. “If you lost control you would have killed all of us. Me, Jean-”

“Don’t say that!” You protested, reaching for his hands.

Peter squeezed your hand tighter. “I’m not trying to upset you. I’m just saying, if you had lost control then you would’ve done a lot worse than you did. What you did wasn’t losing control it was you. It was your power. And you saved our asses! So screw Charles.” You groaned, falling back against the bed. Peter leaned forward, wrapping you in his arms and pulling you up with him. “Nuh-uh, say it.”

“I’m not saying that.”

“Say it.”

“Screw Charles,” you whispered, muffled by Peter’s chest.

“Louder.”

“Peter!”

He nudged you, grinning like a kid. “You did what you had to do and I would never want you to think that what you did today was anything less than amazing. Okay?”

“Okay.”

A/N: I hoarded this request away until I had inspiration for it and then I piggy-backed off my own thing to write it and I’m not really sure how it is but I hope you like it!

It’s too late, I’m being lazy and not tagging sorry.

#peter maximoff x reader #Peter Maximoff imagine #Peter Maximoff fanfiction #xmen imagine #xmen fanfiction #xmen fanfic #collecting stories imagine #cs discography series

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nekokoaa · 5 years

Note

May I get a deaf! reader x Present Mic? I just love the idea of him slowing down his speech so she can read his lips, or him going out of his way to learn sign language? (I need more than one author to do this because he's a sweet bean, and this idea should be spread like a plague.) -Perhaps when they meet he gets offended cuz she's 'ignoring' him?-

Fandom: bnha

Character: Present Mic (Hizashi Yamada)

No warnings.

I really feel for this request because recently I watched a documentary on deaf children in Japan and it was the most empowering thing I ever watched. Those children are so inspiring. It honestly made me want to try and learn sign language, so I was really happy to write this request and I hope it represented the deaf community well. It’s in three short parts.

**Signing or other means of communication is in italics. If it’s hard to see for some of you guys, I can change it and make it Bold or just add the quotations instead.

Also, sorry that this request took so long to get out! I hope you enjoy, love!

————————————————————

Hizashi’s life had always revolved around sound for as long as he could remember. From an energetic child to a raging teenager and even now, as an adult, he couldn’t imagine his life without it. It became a part of him, literally, his quirk was the embodiment of sound and his reason for being the hero he is. Silence was never an option.

Until now.

Hizashi wouldn’t call himself a flirt as he was always a respecter of women and was aware that most women hated to be randomly flirted on, so he didn’t understand what came over him when he saw you treading down the halls of U.A. It was the first time he ever saw you and it was probably the first time a woman ever made him freeze up like that. He couldn’t recall when was the last time he became shaken up because of a woman, but once you were about to pass him, he had called out to you on impulse and to his surprise, you brushed past him without a glance in his direction. Questions emerged within his brain as to why you ignored him, all he did was simply sent a greeting your way, he didn’t comment on your looks or sounded flirtatious in his speech. It was just a simple good morning.

Hizashi pondered about this moment for the rest of the day. He couldn’t understand what was wrong with his approach and later realized how rude you were for not greeting him back, especially a teacher of U.A. He didn’t know what profession you were in or your reason for being at the school, but he at least knew a simple greeting wouldn’t have hurt you.

And once again, to his surprise, he found out the very reason why you ignored him that morning. He stumbled upon it the next day while he interrupted Aizawa’s abnormally large class to inform him about a sudden schedule change for the teachers and the reason for Aizawa’s class being abnormally large was because it was being combined with another class, specifically, your class. Hizashi found out that day that you were actually a teacher for the hearing-impaired middle school not too far from U.A. You had brought your students to U.A on a field trip to inspire and learn from their students and that they can, despite their differences, become a hero too. Each of Aizawa’s students were paired with yours and was engaging in a simple activity together. Aizawa took this as a chance to introduce you to Hizashi and Hizashi, needless to say, almost froze again when you approached him. Just a glimpse of you in the hallway was enough to know that you were a beautiful woman but seeing you in front of his eyes had him wondering if this was reality.

“Nice to meet you, Present Mic. I’ve heard such great things about your work as a hero.” Those words didn’t form from your voice but from your hands in a series of symbols and the woman next to you brought them to life with her voice. He assumed she was your translator.

“Uhh…” For the first time in his life, Hizashi was speechless and Aizawa raised an eyebrow at that. But Hizashi knew he had to get the cog in his brain to work somehow, he couldn’t physically slap himself in your presence (and he sure wanted to) instead he managed to hold his hand out for a shake and his brain started to lag behind slowly. “G-Great to meet you too!” He said, rather loudly, fast even.

Although, you didn’t need your translator to understand what was said. You smiled gently, and it almost made him melt. The next, your hand met with his in a firm grip for a shake and this time, he melted. For such a firm grip, you had the softest hands in the world, smaller than his yet it didn’t falter in strength. You held a steady stare towards him and even though Hizashi’s shades covered his eyes, it was like you penetrated the material. You struck through his soul, his heart, all from a simple shake of hands. Is this what they call ‘love at first sight’? He didn’t believe in such a thing before but seeing you within his sights made it feel all the more real.

II.

Since that fated day, Hizashi had made it his mission get closer to you. He managed to get your number to “continue to plan out events with U.A and your students” but in reality, he just wanted to talk to you more. It started out as simple brainstorming session through text before it took off into casual talk. He learned that you were born deaf but had a quirk that allowed you to physically feel all types of sound waves—even the ones that average human ears couldn’t pick up—absorbed them and reflect them back onto an object.

Today 1:30 PM

2:15 PM: Even though, I can’t hear it. I can feel it. It’s like a vibration. Sometimes they’re small, other times they’re large. And if I wanted to, I can use those vibrations to break something—like glass, I guess.

Hizashi’s eyes widened when he read your text, he was at his desk in the teacher’s office, spinning around mindlessly in his chair. He really should’ve been looking over some documents, but he became lost within his phone, eagerly waiting for your replies.

2:17 PM: Seriously!? That’s one hell of a quirk! You could’ve become a hero if you wanted to!

He sent the text and set his phone down only to pick it back up a minute later when he saw it lit up.

2:18 PM: I wanted to.

Was what he received and nothing else. His eyebrows furrowed at it. His fingers dashed wildly upon the screen and his thumb hovered over the send button.

2:18 PM: I came up with a new activity my students can do with your students. We should inform Aizawa.

But your message came faster, and the message he wanted to send, ‘what stopped you?’, was replaced. You changed the subject for a reason, so he wasn’t going to pry.

2:20 PM: We should talk it over a drink then! I’m free after 5!

Hizashi taut his lips. Was that too friendly? Flirtatious? Damn, he never had to think of his words this much before. He was always a smooth talker, it came to him easy, so why was it so hard to talk to you? He knew his suggestion was a shot in the dark. There was a high chance that you would reject him, but that was the key word, right? Chance. As long as there was a chance of rejection, there was also a chance of acceptance.

2:25 PM: Sure! There’s this bar in the city I like to go to. I’ll send you the address.

“Yeaaah hoooooo!!” Hizashi suddenly jumped to his feet as he howled, thrusting his fists towards the ceiling when he read your text. You said yes! You actually said yes! Is this considered a date? Maybe not, but who cares, you said yes!

Around 5 pm, Hizashi already met up with you at a relatively chilled bar in the southside of the city. He definitely wasn’t planning to get drunk, so he just ordered a beer while you ordered a pina colada. The conversation was simple between you, it started as completely work related. You relayed your ideas to Hizashi by small notebook and pen and he intently read whatever you wanted to say. You read his lips whenever he spoke, at times he had to slow down because you would miss what he said. And Hizashi, at that moment, realized how annoying it was to communicate this way. He somewhat wished he knew sign language to make the conversation smoother between you two.

The conversation shifted from work to personal as the atmosphere of the bar couldn’t help but make it so.

“So, about your quirk…” Hizashi started. He saw your eyes flicker away for a moment before they returned. “Isn’t it annoying being around all these sounds?”

You quickly turned to your notebook and wrote your answer down.

I’m used to it already. When I was little, it was the scariest thing. I remember crying to my parents about it all the time, but I came to terms with it.

“And you’re telling me, you can absorb those sonic waves and reflect them back onto objects?” You didn’t need your notebook for this. A simple smile and a nod were all Hizashi needed. “That’s pretty damn powerful, it’s kind of like my quirk!”

Well… Not really. You project your voice to a certain frequency to where it could cause someone’s ears to bleed! You started to laugh which was the most adorable thing to Hizashi. It was a silent laugh, but your shaking form and your hand that covered your large smile gave it away. Besides… I can take your quirk’s power and use it against you. The louder it is, the stronger I get! Was what you wrote, and it earned a very loud laugh from Hizashi, so loud that the other patrons of the bar glanced at you two. Hizashi didn’t care and neither did you.

“You know, we’re still accepting applications for U.A! Feel free to fill them out!!” Hizashi was expecting to see you laugh again but something about his joke struck a chord with you. Your smile dropped, and you suddenly looked away from him. You reached for your pina colada and stirred it with the straw hanging off the curvy glass.

“W-Was it something I said?” You didn’t know what he said but you felt the sound waves of his voice when he spoke. It was very distinguishable from all the other voices in the bar. There was just something about it that made you know it was coming from Hizashi. “Miss ____?” A nervous laugh after was all he could do to make the mood seem less tense. You started to write in your notebook, your knuckles protruded as your gripped your pen tightly.

Earlier today, I told you I wanted to be hero. Well, I did try back in middle school, I applied for U.A but I was denied.

“Denied…?” You avoided looking at Hizashi and kept your eyes on your notebook. You began to tap your pen against the paper like you were trying to decide your next words.

The reason why they denied me was because of my disability. They didn’t have the resources to accommodate me, so they couldn’t accept me.

Hizashi knew that U.A was harder to get accepted to back when he applied, but he didn’t think they were rejecting students they couldn’t accommodate for.

Till this day, U.A has not accepted anyone who is deaf. Which is why I’m working together with Aizawa to ensure that will change in the future. My students, some of them have amazing quirks… and It’s hard for me to believe that they can’t become heroes because of something they were born with.

“That’s… very heroic of you.” Hizashi lowered his eyes, somewhat ashamed to hear of U.A’s past faults.

Someone has to pave the way for these kids.

Silence had fallen between the two of you, something Hizashi wasn’t used to. You continued to stare at him, waiting for him to say something about the current subject, but he suddenly changed it, his eyes met yours as he spoke. For some reason, it felt as if time had stopped, seeing Hizashi so serious had thrown you off. “If there was a chance to be reborn with hearing, would you take it?”

Your eyes had widened slightly to his question, but it didn’t delay your answer. You began to furiously write in your notebook and Hizashi hovered over slightly to see your words.

I don’t regret being born deaf. It’s not my fault. It’s not a fault. It’s part of who I am… and I’m content with that. So, no.

“I can’t imagine my life without sound.” He grumbled, but you were still able to make out his words from his lips.

Most people can’t. You scribbled.

“I guess that’s what makes you strong.” You were taken aback when you saw Hizashi’s lips slowly changed into a warm smile after he spoke. His eyes behind his shades softened as they gazed upon your face and his arm propped up his head as he leaned his head against his knuckles. He might not have noticed the dreamy expression he was making at you, but you surely did.

You blushed profusely, your eyes started fidgeting between Hizashi and your notebook. You weren’t sure what to do as it looked like he completely lost himself within his head and wasn’t talking anymore. You quickly snatched your notebook off the counter and started to write with your shaky hands and when you were done, you pushed your notebook towards him and leaned your head upon your hand that covered your mouth as you shyly looked in the opposite direction.

Thank you.

III.

Hizashi didn’t know how hard it was going to be to communicate with just his hands and subtle movements of lips, but he practiced for months for this day, the day he would finally ask you out on a date. You and Hizashi talked and nearly saw each other every day, it was only a matter of time until you two start going out, right? At least that’s what Hizashi believed. He hoped he didn’t imagine all those intimate moments you shared with him for these past months. It couldn’t have been all in his head, right?

He sighed heavily and ran a hand over his face. He nearly knocked his shades off his head in doing so and he straightened them when they became crooked. He was practicing his sign language in front of his bathroom’s mirror for the last time until he leaves for your school.

Even though it was Saturday, you invited Hizashi to a poetry event that your students were taking part in and you really wanted him to come. How could he have said no when you looked so sweet when you asked him? Of course, he was going to go. He might’ve overdressed a bit for the occasion though, he was wearing a white suit jacket which was opened and showed his black collared shirt under. His shirt was without a tie and was unbuttoned at the top until his collar flared out slightly. He made sure to gel his hair to perfection where not even a single strand was out of place. This day had to be perfect. It had to be.

Hizashi left his apartment with renewed vigor and he made it to your school just an hour before the event started. You greeted Hizashi with a hug at the entrance of your classroom. He melted in your arms, he honestly wished the hug didn’t last seconds but hours, days even. You guided him to a chair in the front row before you left him to greet more parents that piled into the classroom. Excited smiles were on their faces when they spotted their children all sitting together at the front of the class. The children, however, looked a little nervous until you came to talk to them. You signed a bit at them and their nerves were quickly replaced with soft smiles.

Hizashi was honored to come to this event. It was definitely his first time attending a poetry session in sign language. As like anyone learning a new language, it was still hard to interpret what was being said but you helped him by giving him the written translation of the poems. He still tried to interpret it on his own, only using the translation if he had no idea what was being signed. He also had to make sure you didn’t find out that he’s been learning sign, he wanted to surprise you when he asks you out.

Poems of simple messages like nature or family were the majority but there was one poem that stuck with Hizashi. A loud voice in a silent world, was the title and by just that, he was captured by it. It was a story about the struggles of being deaf in the hearing world, a voice so loud yet silent to the world. He couldn’t help but give the poem a standing ovation once it ended. He clapped loudly and cheered, and your student bowed happily to the audience. You showed him how to cheer in sign after, raising your hands in the air and shaking them with excitement. Once he learned, it was all he did for every student, cheering with his hands rather than his voice.

“That was amazing! Your students have so much talent!” Hizashi had said once you escorted all the parents and students out of the classroom. It was only you two that remained in it. He immediately thought it was his chance. You had a permanent smile on your face and looked absolutely delighted while you were writing your response in your notebook.

Yes, they do! Thank you so much for coming! I’m so happy you came.

“You know I would!”

You smiled with flushed cheeks and looked away shyly before you moved to straighten some desks. You felt Hizashi’s eyes linger on you after you had walked away from him, you had a feeling he wanted to tell you something, but you were still feeling shy from before and continued to avoid his eyes.

“____.”

The vibration you felt against your skin was all too familiar. Straightaway you knew it was coming from Hizashi. No longer could you avoid his gaze, his hands moved swiftly and shakily but you understood every symbol that was made out by his fingers. Language wasn’t coming from his voice but from his hands through sign. You nearly dropped your notebook in surprise, bringing a hand to cover on your lips as you watched his hands.

Do you want to go on a date with me?

He had such a handsome, wide smile on his face once he was done like he was proud to be able to communicate to you with your language. He knew your answer already once he saw that warm smile he loved spread your lips from ear to ear.

Of course, I will!

#bnha #bnha scenarios #bnha request #bnha x reader #hizashi x reader #Hizashi yamada #hizashi yamada x reader #present mic #present mic x reader #boku no hero academia

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