#he beats himself up over deaths that he didn’t cause what do u think he’d do in response to directly killing????

[lemonlimestar]

how it feels trying to tell a batfam fan that tim isn’t morally gray

[felibrary]

LOVE IS AN OPEN DOOR - chuuya nakahara

synopsis: if you wouldn't know any better you'd think that chuuya nakahara doesn't take a liking to you - he loathes you. but what if one day you make a shocking discovery that it might be the opposite.

pairing: chuuya nakahara x gn!reader | wordcount: 1.2k | content & warnings: im at the first ep of s4, so if chuuya mischaracterized no need to wonder…, school au-ish kind of??, cursing (fuck), dazai teases chuuya for his crush, chuuyas kinda not rly good with his feelings and expressing himself, drinking (chuuya offering to go out and drink), dazai plays cupid/matchmaker

a/n: when i wrote this i didn't have 15 yo dazai or chuuya in mind (cause of the school au yk) just as them idk but interpret it however you like - high school or college wtv, im so obsessed with chuuya rn y'all don't even know, hope u guys enjoy this little thing i've whipped up in an hour

you're convinced that chuuya nakahara hates you.

that's one thing you're sure of. after all, he avoids you like the plague; however when the two of you do get in touch with one another, he starts cursing you out, calling you names such as “dumbass" and abruptly leaves.

yeah, you're pretty sure that that guy dislikes - if not despises you. although until now you've hadn’t had the slightest idea why. well, that was the case up until now.

some days have passed since you started noticing it. every time you hung out with dazai and started laughing a bit too loudly at his jokes or lightly slapped his shoulder, chuuya gave you a death stare - if you wouldnt know any better he looked like he’d grab your throat any minute to shut you up.

admittedly (and also embarrassedly) you never really noticed it until dazai has pointed it out. which, on one hand, explains the weird feeling you’ve recently gotten - it felt like someone was shooting daggers at the back of your head, luckily for you, that’s solved now.

but on the other hand, you still demand an explanation why chuuya would do that. is it simply because of his (one-sided) hatred towards you, that can’t be the case right? or did he have a huge crush on dazai, that’s the most realistic explanation that you can think of.

-

once school ended and the bell had just rung to release everyone from their classes and go back home. you’d usually scurry home right away, because there was no point in staying longer, after all who’d want to endure this hell house also known as school more than necessary, it's no use right?

well jokes on you, staying over time was definitely worth it. kunikida assigned you the task (forced) to carry a huge stack of boxes full of documents and paper to your homeroom teacher's room, because it was the “right” thing to do - well at least according to his ideals. 

“but what about dazai? that idiot  just ran off and is probably slacking off right now!” you protested, because it's not fair when everyone has a task to complete and someone else just gets to relax, right? 

at your complaint the blond could only scoff “i’ll scold him later, but for now let's just concentrate on the task in front of us, time is running out.”

-

that’s how you ended up here, back pressed against the heavy classroom door that separated you and the two guys that were inside the room as you tried to listen in into their conversation.

initially your plan was to find dazai, drag him by the collar of his white button up and beat his ass for skipping and leaving you alone with a ton of boxes that not only cost you ten minutes to carry around or so.

because neither kunikida or anyone else didn’t bother to tell you that there were three, fucking three, of those staples of boxes that were filled with countless papers.

however, it came to a change of plans upon hearing chuuyas’ voice. usually, any sound that was made inside of the classrooms was drowned out and barely audible to hear outside the room. 

this time, that didn’t seem to be the case though. chuuyas’ screaming and dazais' hysterical laughter were faint but loud enough to hear from outside the room. 

“come on chuuya, there's no need denying it, you have a massive crush on them.” dazais’ voice was laced with amusement as he started laughing out loud which seemed to piss the redhead off. 

you were able to hear a small huff that escaped dazais mouth. “chuuya, there’s really no need to start getting all violent, just admit that you’re absolutely whipped for them!” the brunette chuckled. “so stop kicking me in the balls!” that probably earned him another kick as you could hear dazai letting out a small “ouch.”

“shut up, shitty dazai.” the guy in question only snickered at that. “yeah, yeah. everyone’s able to tell that you’re madly in love with them. every time you’re around them you start to get beet red, the color even exceeds the one of your hair! a hilarious sight to look at, really.” 

you didn’t hear a response from chuuya and apparently neither did dazai so he just continued his rant. “also, let me tell you one thing, you’re not making it any better by cussing them out or intently staring at them, that’s just scary, man!” dazai closes his eyes and starts shaking his head before tutting in disappointment.

“oh chuuya. the brunette sighs, eyes still closed. “letting a beauty like them slip away this easily by not showing any proper interest. you’re to be pitied, really.” the male moves away from his previous position and bolts over to the door, crossing his arms as his back leans against the door.

an exasperated sigh leaves chuuyas mouth. “what do you expect me to do then? they probably have a horrible impression of me already. if i pull up with a bouquet of roses and some cliché pick up lines, they’d probably stare at me in horror, wondering if i got possessed or something.” he sneers at dazai. 

just who in the world are they talking about?

dazai pretends to think for a moment before snapping his fingers. “well for starters, how about greeting them, doesn’t even have to be verbal, just some waving or nodding. then start hanging out with them!”

“idiot! how's that supposed to work from just greeting each other!” the ginger scowls at dazai.

“hold your horses.” the brunette whistles. “i didn't say to rendez-vous and have a candle-light dinner. how about accepting those group invites first that you keep declining. then you’d have the chance to meet up with them more often and get to know them.”

dazai continues to advise chuuya by giving him tips and recommendations “try bonding over stuff with each other, like favorite shows or food. and if you’re not incapable of doing so, how about complimenting them. wouldn't hurt you know?” dazai shrugs in simplicity. 

chuuyas still skeptical “assumingly that was the case. the two of us attending the same party, they’re alone and i finally get the chance to approach them, what the fuck am i supposed to say?” dazai only smiles at chuuya, a look that says “that’s up to you.” 

“why not use me as your lab rat!” dazai suggests optimistically.

“no way in hell!” chuuya shoots back pessimistically.

after pondering and musing for a while, chuuya comes up with a curt sentence. “i find you really good looking and cool.” the redhead stops and both you and dazai await his continuation in anticipation. “wanna go out and grab drinks sometimes?” chuuya doesn’t look up from the floor which he’s been staring at for the past minute. the tips of his ears tinted in a vermillion red.

“well, that wasn't so hard was it?” dazai asks cheerily, clapping his hands together. “if you still have doubts, how about you try it on the real thing now?” and before you can realize what's going on dazai swiftly steps away from the door before grabbing the door handle and opens the door, revealing your figure to the two guys. 

you’re not sure who's more taken aback, you or chuuya.

© VYNICITY 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms or feeding them to ai is not permitted.

e/n: as y’all can tell the title is inspired by frozen's love is an open door cause y’know dazai opens the door for chuuya to confess his feelings. does this make sense lol??

[am-i-interrupting]

young silco comforts fem! reader during/after a panic attack?

ps- those decompression gloves should show up for u soon i hope they help

Swelled Veins

Your heart was throbbing in your chest. Every beat had the vibration of a drum.

Each one traveled through your chest, into your arms and down to your legs. It went up and clogged your throat as your veins wrapped around one another and expanded. The lack of breath caused your head to spin, feeling both so light and so heavy all at once.

You didn’t know why. You’d been fine just a moment ago. Then someone bumped into you at the bar. They crowded into your personal space. Started saying things you didn’t like at all.

You couldn’t move. Their arms were crowding you against the bar.

Of course, you’d elected to sit at the end of the bar and Vander was busy on the other side pouring drinks and chatting up costumers. Your eyes were darting behind the person, looking for any escape.

“Come on now, sweetheart,” they said as their hand went to your chin.

You couldn’t hold in the strangled sound that rose up from your vocal cords, passing through the tiniest cracks between them and your veins.

Why were you like this? You could take on an enforcer with no problems! But this? A single person who didn’t have the ability to take you to jail and lock you in a cell, that’s what scared you?

Your thoughts went over to you drink. The first couple sips had been normal, right? Then Vander was pulled aside. That’s when this person came up from a side you hadn’t been paying attention to. Could it have been spiked? Was that why?

Janna, you just wanted someone to come in and take you away from this.

You could feel your nostrils burn as tears began to well in your eyes. Your mouth closed from where you’d been panting and you bit your bottom lip. Something you’d realize later was your attempt at appearing small. It made it harder to breath though.

“I don’t believe ‘sweetheart’ would like to ‘come on’” a familiar voice said.

You slumped against the bar in relief. The tears overflowed. Immediately you felt safer.

The person turned their head and allowed you to see Silco. He currently had his hands behind his head as he went through the swift, practiced motions of tying up his hair.

“We’re just having a bit of fun,” the person said. “Nothing serious.”

“Really?” he asked with a coldness in his voice and eyes, though his face remained neutral. “Doesn’t look like she’s having fun to me.”

The person scoffed. “Why don’t you just piss off? This has nothing to do with you.”

It was lightning fast how quickly the person was pulled off of you. Their body slammed into the sharp corner of the bar’s edge.

“I think this has everything to do with me,” Silco said in a growl.

The glint of a blade brought you comfort as you saw it pressed against the person’s throat.

Your feet buckled beneath you. You fell harshly between the stools and beneath the countertop. It shielded you like a roof.

The world became nothing but white noise as you collapsed on yourself. Your head went to your knees. Your breath was sharp and jagged like a kitchen knife as it cut through the air. Tears left a cold trail down your cheeks and the side of your nose, into the divots of your lips and chin.

“Vander!”

Immediately the bar went quiet at Silco’s yell. Vander’s smile dropped when he saw Silco’s wraps shredded from a person scratching at him. His eyes turned to ice when he noticed it was in the place he’d left you but he couldn’t see you.

It took mere seconds before a dog pile began to form.

After several more satisfactory and selfish hits and slices, Silco tore himself away.

He fell to his knees without hesitation. His knife, a bit bloodied, was discarded on the ground with a clank.

He said your name softly. His hands carefully pried your own away from the death grip they had on the back of your neck and tangled in your hair.

Your eyes turned up to him, pupils shaking and whites turned red.

“Let’s get you out of here,” he said.

He put on arm beneath your legs. The other was behind your shoulders. His hand came to rest at your waist, tucked beneath your arm which was curled towards your center.

He shared a knowing look with Vander as the person was dragged out. He turned his head forward.

When he got to the stairs, he tossed you up just a bit to get a better, more stable hold on you. Your hands, which had been loosely placed against your chest, scrambled. One held onto his shirt beneath his jacket. The other wrapped around to his neck. Both hands went back to a strong death grip as soon as they were wrapped around something.

If your nails hurt when they dug into his skin, he said nothing about it. He didn’t even wince. He simply continued forward, up the stairs.

He struggled for a mere second to open the door but once it was cracked, he nudged it with his foot. It swung inward and then back closed.

He sat with you in his lap on top of his mattress. His fingers brushed through your hair. It was forced into small sections and then melded back together as it fell down.

Your nose nuzzled against him. You hid your face between his chest and his jacket. He smelled like grease and cigarettes.

It was calming. It combined with the steady rhythm of his heart helped you breathe.

You let your eyes open, no longer scrunched closed. Your entire face relaxed. Your head thumped as it fell against his chest entirely. You could feel your hair bunch up against his clothes.

“I feel stupid,” you said quietly.

“You are anything but,” Silco told you. “You are beautiful and kind and smart and sometimes dumb but not stupid.

A laugh come from you, confused and befuddled. You felt your vocal cords rub together, thick and congested.

“What’s the difference?” you asked.

You tilted your head up to better look at him. All you could see was the base of his chin, the curve of his cheek, and your nails digging into his skin. You made the conscious choice to loosen that. Your fingers smoothed down on the reddened surface, like it would take away any pain.

“Dumb is the lack of good judgment in a particular moment,” he said, voice curling around the words like an ice cream swirl. “Stupid is the lack of intelligence completely.”

“Yeah, nope, still feel pretty stupid,” you said.

“Well, rest assured you’re just dumb.”

Your rubbed your cheek against his shirt. It was already dampened with your tears. It’d be fine with a little more.

You lifted your head away from him.

“This might sound weird but could like. . . lay on me?” you asked.

He looked down at you for a moment. “I suppose so.”

Careful, sluggish movements got you on your back after you were forced to blow your nose and him propped up on the side of his hip.

He brushed the hair which had stuck to your skin off of you face. One leg was swung over both of yours as an hand was placed to steady himself beside your shoulder.

His head bowed. The tip of his nose brushed against yours. The the bridge slotted beside your own. His nose nestled at the curve of your cheek. His forehead pressed against yours.

He lowered himself on top of you slowly. Your muscles were forced to relax. Your joints separated enough to alleviate the aches. Your heartbeat began to slow. Your veins seemed to finally reduce to their normal size.

A since of calm left his body and enter yours.

Ps, Anon. I adore you. You are amazing and I am sending you all the love.

[wovenintosilk]

Hii, hope you're doing well!❤ I'm here to ask for a request (if they are open, if not, just ignore this) for Miles (both the spiderman and the prowler). Okay so, the reader (can be female or gn) is best friend with both Mileses(idk how to write names in English in plural, sorry) and in the Earth 42! Miles' (the prowler) she/they died (how optimistic) before he became prowler but, in Spiderman! Miles' universe she's/they're alive. 42!Miles is in love with her/them and very sad 'cause she's/they're dead. The Spiderman! Miles is not in love with them since he met Gwen and fell in love with her. Also, the reader is super - duper smart and she/they help(s) the Spider Society sometimes with technology and etc for money, but it's not a spider person themselves. So, when Miles Spiderman goes to the wrong universe , the reader also goes there and when Miles (spider) wakes up, she wakes up also tied to a beating thing(idk what's it's name) and she's like "Nah, idk, I can't do pretty much without my tech and you took it" and just chill and calm, not caring pretty much about the situation since she/they can't change it (and if u can, please insert a word fight between Miles the prowler and the other Miles, where the prowler is like "She's a very good person, they did so much for both us, and is alive in your universe and still you choose to fall in love with a person who you may not even see again tomorrow and weren't there for you in your worst time?" And the spidey just tries to convince the prowler to let him go to his universe to save his dad) Thanks and sorry for a request this long 😭(and sorry if u didn't understand something, English isn't my first language) ❤❤

CW: References to Death

F!Reader (Use of She/Her Pronouns)

Word Count: 1300

━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━

A haze hung heavily over your eyes, clouded your vision as you tried to wake up and ignore the harsh throbbing at the back of your skull. Had you hit your head on something? You couldn’t even remember what had happened…

You followed Miles home. What he wanted to do had been dangerous and risky and could destroy everything both of you knew.

But it was Miles. All the times he’d had your back, both in and out of this dimension… you couldn’t leave him to fight this kind of battle by himself. After stepping through the portal, you’d only had a short period when you could look around before something hit you.

You flexed your fingers, surprised to find your arms restrained.

Alright. Damage control then. You could feel the leather pressing against your back so that must mean you weren’t tied to a wall or anything like that. A little shuffling revealed that it was movable to maybe a punching bag?

Which meant you should be able to rotate a little if you just adjusted your weight and… there.

The punching bag swung around as you slowly came to see two expressions staring at you – one panicked and uncertain while the other appeared an uncertain mix of neutral and confident.

But both versions were the same person. Miles.

And they both seemed very surprised you’d woken up.

“I didn’t think I would see you here,” you said, forcing your voice to work so you could croak out something and break the silence. “Uh… either of you, I suppose.”

Quick thinking made you aware of a few small problems with your current predicament. Perhaps largest of which you could see in the purple lighting surrounding you. The lair of the prowler and given the clothing choices of the new Miles, one you might know better than you wanted to.

“She’s alive.”

It was said so simply. Without question or thought. Yet it hit like a punch into your stomach as the implications of the words dug much deeper than you expected.

“Am I not meant to be?”

The Miles you didn’t know, shrouded in darkness and purplish-green hues stepped forward to get a clearer look at you. Something unnatural hung in his expression – it worried you how blankly he watched you. “No,” he eventually said. “No, you’re not meant to be alive in this dimension.”

The twisting feeling in your gut got a thousand times worse as you stared at him. What was that supposed to mean. Had you died here?

“Well,” you said. “I don’t think I’m meant to be dead in my dimension so have no plans to change that.”

“Why did you follow me?”

This time, the question came from the Miles you knew. The one who you’d spent countless hours speaking to. Yet he looked at you as though you’d betrayed him by following him through the portal. Maybe he thought you had.

“Nobody else knows where I came,” you explained. “They… they’re too occupied with everything else to waste time on me.”

“You should have stayed where you were safe,” the new Miles said and you felt like a tennis ball with how much you were being spoken to by both. “This dimension isn’t where you’re meant to be.”

“I didn’t really know that,” you complained. “I don’t routinely look at every dimension and see if I’m alive or not in it. All I did was follow Miles.”

“Then he shouldn’t have let you follow.”

Miles looked rather offended at his counterpart’s comment. “I didn’t even know she was going to do that. How was I meant to stop her if I only found out she followed me a few seconds ago?”

“You should pay better attention.”

You couldn’t help but wince at that, feeling almost validated in your own insecurities regarding the lack of consideration provided by Miles most days. Ever since he learned about the other Spidermen, things had felt somewhat strained between the two of you. After all, you couldn’t swing through the city with him or relate to all the secrecy and experiences of the superheroes.

“I have to get home somehow,” your Miles finally said. “Both of us do, alright? If you let us go, we can help save our dad.”

“Your dad. How is she alive?”

“What?”

The new Miles gestured to you and slowly turned to face Miles. “Did you save her?”

“From what?”

“Then she must not have been with you when it happened. Why? What were you doing instead of spending time with her?”

You were starting to get very confused but something else caught your attention. The build-up of Miles’ electricity, flowing steadily from his touch against the chains. He had a plan to escape from this – if only the other him didn’t notice.

“When did it happen?” you asked. “Maybe I can tell you.”

The date he said meant little to nothing to you. It was fairly recent and if you remembered well enough, you didn’t even see Miles that day. You’d meant to but by the time you arrived, he’d already been long gone with –

“You were with Gwen,” you said and then hurried to add. “She’s another… friend of ours.”

“Another friend from a separate dimension.”

Okay, so there was no getting around that. You nodded slowly, trying not to show how sensitive the topic was. You liked Gwen well enough even though she rarely truly socialised with you.

The new Miles scoffed. “So, he abandoned you for somebody new but I don’t see her here. She didn’t follow him.”

The awkward silence he caused nearly made you wince. Gwen’s betrayal still ran deep in Miles and you knew this topic wasn’t a great choice for right now. Still, you needed to keep speaking to maintain the Prowler’s attention so he wouldn’t notice the escape plan.

“Gwen had other things to deal with,” you told him. “And I wasn’t abandoned.”

“Do you believe that?”

You didn’t. But you weren’t exactly going to turn the attention back onto your Miles right now so you gritted your teeth.

“I’m sorry I died here,” you said.

“Obviously. You weren’t meant to. I tried… I don’t understand how it’s fair that you get to be alive in the dimension where another version of me forgets that you exist. And then you’re sent here and he gets angry at you. Strange.”

A break in the façade of the Prowler. For a second, the emotionlessness changed and you saw an actual response to how you felt.

“I’m not angry,” Miles defended himself. “I just need to get home quickly, alright? This is more important –“

“No, it’s not.”

As though a cruel joke in your favour, you saw a flash of something in the new Miles that you’d always wanted from the one you knew. The look of a person who could have once returned your feelings.

And so, you hesitated in speaking and he turned back to your Miles just as an explosion of electricity sent chain links in every dimension.

For a second, you met his eyes and watched him mouth that he’d be back right before he bolted for one of the windows. Glass shattered everywhere as his counterpart shook his head and bolted after him.

You groaned and rested your head against the punching bag, left alone in a warehouse.

The chains loosened around you and you had only a second to react before you landed on the ground. You winced and rolled your shoulders, turned around to find the last person you ever expected to.

“Come on,” Aaron says. “Boy wouldn’t want you to stay here and wait for him.”

You didn’t know which one he was referring to but without many options, you followed him into a harshly different world to the one you grew up in.

[forsworned]

could I pls request the hashiras w/ a sensitive s/o ( they get upset easily etc . ) and how they’d react to someone accidentally saying something that made them cry ??

gender neutral reader if possible

if you don’t wanna write for all the hashira , feel free to pick your favourites or something , I don’t really mind tbh

thank you in advance ! ! ! have a wonderful day / noon / night 💞

a/n: thank you for requesting again!! this was lowkey hella hard to do dude so i'm really sorry for how long this took. i managed to get all the hashira in and kept it pg obviously for muichiro since he is underage but i left him as is. i was legit brain dead writing this but here you go!

𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕘𝕦𝕜𝕠 𝕜𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕛𝕦𝕣𝕠𝕦 ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ

He doesn't take well to it, but he also understands that the fellow Demon Slayer was only trying to give you constructive criticism. Kyoujurou would scramble at first not knowing how to react since it was the first time he'd ever seen you so distraught. But then he'd finally recollect himself and dismiss the slayer and get back to you.

But just as he finally got himself together you'd throw yourself in his arms and blubber like a baby. Which again would have him flustered at first, but he'd soon chuckle and hold your face in his hands. A chaste kiss on your forehead that would cease your weeping.

"You know, my little flame, you're quite cute when you cry."

You looked up from his tear soaked uniform to his blazing eyes, gazing down at you lovingly. It sent your heart racing and you could no longer look at him. So you did what any other person would do if they were madly in love Kyo and couldn't look him in the eyes. You buried your face back into his chest while the heat rushed to your cheeks. The sound of laughter escaping his lips once more as you smiled against his damp uniform.

𝕘𝕚𝕪𝕦𝕦 𝕥𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕠𝕜𝕒 ₍ᐢ ̥ ͉ ̥ᐢ₎

He doesn't exactly think it through, just does. So in one swoop motion he'd carry you out of there and gave the fellow slayer any icy glare that had them shivering to their core. You'd be shocked at how quickly he'd get you out of that situation and he'd stop at an isolated area for you guys to be alone.

"U-um, Giyuu?" You'd stutter, as you rubbed your eyelids and looked at him with eyes are big as saucers.

"Are you alright?" His stunning cerculean blue gaze was piercing through your heart.

"Y-yeah. You can put me down now." His face automatically vermillion with agitation at the realization of you being in his arms. He firmly planted you on the ground and turned away to avoid looking at you. You laughed at how cute he looked when becomes embarrassed and slipped your arms around him from behind as you buried your face in his back.

"Thank you, my love."

𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕟 𝕦𝕫𝕦𝕚 ₍ᐢ ̥ ̮ ̥ᐢ₎ *:･。

"Eh?! Why are you crying [name]?"

It wasn't the first time he'd see you crying, but he was very perplexed by the sight in front of him. He didn't think much of it when the lower rank demon slayer was simply advising you to be more careful on the next mission. His ruby glare burred holes into the back of their heads.

"Why the hell did you make them cry for? It's not very flamboyant of you." He was menancing to say the least. It caused the demon slayer to stammer on his words until you spoke up rubbing at your eyes.

"It's not their fault, Tengen. I just get emotional. You know this." You sniffled as you tried your best to regain your composure. A soft 'tch' left his lips before he carried you on his shoulder which gave rise to a squeal from you.

"Put me down!"

He smacked your bottom and chuckled devilishly.

"Nah, I think we're gonna change that whiney mood of yours right up!"

𝕠𝕓𝕒𝕟𝕒𝕚 𝕚𝕘𝕦𝕣𝕠 U ´꓃ ` U

He doesn't waste anytime elbowing the person into the ground. Not only for just talking to you, but making you cry?! Oh, buddy. You're in for the beating of a lifetime.

"Obanai!" You exclaimed. Your tear stained face contorted into worry as you watched the now pummeled slayer knock out cold.

"That'll teach him. I'll make sure he never sees the light of day the next time he even looks in your direction." He sneered at them and then looked at you with gentle eyes. "Are you alright?"

You nodded as he dabbed away at your face and caressed you cheek.

"Alright, let's go then."

He stated before getting up and taking your hand in his as he dragged you away from the scene.

"Wait! Shouldn't we help him?" You were glad that Obanai cared that much about you, but he really shouldn't just go around attacking people like that and leaving them unconscious.

"No, Shinobu will take care of that eyesore."

𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕠𝕓𝕦 𝕜𝕠𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕦 Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

"You must have a death wish."

The tone in her voice was so venomous yet sickly sweet it almost could've been enough to kill you. The nerve in her temple popping out as the demon slayer who was unfortunate enough to accidentally make you cry shuddered in fear.

"Shinobuuu." You whined. "Please leave them alone. They didn't mean any harm!"

Her eyes went soft when she saw you in your distressed state and then back to her vicious glare when it was back on them. "Run along now."

Her voice still even, yet scary. The demon slayer bowed quickly before escaping leaving you two alone. Shinobu sighed as she caressed your cheek.

"You're so delicate, sometimes." Your shoulders slumped at her words. It wasn't for long because Shinobu decided to plant a kiss on your nose and giggled. "Ara, ara, [name]-chan. You're still my sweet butterfly."

Shinobu didn't show much PDA, but when she did it made your heart implode and she was absolutely, 1000% aware of this.

𝕞𝕚𝕥𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕚 𝕜𝕒𝕟𝕣𝕠𝕛𝕚 ʕ♡˙ᴥ˙♡ʔ

Her face would get all puffed up and red as she watched you cry from a few feet away, that is until you started to hug the person that was causing the "commotion".

"I hope you find peace." You said softly as you pulled away. The person thanked you and bowed with tears in their eyes before stepping away.

"[Name], are you okay?!" Mitsuri exclaimed as she hugged you with all her might. You had to tap out for her to let go. She noticed this and you gasped for air as she apologized endlessly.

"I'm okay, Mitsuri. Their family was attacked by demons and I managed to save one member and they just came to thank me in person." You vigorously swabbed at your eyes with your sleeves before smiling again at your lovely wife. Mitsuri didn't realize her strength and sometimes that would lead to her infamous death hugs.

"Oh, [name]! You are so heroic!" She squeaked with joy as she squeezed you again, this time with less agnozing pressure. You hugged her back as you laid your head on her shoulder and thanked God your partner was as lovely as she was.

𝕘𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕚 𝕙𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕛𝕚𝕞𝕒 ₍ᐢ｡ ˬ ｡ᐢ₎

His towering height alone was enough to have the culprit who made you cry shaking in their boots. Gyomei would simply ignore that he sent that person pissing themselves and would lift you in his arms as he dabbed away at your tears with his hankerchief.

"Dont cry, my flower. They're not worth your precious tears." He'd murmur against the apple of your cheek as he kissed it. This would instantly boost your mood and have you throwing your arms around him and squeezing him tight. You'd plant the biggest kiss on his cheek causing him to blush.

"Thank you, Gyo."

𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕖𝕞𝕚 𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕫𝕦𝕘𝕒𝕨𝕒 ʕ； •`ᴥ•´ʔ

Anger. Kind of a no brainer. He'd go off on the person who made you cry and in return would make them cry and run far, far away. He'd comfort you by giving you a nice, bear hug and kiss on the top of your forehead whilst asking if you were ok. You'd end up laughing with tears still in your eyes and obviously this would puzzle him.

"What are you laughing about?"

"You just scared the bejeezus out of that guy and sent him crying!"

He'd chuckle and bring you back in for another warm hug and your face would nuzzle the crook of his neck.

"I'll send anyone crying for you."

𝕞𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕚𝕣𝕠 𝕥𝕠𝕜𝕚𝕥𝕠 ₍ᐢ ̥ ̞ ̥ᐢ₎ ♥

Much like when he showed his distain towards Tanjiro when he interrupted Oyakata-sama. He would be watching from a distance, and fiercely flick pebbles at a scary fast velocity that was deadly enough to pierce a hole through the person who dared to talk down to you. But, of course, he held back since it was only a mere human but it was enough to send them to groveling on their knees.

You'd wipe your tears away and turn in the direction it came from to see Muichiro smiling at you while tossing a pebble up and down in hand. He was always watching over you.

[pwarkluv]

❝ idk you yet ❞ - p.js

park jisung x reader | angsty, fluff | 1.6k words 

WARNINGS | TW: mentions blood, abuse, drug and alcohol abuse, smoking, lowercase au, non-idol au, high school au, badboy!jisung, mature language/cursing, reader is like an angel sent from heaven for him, jisungie just in need of love :(

SUMMARY | being an outcast has him wondering if he’ll ever be happy. cue you, the new girl, stumbling into his life (literally).

AUTHOR’S NOTE | inspired by the song “idk you yet” by alexander23! also AHHH this is my 100 followers special fic :) THANK U LOVES FOR 100 IM SO SHOCKED CJSBFKEJD <33 the writing is a little crappy because i’m currently on my period and my patience for sitting down and writing this went down halfway through lol but I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, ENJOY THIS JISUNG FIC BC JISUNG MY BABIE AND SO ARE YOU GUYS!

whenever anybody thinks of park jisung, they think of the chains and dark clothing he wears. they think about the faint smell of smoke and men’s cologne that follows him wherever he goes. 

they think of the boy who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks. 

but what they don’t think about are bruises on his face he fails to hide whenever he walks into school, the dejected look on his face whenever random people give him disapproving looks, the way his smile slowly faded into a permanent frown wherever he went. 

jisung quickly accepted his reputation at school and in their little town, not having enough energy to feel insecure about it like before.

the only group of people that even remotely cared about the boy were his best friends in the whole entire world, nct dream.

they were outcasts just like him, the most “fucked up group of boys” in their town (the people’s words, not theirs).

see, they were your typical bad boy group straight out of your typical fanfic. bad grades, smoking in their free time, getting into fights, always being late to class; not a single person had hope in them.

but behind their scary and intimidating facade, all seven boys were big softies with misunderstood hearts and difficult backgrounds.

people were just too dense to look into it, only judging them based on their looks and personality on the outside. 

❝ how can you miss someone you’ve never met ❞

love was a foreign thing to jisung, the only form of love he’s ever felt being from his friends. his parents were… interesting to say the least. 

jisung’s father was a hard-core alcoholic, his mother being a major druggie. with no siblings in the house, jisung was usually their main target to push around and beat up.

and so because of this at a young age jisung learned to distance himself from other people and found different ways to release stress.

he started smoking when he was 14, the warm and hazy feeling of the smoke entering his lungs comforting him.

if jisung humored himself enough, maybe smoking could count as his first love. it was always there for him, never leaving him alone even if he wanted to quit. 

he relied on it knowing it was the only constant in his life. 

now of course the boy has heard of proper love, love like in the movies or shitty romance songs he hears on the radio.

and he won’t lie, there were moments he thought about what it felt like to be in love. but he knew that would never happen, at least not in their small town anyways. 

he just wanted to be loved. 

jisung would never admit it but sometimes he’d be jealous of the old couples walking down the street in their own world like it was just them two against the universe. he was jealous of the happy kids running around, their mother’s and father’s fondly smiling at their child. he was jealous of all the “normal” kids in his neighborhood. 

jisung wanted that, craved that. 

but most importantly, the boy wanted love.

❝ cause i need you now but i don’t know you yet ❞

everything hurt. 

his head, his body, his mind, his heart; everything was in pain.

jisung walked down the empty streets of their city, a trail of blood following behind him as he accepted his fate. the boy was 99% sure he had a concussion and at the very least had a few broken ribs. 

he felt like this was the end, and he was ready.

-

wandering aimlessly around town, you decided to take a late night walk to familiarize yourself around the area. you had just moved into the city a week ago, spending all seven days trying to help your family unpack and rearrange your cozy new home. 

now that you were finally free of the smell of tape and the dust of the boxes, you decided it was best to get to know the place you were living in. 

the autumn air seemed to settle at night as you shivered, cursing yourself for not bringing a jacket of some sort. the sight of a convenience store up ahead of you brought you relief as you rummaged through your pockets wondering if you had enough money for ramen.

your steps became excited as you found a couple dollars, fondly thinking about what type of ramen you should buy. you became so lost in your thoughts you didn’t even notice the poor boy who was staggering in front of you, or the trail of blood he left behind. 

-

jisung pushed himself to reach the convenience store a couple feet away from him, in desperate need of supplies to at least try and fix himself. 

if it didn’t help in any way then oh well, maybe death was indeed an option. 

grinding his teeth though the pain, he did not expect to feel a small body bump into him. had he been at his regular health, jisung would’ve easily been able to keep still but because of how much blood he was losing the boy was knocked down like a bowling pin.

“holy fuck.” jisung cursed the feeling of the concrete floor colliding with his ribs. he didn’t even notice the girl who had bumped into him sitting on the floor dumbfounded, freaking out over his state.

“oh my fucking god.” the girl said, capturing his attention. jisung glared at the stranger, mentally acknowledging the fact she was pretty. 

but her being pretty won’t get you anywhere, he scolded himself. she’ll leave you just like everyone else.

“a-are you okay?” she said, eyes glancing at his black eye. jisung rolled his eyes, already annoyed. “does it look like i’m okay?” he replied, his deep voice catching the girl off guard. 

“just, fuck off.” jisung said closing his eyes as he laid back down on the floor, knowing he couldn’t force himself to get up anymore. he didn’t even have to open his eyes to know she left, hearing the sound of her footsteps walk away.

the boy sighed as he laid idly on the floor, wondering what sin he committed to lead him to where he is now. not even she wanted to stay, the tears threatening to fall as his thoughts buried him alive.

“why can’t i just die?” jisung said out loud, asking no one but himself.

“because i won’t let you.” a voice replied as jisung forced himself to sit up in confusion. it was the same girl he had bumped into, but this time she had a first aid kit with her. he gave her a lost look despite knowing what she was here to do. 

jisung’s mind just couldn’t wrap around the fact that a total stranger would even bother to help him. 

“now sit up.” she said softly as she bent down to open the box, the boy slowly followed her instructions. “i’m sorry this might sting.” she said though jisung didn’t mind because she was much prettier up close.

-

the next ten minutes were you trying to fix his wounds against the shitty chairs outside the convenience store.

jisung didn’t even bother mentioning his broken ribs, not wanting you to freak out. you cleaned up what you could and the boy was beyond grateful for that.

you subconsciously rubbed his back in a comforting way whenever you’d apply alcohol to his open wounds, trying to ease the sting. you held his hand for him to hold and though he was a big boy and had a high pain tolerance, he still gave it a squeeze just to keep your hand there.  what the actual fuck is this feeling, jisung asked himself as he watched your determined figure work on him.

it was cold and in order to better work on his wounds, the boy offered to give you his hoodie which strangely had no traces of blood on it. you gladly accepted, the faint smell of blood and his cologne engulfing you up. 

the sight of you in something so big and so him made his chest swell in pride.

jisung couldn’t even formulate a sentence as you cursed at the time once you finished patching him up, fleeing the scene before he could say anything with a small smile, his hoodie still on. 

❝ and can you find me soon because i’m in my head ❞

the thought of your soft hands on his, your voice, your whole presence; everything about you couldn’t seem to leave the poor boy’s mind. it was now monday, and waiting for his class to start already made him want to go home.

if only i got her name, jisung daydreamed with his head resting on the palm of his hand. the classroom was loud and bright, people occasionally giving him looks but the boy didn’t mind. 

“jisungie~ did you hear we have a new kid?” jaemin asked, poking the boy’s cheeks. the boy only gave him a pointed look before sighing. 

“hyung i don’t really care.” jisung replied, looking back out the window. 

jaemin only gave him an offended look before grumbling a bit. “i don’t know maybe you will.” he muttered under his breath as their teacher walked into the room. 

❝ yeah i need you now but i don’t know you yet ❞

their homeroom teacher stood in front of the class, jisung tuning out his voice. the boy once again sighed as his teacher called for their attention, explaining they had a new girl in their class. “now make her feel welcomed,” he said before turning towards the door.

“y/n, please come in.” the teacher said and jisung almost fell out of his seat when he saw you walking through the door with the same smile you gave him a couple days ago.

“hi i’m y/n and i hope we can get along.” you bowed to the class, a familiar hoodie you were wearing catching his attention. 

isn’t that mine, jisung thought to himself as he bit back a smile knowing you kept it all along. 

[wildflowertips]

Hi! I was curious if you had anymore Kuroko fic recommendations? Thank you! 🥺💗

hey! 🥺 i do have more kuroko fanfic recs. i didnt know what type of kuroko ship you wanted, so here are a few from some kuroko ships <3:

Kagakuro Recommendations

the flower that blooms in adversity by aotetsu

When Kagami falls for Kuroko Tetsuya, a famous prostitute from the red light district, he manages to find a whole lot of trouble and a person worth it all.

this fic deserves more love and attention. kagami love for kuroko absolutely made me sob

Brothers in Woo by buttwade

in which Himuro jokingly offers to help Kagami win Kuroko over and the joke's on him

kagami is drunk & himuro cracks jokes. this fic is funny. jealous!kuroko

Beastly call by TCon

"You mean," Kuroko started. "You'd be my Heat Partner?" He didn't expect Kagami to explode into a myriad of different shades of red more impressive than his own hair. "Y — yeah tha's what I'm sayin'!" for some reasons he lapsed into english with an odd accent. KagaKuro Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics & Sex Pistols AU - Fusion

Lots of smut in the beginning. there’s crime, suspense, and i read this fic like 5 times.

Stamina Training by tnsxbunny

As the weakest member in the team, Kuroko stays back after basketball practice to train on his stamina. Kagami watches from afar and decides to show Kuroko what real stamina training is.

SMUT. SUCH GOOD SMUT. thank u

The advantage of being Kuroko by heartfilledteddybear

mayuzumi hits on Kuroko & Kagami gets jealous 🥵

Akakuro Recommendations

Forget me not flowers in our hair by miniaturepsycho

When Kagami is captured by a beast Kuroko doesn't think twice and bargains to take the red head's position instead but it seems that there is more to this castle than meets the eye, and what has it have to do with forget me not's?? Basically a beauty and the beast AU that I decided to do after seeing the live action (which I totally did not cry at, not at all!!) COMPLETE

Contains Aokaga. Akashi as beast & kuroko as belle. So good 🥺

All I ask by TsuruKuni

"It's none of your business." "Tell me, Aomine. How can it be none of my business when you're throwing away the only person I've ever wanted?"

THIS FIC MADE ME SOB AT 3 AM. I highly recommend listening to ‘All I ask’ by Adele. I promise you will cry. Aokuro & Akakuro.

Bridezilla by DancingMarshmallows

Weddings are stressful... try helping people plan them. With two months to get everything together, a bridezilla and her bitch of a maid of honor, and finding love at the worst time, Kuroko would be lucky if he makes it out alive.

CEO!Akashi & WEDDING PLANNER!kuroko. you will not regret reading this one.

That Ridiculously Long Dance by Harmonia_Silverberg

Aomine, Kise, and Kagami never learn, do they? But apparently their "joke" works in Akashi and Kuroko's favor this time.

literally one of my all time favorite akakuro fanfic

What Would Chihiro Do by anewtinystory

Akashi is dating Kuroko, whose two brothers are very protective of him.[Based on a Tumblr anon's prompt: Nijimura and Mayuzumi are Kuroko's brothers; while Nijimura approves of Akashi, Mayuzumi feels the opposite]

slight smut. protective bros. i love it sm.

Aokuro Recommendations

Traded Mistakes by Acetate, Chrystie, exuberant_imperfection, kate882, luckypen

For the prompt: Aomine having an accident and losing his memory so all he remembers is being best friends with Tetsu and he doesn’t understand how that could stop.

Angst, oh the angst 😫😭.

Third time’s a charm (or maybe fourth) by LajtHane

Aomine really didn't mean to crash into him at Quidditch practice.

HOGWARTS AU. if that doesn’t temp you, idk what will. My fav Aokuro fic.

Maybe a touch of your hand by skinandbones

[Written for AoKuroWeek 2015]: Aomine moves into a new apartment and befriends a ghost boy.

no bc this fic made me cry too. pls read it 🎶ifwehad5moreminutes🎶

The Boyfriend Jersey by exuberant_imperfection, kate882

Kuroko, in a half-asleep mistake, ends up wearing Aomine's jersey to school.

THIS FIC IS CUTE SUCH DORKS

Hey, Come Here Often? by imabignerd

In which Momoi holds his magazines hostage, Aomine hates everything and everyone, and Kuroko is politely bewildered.

Aomine crushes on the lifeguard!Kuroko & Momoi is a little shit about it 😌🤍

Midokuro Recommendations

It’s Always your Fault! by warsandwich

Kuroko and Midorima are secretly dating, but Takao finds out their secret. De-anon from the anon meme.

Short, sweet, & funny 😌.

Partnership by Fayah

Their partnership starts in English class, but like everything else in their lives, turns into a matter of basketball.

Midorima really cares for Kuroko 🥺

Midokuro Ficlet by pandacchii

based off of imagineyourotp blog post: "Imagine your otp confessing while they were half asleep" Pairing: Midorima/Kuroko

short story but it’s really cute ☺️

An Unexpected Alignment by cinnaelle

Midorima Shintarou does not expect such a reoccurring encounter. But the wheels of fate are turning and Akashi moves his shogi piece.

well-written i love it sm. deserves more praise

The Way You Come Undone by oshare_banchou

"Midorima Shintarou is completely silent during sex. And Kuroko, who is both fascinated and frustrated by this discovery, wonders just how much it would take to make him come undone." - Kuroko/Midorima, in that order

do i need to say more? 😫

Kikuro Recommendations

Careless Whisper by DarkWoods

When Kuroko is dared to come up with some dirty talk, no one expects him to be good at it. Certainly not Kise.

my favorite kikuro fanfic. flustered!kise & tease!kuroko

如果的事 (If) by stormterror

People fall in love in many different manners. Love feels like many different things to many people, but Kise Ryouta thinks there's nothing that quite beats the feeling of being in love with Kuroko Tetsuya. [kise/kuroko]

SO GOOD I CRIED I SMILED SO HARD. pls kikuro deserves the world

Wires, Connecting by Bakagami

It's like being blind but not, like touching air, grasping at straws, voices dissipating and reverberating.

This story is locked so you need to login into ao3 to read it. PHONE SEX & DIRTY TALK 🥵

He Promised by imabignerd

Kise promised he'd smile for Kuroko the whole way through, all the way to the end.

Zombie apocalypse AU. Death. sobbing violently.

It’s a Small World by SilentSilhouette

Kise tries to find his soulmate through social media. Soulmate AU where a picture of your soulmate is tweeted to you on your sixteenth birthday.

This one made me crackle & laugh😂😂

Murakuro Recommendations

No Such Thing as Too Much Vanilla by plumtrees

Kuroko and Murasakibara have baking days. What do you mean it isn't canon?

baking!boyfriends & fluff 😌😉

Vanilla Cream by yoimrei

Murasakibara eats Kurokos ass after something Ahomine says which sparks his jealousy.

here me out first, the ass eating in this is *chef’s kiss* 🤌🏽🤌🏽

Philia by DarkWoods

That time Murasakibara and Kuroko started kinda-sorta fake dating, and kinda-sorta never bothered to break up.

Still going & i love this writer sm. i read all their stories 😙✌🏽

Lavender Secrets by SailorHikarinoMu

Kuroko was the one to bring out his true love for basketball, which had been hidden from prying eyes since the beginning. It was one of those things he was unsure whether he should feel grateful for, but all the same, it did mean something. What this 'something' was, exactly? Murasakibara did not know. Not yet.

FLUFF AAA FLUFF

Rainy by overdose

Kuroko listened to the rain pouring, and more importantly, Murasakibara's steady breathing.

smut. couch sex. size difference. 🥴

BONUS

Hanamiya Makoto/Kuroko Tetsuya

Scotomas by Darkenedcrystal

After the game against Jabberwock, Kagami goes overseas and Kuroko finds himself without a light. A slightly angsty, rather light-hearted story about what happens to Kuroko after Kagami leaves. Features teens finding their way around life, Seirin without a light, the Generation of Miracles being a family, the teens finding love and appreciating the heartbreaks. Kuroko tries to find his own style without a light, and stumbles into the darkness that is Hanamiya Makoto instead. Extra chapter added!

love this fic so much. downside: akashi is kinda a dick

Of Unlikely Friendships, Sneaky Bets, Shogi and Sake by itsthechocopuff

Imayoshi had introduced his two favourite kouhai to each other as an experiment. He did not predict they'd get along so well, both being shadows, but they did, and they worked, oddly enough. Hanamiya brought out the worst in Kuroko, while Kuroko brought out the the best in the other; and they both caused heartattacks to unsuspecting teammates who could not believe their darling shadow was not as innocent as he seemed.

you wont regret reading this one omg

Haizaki Shougo/Kuroko Tetsuya

A Taste That Lingers by therealmoyashi

I couldn't say anything, and that was alright because he didn't want an answer. I'll never forget the way that tasted. Yeah, I thought, he ruined me.

i cried reading this for the first time. out of character kuroko

By the Tomatoes by Wayfarer_Rye

It starts with a blue-grey t-shirt that says "Nothing but Net".

Haizaki wants to try again.

[archonssun]

hello!~ can i request headcanons for kaeya, diluc, albedo, childe, and venti on what they would do if their s/o dies? thank u! (﹡ˆ﹀ˆ﹡)♡

AHHHH THE ANGST

Their S/O Dies

characters: Kaeya, Childe, Diluc, Albedo, Venti

warnings: character death

notes: okay i got a little carried away with venti’s part oops ... ALSO I AM SO SO SO SORRY FOR HOW LONG THIS TOOK ME T^T

Requests for Genshin Impact are OPEN!!!

Kaeya:

He doesn’t want to believe that you’re gone.

That he’ll never get to hold you in his arms again.

That he’s alone once more.

He’ll drown himself in any and every distraction he can find: work, alcohol, adrenaline.

He’d find himself drowning in your future -- the future the two of you could have had

He’d think of marrying you as he got drunk at Angel’s Share, and for once his brother didn’t try to shoo him away

The two of you had your entire lives ahead of you reduced to nothing but fanciful dreams.

Diluc:

Diluc takes your death just slightly better than Kaeya ...

Slightly

To any outsider, Diluc’s mannerisms wouldn’t have changed from normal

But the ones that knew him could see just how devastated he was

He had lost his father at a young age, and that had already changed him irreparably.

But losing you had completely destroyed him

Like Kaeya, Diluc would drown himself in work, both at Angel’s Share and as the Darknight Hero.

Even with his Pyro vision, every night since your death was cold without your body sleeping next to him.

Albedo:

Albedo has never been too in tune with his emotions.

Being with you, however, had taught him much about them.

But now he was supposed to come to terms with your death?

The rational side of him came to terms with your death fairly quickly.

But the side of him that loved -- no, loves -- you unconditionally is a little more stubborn.

He often finds himself just standing in your shared room, imagining you sprawled across the bed, chest rising and falling softly as you sleep.

Or he would sit in his lab or his camp at Dragonspine, contemplating the success rate of recreating you through alchemy.

But he knows that it wouldn’t be you.

It would have your voice, your smile, but it wouldn’t be you.

You had left him too soon, and his heart would surely emerge changed.

Childe:

He’s numb, quiet ... 

broken

He isn’t as loud as he used to be, instead becoming quiet and reserved unless he absolutely needs to say something

He doesn’t tease the other Harbingers at all after your death, and they were quick to realize the cause of his change.

They could only scoff at the youngest Harbinger -- he had fallen in love when his first priority should have been Her Majesty. It seemed, to them at least, that your death was warranted

that it had served to get Tartaglia to focus on helping the Tsaritsa with her goals.

but it had only made his remaining sanity crumble to dust.

No longer could he find joy in battle without you at his side

Venti:

He thought he would be used to people leaving him by now.

He knew you would leave him eventually, but he had hoped that he’d have a little more time.

Just a little more time to laugh, more time to hold you and smile. More time to fall asleep at your side and being the first face you see when you wake.

He thought he’d have a little more time to love you.

The winds blew cold the day you left him behind, blowing wickedly down from Dragonspine. A lone bard sat perched in the tree at Windrise, face raised in an attempt to keep the tears from falling.

Venti couldn’t move, even as the wind blew colder and bit at his skin. He knew he had to pull himself together, lest he become the Decarabian of the new era. But the loss of you -- the loss of your brilliant smiles and comforting warmth -- broke the young Archon. Not since his first friend had died had he felt this gaping hole in his being.

Venti leaned his back against the trunk of the tree. He bit his quivering lip, covering his eyes with a hand as the tears finally slipped free. His body felt numb without you at his side, without your hand in his. He didn’t want to go on without you, didn’t think he could go on without you.

The sky opened up, drenching the bard in moments as he sat in the upper canopy of the great tree, and he couldn’t stop the derisory laugh that escaped him. How dare this world take you, his Windblume, from him and believe it has the right to mourn your death.

His Windblume. Even thinking of the nickname he had given you was enough to make the tears start anew. What did he have to do to make the pain go away? To make the throbbing and squeezing in his chest disappear? To breathe just a little easier without you at his side?

The young Archon would bring Celestia crumbling to the ground over and over again if it meant he could feel your hearts beat together once more.

-----

Masterlist

-----

Let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list for Genshin Impact!!!

@anatthesavage

[sweetsbfreex]

my baby, my baby

brought to u by me watching IW for the millionth time

Summary: You ask Steve for one thing before the fight against Thanos (IW), but for the first time in however long he denies you of fulfilling this wish.

Warnings: language?

Pairing: Nomad, Bf!Steve x thanos daughter!reader

-

He was manning the quinjet, not all the way true. Sam was flying the jet to Wakanda, Steve slumped in his seat beside Sam, in deep thought. His chin is set into his palm, his arm sitting up on the armrest, and his palm covering half of his mouth. Looking further down his leg was jittering steadily.

What would happen next was a pretty big deal, none of you on the jet knew what could go wrong. So obviously tensions were at an all time high in this cooped up jet. 

You rise up from your seat between Wanda and Nat. Walking yourself behind Steve’s chair. Your pointer finger taps his embellished shoulder, separating him from his apprehensive thoughts. He looks up at you and the creases that were once prominent in his forehead evaporated. 

You don’t utter anything, only nudging your head behind you. 

Follow me to the back.

Is what’s reciprocated when he too gets up from his seat, letting Sam know he’ll be up front in a second. Once you turn, he follows you down the small aisle to the side “room” away from all the prying ears. 

Finally.

You step into the room first. You weren't going to lie, your heart was beating with so much force and it only grew as he walked past you into the room. You close the door behind you, turning, so you're facing Steve's attentive figure. 

You only smile at him to some extent, prompted to show there were no ill intentions to asking him back here. When you see how nervous he looks, as you take his hand seating the both of you to a bench against the wall.

Your knees tenderly touch. He clears his throat coercing you to go on, raising an eyebrow in confusion. 

“You alright doll?” he asks you, in a gentle manner. Taking the already linked palms shifting it from your lap to his. His other hand blanketing your combined hands. 

“I’m okay. Are you?” you ask the question hesitantly, raising your spare hand to move aside the hair that fell over and veiled his eyes. You desperately wanted to make sure you got a good look at his face. You loved his face.  

His cheeks go plump in a charming smile, and his hand squeezes yours back. 

His hair was long. Longer than you would’ve ever imagined Steve would let it be. Either way you loved every inch of the gold locks. Yet, everytime you told him how much you loved it, despite his insecurity and slight annoyance with it. He'd always fall into a rampage down memory lane. Telling you how his late mother would've hounded him about the upkeep of his hair.  

You adored that about him too. Loved, that he loved so hard and so full. He’d never forget the ones he loved no matter what. 

“I’m swell, you don’t need to worry about me” he tells you. 

You didn’t believe him one bit and you weren’t going to push him about it. You knew how he was...stubborn as ever. But, it was also ,by and large, your job to worry about him–– after loving him of course. Contrary to what he would say (Which was vice-versa.)

“We’re gonna be okay...okay? But I have something to ask you. And you can’t get mad.”

“I’m not promising that, but we won’t shout. We’ll talk it out–– whatever it is”

It was the best you were going to get from him and time was closing in on you guys being able to be like this, anway.  

“I know how you are, but this is a really critical thing we're fighting for here. So, unless I'm in some type of grave danger. I don’t want you worrying about me on the field. No matter what...Make sure he doesn’t get that stone.” Your voice lets you down towards the end, starting to get scratchy and low. 

He stands up in no time. His hands going to his belt, then to his hips, he finally raises one hand to run against his beard.

His facial hair, another thing in the endless things you loved about Steve Rogers. 

When the stubble he usually shaves away kept growing into a full beard, it surprised you both. You in a hot kind of way, he became more adoring by day when decided to stop shaving. 

You walked in on him one day. He was facing the scratched up mirror in a bathroom in a dingy hotel room. Running his fingers against his face, the other clutching onto the edge of the counter. Tilting his head back and to, eyes shifting as he looked over his face. It was another part of the effect of the serum he didn’t expect would happen. 

Telling you a story as he wandered down memory lane again. How he had problems growing stubble as a sickly kid–– so behind on puberty. He even watched Bucky grow his first “stache” at sixteen, but that came to an abrupt stop when Bucky’s mother made him shave it off. 

Steve thought It was weird to think that he could now also.

You were still sitting on the bench. Swiveling your body so you were facing your boyfriend, looking up at his fidgeting build with care. 

Feeling like a child waiting for their parents to dispute whatever impending punishment they would grant. 

“Why would you ask me that?” he finally, finally disrupts his silence. Scoffing at the offensive question. 

He doesn’t look at you with anything negative, only confusion.

“Because. I don’t want you jumping in front of whatever it is in front of me...I know him, he’s my dad. He’ll do anything to get what he wants, even if it means I die.”

When Steve told you that it was actually Bruce calling and told you what he said. He looked at you baffled when the shirt you were about to put on dropped from your grasp.

Once you told him you had knowledge of Thanos and how you knew him, there was a pregnant silence in the air.

If anything it filled the rage towards Thanos in Steve even more, by the time you finished. 

“Are you listening to yourself?” he questions you in disbelief, lips stuck in a sneer.

“Please. Just please, angel.” you maintain.  

You don’t answer either of his questions and he truly hates that. He stays silent for a bit watching your seated figure, looking up at him with the saddest eyes you’ve ever given him. His puzzled eyes shift down to your bobbing leg and your hands wringing together with so much speed and anguish.

He could probably throw up right now.  

And when he shifts his eyes up again, you keep that same look on your face waiting for him to say anything.

He sighs dejectedly, dropping his hands to his side, and walking himself back over to you. He sits closer to you than before. Extending a gloved hand to caress your cheek before fixing the flyaways from your sleek ponytail.  

“I can’t. You’ll always be my priority, and I won’t promise something like that sweetheart” he tells you this languidly. His thumb starts to rub circles against your cheekbone, to calm you down, when he catches the way your eyes widen at his admission.  

“Steve!” your voice breaks. So shocked, you can’t hold back the tears that build up and fall slowly over your face. 

You couldn’t believe this. He’s supposed to love you. Time and time again he’d always remind you how much he loves you and how he’d do anything for you–– too hard to say no to you, his words. Thinking this over you pull your face away from his hold, looking down at your taut hands. This wasn’t a silly death wish. You had to make sure your father didn’t get what he desired, no matter what. 

He hates having to watch you cry, but he doesn’t have much of a choice now. He needs to stand his ground, there was no way he would be arguing about this. And he does this, grabbing your face with a light hand,  so you were face to face again. 

"I love you so much. And if I have to choose between letting you die and Thanos losing. Or you living and watching the universe crumble, you know exactly what I'm gonna choose. I'm not losing you, not if I have anything to do with it"

Albeit how dumb it sounded, there is no notable instance in his life where’d let you perish over him. 

“You’re not thinking this through” you hiccup.

“It’s you, isn’t it? There’s not much to think about”  he smiles at you and as you look at him you can see his eyes glazing over. 

His statement only causes you to cry more. You feel nothing but the pain in your heart and the repositioning of your body. It takes you a moment to realize you’re settled on his thighs sideways. His well built arm warmly wraps around your shoulder, your temple rests against his shoulder, and his lips are placing light kisses to the crown of your head. 

You incline your head, “I love you too much” you say in an awed whisper, raising a hand to twirl in the strands at the back of his collar. Following that, you let your hand spread across the back of his neck pulling him down for a kiss.

“After this we’re done okay? We have our pardon and are going to buy whatever house you want to get. I’m gonna buy you the prettiest engagement ring money can buy, Gonna get whatever animals you want,” you chuckle at that part.

If there was one thing Steve learned while living incognito with you is that you’d save any animal if you were able to. Always stopping whenever you passed by any animal in need in the drary streets. Looking up at Steve, who’d always have to remind you that neither of you could give it the life it deserves right now. Opting to only go to the nearest convenience store to buy whatever safe animal food in sight. 

His hand immediately clutches your face to wipe away the tears that fell without pattern. His smile grows fonder when you do the same.  “‘Can paint the house whatever we decide...maybe even get a house big enough to fit the kids we’ll have?” he tells you the last part in such a timid manner, bearing one of his hands to clutch yours. His thumb running over your knuckles at full tilt. 

The only thing you were able to give him was a stunned look. So shocked you were unable to react like a normal person. 

You squeeze his hand tight only being able to stutter a “really?”

“Of course. I want to have a bunch of small Rogers with you, wreaking havoc around our house” he admits this to you, carrying out such strong eye contact. If his hand didn’t slither down your back, supporting you up and grounding you, you’d jump in glee. 

Fuck. Neither of you had talked about this, but you were glad that you both were on the same page about his. You felt terrified but in a good way, wanting to wholly get this over with and start this dream life with Steve. 

“And this is all gonna happen, because everything is going to go well. We’re gonna win, I don’t want you thinking like that or asking me something like that ever again. Thanos will never be on our list of priorities ever again.”

“I’m sorry, baby. I can’t wait to start that life with you” you respond, winding your arms around his neck, crashing your lips to his with force.

He pulls away without notice to place hasty kisses to your cheek, loving the giggles you emitted. Even so, the energy in the room shifts too soon when Sam knocks on the door. Steve allows him entrance. 

“Sorry to interrupt, but we’re about to land Cap”

Steve responds by nodding his head once, stiffly. Letting him know he’d be out in a second. 

You get off of his thighs, so the both of you were standing chest to chest. He claps your worried face. Pulling you into him with little force, so his lips could fall to your forehead, nose, and lips. 

“Remember what I said and be safe, I love you”

“I love you” you recite, bringing his hand down to kiss his covered palm.

With that he envelops you in his arm, his cheek resting against the top of your head. Both of you breathing each other in. Your shoulders relaxing at his loving touch. 

He’d do whatever needed to keep you safe and if it ended in his death, then so be it. You’d do the same for him in a heartbeat, there was no point in either of you arguing this one out. 

––––

Everyone was tired, it seemed like this fight only dragged on with the never-ending monsters. But, with the help of Thor (of course) it seemed like things were only getting positive from there. With the way he rendered lightning, destroying things into dust, you were ready to end this once and for all.  

And when a cloud of grey smoke appeared out of thin air, and a large titanian appeared. You knew this would either be the ending or the beginning of all these troubles. 

“That’s him” you falter, turning to Steve. You give him a quick once over, nothing the way he eyed your father. A menacing, scary look on his face and the furrow of his eyebrows only grow. 

“We have eyes on Thanos” he says into the intercom.

It’s like time stands still for a few seconds, no one moves a muscle. You haven't seen this man in years. You feel as if he doesn't recognize who you are as he glances over everyone, like they're roaches in his kitchen. 

Yet, in a blur, everyone takes their chance on Thanos. Trying their hardest to somehow, someway take this Titanian down. Bruce gets thrown with a shout, Branches entwine Nat, and Sam drops from the air smoothly. 

At some point you hear the grunt of Steve, who somehow gets some punches in, his hands clutching the gauntlet. He shouts from the hefty weight and in a swift motion is stock-still on the ground from the punch he endures. 

“Steve!”

Without a choice you run towards Thanos, your adrenaline kicking in. Kicking in punching only to use your hands to grasp around the metal. You knew towards the end; you were no match for him. 

“Please! Please don’t do this. Dad please I’m begging you” you plead profusely, but he only looks down at you emotionless. “Please, please, please” you cry, your head hangs low for a bit before you raise it up again. “This won’t fix anything! You–– you…JUST TAKE IT OFF” you scream, knuckles colliding with the gold.

You try so hard to think of anything to turn his mind, but he only looks at you like a stranger. Not the little girl he recruited and used to look at with some kind of affection. His type of affection, if you could even title it that, affection. 

Sure, he raised you to be a ruthless killer and thief, but you’d do anything in this key moment to change his crooked mind. 

“You don’t get to call me that again. You chose your path...I always knew you’d be the one to let me down the most” he says all this with so much venom. 

You cry as you're lifted in the air, by his gauntlet hand, and thrown against the bark of a tree. 

You're in a daze. The only things securing you back is the hand against your cheek and a booming, choked up "no". Hearing it a distance away.

You open your eyes to see Steve in front of you, your name on his lips almost incessantly. But when you open them, your eyes quickly move to Thor. Who’s a few feet away from the two of you, shocked and angry. The remnant of smoke in the air. You knew he did it.

“We lost?” you ask Steve, tears already forming in your eyes, as he carefully lifts you to his feet.

He doesn’t get the chance to answer you, though. 

“Steve…?” It’s Bucky, You both look towards him to see him fall slowly, disappearing into a brown dust. 

You both look on, shocked all while Steve tries to drag himself and your weak body to Bucky. But it’s already too late. 

“Buck?!” Steve calls out, but there’s no answer.

You watch on in disorder, stomach plummeting with every second that pasts.  Your eyes catch Wanda looking onto Vision's body in sorrow and as you do, she turns into brown dust.  It was frightening and you were speechless. So much happening around you, you weren’t sure where to look. You weren’t who was going away. 

The hand against your spine, holding you up, starts to feel faint and a headache you had suffered from earlier comes back, but ten times stronger. 

“My head hurts” you tell him, your words come out slowly as your mouth starts to feel numb. You drop your head to his shoulder. “Stevie...I can’t feel your hands” you blubber, chest heaving as your breathing picks up. Everything was happening so, so fast. 

He lifts your head, “Hey, you’re alright sweetheart, you took a hard hit. Just a bit banged up, gotta stay awake in case it’s a concussion” he reassures you.

You don’t believe him and when you look down at your right hand to see it crumbling away little by little. You lift your wrist up, hand gone. You look down to see the brown dust below your view. 

You didn’t want to go. You had merely planned your dream future with him. It wasn’t fair your father would be the one to rip that away from you.

“No. No, you’re alright, stop that” he condemns, bringing your other hand to his bruised lips imperatively. Watching as it climbs up and up, half of your shoulder  already gone. 

“I’m scared. I love you so much Steve”

“I love you so much doll, feel like we’ve been saying it all day” he tries to joke, eyes roaming all over your face. He had to make sure he had your face recognized to a t, even if it was in a manner of pain. 

And you do the same. You weren’t sure where you were going. Were you even dying?! You couldn’t tell, all you knew was Steve and some of your friends wouldn’t be where you were going.

You laugh despondently, low, and mirthlessly knowing how much he needed that laugh at the moment.

“No. I’m gonna––” you start, but never get to finish, because at that moment. In a flash, he’s left with the sight of the soot falling in a sway, like leaves tumbling to the ground. Staring at him gloved palms to see nothing of you there any longer. 

He does nothing but stand there for a few minutes, recollecting the exchange. Not only was his best friend gone, but so was his best girl.  

He had one fucking job. Keep you safe at all times. Not only did he let the whole universe down, he let you down. You were gone. He can only think about the moment you both had on the jet, telling you, you had nothing to worry about. Because you guys were going to win and now she is gone.  He let you down in the worst possible way imaginable. You were gone…

He repeats this to himself, losing hope each time that you would be back in just a second. 

He turns around to see his friends observing him and once he notices that Sam is no longer among the group it only increases his agony. 

“Cap?” Nat mumbles.

“FUCK!” he breaks. Ripping the gloves off his hand before he sets himself against the ground–– his body feeling heavy. His head is in his hand, body heaving roughly as he cries quietly.

Everyone is stunned and takes a step back to give his face, not remembering the last time they’ve seen him this broken or the last he’s had an outburst resulting in a curse word. 

He isn’t sure how he’s supposed to live with this guilt or without you by his side. In spite of that,  there was no way in hell he wasn’t going to try and find a way to bring you back.

– – – – 

realized while writing thing i am not creative...this (beginning) was literally a scene

if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback if ur up to it <3

[inkykeiji]

just this once

character: sawamura daichi

genre: smut

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), praise kink, manipulation, size kink if u squint, dacryphilia

words: 4k

synopsis:

And, being as stubborn as he is, it takes him a few months to finally admit to himself that his feelings toward you are more than platonic. It’s a horrifying realization—one that has his heart sinking to the pit of his stomach and bile rising in the back of his throat—that hits him with the force of a fucking freight train one night when he catches you in the hallway wearing nothing but a skimpy little tank top and a cute pair of lace-trimmed panties, and his first thought is how badly he wants to slam you against the wall and fuck you stupid.

Daichi isn’t sure what he did to deserve such a beautiful punishment, but you are the most gorgeous creature he has ever seen.

And you’re entirely off-limits.

He has to admit, he was fairly excited when he found out about the engagement, eagerly awaiting the day that you’d be moving in with your mom. He enjoys being a big brother to his blood siblings, but they’re so much younger than he is, and he can’t wait to have a sibling closer to his age.

But, Christ, he doesn’t expect you to be so fucking pretty.

It’s unfair, really. The gods must be mocking him, because forcing him to live with a cute little thing like you is downright cruel, as far as he’s convinced.

You have him wrapped around your pinky finger the moment your eyes meet. Just one look—a soft, shy gaze through your thick eyelashes as you introduce yourself—and he’s sure he’d do anything for you, pull the moon out of the goddamn sky for you, if you so desired.

And there’s nothing wrong with that, right? Big brothers are supposed to be doting and protective of their younger sisters, aren’t they?

He’s thrilled to hear that you’re just as excited as he is to be step-siblings, to have a niichan, being an only child yourself. The two of you get along instantly, staying up until the early hours of the morning planning all of the things you want to do together, all of the things you weren’t able to experience before, all of the things he’ll teach you.

You fall into such a natural routine so quickly, Daichi can barely remember what life was like without you—what were his mornings like before, when he didn’t have to drop you off at university? What did he used to do with his nights, before you two had developed the regular habit of binging old sitcoms and shitty rom-coms and horror movies?

And he’s sure you don’t mean it…he’s sure you don’t even realize what you’re doing when you curl up next to him on the couch after a stressful day, nestling into his side perfectly, resting your head on his chest as you sulk about school, or professors, or assignments, or anything, really. You know you can come to him with whatever problem your having—he’s told you a thousand times.

He’s sure you don’t think anything of the way his fingers comb through your hair as you complain, the way he’ll occasionally press gentle kisses against your scalp, the way he automatically lets you crawl into his lap when the day’s been really bad, thighs straddling his hips as you collapse heavily against him, nuzzling your face into his skin.

Of course you don’t. Why should you?

And he knows he should feel awful—does feel awful—that these are kind of his favourite days, because he gets to put his hands on you, feel you relax into him as you mumble against his neck or shoulder, feels adulterous pride swell in his chest when you sleepily admit that he always makes you feel so much better, that no one else is able to cheer you up the way he is.

It’s torture in the most delicious way, even if it sometimes hurts to watch you lean against the counter and stare up at his best friend with stars in your eyes, giggling softly as Suga pays you compliment after compliment. So it makes his chest and throat burn with the sting of jealousy a little—that’s normal, right? He’s just being a little protective, is he not? He just doesn’t want to see you get hurt, alright?

And, being as stubborn as he is, it takes him a few months to finally admit to himself that his feelings toward you are more than platonic. It’s a horrifying realization—one that has his heart sinking to the pit of his stomach and bile rising in the back of his throat—that hits him with the force of a fucking freight train one night when he catches you in the hallway wearing nothing but a skimpy little tank top and a cute pair of lace-trimmed panties, and his first thought is how badly he wants to slam you against the wall and fuck you stupid.

The thought feels like it comes out of nowhere, making him audibly gasp, as he tries to fool himself into thinking that he hasn’t been forcing back such lewd thoughts since the day he met you.

But that thought finally snaps open the floodgates in his mind, rendering him instantly powerless to the explicit and obscene scenarios that flash through his brain without his permission, eyes glued to your ass as you walk away.

Except then you stop, turning back to look at him still frozen in the hallway, cocking your head to the side and uttering a soft, “Dai-nii?”

“M’fine,” he says roughly, his voice not his own. You frown—you can see right through him. You’re walking towards him, and he wants to tell you to stop, he wants to turn away and hurry into his own room, but his feet are bolted to the floor, gaze captivated by the teasing cleavage that tiny tank top affords him.

He wants to believe that the way your eyes, glossy and half-lidded, slowly rake over his bare chest and land on the tent in his flannel pj pants, is entirely innocent. He desperately wants to believe this.

But the way your lips part with a quiet gasp that fades into the softest whimper, tells him otherwise. Your eyes slowly meet his, breathing a little laboured.

“I…” you begin, frowning a little as your eyebrows knit, as if you’re unsure how to express this thought. “Do you want—”

“No,” he says instantly, finally regaining control over his traitorous body and taking a large step back from you. He doesn’t want to know what you were going to ask, doesn’t even allow himself a second to think about all of the possibilities. “Go to bed, sweetheart,”

Then he’s gone, walking hastily down the hallway and disappearing into his room. And you’re left standing in alone, confused as to why there’s heat pooling between your thighs and why your chest stings so bad from his vague denial.

Such thoughts don’t stop after that night—he can’t help the way his cock twitches in his jeans when you lick honey from your thumb innocently, his mind automatically wondering what those lips would feel like wrapped around him; or the way he wants to pin you down and fuck you until your crying when you look up at him with those pretty, pretty eyes, the ones you use when you’re asking him for something.

It’s okay, he reasons with himself, even though he feels like he’s being torn apart at his very seams by guilt and lust. It’s fine as long as he doesn’t act on them, right?

Your happiness is more important than his anyway. Any good niichan would know that, would value their siblings’ feelings over their own.

Because the way your eyes light up when you talk to him about something you love, the way you’re always so excited to tell him about a new development in your life—whether it be a good grade, or a new crush, or something you and your best friend did over the weekend—and the way you cherish his opinions so much…

Those moments mean more to him than anything else, and he’d never want to do anything to lose your trust in him, your unwavering faith that simultaneously warms his chest and makes his stomach churn.

Yes, he’s positive he’d do absolutely anything for you.

So when some stupid boy breaks your heart, has you hesitantly knocking on his bedroom door at three in the morning with your arms wrapped unsurely around yourself as you try to stifle your soft little sobs—well.

He’s ready to go out and beat that motherfucker to death for even causing you to shed a single tear.

In fact, you find yourself having to talk him out of it in that very moment, little fingers curling in the coat he’s in the middle of shrugging on, tugging and hastily asking if you can spend the night with him instead.

And he should say no. No matter how hurt you are, no matter how much he wants to hold you in his arms and wipe your tears and make it all better, it’s wrong.

Or, at least, that’s what he tells himself. More than anything, in reality, he just doesn’t trust himself. It doesn’t matter that it’s wrong.

But, goddamn it, he can’t say no to you.

And you know. He knows you know, can see it in the way your eyelids flutter a little as you gaze at him through your lashes, glistening with unshed tears, can see it in the way you squeeze your arms around yourself just a hint more, pushing your breasts up, can hear it in the way you whimper out, “Please, Dai-nii?”

And despite the fact that he knows, and that he should probably be furious at you for exploiting his weakness, manipulating him and turning him into putty in your soft little hands—he can’t.

Because he loves it just as much, because even if you didn’t know, he’d still never be able to refuse you. And he hates himself for it, blames himself for it, would still never even think to blame it on you. You’re his perfect little angel, anyway, aren’t you? Actually, now that he thinks about it, there is a chance you might not even know what you’re doing, isn’t there? You’re just so upset right now, clearly not in any sort of stable mindset, he tries to reason with himself, tries to alleviate even just the tiniest hint of the guilt crushing his chest as he caves, nodding and opening the door wider, inviting you in.

He can’t stand the way your voice gets all tiny and frail when you ask again if he’s going to stay with you as he tucks you into his bed, almost as if you’re afraid of the rejection. How can he say no, when your fingers are tangling in his t-shirt and pulling him closer, pleading softly with him.

How can he say no, when you tell him that you feel better simply being in his presence, looking as though you’re about to burst into tears all over again when he hesitates answering.

“Of course, baby,” he says softly. “Of course I’ll stay,”

He tells himself it’s fine as he crawls into his bed next to you, allowing you to latch onto him immediately, fingers tracing patterns on his chest. He promises himself just this once, just because you’re broken-hearted and he doesn’t want to upset you more, wouldn’t be able to handle the look of hurt on your face if he denied you.

But you’re nuzzling your face against his chest, crying softly and begging him to just make it go away already, make the hurt stop even if it’s just for a little bit.

And, God, what he’d give to just take it all away from you, to cradle your face between his big hands and kiss you until you’re breathless, to make you cum until your mind’s numb, until you literally can’t think of anything but him, until your throat’s sore and you’re about to pass out from exhaustion—

No. No, this is wrong. It’s wrong to take advantage of you in such an emotional, vulnerable state.

Except then you’re grinding against his strong thigh, wedged between your legs, and making these cute little noises, soft whimpers of Dai-nii and tiny gasps that get caught in your throat.

He wants to tell you to stop, opens his mouth to firmly order that you cease these actions, but all he can seem to force out is a soft groan, tongue turning to sand in his mouth.

Because—well, your sobs have stopped, haven’t they? There are no longer tears leaking from your eyes or little sniffles hitching in your throat, right? What if this really is what you need, a good orgasm to help you forget, to help you sleep?

He makes a mental deal with himself, manages to talk himself into it, deciding to indulge himself just a little, just for tonight, just enough to satisfy the desire blazing in the pit of his stomach.

Large hands settle on your hips, aiding you in moving against him.

“Does it feel good, baby?” he asks, voice husky, words leaving his lips without his permission.

You nod, humming a little and nuzzling your face into his shoulder.

“Tell me,” he commands softly.

“F-Feels good, niichan,” you breathe.

“Yeah? Think you can cum from just riding my thigh, babygirl?”

“Uh-huh,”

“Show me,” he whispers. “I bet you look so pretty when you cum, don’t you? Let niichan see,”

Your hips pick up speed, broken whines falling from your lips as you aggressively grind your cunt against him.

He should tell you to keep it down or slap a hand over your mouth and muffle the noises with his palm. Really, he should. You’re loud, probably too loud, and he’d be surprised if your parents can’t hear you though the thin walls, just a room over.

But he can’t bring himself to do it, can’t force the words out or move his arm at all, greedily enticed by your sweet sounds—sweet little sounds your making for him, because of him.

“That’s it,” he encourages, pressing his thigh up into your dripping core more, flexing the strong muscles and making you cry out softly. “Make a mess all over niichan’s thigh, come on,”

And then your gasping out his name, breath hot against his neck, hips stuttering as you gush all over him, a pleasant warmth spreading across his thigh, seeping through the flannel and making the material stick to his skin as you try to squeeze your legs together, whole body curling into his chest.

He forces you to keep moving your hips through your orgasm until your body is jolting and trembling from every drag of your sensitive clit against his hard muscles, until your whimpering for him to stop, it’s too much! and going boneless against him.

A deep chuckle vibrates in his chest, gentle fingers combing through your hair as he hushes you, satisfied that you seem tuckered out and telling you to sleep now, princess, before pressing soft kisses to your head.

Just this once, he vows to himself as your breathing evens out, eyes slipping shut. Just this once—he got a taste now, got to see how pretty you look when you cum, got to hear you moan out his name, and that’s enough. That should be enough to satiate the voracious lust that curls in his stomach and rises in his throat every time he sees you.

Except it isn’t.

He’s terrible, awful, should feel so fucking ashamed of himself when you show up outside his door only a few nights later, shyly asking if you can ride him again and he has to restrain himself from jumping you right there.

“But, um,” you whisper, eyes darting to his and then away, fingers twisting together in front of your body. “N-Not your thigh this time?”

He can barely comprehend the words spilling out of your mouth, stares at you with those wide, warm, sweet eyes, breath coming out in short huffs through his slightly parted lips.

“You—What?”

A frown graces your lips, anxiety from the potential rejection beginning to build in your chest. “I want to ride your cock,” you whimper, eyes finding his again. Your heart is pounding, slamming against your ribcage, those six little words hanging in the air between the two of you.

He makes a soft, hurt little sound in the back of his throat, chest beginning to rise and fall quicker.

“We—” he stops to clear his throat, attempting to rid his voice of huskiness. “We shouldn’t,” he aims for stern, but his voice only sounds strangled, and the way you’re staring at him with those eyes makes his entire body feel like it’s just been set aflame.

“I-I know but I—” a little hiccup cuts you off, vision blurring with tears. “I just c-cant stop thinking about how good you’d feel, how full you’d make me, all stretched out and—”

No, he wants to scream. Not the tears, anything but the tears.

“—Please, Dai-nii?” you sniff a little, gleaming eyes pleading with him, bottom lip pushed out into a pout. “Ju-Just this once? I just—just wanna—” a choked sob cuts you off, and you rub at your eyes with your fists, chest beginning to stutter.

And he breaks.

“Oh baby,” he’s cooing, wrapping strong arms around you and holding you to his chest tightly. “Shh, quiet honey,” he’s hushing you as he sits on the edge of his bed, pulling you to straddle his lap. “Niichan will let you ride his cock if that’s what you want, sweetheart,” he says softly, brushing your hair away from your face. “Okay? You want that? Will it make my little girl feel better?”

“Y-Yes, Dai-nii,”

“Alright, stop crying, pretty girl,” tender thumbs swipe across your cheekbones, catching stray tears and wiping them away.

His heart feels like its shattering in his chest, and he hates seeing you so upset, pressing your lips together and trying to swallow your pathetic little sobs, but he can’t lie—you begging to ride his cock, wanting it so bad that you’re crying for it, has his brain hazy with lust, clouding his judgement as blood rushes south. His mouth is dry, cock throbbing impatiently as he helps you out of your cute little pj shorts, unable to stop the involuntary sharp inhale of breath when he finally sees your pretty little pussy, unable to help the soft noise that gets caught at the back of his throat as you tug a little at the waistband of his pants, looking at him through your lashes as you free his aching cock.

And then he has you whimpering as he pushes into your tight cunt, praising you as you stretch around him. Really, he should’ve taken the time to prep you properly, should’ve scolded you and been firm with you when you got a little bratty, refusing his fingers and whining that you want his cock now.

“Look at how good my little girl is,” he breathes out, leaning back from you while large hands steady your hips, eyes focused on his cock as it slowly slides in. “My precious baby, taking my cock so well,”

“Y-Yeah?” you ask in a tiny voice, looking at him in near desperation, needing to hear the praise again. “Hurts a little, niichan,”

“You can do it, baby,” his fingers flex on your waist, never slowing as he forces you down onto him, his hips pressing up to meet yours halfway.

His cock is thicker than anything you’ve ever taken before, and it burns a little as he finally bottoms out, tiny hole fluttering as it tries to accommodate him.

“See,” he pants. “You took the whole thing,”

“I-I swear I can feel you in my tummy, Dai-nii,”

“Christ,” he nearly whines, shutting his eyes tightly as his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips. He breathes out hard through his nose, gathering up every ounce of his self control as he begins to gently rock your hips against his, teeth clenching while he tries not to buck wildly into you.

You whimper a little; it still hurts a bit, but it’s beginning to fade, Daichi whispering gentle praises, breath hot against the shell of your ear as you bury your face in his neck.

“I know it hurts right now, baby,” he breathes out, still steadily rocking you on his lap. “But niichan’s gonna make it feel so good, okay?”  

And he does. He lets you grind against him, hips moving in little circular motions, forces not one but two orgasms out of you as tender fingers slip between your bodies to rub at your clit while you bounce shallowly.

It’s fucking torture for him, to feel you cream on his cock like that, tight little pussy clenching around him as you cry out breathless little ‘Dai-nii’s.

“S’it,” he praises hoarsely, thighs trembling from the effort of restraint. “Niichan’s gonna fuck you now, okay sweetheart?”

He keeps you on his lap, since you were so adamant about riding him, but holds your hips still as he begins fucking up into you. He starts off slow, letting you get used to the deep thrusts, cockhead nudging your cervix every time, but it isn’t long before his restraint completely snaps, unable to hold back any longer and begins ramming into you.

He tells you you’re so good, that you look so pretty as you take his cock, tears rolling down your cheeks and quiet grunts sounding from deep in his chest.

You whimper when he cums, begging him to fill you up, have him shuddering out a breathy, “Fuck,” as his hips still, cock pressed tightly against your cervix as it throbs.

And just like that, just this once turns into only a few times, and grinding against his thigh turns into his cock buried inside of you, his tongue shoved down your throat, your moans muffled by big palms.

And you love it. You love the way his chestnut eyes darken as you sink down on his cock, the way his voice drops so low it makes your stomach swoop, the way his entire demeanor—the air around him, his very aura—changes the moment you begin acting like a brat.

It’s exhilarating, intoxicating, addicting. You love the groans that fall from his lips when you tell him no one has ever—no one can ever—fuck you as good as he does. You love the way he loses himself in it, hips slamming into you hard enough to jostle your entire body up the bed, the way he leaves bruises in the shape of his hands on your hips, your thighs, your ass.

And although the guilt eats him alive—erodes his insides, rots him to his very core—he can’t stop.

He should put a stop to it. He wishes he were strong enough to put a stop to it.

He should, he should, he should.

He should do a lot of things.

But he won’t.  

Because he’s too selfish, too greedy, to give you up. He’ll bear the sins and suffer the consequences if he just gets to call you his, if he just gets to hear you cry out his name into his palm as he rams his cock into you with a hand slapped tightly over your mouth, if he just gets to fill you up with his cum every night.

He feels disgusted in himself, disgusted in his pathetically weak resolve that you know how to break with just a look and a soft niichan, disgusted by how much he fucking loves every second of it. But he’d do anything for you, just like any good niichan would, right?

[missblissy]

Hey! I never thought this blog would be active again. I really like your old alastor works <3 do you think you can do headcanons of Dad!Alastor and Kid!Reader? thanks a bunch love your work :)

((Hahahaha u didn't ask for angst but im here to give it anyways. UwU Enjoy~))

You were too young. Too small. You know it really irked him in all the wrong ways that he cared so much. You weren't even his kid. You were just the kid that he took in... right? You were just the kid he saw himself in, nothing else? He was just being nice. So why the hell did he care so much. Why the hell was it so damn sad to see you in that casket. It didn't make sense in his mind at all.

When he first met you, you were just a little kid, probably no older than 10. He wouldn't know, not that he asked. You were causing him quite the trouble for Alastor. You see, you were a spunky troublesome child who loved getting into places where you didn't belong. He first found you hiding in the backyard of his radio studio. It was an old brick building squished in between many others that looked just the same.

You were homeless and orphaned like kids your age. You kept stealing his trash, causing him to first mistaken you for some kind of raccoon. He wouldn't call it pity but decided to introduce himself. He was nice, friendly and formal, he gave you food which you didn't trust at first. You weren't shy and you spoke your mind. But since you made yourself at him in the tiny little plot of a backyard this building had, Alastor decided to let you stay on the second floor of his radio studio. He owned the whole building and only used the basement and first floor. So there wasn't much of a reason for him to not let you stay there.

Anytime you swore, he reminded you that it was unbecoming of a child to have such bad manners. When he caught you stealing some of his liquor, he wasn't afraid to give you a firm lecture on not stealing from him. But he didn't seem to care that you somehow always managed to get your hands on some type of booze every now and again.

You grew to love his cooking. Every day he'd come to the radio studio (Except Sundays, you were on your own then) He'd bring some type of breakfast he made at home. He was very good at it, and he learned to cook your favorite meals. Even if he didn't like that meal at all, he'd still make it for you. And at night, he'd always leave you ten dollars on a table before heading home himself.

After a while Alastor bought you several new pairs of clothes, "You look dreadfully awful in those rags." He told you while throwing a bag full of new and clean clothes at you.

You started calling him, "Al," as much as he disliked it. He said it was rude, seeing as he was your elder and that you should show them as much respect as possible, especially if they were so well known and "famous" by his standards.

He'd even let you sit down and listen in on his radio show. You sat on the other side of the glass and watched with a smile and laughed at his silly little jokes. If you were lucky, every once in a while you could pick out the songs he'd play between shows.

Perhaps Alastor started to care when you got sick. You had been staying in his radio studio for almost six months now. That's when you came down with a cold. Neither you nor Alastor thought anything of it at first. However it progressed quickly, and Alastor found himself helpless. It enraged him along with the weight of the unwanted responsibility of caring for a sick child. But at some point, he knew he couldn't keep you in the old brick building anymore. But he couldn't bring himself to take you to his home either.

With the heavy gravity of his station and the undesired guilty that came along with it, Alastor couldn't find it in him to live with his actions. That's why you were in the casket now, or maybe he did do the best he could. Regardless, even the doctors at the hospital where he dropped you off in the night couldn't stop your illness either. Surely, if a doctor couldn't save you, what made him think that he could.

He was the only one to show up to the undertaker and tell your story. For all the undertaker knew, you were just another dead kid with no family of your own. So it was a surprise when Alastor showed up to pay for your casket and pay for your tomb. He couldn't bear to do more than that. Alastor left after looking over your casket for what felt like hours.

That night he went home, and for the first time in a while, he felt a deep sadness followed by remorse. These feelings would haunt him for the rest of his life. It'd always be a nagging little voice, reminding him of the child he dared to take in if only for half a year, only for them to end up and die. He spent the rest of his life pretending it didn't happen, moving on the best he could while always remembering the tragedy he couldn't have ever stopped. He spent the rest of his life well, in his eyes, to the point that he did not fear death.

But it was so unrealistically sad when he did die. Because he remembered you. He remembered the spunky little kid that would beat him at checkers. Who'd swear up and down and scold him for being late. Who genuinely seemed to look up and respect him. How stupid of him, to remember those moments so vividly and to forget everything else. When the light went out, and the darkness filled in, he somewhat expected that would be it. How could anything else happen after death besides light out? He kept hearing a voice in the distance. How annoying, couldn't he just spend these moments in silent darkness. But he heard it again, and again. As it grew louder, it was more clear as he began to open his eyes into a dark and dreary new world. He heard the voice again and spun around. "Al, is that you?"

[crystalirises]

Phil is a famous and powerful Vampire Hunter with three sons, Wilbur, Tommy and Techno. One night Wilbur gets kidnapped by a vampire, he gets turned into a vampire but for years he has hope his father or twin would come to save him. His family never comes, he eventually gives up on hope and around this time he falls in love with another Vampire named George. They want to have a kid but they can't make one themself, so they surprise adopt Fundy. One of the vampire hunters SBI comes to help and everything goes downhill from here.

also thanks for the great writing

Y O U

I don't know who you are, but I love this prompt so much. Like, I want to confess right now that I actually have like... four (???) vampire AUs that all concern Georgebur + Sondy. I just haven't written them cause well, I just talked about them with a friend and 'm lazy to write XD.

But this prompt. YESSSSSSSSSSSS.

It literally just has everything. Wilbur's daddy issues and abandonment issues. Georgebur. Fundy. Surprise Adoption (Kidnapping). Vampires.

Love it.

Anyway, warnings: Blood, Violence, General Vampire Warnings, Possible Kidnapping, Mentions of Death, Abandonment Issues, Grief, and Suicidal Themes

Hope you like this!

“Eret? W-wha…? It’s the middle of the fucking night, man!”

Wilbur rubbed at his eyes, his friend’s hunched silhouette illuminated by the window.

They didn’t respond, and Wilbur could hear alarm bells ringing in the back of his mind.

He climbed out of bed, taking quick notice of the empty bed on the other side of the room. Techno and Phil must be out. Wilbur tried not to let it hurt him as much, his attention focused on his best friend who hadn’t made a single twitch or move ever since they’d climbed through his bedroom window. Worry settled in his gut, a heavy weight settling over his throat, making it hard to breathe. He stepped closer, the faint scent of metal piercing through the air. Wilbur nearly gagged, pressing a hand to his mouth and nose. Blood. He glanced down at the carpeted floor, goosebumps running down his skin as he gazed at the dark pool that was forming beneath Eret.

“ERET!” Wilbur gripped his friend by the shoulders, “What happened?!”

“Wil…?” Eret practically collapsed against him, hands clinging to the back of his shirt like their life depended on it. Underneath the darkness of the room, Wilbur could hardly look Eret in the eyes. Eret shook within his hold, almost like they were struggling against some force. “N-n-no!”

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?! Who did this?!” Wilbur pulled Eret away, but their head was leaned against his shoulder, their breath cold against his neck. It was difficult to see, but after a moment, he found the source of Eret’s pain. There was a dagger lodged against their back, just a few inches off Eret’s heart. He felt a panic course through him. Should he fucking pull it out?! He wasn’t a fucking healer, what the fuck was he supposed to do?! “Shit, shit, shit, fuck, um… I…”

His fingers grasped at the leather hilt, his mind screaming at him to do something, anything! Wilbur took a moment to listen to Eret’s breathing, their shallow breaths were mere puffs against his skin. He could feel Eret’s blood between his fingers, somehow, the blade hadn’t stopped the bleeding. Wilbur made a choice. He wouldn’t let his best friend bleed out. “I’m so sorry, Eret.”

Wilbur pulled the blade, wincing at the squelch of flesh and blood that resonated through the room. It was easy to ignore, since Eret let out the most unholy screech that Wilbur had ever heard in his life. He shuddered at the scream, the pain within its shriek. He swore that it sounded like— Eret collapsed against him, unconscious, but their breath had regained normalcy. Wilbur hesitantly held onto them, attention turning to the blade that he’d pulled from his best friend. Their village wasn’t the safest place, but one could usually walk around without being stabbed.

He held the dagger, blood still sticky against the skin of his palm. Wilbur brought the blade closer, eyes narrowing. It was a blade made of pure silver, the hilt dyed pink with a pink ribbon tied to one end. A chill ran down his spine. He adjusted the dagger, looking at the bottom of the hilt. A silver crow stared back at him. It was his dad’s symbol, but it was Techno’s blade.

He dropped the blade just as a searing pain tore through his throat.

He screamed, sharp teeth biting deeper into his skin.

Jagged claws gripped at the back of his shirt, an inhumane growl tearing through the air as Eret suddenly pushed him to the ground, holding him still as they continued to feed on his blood.

His mind turned to fog, but he could hear the slam of a door in the distance… 

“WILBUR!” Someone screamed. But he was dragged away. And then there was nothing.

---

“I’m sorry…”

It was the first thing Eret had told him once he’d woken up, and they’d been saying it ever since.

“Sorry doesn’t change me back, Eret. Sorry doesn’t make me any less of a monster than you!”

“I didn’t mean to, Wilbur!” Eret wrapped their arms around themself, “I was tired and injured.”

“Of course you were fucking injured!” He hissed out, “You deserved to be!”

“I know.” Eret hung their head, “I know, Wilbur. I’ve known that all my life.”

“Then you should have given yourself the mercy of death the moment you first turned!”

“You don’t think I tried?!” They both took a breath. They stood in one of the many great halls of Eret’s home, a castle hidden deep within the forest, far from the prying gaze of any mortal. Eret gestured to the portraits of vampires before them, vampires that were absent from the castle. Wilbur and Eret were the only ones in the castle, and in the past few months, Wilbur wondered where Eret’s servants were. Where were the butlers? The maids? The human bloodbanks? “I’m not ancient, but I might as well be. I come from a long ancestry of vampires, but it wasn’t by choice, Wilbur. My… sire… he was cruel, but he cared for me too much to let me go and die.”

“Where’s your sire now?”

“I don’t know.” Shame danced across Eret’s face, “But I know that I fear death to try again.”

“So you’d rather drink the blood of the innocent? You’d rather be a monster?!”

“It’s been so long, Wilbur. I don’t recall what it is even like to be human.” It was an odd confession, one filled with so much heart that if Wilbur didn’t know that vampires didn’t have beating hearts, he might have fallen for the trick. He scowled instead, disgust ripping throughout his whole being. To think they’d been his closest friend. Instead, they’d turned and betrayed him by turning him into a parasite like them. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. But I get so hungry—”

“Then fucking control it!” It was unreasonable, and they both knew that. Wilbur should know, in the first few days since he’s turning, he kept attacking Eret since his new stomach needed his sire’s blood. He’d gotten better control… but sometimes the hunger would take over him again. Eret never complained. Not like they had any right to, after all, this mess was their fucking fault.

“My dad will come for me.” Wilbur spoke softly, “And when he does, I hope he kills us both.”

“I hope not.” Eret shuddered, “In truth, Wilbur. I don’t want to die.” Wilbur didn’t care.

---

“You’re new. Intriguing, but a bit too humanlike for my taste.”

He groaned, burying his head in his hands. Eret had apologized, but for the evening they were meant to host a gathering for the renowned vampire families within the continent. Wilbur had been forced to wear a yellow suit that had a collar that scratched and irritated his neck. After an hour of being gazed and prodded at, he’d had enough of the gathering and had snuck away to a secluded balcony. Fuck Eret’s reputation. Unfortunately, a nuisance had followed after him.

“What, and humans are as good as livestock for you?”

“What of you? Do you understand that not all vampires kill those that they feed upon?”

“Doesn’t change that you’re all bloodsucking leeches.” He huffed, turning away to gaze into the distance. In the forest, one could see the stars of the night, but the only lights Wilbur wanted to see were of a village far, far away. It’s been years. Phil wasn’t coming for him. Neither was Techno. He rubbed at his wrists, the silence felt nice… but he knew the other vampire hadn’t left.

“That’s your issue. You still act human when you’re no longer one. Haven’t you understood that you’re trapped just like the rest of us… well, the rest of them?” The stranger moved to stand next to him, placing their arms against the cold stone banister. Wilbur took a moment to glance over, his breath catching in his throat. A pair of warm chocolate eyes stared up at him curiously. The stranger wore a light blue suit, and despite Wilbur’s assumption that all vampires were tall, this stranger was short… shorter than Wilbur. He was dressed finely, carrying himself with a strong elegance that only years of nobility could give. The only oddity was the goggles around his neck.

“...what do you mean?”

“I’ve been alive for centuries.” The stranger sighed, “I’m one of the ancients.”

“So you’ve turned many innocents into monsters.” The stranger let out a low laugh, mirthless and tired. It sounded like they’ve been told the same accusation before. Wilbur squirmed right where he stood. In truth, the stranger was far from what he expected an Ancient Vampire to be. Phil had told them that Ancient Vampires were powerful, and that they barely even looked human at all. His dad had never been wrong… and he would never lie. “But you look… normal.”

“Humans and exaggerations.” The stranger rolled his eyes, arching a brow at Wilbur. “Why do you cling to human beliefs? In the end they are inferior… and some are monsters themselves.”

“That’s not true.”

“What? Do you believe that all human misery stems from the existence of vampires?”

The stranger sighed, casting his gaze to the heavens. “Think. Aren’t we all monsters in our own ways?” He paused, catching Wilbur’s eye. “Vampires, humans… we all are monsters. A vampire who kills for the sake of killing and a father who abandons his son to die… both monsters, hm?”

He stayed silent for a long while, letting his heart finally crack under the truth. “I’m Wilbur.”

The stranger scoffed, a smile playing on his lips. “I’m George Lore. A pleasure to meet you.”

---

“He’s an actual angel.”

Wilbur watched his husband cradle the human boy that they had taken from a nearby village, the poor baby looked pale, his breath coming out in short huffs. George had wrapped an orange ribbon around their son’s neck, concealing the bite marks that would begin their son’s transformation. He had wanted to turn the boy himself, but George had intervened. Wilbur had only been a vampire for ten years, he wouldn’t have the self-control to simply bite and not feed.

“He bumped into me.” Wilbur chuckled, “I just knew he was perfect.”

‘It had been odd. His father had stated once before that vampires couldn’t walk underneath the sunlight, but that had been a terrible misconception, one that Eret and George had both laughed at. The idea had stemmed from - actually, they were an ancestor of Eret - a vampire who had had a very dramatic reaction to the sun after decades of being chained inside an underground vault.

Wilbur laughed mirthlessly. Another lie. Maybe vampire hunters were just full of shit.

He walked through the bustling streets of the city, his pace slow and relaxed. He’d gone with Eret to procure a few fruits from the village market, but while Eret’s back was turned, Wilbur snuck away to have a morning stroll around the wooden buildings and through the small alleyways.

Wilbur had slipped into an alleyway when a bright orange blur bumped right onto him. If he had been human, he would have continued on, slightly irritated but unaware of the crime that had just been committed. But he hadn’t been human for so long, and the world to him was a swirl of motion and color. Slow, the present quickly melting into the past. He gripped the hand that had snuck into his pocket, his vice-like grip nearly bruising as he pulled the orange blur to face him. A pained whine escaped the thief, small and so childlike that Wilbur had nearly let them go then and there. He kept his mercy at bay, eyes narrowed dangerously at the cretin who had dared to—

Wide brown eyes flecked with gold stared up at him in fear. The child had collapsed completely in Wilbur’s hold, practically hanging against the hand that was curled around his wrist. Wilbur adjusted his grasp, easing up so as not to hurt the poor child. But he’d been a bit too late. A river of tears cascaded down the child’s cheeks, small whimpers piercing through the quiet air.

“I’m sorry!” The child continued to cry, “Please don’t hurt me! I just… I was so hungry…”

“You were hungry?” The question only made them cry even louder. “Oh no, it’s alright. Shhhh.”

He kneeled so that he was at face-level with the child. “What’s your name, champ?”

“F-Fundy…” The boy sniffed, wiping his nose on the tattered sleeve of his black jacket. Wilbur took in the child’s clothes, the dirt that clung to pale skin… Wilbur didn’t need to ask to know. He gently let go of the child, careful to keep a hand on the child’s back so that he wouldn’t immediately try to run away. Fundy didn’t move, his bottom lip trembling. Wilbur continued to shush him, moving the child so that he was closer to him, enough for Wilbur to catch him in case he tried to run away. Fundy was hungry. Wilbur knew a thing or two about hunger. The boy was still staring at him. He made a quick decision. Wilbur smiled. He and George did want a kid…’

“He was hungry. I couldn’t just leave him, love.”

Wilbur approached George, his husband had placed Fundy back on the huge bed that seemed to swallow him. He was so small. He ran a hand through their son’s curly hair, catching George’s eye as his husband bit into his wrist. Newly made vampires needed their sire’s blood to survive.

“Well,” George placed his wrist above Fundy’s lips. “He won’t go hungry now that we’re here.”

---

Techno sharpened his dagger.

The glow of the fire illuminated the monster’s face, the dark blood that pooled against their pale skin a constant reminder that the person before him was nothing more than a bloodsucking leech upon humanity. He sheathed his dagger, a part of him eager to pierce through the vampire’s skin and tear out their heart. He couldn’t, not yet. They were bait for the Ancient. His actual target.

“He won’t come,” the vampire muttered. “Not for me. We aren’t kin… o-or are you—?”

“I’m here for Lore.” Techno huffed, “Not Brine.”

The beast raised their gaze, the warm fire somehow weaker against the light of their pure white eyes. It was the mark of the Brine Vampire Clan, powerful ancient vampires that once brought chaos upon the world. But to Techno, this particular vampire was more damning than any other vampire in existence. He knew their face, he knew their name. Wilbur had trusted them once, and look where that had gotten him. Mutilated somewhere, a decomposing corpse that would never find its way back home. “You haven’t killed me yet. I would have thought that you…”

“I wish I’d killed you those years ago.” He had been so close. A few inches off the heart. If only his aim hadn’t been so shaky back then, then maybe Wilbur would still be… “I wish I did.”

Tommy had hated him for being late. Their relationship had never recovered after that fateful night. If Techno hadn’t hesitated. If Techno hadn’t froze the moment he realized where the vampire had run off to. If Techno had run just a bit faster. By the time he reached their house, Tommy had collapsed by his and Wilbur’s bedroom door, skin so pale that Techno worried that the vampire had gotten him too. He’d taken one look at the empty bedroom, the white curtains billowing as the night air came from the open window, dark blood left to dry on the carpet. He’d known. He’d known back then. His twin was gone. Devoured by a beast that he’d failed to kill.

“Techno, I am sorry. I can’t help what I am. You injured me, I was injured, bleeding, and scared. My instincts took over. I never meant to hurt anyone. I never meant to hurt Wil.” His hand clenched against the hilt of his blade. He would not listen to such lies. Twenty years. Twenty years since the monster before him took away his twin brother. Twenty years of blaming himself for failing. Phil never blamed him, of course his dad would never blame him. But on bad days, Phil would confuse him for Wilbur finally come back to them. That’s why he’d dyed his hair.

“Senseless apologies do not bring the dead back to life. It does not mend the frayed relationships of a broken family. It does not erase the years of guilt and sorrow. It does not erase the hurt that you caused. You took away a life, and I should take away yours. Wilbur wouldn’t have wanted me to. He was our family’s poet, the one who could see the beauty of the world despite the monsters that lurked within it. I should kill you for the pain you’ve caused my family.” Techno’s hand trembled. The beast stared at him through the orange flame, a perplexed look crossing their face. Of course, they wouldn’t understand human grief. “I’ll have your head after I have Lore’s.”

He took a deep breath. If there had been any other vampire that could bait the Ancient, then Techno would have gladly used them instead. Being around this particular vampire brought forth emotions that he’d buried years ago. There was still a question that was poised at the tip of his tongue, an urge to ask what Eret had done to his twin’s corpse. Had they buried him? Or had they left Wilbur to rot until nature consumed every piece of his body? He wanted to know, but he feared that the vampire would mock him. So, he kept his question unasked. Ignorance was bliss.

---

“Techno.” He froze, hands poised over the silver-lined ropes that kept Eret’s hands tied behind their back. Wilbur had snuck closer into the empty camp, ears desperately trying to catch every little noise, but the fire had rendered his efforts useless. Techno had used the crackle of wood to disguise his footsteps, using it to sneak behind Wilbur, a familiar blade pressed to the side of his neck. The dagger wavered, but it stayed where it was. He took a chance to look behind him.

It was like looking at a mirror, except he didn’t have pink hair. “Wilbur…?”

A flicker of disbelief danced in those emotionless eyes, it surprised him. A part of him looked at his twin, and he could almost feel his old human heart beat inside his chest. He wanted to reach out, pull his brother into a tight embrace. Techno had grown up… and Wilbur knew he was the same age he was when he’d been turned. He was happy to see Techno again, but… the blade lowered from his neck. Yet Techno hesitated. Suddenly, all the bitterness and pain came surging back. Techno didn’t care for him. To his twin brother, he was nothing but another beast to slay.

He gripped the hilt of the dagger, twisting it away from his brother’s grasp before Techno could even fight back. His family had left him for dead. And now Techno was here to kill Eret and George, maybe he’d end up harming Fundy too. Wilbur can’t have that. He won’t lose his family.

Wilbur bared his fangs, “I’ll kill you. Take a single step, Technoblade, and I will tear you open.”

=============================================================

I didn’t mean to... but like, midway while I was writing this I suddenly decided “nah, don’t make the vampires so one-dimensional.” So yeah, a lot of misconceptions on the side of vampire hunters regarding vampires but some vampires still do kill people and most still see themselves as superior to humans. 

Also, yes. Eret is the vampire who took Wilbur because I wanted a bit of angst and I was like: “Hey, make Eret’s betrayal here be the fact that he and Wil are best friends but turns out Eret is a vampire.” Eret never meant to turn Wilbur, but it ended up happening anyway.

Now... about Fundy’s turning... I will leave that ambiguous. While he is in fact an orphan and lives in the streets, it was never mentioned here whether or not he agreed to being turned into a vampire.

Also also, I wasn’t gonna add Techno’s pov but like... “I Didn’t Say Goodbye” from The Mad Ones started playing and I was just: okay, Techno angst time.

I apologize for not adding Tommy but I didn’t know where to put him XD

So yeah, hope you guys liked this!

[imasimpforshanks]

Heyyyyyy hiiiiii hope your having an awesome day drinking that water getting hydrated 😗. I was wondering if you could do a Law Angst alphabet please. But only if you feel up to it and have time. If you don’t feel free to ignore or do it later here now have a cookie 🍪 because your awesome 😊

Angst Alphabet - Trafalgar Law

a/n: HI HI!!! thank you for your kind words!! I hope you are looking after yourself <333 here is the law angst! Please enjoy 🥰

A-Accident (would they blame themselves if you died in an accident?)

He would only blame himself if any of his actions led to the accident that caused your death (we’ve seen him blame himself for that very reason about Rosinantes death). If his actions weren’t directly correlated to your death in any way then he would not blame himself, though he would kick himself for not being able to help you in time. Other than that, Law is painfully aware of the harsh reality that is life.

B-Break up (How would they break up with you?)

Law would break up with you in a seemingly emotionless way. He’d mask his true feelings, while telling you a whole bunch of excuses why the two of you could no longer be together. He doesn’t believe any of them, but he’s got to do what he’s got to do.

C-Crying (how would they make you cry?)

I feel like I’ve used this one in a few other character alphabets but it really applies to Law too. He would cause you to stress and panic so much over his health and wellbeing. He’s a literal doctor. He should know to take better care of himself, but he just doesn’t seem to care about himself the same way you do. So it isn’t until you’re crying in front of him, spilling your heart out about how concerned you are for his safety that he realizes his health is important to more than just himself.

D-Death (how would they react to your death?)

My god, if Law was to lose another person that he loved, he literally would never want to let himself get close to anyone ever again. Your death would be it for Law. He’d basically be on the verge of giving up himself. What other reason does he have to go on.

E-Emotion (what is one emotion they would try to hide the most and how would they do it?)

He tries to hide every emotion. Law doesn’t like to be too open, out of fear of people using it against him or it simply being too much of a sign of weakness. So, very rarely does he let his emotions show. He also tries to divert attention away from himself in hopes that people won’t focus on him or his emotions for too long.

F-Fight (do you two ever fight? How big are the fights? What do you fight about? Etc.)

This was covered in his fluff alphabet! But here it is again:

Your fights tend to be pretty short lived resulting in forgiveness and apologies from both sides relatively quickly. He really doesn’t like to stay mad at you for too long – he’d much rather have you two on the same page.

Most fights are caused by stress and concerns of health and safety, so Law does a lot of eye rolling and using his title as a ‘doctor’ as justification that he knows what he’s doing so you just need to chill – but like I said these fights are very short lived.

G-Guilt (what is the biggest thing they feel guilty about?)

Law will never forgive himself for Rosinantes death. He will forever feel responsible for his death – it was all his fault. If only he hadn’t given that note to Vergo, then Rosinante would still be alive. He died because of Law’s incompetence (at least that’s what he tells himself).

H-Heartbreak (what would cause them pain in the relationship? How would they deal during a break-up?)

During a break-up Law would act pretty normal. He wouldn’t behave any differently until he’s left alone. Only then would he let himself go and truly feel that heartbreak.

I-Injured (how would they react if you are badly injured?)

Thanks to the doctor in him, Law is able to remain calm. He can keep his composure until he administers whatever treatment necessary. That’s not to say he isn’t worried though. He’s just capable of focusing on the injury right in front of him.

Only once he is certain that you are stable does he (or potentially his crew) go and hunt down the cause of your beating.

J-Jealousy (what do they do if they are jealous?)

When Law does get jealous (which is rarely), he gets quiet. His fists clench a little more, and his frown deepens. He also speaks less than usual (which is already pretty hard to beat). He only gives you short snippy replies until he eventually gets over it.

K-Kill (would they kill for revenge?)

Law would kill for revenge, yes. He literally wanted to kill Doflamingo as revenge for Rosinante. However, it was in Law’s plan that Kaido would be the one to kill Doflamingo (after they fought) – so I believe that is how he’d kill for revenge as well. He would devise a fool proof plan (okay maybe not fool proof, bc if the straw hats are involved who knows what could go wrong).

In short, yes. Law would kill for revenge.

L-Loss (what is their greatest loss?)

This poor man has suffered so much loss in his life that it’s actually really difficult to choose which would be his greatest loss. He lost his entire family as a young boy while also having a shortened lifespan himself. Losing his family, and the realization that he only had a few more years to live, really made him lose his will to live a good remainder of his life. Young Law literally became a pirate.

However, he did meet Rosinante (Corazon) and he gave him another reason to live. Furthermore, Rosinante actively sought out a cure for Law so that he could continue to live a long life. Basically, Rosinante became a father figure/older brother to Law. So, losing him – another ¬person he loved so dearly – would have been beyond devastating.

M-Mistake (what is the worst mistake they ever made with you?)

There was one day where he spent the entire day ignoring you. It was completely unintentional. His mind was swarming with plans and all this other information that has just come in. He got so immersed in it that he didn’t talk to you or tell you what was going on for a whole day.

N-Nightmares (how often do they have them? What are they about? How do they deal with it?)

Nightmares are one of the many reasons Law hardly ever sleeps. He’s haunted by his family’s and Rosinantes deaths. His nightmares get particularly bad around the same time each year (that is, around the time of year that they died). He wakes up trembling and on the verge of tears (but he never lets them fall). Instead of even trying to go back to sleep, he’ll make himself a nice hot cup of coffee and immerse himself in a book or work of some kind – anything to avoid going back to sleep and risking a re-run of that horrible nightmare.

O-Outrage (how and why would they get mad at you?)

Sometimes his exhaustion catches up to him and other times its all the stress building up that finally he snaps and all the emotions are too overwhelming that he just directs it to the nearest outlet, which just so happens to be you.

P-Past (what has happened in your relationship that changed the way you saw each other?)

You walked in on him absolutely breaking down over Rosinante. One evening Law retreated to his room while you and the rest of the crew were eating and drinking. He didn’t think you had noticed him leave, but soon you were following after him. You opened the door and found him breaking down in the middle of the room. You completely forgot that it was the anniversary of Rosinantes death. It was the first time you had seen him this distraught and it broke your heart.

It really cemented into your brain that no matter how tough he may look, he still suffers (probably more so than anyone). But, you were also grateful that you were able to see him like that, as it allowed him to start relying on you a little more.

Q-Quality (what is their most dangerous/toxic quality?)

His inability to openly express his emotions. Sure, now he will share with you how he is feeling, but that is with you and ONLY you. He still insists on keeping everything else bottle away from the rest of the world which is a really unhealthy way to deal with things. It’s not that you dislike being there for him, in fact, you appreciate how trusting he is with you. It’s just, what if there comes a time where you aren’t around and he’s in desperate need of someone to confide in?

R-Rejection (how would they react to you rejecting their confession (or the other way around)).

Law would wait until he was 100% certain you returned his feelings to confess to you. So, if you were to reject his confession he would be really confused for a while. He’d let it go because well, everyone has their own reasons – its not his place to tell you how you feel. All he can do is tell you how he feels and then the rest is up to you.

S-Scars (battle or self-inflicted)

He has no self-inflicted scars, and to my knowledge he has no battle scars either. But, his arm did get cut off and then reattached during the Dressrosa arc, so it actually is likely that there is a remaining scar from that (although I’m not certain).

T-Trust (have they ever broken your trust?)

Nope not at all. In fact, the only instance in which he would possibly break your trust, or lie to you, about is when he went to Punk Hazard and sent his crew to Zou. Some would assume that he wouldn’t tell you his plan out of fear of your safety, but that’s not true. He had to tell you. You taught him to be open and honest, and to trust. So that’s exactly what he did.

U-Urge (how badly do they want to see you after you guys separated?)

Law has gotten so comfortable around you that whenever you aren’t there, he gets unbearably anxious. Your presence is soothing, even if he can’t see you, even if he can only hear your voice echoing throughout the Polar Tang, it’s enough to put his mind at ease. So, if you are separated for a while… oh boy does he want to see you badly.

V-Vicious (what do they do when they lash out on you?)

He tends to yell at you. He tells you to “piss off” and that “you’re only being a nuisance right now”, despite you only wanting to help him.

W-Weak (what makes them feel weak how do they try to avoid it?)

Not being able to control things makes Law feel really weak. Weak may not be the right word, but it definitely makes him feel unprepared. He doesn’t like when things are out of his control and he can’t account for things. Which is usually why he always does extensive research and preparation before constructing a well thought out plan.

X-X-ray (what do they hate and show it most obviously?)

Well, I mean other than his obvious hatred of bread, Law also really hates when he works extremely hard on formulating a plan only for it to be completely thrown out of the window by a reckless straw hat wearing captain and his entire crew. (and somehow everything still ends up working out!!! That is the part that frustrates Law the most HAHAH).

Y-Yearn (what is one thing that they want but can’t have?)

One of the only things he’s ever really wanted was for Doflamingo to be taken down. He’s been partially successful in that sense, seeing as Doflamingo is in prison now. However, he wants more than that. He wants Doflamingo to suffer the same way he has.

Z-Zero (what do they do/say in your dying moments?)

It may seem a little out of character but… I believe Law would be borderline desperate/inconsolable. There would be a lot of clinging on to you, begging you not to leave him like everyone else he’s ever loved. He can’t handle another person leaving him, it’s too much. It’s far too much.

He wouldn’t cry (just yet), but his voice would tremble, and his hands would be shaking. His mind would be racing with all sorts of theories and possible ways he could save you. How could he possibly prevent the inevitable?

[thenovelartist]

ABC Fluff Headcanons - Luke Pearce - Tears of Themis

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

You may be the Watson to his Sherlock, but he knows you’re not a follower by nature. You stand firmly on your own two feet. And though it may scare him at times, particularly when your safety is on the line, he can’t deny the pride he feels watching you go above and beyond in all you do, especially when it involves others. That selflessness paired with your determination is what he truly admires about you, and he hopes that you’ll never change, no matter what trials you face.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

Your smile. Because if you’re smiling, he knows everything’s going to be okay. He also knows when that smile is forced and when it’s faltering, prompting him to take action of his own to protect or hold you. It’s a tell-all for him, and that brings him comfort.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

In any way he can. He loves holding you. However, he likes it best when you’re chest-to-chest with his arms around you holding you close, no matter if it’s a long hug, lounging on the couch, or snuggling in bed. It’s a versatile position, allowing for you to either meet each other’s gaze while still having close physical contact or for hiding your expressions, such as you snuggling against his chest or him resting his chin on top of your head. It fits for every scenario.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

Ideal date? Well… a date… with you. He’s not picky. However, he definitely leans towards the more casual settings. Things where you two can be relaxed around each other, chatting and bantering all the way. Whether that’s strolling around town or a camping adventure or even relaxing at home with a familiar movie you’re not really watching in the background is up to you, but he’s down for any and all of them.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

He’s… well, not quite an open book but rather a book you have to open. He frequently puts on a happy face, so sometimes, you have to break past that. Once you do, he’s not ashamed of being open and honest about his feelings. He wants first and foremost for everything to be okay and for you to be happy, but if you’re shutting that down and calling his bluff, he’ll surrender and be open to having heart-to-hearts so as to get on the same page as you.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

Yes… and no.

No, he doesn’t want a family because the lingering fear and guilt of leaving them behind would weigh heavily on his soul. But, if he was being honest with himself and the fear of his life being cut short wasn’t hanging over his head, his answer would be “how many kids are you willing to give him?” None? Okay, he gets you to himself. Five? Fantastic, he’d love a busy house. Adopt? He’s already got all the forms downloaded. Mix of both? Perfect. Family is what you make it, and he’s more than happy to make one with you, no matter what form that takes.

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

He loves things from you and accepts them all as a treasure. But he places the most value in things that are made. A solid ninety percent of the gifts he gives you are ones he made himself. He doesn’t see the value in giving gifts just to give them; they should either mean something or bring some sort of use to you. To him, gifts mean the most when time and effort was poured into it.

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

All. The. Time. He wants contact with you, and hand holding can be both perfectly innocent and sweetly intimate. And little squeezes here and there can communicate without words. He loves it.

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

Instantly blames himself. He’s there to protect you, and if you get hurt, that means he failed miserably, so you’ll likely have to coax him out of his self-abusive state. Doesn’t matter if it’s anything from a papercut to a large accident, he’ll think it’s his fault, and he will be by your side as much as humanly possible during your recovery. And if it has something to do with NXX? I pity the person who caused you harm. He’d devote far too much time and resources to hunting them down as quickly as humanly possible and making their life a living hell.

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

You’re childhood friends. There’s plenty of teasing and inside jokes to go around. It might just be impossible for you to go a single day without one inside joke or playful reference to the past being pulled up.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

Luke’s kisses come in one of two varieties: Reverent and Passionate. Reverent kisses cover most kisses, consisting of everything from good morning to good night to general pecks on the forehead, cheek, nose, you name it. The ability and privilege to kiss you means a lot to him, so no kiss is ever taken for granted. Passionate kisses, on the other hand, are less about the way he pulls you close or presses his lips against yours and more about him emotionally baring his soul in those moments. However tangled or feverish that kiss ends up being is only a byproduct of him wanting to express just how much he genuinely adores you.

L = Love Confession (how do they confess?)

You will have to drag it out of this man. Not so much the confession but the confidence to admit he wants to be with you, in sickness and in health, for as much time as he has left. So really, it’s far more likely that you confess first and he’ll admit he feels the same while telling you all the reasons you can’t be in a relationship. Only once you get over that will he pour out all his secrets of how long he’s loved you and how deeply he loves you… And potentially propose right then and there.

M = Marriage (What does the wedding look like?)

He could elope with you and be perfectly happy. And honestly… he might be the happiest with that. If you wanted an actual wedding, he really would have no problem letting you have what you wanted, but the beauty of an elopement is that it can be done sooner rather than later, and he thinks he’s running on borrowed time. If he’s gonna marry you, he’d want to do that, like… yesterday. So if you’re up for an elopement, you basically have twenty-four hours to find a dress because he’s gonna take you down to the courthouse ASAP.

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

That he’s going to die soon and leave you behind. The biggest stressor for him is letting you get more attached to him because then his death will be even harder on you. And then what if you end up getting very close to him and marrying him like he wanted, only for him to leave you a widow at a young age? Or worst of all, what if he leaves you a single mom? He already hates the thought of leaving you, but leaving his kids behind…

He tries really hard not to think too deeply on this but it feels like a waking nightmare he’s not going to wake from any time soon.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

This man cannot go forty-eight hours without making at least one Sherlock Holmes reference. And he occasionally has the knack of saying them… at the worst time.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

I don’t think he’d be into cutesy, couple pet names all the time. Instead, I feel like he’d probably use “Watson” or any other childhood nickname he had for you on the regular basis. “Baby” and “Sweetheart” are probably in use, too, but he would tend to save those for quiet or tender moments. And “love” is reserved for the private, more intimate moments.

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

In any way he can; you just have to be present. Quality time for Luke can be anything from you two sitting in the same room while doing different things to going on an adventure together to an intimate date night. As long as he’s with you, time is not wasted.

R = Romance (how do they show their love and affection?)

Yes, yes, there’s grand gestures, but his love is shown in the little things. It’s the way he always is looking out for you, like offering you a moment to sit if you’d been walking a while or water if it’s hot. It’s in the way he squeezes your hand in the middle of a conversation. It’s the way he texts you reminding you not to over work yourself before ending it with an XO. Every day to him is precious, and he’s not going to bother with large, elaborate gestures of love if he can smother you in little, affectionate ones all day every day.

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

He’s pretty open with you, but the few secrets he has? Those he keeps locked away in the deepest part of himself. He will not let on that he has those secrets unless you get an inkling of their existence and go fishing to pull those secrets out of him. Keep at it; he won’t last long because he’s weak for you.

And of course, there’s state secrets he literally can’t tell you, but that’s a different matter all together.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

Freaking years.

This boy has been in love with you forever and could have asked you out as early as high school, but he didn’t. Then you were apart for eight long years, and he could have started something up with you soon after you two reunited, but he didn’t.Instead, he plays the “beat myself up with regrets” game and wastes even moretime trying to logically distance himself from you before you eventually have to forcibly break him down. Only then does he cave. But the “beat himself up game”? Yeah, that never quits. Because eventually, he’ll beat himself up for wasting so much time to make a move.

You really have to help this boy out of those habits.

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

Will do anything to make you smile again. If you’re sad, he’ll try to pick you up with either a smile and some light banter or a hug and soothing words. If your mad, he’ll try to redirect or release your anger in any way he can. If you’re mad at him, que the kicked puppy look as he practically falls to his knees and begs for forgiveness.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

He will show off when he can, usually about his detective skills or ability to fix things, and he will look like a five-year-old boy trying to impress a girl on the playground while doing it. Be sure to praise him for those moments. You will be rewarded with a grinning blushy boy.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

No. No. No.

…

Until you put your foot down and insist you’re gonna be by his side in a fight no matter what. He literally cannot win against you. And he hates it.

However, he is 110% your warrior and will be until he draws his dying breath. Nothing is going to change that. So if he can fight first and keep you from fighting in the first place, then he’ll do that.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

Like a book. He’s known you waytoo long to not be able to. Even those eight years didn’t change you too much, and he was able to relearn everything that felt new to him fairly quickly.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

One of two ways. In scenario L, after the love confession, he would propose marriage in the heat of the moment. You’d probably already both be crying and a total wreck, but your hearts would already be out on the line, and he’d just take that moment to drop the bomb of “please be by my side for the rest of my life”.

OR if that didn’t happen, (or maybe it did BUT he didn’t consider it a proper proposal and wants a redo) the proposal would be nothing big or fancy. Rather, it’s in a quiet moment between the two of you, either hanging out at your place or his. He’s sure to get down on one knee, holding your hand reverently as he pours out his heart to you. You’ll be in tears and his eyes will probably be glassy too by the time you say yes. At which point, he’ll put the ring on your finger and then hug you tight. And probably not let you go until absolutely necessary.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

You.

No, really. You’re basically his world, so as long as he’s able to see you and know you’re okay, he’s okay. And if you want to settle him with sweet words and gentle touches, go right ahead.

You will also put him to sleep if you massage his head with your nails, so be sure to pet the Golden Retriever Puppy. Let him have a moment where he isn’t carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

[ktheist]

2 | all yours to enjoy [m]

title inspired by blackpink’s sure thing cover.

⟶ read part one, play me like a toy, here.

muses. heiress!reader x ex-mafia!hoseok

genre. age gap factor. chaebol-mafia au. arranged marriage au. modern au.

warning. implied smut, mentions of gun use and all that mafia shizz

verse. knj. ksj. myg. kth. pjm. jjk. jhs.

synopsis.

“marry me or be killed.”

“is there a third option?”

“we fucked but you were too drunk to remember so that option’s invalid.”

x

the carved name above the handle points in wayward angles. as if made by a child.

well, 5 year-old-you lacked tact. and a sense of artistry but nobody dared insult the work of the only daughter of the han group.

the room hoseok stepped in feels familiar yet foreign at the same time. it’s been years, but the pink unicorn plushie still sits on your bed like it’s waiting for you to climb in and cuddle it every night.

the pastel peach walls have been repainted in a deep maroon shade. at your order, hoseok suspects. it’s as if you’ve renounced that childish innocence and took on a blood oath for the han family name.

much of that youthful wander in your eyes has disappeared.

‘it was my fault, i shouldn’t have left her all alone in this wretched place,’ hoseok surly thought to himself.

before he can even think about how inappropriate his actions are - to have stepped into a woman’s room without a reason - a surprised voice echoes from the door adjacent to where he’s standing.

“hoseok...” you’re standing there, in front of the ajar bathroom door, with a pristine white towel around your body and another wrapped around your head, water dripping from the stray strand that manages to escape from your towel turban.

perhaps he had a reason, after all.

perhaps he just wants to see you, the person who coerced him to come back to this god forsaken house where he’s seen more deaths than his fingers could count.

“i’m sorry- i didn’t know you were taking a bath-” hoseok didn’t even manage to take a step back when you shake your head, a smile he’s not used to seeing curved on your lips.

“it’s fine, come in. close the door behind you.”

when he remains frozen in his spot, hand on the handle that seems to seep cold, icy frost into his palm - you raise a pair of trimmed brows, “what? we’re getting married, aren’t we? you forgot but you’ve seen all of me,” a coquettish smile on your lips, “don’t tell me you’re getting all shy now after announcing to the entire head of families that they should sleep with one eye open.”

the funeral had been handled by uncle jihoon, your father’s right hand man and most trusted confidant. he probably cleaned up the skeletons in your father’s closet more times than you’d met your own father in your 25 years of living.

your father had enemies and someone had to get rid of them.

such was the ways of the hans.

yeojun was yours and sehun was chanyeol’s.

hoseok was meant to step in once uncle jihoon resigned since at an early age, he’d gathered enough support to ruin the whole nation. his only fault was being loyal to your father, han jiseok.

and it was his loyalty that made your father drive him away.

because no matter when hoseok was and what he was doing, he’d never betray the hans.

“he’s just a kid,” you’d once heard him say to uncle jihoon.

several months later, he’d announced at the annual family gathering that hoseok got into yonsei university as a business major. it also meant that his ties with the han group would cease to orphan student-influential family sponsors. every record of his existence was wiped clean. he was no longer the child uncle jihoon took in because he pitied hoseok’s miserable state of living. he’d come to your house in tattered clothes and a bluing bruise on his cheek.

jung hoseok was meant to carry half of the burden of the head of family until the true heirs grew up and learned the ropes of leading the han group.

in short, hoseok was a proxy. a stand-in who gathered a little too many support that threatened the powers of the actual heirs.

their bow lingered longer, as if they were thanking the gods for bringing him back just as they’d lost a great leader.

you didn’t mind though. you liked hoseok - he was the only one that didn’t look at you like you were a prophecy of death. a child who’d grow up just as wicked as her father.

he’d looked at you like a human.

han jiseok took a liking to hoseok, the loyal dog of the han family that would drive a fist into someone’s gut at the command of the head or any of his heirs. hoseok wouldn’t question it either - why he was beating someone up half-dead, he just... did it.

so when that jung hoseok who got cut off from the han family at chanyeol’s whining over how his succession would not be supported by the branch families if hoseok were to remain as the stand in - came back and announced  first thing after his return, his engagement to the heiress of han group, naturally, all hell broke lose.

hoseok had stood by your side as you’d kept your head low, the black veil covering your eyes and nose did well to hide your dry gaze.

true to his reputation, as soon as he stepped into the mansion with you, the men who swore their loyalty to the han family, one by one, started bowing at hoseok whilst the heads of the vassal families started whispering among themselves.

“hoseok, the loyal dog? that’s him?”

“did the boss ever say who was going to inherit the family business?”

family business was just a white washed term of the commercial front of han group that was meant to blur the eyes of the korean government on what truly goes on underground.

“the attorney hasn’t been found, right? that means nobody here knows the contents of the will.”

“did he ever mention chanyeol would inherit the business?”

“____’s achievements aren’t something to be turned a blind eye on either.”

one of the heads of the branch approached you, he smiled too sweetly on the day of his principal’s passing. rubbed his hands together schemingly as he murmured words of condolences that sounded like congratulations, “the boss suffered for so long from leukemia, the gods must’ve answered his prayer. i’m sorry for your loss, miss ____.”

foolish fiend.

kang sungho was chanyeol’s uncle from his mother’s side. he was the head of one of the closest branch family who’d swore loyalty to the han’s. yet he acted like a stranger who didn’t have anything to do with his brother-in-law’s passing.

“say, hoseok, you’re here too,” sungho didn’t even wait for you to respond - perhaps he thought you were too in shock to say anything, “it’s been a while, thank you for coming even though you have no relation with han group anymore.”

just like that, sungho made a u-turn and spoke on the behalf of han group.

your hand that you didn’t even know was balled up into a fist shook silently - that was, until hoseok slipped and grasped it with his large hand as he lowered his head in a nod.

“it’d always been my intention to come back to serve the new boss,” his hand had left you to wrap his arm around your shoulders, “well, a husband is a slave to his wife, anyway, right?”

it was clear from what hoseok said that he didn’t mean chanyeol was the soon-to-be wife.

you’d sent yeojun to the hospital to confirm your father’s status while you’d met up with an - well, you were holding her son and husband hostage if she didn’t corporate but still - acquaintance who works at the korean embassy to speed up the marriage registration process.

it was when you were walking out of the embassy and to the car that hoseok slips his hand in yours and murmurs to himself.

but you’d heard every word of it, “your hands are trembling. you’ve never shot a man, have you?”

a sense of melancholy paints his face as his grasp tightens on your hand, as if saying ‘sorry i left you all alone in that house.’

you shook it off, heart too dried and withered to ponder on what he’d thought. thoughts of you father filling your heart.

no ceremony, no nothing.

and now you’re married.

the hoseok from just hours ago stood with his back straight and an ease in his aura. yet his presence alone was enough to make even the eldest of the head bow to him.

“are you... are you okay?” this hoseok asks you with hesitance in his voice.

“what makes you think i’m not?” you amble to the bed and drop your towel, letting it pool around your ankle.

there’s no mistaken low breath hoseok let out at the sight of your naked body. as if he’s a teenage school kid who’s never seen the body of a woman.

“do you mind zipping this up for me?” you say, standing with your exposed back on him, damp hair pulled to drape over your shoulder and chest.

hoseok lets out a cough. as if to announce that he was in the room and he was coming closer.

the fingerpads feels callous against your skin. you have to remind yourself to breathe through your nose than hold it in until your lungs feel like they’re about to burst.

hoseok takes his sweet, leisure time tracing down his index finger down your spine to get to the zipper. and when he does, he drags it up in an agonizingly slow pace, the grazing sound it makes causing the hairs on your neck to stand.

“skip the after-reception... you look tired,” he says after his hand falls away from your body and you’re suddenly missing what warmth it provides, like a flame that thaws the ice in your heart.

a dry laugh escapes you, “the elders are finally looking at me as an heiress, you know i can’t afford to slip out of the spotlight on the pretense of fatigue.”

before hoseok can offer any response, you twirl around, arms banding around his waist and bare face buried in his chest.

“hold me like you used to when i woke up from a nightmare and i’ll be fine,” the remnant of your sob threatens to spill from your mouth - true, you didn’t shed a single tear when you arrived late at night at the hospital.

the death of your father had been announced at 1703 hour.

but it’s only ever sunk in that the only family you have is gone - once you’ve left to your own devices to take a bath and change into new clothes before the after reception begins.

it’s then, that the waterworks began to pour over your cheeks without any hints of stopping.

hoseok must have seen the aftermath of your puffed, pink eyes when you stepped out of the bathroom, not expecting for anyone to be there except the silence.

a pair of strong, secure arms wrap around your body wordlessly. hoseok tilts his head so his cheek is pressed against the side of your head.

“you grew a few inches,” his husked voice brushes your ear like a dream you’d never want to wake up from.

a small laugh escapes you, “oh come on, i got more than my height on me but you-”

hoseok groans and you clamp your mouth shut, chuckling.

“i’m sorry,” he confesses, a treasure trove of remorse laced around those two little words.

all of a sudden, guilt gnaws at your conscience for having teased him too many times about forgetting something he couldn’t control, “don’t say sorry,” you mumble, “now i feel bad.”

“i used to tease you a lot about your obsession for ponies and unicorns.” his voice drums in your ears.

“i used to fantasize about finding a unicorn in the forest behind our beach house and beating chanyeol at a race someday,” without you realizing it, your cheeks are hurting from how wide you’re smiling.

silence lapses around you.

but it has no space in between your flushed bodies. you hear hoseok’s unusually fast heartbeat.

“you’ve changed...” you murmur, somber.

“i did?” he sounds melancholic, as if reminiscing about the days in this household.

chasing after the troublemaker daughter that always thinks they’re playing hide-and-seek. beating and threatening any rival members he sees hovering around the han group’s territorial influence.

“i didn’t say i don’t like the new you,” you tear your face off his chest, tilting your chin to gaze up to his warm eyes that appear deep brown under these fluorescent lights.

standing on the tip of your toes, you peck his lips lightly.

a sweet smile plays on your lips.

‘yeah, his lips are as soft as they look,’ you affirm.

it’s the way his eyelids cover his eyes as he blinks. the way his lips part as if surprised at the sudden, unannounced advancement. the way the realization seems to sink in that there was nothing stopping you from kissing him again-

an index finger presses against your pouted lips as you stand on the tips of your toes once again.

“it’s dangerous...” is all he offers.

but with the way his gaze becomes hooded as the chains of self-restraint shackles his hands and ankles, you think you know what he means.

instead of offering an answer, you sweep your tongue over the length of his digit, mouth opening to lightly bite his finger all the while gazing into his stormy eyes.

“guess i’m just a little kitten compared to the wolves in that room full of old wolves to you, huh?”

once the storm passes, his gaze becomes hooded with something - something you can’t pinpoint.

yet you let him slide his finger deeper into your mouth, feeling the soft pink flesh of your tongue on his fingertip.

you flutter your lashes skittishly, hand pushing the hair to the back of your ear as you lick a strip down his finger like you would his other head. but the rap on your door and the “miss ____, it’s yeojun,” coming from the other side almost sends your heart leaping into your throat.

you suck in a deep breath around hoseok’s finger before pulling away and stepping to the side, completely aware of the sexual tension that hovers in the air like thick, dark clouds.

“yeojun, is everyone here?” your gaze is fixed on the handle that your hand’s reaching out for.

“everything’s set, we’re waiting on the priest to arrive,” his voice sounds muffled through the door.

you step out of the door with half-damp hair and a face bare of make up whilst patting down the skirt of your dress.

but it’s not your half-as-acceptable appearance that makes yeojun stare at you for five solid seconds.

rather, he’s staring at something behind you as you feel the warmth of a body heat against your back.

“i’ll be the one escorting my fiance, yeonjun.”

he speaks casually despite yeojun being older than him and yet it felt natural. hoseok holds out his arm for you as yeojun stepped back with a bow, making way for you and hoseok to walk down the hallway leading to the flight of stairs where the main hall would be.

x

“god, i hate ties,” hoseok murmurs under his breath from next to you, nimble fingers pulling on his collar.

“you wear it well for someone who claims to hate going around in crisp button downs and shiny leather loafers,” a smile tugs on the corners of your lips.

chanyeol finally stepped away with the madam for some fresh air. maybe the death glares she’d been shooting you since you arrived - has finally got the world spinning behind her eyes.

“was the only option an orphaned nobody like me had when i was offered to work a nine to five,” he says casually, still fumbling with his tie.

your hand feels like a child’s when you place it on his. he pauses, gazing down at you before letting his hand fall on his side whilst yours remain on the knot of his necktie.

“may i?”

hoseok’s head moves, not quite a nod but not a shake of ‘no’ either. so you take out the pin from your hair that yeojun fetched from your room after your hair started falling into your face with every head bow you made in front of the guest. undoing the knot on hoseok’s tie, you slip the pin between the knot before looping the end over the knot and patting it down once you’re done.

the ‘how did you learn to do that’ look that hoseok shoots you makes you laugh. he’s both impressed and suspicious.

“my mom-” the one who’s confined to the house your father give and can’t even attend her late husband’s memorial service, reception and after reception, “-taught me all the things i needed to know to be the ‘perfect’ wife.”

“never pegged you for someone who’d obediently absorb her teachings,” he comments.

back then, you were as ruthless and spoiled as they come. the fine lines on your mother’s forehead was probably caused by your bursts every time she tried to push her views on you.

“a year after you left the seong’s proposed for our families to join together... they had a son and daddy had a daughter at his disposal... i was preparing to be a bride because that’s all people around me made my life to be until i just... had enough of being treated like a doll. so i cut a deal with seong joongki, got rid of his dad so he could step up as head, we remained engaged until i turned 18 and broke it. now he’s one of the people i know i can count on,” a shrug of your shoulder and you look up to him, locking his gaze with yours.

“seong, huh?” hoseok scanned the faces of the guests behind you, eyes narrowed like a hawk before they paused on something.

his gaze returns to you, an overly sweet smile appearing on his face as his dimples dig into his cheeks, “people like him cut and run when things get messy.”

you laugh, it sounds tired, but it’s still laugh, “if he does, i’d be the one to tell him to.”

“and i’ll put a bullet in his head if you didn’t,” he says words of murder like a romantic confession as he gazes into your eyes like there’s no where he’d rather be.

that is, until an unfamiliar voice calls the husband of the heiress by his name.

x

“namjoon,” hoseok hugs the chairman of kimcorp. for a lingering moment as the man pats his back once, as if unspeakingly consoling him.

kim namjoon, the second child and heir of kimcorp. and hoseok’s college friend and boss who booked a sudden trip back to seoul at the news of the head of the han group’s passing.

though the later generation washed their hands off the dirty work that got them where they are, they still remember their roots.

when they break apart, hoseok turns to you, arm around your waist, “___, this namjoon. namjoon- ___... my wife.”

hearing the word ‘wife’ slip out of hoseok’s mouth warms your heart yet makes your stomach knot painfully. ironic how you’d want to believe the heartrendering way he introduced you to be anything more than the act you told him to put on.

“ah,” kim namjoon narrows his eyes at you, as if shifting through his memories, “the kid hoseok babysat.”

the disparaging regard to your status as heiress tells you enough what this so-called friend of hoseok thinks of you.

“the friendless nerd hobi befriended out of pity,” you state, flashing you best smile.

a nod from his side. as if saying ‘touché’.

“ah, mrs. aera didn’t come?” hoseok asks, eyes searching the crowd until namjoon shakes his head, a meaningful smile playing on his lips.

“she’s too tired so i told her to rest at home,” he says and hoseok nods, as if understanding the underlying reason that kim aera is missing from honoring the master his husband’s family’s served for generations.

the kim’s are one of the oldest families that was tied down to han group by an oath. your great great great grandfather helped his great grandfather build the legacy the kim’s found themselves on now.

though the later generation washed their hands off the dirty work that got them where they are, they still remember their roots.

he steps away, greeting chanyeol and han chohee, your father’s legal wife before meandering away and keeping out of the spotlight for the rest of the night while you amble languidly with your hand on hoseok’s arm, exchanging pleasantries with the guests like it’s a wedding rather than a funeral until it’s time for the head of the family to gather in the boardroom.

everywhere you and hoseok goes, eyes follow. those who you approach tenses up while they wear their best smiles and utter words of sweet saccharine but as soon as the attorney turns up, you have no sliver of doubt that these people will be the first to vote for your head if it turns out the will appoints chanyeol as the next and rightful heir of han group.

those who you pass by end up with twisted faces. they’re the acquaintances of the han group, loyal to no master - the actual people who’d cut and run.

“mr. jee,” the middle aged man with too big of a nose and overbearing personality turns his full attention to you after hoseok was done talking about the stock market he’d been investing in, “a friend of mine, doctor maria wong, is a skin specialist who just received the asan award in medicine for her recent findings, i can introduce you to her, if you’d like.”

the youngest jee suffers from a rare skin condition which is why she never attended any social functions. they claimed she got accepted to a boarding school in europe when she was actually getting treated in one of the most prestigious private hospitals in the world in switzerland.

the situation is kept under wraps. you lost one of your holiday villas for this piece of information.

“o-oh, yes,” it takes a moment of him staring at you like you’re emitting halo from your body before he stammers back to life, “i- we,” he looks at his wife who shares the same hopeful gleam, “would really like that.”

“one down... tens more to go,” hoseok murmurs under his breath when you walk away from the couple, “you’re pretty good this ‘you know whose side you should be on, don’t you’ kind of threat.”

“i threatened the jung hoseok to marry me, this is child’s play,” you shoot him a coquettish smile, not expecting for him to lean down to your ear and whisper lowly.

“the lock was on the whole time,” he chuckles as he straightens his back at the announcement summoning all the heads of the families present, its representative, the children of the han’s and their spouses to the meeting room.

hoseok pulls out a pair of tucson, ariz’s tucked behind him and places them on the metal tray soobin’s holding out. he slips a hand under his suit, pulling out a revolver from his shoulder holster you didn’t even know he had on. then, two grenades from each of his pockets like he’s taking out a piece of candy. a foldup knife from the pocket of his blazer.

red lights go off when he walks past the metal detector, cursing to himself before he shoots you a sheepish look - the one the new hoseok would - and bends down before pulling out two kolibri the size of your palm and appear like toy guns in hoseok’s that was strapped on both his ankles.

one of your father’s men manually hovers a handheld metal detector and scans him from head to toe before giving him the greenlight to walk into the room just as kang sungho screams, “i’m the uncle of the future head, you’ll regret this!”

you roll your eyes at the old man’s outburst, taking out the dagger strapped to your thigh and pretending to not notice hoseok’s ogling at your exposed thighs when the dress rides up.

“bringing a knife to a gun fight - ballsy,” hoseok murmurs under his breath, his words meant only for you as you join his side, both of you stepping into the still-empty boardroom as the heads of the branch families you pass by grumble to themselves, pulling out the weapons they have on them and piling the tray in front of them.

one even pulled out a bandolier wrapped underneath his coat. the others merely have a pile of handguns and revolvers on their tray.

“oh, i brought something better,” you feel your lips stretching into a smirk as hoseok pushes the chair behind you before slipping in the one next to you, inquisitive eyes boring into yours.

a peck lands on his lips as you giggle at the way his eyes go wide for the briefest moment.

“tch,” someone says as they pass you and hoseok. chanyeol sits across from you, glare digging holes into your skull as he looks at you as if you were guM under his sole.

“please, tell me you have a plan that involves me driving my fist in his face,” hoseok’s low voice sends shivers down your spine.

it takes a moment for you to grasp that his statement needs a response.

“even better,” you murmur, head tilted to him, “you’ll get to do whatever you want with him after we walk out of this room.”

x

“we can’t go on without a leader for longer than 48 hours!” kang sungho smacks his pudgy fist against the clear glass surface of the oval table.

“we get your frustrations head family kang, but we need to locate attorney hyeon first,” seong joongki speaks informally to the man 20 years his senior and kang sungho can only grit his teeth.

in this room, no peerage title exists. every head is equal and that means every single person here is below you and chanyeol, the heir and heiress of han group.

“for all we know, attorney hyeon could be dead,” ahn sujin glances around the room, meeting every eye of the head until her gaze rests on you, “they found traces of tires on the road and a wrecked tree trunk a few feet away.”

“are you saying attorney hyeon got into an accident on the way here but someone quickly moved the car and bodies as if they were planned it, auntie sujin?” chanyeol baritone cuts through the tense air.

he throws you a side glance as he sits at the end of the oval table where your father and his father and his father’s father sat, bearing the weight of a legacy as old and majestic as the royal family had they survived all these years. the audacity of this man you call a brother walked straight up to the seat your father used to occupy and plopped down as if he owned it.

“the crash mark in the bark of the tree was still fresh,” ahn sujin nods.

“well...” at the sound of your voice, the whole room falls silent, “let’s ask him shall we?”

soobin, nods at you like he’s known your ways for years. he pulls out a remote and the tv screens tacked behind the leader’s seat.

the screen flashes with a picture of uncle jihoon getting into a sleek black car with the plate number HG that only you, chanyeol, the madam and your father have access to.

a blurred buzzing echoes against the soundproof walls of the boardroom before it gradually becomes clearer.

“...get the names?” a deep voice asks - the owner sitting directly across from you stares with knitted brows as he focuses on the familiar sound.

“a-... -re you... sure about...? ...involve ...your mother’s family...” uncle jihoon’s dialect wrapped around the syllables of the words, giving out who that voice belongs to.

he used to be proud of where he came from and wore his dialect like a medal.

“..-actly, they’re my mom’s family. not mine. ‘sides, kang sungho’s been clinging onto dad like a fucking leech even though he knows there’s nothing he can offer us that we want.”

silence fills the audio.

hoseok’s hand slips over yours, as if reminding you to let out that breath you’ve been holding.

chanyeol’s jaw tightens as he shoots daggers at you with his eyes.

“the names, uncle.” a sense of urgency laces around chanyeol’s voice.

“th-the kang’s, byun’s and ahn’s agreed to get molly to the scorpios in thailand on 23rd of april on flight ka8792 at 2:35 pm.” uncle jihoon says after a heartbeat.

each of the families listed are known for either their couture designs that receive orders from ministers’ wives all over the world, custom made colognes or either owns five star hotels in south korea and overseas.

“this isn’t enough, you think the cops are gonna believe all we have is the names of families involved in some mid level drug smuggling? my reputation’s on the line here.”

“a-and a fishing vessel will be making port at around 3 in the morning five days from now. it’s owned by the cha’s, they’ve been using it to smuggle meth and hide it under the hauls of fish they caught.”

the cha’s hold the monopoly to the wet market business.

“that’ll do for now, get out.”

the audio cuts off and the screens begin to move again, this time showing shots of chanyeol and a man in his 40′s sitting across from each other, having coffee.

shifting your hand so your palm is facing up in hoseok’s, you slip your fingers in the gap of his longer ones.

“that’s detective kim namseok and my beloved brother having brunch together - that’s right, chanyeol with the held of uncle jihoon, sold the kang’s, byun’s, ahn’s and cha’s off in his grand scheme of getting the leader position in exchange for police immunity for the han group... oops?” your lips purse into a mocking pout.

“lies! you know how much this bitch wanted to take over han group!” chanyeol roars, pushing himself off the chair and turning to face the wide-eyed gazes and dropped jaws of the heads of the families.

“i-i was b-blackmailed...” uncle jihoon stares at his reflection in the table, as if in a whole different world, “i-it’s not my fault! the young master threatened me!”

“let’s ask the detective shall we? since it’s been  proven that men from the han group have a hard time believing the women’s words,” you roll your eyes.

the screen flashes with an dark, barren room with nothing but a man tied to a chair in the middle of it. his head is hung low but there’s no mistaking the sight of blood covering his face and shirt.

the ghost scent of the blood makes your stomach churn yet you wear the malicious smile of someone who’s about to grasp the very thing she desires - perfectly.

“he’s a little... tied up. we caught him just in time before he called up his partner and spilled everything your darling heir provided.”

“uh, hello? are we live?” a cautious, brittle-like voice echoes from the intercom as a man with greying hair enters the frame as he adjusts his glasses to sit higher on his nose bridge.

“attorney hyeon, you’re live,” you affirm, smiling tightly.

“ah, good evening,” a light of recognition glints in the man’s eyes as he smiles, bowing deeply before straightening his back and backing up until he’s standing next to the half-conscious detective, “i apologize for not being able to attend the meeting myself. i got into an accident, drugged and would have had my nails pulled out if miss han didn’t come to my rescue and brought me here.”

“argh... a... ah...” the detective interjects, groaning.

attorney hyeon laughs calmly as if he didn’t just hear the bloodied and bruised man asking for help.

“in my hands here, i have the contents of the will which i will now have my... uh, assistant-bodyguard share it to the screen and send to your phones... are you sure... they’re sent?” his voice becomes quieter whilst phones and tablets begin to ding with a notification simultaneously.

“... the three holiday villas in incheon, jeju and daegu will respectively go to the madam...” he begins listing out the properties owned by your late father and the distribution of a portion of it to the madam and your mother.

no one interjects even though attorney hyeon’s voice seems to drone on and one despite the tape and audio that leaves everyone on the edge of their seats.

“...and for matters regarding the succession of the new head, the boss, han jiseok, wishes a fair voting system be used to decide whether mr. han chanyeol or miss han ___ will take the position a starting a month after his death.” by the end of it, the room is deathly silent as if a pin drop would echo like thunder in this spacious room.

“the heir and heiress are given three months for them to prove themselves to the vassals and in the absence of a leader, jung hoseok will be appointed as proxy-”

at that, the whole room breaks out into a roar.

“jung hoseok hasn’t stepped foot in han manor for over fifteen years!”

“miss ___ and hoseok are married! this will lead to unfair results!”

a screech against the floor as a chair falls over.

“you still want to support the son of a bitch that’s willing to sell all of us out to the blue bastards?!”

“who’s to say the young master’s not selling out the names of sons of bitches like you who switches sides the first chance you have!”

in the midst of the shouting, chairs screeching and the elderly lawyer trying to gain calm the elders, chanyeol turns to you with the eyes of a man who’s watching his legacy fall right in his very eyes.

“i should’ve left you in the forest when we got lost 15 years ago,” he reaches for something behind his back.

you recall the brother with scratches all over his body, the sun was setting and his back had looked broad for your 8 year old self. you were just two kids who lost their way, slipped and fall in the forest not too far from the family villa.

that same brother is holding a gun to your face.

x

hoseok takes a long whiff of the cigarette that sits in between his index and middle fingers.

“that was a shitstorm,” someone laughs from behind him - your voice sounds oddly free for someone who’s about to either get hexed or get worshipped within three months.

the curve of smile on your lips makes him smile too. he breathes out, laughing, “yeah...”

“do you mind sharing?”

hoseok blinks once. then he regains his senses, looking at the smoldering bud and tapping the middle part of the cigarette with the tip of his index finger to get the ash off so it wouldn’t hurt you if it fell.

“yeah... here.” he pushes down the wince that comes from the slightest strain of passing the cigarette to you.

the way your eyes linger on the clean white bandage on his arm tells him you’re not fooled by his unfazed mask. yet you don’t say anything, your eyes flutter close as your matte burgundy lips wrap around the beige colored bud and inhale.

when chanyeol pulled out the gun, hoseok tried to reason him out of it. promises were made at the expense of his own life. all that, in exchange for yours. in the fleeting moment that chanyeol took to consider pointing the gun at hoseok, you find your opening, shoving his hand upward and hitting that spot in his rib.

the bullet didn’t hit you but it grazed hoseok’s arm. he was standing right next to you.

And hoseok has a brand new pack of cigarettes in his pocket along with an electric lighter - he’d probably grab them both in one grasp if he slipped his hand in his pocket now.

for some reason, he takes the cigarette you pass and takes a good, long whiff out of it.

“did you know?” the puffs of smoke pass through your mouth as you speak and breathe out.

“when i left,  boss told me that i should be ready to drop everything i have... everything i am at any moment... they would have dragged me back one way or another and it’s not gonna be with a gun with its safety lock on if i didn’t walk in on my own accords,” hoseok taps the ashes off a second time, watching them flutter down and settle in between the green blades of grass.

a sense apprehension follows your nod as you stare at your reflection in your polished pumps, “after all this... after i convince the vassals, i’ll make sure you walk out of this alive. heck, i’ll sign the divorce papers today-”

the half of the unsmoked cigarette hits the ground.

hoseok finds himself swallowing the gasp that slips out of your lips at his sudden movement. you freeze underneath his fingertips like the ice you build in your heart but you don’t push him away and hoseok takes that as a maybe.

maybe there’s stability in this chaos.

maybe love does bloom in the most desolate place.

he feels his heart leap into his throat when your arm goes around his neck as you kiss him back just as desperately.

maybe, just maybe, you need him as much as he needs you.

x

the three months fly by with you gathering the majority of the votes by exposing the dirt you have on chanyeol as well as obtaining support from the main branch families by giving them more control over the underground market that was previously monopolized by han group.

though you’re competing with no one, the three month grace period still went on to ease you into the leadership spot.

to keep everything fair, you and hoseok lived apart. him in his apartment he’d been living in up till now and you in one of the holiday villas that your father gifted your mother.

by virtue, you had every right to keep staying in the main mansion as the heiress but chanyeol’s presence was still too strong. his people still lurk behind the mask of the so called loyalty for the han group. he’s locked in one of the safest hideout where only a selected few know where it is. one of them being hoseok. you never asked him what happened with your brother.

that brother of yours was dead to you the moment he pointed a gun at your head.

and with that, you find yourself in a standstill when it comes to your relationship with hoseok.

the last time you mentioned divorce was on the day the will was read. you ended up in one of the empty guest rooms in the mansion because yours was too far away. hoseok fucked you into the silk satin material of the bed like he did that night. as if begging you to keep him - even if it was only for cheap thrills and fleeting passion.

once you stepped out of that room - somewhat presentable and barely any feelings in your leg, so much so, he had to wrap an arm around you to keep you upright - he was whisked away to discuss ground rules of what being the proxy head is entitled.

and that included maintaining a professional - as professional as a mafia leader can be - relationship with the heir and heiress he were to oversee.

once the three months were over, hoseok moved in with you. did all the things married couples would do - attended social functions and established your power as the head and him, the husband of said head. as if saying he had no eye for the position of the head. as if saying if they’d get on their knees and bow down at his will, they better be ready to die for you at his will. only when you’re away on trips overseas, visiting other ruling families in tokyo, hong kong, china and everywhere in asia - would he take over your job.

he kept the men in check and made sure they had a good beating if they went astray. and even then, they’d still follow him to the ends of the earth.

jung hoseok has the full support of the people who swore loyalty to the han family and you have the majority support of the heads of the branch family.

to anyone and everyone, you two make a dangerously powerful couple.

except there’s one problem: you’ve only consummated your marriage once and you can barely kiss your husband without him running away like you’re the literal devil that’s after him.

“h-honey, you’re back,” hoseok stammers, his adam’s apple bobbing as he gazes down at your exposed cleavage that’s pressed up against his body, trapping him between the desk and you.

he looks as if he’s a touch away from losing his mind and fucking you against the table in front of the frames of your predecessors on the wall.

but then his phone vibrates in his pocket and he doesn’t need to take it but he does, a ‘namjoon’ flashing across the screen.

as if seeing a lightbulb go off his head, you shake your head, ‘don’t you dare’.

“i remember taehyun caught the baek’s men in our territory, they’re in the tortu- interrogation room. i was gonna kill them and get rid of their bodies, but since you’re back... i have golf with namjoon, see you tonight.” with that, he kisses you on the corner of your mouth.

in other words, hoseok was saying ‘they’re your problem now, boss.’

“wh-what, jung hoseok, you-!” you manage to yell back but he’s out of the door before you knew it.

hours later, the clock hands strike an hour and a half past midnight as they mock you for making your own husband run away at the sight of you. the door clicks twice as some slips in and shuts it behind them.

you don’t even catch the sound of footsteps as hoseok goes about the room, taking off his shirt and wrapping a towel around his waist. the only indication he’s even here is the body that suddenly freezes up at the sudden flash of light on the nightstand on your side.

“where were you?”

“i was out... golfing... with namjoon...” he drags out the sentence as if his brain short circuited when put in the spotlight in nothing but a flimsy towel around that muscular body of his.

“your wife comes back after two weeks and you decide to go golfing on the very day she touched down?” you say curtly, arms crossed over your lace donned chest.

“i-...” hoseok starts pointing to the open bathroom door behind him that he was about to go in had it not been for your abrupt intervention.

“come here,” you order.

“i just got back and i sweated a lot-” is it the way your eyes bore into his without so much as blinking that makes him clamp his mouth shut?

“yes, ma’am.”

a sigh leaves your lips heartbeats after he comes to stand by the bed, head hanging low like a puppy who knows he’s about to receive a scolding. but you’re not his owner and hoseok’s your husband. your lifetime companion.

“hobi,” the nickname slips out of your mouth without you realizing it as your fingers graze his, tugging on his index finger like a child.

he seems to understand your beckoning, bed dipping when he takes a seat, facing you. it takes everything in you not to let your eyes linger longer than a millisecond at the way the towel ends up stretching, revealing a very noticeable lump protruding in between his thighs.

you clear your throat, mentally chiding yourself for the wave of memories that flood your mind when hoseok is looking at you with attentive eyes. all ears for you.

“for some reason, i feel like you’ve been avoiding me and it’s not just this afternoon. since we started living together... it feels like we’re back to being strangers with memories who happen to have to spend their lives together from now on.” you play with his fingers that you tuck into your lap, heart beating too fast for you to look at him in the eye.

and to think you started off like a lioness prepared for war.

all of a sudden, the temperature of the room drops as you mention the word you promised you’d never utter again since the day of the reading of the will.

“i meant what i said about divorce - monthly alimony until the day you die, a house in gangnam a car with a driver, all expenses paid. and if you find someone and want to start a family with them, i swear on my honor as the head of han group, your family will be protected under our care for as long as i’m alive.”

“i don’t want a divorce.” hoseok says, sounding somewhat hurt.

“then- why-” you begin but he cuts you off with his troubled voice.

“____, i watched over you, i dropped you off and pick you up after school,  taught you how to ride a bicycle-”

this time, it’s you who speaks over him,“-ten years ago. hobi -”

i’m an adult who literally knows how to put a bullet in someone’s head.

but you don’t get to say that when hoseok shakes his head.

“do you remember why you started calling me that? because you came home one day and said you learned a new word- hope. you said i was your hope and you were so excited because you could equate a new word to someone you know... someone who’s been like a brother figure to you- how messed up am i to marry the little girl that i watched over and actually desire her as a woman now?”

“so you do see me as a woman.” is all you say.

“is that all you heard, ___?” hoseok’s wide eyed gaze bore into yours, as if disbelieved by your nonchalance.

“it’s the only thing i care about,” you shrug, the easy arrogance almost costing you another ruined relationship but you sigh a second later, eyes fixed on the motionless hand in your lap before you slip your hand in his, holding it like you’re about to commence a thumb war, “i may have acted like a spoiled brat the majority of the time after we met again which is probably why this whole existential crisis is happening right now,” you laugh, “it’s easier to play the role of a bimbo daughter than a strong overbearing heiress. i guess i acted like that for so long, i started becoming that.

your hand lies still in hoseok’s as you look up, meeting his gaze for what it is, “i admit, it’s my fault if you think that my feelings spurred from the fond memories of the only person who treated me like a human.”

“but i assure you, i didn’t get to where i am now because i’m driven by sentiments like hate for chanyeol and everyone who looked down on me nor the love i had for you as a guardian. in life, there’s only one thing i want and that’s to be the head of han group. you’re a chest piece that helps turn the tables around for me but you’re not my only piece.”

the line of hoseok’s shoulders sag, as if hearing the truth hurt him more than the lie convinced himself of.

“choosing to make you my king is entirely up to me... not because of some childhood memory or dependency on a guardian figure like you thought but...” your thumb grazes hoseok’s knuckles as you lift his hand to your lips, pressing a lingering kiss on his knuckles, “we can take it slow, i won’t tease you anymore and you can see for yourself how true my words are.”

“feels like i should be the one saying that,” the lips on your forehead feels warm, spreading through your body like a mid summer’s night.

arms wrap around your body, hugging you to a strong, tight, unclothed chest as your breath hitches in your throat. you raise your hands to return the embrace but decide against it - it feels like a sin to be drooling over hoseok’s abs and greek god-like body when you’ve just promised to stop jumping the gun.

“you smell nice,” you finally cave, slender hands wrap around his naked torso as you breathe in his scent - a faint trace of musk and sea and masculinity.

at that, the body underneath you seems to freeze up, “i-i think i should take that shower now.”

hoseok’s sudden retreat almost has you falling face first into the sheets. you watch as he covers his face with that large, pretty hands of his while his feet carries him into the bathroom door and closes it shut.

x

the room is silent.

save for the sound of the droplet gathering underneath the tap before hitting the quartz countertop.

hoseok stares at himself in the mirror. lips parted, glazed eyes that are becoming clearer with each passing second as if gradually realizing the sticky situation he found himself in.

the bathroom smells like your favorite floral bath gel but he can still sense the scent of his arousal that, after running the shower head over, finally washed down the drain.

the water was obviously hot. not scalding - hoseok couldn’t take scalding hot showers like you do. but since he’d moved in and after screaming and almost tumbling down to his death if the water didn’t boil him alive first - the next day, he’d found the water to be cooler. warm enough not to make him freeze but not hot enough to have his skin emitting vapor like a half cooked human meat.

but that’s besides the point.

the point is - he’s already had a good, warm shower and jerked himself off but he’s still hard.

it’s the way your delicate frame presses against him when you try to hug him. no- hoseok shakes his head mentally, it’s the way you breathe and compliment his scent which, hoseok is certain, smells like sweat and grass and soil that he rolled over after miserably failing to hit the ball.

he might be well acquainted with riches and luxuries but he’ll get used to these rich people hobby namjoon’s been trying to get him on after his marriage with the head of han group.

these days, it feels like namjoon’s been trying to get hoseok to meet him more than the times they have to actually see each other when he was slaving over his perfectionist ass at work.

before hoseok can even ponder further on namjoon’s unarousing quirks and get his boner down, he hears a rap on the door and a hesitant,“hobi?”

“y-yeah?” ha manages to answer somewhat smoothly.

“i just wanted to say that i can sleep in my old room... if you’re not comfortable sleeping in the same-”

“no!” a rushed rejection, a heart trembling inside a chest.

hands of fear grasps at his wrists and ankles as though if he stayed tight-lipped any longer, he might actually walk out to an empty bedroom with no trace of you at all.

as this is all just one beautiful, tragic dream.

“no, i like sleeping with you.” hoseok slaps himself in the cheek, “i mean i like sleeping next to you... in the same bed.”

the silence seems to stretch on for hours until he hears the giggle coming from the other side of the door - hoseok’s heart warms, you sound like you’re back to yourself, “okay, well, come to bed faster.”

“i will!” he curses himself for that rushed response but you’re probably back in bed with the lights from the nightstand off, probably tired as fuck after a one hour flight back to seoul, having had baek’s men’s territory breach matters shoved into your arms and waiting up on your pitiful husband who was avoiding you over his conflicted conscience.

by the time he’s out of the bathroom, loose pajama pants hanging lowly around his hips, he sees that small lump underneath the blanket, your fetal position telling him you fell asleep facing his side of the bed.

hoseok slips into bed, laying on his side and admiring your pretty lips and thick lashes. his hand clenches and unclenches as if he’s not sure if he should sleep hugging you the way he’s used to.

he caves, hand wrapping around your back as he kisses the top of your head.

unbeknownst to him, you’re still awake. you pretended to be asleep because you didn’t want to make hoseok uncomfortable. but now he’s cuddling you like a child whilst his semi erected head presses against your stomach and it’s kind of too late to say anything.

not to mention, you were a virgin up until awhile ago and you’re not sure if it’s normal for men to be able to hold out this long without fucking their wives or if hoseok’s self-restraint is just over the roof and you’re the one with too high of a libido.

‘damn it, should’ve jumped on his dick before initiating a heart-to-heart.’

[alaskasmonsters]

No Strings to Hold us Down | Takami Keigo

(spoilers for chapter 299 ahead!) 

requested by @waffleareniceandfluffy​: can I request a hawks x reader where yk how ehe in the car with best jeanist faked his death all that yeah and he says he’s free of his shackles can you do where they’re both free and they discuss his backstory (reader is childhood friend she knows about his abuse) and can you include any other thing chapter 299 with him as like can u make it hella angsty but with a little fluff and definitely a fluff ending.

part two

pairing: takami keigo x fem!reader

w.c: 4.269

warnings: spoilers for ch. 299, some amount of angst (with happy ending), mentions of neglectful parents

a.n: so this took me a hot minute and i’m so sorry you had to wait for so long! it’s also like 4 k words and i don’t know how or when that happened i-... i hope it’s angsty enough and i hope you like it! please enjoy :) <3

The silence hung thickly in the air of the freshly washed car, weighing heavily on you. A glance to the side told you that Keigo was still asleep, head propped up against the window.

He’d fallen asleep as soon as you’d taken off from the hospital, the only sign he was still alive was the even lifting and lowering of his chest.

You knew he was fine, Keigo was the most stubborn person you knew and as long as he hadn’t given up yet, there was nothing that could keep him from going on. Still, there was this little voice at the back of your head, barely an itch, that urged you to make sure just once more, if he was still alive, still breathing, still going.

He’d taken a lot of damage during his battle with Dabi. The villain hadn’t held back, hadn’t even hesitated when he’d burned his wings off, almost ruining the cells in his shoulder blades they were sprouting from beyond fixing, before he had moved on to his face and neck, leaving nasty burn marks behind wherever his hands had reached.

You remembered when you had stormed into his room, ignoring everyone who told you to take care of your own injured first, to take it slow, saying Keigo needed rest now, and you had first laid eyes on his battered form. The bandages covering his body, the absence of his wings, the peaceful look on his burned face as he was still sleeping soundly.

For a moment, a never ending moment, you had thought he was dead. You wouldn’t have known what to do then, when Keigo had actually left you behind, all alone in a big cold world, a world even colder without his silly jokes and genuine smiles. It had been awful, that feeling of dread, heavy and suffocating, that had taken a grip on your throat and squeezed.

Then the beeping of the vital signs monitor had reached your eyes, barely audible through the ringing of your ears and the loud beating of your eyes and you’d been able to breathe again.

Since then you hadn’t left Keigo’s side, even denied Best Jeanists help when he’d suggested to accompany the two of you. He’d wanted to drive, since you were still heavily injured, but you’d denied.

It felt too personal, visiting the house of Keigo’s mother, a woman you’d only met once before but had heard too many stories about, to not be by Keigo’s side when he had to face her after years of separation.

Luckily, Best Jeanist had realized this and instead agreed to meet you back at the hospital later, leaving Keigo and you alone on your ride to your destination.

Out of the corner of your eyes you saw your friend’s body stirring, straightening out of his hunched over position, his eyes blinking open tiredly before he seemed to recognize where he was.

“I’m sorry. I fell asleep,” the robotic voice of the translation app he was using, chimed through the car.

Another reminder of how close Dabi had gotten to him, you thought.

You glanced at him, your eyes falling on the muzzle he was wearing that prevented him from using his voice.

You smiled at him, hands tightening their grip on the steering wheel as you stopped at a red light.

“It’s okay. I’m glad you’re alright.”

You seemed to repeat yourself around him a lot since he’d woken up. “It’s okay.”, “I’m glad you’re alright.”, “How are you feeling?”. At this point you felt like a broken record. If he noticed, Keigo didn’t mention it.

“I’m glad that everything with Best Jeanist went smooth,” the voice chimed back.

You remembered when Keigo told you about it. The plan involved Best Jeanist. Before he’d even asked the man himself about it.  He probably hadn’t been allowed, the commission usually forbade any exchange of important information between the two of you, but Keigo never cared.

He had always told you anything, it’s been like that since forever.

The rest of the 40 minute ride was endured in silence. Keigo was looking out of the window, eyes unfocused, and you tried to focus your attention back on the street. The concerned voice was pushed to the back again.

You arrived soon after, parking the car in an empty spot and exiting the vehicle together with Keigo. The mansion at the end of the street caught your eyes immediately and you were once again impressed how much money the commission was willing to spend to keep their little pet obedient.

“Is that it?” you asked, covering your eyes against the blinding winter sun.

“Inside that house,” Keigo assured, passing you without giving you a second glance.

You let out a sigh, sensing his nervousness, maybe even fear to see his mother again. Locking the car, you followed after him, stomach churning with something you could only identify as dread.

When you arrived at the door Keigo rummaged around in his pockets before he pulled out a key card. He hesitated, grip tight around the little piece of plastic, before turning to you and typing a few words into his translation app.

“Before I fully recover and show my face again...you know there is something I need to be sure of.”

Maybe he felt like he had to explain himself, as if you didn’t already know exactly why he came all the way here to see his mom again after he hadn’t even bothered to keep in touch with her the last few years. His eyes were searching your face, hand on the handle and you gave him a soft nod.

“I know,” you replied quietly.

He opened the door wide and you entered the house.

It looked just as spacey and clean as the outside let suspect. The interior was beautifully put together, the furniture was expensive looking and excessive. It looked all very tidy and you knew that the way everything was decorated has probably been the work of interior designers.

Something about the fact that the place reminded you strangely of where Keigo was living stuck with you. His apartment was just as clean, just as nicely decorated by the hands of strangers, just as well put together.

How ironic.

The similarity of it. Mother and son both separated and still connected through the hands of the commission, the organisation the woman sold her son to.

It made you feel sick, no matter how much Keigo acted like it didn’t bother him, it just seemed to anger you twice as much.

How these people working for the Hero Public Safety Commission managed to make it appear all nice and clean from the outside, sweeping all the unpleasant details under the rug. They made Keigo the perfect hero, paid off his mother and ensured their comfort, ensured your comfort to him. Only to have the man in their debt.

The commission loved how close you and Keigo were, if only to use your friendship against you and use it to their advantage. Although it had only been him they had taken in, fixed up and trained for years, you were just as much controlled by them as he was. Due to your friendship.

They didn’t think of you as talented or as perfect as him. Hawks was charming, impressive, loved by the public, the number two hero! You weren’t even in the Top Twenty, your quirk wasn’t as flashy as most of Japan’s Top Heroes’ and you weren’t as loved by the public either.

You were only useful to them when it came to the dirty work, keeping Keigo in line that was (and you hated it hated it hated it), being the one responsible when he had to get punished after a mistake he made because it was on you when you didn’t pay enough attention, wasn’t it?

And only because the two of you had been childhood friends. Because you knew Keigo better than anybody else in this world, even himself. Keigo did have no issue sacrificing himself, burning himself out in the process if that meant he did a good job. You were the one who had to ensure he was at peak performance at all times.

Of course, being the commission, they had also used their sources (you didn’t believe it was Keigo who had told them, he would have never done as much) to uncover your awful past and find out about your family home just to use those things against you. As leverage. As if Keigo’s safety and wellbeing wasn’t motivation enough.

Your past was filled with pain and regrets.

Your mom, who’d left you with your dad after you were born and your dad who’d turned to alcohol and drugs to numb the pain.

The man had neglected everything. His health, his job, his life...you. So it had been your responsibility to keep the both of you afloat. You had started shoplifting when you were merely old enough to tell the difference between left and right. Everything you’d stolen, you’d taken to keep your dad and you alive.

The commission knew about this and liked to use it against you. It didn’t matter that you’d only been a child, old enough to know better for sure but too young to see any other possibilities for your hopeless situation.

You had met Keigo back then, too, when you’d been 7 and he’d been 8, after you had stolen from a small shop and accidentally caused havoc when you were caught and ran away, causing two cars to crash into each other when you’d crossed the street without looking, which forced one of them to swerve the other way so it wouldn’t hit you.

Keigo had found you hiding behind a group of trash cans in an alleyway crying, saying his feathers had tingled and that’s how he knew something had happened in the city. He had wanted you to return what you’ve stolen but when you had told him in tears about your situation and begged him not to tell anyone he had taken pity on you. Making a promise to not snitch on you if you were being more careful.

That’s how you’d become friends.

Although he’d gotten in trouble for leaving his house, beaten and screamed at by his paranoid piece of garbage of a father, who believed he’d tried to rat him out or something...That didn’t stop Keigo from seeing you again.

You would both sneak out in the middle of the night to see each other, meeting in forests and on playgrounds all around the town. He’d share food with you or bring you little things he’d managed to sneak from his dad’s newest gig.

Since that day in the dirty alleyway, Keigo had never stopped taking care of you. The both of you felt connected through your abusive fathers and (in Keigo's case emotionally) absent mothers. You both had scars you'd rather hide with everyone but never each other and you both felt lost, unable to be yourself in a home you didn't belong in.

You had realized, even at your young age, that you could never let him leave because you’d never find a person like him ever again.

So when the commission got involved, when they took him away, isolated him from his old environment, which involved you as well, your heart broke.

Although Keigo, sweet caring Keigo (who now had to go by Hawks. Commission’s orders.) still never entirely left you. He’d asked the commission for one more favor beside taking care of his mother and him. They had to ensure your safety, get you away from your father and into a better household.

You were the very first person he’s saved and although he tried to downplay it you knew he was proud of the fact that it held him together on days he didn’t feel much like a hero.

These days, it was rather often...

The house remained silent, the calls of the robotic voice for Keigo’s mother echoing through the big room.

No answer followed.

You looked around the room, noticing that what you had called clean before was really just the absence of everything that was supposed to tell someone that this mansion was inhabited. No dirty dishes, no books or newspapers lying around, not even a glass of water on the sink.

“Do you think she left overnight?” you asked, strolling around.

Keigo didn’t answer your question so you turned around to see him standing with his back to you, something clutched into his hand. Curious of what he had found you stepped up from behind him to look over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of what looked like a letter addressed to Keigo.

From his mother.

“Did Dabi use people for this...? How did he even get this far...?”

You hummed softly, reaching up to grasp his shoulder tightly. Keigo had already suspected that it must have been his mother to tell Dabi or people Dabi sent about his real name and family background. Still you knew there was a little part of him that had hoped this not to be true.

Now, though, with the letter that his mom left behind in her abandoned home, there was no doubt about it.

His shoulders sacked and his body hunched over as he let out a deep sigh, barely audible through the muzzle.

“Guess it really was my mother that leaked it then,” for some reason even the robotic voice sounded heartbroken about the fact.

You reached up to card your fingers through the hair at the back of his head, or rather the part that wasn’t covered by bandages.

“I’m sorry, Kei,” you mumbled lowly.

He leaned into your touch and let out another deep sigh, the tiredness that had been edged into his features ever since he had woken up in the hospital bed seemed even more prominent now under the cold lights of the living room.

“When the name “Takami” had been taken from me, the relationship between my mother and i had finally disappeared. I had always thought i was fine with that,” he explained, the robotic voice breaking the silence again.

“What i thought of as being saved was just me turning my back on everything. Even on you, y/n.”

You looked up in surprise at his words, staring at the back of his bandaged head with furrowed brows.

“You’ve never turned your back on me, Keigo,” you assured him, giving his shoulder another squeeze.

How he could even think that he’d ever done as much was beyond confusing to you.

Keigo reached to put his hand on your hand, the skin warm against yours and the touch comforting. He tightened his grip ever so slightly.

“Yes I did,” the speech assistant continued, “After we’ve met again a few years back, I’ve run from you, kept my distance, because you represented what i wanted to be but couldn’t.”

After we met again a few years back.

You’d seen him in the news one day, when you were still training in hero school, and recognized him immediately as your childhood friend, even after all the years you’d been separated.

The huge red wings were a distinct tell.

You had run out of the Starbucks, leaving behind your freshly ordered drink to where you’d heard the incident had occurred. Out of breath and disheveled from all the running you’d gotten there just in time to reunite with Keigo for the first time in years.

Since then you’d never left him out of your sight again, too scared you’d end up losing him again.

Hearing Keigo say that he’d tried the complete opposite, keeping a distance to you because of what you’d represented, something he wanted to be but couldn’t...what did that even mean?

“A guy who helps people...”

Your hand felt cold when Keigo dropped his own again, letting it hang off to his side.

“That’s the only thing that’s returned. Actually it’s refreshing,” he continued.

The air around you felt heavy, suffocating, just like earlier in the car, just like when you’d stepped into his hospital room. Although now the reason for it was a completely different one.

“What do you mean?” you asked quietly, your voice barely a whisper.

“The commission is currently at a stand still, y/n, in total dysfunction.”

You swallowed thickly at the reminder. The commission, the one thing haunting the both of you whenever you were with each other, the organization holding Keigo in an iron clasp and ensuring his obedience with your help...since the Jaku Hospital Raid, since Dabi exposed Endeavor and Hawks, the number 1 and number 2 heroes of Japan, they’d been silent.

Scarily so.

“There is no one to give me orders anymore. And they won’t be able to control you anymore either. I won’t let them.”

You took a step back away from the man when you noticed how violently he smashed the screen, his shoulders tense and the recovering wings under his jacket bulking.

“Keigo...” you tried weakly.

“They won’t get to abuse your kindness anymore, have you chained to me..”

You didn’t have to see the look in his face to know what emotion was displayed on it, neither did you have to hear his voice.

Your heart dropped at the words, at the bitterness he so desperately wanted to put into them but couldn’t because of his injured throat.

“Keigo,” you repeated, this time with more insistence.

“I know why you did it. You wanted to return the favor. I saved you, you save me,” the electronic voice sounded awfully smug all out of the sudden.

Your stomach twisted, a horrible hot sensation built in your chest and you had to clench your jaw to stop yourself from saying the first thing to come to mind.

Which would have been an insult.

You clenched your fists, pinned them to your side as you stared at Keigo’s back, your face twisted into an ugly expression.

“No, fuck that,” you spit, “how dare you?”

His face came into view when he turned half to look at you over his shoulder, eyebrows lifted in surprise at your outbreak.

You snarled, unable to contain the hurt as tears started to build behind your eyes.

You’d always been an emotional crier and you really hated it.

“It’s not about a favor. Don’t say shit like that.”

Hawks cocked his head, eyeing you for a moment before he fully turned towards you. His posture was more relaxed than before but there was a question behind his eyes.

He lowered his glance only to type in the next words...

“What? You care about me so much, sweetheart?”

You scoffed, wiping at your eyes in frustration.

“You know i do, stupid bird brain,” you said, still angry.

How could he even believe for a second that you endured the commission’s whining and yammering out of guilt. How could he not know how much you cared for him after all the years you’d been by his side now, after all the times you’d been there for him.

Keigo grasped your wrist, stopping your frantic wiping to push them away and make place for his own hands, thumbs softly brushing the wetness from your cheeks.

He found your eyes, his own wrinkling at the edges.

“No chains left,” the phone chimed.

You watched in anticipation as Keigo reached behind him, hands moving to his neck, and removed loosened the clasp, pulling the muzzle off.

Now you could see the smile, too.

“To shackle us down,” he told you with a hoarse voice.

“Kei,” you scolded him, looking down at the muzzle between his fingers.

You took a step towards him, closing the distance between you. Then you reached forward to gently run your fingers down his throat. The fabric of the bandages was rough against your fingers.

Hopefully he hadn’t started talking too soon.

“Y/n.”

You looked up at him and caught his eyes that were staring down at you with a determination you’d seen directed at you so often before, but couldn’t deny they had still the same effect on you as if it were the first time. Making your head all dizzy, that was.

“When we’re driven into corners, we find liberation. That’s when a true person’s nature rears its head. That’s why Bubaigawara was such a great guy,” he explained, gripping your wandering fingers into his hand, holding them close.

“At heart, he was desperate to be a help to others. I also want to be like that.”

You smiled up at him, squeezing his skin between yours.

“You’re already like that, Kei. You’ve always taken care of me, haven’t you?” you teased, hoping to ease the tension between the two of you a little.

“I think it was more the other way around, y/n.”

“I don’t-“

“Without you...i would have never known what it is like to have someone care for you. To have someone by your side no matter what. To understand...i think i would have never understood what it meant to love.”

You froze, staring up at Keigo with wide eyes. He tightened his grip around your hand, feeling that you wanted to draw back, instead keeping you close, thumb softly stroking the back of your hand as a way of calming you down.

“I think i love my mother, but that’s more out of obligation than anything,” he explained, searching your eyes but you couldn’t tell what he was looking for, “I never feel like i have to be anything than me when i’m with you. Nothing about being with you feels forced, or like it’s an obligation. It’s just...us.”

The room was spinning suddenly as you felt something cold wash over you. Your chest tightened, your heart daring jump out with every harsh beat against your ribcage.

He couldn’t be saying what he was saying...right?

He didn’t mean that. He couldn’t mean that.

“Keigo...are you saying you love me? As in...in love with me?” you wanted to laugh, just a little, to lighten the mood, but it got stuck in your throat on its way out.

Unlike you the man in front of you looked calm, not at all deterred by your panicked state.

“Yeah, I do. I think I have for a while now, but i didn’t fully realize until recently.”

Still gripping your hand in his left one he raised the other to your face, gently cupping your cheek. You leaned into the touch instinctively.

A faint smile tugged at his lips at your action.

“It’s alright if you don’t return my feelings, but I think you do.”

You frowned in thought.

You’ve never thought of the man in front of you as anything else than just Keigo, the kind hearted boy whom you met in a dirty alleyway, the one that brought a little girl food and presents every now and then. The teenager who wrote letters once in a while to keep you up-to-date. The man who you spend your free days with, eating chicken and watching movies.

You meant it when you’d said you wouldn’t leave his side, not if you had any say in the matter. Now, you weren’t entirely sure what you meant with that.

Stay with him? Forever?

Maybe Keigo was right.

He was always able to read you better than anybody else, just like you were the one to know him best as well. That’s also why he noticed your inner turmoil just by looking at your screwed up face.

“May i kiss you?”

Your breath hitched, warmth spreading through your chest as your heart fluttered in your ribcage.

“Yeah.”

His lips were warm against yours, the touch soft and delicate. Like he was testing the waters, giving you the opportunity to pull away if you wanted to.

The feeling was foreign to you. You had kissed other people before, quick pecks, sloppy kisses, passionate making out...But this, this felt different to all of them.

He kissed you gently, carefully, holding you with a delicacy you weren’t used to.

Your heart pounded in your chest as your knees suddenly grew weak, hand reaching out to curl around the back of Keigo’s head, urging him even closer.

He pulled you in, accepting the closeness happily as he deepened the kiss. The taste of toothpaste invaded your mouth.

Your mind went blank, the only coherent thought you were able to grasp was that you were making out with Keigo...in his mom’s house.

How ironic.

Your lips tingled when the two of you parted again, the aftertaste of peppermint lingering on your tongue. The warmth in your chest had spread to your face and you weren’t sure if you were blushing out of embarrassment or glowing because wow...that was something.

Keigo was staring down at you with an undefinable look in his eyes, but he looked happy, content like this and it made something in your chest flutter softly.

You did that.

“I-“ you started but the wide grin spreading on your face against your will, growing despite your attempts to suppress it with a bite to your tongue, made your voice die with a squeak.

The man chuckled, the outline of his wings moving under the fabric of his jacket and the thought of Keigo ruffling his wings joyfully in response to your obvious happiness...you wanted to kiss him silly.

“I think i love you, too, Keigo.”

He might have been the happiest bird man in the whole entire world when you said those words and for a moment...just one small moment, you really felt like the two of you could be free.

Taglist: @crystal-lilac​