#he would simply explode and die with that many days off in a year

[dreamsy990]

roxas comes back btw hes alive again. love that roxas is just kinda there its kinda funny

YEAH I KNOW!!!!! you go to twilight town and hes just there hanging out with his friends

[diorsluv]

infrunami (lh⁴³)

❝ in which you’ve always been in love with your childhood best friend, but he would always be the right person at the wrong time ❞

wc: 5.8k

warnings: god there’s so much angst, reader is kinda inconsistent, mentions of blood/injury, mutual pining, idiots in love, running away from “rejection”, reader is touchy with jack and besties with quinn, no use of y/n, if i missed any lmk!!

notes ) when i tell you this took me WEEKS and WEEKS just to compile a simple 5k fic.. i think it’s kinda obvious where i stopped and started back up but i tried to blend it in as best i could!! this will be a two parter simply because i was draining myself trying to drag it on, so stay tuned (might take a while)! AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST thank you to my wonderful, amazing, supportive wife @dior-roses for beta reading this (i was terrified)

As a kid, you always moved wherever the Hughes moved—it was something about the bond between your fathers that couldn’t keep your families apart for more than a week. Regardless of how many times you moved, you never felt alone. You and Luke were in the same grade, and Quinn and Jack were always looking out for you two, so isolation was never a concern for you.

Although you were inseparable with Luke, Quinn had always been your best friend. The four-year age difference between the two of you was almost invisible, and throughout your youth, you would always find yourself in his room, staring at the ceiling as you talked about everything. 

You would tell him about your silly school girl crushes, and he would ramble to you about hockey and all the petty drama that happened around him. In fact, he was the reason you learned hockey in the first place. Your father could never keep your attention on the sport for over five minutes, but the way Quinn talked about it so lovingly was what motivated you to step on the ice. 

Your love for hockey spurred your relationship with not only Quinn, but also Luke and Jack, to grow closer than ever. Every day in school, you and Luke would gush about the games you had watched the night prior, and every day after school, all four of you would head off to practice for your respective club teams. If you weren’t already inseparable from the way your families were bound together by an invisible rope, then you were forever connected through hockey. 

You quit after a few years to pursue more academic routes, but the sport never left your spirit. There were many occasions where the boys would refuse to play if you weren’t there, simply because your presence was the only thing to motivate them to get on the ice, especially if they were having a bad week.

Somehow, though, along the way, you caught feelings. Feelings that were far too heavy to have just surfaced from the depths of your heart. No, what you felt for Luke seemed to have always been creeping just between the line of what was certain and what was unknown. There was no other explanation as to why you couldn’t handle being in the same room as him without being on the verge of exploding. There was no other reason as to why you could spend months on end with either of his brothers but couldn’t last one minute sitting beside him. 

As soon as you came to that revelation, you were done for. It was over. You would rather die than acknowledge the feelings you caught for the boy that had been by your side since you were born. Because of that, you spent all your time with your best friend and his younger brother, and both your families sensed the shift as soon as it happened.

Especially Luke.

Oh, the poor boy, his heart dropped into his stomach when he realized you were avoiding him. You held your breath every time he stepped into the same room as you, let alone when he tried to stand remotely close to you. You diverted your attention away from him as much as you could, and the boy you once knew as your other half now seemed to be universes away. 

It was your doing, but in a way, it was his. How dare he make you fall for him? It wasn’t fair. Not to you, and definitely not to him. It wasn’t fair how he could make you fold in seconds with the way he looked at you from the other side of the room but simultaneously have a girl wrapped around his arm trying to take all his attention away from you. He was the only boy on your mind, but he always managed to push you to the darkest parts of his brain, putting you on hold when the more important girls were right in front of him. 

If only you knew. 

Quinn bounded down the stairs of your lake house, which was conveniently right next to the Hughes’, with an old framed photo in his hand. “Hah! I was right!” His exclamations took your attention away from the pasta you were cooking as you now turned to his self-righteous figure. “You would never let go of that stupid plushie.”

The two of you were arguing over what (and who) you were and were not inseparable with just prior to his search for the picture, and he claimed there were multiple photos of you hugging your favorite Elmo plushie. There was a mutual agreement that Luke was one of the things—or rather, people—you couldn’t fathom to be away from, but neither you nor Quinn had to verbally confirm it. There was no need. 

And, to be completely honest, Quinn had barely spoken about his youngest brother throughout the time you’d been spending at the lake houses. A few years back, you had reluctantly told him how you felt about Luke, and ever since then, he’d made it his mission to make you feel the most comfortable you could possibly be whilst sharing a connected lake house with the boy you’ve loved since you were children. The eldest saw the way you tensed up when you recognized his brother’s footsteps creaking down the stairs when it came time to eat breakfast, and he sure as hell saw the way your eyes blew wide whenever you accidentally made contact with him. 

It scared you how much Quinn seemed to notice about you, especially since he and his brothers were all busy with their demanding careers that left little to no time to be tending to some childhood friend who was stuck with a crush on the most recently debuted boy. Yes, he was still your best friend (that much hadn’t changed since your childhood), but all you could do was FaceTime each other, and even then, it was difficult to find time. It was the same with Jack; sometimes, they would be too tired for practice; other times, they would be exhausted from a home game and possibly frustrated had they lost; and most of the time, they weren’t even home, so the time difference, albeit miniscule, was still difficult to navigate considering you were a busy person too. 

That meant that you met up as much as you could and you stuck by each other’s side until you were forced apart by the demands of being a professional hockey player. All that time together when you were younger meant you struggled to be without each other as you got older—maybe your parents should’ve realized that, but then again, it was probably their intention. 

“Okay, I did let go of it. Multiple times, actually,” you refuted with a small frown, the expression on your face practically meaningless as your best friend laughed. It only egged him on further, evoking a complaint from your lips. “Quinn! It’s not funny!” 

“I mean, it kinda is.” He struggled to stifle his laughter as he rounded the kitchen island to stand beside you. Your hand mindlessly dragged the wooden spoon through the soft noodles floating around in the boiling hot water, and he wondered how your skin wasn’t burning. Gently removing your hand from the utensil and replacing it with his own, the eldest Hughes boy continued his teasing once he looked at your still-upset face. “You’re such a kid sometimes, you know that?”

Your eyes practically rolled into the back of your head in annoyance. Quinn always said that to you. Always. He never failed to address you as ‘kid,’ and no matter what you did, he always managed to bring it back to how you ‘were such a kid.’ You huffed, “You’re so fucking annoying, Quinny. I’m gonna go piss off Jack. Keep cooking, and if you burn the house down, you’re paying for all of it.” 

“You’re forgetting I’m a millionaire.” His laughter filled your ears once again, and your only response was the finger you lifted at him over your shoulder.

After walking out of the kitchen of your own lake house, you took a few strides over to the sliding doors that led to the connected portion of your two homes. Your father and Jim had built it together, way back when all four of you were far too young to understand what normal lake houses were supposed to look like. It was essentially a screened-in sunroom overlooking the absolute beauty of a lake out front. They managed to hook up a large, flat-screen television on the wall, throwing a couple bean bag chairs and a rug into the room. The rest of the furnishing was left completely up to you and the Hughes brothers, so the furniture would change up every few visits. 

Oftentimes, you would find Luke there, just sitting against the one wall that had a bit of a bump-out. He liked the way it felt against his back, like it actually supported him compared to the fluffy chairs that laid in the middle of the room. Whether he be on his phone, playing video games, or reading a book that was required for summer class, he would always be in the sunroom. The floor directly before the bump-out was much more worn compared to the rest of the room, the discolored wood showing just how often the youngest Hughes would find himself in the confines of the area.

There were many times when Luke would flee to the sunroom in his times of need, wanting to be alone with his thoughts. If anyone were to try to enter the room and speak to him, he wouldn’t respond. He would only ever talk to you. You were the one and only person to talk him out of his thoughts, the only one who could convince him to leave the room. Those nights were comprised of him refusing to leave your bed and whining if you got up in the middle of the night. 

You missed it. 

But you weren’t kids anymore. And, again, it was your fault you weren’t close anymore. You deliberately distanced yourself from him. 

After pulling yourself away from your own thoughts, you tugged the Hughes’ sliding door open, the smell of freshly grilled shrimp welcoming you into the cozy house.

“Hey, sweetie,” Ellen’s soothing voice called out to you, smiling at you from her place at the kitchen sink. “How’s the pasta going?” The sound of the running water could barely be heard over the hockey game playing on the television, your father entertaining Jim and his youngest son with light chirps towards the losing team. 

You could feel Luke’s eyes set on you. Shrugging, you replied, “I told Quinny to take over and not burn the house down.” 

This was a regular occurrence whenever you came back to the lake for the break. You, your mother and Ellen would split up the food duties so that there was a lot of food but didn’t take too much time to cook everything. Quinn and Jack would help out a bit, but they would only ever take on the physical tasks. Luke used to help out when you were children, but ever since the distance you wedged between the two of you, he stopped helping out as much. 

You looked around for Jack, trying your hardest to avoid Luke’s gaze in your search for his older brother. Ellen had now returned to her cooking, and the fathers were too invested in their conversation for you to intervene. Your eyes were darting everywhere but at your ex-best friend, and as soon as you made eye contact, you couldn’t look away.

It was too difficult.

It was so stupid.

It wasn’t fair. 

His hazel eyes were too pretty. The way he looked at you made it hard to deny him the satisfaction of giving him attention. He looked at you like you hung the stars and the moon, but you couldn’t see that. You were blinded by your abundance of self-deprecating thoughts to notice. 

“Hey,” he mumbled, voice being drowned out due to the other activities occurring throughout the house. You mouthed the same word back, fighting the urge to walk over to him and apologize for avoiding him, apologize for distancing yourself from the one person you know you could never live without. If you allowed yourself to break, you would never forgive yourself. He doesn’t like you back, you told yourself. You can’t embarrass yourself.

So, instead of going with your heart, you went with your brain and made your way upstairs. If Jack wasn’t downstairs, then he had to have been upstairs doing God knows what. 

“Jack?” You called out, running your hand along the railing of the staircase once you neared the top. 

“In here!” His muffled voice came through the door to his bedroom, and you’ve seen him in enough compromising positions to the point where you couldn’t even be bothered to pretend to be cautious. Once you opened the door, you were met with four gazes planted straight on you. You suddenly felt exposed despite your thick pajamas and only felt some sort of reassurance when you found Jack’s eyes. “Look who finally came up here!”

All four boys sat on Jack’s bed with controllers in their hands, the game on the TV now paused as their attention focused solely on you. You knew Trevor, Alex, and Cole, but you hadn’t seen them in so long that it felt awkward. “Oh, uh, hey. Quinn’s probably gonna burn my house down and I didn’t wanna be down there with Lukey, so,” you trailed off, pursing your lips. 

“You’re still on that?” Alex questioned with furrowed eyebrows, placing the controller in his lap. You cocked your head to the side, not quite understanding what the boy was talking about. He continued, “I thought you got over him, like, months ago.”

Right. You had forgotten all about your accidental drunk confession the last time Jack’s friends were over. Last summer, your revelation was fresh on your mind, and you and Luke were still as inseparable as ever. His friends had also visited the lake house at the same time everyone else was staying over, so it made for a ton of chaos and little to no privacy. 

Luke and his friends had left the house to go out, and for the first time, you stayed behind. Trevor and Cole were sitting at the fire pit outside, beers in their hands as they discussed the upcoming camps they were to attend. You were on your fifth drink, and although Jack was keeping an eye on you, he hadn’t noticed how you had accidentally walked into the bathroom while Alex was in the process of throwing up. 

In the midst of your tipsy daze and the fact that it just so happened to be Luke’s bathroom, you called out for him. “Luke? Is that you? You know I’m always telling you not to drink that much, stupid.” You used your foot to shut the door behind you as you placed your drink onto the counter. 

Alex, confused but sobering up, looked up at you with puffy eyes. Only then did he notice how you were much more than tipsy. 

Your gaze was blurry and your words were beginning to slur, “If I didn’t like you so much, maybe I would be more mad at you. I don’t know why I like you, anyway. You’re always being so stupid, ‘cause you can’t see that all those girls are only ever using you for your brother or your body. They’re so mean. And I’m your best friend, not them! You always ditch me when you find another girl, and then they say shit about me behind my back. I don’t like them. What do you even see in them? God, what do I even see in you?

“My stomach hurts. I think I’m thinking about this too much. Or maybe I’m thinking about you too much. I hate you so much, Lukey, but I can’t ever hate you. You’re too pretty. This is so unfair and my head is pounding. Oh, God, I’m gonna throw up. Move over.” After your little monologue, which was definitely not directed towards the person on the receiving end, you were quick to fall to the ground beside the toilet and dip your head past the ceramic seat. 

Alex brought his right hand up to flush the toilet so you didn’t accidentally stuff your face in a load of his vomit, using his other hand to rub soothing circles on your back. “‘m not Luke, but you’re safe with me.” He continued his motions throughout the five-minute duration of your illness, bringing his hand up to massage your head once you were sure you were done.

Your head was pounding and your ears began to ring, but you were visibly more sober compared to how you were a few minutes ago. Barely able to lift your head, you thanked your friend with a weak smile.

He only returned your expression and brought you up to your feet, leading you out of the restroom and towards Jack’s room. It obviously wasn’t the best option to bring you to Luke’s room, albeit being the default room after a long night, so his older brother’s bedroom would have to do. 

Alex laid you down onto the mattress and tucked you in, lightly patting your cheek as you thanked him once more. He only chuckled and squeezed your hand reassuringly, “Anytime.”

And then you were left alone in the confines of Jack’s room.

You chuckled awkwardly at the memory, shaking your head in response. “Nope. Still on it.” Your hands brought themselves up to your thighs, rubbing your palms against your thick pants in an attempt to wipe away the tension in the room.

Trevor and Cole were aware of your feelings as well; you were sure everyone in the house knew. They only shot you sympathetic smiles, their priorities set on finishing the NHL 23 game plastered all over the screen. 

“I’m sure you’ll get over it.”

“We believe in you.”

Their words, no offense, meant nothing to you. They were great people to hang around, but they weren’t the best guys to turn to when you were in a time of need, especially since you weren’t very close to them. They had their own issues that didn’t concern you, and your issues were ever so far from their minds.

After a few beats of silence, the mood of the room began to slowly eat away at you. If you were to open your mouth and bite down, you might as well have taken a chunk out of the thick tension lingering in the room. It was even more awkward knowing that Luke was much closer to them compared to you, and you knew they would let things slip eventually. 

Not that he didn’t already know, though.

The four boys exchanged glances with one another, shrugging in unison before resuming their gameplay. You took it as your cue to stay, seeing as they didn’t seem bothered by your presence, and you were much more comfortable in Jack’s room than you were downstairs. 

Allowing yourself to flop onto the boy’s soft mattress, you fished your phone out from the pocket of your pajama pants, finding solace in the way the friends laughed with each other. You remained like that for about twenty minutes before Jack beckoned you over to the edge of his bed, where he was sitting, to ask you for your opinion on something.

After dishing him your thoughts—which barely seemed to help him—you stayed snug at the foot of the bed, extending your legs out so that they lay atop his. It was one of your more typical positions when spending time with Jack whilst he was playing video games. Whether it be with his friends or with his brothers, you always found yourself comfortably overlapping your limbs with him, and today was no exception. 

You both shuffled around a bit until you found a comfortable position. You sat with your legs resting on his thighs and your head laying on his shoulder; he sat with his forearms resting on your left leg. The others paid no mind to your odd positioning, their minds too preoccupied with the competitiveness flooding through the screen. 

So you stayed like that for a while. For a long while, actually. You only lifted your head when the sound of light knocking echoed against Jack’s door once more, and soon after, you found his youngest brother cracking the door open and peeking through. 

His eyes had yet to land on your figure. “Hey, Mom’s looking for—”

Before he could utter your name, he looked you dead in the eye. 

“Oh.” He went silent for a few seconds, his eyes flickering between you and his brother. Him, of all people, should be the least surprised to see you cuddled up with Jack. “You.”

There was a certain poison in his tone that struck you right where it hurt the most. It was the way he spat through gritted teeth and looked at you with so much indifference. (It was really a façade, but you were too entranced under his gaze to realize that he could never bring himself to hate you.) The whole room seemed to shift uncomfortably with the way the tension flowed between you and Luke. 

No matter how hard you tried to mask your pain and your desperation for him to notice you, you would never be able to hide how you really felt. Not with him. 

“You can tell her I’ll be right down,” you murmured, slowly moving your legs from Jack’s lap, but before you could even finish your sentence, Luke disappeared as quickly as he came. When you looked back in the door frame, all you were met with was a blank wall and the faint image of where the boy stood before.

You could feel Jack lightly pat your thigh, trying his hardest to support you with the little attention he was diverting toward you. With a small sigh, you pushed yourself off the mattress and wiped your palms against the fabric of your pants, reluctantly leaving the room. Alex wished you good luck, but his fleeting words flew straight through one ear and out the other. 

Downstairs, the fathers were still loud as ever, and the sizzling in the kitchen now turned into the delicious aroma of freshly cooked lunch. Quinn’s voice echoed up the staircase, and you could hear how he attempted to entertain his mom as she waited for you to come back down. 

As soon as your feet hit the bottom floor, you could already sense Quinn’s eyes on you. He looked like he was being held hostage, and you could argue that he was begging you for help. He wasn’t the only Hughes boy with his gaze locked on you, but he was the only one you would give attention to.

“Oh, look! Just who you were looking for, Mom,” the eldest boy managed to divert the attention away from him and towards you. You scowled at him just before Ellen turned around, plastering on a smile as you walked towards them.

You gently placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder, “I was just up in Jack’s room. Luke said you were looking for me?”

“Oh, that’s right! Could you grab that fancy set of plates from the cabinet in your house, sweetie? It’s too high to reach for any of us parents, and you know Lukey and Quinn don’t help out with anything anymore,” Ellen spoke, evoking an argument from her oldest son. It only took one glare from her to shut him up, and you couldn’t help but giggle at his complacence. 

You nodded your head with a grin, still fighting more giggles as you swerved past Quinn. He lunged at you, bringing his hands up to your waist as if he was going to tickle you, but you managed to jump just out of his reach before continuing on your journey to grab the plates Ellen wanted. 

Once you made it back into your house, you dragged a chair up to the counter and climbed onto the cushioned seat, opening the cabinet and setting your gaze on the fake fine china. You only grabbed a few at a time, not wanting to break anything in fear of your mother getting mad at you. Eventually, you had gotten down to the last few plates, and once you had them in your hands, you closed the cabinet and stepped down from the chair.

Perhaps you should’ve been more aware of how high you were, because somehow, the bottom plate smashed against the countertop and shattered in your hands, causing you to let out a small scream. The porcelain had broken into small pieces, cutting into your palms, but you managed to place the reset of the plates down before beginning to worry about the amount of cuts you had on your hands. 

“Shit.” You mumbled under your breath, looking at the floor to see how many shards were scattered around the floor. Your only form of protection on the soles of your feet were the fluffy socks you were wearing, and the distance between the pieces was far enough to where you could step past them. 

As soon as you deemed it safe to walk normally, you swiveled on your heel to analyze the messy situation you found yourself in. You definitely should have been more careful, and now you had to clean up all the small plate shards with cuts in your hands. Fuck, your hands were still bleeding, and it hadn’t even occurred to you that it was now dripping down your arms. 

All you could do was stand in place, shock still coursing in your veins. The sink on the island was in the middle of the plate murder, and you didn’t want to risk accidentally stepping on something sharp. Before you could even begin to make your way to the half-bath near the kitchen, you heard footsteps bounding through the sunroom. The glass door slid open far too aggressively—so much so that you thought it would shatter, too—and you assumed it was Quinn coming to check on you.

The plate breaking was loud enough to be heard from the other house, especially with the connected room, but you didn’t think it would be that big of a deal for him. You were usually trustworthy enough to not accidentally hurt yourself, but this was a prime example of how you really weren’t.

You didn’t want any questions to be asked, and because it was Quinn, you knew you would get made fun of before being helped. “Don’t worry—”

“Holy shit, are you okay?” The voice that spoke up was not Quinn. 

Immediately snapping your head around to look at the boy standing there, frozen, your frown contorted into a grimace. “Luke—shit—hey,” you trailed off, unsure of what to say to him. “Uh, yeah, I’m fine, I was just being stupid and—”

“What the fuck happened? You’re gonna bleed out if you don’t wash your hands and wrap them up.” His heavy footsteps inched closer and closer until he was standing right in front of you, taking your forearms into his calloused hands and inspecting how bad your injuries were. “C’mon, we gotta wash this off.” 

Luke led you to the bathroom as if it was his own house, running the tap and allowing the water to get most of the red liquid off your hands before taking a clean towel and gently tapping the rest off. 

He was unbearably gentle with you. You felt ashamed to think of how fast your heart was beating at such a simple gesture; as if him caring about you meant anything except the fact that growing up together meant you both cared for each other when someone was hurt. Sighing to hide your true feelings, you slowly took your hands away from his touch, “Luke, I’m fine. Really. You don’t have to do this.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “What do you mean? Of course I’m going to clean you up if you hurt yourself.” He immediately took your hands back into his and resumed his actions, quickly grabbing ointment from the cabinet above the toilet. Squeezing out a dollop of the cream, he soothingly rubbed it against your wounds with a focused frown adorning his features.

You took the chance to admire him candidly. He was so worried about you, and it was so cute. He wouldn’t even let you take care of yourself because he wanted to do it for you, and he was so serious about it. You had always thought his focused face was adorable, even when you were kids, but as you grew up, it only got cuter and cuter. Fuck, you were so gone for him.

You hadn’t even realized you were staring until he looked up at you and immediately looked back down at your hands. He cleared his throat awkwardly and questioned, “Does it hurt?” 

“Hm?” You snapped yourself out of your trance, your face heating up with the unexpected eye contact. “Oh, uh, no. It doesn’t hurt.” The pain you were feeling came more from your heart than it did from your body. It hurt to be in such close proximity to the boy you longed so deeply for. The awkward silence floating between the two of you pained you even more. 

Luke nodded and rummaged through the drawers until he found gauze, taking great care to wrap it around your hands without causing you too much discomfort. When he finished, all he did was usher you out of the bathroom with a hand on your lower back, turning off the lights without so much as a word. 

Only when you entered the kitchen did a small mumble leave the boy’s lips. “Try to be more careful next time, okay? Can’t have you going around injuring yourself and shit, or you’re gonna make me—us worry too much.” He cleared his throat after his slip-up, hoping you didn’t hear what he said. You did. “Oh, and Jack told me to let you know the guys are throwing a party tonight. He said to invite you so you could buy cups and shit, but you’re kinda . . . banged up right now.”

“It’s fine. I’ll go grab stuff from the store later—”

“No!” Luke exclaimed, his eyes blowing wide once he realized how loud he protested your suggestion. “I mean, no, it’s okay. I’ll go get the stuff. You shouldn’t drive with your hands all cut up like that. They don't care who buys what.”

You blinked at him. He was acting so weird; it was almost like he cared about you. But it didn’t matter. The others were throwing a party, which meant there were going to be tons of girls all over him, and it wouldn’t be right for you to get mad if you were the one who caused the rift between you two.

With a shrug, you silently agreed to his proposal and turned to grab the remaining set of plates still sitting on the counter. You couldn’t even take two steps before Luke was already sliding ahead of you and taking the ceramic platters into his arms. “Luke, you really don’t have to do all of this. I’m fine, look,” you showed him your hands, front and back, to try and convince him to let you do something. 

“No, you’re hurt. And I wouldn’t be a good best friend if I made you injure yourself more.”

Best friend.

Two very opposing emotions coursed through your veins. On one hand, the term ‘best friend’ still sent a pang through your chest, knowing you would never be more to him than just a best friend. But on the other hand, it relieved you to know that he still considered you close enough to be his best friend. 

God, you were such a mess. You were running away from him in fear of rejection, but then you couldn’t seem to stop thinking about him. What the hell was wrong with you?

Eventually, the two of you made it back into his house, the boy announcing your arrival and placing the plates down onto the dining table. He immediately found his spot back on the couch in between the fathers like before, and you instantly got hounded by both the mothers’ questions being launched at you all at once.

“I’m fine, Mom,” you grimaced. You attempted to pull your hands away from her inspecting gaze, but she brought them right back to her face. “Mom, it doesn’t even hurt anymore! Lukey already put medicine on it and wrapped them up, anyway!” You were growing impatient, and your complaints slowly turned into whines. 

Thankfully, as soon as she heard Luke’s nickname leave your mouth, she dropped your hands back to your sides and grinned widely at you.

“Well, then! I’m sure you’re just fine, aren’t you?”

You sighed begrudgingly. “Yes, Mom.” You were just happy she stopped nagging you.

What you didn’t know was that she and Ellen were in pain watching their two children stay so far away from each other for such a long time. The parents always thought you two would have confessed by the time you graduated high school, but you were in college and Luke was having an amazing rookie season. It clearly didn’t work out the way they thought it would have.

You also didn’t know that Luke’s heart practically exploded out of his chest when he heard you use his nickname so nonchalantly. He always overheard you addressing him as Lukey to his brothers, but you never did it when you knew he was listening. It was almost as if saying it made your mouth run dry. 

And it did.

It finally came time to eat lunch, and your stomach was threatening to growl before you all sat down at the table. Trevor, Alex, and Cole decided to eat at a restaurant instead, encouraging Jack to eat with your families rather than hanging out with them. So he stayed.

There was a specific order in which you sat. There were five members of the Hughes family and three members of your family, meaning there were eight seats total; the rectangular table fit the usual number of people perfectly. The fathers would sit on either end of the table, and the mothers would sit to their right. You and Jack sat next to your mothers, while Luke sat beside you and Quinn beside Jack. 

It was a routine. It never changed. Ever.

Not when Jack kissed you on New Years. He still had to sit opposite to you at the table. Not when you and Luke had the biggest verbal fight in your life, leaving you both with scars on your knees. And especially not when you finally recognized the feelings you had for your best friend.

And as you sat in your spot, with Luke’s thigh pressed against yours, you realized that maybe loving him wasn’t all that bad.

— diorsluv 2024

[gatitties]

A day off with Kunimi

Manager Miniseries

─Aoba Josai x fem!reader

─Summary: You're not in the mood for training and Kunimi seems to be on the same line of thought as you

─Warnings: none

12 < 13 > 14

You were walking calmly to school, very sleepy, you almost fell or crashed on the street several times, it had not been a good choice to stay up late watching movies. You had no choice but to endure the morning, or that was what you had planned to do if it weren't for a certain first year boy, who was kicking a can with an ass face outside the gym.

"Where has Kunimi gone? Also why is (Nn) so late?"

Oikawa's voice echoed throughout the place, you and Kunimi could hear the team's confusion due to the silence at the entrance, both looked at each other without wanting to enter. Kunimi was the first to step forward, grabbing your hand to get out of there, trying not to let them hear the footsteps. A light laugh escaped your lips, thinking that you would no longer have to suffer being among a bunch of sweaty boys today, you mentally thanked your junior, tightening the grip on your clasped hands.

"I'm sorry for dragging you, I just figured you didn't feel like putting up with training today either."

"No, It's ok, I think I'll run away with you today."

He just nodded and you walked to a cafe near the high school, at your request, you were going to die of sleep if you didn't drink some caffeine immediately. When you left there you two decided to walk near the school, although finally ended up leaving, skipping a day wouldn't hurt.

"Where do you want to go?"

"Honestly, my house, but it's far away and I'm lazy."

You laughed at how sincere he was, then he thought that walking through a small market that wasn't that far away would be good, since you could entertain with the things they sold there. When you arrived, you tried on some oddly shaped glasses from a small stall, you forced Kunimi to put on the typical glasses with a fake mustache to take a photo.

He just sighed every time you stopped to look at any absurdity, like children's toys or flashy things. He only stopped when he was in front of a sweets stand, they sold a lot of different types, but he only noticed some in particular, salted caramels, they were his favorite. You noticed ir and smiled, buying several of those candies, sharing them with him, which at first he refused but then agreed to take some.

He had to hold your hand so you wouldn't get lost among so many people, he was getting tired of being there, especially because there was more and more crowd and it was becoming difficult to walk down the narrow street without crashing into someone. In fact, at the end of the street someone pushed you so hard that you even knocked Kunimi to the ground.

"Oh fu-, look where you're going, you idiot!" The lack of sleep mixed with the stress of all those people made you explode, but your focus was on Kunimi who was cleaning his pants "I'm sorry, someone pushed me, are you okay?"

"Don't worry, it hasn't been much different from when we have to do dives in training"

He feigned disinterest, even finding a funny point to the accident, you sighed at his attitude. You finished seeing things, deciding to stay in a park sitting next to a pond, watching the ducks fight to get a piece of bread that an old woman threw them.

"What a beautiful couple."

You two looked at the old lady, you had not realized that you were still holding hands and you separated immediately, causing the lady to laugh, after the embarrassing scene you left there, tyou had had enough.

"Okay, now I really want to go home, want to come?"

"Sure."

He wasn't going to stand walking from one place to another aimlessly anymore so you simply went to the boy's house, who just wanted to rest lying in his bed with some good blankets and a movie, even if you accompanied him it didn't bother him, at this point he just want to rest and do nothing.

He let out a contented sigh as he closed the door to his house, telling you where to leave your slippers while you got used to the hospitality of Kunimi's house. As you spent the morning walking around the market, you arrived just around lunchtime, although no one was home, and you had to improvise something, that is, you ordered something for delivery. While the food arrived, you started arguing about what movie to watch, because you are both iPad kids and you need to watch something while you eat.

"For the last time I'm not going to watch Barbie of Swan Lake or Meet the Robinsons."

"Kuni-"

"No."

"But-"

"No."

You sighed exhaustedly, thinking about other movies, a light bulb went off in your head, and you decided to play an old reliable, Home Alone. Kunimi brought a couple of blankets, at some point in the movie you were practically hugging. Halfway through the movie his mother burst in, mocking her son for bringing a girl home, commenting on what an adorable couple you made. Kunimi had to kick her out because his mother and you started talking about him when he was a baby, because she show you an old photo. The movies ─because you decided to see a couple more─ went by so fast that you didn't even realize that it was already quite late.

"Honey, why don't you offer my future daughter-in-law a stay over?"

Everyone there knew that this was not a question but a statement, rather, an order. You almost choked upon hearing her, even though she was just teasing you, you went on to join forces at dinner to embarrass Kunimi instead, that family album can be a real danger in your hands.

"Leave the door open Akira!"

He rolled his eyes as guided you to the bathroom, lending you a change of clothes so could sleep comfortably. You could only laugh, deciding that you had had enough for today, you threw onto the bed next to Kunimi to rest, staring at the ceiling in silence listening to the little sound that came from Kunimi's phone, the first yawn was the signal for you to decide to go to sleep once and for all, you raised your leg, hitting the boy's foot.

"Good night Kunimi."

"Night..."

You smiled as you closed your eyes, taking seconds to fall into your deepest dreams, hoping that today is not the day you start talking in your sleep. He looked at you for a few seconds before putting down the phone and turning off the light without wanting to stay up late, tomorrow it wouldn't be so easy to escape from training taking into account the number of ignored messages in the team's group chat.

[eris-snow]

𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭 𝐓𝐨 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥

Tags: Revelation (Deku's birthday series 2024), izuku x fem!reader, angst, Starlight, Starlight standing up for herself, tags what

Masterlist

8th July. Sun, Stars and Light.

---

“Are you joking? I thought you’d be dead by now. Or given up.” Isamu Suzuki complains you step into the blinding white room.

Another year, another visit.

“Well boohoo,” you murmur, rolling your eyes as you sit down on the armchair opposite him. “Thought you would have died by now, old man. How’s prison life treating you? From the looks of it, not great. Hey, wanna bet to see who dies first? Winner gets bragging points and a one-way trip to hell. You look like the kind of guy who’d die the next day, honestly. You should consider pulling the plug, if you know what I mean. Hold your breath and count to a thousand. End your misery, you know?”

The haggard man blinks at you.

Running a hand through your hair, you slump down on the chair.

“I need…I need sleep.”

A nasty smirk curls onto Isamu’s lips. “Finally getting worn down, hm? And from the looks of it, little blondie cracklefire has left your side too.”

“He’s gonna get Zuku killed.” You muse. “I wanna stop it, but at the same time, I don’t really. Once Izuku sets his mind on something—“

“He never wavers,” The villain finishes impatiently. “Yeah, yeah, you’ve used me as your therapist way too many times. Don’t you have one back at your prestigious school? Just because I’m tied down here, doesn’t mean I want to listen to your hormonal problems. You fuck up my life 7 years ago. I ain’t giving you shit.”

“Well, you threw mine into the 4th dimension.” You grumble. “You reap what you sow, and then some.”

“I still have my brother fighting for his life out there,” Isamu says, and at that moment, even strapped down and crusty in a white suit he doesn’t own, he looks a little more…human. “Yeah, that’s right. Your glitter sparkles hero society have holes in big blabber mouth security guards.” The villain hums. “You’ve had trouble tracking him down, right?”

In the truth of the matter, you didn’t know much. After apprehending Isamu’s brother from the attack last year, you’d handed him off to the police for questioning. With school and internships, you’d barely paid attention to it when he went missing again. Apparently, Chisuke Suzuki snuck out using his Quirk, and by the time backup had arrived, there was simply a blood bath and three stacks of officers.

When they woke up, all officers were chronically depressed.

Chisuke’s Quirk was the erasure of one emotion from a victim. Or at least, that’s what it was last year. You should probably check the files more.

“My brother’s Quirk is more powerful than mine, and he knows how to get by,” Isamu says proudly. “At least if I hold on, I know he’ll be out there, waiting for me.”

His words slip a small pin to your heart, specifically and thoughtfully chosen. It hurt more than you thought, but you couldn’t let him drag you down now.

“What, no snarky feedback?” His eyes are blue, cold, hard and searching. “Never thought there’d come the day.”

A twig breaks. A tree falls. The camel’s back snaps in two.

“Is that what you want?” You explode, slamming a hand on the glass. Everything is hot, from your fingertips to your toes. “Me to give you a speech about how even though I royally fucked up, Izuku will find a way to regain his memories through the skin of his teeth because he’s Deku? Heroes give up too, god dammit! And maybe I deserve it, alright? What? What do you want to hear, asshole?”

You back down to the safety of your chair and heave a breath. “I need…” You whisper, shaking your head, “to give up properly.”

Isamu barks out a laugh. “7 years and finally, something interesting. Nah, keep going. I’ve waited too long for this.”

Watch me break.

Watch me crumble.

“Hey,” Isamu says cheerfully. “If you do want to be put out of your misery, let’s make a deal. You get me in touch with my brother, and I can get him to use his Quirk on you.”

Now, it was your turn to laugh. Maybe this guy has gone off the deep end. “Why would I do that?” you scoff.

“Because,” Isamu smirks. It’s an ugly smirk, with his yellowed, misaligned teeth.

“He can erase your love for that brat, you rascal.”

—

After school that day, Izuku takes the liberty of racing back to his room to dump out the Post-It notes on the floor of his dorm.

It was mind-boggling, and an out-of-body experience.

Scratchy scrawls line every note, his handwriting and his words all spilling out like it was a ritual he’d take part in come fire or hail.

I’m scared to die.

I don’t want to fight Shigaraki. I want to forgive him.

I’m scared I get left behind.

Personal feelings Izuku had never penned down were inked on yellow stickies, little nooks of his own insecurities all laid bare.

It’s difficult for me to admit these things.

Ochaco and I aren't a thing anymore, we fell out of love.

Slowly, Izuku pieces together who you once were to him.

Someone trustworthy, someone kind.

But not all were appropriate triggers, and those that were are diamonds in a mineshaft. Most things were trivial, and the few that caused bone-shattering agony to his mind never tripped anything right.

Gasping, he tugs his necktie off and closes his eyes in frustration. Sweat stains his wooden floor a darker brown, and his hope starts to fade. The last trigger has him seeing stars as he gently eases himself back down from insanity.

“Give them back…!” He whispers, scarred hands squeezing his head as he glares at himself in his standing wall mirror. “Give my memories back!”

In a fit of rage, he swings the tin box holding the systematically stacked notes against his bed.

A flurry of Post-it notes flutters around him as the box slams loudly against his bed frame. A false bottom pops out, and so does a new section of Post-its.

15 of them, and they’re dated from July 1st to 15.

—

“Erase my love for Izuku?” You had to give it to Isamu, his hunches were always spot on.

“You’re always so adamant about keeping your memories. Heck, I think if I find a way to use my Quirk on you, you’d find a way to resist its effect as you heroes do best. But emotions…” Isamu laughs. It’s not a nice laugh. “You can pay the price of millions of memories with just one emotion. It’d end your suffering.”

You falter, and he sees it like it’s white on black. “You won’t forget him, but you won’t know pain, either. It’d go poof,” Isamu says, eyes electrifying as he dishes out the offer with the finesse of a conman.

It’s tempting, of course it is. This whole time, Izuku had always stood by your side not knowing who you really were. You couldn’t bring yourself to love him properly, just as he deserved. He deserved someone there, someone who could enrapture him like the Aurora borealis instead of someone as plentiful as the stars in the night sky. Someone who could share memories with him for a long long time.

That someone wasn’t you.

Accepting this deal meant moving on. It meant leaving your feelings in your glade and finally…

be free.

Not free from the memories, but…in a different way.

But then, your resolve hardens like steel. “You have some nerve trying to bribe me over with that.”

You stand up, anger cooled to an eerily calm. The world is silent, it’s the ocean's depth at the seabed. “Every inch of me, I cherish it. The good, the bad, the terrible. To rip a feeling out of me? Using heartbreak as manipulation? That’s low even for you.” You scoff, fingers sliding over the glass. “If I move on from Izuku, that’s by me, and me alone. I will never accept your side payback that’s dressed up as charity, because I will never let Izuku go through the pain I did.”

Fire burns, a torch of eternal flame; your love for Izuku, cast out because even though it’s pretty, even though it hurts, no one will ever admire its beauty.

“Izuku’s strong, and so am I.” You whisper, eyes locking with his. “I do not need you.”

—

The note that triggers it is not the one he imagined.

I don’t like Kacchan calling you Shortie. Kacchan’s amazing and all, but he shouldn’t make fun of your height. P.s. I like the nickname Zuku, too! You don’t have to tell me why you started calling me that, I’m just glad you do. I can’t imagine you calling me anything else.

Even so, he thinks through it. Zuku? No one has ever called him that before. Kacchan calls you Shortie, he knows that. But why does he say he can’t imagine you calling him anything else?

“Nicknames from first year?” He whispers under his breath. “Maybe I lost my memories last year? My birthday, obviously…”

Where does this point to?

Why the Post-it notes?

What did he call you?

His brain explodes as he writhes in agony again. Blinding hot pain, wax melting his skull—

Starlight, His mind lapses.

There’s another image this time, one of a willow tree in the same field. The branches of it sway hypnotisingly slow, and he can feel the breeze even though he’s not present there.

In a sandbox, building sandcastles under the night sky. Your name is Starlight.

“Your name is Starlight.” He whispers, his mouth echoing the word as easy as he were to say Kacchan.

The fluorescent lights sizzle, and something breaks.

The next thing he knows, everything is black.

[peaches2217]

Aquamarine

AO3 link!

"Everything will be alright."

Mario’s head snapped up. Surely he’d misheard her.

But Peach, meeting his gaze evenly, repeated herself: “Everything is going to be alright, Mario. This will pass, however painfully, and then we can rest, rebuild, and return to life as we know it. I have faith in that.”

Mario knew better. An all-out war raged around them, and they were both being pulled into the fray, in opposite directions. People were dying. They very well could die too. He knew she was scared. And he was almost certain that she knew he was scared, too. How could she say something so… so foolish, so false, now, of all times? It wasn’t like her.

Yet the resolve in her voice was unwavering, and determination burned red-hot in her eyes, and as quickly as he’d been confused, he understood. Acknowledging what might happen — what was probably going to happen, if either was permitting full honesty within themselves — was counterproductive. They could agonize over their circumstances, over the many outcomes, over the plenitude of things they wished they’d said and done if only they had known there might not be another opportunity. But where would that lead them? 

Falling into despair would only guarantee their demise. Hope would give them a chance. No matter how miniscule that chance or how false that hope, they had to take what they could get. She understood that, and now she was inviting Mario to join her in reclaiming what might be their last prospect of victory, or at least survival.

How often he wished he could be as strong as her.

But before he could accept that invitation and return her assurances, something in Peach’s expression flickered… and it was gone just as quickly, squashed down and set alight with an internal force that only a goddess could possibly possess. Her fingers fumbled with the brooch on her chest for a few seconds before she freed it from her dress and pressed it into Mario’s hand.

“This jewel has been in my family for at least a hundred and fifty years,” she said, guiding his right hand with her left so that the brooch sat exposed in his open palm. “My mother had entire outfits designed around it; it’s my sole reminder of her. So it is, without a doubt, my most valuable possession.” 

Mario regarded it as well as he could in the dull light. He recalled seeing it on past queens in the old paintings lining the castle’s entrance hallway, but it certainly didn’t show its age. The aquamarine gem matched her eyes in color and almost matched them in intensity, exploding into fragments of light whenever the sun caught it just so. He’d always thought it suited her.

Carefully, she folded his fingers over the brooch, resting her small hands gently over his. “I absolutely can’t lose it,” she added, quietly. “No matter what.”

He heard the intent all too clearly. He was being trusted to guard her most prized accessory. Therefore, he had an obligation to return to her.

I can't lose you, she said in all but words.

“I… I’ll keep it safe,” he promised, and the few seconds he pulled away from her to pocket the valuable were torturous. Taking her hands in his made everything feel right again, gave him the boldness he needed to match her resolve. “And once this is all over, I’ll give it right back. I’ll even have it polished so it looks good as new! You have my word, Princess.”

The cacophony outside grew louder. They were running out of time.

“Good. I’ll make all sorts of pastries as thanks,” Peach said, and her smile looked truly heartening for the first time since all of this nonsense began. “We’ll stuff ourselves on tiny cakes and endless tea and coffee and talk all day and all night. Or at least until Toadsworth comes to complain about having a visitor over so late and shoos you off.”

Mario couldn’t help but laugh. She was right; Toadsworth became more strict past ten or so at night, flustering himself over the princess’ wellbeing because a proper princess simply must remain well-rested, Your Highness! Maybe they could pull the “We just survived a catastrophic war” card, or at least get Toadette to cover for them so they could sneak out after hours (which would hardly be the first time).

Those thoughts slowed to a halt as Peach joined in, giggling quietly. The sound echoed off the barren walls hiding them away, delicate and pure; she blushed a sweet shade of pink, and her whole face glowed so achingly softly. It was as beautiful as it was haunting.

She truly believed what they were saying. And for a moment, Mario had believed it too.

I can’t lose you.

“Run,” Peach finally urged, a beacon of stability in the madness encroaching upon them. “Run, and hurry back to me. There’s still so many things I want to tell you, Mario, so don’t keep me waiting too long, alright?”

Mario’s breath caught in his throat.

I can’t lose you.

A rush of impulse surged through his blood, and he didn’t have the strength to fight it off.

“Ti amo,” he whispered, pulling himself into their conjoined hands. “Ti amo tantissimo, Principessa.” He bowed his head over her knuckles and screwed his eyes shut, trying and failing to control the trembling that overtook him — he wanted so desperately to remove their gloves, feel the imperfections of her skin against his, or kiss the silk separating them, kiss her, tighten his grip and run with her until all of the mayhem was far behind them or they were cut down where they stood. He didn’t care, so long as he didn’t have to leave her side.

“Mario…”

He stiffened.

“...What does that mean?”

For a fleeting moment, there was no war. Looking up didn’t reveal any fearsome resolve or half-suppressed fear or dread within her eyes. All he could see was affection, tinged dark with sadness.

This wasn’t the end. It couldn’t be. He would ensure that or die trying.

“It means…” Squeezing her hands one final time, he forced himself to smile. “...I will see you soon.”

He let go before he could register how painful it was, and he turned and ran, until a dozen doors and countless layers of stone separated him from her, until he stepped into the fray and acrid smoke filled his lungs.

Pausing in the final doorway, he snaked his hand into his right pocket, his fingers caressing the aquamarine brooch tucked safely within.

Images of tiny cakes and golden hair and clear afternoons full of laughter and sunlight flickered through his mind. He let them pass, he took a breath, and then he charged ahead.

[azuramarigold]

A Phoenix Rises from the Ashes

After a tragic accident over a hundred years ago he had learned one thing - He can't die. Now, he adopted a new name - Phoenix - as a phoenix rises from the ashes. However, was it meant for this to happen in order to meet the people that came across his long life?

Day 2 of the AU-gust Writing Challenge 2023! - Immortals! Character: Phoenix Wright Thought of Phoenix as the first thing because of his name and the legends of the mythical bird.

AO3 DAY 1

The first time he had “died” it was the most excruciating pain he had ever experienced in his life.

            The young man had been working with the other factory workers when suddenly there were told to evacuate. Everyone was in a state of panic, trampling one another, throwing each other to the ground to make sure they were ahead.

            But none of them were going to escape.

            Whatever project they were working on had overloaded, causing the entire factory to explode. Glass and shards of metal shot through his body like bullets. When he placed his hands on his stomach, a piece of pipe had greeted him as it had impaled him from behind.

            There was no escape except to accept the embrace of death – so that was what he did.

            Except… he didn’t die.

            He awoke God knows how much later, the area around him decimated. A hand to his head in confusion, he simply got and began walking, not noticing the trails of ash dropping behind him.

**

Not much had changed for him in the next hundred or so years – he had decided to go with a new name: Phoenix.

            After all, when a phoenix dies, they rise from the ashes, right?

            Phoenix had done many things over the century. He had learned medicine and had become a doctor in different fields in different countries. The clinics he was in were quite successful for the most part.

            Until random warlords came in and blew his brains out.

            But, he rose again and left – the people had to believe that he was dead. How would they react to someone like him?

            Phoenix at one point had become an engineer. He was part of a team that helped develop nuclear technology. It was an interesting experience to see how that technology came together.

            That was until he saw it firsthand when he took a small getaway to Hiroshima, Japan and was literally blown away by the thing he helped with.

            Had to scrap that life too.

            Phoenix had been many things – a teacher, a construction worker, a pianist, an architect, and many odd things in-between. It wasn’t until he decided to settle in the Los Angeles area around the year 2012 that he wanted to do something different – art.

            He wanted to be part of something meaningful for once. It was a good thing that he happened to look quite young despite being over a hundred years old. What Ivy University didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

            Good thing at one point in his life he was good at making documents as he was able to forge himself a very convincing birth certificate for admit into the college. He also had forge himself a vaccination record, documentation about parents and bank statements to get himself cosigners for an apartment; luckily that was paid off quickly as he had many stashed bank accounts over the years that had accumulated funds with great interest.

            It was a lot of work – but getting himself into the art program at Ivy University before the first day of the new semester was a synch. No one suspected a thing and every one looked at Phoenix like he was a dumb, naïve twenty-one-year-old boy who didn’t know his head from his ass.

            And that was perfect.

            However, it didn’t help that Phoenix had also decided at the time after watching a court case on the television that being a type of lawyer would be interesting too – sometimes he was overzealous with his interests. After all, he was never a lawyer before either. He honestly didn’t want to wait until he was “killed” again to start that career path, so he took law as a minor.

            As he was in the basement one morning of the courthouse, looking at old court files for a law assignment he was working on, a young woman rushed down the stairs. Her blood-red hair was so deep it looked as though it came from her veins themselves. Her large, youthful brown eyes were darting around wildly, her hands gripping a white laced parasol.

            Then their eyes met.

            For the past hundred years there was something that Phoenix could say that he had never done – he had never been with anyone. He had thought it would be too dangerous and too suspicious as he didn’t age and of course when he “died” he had to immediately skip town.

            But there was something desperate in this young woman’s eyes…

            And that was where the trouble had begun.

            A glass heart-shaped necklace was given to him – thrusted upon him actually – as she stated that she liked him. How could that be? They had never met before!

            Despite being someone over a hundred years old, what Phoenix did in that moment was the stupidest thing he had ever done.

            He trusted that woman – Dahlia Hawthorne – completely.

            Phoenix and her dated for eight months. There were no incidents as far as he knew. She was actually quite sweet and kind, often cooking him nice foods that he thought were cute. Occasionally he surprised her with a romantic dinner that he had cooked himself as at one point in his many years he was a chef.

            By the fourth month of him dating her he had gained a new experience in his life – she was the first person he had ever made love with.

            Then out of the blue a young man she had previously dated began to warn Phoenix that she was dangerous and had stolen top chemicals from the pharmacology department. In Phoenix’s experience when he was a doctor, medicine had come a long way – so the chemicals that this Doug Swallow guy listed were very unfamiliar to him.

            There was an argument, and of course, being the passionate person that he was, Phoenix aggressively pushed Doug to the ground and stormed off. However, he felt guilty about potentially hurting the young man, so he had turned around to go assist him.

            Only to see Dahlia crouched over the corpse of Doug.

            “Oh, Feenie… this isn’t what it looks like…” she had said sweetly, but her tone seemed forced. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

            Phoenix could add to his long list of life being on trial of accused murder though.

            He doesn’t know why, even to this day, why he tried to cover her for as long as he did. Even his lawyer at the time, Mia Fey, was beginning to grow frustrated and annoyed. It was then Phoenix made mistake number two.

            He consumed the necklace that Dahlia had given him the day they met… right after it was revealed to be potentially laced with deadly poison that had put an attorney in a coma eight months prior.

            Either luckily or unluckily the poison didn’t kill him. Well, it did, but it didn’t. Phoenix had gone through his normal cycle in the bathroom of the courthouse where he ate the necklace behind locked doors.

            The burning sensation that he always went through was never bearable, no matter how many times it happened.

            When his body “dies” all his cells began to combust simultaneously into flames, leaving nothing but ashes behind him. It was starting life anew – a phoenix rising from the ashes. To be honest, he lost count how many times he had gone through this process. But it did confirm one thing to him.

            Dahlia had never cared for him – she had tried to kill the lawyer eight months prior.

            And the bottle of cold medicine that she had stolen from Phoenix as he was a little under the weather… she had laced it with the same poison in an attempt to kill him.

            Although a dark tough did cross his mind at that point: How shocked would Dahlia would have been to see Phoenix consume the poison and “live”?

            It didn’t matter in the end as Dahlia Hawthorne was arrested for the attempted murder of Diego Armando from eight months prior, the attempted murder of Phoenix Wright, the murder of Doug Swallow, and stealing highly toxic chemicals. The young woman was put in cuffs and dragged off, screaming curses to anyone who would listen.

            The lawyer that had defended him, Mia Fey, offered to mentor him with his legal path from there on out. There was something about her that he knew he could trust – an energy that she emitted. So, he took her offer fully.

            For three years he studied like a “normal” person and became a lawyer – he honestly could’ve done it much faster, but it would’ve been suspicious. Phoenix ended up with his own shiny Attorney’s Badge and began to work as a Junior Partner with Mia at her own firm of “Fey and Co.”.

            It was a nice change of pace – no extreme dangers. Phoenix even debuted as a lawyer defended a friend he had made from one of his “odd” jobs from the pass from murder. It went like a breeze and he was able to find the true culprit in no time.

            Then a couple of nights later when Mia had invited Phoenix out for some drinks, he re-learned his lesson on why he never got close to anyone.

            Phoenix arrived to the office to see that his boss, his mentor, his beloved friend was slumped underneath the window. Blood was dripping from a wound on her head, already beginning to clot as she had been sitting there for a an hour.

            Mia Fey had been murdered.

            A small girl was sitting by Mia’s side, bawling her eyes out, her chest heaving as she gasped for breath. The girl begged at whatever god she could pray to for her sister’s life back.

            Sister…?

            Mia had never mentioned a sister to him before…

            The girl – who he learned was Maya Fey – was then promptly arrested for the murder of Mia Fey. It was ridiculous and made no sense at that logic – Phoenix had tried to point that out multiple times. The detective in question, however, was hearing none of it as he stated the proof was because Mia left evidence of her writing the name of her killer behind.

            Maya’s.

            Phoenix had instantly felt connected to the young girl – he couldn’t put his finger on it. She was an odd one as she was a Spirit Medium in training. Maya was constantly wearing her acolyte robes, purple and white, and had her raven black hair in a top knot with decorative purple beads in the front holding two strands of her hair.

            Seeing her behind that glass in the Detention Center – she looked so small and helpless. It was no place for her to be.

            Despite Maya trying to reject his offer of being her attorney – Phoenix insisted on it. He was going to defend her. After all – Mia would’ve wanted it, right?

            Odds were stacked against the two of them – a dark past unraveling that Phoenix had only heard whispers through the grapevine over the years. A dark corporation that specialized in blackmail had ruined Mia and Maya’s mother’s reputation as a Spirit Medium due to an old murder case from fifteen years prior. So, Mia was doing digging of her own to get all the evidence against the man – Redd White – to get the names of politicians, people in the high legal system, cops, and so on to finally put him away.

            Mia was killed for it – but with Phoenix and Maya’s teamwork they were able to force Redd White to admit his guilt.

            The two had become inseparable since that trial as Phoenix felt an extreme protectiveness over Maya. They had done a few trials together and when it came to the trial of the rival prosecutor they had faced since Mia’s murder, it was the first time Maya realized there may be something different about him.

            “Hey, Nick…” Maya had asked when they two where at Gourd Lake doing their investigation for Miles Edgeworth’s trial.

            “Hmm?” Phoenix had replied with a hum absently. He never really responded to a nickname for his name, but with Maya he had made an exception.

            “Why aren’t you wearing a coat…?”

            “Wha…?”

            It was true that at that moment Phoenix wasn’t wearing a coat, just his traditional blue suit he liked to wear for court. Maya on the other hand was bundled in a winter coat with a small purple hat and gloves.

            “Oh… I’m not cold…” he half-lied.

            At one point in his long life, he had frozen to death. Ever since he had risen from those ashes, he no longer could feel cold or get frost bitten. He had no idea why that happened – he noticed when he was shot a few times after getting killed by bullets that they hurt like a son of bitch, but they didn’t kill him again. It was the same with stabbing. Or a broken neck.

            “Nick…”

**

The trial against Miles Edgeworth ended up being acquitted – although there were a few tough calls.

            One, the prosecutor for the trial was Manfred von Karma – who was Miles’ mentor. The man was evil and devious and had cornered both Phoenix and Maya in the evidence room at the police precinct. The devilish prosecutor had a high voltage taser that should have highly illegal to use and tried to strike Maya with it.

            Phoenix would never let that happen – so he was struck with it instead. His body was jolted with thousands of volts of electricity until he felt that familiar burning sensation. He crumpled to the ground and von Karma had run away with the evidence he needed to have stayed hidden. Maya collapsed to the ground next to Phoenix with tears in her eyes as she tried to call desperately for help.

            “No, I can’t have someone else I care about die on me again…!” Maya had sobbed. “Please don’t…!” Her hands had brushed against his hand, and she yelped when the skin flaked away in ash.

            A gasp had escaped from Phoenix as though it was the first time he had ever breathed oxygen, his hand clenching to his chest.

            “I guess I can scratch that off the list…” he’d murmured.

            Maya had looked at him with wide eyes. “What… the HELL was that, Nick!?” she demanded.

            Phoenix at the time jumped away from her, his back hitting a file cabinet. “Ah… hold on, Maya… I can explain… sort of…” he insisted meekly.

            “What’s with these ashes!?” she’d nearly shrieked, her hands gesturing to the ashes that were dusting the floor and files.

            “Uh… we need to clean that up…”

            “This is not helping, Phoenix Wright!”

            “Okay, okay!” Phoenix had then taken a deep breath. “I… sort of can’t die…?” he’d said it like a question.

            Maya had given him a perplexed look. “What do you mean…?”

            “It means I have been alive for over a hundred years and have never aged,” he pointed out. “I have been shot, stabbed, nuclear bombed, ate poison, died of hypothermia, starved to death, died of dehydration, and now have been electrocuted and I’m still kicking.”

            Maya then blinked. “So… all my ‘Old Man’ jokes are legit…?” she had asked innocently with a coy smile.

            Phoenix had gawked at her. “You just saw me die and come back and that is the first thing you think of!?” he demanded almost angrily.

            Maya had merely shrugged. “Nick… I’m a damn Spirit Medium, this is probably, like, in the top five weirdest experiences I’ve ever had,” she nonchalantly said to him.

            Phoenix’s secret was out – he didn’t have to keep lying to Maya about himself anymore. And it was a great weight that was lifted from his shoulders.

            Once the trial had ended – Miles Edgeworth had kept eyeing Phoenix oddly. It was as though he was finally recognizing him from somewhere.

            “I do want to thank you for all your work here today, Phoenix,” Miles told him, reaching his hand out for a handshake.

            “Oh, yeah, the pleasure is all mine, Miles,” Phoenix sheepishly smiled. “What are friends for?”

            Miles raised a gray brow. “So, you recognize me too, then?” he finally asked.

            “Uh… recognize…?” Phoenix echoed curiously. “I’m sorry… I’m afraid I don’t…”

            Miles gave a small shake of his head. “The factory over a hundred years ago…” he calmly recalled.

            Phoenix went rigid. In all his years, he had never spoken to anyone about that.

            “The one who tried to warn everybody when one of the machines overloaded…?” Miles prodded. “That was me… I was too late…” He crossed his arms in a nervous matter, his right crossing to his left and gripping tightly. “So many of the workers… they were throwing each other to the ground and hurting each other to get to safety…”

            “How… how do…”

            “But you didn’t do that…” Miles continued, ignoring him. “In fact, you saved me…”

            Maya was invested. “So… you have the same thing as Nick, Mr. Edgeworth?” she asked softly.

            Miles looked down at her. “Yes…” he replied. “I too have died many a times over the years… the burning sensation and the ashes…” He then touched his hair. “It’s happened so often that my hair has turned permanently gray.”

            Phoenix raised his hands. “Whoa… wait… back up a minute here…” he insisted. “How did I save you?”

            Miles gave a small smirk. “Oh… I guess I should elaborate…” he chuckled lightly. “I was the son of the owner of that factory. The workers were mining and refining some sort of fossilized meteorite from thousands of years ago…

            “There was radiation, which back then many people didn’t have experience with. When one of the machines cracked a meteorite… the radiation leaked out and affect the machines and caused them to overload.” Miles took a deep breath, remembering the details. “I was close to one of the sites and noticed the machines going haywire… so, I went to try to warn the other workers.

            “My father was not pleased… he wanted you all to keep working, to keep digging. I refused to let it continue. The radiation kept leaking and I warned you all to the best of my ability… my father was angry and tried to throw me against a machine – but you… you Phoenix…” Miles trailed off.

            Phoenix rubbed his head, trying to recall that night. Ever since that first death, he barely had any recollection of what had happened. However, the more that Miles talked, the more the man began to feel familiar. Instead of wearing the burgundy suit that Phoenix was familiar with, he recalled Miles wearing a wine-colored waistcoat with a cotton white undershirt and a black newspaper boy-styled cap on what was once his dark brown hair.

            Phoenix remembered at that instant. He remembered the machine was being overloaded with energy. Miles’ father was enraged from the young man trying to warn the workers and had tried to throw him against the machine. Phoenix, who was running one of the machines, had stopped dead in his tracks from trying to evacuate and stopped the man from doing so. It was futile as the machine still exploded.

            The glass shards going through his body… the metal… the steel pipe…

            “Are you implying that the radiation…?” Phoenix finally whispered.

            “Gave us some sort of immortality?” Miles finished. “Yes… the meteorite was obviously not from our solar system…”

            “Why us…?”

            Miles shrugged. “That… I am not sure…” he honestly said. “But whatever the reason… I’m glad to have seen my friend again…”

            Phoenix then felt a small hand clasp into his. He looked down to see Maya smile up at him.

            “And I’m glad I got to meet you too, Nick…” she told him honestly. “I think Mia may have known something different about you… we Fey’s have this uncanny ability about this stuff.”

            Phoenix blinked at her. Even though he potentially can live forever – he didn’t want to leave Maya behind at all. During his years he had never put much thought into trying to cure his immortality – but after meeting Maya and a few other people recently he rather stick around and age with them.     

            “You know what… I’m glad too…”

Notes:

- There will be a PART 2 of this eventually lmao... - Also, LIGHT GHOST TRICK REFERENCE WHHHHHATTTTT? MEEEEEE? If you haven't played the game yet, I'm not spoiling anything - GO PLAY IT! - Not gonna lie these AU Writings are cutting into "The Found Turnabout" and "Born to Run", even though I tried to write a few of these ahead of time. Whoops.

[saskiahaggens]

฿ØⱤĐɆⱤⱠ₳₦Đ 🂡 ~ 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 3

Masterlist

▣ Previous Part / ▣ Next Part

Paring: (?) × Reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 1636

Please remember that English is not my first language, so please don't kill me.

Shibuki stepped up and took Arisu's paper.

"What is the population of the planet Earth. As a courtesy you may round up to the nearest hundred million.", she read out.

"They are asking for an answere in the billions."

"If we're off by just one, a billion flaming arrows will come flying right at us."

"'As a coutensy'. What a cruel joke."

"There is no way we could answer the question."

They all started speaking at once. But they were right; this question can't be answered correctly.

"Damit. All right, we just have to get it right then. Anyone here know the answer?", started Karube surprisingly calm.

"How would I know the answere! I don't even know japan's population.", started Chota.

You simply nodded. To be honest, no one needed to know the world's population for anything. It's a changing number, therefore no one knows the correct answer; even your textbooks have different answers to that question. Still, you didn't care to remember one.

"Shibuki what about you?" Karube questioned, knowing Arisu wouldn't know the answer as well.

"I don't know. Plus, any figures I learned during school would be outdated by now. I've heard the world population increases by 80 million each year. Using that we can deduce the population to be 6.6? No... it's 6.7 or 6.8 billion."

This is a far too ambiguous answer. Surviving a hundred million arrows would be impossible. Nobody wants to answer such a question.

"Arisu! You decide. You pulled the fortune. I'm trusting you with my life. If someone has a problem with it, talk it through with Arisu. I'm not butting in.", sight Karube.

Has he given up? No, there must be something behind this. From everything you've learned about them so far, he's not the kind of guy to give up. Especially when one of his friends is in trouble.

"Dose is hurt?", he suddenly asked you.

"Yeah, but I think it would be worse if it weren't for the adrenaline," you responded, holding your arm.

"Hey, Karube. Why are you letting Arisu decide. We could still be brainstorming together.", asked Chota who scooted next to you.

Karube gave a short speech on Arisus and his past, but you were otherwise busy. He had his reasons, and you wouldn't question him after he saved you. You were preoccupied with the question.

Why didn't they just ask the questions like that? Why the fortunes? There has to be another way to end the game.

"I got it!", Arisu called out. "The answere is 6.8 billion."

•~•~•~•~•~•

Answere

6,900,000,000

The penalty will now begin. It will continue for as many days as necessary until complete.

•~•~•~•~•~•

"What have you done!", called Shibuki out.

"As if you knew the exact answer." you bluffed back, which caused her to shut up.

"The problem was unsolvable form the beginning. So, I didn't try to figure out the correct answer."

"No offence Arisu, but you had to find out something else. May you mind explaining it before we are shot?", you asked while Karube helped you stand up.

"It's the fortunes. Each fortune contains a rank and a problem. But what is the rest of the text for?", he asked, and it clicked.

"Your best direction is south!", you called out what was written on Karubes' fortune.

"Arisu you really are something else. Alright everyone! Run until your lungs give put!" Called Karube when the first arrows hit the ground.

He grabbed your arm and started running south, trying to doge the arrows. Karube also bought the table, which he previously used to shield you and Chota from arrows.

"At this reate we'll die frome the heat alone!", yelled Chota.

You'd never realize how loud arrows could be until 100 million of them were fired at you, let alone the heat. Some objects even started exploding, and if Karube hadn't dragged you along, you would have given up and accepted your fate a long time ago.

"We got so far! Don't you dare give up!", he encouraged Chota to run faster.

You stumbled across an old well at the end of the path, but it had been filled in. You started to lose hope again, when an arrow hit the earth, and you noticed a clinging noise. Karube dragged you all underneath the table, before rushing out to check where the arrow struck. What an idiot. The table was too small to fit all of you and would give in anyway sooner or later, so you jumped to assist him; at the very least, the others would be saved.

This time, you have the chance to actually help them. You would also return the favor for saving you earlier. You thanked the adrenaline for existing because you could feel the heat, but you couldn't feel the agony of your hand burning any further than earlier, when you tried to put out the fire on your arm.

You both pulled open a huge metal door which led to a bunker. Karube wasted no time in pushing you near the edge to allow you to climb down while he yelled out for the others.

After you hit the ground, you kept an eye out for the others and whether they needed assistance. At least, you tried since it was pitch black down there. You heard Chota, Shibuki, and Arisu climbing down and directed them to the wall so you wouldn't bump into each other. Karube was the last one to get down and finally lights flickered on.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Congratulations

Game Complete

•~•~•~•~•~•

A monitor began to flicker on. What were the higher levels like if this was only a level three? How should you survive them, or why would you play them at all?

•~•~•~•~•~•

To return to the surface, please take the path that leads to the sewer.

•~•~•~•~•~•

You all started shouting in delight, and Karube pulled you in a headlock while jumped Arisu. Chota sobbed as he embraced Shibuki. You weren't sure if he was crying out of joy or agony at one point, because all your wounds were starting to hurt.

Suddenly, the monitor came back on and informed you that you had been granted a visa. A little register on the end of the room started beeping and a few moments later Arisu held out a paper and a card.

_________

Visa

Immigration status

verified

__________

Y/n L/n

__________

Points earnd this round: 3

Total points: 3

Valid until Tuesday 7/14

Please remain aware of your remaining time balance.

Registration: ♧3

____________

"The text all looks the same.", figured Karube.

Shibuki must participate in the games in order to receive the visa and/or the cards. It's not like she'd gotten anything else out of it.

"Shibuki. We're out of danger for now. It's time you tell us what you know."

"Fine but first let's get to the hospital. Y/n wound could get infected. We need to look for supplies. I can talk as we go. I'll tell you everything I know, about this place they call Borderland.", Shibuki exclaimed while walking away.

"Well, you get a piggyback ride," Karube said as he knelt down in front of you.

"I hurt my arm, not my leg."

"Yeah, but you saved my friends, and I can't repay you for that. Let's not forget that you may have saved me back there as well. We were significantly quicker at burring that door. So, no back talk.", he mumbled, and you gave up.

Shibuki told you all she knew about this place, but you couldn't focus. You felt that Karube was exhausted, but he still wouldn't let you down. You thought it might hurt his pride, so you stopped asking. You were also exhausted. Perhaps as a result of what you had just survived or because you hadn't slept in a while. I mean, before you were bought to Borderland, it was the middle of the night, and after that, it was dawn there, so you were awake for at least a day, added was Karubes warmth and you slept in quickly.

Unknown to you Karube turned slightly red, as you nuzzled your head in his neck. He thought no one could see it, but Chota caught him.

"Oi, Karube got a crush!", he shouted out.

Arisu chuckled but pulled him in a headlock after. "Not so loud. You'll wake her up."

Shibuki giggled and tried to redeem Karube. "How long do you know her?"

Chota murmured, slightly embarrassed by the fact, "…a day."

"Only a day and she risked her live for you? She must really like you already."

"Probably," Karube murmured, while his thoughts began to wander.

Arisu smiled as she glanced at your sleeping face. He had no idea who you were or where you came from, but you were kind of his guardian angel.

Arriving at the hospital, Karube put you in one of the beds and drew a blanket over you, after Shibuki treated you wounds.

"You really are quite something huh?", he asked more himself them you. "Many people just died, because their visa expired and here you are sleeping through it all."

Chota and Shibuki left to get some sleep and Arisu was who knows where, so he was alone with you.

"Thank you.", he mumbled turning away.

"You saved the two people I cared most for, but still your stupid to risk your life like that."

If Karube was honest he would admit that he didn't sleep the night. He wasn't sure about Shibuki, but he heard Chotas' and Arisus muffled cries. If he wasn't worried for you waking up, he probably would have done it too. He could have left but he decided against it. You saved the things that mattered most to him, so he could at least take care of you… for now.

[maladaptivedongdreamer]

Animosity

Warnings: blood, betrayal, angst and murder? English is not my first language, not even my second. Sorry if you encounter any errors.

Risotto Nero x GN!Reader (3.9 k words)

"It's killing me again/I replay it in my head when I'm alone/I hope that you're alone now/It's not me, it's you/The one who never got a clue/Drown in your guilt/If karma doesn't hit you, then I will."

Animosity - The Warning

As the car stopped with a jolt, you could feel your heart starting to beat faster in your chest. You let out a slow and deep breath as your hand instinctively reached down to the left pocket of your denim jacket, where a half-empty pack of cigarettes was. A sports car drove past you in the rain, illuminating the cockpit for a brief second and allowing you to see your own reflection in the rearview mirror. You immediately averted your gaze with a grimace.

With your left hand on the door handle and the hoodie covering your head, you took a deep breath before getting out of the car. An umbrella would've been just a burden, so you simply sprinted to cross the deserted road. On the opposite sidewalk, the porch offered you protection against the frozen raindrops, yet you shivered as a gust of wind scourged your cheeks. Instinctively, your hand went to the left side of your face and hastily pulled the hood to cover it. Without raising your head, you reached inside the pocket of your jacket and pulled out a cigarette. It took you a couple of attempts before you finally managed to light it up, as your hand was trembling. You blamed it on the chilling wind and kept walking.

While the bitter smoke burned down your throat, scratching the itch that was tormenting you, the plan unravelled itself for the thousandth time in your mind. As if you could forget it. As if you hadn't spent the past couple of days perfecting every detail, incapable of sleeping yet finding every second of your waking hours unbearable.

Not that your plan didn't have any fallacies. For example, you just assumed that your target would be home. You made sure that they hadn't changed their address - you had spent the past couple of weeks using your Stand to spy on them. Their routine hadn't fluctuated at all since before the accident, you noted with a knot in your throat. Almost as if it never happened.

Thankfully, you knew Risotto Nero far too well for his own good. Around this time of the year, he would take a couple of weeks off, to commemorate the life-changing event in his life: the death of his cousin. The year prior, you had checked on him, to make sure he was OK. Now, you were going to kill him.

Kill him. The words echoed in your mind, so loud that you hesitated and slowed down. You could see his apartment complex now, in the distance. A car passed you by, interrupting the still silence that was enveloping your senses: it was much easier to lose yourself and your resolve in the monotonous pattering of the raindrops. The sound of tires on the asphalt and the sudden light that breached through the midnight darkness became almost unsufferable for a split second. You wanted to close your eyes and cover your ears; you considered the idea of turning around and walking back to your car.

Seeing the man responsible for your death living his day to day life as if nothing happened: not many people have been granted this fortune, and even less people were in the position to avenge themselves. You thought your anger had subsided, only leaving a faint trace, as you had plenty of months of rehabilitation to accept his betrayal. He had no choice but to let you die, you had repeated yourself as a mantra, over and over again, as you slowly regained control of your body.

At first, you had only wanted to reach out and let him know that you were alive. One day, you had patiently waited for him to come back home from "work", your heart almost exploding with impatience in your chest, your throat dry and your eyes wandering around, waiting for his car to become visible in the distance. It was then that you had seen him with her.

You resumed your unrelenting walk: the porch was about to end. Thankfully, the rain also seemed to quiet down, almost as if your vengeance had Mother Nature's stamp of approval.

Now you could see that the lights were on at the second floor of the apartment complex where Risotto lived. Another sign that Fate was by your side, you noted, as the blood rushing through your veins pumped like drums in your ears.

You took one last draw on the cigarette, almost burning your fingers as the combustion was far too close to the filter for the drag to be any good. The bitter taste made you wince, your face distorting into what you could only imagine being a cubist portrait. You threw away your cigarette, letting the rain extinguish its dying flame, and cupped your left cheek with your hand. Under your finger tips you could feel the ragged outline of the scar.

The first time you had seen your reflection after the incident at the warehouse, you couldn't help yourself but think of Picasso's Guernica. Later, you had felt stupid and egocentric for having equated a catastrophic historical event to your personal misfortune. What is the loss of your youthful beauty compared to the massacre of hundreds of people? And yet, as the beautiful woman sitting in Risotto's passenger seat had laughed - her beautiful skin intact - you couldn't help yourself but imagine his repulsion if he had seen the state of you. With your fingernails biting into the skin of your palms, you used that pain as fuel for your anger.

You would make sure he saw you. You wanted to be the last thing he'd see before Death put an end to either of you.

Your rage had yet to turn you blind: you knew far too well that Risotto was a powerful Stand user and an incredibly skilled assassin. You were ready to die by his hand, in case you failed. Would he kill you a second time? You were already dead and gone to him and to dozens of people: killing a ghost would be much easier. But you wouldn't go down without a fight. Worst case scenario, you hoped you could take at least part of his precious vinyl collection to Hell with you.

Risotto lived in a quite unsuspecting neighbourhood: fairly isolated from the city center and of recent construction. The buildings looked all pretty much the same: white and grey cubes of concrete surrounded by vegetation. No one would imagine that the leader of La Squadra Esecuzioni lived there, surrounded by newlyweds and young families.

Using your Stand, Trail of Tears, you focused on melting your body into a puddle that easily passed under the gate dividing the apartment complex' garden from the sidewalk. You proceeded like that, thankful for the darkness surrounding you, until your reached the glass entrance door that lead into the empty lobby. You could feel every fiber of your being focusing on the task as your body squeezed through the much more narrow interstices.

Once you found yourself into the lobby, you felt your body autonomously turn to its normal form. "Fuck", you muttered. You noticed that your breath was short and your retina was blinded by millions of colorful explosions, as if you were about to faint. Laying on your fours, you tried to catch your breath.

It was the first time in months that you had used your Stand to these lengths, exerting its power to transform your body into such fine matter. You could feel yourself hurting where you had suffered the worst injuries during the incident. Your arms were trembling and you bit your lower lip to prevent yourself from letting out pained whines. When you got your sight back, you exhaled abruptly and punched the marble floor, to give yourself the courage and resolve to get back on your feet.

Another thing Risotto had to pay for.

You climbed the stairs, one stealthy step after the other, paying attention to every sound that came from the other apartments. It was late enough that most people would be in bed, but some - like Risotto himself - were still up. If someone decided to go for a walk in the middle of the night, you were ready to resort to your Stand. However, considering the toll it took on you, you prayed that the rainy weather would be a deterrent for any midnight walk.

You finally reached the second floor: the door to your victim's apartment was right in front of you. The time had come for you to act. You inhaled briefly and exhaled as slowly and silently as you could, trying to stop your heart from beating like a drum in your chest. The fear that Risotto's Stand might feel your presence through the blood running in your veins paralysed you for a second. Then again, you told yourself that he wasn't expecting you to rise up from your grave just to murder him.

Closing your eyes in the darkness of the hall, you let your body melt: guided by the current of air that was passing underneath the door, you squeezed your shapeless form through the crevice and only stopped when you felt that the whole mass of your being was now resting on the wooden floor of Risotto's entryway. You stopped for a second, trying to figure whether or not you were alone and ignoring the urge to transform back.

In that form, you were blind, but your other senses increased. You often resorted to the wind or any movement of air masses to determine whether someone was in your proximity or not.

You could hear a laugh track in the distance and the wheezing that usually came from electronic devices. You knew that there was no light in the room, for you couldn't feel any warmth on the top surface of your body.

You turned into your regular form and bent your body forwards - hands resting on your knees - for balance. You mentally cursed yourself, as you held your breath, afraid that you would let out a pained moan if you dared to breathe.

How dared you think that you could kill Risotto Nero in your pitiful state? Biting your lip you slowly emptied you lungs, your nostrils flared, as if doing so would minimise the noise. When the pain subsided, in the darkness you started moving towards Risotto's living room where the TV noise was coming from.

A newfound sharpness had taken the place of the self-doubt. After all, you were a trained assassin and you had to thank Risotto himself for mentoring you and teaching you a set of many helpful skills. It was him who allowed you to understand the extent to which your Stand could be useful. And now you were going to use that knowledge against him.

The door leading to the living room was slightly open. You knew for a fact that Risotto made sure it would screech, to alert him of any foreign presence that might try to attack him. The opening was large enough for you to morph your body without putting to much of a toll on it. Your head could easily pass, which meant that you wouldn't lose sight of the target. In fact, there he was, his fluffy white albino hair resting on the sofa, as he was lazily reading through paperwork.

And there you were, less than five steps away from him. You knew that the only way you could have the better of him was to catch him by surprise, before he could evoke his powerful Metallica. You prepared your body for another - and hopefully the last - metamorphosis. You closed you eyes, feeling the blood rushing through your veins. The moment had come. In a couple of minutes, the outcome of the fight would be decided: you were going to survive and kill the man responsible for your losing everything, or die trying.

"I'm glad to see that you're well, dear." You opened your eyes to meet his bright red irises and black sclera. The surprise made you part your lips. You wished you came up with a witty remark, or just say something, but you seemed incapable of speaking. You imagined you looked like a fish on dry land, your eyes wide open and gasping for air. Your heart also seemed to have stopped.

Risotto slowly got up from the sofa and turned his whole body around to face you. You instinctively turned your head and grabbed at your hood to pull it over your scarred face. Where has your determination gone? Now that your former lover - the man who got you killed - was standing in front of you, slowly approaching you as one would a scaredy wild animal, you felt your legs go week. Was he draining the iron out of your blood already?

He positioned himself in front of you and raised his hands to your wrists, which were still grasping at the hem of your hood. Your knuckles had turned white from the exertion. His warm hands enveloped your joints and slowly lowered your hands to your sides. He was so close that you could feel his scent linger between the two of you - a bitter hint of bergamot and the masculine fragrance of his shaving cream.

"Look at me", he ordered, his deep voice penetrating through your eardrums, vibrating in your head and making the tight knot in your chest feel heavier. You couldn't speak a word, so you just shook your head no, lowering your face as much as you could, your chin almost touching your chest. He called your name, sweetly, as he rose his hand to caress your cheek - the one without the scar. The contact sent shivers through your spine. It had been long since the last time someone had touched you so intimately. The last one who showed tenderness to you had been Risotto.

Then he almost got you killed. The rage that had been brewing for months finally erupted. You slapped his hand away and turned your back to him - admittedly not your smartest move - with clenched fists.

"How dare you?" When you spoke, your voice trembled and you cursed yourself for your weekness. You felt Risotto sigh. He called your name again, softly, almost pleading. "I had to make a choice".

His inadequate response only made you angrier. You turned around to face him, your hoodie falling down and uncovering your face. You say Risotto's eyes widen in surprise, then pity took the place of his astonishment. He unconsciously raised a hand almost to reach out to you, then let if fall back down to his side.

"It was either you, or Melone, Ghiaccio and Formaggio", he continued. You saw his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed hard. "I couldn't let half of the squad die just to save you".

You felt yourself frown, a pained expression now distorting your face. You knew that he was right, you'd always known. His words had been your mantra for months after all. He did took the most appropriate path; in his position, you would've let yourself die too. The main issue was that if Risotto were to be in your place, though, and you in his, you would've never abandoned him. You knew that he did the right thing as a leader. But as a lover, he had failed you in more than one way. And your broken heart pained you more than any of the wounds you had suffered from: his feelings for you were not nearly as strong as yours towards him.

"I also knew that if someone could make it out alive, that person would be you", he added carefully. You shook your head once again, a laughing fit of disbelief about to erupt from your lips.

"And yet you never looked for me", you replied. Risotto lowered his head and took a step back, using the back of the sofa as a place to stand, gripping the edge with his hands.

"I did", he admitted finally. The silence between the two of you felt heavier than ever. Your ears were buzzing, almost as if you were about to faint. "I made myself invisible to infiltrate the hospital and came to visit you late at night", he continued. You swallowed, your throat as dry as the desert, your mouth parched and lips sealed together, waiting for him to continue. "Your medical reports stated that you had amnesia, due to a severe concussion", he explained.

You let out a dry cackle. "Either that, or I had to explain to the cops what was I doing in an abandoned warehouse, surrounded by explosive material."

Risotto nodded and couldn't hide the smirk on his lips. "I figured that out", he continued. Of course he did, which lead to a more complex question.

"Then why did you abandon me?" Your voice and choice of words betrayed your feelings much more than you had hoped for. Instead of accusatory, you sounded hurt, your voice cracking as your tone rose up to mark the question.

"I hoped that you would take this as an opportunity to disappear." His harsh and direct response made your heart sink into your stomach. He must've seen your expression, because he continued. "I know that you had no choice but to join Passione. You told me that if you could, you'd leave in a heartbeat." You felt dizzy, your knees almost giving up on you. You covered your face with both hands, as to protect yourself from any external input. Everything felt overwhelming: from the stupid TV show that was running on the screen, to the sound of the rain pouring down and hitting the glass windows. When did it start raining again?

"I-", you started, but your words froze in your throat. Two strong hands grabbed you by your wrists, uncovering your face. Then Risotto touched your chin and slowly lifted it up, forcing you to look him in the eyes. With his free hand, he traced the surface of your scar. He didn't seem repulsed, yet you shivered and closed your eyes, afraid that you would find disgust in his otherworldly eyes.

"The only thing I want is you", you finally managed to say. Risotto held his breath as soon as the meaning of your words settled in. He called your name one more time, sweeter than honey, as he moved his hand from your cheek to the back of your head, pulling you closer. You shook your head one more time and pushed him away. "But you don't love me", you accused him. "It didn't take you too long to get over me, did it?"

His hand was still stuck in mid-air, as if you hadn't moved, or as if he was caressing the ghost of you. Your words seemed to impact him, as he slowly let his hand down and lowered his head, not wanting to meet your eyes. You felt a painful pang of prideful victory when Risotto took his head in his hands. You surprised him, one up-ed him, yet between the two, you were the one slowly bleeding inside. A part of you had hoped that the woman he had taken home that day was no one: maybe a new team member, maybe a neighbor he had offered a ride to.

"I saw you", you continued, taking advantage of his moment of weakness to breach even further into his collected demeanor. He nodded slowly, his head still in his hands.

"Yeah", he managed to say. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, his eyes still not meeting yours. "She's-", he hesitated for a second, his lips pursed together and a frown forming a deep line between his eyebrows. Your mouth felt drier than the desert: you were not sure if you wanted to hear the rest.

"So", you continued. Your voice was trembling, in spite of your better intentions. "You abandoned me for dead. You knew I made it out alive, but didn't try to reach out to me. And now you're seeing someone else." He didn't move, he didn't say a word, which only made the fury building up inside of you grow even more nefarious. "That's the most complicated way to dump someone I've ever heard", you hissed between gritted teeth. Without letting him time to protest, you continued, speaking over his voice and ignoring his attempt to get closer to you. "You've ruined my life", you said. His eyes finally met yours. The pain and the pity you read in those red irises of his only made you want to scream into his face. "Made sure no one else would look at me without disgust in their eyes, let alone with desire", you continued, pointing at the scar on your face. "Then immediately started seeing someone else, after you've decided to cut any tie with me."

"I did what I thought was best for you", he finally said, calmly. In a fit of rage, you jumped at him, aiming for his face, your fist turned into a dark pool of ink. He dodged your attack, making sure he avoided any contact with your body, knowing far too well the effect of your Stand on others. He raised his hands and slowly moved away from you, as you continued to walk towards him, your rage distorting your features and obfuscating your thoughts. "I thought you wanted a normal life", he continued.

"All I wanted was you", you repeated like a broken record. He called your name once more, this time firmly, but you couldn't hear him. You made an attempt to close the distance between the two of you again, ready to hit him with all you've got, when a sharp pain to your left knee made you gasp audibly.

Risotto had used his Stand to envelop your joint with barbed wire. The striking pain forced you to back off, clumsily falling back on your ass. Months of rehabilitation had taken a toll on your combat abilities. All it took for Risotto to defeat you was one single attack.

The contact with the hard wooden floor made all your anger dissipate in thin air. You felt warm tears of humiliation running down your cheeks and you rapidly proceeded to wipe them off with the harsh fabric of your denim jacket. You kept looking at Risotto as he approached you, not even realising that the barbed wire had disappeared, leaving you with a pair of torn and bloody jeans. He had also used your blood to patch your wound up.

When he took you in his arms, cradling you like a baby, you started trembling, incapable of stopping the tears. He sat on the sofa, not letting you go, but pressing you even harder against his chest. He ignored your protests when he began caressing the scar on your face, as he peppered kisses on the top of your head.

"I'm sorry", he said.

You couldn't respond, for you weren't even sure of your own feelings in that moment. You felt ashamed, defeated, yet being once again in your former lover's arms made you experience a happiness that you had thought long gone.

As you slowly drifted to sleep in the warmth of that embrace, you heard Risotto's voice - more and more distant - saying "I'm sorry" once again.

Thank you for reading, if you got this far! See you next Monday: it's Abbacchio's turn to be an asshole.

[merakiui]

I just wanna share the idea of yandere!Ayato Kamisato having a childhood friend he was in love with but couldnt pursue either cuz his parents couldnt get darling’s prents to agree or there was too big of a difference in status or darling simply didnt love him that way and rejected him the first time he proposed. Either way, he’s pining and overprotective/posessive and darling is uncomfortably aware why (as is the rest of Inazuma- after all, no one could forget how lovestruck Ayato was as a child and even as an adult he orders ridiculous amounts of presents for the simple reason of pleasing you) so Darling plans to take a trip abroad. Unfortunately for her, the Kamisato parents die and Ayato and Ayaka terribly need that support and stability so she stays.

Everyone believes she’s officially Ayato’s woman now. Too many people call her Lady Kamisato even aftrr her many attempts to correct them. Heck, even the Shogun called her “Yashiro Commission’s Lady” in front of the nation that one time she gave a public address and you just so happened to have been tasked with handing her the ordinances. No matter what you cant escape Ayato, and he’s not even really doing anything that’s forcing you by his side- everyone else is! Its maddening. Especially when he plays innocent as if he didnt have a hand in orchestrating it all as he asks how your day went during the private dinner the servants prepared for just you two in his private quarters.

Darling gets desperate and hears of an interesting rumor. The fatui. A plot ? Of some sort? To turn Inazuma into a land of solitude? Cut off communication with the outside world....? Darling doesnt really understand and she KNOWS she should report this to someone but... why should she? When everyone’s been practically forcing her to Ayato’s side against her will? But its still her home...

But her mind is made up the moment she returns to the kamisato estate and hears the servants gossiping, gossiping about Lord Ayato purchasing the best gemstones straight from Liyue itself and the services of the best jeweler in Inazuma to craft a special gift for her. A ring.

And Darling feels the dread explode and she turns heel and runs to her room to cry. Awful, so damn awful. Then once all the tears have dried, she plots. She becomes more... accepting. She’s slightly warmer to Ayato’s advances which brings him so much joy that he overlooks too many of the strange ongoings in Inazuma. She asks him for small things, a nice brocade of silk for a kimono there, a pretty hairpin there, some exquisite writing utensils...

It’s on Ayato’s next business trip away from Narukami and after kissing him farewell in the morning she sets off to visit Ritou to procure her escape route. By nightfall, she is long gone with only the clothes on her back and a handful of jeweled adornments in her pack as she’s off to Liyue. She sells everything, then changes her name and clothes and travels as far as she can.

Ayato’s business trip ends in two weeks.

The Sakokou Decree is announced the next day, and she can’t believe how good her timing was to be able to escape Ayato and how he’s now trapped in the Land of Eternity without her.

She builds a life for herself in Liyue from the ground up. It’s humbling work after years of being pampered by Ayato, but its honest and its invigorating. Once delicately soft hands are now roughened by days of hard labor and soon you’re a part of the community that once looked at you as an oddity. You got to witness some amazing things too, like Lantern Rite, the Rite of Descension, you even travelled to Mondstadt so you could experience the Windblume festival! You brought home trinkets and smiled and shared with the kids who always were enraptured by your stories.

But... who knew the God of Eternity would ever rescind a decision she’s made? Only a year after its been decreed Inazuma reopens its borders.

And Ayato appears at the doorstep of your home, a placid smile that does not reach his infuriated eyes as he asks how you’ve been, a satchel in his grip before he dumps out all the jewels he gave you and you sold at the beginning of your freedom from him.

Anon!!!! :O This idea is an entire feast aaaaa!!

[ambrossart]

While I’m still working on the climax of part 8 (there’s a lot of strong emotions involved, and I really want to capture them as best as I can), here’s a little preview of what’s coming. 

Part 8 will be up tomorrow night since I have the day off to do all my final rewrites and edits. I will probably spend the whole day on it, honestly. 

In the meantime, enjoy this little sneak peak!

** Also, I can’t respond to comments because of the glitch, so if you post a question here, I swear I’m not ignoring you! **

“You know, it’s very rare to find a friend like Chrissy. We’ve been best friends since the first grade. The first grade. The teacher partnered us together for an assignment, and we just hit it off right away. It was effortless with her. As easy as breathing. We spent the whole afternoon talking and laughing, getting absolutely nothing done, and it’s been that way ever since. I swear, it’s like we’re in our own little world sometimes. We shut everyone else out, forget about all our problems, and just relax for a while… as long as we can. She’s the only one I’ve ever been able to do that with, and I’m assuming it’s the same for her; otherwise, she wouldn’t have kept me around for so long. And honestly that surprised me, too. I mean, you hear about girls dropping their childhood friends once they get a taste of popularity, but not Chris. No, she didn’t change at all. We still eat lunch together every day. Still walk home together every day. Sleepovers every Saturday, and then we hang out all day Sunday. It’s like a ritual at this point, and I think we’re both too afraid to break it. It’s like we think the world will end or something.” You laughed at that for a minute, then frowned. 

“We’re going to different schools next year. That wasn’t the plan, of course. We were both supposed to go to Evansville together, live it up, have the time of our lives, but now she’s the only one going. Chris thinks it’s because I didn’t get in, but the truth is… I never even applied. I don’t wanna go to college with her. I can’t go to college with her. And I know that’s sounds really selfish. Probably makes me seem like a total bitch, but… My whole identity is wrapped up in Chrissy Cunningham. From the time we became friends, she has defined me. I have no name anymore. I’m simply Chrissy’s best friend. And what, I have to spend another four years like that? Another forty? When I die, is that what’s gonna be engraved on my tombstone? I have nightmares about it. I wake up in the middle of the night and cry about it. I’ve spent the last twelve years living in Chrissy’s shadow, and it’s slowly killing me. And it’s not her fault. She’s done nothing wrong. She’s amazing, and I love her, but… I need to find out who I am… apart from her.” 

You breathed out the words and watched them drift away. This was the first time you’d ever spoken such treachery out loud. Until now, it had been trapped inside of you like a poison, and now that it was out, a small part of you was afraid. Afraid Chrissy might’ve heard you. Afraid that all your rituals had now been undone. The spell was broken, and now the world around you would cease to exist. Fires. Earthquakes. Floods. Famine. You sat there for a minute, listening for the sounds of screaming and panic, but there was nothing… just Spandau Ballet. 

You turned your head, caught Eddie Munson’s wide-eyed stare. “I’m sorry, were you asking me a question?”

“Uhh… just… what your plans are after high school.” 

Your face flushed. “Oh, right…” You crossed your arms over your chest and looked down. “Umm, college. In way too many words, college. Yeah, that’s what I’ll be doing. What about you?” 

Eddie pounded his fist on his knee. “I… have no idea. I guess I’ll be at the world’s mercy.” 

“You’re not gonna pursue your music?”

“Well, yeah, I’m gonna try… but the odds of making it are basically, y’know, zero.” He formed a goose egg with his hand, then made it explode with a flick of his fingers. “With my luck, I’m probably gonna end up sharing a prison cell with my old man.” 

“Don’t say that,” you said, sickened. 

“I’m just kidding…” 

“Yeah, you are, but you aren’t, so… stop.” Your voice was soft but emphatic. It made Eddie look at you in surprise. “I remember how you would get whenever your dad was out on parole. It was like night and day. You became a completely different person.”

Once, while you were all leaving Scottie’s house after a D&D session, Eddie saw his dad’s beat-up car sitting on the curb and, instantly, all the color drained from his face. Then he said, I gotta go, guys, and he skipped the next two sessions.

“You always swore you wouldn’t end up like him, so… swear it, Eddie. Swear you’ll never end up like him.” 

Your glare was earnest and desperate. 

Eddie sighed, surrendering to it. “I’ll never end up like him. I promise.” 

“Good,” you said. “And don’t make anymore jokes like that either because you’re not that funny, Munson.” 

“Okay,” said Eddie with a faint smile. “From now on, I’ll leave all the jokes to you.” 

[introvert--weeb]

Hello! I love reading your works but can i have request?

If it's not too much i request for a mikey, draken, mitsuya,angry,smiley,ran and rindou (sorry if it's too much, i love them all i can't pick) with a s/o bakugou katsuki? But the s/o is a bit calmer since she have a angry management but when she snaps she became the explosive queen?(lmao) and called someone extras,nerd,shitty and when fight she keeps saying "DIEEE!"

Oh God! I love this idea so much!

And of course I can write for all of them! I really don't have that much of a limit on how many characters I'm willing to write about in one request 😅 I'm also really glad you enjoy my other writings :)

Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy it!!

--

Mikey, Draken, Mitsuya, Smiley, Angry, Ran, Rindo with a fem!Bakugo Katsuki!reader

TW: mentions of language, anger management, violence, name calling

--

Mikey

Just like Mikey, you would like to give others nicknames rather than call them by their actual name. However, while the blond would simply add '-chin' at the end of names or change the way it's said, you would create these nicknames by either how annoying they were to you or if you were friends, by their features.

You were like a firecracker. Short fuse and when it was lit, you were explosive in both your words and actions. Many of Toman had learnt this the hard way. Especially poor Baji. He had made a comment that had set you off, next thing he knew he was facing the sky as Draken and Mikey were holding you back. Never again did he make the mistake of saying something that would upset you.

While you were usually OK if not provoked, there were times when you couldn't hold back. This was especially true when it came down to fights. Even the Invincible Mikey knew to not get too close during these moments. After all, he had witnessed what happened to those that had.

You would be the loudest and most explosive on that entire battlefield. It was intimidating for the rival gang when you had gotten into the zone. Yells of you telling all those 'extras' to get out of your way, with each punch you would scream out for them to 'die'. Yep, the others are going to get as far away from you as possible.

Would be back to your calm self after letting all your frustrations out. This is what surprises your boyfriend the most. You could be yelling at people to die as you punched them only to become sweet and innocent afterwards. It did remind him to never provoke you to the point of you losing it.

Draken

No one could understand how Draken had ended up with someone as arrogant as you. You made it no secret that you believed in your skills as a fighter, even looking down on others you deemed too weak.

However, this was mainly to make sure others knew that you should be taken seriously. Being a girl in a gang, especially the girlfriend of the Vice Captain, had others looking down on you all the time. You were strong on your own merits. You didn't need to be dating Draken to get people to notice this.

Most of the time, you were pretty calm and people felt they could approach you without any harm coming towards them. After all, you were actually a nice person under all that harsh exterior. But they still made sure to watch what they said around you, remembering how short your fuse was.

When you snapped, the person who got you to that point best start praying for their life or running as far away as they could. You were known to be quite agile when it came to fights and this would be no exception. A swift punch to their face followed by you yelling for them to 'die you shitty extra'!

Ken would never admit it but you terrified him when you got like this. After all, he was the Vice Captain to one of the strongest delinquent gangs in Tokyo. He shouldn't be scared of a girl that was shorter than him. People reminded him that he could stop you by picking you up. Draken knew this wouldn't do anyone any good.

"Ken-ny, you not going to stop her?" Mikey asked, appearing at the side of the taller blond while munching on his dorayaki. Draken just sighed before explaining that he couldn't. In fact, he doesn't even believe that Mikey could stop you when you got like this. The best course of action was to just let you have your fill so you could calm down.

The poor boy who had lit your fuse was now lying black and blue on the ground, blood pouring out of his now-broken nose. You simply blew a strand of hair from your face before making your way to your boyfriend, not wanting to talk about the incident.

Mitsuya

Being a pacifist, Mitsuya didn't agree with how fast you would turn to violence when you lost your patience with somebody. After all, he was a firm believer in that most situations can be sorted by talking it through. So people were really shocked when it came to light you were dating.

You were both the complete opposites of each other in how you dealt with overwhelming stress. However, you both did make a great couple when it came to other aspects in the relationship. It's just people hardly saw that. And nobody seemed to remember that you were actually quite a calm person who just so happened to have a short fuse.

What seemed to set your fuse of the most is when others looked down on you or your boyfriend. People seemed to think that because he didn't actively fight those he had a disagreement with.

So when someone dared to talk smack about your beloved Takashi, you were not going to take it. And so, that is how Mitsuya was trying his best to hold you back as you were shouting and trying to kick out at the person that had made you angry.

"Let go of me, Takashi! I'm gonna rip that shitty nerd's arms off, that's all!" You may have been trying to convince your boyfriend to let you go but the threat of removing the arms of the boy was keeping him from doing so. Even the boy who had annoyed you had begun to feel scared for his safety and so chose this moment to walk away.

"Oi! Get back here you damn extra! I'll kill you!"

Mitsuya simply held you until you calmed down, softly shushing you as you yelled out more threats. But when you finally had calmed down enough, that was when Mitsuya would begin to lecture you on how violence and threats were uncalled for in situations like that. Although he would express his gratitude that you stood up for him.

Smiley

You both would get on so well together. Same energy and love for violence and threatening people. in fact, you both would tell each other "I'll kill you" (affectionately of course) when the other was being annoying. The best type of relationship.

You would definitely give Smiley a nickname that only you would call him. And Nahoya would reciprocate with his own nicknames he had for you. They would definitely just be affectionate insults.

When you would be on dates, Smiley would love how you muttered under your breath about all the extras and nerds that were getting in your way. Sometimes you may actually call them that to their face if it was a particularly bad day, scaring the poor souls at how aggressive you seemed.

Nahoya would ride his bike with you clinging to his back. You would both ride around Shibuya, speeding around corners just to feel that adrenaline high you both would crave. Sometimes you would both find yourselves in a fight against people that made fun of you both.

Smiley loved watching how intense you became. It was like a switch flipped in your mind, turning you into a small ball of pure rage. Shouts of 'DIE' could be heard throughout the streets of Shibuya as you delivered blow after blow against your opponent. This was when he knew you were perfect for each other.

Angry

You would remind Souya of a female Nahoya, just without the constant smile. No, instead you would usually appear unapproachable with your resting bitch face.

Angry would be the sweeter of the two brothers and so would do anything to keep you safe. But that was easier said than done. As you were a lot like Nahoya, you would get annoyed easily and quickly resort to violence.

The main reasons why you ended up In fights was to protect your cute boyfriend. One comment on how he looked stupid with his angry expression and the person was seeing stars. There was no way you could let someone get away with making stupid comments about Souya! These damn extras needed to learn their place in the world!

Your anger made your vision red. The word 'die' seemed to become a lot more frequent, to the point where your victim was beginning to genuinely fear for their life.

Souya had to grab your arm to get you to stop. He was scared that you could end up getting hurt or worse, you could end up going through with your threat. He didn't know what he would do if you ended up in juvenile detention. Especially if you could be there for 10 years.

"Please stop Y/N!" The fact his voice was so teary is what had snapped you from this rage-filled trance. Turning your attention to the blue haired Kawata, you got off the now unconscious boy and decided it would be best to continue your hang out in an attempt to calm down.

Ran

He would love how you had two sides to you. One side was calm yet arrogant, similar to his own, while the other side happened to be his favourite. You would explode and takedown a handful of gang members on your own.

Ran wouldn't admit it out loud to anyone but you, but he found the second side so hot. Maybe it was how you moved so elegantly as you dodged each punch before dealing your own? Or maybe it was the strength you used behind each throw you aimed towards your opponent? Either way, he thought you were a damn work of art.

It really didn't take a lot to get you to switch. However, you made sure not to explode when Ran or Rindo was testing your patience. You may have agility and strength but you were nothing against their combo. However, Ran would never hurt you and Rindo would only gently restrain your limbs. It would definitely be just to show you that you were not on their level.

You often followed the brothers when they were going to deal with gangs that tried to muscle in on Roppongi. That could not be forgiven. After all, Roppongi belongs to the Haitani brothers.

While the brothers were busy with the leaders, you would be left to take out the others. It would be a struggle but you could manage most of them.

"You damn extras need to learn not to take what doesn't belong to you!" Another one had fallen. This continued until Ran and Rindo finally dealt with the leaders. It was an obvious victory for the brothers.

"You look so hot splattered with blood, baby," he would whisper in your ear before leaning back and sending a wink. You rolled your eyes before starting the journey back to their home.

Rindo

You were like his own personal guard dog. Not that he needed one but he did appreciate how you were always there for him. In fact, he loved that you didn't view him as the weaker brother and instead saw his amazing combat strength. You had to keep reminding him that Ran couldn't actually use his baton as efficiently without Rindo locking them down.

He had yet to really see you in action as the 'explosive princess' people knew you as. It did bother him a little but he never did express this disappointment outwardly. After all, he was a Haitani brother and so had to keep up appearances. Especially if he wanted to be viewed as an equal with Ran.

It was as he was on a date with you one day that he saw the mysterious explosive side of you. And he totally wasn't prepared for it.

It started when a high schooler had approached you both, telling you how you should ditch a weakling like Rindo to be with him. Rindo was about to kill this boy for even trying to get you to leave him as well as to prove that he wasn't weak.

However, he was left speechless when you had thrown a punch into the boy's stomach, causing him to double over and drop to his knees. You used your boot to push him onto his back before starting your assault on his face.

'Who do you think you are, you shitty extra! My Rindo is a hell of a lot stronger than your weak ass! Now do me a favour and die already!" Even as you were talking, fists smashing into his face as blood exploded from his nose and lips.

Rindo could only watch, not knowing whether to be terrified of you or to find this whole display extremely hot. The blood that covered your fists was a sight he wished he could see more often.

Once you were satisfied that the lesson had been learnt, you stood up and dusted your clothes. "Let's continue our date babe!" And now you were back to being the calm and sweet girl Rindo knew best.

[monodipita]

ANGEL (Yandere!Angel x Reader)

Words: 1,930

Warning: Yandere content

A/N: This is one of the tamest yandere pieces I've wrote, I think. I hope you enjoy it.

Silence was only broken by the ambient noise that played on the TV and the soft whimpers of someone's voice, otherwise, the air was incredibly still in this apartment.

He stood above them. This poor person who was at the complete and utter mercy of Angel, whose touch could kill anyone if they touched long enough. His deep brown eyes lingered on their body while his hands hovered inches off of their face. Tears rolled down the person's face while they were forced to stare up at him.

"I'm going to ask again. You've already lost about a year of your life with your uneventful answers," Angel spoke. "Please, I've told you again and again, I don't know where [Y/N] is!" The feminine voice cried out quickly after Angel's statement. "But you do," Angel retorted, "[Y/N] has been seen in this apartment complex four times. That means walking by this door four times. Four encounters."

He was trying to piece together something, but you couldn't quite tell what it was. You hovered nearby for the sake of trying to find out what his game plan was, but at the expense of (almost) making your presence known... it wasn't easy getting into this apartment after Angel stepped in, but you wormed in and made yourself comfortable out of sight. You could only pray that he didn't see you, or hear you.

But there was something about all of this that you couldn't quite wrap your head around. Was he trying to figure out if you lived here? Because you didn't. No, your mentor lived here... and it was just normal for you to visit her when you had the time to, outside of work.

"I-I-I don't know..." the voice sobbed, "I have a family! Please don't keep doing this to me!"

It was sickening. Angel was repeatedly threatening this person's life by... touching her. No one could underestimate the power of his hands touching a mere human... even a simple grab of the hand could cost you two months. You could only bitterly imagine what it must've been like to be caressed by him. What it was like to have his face cup your hands. How much of your life would he take away then? You couldn't answer that question clearly, but the person he was interrogating, could.

"No, no no no, PLEASE!" She yelled, before a loud scream erupted from her lips while Angel's hands touched her face. Seconds pass, every one of them feeling like a grueling eternity that made your stomach churn. It was a total of ten seconds before Angel removed his hands. "You're in luck! I only took about a month away. We're nearing that threshold, though, and that can be scary ... so I would start talking now. So, I will ask this question again, Miss. Please answer it to the best of your ability."

He was growing too impatient to keep pestering this person, you could tell. Angel was lazy, and though he surprised you with the amount of effort he put into doing all of this, you knew he couldn't keep it up for long. Especially when it was reaching dead ends like it was now. Angel cleared his throat, "you may be aware of a person named [Y/N] [L/N] that comes into this apartment complex every Tuesday and Thursday around the same time in the afternoons. I know you see [Y/N] because you're a stay-at-home wife. So, I am asking you again. It's... early in the evening," he checked his watch before looking back down at the person. "And [Y/N] wasn't here today. Did something happen."

There was more silence to be followed before the person began to sob again... wail, really. It was distressing to hear. To know that someone was dying because of you really didn't sit well on your mind, or on your stomach.

"This will all be over soon. You've told me all I need to know." Angel's eyes hooded.

"N-n-no, please," the helpless voice uttered over Angel's, "I-I want to live! Please! I don't even know who [Y/N] [L/N] is!! PLEASE, NO!-" Their cries were ... blended, almost. If anyone could make aging be heard, it was Angel, while he took someone's life through simply touching their skin. You still couldn't quite wrap your head around that fact.

You stifled a cry and clamped your hand over your mouth to silence yourself, squeezing your eyes shut. Why? Why would he do this? What did this person do to deserve the touch of death? For just living here, was that it?

A yawn characteristically came from Angel's mouth before he stepped over the person's body, tucking his hands in his pockets as he stopped at the door. He stood there for a moment before he he turned his head, beautiful locks tumbling down his back as he looked around with narrowed eyes. You did your best to stay quiet in the corner you were in, you didn't want to draw attention to yourself and risk him knowing that you were here.

The longer he stayed at the door though, the more you found yourself beginning to question why you were even here in the first place... but you knew why. He was acting strange. He had been acting strange ever since that little date the two of you went on.

Ice cream. It wasn't a very romantic setting and it was actually one he and Aki Hayakawa frequented quite often, but something about this particular day happened to set him off. You treated him to something nice after he proved to be helpful against a devil you couldn't get close to—so it was just the two of you this time, Aki was nowhere in sight. A lot of the time you two spent together at that time was spent toward speaking about things, such as the ice cream you ate, how he saved your life, and how you were thankful that he helped you out.

Angel wanted to know so much about you after that—and was clingy, moreso than what you would've expected from someone like him, who seemed like he couldn't have gave a damn whether someone lived or died, as long as he wasn't bothered. In the days, maybe even weeks after leading up to now, he never really left you alone until you broke off from him to go home for the day. The days you went to visit your mentor, you linked up with him shortly after leaving the apartment complex, some ways away from it. You didn't quite think of it like you were thinking about it now, but looking back on it, there were clearly some things that were wrong here. How did he find out that you were coming to this apartment complex? Was he following you?

"I thought I heard something other than that woman when I walked inside."

"Gah!" You squeaked in fear, making your body jolt as your arm covered your face in self-defense. Angel found you, he finally found you. "F-fuck!"

"What are you doing here, [Y/N]?" He asked, "are you here to talk to whoever you're talking to?"

"W-why does that matter?" You stammer, as you find the courage to finally remove your arm from your face to look up at him. Why, he looked mental. His eyes looked like beads against his white sclera. What a terrifying expression to come back to—it made your heart leap into your throat. "I didn't feel like visiting my mentor today."

"Oh. Your mentor."

Silence between the two of you begins to pick up after that. Your heart felt like it was going to explode with how fast it was beating. So many questions had to be asked, but how could you ask them? You didn't even know what to say right now.

"Want to go get some ice cream?" He asked, as if everything that happened didn't just happen. You swallowed thickly at the question asked and looked around nervously. Did you beat around the bush? Agree, and act like nothing happened in this room? Or did you face the fact that what Angel did was unforgivable?

Another gap of silence.

"Angel, you just killed an innocent human being for no reason," you stated the obvious. Your brows furrowed and you stared at him. "Do you have any idea what this means?"

"Mm, no," Angel shook his head, "I'm sure I don't really care, either." He then pointed to the door. "Do you want to get ice cream with me, [Y/N]?"

"A-angel!" You pressed him with your words. "You... you killed an innocent human being!"

"...why do I care?" He gave you a blank stare. "I was doing her a favor. Now, do you want to get ice cream with me?" He extended his free hand in the direction of your body. "I know you're going home soon, since this is your day off."

You stared at him, horrified by the lack of humanity within him. Well, he was a devil... so of course he didn't have any shred of humanity, but still, didn't he feel even an ounce of remorse over what he just did? None at all? "Y-you killed her because of me," you reiterated in a more... significant light. "Why?"

"Because I didn't see you come into the building today, so I went around asking," he responded and sighed before he shoved his hands into his pockets. He would know better than to touch someone he cared for if he didn't want them to die. "She was mean to me, so she suffered the consequences."

Those words worried you. "What do you mean you went around and asked?" You narrowed your eyes. "Did you..."

"Only to those who were rude." Angel calmly stated, "not a lot of them were even subjected to what this woman went through. But I know she saw you... she saw you every time you came up on this floor. I know she did. She proceeded to lie about it, and for lying, she had to be killed." He tilted his head. "Have I answered your questions enough? Can we go get ice cream now?"

So many people had their lives threatened because of you. That was a tough pill to swallow, wasn't it?

The sound of the door opening made your heart beat quicken again. Your eyes shot to the door to see him standing in the doorway with his eyes still on you. "Come on. I want to go get ice cream."

"...why... why did you do it?" You weakly asked him as you stumbled forward to meet him. "Why would you subject all of these people to torture? A-and for... for me..?" It just didn't sound right.

"It may not be a lot, but it's honest work. I try my best to keep you safe. I have to know where you are at all times to do that though, right?" Angel shrugged his shoulders. "Think of me as your guardian angel, maybe that'll make the pill easier to swallow. ...so, can we go get ice cream?"

"N-no," you gently push him out of the way so that you can leave the building. "We won't be doing anything of the sort. I'm going to go to the hunter's association and ask to be reassigned to another devil."

Angel stumbled back, but was quick to grab your arm.

"Not if you want to live, you won't." He narrowed his eyes. "We're together now. If I can't have you, no one else can."

[ragingbookdragon]

The Secrets Best Left In The Dark

Batsis x Batfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 4K Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Death

Author's Note: I thrive on angst, so I have no apologies for y'all. Enjoy! -Thorne

They’d never claim their eldest sibling was cowardly. Far from it, she put her life on the line every day, in and out of the suit, defending those she cared for with a strength that they’d never seen in anyone. But while everyone in their family was typically hot-tempered and ready for a beatdown, she was calm and quiet. Always kind, and never letting anger, or any type of other emotion show besides pleasantness. For a while, they merely assumed she was the doormat type, simply on the basis that she never argued with their dad over anything—the whole “It’s my way or the highway” and his way was what she always went with—and that made her seem like an alien surrounded by humans because everyone argued with Bruce. That, and the fact that whenever she got into the rare fight during patrol, she’d never hit anybody. She was trained to take down multiple combatants and not once did she ever punch, hit, or kick a single person.

It was practically abnormal to be in the Batfamily and never lay a hand on a criminal, and yet that was what their sister did. Hardly ever did she use force to get what she wanted, always relying on stealth. Even on the minute cases when she got caught in an infiltration and had to fight her way out, she used electrified gauntlets to subdue them, rarely coming to blows. So, in a sense while everyone in her family was an aggressive fighter, she was a defensive—or perhaps a passive one—and that’s how she acted in life too. Always passive by nature, but always playing the peacekeeper between brothers and between fathers and sons.

They never knew why she was such a way, from the stories that Diana and Clark used to tell, back when it was just their sister and Bruce, she was a whirlwind that got into fights with anything that dared breathe in her direction—apparently, she made her angriest siblings look like mice. But no matter how many times they pried or even asked Bruce (apparently, he didn’t know what changed either—and this was coming from the World’s Greatest Detective), she never talked about it, simply saying that she grew out of always being angry and wanted to be calmer.

They suspected she held a dark secret—but no one could’ve prepared for just how dark and damaging it had been to her all these years.

***

In hindsight, taking a trip into Scarecrow’s lab was a bad idea, but when the offer had come up in the cave from her father, (Y/N) was happy to lend a hand, knowing that with his recent injury, he wouldn’t’ve been able to get out there during the night. It was also amazing, in the twenty-seven years she’d been alive, and in the past nineteen years that she’d been a vigilante, she’d never seen her father take a break—she could count on one hand how many times he had, and even then, he was still working in the cave, so technically it wasn’t a break.

But after tangling with Bane and Croc, he’d broken a few ribs and after repeated complaints and worries from her, his sons, and Alfred, Bruce finally agreed to let his children handle patrol. Which is why when the quadrants of the city were split up between Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian, it left (Y/N) to pick up specific places that Bruce wanted checked out—she warmly agreed to do so. And while she was confident in her abilities to do everything, he asked of her, she should’ve called for backup when it came to infiltrating Scarecrow’s hideout.

***

Another vent went off above her and she ducked, eyes narrowing as she watched the orange fog, appearing blue through her detective mode, drift out. She would’ve sprayed it, but she’d used up all of her explosive gel covering the others. Now she simply had to avoid them and hope that her gas mask filtered properly—so far, it was. A shrill laugh echoed through the speakers above her, and shivers went down her spine.

Anytime now, Batgirl. You will fall too.

She frowned. “I’m not afraid of you, Doctor Crane.” Ducking under another pipe, she added, “I can help you if you’ll let me.”

Help me? Help…ME? You can’t even help YOURSELF!

Scarecrow had always been a talker, much like the majority of the villains they faced, and he was looking for a rise. She came to the end of the corridor where the pipes met a brick wall and she sighed, searching for a way through. A vent covered the top right corner and she pulled out the grapple gun, pointing it at the grate. She pressed the trigger and it latched onto the metal bars; grasping the cord, she yanked as hard as she could, stepping backwards when it fell, hitting the ground with a clang.

(Y/N) heaved herself up into the vent and crawled on her hands and knees, as quietly as she could, twisting and turning through the maze of confined metal. When she came to the end, another grate covered the exit and she pressed her foot against it, pushing until the bolts popped loose and she could slip out.

From the looks of it, if the advanced chemistry equipment were any help, she’d ended up in Scarecrow’s lab. He wasn’t in sight, but that gave her time to look around and see if he’d changed any formulas recently. She raised her wrist and tapped at the blue screen, taking a moment to run a program. When it beeped, (Y/N) sighed in relief and reached up, pulling the gas mask off—the air was clean.

She set the mask down on the counter and put a finger to her ear. “Batman, do you read me?” His voice came through a moment later.

“I read you Batgirl. Loud and clear.”

“I’m in Doctor Crane’s lab,” she said, poking around at the notes he’d scrawled out. “I don’t see anything new. The formulas all look the same.”

“Compounds?”

She frowned and read. “Honestly, it’s a bit hard to decipher. His handwriting is a lot like Red’s when he’s had one too many energy drinks.” A quiet huff came from over the line, telling her that he was amused. “I’ll send you pictures of it and see if you can.” (Y/N) snapped a few photos. “Get ‘em?”

“Just now,” he replied, and she walked over to one of the lit Bunsen burners.

“Looks like he’s got something brewing right now though,” (Y/N) leaned over and peered into it, careful to avoid any steam that was rising.

“Recognize it?”

She paused. “It’s not the usual stuff he’s got. It looks almost golden and—”

All at once the dish exploded and she had just enough time to cover her face from the shattering glass, letting out a gasp as she recoiled.

“Batgirl, what happened?”

(Y/N) coughed and waved a hand, and when her hand appeared double, she breathed out in shock. “Oh no,” she whispered.

“Batgirl, report.” She hurried to the exit of the lab as Scarecrow’s cackle sounded overhead.

“I’ve been hit with a blast of toxin.” Pulling open the door, she fumbled with her utility belt then let out a sigh.

“What’s wrong?”

(Y/N) shook her head and weaved down the corridors, the faster she got to her bike, the faster she could get back to the cave.

“I don’t have any anti-toxin on me.” She pushed against the doors and stumbled out into the cold and rainy night. Her mind was already beginning to fog over as she climbed onto her bike, and she barely had enough focus to keep it steady while she programmed it to auto-drive.

“I’m sending one of the boys to you.”

She grunted and lifted her foot as the bike revved and shot forward. “Don’t. I’ve already programmed the bike to the cave’s coordinates. I’ll be back in less than fifteen minutes.”

“You won’t make it that long.”

(Y/N) groaned as the lights began to flash around her and she saw faces and images passing her. “I just have to…focus.”

Horns blared around her as the bike weaved in and out of cars and she held onto the frame with all the strength she had. His voice started echoing in her ears and she shut her eyes, trying to block it out.

You could’ve saved me.

Another groan escaped her, and she heard, “(Y/N), talk to me.”

She shook her head. “I can’t—I have to—focus now.” But with every passing second, his voice got louder and more insistent.

You let me die. You watched me die.

(Y/N)’s eyes filled with tears and they dripped down her cheeks. I tried to save you. she thought, hoping it would suffice, but she knew it wouldn’t. I tried so hard to. The last thing she remembered was turning onto the street that led to the cave.

***

Bruce was already pushing away from the Batcomputer when the boys arrived back at the cave, Dick and Damian from the Batmobile, and Tim and Jason from their own rides. Knowing that their father wasn’t one to sit around, it wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to be moving, but with how quick and worried his movements seemed, they knew something was wrong.

Dick pulled the cowl away from his face and asked, “B? What’s wrong?”

Bruce didn’t respond at first, hurrying towards the medical station they had. “Your sister was dosed with fear toxin and she doesn’t have anti-toxin to counteract it.”

Jason, who’d already taken his hood off, was already in the process of putting it back on. “Let one of us take it to her.”

Their father shook his head, rummaging for an antidote. “She’s coming back here.”

“Here?” Tim repeated, striding over. “Fear toxin works within seconds on normal people, minutes for us.” He looked at his brothers. “She won’t have enough time to get back here and not be under the effects.”

Bruce nodded, focusing as he poured a vial of glowing green liquid into the needle gun. “I know.” He looked at Tim. “That’s why I’m getting it ready for her.”

“Father, can we do anything?” Damian questioned, pulling away the domino mask from his eyes.

“Get ready to be on the defensive if she’s offensive,” he replied. “I don’t think she’ll hit anybody, but you never know.”

“She can’t hit that hard. (Y/N) only weighs—” Jason cut off as the rev of an engine cut though the air and they turned to see their eldest sister coming in on a sleek black motorcycle, that was shaking badly.

“(Y/N)!” Dick yelled and the bike suddenly shifted and toppled sideways, throwing her from it. It slid across the cave floor in a hail of sparks, metal, and plastic flying in every direction as (Y/N) rolled too.

They started running towards her, hoping to stop her when her back collided with one of the glass cases that held their suits, and she went limp.

Bruce reached her first, and knelt down, setting the antidote aside to check her first. The way she hit the case and with how hard, it was possible that she could be seriously injured—or worse.

“(Y/N)!” he called, hands coming to pull her away from the case. She whimpered and he let out a sigh—she was still alive. “(Y/N), can you hear me?” he inquired, reaching up to pull the cowl from her face.

Her brothers crowded behind him and they all stared in horror as tears streamed down her cheeks, and blood out of her nose.

“I’m sorry,” she bawled. “I tried to save you.” Bruce looked at her then grabbed the needle gun, bringing it up to her neck.

“Hang on, (Y/N). You’re gonna be okay.”

She grabbed his hand and cried, “I held on as long as I could, but my grip was slipping. I’m sorry I couldn’t hold onto you. I’m sorry I let you go. I let you die. I’m sor—” her sobs cut her off as she curled in on herself, and as if finally snapping out of a trance, Bruce pulled his hand from her grip and pulled the trigger of the gun.

(Y/N) jerked as the needle entered her skin and they watched the neon green liquid in the vial emptied. She fell into whimpers and mumbles of “I’m sorry” before her eyes rolled back and she collapsed in Bruce’s arms.

He stared at her for a second, feeling numb at his daughter’s admissions. Whatever her fear had been, it’d been there a long time, and he had no idea what it was about. Sighing heavily, he drew his eyes to his sons, to Jason.

“Will you take (Y/N) to her bedroom while I get an IV ready?”

Jason nodded and bent down, picking up his unconscious sister. He tucked her head in the crook of his neck and looked at Dick. “Get the doors, yeah?” Dick nodded and hurried ahead of him, while Tim and Damian followed in suit.

Bruce was left alone in a matter of moments, and all he could do was rise to his feet and ready the medical supplies, all the while, thinking back on every night that (Y/N) had gone on patrol in the last nineteen years—and the last time someone died in front of her.

***

Her head felt like an overripe melon ready to burst, and that first moment of cracking her eyes open was the biggest mistake since she told her dad what ‘Thot’ meant. The second she opened them, she shut them once more, inhaling deeply through her nose as the fog started to clear from her mind.

“Queenie, hey, you’re awake,” Jason murmured, and she nodded, blinking a few times before his face came into focus, Dick appearing Tim appearing behind him.

“Go get dad,” Dick said to someone, and she figured it was Damian since neither Jason nor Tim moved.

(Y/N) started shifting, trying to sit up when Dick put his hand on her shoulder, gentle, but firm as he said, “Don’t try to move, Barbie.”

“Where’s dad?” she asked, craning her neck to see.

“Damian’s going to get him sis,” Tim answered, smoothing out the blanket covering her. “Just relax. You took a beating when you came into the cave.”

“I did?” she questioned, eyes widening in shock when they nodded, faces pinched with worry.

The ceiling light turned on just bright enough to give sight and they looked at Bruce who was coming in, Damian following.

“(Y/N),” Dick moved, letting Bruce take his spot, and he took her hand in his, running his thumb over the back of her hand. “You had us all worried.”

She frowned and exhaled heavily. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” She gazed between them, and something in their eyes made an emotion she couldn’t describe rise in her chest.

“Why are you all looking at me like that?” (Y/N) met Bruce’s eyes. “What happened?” Before he could answer, she gasped and looked at her brothers. “I didn’t hurt anyone, did I?”

A chorus of hurried, “No’s!” rang out and she sighed in relief, reclining back on the pillows.

“Oh, thank goodness.” She went silent, then started, “But…something did happen, didn’t it?”

Her brothers glanced between themselves then they looked at Bruce who sighed and squeezed her hand, drawing her attention to him.

“What?” she asked and when he said nothing, she repeated, “Dad, what?”

His steel blue eyes met hers and he murmured, “You were apologizing for…letting someone die.”

Whatever had flashed in her eyes that told them she knew exactly what they were talking about was shocking enough because Jason said, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t wanna, Queenie.”

(Y/N) fell silent for a full minute and when she spoke again, her voice was quiet and the look in her eyes was far away. “Before Dick came to the manor it was just you and I patrolling Gotham. At eight, I wasn’t really let out of your sight, but one night I had wandered off while you were dealing with Two-Face.” She looked at Bruce. “I found an injured GCPD officer on a bridge. He had been tailing Killer Croc.”

She glanced at Tim. “His name was Grady Richards.”

Tim’s eyes fell to the tablet in his hands, and he tapped at the screen for a few moments, then read, “Hero cop Grady Richards honored after dying in line of duty. He fell off a broken bridge on Miagani Island.”

Bruce’s eyes found hers again. “He didn’t fall, did he?”

(Y/N) felt tears grow in her vision and she shook her head. “No…no he didn’t.” Inhaling deeply, she recounted, “Croc came back and there was no way either of us could’ve taken him, so we ran. And Croc chased us.” She shut her eyes, remembering the night.

***

Fear pulsed through her veins as she sprinted as far away from the overgrown crocodile as she could. The GCPD officer was ahead of her, but he stopped and spun around to see her.

“Hurry!” he yelled, pointing back to the car. “Get to the cruiser!”

She spared a glance over her shoulder, eyes going wide when she saw Killer Croc picking up one of the concrete guards.

“Duck!” was all she heard, and she hit the ground, watching as if in slow motion as it flew overhead, then smashed into the top of the cop’s car, glass and metal shattering under the pressure.

Someone grabbed her by the back of her suit and hauled her up, slinging her behind them, and the back of the GCPD officer’s uniform came into view.

“Start running, Batgirl! And don’t stop!” he yelled, and when he has his sidearm drawn, he looked down at her. “You’ve got as much time as I have bullets.” He turned, opening fire, and she took a moment to stare before scrambling to her feet to start running.

A cry of pain sounded behind her, and against her better judgement, she turned and looked, gaping as Croc’s arm sent the officer flying. He hit the guardrail and collapsed against it and her feet were moving before she could stop them.

The first punch went to the back of Croc’s knee and she knew it had to have hurt her more than it did him because he didn’t even flinch. But when those glowing yellow eyes peered down at her, she knew she was in trouble.

“Looks like I’ve got an appetizer for the night!” he laughed and reached for her, but she ducked and rolled out of his way, standing in front of the wounded GCPD officer, who weakly looked up at her.

“What are you—doing? I told you…to run.”

She couldn’t beat Killer Croc, and she knew it, but she shook her head and stared down the villain before her.

Croc’s attacks were wide and though she was small, she was pushed to her limit rolling and dodging every one. After a few moments, she was practically dead on her feet, huffing as her lungs begged for air. She kept wiping away the rain that splattered against her mask and on a particularly unlucky step, she found herself slipping.

And it was all the opening that Croc needed because he swiped at her and she flew backwards into the officer who’d managed to stand, just barely. Colliding with him tipped his balance and they went over the guardrail, barreling towards the ground.

She reached out as fast as she could and grabbed hold of the metal beam that ran the length of the under bridge, crying out in pain as it pulled the joints and bones. Her other hand gripped the officer’s and she held on tight. Croc leaned over the bridge, apparently not seeing them because his footsteps went off in the opposite direction, leaving them in silence.

Time passed and she wasn’t sure how long, but both her arms were getting tired, and she looked down at the officer.

“Sir?” she called, and he looked up at her. “You have to climb. I’m starting to lose grip.”

He tried to reach up but let out a cry and grabbed his side with his free hand. Pulling his hand away, she saw the crimson dilute with rainwater.

The hand that held the ledge began to cramp and she started hyperventilating. “Please, you need to hurry! I can’t hold on much longer!” Again, he tried, and she looked down at him as her fingers began to shake.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered and let go of his hand, and the last thing she saw until he hit the ground was the sight of his eyes, wide with fear and pleading.

***

“I watched his head explode when he hit the ground,” she said, tears pouring down her cheeks as she stared out the window, watching the rain hit against the glass. “I had to make a choice. Either both of us died or one of us lived.” (Y/N) looked at Bruce. “And I chose my life over his.”

No one could believe their ears at the story she’d told, but suddenly, the self-sacrificing attitude their sister had, the way she’d bend over backwards for anyone, made perfect sense—she did it out of atonement, for a wrong she carried since she was eight years old.

“I pulled myself back up onto the bridge and I ran as far as I could and didn’t look back,” she said. “I kept my mouth shut when the paper ran his story and never told anyone about it.”

(Y/N)’s breath shuddered. “I just pushed it down as far inside me as I could and tried to forget about it.” Her eyes met Bruce and she tearfully stated, “But every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face.”

He leaned forward and took her hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked softly, dark brows furrowed in hurt.

She swallowed thickly and shook her head as she replied, “I killed someone that night. I was terrified about what you would’ve said. About what you would’ve done.” He gazed at her and (Y/N) whispered, “I’m sorry, dad.”

Bruce dropped her gaze and took a deep breath before murmuring, “It was just an accident, (Y/N).”

“I let go of—”

“I would’ve been more upset having to bury my daughter,” he interrupted, and she fell silent, gaping at him. He searched her face and reached up, placing a hand on her cheek. “I understand why you kept this secret, but you should’ve come to me, (Y/N).” Shaking his head, he added, “You didn’t deserve to be buried under this for nineteen years.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, lowering her head and Bruce shook his head in response.

“No, I’m sorry.” When she met his eye, he continued, “I’m sorry I didn’t know you were carrying this. Then and now.”

(Y/N) swallowed and rested back against the bed. “I send his widow money on the anniversary of his death. I slip it into the pension she’s given.” She let out a sigh. “It’s the only way I’ve found that I could sleep at night.”

Her eyes drifted to the window and Bruce placed a kiss to her forehead. “Get some sleep, sweetheart.” She nodded and before he left, he said, “And when you feel up for it, we’ll see about setting up a fund in his name.”

She wished it didn’t make her as emotional as it did, but silent tears dripped down her cheeks as the door closed, leaving her and her brothers alone. They gathered on her bed, leaning close to offer their support, and she was thankful for them doing so. And for the first time in nineteen years, when (Y/N) closed her eyes, she didn’t see Grady Richards’ face.

[undersero]

sweet

please note: i’m aware this work was on the lovingshinso blog- i am the one who wrote it and posted it there. i am the author and i am sharing it to my new blog here.

pairing: hanta sero x fem reader

warnings: breeding kink (this is literally the plot), squirting, swearing, unprotected vaginal sex, overstimulation, feral sero, eventual pregnancy/pregnant reader at the end, labor and delivery is mentioned one time as written here

word count: 5.1k 

There were some things in life that Sero really enjoyed. He liked to eat bagels with the strawberry cream cheese, and he liked to nap on Sunday afternoons. He really enjoyed when the weather was nice and he could fire up the grill and make something delicious. 

Of course, there were thoughts that he enjoyed too. Being a loved, sought-after hero. Backpacking around the world. Climbing the hero charts. Making a difference. 

One such thought was above the others, though. 

Breeding you. Throwing his pretty wife’s pretty legs over his shoulders and pounding into your little cunny with no thoughts other than to breed, breed, breed. Feeling your cunt stretch around him. Pumping load after load of his seed into your gushing hole, hoping that it’ll take, hoping that soon, you’ll be full and round with his child. 

When this thought crept up on him, a blush normally settled on his ears. It was almost overwhelming to think about- beautiful, yes, but overwhelming. His brain plays the sensations in his head and he has to consciously keep himself calm, take steadying breaths and will his arousal to die down. 

Some nights, though… it festered inside him. Hanta felt his heart clench in his chest when he saw you come out of the bathroom, fresh from a shower. His t-shirt adorned your body, hanging off your frame adorably, the hem just brushing the top of your thighs. You smelled nice, like roses and vanilla- he caught a whiff as you crawled into bed with him. 

How could he not touch you? 

Gently, he tugged you near to him, and you smiled up at him, cuddling into his broad, strong chest. Hanta hummed in content, pressing his nose to your hair and inhaling your alluring shampoo, allowing himself to be caught up in you. 

Your skin was so soft, so smooth, smelled so nice. He wanted to squeeze it so hard it turned white, wanted to grope that soft area on your lower belly that made you mewl. That soft skin, when touched, always made you shiver and whine in the most beautiful way. You’d always shiver, pressing your head against him somehow. Were you showing submission when you did this? Or was it simply a need to be close? He never quite figured that out, but each time you did this, it unleashed something from inside him so possessive, so feral that he had to be careful to prevent it from taking over. 

But maybe he wouldn’t stop it when he bred you. There was a thought. 

What? 

Oh. 

He blinked in surprise, seeing your curious gaze meet his. You were talking to him, expecting an answer. He swallowed hard, chuckling a bit. His ears were red. 

“Sorry, what?” He asked, and you laughed, kissing his lips softly. 

“Didn’t realize you were so tired,” you said, mistaking his spacey behavior for exhaustion and not horny daydreaming, “I asked if you wanted me to bring you lunch tomorrow. You mentioned it was a paperwork day.” 

Hanta loved when you stopped by his agency, he loved when your face lit up when you saw him. He loved knowing that this work was what took care of you both. You didn’t have to work a day in your life if you didn’t want to- but Hanta, of course, never forced you to stay home. He wanted you to have the option to find your dream job anywhere you wanted- and if that job was to stay home and be his adorable little housewife, then so be it. If your dream job was to become a lawyer, so be it. He’d always support you. Always had, always would. 

“Yeah,” he said, smiling brightly at you. “Yeah, that would be nice,” he murmured. 

With that confirmation, you smiled, kissing him again, feeling your eyelids become droopy and your body feel sluggish and warm. Hanta’s arms felt warmer and more secure than any you’d ever been in before and you couldn’t help but want to stay there forever. 

Sleep came to you quickly. It didn’t come as fast for your husband; Hanta stayed awake after he clicked off the bedside light, looking at you sleeping so sweetly in his arms. 

That was the best way he could describe you. Sweet. Sweet in everything you did. You gave sweet kisses, and sweet advice, and you made the sweetest brownies he’d ever had. Your face was sweet… your hands were sweet, looking even sweeter when he put that ring on the left one not so very long ago. You smelled sweet… 

...and he knew you’d look sweet when he had you in a mating press. When he bred you and filled you up with his cum. Your face would be fucked out, red, eyes hazy and unfocused. Maybe you’d even be drooling- he loved when he fucked you that good. And he’d sure as hell do it when he knocked you up- he’d have you creaming on his cock so much, so often, that the only thing in your brain would be the only name falling off your tongue- Hanta. 

A shiver racked through his body. He blinked a few times, taking a deep breath. 

Settling back into the pillows, he pressed his nose against your hair once more, inhaling and smiling softly against your head. He loved you so much. But these thoughts…

Well, if he didn’t breed you soon, they might just drive him crazy. 

-

The next morning was pretty uneventful. Hanta woke up and went to work, kissing you several times, making you squeal and giggle with glee as you handed him a thermos of coffee to drink on his commute to work. When he arrived at his agency, his desk was nearly overflowing with paperwork, which surely would have put a damper on his day had he not known you were coming to see him. 

This knowledge didn’t do much to make the paperwork any less sucky, though. It was tedious. He signed and initialed so many times that he idly wondered if he could get stamps with his signature on them- that would make this whole, boring ordeal a lot easier on the wrist… might take a little less time, too. He wondered if there were any rules against that, and was still pondering this thought when his receptionist called into his office phone; the shrill ring scaring him nearly half to death. 

“Yeah?” He answered after taking a moment to compose himself and ignore the fact that he just shrieked like a twelve year old seeing a very large, menacing bug. 

“Cellophane, you have a visitor,” his receptionist relayed. “Should I send her up?” 

His heart soared. 

“Yeah,” he said, unable to hide the smile in his voice. 

Moments later, you came through the door, a bento box in hand, your bag slung over your shoulder. A blush was on your cheeks. Even after all this time, seeing your handsome husband, Hanta the Hero, made you so excited you felt like you could and would explode. 

A matching blush and smile on his cheeks, Hanta came around the desk and gave you a soft, loving kiss. You tasted like mint bubblegum, the blue kind, not the green kind, and it made him shiver, just slightly, with delight. 

“Hi, handsome!” you said, pulling him back in for another kiss and cupping his face. The cool metal of your rings pressed against his flushed cheek, only making his blush worsen. Sero grinned against your mouth and pulled you closer by your waist, giving you a little squeeze, before pulling away. 

“Hey, beautiful,” he said, gently carding his fingers through your hair and giving you a soft kiss on the forehead. “This paperwork has been kicking my ass. So glad you came.” 

You eyed the stack of papers on the desk behind your husband, making a squeamish face before looking up at him with sympathetic eyes. 

“Yeah that looks… like a migraine waiting to happen,” you said. Sero laughed. 

“I know. It is, though. Maybe I should make an intern do it for me,” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows. 

Scoffing, you batted his chest before quoting one of your and Sero’s closest friends.

“That’s not very heroic!” you scolded playfully before breaking into a fit of giggles. Sero laughed, pulling you in closer and kissing your cheek and neck, over and over, thus making you laugh even more. 

After several moments of kissing and giggling, Hanta stilled and inhaled, smelling that same alluring scent on you that he’d smelled the previous night when you got out of the shower. It was so comforting… if there was ever a time when he was spinning, out of control, losing touch with his surroundings and with what was important or not, that smell… well, he knew that smell would bring him right back. 

The problem was, though, that right now, that very smell was sending his mind spinning again. He had no control over it and his ears were turning pink.

His mind raced. He could take you right here, throw the paperwork aside, lay you out on his desk, press you in half, holding your knees nearly by your ears. The desk would give him such a good angle too, he’d be able to fuck into you as hard as he wanted with no worries of his thrusts being impeded by the soft, plushiness of your bed. All he’d have to do was tell his receptionist to cancel any appointments he had for the afternoon- he couldn’t even remember if he had any at that point- tell her to not permit any calls in… 

All this ran through his hot, overworked brain in about a second, and in that second, he just smelled your hair, being so relaxed and at peace outwardly while he was, inside, raging with uncontrollable arousal. He had to have you. Had to breed you. Breed, breed, breed. 

“Babe,” you said, your voice was quiet, soft. Almost unsure. His heart dropped for a moment, worried that in his haze, he’d somehow spoken or made his thoughts known to you some other way. He pulled back just enough to look at you, tilting his head to the side, willing you to continue. 

You were chewing on your lip so adorably that it hurt his heart and made him yearn to be the one chewing your lip. Your cheeks were redder, but your eyes were looking at him earnestly, almost shining with excitement. Clearly he hadn’t slipped and spoke his thoughts, otherwise you wouldn’t have been looking at him like that… 

“Hm?” he asked, tilting his head, “you look so serious, babe.” 

You smiled a little, looking down, bashful. 

“Yeah… um… so, like...you remember what we were talking about the other day?”

Well...that was vague. The two of you talked about a lot of stuff the other day, and every day before or since. Hanta’s confusion was evident on his face and you shook your head, giggling in spite of yourself, before taking a breath and trying again. 

“Okay… that’s not clear. I meant…” 

Why was this so hard for you to say out loud? Maybe it was because of the way Sero’s brown eyes bore into you, looking intensely, even though he wasn’t necessarily trying to do that. Just looking at you, curiously, wanting to know what was on your mind. Your husband...so caring. So loving. 

“I’m listening, Bonita,” he prodded gently, tucking some hair behind your ear. The nickname sent a shiver down your spine, and you smiled at him. 

“About starting a family,” you said, shy. 

Oh yeah. The conversation that started this whole obsession that was taking over Hanta’s thoughts. You’d been looking on Social Media, on a friend’s profile, cooing over her baby who’d just turned two. And then the conversation...turned. 

“I think it might be a good time to think about it,” you said, turning and looking at Sero with hopeful eyes and pink, blushy cheeks. “You’ve got your agency going...and we’re both still young. Seems to be working in our favor, don’t you think?”

Sero smiled at you, his own cheeks getting red; the tips of his ears were starting to pinken, too. 

“You think so?” he asked, delighted, butterflies in his chest akin to the ones he felt the very first time he’d seen you smile at him. You nodded enthusiastically. 

“I think so! I mean… that’s assuming you want to.” 

You had talked about it before with your husband, but in a passing kind of way. Like, ‘one day we’ll be parents’ and ‘we’ll have to remember that when we have kids’. It was never a fully serious thing, never something that the two of you really thought about or planned out. Until this conversation. Until now. 

“Yeah! Of course I want to,” Hanta said, giving you a kiss. And then, what started off as five simple words, became the source of his current obsession. Of his current need to breed you immediately and upon every surface of every space you’d been in. Five words that seemed totally innocent at the time but immediately had his heart racing, his libido rising, and his gut clenching in arousal. 

“You’ll be a beautiful mommy.”

Presently, Hanta had to consciously swallow to wet his suddenly parched mouth. He grinned at you, that same dazzling, sparkling Hanta Sero grin that made your knees weak and your heart flutter. He leaned in and kissed you, passionately, the lunch you’d brought for him all but forgotten about. 

Inhaling deeply and pulling away, you saw Hanta’s expression had changed. It was darker now, more… needy. He nipped your bottom lip, making you mewl in surprise and lean in closer to him;  his strong arms kept your knees from collapsing. 

“Yeah, I remember,” he told you, voice having noticeably dropped an octave, maybe even two. The change immediately made you blush harder- you were sure you looked like a tomato at this point, but you didn’t care, not when your husband, the only man who’d ever have your heart, looked at you that way.

“I thought,” you murmur, voice sounding softer, like your body would surely be when you carried his child; softer, supple, stretching so beautifully around a stomach full of life, “I thought it would be nice to maybe start trying.” 

Hanta groaned, the words having an obvious effect on him. He pulled you  flush against his chest, roughly kissing against your jaw, nipping every few times to make you positively melt in his arms. You felt the need waft off him in waves- it was hot and potent, almost making you dizzy as you felt his unquestionable want, his need, to breed you. 

He opened his mouth to answer you, when at the exact moment, his office phone rang again, causing you both to flinch in surprise; thankfully, he didn’t shriek this time. That would have changed the mood. 

But he still sighed heavily, swallowing hard, before opening his eyes and giving you an easy smirk. He’d been brought out of whatever trance you’d put him in, it seemed. 

“I hate that damn thing,” he muttered, casting a disparaging glance at the phone.

-

He answered the call from his receptionist, and soon, you were on your way home. Hanta gave you many kisses and hugs for the road, leaving you feeling well loved and excited to see him that evening. 

But further, the entire visit left you...curious. You’d never seen Hanta act so...possessive. Almost… you couldn’t think of the right word. The way he kissed you, though. How dark his eyes had gotten. The way you felt your husband’s need roll off of him in the heaviest way you’d never experienced before. 

Your mind rolled the interaction over and over, prodding and playing and questioning and wondering. 

Certainly, you knew you wanted a family with him. Hanta would be an excellent father and you never doubted that for a second, never for a moment. Excitement tingled in your chest- this was a huge decision, of course, but it was one you knew you wanted. Based on his behavior back at his office, and the behavior he’d been displaying before, you could tell your husband was pretty into the idea as well. 

A familiar heat settled into your stomach, burning embers of arousal keeping you just warm enough to notice, but not yet scalding enough to make you squirm. 

That, like you, like your husband, would come later. 

-

It was an understatement to say that Sero was distracted for the rest of his afternoon. He likely wouldn’t have been able to hit the floor with his helmet, even if he was trying to. His brain whirled in excitement, spun in arousal and possibilities. It was maddening, dizzying. He couldn’t tell which way was up anymore, but that didn’t matter. He didn’t need to know which way was up to know he was the luckiest man in the world. 

Not only was he your husband, but he was going to be the father of your child, too. 

Sero never considered himself to be the fatherly type- not really, at least. He’d never discounted it either, but then… well. Then he met you, and his entire life changed.

When he first saw your eyes, your smile… heard you giggle… he knew without a doubt he wanted to be your husband, wanted to be your man. He wanted to hold you every night and wake up to you, bed head and morning breath, every morning. 

And the more time he spent with you, the more he knew he wanted to be a father. He wanted to be the father to your children, he wanted you to be the mother of his babies. 

And the time, finally, blessedly, was here. 

-

Dinner was an interesting affair that night. You couldn’t have been more spaced out while making it… you were only semi-sure that you’d included all the correct ingredients in all the proper amounts. It didn’t taste awful, so that was a good indication; you still would not have put it past yourself to mix up two spices, or forget something altogether only to add an unneeded ingredient. 

Sero didn’t complain, though, not that he ever did. But he looked distracted. His cheeks were permanently rosey, it seemed, and he kept looking at you, only to shyly look down when you met his gaze. It was cute, really, like you two were kids trying to figure out your feelings for one another for the first time. 

There wasn’t much conversation. Little broken bits of sentences passed between the two of you. Small laughs and hums filled the rest of the otherwise quiet atmosphere and semi-regular sounds of silverware scraping plates. 

After about half an hour, and after you both had managed to eat about half of what was on your plate, he finally spoke. 

“I don’t know why I feel so nervous,” he said with a shy, almost bashful laugh, cheeks blooming a brighter red. 

“I feel it too. I feel like a virgin,” you told him, to which he reached across the table and took your hand.

“I’m sure you were a cute virgin,” he teased with an affectionate squeeze, and you laughed out loudly, maybe a little more harshly than you intended with your shotty nerves. This only made Sero’s expression toward you soften even more. 

“Gee, thanks,” you said, leaning in, closing the gap between you and kissing him. The kiss came easily enough; you were pros at this point. 

“Should we… y’know?” Hanta asked, lips mere millimeters from yours, breath fanning across your flushed face. Another giggle left your lips, but this one was more high-pitched and nervous. 

“Yeah,” you said. You swore you saw the same apprehension mirrored in Hanta’s eyes, but he quickly stood and scooped you up before carrying you, bridal-style, to the bedroom. 

The walk there seemed to take ages. You were horny, that dull warmth from your walk home had turned into quite the all-encompassing heat, but your hands felt clammy and cold and were fidgety. 

You hadn’t been lying; you really did feel like you were a virgin. Like you’d never been fucked stupid by the man holding you. 

It was an exciting thing. A scary thing. An exhausting thing. But it was the start of your adventure, the greatest one you’d take, and it was with your loving, attentive husband. 

As you approached your room, Hanta’s body seemed to relax a bit, almost as if passing the threshold made this whole thing easier for him now that he was in an extra safe, comforting space. 

As he laid you on the bed, on your back, you didn’t see apprehension in his eyes anymore. They were dark now, nearly black, and just one look alone had your heart racing. The butterflies in your stomach were now the size of watermelons and it felt like there was no way, no reasonable way at all, for them to avoid bursting your stomach, but they never did. Somehow. Heat which didn’t exist before radiated between your bodies, and you were taken back to that same feeling that washed over you when you visited him earlier. Your cheeks flushed and you felt...submissive. Needy. Helpless. 

Hanta started rubbing his hands all over your pretty little body, rubbing your sides as he hovered over you, gazing down lovingly at your form through those dark eyes. One hand slid up under your shirt, fingertips gently grazing over your soft belly, the action and the intimacy giving you goosebumps. 

“Love you,” you whispered, looking at him with starry eyes, and he smiled back at you. 

“Love you too,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss you, “and I’m gonna fuck you full.”

-

The shivers in your body hadn’t subsided once you both were stripped down. You weren’t cold; there was no shortage of heat between you and your husband’s bodies- it was the thrill of it all. The knowledge that you were going to be bred by such a handsome, capable man. It drove you wild. His touches drove you wild. You wanted to jump his bones, but you were stuck, on your back against the comforter, with Hanta kissing down, down, down… 

Then, your legs were over his shoulders and he was lapping hungrily at your already sopping cunt. Long, broad strokes up and down your lips before he spread your folds open with his fingers. You heard his sharp intake of breath, though this was something he’d seen many times before. 

Your cunt, pink and pretty, like a tiny rosebud, was breathtaking. Awe-inspiring. Delicious. Hanta leaned forward as you held your breath in anticipation, eventually exhaling with a tiny whine as he licked through your folds with practiced movements. His tongue felt like heaven. He knew exactly what to do, how to swirl his tongue, how to lap at your hardening clit. And there was no room for teasing tonight, not as far as Hanta was concerned. He wanted you to cum as many times as he could. 

The first orgasm came quickly; his constant sucking and lapping at your clit, coupled with harsh, efficient swipes to the bud with his thumb, had you cumming in mere minutes. If you hadn’t been so fucked out, you were sure Hanta would have teased you about making you cum in a new record time. 

Pleasure pumped through every artery, every vein of your body. You felt warm and floaty, but Sero didn’t stop. Of course he didn’t. He was nowhere near done with you. 

A finger breached your hole, pressing inside up to his knuckle with ease. You mewled at the sensation, the slight burning, the overwhelming goodness of being so full. 

“Ffff…” you huffed out, cheeks red, squeezing your eyes shut as your toes curled in response to Hanta moving his finger into and out of you at a nearly agonizingly slow pace. 

Then, he added another. And a third. Three fingers pumping you open, scissoring inside you, curling to hit that little spot within your spongy walls that made you moan and cry and see stars. 

Sero looked like he was possessed. His head was bowed between your legs, watching your cunt suck his fingers in, feeling in delight the fact that you didn’t seem to want to let his fingers out. His eyes were dark, too. His cheeks were flushed. There was so much tension in his body- he held it in his shoulders, in his hips, in his hands...and most especially in his cock, throbbing with need, bobbing heavily between his legs. 

Your second orgasm washed over you without much fanfare, though it did feel incredibly good, making your toes curl so hard that you almost felt the muscles in your feet cramp in protest. Almost. 

And then, Sero was sitting up and your legs were falling off of his shoulders. His hands rubbed soft, soothing circles into the soft, flushed flesh of your thighs, and he smiled at you so softly that it nearly made you cry. Your husband. 

“Ready?” His voice was soft, surprisingly so, considering how rough he looked and how red his cock was. You nodded, smiling, feeling anxious nerves bubble up in your stomach and make your chest feel fuzzy, like soda. 

“We’re gonna do it,” you said, voice hoarse from your whimpers. “We’re gonna be parents.” 

A silent, intimate moment passed between the two of you; a moment in which eternity spread out before you. You could both see it; a child, growing in your womb, slowly at first, but then quicker than you could ever imagine. You envisioned a nursery, one with soft green curtains and a big, white crib with a soft, pastel baby blanket hanging over the side. Labor and delivery flashed through both your minds, but then, the warm, imagined feeling of seeing your child for the first time. It made both of your chests expand with a love so strong that it nearly consumed the both of you. You surmised, though, that actually seeing your child, in your arms, would be a much stronger event. 

Then, like a reel of film, you saw your child growing up. Learning to talk. Walking. Running. Playing, laughing, growing. Breaking your hearts and making them stronger at the same time. Developing a quirk, maybe, but developing a passion, definitely. Knowing how loved they were by mommy and daddy, knowing that they had a safe place to call home. School. Graduation. The real world. Weddings. 

It all stretched between you and Hanta, like the vast expanse of an unexplored journey; the greatest and most terrifying and exhilarating and challenging of all. 

This all happened within a second, but you both felt it. You saw the same things, you experienced the same feelings. Hanta’s eyes, still dark, but now brimming with emotion, stared into yours, and he touched your cheek. 

“Yeah,” he confirmed softly, with a nod. “Yeah, babe. It’s always been you.”  

-

First. Your legs wrapped tightly around Hanta’s waist, resting on the dimples of his lower back as he drove himself into you with practiced, hard thrusts. His hands dug into your hips, his thumbs pressing on that soft skin on your lower belly. You mewled at his presses on such a  delicate area. Your first orgasm with him inside you was like being submerged in a warm bath. It was slow, almost, not frenzied, and at this point, it was relatively calm. Sero’s orgasm followed suit. 

Second. Your left leg is up over Hanta’s shoulder, the right one pinned to the bed with his left hand. His wedding ring glints in the lowlights of your room as he fucks you, this time with more vigor. Maybe it’s the different position, maybe it’s the harder thrusts, maybe it’s the fact that you’ve already cum three times and he doesn’t seem to be letting up anytime soon, but everything feels amplified. Every swipe of his thumb over your puffy clit. Every drag of his thick, beautiful cock against your sensitive, gummy walls. Every squeeze to your thigh… 

Every look that you shared. Hanta’s eyes were even darker now, darker than they’d been earlier that day at his agency. More needy, almost feral. Your second orgasm with him inside you wasn’t as pleasant. It was hot now, not just warm, and sparks of overstimulation shocked you as your body jerked, almost convulsing as the pleasure tore out of you. Hanta came with a grunt of your name, his voice now so deep and gravelly that he sounded feral. 

Third. Hanta was feral now. His hair stuck out in a million different directions, his pupils were completely blown. Breed, breed, breed. He held your thighs down to the bed, on either side of you, your knees pressed down on the mattress in close proximity to your ears. 

Breed, breed, breed. Tears streamed down your flushed face, and you were babbling nonsense, mostly of your husband’s name and broken little whines.The headboard smacked the wall, the sound reverberating through the room as Hanta thrusted with his entire body weight into your aching, sloppy cunt. He growled, primeval in his need to fill you up- it was no longer a want. He needed to breed you. He’d simply go crazy if he couldn’t. 

Your third orgasm felt like an atomic bomb went off within your walls. Arousal gushed forward as you squirted, your entire cunt clenching violently, milking Hanta’s throbbing cock for all it was worth, painfully so, in your sensitivity. You cried out, sobbing, nails clawing at your husband’s bare back and arms. But he continued to fuck into you recklessly. The drywall behind the bed cracked. The bedframe groaned. A feral growl unlike anything you’d ever heard came from your husband as he came, driving his hips and his seed further and further into your womb. 

Breed, breed, breed. 

-

The day was sunny and clear. A warm breeze fluttered in through your open kitchen window, rustling the curtains and wafting the delicious smells from the stove throughout your home. A soft smile pulled at your face as you stirred and seasoned as needed- baby corn. Baby carrots. Baby back ribs. 

Of course, there was a theme. 

Hanta came home, calling for you, and your heart soared, fluttering in your chest and settling down into your belly.

“I’m in here babe,” you replied, turning, and picking up a small box. 

The box itself was nothing remarkable. It was yellow, small, and rectangular- like the kind of box one would put a necklace inside of, but this one held something more precious than a necklace. 

This box held your future. 

Inside, nestled in with sea green tissue paper, was a pregnancy test. The first pregnancy test you’d taken that showed those two sacred, life-changing, little pink lines. 

[daringyounggrayson]

whumptober day 4: pushed (AO3)

It’s raining. Normally, that’s a non-issue; Dick’s Nightwing suit is mostly waterproof, and his boots are designed to have excellent traction, even in less-than-ideal conditions. But this is pushing it. He’s on top of a moving train, his vision is limited due to the rain and his mask’s broken night vision, and his shoes are struggling to plant themselves firmly on the slippery train roof. And the rain is heavy, coming down in sheets, and the wind is howling, nearly knocking him over on more than one occasion—it’s the worst storm Bludhaven has had in years.

And then there’re the goons trying to knock him off the train. Now their fight has become a strange dance where Dick is trying to dodge blows while also making sure they don’t fall off in their attempts to kill him. The ridiculousness of trying to keep people who are trying to harm him safe is not lost on Dick.

If he could, he’d just stick trackers on them and call it a night, but that’s not an option—there are bombs hidden somewhere in the train and/or along its route. People could die.

A branch from a nearby tree falls onto the train, causing all three men to jump back, seeking cover. Dick nearly slips off again, and from their screams, he’s sure the other two do too. Dick is on his hands and knees, balancing there as he tries to figure out how to use this to his advantage. There’s an entrance a few cars ahead. If he’s quiet and stays out of their line of sight, they’ll probably assume he fell off the train. He could easily get past them and slip inside to stop the train and get everyone off before these two fools can even set off their bombs. Ideally, Dick would also find and disarm the bombs, but replacing a train and some of its tracks is something Dick can live with so long as no one gets hurt.

He lies down on his stomach, army crawling across the train’s roof, letting the branch block him from his enemies’ view. When he gets to the ladder, he slides his legs over the edge until his foot hits a rung. Then he leaps from one ladder to the next, catching the next rung with a tight grip. It would be faster to simply jump across the rooftops, but he needs to be as discrete as possible.

He’s nearly there—just a few yards left to go—when a gun goes off. He instinctively stills and covers his head, and a bullet bounces off the train several feet away from him. Normally, gunshots wouldn’t be a shock in this kind of scenario, but Dick’s already disarmed them, he—

He looks up to find a third partner. He’s just exited from the same place Dick was hoping to enter through, and he’s holding a gun with a shaking hand. Fantastic.

Dick moves like lightning—he charges the man and knocks the gun out of his hand before his trembling fingers can find the trigger.

“How many of your people are here right now?” Dick shouts above the wind, holding the man in a headlock.

“It doesn’t matter. it’s too late,” the man sneers. “You can’t stop us now.”

“That’s what they all say.” Dick swipes his legs and knocks him to the ground, pulling out handcuffs and attaching him to a nearby bar. “But you know what? I kind of like being underestimated.”

Dick stands, planning to walk back to the hatch and enter the train. He hasn’t even taken his first step when heavy footsteps charge toward him. Dick ducks just in time to avoid being body-slammed by one of the goons from the other train car, and the man stumbles, losing his balance and sliding along the length of the roof. He’s quick to get back up and charge Dick again, this time with raised fists and an animalistic screech.

“I’m kind of on a tight schedule here,” Dick calls as he engages in the fight. He really doesn’t have time for this; the train’s picking up speed.

A large gust of wind nearly knocks him over again, and his boots squeak as they try and fail to find traction. The thug lunges at him, tripping over his own feet but managing to land a weak hit against Dick’s shoulder.

It’s ridiculous that it’s enough to send him tipping over the edge.

He tries and fails to find his footing, only managing to slip backward further. He reflexively reaches out for the attacker’s hand, but he forces himself to retract; the odds of Dick pulling him down and killing him are higher than the odds of the man managing to hold their combined weight. As he falls over the edge, the tips of his fingers brush against the train car’s safety bar, but the rain prevents him from grasping it.

He hits the ground, tries to roll with the fall. The initial impact knocks the wind out of him, and he’s left gasping as sharp pain explodes over his head and back. When he finally stops, he’s covered in mud and blood, and every inch of him feels sore. It wasn’t a long fall, but it was fast and hard.

He pushes himself up on shaking elbows, watches as the blurry figures on the roof disappear into the train car. He’s not going to get back there; even if he had the time, even if he had super speed, he doesn’t think he can move. He needs help.

Dick presses his emergency beacon and calls Wally on his comms. He thinks he says something, but he must pass out, because next thing he knows, Wally’s tapping his cheek, begging him to wake up. He’s blurry, which doesn’t make sense, because Wally’s not running—the only thing moving is his hand, and it’s slow.

Instead of voicing his confusion, Dick vomits. Wally rolls him onto his side, talking too fast for Dick to understand.

In between gasps, Dick says, “The train. Bombs.” His voice sounds wrong to his own ears, slurred.

“You’re hurt,” Wally points out, hesitant. His hands are bloody. How did Wally get blood on his hands already?

“I don’t care—you have to save them!” Dick says, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes as the pain builds in his head. “Medical is on their way—go!”

oOo

Dick isn’t awake when the medical team arrives, but he does wake up, so he figures they did show up.

He raises his hand to rub at his eyes and finds an IV sticking out of it, stuck to his hand with clear tape. He turns his head, taking in the machines and monitors. He must be in the Watchtower’s ICU.

“Hey,” someone—Wally—whispers on the other side of the bed. “Are you awake?”

“Mmhmm,” Dick mumbles. He turns his head to face Wally, wincing. “Bombs?”

“I took care of it; no one got hurt,” Wally promises.

“Thanks.” Dick closes his eyes. The lights are dim, but they still feel too bright. “How long have I been out?”

“As in unconscious?” Wally sighs, and his chair creaks. “Well, uh, you were in a coma for almost three days. You woke up yesterday, but you’ve been pretty out of it. I’m honestly not confident that you’ll even remember this conversation.”

“Wanna bet?” Dick asks, a loopy smile crossing his face.

Wally laughs. “Sure, I could use ten dollars.”

“I’m going to remember.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I am.” This time Wally doesn’t protest, and Dick takes it as a win. After a moment, he asks, “I’m okay, though, right?”

“Oh sure. Spinal bruising and a brain hemorrhage have nothing on the Justice League’s medical technology and your stubbornness,” Wally says lightly. “What happened to you anyway?”

“Got pushed off a train,” Dick mumbles, words slurring together as he gets closer and closer to unconsciousness. “Probably landed head first on a rock.” He can barely remember the fight, barely remembers falling. Instead of a solid memory, it’s just a bunch of non-chronological snapshots.

“That tracks.” Wally shifts in his chair, and his fingers find their way to the back of Dick’s hand. “It was scary, finding you like that. I thought you were going to die.”

And Dick had told Wally to leave him anyway. He doesn’t regret doing it—someone has to make the hard calls—but he doesn’t envy Wally. “I’m fine,” he tries to reassure.

Wally’s voice is tight when he speaks. “Yeah, you’re going to be fine, because you’re you—but you weren’t fine. And you’re still not. Hell, you’re hooked up to a bunch of machines and you can’t even keep your eyes open.”

Dick opens his eyes and finds that Wally’s are shiny with unshed tears. “Wally.”

“Sorry, it’s just—” Wally shakes his head, wipes the back of his hand across his eyes. “Uh, can I get you anything? Last time I was here you were nauseous.”

“No, stomach’s fine, just tired.” He must be on a million drugs, too. He wonders how many he’ll have to add to his regimen because of this.

Wally nods, then looks down at his watch when it beeps. “I have to go—Watchtower duty. The rest of the original Titans said they were going to stop by later today, and Alfred and Bruce are outside waiting for me to finish, so you won’t be alone.”

Dick hums in acknowledgment. Then he says, “Thanks for coming, the other day and now.”

Wally leans in and hugs him gently, carefully. “Anytime. And take as much time as you need to heal. Seriously—the Titans will be okay without you for a while, even if Roy ends up leading.”

Dick laughs and nods into Wally’s shoulder, and then they let go. Wally leaves with a promise to be back soon, and Dick, determined to remember this conversation, reminds him to bring his ten dollars when he does.

[mitsukui]

cherry explosion | b.w.

Pairing: Bill Weasley x female reader.

Summary:  unexpectedly, Bill finds a way to give you the best New Year’s Eve you have ever had.

Word Count: 1,7k.

Warnings: smut! Oral sex (female receiving). Mentions of alcohol, drinking, and one-night stands ending badly.

Disclaimer: none of the pictures used in the edit below belong to me; I simply put them together.

A/N: sending all of my love to those who are spending their New Year’s Eve by themselves! Dear @maddi-sun18​, thank you so much for the request, and I hope this can bring you some comfort. Please, leave me some feedback if you feel like it! My askbox is open for your opinions, thoughts and requests. Thank you so much for your time and attention ❤

Masterlist!

Sometimes, it was so easy to read men. Their actions were so predictable, and they never failed to act exactly the same as the ones who had been there previously.

You wondered if there was some sort of training for young gentlemen on how to pick up girls at hotel bars. There seemed to be four steps for a man to follow in order to get lucky: one – exchange looks with the chosen pretty girl; two – lure the prey by offering her a fizzy and fruity drink; three – make small conversation, and say she is different from any other girl in the room; and, finally, four – get into her panties.

All of that was bullshit, and you would never fall for it.

And, perhaps, that was why you panicked a bit when a painfully attractive man approached you in a different way.

“Hey.” He shot you a small, yet, charming smile. “Do you mind if I sit here? If I listen to Patricia Rakepick talking about her adventures in Japan for one more bit, I might die.”

Both of you were taking part in an international conference on Curse-Breaking. The event had gathered wizards and witches from all around the globe, which caused Gringotts to rent a few areas on a muggle hotel in London for it. Although it was a knotty task for so many people to act as if they had no magical powers rushing through their veins, every participant seemed to be doing well on their own.

His presence there was perfectly reasonable, once he was a Curse-Breaker himself. Yours, however, was a bit questionable. You, as a columnist for the Daily Prophet, had been asked to cover the event, and could not be any less excited about it.

It was New Year’s Eve. All you wanted to do was go home to your family and friends.

While many people were not shy on showing their personal preference for Christmas, you were crazy about New Year’s Eve. The upcoming novel 365 days for you to live as if they were your last, the fancy dresses you always insisted on wearing, the taste of fizzy and fruity drinks lingering in your mouth until January 1st – all of that meant something to you, as brainless as it sounded.

Your peevish ways were soon destroyed by his sudden presence and polite attitudes. After you agreed with his company, it did not take long until you were laughing about the event and the people attending it.

As a matter of fact, Curse-Breakers were rather odd and monotonous people. The man with fiery, long hair seemed to be a clear exception to them, with his exotic fang earring, and his dragonhide boots. He also was to be the only good-looking one in that crowded bar, in that stupidly sophisticated hotel.

He was surprising you second by second. Breaking every single trait of loathing you had piled up for men, due to failed relationships and other women’s reports, he was showing himself as a funny and respectful man.

Between a few drinks, you had talked about his insanely big family, your repetitive daily life, his experiences in Egypt, and how you accidently had Apparated in Colombia once, being left without any knowledge of Spanish.

There was something sweet and intoxicating about him; about the way he asked to hold your hand while you were talking, and about the way he confessed and apologized for being unable to stop staring at your lips and wondering what they felt like.

“They probably taste like cherries now.” You leaned in and whispered, the dizzy sensation caused by your Cherry Bomb drink starting to tingle your insides. In a bold movement, you took your cocktail glass towards him. With your other hand, you touched his chin, and pushed it down a bit, forcing his mouth to part open. Your gaze transformed itself into a flirty one, and you told him to sip your drink so he could get a better grasp on what you tasted like.

It did not take long for you to crash your lips against his after that. You felt comfortable doing exactly what you were doing. You felt like you were in command of your own feelings. There was no stupid game of prey and hunter. There was no lie being told so one would get lucky.

At that moment, there were only two adults, being nice to each other and understanding their desires fully.

Unlike so many other men, he had respected you and, in the midst of slightly drunken kisses and touches, he kept on trying to be certain you were okay and you really wanted that.

Bill was briefly tipsy as well, his tongue tasting like the scotch he had earlier. The mixture between your cherry-like taste and his own made you feel like you were in heaven, although his kisses were growing to be hungry and more desperate.

Half an hour later, your hair spread across the pillow he was temporarily using for sleeping purposes. Your dress had been lifted up until your stomach, and your underwear was now nowhere to be found.

His soft hands roamed around your inner thighs as his tongue lapped your juices. Surprisingly, he was terrific at that, and you suspected you would crave more once he was done.

As he gave short licks to your clit and his tongue ran around your folds, two of his fingers were inserted in you. You arched your back, and reached out for his hair. You allowed your own fingers to tug delicately on his locks, his name leaving your lips religiously. He kept on pumping in and out of you, the pressure on your soft spot increasing each time.

The burning knot in your loins became tighter, and he adored how you clenched your walls around him so strongly. You were a mumbling, breathy mess, but he was entirely mesmerized by the sight, and the intimacy you were sharing.

Almost as if destiny was playing a prank on you, when you hit your first orgasm, fireworks started exploding outside the window of his hotel room. You squeezed your eyes shut, and cried out in the greatest pleasure you had ever felt in your entire life.

Slurping and sinful noises were produced as you came back from your high, still moaning. Your entire body trembled violently, but his big hands soothed your delicious torture.

He looked at you and chuckled quietly, your fluids still hanging on his lips, making them even more kissable than before. You were stunning in his eyes, and he feared not being able to let you go after the morning would come.

“Happy New Year, darling.”

January 1st came as softly and quietly as it possibly could. You dozed off in his arms after you spent a bit watching the fireworks show, and talking as well. The fact he was a grown man, but still could hold a decent conversation for so long, without any visible struggles was amusing.

You woke up to the next morning weak daylight peeking through the curtains and tickling your cheeks. Something inside your chest felt amazing. Flashes of the previous night appeared in your mind, and you could not hold a smile back. Funny enough, the taste of your Cherry Bomb drink still lingered faintly on your tongue.

However, all of your peace of mind vanished in the very instant you realized you had woken up by yourself. Waves of embarrassment and regret crashed in your heart, and you felt ridiculous for falling for all of the sweet nothings that had escaped his lips.

“Yes, that would be all. Yes. Room 716. Thank you very much.”

His enchanting voice shattered your own trance into a million pieces, and his bare footsteps announced he was returning to the same spot where you were at. You pulled the white sheets up and covered your naked torso, still unsure of how you would have to deal with the rising tension of the situation.

He soon captured the image of you being up and a glorious grin painted his lips. “Good morning.” His lower body was covered by a pair of dark jeans, which seemed to embrace his existence perfectly well, despite being different from the visual image he displayed last night. How was it possible for someone to look that good early in the morning? Or was it really early? What time was it? What did happen after the fireworks? With a timid voice, you wished him a good morning, too, but remained silent afterwards. It was difficult for you to ponder your next actions.

“So, the room service guys will be here shortly. I took the freedom to order us some breakfast.” His eyes gleamed with a pure kindness as the words slipped out of his lips. “I hope you fancy some orange juice in the morning.” He was offering you nothing but soft spoken words, and thoughtful actions

What was that?!

“B-Breakfast?” You repeated the key word of the whole conversation in surprise. No one had ever prepared, or even ordered, you breakfast after a night of sex and lust.

“Yeah.” Bill was quick to notice your tone of surprise and, somehow, it was funny to him. A girl like you, whom had shown him nothing but a great personality so far, should be used to being pampered like that. “Did you think for one second that I’d just eat you out like that, and leave you hanging the next morning?”

Honestly? Yes. You did think of that. You feared you would be tricked once more. One more disappointment to be added to your personal archive. One more reason to continue living your life despising men.

His arms were crossed against his chest and he shook his head, a dismissive, short laugh echoing through the room. “I would be mental if I ever did that. In a few hours, you managed to wow me.”

He made his way to the bed, and his body sank down on the mattress, being placed right next to yours. Truth being told, without the alcohol, you felt quite shy being that close to such a handsome man. “And, if you allow me to, I want to continue seeing you. I want to get to know more of you.”

A snuggly heat erupted in you, and it was a novel sensation for you. Perhaps, not all men had those devilish ways in them.

“I’m terribly sorry, but I really feel like kissing you right now. But, given your astonished behaviors, I’m not sure if you’d enjoy that. What do you tell me?”

Perhaps, this new year would not be so terrible.