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mikkomacko · 1 day ago
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Him and I - Tender Heart
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Nico Hischier x Reader, Mob Boss Nico
Warnings: None x
Previous Chapter
____________________________________________
The red spot on the white floors is tormenting.
It’s more of a coppery color now, old and rusty looking, and you wonder why no one has cleaned it up yet, even if it seems to be fading on its own. You can still see it clear as day though, blurred and fuzzy around the edges but bright and nauseating as it pooled on the floor.
The sight makes your head spin, stomach turning like it did that day you saw it fresh, seeping from the gunshot wound in Lena’s thigh. And there’s no adrenaline, no anger to keep you cool like last time when you fixed Lena up and kicked her to the curb.
No the house is just you and the boys now, the heavy foot fall of Alex, Jack and Luke echoing down from the upper level. They’re patrolling, guarding the weak spots like you told them too. That was where Timo got in to rescue you, a chink in the armor in the upper window that’s broken.
“You ok?”
It’s Timo, gun strapped across his chest and shoulders back as he stands beside you. You nod, eyes following Luke’s pacing figure.
“I saw you first,” you explain, nodding towards the balcony. “Barely, couldn’t really make out your face but I knew it was you.”
“Yeah?”
You nod, smiling just the slightest bit. “You have a certain walk. And your build. You’re a little bit bigger than Nico.”
“Ouch,” comes from behind you, Nico’s hand announcing his presence when it finds the small of your back. “That’s not good to hear.”
Timo snickers, and your own smile grows with amusement. Nico’s grinning when he leans over your shoulder to press a kiss into the apple of your cheek.
“Out of context,” you comment, “obviously you’re b-“
“Whoa don’t insult me to my face, I beg.” Timo interrupts, nudging you with the butt of his gun. He doesn’t look wounded when you turn to him, a bittersweet purse to his lips like he’s just happy you’re not having a breakdown in this place.
Your best friend slowly trails away, returning to his post of guarding your back as Nico instructed. Nico’s hand sweeps your hair over your shoulder, rough fingertips trailing along the gold chain on your neck. He takes your pendant and ring between his fingers, that knowing look in his eyes.
“Feeling ok?” It’s like he can see into you. Not through you, not just you, but everything you are. It’s not something you’ll ever get tired of, being seen and known so well.
“Mhm,” you assure, “just ready to go home, I guess.”
Nico’s face droops into a frown, his hand dropping your necklace in exchange for wrapping around your neck. He draws you into him, body thick and warm, and his lips find your forehead.
“I know baby,” he murmurs, “we’ll be back before ya know it.”
You press into his hold, the blood stained floor and the emptiness of his grandfathers old house forgotten now that he’s got you. “I miss Moose,” you complain, and Nico laughs softly “my poor baby. He doesn’t even know what time is, it’s probably felt so long.”
“Next time we travel you can bring him,” he cups the back of your head, thumb stroking your hair. “Lesson learned, I promise.”
Triumphantly, you smile up at him. Nico had insisted it’d be too hard to bring Moose on such a short trip, that the dog would survive a week without you and that’s it’s just mean to make him get on a plane again. After all, the last time he was on one was when he was being taken from his litter.
The guilt trip had worked and you’d left him at home. It however won’t work next time, no matter what Nico tries to pull. This time you’ve got the reminder of this trip from hell on your side.
“Break it up lovebirds, we’ve got company.”
Mercer is marching towards you from the front door, riffle hanging from his shoulder and combat boots thumping on the hardwood floor. A bulky black vest hangs from his fingertips. Before you can even ask he’s holding it out to you.
“Dawson, I don’t need tha-“
“Don’t care, put it on.”
The usual polite, Canadian tone of his gone completely. He’s serious, face hardened and closed off as he stares you down. Confused, you look to Nico.
“Merc, the vest is a bit much.”
“She bruised and beat up,” Dawson says, raising an eyebrow at Nico. “I’d rather her not add bullet holes to the list.”
Nico stares back, expressionless for a moment before he’s nudging you with a pat to your hip. “Put it on baby.”
They’re being dramatic, you think. Nico’s family wouldn’t openly try to kill you in front of him. But you supposed you’d rather be safe than sorry so you take the vest from a smirking Mercer, pulling it over your head and grumbling when your hair tangles in front of your face.
Nico is the one to brush it away, fingertips gentle as he smoothes it down and tucks the loose strands behind yours ears.
“Pretty girl,” he murmurs, a half smile on his lips. You roll your eyes at his flattery, adjusting the bulky vest and glaring at Mercer.
“You better hope I get shot at or I’m gonna kill you for shoving me in this thing.”
He doesn’t bat an eye at your threatening tone, scoffing and then jabbing a finger at Nico. “If someone so much as reaches for their hip, you better be protecting her head.”
It’s sweet, despite how serious he sounds. Like he’s genuinely concerned for your safety. He did witness Rino first hand though, and he saw the fallout with Nico after. How much it hurt you to have to tell Nico the truth. It hurt Mercer too, enough that he doesn’t trust them anymore.
“Dawson,” Nico calls, tone gentle. “I promise I’m always looking out for her, yeah? Especially her head, but all of her too.”
Comically, Mercer looks Nico up and down, eyes squinted with judgment and he lets out an unimpressed hum. “Yet to be seen,” he says casually, glancing at you. You have to bite back your laugh, entertained by Mercer scolding him.
Offended, Nico scoffs. Eyebrows pulled together in a frown, your fiancé glares at Mercer. “Just get to your fucking post.” Nico hisses, dismissing Mercer with a wave of his hand. The other boy looks to you, and not wanting to escalate Nico any further, you silently nod.
“What the fuck was that?” He grumbles under his breath, shaking his head in annoyance. You catch the strand of hair that slips in front of his eyes, pushing it back over his forehead.
“You always told him he doesn’t take stuff seriously enough,” you whisper, “maybe this is him trying.”
Before he can respond, the sound of the front door opening creaks throughout the empty house. Nico’s body stiffens, his frame immediately moving to stand in front of you and you fall back, reaching for the hem of his hoodie. Timo and Mercer form around you, a protective triangle.
Upstairs, the other three have gone silent, no doubt having moved into their spots as well. You don’t see when Nico’s family enters the large living room, but you hear their footfall, how it grows louder and clearer before suddenly halting.
“Nico,” Luca calls, confused. “What the hell is going on?”
The sound of his brother’s voice sends a dollop of ease down your spine. You weren’t exactly expecting Rino to still be around let alone show up here, but you wouldn’t put it past him.
You glance over to Timo, see the way his clenched shoulders ease just the slightest bit and you find yourself rising to your toes to peak over Nico’s shoulder.
“You tell me,” Nico answers coolly, shifting as he crosses his arms over his chest. His family is gathered in the entryway still, frozen and caught off guard by the presence of weapons. The unspoken standoff.
Nina’s gaze falls to you and you quickly cower behind Nico, mentally cursing yourself for being such a busy body.
“I don’t know,” Luca huffs, “I got notice in the middle of the night that father was missing, then a huge withdrawal from the business account, and you were silent until this morning. Then I get a cryptic text saying to come here and you’ve got a fucking gun pointed at me!”
Luca’s voice rises as his frustration grows with each spoken word, booming throughout the empty room and echoing off the pristine walls. Both Mercer and Timo squeeze in closer to you, as if expecting Luca to bite at any moment.
“I know father is gone,” Nico confirms, calm and collected. Like always. “And going off of that, I’m not surprised you’re suddenly missing funds. But the boys and the guns and me are here to find out what you really know.”
You can’t see it, but it feels like that last part is pointed more at his mother than the others. The urge to look over his shoulder again burns in your gut, but you stay put, knowing that the last time you forgot protocols you ended up in this exact room.
“You know about dad?”
It’s Nina, her voice small, unlike you’ve ever heard her in the brief time since you’ve met her. You can’t tell if she sounds more scared or sad, unable to read her from here. Nico has a lot in common with his siblings. His openness with you isn’t one of them.
“Nico,” Luca says quietly, hesitantly. “What did you do? Where’s father?”
Your fiancé doesn’t so much as flinch. He doesn’t say anything, unable and unwilling to take credit for your handiwork with Rino. From the outside, it looks like Nico is simply waiting, his silence urging them to start speaking. From your view, you know he’s trying to decide what to say, if he should reveal the truth and risk losing them.
That’s not something you’re going to let happen.
Releasing the hem of his hoodie, you step around Nico to be by his side. Your movement makes him shift, dropping his arms out to the side and it looks like he’s about to sling them around you, shield you again. Before he can, you take a hold of his hand in both of yours, meeting his concerned gaze with a subtle nod of your head.
Understanding seeps into his eyes, his whole body relaxing as he accepts the comfort of holding your hand. The gesture does nothing for the other boys though, and you feel as much as you hear them shift closer.
“He didn’t do anything,” you answer, still looking at Nico for a moment longer. His fingers squeeze just once, in thanks, and then you level his brother with a confident stare. “I did.”
Luca looks just as confused as before, helplessly running a hand through his hair in frustration. You feel a little guilty for the eldest son. It’s not his fault he got stuck with the task of running the business, of keeping his father in check and managing the money and legacy his grandfather left behind. Trying to keep Rino from ruining it.
But then again, he never took a second to think about what it all means. He never decided to change like Nico has. And you don’t feel bad for him about that.
Nina is watching you sadly, her eyes big and droopy like Nico’s get when his feelings are hurt. That kicked puppy look, growing even more down trodden when she notices the cut on your lip, the protective gear on your torso.
“Y/n,” she breathes, taking a step towards you with her arm out. “you don’t have to be afraid of u-“
In perfect sync Nico yanks you back by the hand, half stepping in front of you just as Timo and Mercer close in beside you, guns digging into their shoulders and aimed at Nina. The safety never clicks off, but the effect is the same.
“If anyone is this god damn family touches her again I swear to god,” Nico warns gruffly, as Nina quickly retreats.
“Neeky, what are you talking about?” She begs, holding her hands up to show Mercer and Timo she means no harm. “The rifles, the guards, what is going on?”
Still half behind Nico’s arm, you finally look to Katja. She’s already watching you, an inquisitive but knowing look on her face. She’s waiting for you to make the move, and you know why. She took a risk warning you that day in the car, went against her husband and her powerful family for the first time in her life. And until you’ve admitted that you done what needed to be done, that’s she’s safe now too, she won’t utter another word about it.
“The car ride,” you address her, “it took me a bit, but I got it. I-we know everything.”
A proud smirk tugs at the corners of her lips, brief and tiny but still noticeable. You note the way her shoulders seem to lift, chin tilting up in admiration.
“Rino wanted you out Luca,” you continue, “and he wanted Nico back and punished for leaving. The only way to do that was to get his influence back, his loyal subjects.
“And Lena was his top recruit.”
Nina is the first to react, her hands shooting up to cover her mouth in disbelief. It’s a positive sign at the least. It means she didn’t know before, she wasn’t in on it with Reno.
“He planned it all from the day we got here. The texts and everything were on Lena’s phone-“
“We checked her phone,” Luca cuts in, not very much in denial but more so lost. Like he can’t fathom that this would happen. It gives you a little more hope.
“You missed her deleted albums,” you say pointedly, shooting Luca a scolding glare. Head of a business and he’s not even smart enough to snoop right. “She was working with Rino to earn her place back in the business by getting rid of me and dragging Nico home.”
Luca looks at you, eyebrow lifted in a fascinated way. It’s the same way he looked at you when you went against Nico and showed up here with the boys. “What did you do?”
“Mercer put a gun to the back of his head and I told him if he ever came near Nico or my family again we’d kill him.”
“And he ran,” Mercer adds gruffly, venom dripping from his tongue. “Like a fucking coward he took off.”
Briefly, you wonder why some people would even both having kids if they didn’t really want to love them. It’s clear from Luca and Nina’s downtrodden gazes that they’re not surprised. Whatever Rino has done in the past, it’s made it clear that his kids expect nothing great from him.
“We don’t know where he went or what he’ll do. I just know it’ll never involve Nico again.” You look to Katja again, a warm feeling swelling in your chest when you find her watching you with wet eyes. “And it won’t involve you either, as long as you don’t want it to.”
Nina and Luca whip around to stare at their mother, jaws dropped. “You knew?” Nina demands, meanly.
“I know everything Rino does.” She admits, devoid of her usual tone of privilege. “I’ve just never had the means to stop him.”
Nico’s other hand finds the back of your neck, fingers strong as he squeezes. You melt into his touch, a heavy breath falling from your lips. Katja nods at you.
“Until now, at least.”
“A little too fucking late!” Comes from upstairs, Jack you think might’ve said it but from here, him and Luke sound awfully similar.
You can’t help it. You laugh, small and quietly but enough to make Timo snicker too from the other side of Nico.
“Alright,” Nico sighs, amused. “We gotta stop you before they start a riot or something up there.”
His hand finds your neck again, heavy and sturdy, and you look up at him. His other fingers find your necklace, drawing the pendant out and laying it across the vest, the gold glinting on the black. For just a brief moment you two share a silent exchange, unsure of what you’re really looking to him for, but then his fingers are holding your chin high and confident, and he tilts his head just slightly, and you know. You did good, you made him proud, you did exactly what you were supposed to do here.
Timid, you give him a small smile and the moment is over though it’s not fleeting. Even after he releases your chin, and any fondness that had been in his eyes before fades as he turns to his family, you can still feel it.
“Nico I promise I didn’t know,” Luca says earnestly, “about Lena or any of it. You know how father is, I was so stuck on the business that I didn’t even notice him stirring things up.”
Stiffly, Nico nods and his gaze falls to Nina. “You really thought I knew Nico?”
“You came all the way from France for something,” he responds, accusingly. “And you didn’t think to tell me about running into Lena.”
Nina makes an affronted face, like her brother’s words have just broken her heart in two. “I did that for you,” she swears, “I came home because I wanted to see you. And everything with Lena, I thought it was harmless. You and y/n were so happy that night. It was a side of you I have never seen before and I thought telling you about Lena would scare you into not asking her to be your prinzessin.”
Lena harmless. You could almost laugh. She may have been helpless but that seemed to make her even more harmful. Though you supposed if Nico had asked you about her that night in the bar you would’ve thought the same thing. Just a jealous ex.
“I would never hurt you, Nico. I’d never hurt y/n either,” pleading eyes fall on you, their expression so like Nico it makes your heart jump. “I love you guys.”
Nico takes a deep breath, his shoulders shift with it and you settle your hand on the curve of his spine, hoping the touch is calming. After a beat he looks over his shoulder to Timo, waving them off. The air in the room seems to shift now that the weapons are hanging neutrally by the boys’ sides.
The collective sighs of relief from the three of them have you biting back a laugh, hiding your smile in Nico’s side. The hand on your neck slides down to grab at the straps of the bulky vest.
“Let’s get this off,” he suggests, lightly tugging on it. Eager and happy to get rid of the stupid thing, you step back and help him maneuver the Kevlar off. “Mercer take this back, yeah?”
Dawson takes it from him, eyeing Nico’s family as he moves around them to head towards the car. Nico takes a hold of your face, and you reach up to help him smooth your hair back down-
“Oh my god,” Nina’s gasp makes you freeze, both you and Nico wide eyed as you turn to her. “The ring, Nico oh my god.”
At her words Luca and Katja notice too, their gazes falling to your left hand and Nico easily catches your palm in his. The mention of it makes you smile, heat crawling up your neck and you practically drag Nico over to his family.
He’s still holding your hand as you stretch it out to Nina, the light catching the diamond on your finger and twinkling elegantly.
“Oh it’s beautiful,” Nina murmurs, blinking up at you. “Can I…” she motions to hug you. Nico only hesitates a moment before letting you go and you engulf Nina in a hug.
Katja manages to get Nico into one, a bit awkward looking when you glance over at him but he’s speaking quietly with her, and you wonder if it’s about the other ring. The last thing you want is her to be offended that he didn’t use it. Wait, where is that ring?
“Congrats,” Luca tells you, a nervous smile on his lips. You hug him too, thinking of how he had helped you the last time you were in this house. You’re glad that wasn’t just a ploy for him.
“Thank you,” you murmur thoughtfully, and he knows it’s for more than you’re actually saying. He squeezes you again briefly before letting you go, you swapping places with Nico.
“It is a beautiful ring,” Katja says, approaching you slowly. “I should’ve known he’d come prepared.”
Shocked, you blink at her. “You knew?”
A coy smile takes over her face. “Like I said, I know my son. He wouldn’t come home for no reason, unfortunately. And while he may like to rewrite rules, the prinzessin rules are tradition.”
“He needs approval.” You realize, a bit confused. Nico’s never followed any of their rules before. Of course the traditions of the Devs are mirrored of the ones here, but you can’t imagine him asking his mother permission.
“In his case no,” she explains, then cautiously reaches out for your hand. You let her take it between both of hers, squeezing slightly just like Nico does. “Nico has never needed or wanted permission from us for anything. But he wanted a chance for us to meet you first.”
“He cares what you guys think,” you tell her, “even if it doesn’t seem like it. And he talks about you all a lot.”
Katja smiles, grateful and emotional. “Thank you,” she whispers thickly, “for everything. For saving him, making him better than I ever could’ve.”
“He did that all himself,” you admit. “I might’ve been inspiration but Nico never needed to be fixed by anyone. He’s too stubborn.”
She laughs. “And thank you for trusting me, saving me.”
You can’t help it. You shake your hand out of hers, throwing your arms around her shoulders and hugging her. Katja squeezes you back, her hands cautious and gentle on your back but she still feels warm, relaxed. Somewhere in your head, you think she feels motherly. Not quite like Timo’s mother, but similar enough.
“If you ever need anything,” you begin but she shushes you.
“I know.”
Finally, you take a deep breath, closing your eyes and basking in the feeling of doing something right. You kept Nico safe from Rino, and he gets to keep the rest of his family.
Parting from Katja, you meet back up with Nico who tucks you under his arm protectively, kissing the top of your head.
“What do you have planned for the rest of the day?” Luca asks, tucking his hands into the front pocket of his jeans. Mercer comes back sans bulletproof vest, still watching Luca through narrowed eyes.
You give him a warning look. “Finish packing, probably nap for a bit. We were up early, uh and then we’ve got our flight home.”
Nina’s face falls at the mention of your departure tonight, frowning with those big moony eyes.
“You’ll still come see us, won’t you?” She asks, hopeful.
You and Nico exchange a look. It’s not that you haven’t enjoyed Switzerland. There was a lot of fun but there was also a lot of bad, and sometime the bad sticks longer than the good. You’re not saying you won’t come back ever, but for now you want to be home with Nico and Moose.
Nico sucks in a breath, shrugging as he turns to his sister. “Yeah, but not for a while.” He says, and Nina has barely had anytime to slump in defeat before you continue.
“But we’ve got lots of room in Jersey, and a wedding to plan soon, so…”
Nico squeezes your bicep. “So you’re always welcome to come visit.” It’s sweet how they all seem light up with happiness at the invite.
They may need a little work still, but that doesn’t mean they’re not family.
~~~~
Nico wonders a lot of things.
He wonders how people come up with plot lines for books, how they can concoct entire universes in their heads and execute effortlessly. Like that lady that wrote The Hunger Games. Where did that idea come from and how did it come out so well (he’s never read the book but you’ve told him about them).
He wonders how Bluetooth connection works. How did someone figure out that if you put a stupid little signal in one device and another signal in another device, they can talk to each other? It kind of works like magic but not really because magic isn’t real. Whose brain decided it would be cool to make this stuff interface with each other?
He wonders how vinyls work and why it makes music sound different. The little groves aren’t just spirals carved into the disc? How does a song get engraved? He wants to put two different ones under a microscope and see what the fuck is the difference on them that makes them play different songs.
What he wonders the most though, is how he managed to make you love him. He doesn’t question it often, tries not to test his luck but sometimes he can’t help it. In those moments where you’re looking at him like he’s the reason for life. When your eyes are big and full of awe, gazing into him as if you’re looking at heaven itself (if heaven is real). When you move in sync with him, fit under his arm like he’s the center of your gravity.
How did that happen? How did he become someone so deserving of being the center of your world?
“You’ve got a million thoughts behind those eyes.”
Nico smiles, a smug little curl of his lips and shrugs. You raise a single eyebrow, curiously looking up at him through your eyelashes before focusing back on the task at hand.
“Am I gonna get to know them any time soon?” You hold up the black Kith hoodie he loves, the one that’s got that cute dog embroidered on it, squinting as you picture what it would look like on him with the dark sweats you put to the side for him earlier.
“Think you already know them,” he teases, and you subtly shake your head before tossing the hoodie to the bed. “Know everything don’t you?”
“This marriage thing is gonna work out great,” you say dreamily, “you already know the most important rule.”
Nico laughs, holding still as best he can as you hold up a quarter zip to his torso. It’s red and fleece, incredibly warm and soft if he recalls correctly. It’s not something he wears often but it’s the perfect shade of devils red and you always touch his biceps and chest when he wears it, feeling how fluffy it is.
He already knows it’s the one you’re going to choose by the way your eyes light up, a pleased smirk on your face. So he’s not at all surprised when you take it off the hanger, folding it to go alongside his sweats with a cute little, “perfect!”
“Are you gonna dress me everyday now?”
Snaking his arms around your waist, he presses his face into the crook of your neck. “Maybe,” you laugh, “especially if I’m gonna be the one holding you on the plane tonight when you’re crying.”
“I don’t cry,” he argues, nibbling on the soft skin and you jump, startled by his blunt teeth nipping at you. “I whine, s’different.” Nico’s arms keep you still, held tight to the front of him as you squirm away from his teasing nips.
“Tomato, tomato,” you rebuttal, “either way I’m the one holding your fidgeting butt still.”
That makes him laugh, tossing his head back and you, pleased with his reaction, giggle alongside him. It wasn’t that funny a joke, but maybe he’s just that happy. He loves you that much.
“I appreciate it.” He compliments, kissing the back of your head. His hands fall to rest on your hips, fingertips lingering as you move away from him to finish collecting the things you need to pack.
Nico sits on the edge of the bed, heart full. His eyes follow you around the room, stars practically twinkling in his pupils. You’re so beautiful, so wonderful, so amazingly perfect for him.
“I can do that, ya know?” He calls, amused but grateful that you’re taking over the tedious task for him.
Approaching the suitcases laid out beside him, you tuck the stack of shirts into the little crevices and corners of the case. Funnily, Nico notices that he no longer has his own suitcase. No, you’ve just mixed all your stuff in with his and his with yours. There’s no apparent rhyme or reason either.
“I know,” you utter, “maybe sometimes I just like doing things for you.”
Nico’s heart swells, erratically vibrating under his skin and he feels the urge to tackle to you to the bed, lay himself on top of you and just squeeze you until you pop. Instead he chuckles.
“Maybe sometimes?” He asks casually, “not all the time?”
“No,” you giggle, a hand on your hip as you smile at him. Then something curious settles over your features, confusion in your gaze. “What happened to the other ring?”
He pauses, gaze flittering to the ensuite bathroom before settling back on you. It was long enough for you to catch though, your eyes shifting up to look at the open door and then you're taking off. Scrambling away from his grabbing hands with a giggle, Nico chases after you with a lighthearted "wait!"
You're already in the bathroom though, tearing through the drawers and shifting around whatever left over junk he abandoned in there years ago. "Nico, where?" You beg, still pawing around.
Sighing, he shifts onto his knees and pulls open the cabinet door beneath his sink. You crowd behind him, shifting impatiently as he shoves boxes of cleaning supplies and extra shampoos to the side. Behind the drain pipe, his finger brush against the velvet box and he grabs it. Then, with a blank look on his face, he holds it up to you.
"Ooh," you squeal, taking it and flipping the top open. Knees cracking, he returns to his full height, nudging the cabinet shut with his foot. Propped up against the counter, Nico watches you with bated breath as you examine the ring from his mother.
He's not stupid. It's obvious you think the ring is beautiful, that it impressed you the first moment you saw it out on the front steps. Maybe he was a little worried you'd be upset he didn't give you that ring, but it's obvious now that he made the right choice. Your eyes shift over to your left hand and something seems to sparkle in them, as if the diamond and pearls themselves live inside your irises. Yeah, his mother's ring is beautiful, but you love the one on your finger.
"Right choice?" He asks anyway, still a bit hesitant.
You bite your lip, nodding happily. "Perfect choice," you assure. Gently, you close the box and hold it out to him.
“S’yours,” Nico shoos it away, not interested in taking it back from you.
“Katja gave it to you,” you tell him, shaking your hand as if that knock enough sense into him to take it back. What are you going to do with two rings?
“For you,” he presses, “it’s yours baby. You get to decide what to do with it.”
It’s a lot of pressure. This family heirloom that he never thought he’d get, a token of acceptance from his mother and he doesn’t even want it. He wants you to have it.
The thing is, you don’t really want it either. You don’t need his mother’s acceptance or the tradition of this business. You and Nico are not a part of it. You have your own family and life and traditions you want to set up, ones that have real meaning behind them. You have a ring that was given out of love, not out of contract or obligation.
It means nothing to you.
But you’d imagine it doesn’t mean nothing to his siblings, the ones still here and trying to redefine the organization their father built. Maybe the ring should be redefined, given a new purpose.
Maybe it’s time the ring goes to a Hischier daughter. Someone who will know what to do with it. And will know what it has meant for the women before her.
“Ok,” you murmur, reminding yourself to leave it on the outside pocket of your carry on. “Thank you, Nico.”
He takes a hold of your hips in his large hands, guiding you to stand between his thighs. You go pliantly, melting into his broad chest with a soft sound of contentment.
“Thank you,” he whispers, tone heavy with what he’s not willing to say right now. You get it all the same, and the feeling of pride from earlier swarms up in your chest again. You did good, you won, you did it all for Nico. And sure you’ll have to still keep an ear to the ground for Rino, but Nico is safe and happy.
You press a kiss to his chest through his shirt. “I’m tired, Schao.”
He runs a hand up your back, nose pressing into your forehead sweetly. “Let’s go nap baby.” He pats at the outside of your thigh, moving to guide you back to the room. “We’ve had a busy day.”
Starting the day with an early morning proposal and then the chat with his family, and now a long trip home. It has been a busy day.
You wiggle out of your jeans, kicking them towards your suitcase to be packed later before climbing into the bed that’s still unmade. Nico kicks off his own jeans, working his shirt over his head and you’re reminded of how he’d celebrated your engagement in these very sheets just this morning.
Blushing, you watch as Nico slips under his side of the blankets. Like two magnet ends, you slide into his side, laying your cheek on his bicep and throwing your leg over his middle. Smiling, his free hand drops under the blankets to hold the meatiest part of your thigh, the pads of his fingers lovingly rubbing little circles into your skin.
“We’ll be home soon,” you whisper, excited. He makes an agreeable humming noise and you peak up to find his eyes already closed, dark eyelashes brushing the tops of his cheeks.
Laying your left hand over his heart, you admire the pretty diamond for a bit longer. Feeling his heart beat, listening to his breath even out, entranced by the pretty pearls until your eyes slip shut on their own accord.
~~~~
Nico is having a dream.
Or something like a dream, he thinks. He’s been here a million times, knows the exact shade of the walls and the thread count of the bed sheets and the smell of the candle on the nightstand. It is his favorite place after all; The bedroom he shares with you at home.
For a moment he thinks it’s a memory. There’s something about the air in the room, it feels so familiar and certain. Like he already knows what’s gonna happen and he’s just patiently waiting for it. He shuffles in the bed, blinking through the dark air as he realizes you’re awake too and quietly speaking.
Nico thinks you’re speaking to him, sits up higher on the pillows and moves to fully look at you. But you’re not looking at him. Instead, you’re turned away from him, sitting up with the bedding bunched around your hips. His shirt is draped over your shoulders and hangs loosely around your neck, the collar stretched out from the countless times he yanked and pulled it to kiss down the column of your throat and collarbones.
His mind tells him to reach out, to brush his fingers over the back of your neck to get your attention. His hands stay still though, muscles not making any effort to comply with his brain. Helpless, Nico watches your shoulders and back move as you speak quietly, the words unintelligible to him.
Moving on its own accord, Nico’s body sits up on the mattress and tucks into the curve of your back, his chin pressing into your shoulder blade. The sight in front of him makes his heart skip, confusion turning to panic, and he’s so grateful that your hand reaches back to rest on his thigh, as if comforting him.
A dream, it has to be a dream. Because it’d be impossible of him to have the memory of a child standing at your bedside in the middle of the night.
It’s a boy, maybe eight or nine years old. It’s funny, Nico thinks, how dark the room is but the features of the boy are crystal clear. Dark brown eyes, red rimmed and full of tears, innocently framed by equally dark eyelashes. It’s startling to see, to be looking at the same eyes he sees in the mirror.
Nico’s breath catches in his chest. He’s looking at himself he think, examining the boys dark and messy hair. Why is he looking at himself?
Except he’s not, he realizes a beat later. The soft shape of the boys face, the fullness of his mouth, the roundness of his nose. They’re features he’d recognize anywhere because they’re yours.
This boy, a perfect blend of you and him, isn’t a younger, dream version of himself. It’s a child he shares with you, it’s your son.
He doesn’t blink an eye at Nico’s sudden presence over your shoulder, his gaze desperately locked on you and if his eyes weren’t enough to prove this kid is Nico’s too, that simple action certainly is.
A teddy bear is clutched in the boys hands, little fingers tangled around the neck of the stuffed animal. Deja vu stirs Nico’s brain, memories of him as a child holding his bear the same way suddenly surfacing. Maybe that kid is supposed to be Nico when he was younger because the more he notices, the more he realizes he’s lived this night before.
The boy is hiccuping, fighting back blubbery cries and squeezing at that teddy bear as he retells the nightmare he woke up from. A once dream of him out in the yard, running and giggling through a game of tag with ‘the family’. It’s fun and he’s so excited to be with everyone.
Until suddenly it’s not fun and he doesn’t want anyone there. They’ve all turned into monsters, twisted faces of the people he loves, their eyes now black and menacing, chasing him with a dangerous desperation. It feels like they want to kill him.
The boy doesn’t say that, but Nico knows. It’s the same nightmare he used to have as a child. Luca and Nina, chasing him with evil eyes and death grips. His parents, following behind with the same look, not pursuing really but not helping either. It was the dream that plagued him for years, forced him from his bed and into his parent’s room until he was old enough to realize he was better off soothing himself back to sleep.
The air in the room has gone cold, Nico’s own breath shuddering against the skin of your shoulder and he wants to move, needs to move. He needs to reach around you, reach for the crying boy because Nico knows what comes next.
It’s the part where his mother blinks back at him, tired and annoyed, mumbling dismissively that it was a dream and he’s too old to be doing this. He has his own bed and room, he knows how to put himself back to bed. Time to grow up and get over it, or if really necessary, wake the nanny next time. His father has work tomorrow and can’t be disturbed. Nico knows that, he’s reminded and then sent back out of the room with his teddy bear squeezed so tightly in his hands he thinks the seams might rip.
He still can’t move however, can’t get his body to cooperate with the signals he’s screaming at it. Someone needs to get to the boy, needs to pick him up and hug him, needs to wipe those tears off his puffy cheeks and tell him that would never happen, that his family loves him and he’s got nothing to be scared of.
To his horror, Nico blinks and realizes it would be you. You’d be his mother in this dream, dismissing the boy with a cold shoulder before making sure he himself hasn’t been bother by the intrusion. The same as his mother used to do for his father. Even worse, Nico realizes he’s his father in this stupid dream, this stupid nightmare.
You pull away from Nico and his heart seizes, his own eyes stinging with tears as he waits for you to dismiss the crying child. He’s a marble statue on the bed, watching you reach for the blankets with bated breath.
He expects you to pull them back over your shoulder and lay down. Except you don’t, your hands pushing them further down your thighs and you’re getting up from the bed.
Like its instinct, the boys stretches his little arms out to you and you lean down to meet him halfway. Wrapping him up in your arms, you lift him onto your hip and the boy curls into you, hugging his bear tightly and laying his head on your chest. You hold him protectively, a hand soothing the hair on the nape of his neck and rocking him steadily until his cries are just sniffles into the fabric of your shirt. It’s then that Nico can finally move again, the invisible hold on his limbs easing to nothing.
“He’s ok,” he hears himself saying, “he’s ok now.”
Like you’re seeing him for the first time, not noticing until now that Nico is in the dream, you turn to him. Your eyes shine, tired but warm and with a loving smile you approach the bed. Nico reaches out, eager now that he can get his body to cooperate and gestures for you to get back in bed. Softly, you lay the boy down in bed, his head on your pillow and wet eyes blinking at Nico.
“Daddy?” He asks and Nico can’t breathe, can’t speak. His mouth opens, unsure of what to even say but nothing comes out anyway. It feels like his vocal cords have been taken, silenced.
But then you lay down too, settling into the mattress besides the young boy and Nico lets out a quiet breath. Nervously, Nico draws the teary eyed boy into his chest, hands tender and uncertain but the boy goes easily, snuggling into Nico’s hold like he’s been there a million times before. Laying back into the pillows, Nico watches you move closer, laying your head on his bicep and your hand comes up to play with the boys hair. You throw your leg over Nico’s, touch your foot to his calf and he melts into the bed.
It feels safe, being here. In his bed, his home with you. The weight of you and the son he shares with you on his chest. Knowing that he’s ok, Nico’s ok and the boy is too.
Nico wakes up with a start, the light of the setting sun harsh on his eyes and he has to blink rapidly to get the white spots to clear up. Heart thumping painfully loud in his chest and ears, he forces himself to take deep breaths.
He’s in his room, well the room you two now share, just not the one from his dream. This house and room have been left at the bare minimum, abandoned after he left to the United States. The cleaning crew comes every other week to keep it fresh and tidy, and the grounds crew every few weeks to care for the lawn. Nico’s never cared about this house. It was given to him by his grandfather, part of his inheritance. They all got a house within ten miles of grandfathers house. For security and safety reasons.
Nico almost sold it when he first got to Jersey. Thought of using the money to speed up the process of getting the Devs going, but he actually enjoyed living in the cramped apartment with Timo and Jonas and Jesper and the girls. It felt like a real home with a real family.
And his siblings would never forgive him if he got rid of the family gift from his grandfather.
Now, he’s glad he didn’t. It’s still not home to him, but he’s shared too many moments in this house with you already. He can’t imagine anyone else but you in the kitchen, drinking tea with him in the morning. Chasing you around the piles of snow outback in the middle of the night. The sheets have already begun to smell like you and him, a perfect mix of his cologne and your perfume, just like the sheets back in Jersey.
And as much as he hated his grandfather, the old kook was right about one thing. Being this close is safe. If anything were to happen to him, to the Devs, you’d have this home. A safe place for you and Moose and probably Alex too at the very least. Near his family, his mother who he can shockingly trust to make sure you’re taken care of.
Nico’s pulse and breath even out, and he drags a hand down his face, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. They still feel heavy and groggy, begging to return to sleep. He blinks, lets the image of the dream float fuzzily into his mind again.
A kid. Nico had a kid. Somewhere in his subconscious, he’s ok with that. The thought brings a lump to front of his throat, but not one big enough to choke on. Improvement, he thinks happily. He’s easing into this family thing, spurred by the image of you. You’ve always been so sweet with Nico, so patient of his faults and the time he needed to grow up and heal.
He can be patient too, he thinks. And kind, and loving, and protective, and providing. And present. Everything a good dad should be.
Tears sting at the back of his throat, blurring his vision and he sniffles quietly.
Nico doesn’t want to wake you, but the arm you’re using as a pillow is stinging with pins and needles, fingertips cold and numb. And even though you’re plastered to his side, he wants more.
Hesitant and a bit embarrassed, he rolls onto his side to face you, wincing as he attempts to wiggle his arm out from under you. The movement makes you stir, a sharp inhale of air cutting through the silent room and then your blinking your eyes open, coming face to face with Nico.
“Sorry,” he whispers, pathetically, his voice cracking. That stupid burning feeling in his throat grows and Nico’s not even sure what he wants, what’s going on. He can feel himself panicking again as you sit up a bit and free his arm. He’s about to start babbling his dream to you in defense for the tears but you don’t even give him a chance.
Sleepily, you move up the pillows and onto your side, still facing him. But your arm is pushing at his shoulder and he molds like putty in your hands. Nudging him to move onto his side, his back now facing you, Nico inhales shakily. He can feel you shuffling behind him, rustling the blankets like you’re searching for something and he opens his mouth to ask what you’re doing.
You shush him by throwing your arm around his chest and your leg over his hip, pulling yourself tight to his back. Soft and worn fabric tickles the skin of his chest and he cranes his neck down, blinking at the sight of his teddy bear. He’d grabbed it from his childhood bedroom for you in the hospital and ever since it’s slept by your head or in the crook of your elbow.
Nico takes the bear from your hand, laying it against his chest and bicep, and you curl your arm tighter around him, fingers pressing over his heart in a welcome weight. It’s a nice feeling, the pressure and warmth of your body wrapped around him like this, and he can kinda see why you like when he holds you like this.
He feels so…safe and shielded. He closes his eyes, ignores the wet feeling of a few tears slipping down his cheeks.
“S’ok,” you whisper quietly into his ear, your face pressed into the back of his neck. “I’ve got you Neeky, s’ok.”
He drifts back off again, faintly realizing that that’s the first time you’ve called him that.
~~~~
The jet looms off to the side of the runway, the windows glowing with the cabin light and bulbs on the wings blinking. The car rolls to a stop next to a familiar black SUV, Timo putting it in park and killing the engine. Through the tinted window you can make out the other three Hischiers leaning against the front of it, bundled up in their coats. Luca’s got his arm tucked around a small, huddling figure.
“Maja,” you tell Nico, pressing your finger to the glass and looking back at him with a smile. He follows your gesture, laughing softly.
“You like Maja huh?
“She’s sweet,” you answer, moving to release your seatbelt just as the other vehicle pulls up next to you. Mercer, eager to get home, practically leaps out of the drivers seat.
Timo is the first to get out, quickly dashing around the front of the car to open the passenger door for Amelia and you and Nico giggle quietly to yourself. You’ve never seen Timo so romantic before.
Pulling Nico’s beaning further over his ears and checking his zipper, you give him another little grin before opening the door. The air is cold and biting, stings your cheeks as you shuffle out and Nico follows, staying close to your back.
The other boys have all gotten out of the car too, lined up groggily by the back of your SUV and Timo leaves Amelia standing with you, moving towards the trunk.
“Timo,” Nico stops him, nodding to Amelia. “They’ve got it.”
Luke, Alex, and Mercer don’t even so much as grumble when Nico gestures for them to load the bags on the jet. Jack however, rolls his eyes, stomping his feet like a child as he joins them.
The Hischiers have come over to help now, not that Nico would ever let them so they all just stand in front of you, waiting and expectant.
“You have everything you need?” Nina asks you first, faux cheeriness in her voice and you know how upset she is to see her baby brother go.
Nico laughs under his breath, moving around you and pulling his sister into a hug. It’s enough of an answer for her, Nina greedily accepting the affection and snuggling into his hold.
“Come on you,” Maja calls, pulling herself out of her hiding spot under Luca’s arm. Simultaneously, they stretch out their arms to you and you laugh, moving to accept the double hug from them. Their puffer jackets make it a bit of a tight fit but you don’t mind, squeezing them as tight as you can.
“It was so nice to meet you, y/n.” Maja tells you, “you know if you ever need anything at all we’re here. Luca loves long flights.”
He makes a noise of complaint, something between a scoff and a snort, and you almost laugh imagining him just as restless on planes as Nico is.
“You and Nico both, huh?” You tease, pulling back to smile at him. He chuckles, snaking a cold hand up to ruffle your hair.
“You take care of him, ok kid?” He tells you, and even though it’s said softly, you can hear the underlying concern in his tone.
“Always,” you promise, then narrow your eyes at him in a stern frown. “You take care of Maja and Katja, ok kid?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Not Nina?”
“Nah I think she can handle herself and her Frenchies.”
That makes both Luca and Maja laugh, him giving you one final squeeze before letting you go. “I will.” He assures, a fond look in his eyes as he awkwardly pats at the top of your head again. Maja presses a sisterly kiss to your cheek, grinning sadly as she returns to hiding under Luca’s arm.
Nico, now parted from his sister, moves to swap places with you, his hand briefly finding the small of your back. Nina is already crying when you get to her, cheeks red from the cold and glistening.
“Aww don’t do that.” You beg, bundling her up in a hug. She laughs wetly, pressing her face into your shoulder.
“I got the emotions for all three of us it seems,” she jokes, referencing the lack of tears coming from her brothers. You don’t tell her that Nico can actually be the world’s biggest softy. And you don’t think about waking up to him crying earlier, because if it were something he wanted you to be concerned about, he’d tell you.
It was him healing, you tell yourself, and then shake the memory away for now.
“A blessing and a curse,” you say, pulling back to hold her at arms length. She swipes at her cheeks, sniffling.
“Thank you for everything this trip,” she says earnestly. “You make him so happy, it’s like a brand new Nico. He hasn’t been like this since he was a baby.”
Your heart squeezes, a bittersweet feeling seeping into your veins. Sometimes it’s hard to picture Nico being a happy baby. He’s so neutral and solid now, confident but tense. Like he’s always waiting for something. But when you picture him singing in the car or wrestling Moose for toys and hanging out at the bar with the boys, you can see it.
Nico was born happy and bright, warm like the sun. Sometimes he hides it, but eventually he’ll show himself.
“You fixed him.” Nina shrugs, sniffling with fresh tears in her eyes again.
“That was all him,” you tell her, repeating your words to Katja from earlier “I may have been inspiration but he never really needed fixing. He just needed to know that we love him.”
The tears roll down her cheeks, a blubbering cry escaping her and you laugh, pulling her into another hug. After a moment of sniffling, she pulls back.
“I’m ok,” she says more to herself, laughing again. “I’m sorry he grew up like this, that we grew up like this.”
It’s not her fault, though you can’t really imagine having a baby brother and not protecting him. Maybe it’s just who you are though. Still, you wave off the apology. “It made him strong, it made you all strong.”
Releasing her, you dig in your pocket for the box you’d set aside earlier. Nina blinks rapidly, trying to dry her eyes and you hold it out to her.
“I think this belongs to you now.”
She gapes, recognizing the box immediately just as Nico had. “Y/n,” she gasps, “what? No that’s, she gave it to you and Nico-“
“Actually she gave it to Nico, and Nico gave it to me, and well I already have one so I figured it should go to someone who can make it mean something worthwhile.”
Nina shakes her head. “What about Luca? It’s meant for marriage?”
“I was told it stood more contractual obligation, but it should stand for love. It’s a wedding ring, after all. It should have ties to love.”
You press the box into her trembling hand. “Nico and I love you Nina. You’re the big sister I never had and well, this should dazzle on your finger while you woo every pretty French boy that struts by…”
She laughs wetly.
“And then maybe one day you’ll give it to your kids, kids you love, and they’ll give it to someone else they love.”
Her fingers wrap so tightly around the box her knuckles turn white. “I used to steal it from my mother’s jewelry box,” she says with awe. “After father got her an anniversary one and this one wasn’t worn anymore. I’d put it on my hand and imagine my grandmother had given it to me because it went so well with my eyes.”
Startling, you think it does. She’s got little flecks of green in them, more brown than anything else but they’re there. The same shade as the ring.
“It does,” you agree, letting her hug you again.
“I love you both too,” she murmurs, “and I’m gonna be a better sister, ok?”
Squeezing her, you nod. You don’t have a doubt that she won’t at least try, and that’s all you can really ask for. Maybe with Rino gone they’ll all find what they’ve been looking for.
Nina lets you go, tucking her hands into her coat pocket and sniffling through a smile. Nico finds his place next to you again, his hand falling to your lower back protectively and you subconsciously press closer into his side. Over her shoulder, the boys are carrying the last of the bags onto the jet.
Katja is fidgeting as she comes to say goodbye, anxiously picking at the strings of a gift bag in her gloved hand. It’s the most unkempt and normal looking you’ve ever seen her. It’s refreshing.
“My turn?” She says with a weak laugh.
She’s close enough for you to reach out and touch her, so you carefully cup your hands around the fist holding the gift bag.
“Thank you,” you say earnestly, “for warning us, for trusting me. I’m sorry it took me a bit to realize it.”
Katja shakes her head softly. “Don’t thank me. It was the right thing to do,” she looks at Nico, blinks sadly. “I should’ve done a lot of things differently and I should’ve done them a lot sooner,
“I’m sorry that I didn’t fight for my autonomy Nico, and I’m even more sorry that I didn’t fight for yours either.”
His body stiffens behind you, and you quickly let go of Katja’s hands in favor of slipping your arm around his waist and resting the other on his stomach, grounding him.
From here you can only see his side profile, stoic and intense in a way that’s strictly his resting face. But you can feel it in him, see it in his eyes that are always so telling. Something raw and tender.
“You fought for my girl,” he says quietly, “that’s apology enough mother.”
It’s not exactly forgiveness, but it is acceptance, and that’s good for now. You can’t expect Nico to let everything go after one apology. After all, he was just a kid, a young boy with a big heart who tried to please everyone, tried to make them love him, and in return he only got hurt.
That’ll probably stay with him for the rest of his life.
Katja smiles, a little amused as if she were expecting him to say that. Again, you think of Nico waking you earlier, how desperate and upset he looked, lost in whatever dream he had. You wonder if she ever saw him like that, ever held him and let him know he was safe. After all, his favorite thing in the world to tell you is that you’re safe with him. Maybe he picked it up from her.
You have a feeling, though that it might just be strictly a Nico thing.
“This is for you,” Katja clears her throat uncomfortably. “I figured you’d want it for the wedding maybe or to just have.”
She holds the bag out to Nico, his fingers trembling as he pulls the handles apart. You tip toe to look inside with him, chest aching painfully when you see the baby blue book printed with bears and rattles. It’s a baby book, you realize, and tucked against it are thin stacks of photographs and old, crumbled drawings, all placed in a protective plastic sleeve.
It’s his childhood all tucked into one gift bag. The good parts of it at least. Rino did all he could to silence Katja, to make her just a figure in the background but at the end of the day she’s still a mother and Nico is still her baby boy.
You were wrong about her being unfazed by Nico’s indifference to her. This whole time she’s been secretly holding on to any parts of him she could get her hands on, no matter how tiny.
Nico, a bit dazed, hands the bag to you. You accept it, letting it hang from your fingertips carefully while he stares back at his mother.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, “I-I was always trying to get photos from Nina to show her and yeah.”
It’s clear he doesn’t know what to say, overwhelmed with the gift but still appreciative. Katja must know that too, because she nods at him.
Nico coughs, clearing his throat. “We should get going. Don’t want to get in too late.”
Katja doesn’t say anything, just looks at you knowingly before you and Nico turn to gather Timo. He’s still saying goodbye Amelia, large arms wrapped around her and his face hidden in her hair. You and Nico already said your goodbyes to her in the car, knowing her and Timo would want this time together.
Leaving them to their moment, you look up at the jet, find the younger boys already seated inside and watching you both through the windows. You laugh softly, bumping Nico and gesturing for him to look.
“Dramatic,” he mutters with a roll of his eyes.
The Hischiers all look to you, one last parting smile on their lips. “Let us know when you land,” Nina requests and you happily oblige.
Nico takes your hand, starts to lead you towards the jet but you pause, waving to them one more time. “We’ll see you guys soon, yeah?”
Nina and Luca laugh. “We’ll talk after the holidays!” She calls, because you’re still slowly trailing away with Nico.
“Maja?”
You can’t see her smile, but you can hear it. “I’ll be there!”
Hopeful, you look to the slowly shrinking outline of Katja. She smiles, in a pristine but motherly way. “Soon,” she agrees simply, and you accept the answer, letting Nico easily guide you up the steps and into the jet.
~~~~
Nico’s foot fell asleep 20 minutes ago, his toes prickling uncomfortably with needles but he doesn’t dare move. After two hours of him attempting to act normal on the flight, sitting as still as possible and forcing himself to breathe evenly so he’s not huffing out sighs every five minutes, he’d given up.
Timo, a bittersweet look on his face, had collapsed into his seat and shut his eyes before the jet door was even shut. Nico doesn’t know if he’s asleep or just pretending, but no one dares disturb a tender-hearted Timo.
Jack and Luke had pulled out their switches as soon as the jet reached cruising altitude, bickering with each other over Fortnite and some other tractor game in the seats across from Timo.
Alex and Mercer sat across from Nico and you, shifting through the goody bags you’d left at all their seats. A little wooden mind puzzle game had kept Mercer occupied for about an hour, while Alex consumed almost every snack in his bag before curling up under a blanket and going to sleep.
It was at that point that Nico decided he’d had enough of acting like flying isn’t the bane of his fucking existence. It’s uncomfortable, it takes forever, there’s no breaks, and food options suck.
“Baby,” he’d pouted, looking to you all snug under your blanket with his teddy bear. You were half asleep too, eyes heavy and low as you just watched him and he wondered if you were waiting for him to fall asleep first.
At his beckoning, you’d gotten up from your seat and slipped easily between his parted thighs, settling into his lap like you belonged there. Then you’d slid his laptop over from in front of your seat, putting the volume on low and pressing play on Casablanca. Nico thinks you maybe watched five minutes of it before you fell asleep on his shoulder, your hand tucked under the hem of his quarter zip to warm your cold fingers.
Nico hasn’t moved since, except to switch movies and then pull the blanket over your shoulders. Even though he really wants to slip his stupid shoes off and he should probably get feeling back to his foot. Instead he just holds you, enjoying the feeling of your back steadily rising and falling as you breathe.
Just over the screen of the laptop, broody brown eyes watch him, swollen and tired but refusing to shut. Nico was hoping the further away from Switzerland you got, the more relaxed Mercer would be. Instead he looks like he’s got cyanide between his teeth.
Nico gently cups his hand over your ear, not wanting to wake you. “Merc,” he calls quietly, “she’s fine now buddy. I swear.”
“I know,” he says, blinking lazily “but it was scary Nico. Her asking me to do that was scary and seeing him hit her…”
Dawson adjusts himself in his seat, making a face like just the memory of it makes him sick. “I remember her after Philly. And I remember you both disappearing. And I know she’s got you and you’ve got her, but maybe I’ve got both of you too, ya know?”
In all this time since Philly, Nico never thought what happened really changed the boys. Sure they were upset and protective over her, but that comes with the territory. He never imagined that it scared them or still haunted them to this day too. Enough so that even a cut to your lip could make Mercer get like this.
Nico’s proud. Mercer has always kind of skated by, goofed off and put in minimal effort. Most of the time it feels like the boy just gets by on luck. Yet he’s spent this whole trip being your guy, your second hand, your Robin basically. And he’s done it better than Nico could’ve asked him to.
“Yeah,” he agrees, quietly because he does understand. Mercer doesn’t want this to set them back, to become something you hide from.
“I’m sorry,” Mercer suddenly mumbles, frowning with this far away look in his eyes. “About Rino and your family. And I’m sorry we always called you grumpy and stuff. If my family were like that I don’t think I’d even be half as nice as you are.”
Nico chuckles. “Nice isn’t typically used to describe me Merc.”
“Well you are nice,” he insists, gaze returning to Nico now. “I mean, you took a bunch of us in and made us a family. Taught us how to grow up. I was big ol’ baby before I got here. Never had to do anything for myself. And Alex was gonna spend his life in prison. And she didn’t have anyone anymore.
“You gave us a good home, Boss.”
It’s a little too much to take in. Nico feels like his nerves have been stripped raw and exposed to the winter winds all day, relentless and invisible fingers picking at them like strings. First his family, now this. He’s not sure what else he can take.
He clears his throat, nodding stiffly in thanks and the faintest hint of a smie flashes on Mercer's face. "Get some rest Dawson, we're ok now." Finally, he closes his eyes, leaning back into his seat. Nico waits for the sounds of Dawson's breath to even out before he too closes his eyes.
Nico doesn’t want to come back to Switzerland for a long time, especially not without knowing where Rino ran off too. But he thinks of the gift bag from his mother, the engagement ring sitting prettily on your finger, the image of you engulfed in tearful hugs with Luca, Maja, and Nina, and he thinks maybe it wasn’t all so bad.
He’s coming home feeling more loved and accepted than he’s ever felt in his life. And it’s all thanks to you, his fiancée, his girl. His family, he thinks warmly, drifting off to join you in sleep.
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hischierhoney · 1 day ago
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Snowglobe // pt. i
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ski patrol!nico hischier x reader
summary: an unfortunate turn in the weather leaves you trapped on the ski hill, and your vacation plans a bit in disarray, but there are worse people to be stuck with than Nico. 4.7k words
warnings: winter storm, mentions of danger (but everyone is fine!), suggestive content and mild (very mild!!) angst upcoming in part ii.
You’ve heard before that the weather on the mountain can change quickly, but you never really understood what they meant until this very moment. You’re standing, facing down the run, staring out at the dark clouds rolling in, thick and churning like the ocean. Dread settles in your stomach as the flakes begin to thicken around you
It’s probably fine, you think, bracing yourself. It’s just- you’re pretty high up on the hill, all things considered. It would take you a while to ski down under normal conditions. But the world is turning into a snowglobe, and the visibility is going to be awful, and-
“Hey!”
You turn toward the noise. You spot the person easily, clad in that signature bright red ski patrol jacket. He’s skiing towards you, waving an arm frantically.
“Hey,” he says again as he skis up next to you. “They’re closing the mountain.”
“Oh, yeah, I figured,” you nod, gesturing down the hill. “Was trying to work up the courage to ski down. Any suggestions on the route? Or should I try and take the lift-“
He shakes his head. “We’ve been told to shelter in place. They closed the lifts. I’m surprised you got all the way up here, you must’ve been the last one up.”
“Shelter in place?” You say, nose wrinkled. “Where?”
“There’s a ski patrol hut nearby,” he says. His face is pinched, at least what you can see of it beneath the helmet and goggles. “Look. I know you don’t know me, but I really can’t recommend skiing down. If something happens, we may not be able to get to you.”
You hesitate. He’s standing in front of you- you can barely make out any features on his face, but he sounds trustworthy enough. Besides, they wouldn’t hire him if he wasn’t. You look down the mountain again and swallow, hard. The visibility is fading fast- the tree you’d been looking at before has disappeared.
“Hut it is,” you reply. “As long as you promise you’re not crazy.”
The man laughs, and it makes your own smile grow. His laughter is contagious. It keeps you level headed all the way to the little hut on the side of the slope.
“I promise,” he says, in a firm, kind voice.
There’s a tiny space heater inside that’s already going on full blast. The man helps prop your skis up next to the door, and you stand there, shivering, a little unsure what to do. You survey the tiny room. There’s a couch, a microwave, a little sink. An electric kettle, a little desk, a portable radio that’s seen better days. And, thankfully, a bathroom.
You turn to the man to ask how long it’s going to be, but he’s staring out of the window, radio held to his ear, so you wait. There’s chatter he seems to be waiting for a break in, something about the Bluebird lift. Finally, there’s a break in the noise.
“Base, Nico, checking in,” the man says.
“Go ahead, Nico,” a voice crackles through.
“Safely to the Daisy Chain hut,” he says. So, he must be Nico. You test out the name on your lips, silently. “I’ve got one guest with me.”
“Okay, Nico. Hold tight. We’re predicting a break in the weather in the next fifteen, we may be able to get you to the gondola and down or at least to the Bluebird lift building with everyone else. But hold tight for now.”
You eye the swirling gusts outside skeptically. Even with a break in the weather, an escape seems doubtful. The Bluebird lift is far enough away, and down the hill from here, which is a risky maneuver when the weather could pick back up. The gondola is even farther. Anxiety flutters in your chest. You shuffle slightly towards the couch, closer to the little heater. You take a seat but stay dressed, figuring you’ll need to be ready to go pretty quickly.
15 minutes later, Nico’s still staring out the window. His shoulders are hunched. You hear his name crackle over the radio.
“Now’s your gap,” the other person says. “Should stay at this rate for the next ten minutes. Your call, Hisch.���
The wind is still blowing, strong. There’s a tree just outside the window, you saw it coming in, but from here, you’d never be able to tell. Nico sighs, heavily, shoulders sagging. He shakes his head.
“No way, Shel. Visibilty is shit.” he says, wincing at his own use of profanity. “Not when we’re safe here. We’ll make do.”
“Affirm. What’s your guest’s name? We’d like to let their friends know they’re safe.”
Nico turns over his shoulder towards you for the first time since you entered the hut. You try and look brave, but from the way his hard set expression softens, you think you’ve failed pretty spectacularly. He tilts his head towards you, and you tell him your name without a second thought. He repeats it back over the radio, listens to a couple instructions, and then sets it down on the desk. He turns fully towards you with a sigh. You feel incredibly small, suddenly, like a kid in a bad thunderstorm. So unsure about everything.
…..
Nico’s kicking himself, hard. Directly to where it hurts the most, probably. He walked into the hut and proceeded to ignore you for the next near half hour. No regards for your worries or your comfort or anything. He feels like an asshole. Sure, he was worried, but he could’ve taken a few seconds to get you comfortable- you’re still in your ski boots, for god’s sake.
He clears his throat. “Hi. Sorry. I’m Nico.’
“I heard,” you say, blinking up at him from the couch. “What’s the verdict, Nico?”
He sighs, again. “Not gonna lie, we’re gonna be here a while. Probably overnight. The snow and the wind is a bad combo.”
You nod solemnly, and then sit there, waiting, quietly. You look scared. It makes his chest ache.
“Hey. I promise you, I’m getting you off this mountain safely, okay? Just gotta wait it out. For now we can get comfortable. I’d give you a tour but I think you’ve seen it all, honestly.”
You laugh slightly- that feels like a win- and start unzipping your jacket. “What, no hidden rooms?”
He laughs at that, too. “Unfortunately not.”
A few minutes later, your outer layers of clothing are hung up next to his, near the door, and your boots are there, too. The hut is a bit drafty, and he winces again when you shiver slightly. There are emergency blankets in the kit under the sink, but he doesn’t want to pull those out if he doesn’t have to- would probably send the wrong message. Instead, he unzips his black puffer coat, leaving him in the hoodie he’s wearing underneath. You need it more than him.
He holds it out with a low “here.”
When you look up at him through your lashes, he feels his heart skip a beat.
“Thank you, Nico,” you say, softly, a smile slipping across your face.
That’s better.
…..
Nico’s puffer jacket is warm. Cozy. Comfy. And honestly, it’s a sweet gesture. It’s amazing how something like that can make you feel just a little safer. Suddenly, the storm outside doesn’t seem quite as scary. You watch as Nico putters around the hut, digging through drawers and starting up the electric kettle. He’s tall, and broad, the ends of his dark hair poking out from beneath his beanie to match the slight dusting of stubble on his face, paired with a well kept mustache. You check your phone, but it’s just as you expected- no cell service.
“Aha!” He exclaims, making you flinch slightly. “I knew this was in here.”
He stands up with a deck of cards in his hand, smiling triumphantly, and you start to melt even more. Outside, the snow is piling up, but in here, you’re warm.
Nico sinks down onto the couch next to you, sitting at the other end. He opens the pack of cards, shuffling them back and forth in his hands. You try not to watch too closely, but you’re unsure where else to look. His face, maybe? But god, he’s-
He’s cute.
You noticed it in the smile he gave you out on the mountain, even. But here, in the yellow light of the hut, undone and face on full display, he’s almost overwhelmingly handsome. Strong jaw, big dark eyes, the sweetest smile when he catches you looking.
“Have you ever played Jass?” He asks. You shake your head, and he grins. “That’s okay. I can teach you.”
Nico’s a good teacher, and you’re a fast learner. It takes you a couple rounds to beat him, and he smiles happily when you do. Next, you teach him a different game, one of your favorites. He bears his confusion with a smile, but he’s quick, too, catching on far too fast for your liking.
Eventually, you lean back on the couch, your stomach rumbling slightly. You laugh at the sound, but Nico frowns.
“You’re hungry,” he says. You shrug. “We have ramen packets? Microwave popcorn?”
You groan, softly. “I could fuck up some ramen right now. We can save the popcorn for a midnight snack.”
He laughs, a full laugh, unmuted, from somewhere deep in his chest. His eyes crinkle at the corners when he does. You laugh, too, and bite your lip when he’s not looking. His laugh is pretty, too. It’s almost unfair.
This is going to be a long night.
…..
Nico’s never been more proud of his ramen doctoring skills than when you have your first bite. You sigh happily, eyes squeezing shut, and he grins in response. Maybe it’s just the feeling of a good meal at the end of a long day, but either way, it makes him happy.
He promised he’d keep you safe. This is part of it, that’s all.
He sits down next to you with his own bowl. It’s dark outside now. He sees your gaze flicker to the window every so often, brows pinching together, the same way he does when you’re not looking. He doesn’t like it either, honestly, but he hopes you know he’s going to keep his promise.
“Okay,” you say, quietly. “Tell me a fun fact about yourself.”
It’s so unexpected he nearly laughs around a mouthful of noodles. From the smirk on your face, the timing was deliberate. He bites back another laugh and swallows, wincing at the hot food. It’s fine. Worth it, to see you laugh again.
“Huh,” he hums. “Are we doing ice breakers now? We’ve been here for four hours.”
You nod enthusiastically. “No time like the present, Nico.”
He rolls his eyes affectionately. He likes the way you say his name. The way your lips form around the word. He should probably stop watching you say it. Bad for his health, he thinks, the way it makes his heart rate kick up.
“Um. Okay. When I was 16, I moved to Canada by myself to play hockey,” he says.
You blink at him. “Like. The NHL?”
He smiles and shakes his head. “Nah. I was trying, but it wasn’t for me. The whole time, I just missed skiing.”
You nod slowly. He can see the gears in your brain turning. “And now it’s your job to rescue poor saps like me.”
He shakes his head, nudging his elbow against yours. “Now it’s my job to make sure everyone has a good day on the mountain. I take it very seriously. Can’t you tell?” He asks, gesturing at the haphazard pile of cards on the table and the bowl of ramen in your hands.
You break into giggles again. “Mhm. You’re doing great, all things considered, you know.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you agree. “10 out of 10 hospitality. Would recommend. The host even gave me his jacket.“
He grins, and shifts on the couch. Leans a little closer, his knee knocking into yours.
“Your turn for a fun fact,” he directs.
You groan. “What if I don’t have one?”
“You started this!”
…..
Nico’s kind. Warm, really, feels like the best word to describe him. He makes your chest feel a little fizzy. His laughter is contagious, his smile even more so.
But he’s just doing his job.
You keep reminding yourself of that, because if you don’t, this would all feel a whole lot like flirting. The two of you are huddled on the couch, now, leaning close to peer at the screen of his phone. He’d remembered he had a couple episodes of Scrubs downloaded, said something about watching them with someone named Jack during lunch breaks. You selfishly hope that Jack isn’t more than a friend to him. And then, you remind yourself, again, for the millionth time, that he’s just doing his job.
His shoulder bumps yours when he laughs at something, and you can feel the warmth radiating from his thigh next to yours. The thing is, he’s not pulling away. That’s a good sign, at least, right?
The hut is chilly, even with the space heater. A little shared body heat never hurt anyone. When he slips an arm onto the couch behind you, not touching but hovering near your shoulders, you lean into him, just slightly.
He doesn’t pull away.
A while later- you’re not sure how long- you wake up with a start. Your head has fallen against his chest, curling into the warmth of him. You grimace, feeling a little embarrassed, until you feel the weight atop your head. He’s fallen asleep against you, too.
“Nico,” you say, in a hushed tone.
He hums in response.
“Hey, Nico,” you repeat. He lifts his head slightly. “Wanna figure out a sleeping arrangement?”
He swallows, lifting his hand to scrub at his jaw. His other arm stays around your shoulders, his hand resting against you, you notice. You try not to think about it too much. Try not to lean into the touch. Try not to let your mind run wild with the idea of falling asleep against him, again. You regret waking him.
“Yeah,” he says, quietly. “You take the couch. I’ll…”
You look around the room. There’s an office chair that seems to be on its last leg. No shot. The only other option is-
“”I’ll take the floor,” he says.
“Like hell you will,” you protest, elbowing his side lightly. “Don’t be silly, you worked all day today.”
“And it’s my job to make sure everyone has a good day-“
“Yeah, well, you sleeping on the floor will ruin my day,” you snark back.
You turn to look up at him. In the low light, you can see his one brow raised, the smirk on his lips. He’s so close, now. It hits you, then, that it wouldn’t take much to close the gap. You could lean in, press your lips to his. He could wrap that arm around you, all the way, hold you close. Kiss you back. Pull you into his lap. Hell of a way to stay entertained in this tiny hut. It would keep you warm, too.
You blink, hard. Fight the urge to shake your head.
“We can share the couch,” you say, before you can even really think it through. “It’s wide enough, we can each take one end. We’re gonna need our beauty sleep.”
Nico sighs, then pats your shoulder. “You drive a hard bargain. I accept.”
He sticks his hand out to shake yours, like it’s a business deal and not a sleeping arrangement. You laugh, again, and feel the warmth of his hand in yours all the way through your body.
…..
Nico lays there in the dark, listening to your breathing evening out, one emergency blanket laid out over the two of you. He’s trying not to move, knowing the tinfoil like material with crinkle, not wanting to wake you. From the angle he’s at, he can just peek over at you, your face barely visible in the low light.
You’re beautiful, he thinks.
Outside, the wind howls. A constant reminder of why he’s here, that he’s not laying next to you for the fun of it.
It’s his job to keep you safe. As soon as he fulfills that promise, he’ll probably never see you again.
He closes his eyes and tries to ignore the anxiety that makes him feel.
…..
You wake up to blinding sunlight, an empty couch, and the strangest scraping noise you’ve ever heard. It takes you a solid minute to get your bearings, even longer than that to realize that Nico’s not in the bathroom and that he also hasn’t left you to fend for yourself. The scraping noise is a shovel. The sunlight means the storm has cleared.
You shove the thin emergency blanket off of you, shuffling towards the door. When you open it, you squint, nearly blinded by the sun reflecting off the fresh snow. You hear Nico before you see him, just by the sound of his laughter.
“Morning, sunshine,” he calls out, leaning on the snow shovel. “You ready to blow this popsicle stand?”
You squint at him. He’s not even wearing his jacket- you still have his puffer coat on. It’s just him in his snow bibs and his long sleeve shirt. He sticks the shovel into the snow again, and you watch his muscles flex, his undershirt leaving little to the imagination.
“You should’ve woken me,” you manage to get out, your brain barely working. “I could’ve helped shovel.”
He shakes his head. “There’s only one shovel.”
“We could’ve shared.”
He laughs at that, taking a couple steps through the snow towards you. “Okay, let’s get you some coffee, sleepyhead. Maybe a poptart. We’ve got a date with Jack.”
Jack, as it turns out, is Nico’s coworker. Which, in reality, probably doesn’t rule him out as someone who could be more than a friend. The way Nico grimaces at Jack’s loud voice over the radio does, though. That, plus the affectionate eye roll and the hand motion he does, as if he’s telling Jack to hurry it along.
“-so they’re gonna get Bluebird spinning here, soonish. We’ve got twenty to go down, plus me, Lukey, Siegs, and Timo. You’ve just got a plus one, right? We shoveled out earlier and your route looks pretty clear from our point, I’d just take Lark down to the Stork cutoff, or- Siegs says maybe-“
“I can’t cut in,” Nico says, mildly exasperated, mildly affectionate. “He won’t hear it.”
“-and just avoid the area under the lift, in case there’s any ice stuck to it-“
When Jack finally stops talking, Nico responds with a short and sweet 10-4 and a relay of the plan. You start cleaning up before you go, while he puts on a kettle and makes some instant coffee. It’s bitter and a little grainy, but it wakes you up, even if you’re both grimacing at each other over your paper cups.
Then you get suited up. You give Nico his jacket back, albeit reluctantly- it wouldn’t fit under your layers, anyways. He’d folded your dry clothes before he went out to shovel, and set them near the space heater, which means they’re nice and toasty when you slip into them. Then you follow him back out into the sun, fidgeting with the straps of your helmet.
He turns, frowning slightly, and comes closer.
“Here,” he mumbles, his fingers brushing against your chin. “You’re a little twisted, that’s all. I got it.”
“Thanks,” you say, blinking up at him.
He has long eyelashes. Thick, dark eyebrows. Wrinkles near his eyes- smile lines, so happy all the time that it shows on his face. It makes your heart skip a beat. His fingers are warm against your skin, despite the cold.
He shrugs. “No problem.”
Right. Things like this are just a part of his job.
You strap into your skis and take off behind him. The snow is powdery and light, the mountain peaceful and empty. You think, for a second, that you should’ve take a photo of the hut, to remember it by, but it’s too late now, and he’d probably think it was weird. You turn over your shoulder for one last look, the tiny building disappearing into the distance.
It’s not a long trek over to the top of the Bluebird lift. You sort of wish it was longer. Nico stays by your side the whole time, pointing out birds in the trees or a particularly interesting bit of wind drifted snow. He’s smiley, again. He loves this, you can tell. You get why he chose this life.
The lift comes into view not long after that. There’s a few people milling about, a couple in red jackets. One of them, the tallest one, lifts an arm and waves. Nico waves back.
“That’s Luke,” he says.
Like he wants you to know. Like these people, who are important to him, are ones you should know, too. Something about that makes your heart twist, makes butterflies swirl in your stomach.
When you ski up to the lift, the shorter of the two red jacket clad men greets Nico with a hug. There are others coming out of the building now, more skiers, followed by two more Ski Patrol guys. They greet Nico, too. You hesitate, wondering if you should just go. If you should mingle with the other “guests”, or maybe just wait it out on your own. You were silly to think Nico cared about anything other than getting you there safely- his job is done, isn’t it?
As if on cue, he turns around, dark eyes sparkling, and waves you over. He introduces you, and then the rest of the guys- Jack, Jonas, and Timo. Luke, too, though you already knew his name.
“I taught her Jass,” he says, and Jonas and Timo both hum and nod approvingly. “She beat me. Or, at least she says she did. I think maybe she cheated-“
You scoff, elbowing him, feeling indignant. “I wouldn’t even know how to cheat.”
Nico’s smirking next to you. He nudges his shoulder against yours. You bite back a matching smile of your own.
“Impressive,” Luke says. “Jack’s been trying to beat Nico for years.”
Jack glares at Luke- similar faces, similar mannerisms, you’d bet they’re brothers. “Yeah, well, I think Nico does cheat when he’s playing me.”
There’s a loud noise, and then the lift lurches into motion. You swallow down a little bit of resentment. It’ll be good to get off the mountain, to meet back up with your friends. They’re probably worried, despite the check in Nico gave to let them know you were safe. It’s just…
Nico’s arm is pressed against yours. You swear you feel the warmth, even through all the layers. You don’t want it to end. You want to stay right next to him.
Jonas starts directing people towards the lifts. “Guests first,” he calls out.
You find yourself a little frozen. You realize, suddenly, that you’re probably going to end up riding down alone, or with a total stranger. And it’s fine. The lift is safe. It’s just- you’ve heard horror stories about storms, about lifts having damage, about people getting stuck. You don’t want to get stuck alone.
“Hey,” Nico says, nudging your shoulder again. “I’ll ride down with you, if you want. We’ll just have to go last.”
You blink up at him. “Really?”
He nods. “Told you I’d get you off this mountain safely, right?”
You feel the smile creep across your face. “Right.”
When you look away, Jack is smiling knowingly at the both of you. You smile right back.
…..
Nico wraps his arm around your shoulder on the lift.
He does it without caring about what anyone else thinks. He knows he’ll get shit from all his friends on the seats behind the two of you, who can see it so clearly, and probably see right through him, too. All he cares about, though, is the way you lean into it, the way you nestle so perfectly into his side. The weight of your head against his shoulder, his chest, just feels right. The world around you is peaceful. Slow. The lift is at half speed for safety reasons, and he’s not complaining.
He points at a forested area. “There’s a secret run in there. It’s one of my favorites. Take a left at the top of Gray Jay and you’ll see it.”
You grin. “Already found that with one of my friends yesterday.”
He laughs. “Here I am trying to tell you all the mountain’s secrets, but you’re an expert, huh?”
You shrug and look up at him, eyes wide and soft. “Tell me another secret.”
You’re gorgeous.
That’s no secret. And it’s also not something he can say to you. Not now, not while he’s working. You’ve trusted him to keep you safe. He might ruin it all by saying something like that.
So he smiles, points towards another run. “If you take that and veer right, you’ll get to this open powder area that almost nobody touches. It’s perfect.” Then he frowns. “But maybe wait a day or two. After all that snow… could be a little sketchy.”
You nod. “Got it. But hey, I know who to ask for if I get into trouble, right?”
Nico’s heart flutters. “Yeah. You call, I’ll be there. Promise.”
He holds his pinky out towards you. It’s hard to tell, because he’s wearing mittens, but you laugh and do the same, wrapping your finger around his as best as you can. It makes his chest ache.
…..
There are people milling around at the bottom of the lift. Friends and family, waiting for their loved ones. You think you spot one of your friends, in her signature bright pink jacket. You sigh as you inch closer to the ground, both you and Nico sliding off the lift easily.
You come to a stop just outside the landing zone. Nico follows suit. When you turn to look up at him, he’s smiling, cheeks rosy pink along with the tip of his nose. You want to kiss him. You want him to kiss you.
He doesn’t.
One of your friends calls your name. At the same time, someone calls his. You try not to look disappointed.
“Sorry,” he says. “That’s my boss. You’re good now, yeah?”
You nod. “Off the mountain, safe and sound.”
He smiles and nods. “Then my job here is done.”
You swallow and nod again. “Thanks, Nico. For everything.”
Just doing his job, you think.
He smiles softly. At the last second, he reaches out and squeezes your shoulder. “For you, anytime. I mean it.”
Then he skis away, leaving you wishing for just one more moment with him.
…..
Nico doesn’t always let them drag him out to the bar, especially after a long day like today. Honestly, he’s a little exhausted, and he probably won’t last long before he decides to try and get an uber home. Normally, he’d walk, because it’s damn expensive to catch a ride, but his legs are like jello.
He’d spent the day hard at work, getting things back up and running again, filling in where he could. He’s ski patrol, but he’s handy with a hammer, able to help with basic maintenance when lifts go down. He’d also spent the day with Jack yapping his ear off about all the Karens they’d spent the night with at the Bluebird lift station.
“Can’t believe we had to deal with that and you got to spend the night with-“ Jack had started, and then paused.
Nico filled in your name, helpfully, whacking at a stuck lift bar and grinning when it fell into place.
“Yeah. She seemed like much better company. Like. Did you guys kiss?”
Nico had sighed. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t ask me that. I was working.”
Now, Jack’s sitting at the bar next to him, yapping his ear off, again. Nico takes a sip of his beer- he loves Jack, he really does. He’s just re-running all the things he’s done and said in the past 24 hours, questioning if he missed his chance with you. He could go home, wallow about it, but that would mean giving up on the real reason he came out in the first place. The one he won’t admit out loud. The reason he keeps scanning the room over Jack’s shoulder.
When he hears the unmistakable sound of your laughter, the sound that’s been etched into his brain since he first heard it, he takes a deep breath, trying to steady his suddenly racing heart. Then he flags down the bartender and orders another drink.
…..
thanks for reading! part ii coming soon!
136 notes · View notes
zorostitties · 15 hours ago
Text
Aurora; 5 (m)
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⤕ Your existence had been an endless night, where shadows whispered long forgotten secrets. Trapped in a golden cage, your fragile mind and shattered memories were chains that kept you from dreaming of freedom. Then, he appeared with the first light of dawn, like a gentle sun warming your cold skin. In his gaze, the promise of a new beginning; in his presence, the sunrise your soul had longed for.
In which Alucard saves you from Erzsebet.
pairing: alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader
genre: angst, romance, slow burn, eventual smut
warnings: violence/blood, explicit language, mental health issues, grief, physical abuse.
rating: 18+
word count: 7k
A/N: Hello people!!! I present you the longest chapter up until now. I don't even know how it got to this word count but I had a lot of fun writing it anyway!! OH MY GOD THAT'S A LOT OF NOTES Y'ALL 😭😭😭 THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! This fic is receiving so much love both here and on AO3. I'm getting emotional 🥹🥹 Anyways!! Enjoy <3
��  Chapters: check masterlist in bio!  ⤕ Also on AO3
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Richter’s incessant talking was starting to piss Annette off.
She wasn’t going to tell him, obviously – not because she didn’t have the courage to do it. It was because she knew the reason for her annoyance wasn’t exactly Richter’s voice, nor the voices of the people around her.
It was the spirits’ voices.
They’d been… popping up incessantly ever since that moment at the clearing. Annette was used to seeing spirits to a certain degree; her connection to the other side was part of her powers, part of who she was, after all. She learned to not be afraid of them. She learned to accept her ancestors, to pay attention to their whispers and the messages they carried.
And yet… they’ve never been so restless like that.
Nor so noisy.
And certainly not so clear.
Back in Saint-Domingue, when Annette started to explore her powers, she’d often feel… presences. They caused goosebumps, whispered words in her mind. Sometimes, she’d have strange dreams that carried hidden meanings. When those occurrences became too frequent to be brushed off anymore, Annette opened up to Cécile. Her mentor then explained that it was not only normal, but a privilege; as her abilities blossomed, her ancestors would get closer to her – offering advice, warnings, and even reprimands when necessary.
With time, she started to see figures with the corner of her eyes. Silhouettes in the dark. They never scared her. She knew they were part of her family – just a glimpse of her large family tree, generations of spirits that went all the way to the other side of the ocean, staying beside her even after death… supporting her in her fight for freedom.
Well.
They were starting to scare her now.
Why did they look so angry? Why did they become so clear out of sudden? These weren’t just silhouettes anymore, she could see them as easily as Richter beside her. In fact, some looked so real that they could pass as any other living person; the only indicative that they didn’t belong to this world were the faint transparency of their bodies and the soft glow around them.
And worst of it all – she could not understand a word of what they were saying. Their whispers were unintelligible.
If these really were her ancestors trying to bring a message, why couldn’t they be clear about it?
...Were they even her ancestors? Were they even real? What if she got trapped in an enemy spell, causing her to see illusions?
Annette wanted to scream. She wanted to run. She wanted to they them to shut up and leave her alone. Hell – she was all worried about Ruby earlier that day, as the girl seemed so distressed to be in a crowded city, and yet Annette herself wasn’t feeling much better than her at all.
The sensory overload was so bad that she didn’t see a prominent rock on the pavement and tripped on it, almost falling face down in the middle of the street.
Richter caught her in time.
His hand was quick to take her arm in a gentle, yet firm grip. His blue eyes were even rounder than usual. “Oh! Are you okay?”
The action brought Annette back to reality – and also brought back that feeling she was trying hard to ignore.
The girl straightened her position, stepping away from him rapidly. It was stupid how she already felt her cheeks heat up with such a simple touch of his… but it was becoming a frequent occurrence ever since she accidentally held his hand at the clearing, creating a bit of an… awkward situation for them both.
One more embarrassing thing these spirits made her do.
“Yes, thank you,” she brushed it off the best she could before she continued to walk.
If Richter noticed her reaction, he didn’t let it show. The Belmont boy let a tired sight. “I didn’t expect Paris would be this big,” he muttered tiredly. “I thought when he got here, we were practically at our destination. But… we’ve been walking for hours already.”
Annette had to agree. They’d been walking all morning and this Louvre palace was yet to reveal itself. She even wondered if Alucard was sure of where they were going; after all, she was aware that other palaces existed in Paris. What if Louvre wasn’t the correct one?
“You’re not familiar with Paris? I thought you’d been here before,” she asked.
“I’ve only been here once, and I didn’t stay for long,” Richter explained. “I was just taking care of Maria, to be honest. Not exactly safe to let a teenage girl roam a big city alone, you know, and especially not when she’s reaching out for revolutionaries. Maria gets in trouble pretty easily.”
He let a light chuckle, yet his eyes were saddened at the mention of Maria – and it tightened Annette’s heart just a bit. She knew he was carrying a lot of baggage with him this entire mission. The fight with Maria, Tera’s “death”, how he felt he didn’t help her and had to flee… and now the fact that he handed their destination to that damn vampire. The worst part – Alucard got mad at him.
As if she was reading his mind, Richter lifted his eyes and looked at the white-haired vampire’s back, walking many steps ahead of them with Ruby by his side. To be fair, after that moment at the forest, Alucard wasn’t being mean or cold to Richter (well, not colder than he already was, at least). It was very clear in Annette’s eyes how his anger wore off as hours went by. But Annette also knew that this didn’t ease Richter’s regret.
Annette lowered her voice, hoping Alucard wouldn’t hear her.
“You know,” she started quietly. Her tone caught Richter’s attention. “I don’t think he was that angry at you. I think he was angrier at himself for letting Ruby get hurt.”
Richter blinked. He also thought she was reading his mind. He pressed his lips together, lowering his head again.
“And he decided to lash out on me.”
“Well… it’s not like you didn’t give him a reason to.”
Richter pouted. “Aw, come on. I thought you were trying to cheer me up.”
Annette couldn’t help but giggle. “I’m sorry. But what I mean is… don’t dwell on it. Yes, what you did was silly, but to keep thinking about won’t help you.”
The Belmont boy went silent for a few moments. “Ruby told me the same thing.” He lifted his gaze, now looking at the young woman. “Hey, Annette… what do you think of her?”
Instinctively, she looked at Ruby’s back as well.
From the moment she laid eyes on Ruby, she felt immediate empathy. Her constant hesitant, frightened state… it was painfully familiar. Annette still remembered very well the weeks that followed her escape from the plantation. The nightmares, the shivers, the fear of going out, the paranoia. It took a lot for her to realize that she was safe, that no one would ever hurt her anymore. It took even longer for her to learn how to voice her opinions, to understand that she mattered to the people around her, and they mattered for her, too.
And that’s precisely what helped Annette overcome her struggles. She had something to fight for. A cause she would never give up on. Genuine friends around her. Warriors in arms, family in hearts.
She had Edouard.
The mere mention of his name in her mind was enough to make her want to cry again.
Edouard was who helped her during her darkest times. He was still the reason why she was fighting, why she crossed the ocean, why she would do anything in her power to defeat Sekhmet.
And that was precisely what made Ruby’s situation difficult. She… didn’t have a family – not one she remembered, at least. She didn’t have a past, something to hold onto. Someone that would give her motivation to keep fighting until the end of her forces, until the last drop of sweat. With such an amount of trauma (although Annette didn’t know exactly what she went through in Erzsebet’s hands, it certainly wasn’t easy), it is important to have a reason to stay alive.
Or someone.
Annette’s deceased mother was her primary reason. Then Edouard, Cécile, the Maroons… until she realized that by fighting for them, she was fighting for herself, too.
And… perhaps… perhaps she had a new reason to keep fighting now. A reason she met recently, but that made her feel things that she never felt before. A… sweet, funny, a little silly reason – but strong and determined nevertheless.
“I think she’s being honest,” Annette finally answered Richter’s question. “And… I don’t like to feel sorry for people, but I feel sorry for her. I hope she finds her reason soon.”
Richter frowned, clearly not understanding what she meant by “her reason”, but Annette didn’t feel like elaborating on that.
“The only thing I’m suspicious of is this… healing thing of hers,” Richter said in a quiet tone. “I don’t think anyone can acquire this in a good way.”
Annette had to agree with that. Alucard might be right in his words – maybe the Ruby from the past, the real Ruby, was not the innocent person she seemed to be…
A harsh whisper in her right ear made Annette gasp.
Oh no. Not again. They had stopped for some moments, but then started whispering again. That was more of a hiss, in fact – rushed, anxious, trying to catch her attention.
The spirits trembled. Annette noticed that the crowd around her – the crowd of real people – seemed to be walking in the same direction; they wore apprehensive, even angry expressions on their faces. They were almost as hectic as the spirits.
“Is Paris always like this? I can feel the tension,” Annette muttered more to herself than to Richter. She looked around; there were spirits behind them, to the sides, in front–
Wait, in front–
Her eyes passed rapidly by Alucard and Ruby. They had stopped walking for some reason, but that’s not what caught her attention.
She… she saw a strange glow in Ruby.
It didn’t surround her body like it did with the spirits. It was a… point. Faint, eerie; the tiny point glowed on the left side of her back, almost transparent… like the flame of a candle.
It glowed in the same place as her heart.
Annette tightened her eyes. What was that? Did anyone put a spell on her? Was an enemy nearby? No one else had a glow like that – no one alive, at least. She was about to reach for Ruby’s arm, scared for her safety–
But then, the sound of drums echoed through the streets.
The spirits vanished – just as the strange flame in Ruby’s heart.
Annette blinked repeatedly. Did she… see things?
Alucard looked behind his back to the two of them, now that they had reached their position.
“Something’s about to happen,” he said eerily.
The crowd kept walking. Now, Annette could see that there was a great square ahead of them. It couldn’t be a good thing; she felt a strange sensation in her gut, an apprehension that she could not understand.
She wanted to ask if Ruby was alright – if she felt anything – but decided that was not the time. The group followed the rest of the crowd.
That left a question mark in the back of Annette’s mind. What was that thing she saw in Ruby’s heart?
But then, the King of France was executed, Annette saw the three headed spirit that almost made her have a heart attack – and nothing else mattered after that.
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You felt sorry for him.
Of course – you heard the conversation between Richter, Annette and Alucard. They understood the situation much better than you and even had divergent opinions. He wasn’t a particularly bad King, Richter said, while Annette stated that no one can reign innocently. On your understandings, both of them were right to some degree.
And yet, when “Louis The Last” stepped on the platform and knelt in front of the guillotine, you didn’t see the King. You saw a frightened man in the face of death.
Watching normal humans die wasn’t easy; you never got used to it. It was always horrible whenever you’d see one of Erzsebet’s preys let their dying breath, their last gag. It was almost as if you could see their lives slipping away, their bodies becoming empty. And yet, when you realized that they’d finally stopped moving, you felt… relief for them. Because at least, they weren’t in pain anymore. Whenever you saw a human victim be dragged into the hall, you’d silently hope for a quick death upon them. Things didn’t always go that way. You hated when they didn’t.
The square was uncomfortably crowded, but Alucard was right – you were getting used to it, although you were still hoping to leave that place as soon as possible. Angry whispers, shouts, loud discussions... they were energetic.
The conversation of a particular couple close to you caught your attention.
“I don’t think I can look at it,” the woman said with a visible scowl of disgust. The man, still facing the platform, made her hide her face on the curve of his neck.
“It’s okay, darling. You don’t have to.”
You frowned.
She was wrong. He was wrong.
You shouldn’t look away when a man is about to die. It’s dishonorable.
You watched in solemn silence when the sharp blade of the guillotine went down on the man’s neck, beheading him. Blood splashed on the platform. The head rolled one, two, three, four times. A perpetually horrified expression. The crowd cheered in satisfied anger. They felt avenged.
Only then did you close your eyes for a moment. A quick death is a luxury not many have, you thought.
“Annette? Are you alright?”
You opened your eyes and turned around to see Richter calling the girl in yellow. Annette had her back facing you, yet you could see her heavy breathing, which immediately sparked some worry. Was she feeling unwell?
“...Yes,” Annette’s voice almost disappeared within the crowd’s roar. She sounded hesitant and scared. It was the first time she looked even remotely scared.
Alucard was quietly watching her, too, from over his shoulder. Then, he sent you a meaningful glance, pointing with his head a way out of the crowd. He didn’t wait for any of you to follow him.
“Let’s go,” you said, calling Richter and Annette’s attention. She looked more than happy to leave the place, while Richter kept sending her worried glances.
There was no time to ask if she was okay or not. The crowd seemed to be getting even more heated. They shouted, raised their fists in the air, clapped their hands – and it only got worse when one of the guards took the deceased King’s head and put it on a spike, lifting it up for the audience. The crowd started to push each other to try to get a closer look.
That was when the confusion started.
You saw people falling. Children crying. Guards shouting, trying to get control of the situation with no avail. You were pushed, almost smashed in the middle of hundreds of bodies, to a point were your feet were merely following the flow of the crowd, having no control of where you were going.
“There are ladies here, you savage animals!” One woman groaned.
“Stop pushing!” Someone else said.
“Rot in hell, Louis!”
“I want to see the head!”
“Ouch- my foot!”
“Vive la Révolution!”
You desperately tried to make your way out – and there was no way out without pushing people, which only made the situation worse. You looked around, trying to see Richter or Annette; the Belmont boy was quite tall, so it was easy to spot him many rows of people away from you, also being smashed. He sent you a worried gaze and tried to yell something, but you couldn’t hear anything over the incessant shouting. You tried to approach him, but that was like trying to swim against the flow of a river.
Richter tried to shout something again. He managed to lift his hand and point at something to your right side. You supposed he was trying to show you a way out of the crowd.
You turned your head in that direction in time to see Alucard approaching with a deeply annoyed frown.
He caught you by the arm and pressed your body on his, keeping a firm arm around you while the other quite unceremoniously pushed people out of the way. He didn’t let himself be carried by the flow, keeping a solid and consistent pace. Alucard was like a rock in the middle of these people, literally. No one could push him even if they tried (and they tried). He didn’t lose balance.
He was visibly pissed.
And even so, the thing your brain most noticed was that he… had a good smell.
It wasn’t exactly your fault; Alucard was pressing you against his chest after all. And… you tried to remember that method – if you could call it that – that Alucard himself taught you a few hours ago. When your mind was distressed, about to spiral, too overwhelmed… focus on a single thing, a simple thing, to try and muffle everything else.
So you focused on his smell.
It was… sweet. Like spices. It even reminded you a bit of cocoa. And refreshing, maybe a bit citric, like orange.
It… reminded you a bit of the natural smell a baby has after taking a bath.
Vampires have a very specific smell you learned to hate over time. It’s nauseously sweet, like burnt sugar. Add this to unnecessary puffs of perfume – Erzsebet loved floral fragrances – and their absolutely horrible breath that no amount of chewing peppermint could mask.
You shouldn’t be surprised that even though Alucard was half-vampire, he was still starkly different than all the others you’d met, even in the tiniest details. But it surprised you anyway.
Finally, he managed to push his way out of the crowd into a nearby, emptier street, releasing his grip around you. You stepped aside, cleaning the sweat on your forehead with the back of your hand.
“That was… intense,” you managed to speak breathlessly, looking back at the still growing mess. “Thank you.”
Alucard sighed heavily. “We should’ve left sooner,” he muttered dryly, more to himself than to you. “I should’ve figured a commotion like this would happen.” He looked at the crowd for a few more moments before his eyes fell on your figure, the frown on his forehead untying. ���How are you feeling?”
You widened your eyes slightly. Sure, he was just being thoughtful, but you figured he was asking that after your… history of panics involving crowds (or even smaller things).
“Oh! I’m totally fine. Thank you,” you tried to sound cheerful. Alucard nodded.
It seemed that all you could tell him was thank you over and over again – and it was starting to annoy you. Not only because a tiny (maybe not so tiny) part of you wanted to have more meaningful conversations with him like the one earlier that day, but because you didn’t want to worry anyone anymore. You wanted to be more useful to the group. But how could you be useful if the group consisted of excellent fighters, experts in magic, and you were just an “ordinary” human? Your healing was only useful to yourself, not to them.
Alucard looked back at the crowd and raised his arm. Following his gaze, you saw Richter and Annette pop out of the mass of people, similarly breathless as you. This at least brought you some comfort. Alucard was the only one to show no sign of tiredness.
The Belmont boy rested his hands over his knees, breathing heavily, when they reached your position. “...I hope that was the only beheading scheduled for today,” he joked tiredly.
Annette didn’t chuckle this time. Worry still clouded her eyes. “Are we close now, Alucard?”
The man nodded. “Only a few blocks away from here. Let’s go.”
He kept marching ahead, not giving any of you a chance to recover.
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The Louvre was scarily big.
Bigger than the chateau, bigger than Erzsebet’s palace, bigger than… well, any building you’d ever seen.
The gigantic front garden of the palace was eerily empty, with only a few people walking here and there; most of the population was concentrated on the central square to watch the execution of the King, which would grant you some advantage (and tranquility) to look for Sekhmet’s mummy. You approached the palace a little after the midday sun, its light reflecting on the decorative pools of the garden, the wind softly swaying the trees.
“The monarchies of Europe will be horrified. Already, some of them are waging war on France. They’ll be joined by the rest. The Vampire Messiah plans to lead them, commander and chief of the counterrevolution,” Alucard explained while you walked.
Oh. And just like that, everything made sense. Erzsebet’s reason to be on France, their talks about “crushing a revolution”… Indeed, if she succeeded, she’d be considered the Queen she always aimed to be. One that could unite an entire continent regardless of public opinion, as she sided with the oligarchies which possessed the most power. Vampire oligarchies.
“And just this street rabble to resist her,” Richter said somberly. “Who won’t stand a chance, will they?”
“No.”
A shiver ran down your spine. You didn’t have enough information to understand if the current kings and queens were bad to their people. Judging by the execution witnessed earlier and the reaction it caused… you could assume they weren’t doing a great job. To have a sadistic vampire sitting on a throne, ruling over millions of innocent lives… it would be even worse. Erszebet saw humans as less than insects, barely livestock, and her court thought the same. Soon, she’d be ruling over an empire of corpses.
You looked over your shoulder to Richter and Annette, who had suddenly stopped walking and were a few steps away. They were being too quiet for you to hear them. Richter still looked worried, while Annette seemed distressed.
You looked ahead again. “There’s something wrong with Annette,” you said quietly. Alucard hummed.
“I noticed.” He also kept the quiet tone. “However, we can’t help her if she doesn’t say what’s the problem.”
Alucard was already preventing you from getting stressed. You nodded. “...I hope it’s nothing serious.”
Finally, you reached the doors of the palace. Two guards protected the entrance. After a quick chat, they let you in. Apparently, the palace was public domain now, so it didn’t take a lot of convincing.
Opposing to its empty exterior, the large halls of the Louvre were filled with people – men and women, working on organization and cleaning. All of them wore some sort of hat in the colors of the French flag; members of the Revolution.
“A single family lived here?” you muttered to yourself, letting your gaze wander through the place. The high vaulted ceilings, the tall windows, red columns, golden arabesques, the glass skylights; it was bathed in natural lighting. Not to mention the many pieces of art – statues, paintings, some of the frames towering three times bigger than a person; the intricate carpets, the chandeliers… with each corner you turned (the palace seemed to be an endless labyrinth) you grew more and more speechless.
“No, the royal family lived somewhere else. It was still their property, though,” Richter explained. “And to think the people were dying of hunger and plague while the royal family had all this,” he said bitterly. “It really makes you agree with the revolutionaries.”
You had to admit that it was hard to focus on the task at hand being surrounded by so much art. Erzsebet’s palace was beautiful, of course, but devoid of any personality. It was… beauty for the sake of beauty, mostly. But at the Louvre, you saw sculptures and paintings that looked genuinely ancient; hundreds of years of history, the works of multiple hands, stories being told. It definitely should not be at the hands of a few people only.
A certain half opened door caught your eye. There seemed to be a big statue there that glowed faintly under the sunlight. You narrowed your eyes, trying to see better…
“Oh! Leonardo!”
Alucard’s voice completely caught your attention.
You snapped your head at him. The nonchalance in his expression was completely gone, being replaced by… longing?
He turned to you three with a bit of excitement he hadn’t shown up until that moment. “It’s a painting by Leonardo da Vinci, of a woman he actually couldn’t abide. Or so he told me,” he explained, pointing with his head towards a particular frame. A woman of straight brown hair and dark clothing posed in the painting with a vague expression, her arms crossed over her lap. Alucard closed his eyes for a moment, chuckling, and opened a tender smile. Then, he side eyed you as if telling a secret: “I never really thought it was one of his best.”
Then, he kept on walking as if nothing happened.
...You were pretty sure that you, Richter and Annette were all blushing at that moment.
Alucard never sounded so excited before. Never so lighthearted. And he looked… cute? Adorable, in fact. It made him look very young.
...You’d like to know this side of him a little bit better.
“Is there any order to this? Or do you just… put things anywhere?” Alucard asked one of the men in uniform.
“We’re looking for Ancient Egyptian,” Richter added.
The man pointed ahead. “Go straight, then turn to your left at the end of the corridor. First door.”
You followed his directions after Richter muttered a thank you. Alucard picked up his pace and all of you followed. Now that you had some guidance, it seemed that apprehension weighed over the atmosphere. The room mentioned by the man was empty – if you could call that a room, that is, as it was bigger than some houses. A gallery, in fact.
Wooden crates of different sizes were scattered here and there. Some sculptures were protected by boxes made of glass. Sunlight embraced the entire room through the tall windows. At the far end of the gallery, there were four columns that seemed to imitate palm trees; they had colorful paintings and ancient writings around them.
A shiver ran down your spine. A memory from not long ago – or was it long ago? – was brought forward in your mind. An obelisk with writings similar to those in the columns… the same art styles, the same periods. It would be brought whenever Erzsebet summoned an eclipse… or when Erzsebet summoned Sekhmet. The vampire’s very appearance would change, taking an animalistic look similar to a lioness. Whenever Erzsebet did that, you’d be genuinely frightened, even more than usual. That wasn’t simply the strength of a vampire anymore. It was much more ancient, much stronger, a much denser type of magic… the type that shouldn’t be messed with thoughtlessly, the type that demanded respect upon its use. Erzsebet had no respect for it. Maybe that’s why it was always so horrendous to witness.
“Hm… so we’re looking for a corpse…” Richter muttered, looking around.
“It’s here. I’m sure of it,” Alucard said as he inspected one of the wooden crates.
You thought of searching for it too, but you didn’t want to touch anything. You couldn’t tell exactly why. Was it because of your bad memories associated with anything Egyptian? Or was it something else?
“Show me.”
The three of you turned to Annette at the same time.
“What?” Richter asked.
The girl had an apprehensive expression as she stared at… nothing in particular. She visibly hesitated before speaking.
“There are spirits here. Many spirits,” she confessed quietly. You widened your eyes. Richter instinctively looked around. “They’ve been following us. Following me.” She inhaled, as if building up courage. “Show me.”
You looked around as well and saw, well… nothing. But Annette was following something with her gaze with much attention. Richter approached her.
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Because I don’t know what they want,” for the first time, Annette showed a glimpse of her real distress over the situation. That’s what had been bothering her since the execution… she was sweating. “Or if they’re real.”
“Do they speak to you?” Alucard asked in a serious tone.
“Yes, but I… can’t understand what they’re whispering,” she narrowed her eyes. “Sometimes they seem angry. There are spirits here now who just seem lost.” She looked at Richter. Annette seemed even more fragile than when you talked to her at the forest, which took you by surprise. “...Or is it me that’s lost?”
Richter pressed his lips together, not taking his eyes off her for a second. He rested a reassuring hand on her back, not saying a word – and it seemed enough to calm her down, even if just a bit.
It even felt that you were interrupting something for a second. And yet, you couldn’t look away. They… seemed to share something very intimate. Very beautiful.
Your chest tightened.
“What’s happening with them now?” Alucard asked quietly, looking around. “Could they be trying to tell you something?”
Annette looked ahead and went silent for some seconds. Then, she pointed in the direction she was looking.
“There.”
The group approached a particular wooden crate sitting at the very end of the gallery, near the columns. Alucard knelt down in front of it and lifted its lid.
And there it was.
A mummy, with its arms crossed over their chest, completely bandaged in red linen, laying over a bed of straw. It had the silhouette of a woman.
“It stinks,” Richter complained, pinching his nose.
Annette narrowed her eyes. “It’s her. It’s Sekhmet,” she confirmed with certainty.
Alucard got up again. All of you watched the mummy for some seconds; it seemed you shared the weight of responsibility that thing represented.
“So, what do we do now?” Richter spoke up first, scratching the back of his head. “I could burn it, or we could just… hack it to pieces and scatter it to the winds.”
“What you do now is give her to me.”
In that moment – time was frozen.
Air left your lungs. Your eyes widened. Every nerve tensed up. Violent goosebumps roamed your entire body.
You turned around. You didn’t want to. You didn’t want to face the owner of that voice. You wanted to believe it was just your mind playing tricks, that there was nothing actually happening. Because there was no way it was her.
Drolta is dead, Alucard said. He confirmed it. He said he was sure.
But you turned around anyway – and what you saw made your heart drop.
That thing couldn’t be Drolta. There was no way. It had a female body, its leathery skin a mix of black and greyish pink. Instead of feet, it had hooves that made it tower over any human. Its wings were leathery as well, similar to a bat’s; its claws seemed to be made of iron, just like the tip of its long tail. Twisted horns sat at the top of its head.
The thing focused its eyes on you and opened a cruel smile.
No.
No no no no no no no.
That thing couldn’t be Drolta. No, there was no way. But you stared back at her, you scanned her facial features, and these were the same eyes. Most of her original form was gone – it had little resemblance to the attractive woman she once was – but the eyes. The cruelty in those eyes. They remained the same.
It was Drolta.
“Yes, Alucard. You killed me,” she said in the same sultry voice you were so disgustingly used to. “And you stole something very precious from me, too.” Her gaze locked on you again. Her smirk turned to an evil grin. “You little runaway rat… it’s time to return home.”
She was twirling something around her pointer finger. The thing she twirled… it gleamed under the sunlight.
You gasped.
It was the ruby necklace.
You had time to see her extend her great wings, ready to launch. A part of your brain registered that she was accompanied by three other winged creatures, but they seemed blurred. All you could do was stare at her. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t do anything.
She attacked.
Alucard jumped at the same time, his body enveloped by the familiar red glow. They clashed mid-air.
And then, Richter’s back blocked your vision.
“Stay behind me!” He yelled, snapping his whip in the air, as the three other creatures launched together.
Annette threw one of her newly created blades in the air as if it was a boomerang to no avail, as it didn’t hit any of the creatures. One of them – it was red, its head was what looked like the skull of a wolf – spat a ball of pure fire in your direction. Seeing there would be no time to grab you, Richter pushed you out of the way roughly, sending you a few meters back; your back hit the wall, causing air to leave your lungs.
The Belmont boy knelt down; his palm touched the ground in your direction. With a grunt of effort, he lifted his hand – and at the same pace, a wall of ice rose around you, enclosing you like an igloo.
The outside noises were muffled for some seconds.
You stayed there, sitting on the floor, unable to move; your entire body trembled, and it had nothing to do with the ice around you. Sweat dripped down your temples. Your breath came difficult, it seemed that the air was burning your throat and your lungs; your vision was blurred.
Drolta is alive Drolta is alive Drolta is alive was all that your mind repeated, yelled at you; Drolta is alive and she came after me, Drolta is worse than she was before, Drolta is going to kill Richter and Annette and Alucard–
Richter and Annette and Alucard–
They were all fighting.
Richter snapped his whip around violently, embedding it in blue flames. When one of his attacks hit, the creature – a black one, with a more humanoid figure – screamed in pain; he jumped, twirled in the air, protected his arm with a layer of ice when one of its attacks was about to hit. He tumbled back to avoid being hit by another gush of fire by the skull-headed night creature.
Annette fought a three-headed beast similar to a dragon; she controlled many pieces of iron around the gallery, aiming them at it. Some hits were successful. She jumped from crate to crate, avoiding the bites as all the three heads tried to catch her in different directions at the same moment.
And Alucard kept Drolta completely focused on him, maintaining the fight in the air, near the ceiling. It seemed that the sword barely made any damage against her leathery skin, and yet he kept attacking and tanking her attacks. You watched with horror as her hair (well, what was supposed to be hair; that thing wasn’t hair anymore) extended themselves like snakes, pursuing him around the gallery, causing great destruction were it hit.
The three of them were fighting. And you understood with great remorse that their objective was to keep the creatures so occupied that they wouldn’t be able to reach you or the mummy.
You were not only completely useless – you were getting in the way.
They couldn’t fight freely with you around.
You gulped, trying to stop panting, but you couldn’t. No no no, not this now. You don’t have time for this. You don’t have time! Why was your body playing tricks on you again? Why couldn’t it function when you needed the most? You needed to get out of there. Fuck, you needed to do something, anything! And still — your body wouldn’t obey.
Focus on a single thing, a simple thing, to try and muffle everything else.
Alucard’s method.
A single thing.
You looked around the small area inside the “igloo”.
Spotted a nail – probably used to lock the lid of the crates.
A simple thing.
With all your might, you forced your shaking arm to move; forced it to stretch, to reach for the nail, to hold it tightly.
Focus on a single thing, a simple thing.
With a grunt of effort, you pierced your own palm with the nail. The sharp pain awakened you from your numb state.
Right on time.
The black creature found an opening in Richter’s incessant attacks and launched itself towards you. The igloo melted. You rolled away from it and got up in a jump.
Annette immediately glued to your side. She was panting, holding blades in both hands; Richter threw a gush of blue flames, trying to keep the beasts away. You couldn’t see Alucard or Drolta behind the wall of fire. However, it wasn’t enough; the three night creatures were about to surround you. You’d have no escape.
Annette seemed to be reading your mind.
She let go of the blades for a second. She gesticulated with her hands as if grabbing something in the air; the wall beside you cracked. Annette “pulled” the air and let a scream of effort. Obeying her command, the wall teared apart, creating a hole towards the corridor – big enough for someone to pass through.
“Run, Ruby! Run!” Annette yelled.
And you obeyed.
You jumped through the hole and sprinted down the corridor, the pain in your palm completely forgotten. The ground was shaking, chandeliers tinkling, dust fell over your head. The sounds of the fight were slowly replaced by screams of fear and many steps. Of course, the palace was packed with workers. Some of them were running towards the Egyptian gallery, being attracted by the loud noises, but stopped running when they saw you.
“Get out of here! Your weapons won’t work!” You shouted without slowing your pace, gesticulating vehemently. “Get out, all of you! Right now!”
Luckily, you didn’t need to repeat yourself; the people in the hall started to run towards the exit.
You turned the corner, desperately trying to find an escape plan. You thought of running outside into the sunlight, but these things weren’t vampires; the sun wouldn’t protect you. You could try to mix with the crowd of people running out of the palace, but it would definitely put them all in danger. You could hide – but was there any safe place? These night creatures weren’t the same as the weak vampires you’ve encountered on your way to Paris. They were actually dangerous, even to your powerful allies.
Your thoughts were cut off when you heard a shrilling growl out there.
A gasp escaped past your lips. It was the three-headed beast – it was flying out there, soaring near the windows… scoping the area after you.
You entered the first room you saw.
You banged the double doors of the gallery. It was much smaller than the Egyptian one, yet the windows were equally large. You rushed to untie the heavy curtains and cover them, immersing the room in darkness; only a peek of light was visible through one of the windows. Shit shit shit shit you needed to barricade the door. You pushed a heavy crate with your back, positioning it against the door, yet you knew it wasn’t nearly enough; you needed to put something between the handles to truly lock it.
It was too dark now. You searched through the wooden boxes with shaking fingers, trying to find any artifact that could do the job; a steel bar, a vase thin enough, anything. The floor was still shaking incessantly. Please, let them be safe, you prayed silently to whoever was hearing; please, let them be safe.
You knelt in front of the final crate and lifted its lid. There were a couple of artifacts there, all so rusty and old that you could barely recognize what they were. A sword, a helmet, what looked like the remains of a broken shield, and… oh! A spear!
Or at least, it resembled a spear. It was completely covered in rust; thin, shorter than an actual spear, and it didn’t have a blade on the tip, but some sort of… rusty circle. Again, it was too dark to understand what that thing was, but it would do the job.
And yet – you hesitated to hold it.
Your fingers hovered over the object with hesitancy.
Suddenly… you weren’t hearing the outside noises anymore. They were distant. All you heard was your thundering heartbeat, your panting.
Your hand tingled. It had nothing to do with the injury you inflicted in yourself. The “spear” seemed to radiate some sort of warmth; you could feel it even some centimeters away. It made your stomach drop in a funny way. It wasn’t the fear or the adrenaline; it felt different.
Finally, you gulped and grabbed the object.
It was, indeed, hot. But that’s not what made your eyes widen.
As soon as you held it, the “spear” started to glow. No, it started to shine.
You watched as the rust around the object dissipated like dust. It shone so brightly that you had to close your eyes; it was so hot that you felt that your palm was about to burn. But then, after a few seconds, it stopped.
You opened your eyes again gasped.
You weren’t holding a rusty “spear” anymore. That wasn’t a spear; it was a scepter.
You got up from the ground slowly. The scepter was almost as tall as you were, made of solid gold. At its tip, the rusty “circle” was gone, being replaced by a small “plate” with twelve curvy “spikes” circling it in regular intervals; an unmistakable representation of the sun. Tiny inscriptions were engraved across its entirety. You brought it closer to your eyes, trying to understand what they meant since it was still dark inside the room – and when you recognized them, you almost dropped the object on the floor.
The writings were on the same strange language from the moon book Erzsebet made you read. You recognized the characters.
What the hell was that?!
The sound of an explosion so loud out there that made the floor shake yanked you out of your own head.
Fuck. I still need to lock the door, you remembered, rushing towards it with the scepter in hand. You were still shaking, clumsily trying to barricade the hangs with the long object–
A window crashed.
You screamed in horror. Glass flew everywhere, part of the wall was destroyed, the curtain was ripped off. You turned around to see the three-headed beast enter the gallery, groaning and hissing, as Annette gripped one of its necks for dear life.
She finally released the night creature before one of the heads could chop her, landing on her feet and putting herself between you and the thing. She was visibly tired, yet her eyes were ferocious. You noticed that the creature had lost its middle head, probably the reason for it to be so aggressive.
Annette growled. She controlled iron objects around her, launching them all at the creature; it flapped its wings violently to avoid being hit, destroying crates and artifacts around it. The creature ran towards Annette. She pushed you out of the way.
“Ruby, you need to–“ she jumped, avoiding a hit. “You need–“ she managed to cut the thing’s leg, skipping out of danger’s line before it could strike. “You need to go!”
There was no way to run through the broken window – to reach it, you’d have to come across the night creature. The doors were the only escape – and they were fucking barricaded by the crate you put there previously. You groaned, putting all of your strength into pushing it away, the scepter completely forgotten on the floor. You needed to run, you needed to run, you needed to–
Your eyes were glued in Annette.
Like what happened at the forest, it seemed that the world was moving in slow motion again.
You saw as Annette twirled mid-air above the beast; with one hand, she controlled one of her blades to pierce the creature’s left skull, but it was unsuccessful; the thing caught the blade with its teeth. Her landing trajectory was at the right side of the same head. She already held another blade firmly with both hands.
Annette landed graciously. With a groan of effort, she sliced its left head, beheading it.
But the right head was still there. The right head already had its jaws open wide. Annette was stuck between the remaining head and the neck of the one she had just beheaded. There was no escape route. She would not have time to react.
You saw all that unfold in front of your eyes and got to the obvious conclusion: Annette was going to die.
So you moved.
You sprinted from the place you were on the floor. You didn’t wait until the world would start moving fast again. You didn’t wait for Annette to realize what you were about to do.
You put yourself between her and the monster.
Its jaws tightened around the entire right side of your body – and when the world started moving at its normal speed again, all that existed was pain.
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nilla03 · 3 days ago
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𝓜𝓔𝓢𝓢𝓐𝓖𝓔𝓢 𝓕𝓡𝓞𝓜 𝓗𝓔𝓡 ღ 𝒻𝑒𝒶𝓉𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: 𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘦!
𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴: 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘦 𝘫𝘦𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘵, 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘯𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘻.
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The clock ticked too slow today, or maybe it was just you. The soft hum of your air conditioner did little to distract you from the way you kept glancing at your phone, waiting for something. Connie hadn’t texted in a few hours, too wrapped up in his appointments to entertain you, and it was driving you crazy.
It wasn’t like you didn’t understand—he had a packed schedule, back-to-back tattoos lined up for the day—but that didn’t stop you from missing him. You’d gotten used to his texts throughout the day, little teases or updates about his clients, paired with pictures of his cocky grin. But today? Radio silence.
You chewed on your lip, scrolling through your camera roll absentmindedly until you stumbled upon a picture you’d taken the other day. It was innocent enough—pink lingerie that matched your polished nails, sheer and lacy against your skin—but the way it hugged your figure had you blushing.
You hesitated for half a second before you clicked on his contact and typed, “Miss you :( when are you gonna be done?” Then, before you could second-guess yourself, you attached the picture and hit send.
It didn’t take long for him to respond.
Connie🤍:You tryna kill me, ma?
Your stomach flipped as his typing bubbles appeared again.
Connie🤍: I’m in the middle of a sleeve and you’re sending me shit like this?
“You were ignoring me,” you typed back, your fingers trembling slightly from the anticipation.
It took a minute before his reply came through, this time with an attachment. You clicked on it, and your breath hitched. It was a picture of him in the tattoo shop’s backroom, his black shirt pushed up just enough to show off the toned ridges of his stomach, a teasing glimpse of his v-line. The veins in his hand popped as he tugged his waistband down slightly, just enough to drive you crazy.
Connie🤍:This enough attention for you?
Your face felt hot, and your legs pressed together instinctively. God, he knew exactly how to make your heart race. But he wasn’t done yet. Another message popped up.
Connie🤍: Hold on.
You swallowed, staring at the screen like your life depended on it. A few moments later, a video came through, and your heart nearly stopped.
Connie’s voice came through first, low and teasing. “You know what you do to me, right?”
The camera focused on him in the same backroom, his tattooed hand wrapped around his dick as he stroked lazily, his tip was so pretty. His jaw was tight, lips parted, and the chain around his neck glinted under the harsh shop light.
“Sending me those pics while I’m workin’? Gotta make me take care of this shit in the back now.” His voice dipped lower, sending a shiver down your spine.
The camera zoomed out slightly, giving you a better view as he worked himself harder. His tip was leaking, needing your attention so bad. His head tilted back, his lips tugging into a smirk as if he could feel the effect he was having on you through the screen.
“Bet you’re sitting pretty, legs spread, all shy and cute, huh? Wishing I was there instead of this damn shop.”
Your fingers trembled as you held the phone, your breath quickening.
The video ended there, leaving you breathless and flushed, your heart racing as you scrambled to type back.
“Connie, you can’t just send me stuff like that when you’re not here,” you texted, your cheeks burning.
Connie🤍: I’ll be home in an hour, play with that pretty pussy till I’m back.
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uchihamasacre · 2 days ago
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the #2 pro hero's sidekick
description:
short one shot
your bakugou's sidekick and he gets you pregnant after what you thought was a one night stand
You have been a sidekick to the #2 pro Dynamight for 5 years now. He doesn't have many sidekicks as he finds most people quirks not good enough to work with and most people don't stay due to the pros temper.
But you and one other guy have been here for 5 years now
You would never admit it to anyone but before starting at this agency you kinda had a crush on bakugou. By kinda, you even had a key chain figure of him that use to hang off your purse strap. Now hidden deep in one of your dressers at home.
But the pros dating life was near to none. Remembering he only went on a date with a girl when you first started here. His friend Red Riot set him up on. Not sure the details just the girls name and that as far as you know he never went out with her again.
Other than that there's a few articles out there hinting at you and Bakugou possibly being an item. It wasn't true and with lack of evidence the idea usual quickly died out.
It was the annual after party for the top 10 rewards ceremony that Deku hosts. It's the only party bakugou goes too.
You wore a long black silk dress, you looked forward to this event because you secretly could tell how much bakugou enjoyed seeing his old class mates all in one place again.
All the 10 top, there main side kicks, and other hero's from deku and bakugous high school grad class were mingling
You stayed close to bakugou never really knowing the others on a personal level. Only really Deku, his wife Urvaity, Red Riot, and Shoto who you worked with many times beside bakugou over the years
The two toned hero handsome as he is isn't married either.
You see out of the corner of your eye another member you knew a bit only because he's asked you out multiple times, you've never worked with him only ever being around him when bakugou would have to stop by Red Riots agency and the electric boy was always there
Don't get me wrong ChargeBolt is an attractive man and you always told him just you don't have time for romance.
But here he comes your way Bakugou must've noticed as you heard a Tch from the man beside you
Trying to not seem like you noticed Kaminari til he was right in from on your face
His cheeks a bit tinted pink, you knew he had a buzz going, a drink half full in his hand even
He started up a conversation, you tried to be nice to him you had no reason to be rude but Bakugou left the two of you to go over to the drink table
Bakugou wasn't a drinker so you knew he'd probably have a drink or two and then soon after tell you he was going home, or just disappear without telling anyone goodbye , he's done that before
you lost track of where your boss went too, kaminari's voice background noise to you as your eyes search the room.
Finally you spot him alone leaning again the wall in the corner, a drink in hand
"I really would love to take you out y/n" Kaminari's voice bring you out of your trance you make eye contract with the blonde in front of you
"Kaminari you're sweet really. But I truly am not looking for anything. Working under Bakugou takes all my time" you give him a small smile trying to let him down once again easily
"Y/n I-" Kaminari asks your mind wanting out of this situation feeling awkward with how you keep denying him, you ignore the other hero cutting him off
"I have to go ChargeBolt... it was nice seeing you" you say eyes long gone from him searching for the now disappeared Bakugou
You walk away from Kaminari searching through the room assuming Bakugou had most likely decided his time at the party was over and leaving
That's when you saw him out on the balcony
"you take sparky up on his offer?" Bakugous deep voice tickles your ears as you walk over to him. leaning your arms against the cold metal bars of the balcony
"No" you say looking out at the night sky
"Why not? Not into blondes?" He asks
You could tell then he was stirring his words
"That's not it" you say straightening up to look at him
"How much have you had to drink" you ask he ignores you
"I'll take you home give me your keys" you tell him holding out your hand
Bakugou stares at you his eyes a bit low with alcohol running through his system
"I can take myself home" he grumbles going to push past you
You stop him with your hand pressing into his chest "I'm not going to fight you bakugou"
"Your gonna have too" he says through his teeth
You go for his pockets even though your well aware he meant it and would knock you on your ass
He quickly grabs the keys out holding them away from you as you try to snatch them from his hands your body's now pressed together
You pull yourself back from him not wanting to cause a scene you knew was coming if you kept pushing his buttons
Too your shock he gives you the keys walking past you without saying a word and let's you drive him home
The whole ride there he took turns staring out the window and staring at you
That's when things went somewhere you weren't expecting somewhere between dropping him off and giving him the keys you found your accepting an invitation inside and now under bakugou
Your dress long gone somewhere in his bedroom, your hands rubbing down his thick muscular arms, his hot breath in your ear telling you a mix of praises and degradations in his deep raspy voice as he slides in and out of you as you whimper katsuki mindlessly, legs shaking, biting into his shoulder as your see stars when his rough finger gently make there way between your folds as his thrust grew sloppy when you tighten around him, nails raking down his back as you feel him releasing deep inside you
You end up not knowing if you stay or leave afterwards hearing the shower in his master room bathroom starting up as you sit on his king sized bed in the dark stark naked
Bakugou's nude figure in the doorway of the bathroom answering for you
"Stay"
And with that you did, showering with him in silence, and into his bed in one of his black tee shirts. Cuddling wasn't happening until katsuki fell asleep and pulled an arm around you and pulled you in
you were sure this was a one time thing, that he had too much to drink and you were the woman in front of him in that moment
You two never spoke about that night, in the morning he was gone from the bed, the only thing he left was a text to take the day off
you were sure it was just a mistake until it happened again 2 weeks later in his office one after noon after everyone had gone home and you two were doing paper work. He pushed all the papers onto the floor and laid you across his desk
You've been wanting to bring up what was going on between the two of you, but never got the courage you just needed to know so you could contain any growing feelings toward the #2 hero
It's been 2 months since the first time you and Bakugou had sex and the only thing none work related he's said to you was for you to call him Katsuki now
You don't know what that could even mean? Or if he even has a meaning?
Today though things changed you were out with Katsuki and his other side kick fighting a villain who was trying to destroy a building that turns out to be there old place of work that fired them
When you felt sick, very sick, you were racing down the street Katsuki hot on the villains tail
When you threw up trying to keep going but getting sick again and stopping
Katsuki of course noticed as well as the other side kick of his but the villain was the main priority
Captured quickly, and started to catch up to them a block ahead
You hear Katsuki telling his other side kick to take you to the hospital and they he'll take care of taking the villain to the police
Listening to him the other side kick takes you too the hospital you thought it was a bit much you just threw up you weren't injured
The other side kick leaving after getting a call from Katsuki to go help out on something else happening leaving you alone too hear the news
"Ms. L/n congratulations your 8 weeks pregnant" the doctor smiled at you
You just stare at the doc you didn't hear him right you just know
The doctor must've gotten the hint and shower you the test they ran and it came back positive for pregnancy
You zone out as they tell you all these things about pregnancy
you think back to you and Katsuki's intimate moments remembering he never put on a condom and you haven't been on birth control
Remembering him finishing deep inside you both times. You never thought once about this. Did Katsuki also not think about this?
You cheeks now a shade of crimson
"Miss are you feeling okay?" The doctor ask you
"Yeah I'm fine" you say taking a deep breath
That's when Bakugou comes through the door your nerves shooting out of the roof as he ignores you and asks the Doctor what's wrong with you
Not even giving the professional a chance to corporate before taking the papers from the doctors hands
You watch as his eyes scan over the words, you watch as his eyes come to a stop, no sign of emotional change behind them
You knew what he just read, what his eyes stopped on
as the doctor says happily
"She's pregnant!"
Still with no change in his face Katsuki folds the paper and looks at you
your eyes were wide, worried filled, a lump in your throat as you tried to keep tears from forming
"come on" Katsuki says walking out the room the paper getting stuffed into his pocket
You follow behind as you get into his car and he takes you to his house you knew it was time to talk about this
You knew what you wanted to do, you knew Katsuki wasn't going to let you too. The car ride was silent leaving you to your thoughts
Once inside you sit in his living room the silence killing you
"Y/n" he starts
"I'm keeping the baby" you blurt out
You and Katsuki were nearing your 30's, everyone else you knew were long married and started there families
You loved Izuku and Ochaco's 2 boys whenever you got to see them.
You also knew Katskui didn't show any sign of wanting a family or wife. You knew this meant him firing you and you having to move far away to keep your child's identity safe
"I see" katsuki finally says after a long tense moment
"Your not working anymore" he says shortly after
"I know Katsuki I understand you don't want this so I-" you get cut off
"Who said I don't want this" his voice annoyed
"I - I" you mutter out
"I'll get someone to move your stuff in. I want you and our baby safe"
"You want to keep the baby...." you say shocked
he finally sits beside you placing his hand on your thigh
"I should've done this a while ago I'm just not good at this kind of thing" he admits his intentions it was vague but you knew him well enough to know what he means
He means he should've made you and him official, you and him a family
4 months later........
You were 6 months pregnant with a girl katsuki's never been one to have much social media presents but the media has been gossiping about where his #1 side kick disappeared too.
You were out with Ochaco your bump unable to be hidden as you noticed the paparazzi snapping shots of the two of you
You haven't been in action for Bakugous agency now just doing the paperwork as you rarely leave home with how over protective he is
The articles came out with the photos of you being pregnant and now there's a new headliner since bakugou decided to retweet the post on his official Dynamight twitter account with no other context
"There going to find out eventually" he tells you at home later that night
A few more weeks go by and Deku, Shoto and Bakugou just finished a big mission your watching on TV as the press interview them on it
That's when a reporter asks bakugou
"Are you the father to 'your hero name' 's baby?"
"Of course I am" was all he said before the press go wild with questions none getting answered as you watch mouth open, wide eyed as him and the other hero's walk into a building leaving.
The broadcaster is back on the screen and with excited they say
"You heard it here folks the #2 pro hero Dynamight is having his first baby with 'your hero name' !!!!!"
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umi-adxhira · 12 hours ago
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ᝰ.ᐟ SERENITY | 026
MANHWA: TWTPTFLOB
WARNINGS: Implied physical abuse, being locked up, drug use
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is the official start to the manhwa guys. This is Chapter 1 - the beginning of 3. Instead of using the novel for the dialogue, I used the manhwa. I'm aware each site has different translation but they're all saying the same thing ngl
Also it's easier for me to read just dialogue and some of Roxana's thoughts instead of reading a whole fucking chapter for like a quarter of a page worth of dialogue
TAGLIST: @evaxmisu, @00hellohello00, @welpthisisboring, @hsrvl264, @flyingpansaurus
◄ PREVIOUS CHAPTER NEXT CHAPTER ►
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It’s been a few days, and word of a certain ‘blue-haired bitch’ being seen in the mansion has spread like wildfire. You and Roxana exchange glances before heading toward the main hall, where Lante is presumed to be. Your stomach twists slightly at the thought of who you were about to meet. Not the man himself, but what his presence being in the Agriche mansion means.
It’s finally happening. It’s starting.
Your eyes briefly flicker to Roxana’s dress, a deep green, flowing and elegant. Wait… wasn’t it red in the manhwa? It was a small detail, but it stood out. The novel never explicitly describes the colours of her clothing, leaving it to the illustrator to interpret within the bounds of historical accuracy. It was a strange realization - how much influence different adaptations could have on the same source material.
You both descend the grand staircase, your steps echoing against the polished marble floor. The bright chandeliers overhead cast a golden glow over the pristine surfaces, illuminating Lante Agriche’s imposing figure at the bottom.
The moment you step into the hall, his cold, scrutinizing gaze sweeps over you, then to Roxana. A shiver runs down your spine, but you hold your ground. Your gaze shifts to the silver-haired boy on his knees, bloodied, bound, and gagged. Cassis Pedelian.
Lante's sharp gaze flickers between you and Roxana before settling on his daughter. "Remember him? He’s the son of an insolent bitch. I brought him here to teach him a lesson," he sneers, his grip tightening in Cassis' silver hair, yanking his head back.
Cassis groans, his breath ragged, his body twitching from evident pain. The chains binding him rattle as he tries to resist, but Lante yanks again, forcing him to stay still.
Roxana hums, stepping forward, her lips curling into a smirk. "Hmm… this toy’s gaze is quite rebellious, Father."
Cassis' violet eyes hold nothing but defiance, even in his weakened state. He meets Roxana’s amused gaze, then yours. A flicker of confusion, but no fear. Your hands curl into fists.
Lante scoffs, clearly entertained by the resistance. He yanks the chain behind Cassis' head, making him choke as the iron links dig into his throat. "Until he becomes compliant, keep him in the dungeons underground," he commands, gesturing for the guards to drag the battered boy away. Cassis doesn’t resist, his body too weak, but his gaze never wavers.
Your chest tightens slightly as you watch them disappear down the hallway. And so it begins.
⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆
Later that night, long after the halls have emptied, you accompany Roxana down to the dungeons. The air is damp and thick with the scent of mildew and blood. The flickering flames of the wall-mounted lanterns cast eerie shadows along the brick walls, each step you take echoing ominously. The walls are rough, uneven stones, the ceiling low enough to make you feel caged, even when you aren’t the prisoner.
I’ve never been here before. The place looks quite bright considering it’s nighttime, but that could be due to the lamps. Damn, I miss bulbs. The lamp Roxana has is burning my retinas. How can she even see with that thing so close to her face?
Roxana walks ahead, holding a lamp in front of her. Her golden hair catches the dim light, almost glowing. She stops before a cell and clicks her tongue, unlocking the bars with the key she seduced the guard outside the dungeon to give her.
"This really is too much. If it’s already like this, it’ll be troublesome." She sighs, pressing a hand against the iron bars. "Since from now on, I’ll have to try and save our own lives."
You blink. Huh, our own lives. Last time, if I recall, she only talked about her life that needed saving. But now…? You glance at her. Roxana Agriche, known for her cunning and cruelty, was acknowledging you. She actually considered you in her survival plans. A small but significant difference.
This almost makes me want to laugh.
With practiced ease, Roxana reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small glass vial. She uncaps it and kneels beside the unconscious Cassis.
"Excuse me. Cassis Pedelian." Her voice is soft but firm.
Cassis stirs slightly but doesn’t wake. Without hesitation, Roxana cups his chin, tilting his head back, and pours the clear liquid between his lips. Some of it dribbles down his jaw, but enough gets into his mouth. His body tenses, a faint groan escaping him.
His violet eyes flutter open. "This… what?!" His voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper.
Before he can react further, Roxana grabs him roughly. "Shush. Be quiet. Don’t spit it out; it’s an antidote," a pause, then a smirk. "You might not believe me, but I don’t wish for your death. Do you understand me?"
Cassis' eyes narrow, filled with suspicion. He tries to move, but his weakened state betrays him. His jaw clenches as he glares at her, but Roxana only sighs.
Then, without warning, she sucker punches him in the stomach.
Cassis chokes, coughing violently. His head lolls forward, resting against Roxana’s shoulder. His breath is ragged, his body trembling from pain and exhaustion. His gaze flickers to you for a brief moment before his eyes slide shut again.
A sudden laugh escapes your lips. You try to stifle it, but the amusement bubbles up regardless.
Roxana turns her head toward you, raising an eyebrow. "And what, exactly, is so funny?"
You wipe at your eyes, still chuckling. "I just… I forgot you even did that in the manhwa. It caught me off guard." You shake your head, grinning. "I don’t know, I guess I just found it funny."
Roxana lets out an exasperated tut, rolling her eyes before gently pushing Cassis back against the wall. She stands, brushing dust from her dress. "You have a twisted sense of humour."
You smirk, following her as she turns toward the dungeon exit. "Says the one who just punched an almost dead man."
She huffs but doesn’t deny it, leading the way out of the dark corridor. The heavy dungeon door creaks open, and you both step into the dimly lit hallway beyond, leaving Cassis Pedelian behind - for now.
As you walk through the underground halls, the silence between you and Roxana is thick, but not uncomfortable. The stone walls seem to absorb all sound, your footsteps the only noise in the vast emptiness.
“He couldn’t see, correct?” Roxana asks, turning to you.
You’re aware Roxana knew about Cassis not being able to see at the time due to the drug. I think she’s asking for confirmation. “Who knows? Certainly not me,” you respond, in a mischievous tone that you do indeed, know.
“Hah…” she lets out, rubbing her temple. “These last few months have been… stressful, to say the least,”
“Yes, I know my presence is that powerful enough to remove the fatigue of any stressed individual,” you bellow in a low tone, arms raised in the air as if you are some divine being. Roxana rolls her eyes, walking faster to stay ahead of you. You let your arms fall down, staring at the back of her head. “Happy late birthday, Roxana,”
She pauses for a moment, before resuming to walk away, “Thank you,”
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abbycrashing · 4 months ago
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This is based off a conversation with @bradicalguy where I had the idea that since Legend's era considers milk to be a grown up drink, how would he react to the others drinking it casually?
The reason the others are trying to get Wind specifically to drink it is because his era doesn't have drinking milk. The older Links want to make sure the Sailor gets what he needs to grow "big and strong"!
Legend is concerned.
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vintrage · 6 months ago
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fire cannot kill a dragon BITCH
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lanternlightss · 8 months ago
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okay .. take two !!!
+ bonus doodles
#i !!!! like this design a lot more#kinda worried abt the cloak …. but !!!#what do we think ………..#oh. wait. also#-> tried to combine the v shape and the cloak#figured out how to incorporate the bottom half wing like design#they have tails !!! they like to sometimes pretend it’s like a bird#(loop running around bc swish swish flowy) (bats their eyelash) am i not the prettiest bird youve ever seen#also while the leg straps for knife was cool#i feel they. while it wouldd be easier to maybe access#anyone could take it !!! the way it was !!!!#into the holster and belt you go#OH and and#the little chains and pendants dangling from the belt ?? those are like keychains from all the things that remind them of their journeys#OH and they’re wearing. kind of leggings ??? for better agility#im trying not to overdo everything. so that it’s not so cluttered#but that. also Is this point. as fun as this outfit is most of it is just loop taking clothing items they first see and running off#“okay rogue time. i can do rogue.” tthey are a mess <3#they’re kinda in that stage of. between siffrin and figuring out who They are now after all of that. clinging slightly while also changing#(they absolutely did steal those little pins from sif btw <3) they thought it would be funny to see how long it took for him to notice. and#then it just stuck.#“why is loop okay with the cloak now?” bc !!! its not a one to one. and also. sif here found loop at possibly the worst spiral ever#it Would have brought equal comfort as it did discomfort if they wore both the hat and cloak then. and (their words) it would be much easier#to tell which siffrin was who !!!!!!!!!!#agh .. okay#lantern’s art corner#isat spoilers#isat
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the-lark-ascending69 · 10 months ago
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I loove the android robin au it's really one of the most interesting au I have seen in a while.
I am always happy to see new post abt it
Also making my favourite characters go through hell and then receiving comfort from their people is like the best thing ever for me so every time I see a whump!Robin post I like automatically
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People loving android!Robin makes me so happy anansnssndsnsns she's curious and excitable and full of wonder and the world keeps punishing her for simply being alive. Sometimes it's too painful even for me, big whump lover 😭😭 though seriously, there is not enough Robin whump, and while all the characters in the show are very whumpeable, hurting my little blorbo Robin feels special because... she's just so deeply lonely. She's lonely and she thinks she deserves to be because of something wrong with her (pulling this interpretation from Surviving Hawkins lore which is canon to me 😭). That was a big idea I had when I first came up with android!Robin... that there is something wrong with her. Broken. In this AU she's literally broken in a lot of way (battery and memory problems, weak joints in her lower half, etc), but that's all within the range of normal robot problems. The real issue with her is that she's sentient. It terrifies people because it really brings out the existencial horror of... well, existing. It terrifies Robin most of all. She is the problem. She is what's wrong with her. She shouldn't exist.
But at the same time, she loves being alive so much! She doesn't understand it and doesn't know how it happened, but it happened, and now she's real and wants to experience life and the world and know people like human beings do. So it's her constant battle to become human despite humans having hurt her so much in the past... only for Nancy to already see her as human. Just one made of metal and plastic, but human nonetheless. She's the first person to see her that way and maybe everyone else thinks she's crazy, but Nancy is used to that. She's so sure of this, though, of Robin's self-awareness. She trusts her so blindly. She doesn't even need proof. And not only does she believe her, but she defends her humanity in front of her friends and family so ardently, fighting so hard for Robin to be aknowledged by everyone else as human. Fighting so hard to give her a home and family for the first time in her life.
Nancy has it bad for Robin, really. She's just so in love, even if everyone else thinks she's crazy for falling in love with a machine (no one thinks she is, though, because they all know Robin, and once you know Robin, it's impossible not to love her).
#ronance#android!Robin AU#robin buckley#😭😭 every day im emotional about her at 4 am#ok nice things now:#nancy takes her shopping for the first time! because robin never quite developed her own style#and being a girly girl to Nancy clothes are such a big part of your identity#robin finds these cool chains peoole wear as necklaces and bracelets and all these rings and she loves how they all look on her#and this jacket with different patches on it... she never thought she'd be the kind of girl to like shopping but she's so excited#because its the first time she's choosing what clothes to wear#Nancy introduces her to many different kinds of music alongside Steve#and then eventually the whole gang joins them. everyone gets to suggest one artist and soon Robin has this long asf playlist#to listen to so she can figure out what she likes#same with movies - they all now have weekly movie nights so they can show Robin different films#robin slowly discovering her passions... she reads a lot and finds out she loves languages and literature#and she decides she wants to get into college to study something related to it#she also decides she wants to travel through Europe and wants to bring Nancy with her#she decorates her room with movie and music posters#she decides she really likes cyndi lauper#she tries to learn how to dance with youtube tutorials#dragging Nancy into it#she gets to watch a lot of movies at her job at the movie theater#and she makes friends with her coworkers there#she's not fully and truly becoming a person#she has never been this happy#my posts#thank you for your ask i love talking about android!robin
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medicinemane · 5 months ago
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At least I could disable the suggestions but just... I'm sick of it, I'm sick of companies trying to think for me
I'd rather be miserable but doing shit my own way than placid and glass eyed and just taking whatever companies tell me to
Like... literally just asking what I get out of writing a post on tumblr... zero suggestions, just letting me say whatever dumb stuff comes to my head
#the problem is that doing things my way is actually working well; it's just really slow and it's coming from a bad starting point#everything that makes me miserable was even more miserable growing up#you maybe see me and think that I'm doing really horribly; and that may be true; but I'm also truthfully at my peak right now#and frankly as much as I worry about it A LOT; I'm kinda still on the rise in a lot of ways#...I just take way too long to do things; I want to be quicker because a lot of this stuff isn't... it's not being slow and steady#it's being depressed and having trouble working on shit#but... when I do stuff my way the end result tends to be strong#I got a house in 2019 for instance... like in that economy; I feel like that counts as a pretty high roll outcome; you know?#the parts of my life I hate are all... it's like Marley in the Christmas Carol; I've got all these chains around me#and... about 80% of those chains are just my mom or my mom's choices... she blows through so much money all the time#it makes me want to die#but all that shit... it's the past haunting me and drowning me#but shit's better than it was and... I have more friends now that I did in the past; I'm closer to making money than I've been in the past#(part of it is that I kinda want to get shit stabilized in the household; be doing stuff like cooking before I try and sell shit)#(also understand that everyone in high school liked me... we just never saw each other outside of school)#(so it was a situation where I had 'friends'; by that standard everyone at school was a friend)#(but I didn't have a single person I was close with and I was totally isolated in a crowd)#(friend is just a word in english that has to cover a really really wide range of relationships)#(but these days I do have actual friends... just a shame none of us live in the same town... or even state; you know?)#(I like all the people I went to high school with; they all cared a lot and were very bad at it)#(couldn't figure out that like... just give me some company; that's a good 80% of what I'm lacking)#(...I think part of it was they were all stoners and I wasn't; so they felt like... eh... like something something)#(and when I say all stoners I mean... I think... easily 80% of the school; probably 90% and maybe higher were all stoners)#(it uh... was not an easy thing for the staff; cause they obviously all knew; but... figuring out how to best handle it)#(like hell; I wouldn't want to deal with that)#(also like 95% were smokers... you have to understand that most of these kids were rich kids)#(off the top of my head I can only think of 2 other kids who were poor... just... uh...)#(if I named the city the school was in; you'd probably be like 'oh... makes sense')#(I liked everyone there; everyone liked me... just... they were very bad at just basic stuff like spending time together)#(eh... you don't need to hear more)
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odoraful · 6 months ago
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𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄.ᐟ
what happens when you don't use their pet name to call them?
⟡ content: zayne/sylus/xavier/rafayel x gn!reader; more dialogue heavy; silly and cute
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ZAYNE ⟡
“Can you help me put this on, Zayne?”
From the reflection in the mirror, you tried not to react at the twist in his brow and the momentary confusion in his eyes. Wordlessly, he moved behind you, fingers taking the necklace out of your hand. With his gaze focused on the task before him, you could see him open his mouth, hesitating to speak.
“Did I do something wrong?” he questioned.
Zayne’s deft hands carefully laid the chain around your neck, centering the pendent between your collarbones.
You plastered on your most innocent expression, despite the twinge of guilt you felt at his question.
“Hm? Why do you ask?”
Swiftly, he clasped the ends of the chain together. His eyes flicked towards yours in the mirror.
“You’re calling me by my first name. I thought pet names were an important step in a relationship for you.”
You nodded. “Yes, Zayne, I do think it’s an important step.”
His eyes narrowed at your continual uncharacteristic responses.
Folding his arms, he mused aloud. “It took you some time to drop the title ‘doctor’ for me and to just use my name. After we became official, you were quick to call me ‘love’.”
You fiddled with your necklace, trying to, impossibly, force away the heat from your face.
“So, either I did something to make you upset, or”—he leaned in close to you, the side of his face almost touching yours—“you’re playing a trick on me.”
You gave a mock frown. He cocked his head to the side, awaiting your response.
“Okay, okay, it was a prank.” Sighing, you surrendered to his deductions. “I wanted to see how you’d react, but you saw right through me,” you mumbled.
His lips quirked. “I’ve known you for long enough to figure these things out.”
Wanting to wipe off the amused look he had on his face, you quickly planted a kiss on his cheek. His face turned into surprise. He chuckled, shaking his head at your triumphant smile.
“Thank you for helping me, my love."
SYLUS ⟡
“Sylus, could you play that new record you bought?”
You called from the sofa. Standing by the record player, he turned to face you. The offence on his face was unmistakable as he placed his hands on his hips.
“Sylus?” he scoffed. “We both know that’s not what you call me.”
Your brows furrowed, feigning confusion. “What are you talking about? Isn’t that your name?”
“Sweetie,” he levelled a look of scepticism at you, “that hasn’t been my name for the past month we’ve been together.”
“I still don’t know what you mean, Sylus.”
He paused. Gears turned in his head trying to unpack what was happening, much like he would do when reading the truthfulness of a dealer during a bargain.
“Y/N.”
You’ve never heard your own name being said in such a serious manner. Perhaps you got a taste of your own medicine.
“I’m not particularly fond of lose-lose situations.” The softness in his tone made you feel weak. “You can tell me if I’ve done something to annoy you. I won’t be angry.”
“Not at all!” you quickly blurted out. Unable to hide it any longer, you confessed. “You haven’t done anything to annoy me. I was just trying to pull a small prank.”
All the tension visibly released from his body. A relieved sigh escaped him. “You really do play some dangerous games, kitten.”
Playfulness returned to his voice. “Now then, how will you correct your mistake?”
“Honey,” you drawled out each syllable, making it sound as syrupy as the nickname itself, “could you play that new record you bought now?”
Sylus couldn’t help but laugh at your exaggeration. “Why of course.”
XAVIER ⟡
“Xavier, do you want to try this?”
Subtly glancing at his reaction from the kitchen, you saw his face immediately fall into a pout. The look was fatal, and it took all the willpower you had not to drop the ruse right then and there.
“That’s not my name,” he answered.
“What do you mean?” you chuckled, continuing to put icing on the sugar cookies you baked. “Of course it is!”
“No, it’s not,” he insisted.
Placing his book down, he walked to stand at your side by the counter. You avoided his eye contact, pretending that nothing was amiss.
Resting a hand under his chin, he began to think. “You usually call me bunny, sweetheart, sunshine, or darling.”
Your jaw dropped in amused shock. “You remember all the names I’ve called you?”
His mouth twitches. “There are some more, but… they might be a bit embarrassing to say aloud right now.”
That was enough to make you look at him with wide eyes.
“Xavier!” Your face turned pink as you slapped his shoulder. There was no force behind the hit, but enough to convey your embarrassment.
“You did it again. You used the wrong name.” He stuck his bottom lip out.
You gently poked at his cheek, trying to lift the corner of his lip upwards. “Come on, don’t be sad darling.”
Immediately, he brightened before you.
“It was just a joke I saw couples do online. I wanted to see how you’d react.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “And was my reaction satisfactory?”
“I think it was,” you smiled at him, "but it’s a shame I didn’t film it, it would’ve made for a good Moments post.”
He shook his head. “But, the nicknames we use are only for us.”
The finished cookie in your hand had a bite suddenly taken from it as Xavier leaned down to have a taste.
“I don’t want anyone else to know.”
RAFAYEL ⟡
“Are you ready to go yet, Rafayel?”
He continued to hum to himself, completely ignoring you. You folded your arms as you watched him busy himself with something trivial. He flung open a random cupboard and inspected what appeared to be an assortment of spare art supplies.
“Rafayel,” you called again.
He then turned his attention to the fishbowl in the centre of the room, where a small orange fish darted around.
“Reddie, do you hear something?” he asked, gazing so earnestly into the bowl. This fish paused its movement and stared back at his owner.
“Rafayel~” you sang his name aloud this time, extending the last syllable.
He gasped, apparently receiving some confirmation from Reddie.
“You hear something too? Thank god. I was thinking there must be something wrong with my ears.”
Surveying the room around him, Rafayel intentionally looked past you standing barely a few metres from him, tapping your foot against the wooden floorboards of his studio.
“It sounds like”—he continued—“some kind of voice. Someone familiar to me, but I can’t make out who it is.”
“Rafayel!” you shouted his name between fits of laughter. Only he could respond to your jokes with his own dramatics.
He sucked in a breath in puzzlement. “I wonder who this person is calling out to.”
“Baby,” you finally conceded, “I’m talking to you!”
It seemed like he couldn’t keep up the act either, as he started laughing with you.
“Took you long enough,” he huffed, moving towards you and linking your arm with his. “Otherwise, Reddie and I would have been searching for this phantom voice for the rest of the day.”
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anisespice · 7 months ago
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“ baby steps ” || tokyo rev.
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continuation of this post.
pairing: bonten x fem!reader [ mikey, ran, sanzu ]
warnings: mature content ahead. MDI. mature language, crude humor, ANGST w/ comfort (mostly in mikey's), deadbeat!bonten (unintentionally), not proof-read so there may be A LOT of errors :// mikey's is LONG, ran + sanzu's are silly goofy, mikey + sanzu's are a lil unhinged lol and i think that’s it :))
notes: can i just say thank y'all so much for showing "accidents happen" the love that i didn't think it would get, it was made on a whim so i'm so so so happy y'all enjoyed! i tagged as many as i could (or that tumblr would allow) sorry if i missed some of you :( thank you for your patience and let me know how you feel about this continuation format :) !! notes ii: also also, pt. 2 for "accidents happen" coming soon! notes iii: MY COMPUTER CRASHED AND I THOUGHT I LOST EVERYTHING BUT IT'S OKAY IT'S OKAY :'))))
tagged: @fantasycantasy , @illegalspacecow , @captaincyberqueen , @cherryblossiren , @niragiswhore , @awkwardaardvarkforever , @valentsoup , @lovely212 , @miffysoo , @yandere-kouhai , @i-am-just-a-girl-ur-honor , @wisteriarose214 , @kindadolly , @yuwaimo , @sweetbella1221 , @simpingfor-wakasa , @sirachano0dles , @yutahg , @slowlikehonee , @blurpleuni-squid , @haruchiyoreen , @istanstraykidss , @loyard176 , @msluccapotato , @luv444lay , @backgroundcharactera , @jegelskeranime
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Ever since you picked up your daughter, there’s been a hovering presence that wouldn’t go away no matter where you went. From the park, to the grocery store, all the way home it clung to you like a bad itch. Despite looking over your shoulder and being met without any sort of threat, that didn’t stop the uneasy feeling. And it only intensified when you received a knock on your front door.
You made a confused hum, checking the time on the microwave to confirm that it was indeed past the reasonable hour for potential visitors. Not to mention, you weren’t expecting anyone.
The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, instincts telling you that something wasn’t right, that your best option was to pretend you weren’t home. However, the person on the other side knew otherwise as they knocked on the door again, this time with more fervor. You inhaled sharply, taking hesitant steps towards the door until you were mere feet away from it. Eventually, you worked up the courage to look through the peephole, your brows furrowing in distress when all you could see was black—They were covering it. All the more reason not to open the door…
What if it’s a robber? Ridiculous, they don’t knock.
What if it’s just the neighbor? Why cover the peephole?
More and more did your mind swirl with endless possibilities, each one becoming less and less believable. Taking a long, deep breath, you doubled-checked the door-chain was on before slowly cracking it open. And as you attempted to peek through the sliver, nothing could’ve prepared you for the arm that forced its way through, startling you as you yelped, stumbling back as it made a grab at you.
Before you had the thought of shoving the door closed on the offender’s arm they grabbed the little chain, then yanked it clean out of the wall. To your terror, a dark hooded figure entered your home, head hung low, concealing their identity.
You began to hyperventilate, backing up to keep distance as they staggered further into your home before kicking the door closed behind them, effectively blocking you from the exit. Surely, someone heard your scream and would check in, or call the police. But, how long did you have before the intruder decided to make a move? Not to mention, your sleeping child just down the hall…
With that last thought in mind, you immediately steeled your nerves.
Even if you had to use your bare hands, you were going to do whatever it took to keep your baby out of harms way.
You reached for the closest weapon without taking your eyes off the figure, hands clasping onto a discarded umbrella that was leaned up against a closet door. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do. Taking a defensive stance, you prepared for what you assumed to be the inevitable.
“I-I don’t know who you are, or what you want…b-but if you don’t leave…my..my boyfriend will be home any minute! H-He knows how to fight, and he’ll fuck you up if you try anything!”
Your means of intimation fall on deaf ears. It were as if you hadn’t spoken at all. They just…stood there. Watching you from the darkness. That feeling, that hovering presence you’d been weary about all evening…there was no doubt in your mind it was because of this individual. Suddenly, they gave a watery chuckle, hand coming up to rub the lower half of their face as the chilling noise dissipated into soft snickers.
You sweatdropped. “I mean it! He’ll be here real soon, so you better get out of here before-”
“[_____]…” the figure finally rasped, voice heavy with an emotion you couldn’t decipher in the moment. You froze, eyes widening.
“…How the hell do you know my name?”
Without much urgency, they stepped forward into the light. Beneath the warm glow, it took you mere seconds to recognize the person standing before you. You gasped, trembling hands dropping the umbrella, it landing with a harsh clatter. Soft, mortified hitches in your breath echoed through the small space, memories flashing before your eyes as you covered your gaping mouth.
“M.. Ma..” you whimpered, throat tightening. A shell of a man, who gazed upon you with stormy eyes flooded with tears at the mere sight of you.
He gave another strained laugh, muttering to himself as he soaked you all in. “Needed to know.. Needed to know it was really you…”
Mikey eyed you up, intensely, eerily silent as he did so. Then, he took in the surroundings, the warmth, the interior, the smell of dinner—It truly felt like a home. A bitter pill to swallow once he reminded himself that you built it without him.
His sharp gaze returned to your stunned expression. He sneered.
“Must’ve been easy for you. To forget me and move on, just like that. Like I was nothing.”
You blinked, taken aback. All you could do was remain speechless, cemented to the ground with thoughts and questions racing in your head. Now matter how many times you opened your mouth, no sound would come out aside from choked whimpers.
“Do you know…how long I’d been searching for you? Been mourning for you?” He hissed through clenched teeth. “When you left, I thought… I thought someone had taken you. That I lost you all because I was too stubborn to say I’m sorry…”
As he spoke, Mikey slowly closed the space between you. The more he came into the light, the more you could see how the years had treated him. His cheekbones were more pronounced, the dark circles under his eyes as well. His lips were dry, cracked, his fair skin now ghoulishly pale. If not for the black hoodie you would’ve mistaken him as such; ghost of your past.
Your shoulders shook, hands hovering over your face as you gaped in disbelief. He’d been looking for you?
That night, that stupid fight you could barely remember…he made it crystal clear that he wanted nothing to do with you. He pushed you away. Pushed so hard that you almost believed he really wouldn’t have cared if you dropped dead. You knew he didn’t mean it, knew it was just another dark impulse…but none of that mattered when all your pregnancy tests came back positive just hours prior.
That night, you made the decision for the sake of your daughter. And also, for his sake. At the time, you were certain he wasn’t ready to be a father. He was quick to rage, merciless, losing himself to the darkness you tried to protect him from. If you had stayed, you were certain Mikey would’ve never forgiven himself if he lost control in front of his own flesh and blood, if the child grew to resent him for something he struggled to control.
You thought you were doing him a favor…but it appears to have done the opposite.
“And this whole time…you’ve been here, alive. Playing fucking house with someone else.”
You stiffened. Someone else? Your visible confusion only irritated him further.
He scoffed. “Don’t play dumb. You said it yourself. Too bad he won’t be coming home anytime soon. I’ve already got Sanzu and the Haitanis looking around for the bastard. And when they find him, I’ll make him regret sticking his filthy dick inside you.”
Confusion morphed into realization. You did threaten him with said hypothetical boyfriend…But, that was before you knew it was him!
“Oh, Manjiro…” you whispered. He glared, scorned.
“Don’t you dare pity me. I mean, you got the family you always wanted, right? So who cares who it was with, right? Congratu-fucking-lations.”
You shook your head, exhaling deeply as you held your face in your hands. For years, he thought you dead. Then, when he received word of your appearance, he finds you with child. And not once did he consider that child to be his? It’s like…he couldn’t fathom the thought.
If only he had looked just a little bit closer, he would’ve seen that she had his eyes. How they resembled those pools of ink that used to shine with so much hope back in his youth, so playful and full of love…those same eyes that now gazed upon you with contempt.
It stung.
He thought so low, not only of himself, but of you as well.
Taking a deep breath to reel in your emotions, tears began to well up in your eyes. He assumed they were tears for your doomed lover, further breaking his heart as Mikey clenched his fists to the point of nearly drawing blood. Luckily, even though you struggled to find the right words, someone else happily found them for you.
“Papa..?”
Both of you instantly drew your attention on the toddler standing near the kitchen, one fist clutching her blanket while the other rubbed the sleep from her eye. You glanced at Mikey, and he was stiller than stone. His once dead-stare had morphed into what could only be described as incredulous. Surely, he heard her incorrectly…
With a sniffle, you crouched down to address her, offering a soft grin as you nodded earnestly. “That’s right, sweetheart. Papa’s finally come home.”
The little girl blinked sleepily, taking a second to reboot. But, as soon as the words registered, a bright smile stretched across her face as she excitedly rushed towards Mikey, throwing herself onto his legs and hugging them like a koala as she chirped, “Papa, home!”
Said man hobbled a bit at the force, arms windmilling as he caught himself to keep from falling backwards. He didn’t know what to do with himself, especially when those big, round pools of ink opened and stared right up into his soul. Mikey’s heart nearly stopped. With a hitch in his breath, the gangster did everything he could to hold his composure, looking between you and the child as you both gazed at him with so much warmth…it was suffocating.
Sensing he was overwhelmed, you reached down to scoop up the bubbly bundle, holding her close as you eyed Mikey, apprehensively.
He resembled a cornered animal—Muscles stiff, jaw tight, eyes wild. After a moment, Mikey began to slowly back away into the shadows of your home, conflicted, devastated. It wasn’t until his back hit the door did he eventually fall to his ass, of which caused your child to giggle at how silly he was being. However, all you could do was hold back tears, watching as the reality started to weigh down on a man who just discovered he was a father.
Nervous, you gently explained. “I didn’t leave you because of our spat, Jiro…and I never moved on. I just…thought that I’d be doing more harm than good sticking around when I found out I was pregnant…I didn’t want to add any more stress on your plate, so I…”
Mikey didn’t respond. He sat there, stare vast and unfocused. But, you knew he hung on to every word. So you continued. “I wanted to tell you. But…I wasn’t sure how. At the time, I believed you had stopped caring about me altogether. And to hear you’d been looking for me, I-I’m…I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you harbored all that guilt. I didn’t mean for any of that to happen.”
Your daughter wiggled around in your hold, making small grunts in complaint. Her eyes were trained on his figure huddled in the dark, wanting to be acknowledged, wanting his attention. “Papa!”
Mikey flinched. He focused his gaze on the two you, haloed by the light emitting from the living room. You both were like salvation, reaching down to a broken sinner…How could she want anything to do with him? When he had missed so much already…
To keep from accidentally dropping her, you placed your daughter back on the ground, watching wearily as she wobbled all the way to Mikey, blanket in tow. You weren’t worried about him hurting her, far from it…if anything, he appeared to be the fragile one.
Eventually, she made it to her destination, standing before him with a curious, but eager expression as she rested a hand on his knee. Mikey watched her, took in all of her features, every last detail as he engraved it to memory. She was beautiful, just like her mother. One would think his genes didn’t stand a chance. But the eyes. That was all him. From his mother to his older brother to himself, there was no doubt in his mind that those were Sano eyes.
His lower lip quivered, reaching out hesitantly to caress her cheek. She didn’t cower away, merely babbled as she began patting his knee, allowing his thumb to rub over her chubby cheek. You clasped your hands over your mouth, growing even more emotional at the delicate moment. Mikey looked enamored already, eyes subtly sparkling from what you could see as they interacted.
“I-I told her stories, about you. And I made sure to show her photos, too. Old ones, but still you nonetheless. I wanted her to know who her father truly was. Despite everything else…”
Your daughter cooed, then placed her blanket in Mikey’s lap before climbing into it. Mikey didn’t dare move, rigid as she made herself comfortable. He looked up at you, looking for guidance, for reassurance. Your encouraging smile was enough for him to hesitantly place his hands on her small back for support, carefully adjusting so that she was stable. She laid her head on his chest and stuck her thumb in her mouth, sighing contentedly.
And, for the first time in years, he smiled.
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When you hadn’t seen her familiar pigtails bobbing around, or heard any of her excited chatter with the receptionist up front, worry couldn’t even begin to describe what you felt the moment you realize…your daughter wasn’t here.
As soon as the meeting looked like it was wrapping up, you politely excused yourself from the room. Masking your worry wasn't too difficult, but there's no doubt a couple people might've noticed the spring in your step as you exited. One of them being Rindou Haitani. He watched you speed down the hall with mild interest, corner of his mouth ticking up ever so slightly as he thumbed around on his phone beneath the table. Having been updating his older brother during the meeting while he was on his smoke break, he was more than eager to inform him of the storm that was no doubt heading his way.
Little did the younger Haitani know, he was already dealing with one.
"And then, Haruka-kun tries to take Momo-kun's bento box because she had cuter animal shapes, but Momo-kun already said no, and so Haruka-kun pushes Momo-kun, and then tries to take it! But I pushed him and hit him with my fist, like this," she clenched up her tiny fist and held it up to Ran before striking down on his forearm with all her might. It didn't even pitch. "Like that."
The lavender-eyed man merely gazed upon her with mirth. "Did you now?"
"Mmhm! And teacher got so mad, and said that she would tell Ma about me fighting, but she's stupid because Ma didn't pick me up today, and I told Haruka-kun if he snitches, I'll beat 'em up!"
Ran lowly whistled. "Quite the little menace, ain'tcha?"
She pumped her fists. "Yeah!" Then, she paused, holding a finger to her chin in thought. "Wait...what's a menace?"
"Ah, something you inherited from your old man." He ruffled her hair, much to her displeasure. Though her innocent jab earlier regarding his age still hit a sore spot, he was starting to like the sound of it. She, on the other hand, wasn't convinced.
"I already told you; Ma was on her happy juice when she said that. She said not to believe anything she says when she's on happy juice. It makes her do silly things."
Ran chuckled. He knew that all too well. The little girl wouldn't be in this world if not for your inability to hold your liquor. But judging based on how you've raised her so far, clearly you made the right decision keeping him in the dark.
He'll admit, he wasn't the best in terms of commitment. Throughout his day to day, Ran just didn't have the energy. With being in Bonten, keeping an eye out for his younger brother, handling business, dealing with numbskulls and disposing of their bodies, there was never a time to even consider settling down. One-night stands and on and off flings were the easiest choice. At least, until he stumbled upon you.
You were the whole package and more. Classy, independent, witty, and a looker to top it all off. When Bonten started collaborating with the organization you worked in, he couldn't help but to be drawn to you—Like a moth to a flame. It started out as the occasional bantering, trying to one-up the other, catch them off guard. Ran was smooth with his words but could never quite beat your sharp tongue. Thus, things escalated to something more flirtatious. Harmless, but it didn't take long before the months of tension between the both of you began boiling over...and throwing alcohol into the mix, it was the first time Ran finally felt like he had the upper hand. Seeing how poorly you handled just a few glasses of wine, it endeared him. Seeing a piece of you that no one else had the privilege to witness. Your sloppy side, the clumsy, whiny, touchy side. After that long, passionate night beneath the sheets, the one time you and Ran allowed yourselves the space to be vulnerable with one another...you found yourself pregnant. And Ran found himself being nonethewiser.
He wonders, if he hadn't left the next morning and completely ghosted you...would you have kept him in the picture?
Suddenly, his phone dings. Reaching back to pull it from his back pocket, Ran half expected it to just be another update on the meeting or Rindou cursing at him to hurry his ass back inside. But, it wasn't that at all. And at the sound of your kitten heels rushing out of the building and halting at the top of the steps, Ran didn't even need to look up to know who was glowering down from them.
"Hey, Ma! Guess what, the purple man isn't such a meanie after all!"
Ran snorted, finally looking up from his phone to greet the woman who not only still had his heart, but evidently his first child. You, on the other hand, weren't so thrilled to see him.
"Rika. Wait inside. Ma's got some words for the purple man."
He smirked. "Wanna say 'em over a glass of wine?"
"You son of a-!"
"Bad word!" Your daughter covered her ears. You flushed, your composure nearly slipping just by being in his prescence. Ran, immediately seeing the opportunity, teasingly pouts at you whilst covering her tiny hands with his larger ones, shielding her.
"Honey, please, not in front of the child. Can't have her repeating those dirty words at school, can we?"
You fumed, speaking through clenched teeth. "Haitani, as soon as I get her in this building, away from you, I swear to God, I'm gonna wring your neck."
He hummed, amused. "Well. Guess she didn't get her violent side from me after all. Speaking of which, did you know at school today-"
"Hey! No snitching!"
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“...What did you say?” 
You were hoping you heard the teacher wrong. Surely it was just your exhaustion taking the wheel. But, when her kind smile didn’t falter, nor did her gushes for the supposed “adorable display”, you immediately grew suspicious.
While heading home from work, you went to pick up your children from daycare. And when you arrived, the teacher merely informed you that it was already taken care of by your very handsome and very devoted husband. 
“I-I think you’re mistaken. My boyfriend and I aren’t married…”
The teacher, finally coming back down to earth, tilted her head in confusion. “Eh? You aren’t?” 
“Did he…say we were?” 
“Well, no. I just assumed since it was easy to tell who he was here for. Hikaru and Kaoru look so much like their daddy.”
You choked on your spit.  Hikaru and Kaoru look so much like their daddy. Hikaru and Kaoru look so much like their daddy.
You did everything in your power to keep from strangling the poor woman. Sure, she didn’t do anything wrong per say…but she sure did make a grave error. And your struggle to restrain your intrusive thoughts must’ve shown on your face from the way she placed a concerned hand on your arm. “Are you alright, miss? You look like you’re about to faint.”
“M-Mhm, yep, great, just peachy.” You squeaked through clenched teeth, sweatdrop on your forehead. “Could you um…confirm something for me?”
“Uh.? Er, sure. I’ll try my best.”
With tense shoulders and a tight smile, you asked, “Their…father…did his mouth have two scars in the corners?”
The teacher blinked, confused. Shouldn’t you already know that answer yourself?, she was probably thinking. And she would be right; you did know. But her simple, hesitant nod was the final nail in the coffin that was your delusion—Haruchiyo Sanzu had found you. And to make matters worse, he had the children.
Your smile faltered, twitching ever so slightly. Covering it with a forced chuckle, you cried, “Oh, that’s..wonderful! He’s always been self conscious about them, and I’m j-just.. beaming with joy that he’s embracing them more. Have a nice evening, Ms. Yuki.”
The teacher didn’t get a chance to respond as you quickly turned on your heel and began speed walking home. You’d apologize for your abrupt exit another day…right now there were more important matters to worry about. For instance—How on earth did Sanzu find you? How did he know about the twins and where they were? Oh, God…did he know about Satoru?
Dialing him up a few times only for the calls to go straight to voicemail weren’t reassuring in the slightest, having you rush across oncoming traffic just so you could avoid any further delays for your fraying nerves. You could see your apartment complex up ahead, heart thumping in your throat at the familiar, black SUV parked a couple blocks down. Had it not been for the heavily tinted windows and no license plates, you probably would’ve overlooked it. He knew where you lived. Stomach in knots, muscles stiff, nerves shot. You didn’t know whether to feel relieved or devastated. Your kids were safe at home, but at what cost? You stood in front of the building, rooted to the ground. Despite mentally preparing for this exact scenario for years, it all went down the drain the second you went to that daycare and discovered your children were missing.
It wasn’t until your phone vibrated did you snap out of your thoughts, shakily pulling the device out of your back pocket to check the notification.
from : unknown 1:06 pm     “ hi, mama.~ ”
Your stomach twisted. Attached to the message were two photos.
The first photo was of your kids eating McDonald's in the kitchen, happily cheesing and waving at the camera. You couldn't hold your choked gasp, hand coming up to hold your quivering lower lip—They were safe.
The second photo...was of Satoru. Tied to a chair, gagged, and beaten senseless. And standing behind him, holding him by his hair so that he could pose for the camera, grinning like a cheshire cat...
Another message pops up. Your grip tightened around your phone.
from : unknown 1:09 pm " daddy's home.~ "
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vanteguccir · 2 months ago
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── ୨୧ ! MIDNIGHT COMPANY
chris sturniolo x reader
SUMMARY: While filming a car video, the triplets witness a girl - Y/N - arguing with her boyfriend. When he smashes her phone and leaves her alone at midnight in the middle of a random parking lot, Chris steps in.
WARNING: Toxic relationship, yelling, fighting, being hurt physically and emotionally, manipulation, panicking.
REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.
   ༻✦༺  ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺
Y/N didn't meant for things to end up like that.
She really didn't.
She was just walking alongside her boyfriend through the Target aisles, her eyes darting nervously between the shelves and the floor.
But she should know better. He had already been irritated when they left the apartment - something about her taking too long to get ready - and now, every move she made felt like a mistake.
"Stick close." Her boyfriend had muttered, his voice low but firm. His eyes darted around the store, scanning the aisles of brightly colored products with an air of impatience. "I don’t want to spend all night in here."
Y/N nodded quickly, her throat dry.
"Okay."
They made their way down the main aisle, her boyfriend grabbing a few items and putting them into the cart with little regard. It was always like that; he made the decisions, and she just agreed and moved on.
He paused at the end of that same aisle, scanning the shelves with a discerning eye. She lingered a few steps behind, observing.
He grabbed a box of granola bars from the shelf, tossing it into the cart with a louder thud. She winced at the sound, her stomach knotting with unease.
"Why are you standing there? Do you see the cereal we get?" He asked, his tone clipped.
Her throat tightened. She scanned the shelves frantically, her eyes moving over the rows of colorful boxes. She wasn’t sure if it was the green box or the blue one.
"Um, I think..." She started, reaching hesitantly toward one of the options.
"Don’t think. Look." He snapped, already sounding exasperated.
Her hand faltered, and she pulled it back. Her heart was pounding, and her palms had grown clammy against the leather strap of her purse. She wanted to go home.
They turned into the household goods section, where shelves were lined with glass containers, picture frames, and other fragile items. Her boyfriend stopped abruptly, examining a set of drinking glasses with a critical eye.
"Do you think these match the ones we already have?" He asked, holding up a box with pretty crystal wine glasses.
Y/N hesitated, unsure if he wanted an answer or was just thinking out loud.
"I-I think so."
Her boyfriend sighed, setting the box down with a clatter.
"You’re not even paying attention."
"I am." She said quickly, her voice barely above a whisper, desperately searching for his free hand. "I promise."
"Whatever." He muttered, letting her squeeze his fingers once before dropping hers, moving on.
Y/N quickly followed, trying to stay out of his way, her eyes fixed on his tall figure, crossing her hands in front of her body and forcing her brain to pay more attention to anything he touched or pointed out. She couldn't risk him thinking that she didn't care.
As she passed by one of the shelves, her purse brushed against a precariously balanced display of small vases. Time seemed to slow as the first vase teetered, then fell, hitting the shelf below it and sending a chain reaction through the display.
Crash!
The sound was deafening. Glass shattered across the floor, the pieces glinting under the white lights. Y/N froze, her breath catching in her throat. She stared at the mess, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might burst out of her chest.
"Oh my god. Are you serious?" Her boyfriend hissed under his breath.
She dropped to her knees instinctively, trembling as she tried to gather the pieces with her bare hands.
"I’m sorry." She whispered, her voice trembling and desperate.
"You're fucking nbelievable." He muttered under his breath, loud enough for her to hear.
She stopped for a moment, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. She wasn’t crying because of the spilled glasses. It wasn’t even about the moment itself. It was about the weight of knowing that every mistake she made was a reason for him to get tired of her. To leave her.
"I’m sorry." She whispered, again and again, the words tumbling out of her mouth as though they might undo the damage. "I’m so s-sorry."
But it wasn’t just an apology. It was an instinctive response, born from the fear of making him feel any sort of negative emotion at all. She knew that he wouldn’t brush this off, wouldn’t laugh, and say it was no big deal. He would be mad, and she couldn't let him get mad at her. Not again.
She desperately wanted to shrink herself down into something more digestible for him at that moment. Something he could chew up, spit out, and discard - like gum.
A woman at the end of the aisle glanced over, her expression a mix of surprise and concern. A man on the opposite side peeked around the corner, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene.
Y/N’s face burned with humiliation. She felt their stares on her, for sure, full of judgment. Her hands fumbled over the shards, shaking too hard to pick them up properly.
Her boyfriend crouched down beside her, his expression now unusually calm. His hand landed on her shoulder, but the grip was firm, bordering on painful.
"Y/N, honey, stop. You’re going to hurt yourself."
"I’m sorry." She whispered again, the tears on her eyes starting to burn her orbs with the force she used to stop the drops from escaping. She couldn’t let him see her break. She’d learned the hard way that crying only made him angrier.
"Stop it." He said more firmly, moving his hand through her arm, grabbing her wrist and pulling her hand away from the glass. He looked up at the people looking back at them and forced a polite, almost apologetic smile. "She’s... a little clumsy. Always has been. Right, honey? I know you didn’t mean to. You can’t help it, can you?"
Y/N stiffened, her stomach churning. She forced her head to move up and down, the movement coming out almost robotic.
"You’re just... distracted. All the time." He continued, his smile cold and tight. "That’s why these things happen. You can’t focus."
She wanted to argue, to tell him that she wasn’t some careless mess, but the words died in her throat. What good would it do?
"Here." He said, taking an empty cardboard box near them and shoving the pieces to the side with it, taking it all out of the way. "There. Fixed. See?"
She nodded, swallowing hard.
"Now, get up."
She stood, her knees wobbling slightly as she adjusted the strap of her purse. He grabbed her arm, his fingers digging into her skin.
"It’s okay." He continued, speaking louder now so the others could hear. "She just gets a little overwhelmed sometimes. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of this."
The man at the end of the aisle nodded, giving her boyfriend a small, understanding smile. The woman pursed her lips and turned away, muttering something about how 'accidents happen'.
"Let’s go." He said through clenched teeth as he started walking toward the exit.
"But-"
"No." His voice was low, but the warning was clear. He smiled tightly at the few remaining onlookers as he dragged her past them.
Her face burned with humiliation, but she kept quiet, her eyes glued to the floor. His grip tightened when her feet seemed to disobey her brain, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out.
The automatic doors slid open, and the cool night air rushed over her, but it did nothing to calm the storm inside her head. Her boyfriend’s pace didn’t slow, his hand still gripping her skin as he led her toward the parking lot.
Her heart was pounding, her thoughts spiraling into chaos. She felt like a child being scolded, small and powerless, her voice locked somewhere deep inside her throat.
When they reached the car, he finally let go of her arm, shoving her away as if she were a piece of garbage. She stumbled slightly, catching herself against the side of the car, waiting for whatever came next.
     ༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺
From the other side of their spot in the parking lot, the triplets were parked, their van slightly away from the main entrance. It was Wednesday night, and they were filming their weekly video, the interior of the van alive with yells and laughter.
"... No, seriously, people do that sometimes." Chris said, turning slightly towards Matt while trying to prove his point. "Patches O'Houlihan, he did that."
Matt scoffed, looking at him with an 'are you serious?' look.
"From Dodgeball? The fictional character?" He laughed incredulously, looking at Nick through the rearview, ready for another weird thing to come out of Chris's mouth.
Nick's attention, however, wasn’t on him - or them, for that matter. It was on the world outside. He always had a habit of scanning his surroundings, probably in a way of caring for himself and his brothers.
As Chris kept going, earning a loud groan from Matt, Nick’s eyes caught movement across the parking lot, almost exactly in front of their van. Near one of the parked cars, a couple stood in the golden glow of a streetlamp.
Nick’s stomach twisted. Something about the way the guy loomed over the girl, his gestures sharp and erratic, immediately set off alarm bells. The girl was visibly distressed, her arms crossed over her chest, her posture shrinking with every second.
Without thinking, Nick leaned forward and slapped Chris on the shoulder, interrupting him.
"Nick, what the-" Chris began, turning sharply, his annoyance evident.
"Shut up." Nick hissed, his voice low but firm, cutting through Chris’s protest. He nodded toward the couple. "Look."
Chris frowned but followed Nick’s gaze, his expression shifting from irritation to curiosity and then to concern. Matt, who had been in the middle of adjusting his hoodie, leaned closer to the windshield.
"What’s going on?" Matt asked, his voice quieter now.
Nick didn’t answer, instead reaching for the button to lower his window, easing it down. A faint, angry voice carried into the van, growing clearer as the man’s yelling intensified.
"... do you even understand how embarrassing you are?"
The girl stood frozen, her arms clutching her sides as though trying to hold herself together. Her head was bowed, her hair shielding her face from the world. She didn’t respond, didn’t dare to look up, and that only seemed to fuel his anger.
"What the fuck?" Matt muttered, leaning forward slightly to get a better look, his eyes glued to the scene.
"You think I’m joking?" He snapped, stepping closer to her. "You think I enjoy having every pair of eyes in that store on me because you can’t manage to walk without causing a damn scene?" The man continued, stepping closer to her.
Her response was so soft that it barely reached the triplets’ ears.
"I’m sorry..."
"Sorry?" The man laughed bitterly. "You’re always sorry. You’re sorry when you spill coffee, you’re sorry when you trip over your own feet, and now you’re sorry for knocking over half a shelf like a goddamn child?"
The girl flinched at his words, biting her bottom lip while taking a small - almost imperceptible - step back.
Chris tensed after watching her reaction, his jaw tightening.
"This guy’s a piece of-"
"Chris, shush." Matt snapped, his voice low.
"I told you before, didn’t I? Stop acting like a fool every time we’re out in public. This is for your own good." The man spat.
"I didn’t mean to-" She started, but he cut her off quickly.
"Shut up!" He barked, his voice echoing across the lot. She shrank back, her body trembling. "You know better than to talk back to me." He growled, taking another step closer.
"I wasn’t-"
"Stop talking!" He barked, his voice echoing across the empty lot probably louder than intended. "Every time you open your mouth, you make it worse. Do you even understand that? Or are you too stupid to figure it out?"
Tears accumulated inside her eyeballs, shining below the lights.
"Look, I’ll call an Uber, okay?" Y/N murmured, her voice cracking. "You can go home and calm down. Please."
"Oh, you’ll call an Uber? Sure, let’s waste more of my money on your screw-ups." The man’s laugh was sharp and bitter.
She reached into her purse, her hands shaking as she pulled out her phone, unlocking it and trying to search for tha app, being harshly interrupted when the man snatched the device from her grip with such force that she stumbled.
Chris shifted uncomfortably, his fists clenched on his lap.
"Do we step in?"
"I don't think we should, not right now." Nick whispered.
"Give it back. Please, baby." She asked, her voice weak, trembling.
"Why? So you can text your little friends about what a terrible boyfriend I am?" He sneered, holding the phone high above his head.
Y/N's mouth dropped open, her wet eyes widening as if he had just committed the worst crime.
"Baby, please." She begged, her tears now falling freely, causing her voice to break. "I would never ever do that. I love you so much, you know that, right?"
He ignored her. With a single, violent motion, he hurled the phone to the ground. The sound of glass and plastic shattering against the pavement echoed in the silence.
She recoiled as though the blow had landed on her instead of the device, a squeak involuntarily escaping from her mouth. Her arms wrapped tighter around herself as she stared at the broken pieces. Her whole life, broken.
"Should've had taken that shit from you sooner." The man spat, shaking his head. "Pathetic. Can’t do anything right."
Matt and Nick exchanged horrified glances through the rearview, Chris's face pale by their side.
"P-please, don't leave me here, baby. I love you, I'm so sorry." The girl begged, gluing her hands in a praying gesture in front of her body. "I promise I'll do better."
"I can't even look at your face right now." The man shook his head. "I need some time, okay?" He didn't wait for an answer before storming off to the driver-side of his car, slamming the door and speeding out of the lot, tires screeching against the asphalt.
Y/N stood frozen, her trembling figure illuminated by the lights and the moon.
Chris didn’t think. One second, he was staring at her, and the next, his hand was on the van door handle, yanking it open.
"Chris!" Matt hissed from the driver’s seat. "What are you doing?"
"Chris- what the fuck?!" Nick added, his voice urgent but not loud enough to stop him.
But Chris couldn’t wait. He couldn’t sit there any longer, watching this girl suffer alone.
He bolted from the van, the cool night air hitting him like a slap, but he barely noticed. His long strides carried him across the parking lot, his heart pounding not from his pace but from pure urgency.
"Oh my god, he's crazy!" Matt’s groan echoed from behind him, but it was distant, like background noise.
He didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.
The closer he got, the more his stomach churned. Her face was streaked with tears, her cheeks blotchy and raw from crying. But she wasn’t just crying. She was panicking. He could see it in the way her hands trembled uncontrollably, and in the way her breath came in short, sharp gasps.
Chris slowed as he approached her, not wanting to startle her. She was staring at the exit of the parking lot, her wide, unfocused and tear-filled eyes locked on the gate arm as though it was the only thing anchoring her to the ground.
"Hey." He said softly, his voice gentle but firm.
She flinched, her head snapping up, and her gaze locked on him as she took a step back. For a moment, she looked utterly terrified, and Chris's throat tightened.
He quickly held his hands up, palms out, trying to show her he wasn’t a threat.
"Hey, hey, it’s okay." He said quickly. "I just... I saw what happened, and I wanted to check if you’re okay."
Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out. Instead, a fresh wave of tears spilled down her cheeks. She shook her head, taking another step back, her back almost hitting the metal post of the streetlight.
"You don’t have to be scared." Chris said, his voice softer now, almost pleading. "I’m not going to hurt you, I swear. I just want to help."
She looked at him again, her watery eyes studying his face as though trying to figure out if he was lying.
Chris took a cautious step closer, keeping his movements slow.
"You’re shaking." He said gently. "It's freezing out here. Can I... can I give you my hoodie?"
She blinked at him, her brows furrowing slightly.
"Why?" She croaked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Because it’s cold, and you’re upset, and I’d feel better if you weren’t standing out here like this." Chris said honestly, shrugging off his hoodie - ignoring how the hairs on his arm fully stood up with the cold air - and holding it out to her.
She hesitated, her eyes darting from his face to the piece of clothing, then back again.
"It’s okay." Chris reassured her. "You don’t have to take it, but I promise it’s clean. And warm."
After what felt like an eternity, she slowly reached out and took the hoodie from him. Her hands were trembling so much that she almost dropped it, but she managed to pull it to her chest, pressing it against her covered skin.
"Thank you." She mumbled, her voice shaky.
Chris exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
"Of course. What’s your name?" He asked in a soft tone. "I'm Chris."
She blinked her eyes at him, frowning, clearly surprised by the question.
"Y-Y/N." She said hesitantly.
"Y/N." He repeated, offering her a small, reassuring smile. "It’s really nice to meet you... Um, do you want to sit down? You look like you need a second."
She looked around the parking lot again before nodding slowly, and Chris gestured to the curb nearby. He waited until she sat down before taking a seat a few feet away, giving her space but staying close enough that she wouldn’t feel alone.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
"I’m fine." She finally said - even though it wasn't what Chris was expecting to hear, her voice cutting through the silence, hoarse and shaky.
Chris tilted his head slightly, his brows furrowing.
"I don’t think you are."
"I am." She insisted, but her voice cracked on the words, betraying her.
Chris turned his face slightly to the side to meet her eyes, curving his upper body, trying to make himself seem less imposing.
"I know you don’t know me. Well, only my name now." He said softly. "But I can tell you’re not fine. And that’s okay. You don’t have to be. Not after that."
She bit her lower lip hard, and for a second, Chris thought she might break down again. But instead, she straightened her spine, her trembling hands wiping at her tear-streaked face.
"It's not as bad as it looked. He was just angry." She said quietly, almost as if she was saying that to herself. "It’s not his fault. I... I messed up."
Chris’s heart sank at her words.
"You didn’t mess up." He said firmly, his voice laced with conviction.
She shook her head, her hands gripping the fabric of his hoodie tightly.
"I did. I dropped something, broke it, actually. It was stupid, and it drew attention to us, and... and he doesn’t like that. He was just trying to make me understand."
Chris stared at her, his chest tightening painfully.
"That’s not okay." He said softly. "No one should treat you like that, no matter what happened."
"You don’t understand." She said, her voice rising slightly as she hugged herself tighter. "He just... he gets frustrated sometimes, but it’s because he cares. He doesn’t mean to be mean."
Chris’s jaw clenched, a mix of anger and sadness boiling inside him.
"Love isn’t supposed to be like that, Y/N." He said gently. "It’s not supposed to hurt you and leave you standing in a parking lot crying, shaking, and alone."
Her eyes filled with fresh tears again, and she looked away, staring at the ground as if she couldn’t bear to meet his gaze.
"You don’t know him." She whispered, shaking her head vehemently.
Chris wanted to scream, to grab her shoulders, and shake her until she understood that what she was describing wasn’t love. It was control, manipulation, and abuse. But even though he had never helped a victim of a toxic and abusive relationship before, he knew he should keep his voice calm, so he did it, maintaining his tone soft and steady.
"You’re right." He said. "I don’t know him. But I know what I saw, and I can only imagine what it feels like to have someone make you think you’re the problem when you’re not."
Her head whipped toward him, her eyes narrowing.
"You don’t know anything about me."
Chris held up his hands.
"You’re right again. I don’t. But I’m not here to judge you. I’m here because I want to help. No strings, no expectations. Just... let me help. I can't leave you alone here for the rest of the night."
She shook her head again, her hands trembling as she brushed her hair out of her face.
"I shouldn’t even be talking to you about this. It isn't fair to him. He’d be so heartbroken if he knew."
Chris watched her for a second too long.
"But you deserve to talk to someone." He finally said. "You deserve to feel safe."
"I am safe!" She snapped, her voice ringing out in the empty parking lot. The declaration sounded hollow, as if she was trying to convince herself more than him.
Chris took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second.
"I just want to help you." He said, his tone pleading. "Do you have someone you can call? A family member, a friend? You can use my phone-"
Her reaction was immediate and panicked. She shook her head furiously, her eyes wide with fear as her body tightened, seeming ready to stand up and run.
"No! No, I can’t call anyone."
"Why not?" Chris asked gently, though his heart was racing, his eyes traveling quickly to his car where his brothers were before going back to Y/N. "They’d want to help you, just like I do."
"I said no!" She cried, her voice cracking. Her breathing was shallow and quick now, teetering on the edge of hyperventilation. "You don’t understand. I can’t just call someone. And you... you need to go. God, you shouldn’t even be here."
Chris frowned, his brows knitting together.
"Please, I’m just trying to-"
"You don’t get it." She interrupted, her voice hushed but frantic. She glanced around the parking lot as though expecting her boyfriend to be there somewhere, watching them. "He’s going to come back. And if he sees you here, if he thinks... you need to leave. Now."
Chris’s stomach dropped at the sheer terror in her voice.
"Y/N, he won't hurt you in any type of way while I'm here with you. I can promise you that." He moved a bit closer again, careful not to make any sudden movement. "Let me do something for you. Anything, please."
"You can’t." She whispered, her voice barely audible. "No one can. Please, just go. He’s going to be here soon, and I-I can’t let him see you."
She was holding onto that story like it was a lifeline, but the way her hands trembled and her breath hitched betrayed her doubt.
"What if he doesn’t?" Chris asked gently. "What if he’s not coming back tonight?"
Her face fell for a brief moment before she quickly masked it, straightening up.
"He will." She said, though there was no conviction in her tone. "He always does."
Chris nodded, looking around dismissively.
"Okay. Maybe he will. But just in case... maybe you could let me help you. You don’t have to trust me, I get that. I'm a stranger. But let me offer you something. A safe place to wait."
"I don’t have anywhere to go." She admitted, her voice so quiet it was almost lost in the night air. "Just our house. And I don't think I should go back there now."
Chris’s heart twisted at her words and how uncertain they sound, but he kept his expression neutral, careful not to show pity.
"Okay." He said softly. "Then maybe you can just... talk to me. You don’t have to get in my car. We can sit out here. I’ll stay right here in the open where you can see me."
She hesitated, her eyes darting to the ground.
"Why do you care so much?"
Chris crossed his legs above the pavement, relaxing his posture further.
"Because I know what it’s like to feel like you’re on your own." He said simply. "And because I don’t think anyone should have to go through something like this alone. You don’t deserve that."
She hesitated, her gaze watching her hands above her thighs.
"I won’t call the police unless you want me to." Chris added. "I won’t push you to do anything you don't want to do. But you don’t have to deal with this alone."
Her lip quivered, and she closed her eyes tightly, her voice barely a whisper.
"I don’t even know what I’d do."
Chris’s heart ached for her, but he kept his tone steady.
"How about this." He said. "I’ll stay with you until you figure that out. If you want, I can take you to a hotel, or I can help you find somewhere else to stay for the night. But whatever you decide, I’m not going to leave you here."
She was silent for a long time, her shoulders rising and falling with each shaky breath. Finally, she nodded, just once.
"Okay." She said.
Chris exhaled slowly, relief washing over him.
"Okay." He echoed.
For the first time that night, she looked at him fully, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and cautious hope.
He opened his widest smile in response, leaning back slightly with his palms against the curb behind his back and glancing up at the sky.
"You know." He started, his tone casual. "This isn’t exactly the way I imagined spending my Wednesday night."
Her eyes scanned his face carefully, frowning, feeling like she was the one to destroy his day - or night.
"What do you mean?" She asked hesitantly, her voice hoarse.
Chris shrugged, being careful not to mention his career. He didn't want to overwhelm her.
"Well, usually on Wednesdays, I’m sitting in my van with my brothers, arguing over who gets to pick the fast-food spot. We’re probably debating something ridiculous, too."
That earned him the smallest, almost imperceptible twitch of her lips. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it was something. It encouraged Chris to continue.
"My brothers are idiots, by the way." He said, his tone light. "Don’t tell them I said that, though. They'll get big heads thinking I actually pay attention to their nonsense."
Her brow rose slightly, curiosity tugging at the edges of her expression, her body instinctively leaning towards him.
"What are they like?"
Chris chuckled, throwing his head to the side, laying his cheek against his shoulder and looking at her eyes.
"They're amazing. Weird, but amazing. They're so funny in their individual way, always making me laugh so hard that sometimes I feel like I could pass out."
This time, she let out a soft, breathy laugh, and Chris felt a flicker of warmth in his chest. It was small, but it was progress.
"You’re close with them?" She asked quietly.
"Yeah." Chris said, nodding. "It’s hard not to be when you all live and do everything together. But they’re good guys. Annoying as hell, but good."
She looked down at her hands, her fingers fidgeting with the frayed edge of his hoodie sleeve.
"Must be nice." She murmured.
Chris’s smile faltered for a moment, but he recovered quickly.
"It is." He admitted. "But, you know, we fight sometimes. Like, really fight. Last week, Matt threw a punch at me because I wouldn’t stop talking during his game."
Her lips twitched again, and this time, it was a small, shy smile.
"What were you saying?" She asked, her voice soft but carrying a hint of amusement.
"Oh, some random shit. Can’t even remember now. Probably something embarrassing, knowing me." Chris grinned. "Matt said I was ruining his concentration, but honestly, I think he just doesn’t appreciate my brain work."
She shook her head slightly, her smile lingering.
"You’re ridiculous." She said softly, almost reflexively, but as soon as the words left her mouth, her expression shifted. Her body tensed up, her shoulders pulling in as her eyes darted to him in alarm. "I didn’t mean-"
"Guilty as charged." Chris smoothly interrupted her, opening a smirk while looking at her, trying to express through his eyes that it was okay. "But, hey, if ridiculous is what it takes to make you laugh, then I’m all in."
Her looked down again at the pavement, scraping her shoes over the small rocks.
"Thanks." She said quietly.
"For what?" Chris asked, his voice gentle.
"For... keeping me company." She said, her gaze fixed on her lap. "I don’t feel... as bad right now."
Chris felt a lump in his throat but pushed it down, keeping his tone light.
"Anytime." He said. "I’ve got a whole arsenal of dumb stories and good jokes if you need them."
She looked at him then, her eyes softer than before.
"You’re really nice." She said, pressing her lips in a fine line.
Chris shrugged, a faint blush creeping up his neck.
"I just don’t like seeing people hurt." He said honestly. "And, I don’t know, you seem like someone who deserves a lot better than... all this."
Her eyes filled with tears, and for a moment, Chris thought she might start crying again. Instead, she took a deep breath and nodded.
"Thanks." She said again, her voice steadier this time.
Chris gave her a warm smile.
"No problem. Now, how do you feel about bad puns? Because I’ve got a killer one about a duck and a lawyer."
Her laughter filled the cold night air, causing a large smile to stretch across Chris's lips. He would do everything in his power to help this girl.
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endursent · 2 months ago
Text
My Partner Turned Into A Cat And I Don't Know How To Fix It (4)
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【 content; established relationship , fluff , humour , slight shenanigans , gn!reader 】
【 characters; alhaitham , arataki itto , baizhu , cyno , dainsleif , diluc , kaedehara kazuha , kaeya , kamisato ayato , kaveh , neuvillette , tartaglia , thoma , venti , wanderer , wriothesley , xiao , zhongli 】
【 premise; " You have been struck with a curse of some sort which has turned you into a cat, your partner has no idea how to fix it nor how long it might take. Yet he also cannot help but be rather amused by the situation despite the uncertainty…" 】
【 note; im sorry. this is so long... lol. 】
【 word count; 11.150 | read on ao3 | hsr reader ver | gi his ver | hsr his ver 】
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Alhaitham;
He usually wouldn’t allow pets in the house… not because he dislikes them—Alhaitham simply wouldn’t want to have to clean up the hairs that fall off you after moving between every spot you lie down in. 
  Nevertheless… here he is, with a brush in hand as he tries to get it out of the sheets. You sit next to him apologetically (getting more hairs into the same sheet where you’re currently sitting, of course) and watch as he scoops it into a small bag. Alhaitham sets the bag aside and picks you up easily with one hand, his large palm lifting under your tummy and plopping you back down on his lap as he turns back to brushing your hairs away. 
  Feeling eyes on himself, Alhaitham looks down to see your large, round cat-eyes looking up at him, tail swaying. 
  He put you in his lap—doesn’t that mean it’s petting time?
 Where’s your damn attention?
  Slightly exasperated, Alhaitham tries to multitask and pet you while he's scooping your hair—but more keeps tossing around with every upstroke of your thick fur… why did you have to turn into a hairball? Couldn’t you have been a hairless cat? He’s almost tempted to just put you in the bag. 
  He’s a respectable “pet owner”, but does lack in one aspect that’s quite important to you, at least… perhaps not all cats
  No kisses?? 
  You’d at least like some on your head—he doesn’t have to kiss your nose or anything. Though you shouldn’t be surprised, Alhaitham isn’t very forthcoming with his affections and most of your casual kisses are by your initiation and his response to it.
  So now you have to effectively smush your furry little head into his face to communicate that you want kisses. 
  It takes him a few tries to understand what you need, but thankfully he got it rather easily, smart lad. 
  Kaveh sometimes catnaps (kidnaps) you for… cat naps. He says it’s nicer than hugging his own pillow—and you don’t particularly mind, but Alhaitham does. Once he can’t find you after a general sweep of the house he figures Kaveh took you again and like a seasoned thief, swaps you out with a pillow while the architect is asleep. 
  “Hmph… he should get his own cat,” Alhaitham says to himself after shutting the door quietly, holding you like a baby in his arms, your paws in the air. He looks down, grey hair tilting over his eyes as he smiles only slightly. “What? You are my cat. Perhaps I should call you kitty from now on, even after you’ve changed back.”
  You tried to climb onto the back of the chain in the study when Alhaitham was doing some studies once, but quicker than you could react—even with these new cat reflexes—he grabs you by the scruff of your neck and hoists you off. “You’re scratching the furniture,” he moves you from the back of the chair and plops you down on his lap. “Do refrain from doing that.”
  Hmph. You wanted to bite his hair a bit… it smells nice. But fine. Lap it is, you can settle for that.
  It takes you about two and a half minutes not to be satisfied with that, and lounge over his book instead, hoping he’ll stop and pay attention to you instead. You have a feeling he would do the same if he were in your position. 
  Alhaitham seems annoyed for a few seconds, but he only needs to stare into your big, cute cat-eyes for a few seconds to fold. What can he do? It doesn’t take much for you already to rope him into whatever shenanigans the day brings, and especially not like this.
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Arataki Itto;
You just wanted a nice, cool nap. 
  It’s hot as balls in Inazuma, and you found an excellent spot under a slanted roof. You got comfortable and were half asleep already when you’re suddenly dragged off the crate and raised in the air like a divine heir. 
  Flailing in protest, your screaming of; “PUT ME DOWN YOU OAF” isn’t translated very well into frantic meows and hisses. 
  And of course, Itto has no idea what you’re trying to communicate—in fact, he thinks you’re just a bit surprised yet happy to see him. He sets you on his shoulder and you hold on for dear life. He’s broad, but broad muscles are also rather round and his outfit isn’t easy to grab onto—you just thank feline evolution that you have good balance and can hold yourself somewhat steady. 
  He sometimes just parades you around on his head like a strange hat, he doesn’t even seem to mind the death grip you have on his scalp. 
  Best naps, laying out in the grass on a warm summer’s day as the bright rays of the sun shine down on you. It’s comfortably warm, your fur keeps you cool enough that you don’t get lightheaded—despite popular belief, Itto is not a snorer, but he is a hugger. 
  You’re caged against his broad chest and there’s little escape or ways to wake him without scratching, biting or wailing like you’re trapped under a boulder. 
  Itto is a seasoned pet owner, he has multiple beetles that he takes good care of and thus he’s surprisingly adept at handling you. He doesn’t toss you around (except to put you on his shoulders or head) and doesn’t lock you out of the house or forget to feed you. In fact, you’d say he’s a top-notch owner, though you might be slightly biased. 
  The summer days are warm in Inazuma, and sometimes one just needs to do something to keep their mind off of the heat. Even with your coat protecting you from most of it, even you are starting to get dazed by the sharp, overbearing heat of the sun. And Itto is also very good at filling empty time. 
  He takes you out to the beach, though it wasn’t the best idea—he thought it was genius, the ocean is cool enough, there are not many around on the eastern beaches because of the awkward positioning and further distance from the city… but he didn’t take it into account that you absolutely refuse to get in the water, and there’s no shade. So that idea gets abandoned quickly. 
  For some reason he loves to touch your nose; poke it, kiss it, rub it… anything. And every time he does, you have to wet it again—it almost becomes a funny game to him to touch your nose and watch as your tongue darts out to wet it again. 
  Being unable to communicate with you isn’t a problem, he’s a yapper and can talk enough for the two of you. You try to meow along in response to show that you’re listening, but even if there was no brain behind your eyes, he’d still talk your ears off. 
  He creates a makeshift cat-bed for you out of some blankets and cushions, Itto was rather proud of himself for the craft that went into making it as soft as it is…
  It still always ends up with you on his chest or legs at the end of the night. Without exception.
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Baizhu;
He really scratches his head over this situation, how did this happen to you? You had gone out to deliver some medicine to those who aren’t well enough or mobile to come fetch it themselves, and had stayed out far longer than usual—Baizhu had started to worry and nearly had gone to look for you… when a cat with your eyes and mannerisms stumbles into the pharmacy meowing up a storm trying to explain itself. 
  Distressed, confused and much smaller than you’re used to being, Baizhu quickly scoops you up into his arms to calm you down. “Do not worry, I recognise you,” he assures—he feels a little silly saying this to a cat, and has a twinge in the back of his mind that he might be wrong. But the way you’re waving your paw is strangely… human, though muddled by the restrictions of your cat-joints. 
  Changsheng however, finds this HILARIOUS. She unwinds a bit from Baizhu’s shoulders and nearly bumps snouts with you as she wonders whether you were even fully aware of yourself, and after some arguing—in the form of loud yowling and meowing—they concluded that yes, your mind is well. 
  Baizhu tries everything he can think of, but he’s never really encountered a situation like this before and he has to use a lot of his attention to theory-crafting and tests. 
  The only thing that made a difference, was that one concoction he crafted made your ears twice larger… but it didn’t change you back. So now you just have unnaturally large ears for a cat. 
  He smiles sheepishly as he examines you to make sure nothing else is affected. “Ah… apologies, my dear. I don’t mean to laugh… but the ears,” he tries his best not to smile too widely, or give a soft laugh. But it’s difficult, you look so disproportionate it’s just adorable.
  Despite your grievance over your proportions, Baizhu can’t help but rub your ears and scratch behind them. He gives you some good treats as an apology. You reluctantly accept. 
  Unfortunately, Baizhu has a job to do and can’t just close the pharmacy off from his assistance to tend to you. He multitasks as much as he can, but there are scheduled appointments to be present for.
  But he has a good idea of how to utilise you, after all, you’re the usual deliverer—customers likely won’t mind if you’re cat-sized.
  Thus, he gets some help from contacts and a day later you have a fancy harness with a delivery box on your back. Baizhu sets some medicine in it and fastens it properly so it won’t slip off and you don’t feel too constrained… and sets you on your way. 
  You were getting bored lounging around in the pharmacy anyway, so you revel in getting to stretch your legs a bit. You make the deliveries in record time, able to get through tiny crevices you weren’t able to before and hope through shortcuts you didn’t even know about.
  As you return to the pharmacy after the final run, Baizhu smiles and kneels down in front of you, removing the harness and scratching where the lines of it had pressed against your fur. The nice feeling of being pet brings a rumbling purr from your chest and your tail sways happily as he gives you some water to drink and attention. 
  “Good work today,” he strokes between your large ears and rubs his thumb on your cheek. “It’s almost time to close up, let’s go upstairs and continue trying to figure out how to turn you back.”
  The soft ambient light of the room and the sound of Baizhu’s brush stroking against the paper of a scroll makes you much more tired than you expected. You lay curled up on the desk against the wall where he sits and writes formulas and theories, Changsheng slithers up next to you and bundles herself on your back—it’s not particularly comfortable, but you’re too lazy to move, and it’s kind of cute. 
  Baizhu hums to himself and looks at you, his gaze lingers for only a short time before returning to the scroll in front of him.
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Cyno;
He stares at the cat in Tighnari’s hands, his eyes look up to the man holding you and then back down. “What.”
  The ranger deadpans and plops you into his arms. “I’ve been scouring the library for days while you were in the desert, I don’t know what happened, but it’s just how they are right now.”
  Cyno lifts you up by holding your torso under your front legs, he peers at your face as you dangle like an idiot but have no way to really wriggle away. “Blink twice if it’s really you.”
  You blink twice.
  “Huh,” he just makes a sound of affirmation, then tucks you under his arm. “Thank you, I’ll take it from here.”
  Tighnari stares at him, unimpressed by his lack of reaction to the fact that his partner is currently a small, furry cat. “You're not going to ask where I found them, how I know it’s them or how my progress is going when it comes to turning them back?”
  Cyno is silent for a beat before he speaks again. “I know it’s them, I know their eyes.”
  Somehow, the duty of getting you back to normal remained on Tighnari’s back, and Cyno sets you down on the dining table in your shared home. He folds his arms over his chest and analyses you, it’s a little awkward—you’re not sure why he’s staring so intensely at you. 
  “This is… quite the cat-astrophe—”
  Oh no. 
  You have no way to stop him, and though you usually let him get it out of his system once he feels the need… you could also stop him once it gets out of hand. In this form, you’re effectively defenceless and unable to protest in any meaningful ways. 
  Thankfully, he does stop after you dive under your bed and hide for ten minutes in hopes he won’t drag you back and perform stand-up for you for the rest of the night. 
  Once Cyno is assured this strange transformation isn’t dangerous nor necessarily permanent, he’s rather laid back about it. He finds it quite funny (evidently) and there’s no way around it, you’re cute like this. Not that he didn’t consider you cute before, but it’s especially unavoidable now. 
  There’s no real way to stop him from making jokes or puns about this situation, it’s in his soul—and though you wouldn’t trade his soul for the world, you get moments of temptation when his brain hyperfocuses on one thing to centre his jokes around. 
  They get a bit tired.
  You follow him around everywhere, it’s not like you’ve got better places to be. He thinks it’s rather adorable to see you trotting around at his heels as he walks through the city, though he tells you to remain home when he has work to do—it can turn dangerous sometimes, depending on the day, and he recognises that your body is smaller and more fragile than it used to be. 
  He does always come back right away, he wraps up any follow-ups and paperwork as quickly as he can—if only for the moments of arrival. Of opening the front door and being greeted by you sitting at the entrance of your home, staring up at him with a swaying tail. Waiting excitedly. 
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 Dainsleif;
You’ve never seen this expression on his face, in the moments after you touched a strange-looking artefact, there’s a poof—and your body shifts to that of a small cat. It wasn’t painful, nor do you feel as if you were cursed in any way. 
  “... meow?” 
  Dainsleif stares at you, lips parted slightly, he’s positioned with one foot forward as he had been in the process of rushing towards you to hopefully stop you from touching what you shouldn’t… but he was a tad late. 
  He straightens and takes a breath. Okay… from one mystery to another. 
  He approaches you and picks you up—a bit awkwardly, as if he doesn’t know how to hold a cat—and you’re too confused and disoriented as to what just happened to process you being turned back towards the round artefact. Dainsleif takes your front right paw and makes you touch the artefact again.
  Nothing. No glow, no poofing. 
  There goes his only idea. 
  The following days were confusing and mildly frustrating. It’s been a while since Dainsleif traveled alone, and though he isn’t technically alone—you’re still there, it doesn’t feel the same. He’s quite struck with the confrontation that he’s become very accustomed to your presence and how much he’s come to rely on it. 
  He’s a bit quiet and distant from you for a few days, while it makes you sad—if anything, you should be the one who needs comforting—you do try to slowly approach, you know that he can run the danger of isolation. 
  After starting a flame one evening in the alcove of a cave beneath a bright starry sky, Dainsleif sits down to rest for the night. You walk over with slow steps, careful and quiet, before sitting down next to him. 
  Far enough that you’re not touching, not even your tail… but close enough to be present. 
  His eyes slide towards you, and his head follows. “... what is it?”
  “Meow.”
  His eyelids squint, unsure what to make of your reply. Your answers always make sense to him… but what can he decipher from your feline face? The only familiar part of you is your eyes, shining under the light from the flames. “I see.”
  You doubt he deciphered any meaning from your meows, but he’s engaging with you now. Progress. 
  Trying your luck, you move closer. He stays as he is, watching you closely.
  You move closer yet, your tail touches his coat. 
  Dainsleif sighs. 
  You stop. 
  He can’t particularly feel your presence, not yours—but there is a presence next to him. It is yours, despite the fact he can’t sense it… and perhaps one day, were he to outlive you as if likely, he will have to find your presence in something you’re not. 
  And though you are this weird-looking cat, somewhere between a sentient human being and a feline animal, you’re still you. 
  The same, those same eyes, the very same gaze and mind. 
  He reaches out and sets his palm onto your furry head. Dainsleif pets your head slowly, and you nuzzle into his hand. You sit in silence before the swaying flames.
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Diluc;
He can’t help but think that you might’ve done this on purpose. 
  Diluc has been very busy the last weeks he’s been coming back home to the winery late, leaving early—getting up in the middle of the night and waking you up when he goes out for his Darknight hero duties—and though you rescheduled it for next week, missed a dinner in the city that had been booked in advance. 
  He does feel bad, Diluc wants to spend all the time he can with you, all his free time and more—but with the winter months drifting by, business in the winery booms as people stock up on wine for the holidays. Businesses buy in bulk for holiday menu changes, and such. 
  And now, after hurrying back home when he was contacted that “something had happened” to you… he’s standing in front of a cat. 
  He thought you might’ve been hurt, or sick—he had run so fast his hair was loosening from his usual tail. 
  And while you’re not hurt or sick, you are… different. Something definitely happened. 
  He sits down and you climb onto his lap, sitting down and pawing at his chest, small meows leaving your small mouth. Diluc strokes your back and ruffles your fur with both hands. “How did this happen?” he knows you can’t answer him, but he can’t help but ask anyway. 
  You rise up on your hind legs, front paws on his chest as you lick and wet his cheeks. Diluc’s eyes close and his face scrunches up. “H-hey, stop that,” he puts his hands around your torso and holds you away from his face, your little tongue bleping down out of your mouth. 
  A smile tugs on his lips at the cute expression. 
  He still has to attend to his job, but while he usually handles most things himself, Diluc does accept help from his staff now that you’re… like this. So now he has more time for you, which isn’t exactly how he intended to spend that free time—searching for ways to turn you back, and having you loafing on his lap and being unable to stand up and fetch his coffee. 
  He’s not going to move while you’re so comfortable… he wouldn’t do that even if you weren’t a cat. 
  Not the biggest fan of the hair you leave around you, he needs to wipe his clothes thoroughly after you’ve so much as looked in his direction.
  You get so much attention around the winery it’s not even funny, every employee pets you, gives you treats and treat you like you’re more of a royal cat than just a normal person turned into one. 
  Diluc came home one evening to see you loafing on the sofa, a shiny bow tied around your neck and a bowl of treats next to you… in reach for whenever you wanted it. 
  He had a conversation with the staff about making sure you don’t eat so much that your stomach will hurt… and that maybe not make you get too comfortable like this, he wants to turn you back to normal after all. 
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Kaedehara Kazhua; 
He thinks it’s adorable, Kazuha is a rather laid-back person overall, and he’s certain you’ll be okay—so why not have fun while you’re like this? 
  It started all fun and games when on land, Inazuma is filled to the brim with foods that cats would love, every shop has some form of fish or vegetables that Kazuha can share with you…
  But as soon as you go out on the open ocean, it’s over. 
  Kazuha has never seen you so violently unhappy on the ship, every rock of it makes you yowl and dig your claws into whatever you’re standing on, be it a crate, table, bed or Kazuha’s clothes (you ruined two pants, but he doesn’t particularly mind). 
  You have an irrational (or very rational) fear that you might be tossed off the ship and into the ocean at the slightest dip of the deck. Kazuha does his best to calm you and comfort you, he even offers to make a harness and leash for you so that he can yoink you back if you happen to fall overboard. 
  You don’t find his idea as funny as Beidou does.
  Thankfully, you don’t get tossed overboard you don’t spontaneously die or have any other terrible event happen to you—and you’re so thankful to touch land that you hop off the side of the ship and to the harbour the ship docked by before it can even properly be tied down by the dockworkers. 
  Kazuha leans over the railing of the ship and calls your name, a bit worried—he hopes you don’t get lost before he can catch up to you. 
  It takes a while for the ship to dock and open up for people to leave, Kazuha convinces another person on the ship to take his duties for a while as he rushes out to find you. He’s not worried you might get yourself in trouble—you’re rather good at keeping out of it, but he doesn’t want you to get lost or have to spend all day looking for you.
  Even though that’s kind of what he’s starting to do right now…
  Kazuha shoulders past the crowd in the busy markets of Port Ormos, it’s early noon and it’s starting to fill up. The Crux has stocked up here often before and thus the both of you are quite familiar with it, but the winding streets and large crowds filling the markets can make it disorienting for even seasoned visitors. 
  After looking around for longer than he cared for, Kazuha finally spots your tail disappearing behind a corner.
  Kazuha picks up his pace and somehow manages to catch up to you, perhaps the soft breeze is on his side, as he swoops up next to you and scoops you up into his arms.
  He smiles, ducking out of the crowds and into a small alley where some crates are stored for the market stalls. “No need to run away, you’re safe on land now,” he holds you like a baby, your paws in the air as his arm holds your back steadily. “Though you are also very safe on the ship, I won’t let you fall overboard.”
  You meow gently, Kazuha isn’t sure if you’re thanking him or expressing concerns… but the way you look up at him in this position is pretty cute. “Let’s find some good food, hm?”
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Kaeya;
Funniest shit he’s seen all year. 
  Kaeya tries not to look like he’s very happy this happened—so long as he knows it’s not dangerous or permanent—or that watching you lick yourself to clean your fur isn’t very amusing. 
  He brings you everywhere, lets you follow him around and even holds you and lets passersby pet you…
  Kaeya is just straight-up treating you like a real cat.
  At this realisation, that he was acting like you were a pet, and not his very real (though cat-like for now) partner and previous human… you got angry! you wriggled in his grasp, surprising him and causing Kaeya to almost drop you—he righted his hold and blinked at you with a confused expression. “What is it? Did I hold you wrong?”
  A series of angry meows and swats of your paw later, Kaeya was none the wiser. 
  He tried to bait you to “forgive” him with some nicely cut fish… and it kind of worked, that was some good fish. 
  Kaeya sits by the table you’re on as you gobble down the fish he bought you, he leans on his fist with a smile and watches as you lick your muzzle after getting fishy-oil on it and shake yourself when you accidentally dip your whiskers into the water next to the plate. 
  The sun almost makes it seem like your fur shines and sparkles under it and as you sit down, belly full and satisfied, Kaeya reaches out and scratches behind your ears. “Did you take behavioural classes before this? To behave like a real cat? You’re really nailing it.”
  You make a huffed sound, but reach your head further into his hand. 
  He tries to get you to play with toys, he buys a stick with a bundle of feathers on the end in hopes that you’ll chase it when he dangles it in front of you… but when he sat down with you on the floor of your shared home and dangled it in front of you…
  You stared at him as if he had just grown three additional heads.
  Kaeya pouts, he wriggles it a bit—and though you follow it around with your head, you still sit where you are and don’t move.
  Not until he lowered the toy and the feathered end touched the floor.
  You pounced onto it.
  Kaeya pauses, blinking at you in surprise. You look up like you got caught with your hand in a cookie jar. 
  And then he just laughs, he wriggles the toy again and you swat at it in frustration for making you leap at it like that, you’re not a real cat!!
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Kamisato Ayato;
He doesn’t leave you alone. 
  You’re trotting along the engawa of the estate on your way to find a nice spot to nap—and suddenly, you’re swooped up into his arms. Ayato smiles and strokes your head. “There you are, my dear. I was searching for you,” he hums and turns around to walk into the estate. 
  Ayato spends about half the day—and sometimes more—in his study tending to paperwork of many kinds. Unusually, you would lend a hand and help with the neverending piles on his desk, but you’re little help like this… still, he demands that you “lend your paw” and sit on his lap the entire time. 
  It was nice at first, he’s got a nice lap to lay or loaf on, and he would scratch you in spots you couldn’t reach yourself, or just stroke your back… but after five hours, you really want to stretch your legs.      So, you squeeze out from under his arm and stretch next to him, letting out a big yawn—only to find a finger poking your tongue?!
  The bastard actually stuck his finger in your mouth when you yawned. Ayato smiled, all smug and somehow innocent at the same time. You meowed in disapproval, but it went straight over his head, as if he had any idea as to what you had just said to him, insult or not. 
  He also keeps pinching your toe beans, sometimes making your claws stretch out and then back in—even in the middle of the night, he rubbed your paws and stuck his finger between the beans. What is wrong with this guy. 
  Other than messing with you and pulling your leg, he does provide the best food and treats—as usual, you have the privilege of accessing the clan kitchens and being made food by them on a daily basis and it never fails to make you nearly cry with how good it is.       And even now, as you sit next to his desk and his dinner is brought to him (even though you’ve tried to ask the staff to not bring it to him, and that he has to eat outside of his study or else his ass will get stuck to the floor) you are given your own tray of dishes as well. 
  Gobbling down the freshly made meals tailored to you even in this form, Ayato is happy that you seem to have a good appetite. He had been concerned that this… situation might stress you out and you wouldn’t be able to eat or sleep. 
  Despite his endless workload, Ayato somehow finds the time to pamper and take care of you between his busy schedule. He sits down with you in the gardens and brushes your fur, rubs your cheeks and kisses your nose (and you need to wet it again every time). As if you were a little fur baby for him to take care of. 
  He still talks to you as if you were as you always are, though Ayaka uses a baby-voice like one would use with a cat (she tries not to, but fails), Ayato speaks to you normally. He plucks the seeds out of a small cube of watermelon before feeding it to you as he recounts his day, humming in affirmation as you meow back about your own… he doesn’t understand it, but you need to get it out as well. 
  Your snout is practically pink by the end of the watermelon bowl, and Ayato gives you that smile… oh no. 
  “It’s been a few days now, and you ran around the garden yesterday… and now you’re covered in melon juice. Why don’t I ask Thoma to warm a bath to wash your fur?” he asks innocently, and watches in amusement as you shoot out of his lap and flee into the estate. Not a chance. 
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Kaveh;
Kaveh gapes at you. You stare up at him. He blinks. You blink.
  “H-hah???!” he scoops you up—accidentally upside down, but you just flop in his arms, still blinking at him from your angle, you know he won’t drop you. Kaveh rights you and brings you nearly nose-to-nose as he stares into your eyes. “How did this happen? You were just—I was… this…”
  He holds you a few centimetres away so neither of you go cross-eyed. “... Do you understand me?”
  You nod and raise your paw, pressing it onto his cheek.
  Kaveh doesn’t move his face away and lets your paw just press against his skin. “Okay, you’re… uh, aware… how do I fix this?”
  “Meow.”
  “...” right. Maybe this was a stupid question. 
  Kaveh goes a bit overboard, he researches the best ways to take care of a cat, the best foods, beds, toys—everything. And suddenly, he comes home after a short day at work (he has more important things to tend to!) with… so much stuff. 
  You stare, dumbfounded, as Kaveh carves out a cat-space in his and Alhaitham’s house… did he get Alhaitham’s permission to do this? You somehow doubt it. 
  After everything is set up, he stands and sets his hands on his hips with a wide smile. “What do you think?” Kaveh asks, looking down at you sitting by his feet with a swaying tail. “I think it fits very well, the colours compliment our living room—and I tried to arrange it in a way that mostly hugs the wall and doesn’t intercept with the flow of the room—”
  He’s rambling again. You don’t mind when he gets going and his interior design skills ARE good, despite it not being his expertise, it goes hand in hand with architecture. 
  But… did he consult the other half of this house before doing this? 
  You found out quickly, you had just settled in the high cat-bed that hung on the wall, giving you a good view over the living room as well as a height advantage to him (now you get why cats enjoy the high ground)... when the front door opens and a very familiar Scribe enters. 
  Alhaitham wasn’t even aware that you had turned into a cat, to him… he just came home to see a random cat in the living room—and that it was arranged completely differently to give you space. 
  Thankfully Alhaitham has a good few brain cells to rub together between his fingers, and isn’t quick to rise, so he looked to Kaveh and tilted his head towards the kitchen… where they had a lengthy discussion, where Kaveh explained everything to him and asked him if it was okay…
  Which is a tad late when he’s already rearranged the entire living room and gotten you comfortable there… but fine. So long as he takes it all down and makes everything as it should be once you’re back to normal. When asked, Alhaitham said he was too busy to help turn you back and told him to consult the library. 
  Kaveh is a hugger in his sleep, and you’re a victim (you love his hugs). He practically wraps himself around you and holds you to himself the entire night—and don’t you dare try to leave, he’ll wake up and whine about it. He does sometimes squeeze a bit too much—you’re not as durable as you usually are, you’re just a little kitty…
  He gets cuteness aggression when you do anything mildly affectionate. Rub against his legs while he’s at his desk, loaf on his lap and slow blink up at him, lick his hand when he strokes your head… Kaveh tries his best not to squeeze you or shake you like a keychain, he bit into his own hand once to refrain from biting your full cheek of food once. 
  He drew a full sketchbook of you over the span of two weeks, he can’t help it—you’re too adorable and he wants to keep the image of you forever. 
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Neuvillette;
Not chill about this, Neuvillette was immediately concerned with how to turn you back and if this curse-spell could have any permanent effects on you. He doesn’t really have many tomes to consult, nor are there many people he could ask for advice as to… how to fix this. 
  After some time, and you rubbing your furry cheek on his arm and leg to try and calm down his nerves, Neuvillette does slow down. He’s usually very calm in the face of the unknown or danger—but he’s never had to deal with direct danger (or not, he hasn’t figured out if it’s dangerous or not yet) when it comes to you. 
  Thankfully, you’re still there with him, just… a bit smaller, and furrier… and you smell a bit weird—still like you, but also with a tinge of something else. Perhaps that part of your scent has always been your humanity. 
  And now you’re a cat. 
  He’s never owned a pet before—and you’re hardly a typical pet, and thus consults the only person he can think of. Furina (though he’s unsure she’s ever owned a pet either?).
  And she loves you, she already likes you well enough—but like this? You’re getting picked up, petted, smooched, pampered and loved. Neuvillette just stands a bit awkwardly as Furina gets it out of her system and you get dangerously close to being fed up with her hugging and smooching… you’re not an actual cat! You just look like one!!
  After being freed from her clutches, Neuvillette holds you with more dignity for a while until you feel safe enough to walk around the ex-Archon’s home (and won’t get swooped up again). When the initial chaos is over, he sits down with Furina and they put their heads together to try and find a solution to this. They write down how it happened, what exactly changed—your mind is the same, your scent as well as your eyes. Though your fur has turned a shimmering white regardless of your head and body hair colour before. 
  You look like a big snowball. 
  There’s no real conclusion to the first session of brainstorming, but they manage to narrow down that though neither was there to see what exactly happened, it was likely a spell, or perhaps an artefact you touched (where would that even happen inside Fontaine?) or something along those lines. 
  Thus, Neuvillette takes you back home for the night. He’s a bit stiff around you, he doesn’t interact much with animals and though he won’t avoid them if a cat approaches him on the street (he’d mostly greet and nod at them) he hasn’t exactly had to care for one before. 
  He has to rely on asking you yes or no questions that you can nod or shake your head to, and makes it through the first few days like that. And while you’re… cute? (He’s not entirely sure how to describe you) Nauvillette does much more prefer you in your normal state, where he can communicate with you, hold your hand and touch your cheek without getting sniffed at by a wet nose.
  Not that Neuvillette doesn’t enjoy petting your fur and scratching under your chin, it’s just not the same. 
  It is very amusing to watch your head move left and right as you sit on the kitchen counter and watch Neuvillette prepare dinner—mostly for himself as you don’t eat typical foods now. He offers a small piece of a carrot and watches as you crunch on it for a good thirty seconds until it’s mushed enough to swallow. 
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Tartaglia;
Another situation of; the funniest shit he’s ever seen. 
  He brings you everywhere—Childe has no concept of ‘pet-free zone’ because you’re not his pet? You’re his partner? His beloved? Why is he being shooed out, you’re on a leash and everything (half chewed apart because you refuse to wear it with dignity and do all in your power to get free, how dare he put you on a LEASH).
 Of course, initially, he was confused and rather concerned. He thought you might have been attacked, or targeted and thus had been made into this… cat, maliciously. 
  But you honestly seem pretty undisturbed, so he is as well. Calm cat, calm Childe. 
  He dresses you up before taking you outside—not necessarily for fun, but rather because it’s insanely cold in Snezhnaya in these months, and he doesn’t want you to be a block of ice after a few minutes. So he goes and buys some puffy coats, socks and a warm blanket for your return. You feel like you look like an idiot (you already look like a cat…) in all these clothes, but his cooing and smooching make it less annoying—mostly because now your annoyances are focused on him. 
  His siblings don’t really understand that it’s you, not at the younger range—and Childe just tells them that you’re a cat he and you decided to take care of for a while and that you’re busy elsewhere. Tonia doesn’t seem as convinced when Childe keeps smooching your nose and rubbing his cheek against yours. 
  Embarrassing enough as it is, Childe starts to call you nicknames now—it isn’t entirely unusual, but they’ve always been normal… now he’s calling you “Combat kitten” and “Fuzzy comrade”... worst of all was “General toebeans”
  You wish you could tell him to stop, but all you have are meows and hisses. 
  Snezhnayan homes are made to withstand cold and harsh winds, and thus have excellent central heating systems… also known as a fireplace—and a furnace elsewhere. And curling up on some soft blankets or a plush chair by the furnace as snow gathers on the windowsill and winds brush against the exterior of the house… there are few places more comfortable to take a nap.
  Unfortunately, Childe’s humming and singing from the kitchen disturbs your perfect peace, but you’re just glad he’s having fun. You’ll live. 
  And he brings you some treats, places a small kiss on top of your furry head and sits down in the other chair, dragging the one you’re on to be next to his so that he can stroke your back and belly when you eventually flop on your back for more attention. 
  He’s pulled every string and contact in the Fatui to try and figure how to turn you back (except a select few who will either be last measures or just straight avoidances despite advice they might give) but hasn’t had much luck so far. Thankfully you've only been stuck like this for a week or so, and thus it hasn’t been so long to be concerning. 
  Perhaps it’s just a matter of waiting it out, and Childe is surprisingly patient. 
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Thoma;
The Housekeeper stands in surprise as a cat is suddenly plopped into his arms. “Ah… is this… a new house pet…?” the Kamisato estate doesn’t exactly have pets, there are some cats that come around and nap in the gardens every now and then and leave after a while, but this cat is staring at him as if they’ve known him their entire life.
  Ayato only hums as he’s already turned to another task, rushing from one thing to another as the busy days of summer come along. He doesn’t have much time to explain—nor is there much to explain. He had borrowed you for a few minutes to help him with something, he turns around for a moment, and the next you’re a cat.
  Thoma stares at him, silent for a time. He’s not entirely sure if Ayato is messing with him or not—it’s entirely possible, and par for the course for his lord—but as Ayato shakes his head and waves his hand in dismissal, he speaks again. “I already have someone looking into it, take care of them in the meantime. I’ll have someone fetch you if there is news.”
  You’re actually a cat. 
  After leaving Ayato’s study and sitting down outside where the afternoon sun has begun sinking towards the oceans beyond the cliff the estate sits on, Thoma stares at you as if he’s not entirely sure what to do with you. 
  Despite the initial confusion (and the followed concern, but it’s quickly dampened somewhat, Ayato has someone on the case and he trusts him to find a solution) Thoma is a very responsible person. He makes sure you’re not uncomfortable at all despite some estate staff vehemently refusing to let you in specific places… such as the kitchen. Fair enough. But there are also certain rooms and areas that have to be kept very clean and they don’t want cat hairs to get all over the place. 
  Thoma brings you around, he’s got many places to be, and he’s sure you’d like to stretch your legs anyway—it’s always nice to leave the estate for a few hours and run some errands. He had to head down to a nearby village and see whether trade agreements were coming along smoothly, they produce a lot of high quality rice and are often stuck in trade deals with large towns and clans for their rice—and for a well enough reason. Recently, Ayato had struck a deal with them and everything was signed and well along its way, Thoma just had to go and make sure they had everything they needed for transport. 
  It was a good walk, but you kept up easily… somehow having four legs rather than two makes you less tired after walking for some hours…? Or perhaps it’s because your body is so light now, you don’t know much about cat anatomy. 
  The meeting went well and you didn’t linger for long.
  Unfortunately, a heavy downpour began to fall on the two of you as you headed back. Thoma quickly scooped you up and tucked you into his jacket—it’s not much of a jacket, it barely reaches below his ribs, but it was just big enough for him to cover you (and lean a bit to cover you better) and pick up his pace to run back to the Kamisato estate. 
  After making it back inside, the rain was as if a waterfall had opened in the heavens to drop down on the roof. Thoma���s hair is wet and sticks to his cheeks as he sets you down. “Ah, that was close,” he laughs softly. “Are you dry?”
  You shake yourself after being pressed against his chest for so long and sniff around your fur, then give him a nod. 
  “Hah, that’s good, I’ve heard cats don’t like water much,” he smiles. “I need a change of clothes, come with me?”
  You let out a happy meow and follow him along further inside. 
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Venti;
Cooes at you and talks to you with a baby-voice, he puts both thumbs on either side of your cheeks and rubs your face like it’s dough… even though it makes his nose red and his eyes puffy—despite the cursed allergy that torments his everyday life (there’s so many cats in Mondstadt) he doesn’t let it stop him from being around you. Pestering some healers for a medicine that could help, he feels… less bad, but it doesn’t really dampen the itch in his eyes and throat well enough.
  He doesn’t take this situation seriously at all, at least not nearly as much as you do—you should probably trust his reactions and instincts, as he’s far more knowledgeable than you (even though he doesn’t act like it at all) and if you were in any danger, he wouldn’t be smooching your cheeks and nuzzling you like HE’S the cat. 
  Thus, you try to calm down, to focus on just getting through the days and not feel embarrassed when you have to clean yourself or relieve yourself as a cat. 
  But Venti also doesn’t make it easy for you, he builds a “throne” for you out of books and pillows for you to have the high ground (he doesn’t want to put holes in the wall for a hanging bed) and gives you “Mondstadt’s finest tuna” that tasted very much like a normal piece of tuna, but you appreciated the gesture nonetheless.
  Sometimes you really wonder if he was the one who cursed you just so he could mess with you and cuddle you without you being able to fend him off. Not that you would be particularly opposed to cuddles in the first place? He could just ask?? Besides, why would he choose the form of a cat out of every other pet considering his consistent sneezing up a storm around them.
It doesn’t add up, you discard your theory.
  You can’t sleep in the same bed anymore, both because Venti moves a lot in his sleep and being a cat does not make it safe, he could crush you! (as if he’s heavy enough to do that) and because he might well and truly pass away if he had to be so close to your furry-ass for such a pronged amount of time… and thus, Venti makes a nice bed for you out of blankets and pillows next to your usual one where you can rest.
  There was a time where these new cat instincts took a bit too much over, and when you were chasing a crystalfly on a walk along the roads outside the city, you had hopped onto a big rock—and after missing your chance to catch the crystalfly, you hopped onto Venti and tried to eat his braids. 
  He yelped in surprise, but laughed once he realised what you were doing. “My hair isn’t for eating, it’s no good for your digestion either!”
  You felt embarrassed about this little incident, and he kept making fun of you for it—though not necessarily maliciously, Venti just thought it was funny that you didn’t go for his hat, but his hair instead.
  Climbing to the top of the Mondstadt cathedral or the statue of himself isn’t your favourite pastime, but it’s surprisingly much easier in this form—and thus when Venti suggests you go to the top to play some songs, you had been hesitant at first.
  Making it to the top, Venti sits down comfortably as if he’s done it a thousand times (you sometimes suspect he climbs it to make you feel better, because you know he can just float up with a gust of wind) and pats his lap for you to sit down. 
  You plop yourself onto his thighs and settle comfortably as the sun sinks below the horizon, Venti takes out his usual lyre and tests a few tunes to ensure it’s properly set. “Let me play you something nice, it’ll help you sleep.”
  And it is nice, your ears flick as his fingers dance along the harp’s strings, he hums along with it but doesn’t sing full words—the vibration of the song calms you and you rest your head on your paws. 
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Wanderer;
“You are the ugliest cat I’ve ever seen in my life.”
  He’s being dramatic, you’re not that ugly… but…
  Why did you have to turn into a hairless cat? 
  You feel strange, and perhaps you would also feel the same way if you had a lot of hair, but every single breeze makes you feel you are especially naked—because you are!
  Wanderer isn’t exactly happy to have to take care of you—he will do it, of course, but he will also complain about it. You were perfectly independent and functional as a person before you just had to go and sniff some plant in the wild that poofed you into a cat before his very eyes. 
  He refuses to seek help to find out how to turn you back, not because he doesn’t want anyone to know that you’re a cat, but rather because he’s certain he can handle it himself. 
  You whack at his arm with your paw, meowing up a storm after a few hours of not being fed the day after—he had completely forgotten that he needs to prepare something digestible for you… he’s never had to take care of a creature like you before—what can you even eat?? He clicks his tongue. “Don’t swat at me like that. You’re human, act like it…”
  You’re not human right now!! Give me food!!
  Eventually, he does begin to take proper care of you, even though he keeps telling you that you look like a peeled potato… you don’t have many ways of retaliation except whacking him with your paw or hissing when he lightly pinches a big patch of your skin. 
  Surprisingly, during one strangely cold night when you were curled on the bed and trying to stay warm—even the slightest drop in temperature was very cold to your hairless body… you feel something soft drape over you.     Half-asleep and cold, you squint up and scrunch your nose as your whiskers squish against the blanket, you see Wanderer turn back around after setting it over you. Hah… he’s soft under that hard shell as always, even if he tries to act aloof. 
  After several days of no luck in trying to turn you back, Wanderer does begin to cave to asking for some… advice. Not help. Advice.
  With you in his arms, head reaching towards the market stalls of Sumeru city (literally everything smells good and extremely edible) as he passes by, Wanderer takes you to meet with Nahida who is rather enthusiastic about this mystery. She pets you and smiles, humming as he recounts what happened and describes the particular flower you smelled. 
  “Hm, I have an idea, but it’ll take a while to execute… do you think it’ll be okay for them to remain like this for a few more days?” the archon taps her chin in thought, mind swirling with ideas and possible solutions. 
  Wanderer huffs, not exactly a scoff, and clapped his hand onto your head. “It’s fine.”
  But as soon as you returned back home and he set you down on the living room table, Wanderer points at you. “You better turn back to normal soon…” he folds his arms over his chest, his expression isn’t as tight as it was before. “I don’t want to deal with this forever. Just get back soon.”
  You inch closer to him on the table, reaching your paw out to tug his sleeve closer—only to rub your head into his palm. He clicks his tongue. “Whatever… don’t think this counts as an apology. You’ll have to make up for it properly when you’re you again.”
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Wriothesley;
You are, quite possibly, the smallest cat he has ever seen. 
  He holds you in the palm of his hand, it’s adorable. Wriothesley cracks a grin and lifts you to eye-level. “Hm, you’re not nearly as scary like this, no one in this prison will listen to you like this.”
  You want to whack him on his nose, but politely refrain—if only because you don’t want to get dropped. You meow at him, ferocious and upset at this situation, you have a job to tend to! Things to do!
  But Wriothesley has other ideas, he sets you down on his desk and sits down. “Now, how did this happen? I assume this wasn’t intentional?” is he teasing you? Most likely. He knows you can’t just answer his questions, and you assumed he would be slightly more concerned when a guard brought you to his office…
  But no, he instantly recognised you and dismissed the guard. Had it been the eyes? The fur? Is he somehow responsible for this??
  All unanswered questions, and though he sends out word to some people he thinks might be able to help decipher this mystery, he doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to get you back to normal. He sets you in the pocket of his vest (it’s embarrassing that you actually fit) and goes on with his days as normal. 
  Siegwinne was initially very concerned, she seemed much more sensible in her worries that leaving you in this form for too long might be dangerous and that the Fortress isn’t exactly a good place for pets. There are a lot of crevices to get stuck in and things to get hurt on.
  Though you still retain your mind, so you should be alright in that sense… so long as you don’t get overly curious. 
  He is undeniably very warm, and cuddling up to him at night is very comfortable—especially now that you can just lay on his chest and snooze there and not worry about being dragged back into his embrace if you move too much in your sleep. You barely move at all in this form.
  Come morning, Wriothesley was already awake by the time you open your eyes, he strokes your fur and scratches behind your ears. Having a day pass by does make the initially amusing situation a bit more… real. He doesn’t want you to be struck with a permanent curse, or some kind of spell that might harm you in the long run. 
  “Don’t you worry,” he mumbles, voice rough with sleep. “I’ll make sure you’re back to normal soon, just stick close by.”
  And you do, mostly because you couldn’t have been blessed (cursed?) with a normal-sized cat body, but possibly the smallest there could be. You can’t even jump up onto his desk by yourself and have to yowl at him to let you up. 
  He does so happily, surprisingly eager to carry you around and help you with the smallest things. 
  Wriothesley doesn’t even change in mood from amusement when you chase the pen in his hands as it glides across paperwork he signs, you leap onto his arm and try to whack at the pet in either some strange instinctual haze, or an attempt to play—and though you whacking the pen makes it seem like he has the handwriting of a toddler, it’s just rather funny.
  The Fortress doesn’t exactly have a large variety of foods, not in the sense that it can be adjusted for the diet of a cat that isn’t accounted for during inventory fills, and thus Wriothesley sends for specific ingredients that won’t be heavy on your tiny little stomach. 
  And he also… got some cat-related things delivered, like a bed, some string toys and treats. You never used the bed, either preferring his lap to nap on, or just slept in the strangest places he never even imagined you could reach with those stubby legs. 
  But he’s a very responsible caretaker, at least, that’s what he claims as he holds you down to brush your teeth and you wriggle and flail like an eel. 
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Xiao; 
Very worried, he didn’t even realise the cat sitting in the clearing of the forest was you at first and searched for you for several minutes before seeming to realise that you had just… shrunk. Into a cat. 
  He stares at you for a good minute, lips parted and eyes large… before your name tentatively leaves his mouth.
  You meow in affirmation, standing and shaking yourself as you try to understand the situation yourself—still a bit disoriented. 
  Xiao approaches you quickly and kneels down in front of you, he lifts you up to your hind legs, puts you down and inspects your ears, your tail and under your paws. You meow in curiosity as to what he is doing, and surprisingly he seems to understand your question. 
  “There might be traces of whatever did this on your body, it will make it easier to track or reverse,” he says and even checks inside your mouth, which you weren’t really happy with. 
  Unfortunately, he doesn’t find any answers, and kneels there rather awkwardly with you in front of him… what now? This situation has stumped him a bit—he’s supposed to be able to keep you safe from all manners of danger and curses like this (perhaps not exactly like this, he never prepared for this exact scenario) and now that he’s not got many leads to fix it, his mind is a bit aimless in where to search for information. 
  He has no idea how to care for you, and while he has vague ideas of the behaviours of animals…they mostly stem from wild animals and their reactions to foreign presences in their territories, or similar scenarios. 
  What does a meow mean? Is there something wrong? What does it mean when you paw at the door? Do you want to go outside? But it’s two in the morning?
  He severely overestimates the portions of food you eat, giving you a full plate of something the Wangshu Inn kitchens prepared on his request (they figured out what happened and have been trying to help him, but Xiao is still trying to be subtle and secretive about the situation) and being confused when you only ate a fourth of it. 
  Are you sick? Was it the wrong kind of food?
  He brings you along with him on his hunts, while he could leave you at the inn… how can he be sure that you won’t get into trouble? The window is high above the ground, what if you tumble out of it? What if you try to climb up on the dresser in the room and get stuck? Or fall down and hurt yourself?
  No, you’re safest with him, even if he has to wield his spear with one hand and hold you with the other. 
  He’s surprisingly good at it too. 
  Desperate after a week of unsuccessful herbs and potions he tried to make, Xiao caves and contacts Liyue Harbour and the adepti that reside there for help.
  It seems his message had gotten into Cloud Retainer’s hands, and instead of any actually helpful advice on how to turn you back… she had sent an entire booklet of cat behaviours, diets and how to take care of them.
  Helpful, sure… but not exactly what he was asking for. 
  One evening as he was out on the usual hunts, he noticed that you were walking slowly by his side, yawning and rather cold so high in the mountains. He didn’t even have to think about what might be wrong or what to do, as he had already scooped you up into his arms and teleported back to the inn, where he sat down with you on the bed. 
  “You should tell me when you’re tired…” he grumbles and tugs one of the covers on the bed to his lap where he wraps it around you as if bundling a baby up. Xiao reaches up and scratches behind your ears as your eyes blink closed in the comfort of being back in the warm room.
  He had only been petting you for s few seconds when he felt you… tremble? There was a strange rumbling sound coming from you, are you uncomfortable? He doesn’t quite understand it… but you continue to rumble as he scratches your head and ears. 
  Ah, was this the ‘purring’ he read about in one of the booklets Ganyu sent him? How… cute.
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Zhongli;
“Ah…” Zhongli stares at you, this isn’t quite what he had imagined would happen… he had been crafting a potion in hopes it would help Ganyu sleep better, she had been overworking herself (again) more than usual and was so tired that she couldn’t sleep. It can happen. 
  The combination of herbs and materials required for the potion he had put together wasn’t very suitable for humans, and of course he made sure to let you know so that you wouldn’t drink it… but he hadn’t expected that only being touched by a single drop onto the back of your hand would lead to a poof, and your size being reduced and body turned to that of a cat. 
  You had only wanted to help by handing him ingredients so that he didn’t have to turn around so often… you didn’t anticipate this either!
  He makes sure the potion won’t burn and sets a lid on the pot before turning towards you. “I… had not foreseen that this could have been a danger to you, my apologies,” he kneels down on one knee and holds his hand out for you to sniff. You do so, snout twitching towards his finger before you bump your head into his palm. 
  “Have you retained some sense of consciousness?” he wonders, gloved hand moving to stroke over your small head, your ears flattening under his palm. “I’m sure I can find a way to reverse this.”
  He was sure, at least. But after some research and testing… he wasn’t making any progress—at least, he wasn’t making progress in finding ways to turn you to your normal self without some potential risks or aftereffects. 
  What he did find, was that the herb that you had been touching, and the potion he had halfway crafted was similar to another concoction that he had made before—and the effects of that had only been temporary. 
  It seems you will simply have to wait until the effect wears off. 
  Zhongli had instinctively prepared a delightful meal in the way he knows you would enjoy while you sit in the kitchen counter and watch with interest, your tail swaying happily as you watch him chop some vegetables and set them into the pot… but halfway through the process as he’s setting spices and herbs into the pot, Zhongli realises that more than half of the ingredients in the pot are unsuitable for cats to eat. 
  He finishes the meal and sets it aside, before fetching some fish you had purchased just yesterday that he was going to use for lunch tomorrow and cut it into nicely bite-sized pieces. You tilt your head slightly as you watch—the meal he had just been putting together doesn’t have any fish in it?? What’s it for?
  And honestly, when he plated your food (in a very professional and presentable way) and set it down on the dining table, then set his own on the other side for himself… you felt a bit offended. Raw fish, some rice and a hard boiled egg… next to his delicious smelling beef stew… 
  If you could’ve cried, you would have. And Zhongli felt pretty bad for the rest of the day, he tried to offer you some “safe” treats or make it up to you with some pets and scritches, but you still sulked.
  You had looked forward to this dinner all day…
  Thankfully you got over it rather quickly and Zhongli is glad that he didn’t offend you too badly… it seems having been turned into a cat had made you quite dramatic as well, he doesn’t recall you ever having sulked like this over a meal before.
  Knowing that it was simply a waiting game, Zhongli isn’t very concerned about your state, but he does ensure that you’re comfortable and not afraid—he understands that perceiving the world differently like this can be strange and even scary, but he’s glad when it seems that you’re relatively calm. 
  Your nightly routines are slightly out of whack now—something that Zhongli isn’t very fond of, he quite likes it that after cleaning up after dinner, the two of you settle in the living room for a while. He tends to read and it varies what you get up to, but it’s always a shared time where you sit in silence or chat about your days.
  He does talk about his day to you, sitting on the comfortable seat in the living room with you on his lap, Zhongli recounts his day to you and expresses that he hopes you weren’t too bored alone in the home today, and that perhaps he can convince the director to allow him to bring you for a day. He strokes your back and smiles as a rumbling purr leaves you, he scratches under your chin and touches his forehead to yours as you seem to have fallen asleep on his lap. He reaches for his book and decides to read for a while before taking you to bed. 
  Despite the mishap, he’s glad you’re safe—he will endeavour to be more careful in the future and ensure you won’t be hurt or disturbed by his work. 
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konigsblog · 5 months ago
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OCTOBER 7TH — STALKER!KÖNIG. You should've trusted your gut feeling. Now, you're chained to your bed inside of your own apartment, being bred relentlessly by a large, masked figure. (FORCED BREEDING, NON-CON)
2024 KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. (DAY 7)
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König knew he was depraved and different from others, he'd been told his entire life. That was the motive behind his perversity and creepiness — he was revengeful and vindictive, despised when people had control while he had to fight for it. He knew it was morally wrong to expose and violate vulnerable women when they were least expecting it, to upskirt them for his own selfish sexual gratification. He longed for control and authority, to overpower and dominate a woman so that they'd be crying for him, begging him to stop. They'd do anything, call him their God or whatever he asked of them. He wasn't inexperienced in assaulting women by any means.
And you were his next victim. His bleary, exhausted eyes were fixated by your beauty, your delicate and intriguing features. He was obsessed with your hands in particular, the way your fingers tapped at the keys on your laptop, the thought of them wrapped around his growing, meaty cock worsening his urge to own you. König craved you, he dreamt of you. You never noticed him, blissfully oblivious to his deranged gaze and the sickening, sinful thoughts rushing through his rotten head. He'd follow you home, trying to build up the courage to start a conversation with you, to gain your trust. He needed you vulnerable, weak, and helpless. The thought of breaking into the comfort of your own apartment to violate you there and then left him insatiable, with an agonisingly stiff boner that would pulsate and throb at the sight and thought of you.
König's hints were barely noticeable. It was small details that you'd blown off. The fact that your spare keys had suddenly gone missing, or the fact that your clothing hamper had been messed with, rummaged through, and a pair of lace underwear had gone missing as well. König would break into your apartment in the wee hours of the night to slowly and quietly get himself off to your beauty, occasionally getting too close and rubbing his creamy and leaking head against your soft lips, or your cheek. The thrill and anticipation was satisfying — hypnotising. He was engrossed. Obsessed.
You'd regret not taking these hints seriously, not taking advantage of the suspicious clues he left behind to prepare yourself and prevent this from happening. You'd be awoken to an agonising and splitting ache between your supple thighs with your eyes struggling through the darkness, your wrists chained to your headboard with König mercilessly overpowering you. You'd find the debauched sicko hunched over your form and fucking his hefty, slick cock into your wet and creamy folds, taunting you with the sight of your keys. You'd let out incoherent, mumbled cries as he silenced your dreadful and aggravating whining with his calloused palm, dragging his swollen boner into you ‘til you bled out uncontrollably, slick running down his veiny shaft.
He'd force your body into different positions, leaving your trembling and light-headed, barely conscious as he lifted you into his arms with one last painfully deep thrust to your overstimulated and bruised cervix, taking you alongside him. You'd make the perfect breeding partner, Liebe.
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