#it was real bad as in snot was running down from my nose from crying bad lmfao | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rezzyromance · 3 years ago

Note

Idk if this is how you request things or if it's just asking, BUT-

How would the Lords react to an S/O that's usually the chillest person that you will ever meet (not to be confused with a pushover because they are not), they've never seen them even mildly annoyed when something bad happens. But then something happens and, turns out, the S/O is utterly TERRIFYING when they're mad.

Hope this makes sense!

Aw man I'm gonna feel awful scaring Moreau and Donna :(

Alcina

You're relaxing on a beautiful morning. The sun is shining through the window just enough to warm the room but not hurt your eyes. You hadn't even changed out of your sleep wear. "How are you feeling, my dear?", a sweet voice rang from the doorway. You were sitting in your favorite chair near the window. You turn and smile at her. She walks over and rubs your face in her large hand before leaning down and giving you a soft kiss. "I'm feeling amazing. And you?", you grab her hand before she pulls it away and you place a kiss on her knuckles. "I'm feeling alright. There's a new maid here. She's a bit slow. I'm giving her until tonight to finish dusting the entire castle or else she won't see another sunrise." It was almost comedic how dark her words were as you both stared out the window and gazed at the beautiful scenery. "Come on Alcina.", you stand up and place your hands on hers, trying to hold them despite the size difference. "Give the girl a break. It's a huge castle AND it's her first day.", you knew your words would probably change nothing. Alcina was rather cruel, but you looked past it. You tried your best to make the nervous maids comfortable whenever they arrive.

"We'll see how she does." She gives you one more kiss before leaving the room. You sit back down in your chair, enjoying the warmth of the sun for a little while longer. You lose track of time, minutes maybe even hours go by. Suddenly, there's a crash not far from the door. You jump and stand up, no longer comfortable after being startled. "What in the name of Mother Miranda?!", you leave the room and look down the hallway. The new maid stood there with a terrified look on her face. In front of her was one of the paintings Alcina had on her walls, now with a broken frame and a hole punctured. Your blood began to boil. It was a painting of you, her, and the girls all together. It was your favorite. "How in the hell did you manage to do that?!", you begin to stomp towards her. She cowers and struggles to find her words. "I-I-I was just dusting! It fell and I-I didn't mean t-", you cut her off. "How the fuck did you knock such a large painting over just by dusting?! DO YOU THINK YOU'RE ALLOWED TO MAKE SUCH STUPID MISTAKES HERE?!", you unravel. "I-I didn't mean to! I'm sorry!", she almost begins to weep. "SORRY ISN'T GONNA SAVE YOUR ASS!"

"MISS DIMITRESCU PLEASE HELP!", she cries out. You freeze, realizing that the lady herself is right behind you. You turn to face her. Her eyes are wide with shock. She has never seen you like this before and never even knew you had this type of side to you. She was impressed as much as she was terrified. "(Y/N)? Are you alright my love?" She had no idea what to do as your seething slowed down. "Why don't you go back to the room, yes? Settle down a little and deal with her later.", she places a hand on your back helps walk with you back to the room. Once you're there, she bends down to whisper in your ear. "I don't know where this side of you has been this whole time, but I am so amazed by you. And also a little frightened."

Donna

The Beneviento house was usually a calm place despite its creepy aura. You and Donna are both quiet and chill people. Never once have you fought or even raised your voices at each other. It was pleasant.

You had planned a nice dinner for the both of you. You wanted to try out a new recipe and surprise her, so you made your way to the kitchen to get started. "Okay, what first? I guess I'll need a pot.", you go rummaging through the kitchen and you find the pots stacked within each other inside one of the top cabinets. You groan and stand up on your toes, grazing the pots with your fingers. It didn't take much to cause them to tumble down, crashing on top of you with a loud sound that followed. "Aw shit.", you sighed and picked up the knocked over pots. A small but annoying pain began to throb in your head from where it made contact with a pot. What you didn't notice was you forgot to pick one of the pots up. It remained unnoticed. "It's fine.", you say to yourself as you maintain your composure. Next, a cutting board and knife. You turn around and begin to walk forward to find the cutting board, but you slam your toe into counter. You wince in pain and grab your foot. "SON OF A BITCH!", you yell.

You calm yourself, still wanting to have a pleasant meal with Donna. "Alright. Everything's fine." You step forward and kick the pot that you had forgotten to pick up. It caused your freshly kicked toe to ache even more. "OH COME ON! GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!", you scream and swear as you throw your arms up in pure rage and shock.

"...(Y/N)?", a gentle voice whispered from the doorway, causing you to whip your head in that direction. It was Donna. She looked absolutely horrified and almost looked like she could cry. "Is.. is everything... are you alright?", she worried. "Yes. I'm sorry. Just got a little pissed off.", you took a deep breath to calm yourself down, feeling bad for scaring the poor girl.

Moreau

You were sitting on the dock together, looking into the water as your feet swung back and forth above it. It was a sunny day and you two decided to spend it outside. Your hand slowly made its way over to his. His feet stopped swinging for a second as you entangled your fingers. "I don't know what I'd do without you, (Y/N)." his words were bitter sweet as a gentle smile formed from his lips. "Oh, Sal. You don't have to think like that. I'll always be here for you.", you kiss his cheek and continue to relax as you sway your legs.

"There it is! There's the beast!", a voice yelled from not so far away. You both look in the direction of the voice and see a few young village boys. Possibly between the ages of 13 and 16. Moreau had become some what of a scary story for the villagers. A tale that kids spread on school court yard and bring up during dares. But, you've never seen a kid brave enough to actually make it far enough into the reservoir to actually see Moreau. Now, there were about 3. All of them stood and pointed, shocked and terrified.

"Hey beast! Come get me!", one kid teases. You glare at the kids as a newfound rage begins to boil inside you. "Let's go back inside.", Moreau says before standing up from the doc. The sadness in his voice was heartbreaking. Suddenly, one of the children gathers the guts to pick up a rock and throw it as hard as he could. His aim was off, but not by much. It slammed into the wood near Moreau's feet, startling him. "Take that you devil!", he laughs. "THAT'S IT YOU LITTLE SHIT!", you begin sprinting in the direction of the immature brats. Two of them run from the direction they came from while the one who threw the rock was frozen in fear. You took the opportunity to grab him by the collar of his shirt. "Listen here you little waste of space. I'm gonna give you 3 seconds to turn around and run for your goddamn life. If you or any of your little snot-nosed friends come around here again, they'll be goddamn fish food. Do you understand?" The kid was too scared to speak and instead began to nod rapidly. You let him go and watched as he ran as fast as he could, screaming the whole way.

You walk back to the shack and find Moreau standing in the same place he was when you took off. His mouth was agape and he looked almost as scared as the kids. "You alright Sal? I made sure those little shits won't be coming around here anymore." "Yeah... I didn't know you could be so... scary", he says. "I'm sorry. But those kids were being cruel. I had to do something.", you say. "Well... it was awesome!", he smiled. "But also very scary!" You laugh which helps sooth him a little.

Heisenberg

"Screw driver.", is all Karl said with an outstretched palm. He was working on some type of mechanical heart for his experiments. He wanted you to lend a "helping hand" even though he could easily do it all by himself. He did this because he wanted to be around you, he was just too stubborn with too big of an ego to simply say it. So here you were, handing him every little tool he asks for.

"Do you want the big one or the little one?", you say with a hint of boredom in your tone. "Aw c'mon don't sound like that! Isn't this exciting? It's like you're working on it with me! Also, hand me the big one.", you do as he says and hand him the big screw driver. "I just don't get it. You literally have powers. You can easily do this by yourself and have been for so long. Why do you need me to help?" He pauses for a second and looks over towards you, his brow slightly furrowed. "I don't NEED you to help. I just thought it would be nice for you to help out. Plus, you're the one always bitching about me constantly working. Well, here you are! Helping me work! So, either suck it up or you can leave." His harshness had no real ill will in it. He was just confused and a bit too ignorant to consider his words. But, he was testing your patience. He continued to use the screwdriver until handing it to you without saying a word.

"Hand me a screw.", he demanded with his hand facing palm up again. "Which size?" "They're all the same sizes, dumbass." You feel your blood begin to boil. "They're different fucking sizes! This one is smaller than this one!", you hold up two screws that are obviously different sizes. This makes Karl angry. Not because you were right, but because you seemed upset over something that seemed so insignificant.

"If you came here just to yap in my ear, then I don't think I need your assistance.", he huffed. You put the selection of tools and supplies he was making you hold on the table he is working on and ball your fists. "You're the one who told me to do this in the first place!", you yell. "Yeah, because you won't stop bitching! Non-stop you're always compla-" you cut him off before he can finish. "SHUT UP!", you yell. The room goes silent. "YOU SAY I'M BITCHING? HAVE YOU HEARD YOURSELF? JESUS FUCKING CHRIST KARL YOU BITCH AND MOAN ALL THE TIME! I'M DONE TAKING SHIT FROM YOU!" He wanted to be angry, but he couldn't. He felt something much more overwhelming. Was he.. intimidated? He didn't move from his seat. All he could do was look up at you with a confused expression. What now? What is there to do? If he pushes you further, what would happen? He was actually too scared to find out.

You take a deep breath to calm down before speaking. "Now, if you want me to help with your shit, I'll stay as long as you keep your mouth shut. Can you possibly manage to do that?" He gulps nervously. "Yes ma'am."

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dadbodosamu · 3 years ago

Text

what’s my name? [daddy]

Stepdad Osamu x Cis!Fem reader

WARNINGS: cheating, pseudoincest (stepdad/daughter), spanking, age gap (Osamu’s in his thirties and reader is freshly 18), daddy kink, spit kink, breeding kink

2.8k words. unbeta’d and vaguely edited

part one || part two || part three

“I can walk,” you say, slinging your bag over your shoulder. It’s your last year of high school, you’re an adult now, freshly eighteen, you can walk yourself to school, damn it.

“Let me drive ya,” Osamu says, grabbing the keys to his car. “Ya won’t let me make ya lunch anymore, let me at least drive ya to school. We can stop and get breakfast.”

“I can walk, Osamu,” you say, glaring at the older man.

Osamu stops dead in his tracks. “What was that? What did ya just call me?”

You scoff, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “You’re not my dad and I’m not a kid anymore.”

You grab the door handle but before you can open it, Osamu has you spun around, facing him. His face is dark and the grip he has on your wrist is bruising.

“O-Osamu, you’re hurting me,” you whimper, trying, and failing, to pull your wrist from his iron grip.

“There ya go again,” he says. He tuts and shakes his head. “Go sit on the couch. I have to make a few calls real quick.”

His tone leaves no room for argument, so you walk across the living room with all the shame of a scolded puppy.

Osamu is already speaking by the time you sit on the soft couch.

“Hi, this is Miya Osamu, Hanamiya Y/n’s father. She’s feeling a little under the weather today, so she won’t be able to make it in.” Osamu says. He pauses for a moment. “I’ll be around to pick her work up sometimes this afternoon, thank ya. Ya have a good day.”

Before you can speak, Osamu is calling another number.

“Hey, it’s Osamu. Y/n is sick today, so I need ya to watch over the restaurant. Call if there’s an emergency,” Osamu says. He hangs up quickly, and dials yet another number. “Hey, {mother’s name}, Y/n is feeling a bit bad so I’m going to stay home with her today.” He pauses. “It’s no problem, stay at work. If she gets worse I’ll take her to the doctor.” You can barely hear your mother on the other side of the phone, but you hear her small ‘I love you’. “Yeah, I’ll see ya after work.”

Hearing him so clearly dismiss your mother has you seething. You almost want to throw something at him as he hangs up.

“You’re such a dick,” you say as he walks towards you. “You don’t care about her at all. Fuck you.”

Osamu laughs as he sits in the chair next to the couch you’re on. “Fuck me? Oh, no, little girl. I’m gonna make ya regret those words. Come here.”

“Fuck you,” you repeat, crossing your arms.

“I’ll give ya until the count of three,” Osamu says. “One.” You don’t move. His face darkens. “Two. I’m not kidding, little girl. Come here. Now.”

His voice is more serious than you’ve ever heard it. A shiver runs up your spine as you stand without a second thought. You take a few steps until you’re standing directly in front of him.

“Good girl,” he praises. The words roll off his tongue like honey, and, unwittingly, your pussy throbs. “Now, bend over my lap.”

You nearly laugh. “No way, there’s no way. I’m not a child.”

“One.”

You’re bent over his lap before he gets to two.

“See, ya can listen,” Osamu says. His hand runs over your too short school skirt, flattening it down.

Your cheeks burn with humiliation. You can’t remember the last time anyone had you bent over their lap, much less Osamu, who preferred other punishments.

“Osamu, please, I’m sorry,” you whisper.

He lands a heavy hit across your ass, his large hand catching both cheeks.

You let out a loud cry as you jerk forward.

“That again,” Osamu says, shaking his head. “Ya know that hurts my feelings, little girl? Calling me by my name? Like I didn’t raise ya. Now, tell me why ya decided to hurt daddy’s feelings like that?”

Tears burn at your eyes. “I-I hate you!” You cry, tears spilling down your cheeks.

Osamu tuts and lands another heavy handed slap on your ass. “And why is that, little girl? Tell daddy what’s wrong.” He rubs your burning bum soothingly.

“Y-you’re mean to mom!” You sob. “An-and I hate you for it, Miya Osamu!”

Two consecutive slaps land on either cheek and you hiccup a sob.

“That’s where yer wrong, baby girl,” Osamu says, once again rubbing soothing circles on your bum. “Me an’ yer mom had an agreement. It’s not my fault if she gets her feelin’s hurt. She hasn’t said anything to me about it.”

You open your mouth to speak but cry out instead as Osamu spanks you three more times in quick succession.

“An’ anyway, that’s adult business,” Osamu adds. “No place for a little girl’s nose.”

“Osamu, it hurts,” you whine, squirming around on his lap. You freeze when you feel something hard poking against your stomach.

“There we go again,” Osamu sighs. He spanks you no less than five times, each harder than the last. Your body shakes from your sobs.

“Daddy, please!” You cry, tears and snot covering your face. “Please, I’m sorry!”

“There we go,” Osamu says, smiling widely. “That’s my good girl. What’s my name, again, sweetheart?”

“Daddy,” you whimper, sniffling. You rub your face with your sleeve as Osamu rearranges your body so you’re straddling his thighs.

“Daddy’s sorry for spanking ya, sweetheart. I know how my little girl gets sometimes,” he says, hugging you to his broad chest. “Ya get so bratty, daddy just can’t help himself.”

“‘m sorry, daddy,” you sniffle. You can’t help be be acutely aware of Osamu’s hard erection pressing against your sore ass. “D-Daddy, your...”

“What is it, baby girl?” Osamu asks, gently pulling you down, pressing his cock further into your plush ass.

You hiss in pain. “It-it hurts,” you moan.

Truth be told, it hurt so good. Each slap against your ass had your pussy clenching around nothing and now that you knew Osamu was clearly turned on... well it was making your heart beat faster.

“Want daddy to make ya feel better?” Osamu asks. He thrusts his hips smoothly, grinding his cock against your pussy.

You think about your mom. How heartbroken she would be if she found out about this and how your relationship would never be the same.

Osamu’s lips attach to the base of your neck and thoughts of your mother melt away.

“Daddy,” you moan, rolling your hips to feel more of him. “Daddy, please, I wanna feel better.”

“I know, baby, I know,” Osamu mumbled against your skin. “Daddy’s gonna make ya feel better, okay? Daddy’s gonna make everything better.”

Osamu lifts you easily. You wrap your arms and legs around him as he carries you to your room. You try not to think of the bedroom right across from yours that he shares with your mother.

Osamu tosses you on your bed and you immediately reach out for him.

“Wan’ you,” you whine, your hands grabbing at nothing.

Osamu pulls his shirt off and tosses it across the room before climbing on top of you.

“My little girl is so needy for daddy’s cock, eh?” Osamu asks, rocking his hips against yours. You moan and wrap your arms around his neck, lacing your fingers in his hair.

“Daddy, want your cock so bad,” you moan. He pulls back, drawing a long whine from your lips.

“Stop whining,” he orders. Long fingers come up to your shirt buttons, nimble as they unbutton each pearly white button, exposing the peach-coloured bra you were wearing.

Your cheeks burn, suddenly wishing you’d chosen matching underwear this morning, or at least something more mature.

“So cute,” Osamu coos, throwing your shirt away. “Yer so adorable, baby girl.” Osamu pushes your bra up over your breasts and leans down. He gently takes your left nipple in his mouth, rolling his tongue against it as he teases the other with his fingers.

“Daddy,” you moan, clenching your fingers in his hair. He pinches your nipple and grazes his teeth over the other.

“Cute little nipples,” he mumbles, leaning up and tugging on both nipples one last time. He presses a kiss between your breasts and trailed down, leaving soft kisses down your stomach until he reaches the hem of your skirt. He looks up at you.

You nod. “Please, daddy. I-I want you.” Osamu makes quick work of your skirt and pink panties.

He kneels between your legs, spreading them wide. “Look at ya, such a pretty pussy.”

Osamu arranged your bodies until he was comfortably facing your cunt. “I could just eat ya up, baby girl.”

“Daddy, I want you to touch me, please!” You cry as he teasingly runs his fingers through your wet folds.

“I am, baby,” he says, smirking wickedly.

“More! Want you to really touch me, daddy!” You say, impatiently bucking your hips up against his hand.

“Settle down, baby,” Osamu says, pushing your hips against the bed with his free hand. “Daddy’ll make ya feel real good, darlin’.”

Before you could say anything, Osamu rubs his thumb in a circle over your clit. Your words get lost in a moan. Your head falls back against your pillow as Osamu leans down. He presses a soft kiss against your inner thigh before wrapping his lips around your clit.

“Samu!” You cry, back arching off the bed as he inserted a single, long finger in your cunt, all the while suckling at your clit.

He landed a sharp slap to your thigh without pulling away. He adds another finger roughly.

“What’s my name, little girl?” He asks. He pumps his fingers in and out of you slowly.

“Daddy,” you whimper as he licks deep into your cunt.

“Good girl,” he praises before leaning back down. He scissors his fingers, slowly stretching your walls. He ate you out in earnest, switching between slurping up your juices and suckling on your clit.

“Daddy, ‘m gonna cum,” you moan, gripping the sheets below you.

“Cum on my tongue, sweetheart,” Osamu says, pulling his fingers out. He rubs figure-8s over your clit and fucks his tongue in and out of your throbbing heat.

“Daddy!” You cry as your orgasm hits you. You cum hard, juices squirting on Osamu's face. He continues rubbing your clit until you start squirming from overstimulation. When he looks up at you, his eyes are dark and his chin is covered with your cum.

“Tastes so good, baby girl,” he says, crawling over you. He grabs your chin and kisses you roughly, not even letting you attempt a fight for dominance.

The taste of yourself on his lips has you thrusting your hips up, eager for more.

“So impatient,” Osamu tuts. He grabs your chin again. “So you’ll take anything daddy gives ya, right, baby girl?”

You nod, desperately waiting for something, anything.

“Open yer mouth,” he orders. Your mouth falls open without a second thought.

You can see Osamu gathering spit in his mouth and you let your tongue loll out in excitement.

“My baby is so desperate,” Osamu coos. “Ya want daddy’s spit that bad, baby?”

You let out a pitiful whine and squeeze his forearm.

You moan when his spit finally hits your tongue. Your eyes close as you savour it for just a moment before swallowing.

“That’s my good girl, swallowing before I even tell ya too,” Osamu praises. “Tell me what ya want, sweetie.”

“I wan’ you,” you whine. You tangle your fingers in the back of his hair and pull him into a brutal, sloppy kiss. “Fuck me, daddy, please.”

Osamu pulls away from you, breathing heavily, lips swollen and eyes dark. He quickly kicks his sweat pants down and off the bed.

“Come on, use yer words,” he says. “What do ya really want, baby?” He uses one hand to trace his cock along your slit, teasing your clit and clenching hole.

“Want your cock in me, daddy,” you say, hooking your right leg around his waist, pulling his hips down to meet yours. “Please, I want it so bad.”

You bite your lip as your eyes burn.

“Aw, is baby gonna cry for daddy’s cock?” Osamu teases. He pushes the fat head of his cock past your folds. You moan loudly.

“Please,” you moan. “Want more.”

Osamu pulls your right leg up and over his shoulder and inches his cock in your wet heat. He moans lowly.

“So fuckin’ tight, baby girl,” he says. Your eyes water as his fat cock burns as he slowly stretches your walls out. “Fuck, look how well yer taking me, baby.”

You glance down to where your skin melds together. You let out a low whine once you realise he’s barely halfway in.

“More, more,” you whimper, rolling your hips up. Every movement has him hitting another spot in you that has you clenching around him.

“Gonna take it all? Gonna be my good girl and take my cock?” He grunts as he pushes deeper. By the time he bottoms out, the head of his cock is pressing against your cervix and your thighs are shaking from the stretch.

“Oh, daddy,” you sigh as he stills. He’s stretching you in a way no one has before, and the burn just adds to the pleasure.

“Yer so fuckin’ full of me,” Osamu says, marvelling at the bulge in your lower stomach. He presses down on it lightly. He moans. “Gonna fill ya up real good, baby. Gonna make ya swollen with my seed.”

“Move,” you moan. “Want you to fill me up, daddy.”

Osamu pulls out slowly. He tosses your other leg over his shoulder and grabs your hips tightly.

“Oh, baby, yer not ready for me,” Osamu smirks. Before you can ask what he means, his hips pound against your ass, his cock going even deeper than before. A moan rips from your lips.

“Daddy!” You call, digging your nails into his shoulders.

Osamu doesn’t slow as his fingers meet your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in small circles. Your walls clench around him as your first orgasm hits you suddenly.

“That’s it, sweetheart, cum on daddy’s cock,” Osamu says. His hips and fingers don’t slow down as you gush around his cock. His pace seems that much more brutal with your overstimulation.

“Hurts,” you choke out. Your thighs tremble as Osamu continues his bruising pace.

“You can take it, sweetheart,” Osamu says. “Yer such a good girl for me, darling.”

Tears roll down your cheeks as another orgasm racks your body.

Osamu’s eyes roll back as your walls milk his cock.

“Good girl,” Osamu rumbled. “Creaming around my cock so well.”

You cry as Osamu speeds up.

“S-so good, daddy,” you sob as he grabs your legs and spreads them wide. You cry harder as he fucks into your cervix. “Fill me up, please, daddy! Want you to breed me!”

“‘m gonna fuck ya so full of my cum,” Osamu grunts, pounding into you slower and deeper. “Gonna knock ya up. Ya want daddy to get you pregnant, huh? Wanna be swollen with daddy’s seed?” You nearly bite your tongue nodding.

“Want your cum, daddy,” you whine as your legs start to ache. A high-pitched whine fills the room as you cum yet again.

“Fuck,” Osamu swears, his pace speeding up again. “Gonna fill you up, sweetheart.”

His cock twitches inside you.

“Please, daddy, please. Want you to fill me up, breed me! Want your baby. Want your cum, need your cum! Please, fill me up, daddy!” You babble uncontrollably as Osamu’s hips stutter.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Osamu moans as he paints your insides white.

One last orgasm hits you as you milk his cock.

“Daddy,” you breathe as his cum fills you up. “So good.”

“Yer such a good girl, sweetheart,” Osamu says. He pulls out slowly.

“No, no,” you whine, clenching around nothing. “Want you to stay in me. Don’t wanna lose daddy’s cum.”

“It’s okay, baby, daddy’ll fill ya up over and over again,” Osamu says. He moves until his arms are wrapped tightly around you and you’re laid across his chest.

He hums with satisfaction as you trace your fingers across his chest.

“Ya were such a good girl, darling. Took my cock so well,” Osamu praised. “Yer daddy’s best girl.”

“Better than your other girls?” You ask.

“Yer the only girl I care about, sweetheart,” Osamu says. “I love ya, little girl.”

“I love you, too, daddy,” you mumble. You yawn.

“Let’s get you cleaned up before you fall asleep, baby,” Osamu says. He easily carries you to the bathroom, sitting you on the edge of the tub as he starts the water.

You frown as you catch sight of your mother’s robe and reality hits you.

“Oh, god,” you whisper. You look down at Osamu’s cum leaking out all over your thighs. “Oh my god.”

“What is it, sweetie?” Osamu asks.

“I’m gonna be sick,” you mumble, covering your mouth. “Mom’s gonna hate me.”

Oh, she’s really going to hate you in three months, when a small bump forms between your hips and you refuse to admit who the father is. Osamu’s smug face whenever it’s mentioned doesn’t miss you.

#miya osamu smut #miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #timeskip osamu #osamu miya smut #osamu miya #cai writes #tw:pseudoincest #tw:incest

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bokutoslittlebird · 4 years ago

Text

I’m Sorry

Alpha!Ushijima x Beta!f!reader x Alpha!Oikawa

Warnings: THIS IS A SEQUEL to Regrets, intention of suicide, suicidal thoughts and actions [overdose, cutting, falling], mentions of self harm [overdose and cutting], angst, pregnancy, bonding mention, I did not look up Argentina resident rules

The rain was heavy today.

You felt as if it was the universe’s way of saying it was sorry for you. The ride back to school would be in the pouring rain that matched the gloominess of your heart, only to enter a campus where nobody wanted anything to do with you. His scent was all over you; despite being a Beta, you could feel it. You had been claimed and nobody would dare try and claim Ushijima Wakatoshi’s mate, despite the fact you’re not his mate.

Sobbing did little to ease the ache in your chest, eyes blotched from the constant tears and your nose sniffling as you tried to wipe away snot with your sleeves. Your sleeves, not his sleeves of a jacket you stole. Reading stories of how an Alpha would bestow their mate clothing would always warm your heart, but sitting on a dirty busstop with nobody but the rain beside you, your heart felt cold.

“What are you doing?” Someone asked. Your head snapped up to see a brunet looking down at you, his attire telling you he was dressed to run. Running? In pouring rain? What an idiot. He was gorgeous, though, hair collecting silver droplets that seemed to only accentuate his features. Your eyes trail down to the black collar adorning his neck, hidden beneath the white and blue jacket he wore. He quirked an eyebrow, giving off a small chuckle. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,”

“More like an idiot running in rain. What’s up with that?” You sniffle, rubbing at your raw nose and cursing the timing. An Alpha coming on a claimed Beta alone — words don’t need to be spoken for the other man to know why you’re crying. But instead of running off, he sits next to you. “You’re gonna get me wet, weirdo,”

“Well if I sit too close, I’d get snot on me, so maybe I’d be better keeping my distance, anyways,” he shoots back, barely batting an eye. You just scoff, rolling your eyes.

“Someone seems to have a problem with me. I don’t even know who you are, stranger,” you give off a grin, trying to keep up the light tone.

“Well, you’re wearing a Shiratorizawa jacket and you stink like Ushiwaka, so can you blame me for being a bit of an ass?” He says, grinning. Though you were keeping a light tone, his words quickly reminded you of the position you’re in. Gloomy day, pouring rain, busstop. Looking back to the ground, you sigh heavily.

“Well, at least it’s the most interaction I’ve had all day. Ushijima’s got a stick up his ass and no funny bone in his body, so I suppose if this is my last interaction, it’s better than him,” you off handedly say. The man beside you quirks his eyebrow once more, your words settling into his brain before he’s leaning closer to you. His shadow moves towards you, making you jump back. “What are you doing?”

“You’re pregnant,” he flat out says. Before you can shoot anything back, his eyes get sad as he pulls himself back some more. “You’re going to kill yourself because he abandoned you?”

“How-” you sputter, tears springing to your eyes once more, “how did you-”

“You know if he’s abandoned you, another Alpha can take claim, right? You’re not worthless,”

“Easy for you to say. I’m a Beta with an Alpha’s bond mark. An Alpha that doesn’t even want to talk to me. My family and friends have turned their backs on me because it’s my fault. I wouldn’t expect an Alpha to understand the other party’s feelings,” you say, wiping away the tears. Despite trying to appear strong, your eyes are wet and there’s snot running down your face. “No Alpha wants Ushijima Wakatoshi’s leftovers. Don’t make me laugh,”

“Well, a cute little Beta would look better with a genuine smile then tears in their eyes, wouldn’t you agree?” He smiles, rubbing your cheek, but you slap away his hand.

“Stop patronizing me. You sound like a creepy old man. Who even are you?”

“Oh, I didn’t think I had to introduce myself. I’m Oikawa Tōru,” he smiles once more, a genuine smile, as he holds out his hand. “And if there’s someone who hates Ushiwaka more than you, it’s me,”

“[Y/N]. You’re from Seijoh, right?” You shake his hand, although it’s brisk. His nod confirms your suspicions. The captain of the team that never beat Ushijima’s team, but always aimed for the top. Ushijima also mentioned how talented Seijoh’s setter was, but you never expected to be sitting on a busstop next to the man himself. “Well, you’ve gotten my life story and told me you hate Ushijima, so I guess it’s time for you to go back to running in the rain,”

“Nah, I can’t,” he shrugs, but you look at him confused, waiting for him to continue. Eventually, you ask him why. “Well, I can’t leave someone in need alone. If I leave, you’ll still kill yourself. You’re hurting and I can’t just abandon you. I’m not like other Alphas, you know.” You know his reference is to only Ushijima, but it warms your stomach nonetheless, seeing someone actually be there for you.

“I’m sorry you had to meet me then. If you hadn’t stopped, we’d both be blissfully unaware of each other’s presence,” you say, letting a sob wrack your body before covering it with a cough. “Guess I’m the weirdo getting sick,”

“Still thinking there’s no other option, huh?”

“Well what do you expect? You’re the only person who hasn’t told me to face my consequences on my own and turned your back on me. There really is no reason for me to stay here, especially if I have to raise a child without a support system. I’m still in high school, what the fuck,” you huff, running your hand through your hair, looking up at the sky, noticing how the rain has eased up and the sky is brighter. “I’ll be out when it comes, but the fact of the matter is I’ll graduate pregnant, who wants to go through that? I’m basically a cheap slut in everybody’s eyes. I just wanted to feel needed by someone I admire and this is what it results in? The more I think about it the more I want to down a bottle of painkillers and never wake up.”

“If nobody is sticking up for you, then maybe they’re not your real friends. Fair weather friends, only there for good tea and sunny days. If there’s nobody there for you, reach out for help,”

“I don’t want to be a burden,”

“People who will help you willingly won’t see it that way. Me sitting here with you isn’t burdening me, and I haven’t turned from you. I know we just met, but I want to help you. There’s a lot to live for and one setback doesn’t deserve to sever that line before you’ve even gotten to the good part. Good people exist, you just need to find them,”

“‘Find them’? I thought I had, so what’s the point in trying to find more, only to be disappointed?”

“[Y/N], was it? I’m right here, you know,” he puts a hand on his chest, a smile on his lips and shining in his eyes. “I’ve seen you at your lowest and I’m still here. Find someone like me,”

“That’s sweet, but I doubt there are multiple Oikawas running around in the rain,” you sigh, looking back up. It’s almost time for the bus, but you have a feeling that if he’s still here, then he won’t let you leave. “Are you gonna sit there until my opinion changes?”

“They don’t change that easily, trust me,” he chuckles, but it lacks the merry behind it. Glancing at him, his eyes are downcast as he runs a thumb over his knee. “But I don’t want to see someone die over one thing. There’s a lot to live for, a lot to strive for, that’s why I keep moving even after all my failures. If someone kills themselves for one thing, something I don’t see as a reason to end, I wonder if it was deeper than what it was on the surface. Was it a quick way to feel numb for a while? Was it an easy solution? Sometimes the easiest path isn’t the right one. Surviving an attempt makes you realize things can change, but what if you didn’t survive? If you regret putting the blade to your skin or stepping off the ledge seconds after you do it or seconds before death? You can’t change it once it’s in motion.”

“I never.. I never thought about it like that,” you mutter, your hands holding each other, fingers twiddling. A brief meeting with a handsome Alpha suddenly put things in perspective. A laugh breaks you from your trance, his mouth behind his hand.

“If I see an opportunity to help, I’ll be there, but the fact is I can’t change your mind. I would like to put things in perspective and give you options, but that’s all I can do. If the reason you’re planning to end it all is because you have no friends, I can help with that. I’ll be your friend when nobody else gives you a chance.”

You mull it over, thinking of your options. In the end, the worst that could happen is you end up back on the bench, in the rain, ready to match to your death. “You know, I was told that if it sounds too good to be true, then it probably is,” you mutter, but rifle through your jacket pockets for your phone. “Don’t make me regret second guessing myself, Oikawa Tōru. If you want to be my friend, I’ll take the hand extended to me,”

“Wonderful! And just in the nick of time, the bus is here,” he takes out his own phone, ready to swap numbers. As the bus pulls up to a stop, Oikawa waves at you as he pockets his phone, your contact information all piled inside. You really hope you don’t regret this decision, too.

In the few days that pass, you find yourself wondering how you could have possibly thought bad of Oikawa. He was sweet to you, introducing you to his friends (who knew about your predicament prior), with their promise they’d never turn their back. Iwaizumi was also an Alpha, but the other two were Betas. You did think it to be odd about how they seemed to willingly to help you, stay beside you, despite having no reason to. Their only reason was a promise to you. To Oikawa? Maybe, but you never asked him about it; if you did, he’d just shrug and give you a vague answer.

He promised to show you the light on a dark and gloomy evening, and he kept that promise. As your friends turned their backs on you, scoffing about how your decision will affect you for the rest of your life, Oikawa was there when you needed him the most. He was on standby all hours of the day and night, his phone always on and beside him. When your family turned you away, calling you out on your sudden friendship with another Alpha while carrying a child, they kicked you out and you had nowhere else to go, Oikawa was there. When you felt your world crumbling around you, feeling hopeless and desperate, picking up a secret stash of painkillers, Oikawa was there to talk to you. He didn’t actively take away the pills, but he sat on the other side of the door and talked to you, listened to you. Even his mom was there for you when your family and friends had left you, but Oikawa stood beside you through it all.

Then your world crumbled again.

“I’m planning on moving to Argentina,” he had said. You were looking into colleges to further your education when he had knocked on your door, his old sister’s room, sitting on the bed.

“You’re.. leaving?” You wanted to add to that sentence, but you didn’t want to seem clingy. He’s been with you for so much, you’re not entirely sure you can be independent without him.

“It’s been almost 6 months since you met me. I actually went on that run to decide if I wanted to study abroad in Argentina, but after meeting you, I decided to wait. I’ve been studying the language and keeping up with local volleyball communities, but my dream is over there,” he explains. You click your pen and set it down, ready to ask if you should leave his house, but he continues. “I wanted to know if you’d come with me.”

“Wh- What?”

“I’ve been putting in extra time so we can both move together, get a fresh start,” his face tints as he speaks, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “It seems a bit forward, now that I’m actually talking aloud about it. Sorry ‘bout that,” he chuckles, before clearing his throat.

“You want me.. to come with you?” You ask, unsure if you’re hearing correctly. He’s asking you to move to a new country with him, which is exciting! But, the baby.. “He is due soon, you know,”

“5 weeks, if I remember correctly,” he smiles, looking down at the large bump. You run a hand over it, solemnly nodding. “He’d be born in Argentina, our new home, if you come with me,”

“But Ushijima—”

“He’s abandoned you, officially. Your bond, it’s hardly noticeable anymore. The scent, I mean,” he corrects himself. “He’s basically just a sperm donor at this point,”

“This is.. very sudden, you know,”

“I know. And it’s also a very grand way of asking to court you, while also essentially marrying you, but I will say that if you choose to stay here, Iwa-chan will take care of you. He’s going to study in California for some amount of time, but that’s not for another few months. There is Mattsun and Makki, but I’m not too sure-”

“Okay, don’t stress yourself,” you giggle, getting him to stop. “I’ll go with you, but you gotta teach me the language,”

“I’ve been told I’m a great tutor, actually,”

“I believe it. Will the bond go away, or is it just the scent that’s gone?” He raises his brows at that.

“Ah, I guess you never took those classes. The bond is permanent, but another Alpha can lay claim on a mate that has been abandoned. I’d be honored to replace his bond with mine, but I’m sure you’ll need-”

“I’m ready,” you interrupt him. He sputters as he processes the words, but then smirks.

“Are you sure? I don’t plan on making mistakes, so you’ll be stuck with me, you know?”

“Tōru, I’ve been ready for a while now. Hope you don’t mind bonding me while I’m pregnant,” your hand once more rubs the large bump, settling on the top.

“It just means I’ll have to wait until it’s my turn to try,” he licks his lips, moving towards the door. The locking sound seals your fate, keeping others from interrupting your moment.

- Years Later

“Koichi, come back here!” you shout, weaving in between the crowds. Aiko is somehow still asleep on your shoulder as you chase your son through the crowd. He’s been dying to meet his favorite uncle for quite some time, so see as he’s the trainer for the Nationals team of Japan, Koichi ran once the match ended. A brief Q&A with the members of the team would happen exactly right after they left the stadium, which he knew because of his father’s position.

You finally come to a stop, grabbing Koichi’s collar as he struggles to get through the crowd. “I told you to not leave me, and what did you do? Uncle Iwa isn’t going to suddenly disappear. He’s been waiting for this day, too, you know?”

“But mama! I told him I’d be the first one!”

“That’s impossible. The paparazzi gets to him first, that’s how it works in Hollywood movies,” you joke, but you pick him up. You’re no professional athlete, but you do stay in shape to take care of two children. As soon as you pick him up, he’s shouting as he sees Iwaizumi, trying to talk to the reporters. He catches Koichi’s waving hand and decides to take a break, going towards where you are as the crowd parts.

“How is the Oikawa family doing? I see Koichi is energetic,” he laughs, taking the boy from your arms.

“Ugh, as always. Don’t know where he gets it from, it’s not like his sister is bursting with energy all day,” you gesture to the child sleeping, despite the loud crowd.

“Well, definitely Oikawa’s kid. He sleeps through anything and so does she, jeez,” he sighs, but you just laugh. A few members of his team come over, excited by the new people.

“Iwa-chan, what’s this? Wife? Your kids?? You have kids???” A man with white and black hair says, giving Koichi a high five.

“Uh, no. They’re actually Oikawa’s wife and kids. I’m the favorite uncle, of course,”

“I wanna be the uncle! ‘Samu is never gonna get married, I need to be an amazing uncle somehow,” a man with platinum blond hair says, but he’s quickly pushed aside as a familiar face comes into view.

A face you didn’t want to see.

“[Y/N], I didn’t expect to see you here,” Ushijima says, tone as flat as ever. Iwaizumi takes on a forced smile as yours drops, a frown etched on.

“Didn’t expect to see you here either. Actually, ever again,”

“Oh?” The owlish man says, eyebrows quirked up as his eyes glance between the two of you.

“I see you moved on. I’m glad to see that,”

“No thanks to you,” the venom in your voice has Koichi turning to him, looking at the larger man with large eyes. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see the resemblance. He’s got the same hair color and eyes as the man in front of you, taking hardly any features from you. Not to mention, Koichi is showing signs of presenting as an Alpha.

“Darling, that’s where you were!” Oikawa shouts from over the crowd, them parting so he can mingle with the group around you. “I was wondering where my personal cheerleaders went to,” he smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. His eyes meet Ushijima’s and despite being unable to smell the tension, you can feel it. Reporters and guests alike back away as the overwhelming tension of two Alphas clash.

“Oikawa,” Ushijima says. Oikawa just tilts his head, looking over his opponent.

“I thought you’d look more defeated after I wiped the court with your ass, but I’m more disappointed in that. Emotionless as ever, aren’t you, Ushiwaka?”

“No, I wouldn’t say that,” he says, then looks to you. “I’ve been meaning to say something to you, [Y/N],”

“Trust me, I don’t want to hear it. You’re too late, Wakatoshi. You’re much too late,” you say, before nodding at Iwaizumi. “I’m leaving,”

Despite turning to leave, Oikawa taking Koichi away from his uncle and new “uncles”, despite being in the middle of a loud crowd, you can hear him. It’s quiet, almost as if he knows the words are weightless, holding nothing after years of his abandonment. Despite Oikawa’s bond pulsing, your heart still yearns for the other man, what he could have given you and what he did to you. Despite all this, you’ve fantasized about hearing those words, yet they do nothing.

“I’m sorry.”

Author’s Note: I’m sorry this took forever to publish but I hope it was worth the wait! I didn’t keep track of time while writing this, so if something seems wrong just ignore it. I might come back and fix it later but probably not lol ; Argentina residency rules and citizenship requirements were not consulted for this, seeing as it only took up like one sentence, but I might change it if I look more into it of course.

#haikyuu x reader #ushijima x you #ushijima x reader #ushijima angst #BB.Angst #Ushijima.Angst #Mr. Wakatoshi #tw.pregnancy #cw.pregnancy #tw.self harm #tw.suicide #tw.suicide mention #cw.self harm #cw.suicide #cw.suicide mention #BB.🐾

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atsuminthe · 4 years ago

Text

Spring rolls

—You notice something that bothers you. Meian takes the opportunity to compliment you a little.

note: just a li’l blurb for teddy bear daddy meian bc i love him <3

taglist: @nakizumie; @lovelytarou; @risjime;

You stare at the mirror in your room in disbelief, pout evident on your face. Your hands squish the barely-noticeable layer of fat that deposited itself on your tummy, scrunching your nose. You don’t like it—quarantine has taken a toll on you, and even with your husband’s workout routine and your yoga sessions, the truth is clear.

You gained weight.

You know it’s not an uncommon occurrence, especially since you spend most of your time indoors—maybe go out in the backyard and sunbathe a bit, or watch Meian’s shirtless figure do push-ups as you read a magazine that’s been lying around (and finding a good cake recipe...)—but the way the fat rolls in your hands annoys you.

Did you really eat that much? Or are you not active enough?

Your favorite jeans don’t really fit you anymore. It takes a bit of effort to pull them on now, and you groan. “Come on, move it!” you say, stubbornly refusing to give up. Once the jeans have been secured on your form, you pop the button and zip up.

Your slight tummy sits over the waistband.

“Damn it!”

While you pout and lament, Meian’s been watching you from the doorframe, leaning against it with a dopey smile. He’s not bothered in the slightest about your weight gain—in fact, it gives him an opportunity to lay his head on your tummy, kiss it, squish your plump thighs and ass—but he understands. He fluffed up a bit too—and he misses playing with the Jackals. Even so, he can’t let you feel bad about yourself.

In his eyes, you’re always beautiful: at 2 am when you wake up to drink water, eyes still closed as you fumble for the water bottle next to the bed—in the morning, when you stumble your way into the kitchen, dizzy and with your hair “looking like a bird nest”—when you’re ugly crying as you two watch a movie on the couch, snot and tears running down your face as you sob—whenever you smile and laugh up at him when he tickles you randomly—when you sleep on his chest, and he gets to run his fingers through your soft hair.

There isn’t something Meian doesn’t love about you.

“What happened, dear?” he asks, amused when you jump and turn around with a hand on your chest. “Sorry, sorry. You just looked cute with that pout and I wanted to see it a bit more.”

You keep pouting, a frown forming on your face. “A lot happened,” you huff, unconsciously tugging the waistband of your jeans over your tummy. He raises an eyebrow, tilting his head as a sign for you to go on. “My clothes won’t fit me, because I gained weight—and I don’t know what’s wrong, or what’s going on, because we both worked out, and I didn’t stop doing yoga, and—”

“Hey. Look at me.”

You stop your rambling, looking up at your husband—when did he get next to you?—as he places his hands on your hips, gently squeezing them. He grins, kissing your forehead, and turns you around to look at yourself in the mirror as he holds you, chin resting on your shoulder. “What is it that you don’t like?” he asks, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek. You grumble and he laughs. “C’mon.”

“This!” you burst, puffing your cheeks as you grab the fold of your tummy. “Why! Did this! Happen!”

“Relax, honey,” he coos as he takes your hands in his, removing them from your abdomen. “I got some too, you know.” You tilt your head to look at him, brows raised and lips parted, like a silent ‘are you for real?’. “Unbelievable, I know, but I do. It’s ok, though.”

His hands gently caress the soft flesh of your tummy, arms tightening around you—you squeal, a smile blooming in your lips—and your husband nuzzles his nose in the crook of your neck. “I love you just the way you are. A little bit of pudge isn’t going to make me stray away,” he muses and you sigh. “We can work something out for you. Besides,” Meian continues, resting one palm on your ass and squeezing it lightly, “the fluffier, the better. At least for me.”

His comment makes you snort and you try to hold in your laughter. “You’re impossible, Shugo,” you sigh, trying to sound annoyed, but the soft grin on your face betrays your true emotions.

“I might be, but you still love me,” he bites back, kissing your temple. “And I love you just as much.”

#haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #hq!!#hq!! x you #meian shugo #meian x reader #meian x y/n #meian x you #meian fluff #[ minty’s kitchen treats — sugar ]#meian shūgo

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pine-lark · 3 years ago

Note

Ooh trap him somewhere either very hot or very cold?? :D

Oh.

This is a perfect excuse to write an old daydream from my childhood. Well, there's two-- Arion on a grill and Arion in a box. I chose the box for this one but I may be tempted to write the grill at some point. I haven't written The Box before now because it doesn't exactly... fit with the plot of the actual story, but I mean...

Alternate Rescue AU, coming right up, Anon. (Also sorry I'm like, infinitely late haha. School threw me into a hell pit and I've been recovering. I'm back now ((though I'm not sure for how long, things might change in a week or two... we'll see.)) For now, I'm working on a lot of Arion stuff that will hopefully pop up within a few days! Cheers!)

CW: Tiny whumpee, some blood, cold/hypothermia symptoms (duh), cages/referenced captivity, briefly implied forced nudity from said captivity, brief reference to a past fever and resulting vomiting, referenced/implied physical abuse, water/rain/storms/being submerged in/splashed with water, thoughts of dying (of the "I might die" and "Am I dead?" and wishing to be put out of misery type), crying, (thinking about) needles, short (kind of) graphic description of a bird being run over, brief religion references

His legs still ache from running.

Arion sits in the cardboard box he found on the side of the road, huddled in the corner, shivering in the dark. Although he tries to clamp his jaw shut and stop it, his teeth chatter and his shoulders quiver. It feels like the frozen autumn air has grasped him entirely in icy claws that shake him violently in an inescapable grip. It reminds him of being trapped in Heston’s hand, shaken, body tossed in every direction until his head pounded and his eyes watered.

It’s colder outside than it used to be in the garage. But it’s better out here. No one can hurt him here.

As long as they don’t find him.

He rubs his hands over the goosebumps on his arms, hoping to warm them up and calm down the wild pain buried deep in his skin. As he does so, blood smears along the path he touches. It’s still gently creeping out of the series of cuts etched into his forearms. With it, the image of Heston’s glinting eyes surfaces in Arion’s memory. He buries his head in his shaking knees with a wet sniff. But he’s done it, he reminds himself. He’s escaped. Finally. Chewed through rope, slipped through an unlocked door. Heston's gone. For now.

Please, please don’t come looking for me.

A dog barks somewhere in the distance. He jumps. It sets off an echo of shivers all the way down his spine as his hair stands on end.

A raindrop falls on the cardboard roof. Then another, and another. Thunder claps harshly overhead.

Arion shuts his eyes tight, bites back the frustrated tears welling up at the corners of his eyes. He curls up tighter, hugging himself, doing all he can to keep any scrap of heat he has close to his body. A storm might just do it. Might just kill him. A storm means wind. Freezing wind. And freezing rain. The last thing he needs right now is rain. It can’t rain. He presses his body closer to the cardboard wall, knowing it might not be standing there much longer if it rains.

And it does. It pours.

He sees the rain splash into the road before him. The storm swiftly grows. It’s ferocious and feral and cruel. The temperature around Arion drops. His tiny body shakes uncontrollably, as if it weren’t his own. It reminds him of the terrifying fever he had, long ago, in the confines of his red cage just weeks after being taken from his home. He’d been throwing up and twitching and having the most horrible, vivid dreams (on the occasions that both Heston and the illness let him sleep). The fits of shivering drove him mad, the endless teeth-chattering and flashes of uncomfortable warmth and sticky sweat made him feel even worse. It's like that, he thinks. Except, now, as he shivers, he’s unbearably cold.

An involuntary whine fights its way out of him. When he swallows, his throat feels stiff and achy. Snot runs profusely down his lips and no amount of wiping it away with his bleeding arms is helping it slow. Water has thoroughly and entirely drenched the cardboard, at this point. Has crept through the floor and the walls, and, gradually and persistently, has started to drip through the sagging ceiling. For a moment, Arion remembers he has toes, and that they’ve been numb for awhile now. Actually, now that he’s thinking about it, his feet haven’t felt like anything either, and when he tries to move his fingers, they only twitch. They feel heavy and prickly. He feels prickly all over. Like Heston had shoved a thousand frozen needles into a thousand different places all over his body. It hurts to breathe. There’s no way to get warmer. Nothing to hide under, not even something as decent as clothing. No way to escape, nowhere to run to, even if he had the energy left to try. He lets out a miserable sob.

And then the ceiling falls through, in a blur of collapsing cardboard and splashing waves of water that crash over his head and the rest of his body.

Arion tumbles out of the box, drenched. He coughs up water through jittery movements. For a second, he chokes on a mouthful, and he briefly he thinks he'll never breathe again, before his chest jerks and with another cough, the water falls out of his mouth. He tries to get his arms and legs under him, to stand or even crawl, but his limbs fail him and he crumbles face-first back to the harsh surface below him. The rocks mixed in the road’s tar are sharp. They cut deeply through his nose and cheek and the shoulder that followed his face in the fall. Arion winces against the fresh, sharp pain and the beads of blood that begin to form where he’s been hurt. His breaths come in ragged heaves.

He sniffs. Tears drip from his eyes. He lays helpless in the middle of the little road, in his mind begging to no one that a car doesn’t come along and crush him. Under any other circumstance, he’d love to be put out of his misery. But he’s seen a bird been run over before. Under a truck’s tire. And the memory makes his stomach churn. Flattened face, open stomach, popped like a bubble in a stream.

Briefly, Arion thinks of himself in place of the bird. He thinks of the smear of red underneath his empty, open eyes. He thinks of the way the headlights might look as they would suddenly appear right in front of him. The horrid, mind-numbing honk of a horn. The image he creates in his mind of those headlights, his last moments, is vivid. It’s so vivid that he thinks it might be real, or maybe hypothermia is setting in and beginning to ruin his mind.

It’s just his imagination, he thinks.

And then he smells exhaust from a car.

And the screech of brakes.

And for a second, whilst his body is numb and bright white light is all he can see, he thinks he might be dead.

“I swear, if I keep stopping my car for every mouse that sits in front of it, I’m never going to get anywhere.”

That voice drifts from the car stopped in front of him.

Not dead, then.

Almost, he thinks.

“Can’t help it though. What else am I supposed to do, run them over? Just vet instincts, I guess. Huh, Jasper.” There’s a meow in response. Arion’s breath hitches. The voice says, “Me-ow. I know, I know. I’ll be right back.” A car door shuts. Then there’s heavy wet footsteps. Boots clopping over puddles and asphalt. Panic floods Arion’s chest as a shadow cuts through the blinding white light from the vehicle. The outline of a human lowers, kneels in front of him. His breath stops. His mind goes blank.

“What…”

A moment passes. Something touches him. He flinches hard, but trying to run isn’t an option. His body is completely, entirely, wholly exhausted and far too numb to move more than flailing back a couple inches.

“Oh, geez, that’s-- not a mouse. Okay.” Her head turns in a way that Arion can see her face. A young woman with red hair, watching him with a warm but frantic gaze. “Okay. Okay okay. Oh, God, you’re injured pretty bad, little buddy. Your arms are all… cut up. That’s not good. Um.”

Arion stares blankly ahead. Suddenly, freezing to death isn’t something he feels like putting too much effort into avoiding.

“Okay. Here’s what we’ll do,” the girl continues. “I’m gonna bring you into my car where I can see you better, alright? Then I can help you. It’s gonna be okay. Here. I’m picking you up now, ‘kay?”

The feeling of a warm hand washes over his body. It’s both terrifying and incredibly welcome. The sting of cold seems to seep out of his skin, albeit very slowly. Quickly, though, burning prickles replace whatever comfort the touch brought him.

“Oh, you’re freezing, little guy. You must have been out here for a long time. That can be really dangerous… I’m glad I found you. I’ll get you all warmed up in the car.”

Arion whimpers against the hands that carry him to somewhere warmer, where he hears the faint, deep sound of a large beating heart. For a second, he wonders if this is God. And then the car door opens and creaks, and the girl curses under her breath, and Arion remembers he’s an atheist.

Still, as the stinging in his warming skin subsides, the warmth of her hands starts to feel… nice. If his mind were still intact (instead of shattered into vague, useless fragments as it is now), Arion would have done anything and everything to get away from any human or other predatory beast in sight. But with his head swimming, he leans into her touch, and compliantly accepts the soft feeling of some kind of cloth being wrapped all around him.

Words are spoken to him, but he can’t listen. To him they sound broken up and blurry as the insistence of sleep becomes more desperate in the back of his mind. As he gets warmer, his muscles relax, and his eyes get droopy. His vision darkens, and the girl’s voice hushes.

Just before he drifts off into a far overdue, deep and restful sleep, he thinks to himself, vaguely, that he hopes this human is different. He hopes that when he wakes back up, it won’t be in another cage.

Tag list because this ended up being a full drabble:

(Also, let me know if you'd like to be removed from the tag list. No hurt feelings! I know it's been a long time and if you've lost interest that is A-Okay, friend)

(Also, if you'd like to be added or if your username's changed, let me know!)

@whumping-every-day, @deluxewhump, @sola-whumping, @haro-whumps, @inaridriscoll, @whatwasmyprevioususername, @kiretto-laorentze, @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @ahorriblebimess, @whump-me-all-night-long

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expectingtofly · 4 years ago

Text

Incident at Playgroup

2.8k

fluff, established dean/cas, baby jack, human!cas, cas and dean terrorize other parents

dedicated to @thiscastielhasflown bc a few weeks ago we talked about tfw’s mcdonald’s orders and this fic happened. wishing you a good week with schoolwork assignments that only take half the time you expect them to, eventual restful sleep, and good grades <3

also posted on ao3

“Clown!” Jack yelled, pointing at the entrance to the McDonald’s indoor play area. A Ronald McDonald cardboard cutout guarded the door, holding a sign reading, You must be this tall to enter.

“Inside voice,” Dean said, though he wasn’t sure it mattered much when he could hardly hear himself speak. Recently, they’d joined a playgroup of parents and kids from Jack’s preschool, and this weekend, some of the moms had organized a playdate at the McDonald’s in town, one with a huge play area.

Meaning, they were now surrounded by screaming kids, diaper bags, and stressed out parents.

Dean winced as a kid shrieked from across the room. “We need to take a photo of you next to ol’ Ronald to show Sam.”

“Okay,” Jack agreed, jumping up and down in his chair.

Coming over with the tray of their food, Cas put out a hand to steady Jack’s chair. “That would be unnecessarily cruel."

Dean grabbed his Big Mac. “Yeah, well, he deserves it.” Before they’d come here today, Sam had repeatedly told them, quote, “please don't fuck this up again." Always was a polite bastard. “He’s gotta have more faith in us. What are we, amateurs?”

“Unfortunately, I believe that’s the point,” Cas said, sitting down and giving Jack his Happy Meal. “We don’t have the best track record with these sort of things.”

These ‘sort of things’ being playgroups.

So, they’d tried a couple that hadn’t worked out. “Not like it’s our fault,” he said. “Take a seat, kid.” Jack ignored him, jumping in his seat as he waved to another toddler sitting nearby.

Cas beamed, holding onto the back of the chair. “He’s making friends, that’s a good sign.”

“Kid could make friends with a blank wall,” Dean said, but Cas was right—making friends was the whole point they were here. While Jack could make friends with just about anyone and anything—every crayon had a name and backstory, Cas’ trenchcoat was taken on make-believe-adventures, and the Impala could apparently talk, if Jack’s one-sided conversations during long car rides was anything to go off of—it was true that Jack was lacking in the friends-that-aren’t-hunters-or-over-a-decade-older category. There weren’t exactly many toddlers running around the bunker.

Hence, why they were spending their Saturday afternoon at the Hell on Earth known as McDonald's PlayPlace.

Jack held out the bag of apple slices that came in his Happy Meal. “Open.”

Dean stared him down and Jack added, “Peas.”

Close enough. Taking the bag, Dean told Cas, “Don’t look now, but Amanda is handing out brochures for Pampered Chef again.” According to Sam, that was another reason this playdate had to be a success—making friends with the right parents meant getting invited to more playdates and whatever other random events the parents came up with. It was like a weird society Dean had never known existed until Jack started preschool and started interacting with other kids his own age.

“I saw you using the food processor the other day,” Cas said, glancing over his shoulder to look despite Dean’s warning. Dean rolled his eyes. “I think it’s ingenious.”

“I’m not going to another two hour cooking demonstration.“

“Sam said we need to make a good impression.”

“He can go buy overpriced kitchen tools then.” It was a little too convenient that Sam had gotten out of taking Jack to this playdate—Dean had a suspicion that the multiple Ronald McDonalds stationed around had something to do with that.

He tried to hand Jack the apples, but Jack pointed at the play area. “Wanna play!”

“You have to finish your food,” Dean told him. Crossing his arms, Jack glared at him and stomped his foot on the chair.

“Just eat two more nuggets,” Cas told him. He picked up his filet-o-fish sandwich and glanced at Dean. “What?”

“You’re spoiling him.”

Jack stuffed his face with two chicken nuggets, which prompted Cas to give Dean a look. “Well, you’re teaching him bad table manners.”

Just to be obnoxious, Dean shoved half of his burger into his mouth in one bite. Jack laughed at him and Cas rolled his eyes.

“Done!” Jack announced, and Cas pushed his chair back so he could escape.

“These play places are gross,” Dean said, swallowing. “He’s gonna catch a disease.”

“Good thing he can’t get sick,” Cas said, watching Jack clamber up some stairs to reach a slide.

“Yeah, well I can,” Dean retorted. Jack went down the slide with a squeal. Landing at the bottom, he waved at them and Dean waved back.

“The Winchesters are here!” someone called too cheerily and Dean rolled his eyes, turning to see Ashley walking over. Lady thought she ran the group, always recruiting parents to bring snacks and toys to playdates. A little too high and mighty when Dean knew for a fact that the cupcakes she'd brought last week were store-bought.

Settling down into the seat next to them, she asked, “I wasn’t expecting you two today. Where’s Sam?”

Dean resisted rolling his eyes. Of course Sam was everyone’s favorite. Wasn’t his fault Sam was better at feigning interest in grocery lists and laundry piles. Parenting was hard enough without getting subjected to the unique torture of playgroup small talk.

“Him and Eileen went on a weekend trip,“ Cas answered easily and Dean nodded. They’d long given up trying to explain to others why Jack had a rotating list of parental figures accompanying him to playgroup, figuring if the other parents thought they were in a weird cult situation, at least that was better than them knowing the truth—like the fact that Sam and Eileen were away hunting a rugaru in Missouri. Though they were going to run out of excuses soon for why playgroup couldn’t be hosted at their place—an underground bunker with enough weapons to hold off an army.

“Well,” Ashley said, “I’m glad you guys were able to make it.” Yeah, that was a fake smile.

“We wouldn’t miss it,” Dean said, plastering on his own fake smile. “I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.” Cas kicked him under the table.

“We’ve loved having Jack in the group,” Ashley said, and that might not be a fake sentiment. Jack could charm anyone. “Such a sweetheart. Lily adores him.” She smiled at where Jack and her daughter Lily were crawling through a tunnel at the top of the play area.

“Jack, no!” Dean called, seeing Jack stick his fingers in his mouth. “I’m so getting sick,” he muttered under his breath.

He was trying to come up with an excuse to get away as Ashley pulled out her phone to show them a new post on her mommy blog—boring, same old content. Give him a blog and he’d actually have something interesting to say—when he heard familiar crying from across the play area.

Without a second thought, he was pushing back his chair and rushing over, squeezing past playing kids and their parents to find Jack sitting on the floor bawling his eyes out and a bigger kid standing over him.

“What the hell happened here?” he demanded. He went to pick up Jack, but Cas was already swooping in and grabbing him.

“He pushed me!” Jack managed through his sobs, and Dean turned on the older kid.

“What the hell’s your problem?” The kid’s baleful expression faltered. He took a step back and Dean advanced on him. “You get off on making kids half your size cry?”

“Don’t speak to my son that way!” someone exclaimed, pushing through the crowd of kids and parents to glare at them. “What’s going on?”

“Your son is a menace,” Cas told the woman—Denise. Playgroup gossip said her son had gotten held back from kindergarten due to his inability to ‘play nice with others.’ Jack’s crying had subdued to sniffles, but Cas still held onto him like he might break apart. “He was bullying our son.”

“I’m sure it was an accident.” She put her hand on the kid’s shoulder. “You didn’t mean to hurt him, right, Tommy?”

Tommy only glared at them, and Dean glared right back. “He needs to apologize to Jack,” Cas said.

“Tommy, apologize.”

After several long, drawn out seconds, Tommy muttered, looking down at his feet, “Sorry.”

“I don’t think that was a real apology,” Cas said.

“It’s not my fault Jack’s a crybaby,” Tommy shot back.

“You little—” Dean started

“Take that back,” Cas snapped, and if he wasn’t human, Dean would’ve expected his eyes to start glowing fiery blue. Denise’s eyes grew wide, her grip on Tommy’s shoulder tightening.

“Is there a problem here?” someone asked, and Dean turned to see a McDonald’s employee hurrying over.

“Yeah, this kid shoved our son,” Dean said. “And he’s being a little shit about it.”

The employee’s expression turned shocked and Dean heard a few gasps from the parents that had crowded around to see the commotion. “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave,” the employee stammered. “This is a kid’s play area, we won’t tolerate fighting here.”

“We were already going,” Cas said haughtily. He glared at Denise. “And if 'Tommy' ever lays a hand on Jack again, he will be sorry.” Jack’s expression was eerily similar to Cas’ as they shot twin glares at Tommy, and Dean thought he caught a spark in Jack’s eyes.

“Let’s go,” he said, taking Cas’ elbow and guiding him through the crowd of spectators before Jack tried to incinerate the kid. He wasn’t sure if that was one of Jack’s powers or not, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out in a crowded McDonald’s. Even if the snot-nosed kid deserved it.

The staff behind the counter was watching along with everyone else in the store, the once noisy place now brought to tense stillness. Cas snatched up the rest of their food and Dean knew they were already on the verge of getting the cops called on them, but he couldn’t resist turning and jabbing his finger at the little brat. “And don’t you ever fucking touch Jack again!”

Cas shot Denise and Tommy another look, Jack copying it over his shoulder, and Dean let the door slam shut behind them.

“I can’t believe the audacity of that woman,” Cas raged, strapping Jack into his carseat. Dean grabbed the wipes and leaned over the front seat to wipe Jack’s hands before he touched everything and spread germs around. “And her kid is exactly the same!”

Jack craned his neck to look back at the McDonald’s as Cas finished strapping him in. “Play!”

Getting into the passenger seat, Cas slammed the door shut. “You will not be going back there, not when those children are around. Dean was right, these play places are vile.”

“You alright, kid?” Dean asked Jack, shutting the wipe container.

Jack kicked his feet against the seat. “Hungry.”

Cas pulled out the container of Jack’s half-eaten chicken nuggets and Dean protested, thinking of a fateful day with a bag of cheerios—he was still finding them in every nook and cranny of the car. “No eating in the backseat.”

“He’s just been through a traumatic experience,” Cas said, handing the container to Jack. “We can make an exception.”

“Fine,” Dean muttered, gripping the steering wheel as he pulled out of the parking lot. “I always knew Denise was shifty. You saw the way she was trying to spin the story, making it out like it wasn’t her kid’s fault? Fucking asshole.”

“Asshole!” Jack agreed cheerfully from the backseat.

“That’s not a nice word, Jack,” Cas said. Quieter, he added, “But it’s accurate.” He pulled out his phone. “I’m gonna send a message to the playgroup chat. Tommy’s behavior can’t be tolerated. Soon all the kids are going to become bullies.”

“He needs to be taught a lesson,” Dean agreed, glancing at Jack as he stopped at a red light, trying not to flinch at the crumbs on Jack’s lap that threatened to fall to the floor. “Needs to get knocked down by someone. Hear that, Jack? We’re gonna teach you how to fight back.”

Jack nodded. “I can fight!” He waved a chicken nugget around in mock punches and Dean gave up any hope of keeping the backseat clean.

“Maybe we can convince the other parents to kick Denise and her son out of the—Oh.” Dean looked over at him and Castiel winced. “We’ve been blocked from the group chat.”

“That makes three of them,” Dean muttered, pushing the accelerator as the light turned green. “We’re gonna end up on some blacklist soon.”

First playgroup, Jack had set a couch on fire. Since the "baby god testing out his powers” explanation wasn’t gonna fly, they went with the tried and true, “playing with matches” excuse. Didn’t stop the group from voting to kick them out.

Second playgroup, Cas had gotten in a fiery debate over the ethicality of beekeeping, and what was Dean supposed to do? Not back him up? He hadn't known you could get kicked out of the zoo for "disorderly conduct."

Alright, maybe Sam’s fears that they’d fuck up this playdate too weren’t completely off base.

“I think it’s time we give playgroups a rest,” he decided.

"But Jack needs to make friends."

"He's already got us, and Claire and Kaia and Alex and—"

"Charlie!" Jack added from the backseat.

"Charlie," Dean agreed. "He's got plenty of friends." Cas only stared him down with a particular smitey look in his eyes, and though Dean knew there wasn't a real threat behind the gaze, he sighed. "Fine. We’ll try again.”

"I already had one in mind," Cas said, brightening. "In case this one didn't work out."

“Done!” Jack yelled.

“Inside voice,” Dean said automatically. “Wait, you had a backup plan?"

“Yes,” Cas said, taking the empty container of chicken nuggets from Jack. “I thought it wise considering our track record. It’s a smaller group than this one was—Here, Jack, you want my ice cream?”

“Dude, seriously?” Dean protested as Cas handed an Oreo McFlurry back to Jack, who excitedly held out his hands. “That’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Not necessarily,” Cas said. “I don’t think we’re that destined to fail again—Oh, you mean the ice cream.” He glanced at Jack, who was dripping ice cream onto his lap with every spoonful. “Um. Traumatic experience?”

Dean wasn’t falling for that excuse a second time. He started to say so, but Cas wasn’t listening, picking up his phone as it beeped several times in quick succession.

“What?” Dean asked, seeing a slow frown cross Cas' face as he stared at the screen.

Cas held up his phone to show several texts in a row. “We’re in trouble.”

On cue, Dean’s phone started ringing, the screen lighting up to display Sam’s name. Fuck.

“Sam would like to know why we’re all blocked from the group chat,” Cas said unhelpfully, and Dean rejected the call.

“Good luck explaining why.”

“Maybe the problem is us,” Cas said slowly. He met Dean’s eyes, then they both shook their heads.

“No, it’s those stupid parents,” Dean said.

“And their insufferable children,” Cas agreed.

“Insufferable!” Jack agreed from the backseat, ice cream smeared across his chin. Or that’s what Dean thought he was repeating, the word losing a few syllables along the way.

“Not you, Jack,” Cas said. “Every playgroup would be lucky to have you.”

“Just, they apparently don’t know it,” Dean pointed out. “Or we wouldn’t keep getting kicked out.”

His phone started ringing again, as if to remind him of the fact, and he looked pointedly at Cas. “You deal with him.”

“No, you,” Cas said.

“For fuck’s sake,” Dean muttered. Then he had an idea.

“Hey, Jack, tell Sam about what you saw today.” He turned on speakerphone and handed back his phone, not even caring that Jack’s hands were a sticky mess. Okay, maybe he cared a little, but that’s why the Impala now always held wipes in the glove box.

Jack grabbed his phone eagerly. “Sam!” he crowed. “Guess what I saw!”

Dean caught Sam’s voice over the phone. “What—Jack, hey, where’s Dean?”

“Clowns!” Jack said, waving his ice cream spoon around. “Clowns everywhere!”

“Very mature,” Cas told Dean.

Dean shrugged. “Buys us some time.”

“That’s nice, Jack, but put Dean on,” Sam said. Jack started to give the phone back, and Cas whispered,

“Tell him about the slide.”

“Sam, Sam! I went on a slide!” Dean gave him a thumbs up in the rearview mirror and Jack copied it.

“Dean! I know you can hear me!” Sam yelled as Jack continued on about his eventful day.

“We’re horrible influences,” Cas said, unsuccessfully fighting back a smile.

“Nah,” Dean said. “We’re the best.”

tag list

@becky-srs @xojo @marvelnaturalock @aelysianmuse @prayedtoyou @letsjustdieeveryone @good-things-do-happen-dean @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @theninthdutchessofhell @madronasky @famouspsychicpizzabandit @multifandomdisorder @arcticfox007 @improvedpeanut @castiel-is-a-cat @harmonyhelms @thetrueliesofafangirl @dean-you-assbutt-cas-loves-you @confusedisaster @welcome-to-crowleys-hellhole @celestialcastiel @wormstacheangel

let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the tag list :)

#expectingtofly writes #destiel fic #baby jack #established dean/cas #fluff #i have had this in my drafts for so long and i finally finished it #ive been dying to write baby jack #or toddler jack i guess in this case #just so i could write overprotective dean and cas #jace if youre reading this hi <3 and i hope i did the mcdonalds fic justice :))

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amenomiko · 4 years ago

Text

Thank you for the request, @crossmix ❤❤❤❤❤

Lancelot

-Will make Kyle to check on her every hour.

-Yes, every hour. Until our poor doctor roll his eyes saying that Lancelot is being paranoid.

-"I'm not paranoid, I'm just worried. Alice is important to me, she is the light of my life, the flower to my-"

-"Save that speech for later when you serenade her will you? Now let me tend to other patients in peace!"

-He will be out from his uniform, so he can wet his sleeves to put the towel on her forehead, and MC find his furry cape on her to keep her warm.

-Lancelot.exe also couldn't be found in his office as he practically move his work to be in the bedroom so he can look after her all the time.

-Panicked Jonah: My King this is where you were 😭😭😭😭😭😭!!!!

-Lancelot: Shhh... She is sleeping. Now report your tasks in whispers.

-Jonah and Edgar: *In whispers* Okay 👌.

Jonah

-He is the.. Panicked 101 and flustered boyfriend ever live.

-But he still want to show that he is a genius.

-Edgar: That's not how this.. "Fever Pads" work, Jonah.

-Jonah: Be quiet Edgar, I know what I'm doing!

-Kyle: No you are OBVIOUSLY NOT. Even though this item is not from our world, at least read the bloody instructions on the back! It just needs one fever pad. ONE. Putting all 10 pads like a layer cake won't suck out the heat faster like you assume!

-Meanwhile, MC: *Half asleep* Layer cake? Caaaake? Yaaaaaay \(+ w +)/~~~~ *K.O back to bed*

-Them: (　☉_⊙)...

-Jonah: Oh my poor, poor Alice 😭. I promise I will get you all the layer cake in cradle 😭😭😭😭😭!!!

-Crying mess.

-Most probably will go to Black Army and ask Luka for help. In snots and tears.

Edgar

-Just like Lancelot, he will do his work next to her. Despite having a room that has no separation between working table and the bed, he moved his table to be beside her.

-80% of the time will be with her. 20% is with works and tasks.

-If he have to train his people, he will only spend a good 15 minutes and passes the task to Zero, making an escape from it just to be with her.

-His face may show his usual smile, but every time MC coughs, it would be replaced with a genuine concern.

-Constant kisses on her forehead, silent pray that he'd rather get the sickness than her.

-But when MC said "I will be sad if you are sick too, Edgar.", then he quickly finish his work, just to be with her more and more.

-Ending up with sleeping next to her.

Zero

-" (´・ｪ・｀)......"

-"( ´･ω･)....."

-MC: I'm fine, really. You have been staring at me for almost an hour, Zero.

-"I'm worried."

-"I know,..But it doesn't mean you have to keep an eye on me all the time. This fever will go away soon. So don't worry okay?"

-Zero: *Dejected Face 101* ...Okay. *Goes out + peeks with (´・ｪ・｀) face again before completely go out.*

-He is worried, so, so worried that he is distracted, even when Edgar replaced his sword with a random object-- he didn't pay attention to it.

-Zero is practically the stoic type. Yet being his lover, MC could read his mind and expressions very well. He will hold her hand every time she's asleep, and ended up sleeping on the chair, resulting him to be the one who gets sick next.

Kyle

-Doctor mode all the way.

-He will let go of his love for beer and be with her 24/7, literally.

-But well. The way he checked on her temperature would be "Boyfriend" like.

-Forehead on forehead, feeding medicine through mouth to mouth, making MC's temperature to go up from the heat of... Blushing too much.

-"Can you just feed me normally??"

-"It helps you to sleep faster. Why not?" He smirked, taping her nose playfully.

-"Now now don't pout so much. You will be a red balloon you know?"

-*Kiss*

-"Ah, she fainted."

Ray

-Will tease her for being sick first, but after that he is the day and night walking surveillance.

-Despite teasing her for being a weak kiddo, his smile will instantly fade once she have fallen asleep, showing how worried he is but putting a strong facade at her.

-Constant kissing on forehead and a caress on her head with soft whispers of "Get well soon. I miss your adorable smile."

-Couldn't focus during training, and the army watch how he keep on looking back and forth from the window of her room.

-Pamper her by feeding her porridge (most probably will cook one without asking for Luka or Sirius's help)

-Ends up sleeping in his uniform beside her and woke up with a bad hair bed.

Sirius

-Always denies that he is not the mom.

-He IS. Especially when his lover is sick.

-"Wear this. No that is not thick enough, we need to keep you warm. And this as well. This one too. And this. Hmm? It's more than enough? Little lady, the weather is chilly we must keep you warm."

-Cue MC sighing to the thick jacket, scarf, socks and gloves as if winter is coming.

-Pat her to sleep, just like a mom will do, making it hard for her to sleep (because his handsome face is so near, that is why!)

-MC had to feign a sleep in order for him to go out from the room so she can secretly take off those wooly thicky fabric ahsheskdf OAO!

Fenrir

-Was very calm until MC's temperature went high.

-Almost consider to ask Oliver to make a gun where it makes someone's body to become healthy again.

-Oliver: Just relax will you? Kyle would ask if he is a joke as an existing doctor!

-Skipped training with his army for almost a week just to take care of her.

-He even clean his gun and bring all of his works to his room.

-MC, feeling guilty, have no choice but to ask him with "Fenrir, I can't sleep. There's something lurking under the bed, that's why--"

-Before she could finish her words, he already run out from the room, but come back again to bring her together with him.

-Attempt to stop him - Failed completely.

Luka

-Oh, endless pampering.

-From soup to porridge and any soft food, it is delicious that she wouldn't mind getting sick everyday.

-Luka: Please don't say it like that. I'm sad whenever you are sick, I just miss your beautiful smile, MC-.. MC?? What's wrong?? What? Angel?? What-- MC hang in there!! *Horrifying gasp when she fainted 😱😱😱😱😱*

-It's hard to stay awake, especially when he is being so sweet, letting her sleep on his chest for example-- oh! He is too sweet she could get cavities 😩!

-"Luka... I can't do that. What if you get sick?"

-"Much better than you getting sick instead, MC."

-And she fainted again.

Seth

-Panic 404 and an endless shrieking the moment MC fainted in the room, him checking her temperature, until he brings her to her chamber.

-Running frantically to get all preparations needed, causing ruckus despite being told to calm down by Sirius.

-Throughout the time she was sick, he will show the girly sisterly seth,

-But the moment he close the door, his real self popped up. "MC.. How are you? I'm sorry for not being able to notice that you were not feeling well."

-"No.. I'm sorry for being sick at this time. Just need to get those sweat off and I will be fine (♡´▽`♡)."

-He smirked. "I know a better method to do that."

-Fast forward, the very next day after using such "method", the black army is confused of why Seth is the one who caught the fever and MC is completely healed.

-Cough.

Harr

-He looks calm all the time, but he's NOT.

"(´・ｪ・｀)...." Another one that will sit beside her bed just to check on her every chances he got. Which is, after he feed her food and meds, after cooking for loki, after making magic crystals, after leaving his work to Dalim, after fishing some fish and etc.

-"Hmm? You don't have to worry about Magic Tower. I want to be here." .....After a moment of hesitation, he brings himself to kiss her forehead.

-Agshdgakskkff BLUSH when she smiled.

-"Harr.. I want to eat your delicious food once I'm all better."

-"Of course, MC. I promise you I will cook everything. Get well soon."

-He didn't break the promise though.

-MC's face to all, ALL the food on the table: (☉д⊙)

Oliver

-"What? You have a fever? Heh, what do I expect from a dimwit like you anyway?"

-Says the one who moved ALL his work to the bedroom. And drinks tea there. And have his meal there. Leaving Blanc all to himself with his carrot cake.

-Not the romantic type to caress her head when she's awake but do so when she's asleep.

-High on alert whenever she coughs, where he instantly move around the room to get a glass of water and change the cloth on her forehead.

-"Oliver.. I'm sorry to get in a way with your work."

-He smirks, leaning forward for a kiss, saying "Just get well soon, hmm?" before showering her with another series of kisses.

#ikemen revolution #ikemen revolution Lancelot #ikemen revolution jonah #ikemen revolution edgar #ikemen revolution kyle #ikemen revolution zero #ikemen revolution ray #ikemen revolution sirius #ikemen revolution seth #ikemen revolution luka #ikemen revolution fenrir #ikemen revolution harr #ikemen revolution oliver

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yandere-sins · 4 years ago

Note

Could I perhaps request a Yandere Toshinori Yagi? Maybe how he reacts to the first time the reader willingly comes to him for comfort and calls him 'Toshi'. Fem reader please :)!

It’s probably not what you expected but I hope you enjoy it anyway!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

If you had depression before, you had now descended the realm of merely feeling down and out of touch with yourself. This situation couldn’t be better to nurture those awful, spiraling thoughts, the constant feeling of emptiness and sluggishness. It’s been months now, but at this point, you didn’t have enough fight left to even get out of your bed.

Day in, day out, you rolled around on your mattress, barely able to get yourself to the bathroom if you needed to go. If you hadn’t had your caretaker, you would have long stopped eating and drinking altogether. Toshinori made sure that you stayed nurtured, despite not helping your real problems at all.

At first, you still had resisted him, struggled, and worked against him. You refused his ideas and his love for you, and even if his hand was always gently on your skin, you despised him more with every touch he allowed himself. Until he didn’t touch you anymore at all, just to make you more comfortable.

But how could you have ever become comfortable with being held in this room in his apartment against his will? How could you have ever arranged yourself with being a good, little girl to his liking, working into his madness? All you really wanted was it being over.

You wanted to be out, wanted him gone, wanted to be gone.

One way or another, you just wanted it to be over.

You had screamed, and fought, and bitten, and punched, but he never batted an eye. Toshinori let you have your tantrum, yet he still brought you food and put you in bed at night, telling you he loved you. So many times, you told him you hated him, and though the hurt sparked in his eyes, he never returned the sentiment. And he didn’t let you go either.

When the last bits of resolve and will to fight vanished, all that was left was the depression. Anyone caught like you would fall into a depression sooner or later, right? You had nothing to do all day but watch TV and lay in bed, and in the evening, you’d had to humor your captor. If that was all that you were to live for, you might as well die; that’s what your brain tried to tell you.

And you might have had, but there was nothing that could assist you in fulfilling the deed, and even if, Toshinori always seemed to sense it when you hit rock bottom. Just like that day, when he came home, way too early.

The rustling of a grocery bag didn’t make you stir. Neither made the steps he took after locking the door. You didn’t move an inch away from the side you were laying on, not even when he sat down at the edge of the bed, a hand on your shoulder shaking you. Naturally, he couldn’t know that you weren’t asleep since it wasn’t an option with a raging mind like yours.

“I brought dinner, my Love. Your favorite-- oh my...”

Flipping you over onto your back, you raised your hands up to cover your eyes, but it was too late. You felt the tears run down your temples, and Toshinori was quick to reach for your wrists, pulling you up and into his arms instead. You began to sob, lightly at first, then it began to pour from your eyes like it never had before.

He rocked you back and forth gently, rubbing your back in a comforting way as you let it all out. It didn’t matter if your tears and snot all got soaked up by his shirt, and you knew he wouldn’t be mad at you for it. Instead, you leaned more into him, your arms hooking under his while you buried your face. It was a meltdown long overdue, and you used all the time you needed for it to end.

It was good to be held at that moment, even if you wanted to kill the person holding you. He was the reason for all your suffering, the reason you even were in this state. But damn was he warm, his touch gentle, and he held you like you meant the world to him even while you ugly cried your eyes out.

Slowly, over a long time, your tears dried out. Your sobbing turned into a stuffed nose and hiccups as you simply rested in Toshinori’s arms. Hanging in there with no drive to get away. “Feel better?” he asked you as the situation calmed. His voice almost made you cry again. You didn’t answer, only hicced and huffed into his shoulder. At least the bad spiraling and thoughts had stopped as if they had been washed out with the tears. But that, you couldn’t tell him after all.

Toshinori was about to let go of you, remembering painfully that you weren’t fond of his touches despite being so lovely of enduring them for now. Without thinking, your hands snapped upwards, gripping his shirt on the back and pressing forward, refusing to be let down by him.

This was wrong. You didn’t truly want this. But you also didn’t want to be let go right now and be alone with the thoughts again. “No...” you whimpered, clawing and stretching the shirt while you tried to find balance. “Don’t let go yet, Toshi...”

The calling of his nickname, the demand you made... instantly, you felt his arms clasp around you, pulling you in so tightly you were afraid he’d snap your backbone. “Of course not, my Love!” he announced, his cheek rubbing against your head affectionately. His heart was pounding fast in his chest, thumping against your face in giant leaps. Obviously, you had made him very happy.

Meaning that at least for now, he’d not let go and send you back into the miserable pile of pity that you were.

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darkurgediary · 3 years ago

Text

Two Worlds, Two Hearts: Chapter Five

Summary: News of Jareth's disappearance affects Sarah in ways she didn't expect, and brings on a new wave of conflicting emotion.

Warning(s): complicated relationships, creepy nightmare (which is all italicized so it'll be easy for anyone to skip over), and Ludo tears! If I missed anything please let me know!

-------------------

The Labyrinth was crumbling.

Jareth was missing.

And now Ludo was crying with such an intensity the ground started to shake.

Hoggle didn’t know how much more of this he could take. The dwarf wove his way through withered hedges till he came upon Ludo, the great beast brought to his knees, thick tears streamed down his face, and a pitiful cry lurched from his throat. Sir Didymus stood before him with tiny paws rested on Ludo’s forearm. Uncharacteristically quiet in the face of his brother’s pain.

“Sarwah,” Ludo’s lower lip wobbled and he tried desperately to pull a string of snot back up his nose, when such an attempt failed, he instead wiped his face on his left forearm.

Hoggle grumbled to himself but still decided to ask, “whats tha matter with'em?”

Sir Didymus perked his ears, looking to Hoggle with a defeated express, “Sir Ludo claims to have seen young maiden over that way.”

The dwarf glanced in the indicated direction, just as he'd thought, no one was there. Hoggle even approached the area and walked around it. Like he was trying to prove to Ludo that his eyes had played a cruel trick on him. Hoggle understood it though, to a degree. Ludo claiming to see Sarah became a common occurrence over the years. Each time, it was harder and harder to explain to Ludo it wasn't real.

“If she ain't been back already then she ain't never comin' b-”

A whisper carried in the breeze and cut him off, “Ludo...”

Curved horns raised from the ground as brown eyes widened, and basset-hound shaped ears desperately searched for the sound.

Sir Didymus behaved in a similar manner, his bushy tail swishing side to side in a blonde blur, “My lady!”

Hoggle whirled around, eyes wide as dinner plates. He stumbled back and fell into the dirt. Gazing up at the translucent image of a woman standing over him. Tall, with long black hair, and pale-green eyes. Hoggle rubbed his eyes but still, the haunting presence lingered like a ghost in a graveyard.

If he’d been by himself he would have discredited it easier. With Ludo and Sir Didymus in his company, not even he could deny the sight of the specter before him.

“S...S'it really you?” desperation clung to his words, along with a loneliness he'd kept buried deep.

The image of Sarah looked around, confused at first, and then she saw him.

Hoggle tried to swallow the knot in his throat as he extended a shaky hand towards her. The thin image of her flickered, and upon contact, Sarah disappeared again.

-----

“Sarah?”

She didn’t look up from the floor, focused on the arguably-ugly patterned carpet like it offended her. Sarah was at her wits end. First she had a Spriggan to deal with and now a Fiery of all things! She didn't even want to think about Jareth, Toby's claim of him missing affected her in ways she didn't understand.

Her name was called again, “Sarah.”

The tick of a clock brought her senses back one by one, slowly, she raised her head. Tired eyes shifted to the old fashioned clock nestled on the corner of the wooden desk. Sarah set her sights on the coffee table next where a teacup sat in front of her. It's contents long abandoned, the liquid just as cold as the blood in her veins.

“You drifted off,” a melodic scratch of pencil against paper mixed with the question, “where did you go just then?”

Sarah studied him for a moment, Dr. Zakar looked more like an Oxford Professor than a therapist. His brown suit was freshly pressed and his shoes polished. Red hair slicked back save for the few strands hanging just about his brow. Black, thick framed glasses obscured his eyes so she couldn't look directly into them.

A lie would do little for her, yet Sarah couldn't find it in herself to give him the truth. Not the whole truth anyway. He would call the whole incident a wild hallucination.

“I don’t know,” She admitted. Leaning forward to drop her head in her hands with a sigh, “I’m sorry. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

He set aside the notepad, giving her his full attention, “Another nightmare?”

“No,” Sarah managed to compose herself. Without realizing it, she started to gnaw on her thumb nail.

“Remember that my job is not to judge you, Sarah. I am here to help encourage you through your struggles. You already have everything you need to conquer them,” Zakar explained calmly, recognizing the anxious habit. “That being said, I cannot give you any guidance if I don’t know the root of the problem.”

He had a point, she couldn’t deny that. As the events of the previous night played in her head like a broken record Sarah wondered where to even begin. It all spiraled out of control in a way she could barely process.

“Last night I found out someone I knew was…” the words trailed off into tense silence. Did she mention the Spriggan and the Fiery or leave it at that? “Missing. He went missing and honestly? I don’t know how I feel.”

“It sounds as though this person left quite an impact on you, I take it you were close?” His inquiry was laced both with concern and caution, showing his condolences but not wanting to further upset her.

“It was complicated, and it was a long time ago. We were different people then. I knew him without really knowing him,” Sarah clenched her hands tight in her lap, “some part of me feels like I should be worried, like I should run through every worst case scenario. What if something bad happened? What if he’s hurt? But...”

Zakar tilted his head, “another part says otherwise?”

“It’s been fifteen years since we last saw each other. I wouldn’t even know what to say if I saw him again,” Sarah rubbed her temples and groaned, dark brows pulling together.

The clock on his desk chimed twice.

A frown pulled his features, “It seems we’ve reached the end of our session. Though I want you to know, Sarah. You will overcome this grief. Nothing has to be resolved tomorrow, there is a lot to process, and even more to work through. Go home and paint your frustrations, or write them down. Anything to get them out.”

As Sarah left the office she noticed the air felt significantly lighter than it had before she went in, Dr. Zakar’s parting advice stuck with her. She hated how much she thought of Jareth. Even before the news of him missing, the Goblin King often dwelled in a dark corner of her mind. If Jareth wasn’t in the Underground then where else could he possibly be? Sarah started her car and focused on the road ahead.

Upon return to her apartment, the last bits of anxiety washed away as the sound of whimpers and nails against hardwoods echoed behind the door. Sarah didn’t realize how much she missed having a dog till Gwendolyn came into her life. “Hey pretty girl,” Sarah cooed once the door opened Kneeling down to greet her three legged companion. Gwendolyn was a five year old pitbull with a coat the color of caramel and big brown eyes. Sarah’s heart went out to the pup, who came from a hard life on the streets. She felt like she couldn’t leave the shelter without her.

Sarah scratched behind her ears and paused as she set her keys down on the kitchen counter. She stepped towards the half finished painting, the one she’d done the instant she woke from her dream. At first she’d been in the forest with Hoggle, Ludo, and Sir Didymus in her company. Then the forest fell into a sea of white and silver. Sarah shuddered as the details haunted her:

She descended into a broken ballroom. Once pristine chairs and tables were thrown to various parts of the room, scuffed, bent, and broken. Shattered glass and glitter covered the floor, save for a bare circle where Sarah stood in the center of the room. Dawning the white princess dress she’d worn fifteen years ago. Frantic eyes took everything in as her head whipped around. Dancers laid sprawled over one another like puppets with their strings cut.

Except for him.

His name left her tongue barely above a whisper, “Jareth.”

Rather than address her, the Goblin King stood frozen. The dark mask with twisted horns remained against his face, hiding his eyes from her. In an unusual motion he reached a hand out for her. Though he didn’t move in the same fluid, captivating way he had before. Instead Jareth moved like an old toy being wound up for the first time in forever. A crystal appeared in his hand, and his last words echoed around her.

“I ask for so little.”

He stepped towards her.

“Just fear me,”

Another step.

“Love me,”

Sarah retreated with each advancement, eyes wide, and skin white as a sheet. Whatever defiant remark she had ready to shout at him died on her tongue. Jareth loomed over her now, her back flat against the wall. She had nowhere to run.

Forced to look into vacant eyes as he sounded so defeated.

“Do as I say and I-”

Gwendolyn whimpered beside her, gently butting her head against Sarah’s leg.

Black curtains cascaded down her back as she turned to look at her companion, Sarah gave her a sad smile and smoothed a hand down her neck, “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

Sarah looked back at the expression she’d been so desperate to capture. Why should she be worried about Jareth? Why did her heart absolutely ache at the thought of him cold, alone, and hurt? Her hand started to reach for his half painted cheek but something stopped her. Sarah bit her lip in wonder as the idea of calling him raised to the surface.

With a small shake of the head, Sarah covered it, and tried to bury any other thoughts of him away for the time being. She had other things to focus on. The Spriggan, the Fiery, and Toby’s growing obsession with the Labyrinth. She took one final glance at the painting, “Where are you Jareth?”

———————

Previous | Next

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Taglist:

@faeriexqueen

@tangentasilem

@withinthecrystal

@purplesigebert

#labyrinth #labyrinth fanfiction #labyrinth fic #labyrinth fandom #sarah williams #jareth the goblin king #toby williams #ludo #hoggle #sir didymus #my writing #writers on tumblr #two worlds two hearts

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pickalilywrites · 3 years ago

Note

Can we please get some Gabi/Falco? I loved From the Top of the Mountain; it’s one of the best works with those two out there. Maybe it takes place post Rumbling? Just something with those two

thanks!!! i'm glad you liked from the top of the mountain!! it's still one of my favorites too :) I hope you like this one too! have a good day ^-^

How to Be Brave

Falbi. Canonverse.

5136 words.

Read on Ao3!

Falco doesn’t know how Gabi does it. He’s never been the type to charge headfirst into the crossfire, but Gabi will do it without hesitation. Ever since Falco can remember, Gabi has never been afraid of anything. The first day they had been selected as Warrior trainees, she had marched into the classroom without a second glance. She does things with purpose, never second-guessing her actions or faltering. Every trigger Gabi pulls, she does without wavering, holding the gun steady as she takes aim. Every attack she carries out, she does so without batting an eye. Every battle, she runs straight into the battlefield. She’s fearless and the bravest person Falco has ever met.

Falco is not brave. He’s the biggest coward he knows. Despite being a Warrior candidate for years, he’s always hesitating. He fumbles with his gun, always pulling the trigger too late and missing his target because he’s never certain of where he should be aiming. He finds himself rooted to the ground far too often when he’s taken into the warzones, never knowing what step to take lest a mine blows up in his face. Falco’s never been at the head of a charge, and he’s not sure he ever will because if he pauses for even a second his whole entire squad will be blown to bits.

“Tell me how,” he tells Gabi one day. He walks up to her desk, tugging at his earlobe and biting his bottom lip. “Tell me how you do it.”

Gabi looks up at him from her textbook. Written exams are probably her weakest subject, but that’s not saying much considering how exemplary she is in the other ones. She’s hardworking and stubborn enough to compensate for her weakness anyway. With an eyebrow quirked, Gabi says, “I’m afraid you’re going to have to be more specific.”

Falco nibbles on his lip some more, fidgeting uncomfortably and tugging at the sleeves of his school uniform. How can he admit in front of Gabi that he’s afraid? He’s a coward, he knows, but it’s different saying it out loud in front of someone like Gabi. She’s the person that he admires the most. It’s highly likely that she already knows of his cowardice, but for Falco to say it out loud would only solidify that knowledge and he’s not even sure he can do that. The inner conflict he’s having of even voicing his problem out loud just shows how pathetically indecisive he is.

“I don’t know … how to be brave like you,” Falco says bitterly. His eyes turn away from Gabi. He hates how weak he feels right now, weaker than he’s ever felt before. “I … How do you do it? You never hesitate about anything. You always know where you want to go and how you want to do things. You never second-guess things. You’re always … brave and I … I’m not.”

He hates the sting in his eyes as he finds himself on the brink of tears. It figures that a weakling like him would be brought to tears over something so stupid. He wasn’t meant to be a Warrior, not like Gabi. Half the time, he doesn’t know why he was selected to become a candidate, but the rumors of the selection committee choosing him because of his family’s long-time loyalty and his elder brother’s position as the next Beast Titan feel more and more true each day. Without those connections, Falco probably never would have been chosen. He probably wouldn’t have even been noticed.

There’s a scrape of Gabi’s chair against the hardwood floor. When Falco looks up, Gabi is standing in front of him. She doesn’t look at him pityingly, but she doesn’t look disgusted either. He’s crying now, sniffling and trying to wipe the snot from his nose and the tears from his eyes, but Gabi is kind enough to pretend he isn’t.

“It’s not something I can teach you,” Gabi tells him, and Falco can feel his shoulder slump even more. She flicks her hair out of her face with a hand and continues. “‘Being brave’ or whatever … it’s just how I am. I was just born like this. You can’t learn it.”

It makes Falco feel like a fool for even bringing it up in the first place. So he’s just going to be a coward for the rest of his life, always second-guessing himself and being unsure if he’s doing the right thing while Gabi will always be charging ahead. It’s a part of Falco that he’ll never be able to change. He’ll just be a loser for the rest of his life.

Gabi sighs and it’s enough to make Falco flinch. He wants to apologize for wasting her time over such a stupid question. Of course, she’s right. Of course, he’ll always be lacking and scared and she’ll always be better than him. Of course, he’ll never make a proper Warrior. He’s about to bow his head and apologize, but Gabi speaks first.

“Look,” she says. Her voice is gentle now, lacking the usual fortissimo that Gabi usually speaks with. “We’re different, you and I. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it makes a difference on the battlefield.”

Falco nods. He’s known that for quite a while now, but it’s still difficult to hear it come from Gabi’s lips. “I … I know,” he mumbles.

“No, look,” Gabi says, waving her hand as if to tell Falco not to get upset. She looks up at the ceiling for a moment as she thinks of the proper way to proceed. After a moment, she claps her hand and begins to explain. “It’s like you said, right? I’m really good on the field because I don’t hesitate. I know my targets, I shoot without hesitating, and I never second-guess myself.”

Falco doesn’t quite know where she’s going with this, but he nods to show that he’s listening.

“It’s because I always know what to do,” Gabi says simply. Falco gives her a funny look, but she simply shrugs like she can’t give a better explanation. “I’m always certain about what needs to be done. I know myself well — how fast I can run, how far I can throw, how strong I am when I throw a punch — so I trust myself when I’m on the battlefield. I don’t hesitate because I never need to; I know what I’m capable of.”

Falco’s eyes are downcast once more. Everything Gabi says makes perfect sense. While Gabi knows and trusts herself completely, Falco doesn’t. His cowardice stems from the fact that he’s always afraid about his lack of abilities. Whenever he’s on the field or even just training, he’s always doubting himself. Is he able to run this distance without his legs giving out? Is he able to shoot this target without missing? Does he have the strength to charge into battle without collapsing midway? And the answer is always the same: it wavers first from thinking perhaps he might be able to do it if he strains himself before Falco begins to think that he doesn’t have the strength or stamina to do any of these tasks and then he inevitably falls into despair when he convinces himself that such things are impossible for him. His thoughts lead him to falter more and more with every step he takes, to have his hand waver every time he points a gun while his finger trembles on the trigger, and cause him to fall behind every time he’s ordered to run into the crossfire.

Falco supposes that’s it then. He’ll just be a coward for the rest of his life while Gabi will always be ahead, increasing the distance between them until she disappears from his view completely. He thinks that’s what he’s the most afraid of.

A hand appears in front of Falco and it surprises Falco when he realizes that it’s Gabi offering her hand to him. He’s not sure if he’s supposed to take it. His hand reaches out, but he never puts his hand in hers. His hand just hovers above hers awkwardly, uncertain even for this simple thing. It seems to surprise even Gabi, who looks at him with her eyebrows raised.

“It’s okay if you’re afraid. I’ll never be afraid of anything,” Gabi says. She puts her hand closer to his, wiggling her fingers to show him that it’s fine. “I’ll show you how to be brave, so just take my hand. I’ll stay by your side.”

He’s not sure if he can take her hand. Falco’s not sure if he deserves to be by her side. He’s afraid that he’ll only hold Gabi back. Is this really okay? Is he really worthy?

He clenches his fist before reaching out. Even if he doubts himself, he trusts Gabi. Gabi believes in him enough to offer him her hand. She trusts him enough to allow him by her side. She has faith in him even if he doesn’t.

Gabi smiles when Falco takes her hand, and he smiles back in response. It’s not as confident as her smile. It’s a little strained, a little uncertain, but it’s fine, Falco thinks, because he’s holding her hand. He’s not sure how this will all work out or if it ever will in the end. He doesn’t know if this will make him braver on the battlefield. He doesn’t know if it’ll lead to a happy ending, but for once that doesn’t matter. Holding Gabi’s hand, he forgets all his uncertainties and thinks that maybe he can be just a little bit braver.

»»————-　➴　————-««

Gabi doesn’t know how people do it — get out of bed, eat, function. She doesn’t remember how to act like a real human being. It takes nearly all her energy to get out of bed only for her to be so exhausted that she wants to collapse back against the pillows and sheets and cry herself to sleep like she has for so many nights.

She doesn’t know when this started, her inability to sleep, to eat, to wake. It’s post-traumatic stress disorder, a doctor said, because of the war. Gabi’s not so sure. It might have started before then, before the Founding Titan rose and the Walls of Paradis came crumbling down, before she had left Marley and vowed revenge for her friends and family, before Eren Jaeger declared war on Marley and destroyed her home, but Gabi isn’t sure when exactly it had begun. In the end, it probably doesn’t even matter.

A lot of days Mikasa comes in to check on Gabi, sitting on the edge of the young girl’s bed and stroking the hair from her face before asking how she’s feeling. Sometimes Gabi will mumble something about how she’s tired or sleepy, but the most frequent response is just the sound of silence as Gabi pretends to be asleep. Mikasa will stroke her hair and hum a song, some old Eldian song that Gabi doesn’t know, before leaving. Armin will often hover in the doorway, mumbling questions and trying to get through, but Mikasa will always usher him out. Gabi always hears them whisper to each other: Armin asking if she’s getting any better, if she needs to see the doctor again, if he should talk to her, and Mikasa will tell him that she just needs time to heal. They all need time to heal, but Gabi’s not sure she ever will. It feels like Gabi is the only one that feels this way: scared and sad and hopeless. There are days where she’s convinced that she’ll never get better.

Mikasa has her bad days, too. There are nights where Gabi will wake to Mikasa shaking her, screaming until Gabi opens her eyes and then the woman will cry with relief that “Sasha” is still alive. Some days Armin won’t leave the house at all, saying that he never wants to take a step outside because dreaming of the outside world is the thing that had cursed him in the first place. That’s what it’s like on their worst days.

On their best days, Armin and Mikasa will go for a walk. Maybe Gabi will get out of bed, but she’ll never join them outside. It’s too much for her. Even sitting down at the table and staring out the window can be overwhelming for her, but she’ll do it on days she feels strong enough. They are the best days because Armin and Mikasa will walk hand-in-hand and return home with smiles on their faces as if they hadn’t cried the entire night before. It is as if they forget all the horror of the war almost a year ago, but Gabi knows they’ll remember it when the sun sets and the night comes. But at least for a brief moment they can smile.

Gabi can never get herself to smile. It’s as if she had forgotten how. She thinks even if she were able to, she wouldn’t be able to bring herself to do it. It’s more than the depression or the stress or whatever psychological disorder the doctors are trying to diagnose her with to explain her melancholia. It’s like she’s scared of everything: of waking up, of leaving the house, of even the idea of being happy. She’s afraid she’ll never find a way to be happy again. She’s afraid she doesn’t deserve it.

It makes Gabi jealous when she sees Armin or Mikasa smile. She pulls her blankets over her head whenever she hears the two of them laugh together. She wants to scream when they hold hands. The truth is, though, that she wants to be able to smile, to laugh, to be held, but she doesn’t know how. She’s convinced that she will just have to be miserable for the rest of her life. It’s what she deserves anyway. She isn’t sure about anything else, but she knows that for certain.

Falco comes to visit sometimes. He comes at least once a week. He lives with Levi now that the war is over. (“It’s good that the old man has someone to take care of him,” Mikasa says once before Armin quickly chastises her for speaking about their former captain that way.) Falco never makes it past the doorway. He always comes to ask about Gabi, her condition, if she feels any better, if she’d like to go out for a walk with him because the fresh air might be good for her. Mikasa always tells him the same thing: that Gabi is still recovering, but that they’ll let him know when Gabi’s well enough to go outside. He never complains when he’s turned away.

One day he visits on a “good” day. Gabi sees him from the window walking up the path to the cabin. Even though she wonders if he sees her, she doesn’t wave. She just watches him as he follows up the path eventually leading to the front door. He knocks in the same familiar way that he always has — three quick raps of his knuckles against the hardwood — and Mikasa opens the door for him.

“Hi, Miss Mikasa. Mister Armin,” Falco’s voice says from the doorframe. He sounds good. Happy. Normal. He sounds like everything Gabi wishes she could be. She can hear him speak again, his voice a little more hesitant this time. “How … how is Gabi today? Do you think I could see her?”

Mikasa takes an uncertain glance at where Gabi sits. Gabi knows what she looks like: a mess. Her dark hair is in disarray, tangled from lying in bed all day. There are bags under her eyes because all her dreams are interrupted by nightmares. Her face is gaunt because she can hardly swallow more than three bites of food whenever she musters the energy to sit up for a meal. Gabi doesn’t blame Mikasa when the woman shakes her head and asks Falco to come back another time.

Gabi didn’t get a chance to say goodbye. She never says goodbye. She never even says hello. It’s because she’s too tired, too worn, too broken to even fathom greeting someone who seems to be doing worlds better than her. Every time Falco visits, she tells herself that she’ll feel better next time. She’ll be able to walk to the door and give him the smallest smile before inviting him in. They’ll be able to sit at the table and have tea that Armin brews for them. They’ll take a little bit about what Falco is doing and maybe he’ll invite her outside and she’ll think about it if she’s feeling better. If she ever feels better. If she can ever feel better.

The thought that Gabi might always feel this way — cold and alone and barely living as it is — seizes her. It makes her blood run cold and she grips the edge of the table with a hopeless desperation because this isn’t what she wants. She doesn’t want to be here, trapped by her own feelings of fear and grief and despair. She wants to be outside with Falco, to hold his hand, to smile. She doesn’t want to be alone anymore, but the idea that she can ever be happy is so hopelessly out of reach.

It must be in a fit of madness that she gets up from the table, her chair screeching as she pushes it back and nearly toppling over as Gabi runs to the door. The broken girl is stopped only by Mikasa, who grabs her by the elbow.

“Gabi, what is it?” Mikasa asks, eyes wide with alarm and her brow knit together in concern. Even as Gabi struggles to free herself from the woman’s grip, Mikasa holds onto the girl firmly. “What’s wrong?”

“Let go! I need to go!” Gabi says, and she’s crying now just like she always does these days. Tears stream down her face and taste like salt on her tongue. She swallows her sobs and wipes at her nose hastily with the back of her hand. “I want to see him! I want to see Falco.” It’s more than that though. She wants to see him. She has to see him. She needs to see him, but he’s already walking down the path, slowly growing smaller and threatening to disappear from view.

“Gabi, wait, just wait a minute,” Mikasa says. Her arms are wrapped around Gabi, holding the frail girl back even as Gabi struggles. Her face buried in Gabi’s shoulder, Mikasa says, “Wait a moment, Gabi, please.”

Gabi doesn’t want to hear it. She wants to fly out the door, run down the trail, and throw herself in Falco’s arms. She wants to be where he is, a place where the grass is greener, the sun is shining, and she can smile.

“Gabi,” Armin’s gentle voice calls. As Mikasa’s arms loosen around Gabi, the man drapes a soft cardigan around Gabi’s shoulders. It’s far too big for her but it smells like wood and freshly lit candles. Armin helps guide her arms through the sleeves and pulls the cardigan around her. “Gabi, don’t worry. He’ll wait for you.”

“But I have to go now,” Gabi says and she feels herself about to burst into tears once more.

“It’s fine,” Mikasa says and she reaches out to smooth a lock of hair away from Gabi’s forehead. She gives the girl a comforting smile. “Just … come back home, okay?”

Gabi pauses and then gives them a nod. Without warning, she throws arms around both her guardians and whispers a quick, “Thank you.” She feels their arms squeeze her back in reply and as soon as they let go, she dashes out the door.

It’s been so long since she last exerted herself. Gabi’s breathless after the first few seconds, panting hard and gasping for breath. She doesn’t remember the last time she had been this exhausted. Even during her grueling training periods as a Marleyan Warrior she can’t recall getting tired so quickly. Her legs are beginning to ache even though she hasn’t even run a hundred meters from the cabin. Her lungs feel as if they’re about to burst, burning with every breath she takes. Her body hurts too much. She doesn’t know how far she can go, how many more steps she can take before she collapses, but she can’t stop.

She can see Falco in the distance, his back turned to her. He doesn’t realize that she’s running after him. Why doesn’t he know? If she calls him now, will he turn back?

Gabi doesn’t think she has the strength to call his name, but she musters whatever energy she has left and screams his name as loudly as she can. “Falco!” she shouts, and even she can hear how weak her voice is. “Falco! Falco, Falco!”

It’s only after the third call that Falco turns around. Gabi is close enough to see his face. His lips are parted, shaped in a perfect “O.” For a moment, she’s afraid that he’ll turn away from her, that he’ll abandon her, but he stays rooted in place, waiting for her. She’s so relieved she can cry.

“Falco, Falco!” Gabi sobs. She calls his name the entire way. She’s so tired that she doesn’t know how she’s able to make it. She doesn’t stop until she’s right in front of him, falling into his arms and clinging onto him because he’s the only thing that’s keeping her standing.

“Hey, hey,” Falco says gently. It’s so comforting to hear his voice so close to her. It’s deeper than Gabi remembers, but it’s still so warm and familiar. “Gabi, it’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

“Help me, help me,” she begs, her voice shaking. She holds so tightly to him that she might tear the sleeves of his shirt. She just wants him close. She wants him closer. “Help me, please.” When she sinks to the ground, he does too, holding her in his arms to cushion her fall.

“Help you?” Falco repeats. He doesn’t ask her why and he doesn’t ask her what for. He just raises her head, his hand gentle as he lifts her chin. She sees his blue eyes wide with concern. She feels his other hand wipe away her tears as he asks her, “How?”

“Make me … help me … be happier,” she tells him, and she feels so pathetic for asking him for such a thing. There used to be days where she’d smile all the time and laughter was not far from her lips. Happiness came easily to her, but those days are long gone. She doesn’t know if she remembers how to smile anymore. It’s something a child can do, but she finds it so impossible.

How had she become so helpless and pitiful? Once, she had been a proud warrior. She could wield a gun and fire it without thinking twice. Now, she can hardly get out of bed in the morning because the thought of it terrifies her.

“I just want to be happier,” Gabi whispers. Her voice is so quiet that she’s afraid that her words go unheard, but Falco quickly clasps her hands in his.

“Then you should be. Why shouldn’t you?” Falco tells her with such sincerity that she thinks she might cry again. “Isn’t it what you deserve? You deserve to be happy, Gabi.”

She should be grateful that he thinks so, but for some reason she hates hearing it from his lips. It’s what she wants to hear the most. It comes from the person she cares about the most, but she knows that the words he says are not true.

“No.” Gabi shakes her head. Tears begin to roll down her cheeks again. There’s no point in stopping them. She begins to pull her hands away from Falco’s, but he holds tightly to her. It almost hurts for her hands to be held so tightly, but his hands are so warm around hers. “No, Falco, I … of all people, I deserve it the least. I … how can I be happy after everything that has happened?

“I killed people,” she tells him as if he doesn’t know this already, as if he hadn’t been there when she had blown the trigger, as if he hadn’t seen her paint her own hands with blood. Gabi shakes her head when Falco begins to open his mouth to interrupt. Whatever words of comfort he has for her, she doesn’t deserve them. “I killed people thinking they were monsters, but the whole time the monster had been me.”

“Gabi, please,” Falco pleads. He tugs her hands closer, pulls her in closer to him. “That wasn’t your fault. The things we were taught … the world we lived in … how were we to know right from wrong?”

Gabi shakes her head, dark hair falling into her face and obscuring her vision. “And all of our friends … our family,” Gabi says. She closes her eyes and her tears burn down her cheeks. She used to be able to conjure up the faces of her loved ones so easily with her eyes closed, but now their features are faded to her. She’s unsure of the smallest details — the right angle of their nose, the thickness of their eyelashes, the exact shade of their hair — and she’s afraid that in time they will completely fade from her memory. “I couldn’t save them and it’s all my fault.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Falco reaches out with a hand and brushes her hair from her face, tenderly tucking it behind her ears. When Gabi glances up at him, he looks at her with eyes full of sincerity like he knows his words to be true. “It wasn’t your fault, Gabi. Nothing was your fault.”

Falco leans over and hugs her tightly. He rests one hand on the back of her head, letting Gabi’s head lay on his shoulder as she continues to sob. He strokes the top of her head and continues. “They wouldn’t blame you either, Gabi. Nobody would. They wouldn’t want to see you like this. They would want you to be happy,” he tells her. “All they would want is for you to be happy, so don’t you think it’s time for you to stop punishing yourself?”

Gabi wishes she could. She wishes she could stop crying. She wishes she could live a normal life. She wishes she could be happy.

“But I’m scared,” she whispers.

She’s scared that she doesn’t deserve to be happy even if people say otherwise. She’s scared that she’ll muster the courage to get out of bed and eat and leave the house only to be reminded that she doesn’t deserve any of those things. She’s scared that she’ll try to live normally only for something to go terribly wrong — for the world to tremble underneath her feet, for the sky to fall, for the earth to shatter in front of her very eyes — because the universe knows she doesn’t deserve any bit of happiness in her life.

She even hesitates to indulge in little pleasures. She’s unsure if she should eat more than a bite of the food Armin prepares. She’s uncertain if she should reciprocate the hugs that Armin and Mikasa give her. She doesn’t know if she should even go outside and enjoy the scenery because everything is more than she deserves.

“I’m scared,” Gabi repeats. She holds onto Falco tighter, her fingernails digging into his shoulder, but he doesn’t pull away. “I’m scared and terrified of everything. I’m too afraid to ever be happy.”

Falco squeezes her tightly. “Then I’ll teach you how,” he tells her. He says it like a promise. He pulls away slightly. It’s far enough so that he can see her face but still close enough that he can hold her in his arms. He’s smiling now. It’s not broad and carefree like it used to be when they were children. It’s a little cracked at the edges, a little forced, a little bit pained. It’s a little bit hopeful. “In a world like this … it’s brave to try to be happy, but it’s hard being brave, isn’t it?” His voice isn’t mocking. It’s gentle. Sweet. Understanding.

Gabi feels exhausted. She doesn’t have the energy to answer in words. She just gives him a simple nod.

“You don’t have to be alone, Gabi,” Falco tells her. “You have me. You have Miss Mikasa and you have Mister Armin. You have all of these people who care about you. You have all these people who want you to be happy, and we’re always going to be there to help you.”

“Thank you,” Gabi whispers. She slumps against Falco, his arms the only thing holding her up. She’s crying again, but she cries tears of gratitude this time because Falco says everything she’s always needed to hear. For the first time in a long time, she feels hopeful. She says the words she’s always wanted to say out loud: “I want to be happy.”

Falco smiles a little more broadly this time. It’s not the same smile as when they were kids. Gabi’s not sure they will ever be able to smile the same way again, but she still wants to smile again. She wants to smile with him.

“I’ll help you,” he tells her. Falco stands up, but he doesn’t bother brushing the dirt from his clothing. Instead, he reaches out a hand towards Gabi. “Let’s be happy together, Gabi.”

She’s not sure if she should take his hand. She doesn’t know if she should rely this much on him, if she should be this much of a burden to him, if she deserves his help, but she wants it so badly. There’s a possibility that she won’t ever be happy even with Falco’s help. There’s a chance that she still might not be able to smile. There’s a risk that this might all just be a fool’s dream … but it’s a risk that Gabi wants to take.

Gabi puts her hand in Falco’s and lets him pull her up. She lets him fuss with her hair and clothing, lets him run his hand through her hair to get out the tangle and brush at the skirt of her nightgown so that the dirt doesn’t stick. She lets him take care of her and when he looks at her to make sure she’s okay, she gives him a smile.

It’s far from perfect. It’s hardly a smile at all. It’s just her lips with the edges curled slightly upward. The smile doesn’t reach her eyes. Even Gabi knows it’s a pathetic attempt and it hurts to stretch her lips this way. She can feel her smile crumbling at the edges. It’s scared and broken and uncertain … and hopeful.

#falbi #falco grice #gabi braun #snk #canonverse #requests #anonymous #anon #answered #me: i'm gonna publish stuff on a schedule #also me: i'm gonna publish whenever i want b/c I'm a mess

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