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st7rnioioss · 9 months ago

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౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆ "I really want to kiss you."

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: matt sturniolo x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you and matt had been friends for awhile - you even had crushes on each other. one day, you end up kissing, yay

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: fluffyyyy, kissing, friends to lovers!!

a/n: DEDICATED TO MIDDLE PART MATT. i cant, hes just so cute im dissolving. i hope you guys like this teehee i personally feel like its a bit rushed but oh well. I LOVE YOU ALL<33

part two ───────── 🐇

It was a hot summer day in Boston. You were standing outside your school with all your friends - Matt, Nick, Chris, Madi, and Nate. Because of the weather, you didn’t want to spend the whole day on Matt’s bed, scrolling on TikTok, watching movies, or doing homework. It would be a waste of good weather for once. “Anyone up for ice cream?” you asked the group, turning to face Matt.

Matt had been your best friend since second grade. If anyone wanted to be friends with you, you had to be friends with Matt as well, and vice versa. When you and Matt were 9 you had promised that if you weren’t married by 30, you would get married. You both laugh about it to this day, but you never really dropped the promise. Guess that kinda sums up your relationship.

Chris and Nick kinda came as a package deal since they were Matt’s triplet brothers, but you didn’t mind since you all got along great. Matt had stuck with you whenever times got tough, especially when you started high school. Both you and Matt had struggled a lot with school and anxiety so that only strengthened your relationship. He was the one person you looked up to, who had gone through the same stuff as you.

Often you had questioned if you liked Matt. You had an idea he might have a crush on you, but you never got it confirmed. Madi had told you multiple times you would be “the perfect couple”, but you didn’t believe in such things. Neither that “he obviously likes you”.

“Yeah sure,” Matt shot a soft smile at you, which you returned. “Any of you guys?” you turned to face them. “I’m sorry, me and Chris got hockey practice,” Nate said with a frown. Oh, right. “Yeah we’re sorry, we’re going shopping with Mikayla,” Nick referred to Madi, who both turned to you and Matt with awe in their expressions.

You looked up at Matt who was already looking at you. “Yeah, no it’s fine guys. We can just find some time in the weekend then? All six of us,” you smiled at them. They all nodded, and you then said your goodbyes. “Let’s go then!” Matt said with an almost proud smile. “Alright, captain!” you both laughed, heading to the ice cream place.

You anxiously fidgeted with your rings as you were standing in line. Matt had asked you something, but you were completely zoned out. He must’ve noticed, 'cause he took your hand in his, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“Hey, are you alright?” he asked, concern spreading his face. You quickly looked up at him, hesitating for a second. “No- yeah, I’m- I’m good. Just a bit tired,” you said, smiling reassuringly at him. He just nodded slowly, his eyes fixating between each of yours, observing your face for any signs of discomfort.

“Alright then.. I’ll have the chocolate, what about you? Coffee as usual?” he asked as the line was getting shorter, not letting go of your hand.

“Yup. Heard it should be good at this exact place,” you smiled excitedly.

Your attention was on Matt, almost forgetting your surroundings. You stared at him, adoring how he was so great at interacting with people, strangers. How well he noticed when something was off. Your mind was spinning for a brief moment, before he looked back down at you, quickly looking back up at the man in the booth.

“Um- your ice cream. It’s- It’s done. Ready. I- here you go,” he stuttered nervously as he handed you your ice cream. You looked down from his gaze and shook your head for a second, taking the ice cream from his hand. He was very evidently blushing. “Thank you,” you muttered, holding back a smile. Matt let go of your hand to eat his ice cream with the blue plastic spoon. “Hey, there’s a free bench right there,” you pointed, dragging Matt along before anyone else would take the free seats.

“Oh my God, that’s hilarious,” Matt chuckled. He was leaning against you, watching TikTok on your phone. Both your ice creams were long gone. You were looking down at your phone, but you felt Matt’s gaze burning into you. He then gently pushed a piece of hair behind your ear to see your face better. You looked up at him to meet his stare. “What? Why are you staring at me? Is there ice cream on my lips? Face?” you asked confused. His gaze was on your lips before it darted back to your eyes. “I- I really want to kiss you,” he whispered.

What? He wants to what?

Before you even processed it, his lips were gently kissing yours. Instinctively your eyes closed, reaching for his cheeks. After a second he pulled away. “Woah..” you whispered, not taking your eyes off Matt’s. You laughed awkwardly, breaking eye contact to hide the blush spreading across your cheeks. Matt giggled a bit before grabbing your chin. “Can I do that again? Please?” he whispered, his cheeks beet red. “Y-yeah..” you smiled nervously, leaning back in to kiss him. There was no desperation in the kiss. Just more of a passionate kiss. Matt’s hands were placed right under your ear, holding your face, not wanting to let go anytime soon. “Oh my God, I could kiss you forever,” he giggled nervously, pulling away from your lips. You reach one hand up to grab his, holding it tightly. “I’m confused. Do you like me? Uh, do you have a crush on me?” you blushed, your gaze darting between his eyes. “You’re oblivious, aren’t you?” Matt laughed, and you quickly joined him. “Of course I like you, are you stupid? I’m madly in love with you,” you hid your face in his chest as you giggled. “I really like you too, Matt,” you mumbled, leaning back up before you kissed his bright pink cheek.

“I can’t believe it! I fucking hate scrapes,” you exclaimed. You were sitting on the toilet lid in a public restroom since you had gotten a deep scrape from the bench. Matt was kneeling in front of you, wrapping a bandaid around your finger. He kissed your finger, looking up at you. “Will I live, Doc?” you asked him, trying your best to hold back a laugh. He did the same. “Ahh, I don’t know. I think we have to amputate before an infection spreads,” he shrugged before you both broke into laughter. Matt ended up following you home, your fingers intertwined all the way. You were now standing in front of each other on your front porch. “I’ll text you, okay?” he smiled, both of his hands holding yours, his thumb brushing gently over the bandaid on your finger. “Alright. Goodnight, Matt,” you giggled, leaning up to give him a quick peck on his lips. “I- uh. Goodnight.” he stuttered before chuckling, a blush appearing on his face.

───────── 🐇

a/n: omg i cant. i love fluff so so much. giggling and kicking my feet.

tagslist: @chrissgirlsstuff

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #Spotify

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cannedbabs · 9 days ago

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Here’s the whole post explaining this thought process. Was gonna wait awhile to write it out but the brainrot for this guy is real. He’s seeped into my life into deep crevices not a lot of other fixations have and I’m simply his meat puppet typing to spread his name so he truly never dies.

Anywho, big explanation post under the cut :]

The fandom seems to place a bunch of emphasis “oh look at me I won the first place trophy and these other two lost as always 👍”

This is definitely an important part of his character. He obviously gloats according to the flashback scene in WIR, shoving the trophy and his hand in the twins’s faces and making them noticeably recoil. Though I was ruminating on the idea of: what if he didn’t place first?

In the very beginning of the movie (the 30 years ago bit) when we see Turbo Time if you manage to pause you can see all types of kids playing his game. One of which is a kid who can barely see over the poor wheel. What if someone played it didn’t know how to play at first or some other reason? What if turbo placed second, or worst third? Honestly I don’t think he’d care. It’s 100% happened before. It’s a bruise on his ego, but he won’t die without placing first (and most definitely wasn’t the reason for going Turbo)

In terms of King Candy there is one race he is concerned with “winning” however, and that is the Random Roster Race. This isn’t for any points or gloat (at least outwardly) and it’s simply to be an option that the players can choose from. Who wouldn’t want to win it?

We can probably assume due to Turbo’s nature he has never not once been included in this roster (he probably justifies his position as king to be partly reason if anyone dares question him). Not to mention he is ALWAYS smack Dab in the middle, both in ‘real life’ when the roster is seen resetting before people put their coins in to qualify (not to mention his picture is the last to disappear… attention hog) and in his “What If” flashback when he’s talking to Ralph about Vanellope not being able to race.

This comes with its set of own other obstacles. Unlike Turbo Time, you can play as any character you chose out of the 9. Sure, King Candy looks most odd out of all of the younger, more specifically themed candy racers, and that may come with some curiosity but… if your ALWAYS included in the roster people won’t want to play you (unless you got some die hard KC racer fans who likes how he plays LOL). If you’re a staple people are gonna wanna try to pick racers they’ve probably never seen before to get the chance to race as a cool new character that hasn’t been added to the roster in a while.

Sooo let’s say Turbo, this man who is used to being played by the racers in every instance has to grasp at straws to get even an ≈11% chance at getting picked. Fine. He’s settled with that for what? 15 years? No biggie.

I’ve compiled a dumb list of what I believe his priorities are in regards to sugar rush going from ‘most desired outcome’ to ‘meh it’s okay’ to downright ‘won’t let it happen.’

1. King Candy is added to the roster. King Candy is picked by the players. King Candy wins the race.

2. King Candy is added to the roster. King Candy is picked by the players. King Candy DOESNT win the race (ofc each place after first would be sub categories of this entry)

3. King Candy is added to the roster. King Candy is NOT picked by the players. King Candy wins the race

4. King Candy is added to the roster. King Candy is NOT picked by the players. King Candy DOESNT win the race

5. King Candy is NOT added to the roster.

Turbo can handle loss. He can’t handle the spotlight not being on him, even inadvertently, and he can’t deal with not being *involved*. He went Turbo when he felt like he was being abandoned, even in that brief moment those kids turned heel (I don’t know who made it but someone made a theory that I agree with wholeheartedly that he was abandoned in the middle of a race and thats AUGH) to look at Road Blasters he needed to get involved.

And what did involved look like? Getting them to talk about him. Appearing as part of the game, part of the track, part of the race. We can’t say for certain if he was trying to replace the main car with his (Felix does say he tried to “…take over the new [game]” though I view Turbo as a deeply complex character and Felix as a slightly unreliable narrator for this flashback, so I don’t think it was exactly what Felix THOUGHT it was but yeah. Very similar, at least), but we can say It was to get the attention back on himself at least. Controlled or not, main racer (at first) or not.

((Small footnote that idk where to put it also: KC needing to be on the roster may be some compensation for Sugar Rush not being a cabinet with his likeness on it unlike TT… contrasting Vanellope in some aspects, or something something idk filler thoughts here))

Do I think Turbo values winning? Yes. It’s engrained in his character as a protagonist of his own cabinet. Do I think he’s a sore loser? Oh most definitely. Though I wish more people focused on his need to be talked about, looked at, etc. more. Funniest thing is King Candy (and Turbo) are never truly ever seen alone in any instance, only brief bits (When Turbo is game jumping in the cords… or when KC goes solo to confront Ralph about Vanellope not being able to race: “I come alone!”). Even when silently panicking he has sour bill by his side to fan him (if he was worried about Bill finding out his identity or even getting remotely suspicious he could shoo him away, it’s obvious, but he’s trusting of him enough to even let him ‘help’ with accessing the code room).

Idk!! Lots of things that rattle in my brain. I’m always up for discussions on Turbo. I have conversations with my friends on the daily about stuff like this. Would enjoy hearing other thoughts too :]

Would anyone agree with me in the WIR/Turbo fandom that Turbo doesn’t care about winning as much as people perceive him to or should I see myself out 🫢 /j

(I’ve been doing NUMEROUS character studies on this guy for awhile. Always willing to discuss anything. But this is my main thing I think is commonly misconstrued about his character… and it ofc bleeds over into King Candy as well)

#wreck it ralph turbo #turbo #turbotastic #turbo wreck it ralph #turbo wir #turbotime #turbo twins #?#king candy wir #wir king candy #king candy #wreck it ralph #wir #turbo time

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opalesense · 4 years ago

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the last appointment

zhongli & gn!reader

3.4k words • ~25 min. read

summary: as a studious and credible fortune teller in liyue, you discover something about your last client of the week that completely derails your outlook on life.

warnings: liyue arc spoilers, little bit of existential dread, slight mention of family member’s death

notes: might make more parts to this idk? just kinda wanted to dip my toes into genshin writing for the first time!!

LIFE IN LIYUE HARBOUR seemed to be repetitive and mundane. For the past few years, you would wake up, open your fortune telling shop, analyze the futures of your clients using your geomancy, possibly take a stroll around Liyue when you needed to run errands, and then call it a day. You performed the same routine constantly, sometimes travelling beyond the harbor to collect crystals and magical supplies for your shop, but rarely did anything truly change in your routine. If something was off in the slightest, it was never too exciting to note.

As anyone would have suspected, you were tired of your state of limbo in life. Other vision holders seemed to be going on adventures, travelling with companions and exploring the vast mountains and valleys of Teyvat. Other vision holders seemed to be fighting against evil, helping citizens, and saving the world from imminent dangers. You could even recall a recent event where the Qixing had evacuated the harbor to defeat a terrifying sea monster. The Jade Chamber had been sacrificed for the safety of the people of Liyue, and yet here you were, playing with a bunch of rocks for a living. Despite being able to grasp the glowing Geo vision that held your coat together, you could not grasp why you felt doomed to tend to this shop for the rest of your days.

You didn’t know where or how to “start” your life. The small, inherited establishment from your late aunt was located in the small alley of Chihu Rock, practically out of sight from most of the foot traffic in the harbor. Not many people came to visit, though your name was still decently known. In fact, most of your appointments were simply previous clients from your aunt, regulars that relied on her readings for years and believed you were the next best thing after she passed. Especially considering you were the first vision holder in your family, it made your credibility even stronger.

You still remember how you got your vision. The morning after your aunt had passed, the elemental gift somehow made its way into your hand as if the timing was meant to be perfect. You didn’t celebrate such a special and momentous occasion with pride or joy. Your face stiff with tears, you instead reflected on why you received your vision at that moment in the first place. With the shop doors closed upstairs, you gripped your vision and did what you felt needed to be done. With your family’s legacy and tradition on the line, adventuring like other vision wielders was not a priority at the time.

But after years alone of research, a social life consisting only of interacting with customers, and a constant state of grieving the experiences you could’ve had in your youth, you were now in your late twenties and closing the shop for the day. Your last appointment was either extremely late or not showing up at all and you were tired of working today, just like every other day. Regret gripped you tightly as you wondered how you managed to get yourself in such a boring, slow burning loop.

That is until the shop door opened, eliciting a gasp from you at the sudden noise, shattering the previous thought. You accidentally dropped the basket of cor lapis you were refilling and immediately knelt down to pick up the precious pieces that thankfully hadn’t cracked on the way down.

“Hello, [Y/N],” the tall figure practically glided through the doorway, “My deepest apologies for being late.”

He closed the door behind him, “...and for startling you, it seems.”

You sighed, checking for any scratches on the gems and sighed again with relief based on the good results. You grinned to hide the fact you had just been in deep thought. “It’s quite alright, Mr. Zhongli. It’s kind of you to stop by at the very least, even if you’re late.”

Mr. Zhongli was one of your aunt’s longtime clients. Since you were a child, your aunt had always described Mr. Zhongli as a complex yet thoughtful man that had always shown kindness to your family for many years. When Mr. Zhongli learned of your aunt’s death and began to receive readings from you instead, you quickly realized what your aunt meant by calling him complex. Mr. Zhongli was truly a tough nut to crack in every single reading, his sessions taking longer than most other cases. That is why Mr. Zhongli would always offer to take the last spot of the day at the end of every week as to not trouble any of your other clients.

As you took a few of the best cor lapis from the basket, you could see Mr. Zhongli’s acts of kindness and thoughtfulness unfold in front of you. He seemed to carry what was now clearly a gift basket at closer inspection.

“This gift is for you,” Mr. Zhongli took a few steps forward to set the basket on a countertop. “I brought you your favorites. Slow cooked bamboo shoot soup, qingxin, glaze lilies, and all the crystals I could find… needless to say, let this be a token of my appreciation for your patience and hard work from our last few sessions. I know I am not the easiest to read, but you truly have a talent.”

You were speechless at the gesture as your eyes sunk into the intricate detail of the handwoven basket and decorated items inside. No one had ever done something so kind for you in so long. It was astonishing enough that he remembered your favorite soup that you mentioned only once a few months ago, let alone your favorite flowers and crystals as well. “Thank you so much, Mr. Zhongli! I’m at a loss for words – this is so thoughtful of you!”

“I even brought you that Rex Incognito series you had mentioned, although, I am not sure why you would need to read the series when I am fully capable of educating you on the history of Rex Lapis myself,” he flaunted, taking his seat on the cushioned chair in front of the reading table.

“Now, Mr. Zhongli...” you picked out some prithiva topaz from another basket, following the usual protocol you had with such a personalized, frequent client like him. The required materials for his readings were imprinted into your memory like carvings in stone. “You know I don’t want to burden you with my curiosity. And with such an intriguing topic like Rex Lapis... once I start asking questions I’m afraid I will not stop.”

“I have all the time in the world,” he got comfortable in his seat as you sat yourself across from him, “I truly think it would benefit you to discuss the history of Rex Lapis with a learned scholar such as myself. We can even have some tea as we discuss.”

You chuckled at his eagerness. He seemed more forward than usual. “You are too kind, Mr. Zhongli. Perhaps I’ll take that offer someday, but at least let me put those books to good use first. Maybe I won’t need to bombard you with questions if I’m already well briefed on the subject.”

He sighed happily. “You make a good point. And you will enjoy them, I’m sure.”

You settled into your seat as you arranged the crystals between the two of you. “The usual for tonight?”

“Yes, please.”

Your hands meticulously placed the last crystal in its spot on the surface. You closed your eyes and hovered your hands above the rocks, clearing your mind to make way for the usual reading: a reflection on the past, any significant events of the present to focus on, and some insight into the future. You held this hand gesture for awhile, letting the energy from the rocks lift into the air and envelop your gloved palms. When you felt there was enough energy to work with, you opened your eyes to reveal the manifestation of his thoughts in front of you, able to take its physical form using the powers from your glowing vision.

No one had ever taught your this skill, not even your aunt. If you had to bloat your own ego, one could say you invented this Geo fortune telling process yourself. The process indeed came to you naturally, a true display of pure talent.

You slowly lifted your hands to allow the visual manifestation to settle on the table among the gems so Mr. Zhongli could watch his reading unfold in front of him as well.

“Let us analyze the past first,” he spoke, already knowing the routine without you needing to ask him where to start. You slowly waved your hands as if you were digging a hole in sand on a beach, the manifestation displaying ambiguous patterns that wouldn’t make sense to any commoner’s eyes but could be interpreted easily by yours.

Two pairs of focused eyes fixated on the picture as you spoke your mind out loud. “You have recently given up something extremely important to you, it seems. I see you handing over something… small, physically, yet unbelievably significant and personal. I can’t tell what it is exactly, only that it glows like the sun with its energy. But you have handed this important object over to a very... evil... figure?” you cocked your eyebrow, confused. “You seem to be brooding over the fact that its aura is dark with malicious intentions.” You hesitated, “Well, that can’t be right, can it?”

He sighed. “Unfortunately, that is indeed what happened recently. But it had to be done.”

“Didn’t we talk about a similar situation in a previous reading? If I remember correctly, I thought I had advised you to not give up whatever that object was.”

“I am aware of the consequences that will follow. Especially with your future guidance, I’m sure the events following this one questionable decision will unfold in a better way soon enough.”

“I will always be here to help you, Mr. Zhongli. But please be careful in the future with these decisions. The importance of this object seems to be off the charts.”

He nodded. “It is as you say. Please, have faith in me now. I cannot change what happened in the past, after all.”

You hovered over this image of the sacrifice. You couldn’t make out what this object was, no matter how close you tried to inspect it. It had the likings of a chess piece, but surely this wasn’t simply a chess piece, was it?

“Let us move on, if that is alright with you,” his low voice cut the silence.

You wiped the image from your mind and waved your hands again, as if you were slowly putting the sand back into the hole you dug before. If the last image wasn’t enough bad news, this new one that formed was even more painful to witness.

“You have been grieving your losses very recently,” you said gently. “Your mind is currently weighed down by your past. I see you looking out at the sea in deep thought. There are flashes of…”

You stopped as you inspected the graphic images that suddenly appeared beyond your hands. You gasped at the terrifying horrors.

“What is it?” the low voice tried to search for understanding of what you were seeing. Even though the image was clearly laid out in front of him, it was still too ambiguous to tell when he lacked your years of experience.

“There are flashes of war,” your breath stifled as you watched his thoughts splayed out in images of lifeless bodies and destruction. “Very graphic details of war and death. Mr. Zhongli, I believe this image of suffering has been weighing over your mind like an anchor in the sea.”

He paused to process your comparison. “That is... a very good way to put it.”

“Though, I believe that despite the sorrow that emanates in this image, you are in a state of relief and tranquility. It seems you are grieving, but you are simultaneously at peace,” you hesitated again, “Yet I wonder what these graphic images of war are meant to represent. Surely we are not in an actual war, are we? Perhaps you are at war with your past, wanting to move on but haunted by your memories?”

Mr. Zhongli unfortunately knew the images you were seeing were, in fact, real events he had experienced in his life time and the truth was that lately he had been reminiscing on these events. Mortal life is kind to humans for them to be blissfully unaware and carefree of these harsh realities, he internally commented.

He still put your analysis into thought, though.

“I am haunted, indeed. I have been attempting to come to terms with my troubled past, just as you advised me only a few weeks ago. I have tried to follow your guidance, and although they resurface what I have been trying to repress, I believe I am coming to peace with what happened.”

You grinned. “That is very good to hear, Mr. Zhongli. I believe you are currently making good progress when it comes to moving on. Just remember that it is okay to remember your sorrow. Let your emotions pass through you instead of repressing them or rushing to move on. It is okay to take your time and let the thoughts bubble inside of you for awhile.”

He closed his eyes as you continued, letting your advice seep in. You continued. “Imagine the stillness of the sea. Many creatures and lost remnants take their place in the depths of the waters, but on the surface we see constantly moving yet serene waves wash over what is hidden below. Your memories are there to stay, Mr. Zhongli. But your present self, the surface of the water, can peacefully coexist with whatever is hiding deep within. Let these thoughts weigh you down momentarily, but rest assured, you will find balance and acceptance in due time.”

His eyes fluttered open as he reflected over your words. You always seemed to know what to say. “Your words have truly resonated with me, [Y/N]. And you are absolutely correct. I have been fighting these memories to avoid the pain, but it had not dawned on me that sorrow is... what I am meant to feel, not push away. I suppose your advice has put my mind at a bit more ease, and I suppose I am focusing too much on when I will be able to move on rather than allowing my thoughts to coexist for a moment.”

“Now you’re getting it,” you grinned with the relief that washed over his face.

“Shall we move on?” he offered.

You got to work on the last segment of the reading. If manifesting the other images didn’t take long enough, reading one’s future always took the longest. Interpreting an event that hasn’t happened yet always made you a bit nervous with your words. You never wanted to let a client down with an inaccurate reading.

On the contrary, this reading, despite taking quite awhile to appear on the surface on the table, was very clear.

“That is undoubtedly an image of me,” your eyes glazed over the facial features of the person in the manifestation. “I apologize for the delay, Mr. Zhongli, I must have accidentally let my thoughts seep into yours–“

“Do not fret, I believe this is accurate,” he interrupted. “Keep going.”

Your perplexed expression remained as you continued the reading. “I am admittedly stumped. There is nothing left in this image. I suppose it is simply me standing in what looks like some ruins. I am holding a staff, or some kind of long object.” You paused to think out loud. “Why am I in your reading? What could this possibly mean?”

Mr. Zhongli chuckled as you thought out loud. “Perhaps this is a good time to tell you why you are in my thoughts.”

“I’d love to hear it, I have never appeared in someone’s reading in my last decade and a half of experience. This is quite unique.”

He folded his hands in his lap, “For some reason, I have had this strange vision of training you. I’m not sure why, since you don’t seem like the fighting type, but there is some voice inside me that is telling me you are destined for something great and i need to take some part in it. What do you think, now that you see this vision as well?”

Your eyebrows rose in shock. “Training me? I guess this does relate to something I have been pondering as of late. I do not want to lay out my troubles on you though, my job is to interpret your life, not mine.”

“Our lives have clearly intertwined in this vision,” he insisted, “Please do not hold back for my sake. I have the time.”

You thought for a moment. How could you form the words without seeming too selfish? How could you maintain professionalism by talking about your personal problems?

“I am not the fighting type, Mr. Zhongli. Though, lately I have been quite depressed about the fact that I am not doing as much with my vision as other vision holders are. My life is uninteresting. The truth is that I am a simple fortune teller that plays with rocks. I hope you can understand why I am failing to interpret this reading,” you apologized. “It’s because this doesn’t seem characteristic of me at all. And with all due respect, after giving you readings for years, I would have never guessed you were versed in combat to train me!”

He chuckled. “I respectfully disagree. To tell you the truth, your talents surpass the abilities of many other vision holders. Not everyone can read thoughts or tell the future. Now that I mention it, I know of one talented astrologist in Mondstadt, but think about that. You are one in hundreds of thousands in Teyvat,” he reassured. “You did not receive your vision for no reason and I truly believe you are destined for something big. I regret not being able to realize this before.”

“How are you so sure of this? I would love to believe you, but I’m afraid I am not destined for much, really. Again, I am simply a fortune teller. What could I possibly do for Liyue other than read some rocks?”

He sighed and connected his palms with yours, interrupting the reading and wiping the manifestation off the table. The hovering crystals dropped onto the surface, making you gasp at the sudden sound.

“I am not who you think I am,” his amber eyes finally met yours for the first time this evening, which sent a chill down your spine. “Promise me you will not fret, for what I am about to show you may shock you.”

“What do you mean? What are you doing, Mr. Zhongli?” you slightly panicked as he firmly grasped your hands.

Suddenly, the room was engulfed in golden light that emitted from the seat across from you. Scattered, distorted images of a mystical dragon, a devastating war, and seven seats in Celestia flashed across your eyes as you stared at the beams of light. Death seemed to swallow you, but not take you. The baskets of crystals around the room shook with the surge of energy. The world seemed to destroy itself then remake itself over and over again within fleeting moments. These thousands of years of memories made your body tremble. It all happened within fleeting moments, and after a few seconds of your senses being overwhelmed, you finally pulled yourself together and connected the dots.

His expanded knowledge of Liyue’s history. The sudden gift of your vision immediately after your aunt passed. Grieving his losses and having flooded thoughts of war and death. Offering combat training. Remembering your favorites the same way he would remember Liyue’s customs and traditions. His glowing amber eyes alone.

Mr. Zhongli was the God of Contracts and overseer of Liyue. Rex Lapis, a being that lived for millennia, sat in the seat across from you. He had been posing as a mere mortal for years, taking readings as if he were any normal customer. The realization shook you to your core as you sat there bewildered, grateful, and horrified at the same time.

He let go of your hands after seeing that the information successfully processed in your mind. He saw something in you that was yet to be awakened, where the sky was the limit under your own expectations. This daydream of his was no simple vision – it was a calling. Internally, whether you agreed to it or not, he vowed that he would not leave your life until your true destiny was fulfilled.

He would see this vow fulfilled by offering you a contract that would change the course of your life forever.

#zhongli #zhongli x reader #genshin impact #rex lapis #mine #boom #genshin impact x reader

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aomineavenue · 4 years ago

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Summary: Six years ago, L/N Y/N wouldn’t exactly say that she loves her life. It had always been problematic but her best friend, Miya Atsumu, since she was eight when she moved to Hyōgo, has always been there for her, and she wouldn’t change it for the world. However, things would always fall apart for her ever since, so she should have expected of such. Running away from her problems seemed like the easiest route to take at the time, so what happens when the past comes barging back into her life demanding answers? Will she be able to confront her demons?

Pairings: Miya Atsumu x f!Reader

Genre: Angst, ANGST I LOVE ANGST, a lil bit of fluff here and there.

Warnings: Language, etc.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters except for the reader and my ideas. I do not claim any images used for content in this fic, everything goes out to their respective creators unless it is mentioned that it is mine.

Status: completed. | series masterlist

↩ at peace | dearest daddy

mia speaks!:

okay, wow. So it took awhile for us to get here and I apologize for that but we’re finally done with Homesick, wew. It’s been a challenge but I’m so happy and grateful for all the positivity you guys have been sharing with me. Also, thank you so much for your patience.

It’s been an emotional ride but we’re finally done. There may be a few short stories after this chapter but no promises. Hopefully I get the chance to though, I do want to be able to. But for now, if you guys have any requests for imagines/scenarios with this series, don’t be afraid to send them over!

Also, big thanks to @oii-sugasan and @sunshinesero for beta-reading this for me! I apologize if this chapter is any way lacking compared to the first nine chapters, it’s been awhile since I wrote anything so I hope this was a great way to end this series.

I love you guys so much, I’m so glad to be (sorta) back. I hope you guys enjoy this!

Time was a funny and fickle thing. Sometimes there was never enough of it, and other times it stretched out endlessly. It had been seven months since your life had once again made drastic changes. It often surprised you how time flew by so fast.

Seven months since your two precious boys had been introduced to the man that they now call their father. And well, seven months since you had been reunited with the love of your life. Sure, it had ups and downs, it wasn’t bound to be perfect since the two of you were your own person. It was inevitable for such different personalities to clash, it didn’t help when there were two children present, one of them being as handful as their own father.

Atsumu had shown that he was a doting father, despite only being a part of their lives for less than a year, he had put his new family as his top priority, wanting to make up for lost time. He would instantly drop anything and everything, sometimes even volleyball when he could for times when his family needed him. Not that his new family had been a burden since then, his sons and of course you, have been nothing but loving and supportive. Showing up to games to cheer him on and the twins attending his training to either join or just watch their father and new favorite uncles.

It had been a rollercoaster ride since it was officially announced that Atsumu was off the market and that he actually had sons. Some fans were supportive, believing the news and claiming that both the young twins were striking replicas of the volleyball player. And of course, there were fans that were against it, raging how you were nothing more than a money-grabbing harlot and that you had probably lied to Atsumu about the twins being his.

They were quickly shut down, of course, by not just fans but various people close to the volleyball setter who defended you without you even asking for it. You weren’t going to lie, that particular month filled with venomous words thrown your direction stressed you out but it was mostly because of your motherly instincts, wanting to keep your sons away from such unnecessary drama. You and Atsumu had decided to ignore the majority of the vile comments but seeing you so emotionally exhausted had only fueled the already tiny flame in Atsumu. He was quick to announce that he would no longer tolerate any form of slander towards his family and would handle things legally if anyone were to step out of line.

And by the next few weeks, the hate simmered and the stress that had engulfed you and Atsumu in its grip had vanished. All that was left that made you both worry was Atsuhiro’s health.

Fortunately, Atsuhiro’s sickness didn’t grow worse as time passed by since his first transfusion. If anything, the boy was healthier and it was very much evident in his features. The healthy glow returned to his skin, he was smiling more and had shown his usual energetic-self like before he had fallen ill. Atsumu on the other hand, much to Atsuhiro’s dismay, had started becoming such an overprotective father. It took a lot of begging from Atsuhiko for their father to spend the day outside of the protective bubble of your apartment.

It took time and patience from everyone’s side to get this far, and for Atsumu, (and of course, you) he didn’t mind it one bit. He had grown more mature, despite his twin brother’s disagreements, he not only took care of himself more but he had become a role model to his sons.

Not only that, but as his relationship with his sons grew stronger, the love the two of you had for each other only seemed to intensify as well. Sure, the two of you had ups and downs back then in your friendship but it was as if time and distance hadn’t kept the two of you apart. If anything, it was as if it made your bond stronger. Two best friends, reuniting and finally expressing their true desires, it was easy for the two of you to fall into a comfortable routine.

“Where are the boys of the hour? I’ve been wanting to see how good Hiko looks in my jersey!”

Bokuto interrupts your thoughts for a brief second before you return your focus to your duties of cutting up the vegetables in the kitchen. You can’t help but chuckle at the sour expression that graces Atsumu’s expression as he fills a tray of refreshments on one of the island counters. “Don’t remind me, Bo-kun.”

“You’re just jealous that your sons didn’t want to wear your jersey," he teases, a playful grin on his lips as he lifts himself off of the ground by his hands to sit on the counter.

The scowl on Atsumu's face only deepens at the reminder, "Get off the counter, Bo-kun. Don't be rude. Why don't you actually start to help and give out these refreshments to the guests?"

You watch in amusement as the two exchange their usual banter around the kitchen of your home in Hyogo. It was decided a week ago after Atsuhiro's second transfusion was a success, that the twins would celebrate their birthday back at Hyogo instead of having the guests cramp up in your small apartment in Kanagawa.

It was also then decided by your sons what theme they would be having for their birthday. It was traditional for the twins to have their birthdays themed depending on their current interest. Lately, since the two were very fixated on volleyball due to their new favorite uncles and of course, their father, it was decided that they would be having a volleyball themed birthday where the guests were required to wear their favorite player's jersey.

For a minute, your new friend Bokuto had been rather excited upon hearing the idea.

"So show up with our own jerseys? Great!"

And as for Atsumu, he was excited at the prospect of seeing his own sons wearing his jersey. That is, until his sons destroyed such dreams.

"Are the two of you really sure?" you hear Atsumu's voice echoing from the twins' bedroom throughout the walls of the apartment as you stepped inside, shutting the door behind you as you ventured further into the comforts of your home. “Like really? Those are your choices?”

You grew curious as you slipped out of your shoes and let your hair loose from its tight bun, wincing slightly from your tugging. There was a tinge of whininess dripping from Atsumu’s voice that you couldn’t help but wonder what the three of them were talking about. It wasn’t unusual for Atsumu to be around when you had to work on days where the boys came home from school or when they didn’t have school.

At most times, when Atsumu didn't have training, he would be the one taking care of the boys instead of your mother or Osamu. Majority of his free time away from volleyball was spent with his sons, wanting to make up for the time he had lost. And there wasn't a day where the young twins wouldn't ask about their father and if he was going to visit. It was as if they were scared one of them would disappear, wanting to spend the entirety of their lives together.

"Maybe we can go with superheroes this year!" Atsumu's voice grew louder as you reached the door to the room where they occupied. Leaning against the door's frame, your eyes land on the back of Atsumu's head as he's seated on the carpeted floor facing the twins who were playing with their action figures. A small grin curling upon your lips at the sight of Atsumu’s slightly dishevelled bleached hair.

Atsuhiro, who seems to have the ability to sense your presence, looks up from his toys and in an instant, his eyes widen happily. He was about to greet you but you quickly pressed your index finger against your lips to signal the little boy not to announce your presence just yet, wanting to see Atsuhiko and Atsumu's interaction. The smart little boy that he is, nods and returns to his toys.

"But daddy," Atsuhiko protests, his focus still on the action figures in his hands, "We did superheroes last year! I wanna wear Uncle Bo's jersey!"

You fight the urge to burst out into a fit of giggles as soon as you catch a glimpse of Atsumu slumping his shoulders dejectedly. Now you understand as to why he had his moppy voice on. "But don't you want to wear daddy's jersey for your birthday?"

"But daddy," Atsuhiko lets out a sigh, looking up at his father with a look that meant the little boy wasn't up for any arguments on the matter, "Uncle Bo is the best! So I wanna wear his jersey!"

You could have sworn you heard Atsumu whine, suddenly wishing you had decided to film this from the start. "But it will make daddy really happy if you wear his jersey!"

Atsuhiko shakes his head as he continues to play with his action figures, "But I want Uncle Bo and I to match!"

Atsumu sighs in defeat before turning his attention over to Atsuhiro, looking hopeful. "What about you, Hiro? Would you wear daddy's jersey?"

"No, daddy. I wanna wear Kageyama-san's jersey," he nods with a proud smile, "Wanna be just like him! He's so good!"

"But daddy's just as good a setter as Tobio-kun!" Atsumu cries out, throwing his hands up in the air, "betrayed by my own children. 'Samu isn't going to let me live this down."

This time, you let your presence be known by finally releasing a bubble of laughter. Atsuhiko instantly drops his action figures and rushes over with a happy squeal. Atsumu pivots his body, looking up at you with such a pitiful gaze as he juts his lower lips out ot a pout, "I want new children."

Needless to say, Atsumu had been pouty ever since and has been dreading today due to the reason that every single one of his friends had found out about it. He had tried a handful of times to change their minds, unfortunately, the young twins won't budge.

“It’s not my fault your kids like me better than you,” he huffs, folding his arms across his chest, “I am an ordinary ace after all!”

A scowl graces on Atsumu’s features which causes the other occupants in the room to chuckle in amusement. It wasn’t as if Atsumu didn’t like the idea of his sons becoming close to his teammates, but lately, it was getting harder for the setter to share. “Get your own children!”

“Ah, about that...” Bokuto trails off with a nervous chuckle which causes everyone to fall silent and look at him in curiosity, “I actually will be getting my own child soon, I think.”

“You think?” you ask with an arched brow, “You can’t just think you’re having a child, Bokuto-san.”

Atsumu interjects, “And aren’t you in love with that best friend of yours? What happened to never being with anyone else but her?”

He waves his hand in the air dismissively with a frown etched on his lips, “Well, I can’t exactly be with her when she just got married.”

“You are so getting your ear torn off by the management when this news gets out,” Atsumu snickers, which he earns a smack to his shoulder from you. “Ow!”

You narrow your gaze at your boyfriend, completely unamused with his behavior. “Don't be dramatic, I didn't hit you that hard!" Letting out a huff as you wipe your hands on the apron you were wearing, "You aren’t helping Bokuto, ‘Tsumu.”

His lips curl up to a cheeky grin at the sight of your expression. He leans forward to nuzzle his nose against your cheek, your cheeks growing warm from the public display of affection. His heart swells from your reaction to his gesture, murmuring teasingly, “Sorry, darling.”

“Please, don’t make me barf.” Osamu interrupts with his features scrunched up in distaste from the interaction between you and his brother.

Atsumu sticks his tongue out at his brother who returns the gesture with a shake of his head. His arm snakes around your waist to pull you closer to his side as he returns his attention over to his teammate, “Well, is the woman making you marry her?”

“Making you pay for child support?” Osamu quickly adds.

Atsumu quips with a chuckle, “Threatening to expose your sins?”

You interrupt the two with a glare towards them, “Stop ganging up on him!”

Bokuto lets out a laugh as he begins helping your mother set up the desserts onto one of the trays to bring outside to the guests, “Nothing like that, she’s pretty chill and we’ve gotten pretty close lately. So we’re going to co-parent.”

“That’s very mature of you, Bokuto-kun.” your mother compliments him with a smile before patting his back.

He feels his cheeks grow warm from the compliment, his heart swelling with pride. “Thank you.”

“Maybe you’ll end up falling for her anyway,” Osamu teases with a smirk playing on his lips, leaning against one of the kitchen counters.

He shakes his head at the idea as his brows knit together, “Jess and I won’t fall in love.”

“Jess?” Atsumu blinks at the familiar name before his eyes widens at the realization, releasing his grip from your waist, “Jess, that journalist that you showed around town when she first visited Japan?”

Bokuto nods with a smile gracing his features, “Yeah, she’s pretty cool.”

“Maybe you’ll learn to love her in your own way through your child,” you suggest with a shrug of your shoulders as you began untying the apron you were wearing upon realizing what time it was.

Atsumu shakes his head and responds before Bokuto could utter a single word, “No, no. That’s impossible. Bo-kun’s heart belongs to his best friend.”

“Stop teasing him,” you scold your boyfriend with a shake of your head, handing over the apron you successfully took off, “make yourself useful and help out here in the kitchen,"

"Bu—"

Cutting him off with a stern glare as you lift a tray from one of the kitchen counters and handing it over to Bokuto, a small smile gracing your lips, "Don't mind him, Bo. Can you bring these to the backyard and help out if anyone else needs help? I think Reiji needs a hand setting up the bouncy castle,"

Retrieving the tray from your hands, his eyes lighting up from the excitement, "bouncy castle, you say?"

"That's for the kids, Bo-kun." Atsumu scoffs but soon lets his lips form into a pout when he had been ignored, turning his attention over to you once Bokuto slips out of the kitchen, "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to check on the boys to see if they're ready for their big entrance," you muse with an amused grin. Of course, you knew what your sons had prepared for the big entrance that they insisted. Atsumu had pestered both you and the young twins since he had heard of their plan but as your sons refused to budge, you had feigned clueless, claiming that your sons had opted it to be a surprise.

Little did Atsumu know that you had helped your sons pull off such an idea.

"I don't get why they have to have a big entrance," he sighs, brows furrowing as he racks through his thoughts on what the surprise could be. It didn't help that he was both curious and excited at what his sons might pull off.

Osamu lets out a snort, rolling his eyes at his twin brother as a smirk curls upon his lips, "What do you mean? They're your kids."

"What does that even mean?" Atsumu scowls as he slips on the apron you had handed over, walking over to where your mother was situated to take over what you were doing.

You shake your head at the two bickering older twins and shoot a look of sympathy towards your mother that was going to be left with them in the kitchen before she waves you off. Your heart was swelling from happiness at how natural everything felt, despite the silly banter thrown around. It was home.

As you step into your childhood living room, you're hit with a nostalgic wave from the memories surrounding the whole area. Though it may be a mixture of good and bad memories, since you had come to terms that you were no longer running away from your past, you only feel comfort. You made your way through your childhood home over to the bedroom that had been renovated to the liking of your twin boys.

The mere thought of your boys growing to love the place where you had grown up yourself was enough to bring a smile to your face. You press your knuckles against the wooden door to signal your presence by knocking on it repeatedly, “Are you two ready?” you ask, your voice probably muffled on the other side. Your fingers wrap around the handle of the door and as you were about to twist and push it open, the door instantly snaps back shut with a loud thud. “Can’t-”

“No, mommy!” Atsuhiko screeched causing you to blink from both the surprised force and tone. Pressing your palms and ear against the door to hear what the commotion was all about, you frown upon hearing only their shuffling feet, “What are you two doing? Guests have arrived and your party will be starting soon,”

“We’re almost ready, mommy!” Atsuhiro assures you from the other side.

A chuckle escapes your lips at their antics as you decide to not interfere any further, “Alright you two, just be sure to be out in a few. You don’t want your daddy to come fetch you. It’ll ruin the surprise.”

“Okay mommy!” you heard Atsuhiko yell out, their excited muffled voices purely obvious from the other side that you couldn’t help but smile.

On the other hand, back in the kitchen, the father of your twins was having his own little dilemma back in the kitchen. It wasn’t as if he was uncomfortable being around your mother, but it was more like he felt he was still lacking.

Despite him knowing that your mother and you hadn’t had the greatest relationship when your father passed away, he still wanted to be someone your mother would approve of. He didn’t know whether your mother knew the whole story of the relationship between the two of you but being away from you and your sons during most of their childhood was enough to make him worry. The mere idea of his sons looking up to him sent his heart soaring, but of course, he also wanted your mother to feel secure enough for him to be together with you and the twins.

“I’ll bring out these sliced up fruits outside,” Osamu cuts the clear tension surrounding the kitchen. Atsumu resists the urge to glare at his twin for leaving him behind with your mother, knowing full well that his brother knows his current insecurities. A small smirk graces Osamu’s features but not the obvious one that would make your mother notice.

Atsumu watches his twin slip out of the kitchen with a tray full of food for the guests before flickering his gaze over to your mother situated at the other side of the room, making final touches to the cupcakes. “Is there anything else that I can do?”

Without looking up, a smile etches on your mother’s face. “No, it’s fine. We’re just about done with everything.”

“It looks good,” he states with a nod of his head, not really knowing what to say.

Placing the piping bag to the side, your mother lifts her head up to look towards the direction of Atsumu and wipes her hands on the apron she’s currently wearing, “You know you can always start calling me mom.”

The mere sentence made Atsumu want to leap in excitement, but at the same time he was nervous, a sudden fear of messing things up engulfing him. “I don’t want to overste-”

“Oh please,” your mother waves her hand in the air with a light chuckle, “I’ve known you since you were eight. We’re practically family. So you might as well call me mom.”

Atsumu couldn’t help but let the corners of his mouth tug up to a wide smile, “Alright, mom.”

“I’m really happy that the two of you decided to work things out,” your mother spoke with a smile as she delicately places the cupcakes on the cupcake stand.”

His feet shuffled across the room to help your mother stack the cupcakes onto the stand, “We had to for the kids anyway.”

Your mother hums in thought for a second before responding, “I think the kids were just the push the two of you needed. If anything, I’ve always thought the two of you would always end up together since the two of you always leaned on each other for anything.”

He nods his head slowly, leaning against the counter as he feels his heart swell with happiness. “I guess you’re right, mom. I did lean on her majority of the time when we were growing up. I guess I still am now. I just wish I could make her happy.”

“Don’t worry, you do. Before she left Hyogo, I know for a fact that she was miserable in this house after her dad had passed. You were the only one giving her a reason to move forward,” your mother spoke, sadness dripping from her voice.

A sigh escapes Atsumu’s lips as his features scrunch up to something that resembles pain. “I was also the reason why she left. I may be even the biggest reason why she left.”

Your mother extends an arm out and places a hand on Atsumu’s arm, trying her best to give assurance and comfort, “You weren’t the only reason behind that. I don’t know if she’s told you, but I had neglected her. I’m not proud of it and apologies are probably never enough for forgiveness. I was barely a mother when my husband had passed. I was almost an empty shell and instead of being a moth-”

“Mom,” Atsumu cuts her off and grabs hold of her hand in his own, “Don’t blame yourself. She loves you very much. It’s all in the past. We’ll be able to move forward, we already are.”

The two were interrupted with Osamu’s arrival, knocking by the kitchen’s door frame to announce his return. A smile etched on his lips at the scene before him, “Hey, Y/N wants everyone in the living room. Apparently the boys are ready to make their big entrance.”

Your mother excuses herself as soon as she removes the apron tied around her, excitement clearly evident in her features. Atsumu knew it well, despite the relationship that you had been slowly rebuilding with your mother, she was just as excited as him to have the twins into her life. She has equally doted on, if not more, on the twins ever since and well, Atsumu wouldn’t have it any other way.

Atsumu knew for a fact that you adored the time you’ve been sharing with your mother. As long as you were happy, nothing else mattered.

Osamu gives him a pat on the back, arching a brow in curiosity as they make their way out of the kitchen, “Everything alright?”

Atsumu gives him a nod, giving him the largest grin that he could muster. “Yeah, definitely.”

“You look disgusting,” Osamu jokes, pretending to shudder which causes Atsumu to give him a shove as they step into the living room where most of the guests have already gathered.

“Hey ‘tsumu!” Bokuto calls out from next to you as soon as Atsumu comes into view. “Hurry up! I’m excited to see Hiko in my jersey!”

Atsumu rolls his eyes as he approaches, grumbling to himself. As soon as he reaches your side, he places a quick kiss to your temple before snaking an arm around your waist to pull you closer. “Yeah, yeah. You have to stop rubbing it in. We get it.”

You couldn’t help but let a laugh escape your lips as you lean yourself into Atsumu’s warmth, “Oh come on now you two, focus on the big entrance will you?”

Bokuto just snickers from the side while Atsumu sends him a glare. If you were to describe the two of them, they were practically acting like petty children but you know those two will eventually switch attitudes as soon as your twins step out to make their entrance.

You flicker your gaze over to Osamu who was situated a few steps ahead from your little group, trying his best to act natural with his phone up. The two of you had discussed prior to the party that he would be the one to film the whole thing going on. Your little boys had practically begged their uncle to film their big entrance but mostly, what you hoped Osamu to capture was Atsumu’s reaction.

A part of you expects that he would be a grinning mess at the sight of his kids but also, you’re also hoping he’d be speechless from all the teasing his kids put him through of having to wear someone else’s jersey.

“What’s taking them so long?” Atsumu asks, tilting his head slightly hoping to meet your eyes as his fingers play with the hem of your shirt.

As you were about to answer him, the familiar voices of your two boys echo throughout the room from the top of the stairs. You didn’t even have to look to know about their surprise since you know very well of what they had planned. Well, obviously, you had helped them out with picking up the jerseys that they were going to wear.

However, you had wanted to capture Atsumu’s reaction to your boys with your own two eyes instead of just watching it from a video. And honestly speaking, you didn’t think you’d fall in love with this man any more than you already do but here you are.

Just the mere sight of his features scrunching up to a look of awe was enough for your heart to swell. It looked as if he was close to tears as watches the twins descend the stairs with the prodest smiles they could muster.

You pry yourself away from his side as soon as the twins approach Atsumu, knowing full well what was going to happen as they had practiced what they were going to say. Flickering your gaze over to Atsuhiko and Atsuhiro, seeing them in Atsumu’s high school volleyball jersey made your own eyes water despite the fact that you were the ones who had gotten them the uniform a week ago.

“Wh-What are you guys wearing?” Atsumu almost chokes out his words, “What happened to the jerseys that we bought that you said you were going to wear?”

Atsuhiko throws his arms out in the air, smiling widely. “We changed daddy!”

“We wanna wear your jersey daddy,” Atushiro nods his head enthusiastically, lifting his hand up to grip onto Atsumu’s shirt.

Atsuhiko wraps his arms around Atsumu’s waist, “‘cause you’re our favorite volleyball player daddy!”

The scene itself was enough for everyone to watch in awe, a few of the guests that were invited had their own phones up to capture the moment with smiles on their faces, the others were almost practically in tears themselves, and well there was also Bokuto by the side with his pouty self at the realization that neither of his nephews were wearing his jersey like he thought they would. Atsumu on the other hand, had eventually dropped down to his knees and wrapped his arms around his two boys, burying his face in between them as he let out his own tears stream down his face from the overwhelming joy that coursed through him.

Yes, this is your family.

This is your home.

You stare out the window from the kitchen of your childhood home, a smile on your face at the beautiful afternoon of your backyard full with people you adore and have missed so much.

The party was still in full swing despite the sun about to set, the laughter from the guests and a few children present rang in the air. Happiness had engulfed your heart and honestly, you had trouble believing it yourself but here you were.

You wouldn’t trade this for anything.

An arm snakes around your waist from behind and you would have been startled if you hadn’t felt Atsumu’s presence a minute ago. Despite not having seen each other in years, everything about him was still familiar. Sure, there were a few things about him that you didn’t know but that didn’t mean that he still wasn’t your Atsumu that you’ve grown to love.

“Thank you,” he whispers as he nuzzles his nose into your hair, a smile playing on his lips.

You place your hands atop of his and lean yourself back into his warmth, your brows furrowing in confusion. “What are you thanking me for?”

“For everything,” he lets out a sigh, causing a shiver to run down your spine from the heat radiating from his breath close to your ear, “For giving me two amazing boys and for existing yourself.”

Pivoting your body around so that you were facing Atsumu, your hands settling on his chest as you look up at him with your lips curling up to an assuring smile, “Thank you.”

“And what for?” Atsumu questions, matching your own smile with his own as his hands cup your face. He lowers his head slowly, nudging your nose with his own as the pads of his thumbs brush delicately against your skin.

Heat spreads across your cheeks at his gestures, feeling shy yourself but despite that, the majority of what you felt was only comfort in being in his arms. “For loving me as much as I love you.”

He hums in response, placing a quick kiss to your lips. “No, I probably do love you more. More than you can imagine.”

Before you could respond, he places his lips back firmly on yours and your eyelids flutter shut as if on instinct. The hands of yours that were resting on his chest eventually found their way around his torso to pull him close. Tilting your head to the side, the kiss itself deepens as he runs his fingers through your hair.

It just felt so natural being with him.

Before the kiss could grow more heated however, a loud yell from outside had interrupted the both of you causing you to pull away much to both of your dismay. Your heads turn towards the direction of the commotion, the bouncy castle coming into view.

Or rather, the depleting bouncy castle with Bokuto and Hinata coming out hastily in laughter.

You shake your head at the scene, a bubble of laughter leaving your lips before turning your head back over to look at the man before you. Just when you had decided to pull back and return to your duties of being a mother, he wraps his arms back around your waist to pull you back against him. Another laugh escapes your lips as you playfully slap his chest, “What now? We have a party going on, we have to entertain our gue-”

“Move in with me,” he interrupts, his features showing nothing but seriousness.

You meet his sincere gaze with your own and your heart makes a leap out of joy. There was only one answer you could possibly give.

“Yes.”

#atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu miya imagine #atsumu miya #homesick #atsumu miya smau

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madswonders · 4 years ago

Text

A Lesson In Romance #10: Thoughts

Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Implied anxiety, Mentions of canon-typical violence

Word Count: 2.5k

Plot: Reader keeps getting caught in rom-com situations with Spencer Reid. This time, they're paired together on a case.

A/N: I know that the BAU's conference room has big-ass glass windows but just imagine that the blinds are closed for the entirety of this chapter aha. Also this chapter is a doozy... like 1k words longer than usual, so enjoy!

Masterlist | All chapters here!

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As Peter Gizzi once described the phenomena of love, "About you there is nothing I wouldn’t want to know / With you nothing is simple yet nothing is simpler."

In high school, your reputation always preceded you. The cynic that never had a boyfriend, much less a drunken one-night stand; a prude who waited over ten dates to have her first kiss; or the "ice queen" who kept her emotions locked up and threw away the key.

If they saw you now, you wondered if they would laugh at how you've changed; because these days, you looked like you were keeping the best secret in the world, one that threatened to burst from your lips every time you smiled.

What you didn’t know, is that you didn't need to be a profiler to see it. From the bubbling laughter and whispered conversations, to the not-so-secret longing glances. You and Spencer disappeared into your own world when you were together, and everybody knew it.

And for the first few weeks, that was enough. You found it easier than usual to ignore the thoughts that lurked in the back of your mind. That is, until you couldn't.

"... I want you and Spencer to work on the geographic profile." Hotch had announced, and you remembered the feeling of your blood running cold.

There were two reasons for this. First was the fact that this case linked twenty homicides across three years to a single unsub. If there was any case that required the two nerdiest members of the BAU to team up, this was it.

Unfortunately, that fact was closely followed by an overwhelming fear — and you wanted to preface this by saying that you were usually a woman of logic and science — but, somehow, you couldn't shake the thought that something bad was going to happen to you and Spencer, and you weren't ready for it.

Leaning against the cool conference room wall, you tapped your toes in an impatient rhythm against the carpeted floor. You were trying to recite what you learned from your PhD; that your mind was jumping to conclusions and that it was normal to be nervous. It was normal to feel this way. You were normal.

"Are you okay?" Spencer asked, jolting you out of your mantra.

You realised your boyfriend had been talking to you for awhile now, but clearly, you weren't listening. You shook your head apologetically.

"Sorry, I was just thinking. Could you say that again?"

"I was just saying, you can start by pinning the names and locations of the victims, and I'll put up the crime scene photos... but are you sure you're okay?" He asked again, this time shooting you those puppy dog eyes that made you weak.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine. Let's get to work." You said firmly, grabbing the box of push pins. You felt his gaze linger on you for a second, before he began picking up his own stack of pictures.

The first hour sped by quickly as you and Spencer listed out all of the unsub’s possible motives and next victims. At the half hour mark, Hotch dropped in to check on your progress, bringing takeaway coffee and leaving with a rare smile.

At the second hour, the rest of the team returned with some new leads, and unfortunately, new bodies, but nothing that helped solidify the profile any further than what you already had.

At the fifth hour, there was no denying it. The team had hit a wall. While the rest of them were back in the field investigating more leads, you sipped on your second cup of coffee while staring at the evidence board. Spencer paced the room behind you.

"The messy dump sites. The carvings onto the victims' chests. One points to the unsub being disorganised and inexperienced, but the other is a clear, almost narcissistic ritual." The doctor thought aloud.

"Usually that means the unsub is trying to make a statement, but he killed his first ten victims before the police found out, then killed another seven and three right under their noses before going dormant. If he wanted to make a statement, why wouldn't he tip off the police or media sooner?" He grumbled.

"Are we sure it's not a taunt to the local police’s competency? Many of his first victims were found in secluded areas with limited police support." You pointed out, tapping the edge of your cup in thought.

"No, the victimology and locations are too wide spread. A taunt would present a clearer message." He said.

You turned around suddenly, causing him to halt in his steps. "Here's something completely off the wall — but what if the unsub was trying to achieve a specific pattern with his kills?" You said, gesturing with your cup.

Tap, tap-tap, tap, you created the rhythm with your finger.

"That would explain why he isn't acting like a narcissist. Maybe he's suffering a mental condition that compels him to complete a certain pattern, and subsequently, ritual with his kills. Could be rhythmical, musical, numerical..." You explained.

"Numerical. That's it!" Spencer squeaked, rushing to the board with a marker. "I thought these numbers seemed familiar earlier, that's because they make up prime numbers!"

He backed away from the board to reveal what he wrote. The numbers 2, 3, 5, 7, and 11. A lightbulb turned on in your head.

"2, 3 and 5 make up the first ten kills. 7 is the next, which he managed to complete perfectly, but something happened to the unsub at 11." Spencer voiced your thoughts.

"He might have been incarcerated, or injured. But we can't rule out the possibility that he might have moved out of town and resumed the pattern elsewhere. So either we can expect 8 more victims here, or the unsub has already moved onto the next number: 13." You quickly finished the train of thought.

"Love, you're a genius!" Spencer rushed over to pick you up by the waist, twirling you as you laughed in relief. But the relief turned to surprise when he kissed you deeply.

God, he was good at this. Even when your feet touched the ground, it felt like you were seeing stars. Though it was only when your lips parted that he had the decency to blush.

"Love?" You breathed.

Spencer's cheeks turned crimson in embarrassment, but he didn't back away. Instead, he leaned forward, bumping your foreheads together gently.

"I didn't know you had that in you, doctor." You teased.

"Well, my mother did school me in classic romance literature from a young age. Not to mention, I happen to be a genius at most things..." You could hear the smile in his voice, and you giggled.

The doctor pulled away then, an adoring smile still plastered across his face. "Are you fee—" He began, but his voice died in his throat as his gaze fixated on something behind you.

"Ooooh, am I interrupting something?" You turned around to see none other than Penelope smiling coyly from the doorway, and the two of you jumped apart.

"N-no, nothing!" Spencer blurted out.

"All fine and dandy here." You added on, blushing furiously.

The tech analyst smiled deviously. "Well, I thought I'd come and check on my two favourite lovebirds. Anything else from the case for me to chew on? Except whatever that was earlier." She teased.

"Actually, there is." You cleared your throat awkwardly, while the good doctor looked like he wanted to melt into the carpet.

"We need you to search up murders in neighbouring cities that match the mutilation by our unsub, then cross-reference the time frame with any new residents. We suspect he might be trying to complete a pattern, and that he may have done it somewhere other than here." You said.

"On it, future-Mrs-Genius. I will get back to you so fast that you won't even have time to get down and dirty." She half-yelled that last bit, heels clicking as she walked back to her office. Before you could even formulate a response, she was gone.

You felt your boyfriend wrap his arms around you from the back. "Now, where were we?" He whispered.

You giggled, leaning back into the doctor's chest while he rocked your bodies side to side. "Are you feeling better now?" He asked.

"Next time someone says it's not as intense in here as it is out there, I'm going to give them a stern talking to." You joked.

"You know what I mean, love." Spencer reiterated gently, the pet name falling from his lips like it was the most natural thing in the world. "If you tell me about it, I can help you. You know I'm always here for you."

You sighed softly, blinking back tears that threatened to spill.

"It's something stupid. I-I'm fine."

He turned you around, brows furrowing in concern when a tear rolled down your cheek. "What's wrong?" He asked, wiping it away tenderly.

"I— I was worried about us working together." You admitted. "And it's not because I don't like working with you, but I just— I just couldn't—"

"Take a deep breath, love. Slowly." He held your shoulders as you breathed in and out, once, twice.

"I've been afraid this whole day — no, for awhile now — that something was going to happen to our relationship." You confessed shakily. "And it's not about our jobs — although I worry about that too — but I'm scared that one day you'll wake up and realise that I'm not worth the trouble."

You looked up at the ceiling, trying to stop the next wave of tears.

"A-and it's only gotten worse because I've never been so h-happy with another person before. Only you've made me feel this way, and I'm t-terrified that I'll lose what we have."

There was a brief silence as Spencer pulled you close to his chest, one hand stroking your hair carefully. You could hear his heart beating fast.

"Do you remember when the team tricked us into sharing a bed?" He whispered, a hint of a smile trickling into his voice. "I think about it every single time we're about to go into the field. Because you said you'd never leave me, and now, whenever we're out there, I know I'm not alone."

He breathed in deeply, your head gently rising and falling together with his chest.

"You've given me someone to come home to, love. What we have, you'll never lose it, okay?" He whispered.

"Baby, I—" Your voice halted. Crap.

"Wait. Baby?" Spencer repeated back to you, a teasing lilt in his voice. Your face flushed, and you unwinded your arms from your boyfriend to cover your face.

"Oh god, can we pretend that didn't just happen?"

"I have an eidetic memory." He pointed out. You let out a watery laugh, knowing when you had lost.

"Alright, alright. But I do have another ide—"

Then, the conference room phone rang. It was Emily. "Hey guys, Garcia managed to narrow down the unsub and we're 10 out, but we'll need some back-up."

"Be there in 15." You replied, while Spencer shot you an amused look, Luckily, he waited for the call to end before saying the next words.

"Let's go, baby." He wiggled his eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes and laughed, already strapping on your kevlar. "That's it. You're not driving."

"Aww!"

---------

After the major breakthrough in the case — all thanks to Nerd 1 and Nerd 2, as Derek fondly called the two of you — the case managed to wrap up neatly and the BAU found themselves in a rare position. Ready to end the work day, on time.

Not that anybody was packing up to leave just yet, although you wished they would, because Penelope had decided to start enthusiastically retelling how she found the BAU's resident lovebirds in the conference room, unable to keep their hands off each other.

"Last I heard, pet names aren't a crime — and how long were you standing there anyway?" You accused, blushing.

"Firstly, they are. Criminally cute, that is!" Penelope squealed, while the rest were in fits of laughter. "And secondly, you should never underestimate my awesome ninja abilities, because I heard everything that I needed to hear."

"Do I even want to know?" Spencers winced.

"I don't think you do, pretty boy." Derek laughed, clapping the genius on the back.

"Wait, wait, wait. Can we go back to how Spencer's pet name of choice is love?" Emily gasped in laughter.

"You've got to admit it's kind of cute, Emily." JJ smiled.

"Sure. If you're courting Mr. Darcy and attending cotillions."

"C'mon, Prentiss. All that means is that our boy's got style." Derek added to laughter, while Spencer whined in protest.

The door to Hotch's office opened suddenly, both him and Rossi stepping out with expressions of urgency on their faces.

“Sorry to break up the fun, kiddos. But there's been an update to the case.” Rossi announced, following right behind Hotch to the conference room.

The laughs were wiped off everybody's faces as you traded concerned looks. As you filed into the room, Hotch had already begun speaking.

“Another body was found half an hour ago. Same MO, same random victimology, and same kind of dumpsite. And the unsub just told us where to find his copycat.”

“Wait, we never profiled a second unsub.” Derek interjected.

"It doesn't makes sense — the first unsub is a control freak. He didn't like the idea of anybody messing with his sequence. Wouldn't he have done something if he knew somebody else was copying his pattern?" You asked.

"We profiled that he wouldn't be able to deviate from his pattern. What if he had to continue, even when somebody else was committing some of the crimes for him?" Spencer countered.

“Hold on, you said the unsub gave us a location?” Emily asked.

"And a time." Rossi voiced up. “8pm tonight at The Basil. The first unsub claims that's where the copycat finds his next targets."

"How do we know if we can trust him?" Derek asked.

"We don't. But he didn't display any telltale signs of doubt when he told us, and this is the only lead we have." Hotch's frown deepened. You had a feeling he didn't like the idea of this either, but the team didn't have a choice.

"Okay, if we're doing this, he can't know we're onto him," Emily thought aloud, "and we'll need precautions in case it's a trap. That means..."

"Undercover agents... and the bait." Hotch said with finality.

“And who did you have in mind for that?” You piped up, and everyone turned their eyes to you.

“You and Reid.” He stated the obvious.

“B-b-but, I’ve never gone—"

“You’ve more than proven your abilities in the field since you joined us, and having natural chemistry will make it less suspicious to the unsub.”

You opened your mouth, but no words fell from it. Hotch was right. Of course he was right.

As if hearing your thoughts, Spencer took your hand in his and squeezed, and you felt a little calmer already. “Ok, I’ll do it.” You said determinedly, while the doctor echoed your sentiment.

Hotch nodded, beginning to assign roles to the rest of the team while you squeezed your boyfriend's hand tighter, a new mantra forming in your head.

Everything is going to be okay. Everything will be okay.

----------

Tag List:

@blue-space-porgs @nobutalsoyes @lady-loves-a-lot @queen-flower @agentcarterisgay @totalmess191 @sapphic-prentiss @oops-all-ajs @spottedzebrasinpartyhats @mellowalieneggsknight @kenny-0909 || @averyhotchner @amesandpineapples @willowrose99

#mads fics #spencer reid x reader: a lesson in romance #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #cm fanfiction #cm fanfic #cm fic #criminal minds #cm #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid x reader hurt/comfort

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mobagehelllocal · 4 years ago

Note

Hello!! Is the alphabet headcanons still open? If so can I request A, F, K, N, S, V for octavinelle? (feel free to ignore this if requests are closed)

A/N: Headcanon request in general is always open Anon~ I have yet to close them~! Hope you enjoy~!

A, F for Floyd has been answered here!

A for Azul has been answered here!

all characters featured are depicted as 18+

warning: explicit content below cut!

Jade Leech

Aftercare

Jade will pamper his lover to the extreme. After a long foreplay (where he’s mostly hands off), and several rounds of sex--he’ll draw shapes into your skin as he quietly rouses you from a brief nap. He’ll bring you to the washroom and clean you up from the mess.

During the foreplay and sex--he’s an incredible tease, not touching you--and giving you light degradation. However, during the aftercare--nothing but praise will slip past his lips. He’ll tell you all about how well you took him in, and how well you performed that day. Afterwards, he’ll wrap his arms around you, and tangle your legs together for sleep.

Favourite Position

He likes the cowgirl position actually. He likes shifting positions, and putting you on top--then doing nothing. He wants to see how you’ll take control of the situation. The desperate look on your face as you frantically bounce on his cock is something he relishes in.

He prefers it if he can see your face--he’s always studying the way your eyes roll back, the way your mouth parts in pleasure, and the flush that rises to your cheeks at your intimate act... That being said, he’d totally fuck you pressed up against anything that reflects--like a mirror, or a window.

Kink

It should be obvious--but dacryphilia. He’ll tease you until you’re literally crying for him to give you release. He’ll lean down, and gently lick your tears away, before finally letting you take your fall. He’s partial to giving you dirty talk too--there’s just something about the gentleman Jade going from sweet loving whispers to straight up crass language that just hits differently. “My precious little flower... you should see how dirty your expression looks like now... just like a slut.”

Voyeurism--but specifically, he enjoys watching you try to bring pleasure to yourself. He’ll likely just be watching you with a focused gaze and an enigmatic smile. Sometimes he’ll tell you how you should touch yourself, and he’ll tease you throughout it too.

*Sharing is caring. Another thing--he’s actually pretty willing to share you with Floyd and Azul, then just watch you three go at it--he thinks it’s fun to watch. Unlike the other two, as long as he sees that you have the slightest bit of attraction to Floyd and Azul--he’d encourage it. After all, it would be incredibly fun and unpredictable.

Jade is a person who genuinely enjoys unpredictable things--so this was actually difficult to come up with. The most I figure is that he probably does not enjoy watersports. He just finds that generally weird and not attractive whatsoever.

Stamina

He has an impressive stamina--somewhat like Vil’s. In the sense that he’s good at resisting you, until you’re at your wit’s end. Oftentimes, you’re on his bed, touching yourself while Jade’s sitting cross legged across you--probably peacefully sipping tea as he quietly tells you what you should do.

Once he does finally strip away his suit, and he joins you on the bed--he can go on for several rounds. You’re normally incredibly overstimulated by the end of it--not only because the foreplay is long, but when it comes down to it--Jade is incredibly intense during the lovemaking process.

Volume

He’s probably among the quieter ones actually. The most sounds you’ll get from him are soft, little sighs as he bottoms out in your core--or in your mouth. He gets a little breathless the more intense your sessions are--you’ll just feel the puff of his breath across your collarbones or on the nook of your neck.

Other than that--he talks dirty most of the time. He likes to order you around. Sometimes when he’s really up to teasing you, he’ll whisper directly into your ear how he wants you to touch yourself.

Floyd Leech

Kink

Creampie. It’s less of the idea of breeding really, but more of seeing his seed slip out of your heat--that just turns him on, so he’ll always ask you (because Jade told him it was polite to always!! ask) if it’s safe to come inside.

Intercrural sex. He has quite the fixation with your thighs--he loves how soft they are--so if it’s not safe for him to come inside, then he’ll likely transition to intercrural. He likes the feel of your soft thighs pressing against his cock. He’s also pretty interested with rubbing his cock in between your ass cheeks. If his lover is a woman, then he’ll use her breasts too.

*Sharing is caring. This primarily depends on how the relationship started out! If you were really just pursuing Floyd--then he’s likely going to be reluctant to share. However, if you were actively going for the whole trio, then he’ll just naturally think that you belong to all three of them.

He doesn’t enjoy being tied up too tightly, or hand cuffs he can’t get out of. If it’s something you like, he’s fine with trying them out--under clear conditions that he’s able to get out of it himself and flip the situation around if he wants to.

Stamina

He has insane stamina, and you’re likely to be super overstimulated afterwards. Unlike Jade who paces himself, and would let you breathe--Floyd is relentless. After you finish one orgasm, he’ll let your heat warm his cock for a bit before he’ll keep moving again.

You’re always an absolute weak mess afterwards--you’re almost always certain never able to walk the next day, and Floyd gloatingly carries you to any of your schedules for the next day.

Volume

Floyd is loud and unapologetic about it when the two of you have sex. He makes particularly gruff sounds and he almost--instinctively praises you in some way.

“Nngh... Shrimpy feels so good” or “Shrimpy makes the cutest sounds when I do this--” comes slipping out of his mouth endlessly. Fearlessly. He doesn’t care who hears--in fact, he’s all for them listening. ‘Let them all know that Shrimpy is mine.’ is his sincere thoughts on the subject.

Azul Ashengrotto

Favourite Position

He loves positions that keep your skins flushed close together--so something like missionary, face-off, or even just being completely draped over you--is very attractive to him. It makes his head spin, and makes him feel he’s dreaming up the whole thing. The feel of your skin against his remind him that you’re very real, and he can share this life with you.

He’s a little embarrassed about it, but there’s something so inherently erotic about the 69 position. He enjoys that the two of you are basically pleasuring each other through it! And yes, Azul would totally let you sit on his face.

Kink

Praise kink. See, the moment you want to be in control of your steamy session with Azul, just start peppering kisses on the curve of his jaw, down his throat--and whisper-- “You’ve worked so hard Azul. You did such a good job. You deserve a reward.” and Azul will immediately go still, his hands trembling, and his face flushing red as you slowly push him down. Tell him of his beauty--and he’ll become soft in your hands. Do it, he absolutely deserves it.

Laced lingerie that he bought. Yeah, like--he specifically picked it out for you and made you wear them--he loves to see you model out the lingerie he buys for you. He gets especially flushed when he sees you casually waiting for him on his bed, dressed in one of his dress shirts and the laced lingerie. He loves the lace so much, that more often than not--he’d fuck you while you’re still wearing it--but he’s careful enough not to actually damage the it though! (”It’s expensive!”)

*Sharing is caring. Same thing with Floyd--if you were specifically pursuing Azul, then likely chance he would be reluctant to share you with the twins. However, if you are actively going for the whole trio--then he’d be more willing to share--it will come to him as naturally as breathing.

You can tease him as much as you want--even to the point where his eyes are beginning to water, no problem. But for the Witch’s sake, do not even think of trying to degrade him. It’s not going to be sexy, or hot for him--it’s going to be an absolute turn off, and he’ll just be tossed back into his terrible childhood.

Stamina

He doesn’t last as long as he’d like--he can go with foreplay to the main session and afterwards it may take awhile before he’s ready for another round.

Most of the time, he’ll end up initiating aftercare after one of your sessions. It can lead to slow, tender sex in the bathroom--but most of time you just end up cuddling together and talking about your day instead.

Volume

When he’s the one on top, he mostly just gasps, or goes a little breathless with each thrust he makes. He will whisper to you how great you feel, and how happy he is that he could have you like this, He might be tearing up, so go kiss those tears away!

He’s not the loudest, but he does make the cutest, desperate little sounds from the back of his throat when you suck him off or when your clenching your heat around his pretty cock. You reduce him to an incomprehensible mess, and he’s a shuddering mess underneath you.

#twst headcanons #ai spicy alphabet #jade spicy alphabet #floyd spicy alphabet #azul spicy alphabet #aiwrites #aiheadcanons #aithirsts #ai simps over jade #ai simps over floyd #ai simps over azul #ai simps over octavinelle

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youbloodymadgenius · 4 years ago

Text

Brother (a Modern!Ivar fic with an unexpected Ragnarsson as special guest)

A/N: This is my entry to @maggiescarborough celebration. Happy early Anniversary, love 💝

I’m quite proud of this one! So, please, I know it’s not a reader insert, but give it a try, give it a chance 🙏🏽

Prompt in bold, as usual.

@inforapound - I know how much i owe you. Thank you 💞

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: One of Ivar's brothers was in a car accident. How will Ivar react?

Warning: description of physical injuries; mention of a car crash; medical and surgical inaccuracies.

Words: 2331

As soon as he spots Doctor Mikelsson, Ivar gets up, wincing at the throbbing pain in his legs as he steps closer to the renowned surgeon.

"Doc," he says, giving him a slight nod, "How is he?"

The surgeon sighs tiredly and slowly rubs his palms down his scrubs-clad thighs. "I'd say he has been very lucky. As far as I know, it could have been much worse. Car versus truck is never a winning combo, at least for the car's driver. His car has been completely destroyed, from what I hear. It must have been a terrible wreck. "

"That’s an understatement." Ivar grumbles under his breath, shivering as he struggles to get the images of the crash out of his mind. The pictures he saw were so vivid, he could still hear the screams and ambulance sirens that had undoubtedly filled the accident scene. Closing his eyes for a brief instant, he shakes his head, forcing himself to focus on the here and now.

"That's not what I was asking, Doc. How is he?" He insists, emphasizing the last three words as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, leaning heaviliy on his crutch, physical and mental discomfort obvious on his face.

"Well, he's not so bad, all things considered. As I said, it could have been much worse. He's stable and his condition isn't life-threatening. It's serious, though."

Ivar rolls his eyes, getting impatient. "Straight to the point, Doc, please! And no need to sugarcoat it." His commanding voice is sharp and stern, his tight-lipped expression giving away what little patience he has.

"Okay, Ivar." Doctor Mikelsson gives him a weary smile, a hand up in surrender. "About his upper body first. Aside from several bruises, he had a sprained wrist and a cracked rib. The last one will be painful for awhile but it won't be an issue in the long run. His lower body, on the other hand…" The surgeon frowns, visibly gathering his thoughts. "He suffered a double tibia-fibula fracture of his right leg and his pelvis has been multi-fractured; therefore I had to stabilize it with plates and screws. To allow his pelvis to recover, your brother will be bed- and then wheelchair-bound for at least six weeks, maybe more. Not that it matters, anyway, given the condition of his left leg."

Hearing those words, Ivar shudders. "How…" His voice comes out strangled and he clears his throat. "How is it? You… You could save it, right? That's why I… had him transferred here."

Putting a soothing hand on Ivar's forearm, the doctor nods. "Yes, I saved it. It was quite a challenge, I must admit. His leg has been severely shattered during the crash, literally crushed by one of the truck's tires. From the top of his thigh to the tips of his toes, not a single bone was intact. I do understand why my colleague from the public hospital wanted to amputate it, you know?"

"But you saved it?" Ivar asks once again, his free hand running nervously through his disheveled hair.

"I did." The doctors answers soberly before explaining. "I reduced the largest fractures, using rods and plates there as well. I couldn't avoid putting an external fixator though, his leg was too damaged. He'll still need several more surgeries, but he gets to keep his leg."

"Thanks, Doc." Ivar adorns a slight smile which doesn't completely reach his eyes. "And what about recovery? He will fully recover, right?" A frown creasing his forehead, Ivar bites his inner cheek, worried and concerned.

Grimacing, the surgeon lets out a deep breath. "Ivar, I'm not sure you understand the extent of the damage. It's not just about a couple of broken bones. We're talking about devastating injuries that could have – that should have – resulted in amputation. If you ask me if your brother will walk again, I can't be sure yet, but I'm quite confident he will. Will he need walking aids, like cane, crutch and or leg brace? It's too soon to say. But to be perfectly honest with you, it's quite likely." Seeing Ivar wince, the surgeon gives him an apologetic look. "Sorry Ivar. Be sure I did my best."

"Don't be sorry, I know you did. It's just a lot to take in. Does he… Does my brother know?"

Scrunching his face, the surgeon hesitates, unsure. "More or less. I talked to him in the recovery room but he was a bit dazed from the drugs and the nurse had to increase the morphine because he was in pain. He was completely out of it after that. He'll probably sleep through the night so I'll talk to him first thing in the morning." Taking a step back, Doctor Mikelsson stares at Ivar from head to foot, noticing how the blue-eyed man favors his left leg, his right foot barely touching the floor. "You should head home and get some rest, Ivar. I'm pretty sure you've been wearing these braces for far too long." Giving him a light pat on the shoulder, he shrugs. "I'll do the same anyway. Guess I'll see you tomorrow. Good night, Ivar."

***

Opening the door as quietly as possible, Ivar watches his sleeping brother. He's awfully pale, his frail frame so small on the hospital bed, his right leg in a cast, his left propped up on a huge pillow. Ivar frowns at the sight of the fixator, which makes him think of a barbaric tool more than a medical device. He suddenly feels grateful that he never needed one.

Trying to not make any noise, he crosses the room without using his crutch, struggling and wincing with every step. He's successful but fails to stifle a hiss as he sits down on the chair next to his brother's bed. He looks at him, worried, and sees his eyes flutter open.

"Ivar?" His brother's��voice is hoarse and the stunned look on his face unmistakable. "Why did you come here? To make fun of me?" There's no fight or fire in his eyes, only exhaustion and sadness.

Ivar shrugs, a light smile playing on his lips. "Can't say the thought didn't cross my mind." He lowers his head one second, snorting, and when he raises it again, it's with a serious look on his face. "Guess I wanted to know how you are doing." His voice is barely a whisper and he doesn't look his brother in the eye.

"What did you say?" Ivar's brother's tone is suspiscious, dripping with disbelief. "Since when are you concerned about that??" He tries to sit up but groans in pain, collapsing back onto the bed.

Worry wrinkling his forehead, Ivar instantly gets up, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Hold still, will you? And seriously, tell me, how are you feeling? How is your pain? I mean, on a scale from zero to ten, zero meaning no pain at all and ten an unbearable pain. Tell me, how bad is it?"

Ivar's brother rubs his cheek with two fingers, squinting his eyes, before letting out a long and audible sigh. "Four I think, maybe five."

Ivar – who lives on a daily basis with a six or seven rated pain – has to remind himself that his pain treshold is much higher than that of ordinary people. "Okay," he begins softly, "four or five might still be tolerable but don't let it get higher. Look," he points at a small medical bulb with his index finger, "that's a morphine pump, just squeeze it once and let the magic work. Trust me, it's terribly efficient. It will make you a bit dizzy but it'll be worth it." As to illustrate his point, Ivar squeezes the pump and he can see the relief washing over his brother's face almost instantly as the pain goes numb.

"I spoke with the doctor who did the surgery this morning. Did you?" Ivar's brother asks, a frown on his face and biting his lower lip.

"I did." Ivar answers without saying anything more. An uneasy silence settles in, eventually broken by Ivar's brother‘s shaky voice. "So, you know there's a chance…" His words catch in his throat and he swallows loudly. "What if…" Overcome with anxiety, he's unable to say more.

"Hey, stop that, brother!" Ivar almost scolds him."You will walk again. It may be hard, but you'll get there. For now, you should be thankful for being alive. You know what they say… Where there's life, there's hope. So please, stay positive and fucking look at me if you need to. I was able to walk, so I'm pretty sure you can too."

Ivar's brother looks at him for a long time, a puzzled look on his face. "Karma is a bitch, isn't it?" He eventually says sheepishly, a sad smile crossing his lips. "You can say it, I won't get mad, you know? I probably deserve this, after all I did…" He sighs, lowering his gaze, but Ivar doesn't allow it, raising his brother's head with a finger on his chin.

"Listen carefully, brother. No one deserves to suffer. Neither you nor anyone else. Karma has nothing to do with what happened to you. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, nothing more. The truck driver was sleep-deprived and didn't see the red light. It sucks, I get it, but it was just bad luck that you were at this crossroad at the same time that he was."

Ivar's brother just nods lightly, and then yawns, rubbing his eyes. "You should rest, brother. I'll be back soon." Ivar grabs his crutch but his brother wraps his hand around his wrist.

"Wait… You told me why you were here but there's one thing I don't understand. Why are you the one here? Where are our–" He stops as another yawn cuts him off.

Ivar, however, understands his unfinished question. "Last time I heard from our dear brothers, they were going on a business trip to Cancun. Seeing as it is the beginning of Spring Break in the US, I'm pretty sure calling it a fuck trip would be more accurate. It also means that you're stuck with me for a couple of weeks. Sorry about that." Tilting his head, Ivar gives his brother a semi-amused look. "Anyway, now, you're going to rest,” Ivar strokes his brother's hair with unexpected gentleness, "and in the meantime I'm going to make arrangements for your future."

"What… what does that mean?" Ivar's brother babbles, the drug-induced dizziness hitting him with full force.

"It means that as soon as you'll be discharged, you'll be moving in with me." Ivar says casually, shrugging, as he heads towards the door.

"Moving in with… you? But… why?" The questioning tone of his brother is obvious and Ivar turns back to look at him. "It was either this, or the rehab center. Trust me, you'll be better taken care of with me. My apartment is fully accessible, I've got a real PT room and Sven, my longtime PT, is the best in all of Scandinavia. You'll also probably need an OT, and it happens that I know the best OT too. Flora is her name, she helped me a lot a few years ago. So yeah, you will be in good hands, I promise. As good as Doctor Mikelsson's hands."

Confused, Ivar's brother looks at him questioningly. "Doctor Mikelsson is… your…" Obviously befuddled, his speech is now slurred and he can't find the right word.

"My surgeon, yes,” Ivar completes the sentence. "Has been for the last twelve years. That's why I had you transferred here, in this clinic."

Dumbfounded, Ivar's brother stares wide-eyed. "I don't… I didn't rela… realize I've been transf… transferred. And that… that was…"

"At my request, yes." Ivar nods. "Because the Doc is more than a surgeon. He's a magician. He truly can work wonders. Me standing and walking is enough to prove it." Raising his head proudly, Ivar smiles at his brother reassuringly.

"Why… why did… you do… this for… me?" Ivar's brother sputters, exhaustion written all over his face. Yet, he fights it, his curiosity prevailing above all else.

Ivar shrugs once again, giving his brother an airy wave of his hand as to let him know that what he's doing is no big deal. "I know your pain, brother. I know the struggles you'll be facing. You have a long road ahead and I know how scary it might be. You won't be alone. I won't allow it. We'll get through this together, because no one should have to deal with such things alone." Ivar almost hiccups, his heart is suddenly in his throat as a wave of painful childhood memories floods his mind. He pushes them away, gritting his teeth, because now is not the time. Focusing once more on the blond in front of him, he speaks again, in a firm tone. "So, brother, you won't be. Never. I will be right next to you at every step, literally. We'll make our own version of 'the blind leading the blind', you know?" Ivar scratches the back of his neck, a half-smile on his lips, before taking a deep breath. "And you may be an asshole most of the time, but you're still my brother. That's why I do it. It's as simple as that. Sleep now, we'll talk later."

Hand on the doorknob, Ivar hears a faint whimper. Looking backwards, he's surprised as he sees a single tear running down his brother's cheek. "Thank you, Ivar." His brother says with a trembling voice, clearly shaken up by Ivar's words.

Ivar gives his brother a genuine smile, suddenly struck by the thougth that it's probably the first genuine smile he's given his brother in years. "You're welcome, Sig," he says sincerely as he has to blink back his own tears, an unfamiliar but warm feeling in his chest, "Sleep now, I'll be back soon. I promise."

🛡💖🛡

@maggiescarborough @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @waiting4inspiration @saldelys @gearhead66 @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @a-mess-of-fandoms @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @ivarthebloodyking @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog

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snowflake-of-destruction · 4 years ago

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Lost in Translation

I can’t write a quick, few line caption to save my life Part 3/8. Based off of the third picture of THIS POST and the idea that Sora just yells in dolphin when getting frustrated at his human’s slow learning curve. Read more for length again. Italics are mermish. This is dumb but so are these boys.

@shaky-mayhemm

Part 4/? of Mermaid AU that needs a name

"Hello," Sora enunciated slowly and clearly.

"Sea Urchin," the sailor chittered back uncertainly.

Sora shook his head and repeated, "Hello."

"Hello," the sailor mimicked.

Sora resisted the urge to slap his fin against the surface of the water in triumph. There was a delicate balance at play. His human had proved more skittish than the red one, even though the handsome silver sailor had technically sought him out first, if falling out of his boat could be counted. Sora would have thought pulling him back to surface and clearing his lungs of water--after a brief confusion where he'd tried to coax the human to swallow more sea to make him feel better enough to wake up--would have proven his intentions were good. He'd even brought the human a fish to eat and get his strength up, though he supposed the sailor must have been too worn out by almost drowning to be hungry because he'd batted the still flopping fish away from his mouth quite forcefully when Sora had tried to feed him. Maybe he just didn't like to eat when he first woke up.

Even with these good first impressions though, the sailor had made a loud screech when he'd first noticed Sora's tail and had dug his hands into the ground and propelled himself backward as far away as he could with the limited room he was allowed on the tiny rock island jutting out of the water Sora had brought him to. He'd scrubbed his eyes with his hands and spouted a series of incomprehensible but almost angry sounding mouth noises, making Sora wish he hadn't kept quite so far a distance when he'd followed Roxas to see where he kept disappearing to (Sora had known for awhile Xion was just making up stories to cover for his twin. The day she ran out of plausible excuses like trying to fill the trench so the ocean floor was even or cleaning the shells of geriatric turtles as community service, and flat out claimed Roxas had been eaten by a whale had cinched it. Granted, Kairi had said Roxas was sneaking to the surface weeks ago, but Kairi hadn't been around when Roxas and Sora had last tried to move sand to the trenches to fill them so she didn't know how convincing that excuse sounded). If he'd been better a better spy when he'd observed Roxas meeting with the red maned sailor then maybe he'd have an idea of what mouth sounds would soothe this human.

He'd done well enough without human words so far though, even if pantomime was tough. There had been a major setback when Sora had swum quick circles around the rock to ask if the human felt well enough to swim with him back to proper land or try to find his boat now that the storm had passed, and the sailor had seemed to interpret this as "I am a shark about to eat you," but they'd gotten back on track and Sora had coaxed the sailor to at least trust him enough to keep to the edge of the rock instead of the middle. He almost ruined it when the silver-haired human had first felt confident enough to dip his feet in the water--to prove to himself Sora wouldn't pull him right in--and Sora had immediately swum up between his legs, but this, like the other setbacks, was eventually remedied and they were now back in that position, human sitting on the edge of the rock and Sora bracketed between his legs, arms resting above the sailor's knees, face tilted up as he tried to teach him to talk properly. If he stayed as still and calm as he could, he was sure he could avoid startling the sailor again. He'd already been tested when a hand had reached out and combed softly through his hair. He hadn't been able to help a contented sigh when he'd been petted--grateful that the human was realizing he was friendly and was being friendly back, that was the only reason--but it hadn't scared the human. just made him go pink for a moment.

"Sora," Sora pointed at his chest, then tilted his head to the side like a question.

"Sora?" the human reached out again and tentatively brushed his fingers against the smattering of scales on Sora's shoulder, like he wasn't sure if they were shells or attached to the merman since most of the rest of his upper body didn't show signs of being part fish.

Sora nodded vigorously. "Sora," he kept a hand pressed against his chest for a moment and then patted the front of the human's weird baggy detached skin over his heart.

"Riku," the sailor supplied.

" Reee-coo? Riku! Riku, Riku Riku." Sora tested out the name, smiling at the bubbling feeling the sounds caused in his chest.

"Sora." Riku was smiling too. Fingers gently combed through Sora's hair once more.

Sora leaned his head against the side of Riku's knee, humming the name one last time, "Riku," and debating what should come next. Something useful. Something that would help him get Riku back to where he belonged or signal him to wait while Sora went and found Roxas to help. He looked up at Riku's face to see if the human had any ideas. The sun on the surface of the water, making it sparkle and dance like it didn't below and bringing out warmth in the blue-green had nothing on Riku's eyes. "Pretty."

"Pretty," Riku agreed, while continuing to pet through Sora's hair, and the merman turned his face to the side, burying it against Riku's leg in embarrassment. The human couldn't know what he was saying.

"You weren't supposed to repeat that one. I'm not...you know. I'm just me. Even Kairi was disappointed. She didn't say it but I know she had to be. She came all the way from the Radiant Seas to see this prince she's supposed to marry...and ohh let me tell you that's awkward...or not really that awkward because I'm not sure she wants to get married either....not right away at least...What was I saying? Kairi makes me feel small because she's a pearl and I'm just like grit stuck in a clam...which also becomes a pearl I guess, but that's not the point because she also somehow makes me feel strong? Like I can do anything? Like save you. I think my whole life was leading up to saving you from drowning. Is that stupid to say since we just met?" Sora paused to gulp in air, even if the dryness of it made his throat burn a bit, and risked a glance to see how Riku was taking his rambling. He'd felt the absence of the hand in his hair and now he saw it was because Riku was covering his ears. "Sorry, you're right. That was coming on way too strong, and you probably don't care about the Kairi stuff, though I bet you would care about Kairi if you met her. You can't help it. Kairi's amazing."

Riku pushed a single finger against Sora's lips, leaning in close enough as he did that Sora was slightly concerned he'd topple into the water. "Shh" Sora went slightly cross-eyed looking at the digit and had to resist the nonsensical urge to lick it. "You need to go slow, Sora."

"I don't know what you're saying," Sora confessed.

"Pretty?" Riku tried to reorient the conversation.

"Forget that," Sora ordered.

"Pretty?" Riku tried again, thinking his pronunciation was off.

Sora yelled a noise of wordless frustration and Riku imitated him.

"You need to stop fixating on that word. Let's pick another word. Sky. Boat. Octopus! Algae!"

"Pretty?" Riku tugged on his weird second skin as he asked the question. "Pretty?" He pulled a lock of his hair. "Pretty?" He gently bopped Sora's nose.

"Yes, you're really pretty. You're the prettiest thing I've ever seen. No! Not me. I already told you that I'm not pretty! Technically you're not pretty either. I should have said handsome but....you are so pretty, but you really need to focus."

"Too loud," Riku frowned for emphasis. "Too fast. Slow down."

"I don't know what you're saying!" Sora found himself speaking more loudly as he repeated his earlier words.

"I wish I knew what you were saying," Riku sighed.

"I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU ARE SAYING!" Sora made large hand gestures, waving by his mouth, to help the conversation.

"Too loud," Riku just spoke more insistently and mimed covering his ears.

"THOSE ARE EARS. EARS!" Once Sora started yelling, it was hard to stop.

"Too loud."

"EARS! WHAT YOU ARE SAYING SOUNDS NOTHING LIKE EARS!"

"Too loud!"

"EEEEEEEEEAR!" He'd been pretty loud, but maybe Riku was still losing the nuance.

"How do I get you to stop screeching? That's too high a pitch for me, Sora."

"YES, I'M SORA! GOOD JOB RIKU. NOW SAY EAR!"

"Pretty Sora?"

"NOT THIS AGAIN. NO, SORA NOT PRETTY. RIKU PRETTY. PRETTY RIKU. SAY EAR FOR ME, PRETTY RIKU!"

"Too loud!" Riku was bending down again so their foreheads almost touched.

"TOO LOUD? DO YOU WANT ME TO COPY YOU? TOO LOUD! WHAT IS THAT?" Sora switched between English and mermish.

Riku sighed heavily and leaned back. "Sora, please stop screaming at me. I can hear you perfectly fine. How can I make you understand?"

"IT'S OKAY. I STILL LIKE YOU, RIKU, EVEN IF YOU CAN'T SAY EAR," Sora encouraged.

There was a long moment of silence as both boys tried to think of the best way to be understood. Sora wracked his brain for any human words he'd overheard Roxas say.

"Kiss?"

That was the wrong word. The human's chest was as still as it had been when Sora needed to press the water out of it. Come to think of it, his color was retreating too, leaving him the same sickly pale as when he'd been waterlogged.

"DO YOU NEED MORE AIR AGAIN?" Sora tried to push himself out of the water, intent on blowing air into Riku's mouth like he had while he'd been unconscious.

Riku scrambled backward to the center of the rock.

Great. Another setback. They'd figure out this communication thing sooner or later.

#mermay #soriku #sora #riku #kingdom hearts #mermaid au that needs a name #my sokai shows a bit #mermaid au stories

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nonbinaryizutsumimoved · 5 years ago

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can i play inside your pretty curls?

pairing: shinomitsu (shinobu kochou/mitsuri kanroji)

fandom: kimetsu no yaiba

ao3 link

Today was a particularly trying day for Shinobu. It was raining since last week, and she usually didn’t mind as it was often an opportunity to drown herself in work to the white noise of raindrops tapping along the roof’s shingles or even to admire the effects rainfall left on nature, trailing color and life in its wake. However, fighting demons in the rain wasn’t exactly the most ideal.

Upon returning from her mission, her haori was damp, not with blood, but with the downpour. Considering the uniform’s unique capabilities of repelling moisture, it didn’t soak through, but her body still felt as if it was wrapped in a cold, uncomfortable blanket. On the other hand, usually tidily pulled back into its butterfly ornament, her now rain-mussed hair drooped pathetically. The soles of her shoes too were covered in mud, making the light bounce in her step dull to a sunken trudge.

Of course, the mission wasn’t entirely fruitless since she managed to annihilate the demons which she was tasked to defeat (these days, it’s as routine and near effortless as getting up in the morning). With this in mind, she allowed a practiced, contented smile to paint her lips, for Kanae’s sake, she reminded herself, because it could be worse. This time, though, her smile was not without a noticeable strain.

After reaching the Butterfly Estate and discarding her shoes, she stepped inside the manor’s main building. She greeted those she passed in the halls politely, but the strain in her smile increased as she longed to comfortably settle in her office.

Once she stepped into her office, it wasn’t a surprise to see Mitsuri. At the sight of the other woman, Shinobu’s smile finally relaxed slightly and became a tiny bit genuine.

Since becoming the insect pillar, an easy companionship bloomed between her and Mitsuri—one she didn’t necessarily expect. While Shinobu didn’t belittle kind people, her sister having been the kindest person she knew, Shinobu felt at a distance from them. Her edges were harder, the warmth she exuded faked in some way just to be pleasant and digestible to her peers. While Shinobu possessed good intentions, the anger which swirled inside her since childhood, hardened her core and eventually warped into something sharp and biting. People like Mitsuri and Kanae—well, they are pure to their cores, remaining sincere despite witnessing or experiencing horrible things, continuing to ease those around them with their reassuring presence. Simply put, Shinobu wasn’t sure if she’d be a fitting match to Mitsuri’s light.

But like a moth to a lantern, Shinobu was helplessly drawn to her light, craving the promise of warmth in her smile, of comfort in her eyes.

Whether the companionship could be attributed to the other woman being the love pillar (an alluring position in itself), she wasn’t sure, but Shinobu found herself pulled towards Mitsuri nevertheless. Mitsuri’s warmth was traceable in every piece of herself—her honey-sweet voice, her curious glances, her lingering touches, and her tsukudani—and it was also incredibly infectious. The more meals and conversations they shared, the more Shinobu opened herself to the possibility that maybe she was worthy of Mitsuri’s time and compassion.

So here Mitsuri was, fulfilling an agreement they made to leave time to greet each other after every mission. It never had to be immediately after, just an eventual affirmation of their mutual safety. Without any predetermined information or set plans, their paths would inevitably cross and everything else would fall into place.

“I was so worried, Shinobu-chan! It was storming out there! I felt so lucky to be needed here instead. But I hope you’re okay.”

A crease between her eyebrows deepened when she took notice of Shinobu’s hair in disarray.

“Your hair..” she remarked, tone dripping in concern and her eyes widening. Her facial expressions were always so open and honest, something Shinobu found immensely endearing, causing her own smile to curve further upward. Smiling wasn’t an ordeal, not in the presence of the other pillar.

After closing the door and stepping past Mitsuri (who was currently seated in her desk’s chair), she plucked a cloth from a shelf, dotting a combination of quick swipes and pats over her face, shoulders, then her hair as she spoke.

“Don’t worry yourself, Kanroji-san. A storm, let alone some low-level demons, aren’t enough to knock me down. ”

Slightly turning her torso, she regarded Mitsuri once more with a sidelong gaze and added with a teasing lilt in her voice, “Plus, I had someone important waiting for me. I can’t disappoint them, now can I?”

While Mitsuri’s cheeks were always tinted with a hint of rosiness, she seemed to flush further at the remark.

A soft, almost indiscernible, “Shinobu-chan, you’re so cute…” slipped past her lips, and Shinobu released a gentle chuckle as she continued to dry herself.

After a couple beats of comfortable silence, the love pillar’s concern and momentary embarrassment seemed to fade somewhat, replaced with the flash of an idea in her eyes and a smile deep in her cheeks.

“Still, your hair must be uncomfortable like that. If I can help, if you let me, I want to…” The last part was a whisper, trailing off to imply an unspoken request. Her smile became a bit nervous, uncertain, and her eyes wandered to the floor.

Mitsuri wanted to do many things she didn’t say. Part of what she wanted to do was apparent by the context—to run her fingers through the other’s hair and remove the knots, to comb through it meticulously until it was smooth again, and to braid it in the style of her own three. But more than that, she selfishly wanted an excuse to have Shinobu close, an excuse to finally feel the softness of the other woman’s wavy tendrils on her fingers, an excuse to allow her hands to linger over parts of her skin. Mitsuri wanted to fix Shinobu’s hair, yes, but she also wanted to touch her, to be near her.

She also wanted to have some part of herself visible on Shinobu, indicating that sometimes Mitsuri could make it better for her even if it wasn’t much. It was harder when they were first getting to know each other, to recognize Shinobu’s true feelings since she always appears so unshakable and refined, happy and carefree, but in a quieter, somber moments, she could finally see the shadow in her eyes, signifying something buried deeper. Is it loneliness, Mitsuri wondered, is it the same loneliness I feel? One day, Mitsuri hoped she’d extinguish some of that darkness in Shinobu’s eyes.

In the quiet following Mitsuri’s request, Shinobu was struck in place. She only considered the potential for a flustered reaction from her friend which would then carry into light conversation—definitely not an intimate proposition such as this. Shinobu, all too used to being confident and a bit more breezy among her peers, was speechless. Her hands paused at pushing the cloth over her hair, but in a smooth and slow movement, she tugged away the butterfly ornament, and in turn, her hair fell loose, rain-slick waves dropping to her collarbones.

Mitsuri couldn’t help but stare. While Mitsuri’s very role as a love pillar seemed to symbolize superficial beauty and beauty found in love, she now believed it all to be lies. In this moment, Shinobu was the true personification of all things beautiful in the world.

Despite her usual composure, Shinobu’s heart pounded fervently against her chest under the weight of Mitsuri’s appreciative gaze. Quickly glancing away, overwhelmed by the single look, she went to one of her drawers to grab a comb, first folding her now discarded cloth and setting it on the desk, then shifting focus onto neatly tucking away the butterfly pin and replacing it with smaller pins and a ribbon. With the comb, pins, and ribbon in hand, she inhaled deeply, bracing herself to face the other woman again.

While dropping the items into Mitsuri’s hands, gaze fixated on her open palms rather than her face, she spoke.

“Here’s the comb, and here are pins and ribbon if you wanted to tie it up after.”

Her icy fingers hovered momentarily over her friend’s hands, a bit distracted by her rivalling warmth. However, before too long, she stood up again and crossed the room for another cloth. As she stepped, she removed her slightly less-soaked haori to hang it over a rack. She wouldn’t want to inconvenience Mitsuri further by exposing her to any additional wetness. Nearby, she snatched a slightly bigger cloth than what she originally used to wipe her face, then returned to Mitsuri, arranging the new cloth neatly over her lap. Without sparing the woman another glance, she sat down in front of her.

It seemed that Mitsuri was still dumbfounded by the sight of Shinobu’s loose tresses, from the brief touch of her hands, from the fact that she even agreed to this at all, but she managed to recover her voice enough to squeak words of thanks.

With a settling breath, she sat up straighter and began with gently, slowly carding her fingers through the waves of Shinobu’s hair. From Mitsuri constantly doing this to her siblings’ hair, the gesture was second-nature at this point.

Mitsuri could register the lull of soft exhales escaping the other woman as she continued her movements. It all felt like a far too pleasant dream to Mitsuri, alike to the ones she’s had before, with Shinobu’s noises resonating a quiet lullaby in her head. But it’s not a dream this time, she noted blissfully, then pressed more intently on the task at hand. The pair were like that for awhile, Mitsuri taking her time to savor this proximity.

When there was no more knots to clear, her hands finally fell. Mitsuri thought her ears caught a disappointed sound from the other woman, but she was sure it was just her imagination.

Eager to touch Shinobu once more, she took hold of the comb and guided it through her hair, smoothing over the bumps of her waves and catching any stray tangles she might have missed earlier. The comb easily glided through the mass of black and purple with careful strides, only barely knocking Shinobu’s ears or neck every so often. This step was far quicker than the prior one, and Shinobu’s hair smoothed completely in no time at all. It was Mitsuri’s turn to be a little disappointed.

Fortunately, she still had to tie Shinobu’s hair into a style off her neck. Admiring the pins and ribbon which she was provided, an idea quickly formed in her head. Grasping for strands at the upper part of Shinobu’s hair, she began braiding. Her nails scratched comfortably against Shinobu’s scalp, even tickling as the love pillar trailed further down, lifting hair at the other woman’s neck.

Shinobu was unable to quiet the contented sigh and remark which sounded in response to Mitsuri’s pleasant caress.

“This.. feels nice, Kanroji-san. Thank you for doing this.”

Mitsuri was a bit stunned by the sudden words, shaken from her reverie, too used to the quiet which spanned between them for several minutes. Of course, she wasn’t bothered by the statement at all; she was incredibly flattered by the praise. Her cheeks again took on a deeper flush. She was grateful that Shinobu couldn’t see this time.

“O-of course, Shinobu-chan. I’m used to doing this for my family, so it’s no trouble at all. Your hair is so pretty, too. I’m happy you’re letting me touch it.”

A soft smile curved over her lips as she tied off the bottom of the braid with the ribbon, certain she would cherish this memory forever.

“You should know, it’s impossible for me to deny you of anything,” Shinobu replied, barely thinking of the implications of her words.

At the comment, Mitsuri’s cheeks darkened even more. Her fingers shook from giddiness and her head was in a bit of a fog, entranced by the other woman’s earnestness. Despite her shaky hands, she curled the braid upwards, pinning it in place with the smaller butterfly pins. When she was finished, she set her hands on her lap, clasping them together. Mitsuri was careful not to be too presumptuous with her next words.

“What do you mean, Shinobu-chan?”

Mitsuri’s gaze was pinned on her hands, bracing herself for what Shinobu might say next. She didn’t want to be too hopeful, not after all those run-ins with men in her life before she was a pillar, but Shinobu wasn’t them—she was different.

She wasn’t shallow, nor was she fixated solely on her appearance. She didn’t judge Mitsuri for her diet habits, nor make her eat less. She didn’t shame her for her strength, nor did she implore her to conceal it. She didn’t chastise Mitsuri for her attachment, nor push her away. Rather, she complimented Mitsuri often, encouraging and supporting her, allowing her to indulge in whatever made her happy.

But maybe she was overthinking what might just be a platonic companionship. As the love pillar, perhaps she was more inclined to romanticize everything. Despite all rational thought, though, she still desperately clung to the idea that more was there.

She didn’t expect Shinobu to turn around so quick, for her hands to clutch her own, cooling the nervous heat which spread throughout her body. Surprise delicately dusted her features, her gaze then lowering to meet Shinobu’s own. Behind her friend’s gaze, she didn’t detect the usual shadows. There was something new, like a hesitant fire, flickering despite the dark threatening to swallow it. It was difficult to determine what it meant.

By now, Mitsuri knows several of Shinobu’s looks, knows what’s hidden behind them. But this isn’t something she’s ever seen before. With the newfound fire in Shinobu’s eyes stirring further, she spoke.

“Kanroji-san… You’ve told me about your past before, so I know how hard it must be to accept when I say it, but when you look at me, I feel like I’m actually here. Not just some kind of entity that’s only ugly and angry, but that I’m still human.”

She paused, taking another breath to try stabilizing the tremble in her voice.

“You remind me that there’s still something left of me that the demons haven’t taken away, that didn’t die with my sister. You remind me of Kanao, of how I’m still here for her and how she’s still here with me. You remind me of the people I’ve helped, of the help I can continue to provide. You remind me of my importance in this world as a pillar… our importance as pillars.”

Upon softening her voice further to blunten the edge it had taken, she continued.

“You do so much for me, so I’ll say it again. It’s impossible for me to deny you of anything,” her hand tenderly trailed upward as she spoke, hovering over Mitsuri’s chest, the side of her right cheek, then resting against one of her temples.

“… Not with your heart, not with your smile, not with your eyes. I would do anything for you.”

All the while in which Shinobu spoke, Mitsuri’s heart rate spiked up exponentially. If she wasn’t careful, she might have accidentally activated one of her breath forms. Thankfully, she was also paralyzed in place by Shinobu’s touch, so there wasn’t a chance of that happening either. Mitsuri could only stumble words out after such a confession, looking away from Shinobu bashfully.

“Shinobu-chan… I didn’t realize you felt this way. I mean, I thought maybe you didn’t mind having me around, at least, but… I.. I didn’t realize it was like this. I didn’t think I meant so much to you. I’m more than happy that I can do that for you. Just woah, thank you.”

Finally, she looked at Shinobu again. This time, she allowed herself to embrace the idea of more.

“I.. I like you a lot. I hope that’s okay to say. Nobody has ever said something like that to me before. It’s always been that I was just a bother to people by sticking around, and that to be genuinely liked, I had to push down everything that makes me, me. Oyakata-sama made me feel better about myself, so much so that he inspired me to join the corps, and the rest of the pillars are so welcoming too, but you know… past insecurities don’t bury themselves so easily. Especially because I like you so much, Shinobu-chan. I’m afraid maybe all those other men were right after all.”

The light air twisted momentarily into something a bit more suffocating, a wistful smile now painting over the love pillar’s lips.

Shinobu wanted more than anything to restore the atmosphere to what it was before, so with her other hand, she gave Mitsuri’s own a firm squeeze. She smiled, openly, hoping to clearly convey her sincerity.

“Those guys were assholes, stupid to have pushed you aside. If they couldn’t appreciate everything you offered to them from the start, they didn’t deserve you anyway. Your love, your presence is a gift. Oyakata-sama, the other pillars too– they’re right.”

Her fingers interlocked with Mitsuri’s own.

“And, I like you a lot too, Kanroji-san. I sometimes wonder whether I’m worthy of being around a kind soul like you, like I’m taking advantage of you for being how I am– like a leech just trying to suck away all the warmth you carry… But if you like me too, then maybe it’s okay for me to stay with you like this.”

Shinobu pushed onto her knees, to look Mitsuri more levelly in her face. Her thumb brushed affectionately along the side of Mitsuri’s brow-bone, then traced downward to one of her moles.

“So is it okay, Kanroji-san? To be with you like this?”

Face-to-face with Shinobu’s uncharacteristically vulnerable expression, Mitsuri echoed the other woman’s earlier words as an answer in her head. It’s impossible for me to deny you of anything. So, she nodded, easily, unable to suppress a delighted giggle.

“… Shinobu-chan, you’re so cool when you’re serious like that. But of course it’s okay. Of course.”

The atmosphere from before returned, and Mitsuri excitedly tugged Shinobu upwards with their interlocked hands, causing Shinobu to topple clumsily into her lap. The shock of the movement in Shinobu’s face was clear, but it soon melted into bubbling laughter. Mitsuri naturally joined in, until the combined sound lulled into a contented silence.

Returning their gazes to one another, the fire in Shinobu’s eyes reflected in Mitsuri’s own now. This time, the flame wasn’t wavering, flickering timidly as it was moments ago, but instead it was strong, stable, and overwhelmingly bright. Perhaps that meant something deeper, but Mitsuri didn’t really have the ability to think right now, not when her focus was consumed by Shinobu’s weight in her lap.

Satisfied with sharing just a look, Shinobu leaned forward and buried her face in the crook of Mitsuri’s neck, eyes falling closed and hand dropping from Mitsuri’s face to instead brace herself using her shoulder. Shinobu inhaled, and in a rare moment, felt her hardened heart crack open slightly, allowing warmth to flow in. Following suit, Mitsuri’s free hand reached upward, loosely holding Shinobu’s hips in place. Her smile never faded, her own heart full. She exhaled. In sync, they continued the push and pull of their breaths, until eventually, they fell asleep like that.

They would get up eventually to eat, to talk more, to meet with others, but for now, they merely sat, allowing the rain to drown away any of their remaining thoughts, and for their senses to be overwhelmed with each other.

Rain left color and life in its wake, just like any other day.

#first ever fic for anything ever halsdhg that i've posted at least #on that note sorry if it's clunky or rushed or ooc!!!#also #i put it all under a read more in case you would rather not visit the hellsite #long post #shinomitsu #shinobu x mitsuri #shinobu x kanroji #my writing #im sorry mobile users if the read more doesnt work T-T #ok2rb

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theserpentlife · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 1: The Fall

hey loves, so here’s the first chapter of my riverdale rewrite based on this storyline and character synopsis i did awhile back. this is my first time writing fiction like ever and it was really fun and i hope you guys enjoy it and let me know what you guys. send me nice messages pls.

Recommended Song to accompany read; Always forever - The Cults

As the raging summer takes its last humid breath, trees morph from tones of lush greens into assorted hues of red and gold. Brightly tinted maple leaves fall from the trees like confetti, a triumphant declaration of the beginning of the crisp and cool autumn. The season of fall had come to Riverdale, a small town nestled inconspicuously on the northern border. The season of autumn held great significance for the townspeople. It marked the beginning of the new school year for the town’s youth. A change of hands between the elder of the teens who would be leaving town for their college lives and the younger bright-eyed ones on the cusps of their new lives as high school students.

Fall was also the prime harvesting season for the town’s number one export - it’s rich tapestry of sickly sweet maple syrup. An abundance of sticky gold bled bountifully out of the trunks of the tall maple trees that surrounded the town. Steeped in decades of tradition and history, the Blossom Maple Farms, founded by the descendants of the Blossom Family, was truly the bedrock of the town’s economy.

In the winter of 1998, under the celestial glow of the full moon, the next in line to the empire would be born. An heiress. Cheryl Blossom had skin as pale as snow and hair as red as flames. As soon as she had left the confines of her mother's womb she had already committed a grave sin - being born a daughter to parents who had prayed ceaselessly for a son. Imagine the wrath that rained on her after Penelope was told she could no longer bear any other children. Cheryl Blossom’s very existence marked the end of the Blossom bloodline.

__________

Archie Andrews threw his freshly pressed light blue shirt over his broad shoulders and slowly worked his way up the buttons. As soon as he reached the very last one on the top, a bizarre scene unfolded in the reflection of his bathroom mirror. He saw that his hands were replaced with much paler ones, nails long and exquisitely polished in a deep red color. The air around him had suddenly gone cold. He was paralyzed by the sight before him and yet he could not look away. It was as if the cool wind had frozen him in place too. A sickeningly sweet aroma swarmed around him and his eyes darted anxiously as if trying to trace its source before fixating on his reflection once more. The mysterious hand was now gone and so was the smell. Archie swallowed hard at the lump that had gathered in his throat. It was probably just his imagination playing tricks on him, he reasoned. After all, he spent most of the night before tossing and turning in bed.

He takes a handful of his watered-down hair wax and slathers it generously onto his saffron hued locks. As expected the wax doesn’t take well to his hair. "Damn it." He grunts in annoyance before slathering another dollop, this time running his hands through his hair with increasingly aggressive strokes. His rage interrupted by a sudden weight pressing down on his right shoulder. His fear-ridden body jumps in response to the unwelcomed stimuli. “Woah Arch, I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you heard me come in.” It was Betty Cooper. “You okay?” Betty's brows were furrowed softly in concern. Archie's usual warm and rosy complexion was drained of all its color. She ran her hands across the length of his back in soft and soothing strokes. Her touch did wonders in soothing him. “Y-yeah I’m good.” "You sure?" "Yeah, Bets." this time Archie manages to conjure up a soft smile. Betty mirrors her childhood sweetheart melting into a soft smile herself. Her eyes trail the entire length of Archie’s body before fixating on his hazel brown eyes. “You look handsome.” she cooed. Archie couldn’t help but break into a light chuckle before averting his gaze away from her crystal blue eyes. Archie always had a habit of looking away or biting his lips whenever he felt sheepish and Betty loved that about him.

She brushed back the loose strands of hair that had fallen on his forehead and adjusted his navy blue varsity jacket, making sure to dust off any loose traces of lint. He instinctively stepped forward, eliminating the distance between them wanting nothing more but to take in the familiar aroma of her rose-scented perfume and the slight traces of her magnolia shampoo. He lifted his hands to embrace her face, thumbs softly stroking the pink of her cheeks. “I don’t know what I would do without you, Betty Cooper.”

______________

It’s twenty minutes before the start of the first period and the schoolyard is teeming with cliques of excited teens all engrossed in exchanging stories about how they had spent their summer. Right across the street, a sleek black BMW pulls into the street. Its tinted windows rolled down to reveal a raven-haired teen peering discreetly at the scene before her.

“Andre, my dear, you can stop the car here.”

“But Miss-”

“It’s okay Andre, I prefer to walk.”.

Veronica Lodge had a plan. After her family's not-so-graceful fall from high society in New York, Veronica wanted nothing more than to detach herself from the shame of her past life. Opting instead to forge a new one for herself. She looked down to inspect her outfit one last time. A simple black dress, sinched fashionably at the waist with a thin violet belt. Her hands found its way to her collarbone and lingered on her bare skin where her prized pearl necklace used to lay.

"No need to pick me up later. I'll see you at the Pembrooke." Andre nodded, pausing thoughtfully for a second before flashing a warm smile at Veronica's reflection in the front view mirror. "Have a nice day at school, miss." she heard Andre say before closing the car door behind her. Nice day. I sure hope so she thought. Veronica wasn't expecting much from her new life in Riverdale, after all, she wasn't planning on staying for long. She figured it was best if she kept a low profile and made a graceful exit when it came time for her family to return to their lives in New York. No attachments, no drama. The lesser her classmates knew about her the better.

Inscribed in gold on the school’s brick facade read “Riverdale High”. Here goes nothing. As soon as she pushed open the rust-tinted front doors, she found herself right in the middle of it all. Students gathered in front of their lockers, chatting with friends and getting their books in order. All eyes were drawn to her immediately. You see in a small town like Riverdale, everybody knew everybody. They all shared the same street, grew up in the same schools. It was an understatement to say that she stood out like a sore thumb. She eased into a slight smile hoping it would soften her image, but her attempts were received with snickers and ridicule instead. There was no time for pleasantries anyway, the first period was coming up and she hadn't found her locker yet. “431.431.431” she repeated as her eyes scanned the row of deep blue lockers on either side of the hallway. “Veronica Lodge?” She froze in her tracks as if struck by a freeze gun. No way. Was it someone she knew? Perhaps someone from New York? This couldn't be happening. Her cover already blown and all before the first period?

She turned slowly on her heels to meet her fate and to her surprise and great relief it was a new face, someone she hadn't met before. Standing before her was an all-too-enthusiastic, blonde ponytail donning Betty Cooper. “I’m Betty Cooper, I’m on the welcoming committee. I’m supposed to give you a tour of the school? You know get you oriented on our programs and clubs and where the restrooms are...”. Her cheerful demeanor and upbeat voice threw Veronica off. I guess she wasn't used to the warm hospitality. An ambiguously awkward period of silence passed between the two before Betty let out a nervous laugh, embarrassment coloring her cheeks a bright pink. “Right Betty, nice to meet you". Veronica extended her hand for a handshake and Betty gladly returned the gesture.

“So, have you found your locker yet?”.

“No, actually, I’ve been walking in circles for the past five minutes. Do you know where 431 is?" Betty nodded and mouthed an Ah-hah before leading Veronica further down the hall. “431, here we are.”. Veronica entered the code for the lock and viola her life at Riverdale High had officially begun.

________

“So here we have the girls’ locker room, that's the gym hall over there, and the cafeteria is just down the hall to the left.”. The all-inclusive Riverdale High campus tour was in full swing, led by Riverdale's golden girl no less. Veronica nodded nonchalantly, a polite gesture in acknowledgment of Betty's forthcoming reception. Veronica, however, took little effort to remember the details of the tour seeing as her time at Riverdale High would be brief.

“Oh, and this is the Blue & Gold-" Veronica's ear perked at the noticeable boost in enthusiasm in Betty's tone. You'd think the blonde couldn't get any peppier than this. "You’ll find me here most of the time, I’m the Chief Editor here.”. The pair stepped into the dimly-lit space, a small classroom haphazardly converted into a publishing center for the school's paper. Tall dusty shelves lined the corners of the room with volumes of worn and aged books displayed sparsely on its bones. Their workstations buried in tall stacks of paper, several empty coffee mugs, and typewriters. Talk about old-fashioned. Who knew moving to a small town meant going back in time. “You know we’re always looking for writers so if-” “No thanks, I’m not much of a writer myself,” Veronica interjects, ‘But...I love what you’ve done with the place,” she rejoined, feeling her initial rejection of Betty's offer was rather crass for the good-hearted blonde.

Seated at the very corner of the space was Jughead Jones. A pair of gold-rimmed glasses perched precariously on the edge of his sharp nose. He sips his black coffee with one hand while the other dances frantically over the keyboard of his MacBook. Paying absolutely no heed to the presence of the two. “Jughead, this is Veronica Lodge she’s-” “New girl I know.” he interrupts, not even bothering to pry his gaze from his laptop to meet theirs. “This is Jughead, he’s one of the best writers in this school. His pieces are phenomenal.”.

“Well, I guess I should start reading the school paper then.” Veronica thought she should offer a light compliment, perhaps as a way to break the ice. She reached out her freshly manicured hand to shake his but was met with an unfazed Jughead still blissfully engrossed in his writing. She retrieved her hand, ego sorely bruised by the boy's crude demeanor. It took everything in her not to roll her eyes and return his hostility with a snarky remark. But she was new Veronica and new Veronica was not going to make an enemy out of her classmate on the very first day of Sophmore year.

Just as Betty was about to usher Veronica out, they hear Jughead read the summary of his latest piece aloud. A seemingly innocent behavior laced with malice of course. A deliberate attempt to rattle the cage. You see Jughead Jones was a bit of a sadist, getting a kick out of ticking people off every once in a while. He reclined into his seat, fingers interlocked behind his head as he began the narration of his latest piece. “Dark and mysterious family moves into town on the very same night Riverdale's scarlet heiress Cheryl Blossom goes missing - an awful coincidence perhaps?” “Jug!” a wide-eyed Betty scolds.

“Excuse me?” Veronica glared in disbelief. “Oh, it’s just a piece I’m working on about the disappearance of Cheryl Blossom.” Jughead gets up from his seat to come face to face with a fuming Veronica. His cold blue eyes peering straight through her dark ones. She couldn't help but scoff at Jughead's ridiculous attempt at yellow journalism.

“So let me get this straight, you think I body-snatched some girl I don’t even know, just so I could take her place in some local high school in the middle of nowhere?” Jug shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s just a working theory.”. Unbelievable! The guy practically knew her for all of five minutes and already he’s pegging her for a kidnapper. “Come on Veronica, let's go.” Betty ushered Veronica out of the room before looking back once more to shoot Jug a disapproving look.

“Betty, I have a question.”

"Yup?" the blonde hummed, eyes glued to the pages of her baby blue leather notebook. She ran her index finger down the rows of her handwritten agenda making sure she had covered all the bases of Veronica's orientation tour. "Who the hell is Cheryl Blossom?”. Betty blinked up at Veronica, her organized thoughts completely disarrayed. She wasn't prepared for this. Cheryl Blossom's disappearing act of the summer was not on the agenda for today and frankly, she didn't know how to describe Cheryl, well not with decent adjectives at least. "Well, she umm... she's-". Betty fumbled over her words before giving up completely seeing as Veronica herself was absorbed in the sight before them. A locker plastered with personal messages and flowers with a row of lit candles lined up neatly at its foot. A bright red banner hung from the ceiling just above it reading "Come home, Cheryl.".

_____________________________________

ok so should i continue with a chapter 2 or lets can this mess - what do ya’ll think? sound off in the comments.

#riverdale #riverdale fanfic #riverdale fanfiction #archie andrews #betty cooper #veronica lodge #jughead jones #cheryl blossom

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imaginedanganronpa · 6 years ago

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Hello if you can can you make a sequel to Yandere!Ouma Kokichi Who Runs An Evil Organization? thx luv your work.

Thank you! It’s been awhile since I wrote that post, so I hope it still makes sense and I apologize if this is a little bit off. Otherwise, Enjoy!

PART 1!

Yandere!Ouma Kokichi Who Runs An Evil Organization Falls In Love With a Normal Fem!S/O (PART 2!)

Struggling against yourrestraints, it takes you a moment to realize that your hands were bound. Thesituation you’ve found yourself in begins racing through your mind – oneminute, you were calmly walking home and the next, you were being thrown intothe back of a car with a bag over your head. It happened so quickly that you hardly had the time to register what had happened.

And now you were face to face with who you assumed was responsible for this. Itwas the man you’d met that day in the café that you used to frequent, the one whobegan showing up wherever you were. For a long time, you brushed it off as mere coincidence and it’s been so long that you could hardly recognize his face –Hell, you didn’t even know his name!

“What do you mean… avoided you?” Your voice was high-pitched and frantic, youreyes widening as an evil grin spreads across his lips. The stranger crouchesdown in front of you and momentarily admires your delicate features.

“You stopped coming to the café where we met. I always waited for you, wheredid you go? I know where you live and have been watching you, and I couldn’tjust let you leave my life,” he hesitates before erupting into a loud booming laughterthat sends chills down your spine, “after all, I love you, (Y/N).”

That sentence was the most disturbing thing you have ever heard. Who was thisguy? You tried remembering a time where you two spoke and could only recall a briefinteraction at the café he was droning on and on about, but other than that youwere drawing blanks.

Why was he so fixated on you? That day in the café hasn’t crossed your mind in months… and how long has he been plotting this?

As if he was reading your mind, he continues. “My name is Ouma Kokichi andthey,” gesturing to the men who apparently helped abduct you, “are members ofmy evil organization, DICE. I probably shouldn’t be telling you this~ but it’s notlike I’ll just let you leave anyway,” he leans forward with the most sadisticlooking expression you’ve seen yet, with his face is mere inches away fromyours, “because if you do, I’ll have to hurt you. You don’t want that, right?”

He seemed to have a superiority complex, but if he was being honest about this‘organization’ then you knew you needed to at least pretend like you werecooperating, at least until you had an idea about what he was capable of.

Trying to put up a protest proved to not be very helpful.

After arriving at his organization, Ouma instructed that his henchmen coveryour head again as they dragged you into the unfamiliar building. You had no idea where you were since they made sure you couldn’t seeanything, and only tightened the ties around your wrists and ankles when you struggledagainst them, your chances of escaping were growing slimmer.

Finding yourself locked in a small room in what appeared to be a controlcenter, you were dumbfounded by how legitimate this all looked. Maybe he wasn’tlying about running a secret evil organization after all… Fear began coursingthrough your veins at the thought that you may be trapped here forever.

Hot tears began to stream down your face and you choked on the sobs that shake your body. You weren’t used to feeling this helpless and continuously wondered, “Why me?”

You could hear a door open and footsteps approaching but couldn’t make out afigure in the dark room. It was only after he stepped foot into the room hekept you in that you realized it was Ouma, with his hands behind his back and a pesky look on his face.

He unveiled a kitchen-knife and approached you menacingly. Immediately, you feel threatened - you didn’t think he’d kill you right off the bat!

“What do you want?” You snap and he raised his hands defensively.

A mischievous snicker came from his lips as he circles around you like a shark. “Oh, just checking on you.~” You were uncertain, though; your eyes remained glued to the knife in his hand and wondered what his intentions really were.

“I won’t be here for long… others will come looking for me.” You growl, hoping to scare him away, even if it was only for a short time. This entire situation was beginning to feel overwhelming and you weren’t sure how much more you could take.

“What others?” He asks, sounding like a little kid, and before you can respondhe cuts you off, “I’ve… disposed of anyone who may care about you. No one willcome looking for you, (Y/N)-Chan. You’re mine, what about that do you not understand?”

Your jaw drops. Disposed of? What the Hell could that possibly mean? It was then that you finally noticed the streaks of blood staining the knife, as if he had just recently cleaned it. Your eyes were brimming with tears and you lashed forward, but the restraints jolt you backwards which causes Ouma to laugh. “You look so cute when you’re angry, and even more-so when you’re afraid…”

Gritting your teeth proudly, he didn’t seem to expect your sudden change of tone. You hiss, “What the fuck did you do? Why would you do that?”

The smaller man jumps at the sound of your raised voice, tensing momentarily. Ouma’s shoulders drop as he twirls the blade in his fingers and smirks in your direction. “I don’t like sharing; I wanted you all to myself, (Y/N). I’m selfish.~” His voice was lower and much more intimidating than before, but you couldn’t let that shake you.

“I’ll kill you! And I’ll get out of here, just watch.” Although you wanted to believe in yourself, your voice trembled and sounded weak, contradicting the words you so confidently spewed. It seems as though Ouma picked up on it as well, seeing through you, because he simply crouched down and lovingly strokes your cheek with the faintest hint of a smile on his face.

Suddenly, his expression distorts into something much more evil. “Over my dead body.”

Flinching at the new touch and his malicious words, all hope of escaping seemed to be fleeting. You didn’t want to accept your fate and let this delusional, obsessed stranger keep you here, but what choice did you really have?

“Hey, look at me. Look me in the eyes.” Ouma barks ferociously, and forcefully pulls your chin to turn your head and face him once more. As if under his spell, you pry your eyes open and are met with his gaze - his nose is brushing against yours and you are unable to fight against his grasp.

Out of the blue, Ouma smashes his lips into yours and closes his eyes. You sit there and remain unmoved due to the sudden shock of his lips against yours, another tear rolling down your cheek.

Kissing back to appease him, fearing what he may do if you resist – especiallysince he was wielding a weapon, you blink away any sign of weakness and let yourself melt into the sensation. His lips were smooth and warm, and a pit formed in your stomach when you realized that he was smiling against your mouth.

When Ouma finally pulled away, he playfully licked your lower lip and a small strain of saliva connected you two. The sadistic, crazed expression disappeared and he looked a bit more sane and rather innocent now, with a childlike grin and a bright blush on his cheeks. After a few seconds, that grin turned into a giant smile and he props his hands behind his head, his posture loosening and relaxing.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it, (Y/N)?” Ouma says with a teasing undertone, and you sigh woefully. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

Hesitantly, and regretting your response, you nod. “I guess I did…”

He giggles, feeling as if he had won. Sinking to your level, Ouma’s fingers entwine with your hair. “In that case, you’re going to stay here with me.~”

Keeping your mouth shut, a part of you thought that this may not be so bad, and an even bigger part was still filled with fear. Either way, he isn’t taking no for an answer and glares at you from over his shoulder as he slowly makes his way towards the exit, leaving you alone in the cold room once more.

“That’s my (Y/N)! We’re going to have lots of fun together…”

- Mod Rantaro

#danganronpa #danganronpa imagines #danganronpa v3 #ndrv3 #ndrv3 imagines #killing harmony #ouma kokichi #kokichi ouma #oma kokichi #yandere

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tacticalgrandma · 6 years ago

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“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” dealer's choice but make it platonic

God, this is more about the tone of the prompt than anything else, because I fixated on that “platonic” specification and kind of went from there. So here’s some Old Soldiers shit with aroace Ana and trans Gabe and kind of an asshole Jack.

Torbjörn’s the one who starts it, because Torbjörn always has to stick his nose in her business. Ana’s coming from a meeting in downtown Zurich, and texts Jack to let him know she’ll be late for their morning briefing. He texts her back with a thumbs up emoji, a coffee emoji, and a question mark. She sighs and asks the driver if they can make a stop along the way.

“Typical,” Torbjörn grumbles when she rushes in, handing Jack his skim macchiato as she takes her seat. “You only bothered to ask your work husband if he wanted any.”

She and Jack both freeze. The other people at the table may as well, but she doesn’t think she’s really processing any new sensory input. The next thing she registers is Jack nearly collapsing on himself laughing.

“Holy shit,” he says, as he’s catching his breath. “Torb’s right. You’re my work wife.”

She scowls and shoots Torbjörn a poisonous look. He looks appropriately remorseful, but the damage is done. “He was the only one who asked me for coffee,” she says. “And he is not my work husband.”

“You two kind of are work-married,” Reinhardt says. She glares at him as well but he’s practiced at playing oblivious and just beams back at her. “You two work together all the time, you’re such good friends, you know each other so well– did you even need to ask for his coffee order?”

“You’ve made your point,” Ana snaps.

“Hey. Reinhardt.” Jack seems to have found some kind of composure, and is pointing accusatorily across the table. “Stop arguing with my work wife.”

“My apologies,” Reinhardt says, and half-bows with a flourish. Next to him, Dr. Ziegler looks borderline nauseous, which Ana is immensely appreciative of.

“Can we get back to work?” she asks.

“Please,” Ana says. She turns on her holovid and syncs it to the smarttable they’re working on. “Our climatology division has been saying they feel a bit abandoned,” she says, looking over the notes so far. “Can we trying to increase outreach to them?”

“Yeah,” Jack says, flipping through his contacts. “I think we’re just waiting for the winter storms in Antarctica to die down. I’ll forward you all the status updates I get from that team.”

“Okay, good. Thanks.”

“Anything for you, dear.” She glares at him and when he looks completely unabashed, she groans. This is going to be a thing.

“So,” Gabriel says. “Congrats on your work marriage.”

Ana rolls her eyes, even though Gabriel’s putting the kettle back on the stove and has his back to her. He’ll know. Just like she knows he’s going to be wearing a shit-eating grin when he turns around.

“I missed my work wedding invitation,” he says as he sits back down at the break room table, grin in question firmly in place. “Or was it a work elopement?” For once, Ana’s grateful that she has to wake up this early. The break room is empty at this hour, so Gabriel doesn’t have an audience for the grand time he’s having with this. Not that it would have mattered. Jack spent all of yesterday playing up their apparent work-marriage, and evidently it’s already made its way to Blackwatch.

“Are you finished?” she asks, stirring her tea absently. He laughs and lifts up his cup of coffee.

“Work l’chaim,” he says, and she rolls her eyes again but clinks her mug. He takes a drink and stares at the wall contemplatively.

“It makes sense, since we’re in different divisions and all,” Gabriel says. “But I can’t help but feel left out. You’d be a grand work wife.”

“And I’d hate to miss out on a work prize like you,” Ana says drily.

“Can I be your work–” Gabriel pauses and frowns. “You know, now that I think about it, it’s pretty sexist that we don’t have an equivalent ‘mistress’ term for other genders.”

“Indeed.”

“‘Mister’ just doesn’t convey the same level of scandal.”

“Truly one of the great injustices of our age.”

“Anyway, can I be your work male-mistress?” He shakes his head. “That sounds like I’m delivering your mail or something, there’s got to be a better way to phrase this–”

“We’re friends,” Ana snaps. “You’re my best friend. We don’t need some stupid sitcom terminology for that.”

Gabriel stops and looks at her carefully. “Is this bothering you?” he asks. “I mean, the work-spouse thing as a whole?”

She sighs. “I don’t know,” she says. “I mean, they’re not wrong. We work together constantly and we’ve been friends forever. And it’s not like they’re even doing some passive aggressive gossipy thing, like what happens most of the time when people start calling out work spouses. Everyone knows Jack’s gay.” Gabriel raises his eyebrows a little and leans back in his chair. Ana narrows her eyes. “What?”

“Everyone knows Jack’s gay,” Gabriel says, in that incredibly irritating tone he takes when he has some piece of intel no one else does. “But not everyone knows you’re ace.”

Ana looks down at her cup. “Yeah? So?” He shrugs.

“I don’t know. Just thought it was significant, that you didn’t bring that up.”

Ana opens her mouth to argue with him. There are some good arguments she could bring up, too. Everyone knows she had a kid and knows about Sam. It wouldn’t make sense for them to just assume she’s ace, unlike with Jack, who has a well-documented history of lackluster attempts at dating illustrious men (and, for that matter, an organization-wide betting pool about whether or not he and Gabriel are still hooking up). She doesn’t hide it, not anymore, but she doesn’t really talk about it too much either. Not like Jack, who has a rainbow flag in the mug he keeps his pens in on his desk. It’s not that ridiculous that she wouldn’t state the obvious.

But Gabriel’s right, is the thing, and that sucks because he can get so smug when he’s right. It bothers her that she’s not afraid of gunfire or towering robots but she’s afraid to put an ace flag anywhere people could see it. It bothers her that everyone knows everything about her relationship with Sam, but Jack and Gabriel are just her friends. It bothers her that “work husband” is the only term she’s heard used that starts to capture how integral they are to her life.

She hasn’t said anything in awhile and Gabriel looks worried. She doesn’t give him enough credit. He wouldn’t gloat over something like this. She trusts him, she loves him, that’s kind of the problem.

“It’s just… weird,” she says, finally. “People don’t get it. And so they try to put what they do get onto it. And it feels cheap and bad.” Gabriel nods.

“I still have older relatives who treat me like I’m crazy,” he says gently. “When I brought Jack home, one of my uncles straight-up asked me if this meant I was done with my ‘phase,’ and if he could call me by my deadname again now.”

Ana cocks her head. “That’s not really the same,” she says. “Gabriel, that’s worse than anything I’ve ever had to deal with with this shit.”

“It’s not the same,” he agrees. “But ‘worse’ or ‘better’ wasn’t really what I was going for. What I meant was, I’ve had to deal with people not getting who you are, and not really wanting to try to.” He reaches his hand over the table, and she sets her mug down and takes it. “And I know Jack doesn’t like to talk about it, because he thinks he’s gotten lucky, and he probably has. But he’s had to deal with shit like this too. It’s not outside our realm of understanding. And the stuff that is, we’ll try to get there, because you do that for us.”

Ana nods slowly. Her eyes feel hot. “Yeah,” she whispers. “Thanks.” Gabriel slides his chair closer to her, sending a metallic shriek through the break room, and hugs her. She buries her head in his shoulder.

“What are work-male-mistresses for?” he says. She jabs him in the side and he laughs.

When she’s done with her tea and Gabriel’s done with his coffee, she makes a new cup in Gabriel’s french press. She carries it carefully through the base, and use her foot to knock on Jack’s door.

“Come in,” he yells.

“Get the door for me, please?” she yells back. She only has to wait a moment before Jack’s pulling it open for her.

“Aw, thanks,” he says, taking the mug from her. “You’re the best work wife ever.”

Ana winces as she steps into his office. “Hey, so. I actually wanted to talk to you about that.”

Her back is to Jack, but she knows the slightly panicked expression he has on his face as he closes the door and hurries to the other side of his desk. “Is it bothering you?” he asks. “I thought– you know, it’s all in fun–”

“No, no, I know.” She sits down across from him. The mug of pens with the rainbow flag in it is right in front of her. She takes a deep breath. “It’s just– weird for me sometimes. It makes me feel like everyone assumes I’m straight. And I’m not.”

Jack steeples his fingers in front of his face and doesn’t say anything. “And I know you’re not either!” she adds hurriedly. “I’m not saying they’re not erasing that about you either, you know? Just– like–” She runs her fingers through her hair. “It bothers me, still. I know it’s stupid. But it does.”

“It’s not stupid,” Jack says quietly. He drops his hands. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I’m still sorry,” he says. “I’ll drop it, and ask other people to drop it too.” Ana nods and her anxious, stiff posture eases up a little. Jack takes a pen out of the mug and spins it on the desk aimlessly. “If it helps, given the state of my love life, people don’t really have much cause to assume I’m gay, either.”

He says it in a joking tone, but it’s a feeble one. Ana frowns and tries to remember Jack’s last few dates. There had been the violinist, that had been a year ago, maybe four dates before Jack told her they were both too busy. The ambassador that Jack saw twice and decided that he was too politically risky. Then before that, Gabriel? Is that really it?

Jack’s staring at the pen. She knows that it’s difficult for him, how people see him as a bureaucrat-politician when he still sees himself as a soldier. She struggles with it too, but without quite as many eyes. A lot of the time, she’s just frustrated with his inability to deal with that dissonance– she found away, can’t he? She didn’t think it had gone this deep. But she’d also always thought that Jack would have had a real spouse by now.

“I know you’re lonely,” she says softly. She reaches out her hand and after a moment, he drops the pen and takes it. “And I really want you to find someone. But I’m here. Always will be. Don’t forget that, okay?”

He blinks a little, then nods and smiles. “Okay,” he says. “As long as you don’t, either.”

“Okay,” Ana says. He clears his throat.

“So. I uh, totally get work husband being out, but is there another term you’d want to…?”

Oh God. Jack is looking to her for guidance here and she knows about as much about terminology for this as she does terminology for the gender spectrum of mistresses. Her alarm must be visible though, because Jack just laughs.

“It’s okay,” he says. “It wouldn’t make anything different. Just wanted to know.”

Ana nods, relieved. “I’ll let you and Gabriel know if I come up with anything.”

“So will I,” Jack says. He thinks for a moment. “Partner?” he suggests.

Ana pulls a face. “Maybe. I don’t know. It still feels too romantic, and ‘platonic life partner’ sounds like I’m taking you to court.”

“Hopefully you don’t.” He takes a sip of coffee. “Consort? Comrade?”

“Jack.”

“Life coworker?” She takes a pen from the mug and throws it at his head.

#overwatch #ana amari #gabriel reyes #old soldiers #fic #asks #orig #because-cur-non

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haven-library · 4 years ago

Text

deactivation.

"Please state your business with Ms. Sanchez."

"Tell her the man that offed the Imposter is here to see her.”

That makes Martyr stall. "She wont know of you being here," is the sad-dipped line he can bring himself to deliver. "She's been unresponsive for more than a week already." The Angel’s face is twisted in grief and barely concealed wrath.

"I killed that bastard with my own hands. Who are you to deny me seeing her?"

"There's nothing to see!" Martyr snaps, one eye fixated on the other man. "She's dead to the world, haven't you been listening!?"

"I know she's comatose, that doesn't matter! I'm wanting to put her stuff at her side, so that when she does wake up, she won't be wondering where her belongings are."

Martyr laughs, "I honestly couldn't care less about your story. I care for my girl."

"I need to return property of hers to her, and I won't be handing it over to anyone but her.”

Martyr really didn't have time to waste, itching to get back into her room and continue tending to her catatonic form. Once they reach a temporary truce, their journey through the Sanctuary finally ends by a tall door at the end of the farthest hall. The Angel places his hand on the door handle and takes a few breaths.

He turns to the other and then to the door again. "Wait here." Is the only thing he manages to breathe out as he pushes into the dimmed room, closing the door with a soft click.

Inside, Martyr kneels by Summer's body, examining her vitals and skin, gently brushing her hair and fixing the night gown she is dressed in. He wets her forehead and cheeks, and finally lips with holy water, anxious to have it all be done with so he could tend to her on his own. He returns to the door once he is sated, opening it and stepping aside, inviting the other man inside without any additional words.

Once he's given silent permission, the other man entered the room. Nobody else mattered. He sat the bow down by Summer’s dominant hand, so that when she woke up, she could grab it and feel something familiar, and then sat the jewelry box by her, on the little nightstand. He pressed the back of his hand to her cheek lightly, before turning and heading for the door.

"That is it? That's all you will give her?"

"It's what’s hers. What more do you want from me?"

She suddenly reaches over and touches her opposite wrist.

Martyr takes a soft gasp of air, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Ah shit, are you wanting the bracelet thing...?"

Her eyes brighten.

"That's a yes," the hero snorted, reaching for the box he'd put her stuff in, and opened it, fidgeting around in it, before taking the jewelry piece out, and carefully putting it on the wrist she was tapping. "There you go"

Martyr's face paints with panic.

She seems to relax, like someone had taken a boulder off of her chest, like she could breathe easier, like the lack of the bracelet was the issue the whole time.

He made sure it was fastened tightly, and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Right as rain then."

Martyr stares at the bracelet, frowning. Something isn't right.

Summer smiles gratefully at the man who destroyed her tormentor.

Martyr can tell something is very much not right.

"Heh, yer welcome. Brought yer bow too, I knew Meg was talking out his ass when he said you used a longbow."

Summer reaches over and massages the bracelet, prodding, fingering it like she's looking for something. She seems to find a latch of some sort, a button, and presses it.

“Summer—” Martyr says gently, carefully.

"Well she's awake now, that's good!”

Summer looks at him gratefully, again, her eyes surprisingly brighter now.

"Glad yer feeling better Summer.”

She nods.

Martyr smiles warmly at this brief sign that Summer is still in there somewhere. They have to take whatever victories they can find. "Thank you for your sacrifice." He tells the man.

She's still fingering the bracelet. It's comforting. Once the deliverer leaves, Summer touches the bracelet a little more meaningfully. Now she looks puzzled.

"What is it, love?" Martyr asks.

She's scratching at a button with her nail, softly. She blinks.

He bends down to examine the wrist the bracelet is on. Already knowing all too well what has her mind tied in a knot.

Summer looks at him with a very clear message in her panicked eyes.

Martyr's head bows and his teeth grit. "Bad weather?" he tells her. "It has all the space-time stuff going crazy..." He feels terrible lying to her.

No. This bracelet is smarter than the weather. This bracelet is supposed to take her home. She cannot remember his name. She cannot remember his name but this bracelet is supposed to take her to him. She looks at Martyr more urgently.

He gives her a puzzled look, feigning absolute ignorance. His heart feels like it’s being ripped out of his chest as her panic builds.

She scratches at the button frantically. Her entire body is shaking now, too stimulated, fixated, unable to stop herself. Summer knows him. She knows him better than anyone. And that's why her next blink—a single blink—drenches her face in tears. It’s not working. It’s not working. ...he’s deactivated it.

Martyr kneels by her bed, distancing her hands from each other and holds both of her hands. "You don't need him."

She snarls, lunging out with every ounce of her strength, fingernails swiping at his cheek.

He moves away flawlessly, catching her hands again. "You don't need him anymore, Summer."

She struggles but she doesn't have the strength to fight him for long before she collapses against him, a guttural cry in her chest that only barely reaches her throat.

Martyr envelops her with himself completely, his wings spring to life to cover her even more. He hold her close, letting her cry and scream with no sound as he holds on to her and tears up himself.

By the time he peels her off of him, her face is soaked, but her eyes are glassy again.

"I will not tell you of my own losses to compare or even try to preach, Summer, your pain is valid and very real, but you are not alone, you will never be alone again." He pulls her against him again, burying his face in the crook of her neck and into her loose hair. "I am sorry, Summer, I am so sorry."

Her head lolls back, eyes on the ceiling, body limp. The bracelet is too loose on her thin wrist anyway.

He lays her back down, gently, moving her hair away from underneath her, tending to her like a fragile doll. The eldest Angel calls forth the medics to tend to her, claiming he needs some time to breathe. He plants a kiss to her forehead and exits the room into the balcony, taking to the skies, beyond the troposphere of the exo-planet.

Her wrist is bare.

Out in the open layer between space and the gravitational pull of the Sanctuary, Martyr lets the bracelet float in front of him for awhile. He unsheathes his sabre and dices the delicate jewelry into microscopic shards, engulfing it with holy fire to wipe it out of existence.

As soon as the first slice goes through the bracelet, Summer gives one last pained jerk before a strange numbness sweeps over her entire mind, a numbness that would take shape in the coming weeks.

He stays in the vacuum of the space longer, saber clutched in a strong fist, trembling with fury he is not supposed to harbor. He screams into open space, rage and despair muted in the airless background.

#the history of the founder

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hpdrapery · 7 years ago

Text

trust

fandom: harry potter ship: harry potter/severus snape word count: 1490 also on ao3 and ffn

Having someone to trust is surprisingly freeing, even if that someone thoroughly embarrasses you at work with chocolate and sparkly stickers.

“What makes you so sure it was me?”

Harry looked near-comically indignant, and Severus looked away momentarily to hide his smile. It was a miracle he was still alive, if he truly was that oblivious to his utter lack of subtlety.

“You’ve been sending me all sorts of ridiculous gifts and tokens of affection for a full year now. I would have to be brain-dead, or close to it, not to figure it out immediately,” Severus said dryly, taking a seat. It seemed this conversation might take awhile.

Harry just looked at him, starting to open his mouth, and then immediately closing it again. This process repeated itself a few times, and this time, Severus couldn’t completely bite back a snicker.

Face reddening, Harry sat down across from him.

“Look, Severus...For what it’s worth, I didn’t think you’d open it in public like that, and I certainly didn’t think...” He winced, probably out of secondhand embarrassment. Severus couldn’t blame him, though it made him feel even worse. “Kids are mean, okay? Well, I mean, you know that, I suppose, considering you complain every damn day about how awful they are, but...I wouldn’t think you’d be that upset over a couple of twelve year olds laughing at you.”

“I’m not upset that children laughed at me,” Severus said crisply, occupying himself by Summoning a pot of tea from the kitchenette. He turned his head slightly, all the better to hide behind his hair.

“Alright, then what’s the problem?” Harry leaned forward in his seat a little, as though practically crawling into Severus’ lap would get him a more satisfying answer. “Are you upset that I sent it at all?”

“Potter,” Severus muttered with a sigh, pouring them both some tea. Naturally, Harry interrupted before he could say anything more.

“Harry,” he insisted, giving him a sharp look. “You agreed that you would call me Harry.”

Severus briefly considered kicking the insolent brat out of his sitting room altogether, but resisted the fleeting urge, handing him his cup of tea instead. He could remember the days when he never would have let Harry Potter into his sitting room to begin with.

“Right. Harry. As I was saying, you sent me chocolates and a note.” He took a bracing sip of tea, barely able to maintain his composure as he recalled the worst of it. “There were heart stickers on the note. I...It looked like a gift from a giggling third year. The problem is that students are now discussing my love life, all thanks to a man who seemed quite passionate about the idea of me deserving my privacy after all I did in the war.”

Harry shrugged, inching a little closer to the edge of his chair again, and ran a hand through his absurdly messy hair. Severus clenched his free hand into a fist to keep himself from reaching out and trying to fix it.

“I thought it would be funny,” he offered weakly. “Or cute, or something. It was a joke. The stickers, I mean, not the...overall sentiment.”

“What the fuck?” Severus breathed, unable to say anything else.

“Sorry,” Harry muttered sheepishly. “It was stupid, I know, I’m sorry.”

“No, really,” Severus murmured, taking a certain sort of satisfaction in how embarrassed Harry seemed to be now. “What the fuck? You presumably went out, bought a variety of stationery, heart-shaped stickers, and chocolate, then took your time writing the note, arranging the stickers just so...” He couldn’t help it. Picturing Harry doing that, and for him, no less, was just too much. Severus started laughing.

For a split second, Harry actually looked scared, green eyes going wide, but then he started laughing too.

“Yeah...yeah, I guess it is a little ridiculous, isn’t it?” he asked between giggles.

“Not to mention the fact that you came all the way to Hogwarts after sending it, to...what? See how I liked it?”

Harry nearly snorted as he set his teacup down on the coffee table, and that only set off Severus’ laughter once again. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d laughed with someone like this.

“Yeah,” he admitted, shrugging. “I didn’t have anything better to do.”

“You need a job,” Severus teased, feeling far lighter and more carefree than he had in awhile. “It’s been, what, over a year since you graduated?”

“I told you, I’m taking some time off to figure things out. Maybe you could learn something from me for once. A break would probably do you some good as well.”

“Yes, well, not all of us are blessed with heaps of gold waiting at Gringotts. I need to work.”

Harry’s lips twitched ever so slightly, and Severus knew exactly what he was about to say.

“Don’t even think about it,” he ordered, glaring at the younger man for good measure. “I won’t accept your money, Harry. I’m not a charity case.”

“Well, anyway,” Harry said cheerfully, returning his attention to his tea. It was a painfully transparent attempt at turning their conversation away from the subject of finances. “I’ve trusted you with something, what with letting you laugh at my amazing, heartfelt gesture. Your turn.”

“It’s childish, trying to force me to open up to you like this.”

“But it’s been working, hasn’t it? You’re starting to trust me more.”

Severus frowned, finishing his tea. He couldn’t argue with that. He was, slowly, even if it didn’t seem like much in comparison to the way Harry opened up to him so readily, treated him as though he was someone worth pursuing. He got up, walking to his bedroom. He knew what he would share with Harry today.

It took some digging to find it, but eventually, Severus retrieved the old, expensive chess set from his closet, where it had been hiding underneath a steel grey sweater he’d never actually worn. A brief, sad smile flickering across his features, he carried the box back out to the sitting room, setting it on the table in front of Harry.

“Lily gave me this for my fourteenth birthday,” he said. That sentence was hard to get out all on its own, but he found that he trusted Harry not to push for more.

Few words passed between them as they unboxed the chess set and set it up, occasionally making eye contact.

“I’m rubbish at chess,” Harry admitted with a soft laugh, thumb running over the smooth alabaster of a rook.

“So was Lily,” Severus replied, barely louder than a whisper. Was this how it felt to bare his heart to someone, or at least pieces of it?

“So we already know you’d utterly destroy me if we played,” Harry said, giving him a playful smirk.

“Maybe you’d learn something from me for once,” Severus replied easily, turning his earlier words back on him.

“Maybe,” Harry agreed, getting up. At first, Severus was worried that he might be preparing to leave, but instead, Harry just sprawled out on the sofa with him, head in Severus’ lap.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said softly. “I like it when you talk about her.”

“It’s getting easier, with you,” Severus confessed, another thing he wouldn’t have dared to say not long ago, and still wouldn’t to anyone else.

“Good,” Harry said, closing his eyes and yawning. “You can talk to me about anything, you know.”

Anything. The dizzying freedom of so many possibilities was one of the reasons, Severus had tried to hold back. He feared that once he started confiding in Harry, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

“Are you planning on taking a nap here?” he asked dryly.

“Mm, might do,” Harry murmured, shrugging. “I’m pretty comfy.”

Severus rolled his eyes, running his fingers through Harry’s dark, tangled hair.

“Most people would still be afraid I’d do any number of horrible things to them if they fell asleep anywhere near me,” he commented, still playing with his hair.

“I’m not most people,” Harry said. “I trust you. Completely. I find it’s quite freeing, actually, and I’m happy to nap with you as often as you’ll let me.”

He was serious about that, apparently, since Harry really did fall asleep not long after, looking completely open and vulnerable, just like he’d claimed. Sighing, Severus continued playing with the other’s hair, glancing at the clock. He had another hour before he had a class to teach.

He read articles in the latest Potions journal as Harry slept, still mulling over his fixation on trust.

“You...mean a great deal to me,” Severus forced out as soon as he caught a glimpse of vivid green, Harry blinking up at him sleepily. “I’ve grown to cherish your presence in my life, and I...even thought your gift yesterday was quite endearing, heart stickers and all.”

Harry was right. Trusting someone with his feelings, and having them accepted, felt more like freedom than anything else he could think of.

#snarry #snapedom #severus snape #hp #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #fic

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