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summary: when a disease turns the world into an apocalyptic landscape, you join a group in order to survive. you find yourself drawn to a certain blue-eyed man for no explainable reason. though the two of you have your own pasts to deal with, the two of you grow closer and closer together. after all, it seems as though youâre the only lovers left alive
pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader
genre: post apocalypse au, strangers to friends to lovers, slight angst, fluff, smut, some hurt comfort, inspired by some of the events from the last of us
word count: 16k+
warnings: 18+ mdni, some heavy-ish themes, mentions of suicide, smut, heavy making out, fingering, vaginal penetration, cum eating, slight begging, gojo is a teeny bit of a dick but overall just doesnât know how to handle emotions
note: i did take some inspo from the last of us, so if you see something you might recognize, itâs because i most likely based something off of it. nothing too major though, but the infected here are like the ones in the game/show. i donât want any comments saying i stole the idea bc i stg iâll just combustÂ
also a thank you for @jadeisthirstingâ for beta-reading again, love her!
You were glad that chocolate bars survived the apocalypse.Â
Those, along with chips (you donât look at expiration dates anymore), crackers, and protein bars seemed to stand the tests of time.Â
The abandoned convenience store was harshly run down. The glass was shattered, and you could hear the crunch of shards underneath your boots whenever you walked up and down the aisles. Vegetation took reign in most of the area, and vines grew alongside the walls and the counters. Weeds sprung through the cracks in the floor and long blades of grass peeked in from the outside.Â
A lot of the aisles were already ransacked from those who came before, but you had to admit that this place was in much better condition food-wise than all the others you had seen. You loaded your cart with whatever you could find; cereal, bars, chips, instant ramen, jerky, really anything that wasnât perishable by your standards.Â
You also made sure to stock up on medical supplies while you were here. Antiseptic, rolls of bandages, needles for stitching, medical tape. You were able to find a bottle of disinfectant and some rubbing alcohol, so you spent a couple of minutes cheering over the small victory.Â
The rays of sun that peeked through and washed out certain parts of the store a quiet orange made it seem more serene than it actually was, and you took your time as you leaned on the cart handle, walking slowly as you tried to pretend like you were just shopping for amenities like you would years ago, without the fear of the outside world trying to hunt you down the moment you stepped out.Â
Under your breath you hummed a soft tune, letting your fingers run over the empty shelves as you looked around.Â
Many opened boxes littered the ground. None of them were to your benefit so you just stepped over them, tapping something on your arm to keep your mind busy. It was only noon, so you had a couple of hours to waste before it got dark.
Though you had the hunting rifle near you in case anything popped out in front of you, you liked to pretend that there was no danger when you rounded a corner. It saved a little naive part of your mind to imagine that everything was normal when you knew that it wasnât. Â
â...yeah, no, no, I agree, I justâŚâÂ
You stopped in your tracks, air hitching in your throat as you went rigid upon hearing the muffled voices.Â
âI heard the bunkers in Kyoto and Osaka fellâŚradio transmission,â It was a female voice, that much you could make out. But assessing the sound of feet shuffling on the floor and the other sounds, you knew there had two be at least two people, maybe even more.Â
You couldnât even remember the last time you had heard somebody speak. You tried to remember, raking your mind for when it was, and it must have been months ago, maybe even a year, and that was just a small encounter. You doubted the guy even saw you. And this is far worse, they closed and you have nowhere to hide without making a sound. They could be raiders or scavengers. One of them could be infected without the other's knowledge. Millions of thoughts ran through your head as you tried to rationalize with yourself.
âWhat happened to the one in Nara?â This time it was a male voice, and much closer than before. They were probably only a few aisles away until they reached you. You could feel your heart beating uncontrollably fast, rattling against your ribcage as your mind faltered on what to you.Â
âTheyâre not letting people inside. They deter anybody unless you have a pre-bought cabin there.â The first woman replied, and you could hear some glass clanking as she kicked an empty beer bottle (from what you could deduce), across the floor.Â
âHow do you know so much?â Another male asked. Three so far, you made a mental note as you tried shoving all your food and things in any pocket you could find, shoving the big bottle of rubbing alcohol down your shirt to nestle on your bra. You didnât risk your life trying to find this place just to have some strangers take the things you so desperately need.
âThey play messages on the radio at night. If you didnât go to sleep so fuckinâ fast you might hear something useful.â The first girl said, but there was no bite to her voice. She even chuckled, and you swore one of the other guys laughed too.Â
âWhy canât we just stay where we are? We havenât seen any infected here.â Four. This time it was another girl's voice. So far, two females and two males. You were severely outnumbered. You doubted you were that skilled, even in all your years, to surpass four people. Â
Deciding to leave a few bars behind, you gingerly moved past the cart, making sure not to make a sound as you tiptoed across the broken bottles and glass. You held your breath and tried to hold onto your jacket, not wanting anything to fall out.Â
You tried to phase out whatever they were saying so you could stay focused. You squinted your eyes as rays of the sun blinded you when they peeked through some cracks in the ceiling. You shuffled slowly and precisely, your heart quite literally beating in your throat as moved around the debris on the floor.Â
You could see the double doors, both open as you let out an inaudible sigh of relief when you saw them, a promise that you werenât going to die right here when-
CRUNCH.
You stopped, eyes slowly falling down to the comically large piece of glass under your foot, now shattered into a million pieces as you stop breathing. You wait for abated second, thinking nobody heard until you heard some clattering coming from behind you.Â
âWhat the fuck was that?â One of the girls asked, her laughter long gone from her voice as her question rang through the store.Â
âI donât knowâŚwait hereâŚâ
You could run, it wasnât that far to the door, but you were frozen in your place. It was like whenâŚyou couldnât even think about it. Your mind blanked, your limbs not moving despite your brain willing them to do something, anything.
It felt like that day all over again, the weakness and fear that overtook your mind and body as you shook, your legs cramping, your hands shivering as your eyes darted around, your lips clamped between your teeth as blood roared in your ears.Â
You wondered if youâd been faster or more agile something may have gone differently. But really, no matter what you were wouldnât have altered the fact that you saw a blur of clothes from your peripheral, craning to look to your right as your eyes meet bright blue ones.Â
Your brows furrowed when the two of you locked eyes, your chests moving up and down as you looked at the weapon in his hand, drawn out, pointing at your head as you blinked, mind going into overdrive as you let out a heavy sigh of air.
He looked angelic and you wanted to smack yourself for that being your first thought. His hair was artic white, tainted a bright yellow as the sun shined over him. He had a sturdy jaw and a tall frame. Long and delicate fingers clutching onto a weapon, getting ready to pull it out the moment he saw you.Â
Sure, you could blame it on the fact that you hadnât seen a man for over three years, but you knew that even despite your blurry and confused judgment he was better looking than most of the guys youâve seen most of your life.Â
There were a few seconds where neither of you said anything, not really knowing what to say as you shifted ever so slightly on your left foot, not knowing if you ran to the door heâd shoot you in the process.Â
âSatoru?â A girl came in from behind him, looking at him and then to where his gaze fell until she saw you, a small aurora of surprise taking over her features.Â
âStay with Geto,â The man said, his voice harsh as his eyes narrowed on you, his face unreadable but cold nonetheless as his focus never left your every tiny motion. Taking in all of your features, your clothes, your skin, your eyes. Anything that could give away that you were infected.Â
Your eyes darted from him to the girl to his side, not knowing who to look at. The person with the gun pointed at you or the one who stared at you as if you were an artifact, a token she hadnât seen before.Â
âIâm not a threat,â You say after a couple more seconds of unbearable silence, your voice hoarse from barely using it anymore. You rub at your throat, wincing a little as you put your arms up to show that you have nothing in your hands, âI swear Iâll just leave and nothing else.âÂ
The girl stayed where she was, gnawing on her lip as she shoved the man's arms with hers.Â
âShe seems fine-âÂ
âSeems doesnât mean sheâs not infected.â He snapped, never taking his eyes away from you as he pulled his elbow away from her grasp. His voice had a bite to it, sending chills that traveled down your spine. He had no emotion on his face, clear of anything human.Â
âI-Iâm not infected.â You retaliate, taking a tentative step forward, watching as his grip on his gun became tighter, and taking a step back as he pushed the girl behind him. You put your arms up again, worried you were playing with fate as you slowly and carefully put your bare arms under a ray of light, making sure he could see your actions. You tugged on your sleeves, pulled down the collar of your shirt, and showed him your calves, anything to prove that you werenât bitten.Â
âSeeâŚ?âÂ
You waited, his stare jumping from your face to your arm, different gears in his head turning as he debated what to do.Â
ââToru, sheâs not infected,â The girl said, trying to nudge his hand so heâd lower the weapon, âSheâs right, sheâd be in pain right now if she was.âÂ
But he didnât move, his jaw ticking as he shook his head, seemingly still not believing you.
âHow do I know you all arenât infected?â You snapped, angry, as you tried to hide the quiver in your voice. They could be and theyâre doing well to hide it.Â
âWeâre not.â He said, his voice steady, confident, and not carrying any trace of a lie.
âWhatâs taking so long?â Another voice joined the three of you, a man, the same in height as the one in front of you as he clasped a hand on his shoulder, his brow cocking in surprise when he saw you. His hair was a stark black, pulled into a bun behind his head. Some strands had escaped and fallen out. He seemed far more easygoing than the man next to him, though. His eyes were brighter and his smile was genuine. He looked over to the side as the girl shrugged, worry lacing her features as he drummed his fingers in her arm. He looked back at you, giving you a tiny smile, âWhatâs your name sweetheart?â
âDoesnât matter if youâd just let me go.â You said, your voice mirroring the white-haired man, the new guyâs lips pulling into a little grin as he let out a deep laugh.
âDrop the gun âToru, sheâs fine.â The new guy said with a laugh, stepping forward as you took one back, your lungs squeezing together tightly as you went to grab the weapon strapped on your back.
He raised his hands as you had seconds ago, trying to show that he wasnât intending any harm as he took another step forward. The playful look he had on his face melted away, forming to something softer as he took in the cuts that littered your cheek and knew, the way your eyes darted from his hands to his face to detect any danger.Â
âHello,â He started with a careful smile, not wanting to scare you off, âIâm Geto, but my friends call me Suguru,â He pointed to the girl behind him, âVera even calls me dumb bitch-â
âOnly when Iâm mad!â She argued, shooting you an apologetic and embarrassed smile when she realized you were there too, and he snorted, continuing.Â
âAnd the blue-eyed freak is Satoru. Annaâs back there, somewhere. Swear we donât mean any harm. Heâs just,â He glanced behind him at the man who was slowly lowering the gun, his face still clearly telling that he was weary of you, âCautious.âÂ
He held out his hand, far larger than yours, for a shake.Â
You tilted your head to the side, eyes squinting a little bit as you tried to make out just what he was trying to do.
But you dropped your hand from grasping onto the leather strap of your weapon, your fingers stretching, itching for some human contact as you debated for a little bit. Surely but slowly you brought your hand to his, softly clutching it to see a smile overtake his features.Â
âY/n,â You reciprocate with a small smile of your own, your chapped lips not used to the feeling. His fingers were long as they overtook yours, calloused, but human. They gave yours a gentle squeeze, almost as if he could tell, and you have one back. Something that you never realized you had missed up until this very moment, âMy nameâs y/n.â
He said your name once under his breath to commit it to memory.Â
âYou going anywhere specific?â He asked, his hands crossed across his chest as he waited patiently for you to answer.Â
You swallowed dryly, in desperate need of some water as you pointed somewhere north.Â
âHeard thereâs a camp somewhere in TakayamaâŚyou?âÂ
He chuckled, nodding as if he couldnât believe your words, looking behind him as the girl you guessed was Vera let out a small laugh too. The blue-eyed man, Satoru you deduced, stayed stoic, not giving anything away.
âBy any chance are you talking about that one camp that has running water ân shit?âÂ
You nod, not trusting your voice anymore as you blink.Â
âNice,â He cocked his head in the direction of his group, the second girl, Anna, now walking in to see what the fuss was about, âThatâs where weâre going too. Or at least, trying to. Care to join?â
You quickly learned that this group was different from your old one.Â
They were serious, sure, but everybody was given the predicament. They were on guard at any sudden noise, guns drawn and ready, but they still acted like you guess they would have back in their old lives. They made jokes, laughed at each other's stupid mistakes, and spent the days and nights filling the silence with whatever they could.Â
It was jarring, really, seeing how your old group of six never laughed nor had a moment of naĂŻve fun, but you were far more fond of this than that.
âDamn, so youâre the youngest one here then?â Geto asked one day as you five trudged through an abandoned city. You looked up, mouth parted in slight awe as you took in the strange sights; abandoned skyscrapers, some tilting over a bit. Many were severely destroyed by the bombings. There were large craters on the ground, concrete slabs, and building chunks that fell into them. Geto nudged your side, snapping you from your trance as he waited for you to answer.
âOh, um, yeah, I guess,â Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment, âOnly by a little bit though. I was about to graduate high school when it started and I guess that was like what, five-ish years ago?â You couldnât distinctly remember, time had just become a construct after so many months.
Vera and Anna had begun talking about how old they were when it started, and you had gotten roped into the conversation.Â
âYouâre the baby of the group now!â Anna exclaimed, pinching your cheeks with a giggle as you laughed softly, looking down at the cracked concrete beneath your feet as your backpack thumped on your back with every step you took, âIt's good though,â She whispered in your ear, âYou can use it to get out of chores.â You snickered at that, rolling your eyes but thankful for the tip.
You found out that Anna was only a couple of months older than you. Then came Geto, who was a year older than you two, Vera was around as old as him, and Gojo was two years older than you.Â
âWait, so youâve been traveling alone all these years?â Anna was the one to ask as she walked closer to you, her brows pinched together in confusion,Â
You could have sworn it was an unspoken rule not to talk about the past unless somebody brought it up directly.
âNo, no,â You shook your head as your nose wrinkled at the thought, âI was part of a bigger group. But we,â You looked away, at nothing in particular as a sharp pang ran through your chest, âWe split up a while ago. Thatâs when I went solo.â
She nodded in understanding, pulling her hair back as she tied it up, fanning her face at the heat. The sun was beating harshly on your face, sweat prickling at your hairline as you squinted through the bright light.
âWas it hard?â Anna asked, clearly not picking up on your reluctance to the subject.Â
You swallowed, feeling like a part of your chest was heavier than it was seconds before as you cleared your throat.Â
âI, well,â You shrugged, stammering a bit, âA little bit, but I learned how to-â
âHowâd you get your food?â She cut you off. You could tell she wasnât trying to do any harm, her eyes shining with childish curiosity but it didnât do anything to hide the fact that it quite literally felt like your throat was closing up.Â
âI would hunt or find whatever I co-â
âSo you like being part of a group?âÂ
âYeah-â
âDid it ever get lonely?â
âAnna,â Gojo cut her off, his voice not loud but commanding enough to get everybody's attention, speaking for the first time in what seemed a couple of hours, âCalm down.âÂ
Her eyes darted from you to him, finally noting the overwhelmed expression that you were trying your best to hide as she muttered out a quiet sorry. She moved to talk to Vera, and you were thankful that it wasnât awkward as you went back to looking at the buildings.Â
You gave him a small nod, grateful, but he only blinked, looking away as he went back to listening to whatever Geto was telling him. You huffed out a small embarrassed laugh, not putting much thought into it as you kicked a pebble across the ground, feeling the wind tickle your cheeks as you tried to hold back the sting of tears in your eyes.Â
Gojo didnât say much, even after you joined their group, and Vera told you it was normal and not to take it to heart. So you didnât try to talk much with him, not wanting to push and prod at any of his boundaries. But he was nice otherwise, in his own ways. He took the night watch, letting you guys sleep, and insisted that he was fine with it. He was attentive, always giving the rest of his food to Anna when she complained about how hungry she was. He was cautious, as Geto would put it, but you couldnât blame him. You were cautious too.
Did it ever get lonely? Her question rang through your mind. It was stupid, youâve only known her for a short amount of time. Hell, youâve only known these people for a couple of weeks but it felt like she had dug a hot iron into your chest with the simple query. It was pathetic, really, but it was that thing where the more you tried to stop yourself from crying the worse it became, and that seemed to be true right now.Â
You fell behind a little bit, not anything much, but enough so that you were by yourself as you looked up. You found it easier to control your emotions as you blinked back the tears, not wanting to wipe them away in case anybody noticed. In front of you, you could hear Vera and Anna arguing about something minuscule, smiles still on their faces as they playfully banter back and forth.Â
The wind began to pick up a bit, your eyes watering even more as you blinked back the fat tears that were threatening to fall and roll down your cheek, biting your lip as if that could make it stop.
âEverything alright?â
Your head whipped to the side to where the voice came from, a little surprised to see Gojo walking next to you. His hair was tucked behind his ears, hands in his pockets as he waited for your response.Â
As you blinked in shock a small tear fell, and you quickly wiped it away with the back of your hand, no use in hiding it now as you nodded, lips quivering a bit as you sniffled. You could count the number of times he had spoken to you on a single hand, so you hid it by looking away. Your cheeks heated up under his heavy stare, not used to it, especially from him.Â
âY-yeah, Iâm good.â You said as you exhaled shakily, not having the guts to look at him as you just stared directly ahead of you at the three heads of the other members of the group. But you weren't good at masking the lie as you watched from the corner of your eyes as he pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to you.Â
Looking at his outstretched hand you saw a tissue and your eyes darted to him in questioning.Â
âItâs not poisoned, yâknow.â He told you, his voice slightly less monotone as you let out a watery laugh, tentatively taking it from him as you whispered out a hushed thanks.Â
You blew your nose as quietly as you could, feeling bad as you threw it to the side of the street you blinked again, hoping this time you could do a better job of controlling your pesky and fragile emotions with somebody next to you.
There was a silent beat as neither of you said anything, wringing your fingers together as you tried to look for an explanation for all this. It was stupid, childish, and downright embarrassing, but you still couldnât find the words to justify anything.
âAnna can be like that. You learn to live with it.â Gojo finally said, interrupting your train of thought as he spoke. You could tell he was slowing down his pace to match yours, his long legs taking shorter steps and you almost laughed at the sight.Â
âItâs okay,â You said, rubbing at your eyes again as your nose wrinkled again, âIâm just not used to beingâŚâ
âBombarded?â He said, finding the right word as you nodded with a small chuckle.
âYeah⌠that. I know itâs stupid. I donât even know why IâmâŚâ You trailed off, wiping at your eyes with your palms as you took in a shaky breath, âItâs just been a while since Iâve talked this much, so Iâm still trying to get used to itâŚsorry.â You let out a little hiccup, missing the way his lips almost pulled into a smile at the sound.Â
âDonât apologize,â He said, shrugging as he kicked a piece of broken asphalt across the sidewalk, âItâs not your fault.â
You went to open your mouth to say something back but Geto waved his arms, motioning the two of you to the rest of them as he pointed to something on the ground.Â
âOi, Gojo, come check this out. I donât know if this is a cordyceps or a regular mushroom.âÂ
And you glanced at the man next to you one more time but he was already jogging forward to see what the fuss was about. It didnât matter much, it shouldnât have, but you couldnât stop the way your little heart fluttered pathetically at his words. You quickened your pace, shaking your head at the thought as you joined the group once again.
But as much as you tried you couldnât get his final words out of your head. Itâs not your fault. How you wish it were true. If only he knew, heâd probably eat his own words. Swallow them up so that they were never spoken into existence because it was your fault. But you couldnât say that now.Â
You hated that time between day and night more than anything.Â
When the crickets chirped and the sky became darker than it should have, casting a shadow over the ground. The stars were freckles across the sky and the light breeze didnât distract you from the fact that clickers could be a stone's throw away from you without you ever realizing it.Â
The abandoned apartment complex they decided to spend the night in was definitely in better condition than the ones surrounding it, but even with the extensive search you guys did up and down to make sure it was clear of any danger, you still felt a little nauseous as they set up base in the lobby.Â
Your sleeping bags were sprawled out on the marble floor lined with dirt. You had your backpack next to you, your gun within arm's reach. Next to the fire was an array of cans to pick from, but you werenât hungry, not in the slightest. You could barely stomach anything after Annaâs bombardment of questions that left you a quiet mess, and being surrounded by people in the dark just made it worse.
âHungry?â Vera held out a can of preserved peaches but you shot your head, biting back the sick that made its way up to your throat at the thought of eating. You could feel her eyes burning on the side of your face but she didnât press any further, eating as the two of you listened to Geto talk about his plan for reaching the camp in Takayama.Â
He was the more animated one of the two males. He talked with his hands, his face contorting in different ways as he conversed with Anna. Gojo sat on the side, watching the flames dance across the rocks, his blue eyes lit a color youâve never seen before as he listened in his own way to the conversation.
âI saw you earlier,â Vera whispered as she leaned in closer to you, throwing the empty can aside as she wiped the corners of her mouth with a napkin, pointing to Geto so your attention could stay on him while you listened to her, mostly not to draw any attention from the others as she tucked her hair behind her ear, âTalking with Satoru.â
Your brows furrowed in confusion, looking at Vera but she nudged you to look back at Geto, continuing.Â
âI know heâs not the easiest person to warm up to,â She said with a shrug, picking at her nails as he glanced at you with a soft smile, âHe used to be, before all this. I canât really blame him for being on guard-â You nodded in understanding and she softly chuckled at your response, âBut he cares.âÂ
About what? You wanted to ask but didnât want to prod too much.Â
âSo you knew him before?â This was an easier one to answer, and she nodded, cracking her thumb as she rested her head on her arm. The light from the little fire Geto made casted red and orange shadows on the highlights of her face, and she seemed younger here (she wasnât even old). Her wrinkles were gone, eyes were less full of stress.
âYeah, he lived near us. Us, being me and Geto.â She quickly said to save you the confusion. Huh, you thought to yourself, no wonder they were so close.
âSo you all grew up together?âÂ
âYeah,â Her lips pulled into a soft smile, eyes creasing around the edges as she sat in thought, âFrom elementary school up until university. Geto and Gojo were even doing pre-med together.âÂ
You almost wanted to laugh at the thought.Â
âI know, itâs weird. I canât even begin to think of what theyâd be like as doctors. But their parents wanted them to do it, so they just went along with whatever they said.âÂ
âWhat were you doing?â You asked, not even trying to focus on Geto anymore, finding her stories far more interesting. After some time you quickly learned that Vera had much to say when she wanted to, she was just selective when she did.Â
âI was planning on becoming a teacher. It pissed my parents off, but I liked it.â Her words were soft, almost as if thinking about it brought back better memories. And you bet it probably did, a future she once wanted now far away from her reach.Â
âAnd Anna? Did she grow up with you guys too?âÂ
She shook her head, stifling a yawn as her eyelids drooped a little bit.Â
âNo, we met Anna along the way. She and Emi were close though,â She said, rubbing at her tired face, dragging it down as she tried to fight the sleep threatening its way through her body.Â
Emi?
You watched as her eyes widened slightly, looking over at you to see if you caught the name and she sighed in obvious disappointment, mad at herself for the slip-up. Mumbling something along the lines of shit to herself as she blinked quickly.
âDonât - donât ask,â She shot you a look and you dared to go against it, her face once lined with empathy turned stone cold, threatening even as her voice loomed its way through your bones, âDonât say anything about that. Okay?âÂ
You nod, muttering out a soft ok, almost too scared to answer her loudly as she nodded, clearly not happy with it but knowing there wasnât much else she could do.Â
So you didnât press it, pretending like you heard nothing as you nodded along to whatever Geto was saying. Though nothing could hide the fiery spark of curiosity that came with the new name, one you had never heard here before.Â
You wondered why she tried to hide it.
That night you couldnât sleep.Â
Youâd toss and turn, turning your pillow around to see if it would make a difference, but nothing was able to lull you into a tranquil state of being.Â
The apartment would creak and groan sometimes, the stories above you stable enough not to collapse, but weak enough to freak you out from shutting your eyes as you stared at them. The crystal chandelier overhead was overrun by dust, and it would sway a little when the wind from outside picked up.
After a couple of minutes, you gave up, huffing in annoyance as you rubbed at your sleepy eyes, wishing they would just work with the rest of your body and sleep, but that was a pathetic attempt and didnât work.
You got up, careful not to make a sound and disturb anybody sleeping around you, and looked around, looking for somewhere to sit that was safe and peaceful enough to help ease your mind.Â
Moving as if you were about to step on a bomb, you found the reception desk, the paint peeling, and the wood corroding. It gave you a good view of the main apartment entrance, so you felt more comfortable there having a view of almost anything.Â
Resting your back on it you let out a heavy sigh, your chest moving as your head fell back, thudding against it softly as you played with your fingers.Â
âWhyâre you up?âÂ
You almost yelped but controlled the urge as you jumped in your spot, eyes darting around till they found a faint mop of white hair to your left. He was prodding at the last embers of the fire with a metal pipe, moving them around as they made soft crinkling sounds with his every move. You wondered to yourself, both in shame and worry, how you had somehow failed to miss that.
âWere you watching me?â You whispered, wincing as you tried to lower the volume, scoffing at that being the first thing that came to mind.Â
âI am on watch duty.â He said, his voice tinged with a bit of sarcasm as his brow raised a little bit. You could barely make him out with your limited vision, but you could tell from where he was standing that he was only a couple of feet away from you.Â
âYou didnât answer my first question.â He reminded you after a beat of silence, his voice low as he tried not to wake anybody up.Â
You yawned, shrugging as you picked up a rock not to your thigh, moving it around in your hand as your fingers ran along its smooth and imperfect crevices, its cool touch calming you down a little bit.Â
âCanât sleep.â You responded after a bit of thinking, but it really was the truth. Maybe a simplified version of it, but it caused him to let out a quiet scoff, obviously not satisfied with your lazy response.Â
âInsomnia or bad dreams?âÂ
You laughed a bit, your lips quirking at the edges as you clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth.Â
âYou would have made a spectacular doctor.âÂ
He took in a sharp breath of air and you laughed, stifling your giggle with your hand. His reaction telling you he obviously didnât want that knowledge to be spread around.Â
âSwear to god, thatâs all she told me though.â You say, holding up your hands as if a pledge of your honesty though you doubted he could even see it. You heard him snort, obviously not buying it but not saying anything about it as he pushed at the coals around a little more.Â
A small rush of wind moved the dust and twigs next to you, the whooshing sound somewhat tranquil as it filled the silence. It wasnât awkward like you thought itâd be, but it wasnât comfortable either. It was a place right in the middle, but it was better than your past three interactions with him.Â
You tried to squint, trying to make out his features. He was attractive, that much you could admit. Even if you met him before seeing a man became a rare occurrence you would have had the same thought. His frame was sturdy, lean, and tall. He filled out his clothes rather nicely, and his face was passive and a grimace away from forming a scowl, but you could tell he once used to laugh a lot more if the smile lines told you anything.Â
You wondered if the name Emi had anything to do with him losing his smile.Â
âTell me something about yourself then.âÂ
A shocked laugh threatened to bubble out of your throat at his sudden statement.Â
âW-Why?â You stuttered out with a laugh, confused as you shifted where you were sitting, tilting your head a little bit to the side, wishing heâd move so you could see clearly just who it was you were talking to.Â
âYou know too much about me,â He said as if it was obvious, shrugging his shoulders as he set the metal pipe down gently to not make any noise, âI donât know anything about you. Other than you canât sleep and are learning to talk more.âÂ
A part of you wondered if he was being genuine or trying to be snarky.Â
But you just snorted, rolling your eyes at the absurdity of this as you threw your hands, looking up as you thought for a second for something interesting yet boring enough to shut him up so you could have some quiet time.Â
âI can only eat semi-sweet or dark chocolate. Milkâs a little too sweet for me.âÂ
You could hear a snort in response, probably the first youâd ever heard from him as he shuffled around a little bit, his shadow moving a little bit closer to where you were sitting. The ray of moonlight illuminated part of his face, his white lashes fluttering against his cheeks as you watched him rest his chin on the palm of his hand.Â
âSeems like weâre complete opposites there,â He admitted, his lips threatening to tug into a smile, but he controlled it as if he didnât want you to see that part of his hidden emotions.
âThen Iâll give you any milk chocolate bars I find.âÂ
He huffed, a part of his lip caught under his teeth as he considered the thought.Â
âIs that good enough for you?â
He shook his head quickly, comically as you sighed, some sleep finally settling in as you rub at your forehead. You could feel the headache coming from a mile away.Â
âNeed something more personal,â He retaliated, moving a little bit so that he wasnât putting all his weight on his arms, his toned chest moving as he resituated himself. You tried to not make it obvious that you were staring, âWhatâs your favorite color?âÂ
âWell now youâve gone too far,â You say with a little laugh, the most genuine one youâve had in a while. You miss the way his face almost mirrors yours, the edges of his lips threatening to pull up into a grin as you smile. âI like yellow.â You finally answer, your smile faltering as you think back.Â
âAny particular reason or do you just like the color of piss?â Â
âI had this perfume bottle, I got it for my birthday when I was twelve. The actual perfume smelled disgusting but the bottle itself was this glass-stained yellow, a soft yellow that I havenât seen anywhere else.â You explained, bringing one leg up to your chest, and wrapping your arms around it to steady yourself.Â
âWhat about you?â He shook his head, waving his pointed finger around, clearly not answering a question yet.Â
âNo, still on you. Where were you when this all started?â Gojo asked, and the jump from the previous question to this one took you off guard. If you were counting correctly he had two more facts above you than you did for him, but you indulged him, having nothing better to do with your time.Â
âAt home. I was watching TV with my dad when they broadcasted that signal,â You paused, the memories flooding back as you tried to blink them away. The car, your neighbors who were already infected, âYou?âÂ
For a second you thought he wasnât going to answer but he shifted, running a hand through his hair as he whistled quietly, thinking.
âI was in a lecture hall.âÂ
âFor your doctor lectures?âÂ
He chuckled, for the first time since youâve known him, shaking his head as he eventually nodded, knowing that you were probably never going to give up the information. You watched as he rested his chin on his palm, the new angle giving you a better view of him and you felt your cheeks heating up under his gaze.Â
âYeah,â He couldnât fight the smile anymore, his face turning softer as he smirked, âFor my doctor lectures.â
âGo sleep,â He said after a heavy beat of silence, his voice softer as he watched you wipe at your eyes, a big yawn escaping your mouth as you blinked tiredly, âItâs almost morning.âÂ
You shake your head, wondering why a part of you was disappointed that he was right. As you stood up, wiping the dust from your pants as you shuffled your way around some bricks, finding your way back to your sleeping bag (with more difficulty than youâd like to admit), and threw it over your body. You could feel his eyes burning on your back, but you shut your eyes and pretended that you were asleep.
A couple of weeks after that night and you wondered if you had somehow passed a test.
While he still didnât speak much to you, he wasnât cautious nor weary when he did.Â
Gojo still didnât laugh or smile much, but his little grin was less guarded when you spoke to him. Maybe it was to save you the pity of your awful jokes, but a part of you felt happier knowing he warmed up to you a bit.
âYou just havenât heard these puns yet,â You argued one day, pulling out the book you found when you scavenged through an abandoned store about a week ago. It had water damage and some of the words you could barely read, âOkay, okay, what about this one? 3.14% of sailors are Pi-rates. Huh?â You looked up at him, wiggling your eyebrows only to see him with a disgruntled look, staring down at you as he shook his head in disappointment.Â
âNone of these should have been published.â He argued, and although he sounded disgruntled, there was an edge of him holding back a laugh.Â
âOh, I like this one!â You exclaimed with a giggle, Vera looking back at the two of you as she smiled to herself, nudging at Geto so he could see too, âWhat do you use to cut a Roman Emperor's hair?â He didnât say anything for a second so you lightly kicked his shin, waiting for an answer.
âI don't know, scissors?â You grinned, shocked at how close he was.
âAlmost, the answer is Ceasers,â You revealed with a giggle, showing Gojo the book as he sighed, rubbing at his forehead in faux annoyance. You put the book in your back pocket, careful when you fold it, wanting to save the rest for later, âDonât worry, Iâm saving the best for last.â You patted the pocket as he laughed, excusing himself as Geto called for him to check something out on the map. Your foot almost slipped when you walked on some grass, wet from the rain last night, and his hands soft out to grip your elbows, steadying you as you thanked him. Your skin felt like it was on fire from where his lingering touch was, and you looked away, hoping he couldnât pick up on the embarrassment.Â
âY/n, can you come here for a âsec?â Anna called your name, ushering you over as you looked around to see her walking a little bit behind you. And you made your way over to her, readjusting your backpack as your shoulder sunk a bit from how heavy it was.Â
She offered you a small smile, though you could tell she was thinking a lot of things through. You noticed that when that line appeared down the middle of her brow, it meant that she was deep in thought. That, or she was mad. But with the way her fingers danced on her arms in discomfort and her eyes darted around the rest of the group, you wanted to bet that she was going through it.
âWhatâs up?â You finally asked, just hoping there weren't any more questions about how difficult it was traveling alone.
âIâve seen that you and Gojo have gotten closer, w-which is great! Donât get me wrong!â She sputtered, shooting you a quick grin that didnât quite meet her eyes, âBut I feel like I should let you knowâŚâÂ
When she didnât finish you raised a brow, wondering what could possibly be so bad.Â
âDo,â She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she shook her body, deciding to just get it over with, âDo you remember that one night? In that apartment lobby?âÂ
You almost laughed. How could you forget?
âYeahâŚvaguely,â That was a fat lie. It was all you could think about in these following weeks. Your conversation with both Vera and Gojo plagued different parts of your mind for different reasons.Â
âListen, I couldnât help but overhear âVer, I didnât mean to eavesdrop, butâŚâ She trailed off, gnawing on her lip as her eye twitched, âI heard her say Emi and I know she brushed it off but I feel like you deserve to know about it. Youâve been with us long enough so that I can trust you with this.â
Was it really that easy? You didnât say anything, hoping the slight excitement and anticipation on your face wouldnât scare her away as you gave her the time she needed until she continued. She took in a deep breath and started.
âIâd known Emi for a long time now - gosh, probably over a decade at this point. She was nice, but she had her own flaws, but she was my only friend so I ignored them. When this,â She motioned her arms around you, âWhole thing happened, she was the only one I had. We were planning on going to a quarantine zone in Tokyo but it fell almost immediately, so we just went wherever we could.
âWe met up with those guys a couple of months later. Maybe two, two and a half years ago?â She thought back, shaking her head because it wasnât important to fixate on, âAnd they took us in. They were all really nice, including âToru.
âAfter a while, he and Emi got closer, and for that while, it was just a fling that would pass the time. But they cared for each, it was pretty obvious. Or from what she told me, it sounded like they did. But,â She bit her cheek, playing nervously with her fingers as she looked up at you, âit was hard. They fought. A lot,â She gave a humorless laugh as she looked back on it, âDay in and day out. They fought over the smallest of things. I swear, I donât know how-â She stopped, apologizing as she got back on track, âAnyways, what Iâm trying to get at is that one of these fights got bad. I canât even remember what it was about. Food? Maybe clothes? Doesnât matter. It got big and they said some shit neither of them meant, but Emi left. She said she was leaving, but nobody believed her. She always said shit like that. But she did, she left and we didnât see her for a couple of days.
ââToru was really worried, never seen him so scared before. He went out looking for her and came back a week later. He told us she was bitten, late in the stages of infection. He said he had toâŚâ She trailed off, voice catching in her throat and you quickly looked for a tissue, as she gratefully accepted it.
âI see the way you try to make him laugh, I know, but Emi took that part of him. He wasnât the same after she left, and I donât think he ever will be. So just - donât get your hopes up when youâre around him, okay?â
âI, um, okayâŚ?â But you didnât even know what you were agreeing to. You just knew that Anna nodded, thankful that you heard, and the two of you made your way back to your group. Maybe it was the way your face had lost all the laughter it had just a couple minutes ago, or that Anna somehow managed to see what you were trying to do, but Gojo glanced at you, his brows furrowing together in slight worry.Â
You donât know why the information affected you so much. It could have been just from how shocking it was to hear it, or the fact that Anna could tell that you were trying to get him to smile more. It made sense, the more you thought about why he was the way he was, but you still felt a part of you crumbling at the thought. Even if you never met Emi, you couldnât definitely feel her presence after she was gone.Â
What? He mouthed, altering his steps so that he could weave around Geto to get closer to you. But you shook your head, reassuring him to stay where he was as you gave him a curt nod and a smile that didnât quite reach your eyes.Â
Itâd be over soon, you told yourself. After you get to the camp in Takayama, itâd be big enough to go your separate ways. Youâll forget the last five years, forget everything youâve gone through, and start something new.
If not, youâd rather just get bitten and get this hell over with.Â
âWhatâd she tell you?âÂ
Gojo cornered you when they were all asleep, the tall trees surrounding you casting shadows over his face. You didnât light a fire this time, Geto saying itâd be safer if you just used flashlights instead. You knew the infected had bad eyesight, relying on sound more than anything, but that didnât mean raiders couldnât see.Â
There was no point in lying, heâd sniff it out immediately if you did, so you shrugged, glancing to the side as you blindly moved around leaves, trying to be quiet to get away from the group in case any of them were awake.Â
âNothing important,â You muttered, glad it was dark for once so that he couldnât see your reaction and vice versa.Â
âBullshit,â His voice was low, your eyes slightly widening in surprise at his reaction, âWouldnât have been nothing if you looked like that afterwards.â
Though you could barely see anything, you could feel his presence. He took up a lot of space, and you could practically feel how his hands were only a little distance away from yours. His fingers were inches away from your wrist, and you knew that because when you moved you could feel the light indent, a slight burn as if heâd set your skin aflame.Â
âNothing important to you.â You specify, crossing your arms across your chest as you heard him scoff, his jaw ticking as he prodded at his cheek with his tongue. If only your past self could see you now, arguing with a man who you thought only ever had two emotions he used on and off.Â
He waited, hands on his hips as he tapped his foot impatiently on the ground, hanging his head down for a second until he looked back up.Â
âGreen.âÂ
You pause, brows creasing as you huff out a laugh.Â
âWhat?âÂ
âGreen,â He repeated, âThatâs my favorite color.â When it dawns on you what heâs doing you have to contain the giggle that slipped past your lips, covering your mouth when your hands as you continue to laugh.Â
âWhyâre you laughing?â He asks, his voice genuinely confused as you laugh more, holding onto a tree trunk to steady yourself, âW-what?â But you hear the soft inflection of a laugh in his voice now, almost as if he is trying to control it as you wave your hands, trying to make it stop but you just hit his hands in the process.
âSo you refuse to tell me and you hit me in the process?â Any seriousness has dropped from him completely and you laugh through your hands, trying to apologize but your cheeks hurt. It wasnât that funny, really you donât know why youâre reacting this way, but itâs that feeling when you start laughing, and it grows out of control for no reason.Â
âI-Iâm sorry!â You wheeze out, trying to find his hands to apologize but he brings them to your mouth. It was dark so you couldnât see, but his eyes darted around, suddenly realizing how loud you were being.Â
âSssh, be quiet.â He hissed out, and you giggled again, licking the palm of his hand as he gave a muted yelp, bringing it close to his chest as he wiped it on his pants. He looked back up at the outline of your shadow, glaring.Â
âYouâre a fucking child, yâknow that?â He groaned, but his words didnât quite match what his face was because his eyes softened at the sound of your laugh, carefree as you failed at trying to control it.Â
âAdmit it, Iâm funnny,â You drawled out, laughing as you hunched over a little bit, waving your finger around somewhere near his face, âYouâre laughinggg because Iâm funnny.â You stated, tugging on his fingers playfully, and he snorted, gently swatting your hand away as he sighed.Â
âYouâre insufferable is what you are.â Is what Gojo finally landed on.
âTell me something more personal and I might tell you.â You poked his chest, repeating his own words back to him as you leaned back on the tree. You had no intentions of revealing what Anna told you, but you wanted to see how far heâd go to know.Â
âYouâre impossible,â He muttered, running a hand through his hair, debating whether or not it was even worth it to tell you something when he knew damn well you werenât going to give any information up.
âIâm scared.â He heaved in a sigh and you cut him off with a chortle.Â
âEverybodyâs scared-âÂ
âOf ending up alone.â He finished, brow raising as your laugh quickly died down, some fort of satisfactory grin that didnât mirror the gloom in his eyes made its way onto his face as he asked, âWhat? Cat got your tongue?â
âNo,â You quickly say, rubbing at your jaw as you take a set back, easing on the trunk as you duck your head down in embarrassment, crunching some dead leaves under your boot, shame riding up your bones as you lamely shrug, âJust wasnât expecting that.â You mutter, looking up at him from the corner of your eye.Â
He chuckles, taking a step closer, his breath hitting your cheek.Â
âWhat? Expecting me to say spiders? The dark?â You can feel his slender fingers a hairs distance away from your arms, careful not to touch you, but still close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off of him.Â
âNo,â You shudder, both from the cold and from him, âThought you were âgonna say med school or something.â
He lets out a big groan, hands gingerly gripping your elbows as his head falls on your shoulder, fighting his smile as you laugh again, muffling it with his coat as you gently pat his back.Â
âWhere do fruits go for vacation?â Your hand stalled on his back, feeling his slumped form take in a deep, steadying breath.Â
âWhere?â
âPear-is.â You heard him mumble something on your shoulder, giggling as he shook his head in mock dismay. But this was different than all the last times, you could tell. His back shook a little, and he refused to look up.Â
You didn't comment on the tears that began to stain your shirt, or his quivering chest every time he breathed. So you wrapped your arms around his back, squeezing a little bit, feeling his arms snake around your waist as he tugged you just a little bit closer.Â
Even though it didnât feel like a lot of time had passed, it had almost been six months since you began traveling with them. The journey would have been far faster if any of the cars worked, but Takayama was only a few weeks away. According to Geto.Â
Gojo walked up next to you, shoving something in the pocket of your coat. You look at him from the side of your eye, digging it out to see a chocolate bar as he looks away, a little smirk on his face as you lightly elbow his side.Â
âCan literally hear your stomach begging for something,â He teased, his face stoic but his voice lighthearted as you laugh, grateful even if you didnât show it as you opened it up, noting that it was dark, telling him thanks with a mouthful of chocolate.Â
âWant some?â You offered, holding the bar out as he declined, shrugging, âSuit yourself.â You muttered, mouth full of the sweet as you finished the rest of it. He felt his eyes lingering on your lips stained with the chocolate as Gojo dryly swallowed, averting his gaze as he looked somewhere else, his cheeks colored light pink.Â
âI think weâre the chosen ones,â Geto stated, walking around freely as he pointed to all of you including himself. Your group made it out of the forest a couple of days ago, so heâs been living his life, trying to enjoy the run-down towns as much as he could before you went into the forests again until you reached Takayama.Â
âGod, youâre so fucking stupid Suguru,â Vera said, shoving past him as she rolled her eyes, taking a bite out of her protein bar as she shared a knowing look with you, the two of you laughing as Geto tried to explain himself.Â
âNo, no, hear me out. Aside from me, you and âToru, y/n, and Anna come from different places. But we all somehow found each other, and as a group, are going to the chosen place.â He concluded, wiggling his eyebrows as everybody else just groaned as he went on another one of his tangents.Â
âNo, really, think about it,â He tried to catch up to her pace, walking backward so that he could also look at all of you when he spoke, âWeâve all been picked through natural selection. These past five, six, years and we survived them. We-â
He stopped, and all of you stopped in your tracks when you heard the dreaded sound.Â
Clicking. Groaning.Â
âOh fuck,â Geto stopped, everybody, drawing out their weapons as you tried to figure out where it was coming from. Your heart was rattling inside your ribcage, your hands fumbling as you tried to find your gun. It had been so long since youâd encountered an infected that you were naively beginning to think that they had just disappeared.Â
âItâs okay,â Gojo muttered, glancing over to you as he held his hand on yours, trying to calm your shaking down a bit, âYouâre âgonna be okay.â He was so sure of it that you almost believed his words.Â
But long gone was the carefree attitude as the clicking got louder both in volume and in amount.Â
âShit,â Gojo looked over to Vera, âHow many dâyou think there is?â The clicking got louder, your fingers trembling over the trigger as you looked at the abandoned city hall, finally locating where it was coming from. He told you that she was the best shooter they had, and she was far more confident in taking clickers and runners down than anybody else was.
âToo many,â She called back, eyes darting from everywhere, looking for somewhere to escape from, âFuck, we âgotta split.â You guys were in an alleyway, stuck between taking the road and going through a hole in one of the walls. But from where you could tell, taking the road was only going to direct you toward the infected. The wall still gave them an opening to wherever you guys planned to run from, so in some way, you were cornered.Â
âWhat?â He called out, taking a step back, his brows furrowed in confusion, âNo way, we canât-â
âListen to me. Here, take my map,â She threw it over to him and he caught it, mouthing confusion but she shook her head, âSuguru and I can hold them off for right now, but you take Anna and y/n. If we canât find-â
âWeâre not going to fucking leave!â He shouted back, raising his voice to be heard over the number of infected, his cheeks tinged pink as you nodded, not trusting your words as you felt your stomach churn.Â
âIf we canât find you, meet us in Takayama! Donât look back, just keep running north!â She motioned down the street, âI can radio with Anna, donât worry!â She was trying to shove him but he wouldnât move.Â
âVera, Iâm not leaving you guys-â But he was cut off by an animalistic roar, everybodyâs attention shooting back to the noise, his words dying down in his throat as you saw a glimpse of the infected.Â
You would never get over the way they looked. You thought youâd be used to it by now, but it never fails to make your hands clammy and you're overall nauseous. They had large fungi popping out of their cranium, their clothes all battered and bloody. They ran so fast that you wondered if they were created just to outrun the human race, but now wasnât the time for it. All you could hear was their and Veraâs screams.Â
âSatoru,â She took his arm, holding it in a tight grasp as her eyes darted from him to them, seething from between her teeth, âTake them. Donât - donât regret it like you did last time. You couldnât⌠butâŚyou can save them. Go. Please.âÂ
He glared at her, eyes hiding a different meaning than what his face showed, nostrils flaring but he stopped. He pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead, muttering out a barely audible Iâm sorry, looking at Geto as he gave him a small nod, holding his position down as he waited to buy you guys some time.Â
He grabbed your wrist, urging Anna to follow him as Vera and Geto began to block you guys.
âW-wait, no, no, let go of me!â You tried to wrangle out of his iron grip but he was insistently dragging you away as you kicked, your eyes welling up, fear overtaking your body as they ran, coming closer and closer to the five of you as Gojo tried to lead you through the hole in the wall.
âGo with him, please, weâll be okay,â Vera urged as Geto began firing, memories, similar moments cursing through your mind as you got the worst sense of deja vu. You almost felt like collapsing had it not been for Gojoâs steady hand, leading you away.Â
You cried out for them one last time but he already pulled you through, Anna not too far behind as you held onto him for support, your mouth open as you looked back at him, slowly beginning to realize what happened.Â
A couple of hours later and you couldn't feel your legs, wordlessly putting Gojo in charge of finding a house to stay at to stay the night.Â
It was in some run-down town, but many of the homes are still standing. It was probably some of the best pieces of architecture youâve seen so far, meaning that most of the paint was still on and the furniture wasnât entirely moth-eaten.
The one Gojo picked was at the end of a cul de sac, seemingly standing unharmed. Vines grew uncontrollably from the sides, and the house was caked with dirt, but youâd take it. He scooped it out, making sure there werenât any infected hiding in any of the dark rooms, but he gave you two the okay signal and you camped out there for the night. Â
It was stocked with water and canned food, some chairs knocked down and carpets scrunched up as if the previous owners were trying to leave in a hurry. All the rooms seemed fine, and you just picked a random one as you threw your bag in, not caring as you made your way downstairs to where the rest of them were.Â
You found them in the living room, the shutters closed, hints of the afternoon sun peeking through. Gojo glanced over at you, his eyes running over your body, quickly scanning to make sure you werenât hurt.
You made your way to a chair, rubbing your hands over your face as if that could wake you up from this living nightmare.Â
âTheyâre okay. Theyâre gonna be okay.â Anna said, more to convince herself than the rest of you, nodding as she said it again, but with no confidence. It wasnât night yet, but Vera still hadnât radioed in, anticipation deep in your throats as your wall stared at the portable radio Anna placed on the coffee table.Â
Gojo sat there, his legs spread out, an elbow on each knee as he rubbed at his mouth, eyes distant, lost, as he stared at nothing.Â
You could only imagine how he feels. No matter the sorrow you felt, he felt it tenfold. Youâd only known them for a couple of months, a year at most, but heâd known them their entire lives. His shoulders sunk as if the guilt he was feeling was already pushing down on him.Â
Even though you didnât know much about Emi, the hurt he carried from her was visible and inevitable. You didnât know just how much something like this would change him if heâd ever forgive himself if something were to happen to them.Â
You cleared your throat, not able to bear it anymore as you shifted uncomfortably in your seat.Â
âDespite whatever happens, I just wanted to say thanks for getting us out. I donât think I could have walked, let alone fought, soâŚthanks.â You address Gojo, watching as Anna nodded in agreement, shooting him a smile that quickly died down when she saw his face.
He dropped his hands, his eyes shining with a different sort of gleam as you took a step back, your brows and eyes squinting at the odd look.Â
âVera and Geto might be dead. They might be dead because I was too fucking scared to stay and do anything to help. We donât know where the fuck we are⌠and youâre thanking me?âÂ
You stuttered, confused as you shared a glance with Anna as she slowly moved from her seat.Â
âI-I, well, Iâm not trying to undermine what they did,â Your head tilted, your voice gentle, knowing that he was surely dealing with every possible ounce of guilt and anger under the moon right now, wishing you just stayed quiet. But youâd already opened your mouth so you had to continue, âIâm just saying thanks because you helped us. Thatâs all-â
âHelp,â He repeated, giving an emotionless laugh as he stood up, shaking his head as his hair followed his every movement, âI ran away. I didnât help.âÂ
ââToru, sheâs right, just - just calm down, come on,â Anna interjected, her eyes darting from him to you, offering you an apologetic smile on his behalf.Â
âShe has no idea what sheâs talking about. Fuck,â His voice broke, looking away as he tried to wipe his tears, âItâs likeâŚ.â He didnât finish but you knew he was going to say Itâs like Emi, judging from the way Anna tried to comfort him.Â
âYouâre,â You said slowly, not wanting to anger him any more than he already was, âYouâre right. Most of the time I donât know what Iâm talking about, but I understand, and I know itâs not easy and-â
âYou know? You know? Fuck y/n, what do you know? What could possibly make you understand?â Youâve never seen him like this, never had the honor of having his words cut you, sawing at your skin until they made you bleed.Â
You scoffed, not knowing if he was being serious, but he stared at you waiting for an answer.Â
âLet me see,â You give a meaningless laugh, wiping at your eyes, trying your best to not cry in front of him, not wanting to show him that his words didnât affect you the way that they truly did, âI thought I was allowed to understand after my dad killed himself. Or maybe it was when my friend tried to kill me because I ate her fucking can of tuna,â You paused, choking on a sob, âO-or when my group left me in the middle of fucking nowhere, saying I was dead weight,â You sniffled, your voice wavering as you shook your head, pointing a finger at Gojoâs chest as you stared at his blank face.
âJust because youâve been through shit doesn't mean that I havenât. So - so donât tell me that I donât understand, because I do. Itâs just, I donât go treating people I know like shit just because of it.â A tear trickled down your cheek, hanging on your chin before it splattered on the ground.Â
Your chest heaved, hands trembling as you heard Anna mutter a muffled oh my god. You didnât want pity, you didnât want any of their sympathies. But after so many years of carrying it around silently just for him to say that you donât understand opened up the floodgates.Â
You went to say something else, opening your mouth before you shut it again, lips wobbling as you shook your head, ducking it as you made your way for the stairs. You tried to zone out Annaâs calls for you to come back as you found the room you assigned yourself and shut the door with a loud slam, rattling the house.
Anna came by, asking if you were hungry, but you just brushed her off, saying that youâd come down to eat later.Â
It was true, you couldnât stomach anything right now, but you didnât want to see anybody after that.Â
You paced around the room, doing anything to occupy your mind and get rid of the thoughts coursing through your head. You packed your bag, which wasnât even yours, you wanted to guess that in the rush of leaving you accidentally packed Getoâs because yours sure as hell didnât have a pack of cigarettes and condoms in it, (youâd put all your money on the fact that him and Vera were hooking up), unpacked, and re-packed it. You folded some clothes lying around, washed your face with the water from the bottles you found, and tried to freshen up. Your eyes were still a little puffy and red, but you knew it would go away quickly.Â
You looked through the closet and did anything you could think of. You didnât really have the heart to take anything, knowing that somebody cared for these things at one point, but you snooped around, having nothing better to do.Â
From what you could deduce, a teenager probably lived in the room. Band posters were plastered on the walls, the bed had some stuffed animals still left on it. You could remember the initial broadcast saying to take only what was necessary, so it made sense why the closet was mainly empty but the other aspect of the room seemed untouched.Â
You looked at some of the books they had, pulling them out of the shelves as you read the titles. Some you knew, some you didnât. The window adjacent to the bookshelf showed you an outside view of the neighborhood, the moon shining bright as you relied on that and your flashlight to move around.Â
As you went to put a book back you heard a knock at your door, startling you as you dropped the book on the ground. You grumbled in annoyance, glancing at it and then back to your book.Â
âIâm still not hungry,â You called out, bending down to grab it as you sighed, âBut thanks,â You put it back where it was, wiping at your face as you navigate around the bed, going to open the door to let her in, âHey, have you heard anything fromâŚâ You trailed off, not expecting to see a taller figure in Annaâs place.Â
You met his eyes, the same ones that managed to knock the air out of your lungs. His gaze softened upon the sight of your face, but you wouldnât let that dictate your feelings. No, you refused. So instead, you quickly gathered yourself, squinting your eyes as you went to shut the door, not quick enough as he was able to wedge his foot in between, whimpering a bit as you still tried to slam it shut with it in the way.Â
âOw, fuck, wait,â His hand gripped the side of the door, and you rolled your eyes, sniffing once as you let him open it himself, knowing that heâd just find another way inside if you blocked this one, âListen,â He invited himself in, a hint of pleading in his voice as he looked at you, âAnna got Veraâs message. They're,â He sighed, his shoulders sagging a bit, âTheyâre fine. Little shakinâ up, but theyâre gonna be okay. Said to meet up with them at the camp.âÂ
Your eyes and mouth slightly opened, your anger with him disappearing for a second as you smiled softly to yourself.Â
âThatâs great,â You breathed out, not knowing how to handle this, almost all the stress leaving your bones as you gave yourself a moment to relax, âGreat news.â You gave him a curt smile, glancing at the door, wondering if that was all he came here for.Â
His eyes traveled from your face, stalling on your puffy lids as he slightly grimaced. He looked around the room, noting all the dĂŠcor, posters, and memorabilia. You could tell he was struggling to find something to say, opening his mouth only to close it just as quickly.Â
âThanks for letting me know,â You start, your hands hovering over his chest as you try to push him out, âBut I wanna be by myself right now, soâŚâ You nodded to the door, waiting for him to get the hint and go.
âAre you leaving?â He asked suddenly, his brows furrowed, creasing down the middle as glanced at your face at your packed bag behind you. You saw his lips trembling, hands moving up to gently cup your elbows, almost as if he needed to, or else heâd crumble over.Â
âWhat?â You look back confused as to what he was talking about, shaking your head, âI was jus-âÂ
âFuck, fuck, fuck, Iâm sorry, so so sorry sweetheart, I swear, I d-didnât know you went t-through all that shit,â His voice cracked, his legs moving faster than his body as you backed up against the bed, alarmed at his sudden change in mood, âEven if I did, I-I should never have said that to you. Iâm so fucking sorry, please, I didnât mean anything I said. I was talkinâ out of my ass and being the biggest fuckinâ dick ever.â Gojoâs voice trembled as if he was on the verge of tears as you almost tripped, glad the bed was behind you as you fell onto it, the springs squeaking at the sudden movement.Â
You watched as a giant of a man sank to his knees, grabbing your hands and holding them to his chest as his eyes watered, his lip wobbling as he almost pleaded for you to look at him and to hear what he was trying to say.Â
âLook, Iâm really, really sorry,â He crouched down, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand, âPlease don't leave. Iâll shut up for the rest of the way there and youâll never-âÂ
âIâm not leaving,â You say with a small laugh, confusion laced in your voice, âI was bored so I packed. âS not even my bag, think I got Getoâs or Veraâs on accident.â You shrugged as you watched his face change. Morphing as he shut his mouth, his hands still trembling as realization washed over him, slowly only leaving embarrassment.Â
âReally?â He asked, still not letting go of your hands you nodded slowly, heart beating rapidly in your rib cage as you waited for him to say something else.Â
âOh...â He the relief on his face is replaced with something different, âOkay,â He took in a deep breath, slowly letting go of your hands as he looked at the floor, some of his hair falling in his face as he finally looked back up, giving you a small apologetic smile, âSorry, I didnâtâŚâ He couldnât finish, moving quickly to stand up, mumbling something to himself as he went for the door, stopping seconds before he opened it.Â
ââToru?âÂ
His fingers danced over the doorknob, not turning back despite his every nerve telling him to look back at you. But deep down, he knew that if he did, it would all come crumbling down. That the wall he built so highly for himself would crack, and heâd have to face the realization that he cared for you. Cared so deeply for you that seeing your face, your eyes puffy from crying because of his words would be worse than if a scolding knife was to pierce his heart. Because no matter how hard he tried to convince his feeble mind that you didnât matter to him, you did, and he could no longer hide behind a mask and pretend that you didnât.Â
âNow that I think about it I think you would have made a shit doctor.â You say, crossing your arms across your chest as you watch him turn around, his lips red, looking like heâd been repeatedly chewing on it.Â
His hand fell from the doorknob, taking three quick steps to get back to where you were, his hands quickly going up to hold your face, eyes scanning yours as if waiting for you to say anything. But you couldnât, not with the way he was staring at you. He always did a spectacular job of whisking your words away from a single glance.Â
âYou drive me crazy,â He muttered, his nose almost touching yours as your hands traveled slowly up his back, feeling your heart beating in your throat, âWhenever I see your face,â His thumb runs over the corner of your mouth, eyes falling on your lips, âI donât what to do. And then you open your mouth and I donât know if I want to laugh, cry o-or kiss you. And,â He sighed, a hand going behind your head so that you could look up at him, âI donât know what Iâd do without you. Without your gorgeous face, your pretty eyes, your laugh, your kind, kind heart. Iâll spend a fucking lifetime making up for all the shit Iâve done if it means youâd forgive me.â He was a breath away from your lips, if either one of you were to make a single movement itâd be over.
âRelax,â You say with a little laugh, your lashes fluttering on your cheek as you take a step back closer to the bed, âIâm not gonna make you grovel or anything. But if youâre offering something as forgivenessâŚâ You trail off, not knowing how to word words as you push his head closer to yours. Your fingers play with his hair, tangling them back and forth to make little curls, your head moving on its own as you try not to give a stupid giddy smile.Â
He leans in, finally closing that pesky gap between the two of you as you let out a little gasp until you melt against his chest, slowly working your lips against his.Â
Itâs hot, you donât know how else to describe it. Weeks, months even, of pent-up tension are adding up here at this moment.Â
Heâs so gentle when he cradles your face, afraid youâd crumble away if he held you with any more pressure. But his kiss is anything but, aggressive and fast, not wanting to slow down as he tried to commit the feel of you to memory.Â
He nips at your lips, now plumper and shiny with spit, pulling away slightly as he cradles his face to yours. His hands tug you into his body, cradling your jaw as he smiles, his eyes lidded as he looks down at you.Â
Your hands are on his chest, slightly tugging at it as his smile grows, his cheeks all blushed out as you giggle, somewhat intoxicated by the feel of him. Youâd imagine what heâd be like, sure, but the way he kissed or looked at you was nothing your imagination could have ever conjured up.
âSwear to god, if I ever say stupid shit you slap me, okay? Knock some sense into me,â He muttered, holding your cheeks, looking at you as if you had strung up the moon and the stars, and you probably did if you told him so.Â
ââM not gonna hit you, maybe just tell you some stupid puns till you realize what youâve done.â You tease, watching as his head disappeared, your laugh turning into a muted moan as he licks a stripe across the expanse of your throat, gently biting down on your pulse point as he soothed it with a sloppy kiss.Â
ââToru,â You can get out, collapsing on the bed as he gingerly pushes you onto it, feeling lightheaded as you watch him kiss down your arms, your hands, any area of naked skin he could find. It was exhilarating the way his lips felt on your skin.Â
âYou âwanna take that shirt off fâme?â He muttered, hands traveling up your stomach, nimble fingers dancing under the cup of your bra, âOr dâyou want me to stop?â Heâs slow and patient as you quickly shake your head, already getting to work at shedding off anything stopping him as he chuckles slowly, the sound just causing you to grow even wetter. You expertly unhook your bra from your chest, watching as it falls down into your lap, suddenly aware that your top half is fully bare to him.Â
But he doesnât say anything, his body almost malfunctioning at the sight of your bare tits. You almost go to cover them, conscious of his heavy stare, but he gently grabs your wrists, pushing them aside as he moves closer to you, his breath hitting your collarbone as he stifled a groan.Â
âFuck,â He says, not even fully paying attention as he quite literally goggles at your breast, his fingers tugging at your nipples, thumbing at them until theyâre slightly swollen, letting his hands run over them as he feels his cock straining in his pants, âS-shit, youâre so fuckinâ perfect.â He whispers, glancing up at you only to see your head thrown back, finger grasping his as you try to make him work faster, pushing them down to the buttons of your jeans as he chuckles, patting your waist once as if to tell you he understands.Â
He gets to work, quickly getting them off of you, your underwear with it, eyes darkening as he notes your slick between your two puffy lips, gripping onto your thigh with every possible amount of self-restraint he has.Â
âIf you donât hurry up Iâll just tell you a bad pun n-now to get it over with. Fuck just - just touch me already!â You threaten, glaring at him as he snorts, fingers traveling up to cup your cunt as you suddenly gasp, your teasing tone dropping at the euphoric sensation.
âWhere?â His thumb slowly rubs at your clit, using some of your slick as he goes at his own pace, enjoying how you paw at his biceps, gripping onto them with every ounce of strength you could muster, âHere?â He asks, using two fingers to pry your pussy lips apart, nearly coming in his pants as he did so.
âThis what you want, sweetheart?â He asks, his pointer finger traveling up your slit, gathering all of your wetness as he groans, slowly pushing it in, testing your limits as you let out a wanton moan at the feeling.Â
âYes, yes!â You cry out, your hands gripping the sheets. He doesnât need to be told twice to know that youâd probably wring him out to dry if he doesnât pick up his pace.Â
But he wants to be slow, not wanting to hurt you as he pushes it in, inch by inch, until he curls it, your eyes rolling back, holding onto his wrist for dear life as you wait to adjust to it.Â
âF-feels so good, hmm!â You squeal, your lips barely opening as he pushes the second one in, your words cut off by another moan, whining for him to go faster. Youâve been deprived for so long that you canât even feel embarrassed at the needy way you yearn for him and his skilled fingers and touch.Â
Youâve only ever been with one guy before, and he knew nothing about the female antonymy so you donât really have much to compare him to, but Gojo knew what he was doing. He listened to your every sound, noting which places made your toes curl and eyes cross, becoming more and more familiar with your body. His white hair fell into his face as he paid attention to you, glancing up at your face every now and then to smile, wanting to make sure that you were okay.Â
âYeah? Youâre squeezinâ me so much, fuck,â He starts pumping them in and out, the motion enough to make you go crazy, whining out pathetically as he picks up the pace a little bit, his thumb going to find you, âThis pussyâs fuckinâ perfect, fuck, and sheâs mine, yâhear?â He asks, only pumping into you faster, his thumb on your clit mirroring his ministrations as you cover your mouth with your hand, not wanting to be so loud that your cries could travel through the walls.Â
âF-fuck, just yours! Promise!â You say, agreeing to anything he said, babbling nonsense as you feel your stomach clench, your back arching as he takes in the beautiful sight of you sprawled out like this, wanting to take a mental image to commit it to heart.
âHmm, âToru, Iâm gonna, fuck, gonnaâŚ!â You canât even finish your sentence, mewling at the way his relentless motions never stopped.Â
Itâs only a couple of seconds before you cry out, his other hand clamping to your mouth to muffle your moans, seeing white as you fall back onto the mattress, your chest heaving with every breath you take as your orgasm runs through your body. It was the most intense thing youâve ever felt, your walls clamping down on his fingers as you creamed around them, your legs shaking as you moaned out his name.Â
He stops, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face as he watches you struggle to catch your breath.Â
âSo fuckinâ stunning,â He says under his breath, bringing his fingers shining with your essence up to his lips as he sucks them clean, his eyes fluttering shut at your tangy taste, âTaste amazing too, sweetheart.â He takes his fingers out of his mouth, crawling up to your body, tapping on your lips so that theyâd open. He pressed his fingers on your tongue, watching as you sucked on them, your eyes never leaving his. He moans, taking them out before he almost embarrasses himself by coming on the spot.Â
But he stops when he feels his pants tighten around his crouch, wincing because he clearly didnât think this through enough. His dicks feels like a heavyweight in his pants, and he can feel the strain.Â
âWhat?â You sit up, worry lacing your features as you balance on your elbows, âWhatâs wrong?â You're now freaking out inside, thinking that heâs starting to regret this, or that he was drunk off the euphoria and now the realization is settling in.
âI donât have a condom, and the only ones were in-â
âGetoâs bag?â You say with a chortle, pointing your chin at where the said bag was sitting, âYeah, I know.âÂ
Gojo chuckles, patting your cheek as he presses a kiss to your lips, almost not wanting to break away as he tastes everything on them. The chapstick you put on that morning, the chocolate he gave you. Fuck, he can even taste your cum on them, and you have to give his chest a little nudge so that he doesnât forget what he was going to do.Â
Heâs agile as he goes through the pockets, almost doing good at shedding off his clothes, grinning in triumph when he finally locates the pack. It gives you some time to really take in his features, gnawing on the inside of your cheek as your eyes rake over his torso, his defined chest that shines with sweat. You try your hardest not to linger longer on his dick, your mouth going dry at the sheer length of it. Despite him prepping you just a few minutes ago you still wondered how youâd be able to take him.Â
âIf you stare any harder youâre gonna make me blush.â He says, smirking as you discover youâve been caught in the act. But the way he laughs boyishly at you quickly looking away makes up for it.Â
âIf you werenât so pretty I wouldnât be staring.â You counter, tracking him as he makes his way back to the bed, ripping the condom wrapper with his teeth as you swallow, moving so that your head rests on the board behind you as he grinned.Â
âMe?â He cocks a brow, taking a couple of seconds to put the condom on his dick, his mushroom tip leaking with pre as she sucks in a breath at the feeling, hoping he wouldnât nut too fast and embarrass himself when he was finally in you, âIâm gonna need you to take a hard, long look in the mirror then sweetheart.âÂ
You giggle, your eyes wrinkling around the edges as your cheeks glow. He moves above you, his own face plastered with a goofy smile at the sound of your laughter. Heâd bottle it up if he could, save it for the days when he really needed to hear it.Â
âNo! I really mean it, youâre like, so fuckinâ hot, liked unbelievably hot.â You smile as he pecks your lips, grinning against his as he shakes his head in adorable defiance.Â
âAnd I really mean it too,â He counters, his nose pressed against yours as you canât help but bring him in for another kiss, your tongues meeting each other as he laps up your taste, kissing you so harshly that it knocked the wind right out of your lungs.Â
When he pulls away a line of spit is connecting your lips to each other. Yours are swollen, almost bruised, but you welcome the slight sting, knowing what it was all for. After all, his are swollen and pink, so you slowly became drunk at the sight of it.Â
His eyes travel to your tits and down to your stomach, gripping your waist as he kisses your collarbone, his hand gingerly rubbing up and down your skin, causing goosebumps to lie in their wake.Â
He lined himself up with your entrance, your breath hitching in your throat as you felt his tip prod at your walls, and he groaned at the feeling, only imagining what itâd be like when he finally pushes through.Â
âJ-just fuck me already,â You whisper, your words circling through the two of you, âPlease.â You add, and he shakes his head, knowing youâd never have to ask him when your honeyed words drove him to a near point of insanity.Â
âDonât have to beg sweetheart,â He says, pushing himself fully in, the two of you moaning out loud at the feeling.
You clamp down tightly on his dick, and despite him going in as slowly as you could he could feel you clenching around him. Your walls stretched to accommodate his size, and the slight pinch mixed with the godly feeling of having him fill you up almost caused you to pass out.
âShit,â He can barely get it to pass his lips, finally bottoming out in your as your legs circle around his back, pulling him closer to your sweaty body as he places a hand near your head for leverage, âYouâre so fuckinâ tight, squeezing me like that.âÂ
âMmm, sâcause youâre so b-big,â You whine out, your nails raking down his back, leaving angry red lines. He stills, clenching his teeth as he tries to calm down, slowly pulling out before he slammed back into you.Â
âFuck!â You moan, holding onto his waist as he pistons into you, his dick shining with a mix of your own cum and wetness, glimmering in the limited light the moon offered.Â
His hips slanted against yours, balls hitting your ass as he moved fast, like something in him just snapped, and he couldnât hold back anymore. His dick could reach that part in you that just made you see stars, hitting it repeatedly until you swore your back could take it.Â
âOh, god, you feel so fuckinâ good, fuckkk,â He drawls out, his head falling into the crook of your neck, panting as his hands curled in the sheets, âYouâre gonna be the fuckin death of me sweetheart,â He moaned against you, pressing sloppy kisses wherever he could. He trailed down your collarbone, all the way until he suckled on your breasts, pulling away so that he could give each equal attention. They glimmered with his spit, your areolas swollen from his constant motions.Â
âUmph, âToru, sâtoo much, o-oh!â You cried, the new angle he was at reaching even further and you questioned just how empty it was before him. He dragged through your walls, his thumb down at your clit, rubbing little circles as your eyes shut, too heavy with lust and you couldnât even look down anymore, gripping onto his arms to stay afloat.Â
âJust like that, perfect,â He talked you through it, one hand on your tit, the other busy with your clit, looking down to see his dick disappearing inside of you, going feral when he watched you becoming undone because of him, âFuck, youâre such a good girl for m-me, yâknow that right?â And you dumbly nodded, not able to speak, unintelligible words tumbling out of your mouth instead.
You didnât expect your release to build up so quickly just after you had your last one, but Gojo was too good, an expert in knowing what places would scratch you in just the right way. You felt the coil in your stomach tighten, your legs wrapping around him as you pulled him in even closer, tilting your head up so you could bring him in for another wet kiss.Â
âMâgonna, fuck âToru, mâgonnaâŚâ But you couldnât finish, moaning against his lips as you came on his dick, his thumb not slowing down on your little nub as your legs shake from the feeling, eyes crossing as he smiles at the way you clamp down on him.Â
âThere you go, fuck, youâre so tight, fuck, I donât think Iâm gonna,â He tries to slow down but he can't, âShit, shit, shit,â He stops, shooting his load into the condom as his hips stop, his chest heaving manically as he almost collapses onto your chest, your tits pressing against him as he takes a second to catch his breath.
The two of you canât say anything, your hands wrapped tightly around his neck as you try to loosen up your body, your hair damp, the room stinking of sex and sweat as you try to come back to your senses.Â
It doesnât even feel real, but you watch through hooded eyes as he rises, pulling out of you as his dick hangs limp. He tugs the condom off, hissing at the feeling as he ties it, chucking it at a trash can he found near the desk as he looks back at you, giving you that same debonair smile that still managed to make your heart race despite everything.Â
You throw a hand over your face, trying to hide it as he chuckles, giving your hips a firm squeeze as he kisses the side of your ear.
âIâll be back, gonna get you some water ân clothes.â He says, tugging on his pants as he throws on his shirt laying across the floor, not bothering with any boxers as he winks at you, chuckling at the way you groan in embarrassment, tugging the covers over your naked body as if he hadnât just seen you in your birthday suit.Â
âAnd bring me some chocolate!â You call out, peeking your head out as he nods, shutting the door behind him as you look around, still trying to fathom what just happened.Â
He reappears minutes later, one of his tees in hand, and a bottle with a bar in the other. He makes do with cleaning you up with a towel he found, wetting it with some water as he gently rubs it over your sensitive skin, apologizing when you wince, kissing the spots that are still tender.Â
You're almost tapped out, too tired to see the lovesick look in his eyes when he pulls the shirt over your chest, laying you back down on the pillows as he rubs at your forehead, thanking his lucky stars for being able to see you look like this; so carefree and happy.Â
Thereâs a lazy smile on your lips as you tug on his hand, not doing much work as you pull him closer to you. Although the bed wasnât made to accommodate more than one person, heâd be damned if he let this opportunity slip through his fingers.Â
âDid you watch Star Wars?â You ask sleepily, holding his hands as you play with his fingers, hearing him snort at the fact that you were still keeping this up. But you still wanted to make him pay, even if he just gave you two of the most earth-shattering orgasms youâve ever received.Â
âUsed to, why?â He turns you over so you could face him, bringing up one of his fingers so that he could carefully trace out your features.Â
ââCause Yoda only one fâme.â You barely get out, giving a little giggle as he pretends to hate it, still kissing your cheek as you slink against his chest, the rhythmic beat of his heart lulling you to sleep.Â
He follows you shortly after, his soft snores filling the room as you two sleep soundly. But in the dark, before he lets the sleep take a hold of him, he promises himself that heâd never let you go. Heâd take you to Takayama, or wherever the fuck was necessary to keep you safe. He wouldnât let you cry again, wouldnât want to see the tears that stained your cheeks because he swore heâd never been in such pain seeing you like that. You were his other half, and no amount of cheesy puns, terrible jokes, or loving questions was going to change that fact. Because he knew that once he held the world in his arms he wouldnât trade any fucking thing to let it go.Â
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Automatic Rigid Box Making Machine PC-5040B
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Protect Your Art: 2022 Guide to Packing Supplies
Introduction: The Importance of Proper Packing
Art preservation begins with secure packing. Whether you're an artist, collector, or gallery owner, understanding the right supplies is crucial for protecting your artwork during transportation or storage.
Essential Packing Materials for Art
1. Bubble Wrap: A Protective Layer
Bubble wrap provides a cushioned barrier against impact. Its air-filled bubbles offer excellent protection for framed and unframed pieces.
2. Archival Tissue Paper: For Delicate Surfaces
Use archival tissue to prevent scratches on delicate surfaces. This acid-free material is essential for preserving the integrity of your artwork.
3. Sturdy Cardboard Boxes: External Protection
Invest in high-quality cardboard boxes. Ensure they are slightly larger than your artwork, allowing space for additional protective layers.
4. Foam Boards: Additional Support
Foam boards offer rigid support for artworks. They prevent bending or folding, especially for large canvas pieces.
Advanced Packing Supplies for Extra Security
5. Corner Protectors: Guarding Edges
Corner protectors are vital for framed works. They shield corners from dents and damage during transit.
6. Custom Crates: Ultimate Safety
For high-value or fragile pieces, consider custom wooden crates. These provide the highest level of security and protection.
Best Practices for Packing Art
7. Layering Techniques: Maximizing Protection
Implement layering techniques for optimal safety. Start with archival tissue, followed by bubble wrap, and encase in a sturdy box or crate.
8. Sealing Methods: Ensuring Integrity
Proper sealing of your package is as important as the packing materials. Use high-quality packing tape and seal all edges securely.
Conclusion: Art Safety is Paramount
Preserving art's condition requires attention to detail in packing. By using the right supplies and techniques, you can ensure your artwork remains safe and intact for years to come. "https://www.alliancepacking.com/protect-your-art-2022-guide-to-packing-supplies
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Chapter 9 (Duvanith)
âWhy the Hells would you say yes, Mwaxa,â Duvanith asks, seated atop the heavy wooden Governesses desk inside the dressing room, much like she once did when Karoleena had been fitted for dresses in their childhoods.Â
âDecorum, Negotiation, I donât know, Duvanith. As far as ground I gave up, it didnât seem like that much.â Mwaxanare said from her rigid fixed position, around her, a humanoid form made of brass and steel extended measuring tapes along her limbs and inspected its assessed distances with an array of telescopic optical devices.Â
It was a Bobbinwright; she had dealt with earlier versions in the past; she and Karoleena would always laugh at their inhuman mannerisms and unsteadiness on the castle floor. Now, watching it was slightly different after her time in Choilit and her return to the Castle. She had seen what powerful magic wielders could create, like the Magus behind the wasting curse, the strange Arbiter at the balloonliner dock, and the wickedness of Crone Magic. She had to ask herself, without the capacity to understand, was this automatic seamstress just that, or were their fragments of blood or soul fueling its calculations?Â
Warmachines didnât operate without pilots, right? Then how could a Bobbinwright?Â
âMwaxanare, look at this.â Duvanith motions at the machine, sparing much of her internal commentary about its nature.Â
She watches Mwaxanare look up and down at the articulating arms of the device. Duvanith continues,Â
âWhen I told you about Matchmakers in the jungle, they arenât just people-âÂ
âItâs a system. It usually is.â Mwaxanare correctly adds. Duvanith scrunches her face and watches the bobbinwright move to Mwaxanareâs other side.Â
âIt is, though I think institution might be a better word.â
âWhat are you trying to say, Duvanith?â
âBy saying Yes, youâve signed up to be treated like every Imperial Noble kid.âÂ
Duvanith watched Mwaxanareâs face as the Bobbinwright retreated from her, playing the all too familiar âYou may relaxâ sound from its record box, which Duvanith had heard hundreds of times. Mwaxanareâs face didnât shift much; there wasnât a hint of any concern or frustration that she may have fallen for the Kingâs ruse to make her look weak or somehow infantilize her.Â
Mwaxanare then addressed the issue,
âMaybe I have. I maybe didnât know the Imperial Nobility was so keen on the notion of Industry that theyâd extend it to their childrenâs marriages. Still, itâs also impossible to sew division from the outside.âÂ
Duvanith partially understood what she was saying and could tell there was already a plan piecing itself together behind Mwaxanareâs beautiful brown eyes.Â
âIt sounds like you have a plan.â Duvanith hops off the desk and down to her feet, grabs Mwaxanareâs folded gold dress, and steps towards Mwaxanare. She gave Duvanithâs notion of a plan nothing more than a smirk while brushing herself off where the bobbinwright had done its work. Duvanith instinctually leaned to the left and the right, checking each side of the dressing gown for stains as she had always done for Karoleena; poorly maintained wrights sometimes would deposit voidstone dust or oil on garments. Â
âYouâre good,â Duvanith announces, extending the gold dress.Â
âGood?â
âThey sometimes leak,â Duvanith says, motioning her head toward the bobbinwright, making loud calculation noises in the corner of the room.Â
âOh. Right.â Mwaxanare says, scooping the dress from Duvanithâs arms and placing it immediately back down on the desk, reaching down and pulling the dressing gown over her head. Duvanith turned her head, occupying her sight line with the visuals of the number-crunching bobbinwright.Â
Of course, she didnât need the dressing gown; Mwaxanareâs dresses didnât have structure the way Imperial Gowns did. They never had. She had ceded herself to repetition, an instinct, just like she did every time she took a measured shot from her bow; the repetition and instinct derived from just wanting a slight brush of the hand or arm as the dress gets handed off.Â
âMwaxanare?â She breaks her gaze from the bobbinwright and turns her head to look at her, knowing those few moments would have been all that was required for her to put her dress back on, given it lacked all of the Imperial underpinnings she had just been measured for.
âYes, Duvanith?â
âYou know thereâs rules at Court, right? If youâre planning on causing some sort of scene, you should probably know them.â Duvanith could feel the tips of her ears burning with a combination of embarrassment over handing Mwaxanare her dress, and that her suggestion about âbreaking the rulesâ in this context certainly would have sounded like an innuendo to her in this context in the past; she had indeed wanted to hear such a thing in one of the dressing rooms in the past.Â
âIâd assume not wearing the correct garments is one of them, given all of this.â She said, motioning around to the dressing room. Duvanith could feel a bit of the flush leave her face.Â
Ding.Â
The bobbinwright in the corner sounds that its calculations are complete and begins regurgitating its findings onto a piece of parchment, then came the inevitable knock on the door and the prim voice of a Castle Governess slicing through what ever was left of both the moment and Duvaniths embarrassment.Â
âFinished?â
âYeah,â Duvanith shouts at the door. It cracks open, and the Governess assigned to measure them slips into the room and moves towards the bobbinwright.Â
âDid everything go well Lady Mwaxanare?âÂ
âYouâll have to tell me,â Mwaxanare responds.Â
The Governess raises a pair of chained spectacles up to her face and closely inspects the printout before proclaiming.Â
âError-free. Thank you so much for being so still for your first time with a wright Lady Mwaxanare.âÂ
âItâs not a problem.âÂ
âIâll bring these measurements to the dressmakers at once, and weâll have you dressed in no time.â She moves towards the door.Â
âWoah. Arenât you going to reset it? I need to be measured.âÂ
The Governess slides the glasses off her face and back around her neck.Â
âNo, dear, Iâve been informed that youâll be seated with those under Imperial Writ; youâre welcome to wear whatever uniform you please.â Duvanith shakes her head in disbelief and disapproval.Â
âIâm a Lady of the Court; Iâve always sat with the Ladies of the Court. Whoâs going to be Mwaxanareâs Attendant?â Duvanith rebuttals.Â
âYou are no longer a Lady of the Court, and sheâs a guest of the King; he hasnât extended an invitation for an attendant. Consider yourself fortunate you get to attend at all. Now, I must get this to the dressmakers.â The Governess scurries out of the room, Mwaxanareâs measurements in hand. Â
Duvanith ran her tongue over her teeth in frustration, watching the Governess depart, but eventually felt Mwaxanareâs hand squeeze her arm and say quietly.Â
âTuwa, itâs okay, Iâm going to be fine.âÂ
She took a deep breath and let the frustration fade away.
#dieselpunk#fiction#short story#ttrpg community#original character#worldbuilding#dungeons and dragons#fiction writing#fantasy#ttrpg stuff
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How to Use Electrical Conduit Fittings?
Introduction
Electrical conduit fittings play a crucial role in ensuring the safety and functionality of electrical installations. Whether you are a seasoned electrician or a DIY enthusiast, understanding how to use electrical conduit fittings is essential. In this comprehensive guide, we will walk you through the basics of electrical conduit fittings, their types, installation process, and best practices. So let's dive in and explore the world of electrical conduit fittings!
I. What are Electrical Conduit Fittings?
Electrical conduit fittings are essential components used in electrical systems to protect and route electrical wiring. They serve as a protective housing for wires, cables, and other electrical components, safeguarding them from damage, moisture, and external factors that may pose a risk. Additionally, electrical conduit fittings provide a neat and organized appearance to electrical installations, making maintenance and repairs easier.
II. Types of Electrical Conduit Fittings
1. Conduit Pipes:Â
Conduit pipes are the primary component of electrical conduit systems. They are available in various materials such as metal (rigid steel or aluminum) and non-metal (PVC or fiberglass). Conduit pipes come in different diameters to accommodate different wire sizes and are available in standard lengths or can be cut to custom lengths as needed.
2. Connectors:Â
Connectors are used to join two conduit pipes together, creating a secure and reliable connection. Common types of connectors include threaded connectors, compression connectors, and set-screw connectors. Each type has its unique features and advantages, so choosing the right connector depends on the specific application and conduit type.
3. Couplings:Â
Couplings are similar to connectors but are primarily used to extend conduit pipes. They provide a seamless connection between two conduit sections, allowing for a continuous conduit run. Like connectors, couplings come in various types, such as threaded couplings, compression couplings, and clamp-style couplings.
4. Elbows:Â
Elbows are used to change the direction of a conduit system, particularly around corners or obstacles. They are available in different angles, commonly 90 degrees and 45 degrees, to facilitate smooth and efficient wire routing. Elbows can be rigid or flexible, depending on the conduit material.
5. Conduit Bodies:Â
Conduit bodies, also known as junction boxes, are used to provide access points for wire pulling, maintenance, and future expansion. They come with removable covers, allowing easy access to the wires inside. Conduit bodies are available in various shapes, such as T-shaped, L-shaped, and straight, to suit different installation requirements.
III. Installation Process
Proper installation of electrical conduit fittings is crucial to ensure safety and compliance with electrical codes. Here's a step-by-step guide on how to install electrical conduit fittings:
1. Plan the Conduit Route:Â
Determine the path of the conduit, considering factors such as building structure, wire lengths, and proximity to electrical devices. Measure and mark the conduit's route to ensure accuracy during installation.
2. Cut and Thread Conduit Pipes:Â
Measure the required length of conduit pipes and use a pipe cutter to cut them accordingly. If using threaded conduit pipes, thread the ends using a pipe threading machine or a handheld pipe threader.
3. Attach Connectors and Couplings:Â
Attach the appropriate connectors and couplings to the conduit pipes, ensuring a secure fit. Follow the manufacturer's instructions for tightening the fittings correctly.
4. Install Elbows and Conduit Bodies:Â
If the conduit route requires bends or changes in direction, install elbows and conduit bodies as needed. Ensure that the elbows are oriented correctly to align with the desired conduit path.
5. Pull Wires:Â
Using fish tape or a wire pulling tool, carefully guide the electrical wires through the conduit system. Ensure the wires are not twisted or strained during the pulling process.
6. Secure and Fasten Conduit:Â
Secure the conduit pipes to the building structure using conduit straps or clamps. Ensure proper spacing and support to prevent sagging or excessive strain on the fittings.
7. Install Conduit Bodies and Junction Boxes:Â
Place conduit bodies and junction boxes at designated access points, making sure they are easily accessible for maintenance or future wire additions. Secure them tightly and install appropriate covers.
IV. Best Practices for Using Electrical Conduit Fittings
1. Choose the Right Fittings:Â
Select fittings that are compatible with your conduit type, size, and installation requirements. Using mismatched or incorrect fittings can compromise the integrity of the conduit system.
2. Follow Electrical Codes:Â
Adhere to local electrical codes and regulations when installing electrical conduit fittings. Compliance with these codes ensures the safety of the installation and avoids potential hazards.
3. Maintain Proper Bend Radius:Â
Avoid sharp bends or excessive pulling tension on wires within the conduit. Maintain the recommended bend radius for the specific wire type to prevent damage and maintain optimal performance.
4. Use Conduit Accessories and Fittings:Â
Along with electrical conduit fittings, utilize conduit accessories and fittings such as bushings, locknuts, grounding bushings, and connectors to enhance the functionality and protection of the conduit system.
5.Regular Inspections and Maintenance:Â
Periodically inspect the conduit fittings for signs of wear, damage, or loose connections. Perform routine maintenance to ensure the longevity and efficiency of the electrical conduit system.
Conclusion
Understanding how to use electrical conduit fittings is crucial for anyone involved in electrical installations. By following proper installation techniques and best practices, you can ensure the safety, organization, and functionality of your electrical conduit system. Remember to choose the right fittings, follow electrical codes, and perform regular maintenance to keep your electrical installations in top condition. With the knowledge gained from this comprehensive guide, you are now equipped to confidently utilize electrical conduit fittings in your electrical projects.
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Maximizing Efficiency and Protection: The Benefits of Using Angle Boards for Shipping and Storage
Angle Board , also known as edge protectors, are a simple but effective solution for protecting your goods during transportation and storage. These lightweight, durable boards are made from a variety of materials, including plastic, cardboard, and metal, and can be custom-sized to fit your specific needs.
The primary purpose of Angle Board  is to provide a barrier between your products and the outside world, preventing damage from shifting, vibration, and impact. They are ideal for use with pallets, boxes, and other shipping containers, and can be easily attached with strapping, tape, or glue.
One of the main benefits of Angle Board  is their ability to prevent damage to your products during transportation. When goods are being shipped, they are often subjected to jostling and impact that can cause them to shift or become damaged. Angle boards provide an extra layer of protection that can help to prevent these types of incidents.
Another benefit of Angle Board  is that they can help to keep your shipments organized. By creating a physical barrier between your products, angle boards reduce the risk of damage and loss. This makes it easier for your goods to arrive at their destination in the same condition they were in when they left your facility.
Angle Board can also make it easier to stack and store your products, maximizing space and improving efficiency. When goods are properly secured with angle boards, they can be stacked higher and more safely than if they were left unprotected. This allows you to make better use of your storage space, and reduces the need for additional storage facilities.
There are many different types of Angle Board  available, each with their own unique benefits and uses. Plastic angle boards are lightweight and easy to handle, making them ideal for use with small shipments. They are also resistant to moisture and can be used in damp or humid environments without degrading.
Cardboard Angle Board  are another popular option, particularly for use with lightweight products. They are easy to cut to size, making them a versatile choice for a wide range of applications. However, cardboard angle boards are not as durable as their plastic or metal counterparts, and may not be suitable for use with heavier shipments.
Metal angle boards are the most durable option, and are often used for high-value or heavy shipments. They provide a strong, rigid barrier that can withstand even the most challenging shipping conditions. However, metal angle boards are also heavier and more expensive than plastic or cardboard options, making them less practical for some applications.
When choosing Angle Board , it is important to consider your specific needs and the types of products you will be shipping. You should also take into account any special requirements or regulations that may apply to your industry.
In addition to their protective benefits, angle boards can also be used for branding and marketing purposes. Many companies choose to print their logo or branding information on their Angle Board , creating a professional, polished look for their shipments. This can help to build brand recognition and promote a positive image for your company.
Another use for Angle Board  is in the construction industry, where they are used to protect corners and edges of materials such as drywall, lumber, and glass. By preventing damage to these fragile materials, angle boards can help to reduce waste and improve efficiency on construction sites.
Overall, Angle Board  are a simple and cost-effective solution for protecting your goods during transportation and storage. Whether you are shipping small or large items, fragile or heavy materials, there is an angle board that can meet your needs. By investing in quality Angle Board, you can ensure that your products arrive at their destination in the same condition they were in when they left your facility, and that your shipments are organized, efficient, and professional.
Url: https://www.edgepro.co.in/angle-board-manufacturer.php
Contact + 9193702642902
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Pet and Owner
Sweet as Sugar Masterlist
trigger warnings: restrained, gagged, pet whump, lady whumper, collared, dehumanisation, humiliation, captivity
When Myles opened his eyes, he found that he couldnât see a thing. He tried to blink away the drowsiness, hoping itâd clear his vision, but the pitch black refused to dissipate, filling up the space like the thickest ink.
When he tried to move, he felt an odd weight on his hands, and heard the rattling of heavy chains. When he tried to call out, he realised there was something blocking his mouth. Duct tape?
Panic set in, and he began to thrash around. Muffled cries for help were drowned out by the concrete prison, and he eventually decided to try and conserve his energy by staying relatively still â apart from the horrible shivering he just couldnât seem to stop.
Saccharine had drugged him. That was the only logical explanation, yet it seemed so wildly unrealistic. Why would she do that? Sheâd just said she would help with the loans, she invited him over, they were friends.
Unless⌠Unless by helping with the loans, she meant something entirely different. Myles felt his heartbeat skyrocket as the terrifying thought wormed its way into his brain. Saccharine was making him into a pet, then selling him for the price of all his loans, maybe even more. That would both get rid of the debt and make her some profit, and⌠and theyâd never see each other again.
They werenât really friends, were they?
Myles curled up on the floor, awkwardly trying to manoeuvre around the uncomfortable and rigid chains. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes, and he saw no point in trying to keep them at bay. He knew that the people he usually talked to as potential business partners werenât fond of him, of course, just as he wasnât really fond of them. God, his family wasnât even fond of him. Heâd considered Saccharine his only real friend, the only one who tolerated him despite having clearly stated that she would never take him as a partner. For how long has she been pretending? Had there ever been a time when she wasnât?
The basement door creaked open, and Myles made no effort to lift his head off the ground. Someone flipped a switch, and the lights finally came on â soft purple, instead of the blinding white heâd been expecting. Saccharine did complain a whole lot about headaches, now that he thought about it. White lights wouldâve just made it all worse.
Now that he could see, it was obvious that his cell was one of a few. There were at least three others from what he could see. Were they empty?
âHave you woken up yet?â Saccharine came into view in front of the glass door of his own little room, interrupting his thoughts. His wide eyes mustâve been enough of a response for her, because she swiped her card and made the door open without any further inquiries. She was carrying a little box with her, the contents of which Myles desperately wanted to avoid. Heâd seen enough little training boxes in his life to know there was never anything fun inside.
The box had been set on the desk in the corner, and Saccharine sat down on the chair next to it. Her soft smile was the exact same as before, when they were still just two friends sitting across from each other at a cosy little table. Maybe even friendlier. It made Myles shiver.
âYou must have so many questions,â she mused, crossing her legs and getting comfortable. A show of dominance in a situation where he had no chance to lessen the pain of the position his body had been forced into. âI will answer⌠some of them, I suppose. Starting with the easy and obvious ones, like, what happened? Where am I? Whatâs going to happen?â
Myles shook his head slightly. He didnât care about any of that. He knew the answers to those questions. He only wanted to know why. She ignored him.
âI made you drink a spiked cocktail, which made you pass out and then be transported down here. Here is of course under my house, in my little pet training centre.â She took off the lid of the box, and took out a collar, making his heart drop. âAs for whatâs going to happen⌠Iâm going to train you. You asked how I train my pets so fully and perfectly in the space of just a few months. Iâll grant you some insight after all.â
He whimpered behind the tape, pathetic and miserable. It only served to make her giggle.
âDonât be scared, now. I treat my pets very well. Itâs an intense training period, but it pays off.â She stood up and walked over to where he was still lying on the dirty floor, motioning for him to get up. âIf you comply, it might not even hurt that much.â
Myles stayed down. He didnât want to comply. He didnât want to be collared. He wanted to get out and run for his life. The treacherous tears of hopelessness were threatening to make an appearance again, humiliate him even further in front of his former friend.
âCollaring is the first and easiest step,â she said gently. âI donât even have anything to punish you with at this stage. Itâs not a time to be stubborn and proud, itâs just⌠the first interaction between pet and owner. I donât want it to be tainted by pain.â
The easiest step⌠with no pain⌠maybe it was that, or Saccharineâs sweet voice, but Myles found himself longing to please her. Just for a little while. He wouldnât be able to during training, he knew that. And he had never been able to, out in the real world. Maybe this was his only chance of ever pleasing her.
He pushed himself up, slowly and anxiously.
âGood boy,â she praised softly, leaning down to get the collar around his neck. It was light, but constricting. Uncomfortable. He was never getting it off again. âThere you go. Nothing to be afraid of.â She pet his head, running her slender fingers through his hair, scratching behind his ear like one might do with a dog. He felt his face heat up â still, it was so much better than pain. âIâm giving you the name Biscuit. I think itâs pretty cute.â She flicked the tag on his collar, and Myles thought it might have his new name on it. Maybe some contact info as well. A proper little pet.
He wanted to beg so badly, but the duct tape prevented it. Please, reconsider. Youâll never see my face again, just let me go. I didnât realise you hated me, and Iâm sorry. Saccharine wouldnât get to hear those words.
She straightened her back and walked back to the box, taking out a bunch of cables and a remote. She sank the remote into her pocket and began detangling everything. Myles whimpered. He recognised those things as electrodes, and he recognised the remote as one of the top brands in the business. Heâd seen one up close before; heâd seen one in action. That thing went up to voltages that could easily kill a person.
âFamiliar?â She chuckled, making the poor man tremble even more. âRemember, sweet Biscuit. Being good means being safe. Not fully. Youâre never fully safe with these things on. But it brings temporary safety, and I suggest you take advantage of that.â
~
taglist:Â @whumpsday @lonesome--hunter @hidden-dreamland @throwawaywhumper @kim-poce
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tongue-tied.
âź synopsis: ever wonder how nanami came to possess that atrocious-looking tie?
âź note: i have so many feelings for him
âź pairing: nanami kento x gender neutral reader
âź word count: 1.2k
âź genre/warnings: fluff, not proof-read
âWhatâs this?â
With a slightly raised brow, Nanami accepts the slender package from your outstretched hand. Itâs shoddily wrapped, a mix of harsh creases and translucent tape around the edges with curled ribbons topping it off. Thereâs not much weight to it, either. A gift, evidently, but why? From Nanamiâs knowledge, thereâs no special occasion that would prompt you to gift him a present. His birthday has long since passed. Curiosity prickles at the corners of his mind as he holds the package in his upturned palm.
He looks back up again at you. He notes the way your fingers fiddle with your long-sleeve, picking at the edge of it with your nails: a nervous habit that youâve maintained since high school. You look off into the distance before straightening out your spine and meeting his gaze.
âJust something I picked up on my last mission that I thought youâd like.â You shrug, doing your best to feign nonchalance. Though, your attempt falls flat. After knowing one another for over a decade, Nanami has picked up your nervous tells. He chooses to disregard your anxious energy and turns his attention back to the gift heâs holding.
âThat was unnecessary of you,â Nanami says, prompting a light wince out of you that he catches from the corner of his eyes. He continues on. âThank you, though. You didnât need to.â
You relax an imperceptible amount at the sound of his gratitude, your stance not quite as rigid as it was just a few moments prior. You gently wave him off. âIt was no big deal, Nanamin.â
The disdainful nickname that Gojo originally coined easily rolls off of your tongue. It was something you picked up from the sorcerer back when the three of you were students and Gojo would do whatever he could to rile up Nanami for his amusement. Nanami loathes how the nickname has stuck around all these years, but it doesnât sound quite so abhorrent coming from your lips in comparison to Gojoâs. It sounds...sweeter.
âWould you like me to open it?â He places a hand on top of the box, fingers gently toying with the thin, shiny ribbons around the box, loosening their curls. You bring a hand up to rub at the back of your neck.
âUh..sure. Only if you want to, though,â you cautiously say. Your nerves make a reappearance at the prospect of Nanami opening the gift in front of you.Â
He could wait to open the package in private, but Nanami canât deny his growing curiosity at what resides within the wrapped box. âIâll open it then.â
He fiddles with the ribbon for a brief moment before gently tugging at the end of it, loosening the bow itâs been tied into. With an audible tear, Nanami rips away the wrapping paper to reveal a plain, white box. He discards of the paper and ribbons into the nearby waste receptacle and slowly lifts the top of the box off.
Nestled among bundles of pale tissue paper is a necktie. Itâs unique, thatâs for sure. The color of the accessory is somewhere between yellow and green decorated with black spots of varying shapes and sizes. Heâs not entirely sure what to make of it.
You begin hastily apologizing when silence lingers for too long and Nanamiâs facial expression remains unchanging. âSorry, if you donât like it, you donât need to keep it. Iâm sure I can find the gift receipt for it someââ
âThank you.â Nanami cuts you off in the midst of your needless, apologetic rambling. There is no reason for you to apologize, especially when you went out of your way to buy him a gift. The least he could do is appreciate the gesture. âI will wear it from now on,â he promises.
Balancing the unwrapped box in his open palm, Nanami uses his free hand to slip his fingers under the loop of the plain tie heâs currently wearing to loosen it around his neck. He slips it off, placing it on top of the bed of tissue paper before carefully lifting the tie youâve gifted him out of the box.
âDo you need help putting it on?â Nanami lifts his head to meet your eyes, but your gaze is averted away. Youâre fiddling with your sleeves much more intensely now. Nanamiâs pulse quickens, but his outward appearance betrays nothing.
He clears his throat. It would be rather difficult attempting to put on a tie with only one free hand. âThat would be appreciated.â
With his assent, you take a few steps closer into his space. The pads of your fingertips brush against Nanamiâs roughened palm as you take the tie from his hand. The delicate scent of your shampoo fills his senses, and Nanami can feel the warmth emanating from you when you lean in even closer to place the tie around his neck. Your fingers briefly linger around the tops of his shoulders before you remove them and set to work on tying the tie correctly.
Itâs strangely intimate. More intimate than would be considered appropriate for two friends, two coworkers, to engage in. However, Nanami cannot say he doesnât enjoy it. Heâs always been rather fond of you, harboring a soft spot for you all the way back when the two of you were nothing more than classmates. As a student, he endured relentless teasing from Gojo and knowing looks from Haibara. Given Gojoâs big mouth, itâs a miracle that you never became aware of his affections for you.
He chances a glance at your face. Your eyes are dutifully trained on your hands around the material of the tie, expression screwed up in concentration with your tongue jutting out the slightest bit. Itâs so very endearing Nanami must say. He tampers down the sudden urge that overcomes him to tilt your chin up and caress your cheek.
He gently clears his throat and straightens out his spine, posture a little more rigid now. The noise gains your attention and you tilt your head to look at Nanami. The corners of your eyes slightly crease as you give him a soft smile.
âIâm almost done,â you promise. Nanami nods, thankful to have your eyes off of him when your attention is drawn back to the tie. After a quick, few movements of your hands, you utter a cheerful âAll done!â
Meeting Nanamiâs gaze again, your eyes widen, suddenly realizing just how little space separates the two of you. You hurry to take a few steps back, wringing your hands together. Nanami doesnât know whether to be grateful for the space or mourn the loss of the closeness.Â
âThank you for the gift and for tying it for me,â Nanami says again. His lips curl into a small smile at the way you beam upon hearing his words.
âOf course! Iâm glad you liked it.â A panicked look abruptly overcomes your visage. âOh shoot, I forgot I had to meet up with Ieiri! I got to go, but Iâll see you again soon, Nanamin.âÂ
You leave in a whirlwind, frantically waving goodbye over your shoulder as you rush off in the direction of the college morgue. He watches you hurry off in faint amusement and fondness.
Nanami peers down at the tie heâs wearing: you did an impressive job of tying it correctly. He gently tugs at the loop of it around his neck. Itâs hideous, but Nanami thinks it will grow on him.
#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#nanami x reader#nanami kento x reader#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen scenarios#jjk scenarios#nanami fluff#nanami kento fluff#new.mail#from.jujutsu kaisen#love.nanami kento
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Scuff-Free BOPP Thermal Film: The Ultimate Protection for Your Packaging
When it comes to packaging, durability, and appearance are paramount. Enter the scuff-free BOPP thermal film, an innovation designed to protect your products from scratches while enhancing their visual appeal.
This blog will explore the benefits and applications of this remarkable product.
What is Scuff-Free BOPP Thermal Film?
Scuff-free BOPP (Biaxially Oriented Polypropylene) thermal film is a type of lamination film that offers exceptional clarity, strength, and scratch resistance. Unlike standard thermal films, this scuff-free variant ensures that your packaged items remain pristine and free from scratches, making it an ideal choice for various industries.
Key Features of Scuff-Free BOPP Thermal Film
Anti-Scratch Protection:Â The primary advantage of scuff-free BOPP thermal film is its resistance to scratches. This feature ensures that your products maintain their quality and appearance throughout their lifecycle.
Excellent Clarity:Â This film offers high transparency, allowing the underlying graphics and text to be clearly visible, which is crucial for branding and product information.
Superior Bonding:Â The film provides excellent adhesion to substrates, ensuring a strong bond that protects your products.
Durability: With its robust structure, scuff-free BOPP thermal film adds an extra layer of protection, making your packaging more durable.
Eco-Friendly:Â BOPP thermal film is recyclable, contributing to environmental sustainability.
Applications of Scuff-Free BOPP Thermal Film
Scuff-free BOPP thermal film is versatile and can be used across various industries, including:
Books and Magazines:Â The film is ideal for laminating book covers and magazine covers, providing a glossy, scratch-resistant finish that enhances durability and appearance.
Brochures and Flyers:Â Protecting printed marketing materials from wear and tear ensures they remain in excellent condition when distributed.
Packaging:Â This film is perfect for food packaging, cosmetic packaging, and other consumer goods, offering both aesthetic appeal and product protection.
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MISSING YOU
( panel from hypnosis mic : dirty dawg manga )
summary : while at samatokiâs place, you find something youâre probably not supposed to find, and bring up bad memories for samatoki.
genre : fluff
perspective : second person pov
pairing : samatoki aohitsugi x gn!reader ( they / them pronouns )
word count : 1.1k
warnings : spoilers for samatoki aohitsugiâs backstory
âawesome! letâs all change this shitty world together!â - samatoki aohitsugi ( dirty dawg manga quote )
Cleaning out Samatokiâs room wasnât what you had envisioned when he said you could pay him back. He was outside on the couch, answering a call from Jyuto as he crudely swore at the poor policeman for who knows what reason.
You were visiting the Yokohama Division for the week, and being friends with Samatoki meant you were allowed to sleep over at his place. At first, he was against it. It was indecent, he said, to have a female sleep over at a maleâs house, with the two all alone. You seriously contemplated whether this meant he was trying to make a move on you or not. Regardless, you had nowhere else to stay that seemed safe, as once people found out you were friends with the Samatoki Aohitsugi, trouble would be bound to find you. Jyuto and Rio visited sometimes anyway, and he reluctantly agreed.
Many of his clothes were strewn across the floor, luckily not consisting of anything you werenât supposed to see. There were a few boxes of unopened cigarettes and some garbage. You picked up the cigarettes and sneakily dumped them in the trash. It wasnât good for him to nbe smoking, and although youâd always been against it, itâs not like heâd cared enough about your concern for his health. Heâd probably start complaining about it later.
On his desk were the essentials, a stack of paper, a pen and a photo frame including him and some girl. Looking closer, the girl had short white hair, her bangs messily cut. Her pink eyes seemed to glow out of even the picture frame, and her smile was soft but sweet. She had her arm wrapped around Samatokiâs shoulders, with her other hand in a peace sign. Samatoki on the other hand was standing there, hands in the pockets of his jeans and an irk of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You were wondering who took their picture for them. Even more so, wondered who she was to him.
As you swept the clothes off the floor and into the hamper, a binder was revealed from under the heap. You picked it up, and turned it over. Washi tape was stuck onto the back, spelling out the name Nemu. It didnât feel right to snoop around, but your curiosity had gotten the best of you. Opening up the binder showed endless photographs and polaroids of the white haired girl in Samatokiâs picture. If Samatoki could even be like this, he was obviously very enamoured with this girl.
âSamatoki?â You called out to him, assuming he was still on the couch.
âThatâs Samatoki-san to you, asshole!â He yelled, stomping into the room like the angry man he was.
That all stopped when he saw what you were holding. His fists clenched at his sides, and his eyes were filled up with hurt. There wasnât anything you could do as he punched the wall next to him, biting his lip. He quickly swallowed the obvious pain on his face and snatched the binder from your grasp.
âDonât look through things that donât belong to you.â He growled, gripping the binder tightly and leaving the room.
âWait, Samatoki.â
âI already told you, you should call me Samatoki-san. Fucker.â
With that, he left you alone in his tidied room. What was there to feel? Hurt? Upset? It was your fault for pissing him off anyway, and your questions still havenât been answered. Who was that girl? Why was she so important to him? It muddled with your headspace for a while.
Walking out into the living room, Samatoki was hunched over the binder on the couch, slowly flipping through the pages. Was this his ex-girlfriend of some sort? But his eyes were bloodshot, and he breathed heavily. He looked like a mess.
âSamatoki, are you alright?â You questioned carefully, leaning over a bit to look at him.
âDoes it look like Iâm fucking alright? Just go back to Nemuâs room.â He harshly spat.
You slowly pieced together the parts of the puzzle in your head. She mustâve been his sister. Assuming something had happened to her, you placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at you again, scowling as he stared at you with a certain fiery gaze that sent shivers down your spine.
âIs Nemu your sister?â You asked, the words lingering in the air as he sat still.
âWhat if she is? Does it even matter to you?â He growled, slamming the binder closed.
You opened your mouth, but words struggled to come out. What were you supposed to say to that? It really wasnât any of your business, but you couldnât just leave Samatoki be like this. It was your fault this was happening in the first place. How were you even supposed to begin calming him down?
âIf you want to talk about it, just talk to me. Iâll just head back to my room.â You said gently, silently slipping away from the fuming mess that Samatoki was, and let him cool down in peace.
It was a few empty hours, no shouting, no complaints. To say it was confusing was an understatement. How could you explain the sinking feeling you felt after telling him that?
Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door. You shot up from your position, sprawled across the bed contemplating life, as the person who had let you into their apartment stomped in. He invited himself, it seems like, as he sat on the bed without warning and just stared at the wall.
âSamatokiââ
âShe left because of Ichiro Yamada.â He hissed sharply.
âShe told me herself that he had said something to her, and she left me right then and there. I have no idea where she is now.â He muttered, biting his lip between his teeth.
You didnât really know if it was out of impulse, but you instinctively wrapped your arms around him tightly, squeezing ever so slightly. He was as rigid as a tree at first, but he slowly softened up, and hugged you back.
It was a silent moment, one of trust and care. Once you had pulled back, his eyes seemed as if they had been set ablaze. He leaned in, cheeks burning as he kissed you lightly on the forehead, and turned away as he mumbled a small word of thanks. After suffering from enough embarrassment, he left your room, stomping out as always and slamming the door behind him.
You smiled gently, the place where heâd kissed you still tingling as the heat rushed throughout your body. He was adorable, and you were sure that after this discovery you both would be able to further deepen your relationship.
::
written = 13.08.2021
proofread = 15.08.2021
Š chaoticrumii 2021 ; all rights reserved ; please do not copy / reference / utilise my works without credit
#hypnosis mic samatoki#samatoki#samatoki aohitsugi#hypnosis mic#hypnosis mic fanfiction#hypnosis mic one shot#one shots#fanfiction#fanfic#hypmic#hypnosis mic content#samatoki x y/n#samatoki x reader#samatoki x you#hypmic samatoki#hypmic fanfic#hypmic oneshot#ru's fanfictions#ru's imagines
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tma discord made a joke about martin bringing jon's stuff to his flat post s3 for safekeeping, so ofc i had to make it sad. enjoy the marto angst!!
~~~
He doesnât mean to open up Jonâs yearbook, in the same way he doesnât mean to pick up all of Jonâs things from his flat, or tell Jon's landlord that heâs the next of kin, smile stretched too tight over trembling his lips. He doesnât mean to garner the old womanâs sympathy, either, but he receives it anyway in the form of a half-hearted pat to the shoulder as her brows crumple together-- like it's her first time trying on the expression.
âTerribly sorry for your loss,â she murmurs, eyes downcast. Proper respect for the dead, and all. Martin doesnât bother correcting her-- itâs true, isnât it? Dead is dead, and maybe Jon wasnât his, but--
But he couldâve been. Martin had been so sure, just before the Unknowing. They couldâve been something.
Not that it matters anymore.
Martin reaches deep for his inner well of strength and patience, and cobbles together another fixed smile. âThanks.â
âRight proper tenant, he was,â she continues, brows furrowing further. âDidnât see him for a while, mind you, but I--â
She stops with such abruptness that Martinâs ears ring. At some indeterminate point his facial muscles had started moving of their own accord, freezing in a series of strained, rigid lines.
Whatever Jonâs landlord sees in them, it unnerves her. âI. Um. That is-- ah⌠you, you take all the time you need.â She fumbles another pat to his shoulder, before fleeing out the way she came. Jon's front door shuts with finality; the click reverberates through his head long after the sound dissipates.
Alone at last, Martinâs polite grimace slips.
Itâs so cold here. Jon has curtains over the blinds-- thick, dark things, meant to block out everything from sunlight to prying eyes. Martin chokes on a hysterical laugh; thereâs on the nose, and then thereâs on the nose, and itâs so pathetically not-funny that he has to cover his face with his hands, biting down on the hiccups that keep tearing out of him.
Thereâs more, of course. Jon was-- was, god-- a living person, and itâs astonishing just how much people accumulate over the years. The procession of cheap tchotchkes lining the mantle surprises him, the mountain of books less so. Tapes, mugs, and discarded take-out receipts litter every surface of the sitting room; endearing, if circumstances were different. And when Martin moves further into the flat, he discovers a stack of cardboard boxes in the corner of Jonâs bedroom, still filled with whatever contents Jon had been too busy to unload.
The utter normalcy of it punches a gaping hole in the center of Martinâs chest. Deep, vicious grief pours out of it, claws at the tatters of his heart with oily, ink-stained fingers. Martinâs next breath takes the form of a rattling inhale-- just a week ago, Jon had walked these floors. Had pulled things out of those dusty boxes. Had, had, had. Things heâll never do again. Thatâs the important part.
âRight," Martin tries, but his voice strangles, falls harsh and reedy in the dusty flat. Wrong. He cringes; silence is what reigns here, thick and impenetrable as stone.
The thought floats up unbidden: This isnât a place. This is a tomb.
It knocks his knees out from under him. âNo, nono--â Martin claps a hand over his mouth too late, stifling the sob that trips from his throat. The vice around his chest squeezes; he canât breathe around the pressure, lungs fluttering for air. This-- and, god, Tim too-- itâs too much. The wall between himself and the emotions he's been holding back shatters, pooling onto the floor in a storm of frenzied weeping.
When he comes back to himself, heâs sitting cross-legged on the floor, propped up against one of the boxes. âAlright,â Martin croaks at it. Anything for a distraction-- at least these won't need packing up. âLetâs, uh. Letâs see what-- l-letâs see what weâve got, yeah?â
The boxâs flaps are arranged in a square, overlapping so they can hold themselves shut without tape. Martin digs a finger under one of them, prying it loose-- the others unfold without encouragement, blooming outward like a flower.
Strictly speaking, it doesnât hold anything special. Just Oxford paraphernalia: Jon's folded dress robe, a leather-bound folder containing his degree, the black square cap with its equally black tassel. And a book. Slim, resting on top of everything else, the imprint of Jonâs fingers lingering against its glossy cover.
Martin thumbs its corner without thinking, his other fingers curling to hover over each print. Theyâre too big, blocking out the whorls of Jonâs fingers; Martin sniffs, wipes his nose on the back of his sleeve as fresh tears dribble down his cheeks.
He doesnât mean to open the book. But somewhere in the haze of tears, his thumb slips beneath the cover, lifts it, and he finds himself staring at the inside cover of a yearbook.
âOh.â Breathed out on the softest exhale, gently ruffling the pages. Martin sucks in another quick breath, but this one doesnât hurt so much. His own curiosity overshadows the grief for a few precious moments; Martin sinks into it, flipping each page with that curious detachment that comes after a long crying jag.
None of the names and faces are familiar-- and why would they be? Martin never went to uni, much less Oxford. Each strangerâs features slide away when his eyes move on to the next. These are people he'll never meet; people whose lives are, with any luck, untouched by the horrors that have dominated his own.
Martin skips over the entire S section. Best not to risk it.
After the parade of portraits are other pictures, professional candids of student organizations at work, social clubs meeting up after class, interviews with some of the students. Standard fare, really. Everything drifts past without actually sticking, the accompanying text blurring as he skims over it.
He flips to a new page at random, and freezes.
Thatâs Jon. Younger, yes, face unlined, without a grey hair in sight-- but undeniably Jon. The picture is as crisp as the rest of them, catching the bronze highlights in Jonâs skin, the delicate bones of his wrist as he gesticulates on a stage. Theater Club, Martin reads. Bold, underlined. He reads it again, some itching, crawling thing at the back of his mind suddenly desperate to drink in this new information. Theater Club.
Heâs so young. Locked in time, frozen on the page. For once he resembles his age; his posture is looser here, eyes trained on someone off camera. The hint of a smile poises on his lips, softening the jagged cut of his cheekbones with a dash of warmth.
Martin stares. He shouldnât be looking at this-- itâs private, something Jon mustâve come back to many times, judging by the fingerprints. But in his mindâs eye, he canât help but compare this picture to the last time he saw Jon: ashen, unmoving, and lifeless under tons of whirring machinery.
They donât match up. One is vivacious, thrumming with energy. And the other is--
Is--
A drop splashes against the page, wrinkling Jon's image. Itâs joined by another, then a third-- hot tears carving the skin of his cheeks, dripping from his chin onto the paper.
Did Jon ever know how numbered those happier days were? Could a part of him sense, back then, how long he had until his life cut short? The tragedy of this image, its bittersweetness, sends a bone-deep ache rippling inside of him. Heâd give anything to go back in time and warn this Jon away from the Institute. Christ, heâd do anything right now just to have him back.
When the sob comes, it comes from deep in the core of him. Shreds something vital on its way out; Martin chokes on a great, heaving cry, breath punching from his lungs.
He doesnât bother putting the book back. Just hugs it tight to his chest, clutching it with the same desperation that a drowning man would a life preserver. âIâm sorry,â he sobs, folding to press his forehead against the cover. âIâm so, so sorry.â
The Jon inside the yearbook, with his fond smile and glittering eyes, never responds.
#jonmartin#martin blackwood#tma#the magnus archives#angst#grief#canonical character (sorta) death#heehoo i cleaned this up a lot from the doc i gave the discord server#lmk if there are formatting issues im doing this on mobile rn#my fics#txt
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Donât Call Me That (pt. 1)
Pairing: Jason Todd/Reader
Genre: Aftermath of torture, healing, and sex in later chapter hehe
Word count: 9000
Summary:Â The new Robin and Batman stumble upon a cell in Arkham Asylum that was occupied by a very much injured, and very much still alive Jason Todd. Bringing him back, Bruce realises that Jason is unstable and keeps him locked in a room in the mean time. Reader helps Jason get used to being around another human being once more, and finds herself falling deeply with the damaged Jason.
A/N:Â This was meant to be a one-shot, but I realised that it's a bit too long, so I'm splitting it into two chapters. Here's whatever I wrote so far. Psst, the sex will come later! I think this has got to be the most favourite one-shot Iâve written so far!! Iâm addicted to this story, and I hope you guys will like it too! Let me know!
Masterlist
Kofi
Ao3
The light was getting dimmer and dimmer the further you strayed from the main building. The walls cracked, wallpaper peeling back to reveal brick and concrete. The air was getting thin, and the smell.
Rat piss, sewage, and that suffocating damp humid smell that reminded you of dirty laundry- except it filled the whole Old Wing of Arkham Asylum.
âDo youreally think the security breach was sourced from here, Batman?â you voiced out your doubts.
He was walking next to you, his steps hardly making a sound. âWe need to make sure. Half of the East Wingâs cells were suddenly opened automatically. There is a main powerframe in the Old Wing that someone could have damaged.â
âSomeone, as in..?â
âNot sure. Joker has been in his cell for the past 19 months since he broke out two years ago.â
You ignored the way his voice cracked at the end.
Two years ago, before you were involved with Bruce Wayne and his fight for justice, Joker had broken free, got hold of Jason Todd, your predecessor whom you had never met, kidnapped him, tortured him, and then killed him. After sending a video tape of his Toddâs death to Bruce, he went and created a drug that made people go crazy and kill each other. Bruce caught him then, broke half the bones in his body, and then threw him back in the asylum.
âWhy did they stop using this wing?â you asked, your voice echoing back to you.
The two of you were walking down a corridor, with cells on either side. Each cell had a metal door with a rectangular slot at the top of the door to peek inside and another longer slot in the middle for passing inmates food. Some of the doors were opened ajar, nothing inside but old beds and overflowing toilet bowls, some were locked shut.
Your heart was racing. It was like you were in a horror movie. You stepped over the empty gas canisters and toilet paper that was strewn all over the floor of the corridor, walking around a rusty old wheelchair and made sure to follow Batman closely.
âAbandoned when a riot broke out five years ago,â he answered, âSomething about hauntings.â
âHauntings?â you widen your eyes.
âThese are superstitious folk,â he explained, âThe riot took a dozen lives. Violently. Some nurses got tortured. Rumour has it that this wing is haunted.â
âI donât believe in ghosts,â you declared, though you felt chills run down your spine anyway.
âIndeed. Some of the security guards say theyâve heard screams coming from here. None dared to approach.â
âScreams? Please, Iâm sure itâs just the-â
A crash came from one of the cells. You jumped so violently in shock that you tripped over a catheter on the ground. You and Batman looked at each other for one second, and then he raised his finger to his lips, making sure you kept quiet.
Nodding, you followed behind him as he investigated the cell the sound came from. He slid open the viewing window of the door, and despite the darkness you saw his expression twist to one youâve never seen before.
Horror.
He took out a small explosive from his belt and attached it to the door. A small boom, and the door swung open. Batman rushed inside, and you were hit with the worst smell youâve ever experienced. It made you gag, your eyes tearing up.
It smelled of blood and human feces and urine, and something that was decomposing, like the big trash bins lined up behind one of those dank alleys, overflowing with a weekâs worth of disposal.
The cell was bigger than the others, and it didnât have a bed. Only a toilet and a wooden chair that was toppled. Batman was next to the chair, kneeling on the ground over something, unmoving, as if frozen in spot, his back turned to you.
âB?â you whispered, âWhat is this place?â
There were scratches on the walls, some in blood. Little bones were tossed in a corner, lying in what looked- and smelled- like dry vomit.
You walked over to him, slowly approaching with caution. As you got nearer, your vision became clearer.
He was kneeling over an unconscious man wearing your Robin uniform.
Now, it was your turn to be horrified.
The uniform was tattered, cape dirty and stained with bodily fluids. The man?
Scars and dried blood littered his face and arms, his dark hair matted and sticky. He was obviously large, his frame almost as big as Bruceâs, yet you could see that he was malnourished, his cheeks slightly hollowed, his skin hanging loosely over the remains of his muscles.
And he was still breathing.
***
Alfred, Bruce, and you stared in silence at the man on the bed, now clean and hooked to an IV. None of you had said a word since you got back. Alfred was rigid the whole time he cleaned and examined him, with Bruce shadowing him closeby. You could do nothing but stand back, waiting for an explanation.
Now you were in the infirmary, the steady beat of vital signs machinery annoyed you.
âHow is he alive?â Alfred broke the tension with a small whisper.
âThere were small animal bones in his cell,â Bruce said with a strained voice. You knew he was doing his all to keep it together.
âGoodness,â Alfred responded, âBut- the video-â
âMust have been a fake,â Bruce said, his voice now cracking, âI should have known. I should have- I- oh, God.â
Without warning, Bruce crumpled to his feet. You have never seen him like this. He was always strong, stoic, and he never let his emotions show.
The sight of him burying his face in his hands in anguish- it scared you.
âItâs not your fault, Master Bruce,â Alfred put a hand on his shoulder, âYou couldnât have-â
A grunt came from Jason Todd as he stirred awake. All three of you snapped your heads to him. You saw the way he opened his eyes, blinking at his surroundings as he tried to register where he was. Bruce rushed to his side.
That was his mistake.
Jason Todd started screaming.
âSTAY AWAY FROM ME!â he roared, sitting up and crawling out of bed, ripping the IV from his hand.
âJason-â
âNO!â he yelled, âYOUâRE NOT REAL. STAY AWAY!â
His voice was deep and hoarse, like someone who had been screaming his whole life.
âJason, itâs me,â Bruce tried to slowly approach him. He was on his feet now, though he stumbled getting there. His expression was wild, his mouth downturned into a scowl, his eyes darting from Bruce, to Alfred, to you, to the bed, to the whole room, like a wild animal cornered.
âThis is real?â he growled a question.
âYes, son,â Bruce assured, âThis is real. We found you. Please, lie back down. Youâre hurt.â
âYouâre⌠real?â his voice broke halfway.
âYes, Iâm real,â Bruceâs voice was the same.
Then, Jason let out a laugh. A loud, haunting, hysterical laugh that was absent of humor.
âGood.â
He jumped at Bruce and tackled him to the ground, his fingers around Bruceâs neck. You reacted quickly, rushing over and kneeing him in the face so that he let go of your Bruce and stumbled backwards. He recovered quickly and set his eyes on you.
He proceeded to attack you, but before anything, Bruce had him restrained, wrestling him to the ground.
âJason! Calm down!â
âNO!â he shouted, âNO! NO! ITâS YOUR FAULT. ITâS YOUR FUCKING FAULT. DIE! DIE!â
He trashed about with surprising power, trying to get Bruce off him. Bruce got his arm around Jasonâs neck, and you saw him clawing at his arm, attempting to break free. The younger manâs movements got slower, weaker, as Bruce cut his oxygen supply and eventually knocked him out.
Bruce carried his son to the bed.
âAlfred, please sedate him,â he instructed. âWeâll move him to the cell downstairs. Heâs too unstable to be here.â
âAre you okay?â you reached out to your adoptive father.
âYes,â he nodded, âHeâs surprisingly strong.â
âHeâs a survivor, Bruce,â you smiled at an attempt to comfort him, âI canât imagine what heâs been through, but heâll get through this.â
âI hope so.â
***
The cell Bruce had in the Batcave was less like a cell, and more like a room. It was a large square box with four walls and a roof on one side of the Cave, with high end security. It had double doors, each requiring a registered thumbprint to enter. Bruce had built it in case he needed to hold someone hostage there. The outer layer was made out of lead, and you wondered what had gone through Bruceâs mind when he added that feature. The cell even had a small bathroom with a shower, toilet, and a sink.
This time, though, he made sure the room with white interiors looked more comfortable for Jason. He put in a double single bed with fluffy sheets and pillows, a whole bookshelf full of classic literature, a cupboard, a desk and chair complete with a table lamp.
Jason was still sedated when all of you moved him to the cell. He had been sedated for a while so he wouldnât wake up and rip off his IV. You helped lift him up, and found that he was heavy, heavier than you had expected him to be.
Then, Bruce went to the Batcomputer and switched on the security camera inside the cell and watched as he slowly regained consciousness and went all ballistic again. He toppled over the shelf, the chair, the desk. Threw the books around, ripped out the pages, punched the walls, and was screaming.
âLet me go!â âFuck you!â âIâm going to fucking kill you!â were some amongst the many extremities he shouted at the camera.
And you watched as Bruce stared into the screen showing his broken, damaged son.
***
âHeâs quiet,â you pointed out when you walked over to Bruce at the computers. It had been a week of watching Jason scream and thrash about in the room- which was a complete mess.
âYes, he has been that way for a few hours now,â Bruce frowned.
You saw from the screen. Jason was just sitting down in one corner of the room, staring into space.
âWell, at least he didnât throw the food down the toilet bowl this time,â you shrugged and sat down next to him. Alfred would bring a tray of warm soft foods and set it on the tray of the rectangular food delivery hole of the second, internal door.
Out of spite, Jason would take the food and throw it down the toilet before returning it empty. This time, you saw that it just sat there on the tray, untouched.
âI was thinking,â Bruce mentioned, âOf bringing in Dr. Leslie or Dinah. He is familiar with both of them. They could help with putting him on medication and giving him psychotherapy.â
âYeah, for some reason,â you began, âI donât think heâll take that so well.â
âI⌠donât know what to do.â
You stayed silent for a few moments. The past week, you saw Bruce in a light you had never seen before. Emotional, vulnerable, helpless. You appreciated that he trusted you enough to reveal that side of himself in front of you.
âLet him calm down a bit,â you suggested, âAnd maybe⌠Maybe I can help.â
âHow?â he frowned.
âIf you bring in Leslie or Dinah, heâll know in an instant what youâre up to,â you explained. âAnd maybe itâs too soon for therapy. I think right now he just needs to get used to being around another human being.â
âHmm,â Bruce considered, âOkay. Weâll go with your idea. How will you do it?â
Your heart swelled with joy. You loved it when he acknowledged you.
You waited a couple of days before trying it out. The whole while, Jason was just sitting down in his corner, silent and unmoving.
Nervously, you approached the first door on the external side of the box, pressing your thumb to the digital square on the wall and hearing it beep in approval. You opened the door and closed it behind you before approaching the second door.
You took a deep breath, felt for the taser on your belt, and then pressed your thumb on the second door.
The first thing you saw when you opened the door was Jason scrambling to his feet in surprise, his eyes vigilant. You lift both your hands up in surrender.
âNot here to hurt you,â you said slowly, âJust here to chill.â
He narrowed his eyes at you in suspicion.
To prove it to him, you sat down on the floor by the door, and took out your book. Heart beating in your chest, you tried to calmly open the book and stared intensely at the words, not reading anything.
In your peripheral vision, he just stood there, stiff and still like a statue, staring at you, analysing you. You had expected him to attack, but ten minutes passed, and he was still there.
Then-
âWhat do you want?â he croaked, voice harsh and gritty.
���Nothing,â you shrugged, eyes not leaving your book, âJust chilling.â
A momentary pause.
âLeave.â
âNo,â you simply said, turning a page.
âWhy are you here? Did he send you?â he demanded.
âNo. I just want to read in silence, if you donât mind,â you rolled your eyes.
You wished you could see his expression.
Another five minutes passed, and he didnât say anything else, or do anything else, but stare at you in caution.
After an hour, you got up and left, leaving a very confused Jason Todd in his cell.
***
You continued that routine for the next three days without exchanging a word with Jason. He would just stand there and glare at you for an hour while you pretended to read. On the fourth day, however, there were more than just a few words exchanged.
âYou again,â he growled at you as you entered.
âHello,â you smiled warmly.
âWhat do you want from me?â he barked.
âNothing,â you repeated, âI just want to-â
âChill?â he cut you off, âI donât fucking believe you. I donât trust you. What is he planning? Is he trying to mock me?â
âMock you?â you responded, taken aback, âWhy would he do that?â
âWhy wouldnât he?â Jason grit, âHeâs done worse. He just wants to see me suffer.â
âWhat?â you frowned, âNo. He just wants to help you.â
âWell, heâs too late for that,â he spat.
âLook-â
âGet the fuck out. Donât come back.â
âHe thought you died,â you tried to explain, âJok- He got sent a video. Of you getting shot. Dying. He didnât know.â
âI donât care,â he fumed.
âHe loves you, Jason,â you said softly.
Then, a light flickered in his eye. âWhat did you call me?â
âUh, Jas-â
You choked on your words when Jason suddenly had his hands around your neck, squeezing the air from your lungs. You didnât have time to react, scratching away at his arm helplessly.
âDonât call me that,â he growled.
You were going to reach for your taser, but then he let you go and went back to his corner. You sucked in a deep breath, eyes watering.
You ran out-
-and closed the door behind you to lean against it, trying to get your breath back.
âAre you okay?â Bruce worried, approaching you fast, âIâm sorry. I should have waited out here instead of at the computers.â
âIâm fine,â you panted, âHe didnât hurt me. Just scared me a bit, thatâs all.â
âThis was a bad idea,â he frowned, âWe should stop-â
âNo!â you hurriedly denied, âNo. It was my fault. I didnât know. I said his name. He didnât like it and reacted to it, thatâs all. I wonât say his name next time.â
âNo, itâs too dangerous.â
âBruce, please,â you insisted, âI want to help him. Please, let me continue.â
You looked at your fatherâs blue eyes, full of concern. âOkay.â
***
Despite the scare he gave you, you were ready to enter again the next day. There was something about Jason Todd that made you feel like you owed it to him to help. Maybe it was plain pity, or maybe it was the way that his eyes had a flicker of hope when he realised he wasnât imagining things.
The digital screen beeped in approval as it registered your thumbprint, and you pushed open the door. Jason was already standing, muscles taut, ready to spring at the first sense of danger.
You didnât say a word, but just smiled at him and sat down where you usually did, pushing over the fallen books and torn paper on the floor to create a little space for yourself.
Trying your best not to look nervous, you opened your book and stared at the words again.
âI didnât think youâd come back,â he grit.
âYeah, well. Youâre going to have to try a lot harder if you want to get rid of me, my dude.â
âIâm not your dude,â he said in disgust.
You looked over to him and smirked. âWhatever you say.â
And you continued to pretend to read.
After several minutes, you heard a heavy sigh coming from Jason. Out of the corners of your eye, you saw him give up and slump back onto the ground, his knees up to his chest. He leaned his head back against the wardrobe and closed his eyes.
And for the first time in his presence, you found that you were actually reading.
***
You continued for a month. Entering and sitting down for a couple of hours to read before going back out. Sometimes with few exchanges of âGood morningâ or âMiss me?â, mostly going unresponded. Sometimes he would sit down and glare at you, or stand up and glare at you, or sit down and rest his head and close his eyes. Always from a distance.
The first time you started picking up the books and rearranging them back onto the bookshelf, he looked like he was about to burst a vein in his temple.
âWhat the fuck are you doing?â he growled.
âIâm cleaning up,â you replied nonchalantly.
âDonât.â
âWhat are you gonna do, choke me again?â you rolled your eyes.
You could almost hear him seething in his corner, vibrating in anger.
The next day you came back, the books were back on the floor, strewn everywhere.
But every time before you left, you would still rearrange them back.
Sometimes you would bring in food with you, simply leaving the tray on the desk. He did eat a little, but never when you were around, and never more than a few bites. He ate only to survive. In fact, the more you went to see him, the more you started to notice the little things.
His bed was unmade, the sheets pulled back and covers thrown about. But you knew he had never once slept in it. He never changed his clothes either. It had started to bother you, because he never showered, and his body odour was getting quite distinct.
His eyes were sunken and dark, his hair was greasy and messy, his facial hair overgrown. You wondered if Bruce left a razor in there for him. It was probably a bad idea.
One day while you were sitting down and reading, Jason was in his corner, curled up and eyes closed, Alfred entered the first door and slid in a tray of food from the compartment of the second door. You got up to take it, feeling Jasonâs eyes on you as you walked. But instead of setting the tray on the desk like you usually did, you put it on the ground next to you as you sat and read again.
That day, the menu was pumpkin soup with toast. Alfred had always kept the food light and easy to digest. You picked up a piece of toast from the plate, dipped it in the soup, and ate it while reading.
âAre you eating my fucking food?â Jason fumed from the distance.
âSomeone should,â you bit back, dipping the toast back in the soup and continued to eat.
âStop it.â
You looked over at him with challenging eyes. âWhy should I?â
âItâs my food,â he insisted.
Jason hardly ever talked to you. In fact, that was the most words youâve heard him say in a couple of weeks. He was possessive over his food, apparently, which didnât make sense because he hardly ever ate.
âBut itâs not like you eat it,â you argued, curious as to where this would take you, âIâm making sure it doesnât go to waste.â
He narrowed his eyes at you, and then shifted slightly closer, leaning in towards you. âGive it to me.â
You pretended to consider it for awhile. âNo.â
He growled.
âCome and take it if you want it so badly,â you challenged.
Immediately, you regretted it. Because he got up, and walked slowly towards you, looming over you like a predator watching its prey. Your heart started to beat faster in your chest, your palms started beading with sweat.
He then crouched down and snatched the piece of toast from your hands, taking the tray away and walked back towards his spot on the floor. Setting the tray down, he immediately started to ravish the soup and toast, his eyes never leaving yours the whole time.
It was the most heâd eaten ever since he arrived.
âYou shouldnât eat too fast,â you warned, âYour stomachâs not used to that amount of food yet.â
âWatch me.â
He cleaned the bowl in three minutes as you stared in shock.
***
âWho are you?â Jason asked out of the blue.
It was your sixth week there. Six weeks of sitting down in silence and hardly ever talking. Occasionally cleaning up after him, just to see the room messy again. Occasionally trying to spark up conversation, only to be greeted by silence. But that time, it was him who started it first.
You told him your name, still pleasantly surprised at his engagement.
âI donât give a fuck what youâre called,â he spat, âIt doesnât explain to me who you are.â
Frowning, you closed the book. You wondered if it was a good idea to tell him that you were Bruceâs newly adopted daughter. Would he feel betrayed? Jealous? But if you didnât and he found out, wouldnât that be worse? Plus, you didnât want to lie to him.
After all, you were trying to help.
âBruce adopted me a year ago,â you explained, âIâm officially his adopted daughter. Iâve only recently been Robin. When we found you, it was just my second month.â
Anger flashed in his eyes, his jaw clenched. âTypical. Lose one toy, find another one to play with.â
âIâm not a toy,â you defended heatedly, âHe⌠saved me. I owe him.â
He didnât ask, but you knew he wanted to, so you continued anyway. âHe found me at a bid. A human trafficking bid. After my parents died, I ran away from the orphanage. I got kidnapped. After finding out I was a virgin, they organised an event to see who would bid the highest to own me.â
It seemed like Jasonâs expression didnât change, his mouth still in a scowl. But you saw the way his eyes softened. It was a good idea to explain, after all. He must have drawn conclusions that Bruce had replaced him with you shortly after his death.
âBatman crashed the party right before I was about to get sold off for⌠Five thousand eight hundred and fifty dollars,â you scoffed, âI guess that was how much I was worth. Could you even buy a car with that? Iâm not sure. Maybe a used one.â
âAnyway, I was quite shaken up. He took pity on me, I guess. Maybe it was my puppy dog eyes that made me look so pathetic that he decided to take me in. Mom always said I had a pathetic look,â you shrugged, âThatâs who I am I guess. Now Iâm in my last year of highschool. I turn seventeen in two months! I'm only a year or so younger than you. You donât have to get me anything, of course. Itâs cool. I never really cared much for birthdays anyway.â
You tried to lighten the mood, but all you saw was Jasonâs unchanging expression. You guessed that was as much as he was willing to say that day, so you got up and started cleaning again despite knowing he was going to just mess it up.
***
He did mess it up again, but what shocked you that day was not the mess, but the fact that he was actually on the bed. The bed was still unmade, and he was sitting unnaturally upright, but still. It was progress.
You sat down on the floor and read your book. After five minutes, he asked, âWhatâs the book about?â
Trying your hardest not to look surprised in case he took it the wrong way, you answered, âA brief history of mankind. From evolution, to the agricultural revolution, to the current day.â
He just blinked at you in response, and you wondered when was the day that he had stopped glaring at you.
You tried to break the ice. âBruce put all the books he thought you might like on the shelf. Iâve noticed that theyâre mostly classic literary novels. You like those, huh?â
Not a word.
âI never really could get into those. I tried, but itâs not my thing, you know? Or maybe I started with the wrong book.â
He closed his eyes instead of answering you.
Sighing, you decided not to push it, and went back to your book.
About fifteen minutes passed. And then-
âYou like science and shit?â he spoke up, his eyes boring into yours.
âUh, yeah,â you said, taken aback by the sudden question.
âStart with Jules Verne. Twenty thousand leagues,â he told you, then closed his eyes again.
âThank you,â you smiled.
Silence.
***
âWhy do you sit there?â Jason asked you two days later.
âHuh?â
âWhy do you sit on the floor when there's a desk?â he repeated in annoyance, like an underpaid customer service worker at the mall.
âWell, I didn't want to intrude on your space,â you told him.
âYou being here already intrudes my space,â he rolled his eyes.
Jason was more relaxed now. He was actually leaning against a propped pillow on the bed, one knee brought to his chest, the other leg crossed over it.
And he was reading a fucking book.
â...so you can sit anywhere you like. Doesn't make a difference,â he continued.
âThen can I sit on the bed next to you?â you teased lightly.
You had expected him to glare at you in contempt, to tell you to fuck off or get out, or even not respond to you at all. So you were very much surprised when he said what he did.
âWhatever,â he mumbled.
Despite trying your best to act neutral, your jaw dropped. You quickly recovered, and cleared your throat nervously, standing up and slowly walking towards him. Jason shuffled a bit, going upwards against the wall at the head of the bed.
You slowly sat down at the foot of it, still maintaining some distance from him for his sake. Bringing your bare feet up, you crossed them and leaned against the wall the bed was pushed against.
Getting comfortable, you opened your book and started reading. For two hours, you and Jason Todd sat on the bed next to each other, reading with no other sounds except the occasional rustling of a page being turned.
You closed your book once you were done, but before you could get up, he asked in a small voice. âHow long was I⌠There?â
The way his voice was shaky, the way it came out in a harsh whisper, and the fact that it had taken him seven weeks to ask- it tugged at your heart.
âTwo years,â you said objectively, making sure no emotions leaked into your voice.
âAnd he thought I was dead the whole time?â he grumbled.
âYes.â
âThat's why he never came?â he choked out.
Fuck, you tried not to let your tears fall.
âYes,â you whispered back.
âWorld's greatest detective, my ass,â he snorted.
âHe's killing himself over this,â you told him softly, âIâve never seen him like that before.â
âLike what?â he demanded, looking at you with anger, with red eyes pooling with tears.
âVulnerable. Clueless. Breaking down and crying next to you while you slept,â you elaborated. âYou may not forgive him for now, and that's understandable. But Bruce? Heâll never forgive himself. Not in a million years.â
âPlease leave.â
You didn't argue. You didn't hang around to clean up. You left immediately, because of the way he said his please, like someone who was tired, so tired. It was the way he told you to leave, it wasn't out of anger or spite. It was out of desperation. Because he was looking away when he told you, refusing to let you see the tear that fell on his face that you saw anyway.
***
âWhat are you looking at?â he grunted. âClose your mouth. You look like an idiot.â
You snapped your mouth close, not even aware that it was ajar.
The room was exceptionally clean- cleaner than when you cleaned it yourself. Jason had properly made the bed, fitted the sheets and folded the covers. The torn pages of paper were gone, and on his shelf were all his books, neatly arranged.
In alphabetical order.
Yet, Jason was still smelly, and he still hadnât changed his clothes despite the wardrobe full of fresh t-shirts and pants.
âYou clean up better than I do,â you grumbled, sitting at the foot of his bed carefully.
âThatâs because youâre useless,â he snapped.
You tried not to smile despite his insult. The bickering was fun, and it showed that he was more familiar with you now.
Trying to push it a little further, you narrowed your eyes at him and started sniffing the air loudly.
âYou smell,â you told him.
âIf you donât like it, leave,â he bit back.
âThereâs hot water in the shower you know,â you reminded him, âYou could go shower. Iâll wait right outside.â
âWhat for?â he eyed you suspiciously.
âFor moral support!â you grinned, holding two thumbs up.
And whaddaya know?
He snorted a laugh, and rolled his eyes.
âOh, come on,â you whined, âYou really stink. Youâd give Killer Croc a run for his money with that stench.â
âIf you donât like it,â he leaned closer towards you, âLeave.â
âUgh,â you grunted. And then, you had an idea. Probably a bad idea. He would probably murder you.
You stood up and announced, âIâll be right back.â
After ten minutes of running around the mansion looking for items, you finally came back with a bucket, a sponge, and a fluffy towel.
âWhat the hell are you up to?â Jason demanded, sitting upright.
âIf you wonât go to the shower, then Iâll bring the shower to you,â you grinned triumphantly and went to fill the bucket with warm water from the shower. You set down the filled bucket on the floor and motioned to Jason.
âWell, get on the floor.â
âWhat?â
âIâm going to give you a bath, and if you stay on the bed, itâs going to get all wet,â you explained, âSo get on the floor and take off your shirt.â
He stared at you with bewilderment in his eyes, and then suddenly let out a bark of laughter. âWhy on Earth would I listen to you?â
âBecause if you donât, Iâm going to splash all this water on you, and youâre going to have to sleep in a wet bed,â you threatened.
âIâll sleep on the floor,â he bickered.
âFine, Iâll bargain with you,â you said, âIf you listen to me, Iâll tell him to turn that off.â
You pointed to the single security camera at the top corner of the room, always switched on, watching and recording.
He clenched his jaw, contemplating your tempting offer.
âFine,â he conceded, and slid to the floor, taking off his shirt.
You smirked.
âIf you wanted to see me shirtless, you could have just asked,â he smirked back.
You really didnât expect him to mess with you like that, and in result, you felt your cheeks heat up.
âN-no,â you denied, âI- you just stink.â
He raised an eyebrow.
Rolling your eyes, you kneeled in front of him, bringing the bucket of water closer. You took the sponge and soaked it, but before you pressed it on his skin, you just realised the situation you put yourself in.
That close to Jason, with him looking up at you and waiting, you gulped. Because his body wasnât as bad as you thought two years of starvation would have caused. Sure, he was definitely skinnier than he should ever be, and his muscles were barely there, but his overall frame, the structure of his body was still large.
You finally pressed the sponge against his rising and falling chest, not meeting his eyes. The warm water spilled from the sponge and trickled down his chest, onto his stomach. You moved your hand in a wiping motion, cleaning the sweat off the surface of his skin.
Scars littered his body, healed cuts of various sizes. Some were burns, some were bullet wounds, and some were the crescent shapes of bites.
You moved the sponge to his arms, wiping down the contour of the remaining biceps he had left, going under to wash his pits, then going down to his forearms, which you noticed had long rough scars running down from his wrists to the crook of his elbows.
Your chest tightened.
Despite the hell he went through, you still thought he was beautiful.
You felt your breathing start to quicken.
Moving to his stomach next, you noticed that the water had seeped into the fabric of his grey sweatpants, making it turn dark, making it stick to his skin, stick to the long cylindrical shape of his-
âYour pupils are dilated,â he pointed out.
Your eyes snapped back to his.
âWh-what- I wasnât- theyâre not!â you sputtered angrily.
He looked at you with an odd expression. Well, any expression that wasnât a hateful glare was odd, you supposed. But his eyelids were droopy, the corners of his mouth relaxed and not tight.
It looked like he was actually enjoying it.
âYou donât find me disgusting?â he whispered.
You frowned at him in question, bringing the sponge up to wash his neck. âWell, you smell a bit gross. But by the time Iâm done with you, thatâll be gone.â
âNo. I meant by me. My body. My face. You donât think Iâm disgusting?â he said in a voice so small, you could barely make out the words.
His body made you think things, but none of them were disgusting. In fact, if he looked like that now, you wondered how his body must have looked like before, when he was healthy. You glanced at his face.
He had scars there too. One at the corner of his upper lip that made him seem like he was permanently smirking, one across the bridge of his nose, another long one that cut from his temple down to his brow, barely missing his eye. And you didnât even count the smaller ones, silver little lines that were scattered all over his skin.
His cold blue eyes had scars in them as well. Not physically, not literally. But when you stared deep into them, you could almost see how truly scarred he was, and that scar had nothing on the ones you could actually see.
âThere is no way that I could ever find you disgusting,â you told him earnestly.
He stared at you for a while, and then looked away to the side. You soaked the sponge and wiped his face, pressing it to his cheek. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he allowed you to travel up to his hair, wetting it, going behind his ears, and back to his nape.
With a plunk, you dumped the sponge in the water and then opened the cap of the soap you had brought.
In an instant, Jason recoiled from you, âNo. No soap.â
âJust a little bit?â you pressed.
âNo soap,â he insisted, pushing your hand away, âIt smells too strong. Makes me sick.â
And suddenly, it clicked.
The reason why he left his room in a mess, the reason why he didnât sleep on the bed, the reason why he never showered or changed.
Because it was all too much.
The sudden change from a disgusting, smelly, rat-infested torture room to a clean, proper, neat environment with a warm bed. It was too much for him, and he wasnât used to it yet.
He wasnât used to being clean.
And the smell of a perfumed body wash would most definitely be too much for him.
âOkay,â you nodded, setting the soap down. âThen Iâll wash you up one more time, is that okay?â
He nodded, still not looking at you.
You were back at his face again for the second time, and then you cupped his cheek, using your thumb to feel the roughness of his overgrown facial hair.
âDo you want me to help shave you?â you asked.
âNo way in hell would I ever let you come near my fucking face with a razor,â he scoffed.
âFair enough,â you mumbled back a reply.
Once you were done, you took the towel and wiped him dry, trying your best to avoid looking at his crotch because you knew his pants were absolutely soaked through. You got up and went to the wardrobe to take a fresh pair of pants- a black sweatpants this time- and a white t-shirt. You set them on the bed, and took the bucket to the bathroom to throw away the contents.
Once you were done, Jason was already changed into his new pants, and had just finished putting on his t-shirt. He looked much better, fresher, and-
âYou smell way better now,â you chuckled.
âI did what you asked,â he said, âYou better make that happen.â
He gestured to the camera with his thumb.
âI will. Promise,â you smiled, picking up his stinky shirt and wet pants before heading out.
***
âI donât think thatâs a good idea,â Bruce grumbled.
âHeâs not an experiment, or a criminal, Bruce,â you argued, âThereâs no reason for you to keep surveillance on him that way. He deserves his privacy.â
âItâs about safety. His and yours,â he explained, âI wouldnât know whatâs going on in there while youâre inside if the camera is deactivated. I wouldnât know if heâs- if heâs hurting himself.â
âI trust him, Bruce,â you insisted, âAnd he trusts me too! Look at what happened! He let me give him a freaking sponge bath!â
Bruce frowned in contemplation.
âHeâs finishing his meals, heâs reading, heâs actually having conversations with me,â you listed, âHeâs improving. Fast. Next thing you know, he and I could be best friends.â
âFine,â he sighed, âBut next time you go in, youâre bringing a panic button with you.â
The panic button you kept whenever you went for patrol was so that you could trigger a silent alarm to Bruce if you were in trouble.
âOkay, thatâs fair!â you nodded your head excitedly, watching him as he pressed a button on the keyboard, switching off the camera in Jasonâs room. The last thing you saw on the screen was Jason lying down on the bed, sleeping soundly.
***
âOkay, so,â you announced, standing up while you opened the plastic bag, âI got you a few things.â
Jason was on the bed, but proceeded to get up on his feet and tower over you. For some reason, he had started sitting or standing closer to you.
âI got you unscented shampoo and body wash,â you looked into the bag, naming the items you got, âUnscented shaving cream, and an electric shaver! You canât hurt yourself with this, so Bruce agreed to-â
You looked up and gasped slightly at the closeness of his face to yours. You didnât realise that he had stepped over so close to you that you could almost feel his warm breath on your face. Almost.
He took the plastic bag from your hands, his skin brushing against yours, and for a brief moment, it gave you goosebumps. He turned around with the plastic bag now in his hands, leaving you in shock.
That is, until he started taking off his shirt.
âW-woah!â you called out, âWhat are you doing?â
âTaking off my clothes,â he simply said, now not wearing a shirt.
âWhy?â
âBecause I want to shower,â he looked over his shoulder to give you a smirk. âWhy? Wanna join?â
âWh-wh-j-join?â you stuttered, âUh, no thanks. Iâll just. Leave you to it, then.â
You turned to leave. Then-
âWait.â
You stopped in your tracks, turning back around to look at him, trying your best to maintain eye contact.
âIs that⌠diner in Gotham Village still around?â he asked quietly.
âThe corner one on Vincent Street? Sure, it is,â you tilted your head in curiosity, âWould you⌠like anything from there?â
âThe burger,â he said gruffly.
Your mouth widen into a smile. It was the first time he ever asked for anything, more so food. âFries?â
âSure.â
âMilkshake?â
âYeah.â
âChocolate?â
âStrawberry!â he looked at you as if you were crazy, and then disappeared into the toilet.
âIâll be back in an hour!â you announced, skipping out in joy.
Vibrating with excitement, you opened the door to Jasonâs room, not expecting to see a totally different man in his bed.
No, it was still Jason, but fuck.
Fuck.
He cleaned up well.
Finally showering after eight weeks, Jason Todd had transformed into an almost different person. His uncut hair that poked his eyes was no longer greasy. In fact, it had a slight bounce to it now.
He changed his shirt into a light blue V-neck, and most significantly of all, he shaved
Now you could see the way his angular jawline was cut into a shape as if some Greek artist sculpted it, the way his pink lips stood out against his milky skin - lack of tan from being kept indoors for so long, the way his cheekbones highlighted his facial structure.
And as if you didnât think of it before, you thought about it again.
Jason Todd was a freaking hottie.
âUhh, uhmm, uhhh,â you said, stunned and fully aware of the way your face was probably flushing.
He let out a chuckle, and walked towards you, reaching out to take the bags of food from your hand. All the while you were stunned in silence, unsure of how to react to the changed man.
âAnyone home?â he snapped his fingers in front of you.
âUh, yes, sorry,â you shook your head, âI, uh, didnât expect it, thatâs all.â
âExpect what?â he set the bags on his desk, reaching in to take a fry. âMe to look so good?â
You were sure your ears were burning. âN-no! Not at all. Not that you donât look good, but- uh- I mean- fuck!â
âI donât understand you,â he took out the food and arranged them on the table. âMy scars are more obvious like this.â
âI think your scars are sexy,â you blurted out.
He blinked.
âUh, I mean!â you tried to backtrack, âUgh, fuck it, letâs just eat!â
You took your own burger and went to sit on the bed.
âNo food on the bed!â he barked.
âOkay, dad,â you rolled your eyes, settling with sitting on the floor.
To your surprise, Jason took all the food and put it on the floor in front of you, and then sat down opposite you.
Discreetly, you watched as he took the first bite.
He closed his eyes, chewing slowly, savouring the taste in his mouth. It was as though he was passionately making out with his burger, caressing the bun with love.
Smiling to yourself, you ate yours in silence, letting him appreciate the intimate moment he had with his food that he must have thought about while being forced to live on rats.
***
âWhatâs that?â Bruce asked curiously.
Ever since he switched off the camera in Jasonâs room, he had been more agitated- or as agitated as he could get. He kept on asking you what you did, having you report back to him, demanding every little detail on his sonâs wellbeing.
âMy laptop,â you answered, âI was thinking we could do something different today. Maybe watch a movie. Heâs missed out on so many.â
âA laptop,â Bruce hummed, âDo you think he would like one? To occupy his time? Or a television? Or a phone? Or- a tablet? Or-â
âWoah there, cowboy,â you chuckled. Bruce seemed desperate to provide Jason with anything he wanted. Maybe as a way to push the guilt away, maybe as a way to reconcile.
Or maybe he was just being a father who wanted to spoil his son.
Whatever the reason was, you thought it was extremely sweet.
âHeâs only now just getting used to being in a clean environment,â you explained, âAll of that may overstimulate him, and I donât want him to revert back to how he was.â
âI see.â
âBut Iâll ask, okay?â you said, heading to the room. âWeâll see how he handles a movie.â
You opened the door to see Jason sitting on his bed with his legs spread in front of him, reading a book.
âHello,â you greeted.
âWhatâs that,â he narrowed his eyes at you.
âMy laptop!â you told him excitedly, âI thought maybe we could watch a movie today.â
âMovie?â he frowned, crossing his legs to make space for you on the bed.
âYeah,â you sat down in front of him, âIâve got a whole terabyte of illegally downloaded movies and shows. We can choose one together and watch, if youâd like?â
He contemplated for a while, eyebrows drawn together while you opened your laptop. âFine.â
âYay!â you cheered, âOkay, so what do you like to watch? Action? Drama? Thriller? Comedy? Or⌠Romance?â
âPut on your favourite movie,â he stated.
âWhat? Nah, you can choose something youâd like to watch,â you declined, âIâm cool with anything.â
âI want to watch your favourite movie,â he deadpanned.
You purse your lips. âOkay, sure. Scoot over.â
He propped two pillows up against the headboard of his bed and moved to the side so you can squeeze in between him and the wall. At first, you were not used to being in close proximity with him, and you wanted to give him personal space.
But after a while, Jason himself had sat next to you closely, stood in front of you or behind you closely- so close that the skin of your arms would brush against each other, or in this case, the heat of his thigh against yours as you balanced the laptop on each of your thighs.
The next surprising thing that happened, though, was when he put his arm behind your shoulder so casually, that anyone would have guessed it was a thing he did on the regular.
You were taken aback by his advances, but appreciated that he felt comfortable with you. It was such an accomplishment considering everything that happened, so you leaned into him snuggly.
You clicked play.
And then, he came in close to you, brushing his lips against your ear and said in the lowest whisper that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand.
âIf this movie sucks, Iâll kill you.â
It wasnât a threat, you knew it wasnât.
But the heat on your neck from his breath when he whispered to you, the low tone of his voice-
You couldnât help but clench your thighs together in arousal.
***
âI wonder if heâll be okay,â you thought out loud.
âIâm so jealous that youâre the only one who gets to see him. When can I go?â Dick whined.
âTwo weeks is a long time,â you ignored Dick, âBruce, is the phone offer still available?â
âOf course,â Bruce said, cutting his steak as silently as he walked. âI already have one. Itâs on my desk.â
âThatâs great!â you scooped up mashed potatoes.
âSeriously, though,â Dick pressed, âItâs been like what, five months? I want to see him.â
You looked across the dining table to meet your older brother in the eye. It was rare that Dick came over and had dinner with everyone, but his visits had been increasing ever since Jason got back.
âWe canât risk overstimulation, Dick. The only reason why he probably accepted me so easily is because I wasnât part of his old life. He hasnât even mentioned anything about⌠you know. And he hasnât brought you or anyone else up.â
âYeah, I know,â he sighed, âItâs just- heâs my brother.â
Those last three words spoke volumes. A simple fact that carried so many emotions. Sadness, relief, longing, regret.
Dick was really special. You got the younger sibling treatment from Dick as well, and you only knew him for a little over a year. Even then you had formed such a bond with Dick Grayson you knew you wouldnât have with anyone else in the world.
You couldnât even begin to imagine his relationship with Jason, and how painful it must be to find out his little brother is alive but not allowed to see him.
âHe just needs more time and space,â you said, âBut heâs getting better, Dick. Much better. Even making jokes and teasing me. Youâll know once heâs ready. And I donât think itâll take too much longer.â
âYouâve been spending a lot of time with him, havenât you?â Dick narrowed his eyes at you. âLike, every single day.â
âWell, yeah, heâs probably bored,â you shrugged. âItâs the least I can do.â
âA little birdie told me that you gave him a sponge bath a few months ago,â he wiggled his eyebrows.
You looked at Bruce accusingly, in which he responded with a simple, âAlfred.â
âHe wasnât showering at the time, and he stank like hell,â you explained.
âSure, use that as an excuse,â he grinned, âHave you seen him shirtless since then?â
âWhy?â you asked a little too defensively, feeling your cheeks heat up.
âNothing,â Dick laughed, âI wanted to ask about his progress. Health wise.â
âOh,â you calmed down, âWell, Alfred has him on a high protein diet now. Heâs definitely filled up since then.â
âFilled up,â Dick winked.
âGrow up, Dick!â you snapped.
After dinner, you went to Bruceâs desk to pick up the smartphone and brought it downstairs to Jasonâs room.
âTwo visits in a day. A late one, too. Whatâs the occasion?â Jason mused when you came in.
âI have something for you,â you sat at the foot of his bed.
âIs it my birthday?â he teased.
âShut up,â you rolled your eyes, âWe got you a smartphone. It has internet access and my number. You donât have to use it if you donât want to. In fact, itâs switched off. Iâm gonna leave it here on the shelf. And if you donât want it, just ignore it.â
âWhy all of a sudden?â he eyed you suspiciously from where he was sitting at the top of the bed.
âWell,â you started, âIâm going to be away for a couple of weeks. On a trip with my friends. Sort of a post-graduation celebration. And I thought that since I wonât be here to keep you company, you might like to⌠you knowâŚâ
He raised an eyebrow at you.
âTalk? Text? Call?â you winced at your own awkwardness. Why were you even nervous? âI mean. Youâd be bored so at least you have internet. If you want, of course.â
âAre you implying that Iâd miss you while youâre gone?â his lips turned into a smirk, âOr are you the one who will miss me?â
âNeither!â you huffed, âI just thought that you might want some other form of entertainment besides books.â
âI was locked away in a cell for two years without food, water, books, or the internet,â he scoffed.
âAnd look how great you turned out,â you bit back sarcastically, before realising what you had said. âOh, no. I didnât mean- Iâm sorry. I shouldnât have-â
âJesus, calm the fuck down,â he complained, âItâs fine. You donât have to be careful with me, Iâm not a fucking baby.â
You knew that, but at the same time, you still couldnât call him by his own name.
âOkay,â you nodded, âWell. Iâm leaving in the morning. Iâll be back on the tenth.â
You glanced at the digital clock on Jasonâs desk. It was one of the most important things in his room. It allowed him to keep track of the time and day- imperative to keeping oneâs sanity in check.
âTenth, twentieth, it doesnât matter. Itâs not like Iâm going anywhere.â
âYouâre not a prisoner,â you reminded him, âYou do know that weâve unlocked the door a couple of weeks ago, right? Youâre free to go anywhere you want.â
Everyone had deemed him more or less stable. He wasnât going to hurt himself or anyone else unless provoked or triggered, so Bruce decided to leave his doors unlocked, but Jason has yet to step outside.
âDoesnât make a difference,â he mumbled, lying back down to face the ceiling.
Deep down, you knew what he meant.
It didnât make a difference if you left the door unlocked, or threw him out of the room. Because at the end of the day, Jason was still being imprisoned by himself.
#jason todd x reader#jason todd reader#jason todd reader insert#jason todd#red hood#robin#dc#dc comics#batman#batfamily#bruce wayne#dick grayson#alfred pennyworth
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The Fight
CW: Ableism against a child, references to attempted noncon/assault of a survivor, religious references to the Bible, conditioning, trauma recovery, trauma response
TIMELINE: Immediately post-Creepy Pet Lib Guy. Links in piece.
She hears his footsteps, the soft motion of him through the living room and into the den, where a single lamp is on in the corner on the side table next to the old couch Paul never could bear to throw out. Ronnie doesnât look over at him, instead picking at a bit of duct tape affixed over a ripped spot while sipping her beer straight from the bottle.
Thereâs a show on the television - they have a new one finally, but Ronnieâs never thrown out a damn thing that wasnât broken just because it got replaced and sheâs not about to start now, so she moved it in here - but sheâs not watching it. Not even sure what the show is, only that the laugh track is tinny and never seems timed to the moments of actual humor.Â
The house is mostly silent, this late at night. Thereâs no sound but the occasional gurgle from the ice machine in the fridge, the soft hum of electronics that she never notices except when the power goes out, and then only because of its sudden absence.Â
No sound but the televisionâs off-key laughter and the footsteps of her son, creeping up behind her.Â
âMommy?â His voice is so high and soft, fuzzy with sleepiness, and she turns with a tired smile to see him dragging his favorite blanket behind him along the floor. Itâs a quilt she bought at a churchâs Christmas market when he was two, and it had buttons sewn in with the patches, giving the cats the quilt is decorated with three-dimensional button eyes.Â
His face is rounded and so like his fatherâs, even so, his face and eyes and his hair are all Paulâs, through and through. Heâs an echo, a clone of his father, in a lot of ways⌠up to and including navigating a world that has already labeled him as difficult, and heâs only six years old.
âHey, baby. What are you doing up?â Sheâs twenty-three with a six year old son, and doesnât that seem strange, some days? So many of her friends from high school are still out until dawn, posting photos of their drunken shenanigans on Facebook, and here Ronnie sits⌠twenty-three, with a husband who works nights, and a six-year-old son whose teacher calls him hopeless, right to his fucking face.
âI, I, I had a bad dream,â He says, and his eyes are so, so big in his small round face. Paulâs eyes are like that, big and green and soulful. Sheâd fallen into them, her junior year, and sheâd never wanted to climb back out. No matter that her friends thought he was weird, no matter that yeah, okay, he is weird - heâs her kind of weird, and she and Paul understood each other right from the start.Â
âOh, no.â She pats the couch cushion beside her and he clambers almost eagerly up to tuck himself in beside her. Her throat nearly closes as he carefully spreads his blanket out to cover them both, the simple gesture of care and love. How do you look this boy in the eyes and tell him he canât do something? âWhat was your bad dream about, do you want to tell me?â
âMonsters,â He says, as if that single word relays all the information she could possibly need. Maybe it does, really - at least the monsters her son dreams about are easier to vanquish than the ones Ronnie has to help him learn how to face on his own as he grows.
âGood thing I monster-proofed this house before we moved in,â Ronnie teases. She moves her arm around his shoulders and he smiles, faintly, eyes closing as he leans his head against her collarbone, his ear right where heâs always wanted it, ever since birth - over her heart. Listening to her heartbeat. Sure enough, his fingers find their way to her stomach and start to tap in time with it, and Ronnie sips her beer again.
âMonsters arenât, arenât, arenât real, actually,â He says, speaking quietly and without opening her eyes, and Ronnie thinks if her six-year-old well, actuallys her one more time⌠she read all the parenting books and has a whole shelf of parenting memoirs sheâs picked up and not a single one mentioned that little kids are fucking know-it-alls. Not one.
âWell, if theyâre not real, then why are you bugginâ Mommy at midnight because of dreaming about them, huh?â She keeps her voice light and affectionate, just this side of teasing. Tristan doesnât react well to any kind of perceived anger or rejection, moping for a day or more around while his brain tries to process that she didnât stop loving him just because he did something that bothered her. Tris as a toddler broke her heart more than once with terrified insistence that you, you, you donât even like me anymore after time-outs or discipline.
Heâs just being manipulative, her mother had said once, but Ronnie knew better.Â
Heâs three years old, Mom. Heâs not trying to manipulate me, heâs scared.
Heâs just doing what works, Veronica, you canât always give in to it.
Mom. He is a little boy. Do you realize how you sound?
Now his teacher is repeating the same tired circular logic that cycles round and round her son without ever seeing him. Ronnie is staring down the barrel of another round of meetings, talking to administrators to try and get around the teacherâs rigidity and hostility, arguing for Tris to get moved into a new class, and all the while heâll fall further and further behind in his in-class work - while at home he rockets through the homeschooling workbooks she buys, a six-year-old already doing second-grade reading and writing work, first-grade math, obsessed with a kid show about science that they have to watch every single day or he has seriously informed her he might die.
The knowledge is there, and his love of learning hasnât been throttled by school yet, and Ronnie canât do anything but try to work within a system that tells her that her son needs to be changed or cured in order to not be kept locked away from everyone else.
Monsters are pretty fucking real, in Ronnieâs experience.Â
One day her son will have to learn that all the monsters are human beings.
God, sheâs so tired of fighting, and so very aware that sheâs not going to stop until the whole damn world remakes itself to give space for Tristan, until the world deserves how unreservedly her son loves it.
She takes another drink, then sets the beer bottle carefully down on the coaster - she ordered them last year, and they all have little stylized drawings of the three of them on it, faceless sketches of a man, a woman, a child - man and child red-headed, woman with brown hair.Â
When sheâd gotten the positive pregnancy test, right before Thanksgiving her junior year, sheâd thrown up and cried for a week and been sullen and silent at the holiday table, trying to figure out what to do next.
But Paul had never hesitated. When she told him, his response had been to go home to his dad and ask to start working part-time with the Garden, running packages he never looked into, playing lookout outside of bars while the Garden met inside. His first pay - cash handed to him in an envelope - heâd spent some of it on a onesie, a baby blanket, and a stuffed puppy with fur so soft Ronnie could barely stand the fluff.Â
Then heâd spent some more on ginger chews and âPreggo Popsâ, lollipops that were supposed to help with Ronnieâs morning sickness, and three books on pregnancy for her and one book on becoming a dad for him.Â
Paul did what Paul always did - took one look at a cliff he had to cross and simply leapt headfirst and hoped for the best. That impulsiveness that she loved and that had gotten him in so much trouble in life, the enthusiasm that carried her long with it.
There are monsters in the world, Ronnie thinks, running fingers through her sonâs fine, soft hair. But there are people who help you fight the monsters, too. Even if the monster is just the stares from other students at school as her stomach grew, the way her friendsâ parents stopped letting her come to their houses, the thin-lipped disapproval of the principal handing her a high school diploma as she half-waddled across the stage, refusing to be shamed, engagement ring on her finger. Even if the monster is a world that tries to shove her son into boxes that he canât fit into, or a teacher who sends him home in tears convinced heâs too stupid to learn anything.
Her jaw sets.
Veronica Higgs has been headstrong since birth, and sheâs never made a decision she didn't follow through on. Never turned away from a fight. Sheâs not about to start now, not when itâs her son.
Ronnie has never turned away from the sweet baby that had looked at her with such dark-eyed seriousness when he was born, the infant who cried for reasons Ronnie couldn'tâ fathom, the toddler who screamed that the lights at Target hurt his skin, the little boy who lined up dinosaurs and cars and toy horses in perfect color gradients, the boy who rocks in her arms and hums when heâs happy, the boy she hopes will one day be able to live on his own without her, becauseâŚ
Because if only Paul and Ronnie are going to fight for him, then theyâre going to have to be a fight so fierce that everyone else canât possibly hold out against them.
The doctors said he might not talk - and he talks a mile-a-minute, about any-fucking-thing that comes into his mind. They said he wouldnât make friends easily, but he goes on sleepovers with his gymnastics buddies, just went to a party at Chuck E. Cheese with a little preparation so he wasnât scared of the games and lights and noise when he got there. They said he would struggle in school, and-
Well, he does. But only because of the adults who refuse to understand that Tris learns just fine⌠if you let him listen in his own way.
âHey, Tris?â She smiles down at him and he turns those big green eyes up to her. Thereâs a chapped spot on his lower lip that looks like he might have messed with it until it opened into a sore, and she reminds herself to get some vaseline on it. âYou want to stay here with me for a bit? Weâll watch one of your shows, and then back to bed. Howâs that sound?â
He smiles at her, and nods a little, still tapping along to her heartbeat. âOh, oh, okay, Mom. Can, can, can⌠can-can⌠can we watch Dino King?â
âYeah, sure.â Ronnie hates that show, but really - he loves it, and itâs one night, and she could use the way his open, brilliant happiness helps her forget that heâs going to have to work harder and harder to hold onto it as he grows.
She picks up the remote, brings up the menu, switches to a streaming network, and listens to the grating, familiar theme song start to play as her sonâs eyes move contentedly to the screen.Â
He watches the show, but he never takes his head away from her heartbeat.
---
Natalie Yoder has had easier nights than this one, thatâs for fucking sure. She leans over the kitchen table, papers spread out in front of her, trying to figure out where they went wrong. This is one of their biggest grants, itâs a bit of funding that she has always relied on, and⌠denied approval for the upcoming fiscal year.Â
Thousands of dollars she needs to feed and clothe and house her rescues, gone up in smoke, denied with a bloodless email and no ability to fight back, not for this one. Not this year. It could be a simple error, something she overlooked, sure. Or maybe the association that gives out the grants is suspicious of her story about transitioning homeless people into permanent housing, which really is exactly what sheâs doing, isnât it?
Just⌠not the kind of homeless people the grant givers are imagining.
Sheâll have to call Vince to beg for him to help her fill in the gap, and that will mean time for him to speak with his finance guy and get another couple of shell companies to funnel the money through so it doesnât go back to him. Heâll give it to her, to be sure - Vince could give her the money to run this place flat out for the rest of his life and still be one of the wealthiest men in America, thanks to his low-key lifestyle and strong work ethic meaning he spends more time filming or producing than he does doing anything else.
Nat knows why Vince doesnât want to be home, to sit up alone with a bottle or a glass in his hand. She knows his work ethic is simply escaping the demons that will never stop haunting his footsteps, what he traded away for his success, what he lost, what the money and fame can protect him from but canât remove the stamp of it already written over his soul.
Heâs famous, and rich, and Owen Grant canât touch him now⌠but the tradeoff of Vinceâs survival was that some innocent kid was abducted and turned, through drugs and torture and horrifying assault, into Kauri.
Kauri, who hasnât answered the phone or sent a text in a week.
Not since that fucking group meeting where Chris was assaulted and Kauri stood up for him. Not since Kauriâs intuition that Kyle had some less-than-savory interest in Chris had proven correct, because⌠it wasnât intuition at all.
It was experience.Â
Nat groans, rubbing her hands over her face, closing her eyes and reminding herself, teeth ground together, to try and stay calm. Itâs not unusual for Kauri to disappear for a while, a week or more. Itâs not a sign that something is wrong. He was hurt by Nat pushing him, he needs time to think.Â
Heâll pop right back up again, smiling like nothing happened, like he isnât giving Nat gray hairs (well, new ones, anyway) trying to tell herself heâll be okay.
All she can do is trust that heâll come back when heâs ready.
... and castigate herself for letting that fucking predator get close to Chris without picking up on what he was planning, and for not realizing Kauri wasnât just being overprotective of a younger rescue, but - in his own way - waving giant red flags that Nat, and Jake, and everyone else just didnât see.
That, and then losing the grant, have made for one hell of a fucking week.
Nat takes deep breaths. Her hands smell like dish soap and a hint of the roasted garlic sheâd put in the soup for supper lingering. The kitchen still smells like the garlic, roasted parsnips and rosemary. Chris had never had parsnips before-
Not that anyone knows if he really hasnât or not.
âOh, Nat, you are a mess tonight,â She mutters to herself. âJust full-on moping, huh? Thatâs how weâre gonna play it?â
Then she hears the soft scrape of a foot on the tile and looks up, blinking, to see Chris in the doorway, leaning against the wood of the frame, the big purple fuzzy blanket sheâd gotten him a few weeks back wrapped around his narrow shoulders, the hints of faded muscle that still linger there. Usually heâs draped in Jakeâs clothes but tonight heâs only wearing his basketball shorts, no shirt at all.
The rare glimpse of so much of Chrisâs skin - she hasnât seen so much of him since the night he arrived in the pouring rain - tells Nat more than anything else that Chris isnât okay, either.Â
âHey, Chris. Whatâs up, sweetheart?â Nat glances over at the oven, squinting at the clock, and then groans. âJesus, itâs nearly 2 am. I lost track of time, I guess.â
Chris doesnât move from the doorway, not at first. Heâs gone quiet again, since the assault, regressing back into periods of stillness and silence that they were so sure heâd gotten past. Jake says heâs testing again, trying to push Jake and Antoni into repeating the patterns that were tortured into his mind as normal, reacting with relief at their rejections - and then testing again, within hours, reminding himself that theyâll never say yes.
Nat looks at him, the shadows under his green eyes, and tries, âDid you have a nightmare?â
He slowly nods, and she watches his hands twist a little into the soft fabric of his blanket, rhythmically twisting to the side and back, nearly invisible with how well he can hide what he does to soothe himself, a skill taught in all the worst ways, learned in a desperate attempt to keep himself sane.
âHm. I can see that. Was it about the meeting, the other night?â
His eyes dance away from hers, move to the ceiling, and heâs staring upwards at the rough texture up there as he nods, chewing on his lower lip with his top teeth, worrying at a spot that she knows heâll eventually work to bleeding, sooner or later. He pauses and says, softly, âKauri⌠didnât come find me. That was, was my... my dream. And... it. It hurt.â
His voice, slow drips of speech, hits Nat like a knife to the heart. She nods, slowly, and pushes herself up, chair scraping back across the tile. Chris flinches minutely at the sound, curling a little into himself. âI understand, sweetheart,â She says, softly. âIâm so sorry we didnât know sooner.â
She thinks, looking at him, of Daniel in the lionâs den, an old Bible story thatâs never left her. Daniel trusted God and walked out unscathed, but sheâs always thought maybe he wasnât quite as unscathed as the Bible wants you to think he was.Â
Itâs one thing to have faith that youâll survive being thrown in with monsters - itâs another to be so inhuman that you donât wake with nightmares, for months or years after, that you were never saved at all. She is certain, deep down inside of her, that Daniel dreamed of a lionâs teeth and a promise broken, a prayer unheard.
The stories talk about Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in a furnace walking out of the flames untouched, but of course the flames had still touched them. Scars arenât always written openly on your skin.Â
Of course they dreamed of flames scorching their skin, curling their hair, smoke stealing breath from their lungs. They, like Daniel, must have woken gasping, certain that their faith had been misplaced, that their trust that someone stood between them and the monsters who would destroy them had been betrayed.
They must have breathed, panting, in the middle of the night, and sworn they could still see the smoke in the air, feel the heat against their skin.Â
They must have needed to come fully awake to remember - and believe - that they had been rescued. They must have needed the reminder.
Chris has no scars from walking with monsters - all his scars are inside his head. Chrisâs scars come in his fear that she will not want him, that no one really wants him, when he canât fight back or say no or defend himself, when he needs someone else to be his defense, to go to war. They come in his insistent, constant testing of Jake, pushing to see if itâs all been a lie, if they only want to use him the way he has been taught he is made to be used.
âKauri was smarter than any of the rest of us,â Nat says, feeling suddenly exhausted. âWe should have listened. I shouldnât have had to step in. You deserved better.â
Chris deserves a fucking angel to lead him untouched out of the flames.
All he has is Jake - and Nat.Â
She fills a saucepan with cold milk while he watches her, his eyes on her back a tangible, palpable weight, and pops a lid on, turning the dial until the flames flicker up from the burner to start heating it to a simmer.Â
âIâm going to have hot chocolate the old fashioned way,â She announces, pulling down a bag with some discs of melting chocolate in it. They cost too much and mostly nobody notices the difference, but tonight⌠tonight, she thinks the extra effort is worth it. âYou want whipped cream on yours, when itâs done?â
âYes, please,â He whispers, and she looks over at him with a small smile. His hair is mussed still from sleep, a hint of red on his cheek where he must have had it pressed into a pillow. His freckles stand out in the thin light of the kitchenâs overhead light fixture.Â
Next door, at Miss Ruthâs, a light turns on, and Nat glances through her own window to see it. Jaden, probably - that kid sleeps about as little as Chris does.
âWell, good, because Iâm having some, too.â She pauses, leaning her back against the kitchen counter. Thereâs a long silence that draws out between them. The milk heats, bubbling just the tiniest bit around the edges in the saucepan, and Nat carefully drops in the chocolate discs to melt whisking until the liquid is a rich brown, thickened, ready for her to pour carefully into two mugs and top with the spray-bottle whipped cream she keeps in the fridge.
Nat sets the mugs down on the kitchen table, pulling Chris a chair up right next to hers. He relaxes a little at the tacit, silent request for closeness, drops into his chair with a slight smile playing over his face. He picks up the mug with both hands and takes a sip, getting whipped cream at the end of his nose, wiping it off with a scrunched-up expression that lifts some of the fatigue that dogs Natâs muscles in the early-morning hours.
âI know the dreams are scary,â Nat says softly, reaching out to lay a hand on his back. He looks over at her, with those giant green eyes in his narrow face, searching for something in her. Maybe just for certainty that the promises sheâs made to him will be kept. âBut Kauri did come to help you. And youâre safe here, with us. Weâll always come for you, Chris, no matter what.â
He leans over, with slow inevitability, until the top of his head brushes against her neck, his head just at her collarbone. She lets her arm slide around his shoulders, her hand moving to run fingers slowly through his fine, soft coppery hair. âI, I, I forgot how to say no,â He whispers, and presses his head against her.Â
âI know, honey. But thatâs okay, we get back up and try again, right?â Nat sips her own hot chocolate slowly, and Chris holds his cupped warm in his palms, but even as he keeps taking sips, he doesnât pull away from her. Eventually, he puts the mug back down on the table and shifts a little, so his ear is just over her heart.
âWe, we, we try again,â He whispers. âBut, but, but I donât want to, to, to, I donât-... want to be, um, to be scared again, to⌠have someone-â
âI know.â Nat swallows, her throat closing, briefly, but she fights it back and keeps her voice - and her hand through his hair - steady as she speaks. âThere are going to be bad people out there, Chris, who want to hurt you. But youâre not alone.â
She thinks again of Daniel, waking from nightmares of gnashing teeth, maybe kicking off blankets and pacing a room, his skin written invisibly with the aftermath of a terror that never punctured skin. She thinks of three men in a fire, dreaming again and again that the fourth never arrived to lead them out of the flames.
She thinks of promises made, and kept. Prayers spoken in desperation, and answered, although so often far too late.
She thinks of the prayers for mercy, in the cold white rooms, that are never heard at all.
Sheâs tired, but she loves them - all of them, who have passed through her doors and gone on to other places - and she canât imagine being anything but their army, their defense, the wall they can hide behind to rebuild themselves until they fight on their own.Â
Not on their own, though, never really on their own.
She may never know what happened to him, to bring him here to her doorstep - but she knows that he doesnât have to face the monsters, the flames, the danger alone. Not anymore.
âYouâre safe here,â She says, gently, and turns her head to rest her chin on top of his head. âYouâre safe here, and loved, and thereâs nothing we wonât do to make sure youâre safe. Whatever comes at you, sweetheart, weâve got you. And weâll fight it for you, every time, until you can fight for yourself.â
Thereâs a beat of silence, and then he asks, in a whisper, âDo, do, do you you-you promise?â
âPromise, Chris. Cross my heart and hope-â
âDonât-... donât say the, the end of it.â His voice weakens. âPlease.â
âSorry, sweetie.â She tightens the arm around his shoulders a little, and feels him snuggle closer in response, a low sigh of relief at the reassurance in the embrace. âSwear on everything. Iâve got you, and Jake has got you, and weâre not gonna disappear. I donât-... I donât know if we can always save the day for you, Chris, but I can promise you that we will always try.â
He hums, eyes closing. One of his hands slides over her stomach, and begins - slight, soft, barely-there - to tap.Â
It takes Nat a few seconds to realize that he is tapping along to the beat of her heart.
---
Tagging: @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly  @newandfiguringitout  , @doveotions  , @pretty-face-breaker, @boxboysandotherwhump  , @oops-its-whump  @moose-teeth  , @cubeswhump  , @cupcakes-and-pain  @whump-tr0pes  @whumpiary  @orchidscript, @itallcomesdowntopain
#chris the strawberry blond romantic#ronnie higgs#tristan higgs#natalie yoder: here to help the rescues#caretaker and whumpee#memory loss#trauma recovery#trauma response#past noncon referenced#past torture referenced#ableism tw#referenced whump of a minor#Chris's Two Moms#religion reference#attempted assault tw#abuse survivor tw#conditioning reference#bbu#box boy universe#box boy multiverse#box boy#found family#caretaker#hurt/comf#in a way#comf#all comf no hurt#comfort fic
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I hate you means I love you in android
This was prompted by a lovely anon! I enjoyed writing this so much, I tried to change my writing style a bit, I hope you like a story heavier on the humour.
Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900Â [Part2]
âDetective Reed? A package for you.â Gavin looked up from his work, at the small box in the ST300âs hands and then up to her. âOh. Thank you.â He took the box and smiled when he couldnât find the return address. Eagerly he opened it and grinned as he took out the small piece of blue cardboard. Because I know you always forget to eat chasing the bad guys. Gavin huffed and laid the card to the many others that he gathered in his drawer to read when he needed something to cheer him up. Then he dug deeper into the box and retrieved four blueberry muffins. Immediately, Gavinâs stomach began to act up, prompting him to eat one right now, but first he threw away the empty box. The muffins were amazing, and he wondered whether they were self-made or store-bought. Gavin knew that considering from who they came both would likely cost a fortune. But it didnât matter to him, really. They were tasty and he was hungry.
He didnât notice how Nines glared at every bite disappearing in his mouth as if it had personally offended him. This was his human. He didnât know it yet and Nines wasnât ready to tell the man his feelings, but at the very least they were friends. Very, very close friends. Gavin would tell him if he were dating someone, right? He shook his head. Gavin was a free individual. He didnât have to tell him anything and if Nines didnât have the guts to tell him, then that was his fault only. He had no business to feel envious of a stranger if he hadnât done anything to deserve something else. At least that was what his logic told him. But logic and emotions were two entirely different things, if not even opposites to begin with.
The packages werenât regularly. Nines suspected that whoever send them intended them to be a surprise. But that made it all the more different to find out who left the packages at the front desk. He had made note of the arriving times of the boxes and tried to find a system, anything. Maybe he was a bit too fanatic about this, but Nines was far too lost in his task already. When it was food, it came close to the break. If it was sweets, it arrived in the morning, around an hour after work began. Little trinkets, Gavin gathered on his table or took home with him usually came with these packages or near closing time. Unfortunately, he couldnât make out any system at what day it would be either of these things as it seemed entirely random to him.
It chewed at him. Nines hated not knowing. And seeing Gavin smile and grin whenever he opened a package made it worse. Whoever send those packages made him happy. And while Nines wanted the Detective to be happy, there was a selfish part inside that wanted to be the reason for that himself. He tried to be near the lobby during the times he had figured out the next week. But the packages still arrived, and Nines couldnât make out who left them at the precinct. Asking the ST300 didnât help either. She had promised the person not to reveal their identity to anyone and she wouldnât break that promise. Noble. But not helping.
Nines was at the end of his wits. Yes, he could take a free day and wait in front of the DPD for 24 hours. But was that worth it? Yes, it was, it was for Gavin after all, but others would ask him what he was doing and he was not explaining that to anyone. He sighed as Gavin threw the box away, a small cat keychain sitting on his desk now. What could he do to find out? What could he do to tell Gavin how he felt? He could do what humans did and just speak to him of course. But he was far too scared to do that. And even admitting hurt. Maybe⌠Yes, that could work. Or at least break the ice and make talking to Gavin unavoidable.
Gavin of course, was completely oblivious to Ninesâ struggle. He struggled to get the chain on his keys, but the little ring slipped off all the time. âHey, Nines?â He looked up at the android with a lopsided grin. âHey, this is kinda embarrassing, but could you help me? I canât get the phcking ring on there! But itâs so cute!â Without changing his facial expression one millimetre from âresting bitch faceâ â how Gavin described it â or âneutralâ â how Nines saw it â he accepted both objects and hooked them together without even looking. âPhcking show-offâ, Gavin laughed. âThanks, toaster!â
-
When Gavin came to his desk the next day, a package was already sitting on his desk, next to a coffee. He frowned. Normally they werenât here so early. But oh well, maybe someone had been crammed a few hours more and changed schedule a bit. He smiled and shook his head. âHey, Nines, how longâs this been here?â The android looked up. âOh, it was already there when I started working.â âOkayâ, Gavin shrugged. He sat down and decided that work could wait for a moment. He tore through the tape and opened both flaps. On top of it sat a card he took, expecting some stupid, well-meant message. Instead he was surprised with neat, almost printer like handwriting in Cyberlife font Gavin had learned to know so well. He didnât think to look up and read it again. I donât know who sends you these packages, but I care about you too. I hope you two are happy together.
What. Yeah, no way he had read that right. But the words didnât change the second, the third or the fourth time. Inside the box sat a tiny stuffed cat plush that looked far too fluffy not to touch. Still, Gavin resisted. âErr⌠Hey, Nines?â He looked at the android with a deep red blush. âI think we really should have a talk.â The android had the audacity to look guilty as he nodded and stood up to follow him. Gavin just couldnât believe it. He led Nines out to the smoker corner and smiled at him. If he had been right⌠Oh that was far too funny. âNines, I donât know what you thought, but let me tell you, my brother sends me those packages.â The androidâs eyes suddenly widened in shock and Gavin couldnât help but giggle. âHey, no hard feelings, I get it! It is kinda weird if you think about it.â âI thought⌠Because they come so often and look expensiveâŚâ âI donât have a secret admirerâ, Gavin laughed. âPromise to keep a secret?â Nines just nodded. âMy brother is Elijah Kamski. We agreed to never tell anyone, because it would be awkward for us both. But well, he is stinking rich and loves spoiling his little brother. And what can I say, I love the attention. We donât see us that often with him always at work.â Nines by now was blushing a deep shade of blue. âI didnât knowâŚâ
âHey, thatâs fineâ, Gavin said softly. But he couldnât keep his mischievous grin from his face long enough. He slowly took the card from his pocket. âNow I have questionâ, he began, waving the card around. âWhatâs this?â âI donât knowâ, Nines stated, LED red and body rigid, face unreadable. Well, unreadable for everyone else, not for Gavin. âYou care about me?â âI do notâ, Nines said neutrally and dismissive, already walking back to the precinct with large steps. âThe kitty on my desk begs to differ!â, Gavin called after him trying to catch up. âI donât know who send you this.â âAw, but I know only two people writing like this and one hates me to the bone!â âI hate you, tooâ, Nines reported, opening the door and holding it open just long enough so it fell directly in Gavinâs face.
Grinning the man pushed it open and ran after Nines. He didnât need to know more than that.
[>next part]
#detroit become human#dbh#Reed900#RK900#Gavin Reed#Elijah Kamski#I love this????#Gavin might be OOC but I don't care he got adorable sudddenly#baby needs to be happy for once I torture Gavin enough during vent writing#hope you like it#experimenting with writing styles usually end bad this one I actually like
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Scene, Part 2:
It all starts with a small box of chocolates.
Deidara doesnât notice them at first. Not when heâs busy checking his wallet, making sure they have enough to cover the bill thatâs coming. Yep, all good, he thinks, returning to his bowl of rice and eyeing the restaurant once more. They chose a seat in the back corner where it gives an ample view of the place, enough for any missing-nin to be comforted. Itâs bustling, more people than the artist has seen in weeks of travel.Â
He takes another bite, looks up again and repeats. The straw hat is pulled down low over his face. It does little to hide him, not when heâs wearing his cloak, itâs a dead give-away, especially since the Akatsukiâs started gaining real momentum recently. Even so, the restaurant is so busy that no one seems to take notice, though the few that sit nearby give him wary looks. Everyone else is in their own little worlds, coming and going. Not looking or considering a potential nin in their midst. Itâs almost peaceful, a fact that both calms Deidara and makes his hands itch for clay. The mouths click their teeth in agitation and he forces his focus back on the food.Â
Bowl now empty, Deidara sits back in the booth, arms crossing as he looks around. Where the hell was Tobi? That idiot had left for the bathroom half an hour ago now! He grinds his teeth casting a look at the half-full bowl across from him. Probably got side-tracked again, that dumbass. He may not abhor him as much as he once had but still, that man knew how to get under his skin with little effort (he can just imagine the future meet up with Kakuzu, telling him all about Tobiâs irritations and the older man would of course sigh before going on to explain Hidanâs newest annoyance which usually ended up being far worse and far more bloody than anything Tobiâs done or probably will do, ever. Deidara canât picture the other ever killing for enjoyment, he hardly even fought anyways, only evaded.).
There is a brief flicker of worry. Of Tobi possibly coming across someone brave enough to get into an Akatsuki members face. They wouldnât need too much bravery given Tobiâs natural aura of stupidity; everyone undesterimated his partner, Deidara included which he shouldnât be, not with all the pieces heâs collected, the suspicians, and just how easy it is to forget and believe Tobiâs just an idiot and nothing else. Either way, there should be no cause for alarm. If Tobi can slip past every attack Deidara has ever thrown at him (and those attacks were mighty powerful, if Deidara said so himself) then he could certainly deal with almost anyone else outside the organization.
So he brushes the thoughts away and digs out the money. Heâll wait, for now, at least, he thinks placing the bills on the table and goes to put the wallet back into the pouch. Blue eyes widen a fraction. Huh? He turns, peering into the pouch. Past the kunai and scrolls, at the very bottom is a small square box. Itâs a glossy black, managing to catch the swinging light over Deidaraâs head.Â
His eyes narrow instantly and he hovers a hand over the box. No chakra signature. No obvious threat . . . the artist considers it a moment before daring to grab and pull it out.Â
Pouch and restaurant forgotten, Deidara balances his elbows on the table and runs his fingers over the box before his face. Itâs no bigger than a dango box though much wider. A small symbol is etched on top that reads SWEETâS; he recognizes it, a candy store in town that they had passed on the way here. There is also a note taped to the bottom, so securely that, for a second, he thinks itâs just a sticker for the company or price. Itâs not and when he realizes this, Deidara digs at the edges with a nail until heâs able to open it. An edge tears, whatever holding it on a bit too good at itâs job but finally, he can read it.
 - Hope you like it - is written in barely legiable scrawl that Deidara doesnât recognize. His eyebrows raise and, cautious, he looks around the restaurant. No one is looking at him, even the wary ones are focused on their food. Who in their right mind would give him a gift? And someone who doesnât put a name, not even an initial? Well, perhaps it was an admirer of my art, I mustâve made some impression, he smirks at the possibility, smug.
Still, itâs just one of those cheap boxes of chocolate you can get. The one with a mixture of sweets that are never just chocolate. Theyâre usually an arrange of flavours ranging from carmel to coconut. And Deidaraâs sweet tooth is only for chocolate these days. So, he opens it, fully prepared to just toss the box-only to see another note inside, laying delicately over the six chocolates.Â
- Bought five more to give you all the kinds you liked~ -
Deidara stares, not understanding at first. He looks between the paper to the chocolate below and, slowly, realizes that they all look the same. So theyâre all-
Going rigid, the artist looks around the place again. More suspicious then ever, his chakra now a mass of pure unadulterated paranoia. The mouths on his hand click, grinding in his tensity. There is no feasable way that anyone could have snuck the box into his bag AND known his preferences of chocolate. Hell, Tobi didnât even know!Â
As if sensing his mood swing and thoughts on him, Deidara sees Tobi skip across the restaurant, waving at one group of people who flinch back at his cloak. âSenpaiiiii,â he whines, hopping into his chair with more energy then Deidara could ever have, âSorry Tobi took so long!! There was such a lovely person outside the restrooms!â
âHe didnât try and kill you, hm?â
âNope!â Tobi hums, dipping into thoughtfulness for a second. âWell, maybe? You always try to blow me up sooooo Iâm not sure!â
âIâm just keeping you on your toes. At least you dealt with the situation without hassel,â he notes the lack of fear or chakra signatures, if Tobiâs not lying then he did deal with the problem without even raising an alarm. His stomach twists, always feeling off whenever Tobi proves that, yes, he is far more capable then anyone could dream of being. Not that Deidara would ever admit that. And he wasnât stronger then Deidara! So there. âAnyway, you ever seen this before?â He gives the box a tiny shake, having closed it up again and shoved both notes into his pockets.Â
Tobiâs head dips, the hole in his mask leveling with the box as he hmmâs in the back of his throat. A hand reaches out, sliding over the edge and brushing Deidaraâs just enough for the blonde to notice before pulling back. The otherâs head cocks to the side and, for the millionth time, Deidara wishes he could see the face beneath it. Heâll never understand the odd desire to keep it hidden, unless itâs all just to annoy me, his annoyance grows at the thought. âWell?? I swear Tobi, Iâll-!â
âOh, Deidara senpai, calmmmmm, please? Deidaraâs eye twitches at the demand Tobi's seen âem cause he bought âem!â The artistâs mouth drops open at the proud declaration. His partner leans back into the booth, almost casual looking as he crosses his arms behind his head. âDid you try any of âem?? The owner said they were the best they had!â
Deidara was still reeling, eyes wide as he stared at the other, âyou bought them?â
âUh-huh!â
The artist stares at his partner whoâs practically vibrating in his chair, leg swinging like a five year old who has no control of their energy. But what else is new? âCare to explain why? Iâve never told you my favorite chocolate,â he huffs, agitated, crossing his own arms to mirror Tobiâs, âAnd while youâre at it, explain why you decided to get your buisness partner a . . . a,â he searches for the right word.Â
âPresent?â
âYes. Why get me a present?â
âCause Tobi loves you~â He coos happily, words dripping in glee and Deidara glares at the obvious jest. Still, his chest tightens a fraction. Seeing his partners look of disbelief, Tobi shakes his head, âitâs true! Beleive poor Tobi for once, senpai! And,â he releases his hands from behind his head and leans forward, into Deidaraâs space, âyou told Tobi whatchaâ liked!â
A single eyebrow rose, âwhen?â
âTwo months ago!â The mask bobs, eager, hands now flat on the table, a little too close to the ones Deidara has laced together on his side. Truly, if he considered all options, it wasnât impossible that he wouldnât have told Tobi his preferences but it was one of millions of conversations theyâve had.
â. . . you remember a random conversation we had, two months ago, about that of all things?â
âOf course!â
âI didnât think you listened to half the things I say.âÂ
The hands actually do reach his now, attaching onto Deidaraâs and giving a firm squeeze as Tobi nods, enthusiastic. âTobiâs always listening and he always remembers what Deidara senpai says!â He tilts his head, âI promise.â He says, voice lower, full of certainty, and, more importantly, the third person eerily gone. Deidara canât help feeling uncomfortable at the intensity Tobi is giving him at the moment. The hold on his hands is tight and he canât tell if itâs a subtle warning or meant to be comforting. Either way, it doesnât help that he can feel Tobiâs chakra buzzing, itâs the usual thrum but . . . thereâs something beneath it. Something darker. Something that brings back questions of why Tobi can dodge every attack, why he was picked last to join the Akatsuki although heâs been around them for much longer. They pull at Deidaraâs mind, begging to be put together, to form the rest of the picture. To come to the conclusion thatâs been nagging at him for months.Â
He should look at them. It all points to something bigger, even without proper analysis.Â
But he discards them. No. Tobi is just his idiot of a partner who is just really good at dodging everything, thatâs all. Lies, he thinks and ignores.
âSo you just ignore all the other advice I give you?â
âAs usual!â Tobi exclaims, the smile so obvious in his tone. He senses the change in chakra instantly and stills before yanking his hands back into a shielding display, âwait! No, senpai Tobi meant no disrespect, simply that- please! Think of the restaurant!â
Needless to say, the restaurant almost became a smoking crater; and two weeks later Deidara finds a rose tucked in his pouch, another note stuck to it and he canât help the smile he gets at his idiot trying so hard.
Part 1:Â
 https://jinxofthecipher.tumblr.com/post/638984358996344832/headcanonscene-when-deidara-was-first-told-that
#Naruto#Naruto Shippuden#Akatsuki#Deidara#Tobi#Obito Uchiha#Obito#ObiDei#TobiDei#Tobi x Deidara#Obito x Deidara#Obito Uciha x Deidara#Deidara's is probs smart enough to figure out the 'truth' or at least some of it#if he'd only allow himself#but it may be his odd way of protecting his partner and himself from the truth#would've been interesting if Deidara had been suspicious of him. Everything about Tobi if you look closer is odd#this is just the lead up to valentines for Tobi lol or it's a thing he's doing either way it works#I think they're both in a relationship but they're the last ones to know#So somehow Deidara and Kakuzu have become somewhat friends in my writing? They weren't going to be but then the arm thing happened#and they both have very 'irritating' partners (Even if they like them) so complaining to each other makes sense#hmm I like the idea
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