#sob the information i get and retain from fics...

[mintgreyashes]

for my psych lecture today we went through a segment on autism and i realised that i actually already knew a majority of what was being covered because of all the rise fics i've read featuring donnie...

donnie autism representation is so real... but also thank you rottmnt fic writers for being so accurate in your interpretations too fr wahhhhh

[figgrrr0]

Aw man, I wanted to be an anon for requesting this but oh well lmao

I really want a one-shot (with plot) of Sub!Thoma × F!MeanDom!Reader where the reader loves teasing him, making him squirm, overstimulating him and watching him cry. Just being an ass to him overall and he enjoys every second of it.

As for the plot; I imagine reader to be a member of the Yashiro commision. She is not a retainer like Thoma, mainly dealing with jobs outside of the estate (such as speaking to merchants, coming to agreements with them as a business woman and organizing/sponsoring events when Ayato orders her team to). She is also older.

The location of the main event would be Ayato's office. As for how they end up getting in that situation, I'll leave that to you. Thoma outright sobbing is an important point though. I want that retainer drowning in his tears/j

All jokes aside, thank you for taking requests, this thing has been plaguing my mind for a while and I just can't stop thinking about it. I hope you have a wonderful week. Have a nice day and dm me if you are confused about anything in my request!

A/N: This one was really fun! Btw, I’m about to enter Inazuma in-game, so I actually don’t know anything about these characters apart from their voice lines, a little research, and fics I’ve read.

Want to skip the lead up? Look for the NSFW sign that marks the smut!

Apologies due

Character: Sub!Thoma // Reader: Dom!Fem

Genre: Smut // CW: Overstim, dacryphilia, mommy kink, puppy play, thigh riding, degradation, impact play, slight hair pulling, jealousy/hate sex (without sex), dubcon?

Plot: Yes // Word count: 4.1k

This past week had been far too busy. With the long-awaited Summer Festival just around the corner, you'd been sent here, there and everywhere to collect everything that was needed, and even things that probably weren't.

You'd often be given the order from Kamisato Ayato, your boss in the Yashiro Commission, to attend business meetings in his stead, and secure official information or deals with the companies that he decided to show a particular interest in. Yesterday, you'd been sent word that you were to collect five large boxes of fireworks from Naganohara Fireworks; a company ran by none other than Yoimiya. While she'd usually like to set them off herself, she compromised during the Summer Festival to allow the Yashiro Commission to set them up in a good vantage point, where everyone in Inazuma will see their vibrant sparks in the skies no matter where they may stand on the land. Of course, she'd stay close at hand in case something went wrong, but with all the tests that they did at the company, followed by the checks that you would perform before taking the boxes, that was hardly a possibility.

Most of the hard work had already been done. Or so you'd thought.

Six hours ago, you'd met up with Yoimiya, discussed the products you'd be taking and how much they'd cost, as well as how she'd be paid, and been well on your merry way within the hour, all with a couple of boxes in tow. Very heavy ones, to be exact, which is why you'd also brought some other Commission members to bear the brunt of the work and carry them to the cart you'd brought. As a worker employed by the Kamisato Clan, you were quite precise in your planning.

Taking them into storage, you soon reread the letter you'd received the day before from the head of the Clan, memorising the meet-up point where you'd be handing them over to none other than Thoma, the Chief Retainer.

Now, you'd never say this in public, for fear of tarnishing your reputation in the streets, or bringing question to your place in the Commission. Because Archons forbid you be jealous of Thoma.

Thoma, who was adored by everyone in Inazuma.

Thoma who was preferred by the master of the Clan, who got to see him more than once a month when he'd let go of his cold business mode.

Thoma, who, despite being your junior in both years and experience, acted as though he could do no wrong, as though he was better than you, more important...

Thoma, who left you standing in the warehouse where you'd been supposed to meet for the entire afternoon, wondering when he'd finally show up; only to realise when it started getting dark, that he likely wouldn't come at all.

Dejected and frustrated, you retired to your lodgings in the warehouse. You'd been given a room there, considering you were the key point for the warehouse to work at all, but seldom stayed there, preferring your own bed in your own home.

Once settled and comfortably in bed, you begin trying to sleep. But you find that you can't, your thoughts running wild on why Thoma didn't show up.

Had he gotten hurt? Surely not. He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself.

"Psh..." you scoff, shaking the thought from your head. Why should you care about him, anyway? You'd undoubtedly get in trouble for delivering the order late, as usual.

The only logical answer you could come up with was that Thoma had probably forgotten that he was supposed to meet up with you. Again.

Just another thing that you held against him. He always forgot when he had to meet up with you, and you'd always get the blame the next day. Because of course sweet, precious Thoma couldn't make a mistake. Of course Thoma, Ayato's favourite housekeeper, couldn't ever be in the wrong. It just had to be Y/N.

Even though, when this did happen, Thoma would always try to take the blame, as he should in your eyes and his, it rarely accumulated to anything in your favour. The higher ups always found a way to pin the blame on you.

Sighing in defeat, you dispel the thought from your mind, trying not to fall into the dark spiral of jealousy and contempt that you held for the housekeeper despite his sunny disposition. You'd deal with it in the morning.

...

The next morning, a letter came, stamped "URGENT" in big red letters on the front, right under your name.

Of course. Just as you'd expected.

Tearing open the envelope, you retrieve the folded paper from inside and begin reading its contents.

"Miss Y/N,

It has come to my attention that, going against your previous orders, the 5 boxes of fireworks that you have been assigned to gather from Naganohara Fireworks have not been delivered to the estate as required.

With the Summer Festival not even two whole weeks away, we in the Yashiro Commission really must all do our part to bring preparations to a close with as much time remaining as possible. Because of your inability to follow instructions, that plan is now at risk.

I ask that you come to the estate before noon, with the firework boxes, and attend a meeting with me in my office.

Signed, Kamisato Ayato."

Putting the paper down on your bed, you raise a hand to cover your eyes with a deep sigh. "Today is really not the day for this..." you mumble.

So much for the weekend being a holiday... you don't even get your Saturday off.

...

Once again, your morning would prove to be quite hectic, to say the least.

After taking a quick nap to come to terms with the fact that you'd been called to the estate for yet another misdemeanour to add onto the list of your past wrongdoings, you actually begin getting ready.

Your "mistakes", as Ayato often referred to them as, were starting to pile up quite high. Really, you were starting to wonder how you hadn't been fired yet, regardless of how not many of them had even been your fault. It didn't say so on your record.

After getting ready and making yourself presentable, you prepare yourself to face what will probably be the worst day of your month so far; being reprimanded by Kamisato Ayato (once again) and having to apologise to Thoma. Even though it wasn't your fault.

Steeling yourself to face the day, you head out of the warehouse, boxes still on the cart behind you, and begin your journey to the Kamisato estate. At least it's not far...

But that just makes it worse that Thoma hadn't showed up.

...

Walking through the corridors of the estate, after being granted permission to enter by a preoccupied member of staff, you make your way straight to Ayato's office. Having already been well acquainted with the building after attending multiple meetings in his office, it was a good thing you knew where you were going. The hurried and near-frantic movements of the staff of the house quickly conveyed that they wouldn't be of any help. Had they even noticed your arrival?

You knock on the closed door with a resounding thud, an answering, "Come in." sounding from the other side. So, you do.

Pushing the door open, you instantly meet eyes with your boss, Kamisato Ayato. Safe to say, he didn't look far too happy with you.

"You asked of me, Sir?" You questioned, though it wasn't a question at all. You knew why you'd been called. After all, it said as much in the letter.

You almost take a step forward into the room, but catch yourself just before you start moving, deciding that it'd be more respectful (and therefore easier to get out of trouble) if you pretended to be nervous.

He seems pleased. "Indeed. Please take a seat." He gestures vaguely at the chair on the opposite side of his desk, looking back to the paperwork in front of him.

You do as he has told, and wait for him to start talking, but it never arrives.

After almost two whole minutes full of incredibly awkward silence and looking aimlessly around the room for something to take the edge off, you eventually give in.

"I- uhm..." Your voice quietens after the first syllable, daunted by how loud it sounds in the silence, "I left the boxes outside, Sir. I believe some of your house staff took them into a storage room for further inspection."

He still hadn't looked at you or shown any interest, leading you to begin fumbling with your hands, becoming more anxious the longer he ignored you.

"I checked them myself last night, they're all in good condition and Yoimiya accepted the payme-"

"-That's enough." He puts his pen down with all the grace that he usually possesses, but something about the action betrays his annoyance.

"I don't wish to talk business right now, Y/N. You have caused a great deal of distress in the estate through all of today and yesterday. Please tell me, what is your excuse this time?"

Your mouth drops open slightly in surprise. He made it sound as though you did this on purpose!

"B-but Sir, I didn't do anything!"

"And therein lies the problem, Miss Y/N. You didn't do anything." Now, his eyes refuse to leave yours, and you almost wish time would go back to a few minutes beforehand, to when he hadn't been looking at you at all.

He was trying to intimidate you, you realised, trying to make you admit defeat and take the blame. And you know what?

It was almost working.

"I did as I was told. I waited until late last night, but Thoma didn't show." At this point, your voice had taken on an accusatory undertone.

You hadn't done anything wrong! Not this time, not the last, and not any of the times before that. You were getting tired of the blame always being put on your shoulders. It was Thoma's fault. Not yours.

"... You're blaming Thoma? After all the work he does in the estate, and all the help he has been when preparing and organising these festivals, you dare to shove the fault onto him?"

He stares directly at you, his gaze barely any different than usual, but there's a barely restrained fire melting that icy cold gaze. "The Summer Festival is soon, Miss Y/N, very soon. Each and every moment of the lead up is of great impertinence. I'd have thought you would at least have taken your responsibility into account for just this once."

You're left speechless, unable to comprehend just how easily Ayato had completely swept your concern under the metaphorical rug.

At your lack of response, he leans forward on the desk, hands clasping together and fingers intertwining.

"Nothing to say for yourself?"

Another few more seconds of silence, awkward once again. The still room was deafening.

"... Well then. I have a very important meeting soon, much more important than this one." He stands up from his chair, paying no mind to you as you sit there in a confused daze. As he starts walking towards the door, you push your chair out to follow him, but before you can even lift yourself up, he halts you.

"Ah, ah, ah. Where do you think you're going? Have you been excused?"

"W-well no, but-"

"Then you shall stay put." He turns to you with a taunting smile lifting his features, the anger in his voice finally evening out, " besides, I do believe you have an apology to make to Thoma, hmm?"

"An apology?! I'm not-"

"Oh hush. I'll send him in soon, so be patient until then, will you? I'm sure you can at least do that much."

Before you can even argue further, he is out the door, the doorframe clattering as it swings shut behind his retreating form.

"Ughh..." you groan and slump back into the chair.

Looks like you have at least twenty minutes to re-evaluate your life choices.

...

'Creak'

The shutting of the door jolted you awake in an instant. Confused and surprised that you'd fallen asleep, you look behind you to see Thoma stood still in the doorway, his hand still connected to the handle.

"Sorry..." a hand comes up in half a wave and half a placating manner, and the other goes to rub the back of his neck awkwardly.

Being woken up doesn't particularly leave you in too good of a mood, especially not when this is who you have to deal with.

You glare at him and respond with a gruff hum, turning back around to look straight ahead of you, when an idea comes to mind.

"I... I really am sorry about yesterday. Hahah..." His soft voice gives away his turmoil, but when this matter occurs constantly, should you really have to forgive him every time? Your foot begins tapping against the floor as you bite your lip, considering your options while he continues to talk behind you.

"There's just so much going on, what with the Festival only being a couple of weeks away from now. I had too much work piled up and I couldn't send anyone else because they were all-" His words are interrupted as you stand up from the chair, mind set, and walk around to the other side of the desk.

"H-hey, Y/N, what are you doing? They're Lord Ayato's personal documents, you can't read those!"

Ignoring him, you take your place in the chair and push away from the desk slightly, facing directly at Thoma's worried face as if daring him to stop you.

"I'm growing tired of these games, Thoma. Don't you think you deserve a punishment for causing me so many problems and making me take the blame for your mistakes?"

"There is no game! I promise I don't mean to, Y/N, I just-"

"-Just what, Thoma? Can't learn how to prioritise your own work? Can't ask someone else for help? Can't say fucking 'no' to anyone?!" Your voice raises to a near shout, making him flinch and take a step back. But this only makes you angrier.

Taking a deep breath, you take control of your emotions before they get out of hand. Instead of standing up and just slapping him right across the face like you so want to do right now, you cross your legs and pat your hand against the one that's left raised.

"Sit down, Thoma. You're going to make it up to me. Right now."

"I-" He gives up on complaining with just a raise of your eyebrow. He looks back at the door for a split second, but his curiosity ultimately wins over, and he turns back to you.

The tension between the two of you had been steadily rising as of late. There'd always been a certain attraction, but with the difference in your job roles, there was little time to see each other outside of work. And the recent arguments hadn't done much good, either.

Without even so much as a few seconds to think, his leg swings over yours as he lowers himself down onto your lap, though he still looks unsure, even with his cheeks heating. "I don't think... we should be doing this here... I mean- we definitely shouldn't! Lord Ayato would-"

You place a hand over his mouth, silencing him as his eyes go wide.

"He isn't here right now, is he? Just pay attention to me." Your deft hand slides down, releasing his lips to take hold of his throat with a threatening squeeze, to which he gulps nervously as his eyes flicker down to your wrist, fighting the urge to pull your hand away. "Besides..." He eyes hesitantly lift up to meet your dark gaze. "This is a meeting room, no? We're simply coming to an agreement of our own."

He whimpers at that, his lips falling open when your other hand that was hidden from him took a tight grip on his hip. Pushing him down onto your lap, his half-hard bulge drags against your thigh.

"Ohh-... Y/N, what should I-?"

"You're going to get yourself off on my thigh like a good little puppy."

With a tilt of his head, he lets out a questioning hum, "Puppy?" Without another prompt, he starts doing as you said, his hips sliding over your thigh over and over again.

"Archons, you really are like a dog." You reach out and take hold of the chain around his neck, pulling it taut against his skin until it digs in, providing a pleasant sting. His eyebrows crease, fighting the urge to talk back. "Even came with these dog tags. It's like you're begging to be treated like a filthy mutt."

With your hold on the metal, you pull him forward into a forceful kiss, your teeth knocking together as he lets out a moan at the sting of the sharp edges pricking his soft lips.

He barely responds to your kiss, focusing more on keeping his hips moving as he chases the pleasure. Just when he starts to reciprocate, his tongue gliding against and following your own as it retreats back into your mouth, he is pulled back by your harsh grip on the hair at the base of his neck.

He yelps as he's torn away from you, his body stiffening as he tries to reach back and lessen the burden of your fingers. You release him so that he has no choice but to drop back down into your lap. Hard.

"Aaghn-! Y/N~"

A swift slap echoes through the room, his face snapping to the side as a dark red blooms across his cheek.

Before he even gets a chance to react, the hand that had just hit him pulls him to face you again, smoothing over the burning mark as if to comfort what you had just caused.

"When I own you like this, I'm your mommy. Got it? I don't want to hear my name coming out of your disgusting mouth."

His bottom lip wobbles as crystalline tears gather in his eyes, but he doesn't quite let them drop. He sniffles, voice crackling when he responds, "Y-Yes, mommy..."

Rather than giving him a reward, you push him further.

Hand still cradling his burning cheek, your nails dig into the tender flesh, resurfacing the pain which had only just numbed. Thoma has no other choice than to take it, his hands tightly grasping his own knees, allowing you access to do anything you want with his pliant body. Though, his voice betrays his loyalty, a small cry being dislodged from his throat.

"Continue."

He doesn't wait for even a second, his hips bucking against your thigh faster than before as he evens out the pain you're giving him with the pleasure.

Lessening the pressure on his cheek, you lean against the back of the chair, taking in the scene he makes in front of you.

Clothes rumpled and sticking to the sweat coating his body, dick shamefully hard, the outline clear to see pressing against the fabric of his pants. Hair tousled from your earlier grip, eyes half closed and glinting in the light of the room with the hint of unshed tears. He truly was a sight to see.

And as much as you hate to admit it, you'd certainly like to see him like this more often.

Maybe, if this is the reward you got for dealing with the unfair favouritism from the head of the Clan, it wouldn't be so hard to endure...

But just thinking that makes you angrier than before. You shouldn't have to settle.

"Awww~ look at you, humping your owner's thigh like a desperate, little puppy... are you really that needy that you don't care about ruining mommy's clothes?"

Before you can continue, he lets out an unfiltered moan, the loud noise startling the both of you. His hips jerk sporadically before slowing to a stop, his breaths coming out in uneven pants.

"...Hah... Did you really just cum from that, you dirty mutt?"

And when you look at the tent between his legs, a dark patch of his cum seeps into his pants, the wetness unmistakable in the clear lighting of the room.

His sniffles return louder this time, and when you look back up at his face, you see exactly what you'd been hoping for:

Tears, sliding down his flushed cheeks with no end in sight. They just wouldn't stop.

"I-I'm sorry, mommy... I couldn't h-hold it back..." He can barely even speak, voice cutting off as he fights through the tightening of his throat to push out the words he knows you want to hear.

Not that they'd do him any good, anyway.

You tightly grip his softening dick through his pants, his cum soaking through to your skin, coating your palm with a sticky sheen.

He tenses up and hisses in pain through clenched teeth, his face scrunching up as he loses control of his reactions.

"You're so greedy. Didn't even ask for permission, you always just take what you want, don't you, dog?"

"No! I'm sorry, m-mommy, so sorry, please!"

A tear drips down his throat, and you watch as it smudges and soaks into the collar of his jacket.

"Shut up."

Digging your fingers into his hips, you force him to continue moving on your lap, his clothed cock grinding against your leg and leaving behind a line of slick on your own clothing.

"Ah, wait- wait! I just came~ Please not yet, mommy, not yet!"

He scrambles to dislodge your hold, his legs kicking out a bit to your side as his hands come down to grip your shoulders for stability. He's shaking from overstimulation as you push him down onto your thigh, tensing your leg intermittently to provide more stimulation than he can handle.

In what he assumes to be mercy, you remove your hands from him, leaving him to slow his movements on his own after he keeps moving for a few seconds before realising that you weren't holding onto him anymore.

When he stops completely, a hard smack to his thigh makes him jolt forward with a startled sob, his tongue feeling heavy and vision blurry as he cries out continuously.

"Keep going. I didn't tell you to stop."

"Can't, I can't! It's too much, please don't make me, it's too good~!"

And yet, despite his begging and whining, his thrusting starts up again without you doing a thing. The continuous grinding against your leg was starting to ache, the rough material of Thoma's pants beginning to take their toll on your skin. But the sight of him, knowing that you'd finally one-upped him, that you'd reduced him to this mess... Well. That made it all worth it.

It seems that the restriction of his clothing was beginning to bother him, too.

He starts begging to take off his pants when the texture gets too rough on his sensitive dick. The constant dragging and the damp feeling of his ruined underwear rubbing on the tip of his leaking cock providing too much painful stimulation.

Of course, you don't let him, wanting to see him shift and tremble as his overwhelmed cock twitches with each shove back and forth.

The shocks of his first orgasm hadn't been given a chance to wear off, pushing him further and further towards his next before he could even think to warn you- before he could even try to hold it back.

And, with another loud moan that tapers off into overwhelmed hums and panting breaths, he cums harder than ever before.

This time, it takes longer for him to recover, coming to only a couple minutes later when the uncomfortable feeling of his tears drying and leaving tracks on his face tempt him to refocus. He's grateful for the short break you'd given him after cumming again so quickly, gasping puffs of air as he mumbled, "Thank you, mommy, thank you..." over and over again.

Though the reprieve was short lived.

"Oh, puppy, you didn't think we were done, did you? You've always been so selfish towards me, making me take all the blame..."

You push him to start moving again, his own begging and crying going unheard in his own ears. Tears once again fall from his barely-open eyes and follow the paths the previous ones had made.

"Why don't you take some more?"

Want to send a request/brainrot with me? Check my rules!

Thank you for reading! 🩷

[tomurasprincess]

Kinktober Day 22: Zombie (Voracious)

Day 22: Zombie Title: Voracious Word Count: 2.6k Warnings: Noncon, necrophilia (cause zombie), predator/prey, biting, marking, blood play, yandere Note: Thank you so much to @thewheezingwyvern who is always down to help me without batting an eye when I go “so, zombie plague...what are some good symptoms? And yes, the zombie is going to fuck you.” Also, for the love of everything that is unholy, please mind the warnings. Do not read the fic and come to me to tell me how disgusting it was. Trust me, I know. :)

Kinktober Masterlist

The country of Japan is dead. Or at least close enough that the distinction doesn’t matter.

Several months ago, an aggressive virus leaked from a quirk research facility and spread through the population like wildfire. Nobody was informed about what was going on, and nobody was warned when the virus first began to hit the cities. Officials kept it as quiet as possible, hoping to contain the spread before it got out of control. And before anyone knew how big of a mistake they had made.

But it was far too late for any sort of containment. The virus already spread fast in a lab environment, and it was even faster as it tore through an unprepared population.

The first sign of contracting the virus is tiredness and body aches.  The infected simply thought they caught a minor illness, and they continued their business as usual, expecting it to go away on its own. But as the virus continues to spread through their body, the tissues start to die and they develop intense fevers and headaches. By the time the infection makes its way to the brain, confusion and outright delirium has begun to occur.

The infected are wild by this point, feral to the point of attacking, biting, and eating the uninfected.  The ones who were bitten and survived had the site of their wound swell and turn agonizing to the touch, and they would suffer the same progression as the other infected.

The final stage is always the same though. Once the black rot of plague starts appearing on your skin and spreading like the branches of a tree, it’s too late.

The worst part is that the infected still have use of their quirks, and the devastation has been immense. Super powered heroes and villains with their minds rotting and decaying from infection, losing the ability to distinguish friend from foe. In some areas, the casualties were even worse from fighting than they were from the virus itself.

Somehow, you have managed to keep yourself alive and stay away from the worst in-fighting and the areas with the highest concentration of infected. Still though, it is a surprise to you. You’re simply a quirkless nobody with no way to defend yourself.

You have seen so many better, stronger people die right in front of you, leaving you forced to continue on alone.

You sigh as you scavenge through an old building that was once a store, looking for more supplies. Yours are dangerously low, and your dry mouth and grumbling stomach tells you that you need to find something quickly, before you become too weak to continue on.

You practically jump out of your skin when you hear the banging of items hitting the ground from deeper within the store. It might be survivors, or it might be the infected. The thought briefly occurs to you that you need to check to make sure, but you quickly shake it away.

Survivors or not, you didn’t come this far by being careless. But as you inch quietly towards the exit, you see a flash of red eyes from within the darkness as something emerges.

No, not something. Someone.

One of the infected.

It’s clear that he’s in the late stages of infection, the black rot spreading out through his body, but most notably his left leg which he drags limply. He’s wearing what are essentially black rags that flow out from behind him, leaving his chest bare so that you can see more of the black spiderwebs of rot twining outwards.

His eyes zoom in on you, narrowing slightly as you stand there frozen in fear. Neither of you moves for what feels like hours, but is really mere seconds. You break out of your trance first, turning on your heel and running for the door. The infected pursues you instantly, jumping over a table rather than running around it to save time. The move is a sign of intelligence that instantly fills you with dread. By this stage, the infected are usually too confused and delirious to remember such things.

You make it to the door with him hot on your heels. You’ve always considered yourself a fast runner, especially lately, but this is an entirely different story. He’s fast, too fast. The infected are not supposed to be like this, especially not with a bad leg. But yet he is quickly catching up to you as you dart through streets you know so well.

You realize that your only chance is to lose him somehow, as you’re never going to be able to outrun him. Your breath is coming in harsh pants already, a stitch burning in your side as you make a sharp, desperate right turn into an alleyway.

An alleyway with a dead end.

This area was clear just a week ago, but now it looks like an infected hero or villain used their quirk to collapse both buildings in the area, causing massive chunks of cement and debris to block the road out. There is no way to climb over the rubble and no handholds or stairs to use to climb up the buildings. You’re completely trapped.

You whirl around quickly, hoping to get out before the infected catches up with you. But you’re too late. He’s already standing at the entrance of the alley,  staring you down with heated red eyes. A sharp burst of awareness fills you as you realize exactly who this is. The leader of the League of Villains, Shigaraki Tomura, whose whereabouts have been speculated on for weeks along with the rest of his villain group.

No wonder he’s so fast and so dangerous. The infected retain some level of awareness and ability from the time before, and Shigaraki was one of the most deadly villains in the country.

And if the way he’s acting towards you is any indication, he still is.

You take a step back. He takes a step forward. Another step back. Another step forward. You scan through your chances of getting out of this alive and uninfected, but your mind comes up with nothing.

Your back hits a wall abruptly, and in your split second distraction, the infected is on you. You’re pulled roughly to the ground, hands barely breaking your fall as you land on your front. This is it, you think to yourself, I’m about to be eaten. All this time of running away, of watching people you care about die, all for nothing.

You can’t stop yourself from trembling as you try to brace for the pain of being devoured. But instead, he leans down and buries his face into your neck, sniffing the skin deeply as he pushes your body further onto the ground. His hips are bucking against the curve of your ass, and with dawning horror, you realize exactly what the hard bulge in his pants is.

He grabs your pants and you watch as decay overtakes them and dissolves them into ash. He decays your shirt and bra next, leaving you bare from the waist up and shivering from the cold of his body pressed against you. You’re too scared to move, too scared to do anything.

But when he reaches for your panties, that’s when your paralysis finally breaks and fear takes over. You try to lift yourself up from the ground to run, only to hear a snarl as teeth sink into the flesh of your neck.

You go limp with a choked sob, losing any and all desire to try and get away. It’s all over now. That one single moment has doomed you to infection and madness. The pain of the bite is nothing compared to the despair you feel.

He lets out a pleased hum at your sudden obedience, pulling your panties aside as you feel something cold and hard prodding at your entrance. You barely have time to comprehend what’s happening before your pussy is filled with one sharp thrust of the creature’s hips. The infected aren’t supposed to do this, aren’t supposed to have these urges, you think wildly to yourself. This can’t be happening, it’s not possible.. But it is happening. You’re being taken by this creature like a wild animal in a back alley.

And then he is moving, hips slapping against your ass as his throbbing length pounds into you. There is no gentleness, no precision, just deep, feral thrusts that have you unwillingly clenching. He’s thicker than you’re used to, and the pain of your muscles stretching around him causes you to whine from the back of your throat.

This shouldn’t feel good. You should be horrified, disgusted. You should be fighting tooth and nail to get away, even though it’s hopeless since you’re already infected. But the cold of his cock pressing against your warm walls has your head spinning from the contrast.

He hits a soft, spongy spot inside of you, and you let out a squeal as your stomach tightens. The teeth are removed from your neck, only to bite down in another spot on the other side. He ruthlessly breaks skin, causing blood to run down your front and drip onto the pavement below.

Your body feels like it’s on fire, everything so overly sensitive as his cock forces your walls to stretch open even further as he gets rougher. The hands gripping your hips feel warmer than they were before, fingers digging hard enough into your skin to create bruises. The grunts and groans leaving his throat are positively lewd, and he takes his mouth away only to bite down in between your shoulder blades.

Your scream echoes through the alley as the teeth penetrate flesh, his tongue lapping at the bite and taking deep swallows of your blood. You try to imagine yourself somewhere else, anywhere else so that you don’t think of the pressure building up inside of you and the pain from the throbbing bites now decorating you.

Your nails dig hard into the cement below you as you try to ground yourself and ignore what’s happening, but Shigaraki doesn’t seem to appreciate that at all. He smacks his hand hard against your ass, keeping his pinky raised delicately off your skin in a way that has you worried about his level of awareness.

Now that your attention is firmly back on him, he bites the back of your neck, and you can’t stop the howl that leaves your throat when you feel your skin break, or the orgasm that wracks your body as you feel blood trail down the column of your neck and down in between your breasts.

Tears run down your face as humiliation burns through you, the shame of cumming around this infected villain’s cock almost too much to bear. Almost worse than the fact that you’ll soon be just like him.

“M-m-m - “

Your eyes widen as you glance behind you, seeing the infected concentrating hard as he tries to get words out. He’s stopped thrusting, as if he’s trying to focus entirely on whatever he wants to say. As he opens his mouth, you see his teeth stained with your blood and the sight shoots straight to your core.

“M-m-mine,” he finally manages to stutter out, “mine.” He forces your head down onto the pavement as he begins to ruthlessly pound into you.  The infected don’t speak, they’re not supposed to speak -

“Mine,” he snarls, almost as if he heard your thoughts and is trying to prove you wrong.

You’re oversensitive and wet from your previous orgasm, allowing him to fuck you deeply, hitting your cervix with every thrust. You can feel your pussy dripping your juices all over his cock, and the wet squelching noises that fill the alleyway has you shaking with embarrassment.

“Mine, mine mine,” he chants as he bites again and again, each time pausing long enough to take gulps of your blood. Your head is spinning, lightheadedness from blood loss overtaking you. The ground below you has puddles of your own blood where it drips down, and you briefly think that maybe you really will be eaten right here and now instead of being infected and left to wander.

His hand comes in between your bodies to stroke tight circles against your swollen clit as he chuckles deeply into your ear. “Mine,” he whispers darkly. “Why else would I stumble across the cure for the plague if you weren’t meant to be mine?”

Cure for the plague? That’s not possible, there’s no cure for the plague, and you’re completely quirkless -

He bites down one last time, sinking his teeth into the back of your neck and holding you there like a dog refusing to let go of a bone. You realize why immediately when he groans into your heated skin, warmth spreading through your core as he shoots hot ropes of cum directly against your cervix. The pain of his teeth buried into your flesh has you thrown over the edge as well, legs trembling and eyes rolling into the back of your head.

He removes his teeth from your neck once he’s emptied himself inside of you, letting you go as you collapse onto the ground. You roll over enough to meet his eyes, seeing sharp intelligence and contemplation. The black rot is quickly disappearing, color returning to his skin. Within no time at all, you can no longer tell he was ever infected.

“How - I don’t - I’m quirkless - “

“No, you’re not.” He states it matter of factly, as if it was already known. “You have a quirk, it just didn’t have a purpose until the plague. Your blood carries the cure.”

You consider everything that happened, realizing that the more blood he drank, the more human he seemed. The faster the infection was being cured. He snorts at the look of disbelief and then understanding on your face. “With you on my side, I can remake society exactly the way that I want.”

“I am not on your fucking side! You’re a villain who just - “ You can’t even bring yourself to finish the sentence, but Shigaraki has no issues doing it for you.

“A villain who just fucked you and got you off?  Such a dirty girl, getting off around infected cock.”

Your face heats up and you instantly glance away, drawing another chuckle from his throat. “I won’t help you,” you say stubbornly, ignoring his previous words.

“Who said I was giving you a choice?” His fingers dig into your arm as he pulls you off the ground. “You belong to me now, and I’m going to do whatever the fuck I want with you. Just think about the power I have now. I control who stays infected and who gets cured. No more hero society.” His voice has taken on an excited, almost manic tone as he considers the possibilities.

“Are you - are you going to let them do what you just did?” You whisper quietly, a single tear running down your face at being used the same way by other people.

He instantly scowls at you. “Of course not.”

You perk up just a bit, until you hear his next words.

“I’ll let you be a blood bag, but for everything else - you’re mine. And I don’t like to share.” He begins to drag you back the way that you came, walking with purpose.

“Now come along. We have so much work to do.”

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Kinktober: @ichor-and-symbiosis, @thewheezingwyvern​, @vixen-scribbles, @katsukisprincess, @hisoknen, @trafalgar-temptress, @leeswritingworld, @burnedbyshoto, @bakugotrashpanda, @dee-madwriter, @kittycatkrissa, @reinawritesbnha, @yanderart, @dabilove27, @fae-father, @anxietyplusultra, @flutterfalla, @angmarwitch, @nereida19, @babayaga67, @fromsunnywithlove, @dabis-kitten, @bakugos-cumsock, @yumeneji, @the-grimm-writer, @iwaizumi-chan, @slashersheart, @bunnyywritings, @bakarinnie, @angie-1306, @emplosion22, @lalalemon101, @videogameboiwhowins, @f4nficbaby, @tenkoshimmy, @baroque-baby, @bbyspiiice, @thirstyforthem2dmen, @blissfulignorance2000, @bluecookies02-main

[darkacademicfrom2021]

Break.

Request by @lucywrites02 (If you find some time could you write a fic about reader being really stressed about their exams and Loki saying something mean and then they break down and Loki has no idea what's happening but then tries to help the reader? It can be a headcanon or a one shot)

N/A: It do be like that sometimes. Unfortunately I think we can all relate to this state of mind. Hope this helps alliviate the tension a bit. Remember to take care of yourself; health is more important than grades.

Warnings: anxious thoughts, mentions of suicide attempt (the Bifrost thing from Loki), angst. Happy ending.

Word count: 2.3 K

(Taglist: @lucywrites02, @louieboo87, @jesuswasnotawhiteman)

You organized your folders once again, hoping the cleaner desk would give you some motivation to keep going. It didn’t, but you stayed. Your stomach growled and it hinted you to look at the clock. Oh, no. Five in the morning? But you barely started. You still had so many things to do before dawn.

You got up and stretched your legs and back. Your eyelids, heavier than ever, were not helping at all. Your mind was still everywhere, and you had to keep your head distracted to not think in the thousand things you still couldn’t get done. The mere thought of that made you shiver, almost throwing you into a spiral of anxious thoughts. You shook your head off and walked to the bathroom. Splashing some cold water in your face, you stood in front of the mirror. Eyebags that made you more similar to a racoon gave you the idea of making some more coffee. At that time you'd already forgotten you were going to get some food; your head was so full it couldn't even retain basic information.

As silently as you could, you walked down to the kitchen of the compound. You brought your books with yourself. Couldn’t waste some other five or ten minutes, couldn’t you? Filling the kettle and putting it on the fire, you got distracted watching the shapes of the fire.

“Zoned out?”, inquired Loki behind you. You jumped, frightened.

“What are you doing up so early?”, you asked.

“What are you doing up so late?”. You pointed at the books and he nodded. “You’re still with those things”.

“Want some coffee?”.

“No, thanks. I think I’m gonna try to sleep on the couch”.

He moved to the living room area and opened a book, laying down on the nearest couch. It all looked so cozy, so comfortable. You redirected your gaze to your cup of coffee and academic books, waiting for you to fry your head a little (a lot) more. Oh, how much you would’ve loved to take a break, sit in there with a fiction book and a warm mug of hot cocoa, wrapped up in… no. Don’t do this. Don’t torture yourself like that.

You probably shouldn’t have been drinking coffee. Your heart was already going abnormally fast, product and cause of the anxiety you were accumulating. But you did, trying to get your eyes opened. The table you settled in was confronting the living room area, and Loki observed you read and write incessantly in those big piles of books and papers.

You didn’t hear his footsteps. Out of nowhere he appeared behind you, reading the pages that were troubling you so much. You jumped once again. He was distracting you, you were tired and stressed, and, as if it weren’t enough, your heart was going to explode with all those frightens he was giving you.

“Are you going on the next…?”.

“Loki, I can’t give you attention right now”, you cut him off as kindly as you could. Your voice was slightly broken, so you swallowed and hid it. You two weren’t close enough to actually explain to him you were about to drown if you kept getting distracted from the assignments.

“I don’t need your attention”, he scoffed, slightly offended. “Not a puppy you have to play with”.

“Alright. Can you leave?”.

He sighed and went back to the couch. After about half an hour, your head fell to the pages and gave your brain the pause it so hardly needed. About an hour later, everyone on the compound was up and having breakfast around you, waking you up with the noises.

“Y/n, what are you doing sleeping in here?”, asked Thor. “What are all those things you have in there?”.

“Those things, brother, are books. They are for reading and gaining knowledge, I’m certain you haven’t heard of them before”, mocked Loki, gaining a chuckle from you. “It’s not like you seem to be gaining much either, though”, told you, referring to your nap.

“I was exhausted, but I’m...”.

“Mortals are such weakies”, he said, getting up and serving himself a cup of tea. “They read three pages and already get tired of using their little brains”.

You knew he was kidding, for he had told you many times before he considered you one of the brightest youngsters he had ever encountered. But you couldn’t look at the big picture right now. Your head was still overwhelmingly loud with fears, tiredness, stress. The only sight of that pile of books made you shiver, realizing how little time you had to study. And Loki was right. You felt yourself so stupid, so weak. No matter how hard you worked and overworked yourself, you couldn’t get the damn things done right.

A knot in your throat gave you the hint to leave. The last thing you needed was to cry in front of them. You went back to your room, not without another cup of coffee before. So, you grabbed your things as fast as you could and ran to the kitchen. You hadn’t noticed Loki had followed you, thinking it was alright to mock; play around. You weren’t exactly friends, but enjoyed each other’s teasing every once in a while. He thought it’d cheer you up, or make you laugh.

“Hey”, he said behind you, and you jumped once again, dropping your mug to the floor. It got smashed to pieces. “Oh, what a clumsy little human”. You chuckled at his comment, containing a sob. He read it as if it was alright to keep teasing you, so he did. “I’d say you’re dumb because of not sleeping, but you generally just are like this”.

You didn’t answer, but your heart ached. You weren’t in the mood for his tough-love, so you rolled your eyes, sighed, and tried to pick up the pieces of broken ceramic. He didn't look satisfied with your silence. You'd usually insult him back, and laugh together.

“Your hair’s gross. Have you showered at all?” he said once again, touching the tip of one strand of your hair. You haven’t, you didn’t have time. You didn’t answer, and instead blushed. “Careful, don’t touch that sink, you might get a reaction”.

“What?”.

“Since you’re allergic to water”.

“Out of all the mean things you can say you go for my poor hygiene?”.

“Would you like me to stop insulting your appearance and instead go for anything else? I have a long list”.

“Just… leave me alone”.

“Oh, come on. You’re not gonna keep trying to understand what you so clearly can’t?”, he said while you were leaving with all your stuff, and you stood in place, facing the door. You were so, so glad you were backwards, because then he would’ve seen you tear up.

He was joking, he was just playing around. But going for that just in your worst moments? That was plain mean. You shook your head, he didn’t know, you’ve never said a thing about your stress, and he didn’t see how overworked and overwhelmed you were. He didn't know that was one of your biggest insecurities.

“I’d say you give up already. There are certain things dummies like you simply can’t achieve”, he continued. He had no idea, so he just kept going, hoping to get a reaction. A laugh, a chuckle or a “fuck you”. Even a punch. Any of the reactions he would usually get from you. But he didn’t expect what followed, at all.

You sobbed. One sob, just sharp and loud enough for him to have heard it. He stopped dead on his tracks. You didn’t turn around, but you didn’t move either. He saw how you tilted your head, facing the floor, and dropped a tear. He immediately walked to you and grabbed both of your hands, facing you.

“Hey, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean any of those things, dear”, he softened his voice. “I was just joking around”.

“Yes, I know. Don’t worry, it’s just that I’m very stressed”, was what you tried to say. Instead, your sobs turned into a full blown cry. Your face went red from embarrassment, and anger, and stress, and tiredness, and it all just became too much for you to bear alone. Loki sensed it and hugged you tightly, pressing your head against his chest and hushing you tenderly.

“What happened? Is someone ill?”, he whispered, and you felt even more stupid, because you were crying over grades and papers. Not real things, like you used to think to diminish your stress and pack up all your feelings in a tiny bottle. But the tiny bottle became too tiny for your big feelings, and it finally exploded. You still couldn’t talk. Tears running down your face, you were hugging Loki back, hiding your face on him.

“Nobody’s ill, don’t worry”, you managed to say after a while. He nodded.

“I worry about you. Come, let me get you comfortable”, he said in your ear, and lifted you up carefully. You chuckled in between sobs. An emotional roller coaster. He carried you to his bedroom (and ignored the weird looks and stares from everyone else, because, let’s be honest; that was an unusual sight), and made you sit in his bed, wrapping you up in a weighted blanket (oh, you loved those).

He left for less than a minute and came back with a steaming cup of tea, some chocolate, and a few CDs. He sat in the bed by your side and gave you the cup. You wiped some tears away, and with trembling hands left the tea carefully over the bedside table and went for another hug. He wrapped himself around you, as a second blanket, and caressed your hair and neck with his cold fingers until your sobs stopped and you finally calmed down.

After a while, he cupped your face and looked at you very closely. Too close, even. Gave you a comforting look, with a warmth on his eyes you have never seen on anyone before.

“Better?”, he whispered.

“A bit, yeah”.

“Want to talk it out? Movie marathon? Chocolate?”.

You smiled and blushed a bit, again.

“Sorry, I’m just… really stressed. I thought I could manage better, but… this is just not it”.

“School?”.

“You must think I’m an idiot”.

“No way”, he assured you, frowning. “You know what I think of you. You’re incredibly smart”.

“I’m not, I’m doing so poorly on my exams and assignments, and…” you tried to explain, and the overwhelming weight of everything fell on your chest again. Your eyes watered.

“You’re overworking yourself too much, darling. You need to take a day off, or two”.

“I have no time, I won’t get anything done”.

“Well, you certainly won’t get anything done in this breakdown state of mind”, he said as tenderly as he could. He was right, and you sighed. You started fidgeting nervously with your fingers, tearing your cuticles. Almost as a reflex act, he grabbed your hands and caressed them so you would stop hurting them. “You humans run around the entirety of your lives. You spend it all running, speeding, not taking time to feel enough, to be rested and fulfilled enough”, he started saying, rocking you back and forth “you think you don’t have enough time, but for what?”.

“To do all the things I want”.

“And those are…? Careers to do? Places to visit? They all come to the same thing, love”.

“Feeling well?”.

“Yes”, he nodded. Your throat tightened once again, but this time out of relief. You really needed to hear this. “If you feel well doing these things, you won’t feel you’re wasting time once you finally rest. I’ve lived a thousand years. Do you think I always wanted to spend my life doing the same things?”.

“Well, no”.

“But it all came to the same thing when I thought I died”.

“You... what?”.

“I was on the Bifrost, about to fall. I wanted to feel good, to feel accepted, to feel loved by the people I loved”.

“It’s all we want at the end. I guess I overwork myself to make them proud”.

“I did too. And at the end, even when I tried my hardest, I couldn’t make them proud”.

“Oh God”, you said. He was still hugging and caressing you, as if the story he was telling didn’t affect him anymore. “And you…”.

“I threw myself off it”, he stated. You stopped and looked at him.

“Oh”.

“But”, he brought back to your hands the cup of tea “I survived. Even then, I kept thinking through the fogged lenses of doing something big for a future purpose, not paying any mind to my actual motivations”.

“How do you feel now?”.

“You know, if I wouldn’t have survived, I wouldn’t taste this amazing cup of tea” he said, sipping a bit from the cup still in your hands and bringing it to his cheek, warming him up. “And I wouldn’t be able to watch all these movies with you. And I would’ve missed all the Midgardians books I’ve read on Earth. And I wouldn’t have met anyone on here. And maybe, even looking closer, I wouldn’t have pushed all your buttons to break down so you would still be bottling up your stress and maybe even have had a heart attack and died unhappy and unfulfilled”.

“Wow there”. You both laughed. You rested your head on his lap and he watched you with a glimpse of a smile.

“What I’m trying to say is, take it one step at a time. Look at the big picture. Enjoy the process. All those things you midgardians say so often, they have almost lost all meaning. They sound cliché. They shouldn’t; for they are very true”.

“Thank you, Loki”, you sighed and started braiding one strand of his hair.

“Now go take a bath or something, stinky”. You both laughed. It was all fine.

[notnctu]

when the snow falls | j.jh

jung jaehyun x reader genre - angst first, fluff later details - childhood best friends!au, ghost!au, platonic relationship, genderneutral!reader, ft. boyfriend johnny warnings - grieving/mourning, mentions of death, lots of crying, explicit language (swearing) word count - 8.3k inspiration - A Christmas Carol synopsis - Jaehyun visits you every holiday season since his death to bring you out of your self isolation and hatred for the one season you both once loved.

a/n - this is for my first collab ever: a taste of winter collab hosted by @dearyongs​​​ & @pastelsicheng​​​ ! again, thank you for letting me participate and i hope this fic brings more warmth for everyone during the winter!! happy holidays everyone & i hope you can check out the rest of the fics in the collab as i will be, they’re written by such amazing writers! :)))

An iridescent frost covers the tall windows of the apartment and a bright white sky greets you this morning. The fallen sheets expose your bare shoulders to the bitter crisp cold air and goosebumps rise to remind you to wear a fucking sweater for once. However, the cold isn’t what bothers you this horrid day as you’re leaping out of bed to glance out at the world. It’s the first thing that you lay eyes on: it covers the streets, it’s falling from the blanket of grey sky, it’s others’ joy when it’s your trauma. What Mother Nature has brought upon this winter season, as she always does this time of the year, is snow. 

The first sign of snowfall marks the first day of your self isolation period until the holidays pass. It marks the anniversary of your best friend’s death and an agonizingly long winter, but in spite of that, it also means the appearance of a rather special guest. A guest that is only visible to you and though resembles much of your passed friend, does not share the same memories as you do. 

“The snow is just so comforting, isn’t it?” Though you live alone, a sudden voice erupts from behind you and has you turning rather quickly to face the truth of this season. Your greatest treasure, yet haunting demise. “Hello, y/n. How has your year been?” Jaehyun stands with a lean at your door frame, his arms crossed at his chest and hair full of fluff. 

“Hello, Jaehyun’s spirit. I happen to hate the snow, if you have forgotten.” Your hip presses against the cold glass and you’re no longer afraid of being half naked in front of what this form of imagination possesses itself to be. 

“Remind me why again.” Jaehyun casually sits on your unmade bed, looking as about your age now. There is a brief silence as you examine how he’s grown with you, you’d imagine this is how he’d look if he was still alive and well.

It would be his third year in college, same as you, possibly studying engineering due to his past fascination with the mechanics of roller coasters. With such a strong jawline and a definite lean built, girls would be running all over him. Not to mention, his dimples remain one of his charms.

Kicking off the icy window, you walk carefully and slowly up to Jaehyun. A hand reaches to caress his cheek, but it goes right through him and leaves your hand to hang in mid-air. This happens every time you see him again, wondering if you can get one last touch of his dewy complexion, and you simply can’t. Despite his ability to touch you, there is no possibility for your senses to travel through to the other side of the supernatural dimension. 

Jaehyun gently rests your hand back to your side and repeats his request, “remind me again why you hate the snow.”

“It’s how you died.” A small croak gets caught in the back of your throat and tears well up to blur your vision. “So when the snow falls, it brings me back to the dreadful memory of me losing you, of you leaving me.” 

“I died from snow? That is so lame.” Jaehyun grumbles and rolls his eyes. 

You chuckle, but the tears roll down your cheeks as if they know no happiness. “You died from a car accident in the snow. Your tires slid, you couldn’t brake … and so, you crashed. Full trauma to the head, an instant death.” 

“Where was I going?” He wasn’t this curious last winter, and so you’re unaware if it’s your mind playing sick tricks on you or if his unrest spirit is this forgetful. You wish it was the latter. 

Choking on your tears, the droplets hit the hardwood floors below you. An overwhelming feeling of melancholy overtakes your chest and you’re suffocating underneath an unknown pressure. Your throat is drier than your mother’s gingerbread cookies, but you swallow the frigid air around you. 

You’re so choked up by your sobbing that it’s too difficult to speak. Any words you say feel like thin ice, ready to crack at the lightest touch. “O-On the way to … my house. You were coming over to tell me a secret.”

“And I never got to tell you.” 

“No, Jaehyun. I’ll never know what you wanted to tell me that day.” 

when the snow falls. 

There has never been a time before Jaehyun and all that you knew, all the memories that fill your brain, every growing pain you could possibly share, was with him and all until it wasn’t. Had there been a time after Jaehyun, you would not have expected it to come as soon as it did.

For the months following his death, you were in denial of his missing presence because every. single. thing. reminded you of him. Jaehyun remained in his assigned seat in school, although it was clearly empty. He lived through others’ mourning stories, where they spoke of fond memories that they shared and things he liked. The worst of them all, you still texted him every day in hopes to see the tiny three dots pop up that he was typing. And the warped reality in your head, the first stage of grief flooding every possible corner, was that he has always just been slow at replying back.

Then, his funeral rolled around and his parents asked you to share one happy memory of him. There were so many, how could you possibly have chosen just one? And so you didn’t. The moment the frame of the church entered your view, your legs stuck to the ground and refused to enter. There was going to be a point when you entered the building filled with crying people and a gripping, horrid smell of death and you wouldn’t be able to forget it. That scary thought, not only frightened you, but angered you. 

The large attendance of people walked past you as teary eyes blinked up at the dark wooden frame of the door, but every one of them had never visited him for more than once when he was alive. His older cousins that had forgotten about him when they flew away for college, his acquaintances from piano lessons who never bothered to remember his full name, his old friends from primary school that he had lost connection with after graduation, they were all here.

And you can’t help, but fester a fueling frustration in the pit of your stomach and as it grew into your chest in the matter of seconds, you wondered the single thought that picked up your feet to run home: where were they when he was alive? 

After a year and the appearance of Jaehyun’s ghost became less of a shock during winter, you were stuck in an odd and uneasy place of what if’s. Talking to him once a year was never enough, texting his old number was never enough. It was just never enough.

Missing him grew into a dark sense of yearning, longing, bargaining. Long nights of twisting and tossing in your bed, many thoughts and endless possibilities ran through your unhealthy thoughts. The description and police report of his accident played like a reel in darkest contemplations. 

The first year of college had to be the hardest to go through without him and thus, aiding in your regrets of not cherishing him enough when he was around. A rabbit hole of universe paths drove you wild, wishing and hoping that you could turn back time and stop him from coming over in the middle of a blizzard. And the one lasting thought still haunts you to your present: if only you hadn’t encouraged him that night, he wouldn’t have died. 

The saddest part has barely been acknowledged, even by yourself. That this one tragedy tainted the one holiday you two loved the most --- Christmas. Every year since his passing, you locked yourself in your room for two weeks before the holiday and waited through it all. Truthfully, there was nothing in the universe that was going to allow you to enjoy the holiday when it wasn’t with him. Even his ghost, who very randomly popped up on a December day and cluelessly never brings much comfort as the live him did during this season.

Jolly holiday music lost their joyous sound and became awfully low tempo. The bright red and green signature colors of Christmas became dull and rather grey; the long strings of colorful lights that hang from houses and around large trees were absolutely drained of their color. The warmth of the fireplace went cold. The cheesy Hallmark Christmas movies no longer entertained and lost their spark.

The Christmas themed decorations that covered the windows of shops, the city, your own house, became an overwhelming sore sight to look at. The love from your loved ones… you couldn’t feel anything remotely close to love anymore, just meaningless affection. The one gift that the Earth blessed your region with, snow, became the one petrifying thing that it had to offer. And your favoritism for the holiday, the so-called ‘Christmas Spirit’, slowly died out, along with Jaehyun. 

Now that it’s been three years since his passing, you’re here spending your third lonely holiday season inside your apartment discussing your yearly recap with your ghostly best friend. 

“That ridiculous final exam lowered my grade and I walked out of that class retaining none of the information. When will I ever need to know about pirates in the 1800’s?” The chocolate wrapper crinkles in your fist as you finish your overly passionate recollection of the most useless class you could have taken this whole year.

Jaehyun sits by your side, facing you as he hugs his knees close to his chest. A small grin dots the dimple on his left cheek when you peer over at the huddled boy and the sad reminiscent glisten in your eye does not go unnoticed. “You used to love pirates. Dressed up like one for Halloween and went up to every house yelling,” Jaehyun clears his throat and perks up, ready to perform.

A balled fist in the air, paired with a look of utter gusto and passion, Jaehyun speaks in an attempt to horribly reenact your once embarrassing pirate impression. “Argh! You scoundrel, give me all the treasures in your possession… preferably chocolate sweets.” He holds his stomach as he bursts into a fit of his baritone laughter. His wide mouth grows into such a big, open smile that his eyelashes dance on his glowing cheeks. 

“For a ghost, you sure look like someone who’s very much alive.” Naturally, you’d swat lightly at his knee or arm whenever he would joke around. However, the pain of your hand passing right through him breaks this habit and you’re left scoffing at the way Jaehyun is consumed with laughter.

“You know, for someone who is alive… you sure look a bit … lifeless. When was the last time you were happy, y/n?” Jaehyun finally settles down and gently nudges at your elbow. 

His question hits you like a wall of bricks. Unexpected and completely straightforward, but that’s just always been the way he is. “This past weekend when I turned in my last assignment for the semester.” 

“No. The last time you were genuinely happy, not relieved. You mentioned a boyfriend, right?” 

Rolling your eyes, you grow a bit silent and annoyed at his comment. “Listen, hopeless romantic. Not every relationship is perfect sunrays and gushy unconditional love.” Perhaps, your gaze drops down to your hands and the wrinkled wrapper between your fingers has worn out from your fidgeting. 

Johnny Suh. If you could move mountains for this man, you would. It all started due to an accidental happenstance of you abruptly walking into your campus’ coffee shop to seek shelter from the rain and him, the attractive barista behind the counter, chasing after you in a stained apron and an immensely strong aroma of coffee beans. Jaehyun practically swooned over hearing how you two met, hearts in his pupils and a dreamy grin resting fondly as he attentively listened. 

Jaehyun has always wanted a relationship, though he did have many admirers in high school, he never had the opportunity to experience one true love and to play out every sappy romantic thing rom-coms taught him. Hearing about your love life is the closest thing he can get to it, unfortunate for him, but fortunate that his best friend still has some romance in them.

Nevertheless, it’s only been a few months together. Though Johnny has seen intimate parts of you, he’s never experienced a winter with you and frankly, he won’t ever experience one with you if you keep this up. 

“Johnny doesn’t make you happy, then why are you with him?” Jaehyun knows Johnny makes you feel something that is hard for you to put into words. He also knows the type of person you are, pushing your buttons to get you to defend something you love. Boldly. Loudly. Strongly. He knows how to get you to spit out words of truth, even when they’re difficult.

“My partner is the literal definition of happiness, okay?” The defensiveness drives your assertiveness further. “The last time I was happy was when…” your eyes are frantically examining the floor for any source of focus as a highlight reel of this whole year flashes through your mind.

“... On my birthday, he planned me a picnic. Bought me roses, the whole grand scheme of romance. I started to cry, out of happiness… it was the first time in a while that the reason behind my tears was something good.” There’s somewhat of an epiphany when you finish your sentence. Your voice gets lost in your train of thought as the blissful scene plays out. 

“Why were you crying?” Jaehyun snatches the distracting wrapper from your fingers, it being unrecognizable from the wear and tear. It causes you to meet Jaehyun’s round eyes: empty, but not sad. They’re lost, yet filled with purpose.

Jaehyun has always been able to open up the darkest parts of your heart. “Because it reminded me of the time when you and I walked up that steep hill over on Fifth Street… and we forgot the picnic blanket. But it didn’t matter because after the strenuous journey, all we wanted was to sit down and enjoy some fucking sandwiches, along with some hot chocolate your mom packed us.” 

“y/n, you cried over the memory of sandwiches and exercise? That’s so---”

“Before you insult me by calling me lame,” you bring your finger to stop him mid-way and narrow your eyes, “I was so happy to be able to share our same experience with someone else. Even though you’re gone, I can still have these happy moments with other people.” 

Then, Jaehyun gathers both of your hands to hold and brings them to his soft lips. Everything about him feels cold, like a harsh chill that bites at your skin. In spite of it all, his delicate kiss on your knuckles somehow feel warm and slightly comforting. Jaehyun peers up with kind eyes, “you’re almost there. I will do everything I can to get you there.” 

Blinking at him with confusion, your expression asks the questions for you. When he sets your hands in his lap, a soft pat on the back of your hand reassures you. “Can we bake Christmas cookies?” 

Rolling your eyes, you tear your hands away from him. He leaves you with unspoken words and an oddly comforting feeling, but it’s not enough to dissipate your deeply rooted dislike for this particular holiday. “You ask this every year.” Getting up, you walk towards your bedroom to get away from feeling too vulnerable.

Jaehyun watches your back intently as you’re stumbling over your feet. He whispers to himself, “and I think this year is going to be the last year I’ll ask for it.” And a hopeful smile appears joyously as he anticipates the storm before reaching still waters. 

The sound of the doorbell awakens you and Jaehyun is nowhere to be seen. He comes and goes as he wishes, however, he’d usually accompany you during the mornings. You’re particularly sluggish, finding it difficult to adjust to the blinding white sky outside as snow continues to drift upon the city. 

“Good morning, gumdrop.” Your boyfriend is rather chirpy today. Johnny engulfs your fragile body in his long arms and you’re lost in his scent of peppermint bark. 

“This was unexpected.” His shirt muffles your tiny voice and Johnny is setting down bags of groceries on your kitchen countertop. 

“I texted you last night that I was coming over to do some grocery shopping for you. Did you sleep early?” Your very helpful boyfriend starts unloading all the parcels of fresh produce and your favorite snacks. However, there is a slight tinge of annoyance and possibly it’s due to the fact you weren’t expecting to see anyone during your isolation. Johnny couldn’t have known though.

A deep sigh escapes your lips and you walk over to stop his movements. A hand holds his arm and the other intertwines with his own, but you stand under him with the sweetest smile you could wear during the holiday season. “How is it that your mom invited me to your family holiday party, but tells me that you’re not going to be there?” 

Your smile automatically falls from your lips and a hand retracts from his warmth. It’s the sudden truth that you must face, the confession of your sadness that you’ll eventually need to tell your partner. Wondering how he’s going to take the news, your mom probably gave him a brief breakdown about how you’ve been this way for the past few years now. 

Nonetheless, Johnny has always been bold with his statements and though you’ve adjusted to his abruptness, this one is hard to give a quick answer back to. So as you’re racking how to present your dark narrative, Johnny sets you down on the couch with the utmost gentleness. You don’t even feel the cushion underneath you when the million different answers streamline their way into your brain.

Johnny notices your frantic eyes and unfocused gaze, growing a bit concerned at how cold your skin feels at his touch. Taking off his sweatshirt, he carefully slips it over your shaking figure. When the softness of the polyester cotton blend brushes upon your bare arms, you’re snapped back facing a worried expression.

And you say the one thing on your mind, the only thing you can think of in your scattered brain. “Jaehyun died during this time of year, so it just makes me very emotionally unstable to… participate in any festive events. I’d rather be alone, the whole holiday season.” 

Johnny nods, but his face remains with his eyebrows together and lips pressed into a tight line. He’s well aware of who Jaehyun was and means to you. Though you don’t talk much about him, your eyes light up with a bright twinkle whenever you do. It’s like the world spins ‘round and everything feels restored. Johnny knows enough about your good friend to deduct how hard it must be for you during the winters. 

“Can I help you in any way?” Johnny peers over at you with a small smile, and you wish there is something in your decaying heart to keep it up forever. 

“I hate to say it, but please just leave me alone for the winter.” Flopping on his lap, you’re burying your face in your hands to cower away from seeing your sunshine hurt. There are no more sugar coated kind words for you to pick and choose from.

While Johnny can understand how difficult it must be for you, he still holds onto a sliver of hope that you’ll come around. “Come on, don’t be such a Grinch. No one should be alone for Christmas.” 

Groaning, you sit up and roll your eyes at the familiar references. “Listen, Cindy Lou Who. Don’t call me that.”

“It’s still a cute nickname, you don’t think?” Johnny snickers lightly, but your expression turns rather grim and serious. A faint overcast of melancholy washes over your expression as you’re staring off into your memories again.

In a faint voice, your voice is barely above a whisper, “that used to be one of Jaehyun’s favorite movies.” Your arms drop from your puffed up chest, but Johnny catches your hand and kisses your fingertips.

“What was yours?” Johnny keeps the atmosphere as light and playful while he still can. 

“The Nightmare Before Christmas.” Ironically fitting and that’s one of the sole reasons you don’t watch holiday movies anymore. There have been too many parallels with your life and the wrenched holiday. As twisted as the joke may seem, you’ve lived your own nightmare before Christmas, except you never got the happy ending to it all. It’s like a nightmare that continues and you can’t escape it. 

Having said, Johnny pulls you up to stand and draws you into the biggest hug. “I can’t leave you alone, even if I tried my very best. I still get butterflies every time you smile at me, so you think I wouldn’t be addicted to that feeling?” 

“Johnny…” This man is in love with you until the ends of this Earth, until the horizon stretches so far that it’s unimaginable to see where it stops. 

“I’ll respect your wishes as much as I can, but know that it’s not the best form of healing.” The final word causes a chill to run down your spine. It implies that you’re still hurting, although he’s not wrong, it’s rather disheartening to hear someone else speak it aloud. “I’ll come around less.” 

“If I’m grumpy, then you’ll know why. And don’t try to shove the whole Christmas spirit act on me, I don’t want to hear a single thing about it! I can’t spend a Christmas without Jaehyun.” Johnny squeezes your shoulders at your bold declaration.

“You can’t or you won’t?” A painful tick at your heart leaves you speechless at his question. 

For as long as you could remember, every Christmas was spent with Jaehyun. Picking out a tree for both of your families and getting lost together between the evergreens brought laughter and excitement. Baking cookies and drawing the ugliest faces in tacky colorful frosting always happened a few days before the holiday. Drinking hot chocolate by his family’s fireplace and watching Christmas movies were one of your favorite activities. Christmas Eve was always so special, where you and Jaehyun made it tradition to open your gifts from each other right when the clock struck midnight. 

Then everything simply stopped. And when you tried to participate in those same activities, selfishness and guilt preoccupied your heart. What do any of those things mean without Jaehyun? Jaehyun was the reason you loved Christmas as much as you did. Then, his death became the reason you hated it as much as you do.

“I think that’s enough for today.” Johnny knows he’s hit a nerve, he can see it in your glossy eyes and subtle drop in the corners of your mouth. There is no protest from the taller man when he accepts his sweatshirt without a complaint. The bitter cold air bites at your bare shoulders again and you’re practically existing in its lack of warmth. Gathering the rest of his belongings, you two bid a kiss goodbye and shut the door.

It’s almost a relief that he’s gone and the tear runs down your cheek when your back hits the door. Suddenly, Jaehyun appears across the living room leaning on the door frame to your bedroom. “He seems like a nice guy.” 

“He is.” There is a hang at the end of your sentence and Jaehyun walks toward you. A few sniffs fill the empty apartment, but you’re rubbing away any sign of sadness from your face.

“But?” 

“But, he’s so optimistic about… everything. He lives by the sun and every waking day, he just lives it to the fullest. There’s nothing in the world for this man to possibly understand how sad I feel.” It’s the heaviness in your voice that has your heart sinking to the pit of your stomach. 

Jaehyun’s freezing hands graze your chin and as he lets go, his stare doesn’t leave yours. “Learn from him.” Your best friend’s ghastly voice reminds you that he’s not real. He’s a ghost. He’s very much gone and not for a split second, should you be wanting to cave into his embrace or else, you’ll hit the floor hard. Nevertheless, you’re entirely vulnerable and the next few words that leave Jaehyun’s mouth causes your throat to close up.

“Keep him close. y/n, he is the sun.” It’s a moment you thought you’d never witness, your best friend complimenting your significant partner. Moreover, it hurts to think about how great of friends Jaehyun and Johnny could have been. “To be very honest, you need some heat this winter.”

“Then, what were you?” It’s the curiosity that nips at your tongue as it leaves no space for a pause. The thumping of your heart being so loud in the dead silence, but you know Jaehyun doesn’t have a heart to beat recklessly as yours. 

Jaehyun smirks and chuckles fondly, despite how desperate and serious you may have sounded. “I was a pain in the ass.”

Scoffing, you break the immensely intense eye contact. “You still are. This whole haunting thing is very creepy.” Gesturing his entire being in front of you, he just looks so alive and breathing. Before Jaehyun, you always thought ghosts were floating entities with a white transparency. But your best friend stands before you, well aged and all together. 

It still tosses you into shambles as to why Jaehyun exists, but you’ve given up on figuring out his purpose. He could be a form of your own imagination for all you care, perhaps you’ve grown so sad that you started to seek things. 

Companionship from the one person you wish was still alive?

Like before, you’ve always spent Christmas with Jaehyun… alive or in ghost form.

It’s another one of those long days that seem to never end. The bright white sky seems unchanging, stark with a dusty and imminent endless overcast of snow. It’s blinding and you’re regretting the moment you overlooked the curtain blinds at the department store.  

Your phone has already been lost somewhere underneath your bed and there isn’t a single desire to reach for it. Missed calls pile up, voicemails clutter your inbox, texts flood your messages, and your social media notifications fill your screen. Despite everyone’s effort to contact you, there is no sense of joyous cordial nature to even glance at them.

Jaehyun has been appearing more frequently and staying for longer periods of time. The conversations bring an empty comfort, most of the times you feel the need to remind yourself that you’re not actually talking to someone, are you?

“What’s that sad look in your eyes?” He startles you when you’re off looking vacantly out the window. Your mind has been completely distracted lately by meaningless thoughts and the sweetest reels of Jaehyun that have turned blue.

The more you wrap yourself in your white sheets, the less you can feel any source of warmth. And perhaps you haven’t realized that you no longer felt any heat the past few days, that you’re at a freezing point and it’s made you numb.

“Not sure what you mean.” Your voice remains dull and monotone, lifeless almost. Jaehyun takes a seat against the window and for the first time, you can see right through him.

“It’s not your fault, y/n.” Is he a mind reader too? The thought that always circles your mind when Christmas draws near is not only that Jaehyun is gone forever, but how you could have prevented it all. The guilt eats you up and no matter how hard you’re searching for acceptance, it slips away from you before you have a chance.

When you don’t answer, Jaehyun heads over to your bed and he’s alarmed at how cold your hands are. “It was never your fault.” Your best friend pulls you into a hug, but it can barely be felt. What kind of hug can’t be felt?

“I never said it was.”

“No, but you thought about it.” The chilly draft causes you to shiver and it’s hard for you to concentrate on anything else besides the night of his death.

“I should have stopped you from coming over.” Although you’ve confessed this many times to him before, it never gets easier to say. Jaehyun sighs and ultimately frowns at your tears slipping from your eyes again. Like the snow that drifts from the heavens, your tears know no end to their downfall. It’s become too natural for them to appear. The closer it gets to Christmas, the harder it is to stop from crying.

“It’s hard for me to speak about it since we don’t remember much of the same moments---”

“Jaehyun! I remember that night as clear as it was just yesterday that it happened.” There’s no reason to yell, but a strong sense of pain erupts from your chest.

He’s so calm at your sudden outburst, turning his head to face you with a deadpan expression. “You weren’t there, y/n. You were home, safe and sound as you should have been. I’m more than grateful that you’re the one alive.”

“I’m not!” But when the confession leaves your lips, you’re shaking and fearful. The entire room is stiff and silent. You couldn’t even believe what you had just said, wondering if that is anything close to truth. You look up at Jaehyun, who blinks at you with furrowed eyebrows and wide eyes. “I mean,” you clear your throat in the midst of the tense atmosphere. “I could have saved you.”

“You’re not a hero and I didn’t need saving when I was already gone.” He taps his temples lightly, “full trauma to the head. It was just my time to go.”

“The secret. I wanted to know so bad that I didn’t stop you from coming in a snowstorm!” Jaehyun pats your head in an attempt to soothe your aching heart.

“And I wanted to tell you just as bad that I didn’t care about the snowstorm. y/n, stop blaming yourself for something that happened to me. The universe is much more complex than that, give it some credit.”

“You’re even philosophical as a ghost? Give me a fucking break.” Groaning, you pull the sheets over your head to somehow run away from the conversation.

Jaehyun lies down next to you, smiling cheekily to himself and glancing over at the lump that you had become underneath the blankets. “Do you remember the time I taught you how to ride a bike?”

“I thought it was your dad who taught me.” You grumble, tossing away the sheets to glance over at him. It always puzzled you how Jaehyun never remembered the same memories as you do, and even if you did, one of you remembered it differently.

“He was probably there as supervision. I was the one who helped you take off your training wheels and strap on your impressively thick knee pads.” You’re lying on your elbows now, fists pressing into your cheeks and a fond attentive gaze upon Jaehyun’s resting figure. He’s staring up at the ceiling that protects you two above, yet can cave in at any moment.

Dimples dip into his round supple cheeks as his toothy smile comes into view, reliving the happy memory. “You rang your little bell so many times that day.”

“Because I was scared!” You protest, muttering something incoherent. “Didn’t we go downhill when I said I wasn’t ready?”

“We went downhill because you said you were ready.” His hair ruffles in your sheets when he turns to face you, and he just takes your breath away. It’s the stars in his dark eyes that sweep you off your feet, like the gleaming star on top of a tree. The color that oozes from his smile, like Christmas lights that line a rooftop, make it hard not to stare. Jaehyun looks just like Christmas, the most wonderful thing of the year. In someway, he resembled an angel or the soft sheet of snow ready to fall right through.

You’re encompassed by overwhelming effervescent emotions from listening and watching Jaehyun glow and gleam. “Then, what?”

Jaehyun’s low chuckle illuminates the room, dazzling the boring grey interior. “Little ol’ you, hurt yourself real bad that day, scrapes and wounds you thought you’d never heal from. You didn’t talk to me for a week, but you ended up learning how to ride a bike.”

“Is that right?”

Jaehyun rests on his side now, only an elbow supporting his body and he’s leaning in close to your face, you’re almost too sure you could feel a breath on your lips. “No matter how painful it gets, I’m always here to push you through it all.”

When your heart beats sporadically at his proximity, you didn’t realize that you are holding in a breath, being quite afraid that if you let it out, it would simply blow him away for the night. And you’re not ready for him to leave you again.

Christmas Eve;

It had to be a miracle that anyone got a hold of you this week when Johnny comes practically banging at your door. Though you are so close to ignoring his loud thumping, the sound of your boyfriend’s soft sniffles alarms you greatly.

“y/n, holy shit!” It’s deja vu when you’re in his arms again, a horribly warped version of it when the smell of peppermint bark tickles your nostrils disgustingly. “I thought something happened to you. You weren’t answering my calls or texts.”

“My one wish for Christmas was to be left alone and I meant it.” The attitude in your voice becomes jarringly evident and Johnny blinks back at you with a new found annoyance as well.

“Can you at least think of the other people around you?” He holds your shoulders lightly, but staring into his eyes seems to be harder to do lately. Jaehyun appears on the couch, lying flat on his stomach and a hand resting underneath his chin. This is no longer a private conversation, but you learned long ago that no one else can see him.

“Who are you talking about? My family? Because they’ve all given up on me.” This is the first time Johnny has seen you act so cold and distant, yet entirely vulnerable. You’re stripped of everything that you usually hide in --- oversized clothes, happy smiles, and a beaming warmth.

All Johnny ever wants is for you to be loved, not only by him, but by the world. And interestingly enough, he loved you for your vulnerability and your rawness. This is until he realizes, in this moment, that it stems from your trauma of losing Jaehyun.

“What about me, y/n? I’m still here.” Johnny is frantic, and by all means, hurt by your aloofness. Brushing off his hands from your body, you’re taking several steps away from him.

“And why are you still here when I kept telling you to leave me alone? Whenever I was upset, Jaehyun always gave me space! Haven’t ever thought about how that is something I need?” You’re saying nonsensical statements that are fueled by anger and annoyance.

He’s pushing your limits and for once, you’re pushing him away. But this isn’t new to you, in fact, you’ve pushed so many people away just like this and that’s why they’ve decided to just let you be.

Johnny is taken aback, “you know, I feel like I’m competing with Jaehyun and I’ve never even met him.”

You scoff and throw your arms in the air, visibly in disbelief at what your boyfriend is saying to you. May you lose your temper, you’re unsure about the future of this relationship. Yet, something in your cruel and painful heart no longer cared, snapping your wits and patience at your beloved.

“What are you saying?” You’re pacing back and forth, fuming with an inexplicable infuriation. Jaehyun catches your eye, and for a brief moment, you’re holding eye contact with him instead. “Jaehyun is dead,” facing Johnny now, you say words that jumble in your chest, regardless of their true meanings, “and even if he was alive, there would be no competition.”

“Because you were always going to choose him over everyone else in your life, is that right? Exactly like how you do now.” Johnny’s words sting like daggers at your skin, worse than the layer of frost that bites at you for the past two weeks.

“Please, don’t attack me for hurting.” With that, your voice breaks and cracks all over. Your tears hit the ground without you feeling them run down your cheeks.

Johnny is quick to wipe them away, not minding that his hands will now be wet from your salty droplets. He instantly regrets it all, the unwarranted questions, the fighting, the barging in unexpectedly. It pains him more to see you like this.

“I apologize. I’m sorry that I’m not saying the kindest words to you when you need to hear them the most.” Your partner is frowning, a true rare sight to see. “But, you’re still grieving and there is going to have to be a time that you move on.”

It’s one of those tip of the iceberg moments or when the ball finally hits the ground and a rush of cathartic enthusiasm washes over you. However, you’re not happy. You’re not even remotely close to happiness. You’re fucking sad, you’re aching with a pain so deeply rooted that it isolates you, that it rips apart anything that used to bring you joy.

And this causes you to scream your lungs out, sobs that choke you up. “I can’t! You don’t understand, no one understands! I just fucking can’t. He was my best friend and that night… he was going to tell me something.” Jaehyun can’t bear to hear your piercing wails, as he’s disappeared completely from the setting. When you’re panicked and searching for him, you only see Johnny staring back at you with a very concerned expression.

“And I will never know what he wanted to tell me.” Your tone grows soft and rather delicate, like a sad realization at the possibility that the secret died with Jaehyun that night.

“Some things are better left unknown. Do you really think you’ll feel better knowing?”

“Listen to him, y/n.” Jaehyun randomly appears next to Johnny’s stature. He stands a few inches shorter than him, but the sight of them together has you blinking in awe.

You’re darting between the two of them, “I don’t know what will make me feel better.”

“Come, tonight. Your whole family wants to see you for the one holiday that brings people together.” But when Johnny steps forward, you’re taking a step back.

“Please, just go.” With an assertive point to the door, your head does not lift up to watch your boyfriend leave. Despite every person you’ve done this to, Johnny’s hurts the most. His flame dies out tonight, providing no sense of security or heat. And with a toss of his arms of exasperation, he shuts your front door and leaves without a goodbye, without wishing you a merry Christmas.

Jaehyun calls your name, but you’re rushing to your bedroom and slamming the door shut. “Don’t you dare travel through the wall.”

Your apartment has grown so dark due to the shorten winter days. It’s pitch black all around you and the sky is no longer a deafening white. It’s the first time you notice the dark blue scattered clouds and the intricate snowflakes that drift carefully down to the streets. And, you’re all alone in the quietness. You truly are isolated every Christmas.

“y/n, let’s talk.” Jaehyun is beyond fed up with your behavior, that has to be the last straw. This is the first year since his death that he’s seen the evident spark in your eye, the hope that is hiding behind your depression. He sees it in the way Johnny looks at you, like you’re the greatest present he could receive in life. In your proclamation, as hard as it was to witness, is a spirit that wishes to be freed. There was a chance this year. There still is one.

“Jaehyun, you left me! You left all alone, and no matter how hard I try to stop thinking about you, it never works. In the end, no one is here for me like how you were.” Hands in your hair, you’re losing yourself at a rapid rate. It hurts to keep your eyes open, tears sting as they well up around the rims.

“Find a part of me in the people around you.” The door to your bedroom swings open and Jaehyun takes note of you by the window again. You want to leave, you want to be out there and he knows, before you can actually realize it yourself. You’re turning to face him and in the dark, he looks solid. He looks so real and whole.

“How do I do that?” It’s a genuine question that you’ve pondered before, but never feeling like you had the strength to do so. You’re always dwelling on your past with Jaehyun, indulging in the sacred memories only you two shared.

“What are things that you associate me with?” He is found leaning against your door frame again, hands are shoved into the pockets of his faded jeans.

You say the first thing on your mind, “snow.” When the words hit the air, your ceiling light flickers briefly. Jaehyun doesn’t flinch, however, still focused on your crying figure. Snow, the first sign of snowfall is when he appears for the winter.

“What else?” He encourages.

“Familiarity.” The light flashes again, for a mere second longer this time before it resumes darkness. Familiarity, for he grew up by your side for as long as you could remember.

There is an odd feeling that enters the room and you’re fearful of the unknown. But, Jaehyun’s cadence doesn’t falter, he’s not distracted by the random spurts of light. And if anything, it all could be his doing. “Keep going.”

“Comfort.” Flicker. “Warmth. Love. Excitement.” With each word, the light builds stronger and stronger. You’re speaking memories into existence now, “making snow angels until it got dark, laughing until our stomachs hurt, watching movies until the clock struck midnight, dancing until our legs gave out!”

Streams run down your face and you’re yelling until your throat feels raw, but you don’t wish to stop as the light glows brighter and brighter with each spoken word.

As you listen to every listed attribute and memory, you recognize a central theme in all of them and one thing that Jaehyun embodies, the one thing he’s always been associated with.

“Christmas.” A shaky breath exhales and a loud spark pierces your ears. The light illuminates intensely all around you, lighting up the darkest corners of your room and blinding you more than the sky has been lately.

“Jaehyun?” Closing your eyes, you can see the brightness through your eyelids and you’re beyond confused as to what is happening. When you mindlessly reach for his hand, you actually feel it and your heart is soaring due to strange unquestionable physics.

Jaehyun intertwines your hand in his own and caresses your face gently. For once, he doesn’t feel cold. He’s blazing hot, melting away the long days of isolation. “Open your eyes, y/n.”

What lies before you is an incredible, marvelous sight. Snow dusts the roof of your family’s house as green, red, yellow bulbs light the frame of it. Your parents really went all out; round snowmen sit perfectly together on your lawn. A decorative wreath hangs at the front door and a distinct chuckle catches your attention.

From the window that looks into your kitchen, your mother rolls a sheet of dough on the counter as clouds of flour erupt around her. Your father is preoccupied at the stove, with the silliest gimmicks for decorating the feast they’re about to hold. Silver tinsel line the dinner table with a festive table cloth draped upon it. The remarkable tree shines in the center of the living room, a glimmering star on top. 

“I know we probably won’t see y/n again this Christmas…” The sound of your mother’s voice rings a bell in your yearning heart and Jaehyun is gazing at you with a wondrous look in his eyes. The grip on his hand is tight, your breath enters the night in puffs of smoke, and regardless of this all being real or imaginary, you’re so immersed in this reality that he knows you’re anticipating what your family has to say.

“... but something about this year really makes me miss them.” Your mother puts the rolling pin off to the side and rests her hand on the kitchen counter, trying to hold back any form of her own tears from falling.

“May Jaehyun watch over them tonight, our little angel doesn’t deserve to be alone.”

Your dad walks over to embrace your mother in a long hug, kissing the top of her head gently. “Merry Christmas, y/n.” Your father speaks into the air, without the knowledge of you outside, he’s thinking of you.

Something in your heart shatters, but it’s entirely different from the pain you’ve felt over the years following Jaehyun’s death. It’s a warm, bubbly feeling that spreads across your chest and you’re covering your mouth out of pure shock at the sight of your parents.

Your parents, who you’ve neglected every holiday season, still think of you. You recognize the ingredients that scatter the table, they make your favorite dish every year in hopes you’ll come join them. 

Jaehyun whispers, “y/n, know that I’m always going to be here. I may physically be gone, but I live in your heart and the joyous memories we’ve shared together. I live through the many people who love you now, through Christmas. This spirit is also very much alive in the other people around you.”

When you peel your eyes from the scene of your parents, the vision suddenly disappears and you’re facing Jaehyun right back in your cold, empty, dark apartment. But you wish the moment lasted a little longer. For the first time in a long time, you wish to be with your loved ones. You wish to celebrate Christmas with the people who still care about you, the ones that are still alive and well.

“What if I’m not ready?”

“This signifies my final push down the hill. You’re all strapped up in your knee pads, y/n. You’re never truly going to be ready, but that shouldn’t stop you from trying.” Jaehyun pats your head lovingly and mimics the motions of securing a helmet on your head.

You’re letting go of his hand, running around quickly in search for the appropriate outerwear for the snow. It’s like a switch went off in your heart and a cathartic feeling settles in the pit of your stomach.

Every Christmas since his passing, you thought it was best to be alone. You thought it was selfish to live your favorite holiday season without your best friend, that you lost the spirit of Christmas.

However, this entire time… Jaehyun’s ghost has been a reminder that the Christmas spirit has always been alive. It’s not about the enthusiastic festive events or the cheerful themed activities or the distinct colorful decorations, it’s about the appreciation and love you have for the people who have made your year so special. You’ve associated the holiday so much with your best friend, that you’ve lost sight of it in your family, your current friends, your own boyfriend.

When you’re rushing out the door, you stop in your tracks and peer back at Jaehyun leaning against your door frame, just as he appeared a few weeks ago. He has the warmest, brightest smile on his face, “y/n, I think I finally remember the secret I wanted to tell you.” You’re afraid of the answer and the outside world, but your hand doesn’t slip from the door handle. Could it really be? The long anticipated secret that has been gnawing at your conscience since his death?

Nevertheless, he’s giggling and holding his stomach slightly from the immense amount of joyous laughter. “I wanted to tell you that I... finally learned how to shave.”  

At first, you’re stunned at the simplicity of the beheld secret. All this time, you thought it had been something so meaningful, something so mind blowing, that needing to know practically destroyed your mental state. Then, a wholehearted and genuine laugh erupts from inside of you and you’re lighting up the darkest parts of yourself. Jaehyun looks at you fondly, like a beauty that he hasn’t seen in awhile. 

“That’s fucking it? You came out in the middle of a blizzard to tell me you learned how to shave? How lame.”

Jaehyun chuckles, “when did I ever need an extremely valid reason to see you?” The laughter falls short at his confession and in the midst of all this enthusiasm, you bid him the softest smile. His purpose has been fulfilled, as the best version of you he’s always known and loved stands before him at last. 

“I guess... you’re right. What’s going to happen to you now?”

“I’ll always be here for Christmas, even when you’re old and grey surrounded by the warmth of your loved ones in front of a large, extravagant Christmas tree. When the snow falls, I’ll be here.” Jaehyun’s dimple smile is the lasting image you see, the one you’ve always hoped to remember him by.  

“Merry Christmas, Jung Jaehyun… I--”

“Love you too, y/n. Merry Christmas.” He ushers you out the door with a small kiss on your knuckles.

That is the last time you ever see him again. Now, when the snow falls, it marks the anniversary of your long awaited healing, the journey to acceptance, and the beloved memory of your best friend. May you never lose the spirit of Christmas and the warmth from your loved ones.

[wavyhairedbabyy]

Comfort

Karl Jacobs x gn!reader

tldr: Reader is having a tough time during finals week. Karl helps them.

CW: 2 swears (not at each other). Other than that v fluffy. Let me know if anyone finds anything :)

a/n: I appreciate anyone who may have been waiting :) this was essentially what I wished would’ve happened while I was studying for the biggest exam of my life (╥ ‿ ╥)

edited yet?: yes

Y/n stared at their laptop screen, their brain failing to retain any information from their study guide. This was what they had been working on for the last 4 days. It was finals week, the finals week after a long semester of online school. Whoever thought online school was easier than in person school was fucking lying to themselves. Y/n also lied to themselves, believing they could do both work and school during a pandemic. Between finals and their job, the stress began to weight heavy on their shoulders.

Tears brimmed y/n’s eyes. Their brain had been active since they started work at 8AM. Since they got back home and started studying, it began to crumble as each hour passed by. At this point, they didn’t have the time or willingness to stop studying. Tomorrow was the day of their most important exam, the exam that would decide whether or not they would graduate. This was the last night they had to make sure they understood all of the information given to them on the study guide. With an attempt to read the same paragraph for a fifth time, tears started to fall from their eyes, quickly turning from a sob to cry.

***

Karl sat in their shared bedroom, doing some of his own work to prepare for his upcoming projects. Usually they did work together, but he knew y/n needed to stay focus and that was impossible when they were feet away from each other. He was waiting for them to come cuddle up with him after they were finished studying. He loved the idea that he was their comfort at the end of each long day.

His attention was quickly pulled away from his work when he heard sniffling and quieted whines coming from the office. He already had a hunch of what was going on. He knew y/n was too determined for their own good. Getting up from his chair, he made his way out of their room to see what was causing his significant other’s distress.

Karl’s heart shattered when he found y/n crying at their desk. He saw their screen opened to their study guide, quickly realizing the cause of their cries. Knocking on the door, he whispered, “Y/n? What’s going on, baby?”

Upon hearing him, y/n quickly wiped their eyes and paused their sniffling. They answered as evenly as they could, “Nothing crazy, baby. This exam just has me really stressed out. I’m scared I’m not going to pass. I just needed a quick cry and then I’m getting back to work.”

Karl’s brows knitted together in confusion. He didn’t understand how they could continue to work in the mental state they were in. Karl knew y/n and knew they needed a break or their state, and memory, would get worse. He shook his head and began walking toward them, “Nope. We are going to bed and you can keep going in the morning.”

Karl picked their significant other up, carrying them bridal style into their bedroom. Almost immediately, y/n started to move around in an attempt to break free from his grasp, “Karl, I can’t! Tonight’s the last night I have to study! You know this will make or break my college career!”

“I know, baby but just listen to me,” he said, string them on the edge of their bed and kneeling down to their eye level. He held their hand with one hand and wiped any remaining tears with the other, “You’ve been working and studying your ass off for the last 4 days. I know you feel like you can’t take or don’t deserve a break, but you definitely need one.”

“But Karl-”

“No, no ‘buts’. You know I’m right. Going back to work would not help you at all right now. You would go back to that screen, get frustrated and end up breaking down again. That’s not happening on my watch,” He stood up and brought them to their feet. “C’mon, let’s get ready for bed. We can wake up a little earlier tomorrow. I can make breakfast while you study if that makes you feel better.”

Before they could go anywhere, y/n wrapped their arms tight around Karl and shoved their face into his chest. They let out a sigh as Karl reciprocated the hug, a small smile creeping on his face. They looked up at him, resting their chin on his chest, “Can we have omelettes tomorrow?”

Karl laughed and nodded, “For you? Anything.”

Y/n smiled before leaning up and giving him a soft kiss. They pulled away, keeping their noses touching, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

***

If you liked this fic, check out my others:

Masterlist

[eclecticmiasma]

Egyptian Heat (Jotaro x Reader)

🖤 🖤 Finally finished the giveaway fic for the ever patient @fyre23​  🖤 🖤

It’s a battle between one of the world’s most powerful stand users and one skimpy article of clothing.  

NSFW

Art credit:  零＠通販始めた on Pixiv

As soon as you exited the shop, you knew you had Jotaro wrapped around your finger. Though stone-faced as always, the slight catch in his throat and dust of pink across his features gave you all the reaction you needed. Kakyoin stood next to you hiding a mischievous grin through a veneer of innocence. After all, he was the one who helped you decide which sundress would test the angsty, black-clad target of your affection’s resolve the most.

“Oh! Mon Cherie, you better be careful showing off those legs!” For once, you were grateful for Polnareff’s gratuitous flirting. It only served to draw Jotaro’s eyes to the scandalously short hemline of your yellow and white garment. He swallowed thickly.

Though you and Jotaro had a heart to heart one starry night in the desert and even shared a soft kiss, there wasn’t much opportunity for your relationship to progress beyond subtle displays of affection. Between stand attacks and close sleeping quarters, finding a moment to dispel the emotional and sexual tension blooming between you just hadn’t been in the cards. It wasn’t until you confided in Kakyoin that he helped you hatch a rather devious plan.

Part one, get Jotaro so riled up that any qualms he had about displaying his affection would dissipate into thin air. That was going rather well, seeing as you were stuck shoulder to shoulder in the rented jeep Mr. Joestar had haggled for. You made it a point to lean forward and chat with Avdol and Mr. Joestar whenever possible, angling yourself in a way that almost had you sitting on Jotaro’s lap. It also hiked your dress up just enough for him to see a flash of your black panties. Although, they were perfectly visible through the thin fabric of your dress anyway.

Whenever you stopped for a bathroom break, you made certain to always stand in front of Jotaro. What good was a sundress if he couldn’t admire the way your silhouette shifted beneath it? Of course, you were never able to catch him staring, but the way his hat stayed continually pulled over his eyes told you everything you needed to know. The boy’s resolve was crumbling to dust.

Part two was a bit more difficult, and the most crucial. It was up to Kakyoin to lure the other men and Iggy somewhere that they would want to stay for a while. Preferably a hookah bar or restaurant. This part of the plan also necessitated that, for the first time in weeks, no stand users decided to attack the group. For that, you just had to pray.

“Mr. Joestar,” Kakyoin began around sunset, “I’ve read in an encyclopedia that the night markets of Aswan are particularly lively. I know we need to get to Cairo as soon as possible, but perhaps we might eat and rest for a bit before continuing on?” You silently thanked the bookworm for his ability to either retain information or lie through his teeth. Either way, Mr. Joestar and Polnareff were instantly intrigued, and Avdol didn’t disagree. Jotaro gave a typical noncommittal grunt.

As soon as the jeep was parked, Polnareff jumped out and started pointing at different food stalls. Kakyoin suggested they find a place with beer for Mr. Joestar, and they started to set off. You caught Jotaro’s hand just as he turned to join them.

“Actually,” You called out to the group, yawning comically loud, “I think I’m gonna take a nap. It’s impossible to sleep with you giants smashing me between you.” For the first time, Jotaro’s eyes met yours. A fire smoldered within them.

“I’m staying, too,” He stated, waving the others away, “A stand user could attack any moment.” Your heart skipped a beat. Kakyoin flashed you a knowing wink before Jotaro obscured his view as he climbed back into the jeep. The door shut, and the two of you were alone.

It was impossibly quiet. Jotaro’s aqua blue eyes held your own, his clenched jaw giving no indication of the thoughts undoubtedly running through his mind. You felt incredibly small under his gaze, and your heartbeat pounded in your ears. You started to speak, fearing you might have taken things a bit too far, but Jotaro’s warm lips slotted against your own stopped you dead in your tracks.

You melted into the kiss as Jotaro wrapped his strong arms around you, weeks of sexual tension snapping in an instant. His tongue lapped eagerly at your lips and you opened yourself to him, moaning into his mouth as he devoured you thoroughly. Seeing the normally reticent man drop his guard and give in to his base desires filled you with arousal. You grabbed the edges of his uniform and pulled him backwards so that he enveloped you completely, deepening the kiss.

As passionately as he kissed you, you could tell he was holding back. One of his hands danced at the edge of your skirt and the other hovered near your chest. It was charming, how much Jotaro refused to allow himself to relinquish control. That night, however, you wouldn’t give him the option. You had broken him thus far, what harm was there in pushing farther?

When you moved his hand to your chest, his brain short-circuited. He pulled away from the kiss, leaving you red-lipped and breathless. A smirk played across your features. Sometime during the madness his signature hat had fallen to the wayside. He was stunningly handsome, his sharp jaw highlighted by his slightly curled, black hair. You would toss his hat into the Nile if it meant you could see him like that more often.

He watched your reaction as his hand moved to massage your clothed breast. Though his expression was hard to read, the way his own arousal pressed against you the moment you whimpered his name let you know he wanted it just as much as you did.

Jotaro touched you more earnestly, his thumb rubbing over the hardening nub of your nipple. Through the thinness of your sundress it almost felt like there was no fabric at all between you. His other hand hesitantly skirted beneath your dress, stopping at the edge of your now soaking panties. Jotaro swallowed hard.

“All day,” His voice caught in his throat as one of his knuckles dragged along the damp fabric at your core, “You’ve been teasing me.” You bit your lip and looked at him bashfully, trying to feign innocence.

“What do you mean? I just-” Without warning he slipped a finger beneath your underwear and let it trace your slickened folds, “I…I didn’t…” A moan escaped you as he swiftly tugged down the fabric of your dress, exposing your bare breasts to him.

“Don’t lie to me,” He ordered, teasing a finger at your entrance. You moved your hips to try and find purchase but he held you steady, “You wore this on purpose.” Your face flushed with embarrassment.

Before you could protest his thick finger pushed past your entrance, sliding inside of you with ease. You could barely stand it, being teased open like that. All you wanted was for Jotaro to hike up your dress and thrust balls deep into your core. But he refused to let you gain the upper hand.

Your back arched when his lips found your neck. Being this close to him, your nose in his hair, his must scent surrounding you, it was intoxicating. Lewd sucking sounds resounded in the jeep as he marred your flesh with deep marks. His finger continued working you open and soon you were a whimpering mess beneath him. When he was satisfied, he added a second finger, thrusting his digits painfully slowly within you. Enough to drive you wild, but not enough to stimulate you in any way that could make you climax.

“Admit it,” He mumbled into your neck, nipping at your earlobe. Part of you wondered when you had lost control of the situation, but another part of you didn’t give a shit. When all you did was groan in response, he kissed a trail down your chest and lapped at your neglected nipple. You felt a third finger slide inside of you.

“J-Jotaro,” His cock twitched against your thigh. It gave you the idea to reach down to try and unzip his pants, but he caught your wrist in no time. He sucked your nipple into his mouth, timing it with a slow thrust inside of you, “Please.”

His breath ghosted across your skin as an almost imperceptible chuckle escaped him. He let go of your nipple with a pop and sat up to gaze at your flushed face, “Admit it.”

You let out a sob of irritation and licked your lips. The way he looked at you, a calculated yet feral stare that only you were allowed to see, it made you want to give yourself to him completely.

“I did…I wore it on purpose,” As you admitted your plan, Jotaro’s pace began to quicken, “T-to make you want me and…” A particularly deep thrust had your eyes rolling back, “I-I’m so-orry!” Just as you felt your orgasm approaching Jotaro withdrew his fingers from inside of you. You whimpered pitifully at the loss.

You didn’t have much time to mourn however, as Jotaro hooked an arm around the small of your back and swiftly pulled you on top of him. With his free hand, he unzipped his pants and stroked his hardened length with his slickened fingers. He was by no means a small man, and you were thankful that he took the time to prepare you. His lip met yours once again in a tender kiss, one that conveyed Jotaro’s true, raw emotion. Although he enjoyed punishing you for torturing him all day, the soft way he held you as his lips met yours meant that behind the arousal he truly felt something real.

When your lips parted, a rare smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, “Then show me you’re sorry.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice. When the head of his cock swirled in the fluid of your arousal you began to take him in immediately, wasting no time. He gripped your hips to help you along, grunting softly as your warm walls enveloped him. You pressed a kiss to his glistening forehead.

You didn’t breathe properly until you were fully seated on his length. It took a few moments to adjust to the burning stretch, but the slight pain was nothing compared to the elation of finally, finally being connected.

“Are you okay?” He asked, and you nodded enthusiastically, placing your palms on his chest for leverage. The moment you began to move he threw his head back and bit his lip. It was a beautiful sight, and you couldn’t help but nip at the vein in his muscled neck as you rolled your hips along his member.

Slowly, you were able to ride him in earnest. Whimpers and wanton moans filled the air as you impaled yourself on his cock, gyrating your hips so that he hit the sweetest spots inside of you. When he was sure you weren’t in pain, one of his hands lifted your dress so that he could watch himself disappear inside of you.

“Fuck,” He whispered, stony expression melting into one of pure bliss. He stopped biting his lip and let his lips stay parted, breathing heavily as you bounced up and down on his length.

“Jotaro…I…” You moaned, leaning your head against his neck as you rode him, “I-I’m really close…” Something inside Jotaro snapped at your confession. His arms wrapped around you and prevented you from moving on your own. Instead, he rolled his own hips in a way that made you mewl against him, rubbing his pelvis against your clit in the process. Soon, he snapped his hips against you over and over again, edging out your release as you bounced helplessly against him.

It hit you all at once and you cried out into his chest, pleasure radiating through your body. He didn’t once stop thrusting into you, instead milking out your orgasm with near painful efficiency. You squirted on his cock as you came, soaking what he loved to remind everyone were his two hundred dollar pants.

His own climax wasn’t far behind. One of his rough hands grabbed your behind while the other gripped your hair and held you close to his chest. He pistoned into your overstimulated core, relishing the broken moans you let out against his skin as he fucked you ragged.

“[Y/n]!” He grunted, hips stuttering. You gasped as his creamy semen filled you, warmth spreading from within. His chest heaved as he spent every drop of fluid into you, his fist gripping your hair painfully.

It was an eternity before either of you were ready to move. For a moment, you considered just falling asleep on your chest with him still inside of you. Jotaro, ever responsible, took the initiative and shifted you so that he could pull out. Immediately your underwear filled with his seed and you blushed at the feeling.

Without a word he handed you his jacket to cover yourself, and you silently thanked him. He tucked his spent member back into his pants and pulled you so that your head was resting on his chest. Just as you thought he might have fallen asleep beneath you, he softly kissed your hair.

“That dress is going into the river.”

*all original work is my intellectual property. do not edit or re-upload.

[stephspurs]

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction - BONUS MOMENTS

PSA: To all new readers, you don't have to read the series (link below) to understand this, however it would help so that you can understand the preconceived emotions behind the chapter!

The Proposal | la proposta

warnings; none word count; 1703 writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter. link to fic masterlist here

13th July 2024, Germany

Amelia and Ben had found themselves experiencing a slight bit of deja vu. The night before the final match of the UEFA European Championship, Amelia was sat in her hotel suite, finalising her preparations for the following evening. A rematch between the Three Lions and The Azzurri. Who would have thought that three years after the last final, the same two teams (give or take a few players) would be in the exact same position.

The difference this time, Amelia had more to think about than just her brother’s feelings. Her relationship with Ben had grown throughout the 3 years that they had been officially together. Countless family holidays shared together, and with each other's respective families had since become a thing of the past as they had successfully managed to merge both the White’s and the Chilwell’s together to create one big happy family. Ben had asked Amelia to move in with him only a year into their relationship, and although outsiders might think it was fast the couple could only disagree with them. They took each stage of their relationship as it came and when it came, just the two of them how it should be.

6 months after moving in together they had adopted a dog together from the local animal rescue centre, a black Labrador called Maverick who was bi-lingual and responded to both English and Italian, much to Ben’s dismay. Amelia began teaching both of her boys (Mav & Benj) simple words in the language of love  and Ben had a harder time retaining it than the pup. Nevertheless, he loved hearing Amelia’s voice when she spoke to him in Italian and it was something he hoped he could hear every day for the rest of his life.

Amelia had continued her role at Chelsea FC as a tactical analyst for the first team, and Chelsea had honored their promise to the girl to allow her to work in depth with the academy talent which is something she found very rewarding and the part she loved most about her job. Of course she loved being around her friends and helping them achieve their dreams but there was something about fostering youth talent that made Amelia really proud to be in the position that she was, to help these young kids from all walks of life make it in the big scary world of professional football. The smile on their faces when they get a call up to an older division, the tears shed by their parents as they wave them off to go and live with their host family nearby Cobham facility, the same eyes that leak a whole different set of tears as they sign their first professional contract with the club - it makes it all worth it.

Something that was eerily similar to the last time Amelia was sat in her hotel room the night before the European Championship Final is that she was, once again, the tactical analyst for the Italian National Team. This time, however, there was no knock on her door with Federico Bernardeschi on the other side waiting to bring her to the English National Team’s base so she could have it out with her brother and Kyle Walker. Thankfully, her relationships with all of the England team had remained intact but that was largely due to another no-contact ban being enforced between her and the Three Lions. This meant that she hadn’t had a chance to talk to any of her friends, let alone her boyfriend Ben, in three weeks. It was painful for both parties, but necessary to ensure that there was no untowards activity or information being shared.

When Amelia was first offered the job she had sat on it for days before making a decision to rejoin the national team. Ben had actually been the one to push her to accept it, it was only something that would make her life better and he didn’t want her to miss out on any opportunity that came her way - even if it meant that the two of them had to be apart both physically and digitally for 3 weeks. That was the thing that held Amelia back from accepting the position on the spot, she would miss the person that became her right hand man. But Ben’s encouragement made the last few weeks easier, and also made Amelia realise just how ready she was to give herself to him...officially.

Marriage had been something that they had both discussed prior as a natural conversation between two people in a relationship that they could see was obviously heading in that direction already, so it was something that was always in Amelia’s mind. She had found herself at florists buying flowers for their dining room table and absent-mindedly thinking about the perfect wedding flowers for her bridal bouquet. However much to Amelia’s dismay, Ben was yet to ask her the most important question of her life and these three weeks apart have made her more desperate than ever to become Mrs Chilwell.

14th July 2024, Signal Iduna Park, Dortmund Germany

A torturous 90-minute match of football later and the Azzurri had done it, back-to-back UEFA European Champions. The only goal of the match coming from her midfield-maestro Jorgi, which was the direct result of a misplay from Declan Rice meaning the ball fell at the feet of Jorginho as he was directly in front of the goal, Jordan Pickford was no match for the beautifully crafted strike which isn’t anything towards Pickford, no keeper was stopping that ball from going in - it was just that good.

This time however, she was the one being consoled by her brother. The pressure of the situation getting on top of her, 3 weeks of no contact with Ben & seeing him for the first time out on this pitch but not being able to kiss him was getting to her, the knowledge that she was again partly to blame for their heartache. Her brother had seen the look in Amelia’s eyes when the whistle blew and the entire bench of the Italian team ran onto the pitch to congratulate the players, she had remained behind. Wrapping his arms around his little sister as she sobbed into his jersey because she was too empathetic for her own good was not how he predicted the outcome of the evening at all, but he was glad he was there for her. Pulling away from her, he tidied up her face and sent her on her way out to the pitch to wrap her Italian friends up in the hugs that they so well deserved, fully aware of the events to follow the wrap up awards ceremony that same night.

______________________________________________________________

I found myself standing in the centre circle at the Borussia Dortmund home ground, with an Italian flag wrapped around my shoulders and confetti all over the floor at my feet. Looking around at the fans who had stayed behind so they could meet their idols, I could not believe my luck in this world.

“I hope you’re not considering a job out here in Dortmund, Mils? I possibly couldn’t be away from you any longer” Ben spoke from behind me, pulling me out of my trance. I whipped my body around at lightning speed and launched myself at my boyfriend, my soul mate.

“Ben” I whispered into his ear as he lifted me from the ground, feet dangling at his mid shin and my arms wrapped around his shoulders so tightly as if to convey all of the hugs we had missed out over the last few weeks apart.

“Mils, I’ve missed you so much.” He said back to me, expressing the exact same sentiments as I possessed. He put me back on the floor and began to push me away from him, in my desperate attempt at a longer hug I wrapped my arms around his torso and pulled myself back in.

“No Mils, I need to see your face as I do this.” He laughed, pushing me off him again and taking a step back from me.

“Benj, what are you doing?” I questioned him, not really believing my own thoughts as to what was about to happen.

“Amelia, my brilliant Amelia. The past three weeks have done nothing but made me realise I never want to spend a day without you again. There are many ways to be happy in life, but all I need is you.  You are my sunshine, you make me unbelievably happy, you make my good days great and my hard day's worth it just to see your smile in our kitchen at the end of it. Your brain is the most beautiful thing I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, and I hope our future daughter turns out exactly like you so that I have another you to love.”

Ben had descended to one knee as I stood before him, both hands raised to my face to cover my shocked by bright smile and both eyes stuck directly on his own. I hadn’t noticed the crowd of our closest people begin to gather around us to watch the show.

“So in front of God…” Ben nodded his head slightly, I turned my head to see he was referring to Paolo Maldini and shook my head with a little giggle which was copied by everyone else around us.

“...our family and closest friends I want to ask you the question that I know you’ve been patiently waiting for - will you marry me?” Ben pulled out the most perfect ring from a box that I hadn’t even noticed in his hands.

Dropping myself so that I was crouched and on both knees in front of him, I grabbed his face with both of my own hands and pressed the firmest kiss to his lips. My tears ran down my face and probably all over his, he kissed me back. They say a picture says a thousand words, and while I hoped that at least one of our friends had managed to snap a few of this moment, my kiss said only one word...Yes.

[i-will-physically-fight-you]

Witches Get Stitches Fanfic

Title: Witches Get Stitches

Summary: Patton’s ecstatic to take to the skies on his broom for the first time. His familiar Virgil on the other hand? Not so much.

Pairings: platonic moxiety 

Word-Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Panic, Crying, Blood Mention, Injury, Implied Child Abuse, Witches, Magic Discrimination, Hurt/Comfort

I started this fic back in July and I finally finished it!! This was inspired by this wonderful piece of art by @fandergecko

-

The moon views the colorful city below from behind the visage of clouds. The sky guardian is at the height of her rule; the full moon. Bright and bold enough to rival the streetlights and flashing neon signs of the city. The celestial court accompanies their ruler; pinpricks of starlight that scatter across the sky. 

A summer breeze lazily sweeps in. It is not in a hurry like autumn gale in the tune of students scurrying to classes. Or sharp and piercing as the stern winter draft. Nor is it graceful and airy as the spring wind. For it is summertime, a time when children frolick without homework hanging over their heads. A time for snow cones and ice-cream. A time for mischief and tomfoolery.

In the city that rests beneath the moon’s eye there is hardly a peep. One might argue it is almost as peaceful as a sleepy village. Where is the excitement? Where is the bustle and hustle? The midnight mischief? 

The moon looks on in disappointment. The stars whisper amongst themselves, bored and unamused by the humans’ offerings for nighttime antics. Dark clouds creep closer to the moon, covering her almost completely.

‘Come.’ They all seem to say, ‘Let us go and find another place more worthy of our light.’

Before the clouds sweep away their queen, a loud, excited hollar halts their advance.

“WOOOHOOOO!”

“P-p-pa-pa-pa-PATTON!”

On the heels of the summer breeze, comes their midnight mischief. From the perspectives of both the heavens far above and the streets far below, it is a fast blue flash zooming through the air. Look closer, and you might realize it is only a witch with his familiar flying on his broom.

His witch robes are a gentle blue like a peaceful sunny sky. Blue knee-high socks adorn his legs, with a cute cat face where the sock cuts off at the knee. He wears the traditional witch’s hat--big and floofy in all its’ witchy glory. It is dyed a lovely indigo with splashes of yellow that are crude representations of the stars above. This of course catches the nighttime hosts’ attention. For they like many are fond of flattery.

 Wavy amber hair seeps out of the witch’s hat, resting gently on his spectacles. Freckles like stars scatter across his tanned face. His blue eyes shine brightly with excitement, his mouth open agape with awe. Books and other personal belongings fly out from the witch, unnoticed in their fast descent towards the ground.

 It is clear to both the moon and her faithful court that this witch is having the time of his life. His familiar, on the other hand, is a completely different story

Like for many witches depicted in fiction, his familiar takes the form of a black cat. A very terrified, very small scrawny black cat. Hackles raised, ears pinned back, pupils dilated. The familiar’s claws are embedded in the wooden grain of the broom, as he tries to stay on for dear life.

If this was a movie, this might be the moment where the freeze frame happens, stopping on a zoomed-in shot of the screeching familiar. A voice-over recording occurs,  ‘Hi, that’s me, Virgil. You’re probably wondering how I got into this situation.’ 

Fortunately, the Moon is well aware of this pair and their history. How could she not be? It was under her watchful eye the two first met. 

A sniffling young boy with two missing front teeth and band-aid covered knees. A frightened malnourished black kitten barely five weeks old. Two young children lost and alone in the cold, unforgiving dark. All the Moon and her compatriots could do was watch and provide them their dazzling light.

“It’s okay,” The boy said, smiling through the tears dribbling down his cheeks, “I know you’re scared of me but it--it’s okay. I won’t hurt you, promise.”

The black kitten was just an ordinary black kitten. It could not understand the words the boy spoke anymore than it knew the little hand reaching towards it meant no harm. Despite this, the black kitten took a step forward. The boy stayed still. The kitten took another step and then another, until it sniffed the boy’s hand. Satisfied, the kitten headbutted the hand, a tiny purr rising from its throat. 

A shaky breath caught in the boy’s throat. Carefully, he petted the kitten’s matted fur. The kitten didn’t run away, didn’t try clawing or biting the hand. It kept purring, its’ eyes squinting in delight. It wasn’t scared of him anymore. Everyone was always scared of the boy, his parents included. They feared the magic running through his veins and what it could do. The boy tried his best to be friendly, to hide it away, but it was never enough for anyone. Except, apparently, a little malnourished black kitten with a mangy coat.

The black kitten let out a surprised mew as the boy hoisted him off the ground. He wrapped his pudgy arms around its frail frame and sobbed.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” The boy babbled, “I’ll--I’ll take care of you, I’ll make sure you’ll have plenty of food and we can be the best of friends--”

The black kitten once again could not comprehend these words. It did not understand why the giant, towering hairless kitten was so distressed. But it remembered how its mother purred to comfort the cries of it and its littermates. So the kitten continued purring, pressing its head into the boy’s chest. The boy was warm and most importantly just as alone and frightened as the kitten was. Clearly they should stick together for survival. 

Neither knew at that moment, but the two had created a magical pact. One that bonded the two as witch and familiar. It was informal, created without the use of intricate spells and rituals, but as strong and enduring as a bond should be. 

Slowly the kitten grew into not an ordinary black adult cat, but something more. A being endowed with magic and an intelligent mind of its own. As wonderful as this all is, Virgil found this at times very perplexing.

 Imagine being a cat whose sole priority in life had been napping and now suddenly there are a thousand different other things to worry about. Things like possibly falling off a broom hundreds of feet up in the air. Then you might understand why Virgil wishes at times to go back to a much simpler time of existing. 

This is a wish that shooting stars will never grant, for even they can see his love for his boy outweighs his frustrations of becoming more. Virgil loves his witch. He loves him enough to rake his claws across school bullies’ faces. He loves him enough to be the witch’s sole companion for years and years. He loves him enough that his sole priority in life is no longer naps but to protect and keep his witch safe.

Flying on a piece of wood? That is not safe. As much as Virgil trusts Patton, he cannot help but worry. He is no longer just a cat, no longer just Virgil, but a piece of Patton himself. He is the reflection of Patton’s magic. Something that the witch feared for so, so long. Growing up, it’d been best to hide it, to shove it away rather than embrace and understand it.

Virgil knows they’re now in a more magic-friendly town. They’re far away from judgmental parents and peers. Patton thinks it’s safer now. Virgil doesn’t. He remembers all the times Patton lost control of his magic and it hurt others, hurt himself. He remembers and fears the friendly faces of the city turning into hateful, jeering ones.

This is why he clings to the broom, heart thrashing loudly in his chest. It does not help he has a fear of heights in the slightest. Normal cats don’t worry much about heights, but again Virgil is not normal. 

“This is so much fun, Virgil! I can’t believe we haven’t tried this sooner!” Patton laughs, completely oblivious to his familiar’s plight. This is his first time successfully levitating a broom, let alone knowing the thrill of riding it fast through the night sky. Yet another reason Virgil fears how high up they are. He trusts Patton, but he also knows how easy it is for a spell to go south quick.

“I--I can!” Virgil yowls, curling his tail around the broom. He snatches a quick look at the ground below, regretting it immediately. He shuts his eyes as he tries keeping a hairball down. The broom lurches to a stop and he doesn’t know if that’s a blessing or a curse. They’re still levitating as high as the city skyscrapers after all.

“Aw Virgil,” Patton says, “It’s okay, we’re safe up here.”

He scratches the spot between Virgil’s furry ears and really, that is totally unfair. Virgil still retains his feline traits, and he can’t help the pleased purr that erupts from that desired spot getting scratchies. He has to fight through it and focus on what’s important; Patton.

“No it’s not, it’s not safe, not safe, Pa-pat--” Virgil says, the unnatural human words becoming garbled in his cat throat in his panic.

Patton’s wide grin vanishes completely as a small frown replaces it. He gently picks his familiar up, caressing Virgil close to his chest.

“Hey it’s okay, Virge. We’re gonna go back home now, alright? Promise I’ll let you eat all the treats you want, and we can watch Nightmare Before Christmas, okay?”

“O-okay.” Virgil agrees. It isn’t Patton agreeing never to fly again, but it does mean no more flying for tonight. They’ll be on the ground, safe once more inside Patton’s apartment. 

“Cool, cool, cool,” Patton murmurs, “Now, um, de-levitate!”

Nothing happens.

“De-leviatify? No, wait, it’s crescendo!” Patton says, “Ascendo? Something latin wordy, ummm stringendo?!”

“Patton,” Virgil begins, his voice eerily calm, “Please for the love of catnip tell me that you didn’t levitate a broom without knowing how to unlevitate it.”

“Would you kill me if I told you I may have gotten so excited about flying that um I maybe kindasoratforgotaboutthatpart?” Patton says, squeaking out that last bit.

“PaTtOn.” Virgil yells, his voice doing that awful echo. It only ever happens when something bad is gonna happen. Such as Patton losing complete confidence in the spell he’s currently casting. 

“AHHH DESCENDO!” Patton yells, right about the time the broom drops downwards. Patton grips onto the wooden broom with two hands, leaving Virgil to cling desperately to the witch’s robes. They’re flying fast down to the ground below, faster than they were moments ago in the sky.

“I--I can’t control it!” Patton yells, tugging at the broom, attempting to pull it upwards for a softer landing to no effect. 

Virgil doesn’t say anything back, his thoughts flying faster than the speed they’re currently falling. There’s absolutely no way they can survive this. Patton is too panicked to use magic and already limited by his inexperience. They’re going to hit the cement sidewalk hard, like bugs getting squashed beneath his clawed paws. He just knows it.

What he doesn’t know is that the Moon is watching. She is always watching from her throne in the night sky. Even on nights she hides her face from the mortals below. She is the protector of the night sky. As such, she has dominion over it.

“Grant them a safe landing.” The Moon urges the Summer Breeze. They acquiesce, but like a teenager they are sullen and testy about it. 

Patton’s broom evens out as the summer breeze takes hold of them. Neither Patton and Virgil realize this; they are both too busy screaming. The Summer Breeze takes pleasure in their terror. It flexes its metaphorical fingers. 

“Patton, what are you doing?” Virgil cries as the broom jerks abruptly upwards. Almost at a near-vertical slant. 

“It’s not me, I swear!” 

Patton still can’t control the broom. An unseen force jerks it around, up and around, from side to side and doing it’s best attempt at a cha-cha. The broom flies up high, high, higher than all the skyscrapers. It comes to a sudden stop. The Moon looms overhead, chastising the Summer Breeze for its’ fun.

Meanwhile Patton is still attempting to remember the correct spell. 

“Descent, wait no, DESCENTUS!” He cries out, and the broom glows bright with his magic.

His spell snatches the broom out of the Summer Breeze’s hold. Patton grips it, letting out a half-terrified half-elated yell as he regains control. The Moon and Summer Breeze watch, stunned, as the mortals they both yanked like a pair of dolls take control of their destinies.

They don’t have to watch for long. The ground quickly approaches the two mortals, ready for a harsh asphalt embrace.

“Patton!” Virgil screeches yet again, for it really is the only thing he’s capable of at this moment.

“It’s okay!” Patton reassures, a manic smile sparking his features again. A witch is only ever truly alive when performing magic. They feel purposeless without it. So even in this harrowing situation, Patton feels at ease. Although they once more fly fast towards the earth, it is from his spell. Not from a lack of confidence or meddling fates like before.

Still, it is his first time landing a broom and cement is hardly the perfect practice zone for such things. As they reach the ground, Patton pulls to a stop a moment too late. Both witch and familiar are sent tumbling down to the cruel cement. 

Virgil instinctively lands on his feet. Patton’s descent is less than graceful. He skids on the ground, rolling, until he comes to a halt a few feet away. The broom is the worst off of the three. Upon impact it has splintered into three pieces, its head flying clean off the handle.

For three heartbeats there is nothing. Then Patton groans, his form slowly rising upwards. That’s enough to shake Virgil out of his stupor. He marches right up to Patton, words spitting out of his throat, “We are never doing that again. That was the stupidest, most moronic thing you’ve ever pulled, you could’ve gotten us both killed--”

Virgil stops, pupils growing wide, “Is that blood?”

“No!” Patton loudly denies, but his screwed-shut eyelids and grimace of pain betrays him. Virgil also isn’t blind. He can see the blood pouring out of Patton’s knee, soiling his knee-high kitten sock with its crimson color. It’s bad, so much worse than a mere scratch or scrape even.

“Holy shit, you’re going to die,” Virgil whispers, settling on top of Patton’s chest.

“I’m not gonna die--”

“Hey, are you two okay?!” A concerned voice shouts from afar. The two of them look up to see someone approaching them. A man, older than Patton yet too young to be his father. Perhaps in his thirties? He seemed nonthreatening with his Steven Universe shirt and pinched look of worry but Virgil knows better.

“Stay back!” Virgil hisses, hackles flaring up. He keeps his claws sheathed, not wanting to deal more harm to Patton than already dealt.

The stranger takes a few steps back, hands raised in a placating gesture. Virgil doesn’t relax a single muscle. 

“Virgil,” Patton tries, silencing at the glare his familiar sends his way. Tears gather in the corner of his witch’s eyes now. So close to spilling over his freckled cheeks and down to his shirt. Patton’s knee is hurting him much more than he’s letting on. 

“Listen,” The stranger says, ignoring Virgil’s yowl of disapproval, “I just want to help, promise.”

He crouches down, lifting something out of his coat pocket. A brown wiggling furry something with a long pink tail. A rat. 

“Hiya babes,” The rat speaks, “The name’s Remington, Remy for short. This here tall glass of coffee is Thomas.”

“Y--you’re a witch?” Patton gasps, although if it’s from shock or pain Virgil can’t tell. 

“Yup,” Remy says, seemingly confident to speak on Thomas’ behalf. He struts over to the two, ears and whiskers perked forwards. Virgil is taken aback by the gall of this rat. 

“I could easily kill you, you know,” Virgil says, unable to keep this thought to himself.

The rat lets out a short squeak of laughter, “Oh honey, I’d like to see you try.”

Virgil’s tail flickers, “Don’t worry, I will--”

“Virgil.” Patton warns again, a hiss of pain escaping through clenched teeth. The rat treads closer to the affected knee. Virgil’s ears flatten, but he does not attack. He knows Patton would disapprove of that. Instead he waits, body tense and poised for action if needed.

“Oof, it looks like you’re gonna need stitches, Buttercup.”

“Stitches?” Virgil yowls.

“It’s alright, Virgil. I’m fine.” Patton says, smiling but it comes out all wrong. Like a rubber-band all stretched out and worn.

“No, you’re not. Y-you’re hurt.” Vigil rumbles, because he can feel it. Patton’s pain pulsates through their connection, like waves crashing against the shore. Magic caused this. Patton would be fine if they stayed in his apartment where it’s safe. Not out performing magic in the late hours. “Fuck, you’re hurt, and everyone’s going to hate us again--”

“Whoa,” Thomas interrupts, the first words he’s spoken since bringing out Remy, “no one is going to hate a Glistenstone student for not having proper control of their magic just yet.”

Patton shifts his gaze downward, hugging Virgil closely like a stuffed animal. Virgil, for his part, doesn’t protest. Instead he purrs into Patton’s chest in an attempt to soothe him. Glistenstone is a sore point for the both of them. For years it’d been their beacon of hope. An university solely for magic users--who sent their acceptance letters for those eligible at the age of eighteen.

Patton never received one.

“I’m afraid I’m not a Glistenstone student, sir,” Patton says with a shaky breath.

Thomas and Remy exchange a look.

“Well kid, would you like to become one?” Remy asks.

“What?!” Virgil and Patton burst out in unison, the latter with a yelp of pain.

“I, um, have connections--”

“Connections, alright, you have more than connections.” Remy inputs.

“But anyways,” Thomas continues, sending a quick look Remy’s way, “we can talk more on that later, if you’re interested. We should probably get that leg of yours checked out. Lemme help you up.”

He offers a hand towards Patton. Virgil coils himself around Patton’s shoulders, glaring distrustfully. Patton accepts the hand, leaning heavily on the older man for balance. 

“I’m going to use a teleportation spell, alright?”

And with a flash, they’re gone.

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

An apartment, late at night. It’s a tiny one-room apartment cluttered with books and clothing spewed all over. The Moon peers through its sole window, watching a familiar pace in front of his witch. Patton sits on the edge of his bed, his knee all cleaned and stitched up. Silence reigns in the apartment, an uncomfortable one at that. One neither occupant can stand much longer.

“I’m sorry, Vee,” Patton says, breaking first, “I should’ve really thought before I attempted flying like that. You were right, I almost killed us both.”

Virgil swishes his tail, looking up at his witch. He can never remain upset with Patton for long. Especially when he holds back a sob, curling into himself as if expecting a blow. Any residual anger in Virgil’s veins solidifies into guilt. 

“No, I’m sorry,” He says, “I--I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

“It’s okay,” Patton insists, “I know you were just worried.”

“Still doesn’t make it right.”

Patton sighs, “I forgive you, can we just cuddle now?”

“If you want to, I guess.” Virgil murmurs, but it’s an act. The way he immediately purrs after wedging himself in Patton’s arms betrays him. His witch laughs, petting his silky fur.

“What...do you think?”

“Of what?” 

“Glistenstone.”

Virgil’s ears twitch downwards. Thomas had given his contact info to Patton, telling him to call him in the morning if he was interested in pursuing Glistenstone. 

“I...don’t know. It seems fishy to me. Like, why now? Why didn’t you get an acceptance letter before? And what type of connections does that Thomas guy have? I don’t trust it. But I also know I’m just paranoid about everything.”

“You’re not paranoid, you’re just overly cautious. I know this and I love you.” Patton says, pressing a kiss on Virgil’s forehead.

“I love you too, Pat,” Virgil hesitates, “and that’s why I think you shouldn’t let me hold you back.”

“You could never hold me back,” Patton pouts, and really how does he expect Virgil to handle this level of positivity? It’s too much for his small feline body.

“What I mean is, if you want to go for it, go for it. And if it turns out to be some sort of con, then you can just, like, hex ‘em or something.”

“Like Bart Fischley in fifth grade?” Patton asks, stifling a giggle.

“Sure.”

Patton nods measuredly, scratching that magical spot between Virgil’s ears. Really, totally unfair. Virgil leans into it, purring louder.

“Hey, do you still want to watch Nightmare before Christmas?”

“That depends...do I still get as many treats as I want?” 

“Of course! But for tonight only!” Patton tells him. Virgil smirks as best he can--for it’s something he’s heard numerous times before.

The moon’s eye turns away the dingy apartment, clouds drawing a curtain over her. The summer night is slowly drawing to a close, as has the midnight mischief. The mortals she is so fond of are safe within their dwelling. For the moment, all is well.

[bleedingthirium]

Gavin x Reader (Dreams Come True)

Title: Dreams Come True Words: 10,300 (sorrynotsorry) Genre: Emotional Hurt-Comfort, Fluff, Romance Characters: Gavin Reed x Fem!Reader + Nines (platonically) Warnings: Um, it’s super long, rushed in some places, completely unedited because, let’s be real, who has time to edit? and just chaotically structured writing. Authors Note: Really self-concious of this fic. It didn’t turn out anywhere near as good as I hoped it would. So catch my sobbing at Gavin’s desk. This is for @bring-me-a-coffee-dipshit because she’s been feeling down and no one hurts my baby! Me & my DCPD boys will protecc this gem. Also, I don’t know how to write long fics. Hence the chaotic messy structure of writing. I’m not a professional. I also don’t know how to write short fics either because this was supposed to be written done ‘n’ dusted within a day. And it took over a week! Probs should’ve put in parts. But I’m also lazy so... ENJOY!

Summary: Gavin gets a phonecall stating reader has been admitted to hospital due to fainting from stress. There’s only one thing that can stress reader out to such a point and Gavin is PISSED.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇ Nothing ever seemed to feel good enough for anyone. You tried your best, but your best wasn’t good enough. You were in desperate need of a break because you could feel yourself breaking down. It was hard to find the strength to smile, and where you normally would smile, tears threatened to present themselves in the corners of your eyes. Luckily a deep, slow breath and an eye-roll to the heavens as if praying the pain away, seemed to keep those negative emotions at bay. The factor of your stress was the preparation of exams, and understandably so. Exams were always a stressful time for everybody, but it seemed to be the worst time for everything to come crumbling down around you.

You had a phone call from your Mother, who seemed to always find something to nitpick about you. Normally you could just shrug your shoulders at the end of the phone call and go about your day. Either you were high on stress already, or what your Mother said seemed to have hit too close to your heart, validating those fears you had; that you were destined to be a failure, your grandparents would be disappointed in you, your mother is currently disappointed in you (yes, she said that!), all because you decided to pursue business studies and get a degree in Business so that, one day, you could open a new bookstore and run it the way you want to; for it to be a unique and welcomed independent store rather than a big chain retail store. Your Mother would have much preferred you to pursue a more beneficial career, something like Politics, Medicine or Law. Something that was, unfortunately, too out of your league of knowledge. It wasn’t for lack of trying. You would have loved to have become a woman of medicine, a scientist even! You find all that fascinating and constantly reading journals, watching documentaries… but you are just unable to retain the information. It’s not because you’re dumb. It’s just how life is. But your Mother had no problem calling you out on it and quite plainly stating that you’re dumb. “I never expected to raise a child whose IQ is lower than the average person. What was the point in supporting your studies if you weren’t going to build a decent career for yourself? At least your boyfriend has a decent career. You should be disappointed and ashamed of yourself. Because I am.” That was the phone call of the morning that had started your bad day. You already had a bad week regardless. Stressing over studies and exams, and then dealing with rude customers at your local part-time job. You loved your job, you enjoyed helping customers but the rude ones… It really began to take its toll on you. And you didn’t want to whine to your boyfriend at the end of the day because he has much longer shifts than you, and his occupation is physically and mentally demanding. The last thing you wanted to do was bitch to him about your menial day when he could’ve been dealing with bigger shit. “Can’t believe someone as dumb as you is working in a place like this. The easiest job in the world and you managed to fuck up my order. I want to speak to your manager.” It was one tiny mistake that could have easily been rectified had this customer given you the chance to apologise and correct your mistake. No harm done. Instead, you were left speechless at the sudden onslaught of insults that your own mother basically spat at you hours earlier. You call your manager as per requested and allowed him to deescalate the situation while you excused yourself to assist other customers. At the end of the day you were called in to his office and even with the door shut, every word could loudly be heard in the staff lunch room as you were being berated over the incident earlier. The entire day had been an extremely bad one in general and you were more than glad to go home. Unfortunately everything began to drown you all at once. You didn’t even make it to your bus stop when your hands began to tremble violently, your legs felt like jelly, your heart was pounding so painfully in your chest that it was like knives were beginning to stab at you from the inside, noises were muted out yet you swore you could hear yourself struggling to breathe as well as hearing the blood rushing in your veins right in your ear. You didn’t even hear anyone call out when you collapsed.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

It was a slow day at the Precinct which was both a blessing and a curse; it meant no major crimes had taken place, but it also meant that Gavin was stuck with paperwork – something that he despised doing and would often neglect to do, and then in situations like today, he now has a mountain of neglected paperwork to get through. It was beginning to drive him mental, and oddly enough, Gavin was beginning to get on Nines’ nerves. Understand that Nines can deal with every annoying, conceivable flaw that Gavin has, but today Gavin had managed to push Nines over the edge. “Let’s go get some lunch. Out of the office.” Nines suggested, placing his pen down and leaning back against his chair, blue eyes looking over at Gavin. “Best idea you’ve had all day.” Gavin agreed a bit too quickly, though it didn’t come as a surprise to Nines. Typical that Gavin would agree to anything that would get him out of doing paperwork. Nevertheless, Nines hadn’t seen Gavin consume anything nutritious since arriving at the Precinct. This would be a great subtle way to get him to consume some sustenance. Gavin drove downtown, a little bit away from the Precinct just so he didn’t feel so closed-in with work; he wanted to enjoy his food not think about work. But as luck would have it, his phone rang. “You gotta be fucking kidding me! Can’t even take a lunch break!” came the grumbled as one hand left the steering wheel to answer the phone, only for his hand to be swatted away. “I’ll answer it, you need to abide by the road laws.” “Bite me. If it’s Fowler, remind him that he does have other fucking officers there.” It wasn’t Fowler. It was an unknown number, but local, according to the area code. “Detective Reed’s phone.” “Is this Gavin Reed?” “Detective Reed is currently driving. May I ask what the nature of the call is?” “I’m Doctor William Kent from the Detroit General Hospital, I’m calling to let Mr. Reed know that his partner is currently admitted under our care.” “Any injuries?” “No, she came through the emergency from fainting.” “Fainting? What was the cause?” “A panic attack most likely.” “We’re on our way.” “What?” Gavin asked as Nines ended the call but continued to hold the communications device in his hands to prevent Gavin from breaking the law of being on the phone while driving. He ought to upgrade his car a little, get a Bluetooth speaker that can accept incoming and outgoing calls. Or invest in a phone cradle at the very least. What was the point in becoming a Detective if you weren’t going to uphold the law? “Y/N has been admitted to the Detroit General Hospital under –“ “Why? What’s wrong? Is she hurt? Did they say anything?” Gavin interrupted in a mild state of his own panic, Nines noticing his stress levels rising a little bit. “Under the emergency of fainting from a panic attack.” Nines calmly finished despite being interrupted. Gripping the steering wheel of the car tightly to the point where his knuckles turned white, Gavin forced himself to keep to the speed limit as he took a left turn instead of going straight ahead to their original location. You weren’t injured, that was his main priority. You weren’t injured. But you fainted. You weren’t pregnant, it wasn’t a hot day, and as far as he knew you didn’t have a fever… It was just… Stress. He knew you were stressing over your studies but he didn’t think it was this bad. Was he really that shit of a boyfriend that he overlooked the clues of your stress levels? What kind of Detective doesn’t pick up on displays of body behavior? Gavin had been oddly quiet since the phone call and arriving at the hospital. Mentally beating himself up for not being as attentive to her as a boyfriend should. He was so caught up in a case that he took to working around the clock in order to bring it close. - “Babe? I gotta stay back. We’ve got a lead and we’re so close.” The dreaded phone call came through one night, but you weren’t surprised or frustrated. He had began coming home late at night so you knew he was working on a case that required a lot of his attention as well as priority of needing to bring it to a close before anything more bad comes of it. “It’s fine, Gavin. Honestly. Just make sure you eat something. Coffee isn’t food.” “You sound like Nines.” “Well maybe you should listen. You’re a good Detective but you’re a shit listener.” You both chuckled at the light teasing before he needed to get back to work. “I love you Gavin.” “Yeah. Yeah… I love you too. G’night Babe.” “’Night.” You both hung up and Gavin remembered how lucky he felt to have someone who understood him and his position. Granted, he didn’t have to stay back and pull an all-nighter, but when he had a lead and he was on a roll, it was best to let him go. His previous partner didn’t understand and he would often come home to a pissed-off partner, yelling arguments ensued… But with you, he came home to a home-cooked meal wrapped up in the fridge so all he had to do was microwave it, sometimes there was a little note on the fridge of microwave door that simply read ‘I love you.’ One time you even put a note on the coffee machine with two large letters, ‘NO’ and a frowny face. Guess you caught on to the fact that he’d come home and have a coffee before bed. A bad habit you were trying to get him out of. “If you want something that tastes sweet but bitter, come have me.” You teased when you first told him off for having coffee so late at night. Precinct nights are fine, you understood the need for caffeine then, but when he’s home – that’s a solid ‘no’. He had tilted his head back and let out a deep, gorgeous laugh. His eyes crinkling from the wide grin he wore on his permanently exhausted features, “Babe, there is nothing bitter about you. I don’t think you even know how to be ‘bitter’.” You definitely won that argument as his hands rested on your hips and pulled them to his. His smiling lips brushed against yours before taking you into a deep kiss, only to pull back ever so slightly, “Mm, definitely no bitterness.” “No bitterness?” “Only sweetness.” Your own lips turned up into a playful smirk, eyebrows quirking up ever so slightly, your arms wrapping around his neck as you pulled him down into another heated kiss, murmuring “I know something else that’s sweet.” “Oh yeah?” “Yeah.” You breathed against his lips as you began to tug him out of the kitchen. - “Gavin!” A stern voice interrupted the males thoughts as he was still tightly gripping the steering wheel, car idling despite already pulled into a parking bay. Head quickly turned to glance at Nines, blinking as Gavin came back to his surroundings with a sinking heart. “I let her down, Nines.” He sighed out the burdened confession as his hands dropped from the wheel, one hand pulling the gear stick into ‘park.’, the other flicking the engine off before both hands dropped into his lap. Nines LED flickered to yellow as he watched the storm of emotions engulf Gavin, who was staring guiltily ahead at the looming building of the hospital. “You did no such thing, Gavin. I can’t always tell when you’re stressed out until you snap. It doesn’t make me any less of a competent colleague to you, does it?” “Friend.” Gavin corrected but sighed softly as he agreed, “No, it doesn’t. But…fuck!” Nines quietly waited until Gavin’s strew of emotions calmed down. Sometimes the more Nines tried to reason with the Detective, the more angered Gavin became. He found it beneficial to wait until Gavin was calm enough to see reason. “Alright. Let’s go. You comin’ with me or what?” “Only to protect the medical faculty should you lose your temper at them.” Nines made up the half excuse. Partially knowing that if something involving Gavin’s lover ‘girlfriend’, there’s a high percentage that Gavin would lose his patience with the medical team over things he didn’t understand. Such a situation being if they needed to keep her in for a few nights, Gavin might argue about taking her home, not understanding their reason. At least with Nines there, he can easily diffuse any situation before Gavin escalates to an annoyingly level of inconvenience. As they entered the hospital, Gavin made a beeline for the reception desk. “Can you tell me where Y/N Y/L/N is?” Nines caught up to Gavin just as directions were given. She wasn’t too far. Second floor. At least she wasn’t in the opposite wing of the hospital. Taking the elevator to the floor, Nines quietly accompanied Gavin as the two began the pathway to where your room was located. The only times Nines spoke was when he called Gavin’s attention and gestured to the correct room number. As the two walked past the window where the blinds were open, they could see you sitting on the bed, cross-legged but curled in on yourself, staring at the white blanket. Your face void of emotion but also looking like you’re about to burst into tears at any given moment. Nines would be lying if he said that what he saw didn’t affect him somehow. Something tugged painfully at his synthetic heart. Which was odd because he knew his systems were running at 100% perfect stability. The flicker of his LED from the calm blue to a violent red was enough physical evidence to give away that the stoic RK900 android was worried about you. This was not you. You were normally cheerful, bubbly, hardly ever without a smile unless you were deep in thought or focused on a task. Even being given something as simple as a single flower or a cup of tea would cause you to smile for hours. You cherished the little things. Nines thought you were just a clueless naïve human being when he first met you. Little did he realize, at the time, that there was nothing naïve about having a heart of gold. For the heart you carried brought so much joy to Gavin, made him more tolerable in the workplace, and seemingly a better and healthier person. You were a good influence on him. And Nines couldn’t help but notice how everyone welcomed you when you stepped into the Precinct. They were all happy to talk to someone new, get some stories of an adorable domestic Gavin… To put it simply, you were a walking ray of sunshine. Even Nines found himself feeling elated whenever he saw you. Nines stood to the side, allowing Gavin some privacy with you as he entered the room with a gentle rap of his knuckles against the door. “Babe?” ◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇ You lifted your head at the sound of a voice that always felt like home to you. The first words to you spoke was a heartbroken plea, “Gavin? God, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!” Immediately Gavin was by your side. “Hey, hey. No. No, you’re okay. It’s okay.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, taking your hand and enveloping it in his. Your other hand had a strap around the wrist and finger, attached to a machine as it monitored your pulse rate. You also had two sticky pads to your chest with thin wires popping out from the neckline of your work shirt, monitoring your heartrate.

“You got me out of paperwork so, y’know, thank you.” He murmured playfully, trying to lighten your mood and bring a smile to your face. But it didn’t work and he certainly didn’t expect it to. You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t say anything. Sometimes it was like everything shut down and plunged you in a numb state, and then the next minute you felt like you could burst into tears and drown your soul beneath the floods. Nines watched from the window as you collapsed your head against Gavin’s shoulder, hiding your face in his neck. You didn’t appear to be sobbing but your shoulders sagged in defeat. Gavin’s torso twisted slightly to accommodate the new position as he wrapped his arms around you, murmuring softly in your ear. (“It’s alright. ‘M here. I’ve got you.”) Occasionally pressing kisses against your forehead. It fascinated him the way Detective Reed worked. He was a smart-mouthed asshole at work, probably less since you’ve been with him. Heavy sarcasm. Matching quip for quip with Nines. Dangerously short-tempered. Definitely plays the role of ‘bad cop’ in the interrogation rooms. But with you… it’s hard to see him as the short-tempered grumpy Detective he’s known to be. There’s a new gentle side that Nines knew he had but never saw it. Until now.

There was a knock to the door as the Doctor approached, the nursing staff most likely have informed him that your emergency contacts have arrived. You immediately pulled away and curled back in on yourself as Gavin stood up to shake hands with the Doctor. “Detective Reed, I presume? Doctor Kent.” This time Nines entered the room now that the Doctor was present and blue eyes immediately dropped onto your huddled figure. Your cortisol levels were high, your serotonin levels were low. There was clearly more than just stress, hints of depression perhaps? None of the medical staff seemed to have picked up on that. Mind, Nines wasn’t programmed to read a human body psychologically, so he wasn’t equipped to make such bold conclusions. “I’m relieved to see your unharmed, Y/N.” Nines gently greeted you, trying to bring a softer tone to his usually sharp matter-of-fact tone. You offered a small smile but Nines could see your bottom lip quivering and the smile and gaze immediately dropped, going unnoticed by both Doctor and Detective as the two conversed, Nines bringing his attention back to the conversation. “How’s she been sleeping?” “Uh, decently. She studies throughout the night. Not coming to bed until near midnight.” “What time does she wake up in the mornings?” “5 or 6ish, I guess.” “The healthy amount of sleep an average person should be getting is 8 hours. 7 at the bare minimum. The lack of sleep that, I’m assuming has been ongoing, leaves her in a sleep-deprived state on top of studies for exams. As a Doctor, I know how grueling studies and exams can be. So I know that her lack of sleep isn’t helping in any way whatsoever to her studies. Any other stressful factors in her life? At home?” “Not that I’m aware of.” Gavin looked over at you but you only ducked your head out of his line of sight. He didn’t bother asking about any more stresses, knowing you wouldn’t be up to talking. The Doctor shifted on his feet as he came to a final conclusion. “I would prefer to keep her in overnight under observation. Prescribe a mild sedation to help her get a peaceful night’s rest.” “No!” Your small voice quickly interjected, shooting down the idea as your head snapped up and panicked eyes set upon the Doctor,  “I want to go home.” Your E/C left the Doctor’s and fell on your boyfriend, silently begging him. “Please?” It was like a fist hand squeezed at Gavin’s heart and then proceeded to stab it against a sharp knife. Never, in the past two years of being with you, has he ever seen you look so broken before. His gaze dropped from yours and back to the Doctor, “Can I not bring her home?” “It is with my professional opinion that we do keep her in overnight.” “You are within your rights to go against medical advice, Detective.” Nines quietly spoke from the side, having noticed your stress levels increased drastically at the thought of staying here.  His cold blue eyes seemed to have softened a little as he looked over at you before, also, dropping his gaze on the Doctor. “If I may interject, it might be beneficial to bring Y/N home. Her stress levels might decrease once she’s in a familiar environment that she deems comforting and safe. I can offer to stay the night to keep an eye on her levels. If they reach critical condition, we can bring her straight back.” And this is why Nines came along. He made a compelling argument against the Doctor whereas Gavin would’ve lost his temper. Nines could already see the panic flash in the Detective’s eyes with the thought of leaving a distraught girlfriend at the hospital overnight. That panic would immediately flicker to anger within the flick of a switch. “Very well. On the proviso that her levels are to be regularly scanned. If there are signs of no improvement, you are to bring her straight back.” “Of course.” It was settled then. The Nurse was called in by the Doctor to disconnect you from the being hooked up to the machines while Gavin walked out of the room (dropping a kiss on the top of your head with a murmured ‘Be right back’) so he could sign the DAMA form. (Discharged Against Medical Advice). Nines watched as everyone left the room, leaving you and the RK900 unit alone. You were still sitting on the bed and your gaze dropped to your hands in your lap. Under the ever-watchful gaze of Nines as his blue eyes studied you for a moment before breaking the silence. “You still seem quite withdrawn.” His tone was quite gentle, surprising you (though you didn’t show that you acknowledged his efforts) and also surprising him. You ducked your head further away from his gaze, your hair finally falling down around your face to obscure your features from view. “I don’t deserve him.” You whispered, your hands beginning to fidget, picking at your nails, rubbing your fingers together, fingernails pressing hard against your skin to the point where you were leaving little crescent moon indents. Your Mother’s words echoing loudly in your head. Unfortunately, your fall to the ground didn’t cause amnesia so you remembered everything about that phone-call. Your fidgeting was a sign that another panic attack was coming on and Nines seemed to have picked up on your stress levels as he came over and sat down on the edge of the bed. His larger hand reaching over and placing it over your fidgeting ones. A gentle squeeze of reassurance was given. “Quite the contrary Y/N. Gavin is the one who doesn’t deserve you. But I know he’s quite lucky to have you. I must say I’m grateful you’ve entered into his life. He’s become much less insufferable.” A very quiet whimper escaped your lips, that if the RK900 didn’t have highly incredible audio sensors, he would have easily missed it. He didn’t fully turn to you, remaining his usual professional self but when he felt two hands grip his tightly, he glanced down. Your fingers were white with how tightly you were holding on to him just as how tightly you were holding onto the lid of emotions that were threatening to spill forth. Ever so slightly, Nines leant forward a little – just a little, but enough for you to know he was silently offering an embrace if you needed it. And you did. You dropped your head into his shoulder and let out a deep sigh. “He could do so much better than me. I’m just…” you struggled to find the right words to describe just how despicable you are compared to many other successful and far more beautiful women out there are. “Perfect.” Nines supplied as his free hand wrapped around your upper arm/shoulder. “You are incorrect to state that he can do better than you. You are the better. Detective Reed is quite out of his league with you.” You merely scoffed at hearing this but the words were comforting to the voice that voice inside your head that was telling you otherwise. There was nothing more Nines could do or say. He wasn’t equipped to be dealing with psychological matters of a sensitive nature such as the situation you’re currently in, so he opted to remain silent and just hold you in this semi-embrace.

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇ Gavin had finished with the paperwork outside and stopped in his tracks as he walked past the window and saw Nines holding you. Kind of. It looked awkward to Gavin but you seemed content in the embrace. There was no pang of jealousy from Gavin at seeing Nines holding you (why would there be? Nines and you weren’t interested in each other like that), however, Gavin couldn’t help but marvel at how attached Nines had become to you. The RK900 became intrigued with your cheery personality and the way your presence seems to melt all the insufferable behavior away from Gavin. Yours and Nines friendship deepened the more you and Gavin hung out together with Nines, getting to the point where Nines would call you for advice either on Gavin or to do with women (what’s the best approach etc.) most likely related to crime cases with female victims since neither he nor Gavin were the best people to deal with emotionally distraught women. Sometimes you’d even ring Nines to ask about Gavin (if he came home in an exhausted or closed-off mood). Gavin would never have picked Nines to be the one to settle with a bond of friendship other than himself (not to sound vain). Phone ringing in his pocket, Gavin stepped away from the window – probably should give Nines privacy since always seems to be allergic to initiating (or participating) in physical interaction that isn’t violent. He didn’t even get a chance to greet the caller when Fowler’s voice immediately screamed down from the other end of the receiver. “Where the hell are you two!?” “Technically on our lunch break.” “Well get your asses back here and do some of that damn paperwork! It’s overflowing on your desk like Niagra-fucking-falls!” Normally Gavin would hit back with a quip that would leave others to wonder how the hell he hasn’t gotten himself fired yet, but instead his voice was oddly calm, probably because he was also in the hospital hallway. “I’m at the hospital. Something personal came up.” The voice on the other end dropped its raised tone as concern laced through, “Everything alright?” “Yeah. It’s just… personal. Gonna need a couple of days. Nines will be back tomorrow.” “S’fine, s’fine. It’s slow here anyway. Just keep me in the loop.” “Yeah… yeah, thanks.” “Take care, son.” With that, Gavin hung up and slipped his phone back in his pocket, relieved that Captain Fowler didn’t pester with questions. It’s not like Gavin took days off anyway – only when forced to by the Captain himself. One of the excused had been; ‘Reed, you’ve been working non-stop and you’re pissing me off. Go home and stay home for a couple of days.’ He walked past the window to see Nines standing by the bed with his hands behind his back, awaiting for Gavin’s return, as though he hadn’t just shared a gentle embrace with Y/N. Stepping into the room, Gavin walked over and placed a hand on the back of your shoulder in a gentle touch, “C’mon.” his voice so soft that if you weren’t in such a state, it would’ve melted your heart. Hands wrapped tightly around your arms as though you were giving yourself a hug, you leaned into Gavin’s side as he guided you out of the room with his arm around your mid-back. Nines following behind as he watched the two of you. You still seem quite withdrawn and quiet. Your levels seemingly decreased since leaving the room and Nines was satisfied he put forth the offer to bring you home. It was silent as they walked out of the hospital and to the car. Gavin occasionally peering over at you but you kept your head down with your gaze on the ground. He felt so out of his depth right now. He was worried about you, actually worried about you. And because he was so worried about you, he worried further that he would say the wrong thing or not be able to help you. He was gentle and kind with you, but he was still the blunt-speaking Detective he’d always been. It didn’t help that this is the first time you’ve ever been this bad. The worst you’ve ever done was breakdown and cry while stressed. All of which can be fixed with hugs and soft murmurs. That was easy. This wasn’t. This required a gentle and fragile approach. Something that Gavin will truly fuck up somehow. Yet the figure following behind them thought otherwise. Had he been able to hear Gavin’s thoughts, Nines would reassure him that he is the perfect person to handle this. Nines has witnessed the true gentleman that Gavin is when he’s around you. He knows Gavin is capable of empathy and sensitivity. Unlocking the car, Gavin opened the door for the backseat behind the driver, his hand leaving your back as you lowered into the seat. He left the door open momentarily as he popped the trunk of the car and pulled out the blanket you made him keep in their in case of emergencies. - “You don’t even have a first aid kit in your car?!” you queried as you and Gavin made your first shopping trip together and were placing grocery bags in the back of the car. “No. Why would I?” “Gavin! You’re a Detective!” “So?” “So…shouldn’t you have one!?…what if someone was in trouble?” “That’s what paramedics are for Y/N.” “You’ve got first aid training, right?” “Yeah they make us do that shit every two to three years.” “Well you ought to have a first aid kit in the back of your car in case of emergencies. It’s only a matter of moments between life and death for some. Paramedics may not arrive in time and you could be the one to make that difference.” Gavin went quiet for a moment as he mulled over the point you made, sighing excessively loudly (which made you giggle because it was one of those defeated sighs where he knew you were right and rather than telling you you’re right, he just sighed it out.) “Alright. I’ll get one if it’ll make you happy.” “And a blanket.” “Why the fuck would someone need a blanket?” “In case of situations like shock, or it’s in freezing cold temperatures.” Another sigh and then a defeated, “Fine. Fine. You win. But you better kiss me for this.” You grinned and did as he asked, leaning over you brushed your lips against before his hand pressed against your lower back, pulling you against him as his lips captured yours. “Mm, that’s what I thought.” He murmured. You could feel his grin through the kiss and you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh against his lips. - Nines ever-observant eyes watched with curiosity as Gavin retrieved the blanket from the trunk of the car, shaking it out of its folded-up state and brought it around to you. It smelt a bit musty from being cooped up in the dark back of his trunk but you didn’t mind as he draped it over you. “Guess you were right, huh?” he smiled softly as he tugged it around your sides. You could only nod. It was like you hit such a numb state. You couldn’t share in his humor, you couldn’t bring yourself to reciprocate his smile. You could only be glad that you did something right for once. With your door finally closed and you were safely situated in the backseat, Nines finally moved from his spot and slid into the passenger seat just as Gavin slid into the driver’s seat. Unlike when he and Nines left the Precinct, Gavin was much more careful in reversing and driving out of the hospital carpark. Mostly because you were in the vehicle. The drive home was quiet. Gavin constantly checking his rearview mirror to keep an eye on you. Occasionally you both made eye contact and you would always look away in shame. He deserved so much better than you. Perhaps your mother was right. Look how you’re inconveniencing him. He’s had to take time off work because of you. “Would you like me to inform Captain Fowler of your sudden absence?” Nines quietly asked, purposefully keeping his voice at a gentle lull so as to not disturb you. “I’ve already called him. Said you were coming in tomorrow though.” Eyes focused on the road, Gavin answered Nines without breaking concentration, his voice equally quiet. “Is that wise? An agreement was made between the Doctor and myself that I would ensure Y/N’s safety outside Hospital Grounds.” “So? S’not like you got it in writing.” “No. I did, however, record the conversation.” “Without his consent? Why, Nines, you devil, you.” Gavin quietly joked. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the statement, deeming an action unnecessary, Nines decided to correct the name-calling, “I’m an android, not a devil. Regardless, that agreement still stands.” “Look, Nines, we’re about to crack this case. Let’s face it, you’ll work quicker when I’m not there. You got Anderson and that annoying plastic prick as backup.” Gavin turned the corner and was only now three streets from arriving home. “Very well.” You heard the entire conversation, they weren’t being quiet in an attempt for you not to overhear, they were being quiet out of respect for your already quiet state. But you did readjust yourself, sinking further beneath the blanket and leaning your head against the window. The hum of the vehicle’s engine, the flickering of the indicator and the quietened toned voices that were usually loud and bickering (mostly Gavin instigating the arguments) was enough to make you drowsy with the heavy onslaught of emotions you were fighting back. ◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇ You hadn’t realized you were home until your door opened and you jerked in surprise. “Shit, sorry babe. You okay?” You hummed softly as you undid your seatbelt and climbed out of the car with the blanket wrapped around you. Immediately Gavin’s arm came around the small of your back and guided you up to the house. “Would you like a cup of tea Y/N? I’ve heard herbal teas are beneficial in calming ones nerves.” Nines asked as he followed up behind you and Gavin, hands behind his back. You only shook your head, “I think I just want to go to sleep.” You muttered and felt Gavin’s hand rub your back in comfort. The small home that you and Gavin shared was always warm and welcoming. Unlike bare yet always messy apartment Gavin had prior to you coming on the scene. There were artwork on the wall, photos in frames displayed on different types of shelving, alongside little ornaments that you and Gavin collected over time. Mostly things you found cute whenever you would visit a market or something. Occasionally something on display would be from Gavin; “I saw this and thought you might like it.” Had been his way of telling you he’s thinking of you and taking an interest in what you like. And because he wanted to spoil you with something you’d like personally rather than just the average gift of jewelry.

Gavin took you down the hall while Nines stayed in the living room, waiting Gavin’s return. “How are you feeling?” Gavin murmured as he shut the bedroom door and walking around you to pull back the blankets of the bed on your side. You merely raised your shoulders in a small shrug. Today had escalated drastically for you; physically, mentally and emotionally. You climbed into the bed, still wrapped in the blanket from the car as an additional comfort. You snuggled down with the blanket being tugged right up around your chin by Gavin. He had no idea what the fuck to do but he could only hope this would work. His hand came down to rest on the curve of where your hip was hidden beneath the blanket as he crouched down on his quarters. His other arm resting above your head as his fingers gently caressed your hair from your forehead. “What the hell happened to you today, Y/N/N?” “I don’t know… stress, I guess.” “I’ve seen you stressed, babe. This isn’t that. There’s something more. Something you’re not telling me. What is it?” Damn him and his Detective skills, able to pinpoint when someone wasn’t telling the truth. You licked your lips in nervousness as you stared at his grey orbs. “Can I ask you something Gavin?” “Yeah. ‘Course.” “Do I…Do I, um… Do I…” your voice wavered as you stammered your words, the remaining question was whispered because you were barely holding on now, “disgust you? Make you ashamed to be with me?” His fingers stopped their ministrations, his face twisting into a mix of disbelief and anger. “What the fuck Y/N?! No! Where the hell did this all come from?” Just like that, the gates to the dam opened and the tears fell uncontrollably from your eyes, your own features twisting into so much hurt that it tugged painfully at Gavin’s heartstrings, already filling with anger and who caused you to be so distraught. A sob broke out and you turned your face into the pillow, away from his gaze as your body violently trembled beneath each sob that tore out. “Shit. Hey, hey, hey…S’alright. It’s alright.” Gavin quickly moved to sit in the small space on the edge of the bed. Everything that had built up for weeks, only for the phone call from your mother to finally be that tipping point for you came bursting out. You felt one hand grip whatever part of you he could reach, and the other caressing the material of the blanket that was covering your body. “I’ve got you, babe. I got you. You’re alright. ‘M right here.” Soft words were murmured as he continued to caress your back in comfort but his efforts hadn’t even managed to calm you down at all. “Babe, can you look at me?” “No….” you wailed into the pillow, curling further in on yourself. Quietly adding an “I can’t!” between sobs. Your cries were really getting to Gavin and he had to find the strength not to explode in anger and hunt down whoever it was that hurt you like this. “’M right here Y/N. I’m not going anywhere. Talk to me.” Gavin’s voice rose a little to be heard over the volume of your cries but still, somehow, remained a gentle tone about it. He barely managed to catch it but he heard it loud and clear, “I’m a disappointment.” “Who said that?” “Everyone! My boss! Customers! My own M-Mom!” Gavin was well aware what your mother was like. What your family was like. They expected too much from you and had you at high standards that were impossible for you to achieve. Not everyone was built to become a surgeon or a firefighter, or even a Detective. At first, he tried to reason with himself that they just wanted the best for you but it was clear that they bullied you – and he swore that sometimes they would do it for fun. He lost all respect for your family and wanted to shield you away from them as best as he could without it falling into the ‘possessive/alienating’ category of being in a relationship.  It was part of the reason he asked you to move in with him. Give you an offer of a new life. Hopefully ceasing as much contact with the toxicity of your family. “God-fucking-damnit!” The curse fell past his lips before he could even catch it, startling you and causing you to curl into a tight ball – how that was even possible, he had no idea. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry for everything!” “Fuck. No. I… No, I’m not mad at you… Fuck, babe… I, uh…” His hand hovered midair, debating whether continuing to offer you comfort was the right course of action. He had sent you into such a pleading state with his verbal outburst, he didn’t want to be the one to add to that. “I’m not worth it. Any of it. You deserve better than me.” Without thinking, his hand came down and rested firmly on your shoulder. Sliding off the bed, he resumed his position of crouching down to peer at you since you were curled into a tight fetal position. “No.” he firmly stated. “You are worth everything to me, Y/N. Everything. Don’t you dare think you’re not.” He dropped his head, muttering under his breath, “I’m going to fucking kill that woman.” It was no use. Whatever Gavin said to you, you only cried through his words. You hadn’t meant to be so rude but you couldn’t calm down. This was years and years of your Mother’s verbal abuse coming out. The more you cried, the more Gavin swore bloody murder. It was hard; he wasn’t the type of guy who knew the right things to say. He was far from the ‘ideal perfect boyfriend’ that women seem to desire. But he was doing all he could, and all that he knew how. That also includes staying with you until you fell asleep. Your body stopped trembling but his hand never ceased those comforting motions against your frame. Gentle hushing every now and then emitted past those lips that were known to swear like a sailor and argue with anything that moves. Gavin had since resumed his original position; crouched by the bedside, one hand caressing the hair back from your now tear-stained face, the other rubbing circular motions in comfort – which had now ceased to where his thumb was just gentle caressing while his hand remained firmly against the curve of your hip. He waited until you were asleep before he left, gently tugging the blankets around you, his gaze lingering on your sleeping form – features now relaxed and set into a peaceful slumber as if you didn’t just suffer a massive breakdown. The moment he turned from you, however, there was a murderous rage in those stormy grey orbs of his. Quietly shutting the door behind him, he walked out to Nines who was holding a framed photo of the three of them. This was definitely your doing. Gavin would never place photos up, particularly personal ones. But you insisted, and you really adored the one of you three. It was just a dumb selfie at the beach with your faces squished together in order to fit in the frame. It was silly, and one of the very rare times that Nines stepped out of his level of comfort from his professional appearance to just be ‘normal’. His LED was circling the soft amber glow, occasionally red would flicker through. He was quite concerned about you. Particularly when he heard the heartbroken wails filter through the shut door. Audio components picking up some of the conversation as he eavesdropped a little, however, he decided that this was one of those times where you could not be comforted. A shame that you weren’t under hospital care, they could have given you a sedation to avoid the mess of emotions. Perhaps with the decent night sleep, you could wake up feeling more refreshed and a stronger state of mind to begin the day’s problems. Which is what he hoped would work for you now. Hearing the door click shut, he placed the photo back on the shelf and waited for Gavin to reappear. “How is Y/N?” Gavin didn’t even look at Nines as he pulled out his phone from his pocket and thumb began scrolling through the screen of contacts. “Cried herself to sleep. Fuck all I could do for her.” “Surprisingly her cortisol levels are back to a regular state but there’s been a significant drop in her serotonin levels.” Nines reported as he followed Gavin into the kitchen. Glancing up from his phone in annoyance, wanting to just get the person he was looking for on the phone and rip into them. “What?! English, Nines.” “I was speaking English, Detective. To put it simply, her stress levels are back to normal but she’s taken quite the plunge with her happiness.” “Yeah, no shit Sherlock. You seen the state she’s in? She’s far from happy. She’s hurtin’ Nines. And there’s fuck all I can do for her. And this wouldn’t have happened if her fucking mother kept her goddamn mouth shut.” “I’m afraid I’m not following.” “I couldn’t get much out of her but…” Gavin went on to explain just the real level of nastiness your Mother can be. And whenever there’s a family get-together, they all put their two-cents worth it. And not in a supportive manner either. They were jabs, accusations, insults, remarks… playground bullying that was clearly taking it’s toll on you. “…Which is why I asked her to move in with me. To get her away from all this bullshit as much as I can.” “I see.” “Enough’s enough. This ends now.” Phone gripped in his fist, pointer finger came out and jabbed at the air towards the ground, emphasis his words before he extended his arm out and pointed towards the door of where you were sleeping, “Because the next time this happens, I don’t want to get a phone call saying Y/N’s topped herself.” Nines would have interjected, maybe offered for Gavin to calm down while making an irrational phone call but from what he had just been informed with regarding your family, well… they had this coming. Nines was standing by for… moral support. And to also make sure Gavin doesn’t say something stupid that could jeopardize your relationship with him or his job as an officer of the law. Finally hitting the green call button on his phone, Gavin waited for your Mother to pick up. When the line connected, he offered no greeting and go straight to the point,

“What did you say to her?!” “Nothing that any other Mother wouldn’t give advice to their child.” “You call that advice!? Do you have any idea what you’ve fucking done!?” “I gave her a reality check, Mr. Reed. Get her to pull her head in and do something good with her life.” “No. You gave her a hospital check. You’ve fucked her up.” “Excuse me?” “You heard me, lady. Every time I manage to bring her to where she can finally see her own worth, you bring her right back to the fucking ground again. And this time she landed in the fucking hospital!” Gavin’s finger never ceased the jabbing in midair with every point he made. If only the Mother could see how close Gavin was to losing his shit, perhaps she’d actually shut up and listen to him. “That’s at no-one’s fault but her own.” “No, that’s at your own fucking fault. If you were a decent mother and supported her -” “Y/N has had this fantasy dream since she was a child. It’s time she outgrew it and got a proper job.” “Since when is wanting to own to a business a fucking fantasy?! She can do it. She has the smarts to but you keep fucking her up.” At this point, Nines yanked the phone out of Gavin’s clutches when the Detective’s began to rise and his anger would be to blame for waking you up, which is something that Nines wanted to avoid. You needed the sleep and listening to Gavin scream down the other line of the phone would only stress you out further. Placing the communications device to ear, a much more calmer tone greeted the line, “Good evening Mrs Y/L/N. What my colleague is trying to convey is that one Y/N has successfully surpassed her examinations, she has a solid proposal to put forth to the bank and town-council officials. There is a 15% she will be knocked back, but that is a very low percentile so I highly doubt she will become the failure that you are clearly so worried about. I understand that every parent wishes for their child to succeed. Your concern is admirable but the unsolicited advice is not. I suggest that if you cannot be as supportive of her as her own boyfriend and his work colleagues down at the Detroit City Police Department, perhaps it is best if you minimalize your contact with Y/N. I assure you that your daughter has people in her corner to support her, people that you ought to be wary of the next time you break the law. Because the next time you bring Y/N down again, we will bring you down the next time you break the law, regardless of how small it is. Good day Mrs. L/N.” Just as well that Nines took over from the phone call. Had it been Gavin, he would’ve been screaming down the line with a much worse threat; ‘Break Y/N again, and I’ll break your fucking face.” Gavin temper can get away from him particularly when it involves you. Before your mother could get a word in, Nines hung up the phone and looked over at Gavin whose mouth was slightly agape before they turned into a snarl as he took his phone back. “She got off lightly if you ask me.” “Yes, well the alternative is against the law.” “Tch.” “It would be advisable that you also retrieve Y/N’s phone in case the mother tries to contact her while she’s recovering.” “Fuck. Yeah… Yeah, I’ll do that.” Instead of doing as Nines advised, Gavin grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, some pain relief from the top of the fridge and then rummaged around one of the top drawers in the kitchen. Grabbing a marker and a piece of notepad paper, he quickly scribbled something on it before gathering everything and making his way down the hallway to the bedroom. Quietly opening the door, he made an effort to be quiet with his steps as he set down his phone beside yours so he could unload the rest of his items; placing the bottle of water down, the packet of pain relief tablets in case you awake with a headache or any other aches from today. Lastly, the little note that simply said; ‘Love you X.’

Despite the murderous anger that had consumed him earlier, it all melted when he saw you curled up beneath the covers. One of these days he was going to marry you. If you’ll have him, that is. He can only hope he’d make a decent husband to you. Leaning down, lips softly kissed your temple, gaze lingering on you for a moment, flames of fierce protection flickered around Gavin’s heart, who was prepared to burn anyone whoever dare hurt you like this. Grabbing both phones, he left the room and quietly shut the door behind him. ◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇ He found Nines in the kitchen with a fresh cup of coffee made for Gavin, knowing the Detective would be in dire need of something after the stressful few hours. Sitting at one of the barstools at the kitchen counter, Gavin groaned and rubbed his face as Nines took your phone and switched it off completely before sliding it back to Gavin. “Nines? Uh… listen – uh, thanks for everything today. Didn’t mean to rope you in with all this shit.” “You’re quite welcome. I’m just relieved to know that Y/N is home.” “Yeah. Me too.” A quiet moment transpired between them as Gavin sipped away at his coffee and Nines running his regular internal checks with his system. “’M gonna marry her Nines.” The statement came as no surprise to Nines, he was well aware how smitten Gavin was for you, but he hadn’t expected to see the tips of Gavin’s ears turn pink at the statement. Gavin’s face was turned slightly from Nines’ complete view, but Nines knew this was something that Gavin was embarrassed to confess but clearly wanted to open up to Nines about. “I know, Detective.”

  ◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇  

It was close to 8 months since you successfully graduated from your university. Gavin and Nines were both there to see you accept your certificate, they were both there when you signed documents and contracts for various things. Gavin wanted to be there for every crucial moment for you, and Nines wanted to be there to ensure that you weren’t getting screwed over by what was stated in the contracts and documents.

It was the evening before the bookstore opening and everything was in place. Unfortunately, there wouldn’t be a grand opening of sorts so Gavin didn’t book the day off; having booked quite a number of days off already with wanting to be there for the other stuff in the past few days. So, he decided to take you out to dinner tonight. Or so you thought. He came home early so he could have a shower and get ready while you also had time to do your hair and makeup, wearing the dress that you knew drew him wild. It wasn’t your intention to tease him but you also know he’s been stressed with work but has also been there for you with everything… you knew there was only one way to show your appreciation… but that was for after dinner. You hadn’t even left the house yet, let alone the bedroom when two large hands had your hips pinned against the wall. You let out a small gasp and arched against him with a small hum. His lips trailing from your cheek and down your jawline, “You look delicious babe.” One of your hands rested on his forearm, the other trailed up the nape of his neck, fingers pressing against the smaller parts of his hair. “Dinner first and then dessert.” “I’d rather have you for dinner.” Came the husky murmur against your ear as his hands gripped your hips and pressed his own against yours, feeling the slight bulge in his pants. You forced yourself to hold back a moan, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of how much you really want to cave and give him what he wants. “And not dessert? Shame. Dessert’s always the best part.” You teased, tilting your head sideways for his lips to have better access. He refused to kiss your lips because he didn’t want to mess up your makeup. “Can’t I have both?” he groaned out but forced himself to pull away, especially if he wants tonight to go as planned; which didn’t exactly interfere with your plans but will definitely delay them somewhat. His lust-filled green eyes stared at yours as a finger gently hooked under your chin, thumb very lightly caressed across your dark red painted lips. “You really are fucking beautiful, you know that, right?” Luckily the blush you were wearing covered up the natural heat of your cheeks at his compliment. “I do now.” You murmured softly as your gaze met his and your lips smiled softly. You had no idea how much Gavin worshipped the ground you walked on, adored you in every single aspect of the word. At the same time, he was your entire world to you. He may not look like it, but he was the epitome of a gentleman to you. You’ve been told by so many that he’s an absolute asshole at work (granted he’s calmed down since he’d been dating you) but you just can’t see it. Smiling, you placed a chaste kiss on his cheek and leaned back, thumb wiping away the lipstick residue left on his cheek. “And you, Detective Reed, are quite the charmer.” If he could wink, he would, but he’d given up trying ages ago. Instead, his lips turned up into a smirk and his hand connected with the curve of your ass. “C’mon.” Gavin took you both to the bookstore first. Night was falling and you could only make out the sign by the street lamps; ‘Cozy Book Nook Store’ a name that suited the theme of the bookstore you designed. Even with the curtains drawn, the windows and signage already had a welcoming and cozy tone. Gavin had wanted to see the final product before anyone else when the doors opened tomorrow. Unlocking the door, you flicked some of the lights and let him in. He wondered around a little, taking it all in. Mind, he’s been coming in every few days to see the progress, spending his weekends dedicated to helping you unbox books and placing them on the shelves. But he knows you’ve been working hard nonstop between then and now, adding the finishing touches and such. You quietly stood to the side, hands clasped together in front of you as you watched his reaction. Did it look good? Did you do a good job at setting it up? It was a rustic themed look inside with little nooks lit up by soft fairy lights where people could sit and read. Eventually you were going to incorporate a hot chocolate machine but that also came with a lot of pros and cons, and not quite in budget at the moment. “This looks amazing! You nervous?” he turned as he watched you walk over to him, forcing himself to keep his eyes on yours and not wander down to the curve of your hips as they sway while you walked. “Excited mostly, but yeah, a little nervous.” “You know I’m proud of you, babe. I’m so fucking proud of you.” He glanced around at the store before his gaze landed back on yours. “You achieved all this on your own.” “Well, I can’t take all the credit. You helped too.” “Hm, I think I mostly got in the way.” There was one weekend where Gavin kept slapping your ass as he walked past while you were bent over some books or boxes, a couple of times you both fooled around too. It was basically a wasted weekend because Gavin clearly had other things on his mind. He took your hand in his, lifting it to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to the palm of your hand. “You’ve come a long way Y/N. You should be proud of yourself. I am. I am so fucking proud of you, you have no idea. I know things weren’t easy. But I will always be there for you. And I…” Gavin had wanted to say something romantic, something that would sweep you off your feet but he wasn’t capable of doing that. He still struggles to open up on a heart-to-heart level at times. Instead, his free hand disappeared into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a small square box. Before you even had time to process anything, he was down on one knee, still holding your hand while managing to flick the box open to reveal a beautiful gold diamond ring. “I would be even more proud to call you my wife. Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?” He had every intention of asking you to marry him regardless of whether you graduated or not. If you didn’t graduate, it would give him the opportunity to whisk you away for a weekend to help forget your troubles, to propose even if it means you don’t become the successful bookstore owner you’ve always dreamed of being. Whether you were an assistant, or at a ‘menial’ job like retail or at Starbucks… he’d still be proud to call you his wife. But when you graduated and bought the building that was only a block away from the Precinct (expect a lot of visits from Gavin, sometimes Nines too, on his lunchbreak), he knew the perfect way to propose to you; When your Bookstore was all set up and ready to open. “I… Gavin are you sure?” “I’m on my knees, asking. I’m pretty sure Y/N.” “No, I meant… my family aren’t exactly –” “I’m well aware of your family and I would really rather not talk about them while I’m trying to ask you to marry me here.” You laughed softly at accidentally leaving him in limbo like that. But your laughter soon turned into tears of happiness as you sobbed out a “Yes.” Being a physically active Detective, he was able to unexpectedly brace himself as you lunged your body against him. Arms coming around his neck while you kissed whatever part of him you could. “Oh my god, yes!”   Still holding the box, his arms snaked around your lower back as he held you to him, his lips managing to catch yours in a tender but deep kiss in the middle of your bookstore.

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: the thing with feathers, ch. 9

Relationships: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn & Yú Zǐyuān, Jiāng Fēngmián & Yú Zǐyuān, Jiāng Yànlí & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Jiāng Fēngmián & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Lán Qǐrén & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Characters: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī, Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín, Yú Zǐyuān, Yínzhū, Jīnzhū, Lán Jǐngyí, Jiāng Fēngmián, Jiāng Yànlí, Lán Qǐrén, Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén

Additional Tags: Transmigration, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Illnesses, Family, Scars, Memory Loss, Angst, Crying, Music, Nosebleed, Fear, Recovery, Nightmares, Sharing a Bed

Summary: Collective concern that Wei Ying's dream may have been a memory, and some healing.

Notes: This chapter gave me trouble. I wanted it to be in Lan QiRen’s POV, but also there’s stuff going on with Madam Yu. Both of them are growing. A friend of mine posted about QiRen’s abuse toward WangJi and XiChen, and she’s getting some hate over it. Was QiRen abusive? Yes. Was his abuse intentional? No, but that doesn’t negate the abuse. Abuse often isn’t intentional, but the effect is what matters lest we ignore the victim based on the good intentions of the abuser rather than the resulting trauma of the victim. And really, that’s a lot of what MDZS is about: the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and sometimes trying to be a good person and do good just isn’t enough. Life’s just not fair sometimes.

AO3 link

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

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Lan QiRen could only stare at the scene before him: his nephew, still asleep after mao shi in Wei Ying’s bed, with Wei Ying curled close and holding his hand. 

He closed his eyes, hoping perhaps he was simply hallucinating somehow, but the scene was still present when he opened them again.

XiChen was the one who acted first, rushing forward to wake his brother.

WangJi immediately rose, pulling his hand from Wei Ying’s, and bowed deeply and formally.

“WangJi apologizes for waking late, shufu. Wei Ying had a nightmare. It may not have been a dream, but a memory.”

Lan QiRen blinked. That absolutely explained the scene he’d entered to find: WangJi had of course comforted the child, as was proper.

“Why do you think it’s a memory?” XiChen asked.

WangJi glanced toward Wei Ying, who was still sleeping soundly, drooling slightly on his pillow, his arm outstretched, fingers curled as though still holding his hand.

“He dreamt of being surrounded by darkness, but it was alive and talking to him and hurting him. Resentful energy is dark, right, shufu?”

Lan QiRen felt like his blood had frozen. According to the reports the Jiang heir had gathered from disciples who witnessed the event, resentful energy had indeed surrounded the boy, and had absolutely caused harm. 

If Wei Ying had remembered the attack through a dream, he could answer many questions, perhaps including who had attacked him. But it could also be traumatizing for the boy.

This was a matter to take to Sect Leader Jiang and the healers immediately. 

He patted WangJi’s shoulder in praise, pleased when he didn’t shy away from the contact as he often did even when Lan QiRen was the one initiating.

“Thank you for telling me, WangJi. Your decision to comfort him is commendable and sleeping late was unavoidable as a result. Please dress. I need to inform Sect Leader Jiang and the healers.”

He didn’t wait for WangJi’s response, knowing his nephew would likely immediately move to comply. Instead he swept out of the infirmary. Lan QiRen knew Jiang FengMian was likely still asleep, but he would want to be informed of this without delay. 

With that in mind, he knocked at the door to the sect leader’s chambers, counting to a full minute before knocking again. After three rounds, Jiang FengMian opened the door, wearing a hastily donned outer robe, blinking at him blearily for a moment before his expression turned to concern.

“A-Ying?”

Lan QiRen was glad to get to the heart of the matter; Sect Leader Jiang knew there was only one reason he would wake him so early. 

“He had a nightmare, possibly about the attack. WangJi comforted him in the night, but you and the healers may wish to be there when he wakes today.”

FengMian’s expression retained the concern, while also becoming far more serious. Lan QiRen was aware that the investigation had stalled on the attack, and it had frustrated Madam Yu greatly. While traces of resentful energy—mere wisps, really—had been found on the training ground, there had been no way to track it. It seemed almost as if it had appeared from nowhere, as a curse from afar might.

But who would wish to curse an orphaned ten-year-old child?

“I will rouse Healer Kang and ZiYuan,” FengMian said. “And I’ll leave you to gather Healer Lan. Is A-Ying awake?”

Lan QiRen shook his head.

“When I left the infirmary, he was still sleeping.”

Jiang FengMian nods, retreating back into his quarters, undoubtedly to get dressed.

Within a kè, everyone was gathered in the infirmary, and one of the musicians was playing ‘Clarity’ on the guqin to ensure Wei Ying woke up calm. WangJi was sitting on the bed beside the boy, having resumed holding his hand.

Healer Lan cleared his throat softly.

“Young master Wei may be a little overwhelmed waking to find so many people here. Perhaps some of us can wait in the other room?”

“Usually when he wakes only myself and my nephews are here, starting lessons,” Lan QiRen offered. “We would have started by now, but…”

Yu ZiYuan sighed, and motioned to FengMian to vacate the room.

“Fine, but Healer Kang should stay, in case he wakes poorly. We still have no idea what that resentful energy is doing to his mind,” she ordered decisively. 

Though Lan QiRen privately thought Healer Lan had more experience with resentful energy injuries, which was why the Jiangs had sent for aid in the first place, he knew now was not the time to quibble over such details. 

The others retreat from the room, aside from the guqin player and the healer. WangJi’s body language made it clear he had no intention of leaving Wei Ying’s side, and Lan QiRen didn’t particularly feel like fighting him. He had no idea how WangJi had been woken in the night, nor how long it had taken for Wei Ying to calm down; for all he knew, the stubbornness was earned.

And so instead he and XiChen relocated cushions to the bedside, and Lan QiRen kept his voice lower than he usually did so as not to disturb Wei Ying’s slumber. He could hear conversation in the other part of the infirmary, as the others waited for the boy to wake, but ignored it.

Unfortunately, neither of his nephews were able to stay focused on the lesson, particularly WangJi, who was distracted by every small movement by Wei Ying. XiChen seemed lost in thought, his brow creasing in concern. Lan QiRen did his best to stay patient with them; under the circumstances, their distraction was hardly surprising.

Another kè passed before Wei Ying stirred, murmuring unintelligibly as he started to wake. WangJi immediately abandoned the lesson to move a bit closer and squeeze his hand to remind him of his presence. The guqin player faltered and stopped playing.

“Wei Ying?” WangJi called softly. 

The boy let out a small sound of protest at being awake, and Lan QiRen had to school a smile from his face at how undeniably cute it was. Wei Ying turned his head in the direction of WangJi’s voice, but didn’t open his eyes.

“Lan Zhan?” he murmured, the name slurred so much it almost sounded like ‘A-Zhan.’ “Morning?”

“Yes.”

Finally, Wei Ying opened his eyes, blinking at them blearily. His gaze drifted to the scrolls on the bed, then to Lan QiRen.

“This one apologizes for sleeping late and missing lessons, Lan-laoshi,” the boy said softly.

“It is fine,” Lan QiRen said, clearing his throat uncomfortably at the boy’s apology—it was unnecessary under the circumstances, and troubling for reasons he can’t quite articulate. “And understandable. WangJi said you had a nightmare.”

A ghost of fear flickered over Wei Ying’s face, and he nodded.

“From what WangJi said of it… The dream sounds like it could be about what happened before you fell ill. Do you feel up to recounting it for Sect Leader Jiang, Madam Yu, and the healers?”

Immediately, Lan QiRen knew he had said the wrong thing, had failed to temper his words, when the child crumpled.

“I d-don’t want it to be a memory,” the boy managed between gasping sobs.

Lan QiRen felt frozen, but the musician immediately picked up ‘Clarity’ again in an effort to calm the boy. Yu ZiYuan stalked by on the other side of the bed, leveling a scowl at him he knew he deserved. 

To his surprise, Madam Yu gathered the child in her arms and rubbed his back comfortingly. She had never struck Lan QiRen as a particularly nurturing woman, but clearly he had passed judgment on her unfairly. He resolved to copy Conduct three times for his ill thoughts on her character. 

“It may not be a memory, baobei,” she murmured. “We just want to make sure.”

Lan QiRen glanced at Jiang FengMian and found him looking at his wife in adoration. He wondered if, after all, his judgment had been correct, and these circumstances had brought about a change in Madam Yu. After all, it was well-known the two were not a love match, and other cultivators passed gossip about their fights around like fine wine. 

He would copy Conduct once while doing a handstand, he revised. 

Wei Ying kept hold of WangJi’s hand, clearly finding his presence a comfort, but he also clung to Madam Yu.

“It was scary, shenshen. I don’t want to remember any more.”

It took nearly half a shichen of gentle coaxing by Madam Yu and Jiang FengMian for Wei Ying to tell the details of his dream, one that sounded nothing like what was described in the disciples’ reports.

His dream was infinitely more horrifying than the reports Lan QiRen had read. 

Wei Ying had dreamt of being high in the air, someone telling him to look down, telling him he would never escape LuanZang Gang. Of falling and finding himself surrounded by a black fog in a place littered with broken tombstones and bones. The fog had called his name, had whispered to him and asked if he wanted revenge, had buffeted and hurt him. He’d felt the hilt of a sword, and tried to wave the fog away, but found a long bone in his hand instead. 

Then he found himself in the bed in the dark, uncertain where he was and terrified.

“Lan Zhan called my name, but I didn’t know if it was the dark. But then he lit a candle and I knew I was safe.”

The dream was disturbing, and it was a wonder they weren’t all that woken in the night by the child screaming in terror. Everyone knew of LuanZang Gang, the horrors that lurked in that dark place and the cultivators who tried to put the spirits there to rest but had never returned. The Wen clan had resorted to sealing it within wards which needed periodic strengthening, but rumor had it wisps of resentful energy leaked out and caused mayhem in Yiling sometimes. 

Lan QiRen could tell from WangJi’s expression, minute though it might be, that this was a more detailed version of the nightmare than he heard in the night. If his nephew had heard some of these details, perhaps he would have gotten no sleep at all. He had in the telling shifted closer to Wei Ying, looming as though he could protect him.

“Was it real?” Wei Ying demanded, still shaking and crying. “Is that what made me sick?”

“No, A-Ying,” Jiang FengMian answered. “You’re here with us now, so it couldn’t be a memory.”

Lan QiRen silently agreed with his assessment; had the boy been thrown into LuanZang Gang, he would be dead, possibly just another resentful soul in a sea of it. Maybe no longer a soul at all. He hoped Wei Ying didn’t catch that extra meaning in Sect Leader Jiang’s words.

The child sagged in relief, sobbing again against Madam Yu. She pursed her lips, her expression an odd mixture of horror and relief.

“A-Xian,” she said softly, “your shushu found you in Yiling, which is where LuanZang Gang is. Probably you heard stories about it, and someone threatened to take you there before shushu found you. That’s probably what you remembered, and it turned into a nightmare.”

She sounded rather like she wished to find the person who would threaten a child with LuanZang Gang and use zidian on them. She sounds possessive, as though she has claimed Wei Ying as hers.

Sect Leader Jiang cupped the boy’s cheek in his hand, waiting until Wei Ying looked at him to speak.

“Your shenshen and I will protect you, I promise. No one is allowed to threaten you like that ever again.”

Wei Ying nodded, hiccupping.

“I’m sorry for troubling you, shushu, shenshen.”

Madam Yu clicked her tongue at him, hugging him tighter briefly.

“You silly boy. You needn’t worry about that,” she told him.

“We would be more troubled if you didn’t let us know when you’re upset, a-Ying,” Sect Leader Jiang added.

“I just don’t want to be a bother,” Wei Ying murmured.

Lan QiRen realized abruptly what had been bothering him earlier; this child felt as though he was a burden. He couldn’t imagine such a thing being so ingrained that it would stay through amnesia, and no one had intimated that Wei Ying was a burden that he had seen. But the boy believed it nonetheless.

“Last night I told you to let us know if anything you remember upsets you,” Madam Yu said softly. “But you can let us know if anything upsets you. You needn’t suffer in silence. You can also tell a-Li and a-Cheng.”

“Wei Ying can tell me, too,” WangJi said earnestly.

Lan QiRen nodded his approval, and Jiang FengMian favored the boy with a smile.

“You can tell any of us, a-Ying,” the sect leader said.

Madam Yu deposited Wei WuXian next to WangJi but continued to rub his back comfortingly. He immediately latched onto the boy, who didn’t protest, enduring the smaller child’s clinginess without complaint. WangJi generally eschewed touch, and young Wei Ying was the first he had opened to outside his family, particularly since the death of his mother. This friendship could improve his social skills.

“Children are never a bother,” Lan QiRen offered after a moment, not sure whether it was his place to say so but knowing his nephews could also benefit from the words. “I would want WangJi and XiChen to feel comfortable coming to me if they are upset as well.”

When the boys both blinked at him, their expressions briefly startled but quickly schooled into blankness, he wondered if he had failed them in this regard. He remembered WangJi’s stubbornness in returning to his mother’s house and kneeling to wait for her every month as though she hadn’t died, and he thought perhaps he could have handled it with more patience and grace. Certainly, the principles stated that one should not grieve in excess, but what was excess but a subjective idea?

It was an uncomfortable realization, that his nephews might feel they must hide their feelings from him. They, like young Wei WuXian, were essentially orphans, having lost their mother young and rarely seeing their secluded father. They may not have lost their memories like this child, but they had their own trauma.

And yet, even in the midst of his grief, WangJi had given his late mother’s rattle drum to a homeless Wei Ying in an alley in Yiling, willingly parting with a precious object for the benefit of a stranger in an act of charity and compassion. 

Perhaps he was too hard on them.

He sighed softly, knowing he would need to meditate on these thoughts. 

“I believe perhaps we should suspend lessons for today,” Lan QiRen said finally. “After this, a day of rest and leisure is in order.”

As his nephews looked at him in shock again, Jiang FengMian smiled.

“I believe your nephews have only visited town once since arriving. I’m sure a-Li and a-Cheng would be happy to accompany them and a-Ying—assuming he is cleared with the healers.”

Healers Lan and Kang glanced at each other, engaging in silent conversation briefly.

“Perhaps an adult should accompany them, in case young master Wei tires, but otherwise he is healthy enough for a small excursion,” the Jiang healer finally said. 

“FengMian, I think it would be best if you accompany them,” Madam Yu stated. “You could use a day off, and you’ve stayed in Lotus Cove so much lately, the townspeople might not remember what you look like.”

The smile Jiang FengMian leveled at her could best be described as coquettish, and Lan QiRen suddenly felt as though he was intruding on a private moment. 

“And would my lady wife care to join us on this excursion?”

A blush spread across Madam Yu’s cheeks and the harsh angles of her face softened when she smiled, making her look a bit like a maiden instead of the imposing woman she was. She offered him her hand, and he took it.

“Certainly, my lord.”

It came out as almost a purr, and Lan QiRen could feel his face heating at the blatant shamelessness of it.

He decided he should also copy Virtue. Twice.

[greecllings]

never any goodbyes

g

the adventure zone: balance

summary: Lucretia never got to say goodbye, not really, but she only let herself regret that fact twice.

fic # four of my @badthingshappenbingo​ card! this one is ‘never got to say goodbye’+lucretia reqed by @moominquartz​!!

read on ao3

It was hard for Lucretia to say goodbye to her family, although truly, there were never any goodbyes when she stole their memories. But relocating them felt, in a strange way, like a goodbye, no matter how temporary she planned for it to be.

Her boys seemed happy in their new worlds; Merle walked through the sandy beaches, fingers intertwined with a beautiful dwarven woman; Magnus thrived in the Hammer and Tongs, his incredible woodworking skills on display for all to see; and Taako, oh Taako, who Lucretia had had so much trouble relocating, seemed so content with his new cooking show, the cameras and lights and attention all for him and him alone.

Of course, he didn’t have Lup with him, but he could never remember that he missed her, her absence leaving a hole in Taako’s heart that he could never know how to fill.

She searched for Lup still. And Barry. Of course she searched for them. They were her family.

But they were nowhere to be found.

After wiping the memories of her family, her search for the missing members led her to the ground around the Starblaster. She searched for ages for any sign of Barry; if the newly broken rail on the deck of the ship was anything to go by, Barry had to be on the ground.

Gods, she hoped he was dead before he hit the ground.

She only found the smallest signs of an impact, just the marks where something had hit the ground, hard. But there were no signs of Barry’s body, only the sad, flattened grass and barely disturbed earth where his body must have hit.

Oh gods, Barry was a lich. And if he was a lich, all of his memories would still be intact.

He’d know what she’d done.

Lucretia broke down, kneeling over the spot where her dear brother had died—or, at least where his body had landed. Would he hate her? Barry wasn’t the type to hate, but that was under normal circumstances, and these were not normal circumstances.

She felt a small hand rest on her back, and turned to find Davenport standing behind her. He looked so worried. He didn’t even know what for.

Still, he held her while she sobbed, gently patting her back in an effort to console Lucretia, even though he couldn’t know why he cared so much about her. Lucretia tried so hard to find comfort in her captain’s embrace, but it only increased the flow of her tears; her captain, so dedicated to his cause that it became his life, and now, because of her, he couldn’t remember any of it—not his crew, or his mission, or even his expertise. Lucretia had taken everything but his name.

How could she have? What right did she have to steal everything from the people who had once called her their sister?

And yet it was much too late to hesitate, and Lucretia knew this. She kept as much attention as she could on finding her missing crewmates, her brother and sister lost from time and memory, but the relics were hidden just as well as her missing family members.

It pained her already shattered heart, but she had to put the search for Barry and Lup to the side. She couldn’t let her grief sway her from the path she had set for herself.

*****

There were only two times after that that she let herself regret her actions.

The first was the day she first reunited with her remaining family. They were fine, albeit a little bloodied by their encounter with the Phoenix Fire Gauntlet.

Lup’s Phoenix Fire Gauntlet.

The thought tried to waver Lucretia’s friendly smile, but she couldn’t break character in front of her boys. Instead, she continued her explanation, giving Taako, Magnus, and Merle information that, had Lucretia not taken away, they would have known, and intimately at that.

It was so offhanded; they were joking about their previous adventure, heavy jokes that fit the fact that an entire town had simply disappeared, turned to glass on the surface of Faerûn. Memories of the people now gone.

I wish we could bring Billy Bluejeans back.

It was Barry Bluejeans.

He must have made a real impact on you.

Barry?

They had met Barry?

That shouldn’t have been possible. It just… shouldn’t.

But clearly Taako was very sure of his words.

Was it simply a coincidence? This world was eerily similar to their home world--of course, there were the glaring differences in the sky, but otherwise it was nearly identical--so perhaps there had just been someone with the same name. The same DNA. Merle was close enough to the Rockseeker’s to be related by blood, so perhaps…?

But there was no other Lucretia. No other Taako, or Lup, or Merle or Magnus or Davenport. It was unlikely that there would be another Barry.

Did he somehow survive his fall from the Starblaster all those years ago? Was he doomed to wander aimlessly, the logo on his robe a mess of static and no other memories or connections in this plane?

Or had his body died, and somehow Barry, in his lich form, fabricated an entirely new body? Would that body have retained Barry’s memories like she knew his lich form would?

Lucretia couldn’t afford to let her boys know their offhand comment had shaken her. She kept her smile, and feigned exasperation at their antics that deep down she had missed with every inch of her body.

That day, after the boys had left for their mission, Lucretia triple-checked her lich-proofing. She couldn’t risk anything, even if it meant she’d have one more member of her family by her side once more.

*****

The second time she regretted what she had done, Lucretia’s heart was as heavy as it had been the day she fed Fischer their story.

She had known that Wonderland was more dangerous than anything else she or her family had ever encountered. She had felt firsthand the pains and terrors that that awful place--fueled by the foolishness of her family--wrought. She had trained them for as long as she could, had made sure the Tres Horny Boys--as they called themselves--were ready.

So why had Magnus died? Magnus, of all of them she thought, was the most likely to get out of there intact.

Although he had always been the kind of person to put himself between danger and his friends.

It didn’t matter anymore, though. Magnus was gone, whisked away into the astral plane, along with Lucretia’s hope to one day receive another of his hugs. He had always given amazing hugs.

She sat alone in her office for a moment, resting her weeping face in her hands. They had been so close to being reunited, to being a family again, even if Lucretia doubted they would ever truly trust her again.

In the beginning, Lucretia thought that that was a small price to pay; they would finally be safe from the hunger, free to live actual lives. But now, after so long living without her family by her side, she wasn’t so sure. As it was, Lup was still missing--although Taako had found her umbrella, she had no other leads as to Lup’s whereabouts--and Barry was conspiring against her. The others were already losing what little trust she had managed to build in the years they’ve been together again. They were secretive and wary of her motives and Lucretia knew that even though her goals were coming to fruition, at the rate she was going she wouldn’t have a family to save.

But she had a job to finish, and she couldn’t let the crippling dread that filled her every thought and movement stop her from completing her goals. She had the Animus Bell now, and now she had the Light of Creation on her side. She could finally save the world.

Her heart sank at the thought of a world without Magnus.

But she forced herself to act through the heaviness in her heart and the tears still spilling from her eyes, leaving cold trails down her cheeks. She was almost finished.

[negasonicimagines]

How to Save a Life

request: so, um hi! i love your blog and i was wondering if you could write a yukiosonic x reader fic where the reader is a medium (like they can see/communicate with the dead) and like they hate it cause its scary so reader is like always jumpy and tired cause they cant sleep and yukio and ellie help them with that. if not thats cool but thanks

notes: I based the reader’s medium abilities on Klaus from The Umbrella Academy, because I got that sort of vibe (compared to Melissa Gordon from Ghost Whisperer) from how the reader was described in the request! Also, I’ve been dying to write something using How to Save a Life by The Fray, so I’m glad I finally got the opportunity. This is probably a lot angstier than you wanted, anon… Feel free to ask me for a redo.

warnings: attempted suicide, suicidal themes, allusions to Wade’s shitty childhood, etc. overall tw.

You jolt awake from a nightmare, a bus explosion that quite a few of the students here died in, apparently. You’re not sure whether or not you’re happy to see the moon in the sky outside.

There’s a girl hanging herself from the ceiling fan over your bed.

You sob.

“Shh, babe, it’s okay,” Ellie, who’s still awake and on her phone, tightens the grip of her arm around you as you hide your face in her chest, not wanting to look at him.

“I think we need a room transfer,” you whimper.

“We haven’t even finished unpacking from the last one…” Ellie reminds you.

“There’s a girl hanging from the ceiling fan above our bed,” you inform her, refusing to look at the ghost. You know that she’ll start to talk eventually, but pretending you don’t see them usually deters them.

“Christ,” she exhales. “I’m so sorry, babe.” Ellie runs her fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp a bit as you weep.

Yukio had been spooning you, and, at your trembling, wakes up.

“Aw, honey, I’m so sorry,” she sleepily apologizes, nuzzling you gently and rubbing your back. “Everything’s alright, I promise we won’t let them hurt you.”

“Thank you,” you respond. Their touches soothe you, but you don’t fall asleep, even once they do. Her feet keep brushing over your leg as she sways with the draft that must’ve been occurring when she died.

The morning slowly comes, and she doesn’t fade away. Some do. You get up and go to the bathroom, completing your morning routine.

“Morning, Y/N,” she says, upon your return.

“Leave me alone, please,” you request.

“Don’t you want to know what drove me to this?” Her head is turned to the side and her body dangles limply from the rope. You ignore her, sickened.

You go to the nightstand next to the bed, averting your eyes. You unplug your phone, and upon lifting it up to look at it, coincidentally in the direction as her ghostly body, the hanging girl swings herself towards you with a loud shout.

You yelp, stumbling backwards and falling. She cackles at you.

“Y/N?” Ellie sleepily asks.

You don’t say anything, hoping she’ll fall back asleep, and open the drawer of the nightstand, pulling out the knife Wade got you for your last birthday. You stand on the bed, sawing at the rope. She falls to the ground, crawling towards the corner of the room before standing.

“Come on. What’s your name? What do I gotta do to get you to leave me the hell alone? ‘Cause I’m one more of you away from hanging from a ceiling fan myself, pal.”

The girl looks surprised at your outburst.

“I- I don’t know. I’m gonna just…” She phases through the bedroom door. Adrenaline rushes inside of you. You didn’t often confront the apparitions, many of them made vengeful and corrupt by their prolonged time on this spiritual plane. You didn’t have the means to help them all move on, and many of them didn’t want to.

It’s draining.

Ellie whimpers.

“Babe?” You ask, turning back to the bed. She’s sitting up, on the edge.

“You- You wanna- You’re- You’re suicidal?” She asks, brows furrowed and eyes watery as she stares at her hands in her lap.

“I- Yeah. I am,” you confess. It hurts to say. “Things have been r-really hard for a really long time, and- And even though y-you and Y-Yukio’s support makes things a lot easier, and you both are s-so important to me… I- I can’t do this anymore,” you sob, hiding your face in your hands. Ellie cries too, but not before standing and embracing you.

“You can, Y/N. You can. We need you, too. You make things easier for us, too. Shh, baby… Shh…” She rubs your back as the two of you hug. “I hope you understand that I- I’m not gonna be able to leave you alone for a while.”

“Yeah.” You sigh. Suicide watch, again.

“I just- I thought you were doing better.” She pulls away from the embrace, wiping your tears and smiling sadly. “But you’re not.”

“It’s just easier to manage sometimes,” you remind her.

Yukio stirs in her sleep before her eyes flutter open.

“What’s goin’ on?” She asks you, sleepily.

“Nothing,” you lie. “Just a bad dream, that’s all.”

“Don’t lie to her, Y/N,” Ellie scolds.

“She just woke up,” you protest.

“What’s wrong?” Yukio insists.

“Y/N’s suicidal again,” Ellie informs her, and your other girlfriend sighs. They’re so tired… Of you.

“We’ve got a mission today,” Yukio reminds. “I can text Wade.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” you argue, but Ellie just shakes her head.

“You said you’re one more asshole ghost away from killing yourself. And this school is full of ‘em. So, if assigning that living asshole to keep you from doing so is what it takes to keep you safe, then we’re doing it.”

You know better than to argue. Your girlfriends get dressed and ready, and the three of you go to breakfast, meeting Wade there. You don’t say much as they discuss the situation, a lump forming in your voice at how tired they sound. You’re a leech, you know, constantly draining their energy.

You remember how you used to make them so happy, and now you’re just a burden. You stress them out with your constant problems, never taking a break from being miserable and pathetic long enough to take care of them. You don’t touch your food, avoiding Wade’s trained eyes.

There’s a rather sad-looking woman sitting next to him. A cancer patient, bald and in a hospital gown. She’s still pretty though, a natural radiance exuding from her. You watch her watch him, no malice in her gaze whatsoever.

“My beautiful boy,” she says, a hand literally ghosting across his cheek.

“Oh,” you respond, eyes filling with tears. She looks to you in surprise.

“You can see me?”

“Of course I can. I see dead people. Kind of my thing,” you tell the woman. Apparently, she wasn’t aware of you.

“I- I can’t stay for very long. I’m supposed to have passed on, but… I have to watch over him, keep him safe. I keep slipping in and out of this plane. It’s my time.” No wonder you hadn’t encountered each other yet.

“I- I could watch him for you,” you offer quietly. Wade observes your conversation, but doesn’t say anything because you don’t appear to be in too much distress.

“Would you?” the woman asks.

“Sure. Wade and I are friends, sort of.”

“We are!”  Wade insists. You and the woman smile.

“I’m Hailey,” she introduces herself.

“I’m Y/N,” you offer her your hand to shake. She tentatively reaches out, and, finding that she can touch you, is ecstatic. She goes to hug Wade, but slips through. “You can touch me because I’m a medium. But, if there’s anything you want me to say…” You sigh. “I don’t know if he’d believe me.”

“I doubt he would,” Hailey admits. “But- But can I have a little bit more time? Just one more day?”

You nod.

“Wade, listen, I’m fine. I will text you every hour on the hour. I just… Need some time alone, okay? I feel awful about making Yukio and Ellie worry so much, and I want to do something special for them.”

“Yeah, if you explain to me what that all was about. Is it… Is it Vanessa?”

You look to his mother, sighing.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

He doesn’t push it, and you go back to your room.

You set up a blanket fort over the bed, hanging yarn from wall to wall to support the sheets, putting a white one at the foot of the bed and finding the novelty phone projector you’d gotten Ellie for her last birthday, so that you all can watch something on Netflix together.

You lay out fluffy PJ’s (a set each of you owned in different colors) for them both to change into, knowing they’d probably want to after a long day.

Then, you go to the kitchen, making cookies for them. Sugar for Ellie, chocolate chip for Yukio.

After they cool, you put them on a plate and wrap it with saran wrap so they’ll retain some of their heat until Ellie and Yukio get back. You take the treats back to your dorm, going to the bathroom and freshening up before changing into your own set of PJ’s.

You texted Wade throughout the hours it took to prepare, informing him of your feats. You were endlessly taunted and stalked by the spirits that loved to torment you, the entire time, but you insisted upon doing it yourself, and alone.

They arrive home in the early evening.

“Honey, you were supposed to rest today,” Ellie scolds, but hugs you, lifting you off the ground a bit with excitement. When she lets you go, you speak.

“Well, I wanted to do something nice for you guys. I know that you both do a lot for me, and that this doesn’t make it all up, but I wanted to start. I need to take care of my babes, too, not just the other way around.”

Yukio shakes her head, but kisses you on the cheek, giving you a one armed hug. They both change into their PJ’s, you unwrap the cookies, and they get on the bed, hidden in the fort.

You enter the fort, placing the plate on the bed behind the projector.

Ellie and Yukio squeeze you between them, both “holders” while you’re more of a “hold-ee,” in terms of cuddling. They share you like you’re giant stuffed animal as you three munch on cookies and watch various things on YouTube and Netflix.

Every time you feel yourself nodding off, you jolt, not wanting to be the first to sleep. Wanting to watch over them, to make sure they rest.

Eventually, they fall asleep, and you take the phone out of the projector and plug it up to charge. You put the toy away, and keep an eye on them. They both look so tired, even asleep.

You realize what you have to do.

You write the letter in your notebook, tears blurring your vision as you do. You love them so much. You tear the page out, taping it to the door and leaving.

You climb up the stairs until you make it to the roof of the school. There’s a garden up there, but you don’t even stop to admire it.

The cool air of the night is relief against your wet, burning cheeks as sobs escape your throat. You approach the edge, looking down nervously.

You hear a clang against the rock of the ledge behind you, and turn. It’s a grappling hook.

“Wait, wait!” Wade calls. “I’m a bit out of practice with this. Whew!”

As he climbs up, you know it’s now or never. If Wade gets up there, he can stop you for sure.

It’s gonna hurt, you’re aware, staring over the edge once more. You’re not sure if you should step off or jump. Stepping off is a little easier, but it doesn’t put you at a far enough distance from the building.

You decide to dive, but Wade grabs your arm before you can complete the action.

“She was- My mom was-“ his breathing is shaky, and you continue to cry, hiding your face in your unrestricted hand. He takes you in his arms. “She was in my dream tonight. She told me to stop you, and then she said good- Good- Goodbye… You promised her you’d watch me.”

“I’m nothing but a burden to everyone I care about, Wade,” you tell him. Like it isn’t obvious. “They’re so tired of me. I’m so tired of me, of this horrible curse that everyone calls a goddamn gift.”

You both shake and cry, and you know he’s not letting go of you anytime soon.

“You are not a burden, Y/N.”

“I used to make them so happy… And now they’re just exhausted, all the time. No matter what I do to show my appreciation, I know that nothing will ever be enough because they’re what’s keeping me alive,” you insist.

“Then why are you up here?” Wade asks. You just shake your head.

“I need to free them.”

“They can make that decision for themselves. If they didn’t love you they wouldn’t be with you,” he attempts to convince you.

“They just don’t want blood on their hands,” you disagree, and he holds you tighter.

“That’s not true, Y/N… That’s not true,” Wade repeats it over and over again as you cry in his arms, the tears and the listening and the five other (dead) people on the roof wearing you out.

“I- I can’t go back to that dorm right now,” you tell him. “I don’t want to wake them up, for them to- To miss out on more sleep because of me.”

“You can hang out in my room,” he reassures. “I’ve got a small couch you can sleep on, if you manage to sleep.”

You nod, and he leads you down the stairs. A spirit appears. An old man with cruel blue eyes and a cigar in his mouth. His army garb, Canadian, lists his name: Wilson.

You’d heard enough about Thomas Wilson to know he was bad news. He must know Hailey is gone. Who knows how long he’s been watching, waiting? You’re disgusted, and you deck the spectral piece of shit in the face.

“Leave him the hell alone!” You demand, and the creep narrows his eyes at you, rising up from the ground and shoving you backwards. You fight back, taking out all your anger and hatred of your abilities on someone you knew deserved it.

At the end of it, the bastard flees, and you’re left with bruised knuckles and a stunned Wade Wilson.

“Who was that, Y/N?” He asks.

“Your parents are quite attached to you, Wade. Don’t worry, though. I’ll be keeping my eye on you, like I promised.”

As the two of you proceed to his dorm, you explain: “Spirits can drain people. Hence why I’m such a mess all the time. I’m a medium, the rules that apply to normal humans don’t apply to me. If a spirit has a place in your heart and is trapped on Earth, they can take energy from you.

“Other than mediums, though, kind, good people are often preyed upon because they have a place in their heart for everything. Since your mother and father have places in your heart, they were able to latch onto you and keep their place in this plane. Your mother didn’t take much, which is why she was slipping in and out of the afterlife. But Thomas… He packed quite a punch, even if he was waiting in the wings prior to Hailey’s passing on. You should start feeling a lot better soon.”

“You really are something special, Y/N L/N,”  is all Wade says in response. You make it to his room and he flops onto the bed.

It’s nearly three AM, you realize upon looking at the digital clock on his nightstand. You curl up under a throw blanket on the love seat, sleeping a lot more soundly after crying, after standing up for yourself and Wade.

There’s a banging on the door. You ignore it, hiding from the sunlight under your blanket.

You hear Wade get up and stumble to the door.

“They- They’re-“ Ellie sobs, and you remember that you never retrieved the note. You also hear Yukio’s wails, both of them crying heavily. Were they really so upset you were gone?

You hear the crinkling of paper, and Wade mutter “Shit.” He walks over to you. “Kid, wake up. We didn’t think to get the damn note.”

You remove the blanket from over you, standing up, and your girlfriends cry harder, now with relief.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize weakly. They shake their heads, and Wade gestures with your head for you to go to them. The three of you embrace.

“Don’t- Why- I-“ Yukio doesn’t know how to start, still sobbing.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. “I’m so sorry.”

“We should’ve- We should’ve known you would feel-“ Ellie attempts, but neither of them can stop crying long enough to piece together their words.

Eventually, though, they manage to steady their breathing.

Ellie holds your face in her hands, a devastated expression still on her face.

“You are not a burden, Y/N. You are my best friend. You are caring, and smart, and funny, and beautiful. I never want to lose you. Never ever.” She kisses your forehead deeply, before releasing you.

Yukio wraps you in a tight individual hug.

“I’m never letting you go,” she whimpers, before quietly continuing: “Never ever. Ellie and I are happy to help you. You deserve to be loved, to be supported. And we both know that you love and support us back, in every way you can. We’re in a relationship, not working on a group project. Being kind to yourself if one of the best ways you can show your love for us.”

You sniffle as she lets you go, and look to Wade.

“I’m sorry,” you say to him. “Thank you. For everything.”

Wade embraces you in the same fashion as Yukio, though due to height he just smushes your face into his chest.

“Don’t thank me. Thank…” He gets choked up. “You know. And thank you.” Wade releases you, holding your hands after and inspecting your knuckles. “I won’t forget this.”

“Neither will I,” you respond, looking back into his eyes. You two now have an understanding.

He lets go of your hands. You look to your girlfriends.

“Let’s go home, honey,” Yukio suggests, and you nod tiredly. You’d only gotten four hours of fitful sleep. Your girls take your hands and lead you to the room.

The fort, the room is in shambles, still smoldering.

“Christ,” you breathe, shocked at the mess.

“The news that you were dead didn’t quite go over well,” Ellie remarks, sounding rather desolate. Her tone is that of tiredness.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize again.

“It’s- It’s fine. As long as you’re doing better, as long as you’ll let us help you get better-”

“What if I’m never better? What if I’m just another ghost, sucking away the energy of good people to maintain my place here?” you lament, sniffling.

“Baby, it’s not like that, I promise,” Yukio attempts to reassure you. “We love you so much, and no sacrifice is too great-”

“You shouldn’t be making sacrifices for me! I’m worthless!” You shriek, finally truly snapping, at least verbally. “I am nothing! All I ever do is take, and take, and take, and I give nothing back except for pain and misery and exhaustion.”

“Nothing at all? Not cuddles, not music recommendations, not a confidant, not a pillow fort and cookies after a long day? Not reassurance? Not a sense of fulfillment? Nothing? Not even love?” Ellie storms off to the closet, bringing out an old Converse shoe box. She opens it, tips it over, and various little things come out. Scraps of paper, movie tickets, gum wrappers, a couple tubes of lip balm, and more.

“What is all that, Ellie?” you wonder.

“It’s something I’ve been keeping since our first date. You’ve caught me, okay? I’m a sentimental bastard. But thank god I am, so I can show you just how fucking wrong you are,” she explains. You don’t respond, and she continues: “Movie tickets to Fifty Shades of Grey, our first date. You bought those, even though I didn’t want you to. We were planning to go as friends to take the piss out of it, but I finally grew a pair and made it a date. We still mocked it to no end, but I finally fucking kissed you after. Finally.

“You gave me this piece of gum in Geometry right before the midterms. Your last piece of Extra gum, Rainbow Sherbet-flavored, before you were gonna be able to go into town that Friday. For luck, you said. And I actually fucking passed it.

“A birthday card. You were the only one who remembered my birthday, and- And-” Ellie’s smiling, and so are you, but your eyes, hers, and Yukio’s are overflowing with tears. “I don’t understand why you can’t believe that I love you. That we love you. You’ve done so much, for both of us. Yes, we support you. But what kind of partners, what kind of human beings would we be if we didn’t? And you support us in return.”

“I- I guess… I guess you’re right,” you acknowledge. You really hadn’t thought of yourself, your efforts, as equal to hers and Yukio’s.

“I don’t have a shoe box, but I promise that I treasure you, too,” Yukio says, hugging you from behind. “Let’s clean up this room,” she suggests. You nod, and the three of you get started. Dismantling what’s left of the fort, moving a rug to cover the scorch marks in the carpet, and the like.

At the end of it all, you three snuggle in bed, both of them holding you. You’re in between them as they both lay on their sides, arms around you and (partially) each other. You’re warm, safe.

“I love you both so much. I’m so sorry that I almost abandoned you.”

“We’re just glad that you’re okay, sweetheart,” Yukio replies, squeezing you a little tighter.

“We really are. Please, please tell us if you start to feel that way again. I’d be glad to go through the box with you.”

“Maybe we could get a notebook or a journal to catalogue all the items. We could pass it on to, I don’t know, someone. Maybe publish it,” Yukio suggests, and Ellie nods.

“That’d be pretty cool,” Ellie responds. “What would it be titled, you think?”

“Ingredients of Love? Nah, too cheesy. Y/N?” Yukio asks, but you don’t respond. You’ve drifted off to dreamland, in the security of their arms, knowing that they love you and that they’ll always keep you safe.

[magioftheseas]

Potency of Memory

Summary: In which the NWP Trio discuss a few things.

Rating: G for General

Warnings: Mentions of memory alteration. Cursing. Nothing else.

Notes: So this is actually more of a “bonus scene” connected to the protag matsun au I concocted but you don’t need any familiarity with that to understand this. It’s just the NWP Trio talking about the NWP. I guess it’s a ‘prologue’ type scene and I did write it first but it just felt weirdly jarring so I took it out of the story proper. I still like what I wrote though so here it is because the NWP is super underrated and they + Usami all deserve more fics. I definitely want to write more of them.

Read this fic among others (eventually) HERE

Main story is HERE

Commission? Donate?

“In many ways, you could say that your memory is foundational in your sense of self. Those you meet and remember, your experiences, the information you retain, familiarities, that which ties together past and present, and that which also can provide a framework for the future you may pursue... All of these depend on your collective memory. It’s a powerful thing—but it’s also quite fragile, as well.” A pause, and he rests his cheek against his palm. “To play with a person’s memories, to be able to control and mold them, to adjust and cut out what you see fit—I wonder if that’s akin to playing God.”

Well. I say all that... But it doesn’t really matter, does it? I’ll still continue this path, regardless of what I have to do.

There’s no answer. Gekkogahara is typing away, silent and stoic as always. He’s only really talking to fill up space because this kind of silence is a bit suffocating. He sucks in his breath, gaze up on a blank, unassuming, observing ceiling.

“...Fhhhhh...”

He checks the machine, its whirling and erratic beeping. He must have configured something like this countless times by now, with the help of other scientists. He’s at the point where he understands the tech rather well, almost well enough to pursue a talent in the field.

If we can truly remove memories the way we would with unwanted data, we can store and restore them the way we would with important data as well. That’s more my goal. The ability to store and restore memories—I can finally achieve what those worthless fucks back then failed to do. I’ve already come so far. Just a little bit further. Even if I can’t bring that person back, I can make damn sure no one ever goes through what she did. And with ease.

“I-I’m here!”

Fujisaki stumbles in, clutching their laptop bag as they did. They’re doubled over and panting, and Matsuda regards them coolly.

“I, I’m so sorry,” they stammer meekly. “I was held up in, um, something... I’m so, so sorry...”

“Have you been putting the finishing touches on that AI of yours?” Matsuda asks.

“O-Oh yes! Alter Ego should be in a state where they can assist with the program... I’ve also been working on the data for an observational AI, but I haven’t decided their appearance yet...” Fujisaki hesitates. “I-I’m sorry, I tried to read up on sensei and senpai’s studies and research... But I didn’t really understand any of that at all...”

“And why would you be expected to?” Matsuda asks. “You were asked to assist on the technological front, not the medical. You probably wouldn’t be equipped to understand research that’s come from years and years of studying anyway. The brain can’t go from zero to a hundred like that.”

Fujisaki flinched, grip on their bag’s strap tightening.

“A-Aha... Right...”

“Don’t worry about it,” Matsuda said, gaze averting even as his tone remained flat as ever. “Just focus on what you’re capable of and leave the shit you’re not sure about to the other experts. You wouldn’t be here if what you had to offer wasn’t still really valuable, ya know.”

“R... Right!” Fujisaki seemed to perk up at that, taking their seat at the desk set up for them. They take out their laptop, plugging it in and humming as they turned it out. “Thank you, senpai.”

“For what, exactly?”

“I-It’s just... You’re actually a lot kinder than people say...”

“...no I’m really not.” Matsuda waved his hand. “It’s just being matter-of-fact. I wasn’t saying any of that to be nice, Fujisaki.”

“S-Still...!”

“You really should give yourself more credit, Matsuda-kun!”

Matsuda nearly jumped at the sudden voice, so sugary sweet that it was damn near sickening. There was no doubting who it was, and he grimaced.

“Sensei,” he grumbled. “Don’t fucking scare us like that.”

“I-I wasn’t really scared,” Fujisaki said softly. “I could see that Usami was active for a while.”

Matsuda fumed at that.

“Still... You really should indicate that you’re joining the conversation before jumping in...”

Gekkogahara did glance at him, and she waved at him. Matsuda’s expression only soured more.

“It’s too late to do that now.”

Gekkogahara signed an apology, but Matsuda hardly felt any remorse from her stoic face. Still, he turned away and she resumed typing. He was more irritated by Usami on his screen making sad pitiful faces at him.

“I need to work too,” he hissed, swiping at the screen to shoo her away. “Just because I’m not a tech wizard like Fujisaki doesn’t mean I’m no use at all.”

“You’re a great help, Matsuda-senpai,” Fujisaki chirps helpfully.

“A great big, SUPER help!” Usami exclaims, to Matsuda’s growing annoyance. “So hard-working! So diligent! We’re so happy to have you here! Love, love...!”

Without another word, Matsuda swiped her away once more.

“S-So cold...!” she sobbed.

“This isn’t like a group project,” he says. “It’s not the place for sentimentality or frivolities, either.”

“You’re still only in high school, Matsuda-kun...” Usami pointed out meekly as he got to work, implementing more of his research into the data. “You’re so serious. Too serious for your age, I think.”

“Sorry, I skipped the youthful years like I did grades,” Matsuda replied coolly. “But this really isn’t something we can afford to take lightly, you know. The steering committee is going to expect results, and testing it is going to be difficult considering it’s too complex for lab rats.”

“I-I can test the simulation portion!” Fujisaki spoke up, squeaking a bit. “If, um, anything happens, you can take care of it, Matsuda-senpai... I believe in you...”

“Don’t say something so fucking ominous. Yeesh. That’s bad luck.”

“O-Oh... Sorry...”

“I believe in both of you!” Usami exclaimed ever so helpfully. “You’ll both do just fine! Just have hope! Love, love!”

“Sensei, are you sure this AI is alright?” Matsuda asked. “If I had to spend several days with this thing I think I’d be traumatized in a different way. Counterproductive.”

“Shock! D-Do you really think so, Matsuda-kun?!”

“No, but you really are so annoying that I doubt your therapeutic abilities.” Matsuda shooed her off his screen again. “Oi, oi, why the hell are you bothering me so much anyway?”

“Usami helped me out,” Fujisaki murmured. “I think she can help you too, Matsuda-kun... I-If you want her to, of course...”

“Pass.” Matsuda waved his hand. “I have no need for this kind of thing. In fact, I think I’d rather die than have my memories erased. If I do get my memories erased, it’d be safe to say the world ended or something.”

“Senpai...”

“Matsuda-kun... T-That’s a little...”

“It’s just how I feel,” Matsuda said. “All that said...”

I can’t say I don’t fear this technology at least a little... But I have to keep looking forward, even if I have to forcibly discard and distort the past to do so. All that matters is achieving that future. Hope, despair, what the hell ever.

Whatever it took.

[01littleunicorn]

I know this isn’t in your normal request structure, but I really want to see a fiction where Reyoma keeps lecturing Takumi about stuff he keeps messing up on, and Takumi ends up getting really mad at Ryoma. I imagine it happening sometime before the war, as something that feeds his insecurities you know? (This sort of thing happens between me and my sibling and it made me think about if something like this happened between the two of them.)

Hey there!!! 

Finally, I am done with your request! Sooo sorry it took me so long to finish it - -’’

As you may have seen I had quite the struggle with this fic at first, but I pulled through and now I quite like the final result ^^ I did derailed a bit from the prompt you gave me so I hope you’ll still like it ^^’’

(And don’t worry for not using the typical prompts, I gladly accept all type of request ^^)

So here goes!

Prompt: none in particular

Pairings: Takumi & Ryoma (no ships)

Warnings: Angst (but it’s Takumi so no big surprise).

Also take note that Takumi is a very unreliable narrator xD Open ending so you can chose which path Corrin will chose later on ^^

- Takumi!

Ryoma’s voice resonatedfrom the end of the hallway and Takumi instantly stopped in his tracks, sighingand preparing himself for what was to come. As his brother’s footsteps gotcloser and closer, the younger prince closed his eyes, fists clenched inanticipation.

Even if he knew Ryomahad caught up to him, Takumi chose to stay silent while waiting for his brotherto initiate the conversation.

- Would you care toexplain to me what happened back there at the council?

Ryoma’s tone was stern,strong and demanding. His voice stayed calm, yet Takumi could feel theunderlying scolding laced in it.

- Nothing…

His own voice feltmeek and subdue. He tried to sound detached and composed, but like every other timebefore, he lost it all when facing his brother.

- Exactly. Nothing atall!

The samurai’s voicewent up a notch and Takumi felt himself flinch involuntarily.

- Not once did youraise your voice to contribute to the discussion. You just sat there, with thatforlorn look in your eyes, as if only waiting to be dismissed from the room.Tell me… Am I wrong?

Even if his wordswere phrased in the form of a question, Ryoma left no place for contradiction.No matter how much Takumi could protest, his brother had already made up hismind about what was true and would not listen to him. He had learned thatlesson before and didn’t even attempt to defend himself.

- No…

A long silencelingered for what felt like an eternity while Takumi could feel, without evenseeing it, the glare of disappointment from his brother crushing him down.

- Takumi…

A word and sigh.That’s all it took for the tears to start brimming at the corner of the young prince’seyes as his teeth gritted tightly. Yet, he just stood there and said nothing…How pathetic.

And Ryoma continued.Continued to berate him about how he is a prince of Hoshido, how he hasresponsibilities and that he couldn’t just be slacking off. “This is a war theyare fighting and doesn’t he want revenge for Father and Corrin? Hinoka andSakura all seemed to understand it so, why couldn’t he?”

Takumi had heard itall before… So many times he stopped counting, truly.

The first event he couldrecall happened not too long after their father’s death. Hoshido was nowwithout a king and, despite Queen Mikoto stepping up to assume the role ofleader, Ryoma still had to bear the pressure of both being the future king and havingto take on the mantle as the new defender of the family. And, although Takumidid understand that his brother’s position was difficult, he couldn’t help butfeel that Ryoma had become much stricter and demanding, especially towards hisyounger brother.

So, one day, while theywere all sitting at the family table, the samurai suddenly brought up how herecently learned that the two youngest royals had been trying to avoid attendingthe last formal event. Being put on the spot like that was already rather humiliating,however, when Ryoma turned around to put the blame solely on the younger princeinstead of scolding them both, Takumi just couldn’t believe it.

Yet, there it was andthe young boy could only sit there, as his brother clearly explained how such ascheme had to have come from him and that he clearly was a bad influence on hislittle sister.

Truth be told, it wasSakura who had been the one to come to him and ask for a way out of theseevents. She hated being in front of people and having so much attention on her,with her stutter and shyness only making it a real nightmare. Takumi alsodreaded these events, mainly because he hated playing the social type,especially in such dire times. That’s why he instantly acceptedto help both of them find an escape plan.

Ryoma, however, didn’tknow that. And there was no way Takumi would try to get out of this mess byblaming his sweet little sister.

Therefore, he stayedsilent. He could feel the heavy disappointed and judgemental looks from hisfamily crush him, yet he chose to stay his tongue. And, despite Sakura’s pleato let her confess the truth to Ryoma and Mother, Takumi hushed her to staysilent, somehow feeling it was his cross to bear.

And it went on foryears.

No matter what hedid, it always ended up being the wrong thing to do, in Ryoma’s eyes anyway.From his choice of clothing not being appropriate for a prince, to his attitudethat was apparently too off-putting, every aspect of his life seemed to bedisapproved by his older brother.

On the day he waschosen as the bearer of the Fujin Yumi, Takumi foolishly found himself thinkingthat, finally, it would show his brother that he was actually worth something. Afterall, he was now the only one in the family, besides Ryoma, to be able to wielda divine weapon. But, if he indeed showed some pride on the day of thediscovery, the samurai was quick to remind him of the pressure it also involvedand that he now had to prove himself worthy of such a legendary item.

And Ryoma wouldremind him, constantly. Should his training get even slightly slacking orshould he end up losing against some of the castle’s retainers, he would havehis brother lecturing him on how he had to be more serious and diligent. TheFujin Yumi wasn’t just any weapon and he had to show the proper reverence andresolve it deserved.

Yet, even when Takumitook his words to heart and almost lost himself in his training, there werestill things to criticize in his brother’s perspective.

According to Ryoma,princes couldn’t rely on brute force alone and he needed to hone his intellectjust as much as his strength.

It’s not that Takumidisagreed with his brother on that point, after all, history books had alwaysbeen a passion of his. Except that now, instead of enjoying a good read by thefireplace, he had to read through every book he could come across, subject bedamned, in hopes that it could provide crucial information in their war againstthe kingdom of Nohr.

The books were interestingand he did find himself learning a lot of things he really enjoyed, but havingto read through countless books out of obligation to his country instead ofpassion, took a lot out of the experience. However, he kept those thoughts tohimself again and simply did as he had been instructed.

Nevertheless, whenall was said and done… it still wasn’t enough.

And now, here he was, being lecturedabout his lack of participation in the war meetings, as if his brother didn’trealize how pointless it would be. The people of the council wanted Ryoma, theHigh Prince and defender of Hoshido, and not Takumi, the always useless secondprince.

But, like in every past instancewhen faced with his brother’s disapproval, he kept his mouth shut, simply feelingthe weight on his heart grow heavier.

- So, can I count on you to, at thevery least, try to show some interest in the next council?

Takumi already knew there was onlyone possible answer to his brother’s query.

- Yes brother…

The words were empty and he’dalready given this answer more time than he could remember. Yet, it seemed tosatisfy the samurai who nodded approvingly before turning around.

- Very well. I will be counting onyou from now on.

Then, for a second, there was somesort of hesitation in the air. As if unsaid words were just hanging there, inwait to be spoken.

- Takumi…

There was something in the samurai’svoice. Something that Takumi couldn’t quite pin down. Something that made hisheart beat with a hint of hope, though the archer didn’t even know what he washoping for.

-…. Good night brother.

And, with that, the moment was gone.Ryoma simply continued forward in the hallway, walking away from the youngerprince.

And Takumi was left there, feelingonce more like a fool.

Before anyone could see him, he quicklyturned around and ran towards his room, eyes tightly shut to stop the tearsfrom running down his cheeks.

But it all came crashing through the moment he found himself behind closed doors,unable to contain his bottled emotions any longer.

His back slowly slid down againstthe door until he was sitting on the floor of his room, knees huddled close,while he buried his head in his arms to muffle the sound of his sobs. Likeevery day before, he would probably end up crying himself to sleep, only forhis fear of failure to follow him in the nightmares that would then fill hisnight.

What a pathetic sight for a princeof Hoshido, his brother would probably say.

Yet, Takumi couldn’t help it. Itjust hurt too much. He always tried so hard to keep everything under control,to not show his emotions, his weakness. All he ever wanted was for his familyto be proud of him. For his brother to acknowledge all the hard work he wasdoing.

But it was never enough… HE wasnever enough.

The full moon was bright in the sky andits light was falling perfectly on Takumi, as a spotlight shining on hisfaults.  When he finally raised his eyes andhis gaze fixated itself on the star filled sky, the Hoshidan prince suddenly feltsomething shift in him.

What was he doing, crying on theground like a little child?

With a swipe of his arm, he quicklywiped away his tears, instantly hardening his face.

That was enough.

Now, he had to be strong. More thanthat, he had to stand tall and proud, to really become the prince he wassupposed to be.

No more tears, Takumi decided.Starting today, he would keep it all inside. He wouldn’t let his weakness show.He wouldn’t let anybody, not even his siblings, close enough to hurt himanymore. He would build walls around his heart and simply focus. Focus onproving himself.

Filled with a new purpose, thearcher rose up from the ground, walking slowly towards his window. And, as he baskedin the light of the moon, the Hoshidan prince hardened his resolve.

No longer would he let his family’sdisapproval shame him in thinking he couldn’t do it. Not even Ryoma’s. He woulddo what was necessary. He would work tirelessly, endlessly, to prove to theworld what he was worth.

And maybe that day… maybe thenightmares and the pain would finally go away…

Yes, Takumi thought, he WOULD provehe was a true prince of Hoshido!

Or he would die trying…

[quincette]

Green-Eyed

Chapter 4 A Kojuro/MC Jealousy Fic Link to  Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

“A maid told me she saw her feeding him in the kitchen with her hand.”

It frightened him how his own thought had snuck up on him again.

“Kojuro-sama?” she said, noticing how he went quiet and feeling his arms tighten around her.

Did it happen? Was it like this? Did you offer? Did he ask?

Woohooooo, in celebration of Kojuro’s birthday I decided that I need to get down and actually write this fic I started when I first read his MS, lol. Such a long wait - my apologies! Enjoy!

“An exceptional woman, isn’t she?”

He had lost her again, somewhere in the crowd.

“To think that even Masamune would go to such length.”

“But all’s well. I think this will be good for everyone.”

What are you talking about? He hadn’t asked Masakage, who obviously knew more than he had, but this one time Kojuro’s face had betrayed him.

“Oh, Masamune hasn’t told you yet, has he?”

No, he has not. Whatever that was that Masakage had been talking about.

“Well, he will, soon, I would think. You two need to work on the details.”

You two. Who? Masamune and himself? And her? She and Masamune? Or?

The variables were confusing and his mind had been spinning out an impossible web of stories, of possibilities of a conspiracy, from them. He blamed the small little things that had happened that day. Now, if only he could find her –

A familiar grip on his shoulder had him turn around to find Masamune’s green eye looking at him.

“We need to talk,” he whispered, rather briskly. “Tomorrow morning.”

That was all he said before he left to attend Kojiro and his mother, and their entourage from Mogami clan. He ought to be with them, to fend off those snakes from sinking their venomous fangs into Masamune. But his one-eyed dragon, he had found recently, has grown thick scales and confidence to brush them off without his aid.

Kojuro was proud.

And strangely feeling rather melancholic about it.

So he continued his search for her. The crowd had mostly dispersed, breaking away to smaller groups and retiring to more intimate places inside the castle ground, and out, for a more serious talk, or in most cases, more serious drinking sessions.

Yet he couldn’t spot her, not the familiar shape of her head, nor the single blush-coloured peony that adorned her short hair.

His feet brought him to his office, but she wasn’t there.

And the maids in the castle kitchen shook their heads when asked about their former chef’s whereabouts.

“We need to talk.”

“You two need to work on the details.”

“I heard she’s his mistress.”

The bits and snippets he had heard throughout the day bounced and collided with each other inside his head. Kojuro had always had a knack to foresee things based on fragments of information. It had been this ability that got the Date clan where it is right now – in a state of peace and relative safety.  

But right now, it was dragging his mind to a decidedly darker place.

She was not in Masamune’s office, either. No one was there.

She wouldn’t have gone back to their house on her own…

Which would leave one more place where she could be.

And confirming his deduction, he saw that the windows to the hidden little cottage tucked on the edge of the garden – Masamune’s secret kitchen, the thought gave his heart a little squeeze  – were lit.  

The smell wafting from the cottage was sweet. His belly gave a little rumble, as if it recognizes the aroma.

And there she was, bent over the stove, minding a pot of what he assumed was her famous spiced oshiruko.The scene before his eyed took him back to the first time he had tasted her cooking. How she had made a hearty, delicious meal out of the seemingly unsalvageable onigiri that he had made. For Masamune.

He had been there, then, his Masamune. He was not there with them this time. But he might as well be.

The three date crests that were embroidered on the back of her furisode told him as much. And also the flock of sparrows delicately painted on the upper part of it.

It fitted her beautifully. That damned furisode made from that Yuzen bolt kept in the clan’s treasury.

Kojuro wondered if Oda Nobunaga, the so-called King of Hell himself, would be offended to know that the exquisite fabric he had gifted to the Date clan has graced a kitchen. Or that it has been gifted to Masamune’s –

What?

Former chef. Trusted retainer. A more sober, reasonable voice inside his head supplied helpfully. Even as an insidious one whispered over it, echoing a splinter of gossip that had evidently lodged itself under his skin.

“I heard she’s his mistress.”

“To think that even Masamune would go to such length.”

What is going on?

The sound of clanging pot pulled him out of his head.

“Oh, Milord!”

There goes the chance to surprise her, Kojuro thought bitterly as he smiled.

“You surprised me!”

Or not.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I have been looking for you.”

He crossed the threshold. It’s warmer, and even more fragrant inside.

Before he could say anything, his stomach, again, made an audible rumble.

She laughed and pulled him inside, gently maneuvering him to sit on one of the simple benches furnishing the place. Her small hands felt so warm against his skin.

“Please sit,” she commanded, pushing him down. “I know you haven’t got a bite in you yet, and the main kitchen was such a chaos I thought to prepare something here.”

She flitted back to the stove and came back with a steaming spoon.

“Have a taste,” she blew the steam off the spoon and brought it to his mouth.

Kojuro wondered sometimes if her cooking had any part in him falling for her. If happiness had a taste, then for him, it tasted like this – warm, gentle, filling. He savoured the spoonful of thick broth and felt the warmth spread to thaw his chilled bones.

“Good?” she asked, even if he could tell that she knew he would never taste better oshiruko anywhere else.

Smiling, he pulled her down onto his lap.

“I don’t know… Let me have another taste,” he meant to tease.

She scrunched up her face to hide her smile. “Why, Milord, did you just ask to feed you?”

“A maid told me she saw her feeding him in the kitchen with her hand.”

It frightened him how his own thought had snuck up on him again.

“Kojuro-sama?” she said, noticing how he went quiet and feeling his arms tighten around her.

Did it happen? Was it like this? Did you offer? Did he ask?

He closed his eyes, banishing the thought.

“Milord?”

He felt her hand cupping his cheek.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw her looking down at him with questioning eyes. And then he saw one of those damned embroidered crests.

He claimed her lips with his own.

He didn’t want to think.

Mine.

He relished her gasp, and the feel of her yielding in his arms as he coaxed her lips to part for him.

Mine. Mine.

He suckled on her tongue, and twined their limbs, one hand cradling her head while the other encircling her waist, crushing her elaborately tied obi as he pressed into her, hungry in more ways than he cared to examine.  

“Kojuro…,” she managed, when they parted for air. “Kojuro-sama…!” she said, sharper, as she felt his lips latch on the dip in her throat.

“I want you,” he said, as if he could brand his words onto her skin.

The spoon she’d been holding clattered to the floor and she put her arms around his neck.

“I want to take you home and bury myself inside of you,” the words came out unbidden from his mouth as he traced her collarbone with his tongue.

Her now audible breathing only spurred him on.

“I want, I want all of you.” It’s frustrating how words couldn’t adequately express the heady cocktail of emotion lodged inside his chest. “I want to keep you in my bed until every nook, every cranny of your body remember me.”

She let out a low, broken whimper.

Mine.

She arched her back as he used his tongue and teeth to attack a particularly sensitive spot below her ear.

Her hand grasped his hair, splaying open to seek purchase. He felt her chest expand as she took a gulp of air. Then he heard her voice, whispered with an effort near the shell of his ear.

“Take me home, then.”

(Yes, next part is the smut part - yay!)

Enjoy my writings? here’s my masterpost!

Thank you for reading - any kind of feedback, reactions or incoherent babbles are greatly appreciated! 

Also shout out these lovely peeps who have been tagging me in posts @karalija @kojuriffic  @bulbaqueen @pseudofaux @nikkihime - thank you my lovelies, I’m sorry I haven’t been able to respond properly. 

My modus operandi these days are skim and drop shitty squealing post and not much else, I’m afraid, I blame work and stuff *sobs*! BUT I LOVED BEING TAGGED IN STUFF, FEEL FREE YOU GUYS! Plus Tumblr’s app in updated IOS is horrible and lagging like all the time!

 Next update in queue is Personal Injuries!