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rafescoke · 3 years ago

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All I Ask ; Rafe Cameron (Part 2)

masterlist

#Part 2

#Part 1

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Reader finds herself in the arms of her best friend’s brother after finding her boyfriend cheating on her

Warnings: Swearing, cheating, hella angst, JJ being an extreme asshole

A/N: you guys are truly amazing. thank you so much for the countless amount of love & support for my last works, i love you!

p.s, my request box is always open! go ahead and drop any ideas bae

“Hey,” he said softly. “You’re okay?”

(Y/N) emitted a laugh, her eyes focusing on the road, but her mind was somewhere else. She cleared her throat, “Um, I don’t think so.”

“Want to talk about it?” he said, and she noticed the grogginess behind his voice. She felt bad now, knowing that she had woken him up, but she was desperate for someone.

She couldn’t go to the pogues; her only friends, not when they knew. They knew all along about Kie and JJ but they didn’t try to talk to her. She thought about Pope, how he had looked so nervous around her since a month ago and how she had thought of it as nothing more than anxiety for his new upcoming scholarship application.

(Y/N) groaned, tightening her fingers around the steering wheel. Why had she been so naive? Why couldn’t she realize the signs sooner?

“Are you okay?” Rafe asked, suddenly jolting up from his bed when he realized how quiet she has gotten. Ever since they got close 4 years ago, there was never a long silence between them as (Y/N) always has a random topic to discuss about. He would tell her that he doesn’t care, but he truly likes the new information she’ll give him.

Like how the word ‘who’ is the oldest English word in the world.

“Like, the owl?” he asked, scrunching his face. (Y/N) rolled her eyes, licking the slowly melting ice cream, and Rafe had a sudden thought of stealing her snack.

“No. God, you’re stupid. It’s who.”

“Yeah, the owl,” he grunted, thinking hard. (Y/N) looked at him with her bored eyes again, and Rafe took a quick glance at the dripping ice cream.

“No, Rafe, that’s woo. I’m talking about who.”

“You should write it.”

Rafe watched as she used her pointer to write the word ‘who’ on the table using her ice cream. Rafe laughed, finally understanding the joke, and he smiled wider when she returned a grin.

“No,” her voice croaked, and she could feel her tears slowly rolling down her red cheeks. God, she felt stupid. Why would she cry over stupid stuff like this? She had told Rafe before that she couldn’t understand why Bella Swan was too sad over Edward’s flight, saying how Bella had Jacob all along to help her get over him. Rafe rolled his eyes at this statement, muttering something along the words of ‘this is a movie’, ‘Edward is hotter’, and ‘Jacob look like that cashier guy at the hardware store’.

But she understood everything clearly now because she too, felt like staying in her room for the rest of her life.

“What happened? Do you need me to pick you up?” Rafe asked again, finally standing up from his bed and walking towards his bedside table to retrieve his car keys. He rubbed his eyes, still so tired, but he wanted to make sure she was safe.

“It’s alright, Rafe, you don’t have to pick me up, it’s just, um-” she took a deep breath, “Can I come over?”

Rafe stopped in his tracks, not sure if he had heard her right. He waited for a few seconds, “Huh?”

“Can I come over?” (Y/N) bit her lips, making a turn towards the road heading to Figure 8 from the Cut. The road was deserted, and she looked at the dashboard to check on the time.

2.43 a.m.

“Yeah, sure, um, when are you coming? I just have to wait for you, so you know the new passcode of the backdoor.”

“You guys changed it already?” she asked, and she was surprised to find a smile creeping onto her face. “When was the last time I came over? 2 months ago?”

“9,” Rafe muttered, “But it’s okay. I’ll wait for you, okay?”

“Okay,” she released a breath, “Thank you, Rafe.”

“Yeah,” was all he said before ending the line.

Maybe she did missed him.

When she arrived before the white building of the Camerons’ household, she could see a figure sitting on the front porch, bending over something that (Y/N) assumed to be a phone.

Rafe was mindlessly playing Candy Crush, just starting on his third level when he heard a car door being shut. He jumped to his feet, ready to greet the girl, but stopped in his tracks when he saw the state of her.

She was still in her party clothes, her (H/C) hair in a messy ponytail and her makeup all smudged. He tried to think of a joke, wanting to lighten up the mood, but his deed was interrupted when she finally had him in a tight hug.

“Whoa,” Rafe exclaimed, putting his arms around her waist. He let her stayed in that position for a few more seconds, liking the warmth, and finally parted after he cleared his throat.

“What’s wrong?”

“I, um-” she sighed, not looking into his eyes. “I got cheated on.”

Rafe was glued to his spot as he watched her wiped her tears with her sleeve, looking down to her glittery blue slippers. He couldn’t remember the amount of times he had prayed for his (Y/N) and JJ to call it off, but he didn’t hope for any kind of cheating to occur.

“I’m so sorry,” Rafe said, pulling her into a hug again. He rested his chin against the top of her head, letting the scent of strawberry wafted into his nostrils. (Y/N) cried against his chest, her face all scrunched up, and when she pulled away for the second time, she noticed the tear stains on his shirt.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” she rushed, trying to remove the stain using her fingers even though she knew it was impossible. She was too tired to think logically; she felt like laying in bed and watching Love Island until the day she dies.

“You’re still stupid, even when you’re all fucked up,” Rafe sighed, but he watched her from the corners of his eyes in case his words had struck her, but she looked like she understood the joke. She smiled weakly, pulling on the hem of her dress that had rode up down.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, pulling her by her wrist as he guided her through the backdoor to his room. He showed her the new passcode proudly, mouthing how it was his birthday date this time, and (Y/N) had emitted a small laugh.

Screw maybe, she did missed him.

“And still a mess,” she sighed, plopping onto Rafe’s blue bedsheet as she took a look around the room. The painting of a random boat in the middle of an ocean was still askewed, and his trash can were piling up. She made a face, pointing at the cause of disturbance.

“You have to clean that.”

“Sorry I couldn’t let you stay in our five stars suite, ma’am,” he said, finding an old t-shirt in his cupboard. “You know, since you barged in this hotel at this time, all there’s left is the 3 stars suite.”

“You’re calling this a 3 stars suite?” she laughed, tilting her head to one side. “Rafe, this room can’t even be rated.”

“Whatever,” he pulled out a yellow t-shirt, putting it aside before looking for a new pair of boxers. “Is your room still pink with that weird strawberry pound cake smell?”

“Yeah,” she laughed, crossing her legs. She was glad there were no crumbs on the bed, or else she would rather sleep in her car. “And that smell’s great. My sensory organs are blocked by all the dust you’re collecting in here.”

Rafe grinned, liking how she was back to her old self, and handed her the pair of boxers and the yellow t-shirt. (Y/N) muttered a quick thanks, her feet lightly padding against the carpeted floor towards his bathroom. She closed the door, leaning against the sink, watching her reflection in the mirror.

She did look miserable, and her eyes were all red and puffy. She always hate how puffy her eyes would get after a nice session of crying, having to endure the pain of soothing it down again.

She shook her head, not wanting to spend anymore time thinking about JJ or Kie or the pogues who had betrayed her, and tried to reach for the zip of her dress. After a few good tries she sighed, relaxing her cramped arms. The familiar yet uneasy pain coursed through her veins, and without wanting to abuse herself anymore, she turned the doorknob.

“Rafe? Can you help me?”

“Huh? Yeah,” he came to the door, closing his eyes before he halted right in front of the object. “Are you naked?”

“No, can’t seem to be, too. Can you help me unzip?”

Rafe opened his eyes, feeling his heartbeat quickening, and with trembling hands, slowly unzipped her dress and stopping directly at the curve of her bottoms, silently admiring the view.

He cleared his throat, shaking his head at the childish behaviour he just found himself in. “Yeah, done.”

“Thanks, Rafe,” she smiled, and turned to close the door again. Rafe listened to her breathing in the bathroom for a few more seconds, knowing how hard she was trying to ignore the aching feeling eating off of her. He wished he could take her pain away an make it his, knowing that at least he’ll have an excuse to snort more coke to ‘forget the pain’.

When she got out of the bathroom, Rafe had to stop himself from drooling over her in his shirt and boxers. She always look good, but she had never looked better in nothing but his yellow shirt and his boxers.

Rafe closed the light, remembering how she hates sleeping with any form of light either it’s tiny or big, and settled himself on the sofa. He wanted to give her space, not wanting to rush anything, knowing how tired she must felt from all the things she had to endure today.

“Rafe, we’re not 10. You can sleep on the same bed as I am,” she sighed, turning to face the other side. Rafe stood up, thanking the gods above, and settled for his new room.

“We never sleep in the same bed before,” he said, pulling the covers to shield himself from the cold. (Y/N) snorted at this statement, still not looking at him or even turning to face him.

The closest thing they have done to sleep right next to each other was in the car during a road trip, and when they woke up, they were both throwing disgusted faces and pretending to vomit.

“Stop it, you guys look stupid,” Sarah groaned, giving them a quick look over her shoulder. Rafe pulled his middle finger from under the blanket he was sharing with (Y/N), causing her to snort and struggling to hide her laugh.

. . .

“So yeah, that’s how you hit it.”

“You’re bluffing,” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, taking over the club and watching the small hole in the distance, squinting her eyes. She took a step back, licked her teeth, and gave Topper the club back.

“See? I told you I’m right!” he exclaimed happily, clasping his hands together. He returned to the game, focusing on his goal, and hit the golf ball.

“That’s fine, I guess,” (Y/N) announced when he came back to the resting area, “For beginners.”

Rafe snorted, downing his mineral water before handing Topper the same bottle. Topper grunted at him, muttering how it’s unhygienic, but he took a full swing of it anyways, being so thirsty after sitting under the sun for hours long.

“We’re glad you’re back with us, (Y/N),” Topper smiled, removing his cap and fanning himself with the clothing. He opened his mouth to say something, but when he looked at Rafe’s expression, he quickly shut his mouth.

He wanted to ask her if she ever missed their old clique when she was with the pogues, but Rafe knew better. It had been 3 weeks since the incidence, and she had been doing so well in coping with the situation. They had been inseparable ever since, always attached to the hips everywhere they go; he couldn’t let one tiny mistake slip that can cause her another breakdown.

“Hey,” Kelce jogged to them, smiling apologetically at Rafe and Topper before placing a quick kiss on (Y/N) ‘s cheeks. (Y/N) smiled, knowing how sweet and gentle Kelce is, almost glad he still does the same thing to her even after they had not been hanging out for a year.

“You’re not dressed for the occasion,” Topper rolled his eyes, “And late. We’re already packing up, man.”

“I know, but I’m wondering if you guys would like to listen to Cage The Elephant this evening by the beach,” he explained, still heaving from his previous activity. He had drove straight from his home to the country club after getting 4 tickets to the show, excited to show his friends what he had gotten for her.

(Y/N) snorted, throwing her arms into the air. “Fuck off, Kelce. There’s no way they’re coming down to Obx.”

Kelce sighed, taking out his phone before showing her the proof in his photos. (Y/N) grinned, trying to contain herself, and looked at Rafe who seemed to be smiling as well.

“Thanks, Kelce,” she laughed, pulling him into a hug. They made her happy, and all the negative thoughts she had about them during her brief friendship with the pogues suddenly evaporating into the air. She squealed, jumping wildly, and she swore she has never felt this happy before.

Just them four. Like the old times.

Four hours later, (Y/N) took a step back when they arrived at the beach, the memory of what happened three weeks ago suddenly rewinding in her head. Rafe noticed how quiet she had been, and pulled her aside while Topper and Kelce went to check on the stage.

“Are you okay?”

(Y/N) bit her lips, nodding. She ran her fingers over the penguin charm Rafe had gotten her a week prior, saying how it resembles him when he sees her. (Y/N) rolled her eyes at him during that surprising moment, touched yet confused at the story behind the penguin charm.

“Okay. Do you need a drink?” he asked again, staring into her eyes. She shook her head, wetting her lips and putting on her usual smile. Rafe grinned at her, muttering how she’s doing so good, all while guiding her towards their two other friends.

“(Y/N)?”

(Y/N) turned to look at the source, not thinking much. She almost fell to the ground when she saw the person responsible, but Rafe still had his arms around her. He turned to check on her again, but followed her gaze when he noticed she was staring at the opposite direction.

“What the fuck?” Rafe yelled, pushing JJ’s chest with so much anger that he toppled over to John B. Sarah yelped, pulling Kie to her side, watching as her brother walked towards them furiously.

“Chill, man, I just want to talk to her,” he said, taking a deep breath. He noticed the crowd starting to notice them, and his eyes landed on a certain girl who was held up by Topper and Kelce, both asking if she was okay.

“Fuck off, pogue,” Rafe said, his eyes stern as he stared over JJ and his group of friends. “You have nothing to say to her.”

As he turned to return to his friends, his chest heaving from the near-fight he almost encounter with JJ, he bended to (Y/N)’s height to check on her state. Her eyes were glassy, her face red.

“So you’re fucking them all now like a whore?” JJ shouted, loud enough for everyone else around them to gasp, and some already had their phones out. (Y/N) was shocked at this statement, frozen on her feet, not knowing what on earth would make JJ say that to her.

He was never mean to her, even when they had a fight. He yelled at her sometimes, sure, but she had been the one yelling first. He never called her anything of that sort, not even during sex, where she had given him her full consent.

“You’re crazy,” she muttered, her lips trembling. “Go to hell.”

“No, no, because it has always been easy for you, right? You broke up with me, got on with Rafe, leave your own friends and come back to the country clubs?” he laughed, and she flinched at his words. If JJ had meant the pogues as her friends, then he was totally wrong.

“Fuck off, pogue,” Topper stepped out, and before he could finish his sentence, JJ landed a full punch on his face, causing him to fall onto the ground with a thud.

(Y/N) screamed, getting to his side as Rafe returned JJ’s gesture. Topper laid on the ground with his nose starting to bleed, causing (Y/N) to panic while she rummaged through Rafe’s backpack he had left on the ground for clean tissues.

Topper groaned, keep wanting to get up, but (Y/N) held him in place, not letting her friend go and hurt himself more just for her. She cried while she tried to wipe the blood, hearing the fight behind her.

“Fuck you! You stupid pogue! You should be in jail like your dad!”

Something cracked in JJ as he yelled something back in pure anger. He punched, kicked, slapped and hit Rafe who was already on the ground, spitting blood.

“JJ! That’s enough,” Pope pulled him back, trying to contain the wild animal as he thrashed to escape. He yelled more curses at Rafe while Pope tried his best to pull him away, obviously not done with hitting the boy laying on the ground.

(Y/N) cried, running towards Rafe’s side, cupping his face and looking into his swollen eyes. She groaned when Rafe’s laugh filled the air, not believing how he was still joking in a state like this.

“I’m okay,” he said, his breath ragged. “Don’t cry. I’m okay.”

Rafe stood up slowly and looked at the direction of the still thrasing JJ, hearing his muffled shouts with his arms around (Y/N) ‘s waist. He held her close as she sobbed into his shoulder, still trembling.

“Let’s go home?” he asked, and (Y/N) didn’t need to be told twice to follow him into his car. As disappointed as she was that she didn’t get the chance to see her favourite band, she wanted to take care of Rafe, who had been there since the day she found out about Kie and JJ.

The clock struck 12 in the morning and the grandfather clock in the living room chimed as Rafe groaned, feeling a certain girl with trembling hands and tired eyes gently wiping a cotton pad across his cut.

“Fuck! I said slowly,” he grunted, closing his eyes to decrease the pain. (Y/N) bit her lips, trying to concentrate all the while trying to contain her laugh. He hissed again when she dabbed on his cut, this time with his fingers gripping tightly around her wrist.

“I said slowly.”

“I’m doing it slow, asshole,” she smiled, and felt him softened when she finally threw the last cotton pad. She pulled the covers to his chin, fixing the front part of hair before going to the bathroom to wash her hands. When she came back, she found him still awake with his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling.

“I really need you to sleep,” she sighed, “To heal your pretty face.”

Rafe grinned and though (Y/N) tried her hardest not to smile back, she couldn’t deny the warm feeling settling in the pits of her stomach.

“You think I’m pretty?”

There was no use denying it anymore.

“Yeah,” she shrugged, getting into the space beside him. “Even when you are all fucked up.”

(Y/N) could sense his smile even when she didn’t look at him, knowing how soft he usually end up being when she compliments him. She turned to look at him.

“Are you serious about not wanting a girlfriend?”

Rafe turned to look at her, his eyebrows raised. His insides exclaimed happily, liking the way his words had struck her. He meant what he said, but that statement didn’t apply to (Y/N).

“Why?”

“Just asking,” she shrugged, and made a move to touch his cut. He hissed, feeling a sharp pain soaring in him, but she looked so peaceful trying to figure out his wound.

“You can kiss them to make them feel better,” he grinned, and watched as she groaned, trying to hide her face against the pillow. Rafe laughed, and turned the lamp beside him off, knowing that he shouldn’t push it and leave her be.

Just as he was about to drift into a peaceful sleep, he felt her soft lips against his, to which it was quick and gentle before she pulled away, giggling.

“4 years.”

“Huh?” (Y/N) questioned, still smiling from the kiss she just initiated a few seconds ago. She couldn’t contain herself; he looked so peaceful, so sweet, and so handsome. She didn’t know why she hadn’t kissed him sooner.

“I waited for that since 4 years ago.”

“Now you’re just pushing it, Rafe.”

Rafe grinned against the darkness, and felt his heart soaring. “Can we kiss again?”

“Tomorrow,” she stated, and Rafe laughed.

Tomorrrow. The next day. Next week.

He didn’t care - as long as he will finally have her by his side.

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subpar-ghoulfriend · 3 years ago

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A Family Affair

Slasher AU CannibalFamily!EraserMicxReader

We’re going with the “strange family that lives outside of a small town” trope. After a few deliveries to the Aizawa household you get pulled in to an affair you never wanted to be a part of.

Spooky season is upon us and I’ve already begun watching too many horror movies. This fic will definitely be a two parter

Super Dark Content Warning!!! Literally do not read if you have any reservation and definitely no minors!

TW: cannibal themes, mentions of murder, mentions of corpse mutilation, kidnapping, unhealthy relationships

Part 2 is gonna include more of this and the smut

Growing up you were grateful for living in a small town. You didn't really relate to the coming-of-age stories told in the movies where the small town girl runs off to the big city for a whirlwind romance and a chance at some "big break." To you, small town life was more picturesque than any overcrowded city. You knew your neighbors, and watched a lot of their families grow and change throughout the years. A small town allows you to become a regular at several businesses, including the coffee shop and your favorite diner downtown. Going away to college was tough even though you didn't go far. The nearest city - a little over 40 miles away - had a great college with a program you were really interested in pursuing.

You went home every break and picked up delivery jobs at one of the local restaurants. It was winter break of your last year in college when you first delivered to the Aizawa residence. In all your years at the restaurant they never ordered delivery, one of the two men would always place an order for pick up. The thing about small town stereotypes is that small towns tend to self-impose said stereotypes. The Aizawa's were that family. The one that everyone whispered when they came to town and children would tell horror stories about during Halloween. They were the weird family that lived just past the outskirts of town.

You weren't entirely sure what either of the two men did. Everyone speculated that Mr. Aizawa was some sort of mountain-man-feral type and maybe did some mechanic work for the folks that tend to live in between towns. His husband, Mr. Yamada seemed like the stay at home trophy husband but you heard he did some sort of conspiracy podcast. They had children - reportedly, but no one has really met them - and other family members that live similarly further out into the middle of nowhere. The drive was absurdly long but they were loyal customers and the owners didn't want to turn their request down. Your boss handed you a chunk of bills to fill up your tank before heading out. That's no place you'd want to get stranded, he told you.

The paved road got worse the further you got from town. Forty-five minutes later you were pulling down the dirt road that led to the illuminated Aizawa home. A wall of cold air slammed in to you when you opened your car door and you grumbled about leaving your gloves at home. There was no doorbell, so knocked and did that awkward please-don't-let-me-freeze dance while you waited. Two unfamiliar faces opened the door, an apathetic looking teen and an adorable little girl. Must be their children. The older one called out for his dad before taking one of the bags you held and disappearing into the home. You looked down awkwardly and wave at the girl. She smiled shyly and reached out for the other bag.

"Are you sure?" You asked her, "It's a little heavy."

She nodded.

"Okay, but use two hands," You passed her the bag. "Oh jeez, you're strong. Don't tell your brother, but I think this is the heavier bag."

You smiled when she giggled and ran off.

Mr. Aizawa appeared in the door, "How much do we owe?"

He was just as terrifying up close and for a split second your mind went blank while your basic instincts were begging you go back to the car. He raised an eyebrow at you, looking irritated at your falter.

"Uh - forty-two."

He pulled counted out a chunk of bills and then you were off. You didn't even count the amount until you parked. Forty-two with a forty-dollar tip. They may be odd but apparently they're loaded. You didn't think much of it until the following week when you were heading back to their house with another delivery. You wished that they would order earlier but at least you could hope for another generous tip. You were taken aback when the little girl answered the door by herself, jumping up and down with excitement.

Was she old enough to answer the door by herself?

"Papa," She yelled. "The lady is here!"

She turned her attention back to you with a huge grin, "Shinsou got sore that you told me I'm the stronger one."

Before you could respond to her the other man, Mr. Yamada, bounced around the corner, "Eri, what have we told you about the door? Oh no, you must be freezing come stand inside while I go get your payment. Forty-two right?"

You wanted to protest, feeling uneasy in their entryway but the little girl tugged you by the delivery bags. So you stood there quietly while she ran back in forth so she could unload the delivery for you. Shinsou peered around the corner so you gave a small wave. Then it was just you and Eri once again. In the background you could hear Yamada asking his husband where the wallet went.

"I like your shirt," You smiled, trying to fill the silence.

"I wanted a Pegasus shirt but this was the only one my daddy could find."

"Well I think unicorns are pretty cool too."

You use to babysit for some of the families in town, no part of you could imagine doing that all the way out here.

The blonde rejoined you, giving you another lush payment. You heard the little girl whine about you leaving so quickly until her father appeased her by saying you'd be back.

Something about that rubbed you the wrong way; but you were back like clockwork the next week with their usual delivery. Once again you were brought inside while they went to get your payment. But on your fourth and what should have been your final delivery of the winter break you noticed something was off when you parked. Their truck was missing from its usual spot. Strange but they probably just moved it somewhere else on the property. You had become accustom Eri running to answer the door and telling you wait for her parents in the entrance of the house. You became suspicious after she had run back and forth to take the food to the kitchen.

"Eri, where are your parents? Or Shinsou?"

The little girl's response was nonchalant, "They had to go out, one of our cattle got out. But they gave me the money."

You stuffed the money into your jacket; payment was the issue here. In the back of your mind you though about how you never saw any cattle on your deliveries. A child her age shouldn’t be left alone.

"Oh, well, can I hang out with you while we wait for them to come back?"

The little girl lit up as she pulled you to the living room. There was a kid's movie playing on the TV and she had a coloring book out. Eri divide up her crayons and tore out a page for you to join her. You kept looking to the window, waiting for the truck to pull up.

Suddenly there was banging at the door, which elicited a cry from Eri. You reached into your pocket only finding the crumpled bills. Shit, your stomach dropped. You left your phone in your car. After all, this was just supposed to be a quick delivery. The noise stopped, only for a moment, before resuming.

"Eri, sweetie," You whispered to the stunned little girl. "Do your parents have a phone here?"

She shook her head.

A man’s voice tore through the door, "Let me in dammit, you have to let me in before they come back."

You held your finger to your lip, and Eri nodded, repeating the gesture. The living room light was on and you realized that if he came to the side of the house you'd be seen through the window, but turning out the light would draw attention. Maybe he was bluffing, maybe he didn't know if anyone was inside and turning off the light would signal your presence. You pointed to the kitchen, where the lights were off and the two of you tip toed to the safety of darkness.

"Eri, honey, can you go sit in the pantry for me and be really, really quiet? I'll be right out here and don't come out until I come to get you okay?"

She looked hesitant and tearful but you were surprised at her level of composure for a kid. Finally she complied. Once the pantry door was closed you began rummaging through the drawers, looking for something that could inflict the most damage. A meat tenderizer could work. The banging continued and you swore you hear wood beginning to splinter. Your grip tightened with every bang. Finally the door gave way and a man stumbled through the splintered wood. He stopped when he saw you holding the cleaver.

He was dirty, without shoes or a shirt and his skin was red from the cold.

You hoped your voice wouldn’t crack, "You need to leave-"

"Monsters, monsters," he blabbed. "They're gonna come back and we gotta go."

You decided to bluff, "Get out of here, I already called the cops."

"Good, good, good," He mumbled, “but we still gotta go. NOW."

There was one step forward from him, one step back from you.

"If you come near me, I'll make sure you don't get up," You warned. At the very least you had to keep him away from Eri. Even if that was all you could do.

There was a desperate look in his eyes; they darted from you to the keys hooked to your jeans, then back to the keys. Finally he smiled, "You have a car, man that's perfect. Listen I won't hurt you but we need to get in your damn car, now."

Sounds like something someone who wants to hurt me would say, you thought. Apparently you took too long to respond, the man lunged toward you and you tried to swing the meat tenderizer. The tool connected with his shoulder and he howled out in pain but still managed to wrestle you to the ground. The two of you struggled with each other and the man was yelling that you'd die if you didn't listen to him. You landed a weak hit to his jaw, splitting his lip. You even tried biting at him but he was persistent and struggling to get your keys. You were telling him he could have them that he just needed to let you go but he wasn't listening to you. Managing to grab his ear you had a flashback to the self-defense seminar you had to take in college, it should be easy to rip a human ear. So you pulled. Blood began to flow from the wound down his face and on to you. He got you off him before you got the whole ear by delivering a blow to your stomach. The air rushed from your body, is this what it means to get the wind knocked out of you?

There was a loud noise and fog lights flooded through the broken door. Then saw Shinsou and Aizawa pulling the man off you. You pushed yourself and back, clutching at your stomach. Your cheeks were wet. Were you crying or was that blood on your face? Probably both.

The trio wrangled the man outside where you heard more struggling, fighting, and groaning.

Eri. You managed your way to the kitchen but realized you were covered in blood. Not wanting to traumatize the little girl any further you spoke through the door.

"Eri, can you stay there a little bit longer?"

"Can't I come out? I heard my daddies," She cried, tugging at your heartstrings.

"Not yet, okay? They're here and everything's okay, I'm gonna have them come get you okay?"

Thankfully, the door didn't open. As you shuffled toward the front door Mr. Yamada entered, wiping specks of blood off him.

You were shocked when he pulled you into a hug, "You're okay. Sho and Shinsou got everything under control. Where is Eri?"

You told him about her hiding spot and he sighed in relief and rushed to her.

The other two returned with bloodied knuckles that made your stomach churn.

"Yamada," The mountain man called, with his eyes scanning the home.

"Don't worry, Sho, I got Eri. She's fine. Our delivery girl is okay, she's got some bumps and bruises but she made the other guy look worse."

Aizawa ushered you to the couch, expecting your legs to give out at any moment.

"We need to call the police," You finally spoke.

Aizawa assured you he did. They were 45 minutes out but they'd work on getting here faster. Yamada brewed you a cup of tea, “for while we wait.” They finally calmed Eri down and Shinsou took her upstairs to get ready for bed. It felt weird for them to return to mundane evening routines so quickly after all that chaos, but maybe you were just the odd one out. Close to an hour later you were still waiting for the police to show up. Your tea was finished long ago and your nerves had calmed. You were even having trouble keeping your eyes open.

"You think they're almost here, babe" The blonde wondered, draping a throw blanket around your shoulders. "I'm sure she wants to this day to be over with."

---

It was still dark when you woke up. The blonde was fast asleep on the recliner next to you. The police must have come by now but there was no way you slept through the visit. Anxiety from earlier made it’s way back in to your chest. The clock read 4am; had they even called the police. All of the childhood rumors you heard came flooding back and you exited the house as quietly as you could, not realizing your keys were no longer with you.

When you made it outside you noticed dried blood on the ground, trailing toward what you assumed was their barn or storage shed. You were entranced. Looking back to the house, no one was awake; there was no movement, no light, just quiet. You shouldn’t follow the bloody trail, you shouldn't go near the shed; but your body moved on it's own accord and before you realized it you were at the doors. You gave a tug, expecting it to be locked, but the door swung open and inside you noticed the lock lay on the ground.

You should have turned around, got in your car, and drove away. Instead you stepped inside and found the bloody, broken body of the man who attacked you. There was a slight sway to the corpse that was hanging from a reinforced pillar. Nearly screaming your hand shot to cover your mouth.

You should've left.

Aizawa was watching you from the kitchen, cursing Hizashi for leaving the shed unlocked. His hand hovered over the secured cabinet drawer that stored a pistol. He wouldn't shoot you only scare you a bit. But you weren't running out in a panic. He didn't even hear you scream. Interesting. He went to join you, moving like any predator concealing it presence and leaving the gun safe untouched.

You should've left.

You finally came to your sense and whirled around only to run into your late night admirer. A terrified squeak escaped you as you jumped further into the confined space.

"Mr Aizawa! I'm sorry, I shouldn't have - I'm sorry."

He didn't look angry, although you wished he did. It would be better than the unsettling smile on his face.

"That's alright, I was heading out here anyway," He closed the door behind him and flicked on a dim light that lit up the room with shadows. "Can't leave it hanging for too long."

Your throat tightened, he stood between you and the only exit. If he noticed your terror there was no indication that he cared. He turned his back to you momentarily, rummaging through the clutter on the workbench. Now was the best chance you may get and you made a dash for the door. It was a futile attempt and part of you knew it but your nerves were ablaze with adrenaline and you were running on instinct not reason. There was a foreign tightness around your throat that kept you fighting to inhale. Struggling to breathe you didn’t even register the sharp pinch of a needle piercing your deltoid.

Aizawa pressed his nose to your hair, "Behave. Even if you get out of here, your tire has a flat, pesky nails tend to find their way on to the roads out here. A real shame."

He dragged you over to a chair across from the lifeless body cuffing both your wrists to the armrests. Stupid, stupid, he was grabbing out cuffs and I ran straight into him, you scolded yourself. You went to open your mouth and beg to be let go, but you were silenced.

"Keep it down or I'll have to find a way to keep you quiet."

Your heart was beating so hard it hurt. Once a friend said it was possible to die by fright, if that was true you wouldn't last much longer. Now that you were safely out of the way, Aizawa could make quick work dismembering the carcass. He donned his usual rubber apron and pulled back his hair. With his experience he could finish the job in less than two hours. Now was as good a time as ever for you to learn.

With a sigh he began his explanation and craft:

"Cannibalism has been around as long as we've existed: sacrificially, ceremonially, culturally, especially during times of plague, war, and famine. You can find documented accounts from pretty much every part of the world. And there's no one reason. Our family keeps it simple. We eat meat, animals are meat, and humans are animals. In times of famine and other hardships, this was a reliable food source. Of course now, there's not much of a risk for severe famine to effect people like us but it's tradition. This is how it's been for our family for years. And not just those of us around these parts but our relatives everywhere. It's important to keep old trades alive."

He paused, now splattered with blood, to take note of your dry heaving.

"Please," You gasped. "I just want to go -"

With narrowed eyes he continued:

"It's important for you to listen to our family history. Typically we don't reap a harvest until three weeks after the winter solstice and 3 weeks before the summer solstice. Twice a year is enough to get us by. Zashi and I are impressed that you managed to wrangle him in. Poetic in a way, don’t ’cha think? Consuming the flesh of someone who tried to overpower you. First reap of the harvest. Nice that it's a family affair."

The room was spinning and you were fighting the sedative as hard as you could. There was no way any of this was real, maybe you were dreaming? Maybe you'd been knocked unconscious when that man rushed you. Or better yet, maybe you were asleep at home still. It was possible that this whole delivery fiasco was just a nightmare. Your stomach churned at the speech. There was sun peaking through the cracks in the wall by the time he finished separating the ... different sections. There was no more body, just pieces. You nodded off for a few minutes before being jolted awake by the door opening and letting in the bright morning light .

"Good morning, you two night owls," Hizashi beamed. Walking to his husband handing over a tall mug of coffee. He was completely unfazed by the scene he walked in on. In fact the only frown he made was when Aizawa said he put too much sweetener in the coffee. "Anyways, grumpy pants, I called your sister. She's on her way to pick up Eri and Shinsou for a few days. To give us some time to focus on our little muse. Speaking of, I should go get her some water. Oh, plus we need to fix our door."

---

After you refused to drink anything they tried to give you they left you alone in the shed. The handcuffs were too tight for you to slip through and in your struggle you managed to topple the chair over, hitting the floor with painful slap. It was hard to ignore the buzzing of the flies swarming the space where the body once hung. You closed your eyes, your mind wandering to your family and what they would think when they realized you were missing.

Outside you heard a car pull up and were tempted to scream for someone to help you. Maybe it was the police; maybe someone realized you didn't go home last night and found out where your last delivery was. Your captors came out to greet whoever it was and you were glad you didn't yell, they sounded friendly. They were coming toward the shed but you were too defeated to react.

"Sho," Hizashi gasped, "She fell."

The response was sharp and sarcastic, "I hadn't noticed." He yanked you up with ease and the world was no longer side ways but the jolt paired with the exhaustion and drugs left the world spinning.

The woman must've been the sister they mentioned earlier. She squealed with delight, "Oh isn't she the cutest, lemme get a good look."

She resembled neither of the men and gave off cool-soccer-mom vibes. With a gentle grip on your chin she bore into your eyes.

"Please,” You begged, “I just want go home."

The sister didn't waiver, "Don't worry sweet thing, these two are gonna take such good care of you. Just relax and let them help you."

Help? You don't need help from them. You needed to get out of this hell.

"Okay," She bounced toward the exit, "Bring out my niece and nephew, we're gonna have a fun weekend. And take care of your girl, she looks like a keeper."

Finally you screamed in frustration. Brief, loud, and full of anger but it deflated just as quickly when the two men shot you a menacing look. How could all three of them show no display of empathy? You were again convinced this was an alternate reality when both children peaked their heads in to wave goodbye before they peeled away from the home, leaving you alone with Hizashi and Aizawa.

---

There was a hatch toward the back of the room where the two disappeared until they came back with a third body. They were dragging a woman up like a ragdoll and acidic bile burned your throat. If you had to guess you would say she was late middle age. It felt like they were setting a stage, Hizashi pulled you closer to where they stood while Aizawa managed to tie the woman down to the stained table.

"Why are you doing this," you cried. But they ignored you.

"Did you know there are people who pay for certain oddities and they’re willing to spend big bucks to get what they want? We keep whatever makes sense to eat and sell the rest. Ideally nothing goes to waste.”

The next hour and forty-seven minutes were excruciating. There were several “items” – as they referred to her body parts – that they removed while she was still alive; but finally Aizawa made the perfect incision along her thigh and a pomegranate wave gushed out. There was no way she would suffer much longer with this amount of blood loss.

"Please just let her die," You begged the universe. "Please let it end."

For the first time since starting they stepped back from the body, leaving it on the table to come over to you. Aizawa knelt before you and his bloody hand brushed hair from your face; his thumb rested on your lip and you couldn't even physically respond. Hizashi was behind him, rubbing his partner's shoulders.

"You're going to kill me?”

Both men finally softened, coming down their endorphin high. There was something so satisfying about your question. Arousing, even. They made it clear that your life was up to them, which meant they had you where they needed you.

"Am I having a blonde moment? I don't recall saying we'd kill her."

Aizawa threw an incredulous look his way before addressing you, "We aren't going to kill you. We wouldn't've saved you from that terrible animal if that were the plan. We don't kill just anyone. We wanted to introduce you to our lifestyle and now’s the best chance. Eri’s wanted to keep you since day one, but if you can't behave that'll be an issue. Can you prove to us that you’re going to behave or do we have to get you down into the cellar?”

There was no other choice than to nod. Picking up a piece of the dissected woman Hizashi muttered something about starting dinner before telling his husband that you really need to get more rest. Aizawa agreed, and since it seemed like you were having trouble getting rest he decided to give you another little dose of medicine.

#slasher au #mha x reader #bnha yandere #mha yandere #yandere erasermic #yandere erasermic x reader #yandere x reader

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regicidal-defenestration · 2 years ago

Text

Mechtober Day 30 - Death/Endings

@mechtober2022

"Captain Reeve of the SS Ursa Major speaking, log number 43, standard date 30/2/97.

"All supplies are at good levels for our current progress, algae production is a little under quota but M. Jackson assures me we still have enough for our fuel. Various minor repairs have been carried out to moderate success, but the lights will actually switch on now so I'm not going to complain. Crew in better spirits than last week, or at least they're not threatening the food stasis chamber anymore. Reports of my joining in on the threats have, ah, probably been exaggerated but I can't say I'll be upset when we touch down planetside and finally get some fresh vegetables. Have tasked M. Ness with increasing the efficiency of the engine and that seems to be working at keeping xem out of trouble.

"Then there's the matter of our, uh, newest passenger, she's currently present as I record this. Joined us on 21/2/97, refer back to log number, uh, 41 it'll be.

"Crew have taken to calling her Borealis, from the system we found her in. Still hasn't spoken, though she evidently understands us since she communicates in other ways, albeit rarely I admit. Two days ago she agreed to Dr. Lora carrying out a full medical examination, results of which show a clean bill of health. Nothing out of the ordinary for a human in her later twenties.She will stay with us until we next touch down planetside or…"

Reeve pauses, rubbing his eyes. She glances up at the woman sitting opposite, the one the crew have call Borealis.

Part of him reaches a decision.

"Skies- okay fuck it, I'm sorry, I can't keep up the professionalism anymore. And if some pencil pushing desk jockey is thinking of writing me up for this- well- just hear me out, okay?"

She looks over at Borealis, then motions to the voice recorder. Asking if Borealis wants to tell her own story.

Borealis just shakes her head, making what Reeve assumes is a you go on gesture. He takes another moment to gather his thoughts before continuing:

"Okay, yeah, alright, because the thing is, Borealis got a clean bill of health, yes? Great, good, we like not having medical emergencies on board.

"But that leaves me to ask, how the fuck can someone float - entirely exposed! - in the vacuum of space, for however long it was before we picked her up, and come out of the other end perfectly healthy? And when I say perfectly healthy I, uh, would like to note that this is excluding the blood test results, which just showed mercury. Not, not mercury in her blood, I mean mercury instead of."

A heavy sigh. She's had to rethink a lot of her held beliefs about how the world works recently.

"Look- look okay yes, I know how this sounds. You're probably sat there at your little desk thinking “skies above, she's lost his mind, he needs to be removed from active duty before she fucks something up fatally”. But Lora's medical files are all here. Read them. Or, get someone with higher security clearance to read them, and ask really nicely for the summary.

"Because I am not even in the vicinity of fucking around right now. We have, on board, an otherwise perfectly normal, alive, human who has pure liquid mercury in her veins and survived in space for-"

"Nearly 78 years," Borealis interrupts.

Reeve yelps in surprise.

"Well fuck me! You can talk!"

Then she grimaces.

"Ah, sorry. You surprised me. Uh, so, for the benefit of the log, that's Borealis who just spoke. Wait- what's your name?"

"Nastya."

He offers B- no, Nastya- a smile he hopes is reassuring.

"Then it's nice to meet you properly, Nastya."

A pause.

"Can I, can I ask…?"

"You are wondering how I can survive, yes? You will have to content yourself with not knowing."

"But-" Reeve tries to protest. Nastya interrupts her before she can get any more out.

"No. Was it a mistake when Carmilla brought us back? My opinion changes still."

That last part was quiet, like Nastya had entirely forgotten Reeve was there. For a moment, there's a faraway look on her face, before she jolts back to the present.

"But I do know this - the secret of what she did should die with us. And I am dead, that is all you need to know."

Reeve blinks.

Dead?, he thinks.

"Dead?", she says aloud. "But you're here, speaking, breathing, the all of it!" She gestures at Nastya.

"You're - this is gonna sound so rude I do apologise - you're unnaturally alive."

She makes a maybe gesture.

“Yes. And no. I… felt my blood slow and solidify in my veins, and I knew I was dying. When we wrote ourselves immortal, the universe believed us, and when I wrote myself an ending it believed me then. I think, I think I believed myself too, for a bit.”

The pause lasts forever.

“So I took the last memory I had of my love, and I cast myself into the void. And there I floated, systems offline, until you found me. I am alive, I breathe, and yet - for all intents and purposes - I am dead.”

Either that was an elaborate metaphor - which Reeve never could get the hang of - or she was telling the truth, which would be exponentially worse.

"You faked your death?" he asks, not a bad guess considering. "You’re not on the run from the authorities or anything?"

“I’m definitely wanted by the authorities, but that is another point entirely."

Nastya laughs at his gobsmacked expression.

"Don't worry about it. Let’s say though: yes, I did fake my death. I lied to the universe in its entirety that I was dead, and got away whilst everyone was distracted.”

Huh.

It didn't make sense, per se. You couldn't get a fake death notice to trick the abstract concept of "the universe".

Then again, it was a big world out there. Skies only knew she'd seen some weird shit out in space.

"So you’re gonna just, what?, stay on the run? Will no-one notice that reports of your death were greatly exaggerated?"

Nastya's laugh is genuine.

“No. I’m going to find some forgotten corner on some backwater asteroid and camp out there.. If I live a quiet enough life, then there will be nothing to sing about. The universe will look over me in search of something more interesting.”

There's something unspoken there. A quiet life, a life alone. Lonely at the end of space, maybe to end when Nastya died, or maybe she never would now, and would keep living until the stars gave out.

It sounded nightmarish.

Didn't Nastya have someone though? Reeve is sure she mentioned-

"You- didn't you say you had a lover? Maybe if-"

“She's dead.”

There's grief in Nastya's voice, but a quiet acceptance too. It must have happened a long time ago.

Reeve makes a fist, pressing it to his heart.

"I’m sorry."

Nastya offers an almost-smile. When she speaks, her voice is small.

“She… she died one piece at a time, until one day I looked into her eyes and saw no trace of the one who I had loved. The bonds between us faded and broke one by one. It's a terrible thing to love someone like that. When the one now bearing her body and name is not the one you fell in love with."

She stops, wiping at her eyes with a sleeve.

"Sometimes I dream that I'll find her again, on the other side of the horizon. At the end of everything."

Nastya is deep in her memories now, saying nothing. Reeve reaches over, taking her hand in his and squeezing it gently.

It's as cold as the grave.

They sit there as the silence expands around them. Reeve wishes she could say something, but this is grief on a timescale he can't even begin to conceptualise.

Maybe it's a long time before Nastya next speaks, or maybe it only seemed like that. She squeezes Reeve's hand in return before taking hers back.

"Look at me," she says in a thick voice. "I'm sure you have more important things to do than listen to an old lady's sorrows."

Old? Reeve almost asks, but figured Nastya was right. She'd content herself with not knowing.

"Not too much, honestly," she says instead. "I'll finish this report log an-"

“Report?”

There's a sudden sharpness to Nastya's voice.

"Yeah, uh-"

"No. The music is broken, okay? There is no more music, no more story. There is no-one pulling my strings, there is no-one writing out my actions. I am dead, I have ended. The universe moves on without me and this is the freest I have ever been."

Desperation creeps in.

"Please, let me stay that way."

And Reeve wants to, skies he wants to. But lying to Central is unthinkable and not sending a report at all is even more so. Besides - it wouldn't just be his job on the line. Her entire crew could go down with her.

"I- Central- Central policy states I have to make these logs, twice a week minimum," he tries to explain. "Doctors reports, maintenance records, observations. I’m sorry, I don't know-"

A beat.

Then Nastya's pushing herself up and away from the desk, half-running out of the door.

Reeve lets her go.

He sighs, burying her face in her hands.

"Yeah," she says quietly, in a way that doesn't make it all alright.

"Yeah…"

"I guess this is Captain Reeve signing-"

And that's when she cuts herself off. He watches the light on the recorder flash its steady rhythm. Waiting for her.

"Fuck it."

She almost laughs.

"Recorder, delete that entire log. Get up all of them since the 21st too, they need editing. Oh, and call in Lora too. There's something important we need to talk about."

#this is set post Out and also contains Nastya which is a fun sequence of words to write #the mechanisms #mechtober 2022 #writing

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wri0thesley · 4 years ago

Text

A Well Rounded Education (2): Grading Boundaries (Fem!Reader x Nanami Kento, 7.5k)

series synopsis: You are a teacher’s aid to teacher Gojo Satoru, training to be able to take over your own class next year by shadowing and helping him out. Gojo does not make things easy for anybody.

chapter synopsis: the father of one of your students requested a meeting to ask about ways of improving his son’s grades. after working with him for a few weeks, nanami wants to thank you for helping yuji out in his own personal way.

NSFW. AFAB reader, fem pronouns. oral sex (male on female and female on male), massage, nanami is just a gentleman after toji tbh.

(a well rounded education m.list and navigation)

You oversleep the next morning and for the first time since beginning your work as Gojo’s teaching aid, the other man is at his desk before you manage to rush into the classroom. He’s relaxed, arms behind his head, feet up on the desk – and when he sees you, he gives you a cheery wave and a grin.

“Found this on the floor this morning!” He says to you, using his thumb to flip you something small and round that you only manage to catch through sheer dumb luck. You stare down at the thing you’re cradling in your palm; one of the round buttons from your blouse, that you guess you missed after Toji had left and you’d had to try and pull yourself together.

““S-sorry about that,” you babble, your mind working eighty miles a minute to think of a proper excuse. “I-it got caught on my jacket when I was getting ready to leave last night, I wondered where it had gotten to--”

“How’d the meeting with Tsumiki go?”

“Huh?” You ask, blinking down at the button still, trying to fight the heat that is crawling up your face as you shove the accusing object into the pocket of your neatly tailored jacket. “Oh! It wasn’t Tsumiki. It was Mr Fushiguro, actually. M-Megumi’s father?”

There’s a pause in the air, almost as if it’s rippling with tension. When you look up, Gojo is staring at you, his eyes implacable behind dark lenses.

“I see,” he says. “That’s unusual.”

“I gave him all the paperwork, explained the probation and everything,” you hurry to say, almost tripping over your words. You don’t like the way he’s staring at you, and you find yourself shifting from foot to foot, hoping you don’t look like someone who let their student’s father rail you over their boss’ desk. “Megumi’ll be back in school next week, and hopefully nothing like this will happen again--”

“Mm,” Gojo says. You’ve never heard him sound that serious before, ignoring the chance to poke a little fun. His voice usually pitches and modulates, laughing, before he cracks some kind of inane joke that makes you and half the class wince. “I’ve got a meeting tonight, by the way. I was hoping you’d sit in with me.”

“Please don’t palm off more of your dirty work on me,” you say to him, as you go over to your own little makeshift table in the corner of your room and begin to rifle through your bag for the things you’ll need for the day. “To-- Mr Fushiguro was kind of scary, honestly.”

“Oh, it’s nothing like that!” Gojo waves your worries away with a hand, immediately dismissing it. “No, it’s Yuji’s dad – he wants to talk about his grades, I think? I said I don’t think it really matters, and he got really quiet and kind of angry on the phone with me.” Gojo shrugs. Of course Gojo said something like that. You’re not sure Gojo himself has ever worried about something in his life. “Honestly, he’s a. . . businessman type. Very serious! I just want someone to diffuse the tension a bit!” Gojo grins at you. “So you’re my human shield!”

Right.

Far be it for you to think that Gojo might have an educational reason for wanting you to sit in on this meeting. Still . . . you really like Yuji. You know that sometimes his inability to understand things frustrates him – he’s constant energy, and his mind just can’t keep up with the pace of the rest of him. You’d like to help where you can! And you know that Gojo’s probably not going to be able to offer any helpful advice – his classes might work for some kids, and Yuji does really like him, but that’s a boy who would probably benefit from some individualised attention and someone a little quieter.

You don’t like the idea of him with a father who pushes him academically and doesn’t care about his other achievements. Biting your lip, you nod, busying yourself with laying out the pens on your desk and flicking through one of your training books to see if there’s anything about meetings with parents. This one, you think and hope, is definitely not going to end up the same way yesterday’s meeting did.

There’s a kind of nervous energy in Yuji all day. He drops his pen, he shoots you agonised looks until you come over to check his work, and as everyone is milling out to go to lunch, he comes to stand in front of you, kicking his toe on the floor. You smile at him, seeing how he’s vibrating, rocking on the balls of his feet – hoping that the smile might at least calm him down some.

“My Dad’s meeting with Mr Gojo tonight,” Yuji eventually blurts. Without Megumi in class to tamper down some of his more bombastic nature, Yuji’s voice pitches and wavers. “I’m-- Mr Gojo doesn’t care about grades, but my Dad’s like, ‘you should apply yourself more, you have it in you’ and . . . and I guess I’m worried?” He brings a finger to his chin, dwelling on the thought. The way he says it, it’s almost like he’s not usually aware of the idea of ‘worry’ – oh, to be a twelve year old boy!

“I know,” you say, after a proper time has elapsed to make Yuji think you’ve really dwelt on the situation. You reach into your own bag to pull out the carefully prepared lunch you have in there – you could go to the staff-room, but honestly, you’re still feeling a bit wobbly after last night’s events and you don’t want to go around into the hum of people who’ll gather you up into bubbles of small talk. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m sitting in on the meeting too.” You hope your smile is reassuring. “It’s not going to be all doom and gloom, I promise.”

That actually . . . does seem to soothe Yuji.

“My grades are really bad,” he says. “I just . . . I’m not smart, y’know? Megumi knows all this stuff, and I’m just . . . dumb.”

“Being good at school stuff isn’t everything,” you say to Yuji. “You’ve got your own talents. Look at you on the sports field!” He blushes in the way young boys do when they’re being complimented by anybody, a kind of awkward ‘oh, shucks, don’t make me think that I’m good at anything’. You smile. “I’m sure your Dad understands that too.”

“Oh, he does!” Yuji’s eyes widen. You feel a little lock around your chest loosen, just a bit. There’s hero worship clear in Yuji’s eyes now. “He just thinks I should live up to my . . . what’s he call it? Full potential!” He twists his lip, and then leans in, conspiratorially. “He doesn’t like Mr Gojo. He doesn’t think he’s serious.”

Despite yourself, your lips curve into a smile. You aren’t going to trash talk your colleague to a kid that you’re in charge of, but all of the other staff just seem to roll their eyes and let Satoru Gojo get on with whatever he’s doing because apparently he was a prodigy at college or something. It’s nice to know at least someone is on your side, even if you’ll hopefully only ever see him once or twice during your whole year here.

“Don’t worry,” you say to Yuji. “I’ll try and handle it. Now, you should go! All the other boys look like they’re about to play a game of football--”

Yuji’s eyes brighten and he grins, turning away immediately, mind quickly flitting to something more pressing. He shouts a goodbye and a thank you to you even as he’s racing out of the door, almost too fast to be believed.

Kento Nanami (Itadori is his ex-wife’s name, he tells you with a sigh, but the name that Yuji was born with and he’s reluctant to have it changed) is very obviously a businessman, in a well-pressed grey suit and a navy shirt, a yellow tie tight to his throat. He’s wearing suspenders beneath the jacket, an expensive watch on his wrist, and a pair of small glasses perched on a sharp nose. A solemn face, sculpted jaw. He has cheekbones that you think could cut fucking diamonds into pieces, a wave of carefully styled blonde hair over a proud forehead--

What the fuck is going on at this school that it seems like all of the dads are so hot? You do your level best not to look at him too much, as Gojo introduces you and he shakes your hand. He looks at you with his eyes narrowed just a touch; you think he’s trying to get the measure of you, and whether you’re just going to be here to back up Gojo. There’s an air of tiredness to this man that suggests he will not take any of your colleague’s nonsense, and that thought bolsters you when he puts down his briefcase and neatly folds his hands on his lap, looking from you to Gojo.

“I want to talk about Yuji’s grades,” he says, “and how we can help him improve them.”

You like him already. The way he says ‘we’ instead of ‘you’ – the withering gaze that he sets on Gojo, as the white-haired man stretches his arms out above him.

“I told you on the phone,” Gojo says. “They’re just grades--”

“Grades that will follow Yuji throughout his career in this school, and eventually to high school, and eventually to college,” Nanami’s voice is very sure of itself, cutting through Gojo with ease. “I just want to ensure that he has the best chance possible. I want to make sure he’s living up to himself.”

Gojo – fucking Gojo – stifles a yawn behind his hand, and you see that Nanami’s hand flexes on his thigh (wow, his hands are big). You cut across before the two of them can come to blows.

“Yuji’s a bright boy,” you say. “He just needs . . . a little extra help. Someone to sit with him and explain what’s going on, maybe just go over the material again.” You give Nanami a nervous smile. “He’s not the only one in the class, honestly. I-- Mr Gojo’s teaching methods can be--”

“Innovative—” (Gojo says).

“Erratic—” (Nanami says).

“Unusual,” you decide on, in the end, “and not every child is going to thrive.”

“He won’t let me ask them to move into Miss Utahime’s class,” Nanami says, wearily. “Yuji is very fond of Mr Gojo.”

(You know that, and so does Gojo; the white-haired man gives a cocky grin to both of you).

“I enjoy teaching Yuji,” you say. “He’s good-hearted, enthusiastic – he throws himself into everything he does.” Nanami’s tired eyes seem to brighten behind the glasses at the compliment to his son, his lips lifting at the corners in the briefest twitch of a smile.

“He does,” Nanami says, and it’s clear from his tone that he’s very proud of Yuji. You feel bad for thinking he might be the kind of pushy, demanding father that you’d been warned you may encounter in this profession. With Nanami in front of you, it’s clear he just wants the best for Yuji and is concerned that Gojo might not be that ‘best’. You can’t blame him. You often think Gojo behaves more like a child than half of the kids in the class. “Yes, those are all of his best qualities.”

You nervously shift your gaze to Gojo, who is waiting for your next move.

“I’d be happy to work with him,” you say, eventually. “Maybe set up some kind of . . . drop-in, for students having trouble with the work, over free periods? I won’t make them, of course, but . . . I think my methods and Mr Gojo’s are very different, Sir.”

Nanami’s shoulders relax just a touch. He stands, nodding, taking your hand to shake it.

“I don’t doubt it, Miss,” he says – and as he touches you, a frisson of electricity seems to pass between the two of you. His hands are big and surprisingly soft, and as he grasps your hand you can suddenly sense strength behind the grasp. You hope that your surprise doesn’t register in your face, as he turns and inclines his head slightly at Gojo (Gojo does not get a handshake, you do not fail to notice).

“I hope that it helps,” Nanami says, as he leaves. And honestly . . . you do too.

Nanami asks to schedule a meeting with you, two weeks after you’ve begun working with some of the lower-achieving children in the class. Yuji’s grades have been improving, slowly and steadily – the boy looking at you with a grin when tests are handed back with letters far higher up in the alphabet than he’s used to getting.

“Ah, I can leave you to deal with that one,” Gojo says, grinning at you when he hears about it. “You’re the one working miracles, after all! I think Mr Nanami would just be displeased to see me sat with you, and I’m not gonna complain about not having to deal with a guy like that!”

You’re inclined to agree. So you watch Gojo leave that afternoon blithely, like he hasn’t got a care in the world – his bag is full of essays that need to be marked over the weekend, but somehow you think you’ll have a stack pressed into your own hands on Monday morning, more than a little crumpled, as Gojo insists you should get used to doing some marking yourself.

You wait for Nanami with your head in a book, steadfastly ignoring Gojo’s desk and sitting by your own table in the corner of the classroom instead. Last time you were alone with a student’s father in this room, you got to know that desk far too intimately.

Nanami is exactly on time, the second hand of the clock just ticking past the twelve as he knocks on the door and you call for him to come in. Gojo does have an office, and he’s said you can use that if you want – but the few times you’ve been in Gojo’s office, you’ve been overwhelmed by the chaotic mess that the man surrounds himself with. The classroom, if nothing else, at least looks peaceful.

Nanami sits across your table, well-mannered and polite, as you put your book down and smile.

“You wanted to talk about how Yuji’s doing?” You ask him. “It’s only been two weeks, but I think we can already see quite a bit of improvement--”

“Yes,” he says. “I think we can.”

Nanami does not heap you with praise; you get the impression that he’s not the kind of man who heaps anybody with praise. You get the impression he’s the kind of man who gives you an approving look, a pat on the shoulder, a nod – you find that you’re craving that approval yourself, looking at him across from you.

“I look at his homework sometimes,” Nanami says. “He’s getting a lot more of it himself, now. Not pulling his hair out at the dining table. You’re . . . you’re really doing a very good job, you know.”

Your insides fizz at the compliment. Gojo doesn’t give them out, either – but you’re the kind of person who occasionally needs to be told they’re doing the right thing, in order to motivate them to carry on. Nanami’s compliment carries a weight in your heart that lodges there like a secret.

You can’t remember the last time someone said you were doing a good job.

You and Nanami talk through the grading rubric, the other topics that are set to be covered before the end of term – how you’re trying to get Gojo to be a little more academic in his lessons, but it’s not working. You mention that lots of the other kids seem to be thriving under having a chance to go back over the material that your mentor occasionally skips and side-steps around, imparting his knowledge in his own particular way. Thoughts of Gojo make your mind swim with fatigue.

You hadn’t realised, until you started talking about it, but you also can’t remember your mind not being consumed by thoughts of your work at any point in the last few weeks. You’re always worrying about something; your mind always rushing from one possible bad outcome to the next. The kids, your training, Gojo, the school, the heavy weight of choosing a career where the next generation depends on you--

“You look tired,” Nanami says, his face twisted in sympathy. “Have you been getting enough sleep?”

You haven’t, really – thoughts of the class, and your work, and whether you’re even cut out for this as a career have been haunting you more and more recently, as you watch Gojo stumble irresponsibly from day to day. You feel like you get home, do some work for the next day, go to sleep, and immediately go to work again with nothing in between. You look at Nanami, who’s all concern, and you know you shouldn’t, but--

“I’m just getting stressed from everything happening all at once,” you say, forcing yourself to smile. “I have a lot of assessments coming up, reports I should be writing, reports that are written about me. Ah, those ones-- those are by Mr Gojo--”

“Ahh,” he looks incredibly sympathetic at that one.

“There’s just,” you falter. “A lot. And if I don’t come to work feeling my best and supporting them all, I feel like I’m letting the kids down, but I also just feel kind of bone-weary aching all of the time—”

Nanami’s hand reaches across the table, taking ahold of yours. His palms are warm and rough, and the thumb that rubs soothing circles against the base of your own is comforting. You sigh, eyelids half flickering closed.

“I shouldn’t have said anything to you,” you murmur, the small moment of intimacy (when you’ve spent the last two weeks feeling like you’re lurching from place to place and nobody is paying attention) sending a much-needed hit of comfort to the marrow of your bones. “You shouldn’t have to listen to my problems.”

Nanami’s lips tilt.

“I’d say it’s the least I could do,” he says, drily, “after everything you’ve done for Yuji – and after you’ve had to deal with Mr Gojo.” The look he gives you is quietly private, a shared in-joke between the two of you that makes you smile in response. His response almost makes you forget that he’s touching you, and though the touch is innocuous, you also know it’s unprofessional--

You stare at his hand on yours. It’s the same arm that he wears his expensive wristwatch on, and the sleeve of his suit jacket has ridden up to reveal just a hint of the shape beneath, a prominently veined wrist. Your throat goes dry looking at it, as you think of how strong he had seemed that time he’d shook your hand--

He’s looking at where the two of you are touching, too – a faint spot of red fading in high on his cheekbones. He coughs, awkward, but doesn’t move his hand. He swallows.

“You’re very pretty, you know,” Nanami says, and your body seems to flood with heat. You should say something about how inappropriate that is, thank him for coming to see you and the sweet words he’d said about how you were helping Yuji along, but somehow you can’t bring yourself to do it when he’s looking at you like that. “It sounds very hypocritical coming from me, because anyone who knows me will tell you that I don’t get enough of it myself– but you should rest more. Relax.”

You can imagine him ramrod straight behind a desk, eyes narrowed behind spreadsheets and numbers. You can definitely imagine him tired and drooping, working too hard. You smile again, helplessly, the look apologetic. You’re not very good at things like that.

“You look stiff,” he says. “Here--”

He stands. You’d forgotten how tall he was, the breadth of him – he unbuttons his jacket neatly, laying it over the back of the chair. Without that, the width of his shoulders is really apparent. You don’t realise you’re staring until he makes a little noise, a ‘hmph’ of amusement, eyes not meeting yours, thumbs unbuttoning his cuffs and pushing the sleeves up to his elbows.

He’s behind you.

“I’ve been told I’m good at this,” he says. “Big hands, I suppose?”

You’re about to ask him what he’s doing when those same big hands are suddenly on your shoulders, the same thumbs that were just rubbing tender circles onto your hand digging into your shoulder-blades in a massage that you feel down to your toes. You don’t realise you’ve let out a noise and relaxed back into the massage until Nanami lets out a low hum that you think is mirth.

The noise you make as he works out that persistent knot in the back of your neck is near-on pornographic, and both of you know it – heat rushing to your face, Nanami clearing his throat. If somebody walking by had heard that – if they came into the classroom, to see you getting a massage from Yuji’s father--

How do you keep getting into these situations? Nobody warned you about this part of working in a school. Why do his hands feel so fucking good on you, fingers digging into your skin – you moan again, rolling back into his touch.

There’s a clipped quality to his voice when he speaks;

“Wait a second.” Your eyes flutter open as his hands leave you, watching in distress as he walks to the door. If you’re expecting him to leave, you’re surprised when what actually happens is that he twists the lock, so nobody can walk in on the two of you doing something so. . . incongruous with both the classroom around you and the knowledge of what exactly the relationship between you is.

He gives you another one of those half-smiles and you feel a familiar throb in your lower half. Oh, this is unfair – he’s so handsome, so unruffled, so gentle as he takes back his position behind you and touches you again.

“This would feel better on your bare skin,” he murmurs, the words ghosting along you as a politely worded request, and obediently your fingers deftly unbutton your blouse without hesitation. This time, you’re glad that there’s no clatter of lost buttons on the floor – this time, you’re able to push it off your shoulders yourself. Nanami sighs as you let the fabric drop, pooling behind you in a crumpled mess. One of his fingertips traces your spine, raising gooseflesh on the sensitive skin.

“Don’t you have someone at home to do this for you?” He asks, voice soft and low like velvet, as he kneads the skin, tension draining out of you more and more with each passing minute. The question is worded carefully, but both of you know what he’s asking.

“Just me,” you say, as his hands slide forward, thumbs digging into your shoulders but fingers resting over your collarbone, his hands so big on you.

“Pity,” Nanami breathes, but it doesn’t sound like he’s particularly unhappy about it. Your breath catches as he moves from your shoulders, further, further, fingertips brushing the swell of your breast in your (sensible, today) bra. He leans forward, his lips against the shell of your ear. “You can tell me to stop if you want me to.”

“I don’t want you to,” you find yourself saying, and his thin lips curve into a smile that you feel.

“I’m glad,” he murmurs – and then, fingers diving beneath the cups of the bra, kneading the soft flesh, the plush of your body. You’re relaxing bonelessly into his touch when one finger brushes your nipple, sending a frisson of electricity right to the place between your thighs. Your bra straps are slipped off your shoulders, a slight lean forward so he can unclip the thing and let it fall onto the ground. Nanami sighs, almost reverent – when he moves his hand from your chest, you feel their absence keenly, a soft noise of dismay escaping you.

“Pull your chair out,” he says. You do; the legs scraping across the floor. Nanami himself moves so he’s no longer behind you, coming around to the front – casually, unhurriedly lowering himself to his knees in front of you. He reaches up to his face and removes his glasses, laying them neatly on the table to one side of him.

His eyes drink you in and you find your skin prickling with heat. You should be embarrassed; you shouldn’t be here at all, actually, alone in your classroom (again!) with someone’s father (again!), willing to let them look at you and touch you and more (again!). But Nanami reaches in, touching you so gently, fingertips and thumbs delicate as feathers as he strokes over your breast and waist and stomach. As he leans forward and licks a slow, agonising lap over your nipple until it hardens and pebbles, your entire body thrumming with desire. As he sucks it into his mouth, teeth nipping just hard enough at the bud that your body lights on fire, before he kisses a line across your sternum to give the other nipple the same treatment.

He slides his hands past your waist, unbuttoning and unzipping your pencil skirt with one hand, the cotton pulled down over your thighs. Nanami sighs again, cupping your hips, nudging your stockinged knee with his cheek.

“You’re lovely,” he says, affectionate, and it feels so intimate that your heart beats too fast against your chest. “Can I--?” Hands against the sides of your underwear, sliding over you in a way that leaves hot trails of fire behind him. You should be embarrassed that he can clearly see the wet patch, the way the sodden fabric clings to the petals of your sex – but when he’s looking at you like that. . . You can’t make yourself feel it. You nod, sighing, lifting your hips from the seat of the chair to assist in the removal of that particular garment. A light touch on your inner thighs has you spreading your legs further for him, his eyes drinking in the slick folds, the needy glint of your wetness.

He brings his face closer, taking a long breath in, inhaling your scent. The wash of his breath across you on the exhale fans across the length of you, your clit aching with need to be touched, paid attention to. Nanami takes his time, though – your thighs are kissed, first, his lips lingering on the soft skin, suckling gentle love-bites into the flesh. Occasionally, the briefest flash of his teeth, scraping across the sensitive area – always followed by a soothe, a kiss, a lick. Every one of them makes your body bloom into warm needy desire; you can feel how wet you are, know it must be soaking the chair beneath you even before Nanami has used his mouth on you properly.

He huffs out a chuckle as you whine, your hips tilting towards his mouth.

“You want me to use my mouth?” He asks you, his tongue gently lapping at one of the places he’s kissed. “On you, sweetheart?”

“Mm—mmhmm,” you say, breathlessly, not entirely sure that your mind is able to form any coherent sentences with Nanami knelt between your thighs. He places a chaste kiss on the mound above your clit, pulling back.

“Use your words,” he encourages you. There’s a stern dominance to him; coated in fondness, yes, but . . . an order, nonetheless. “I can make you feel so good--”

“Please use your mouth on me,” you whimper, soft as a mouse. Your hand flexes onto the seat of the chair beneath your thighs, and Nanami smiles against your soaking cunt.

“Good girl,” he praises, like liquid honey – and when his tongue finally, finally makes contact with your sex, the other hand has no choice but to curl into his hair as you let out a needy mewl, all of the heat that’s been building up within you since the very first moment you laid eyes on Kento Nanami coming to a point in the crux of his lips and tongue lapping hungrily at your slick.

Your lashes flutter closed, your thighs trembling, as Nanami sates himself on the taste of you, making you relax helplessly into his talented mouth. He knows exactly what he’s doing; the flat, broad strokes against the folds of your cunt, the lower dip of his tongue as he flirts with stretching your hole open with it, the teasing flick of it as it dances, dallies with the idea of your swollen clit.

You can hear the wet sounds of him between your legs, suckling and kissing and licking and lapping – not all of it’s from your slickness, you know, but an embarrassing amount of it is. His tongue pushes into your hole, thrusting a few times, imitating the actions of fingers or cock – and your thighs flex, almost squeezing him between them, your fingers tugging on his hair with a soft squeal of surprise escaping you.

The noise just spurs him on. He fucks you on his tongue for a few more thrusts, before dragging the flat of the muscle through your folds, forcefully parting them (his mouth feels so hot, there), until he can reach the throb of your clit. He uses his tongue to roll the bud, swirling the tip of the muscle around it, drawing patterns over the place that all of your hot, desperate need is concentrated. Your other hand jerks into his hair too, your hips thrusting against his hungry mouth as he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks. You almost white out for a minute over the sheer overwhelming sensation of Nanami’s lips sucking on you, the displacement of air – you’re panting out breathy, whimpering noises, Nanami groaning as he edges you further and further towards your peak.

Fingers on your inner thigh. Nanami’s index finger, liberally coating itself in your slick and Nanami’s spit, dragging down the length of you that isn’t currently being utterly ravaged by Nanami’s lips--

He pushes one lone finger into your entrance, and that pushes you over the edge.

Your walls flutter around him, sucking him deeper inside your plush walls. You bite so hard into your lower lip you think that you might bleed, but it only serves to quiet the moan that escapes you by a little. Nanami groans against you, pumping the finger, sucking on your clit, guiding you over the peaks and mounds of your orgasm as he continues to enjoy the taste of you gushing into his mouth, overwhelming with the syrupy sweet stickiness of just how good you taste.

He guides you, too – with careful, slowing licks, lazier pumps – through the weak aftershocks and trembles of your peak, as they come to a slowly twitching halt. Your eyes are glassy, lips swollen from bits, as he places another chaste kiss over your sensitive clit and pulls back. His finger pops out of you with a wet gush that makes you feel so embarrassed at your own neediness you can barely stand it, but between your thighs Nanami is straightening up, a smug glint to his tired eyes.

“There,” he murmurs, standing, drinking in your quivering body, the slick on your thighs, how dark and satisfied your eyes look as you gaze up at him, half-woozy from the pleasure. “Don’t you feel a little more relaxed, now?”

You’re afraid if you speak you will simply slur your words, your tongue feeling unfamiliar in your mouth. You try and focus on Nanami instead – unfairly tranquil, aside from the wet of his chin, the damp spot darkening his collar. He places the finger that was formerly buried inside you into his mouth, the glint of arousal on it consumed by him with a tilt of the head as if he’s savouring the taste.

You can’t help but notice that there’s an outline of something putting pressure on the fabric of his slacks, there, between his thighs – something that looks hard, and stiff, and uncomfortable. You blink at it through a hazy mind as Nanami goes leans over you, gently taking hold of your chin, checking that you’re alright.

“C-can I help with that?” You manage, only a little bit garbled. Nanami’s eyebrows raise in surprise, a light pink flush to his cheeks – what does he take you for? That you’d let him eat you out so well that your toes curl and then just let him leave without seeing to his own issues?

(It’s a confidence boost, honestly – knowing that he’s hard because of you. You know that this isn’t the kind of man who would fuck you on his tongue in his son’s classroom if he didn’t find you attractive, but still . . . Someone like Nanami, with those cheekbones and those lips and those shoulders, wanting somebody like you?)

“I-- ahh--” He seems nervous about it, a little flustered, clearly not expecting you to offer something like that – but then, you raise one hazy hand and gently pet his crotch through the fabric and he whistles through his teeth, the organ giving a welcoming throb beneath your hand. You swallow at how it responds, the size and heat of it.

“Please?” Plump lower lip caught between your teeth. “I’d like to repay the favour.”

He swallows, raising a hand to loosen his tie. You see the bob of his throat as he moves, pulling out the chair he was sat on before, parting his own knees.

“I’d like that,” he says, and that’s all of the encouragement you need to sink from the chair onto your shaking knees, half-crawl towards him until you’re situated between his thighs. Your hands reach up to his waist, undoing his belt buckle carefully. The heat of his cock radiates through the fabric, brushing against your arm as you undo the belt. As you undo the button. As you tug at the zipper, the noise of the teeth indecently loud. He sighs himself, a hand cupping your cheek. “You’re so pretty,” he says, repeating his earlier compliment. His eyes on your face make you feel hot and flushed, the way he watches you eagle-sharp as your smaller hands reach into his underwear to pull out his already hard cock.

He’s not as big as Toji was, but that doesn’t mean he’s not big. His cock is elegant, a light upward curve, the head ruddy pink and slick with precome – and as you lean forward and let your tongue trace the slit of it, as you taste that same precome in your mouth, he groans quietly. He brings the hand not on your cheek up to his mouth to muffle the noise, and you can’t help but pout.

“Please,” you say. “I want to hear you--”

A pause. He drops his hand, taking a chest-deep breath. His fingers slide across the apple of your cheeks – you know he must be able to sense how warm you are, how shameless and brazen you feel.

You give the head of his cock dainty kitten licks, getting used to feel of him – getting used to the soft breaths he keeps making, the way that the hand on your cheek moves to knit into your hair. You know you’re teasing him, but the way he looks down at you like you’re the one doing him a favour has you all giddy and light headed.

You envelope the head in your waiting mouth, tongue messily lapping at it. It’s been a long time since you’ve done something like this – judging from the sigh escaping Nanami’s lips, the light thrust of his hips, though, you’re not doing too bad of a job on it.

You take him a little further, willing your mouth to open wider. Your tongue is still moving against him sloppily – tracing the veins of his shaft, licking fat stripes where you can manage to get it around. You feel a trickle of drool escape your lips as you widen your mouth a bit more, so much you can feel a light ache in your jaw.

“Fuck,” Nanami breathes, deep and ragged. “Fuck, that’s a good girl.”

The praise just eggs you on further, makes you want to take him deeper – makes you want to win more noises said by that dark, low voice. You push too far and have to pull back a little, your makeup smearing (you’re glad you’d foregone a darker lipstick today), your eyes watering. But you’re determined, and after you’ve managed to draw a choked breath around the cock in your mouth, you’re back on it, kissing and sucking and licking as best you can. Every so often, Nanami will groan from above you, his hips jerking, the hand in your hair guiding you just a little to the left. The other hand comes to cradle your face, so tender and careful with you.

“You feel so good,” he says, soft, like he can barely believe where you are. “Your mouth is so good, sweetheart--”

The flat of your tongue is dragged over the slit, his taste flooding your senses. You squeeze your thighs together, the friction thrilling even considering how slick your cunt still is (you’re grateful that your skirt is dark, because you know you must have soaked through your underwear).

His hips are moving more regularly now, but you can tell that he’s still holding back – that he doesn’t want to roughly fuck your throat, though he easily could. You look up at him with your eyes dark and wide, your lashes trembling, trying to get across that it’s alright for him to do that without having to stop hungrily licking and sucking at his cock. He sees your gaze, your lips wrapped around him, your cheeks hollowed in your attempts to impress, and he breathes out a shaking exhale.

“Is it really okay?” He asks you. “I don’t want to hurt you--”

You hum your affirmative around his cock and his eyes roll back into his head for just a moment, groan escaping his parted lips again, as he begins to rock his hips into your mouth. You gag around it at first – so big, so thick, even though he’s not going that fast yet – but as he begins to pick up his pace, your mouth gets used to moving in tandem with his thrusts and the tugs on your hair.

The ache in your jaw begins to be pleasant; you begin to feel like you’re meant to have it open that wide, that the bump of his cockhead against the back of your throat is right and perfect. His face is flushing, his breath getting shaky – whistling in his chest.

His chest. You stare at the bare collar above the buttons of his shirt, the lean shadows of his collarbone – you think, judging by the broadness of his shoulders, he’s probably built beneath there. You’d love to find out. You’d love to be somewhere other than in the classroom with this man, somewhere where you could learn his body by heart, where the floor beneath your knees isn’t quite so hard--

“Fuck,” he hisses, fingers tightening so hard that you groan, your throat vibrating around his cock. “Sweetheart, my good girl, I’m gonna--”

You hear the warning in his voice and you suck harder, swirl your tongue faster, coaxing him forward – his abdomen flexes under the shirt, his cock juddering in your mouth, pulsing as your mouth suddenly fills with the hot, wet, salty and unmistakable taste of Nanami’s come--

You keep sucking. You keep licking, swallowing pump after pump, draining forth every single drop of his release that you can until he’s shuddering and his cock is softening, his head thrown over the back of the chair to reveal the tempting column of his throat.

He’s taking deep breaths, great heaving ones that his shoulders move in time with, as the last few thunderbolts of his release travel through his body and he groans in the pleasured way that someone who has orgasmed their worries away does.

Nanami’s hand in your hair eases, his breaths evening out from the shakes and groans. His fingers are quiet and affectionate, as you pull back, swallowing the final few drops of his release. He looks down at you with those intense eyes half-lidded, his face briefly free of lines and stress and worry. He sighs, hand diving into the jacket still hung on the chair behind him – when the hand emerges, he’s holding a handkerchief, that he brings up to your face like a lover.

Tenderly, he wipes a bead of his come from the corner of your mouth. The action is so warm, so fond, that you can barely breathe for looking up at him. You feel like you’re knelt at some kind of altar – that Nanami had prayed to you, and now you are responding with your own supplication.

“Are you alright?” He asks you. “Your knees? Your mouth?” He’s so gorgeous; unfairly picked out under the classroom lights, like he doesn’t belong here at all. In another world, he’s avenging like an angel with a weapon in his hand. Now, he’s softly rumpled with his shirt unbuttoned and one of his suspenders fallen down his shoulder, his knees spread wide.

“Yes,” you breathe. He smiles again – he does not grin. His mouth is just a light uptilt, as he leans forward and brushes his lips over your own.

“Good girl,” he murmurs again, the words sending another shiver down your spine. “Do you need some help getting dressed?”

You rise onto unsteady legs and Nanami is there, supporting you carefully, rising with you. He rescues your skirt, your bra – deft fingers re-doing buttons, catching eyes with hooks, zipping up until you look – if not immaculate – at least presentable. Someone who had seen you this morning would probably recognise that your skirt is creased and your blouse is crumpled, that your hair is falling around your face--

Nanami’s fingers capture those strands too, tucking them back behind your ear, smoothing them out. Every single sweep and caress of his fingers makes you feel like you’re about to break into pieces from how soft you feel, how cherished. It’s a stark difference to how you had felt after Toji had swung out of your classroom, leaving you prone and leaking his come.

He leaves you, after you’ve regained your balance, to get your bag and coat, to grab the book you had been reading before this meeting had commenced – and he sets himself to rights with a calm, assured aura. If someone looked closely at him, you think perhaps they’d notice the tie not quite as tight, the hair not quite as neatly swept from his brow – you yourself can barely take your eyes off him. Is there something in the water in this town?

He grasps his briefcase, clips his glasses into the top pocket of his suit jacket instead of placing them back on his nose. His entire being seems to have lost tension, his eyes not quite as tired, his shoulders not quite as strained. As he finished, he comes to stand beside you – an arm gallantly curving around your waist just loosely enough that the touch could be read as friendly and not romantic. As the two of you walk across the classroom, he says quietly;

“You really should relax, you know. You don’t have anything to worry about. Yuji adores you, and I’m sure the rest of the children do too.”

(Your cheeks heat, the compliment warm and convincing in the sonorous bass of Nanami’s voice).

“Even Gojo isn’t permanent,” he says. “Anybody would be lucky to end up with you.” A cough. “That’s . . . as a teacher and in other ways.”

He pauses at the door, unlocking it with a final click that feels like he is saying that this little adventure has truly come to its natural end. His eyes linger affectionately on your face, a brief touch of hesitation colouring his features – before, once more, he leans in and brushes his lips against yours with a feather-soft touch that has you gasping in surprise against his mouth. The hand not on the briefcase takes your own hand, fingers entangling, and if you had thought your face was warm before, you’re quickly taught that you didn’t know what heat was.

He draws back a little breathlessly.

“I hope you’ll continue working with Yuji,” he says, sincerely. “And perhaps, if it’s agreeable to you-- perhaps we could schedule a catch-up meeting in a few weeks? So I may see. . . how things are progressing?”

“Of course, Sir,” you say, words very breathy.

When you get home tonight, and probably for the next few weeks, you’ll take a really good look at the grading rubric. You know. For the kids. Not because of Nanami’s sharp cheekbones and wicked tongue and the glint that had been in his eye when he had pressed his mouth against your heated core – not because of how his cock had felt heavy and thick in your mouth, and how it would feel pressed inside of you--

Nope. Not at all.

Definitely for Nanami’s son.

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami x you #jjk x reader #afab reader #fem pronouns #writing #jjk teacher aid au #jjk writing tag

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dokifluffs · 4 years ago

Text

Oh This Should Be Good | Sakusa Kiyoomi

Pairing: Sakusa X Reader (female)

Genre: fluff, comedy?

Author’s Note: @makeusfreefromthisfandom and I are doing a seasonal challenge where we give each other prompts! You can read her’s here to the prompt I gave her! and here, you can obviously read mine with the prompt she gave me:

“Ahaha this is random but imagine his daughter asking him where babies come from 😭“

Also note: I like to write Sakusa as if he’s getting help with his germaphobia like slowly over time, as challenging as it is, he’s trying to change and be better with people he loves and cares about like his partner and perhaps offspring. Even though this would be kind of out of his canon character, I like to write him like this so he’s a more flexible character to write for.

Warning: Timeskip spoilers ah ha ha, parents, kids, married characters

D/N = Daughter’s name

gif from @rivaillerose 💛

“Daddy!” Sakusa and your little girl ran towards her father, grabbing a hold of him around the waist as he stepped into the living room, finally getting a rare day off now that baby number two was on their way

“Morning, pumpkin,” he stifled a yawn as he patted her back, messing with her hair up before she let go of him in a fit of giggles, following him

“Will you play with me today?”

“What do you mean, I always play with you,” he slid down on the wooden floors, making himself comfortable as he leaned back against the couch, now at the same eye level with his precious jewel

All she could do was smile as bright as the sun, her laughter echoing throughout the living space as the sunlight poured in

She truly was such a little angel, it amazed Sakusa still to this day how far he and his growing family was coming

Naturally, his smile matched hers

He relaxed as he let the day go by, his daughter playing around him, playing with her toys, occasionally watching the cartoons

“What are you doing?” She leaned into his side as he wrapped an arm around her to make sure she didn’t fall or slip in any way as she peered at what he was doing

“I’m just-“ but before he could answer, his phone rang as he faced himself in his pwn phones reflection

He could see the visible relaxation and smile disappear as soon as he saw the contact names

“Don’t answer #1, Don’t answer #2, and don’t answer #3”

Despite their contact names, he still answered, internally praying that he wouldn’t regret this call

“Oi Hinata, you were right, I owe ya five bucks since he answered,” Atsumu’s accent sounded over the call

“Sakusa, hey hey hey!” Bokuto the bright star called through the phone

“Uncle Bo!” Your daughter jumped against her father as she held onto his wrist until Sakusa lowered the phone, letting her see her “uncles”

Though he never agreed to let them be her uncles

“Oh! Mini Sakusa!” All three of their eyes twinkled as they all beamed looking to your guys’ daughter as if she was their own

“What do you guys want?”

“So cold, Omi~” Atsumu whined. “You haven’t been at practice for so long, the scrimmages haven’t been the same.”

“But it’s also nice not to worry about blocking or trying to dig Sakusa’s nasty cut shots cause of his wrists…” Hinata smiled looking relieved

“Oh! How’s Y/N’s pregnancy? Did you guys find out the gender yet?” Bokuto chimed

“She’s doing alright and no, we wanted it to be a surprise..” Sakusa replied

“Daddy?”

“Hm?” Sakusa looked to her as she now made herself comfortable in his lap as he leaned forward, putting the phone down

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close

“Where’s mommy?”

“She’s-“

“Right here~” you waddled down the hall, your hair and clothes disheveled, unknowingly disrupting sakusa

“Mommy!” Your little girl sprung from Sakusa’s lap, making her way to you, latching her arms around your belly as best as you could

“Careful, D/N,” Sakusa worried seeing how she ran up to you, trowing your arms against her belly

“Why?” She held onto your hand as you walked toward the couch Sakusa leaned himself against before you lead her to sit down in his lap once again

“Oh, the Jackals. Hi guys,” you waved as you laid yourself down on your side on the couch, your head

“Y/N!” They all chimed, as if they all shared the same brain cell

this only confirmed Sakusa’s theory the more they said or did things simultaneously

“How’s pregnancy?” Atsumu chimed as he clearly lounged about in his own apartment

“Tiring,” you spoke just loud enough for the phones mic to catch what you said as you looped your arm around his shoulders, reaching for his hand to which he linked together

“But a lot more manageable since we know what to expect,” you yawned into your shirt, a habit you picked up from being with Sakusa

He used to cringe and shy away at your touch but now he didn’t even think twice about yours or D/N’s

“Hm, we’ll be uncles for more kids,” hinata beamed

“We didn’t even say-“

“The best uncles,” you nudged Sakusa’s shoulder playfully to which he just sighed, squeezing your hand in return

“Speaking of tired, why aren’t you sleeping in bed?” Sakusa turned his head, letting it rest on the edge of the couch as you brought your hand through his hair

“I didn’t want to sleep alone, plus it sounded so fun out here, how could I miss out on all the fun?” You reached down, booking your daughter’s nose as she stared at you

And then your belly

“Daddy?” She stood in between his legs as all the adults watched, curious at her next words

“Where do babies come from?” She stared with her wide eyes at Sakusa as you snickered, burying your head into his shoulders, eyes heavy

Atsumu choked on the water, doing a small spit tic as Hinata paused his game to laugh

Bokuto erupted into a big fit of laughter, enough to wake Akaashi beside him before he shushed him, cuddling him back to sleep but this is a different story

“Oh this should be good..” you laughed as all eyes fell upon Sakusa, the laughter dying down and being held in his teammates’ mouths as they awaited

“Uh...” Sakusa’s mind raced as he panicked

he knew this question would come up at some point

but not like this

at least not now

your eyebrow raised naturally as sakusa’s breathing picked up

“Next question...” he changed the subject, not ready to answer

“But what about babies? How did one get in mommy’s tummy?”

“Yeah, omi, how?” you joined in on the fun only to be on the receiving end of Sakusa’s famous glare that only softened for you after a second

Now sakusa really regretting answering the call

“It’s a secret, you’re not old enough to know yet,” Sakusa evaded

“Aw, but-”

“Next question, pumpkin,” He looked to her as if pretending it was just the two of them, parting her raven hair, ticking it behind her little ear

“Oh Omi, your ears are so adorably red and hot,” you teased, brushing your finger along the back of his bright red ears, purposefully pointing them out as the jackals laughed too

the day continued with good memories as were made

He never thought he would feel this way in his life but

If he told himself 4-6 years ago that he would be married, let alone go on a date with someone and actually tolerate them, he wouldn’t have believed himself

but now he was grateful that you had crossed his path

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

ALSO! Reference meme I made: this tik tok sound

Tags (let me know if you wanna be tagged for all my haikyuu posts): @yams046 @mazey-chan @sunboikyo00 @kara-grayson04 @fortheloveofbakugo @tsumtsumsemi @1-800-wholesome @yamagucci @realityisoftendisapointing @plantisnotplant @pink-panda-pancakes @differentballooncollection @osamusamusamu@therainroguefanfiction @euphorihan @turquoiselace @macaronnv @oxmaddy @mrkoala4prsdnt @curiouslilbeast @plantisnotplant@therestless101 @abcdaichi @oyasenpai @kaaidalupita @lovinnoya @wisepandaslimeland @killuaking @kattykurr @bbymilkbread @tsumtsumland @suunikimchi @woah-there-cowboy-or-cowgirl @amandahh626 @nabisonyeo94 @wntrmn @dai-tsukki-desu @peteunderoos @ohyoumakemelive @aka-a-shii @shinhiromi @wompwomphq @lollypop-lam @isentsworld @blue-melody @u-wakatoshii @moondriplets @lovinnoya @yuueisteria @humanitysbiggestsimp @cjphoenix135 @inarizaki-captain @closetfurrytsukishima @chibichab @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @kuroosbixh @lavearchives @sweet-sour-devil-ish @daichis-kitty @creepyproxies @itsmarziapei @skyh20 @yehetstudies @that-chick212 @proherotheflamehashira

#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu dads #sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa imagines #sakusa x reader #sakusa headcanons #haikyuu headcanons #sakusa kiyoomi imagines #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi headcanons #sakusa kiyoomi scenarios #sakusa scenarios #dokifluffs #pregnant reader #haikyuu domestic

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absolutelyfizzing · 4 years ago

Text

Motherly

Harry x reader

Description - Y/N loves taking care of her friends but after a night of drinking it seems like they don't want her to. She worries that they might not want her around and panics. They ease her worries and harry has something to confess.

Word count - 4700 (my god that seems excessive)

Warnings - insecure reader, mentions of eating, female pronouns, some description of panic attack, underage drinking, maybe a little ooc for harry at the beginning. angst at the beginning but it turns into fluff. If you just want the heartbreak you could stop halfway through cause thats a mood and same.

A/N - I had to bring Luna into this because she is an angel and the love of my life. Harry is my favorite idiot and Ron is an angel. Anyway I'm done, just a notice that there is description of a mild panic attack, this is based on how they feel for me. The insecurities are also based on me. This is just to say that this in no way means that this writing is supposed to be universal and i in no way mean to offend.

MASTERLIST

You had been taking care of Harry for as long as you had known him. When you met him on the train you realized that you wanted to protect him and keep him safe. He had already been through enough. Unfortunately, that didn't exactly work out. Over the years you would try to help him but he inevitably found himself in deep trouble and in need of help. You were always happy to fill that role, not that you were always successful. You would do anything for him. especially once you realized that you had real and hard feelings for the young wizard. You saw him and the way he looked at other girls, you knew he didn't like you in that way. So instead of saying anything, you just didn't mention it and continued to give him your all.

You took care of all of your friends most of the time. You enjoyed being needed. That was why, while standing in the corner of the party, you were ready to step in to help any of your friends. There was almost always a party after every match and Harry normally got pretty wasted. You stayed sober most of the time so you could take care of your friends if you needed to. You had held Hermione's hair back multiple times. She partied rarely but when she did it was intense. You also liked to keep your eye on Harry who would get decidedly out of it and would often find himself passed out somewhere uncomfortable or unable to keep his dinner down. You felt his eyes on you and he made his way towards you. You could tell from looking at him that he was properly wasted. He wasn't blackout but a few more drinks and he would be. You smiled at him as brightly as you could.

"Why aren't you drinking?" He slurred. His face was contorted in confusion and you felt your smile falter for a second, not that he noticed.

"I just wanna be ready in case someone needs me. You know how 'Mione gets." You smiled and nodded over to where Hermione was passed out on the couch.

"It's not your responsibility though, you don't have to take care of everyone." He mumbled and you thought you heard anger in his voice. Like he was annoyed at you. You just looked at him with kind eyes and a questioning gaze. You tried to not look offended but you didn't know what he was implying. Before you could ask, Harry spoke again. "You act like you're the mom of the group, that you have to take care of everyone. You don't need to do that." He seemed exasperated.

"I don't mind. I like being able to help." You smiled at him, trying to explain your mindset to a very drunk harry.

"I never said you didn't like it but nobody else does. I didn't ask you to try and be my mum, okay?" He grumbled out and turned away like he hadn't just said something very upsetting to you. You felt your smile falter for a moment before you took a deep breath. It was fine. You needed to move on. You made your way to the couch Hermione was laying across and you leant down to her level. Your hand brushed the thick hair out of her face and you tried to gently wake her up.

" 'Mione? I'm gonna head up to bed, do you need anything?" You asked, sort of hoping that she would say yes. You found a lot of your purpose in others needing you and after the rejection you just faced from Harry you were hoping for someone to say they wanted you around.

Hermione's face scrunched up before her eyes opened. "No, I don't need anything. Please just leave me alone Y/N? I know you're like needy or whatever but I'm trying to have a fun night for once." She mumbled the last part under her breath but you heard it perfectly clear. You could feel your heart rate increase as you began to panic. Was this always the case? You were overly needy and you acted like it was for the benefit of others? You never wanted to make anyone feel smothered but you thought you were helping. You looked around the room desperately, trying to find someone who would confirm to you that you were important to them. That someone needed you. Your eyes met those of your best ginger friend who was sufficiently wasted. You began to walk over to him but he quickly tried to bolt out of your line of sight and you stopped in your tracks. You felt tears well up and you took a deep breath. You knew you were no longer wanted in your group of friends, at least not at a time when they were all trying to let loose. You understood and you tried not to be offended. You knew you were a lot to deal with sometimes and that your instinct to care could be smothering. You turned to the portrait hole and left the common room. You didn't know where you were planning on going but it was not going to be where you came from. If your friends needed space then you would give it to them. You just wanted them to be happiest.

You ended up wandering the halls for a long time. You didn't have a particular purpose besides just not being in the common room and you didn't want to go back until you thought most people would probably be asleep. About 2 hours after you had left, you headed back toward the portrait hole. After whispering the password you entered the now quiet room where you saw your friends and a few others passed out around the place. You sighed and pushed the bad feelings away before getting to taking care of them. Ron and Harry were near each other, propped up against the wall, cups of alcohol around them. You grabbed a couple pillows and blankets and brought them over to them. You set the pillows down and slowly maneuvered both boys so they were laying comfortably with warm blankets on top of them. You spent an extra second to brush Harry's black hair out of his face and you traced his scar lightly. You remembered his words from earlier and quickly moved away, fearing he would wake up and remind you that he didn't want you taking care of him.

You made your way to Hermione who you managed to wake a bit. She was not as grumpy as she had been earlier and you slung one of her arms over your shoulders, slowly getting both of you up the stairs and to the dorms. You placed her on her bed and removed her shoes. You then grabbed a makeup removing pad and got to work on cleaning her face. She was normally religious about her skincare routine and so you thought she might appreciate getting her face clean so she distant sleep in her makeup.

You sighed a bit as you tucked her into her bad, her eyes closed and she had drifted off to sleep a while ago. You decided that if they said anything about their distain for your mothering tendencies tomorrow, then you would stop. You hoped though that their words were only spoken because they were drunk, not because they only had the courage to tell you when they were drunk.

The next morning you heard Hermione grumble from the bed beside you, you knew her hangover would probably be rough so you got up quickly to grab her a glass of water, feeling the urge to make her morning easier. When you saw the look on her face, you wished you would have stayed in bed. You were walking toward her, water in hand but she was glaring right through you.

"You know I can do that myself, right? I'm not a baby." She huffed and you blinked at her. You didn't know why it seemed that all of a sudden your friends no longer wanted you to be around them.

"Sorry" You mumbled and you set the glass down on her nightstand, quickly going back to your bed and dressing, rushing out of the room to make your way to the dining hall. Your stomach was in knots as you reflected on the things your friends had treated you the night before. Tears pricked at your eyes. It was still very early in the morning so you were thankful to see that there were very few people at the large tables. You made your way to an empty spot and sat down, slightly wondering why you came at all. You supposed it was out of habit but you were not in any way hungry, stress filling the space that food usually would. You instead grabbed a goblet and filled it with water and drank slowly and quietly, contemplating how you would move throughout the day. There was suddenly a presence beside you and you looked to your left to see none other than Luna Lovegood. Her blue tie was knotted in a way that made it look like a butterfly and you couldn't help but feel a bit better at the sight. She smiled gently at you and you patted the space next to you as a gesture for her to sit down.

"You seem off today" She stated in a matter of fact sort of way, as if it was not up for debate. You pondered your next words carefully.

"Luna, do you think I act overly motherly?" You asked softly and she looked at you knowingly. she reached over to you and played with a bit of your hair before putting her hand back in her lap.

"I would say that you act motherly, there is a bit of a gray area in 'overly'." She stated simply. You sighed a bit at the realization that nobody wanted you to be this way. Luna wrapped one pinky around one of yours and pulled your hand into the space between you two. While holding pinkies she smiled at you. "I know sometimes people don't like being reliant on others, I know that some of your friends are reliant on you. Your love language is acts of service and care and that doesn't make you overbearing. I'm also guessing your friends wouldn't last very long without you taking care of them." She blinked at you before getting up and heading back to her friends at the Ravenclaw table. You smiled after the strange girl and you forgot about why you were upset for a moment. That moment unfortunately left fairly quickly when you saw red hair enter your line of sight. Ron and Harry made their way over to the table with sour looks on their face. They sat across from you but kept their eyes down. You thought for a moment about speaking but you were too worried. You simply chugged the rest of your water and smiled at the boys who met your eyes briefly. You stood and hurried to leave the hall, not wanting to upset anyone but feeling anxiety creep up you arms. You liked taking care of people, it was what you wished someone would do for you. It made you feel wanted and being wanted was essential to your self esteem. You placed a lot of your worth on what you could offer others and when you no longer felt you were wanted or needed, the rest of the wall began to crumble as well. You decided that if your friends didn't want you to be overbearing then you would try to stay out of their way. You just wanted them to be comfortable.

You made your way to the dorm, Hermione heading out as you walked in. You offered her a kind smile which she slightly reciprocated. She braced herself for questions about her state but none came. You were already through the portrait hole before she could really process that you hadn't said anything to her. That was very unlike you. She knew she had been grumpy that morning but she figured you would understand. She brushed off her bad feeling though and began moving quicker toward the dining hall. When she got to the long tables she spotted the boys she needed to speak to. They looked up at her with tired eyes, all of them feeling the effects of the night before.

"Did you notice anything weird about Y/N this morning?" She questioned lightly, trying to to speak too loud and upset any of their headaches.

"We thought you might know what was going on. She didn't even talk to us." Harry stated rather worriedly. All of them conversed about why you might be acting strange but couldn't come up with any big reasons unless something happened the night before. None of them exactly remembered any details so it was a bit hard to tell.

Back in the dorm room you tried to calm your breathing as you gathered your books. Your eyes stung with tears and you questioned whether your friends even liked you. You wished one of them wouldn't have pushed you away last night but now you felt that maybe they all disliked you and just kept you around out of pity. You made the decision that you would not take care of them. You didn't want them to be upset at you and maybe if you showed them you could be independent then they wouldn't feel the need to humor you.

You made your way to your first class, eyes slightly swollen and hands shaky. You knew you would have to sit next to Harry like you always did but you expected you wouldn't have any issues with avoiding annoying him. He wasn't one to ask questions and he was normally pretty oblivious.

Still, when you say down you felt his eyes on you. You looked over at him, smiling for a moment when your eyes met his before turning back to the front of the class. The rest of the period felt odd to both of you.

Normally, you would do little things for Harry during class. You would whisper help to him under your breath, fix his spelling when he needed it, find the right page in his book when he couldn't, and so on. When you didn't do that, he felt a bit lost. You weren't acting off in any way besides your lack of taking care of him. He wanted to ask what was wrong but by the time class ended and there was a moment to get a word in, you were already out the classroom door. You knew you had to get out of there before Harry noticed the way that tears were trying to fall from your eyes.

You felt your lungs contract in sadness as you rushed through the corridors, trying to get to your next class. It would be a bit of a challenge because it was with Hermione. She usually got help with flash cards and corrections from you, both of you being very smart in your studies. Instead, today you were quiet. She wondered if she should ask but she had never had to before and if you were upset then she didn't want to make it any worse. Instead she worked quietly and glanced at you occasionally. She noticed the bags under your eyes and how your face was a bit puffy. She grew concerned that you were upset about how she acted that morning. She decided she would talk to you as soon as class was over.

Unfortunately you left class before she could. You hurried out of class, Hermione calling a bit after you but you didn't hear her and she got too caught up in the crowd to reach you. Ron, the least likely to ask questions, stopped you in the masses in the hallway. People swirled around you two and he gave you a worried look. You noticed that he had dirt on his face, not an odd occurrence with the redhead, but you tried to prevent yourself from fixing it. Normally you would rub at it while he grumbled and you would laugh it off because you felt useful. Now, seeing the patch of dirt and not wanting to make him uncomfortable by fixing it, you just felt upset. Ron's hand on your arms tightened a bit when you made a move to leave.

"Y/N, whats wrong?" Ron seemed genuinely concerned. You felt so confused. One day they didn't want you near them and the now it seemed that they could tell something was off. You though they would be happy to have you off their back. Instead of answering Ron, your breath left your lungs. You could feel the space around you tighten and your hands went numb and your breathing picked up. Ron recognized this behavior of yours but he had never dealt with it on his own. He thought of what Hermione would do and pulled you into his chest to block you from the slowly decreasing traffic around you both. He felt your hands hold onto the front of his cloaks and your shoulders shook with what he guessed was crying. He spotted a bush of big hair and a mop of black in the crowd and he shot his hand up, hoping to catch their attention. They spotted him and made their way over.

By the time they arrived the crowds of the halls were pretty much dissipated and you had yet to slow your panicking. Your breath was rapid and your hands shook, you couldn't let go of Ron's cloak but he made no move to remove you. They all were silently grateful that this was a free period for all of you.

"What happened? Ron, what did you do?" Hermione accused and he glared at her.

"I just grabbed her in the hall to talk and she got all panicky, I was trying to do that thing you do with her but I don't think it worked." He mumbled. He felt guilty that he didn't know how to help you but he was glad to have the brains of the operation there now to fix whatever he did wrong.

"Sorry Ron, you're trying your best." Hermione mumbled her apology before speaking softly to you. "Y/N? Honey? Are you alright?" She tried to be gentle and she brought her hand up to rest on your shoulder. You flinched at the contact so she removed the hand. You felt Ron move and for some reason that startled you into the realization that you were holding onto him and he probably didn't want that. You let go of him quickly and stepped back from him a bit, a scared look on your face.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry" You mumbled and your legs nearly gave out. Harry wrapped you in his arms and sunk to the ground so you were both sitting. He started to stroke your hair slowly and rub your back, knowing those are things that you had done for them when they were upset.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for, Y/N. It's okay" Harry whispered in your ear and you let out a choked sob.

"I do though- I do, I have to apologize. I'm sorry that I have to take care of you and I smother you. I promise I don't mean to and I know it's-"

"Whoa whoa whats going on? Who said anything about smothering?" Harry asked genuinely and you sniffled before realizing they didn't remember what they said.

"You did." They barely head the small whisper and they all looked at each other. None of them could remember what they said last night but they all felt guilty instantly. They were all the kind of people that would sometimes get snappy when they drank but they normally didn't all drink at the same time. This meant that there was someone with you to take the heat and that there was someone there to rationalize it with you. They remembered that they had all drank except you and they deduced that they must have snapped at you at the same time.

"We are so sorry, Y/N" Hermione started. "You know how we get, it was not about you. Oh god I'm so sorry." She put her face in her hands and she though about how you had reacted when she got snappy this morning, you must have already been sensitive to it and she had pushed you over the edge.

"I promise we didn't mean anything we said, we love that you keep us in check, Y/N." Ron chimed in and Harry hummed in agreement along side him. You shook your head a bit, not believing them. You were so sure that you bothered them and at this moment they were trying to help out of pity.

"It's okay, you guys don't have to deal with it if you don't want to. I'm sorry I've to act so motherly and I-" You continued rambling but Harry felt something click in his head. He remembered saying that you acted motherly and he felt his stomach turn. He grabbed your head and pulled it into him so he could kiss your hair.

"You are perfect, Y/N" he mumbled. "We are just idiots who say stupid stuff when we're drunk. Please don't blame yourself, you haven't done anything wrong." Your shaking was lessened and you lifted your head a bit.

"Ron didn't actually say anything, he just booked it when he saw me." You almost chuckled and you reminded yourself that that was what he did to everyone when he drank. They laughed along as well, just thrilled that you were no longer having a panic attack.

"Let's go to the great hall and get you some water, yeah?" Hermione asked and you nodded.

Harry helped get you up by getting up first and then lifting you by your waist to standing. He held you there for a moment to see if you were stable enough on your own and you were. You turned to Ron and licked a thumb before rubbing the dirt off of his face. He grumbled significantly less this time than he normally would and Hermione and Harry looked at each other in relief. You all made your way to the great hall where you got some water and snacks. Pretty soon you were feeling much better and you decided you were going to take the rest of the day off and walk to the black lake. Harry volunteered to go with you and he nodded at Hermione and Ron to let them know that it was okay to leave.

You both walked rather quietly to the lake, it was a rare occasion that both you and Harry were alone and that it was sunny outside. Your face warmed in the sun and your eyes closed as you walked, trying to be careful not to trip. Eventually you both made it next to the lake and you set your robe down for you and harry to sit on. Your heart sped up at the lack of space between you two but you didn't want to push him closer out of fear of him leaving. His words had affected you the most last night and you hadn't forgotten them. As if sensing your unease, he spoke up.

"I am truly sorry, you know." He mumbled guiltily and you looked over at him.

"I know, it's okay. All is forgi-"

"No, I'm really sorry, Y/N. I know I hurt you last night and I couldn't regret it more." He insisted and you felt tears come back. You weren't panicking or even sad, you were both happy that he recognized his words and still vaguely worried he meant them.

"Did you mean any of it?" You almost whispered and Harry's heart twinged.

"Of course not." He stated. You gave him a look that said to cut the bull shit. "I didn't. You do act motherly, but that doesn't mean we don't all like it." You couldn't decide if that made you feel better or not. "Can I tell you something that might embarrass me?" He asked hesitantly and you nodded. "You are the person who has taken care of me the most in my life." You gave him a questioning look.

"Look, since I got on that train 6 years ago you have been there for me, you've taken care of me and tried to help me, even when I was being a jerk. You never made fun of me for not always getting good marks, you're at every quidditch match, you always listen when I get upset at what I am getting put through. You act more like a caretaker for me than anyone ever has." He was speaking so softly that it barely sounded like him. You felt a tear roll down your face and before you had a chance to wipe it away, he did. His hand brushed under your eye and then went back into his lap. "I feel guilty that I cant give the same back to you and-"

"Harry, you don't have to-"

"Please let me finish." He pleaded and he put his hand on top of your in your lap. You nodded again. "I care about you more than anyone else and I cant help but feel that I would never be able to repay you for all you've done for me. For all the support you've given me." He took a deep breath. "I think that last night, in my messed up and drunk mind, I thought that pushing you to stop taking care of me would make it so that I wouldn't feel guilty for not being able to do the same for you. And I know that that didn't work at all and of course that is the worst way possible to go about that but I just want you to know that it was all on me and it had nothing to do with how you behave. I love all that you do for me, I just never know how to give it back." When he was done you tackled him in a hug. His arms wrapped around you as well and you smiled into the hug. When you pulled back there was a blush on his cheeks.

"You know, I was talking to Luna earlier and she mentioned that my love language is acts of service."

"Love that girl" Harry mumbled passively as he remembered all the times that she had given him strange and profound knowledge that he didn't know he needed.

"Agreed. Anyway, it just reminded me that it's the way I show that I care. I like to be needed and I like to help. I don't need anything in return, I appreciate all of the ways that you guys show you care about me." You smiled. "Hermione always reminds me about the homework and makes sure I go to bed on time, even if it means she has to stop studying too. Ron always reminds me to eat and how much his family loves me, sort of implying that he does too even if he wont say it. And you always give me hugs after quidditch matches and you give me your extra chocolate frogs. That's all I will ever need from you, you don't owe me anything for me just trying to show that I care." When you were finished, Harry was beaming at you.

"I love you." He suddenly blurted.

"I love you to-"

"No I mean like love you love you. Like I have romantic feeling for you." He pushed out and he felt his heart pound in his chest in fear. You smiled at him.

"I feel the same way about you. I love you too" You beamed and he sighed in relief before pulling you into him to kiss you. You spent rest of the day by the black lake, basking in the sun and each other.

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honey-lemonz · 4 years ago

Text

From wattpad:

Xmale reader

3rd pov

Sexual Content is included move on if not comfortable with

Includes:masturbation, but plug, dildo, getting caught, slight degrading rough and passionate sex, multiple orgasms, sexual frustrated Obanai.

Request by:EMOPHASEWHENIWASAKID

(Some parts by me other by the Request..)

(if you read American boy here is your smut that I never added. Taisho era)

For almost two years the sun pillar was sent away on an expedition mission to northern Japan, the rumor of the blue spider lily was heard around. A rumor that sounded so true that Muzan may go there himself.

The pillar wasn't sent for the flower he was sent for the upper moon that could be sent or the demon lord himself.

Leaving behind his younger siblings, Tanjiro and Nezuko who was demon. He was also leaving his lover. Iguro Obanai the serpent pillar.

Obanai understood reasons they sent him. He could handle the cold and could handle the upper moon without and problems..its just..

Its been two whole years without him. That meant no one to come home to at their home. Kaburamaru had no ball of sunshine that could let him sleep in his hair. But for obanai it was worst.

Two years sexually frustrated.

Obanai has tried many things even taken suggestions from others. Nothing.

He could get off on just memories or the kimono's he wore that were left behind. He has sent letters but most were professional ones. Not any promising any punishment or any reward when he would return. It would get to were he would put a but plug in his ass just to satisfy the itch that his lovers cock could get to.

He had to be feeling the same way? Right?

Or was someone else pleasuring him? No he couldn't, Obanai knew. Only he could satisfy his lover the best.

The serpent pillar sat on the back patio of his shared home. For the time being he had finished taking another nap. He had a dream about a fantasy about his lover returning and fucking him ruthlessly.

But a dream is only as good as you make it.

He walked back to the futon on the floor. Feeling the arousal slowly makings its way out of his tight heat. The but plug wasn't going to work anymore. He needed something fucking him, penetrating him.

Pulling the (favorite color) toy out of his hole, leaving it gaping and stretched. Obanai whined at the loss full feeling. But he got up and went into the bathroom. In a small black box were a box full of toys Obanai had even before meeting his lover.

But after meeting him..they weren't needed at all.

Obanai squatted and looked inside for the dildo he wanted. He found one that was about 5 and half inches and was a good 2 inches wide. It should do for now.

In these two years he has been a horny mess. Constantly needing something to please him and the uphill battle of his needs. He just wanted his lover back to please all those needs.

God it was infuriating.

Obanai's own cock was still hard as when he woke up from his nap. Tip red and need of attention. It was painful but still didn't go away. He just could not finish.

Obanai sat down on the silicone dildo and moaned at the feeling. it wasn't a bratty or a desirable one just a moan of something inside him. It filled a good percent but not enough to reach his prostate. Obanai started to move up and down, bouncing on the dildo.

His white kimono slipping off his shoulders, showing his smooth skin and none marked skin. that was another whole problem he didn't like.

Trying to get down to the hilt of the dildo to at least graze his prostate to ease the itch, he was moaning and gasping at the fullness. Maybe this time his needs would be met.

Obanai was stroking himself and teasing his nipples, the sensitive buds were being pulled at and pinched, leaving the pillar awe struck.

Moaning his lovers name as if it was a cry or a plea. Obanai speed up his pace, moving to lye on his back and use his hands. One hand stroking himself the other using the dildo to fuck himself. He was so close, eyes becoming glossy at the feeling.

"(M?N) FUCK~! Fuck, fuck, shit, please my love come fuck me.." he was crying for his dear lover. The dildo wasn't hitting the right spots no more, and the itch grew even more harsh. His toes curling and his head thrown back on the futon.

"Why when your obviously doing it yourself? Having a hard time getting off my cute little baby?"

Obanai froze. His eyes snap open to see his love sitting cross legged on the opposite side of the room. He was in his uniform, (favorite color) but plug in hand inspecting it. "So this is what you have been doing while I have been away. Begging me to come home and fuck you silly like the slut you are? That's quite surprising isn't it."

His words weren't hurtful just teasing. Obanai could see the large bugle growing in his pants. The sun pillar had his hair down which rested the floor. His uniform at the top was slightly unbuttoned at the showing his chest and abdomen. His eyes had bags under them. But his eyes..

Something Obanai has only seen a handful of times.

Eyes were darker and burning with a lust. His stare and hoarse voice was enough to set the tone.

Obanai felt his cock twitch and he moaned out a spur of curses.

"Now your having dry orgasms by just my appearance? You must be a desperate little whore today aren't you?" He didn't move from his spot what so ever.

Just drinking in on his expression. It was filling and made both Obanai and (M/n) twitch.

"Please, my love its been two fucking years with out you,please fuck me.." The sun pillar chuckled. "So my cutie is begging to be fucked? That's unlike you Obanai. If you can fuck yourself can't yo get off?"

Obanai groaned at the teasing. He just wanted him to fuck him.

The an idea came to him.

His lover looked too calm for him. He needed him to get to his level of arousal, by being a fucking brat about things. if he wanted to get fucked he needed to do more.

"No."

The eyes on the sun pillar widen.

"Why no then cutie? I just saw you so continue."

"No. I want you to fuck me. Unless you've lost your touch." Obanai said getting a little more confident. If keep going he would get the punishment he deserved.

"If my dildo was that close than what says you? I've used them plenty since you left two years ago. SO why don't you come over here and fuck me. Or has the sun pillar found a better bottom bitch to fuck?"

That set the fuel to the flame.

Calm and collected turned to possessive and aroused.

(M/n) was possessive of Obanai, he loved him and only him. Insinuating that he found a better person to fuck made the calm pillar pissed. Obanai knew this, because his lover can get jealous and possessive he knew what he did.

And is getting what he wanted.

The sun pillar was on Obanai in less than a second.

Choking his neck tightly and pinning his hands above his head. Eyes that were usually full of love and kindness, were dark with lust and irritation. He knew his words were empty but couldn't let it up.

"Why when I have a bratty bottom slut here? You want to piss me off for a good fuck cutie? You want me to pound you, make sure you can't walk for a fucking year?"

Obanai had another dry orgasm from his words. This is what two years of a pent up sun pillar was..

Then he should be sent off more often. ( Empty threat.) He hasn't even touched him fully for him to even think like that. The red headed male unbuttoned the rest of his uniform, not having the patience to take off all of his clothes. He undid the belt, taking the hands off of Obanais wrist.

His cock sprung free.

Oh how Obanai wanted to suck him off and tease him. But now wasn't the time.

(M/n) pulled the dildo out and scowled at it.

"Such a pathetic size, this trying to please your for that long, no wonder you couldn't get off cutie..don't worry we'll fix that..

positioning him at Obana's desperate hole, he slammed into him.

"Now!"

Obanai threw his head back and scream. His cock spurted long ropes of cum. Something he couldn't do until now.

"Cumming already? We just started, you really were a desperate slut?" He slammed into him again. Ever word followed a thrust, each time hitting Obanai's prostate and making his see stars. (M/n)'s past wasn't fast or slow. Just from Obanai challenging him made him almost bust a load.

The hand around Obanai's neck tightened, pushing on certain spots to not restrict air, just to make him a little dizzy. Obanai's toes curled as his lover slammed his cock into his tight heat all while degrading him.

His reward.

(M/n) pushed his legs to his chest, making his cock go even deeper into Obanai's dripping heat. He was truly surprised, he was that pent up himself. He didn't even have time to masturbate himself on the expedition.

"Fuck, my cutie your so cute looking fucked out of your mind. Is that what you wanted? To get fucked stupid by me?"

Incoherent word mumbled back a response.

"Yes..please~ fuck..*hic* me more~" He was hiccuping from the tears. The long haired pillar nodded and made sure to aim for his prostate and to basically abuse it as best as he could. Sweat ran down his forehead, making his hair stick to it. The white shirt underneath the black on was sticking to the sides of his torso.

Obanai's eyes had tears brimming out, drool slipping from his lips. His hands held his legs to his chest, hair spread out on the futon all around him. Moans and shouts, hollers and begs came out of his mouth without a care of who heard.

That's what the larger pillar wanted. he wanted anyone and everyone hear his beloved getting fucked out of his mind.

"Such a good little slut..you want the whole village and headquarters to hear your getting a good fuck cutie? You want them to hear you getting pounded by your lover? How you begged and been a bratty bitch with a fucking plug between your legs? You want to be seen as my slut then I will make you my slut."

He pulled out of Obanai's tight and puckered out hole, flipping him face first into the futon. Using his foot to keep him in place and rammed back into him and a faster pace. Obanai's moans and screams were blocked from the futon mat he was getting fucking into.

His cock spurted more roped of cum even though it wasn't touched. His lover feverishly gripping and slapping his ass for good measure.

"God fuck, i'm going to cum and fill your little whore hole kay? I need you to tell me who the fuck gets to fuck your bratty ass kay cutie?"

Mumbles came as an answer. (M/n) making and annoyed noise, pushed his foot harder on Obanai's head. "Can't hear you cutie, you don't get my cum if i can't hear you like fucking you. Again and louder. Why can fuck this bratty ass cutie?"

"Y-you.."

"Louder cutie!" He removed his foot from his head and pushed his chest into Obanai's back, teasing his over sensitive nipples and continued slamming into him.

"LOUDER."

"FuCk~ YOU DO!" Obanai had tears all over his face, face read and a mess.

"Good now let me fill you with cum like the slut your are. Such a pretty cutie for me." As he said that another orgasm ran through Obanai. It was becoming painful a little.

Obanai's babbles were filled with begs about being his cumslut and filling him to the brink. With one final thrust, making the smaller male see stars again. His desperate prostate and hole was filled with thick and large amounts of the larger's cum.

Emptying himself out, Obanai's hole was milking him dry of the desperate need that was begging to be released. His loved pushed deeper to make sure he took all he had to offer.

He slowly pulled out of his stretched and abused hole, gaping at the loss of contact and fullness. Obanai screamed again while being filled and also came again. He could feel his lovers seed push out of his hole and onto the futon below them.

Pushing the hair out of his face, (M/n) looked at the sight his lover was him. The demon slayer below him, the feared serpent pillar of the demon slayer headquarters looked as if he had been drugged.

Well he was, off of his lovers addicting seed, smell and cock.

"You did so well cutie, such a good slut. See if you follow instructions you could get fucked like this more often instead of pissing me off kay?"

This even only made Obanai want to be even more of a brat to him.

^wattpad, kny oneshots.

#demon slayer x reader #demon slayer obanai #iguro obanai #obanai x male reader #obanai x reader #iguro x reader #kny obanai #kny pillars

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fanficbitch · 3 years ago

Text

In Another Life // Jane Emily

A/N: The first child between Y/N and Hotch!

Aaron Hotchner x y/n

September 2013

The level of uncomfort I am feeling is indescribable. It hurts when I lay on my side, it hurts when I lay on my back, it hurts to sit. Just everything is painful. I don’t know how people do this multiple times. This might have to be my only pregnancy.

Aaron has been out on a case for the last four days and I am practically useless. So Jess has been coming over to help and take care of Jack. I don’t know how we would survive without her.

Jess left me propped up against the headboard by at least four pillows. I am nearly sitting up. However, this just happens to be the best position that I have found. I glance at my clock and see that it is nearly 2 in the morning. I have to get some sleep, but I don’t feel that happening soon.

To my surprise, the door to my bedroom opens to reveal Aaron. “What are you still doing up?” he asks as he walks in.

“I can’t sleep. I’m too uncomfortable,” I whine. Aaron gives me a sympathetic look then begins to undress from his suit. “How was the case?”

“A little complicated. We were stumped for a while till Reid had a genius moment and figured it out.”

I chuckle slightly. “He’s quite good at that, isn’t he?”

Once Aaron has his pajamas on he gets into bed and properly greets me with a kiss. “Now, how have you been?”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly,” he confirms.

“I have just been miserable. I can’t sleep or sit properly,” I say then place my hands on my stomach. “I just need this baby out.”

“It should only be a few more days,” Aaron assures me.

“Your time off starts now right?” I ask and he nods. Although him and I both know that he could still be called in at any minute.

Aaron scoots closer to me so he can place his hand on my belly. Almost immediately, I feel kicks at the top of my stomach. Aaron smiles while I wince in pain. “I’m glad you’re enjoying this,” I mutter.

“You have to admit she knows her daddy,” Aaron smiles. A true smile from him. I am lucky and see them more than most people do, but every time I see one I am overjoyed.

I place my hand on his cheek and his eyes meet mine. “This baby has no idea just how lucky she is,” I say.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Aaron says. He leans in and kisses me slowly until the kicking starts again. I place my hand on top of his hand that rests on my belly.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” I whisper into his hair.

“Me too,” he smiles.

**********

When I wake up, it’s to a jolt of pain. With my eyes closed, I reach my hand out and try to find my boyfriend’s hand. After a moment of searching, I open my eyes and see that no one is there.

I check my clock and see that it is almost 7 in the morning, which means Aaron is already knee deep in emails.

I hoist myself out of bed and waddle down the stairs. I find Aaron exactly where I expect to find him, in his office. I peek inside and see him intently staring at his computer with his glasses on. “Hey,” I whisper as I walk in the doorway.

“Hey,” he says and whips off his glasses. He quickly gets up and leads me out of the office and into the living room then onto the couch. Once I’m settled, Aaron takes the other side of the couch. “How was your night?”

I sigh. “It was rough. I had contractions nearly the whole night, but they’re at least a half hour apart and not lasting very long.”

“Okay, well do you want me to make you some breakfast?”

“Always,” I smile.

“On it,” Aaron says and gives me a kiss before heading to the kitchen.

I manage to get a magazine off the coffee table and flip through it for a few minutes, then I get bored. I move to the dining room so I can overlook Aaron in the kitchen as he makes breakfast.

“So, how has work been today?” I ask.

“I’m on vacation,” Aaron tells me.

“Listen honey, we can do this whole thing where we both pretend you aren’t working, but know you are. Or we can just talk about it,” I say as he bites his bottom lip in thought. “I really don’t mind. I like hearing about work.”

“Well in that case, Morgan is taking over for me while I’m gone and he was just asking a few questions,” he says as he butters my toast. “He says he’s going to do his best not to bother us these next two weeks.”

“Hmm, okay,” I hum.

“What?” Aaron asks as he slides the toast in front of me then sits next to me.

“I just don’t think there is anyway you can stay away from work for that long,” I say. “If Morgan doesn’t call you I’m sure you’ll lend your services.”

“That is not true,” he fights back. I raise my eyebrows at him, but still continue to eat my toast. But halfway through my first piece, pain pierces through my stomach. I lean over and clutch my stomach with one hand while my other one finds Aaron’s hand. “Just breathe through it,” Aaron coos and I do. It’s over within 30 seconds, but it was still painful.

I look up and meet his eyes once it’s over. “Are you sure these aren’t braxton hicks?” Aaron asks.

“I’m sure. These are way stronger than ones I’ve gotten earlier,” I say and he nods.

Just then, a sleepy Jack turns into the dining room, still in his pajamas. “Hey buddy,” Aaron says.

“Hey,” Jack croaks then sits at his seat. “Could I have breakfast please?”

“Yes, I will get you some cereal,” Aaron says then runs off to the kitchen. Jack’s sleepy expression quickly turns to happy when he realizes what we’re getting close to.

“Could she come today?” Jack asks excitedly.

“She could,” I say with a nod.

“Can you please, please, please tell me her name?” he begs.

“We aren’t set on anything,” Aaron says as he returns to the dining room with the cereal. Jack looks back at me from his dad and I give him a wink. I’d say we’re pretty set on the name, Aaron just doesn’t completely know that yet.

Jack quickly finishes his cereal then goes upstairs to get changed. Aaron slips on shoes even though he is still wearing his pajamas. “You’re taking him to school like that?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, what’s wrong with it?”

“It’s just an interesting choice for someone who usually wears a suit everyday,” I say. “At least I won’t have to worry about any soccer moms hitting on you.”

“I think they’ve learned better by now,” Aaron says as Jack runs down the steps with his bag. “Okay, buddy let’s go,” Aaron says as he ushers him to the garage.

“Bye Jack!” I call.

“Bye Mom!” he calls back and then the door shuts. I’m still not completely used to Jack calling me mom, but I still love it.

I get myself out of the dining room chair then waddle towards the steps. Before I can even get up one step, a gush of water spreads down my legs. Oh no.

**********

Luckily, it did not take Aaron long to get back. Once he got home, we both sprang into action and grabbed our things then got in the car.

I got checked in relatively quickly and am currently sitting in my hospital bed. The contractions just keep getting closer and closer together. I know she’s coming soon.

“Aaron,” I say because he is across the room talking to the doctor. He quickly leaves the doctor and comes to my side. “Hold my hand,” I say, nearly begging.

“Of course,” he says and takes my hand.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“The doctor is going to check to see how far along you are,” he says and I nod.

Dr. Larson soon pops out from my lower parts with a smile. “Okay, Mama it’s time to push. Are you ready?”

I look to Aaron before responding. He gives me a reassuring nod which gives me more confidence then he’ll ever know. “Let’s do this,” I say.

HOTCH POV

I lightly coo to the new bundle of joy that rests in my arms. I try to be as quiet as possible because Y/N just fell asleep.

I slowly rock my arms back and forth as my baby stares up at me. She’s calm and quiet, just like her dad. She let out a few cries the moment she was born, but since then she’s been quiet as a mouse. Her eyes flutter open and close, showing me her beautiful brown eyes.

I glance up at my girlfriend again. I can’t believe we created something so precious. I forgot that feeling when you have a newborn, but it’s all coming back. The warmth, the wholeness, the pureness. I can’t believe I have gone eight years without this feeling.

There is a soft knock at the door, then Jessica pokes her head in. “Can you take a visitor?” she asks and I raise my eyebrow, unsure. She pushes the door open a little wider and Jack carefully steps into the room. Jessica closes the door again to give us some privacy.

“Can I see her?” Jack asks softly and I nod. He comes the rest of the way over and stares down at her. “She’s really small.”

“You were this small once,” I whisper. We both stare down at her for a moment while she sleeps.

“Can I have my baby back?” I hear from behind Jack. Y/N has woken up from her very short nap, but has her arms held out for a baby.

“I wanted you to sleep a little longer,” I say as I stand up slowly.

“I can’t,” Y/N says. “This bed is lumpy.”

Finally, Y/N notices Jack and shows a large smile. “Jack! Did you get to meet your sister yet?”

“Yeah, but she’s sleeping,” he says.

Y/N scoots over to make a small empty space on the bed. “Come up here,” Y/N says. Jack hops up on the bed so he is squeezed next to Y/N. “Do you want to hold her?”

Jack nods excitedly. “Okay,” I say as I place her in Jack’s arms. “Make sure you support her head,” I add. Once the nerves go away, I realize my heart is bursting. The three people I love most in the world all in one place.

“Can I know her name now please?” Jack begs.

I look down at Y/N and smile which is all the confirmation she needs. “Okay,” Y/N says. “Her name is-,”

“Hi!” I hear from the doorway. Garcia is standing with a large bouquet of balloons. “Can I come in?”

“Yes, come in,” I say and she does. Garcia sets the balloon holder on the ground then slowly walks up to the bed. She looks down at our baby for a moment, then covers her mouth.

“Oh my gosh, she is just beautiful!” Garcia says.

“Well we think so,” I say as I stare down at her. She begins to fuss in her swaddle then lets out a loud wail. Y/N takes our baby from Jack then sighs.

“I think she’s hungry,” Y/N says.

“Okay, we’ll give you guys a minute,” Garcia says then leads Jack out of the room. Before I know it, Y/N is already feeding our baby. I sit on the edge of the bed and place my hand Y/N’s leg.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Y/N chuckles.

I shake my head in disbelief. “I’m just so happy,” I say. “I am also so proud of you. I can’t believe you brought this beautiful, little girl into our lives.”

Y/N smiles down at her. “She is pretty perfect.”

I lean forward all the way and give her a kiss. “You’re perfect,” I whisper.

“Oh, Aaron,” Y/N laughs.

The more I think about it, the more I realize my whole life is perfect. I have a beautiful wife, two healthy children and a stable job. There is nothing more I could ever want.

I scoot closer to my daughter and my girlfriend. “Jane, how have we gone this long without you?” I ask.

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tannieschim · 3 years ago

Text

when the camellia blooms | pjm

park jimin x kim! reader | 1 | 2

sypnosis: diagnosed with the hanahaki disease, you had only two options - accept a deathly fate, or never love again.

genre: au, angst, fluff, humor, friends to lovers? maybe.

warnings: many talks of death and dying, minor character death, pain, unrequited love, swearing, talks of past sexual experience while intoxicated, pining, longing, really sad reader, and lots of angst.

word count: 7.2 k

"you would die for her, for him."

"You're dying."

The two words escape past his lips steadily and breathily as your widening eyes linger on the way his hands fiddle with one another out of habit. He sighs deeply and resists the urge to avoid screaming at you and maintain eye contact out of professionalism, pushing back his slipping glasses.

"At this rate, you won't have any more than a month. Had you told me this sooner, y/n, the results wouldn't have been as scarce. But because you waited after almost a year of this, I'm afraid there's not much to do." He pushes his desk lightly to pull away from it, creating a mere distance between himself and the papers which finalized your future's passing. Reaching his collar, he tugs on his tie to loosen it before unbuttoning the first stitch as he looks at you with seemingly stray and angered eyes mixed with sympathy.

Suddenly, his sight wanders the room as he shakes his head repeatedly, scoffing in disbelief. He then smiles, dimples prominent, lip tightened, eyebrows furrowed, and eyes broken, piercing straight at its target - that being you.

Standing up, he takes off his glasses and slams his fist onto the chair's arm rest before running a hand across his hair, softly hissing.

The professionalism is now out of the drain, "You're an idiot, y/n."

"Fucking stupid. How could you not- I mean- how could you not tell me? I'm your brother! We're family. Blood. We're supposed to- we're supposed to tell each other these things and you just fucking- you kept it to yourself all these months! Ten months! And now I'm sitting here being the one to tell you that you're dying? That you're leaving me? I would've done something. I would've helped you, I- I would've killed whoever this person you're in love with is. y/n, please- I just-"

You don't know why, but you felt exhausted.

The ringing in your ears is deafening. Truthfully, you hadn't heard a single thing the minute you received news that you'll be, well, passing away. Not to mention, within 30 days time.

It's not as if you didn't already know about your condition, of course you did. Coughing soft pink camellia flowers every time you see the man that's brought you here is not exactly something that just simply passes a blind eye. You sense it, you feel it, and it hurts.

It really, really hurts.

You also felt awful for your brother. You hadn't meant for it to go this far. You didn't mean to not tell him. You didn't want your assigned doctor to suddenly call in sick and have your brother temporarily take his place. You didn't mean for him to find out this way - such a twisted, horrible fucking way, but here you are.

"I'm sorry, Joon. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this to go this far. I just-"

"Were you ever even going to tell me?" He cuts you off, voice low and steady, almost afraid of your coming response.

Your eyes locate his across the cramped room, and one could clearly tell that it's striving its hardest to fight against desperate tears.

"I- yes, Joon. I was. Of course I was. I was gonna do it after this check in actually, but I guess God wanted you to find out sooner than I intended, though He could've just waited a little while longer and it would've been fine." You joke whisperingly, the heavy weight of your heart lightening just a small bit when you notice the corners of his lips twitch and his eyes faintly soften.

Regrettably, that was a lie. You didn’t plan on telling him, not today at least. Maybe not even ever.

The softening air lasts for only a second as his following question makes you hold back the urge to cough up another camellia flower slowly blooming its way to your throat.

"Who is it?"

Genuine, concerned, curious. These were all that he was.

But noticing the way your body went entirely rigid at his words and the way your hand clutched your clothed chest in attempt to shut down what you know will happen next, Namjoon's brotherly instincts causes him to naturally make his way towards you softly, taking small and careful strides towards your fragile state.

And once he's finally reached you, he gets on his knees gently in order for him to be of nearing same height level as you're sitting down, his hands rubbing the back of your hand in a comforting manner.

He does this all before pulling the trigger.

"Who are you in love with, y/n?"

two years back

"Jimin!"

You call out your brother's best friend loudly, who is currently in the midst of doing a one-man stage play in front of the mirror, "Joon's saying you guys need to get going now. Says he has a patient in two hours and wants to go over all sorts of documents before treating her."

Turning around, you scan the living room and dining room for the keys of your friend's car as your brother also asked you to hand them to him since the two always end up on forgetting it until they've already reached the car parked across your apartment's block.

You hear Jimin shuffle behind you, "Really? He wants to go over documents at- 9 AM in the morning?"

Smiling at his attempts of complaint, you nod your head softly in order to play along and answer his rhetorical question, "He really needs to learn how to drive doesn't he? Since he's dragging you along everywhere he goes."

Jimin laughs at your statement, which being an opinion, your brother would argue, 'driving isn't a necessary aspect of life.' But who really thinks like that? Oh right, non-drivers.

“I guess he’s getting too caught up in learning medicine that he forgot to learn how to officially become an adult.” Reaching above the kitchen top, you finally found sight of Jimin's car keys.

How did it even get up there? You think to yourself. It's really high up, so Namjoon must've been the one to leave it as to where it is.

You groan slightly, "Joon, can you get over here! I found Chim's keys but it's too far up high so I can't reach it. Hell I don't even think he can reach this-"

You are cut off when you feel a hand sneak around your waist, making you flinch and suddenly spin cautiously.

Eyes widened. Lips parted. Breath hitched. You let out an inaudible gasp as you come to the realization that Jimin is now in front of you, head tilted with an amused smile on his face, "Excuse you? I can very much reach this." He says, all the while reaching up behind you, inchly leaning forward. At this point, your body is being pressed up against the kitchen counter and his oh-so-very toned front.

This small action is enough to instigate a flaming abyss inside of you as you very much attempt to calm your alarmed heart.

You can feel the cuts and lines of his abs against your chest as he is now standing on his tippy toes, desperately trying to reach the keys on the kitchen top. Anyone that could see his posture would call him adorable, but your body is currently being sandwiched and by all that is high and mighty your mind can't even really process a single thing. Wait, what were you thinking just now?

"See? Got it." Jimin falls back in place as he jiggles his car keys in front of your stone-cold face, smile wide as he giggles softly, "Piece of cake, y/n."

He then proceeds to move on with his life like he didn't just do what the fuck he just did.

Clearing your throat, you blink about a million times in order to gather your thoughts. Your heartbeat is racing faster than the speed of light and your lips have become as dry as a desert. If you had gone standing on your tippy toes just as he did, you would've been a baby hair away from lips touching. The thought is enough to make you grow weak.

Yet as if something inside of you is suddenly turned on, no pun intended, you remind yourself that these thoughts are wrong. You can't be having these apprehensions, they aren't right. Because not only is he your brother's best friend, he also has a-

"y/n?" Jimin's soft voice calls out your name.

Breaking out of your trance, you turn to see him sitting down on the dining table, head tilted downwards with a small smile on his face. The sun escapes your pastel curtains as it slips past the window sill, reasoning with the current ray of golden yellow that has found its home on Jimin’s plump cheek, shining on the left side of his luminous face.

It's absolutely senseless how he can look as beautiful as he does simply by existing, and it makes perfect sense that your finding yourself to liking him more and more.

Just look at him.

You are broken out of your enchanted daze once more as dreaded words leave his smiling lips, "I'm gonna ask her to marry me."

Only then were you brought back to your inadequate reality.

“W- what?” You attempt to speak, but you notice the way your voice has suddenly become noticeably hoarse.

Jimin looks up at you with a smile, the kind that has his eyes almost disappearing.

“Sung. I’m gonna ask her to marry me tonight.”

silence.

and more silence.

Like a coward, that was all what you could muster to respond with.

And only then did you notice the velvet box on his hands, upon which he is tenderly caressing. Only then did you recognize the questionable romantic script of his one-man stage just moments earlier. Only then did you realize that the reason behind his growing smile are because of her, not you. Not because of what had just taken place.

Only then did you remember that no, you can't be having these apprehensions - they aren't right.

Because not only is he your brother's best friend,

he also has a, now upcoming, fiancé.

present time

"I already loved him then, Joon."

By this time, your brother has stood up and begun pacing back and forth the modest office, murmurs of curses towards his friend escaping past his lips, "-that small son of a bitch."

Smiling softly, you look down in reminiscence of the moments you have spent falling for Jimin. "I guess I've always been infatuated with him ever since our first meeting, but my God Joonie," you pause, inhaling a short breath in attempt to stop tears threatening to spill. "-ever since that day, when he told me that he was going to propose to her, I finally realized that like was the wrong term to use. I realized that I loved him and I just- I lost sight of everything." You cry, small sobs coming from you as you blinkingly look up to try to contain the waters forming in your eyes.

It was true. That day, when he told you about his plans to ask her to marry him, you've never felt more indignant.

Of course you faked it at first, congratulated him and consoled him into truthfully believing that she will undoubtedly say yes. But the minute he and Namjoon left your apartment, you collapsed on your carpeted floors, sobbing loudly and hitting your chest repetitively all the while cursing yourself in your head for ever even considering the tiniest of possibilities that you and Jimin could ever happen.

You also went out that night, got drunk, found a guy, slept with him, and never looked back.

Sure, this may seem like a regular night out for many, but not being the type to kiss and sleep, sex meant a lot to you.

Nothing wrong with one night stands, that just wasn't your particular chosen lifestyle. But you were wasted. You were intoxicated. You didn't know what you were doing. Had you been sober, you wouldn't have done what you did, especially with the person you did it with. So when you woke up in the middle of the night naked in bed next to a familiar face and realized what you've done, you rushingly stood up, got dressed, and left, ignoring the calls of the man you had just been with.

You went straight home and washed yourself for hours, feeling dirty and sloppy and disgusting. You can easily recollect sitting down in the showers, head tucked underneath and in between your legs, sobbing and crying loudly as the steam surrounding you from the warm water kept on worsening.

You hated what you did, and you most definitely despised the reason for what you did, - to simply get over someone else. You felt guilty. You felt ashamed. What would Jimin think? You thought to yourself. And though that truly didn't really matter, the ache in your heart kept on making you believe otherwise.

You didn't notice how your tears have fallen and stained your newly-bought jeans until Namjoon's hands holding a napkin comes within your perception.

Mumbling a small 'sorry Joonie,' you accept his offer and wipe the tears still continuously streaming down your now reddened, warm, and puffy face. As you do this, you furthermore catch sight of your brother's shadow rubbing his face in frustration, matching the groans that you also hear release from him in the background. And without meaning so, you deflate in insecurity.

Hearing the sound of air being released from a pulling force, you look up to see that Namjoon has sat back down, his elbows resting on the desk while his chin rest on his hands. "Does he know about this, y/n?"

You sigh, "No."

"Are you going to tell him?" You hear him ask once more.

Closing your eyes and sniffing lightly, you inhale a steady breath as you answer him for the second time, "I don't know, Joon."

Namjoon looks at you, eyes full of worry and concern. You don't know?

You're his sister, and he loves you. He would do anything for you. If he could shower you with all the love that you lack from Jimin, he would. And he would do it in a heartbeat. But you're dying. You're leaving him. And he doesn't know what to think. He doesn't know what to do. So how could you not know? How could you sit here, in front of him, after keeping this shit for ten months to yourself, tell him that you just don't know?

He feels frustrated. Frustrated over the clearing fact that if you don't know the answer to that simple yes or no question, then how more could you know the answer to when he asks you to make the choice?

The choice - to love or to die.

A very careful, unprecedented surgery that has been performed by professionals only a few times, yet each one has been successful. This seems easy, yeah. A surgery to save your life? Of course you'll do it! But there's a reason as to why this has been done only by a certain small count.

To perform the surgery and live, the price is not the expense, but rather the loneliness that shall come as you spend the rest of your life void of emotions. The surgery doesn't get rid of love on its own, it gets rid of everything that comes with it - happiness, sadness, trust, pain, pretty much everything that one can possibly feel. The only emotion left is indifference, yet even indifference lacks its self-sustainability.

Who would want to live like that?

Who would want to live a life where you just simply exist and nothing more?

He knows that the day will come eventually - when he offers you the choice, the chance to save your life, and he knows it will come soon. But right now, he has chosen to prioritize being a brother over a doctor. Right now, the only thing in his mind is comforting you.

"Okay." Your brother nods, making your eyes widen slightly in shock.

Okay? No scolding? No 'how could you not know?!' older brother reprimands? But then you remember, oh yeah. You're dying. And who could possibly scold their dying little sister?

"I'm sorry Joonie-" You try to apologize once more before he cuts you off again.

"No, don't apologize, y/n. It's not like you could've possibly wanted for any of this to happen, yeah?" He offers you a smile, but you could easily see past its fabricated purpose, "But instead let me ask you this. And I need you, in our deceased parent's name, to be completely honest with me."

You only nod, completely submissive and understanding of his seriousness the moment that he mentioned your passed parents.

"What you just told me, when you first fell in love with him, that was two years ago." He starts, making you nod again in agreement.

"But you were diagnosed only ten months ago."

Your heart drops, and you don't nod again.

"The Hanahaki Disease is not something that gradually begins and comes to existence over the course of time. It is an illness that is triggered. It could be by a sudden forthcoming realization or proclamation of love, or by an event that triggers the heart to completely shut down in overwhelmth. Either way, basing on the timing of what you've said, you should've been diagnosed with the Hanahaki two years ago. But you weren't."

Namjoon eyes you questioningly, but not too much to the extent that you feel uncomfortable, only just enough to remind you of the importance of this conversation, "You were only diagnosed ten months ago, y/n. Why?"

You sit still, not wanting to move, as if your stone figure would somehow make him think that you're not real or that you're a simple figment of his messed up imagination.

"y/n, what happened ten months ago?"

He finishes his question and you swallow harshly only to realize that you're parched, your throat completely dry. You then tilt your head to steal a gaze at your brother, making you catch the way his eyes suddenly widened as if he just realized something of high importance. As if he had just realized the answer to his own question. And that didn't work with you.

Clearing your throat, you are about to answer him in order to cut off his thoughts until the door swings open and you feel your throat compact, - the coughs of a camellia flower slipping its way to visibility -because there he is,

the man of the hour.

"y/n." He noticeably breathes a sigh of relief before making his way to you, engulfing you in a giant embrace. "I was so worried about you. Why didn't you tell me you had the Hanahaki? How could you not let me know? How long have you had it? Who is it? I swear I'm going to murder whoever this piece of shit is that he dared ever making yo-"

"Jimin this is a professional space between a doctor and his patient." The two of you pull away almost exactly the same time as soon as Namjoon speaks up, Jimin's eyebrows furrowing, "Get out."

"What?" Jimin barely gather the voice to ask him as he is completely caught off guard of his friend's erupting vulgar attitude.

"I said-" Namjoon speaks before getting caught off again.

"No trust me, I heard what you said. But what?" Jimin repeats himself, "So you're telling me you're not prioritizing being y/n's brother right now? You're still caught up in this Doctor Kim bullshit? Like you're a real one?"

"Jimin-" You attempt to budge in, sensing that a certain trouble may suddenly come knocking.

"No, y/n. Listen hyung-"

"No, YOU listen. You small piece of shit." Your brother raises his voice, "-don't come barging in here like you own the place or like you have any authority over her. She is MY sister and this is a family matter. So it's best you stay out of it and keep in your lane."

At this point, Namjoon is in front of Jimin, a short distance separating the two of them, "And don't you ever dare speak to me in that tone again. I know you're my friend, but remember to treat me with respect. Not only am I your superior, but I'm also your hyung." He finishes with a serious voice, tone low, and message deep. His earnest eyes piercing through his friend's pained ones.

Jimin, mouth slightly agape being at loss for words and clearly confused at his close friend's unreasonable anger, storms out of the room.

But not before he drags you along with him.

Namjoon is quick to act as he tries to reach for you, but you turn back and look at him pleadingly, signaling him that it's okay and to not worry. And him being the understanding brother that he is, pulls back and holds himself steady.

You can handle him. You’re a Kim. You’re strong.

Strong enough to survive through this.

You’ll be okay.

And as he watches the two of you leave, the door closing shut right in front of him, only then does reality hit Namjoon as his legs tremble abruptly, feeling lightheaded all of a sudden.

Falling down the floor, he reaches onto the desk for assistance as he slides his back down the wooden wall, hands painfully fisted and finding its way to cover his mouth in order to muffle the choked-in sobs perilously escaping him. He proceeds to blink away the tears and bite harshly on his lips, trying to diminish the flourishing grievance in his heart.

His sister is dying, and he doesn't know what to do.

“Doctor Kim? The next patient is ready to see you.” A knocking nurse distracts him and calls out from behind the door, “-shall I send them in?”

Namjoon sniffs heavily and sighs deeply, rushingly grabbing his glasses and adjusting his emotionally wrecked state, “One moment!”

He lets out a soft, shaky breath and reminds himself once more that you’re a Kim.

You’re strong.

You can beat this.

It'll be alright.

You'll be okay.

"IM NOT OKAY JIMIN-SHI!" You voicely whine out to your friend who is currently dragging you along the halls of the hospital and out the technologically advanced glass doors, "What is wrong with you?!" You pull your arm aggressively from his grasp as you bend down, hands resting on your knees while you hastily try to catch your breath. The camellia flower stuck just along the chords of your throat making it very difficult.

Jimin stares at you worryingly, having forgotten of your illness, "O- oh no. y/n, I'm sorry I forgot I- are you okay? Should we go back?" He stutters in concern before you hold up one finger, signaling him to shut the hell up. "-sorry."

Looking at you like this, tired and exhausted from having to put up with all his bullshit, Jimin feels a sudden urge to reach out and embrace you tightly, almost forgetting of his previous encounter with your brother.

And so that's exactly what he does.

You are caught off guard the moment you feel a hand grab your shoulder by means of pulling you closer all the while another rests just at your crook of spine, and although this first makes you stumble in a not-so-very prettily way, your destination is found to be in your friend's embrace, his fragile yet protective arms wrapped around you securely.

Not letting this moment simply pass by, you let yourself melt in his arms as you find the comfort meant to be found in his comforting hug, wrapping your arms around his neck as you slightly stand on your tippy toes. Somehow, your simple action makes him pull you even closer, one hand creeping behind your neck all the while his other is completely wrapped around your waist although this time is tighter than before.

As the two of you stay like this in the middle of the sliding glass doors of the hospital, crowds of unfamiliar voices passing by you and ambulances ringing endlessly against your ear, you let yourself submerge within the passion of your heart.

Amidst the chaos and cries of your nearingly counted days, you find consolation in the arms of the same man that has put you in front of death's door, and quite frankly, you wouldn't really want it any other way. You'll take what is given by the heavens above when it comes to Jimin, because well- you love him.

Unfortunately, that quick and simple thought is enough to make you lose control of your reminded disease.

"y-y/n what's- are you okay?" Jimin pulls away from you abruptly as you break into coughing fits, pastel pink camellia blossoms escaping your trembling lips.

The sight has caught the attention of many civilians, but both you and Jimin remain to be indifferent about them as you or more or less are occupied with your illness all the while Jimin specifically aims his attention on you alone.

"Alright that's it, screw your brother alright?" Jimin exclaims a bit louder than what you're comfortable with as this obviously did not benefit with the proceedingly growing public focus on the two of you, "-we're going back, y/n, it's my fault for bringing you outside so suddenly-"

"No chim, please-" You roughly attempt to speak out, your throat painfully extracting the feeling of abrasiveness, "Please just- let's just go."

"y/n.."

“Please chim,” you cut him off for what seemed to be the fiftieth time, coughing, “-please. I don’t want to be here any longer.”

Hesistant yet concerned, Jimin nods slowly as he assists your side, his hands finding its home around your waist and lower back while you both take short and careful strides. You destination is still unknown, but you didn’t mind. A journey a day with someone you love has never turned out for the worse.

At least that's what you think.

"Really?" You roll your eyes as you notice the familiar lane that Jimin's car just entered, "I asked you to get me out of the hospital area, I didn't ask for a sleepover, Jimin." You jokingly accuse him, but you can't help the smile that makes its way on your puffed-up face as you notice him smoothly take a side-glance at you with a knowing smirk.

"Well I thought that with all that bad hospital air, you might've wanted to breathe in a familiar scent," Jimin responds as the car comes to a stop.

You turn slightly to open the door and step out before you here a meek, "Jankkanman!" and perceive a 5'9 in height blondie come running around the bonnet in order to open the car door for you as a gentleman would. It is such a sweet and casual pantomime, yet an ill-patient diagnosed with an illness of the heart can never bring you any wins. Consequently, his actions only causes your throat to feel strained and compacted for the endless time.

God, how much did you love this man that such a simple gesture makes you want to cough out countless of fully bloomed flowers?

You thank the heavens above for your past endless experiences that allowed you to now be better in terms of hiding your pain as you attempt to smile genuinely, mumbling a small "thank you" in the process before making your way inside his home.

"So," Jimin starts as the two of you plop down his couch, his eyes seeking for yours as he tilts his head ever so lightly, "what should we do today... now that you're out of that hell hole?"

"Chim!" You scold him lightly, "my brother and your best friend just happens to be working in that hell hole, just in case you forgot, and- hey! You work there too, you ass." You accusingly point at him all the while hitting his arm playfully.

Jimin is was a nurse in that hospital. Your brother is a doctor.

He laughs and smiles widely, "Nope. I don't work there anymore, remember? But I did for a while, which is why I can most definitely testify that that place is indeed, a hell hole. And by the way, I'm kind of offended that you pretty much forgot my lost profession just then, y/n, like what the fuck?" He jokes endingly.

Your eyes soften slightly as he mentions his lack of job, yet you still stubbornly choose to ignore his last remark. "Well I sure hope that's not the case since I'll be most likely spending my last days there."

Oops.

The silence that ensues goes inevitably noticed by the two of you the moment those words escaped past your lips, but you paid no mind. That was the reason that you asked him to take you away anyways. You weren't hoping for some cliche romantic bullshit where the two of you simply elope and forget your real worries in your life, no. Instead you were here with the main purpose of facing it.

Besides, even if you did want to leave with him, you couldn't. Remember?

Jimin is the first to break the excessive blockade, "Don't say that y/n."

You sigh, "But it's true, chim."

"I don't give a shit if it's true or not."

"Chim.." You are slightly startled with his sudden outburst, caught off guard in the way his voice slightly raised as his attention and body language are now completely directed at you, "Wha- why are you getting mad?"

Jimin scoffs, almost irritated at your oblivious question, "Why? Because you're talking of dying like it's not a big deal, y/n!" His voice getting louder and louder by every word he spits out, "God, you know you can be so fucking insensitive sometimes. What, did you already forget the shit I suffered when I lost someone? Did you already forget all the fucking shit I suffered when death took her from me?"

At the mention of her, you pause. Speechless. Guilty. Hurt.

Of course you remember. How could you not? You remember the darkest of days as like it was just yesterday.

You remember getting that call in the middle of the night from the contact name of your brother as you slightly answered it in an irritated voice, "Joon I swear to God if you're asking me to drive you to work in the middle of the fucking night I will personally drag your ass right now to get a driver's liscenc-"

"y/n?"

You remember immediately stopping as you recognize the voice that most certainly did not belong to your brother, "Chim?"

"y- y/n."

You remember the outbreak of his sobs as you call out to him, his sniffles and cries becoming more and more prominent as you stumble on your feet, struggling with keeping your phone against and in between your ear and your shoulder as you hurryingly take off to grab a jacket and your keys, "Chim what's wrong, where the hell are you? W- where's Joon?"

You remember the way your heart dropped as your worst fear came to mind, the thought of losing your brother itself being enough to make you wobble in your feet, your heart clenching. He had your brother's phone, and he was crying.

"N-no, he- he's fine, y/n. It's not him, hyung's... hyung's fine."

You remember the way he struggled to find the right words; the way he sniffled and stuttered through forming such a simple sentence all the while you on the other side of the line breathe out a sigh of relief at the information of your brother's wellness, yet feeling slightly guilty that your emotions are in contrast with your friend's.

"It's Sung."

You remember Jimin's worst.

"It's Sung, y/n. Sh- she got in an accident on the way here to visit me during my off hours and- fuck! Some fucking demon pulled a hit and run on her. She was walking, y/n. She walked an hour here and got ran over by someone and.. they're doing an operation on her- hyung's assisting and he just- it's bad. It was really bad and she was bleeding all fucking over and- hyung, he- he left his phone and I didn't know what to do so I just called you- I didn't, they pushed me out of the room, y/n. I need you here. Please, please. Please come here because I'm losing my fucking mind and I need you here."

You remember driving to the hospital as careful as you can with the fear of the possibility of an accident occurring still in the midst of the back of your mind.

You remember reaching the doors of the emergency room and being greeted with a pair of reddened and exhausted eyes that looked up the moment you walked in, "Jin."

He stands up to greet you politely but you stop him, obviously seeing that his reaction upon seeing you is no more than a forced delight, "Let's not do this under these circumstances, okay? You're allowed to feel unwelcoming. It's okay, Jin."

He does no more than mumble a small 'thank you' before going back to his previous spot with you trudging along beside him.

You remember feeling the sorrow of the man beside you as you watch him lean his head back against the wall, fragile streaks of tears rolling down his flushed cheeks. You couldn't imagine his pain, the pain of such a situation where your sister's life is at stake. You wanted to comfort him, to softly rub his back and whisper sweet encouragements against his ear, little white lies that his sister is guaranteed to make it without a doubt. But you couldn't. You weren't here for him, regardless of your history. Regardless of the way you left him the morning after your supposed mistake.

"Uhm, have you seen Jimin?"

You remember the way his void eyes find yours and the way his lips lightly upturn as he gives you a forced smirk, trying to keep up with his image of being Kim Seokjin, Kim Sungkyung's handsome and cocky older brother, "And here I was thinking fate brought you here to me, y/n." He trails off, "-considering how you fucked me then dipped."

You gasp slightly and playfully hit his arm at the blunt mention of your regretted one night stand as you give him a small yet genuine smile, partly glad yet at the same time worried that he can make such remarks during a situation like this.

It was strange really, how everything in your life seemed to be connected. How on the day you felt your heart tore apart the time Jimin first mentioned his planned proposal, you went out and accidentally slept with the soon-to-be-bride's older brother.

Letting out a small sigh, Jin nods his head in the direction of a different waiting room, "He left when I came. Guess he was embarrassed of how fucked up he was but hey- I'm not doing any fucking better am I?" He tells you, subtly pointing at the very visible streaks of tears still falling down his now puffy face.

You get on your feet and turn to leave but not before giving one last glance at the man next to you, a hand softly reaching to rub his shoulder, "I'm so sorry, Jin. I wish I could stay, but-"

"It's okay, y/n. Go." Jin encourages you with a small yet noticeably forced smile, "He needs you."

And so you do, bidding him a soft goodbye before taking off, your eyes beginning to water out of the guilt of leaving a friend in that state.

You then remember being suffocated. Suffocated from the embrace that greeted you the moment Jimin entered your peripheral vision. You remember landing on your behind with a harsh thud from the struggle of Jimin's weight as he continues to seek your embrace for means of comfort, the two of you falling down the floor. You remember getting drenched from Jimin's tears as you cradle him as would a wailing child, rocking him back and forth all the while softly rubbing his back, whispering every bit of amenity that could make him feel better.

You remember feeling your heart physically ache as you fail to notice the tears that have fallen down your own eyes, blurring your sight.

To see Jimin in this state, so broken and hurt and scared, it tore you apart. You wanted him happy. You wanted him smiling. You wanted him. You loved him. And God forbid that you're admitting this in your own mind while his fiance is battling for her own life, but fuck.

You wanted nothing more than to lay down your own life for Sung so that she could continue in existence for him.

If you could, you would take here place.

You would die for her, for him.

You remember pushing back your thoughts as you put focusing on Jimin your first priority. You remember keeping him in a neverending tight embrace as he neverendingly sobs against your chest, his lips leaving prayers you could barely yet still tried to understand;

please don't let her die

don't take her away from me

i love her too much

i still have to marry her.

You then remember hearing a wail of anguish, putting a pause to both Jimin's silent pleas and your eavesdropping as the both of your heads turn to pinpoint from whom the noise came from.

You remember the way Jimin stilled.

"No."

You remember his whisper of such a small, two-lettered word, yet somehow it caused your heart to crumble.

"No no no no-"

You remember having to tackle Jimin slightly as he causes a mess of himself, punching the seats and harshly tugging on his hair all the while screaming wails of pain and suffering, "Jimin please-"

"No- get the fuck off of me! Sung?!"

You remember how Jimin lost sight of reality as he pushes you off of him, your body making in contact with the cold tiled ground.

"SUNG? SUNG! LET ME INSIDE-"

You remember seeing nurses and other staff pull the man you love back as he causes a scene, starting to become physical and violent with the people surrounding him, "PLEASE! Please- I just- I NEED TO SEE HER! SHES MY FIANCE-"

You remember seeing a man dressed in blue make his way near Jimin, a needle in his hand.

"H-hey, no!" You remember trying to catch up to the nurse, attempting to prevent them from giving whatever the shot was to Jimin, "Stop! Please-"

"y/n. D-don't."

You remember feeling a hand on your shoulder which makes you turn around instantly, only to find the culprit behind the anguished scream just moments prior Jimin's outburst.

"Jin." You start, "-they're going to sedate him. That- that's not okay."

"They have to, y/n." Another voice calls out from behind Jin, "I know how it seems and I don't like it either, b-but he's becoming violent. They have to sedate him."

"Joon." You whisper softly.

What a sick and twisted game that life is playing on you, that your brother, Jimin's best friend, Jimin's best man at the wedding being planned, is the one to give news of the bride's passing.

"Sung, is she really.." You trail off, not having the heart to finish your sentence.

It seems neither does he, as he responds with nothing but a simple avoidance of eye contact.

"HYUNG!"

You remember Jimin's faint and tired yet still firm voice as he calls out your brother, "Hyung, you saved her didn't you? You- you were part of the surgery. You saved her didn't you? Didn't you!?" Jimin is weak as he trails off his words as the effect of the syringe takes its course, but that doesn't stop him from reaching out to the three of you, "H-hyung. Tell me you saved her. P-please tell me you saved h-her."

Namjoon doesn't stop the tear that rolls down his hardened face as he only shakes his head, "I'm sorry, Jimin. We did our best. We really, really did. I'm so sorry-"

You remember the way Namjoon's voice trails off your hearing as your throat suddenly feels contracted. You remember the itching pain just within your chest as you find the struggle to breath, your hand clutching it harshly. You remember stumbling back just a little bit as you feel lightheaded, thinking that these were only from the overwhelming happenings in that moment.

But then you cough.

And you cough

and you cough

and you cough.

But no one notices you.

Not even yourself.

Your attention remains still at Jimin, who has now dropped completely to the floor, tears still continuously spilling out of his drowsy eyes. Short breaths are released from his trembling lips as he mumbles words that none of you can understand. He then begins to seemingly reach out for something, someone.

"P-please," He whispers.

And as you bend down almost immediately to attend to his calls, you cough.

And you cough

and you cough.

And still no one notices.

No one except him.

You cough as your eyes find his, barely open yet staring right at you from the lows of the floor.

You remember having to excuse yourself and run to the nearest restroom you can find, legs trembling and stumbling on your way there as you push against the winds of the almost empty halls, still coughing with every step you take. And just as you reach the doors of the restroom, you turn back slightly, just enough to catch Jimin's last sight while his body is being carried away to where you guess is a vacant patient's room, all this before his eyes ultimately close.

Eyes you found lastly staring at you.

You remember finally shutting the door and locking it, thanking God silently that you're in a family restroom hence there is no one else inside. You cough desperately, your throat beginning to feel exclusively sore and your lungs beginning to tighten from all the air being released as you cough and cough and cough again.

You reach out to the sink, gripping tightly onto the white metals as you cough and cough and cough again.

You then brushingly turn to the toilet, your eyes watering and lips numbing as you cough and you cough and you cough once more.

You practically clean the whole restroom, as disgusting as that sounds, from all the moving you made as you coughed anywhere and everywhere. You felt awful for the next person to come inside, now that your bacterium were practically in its every corner, side, and space. You cough again, this time harder, the worst one out of the previous.

You remember sensing a certain feeling rise up, something soft yet itchy, something light yet heavy.

And so you cough, and you cough, and you cough, and you cough,

and you bleed.

And amongst the red is a pink.

A single, individual pink petal from what you would soon find out is a camellia flower - the flower that is soon to be the latter symbolization of death chasing you, growing closer, inching nearer, just about to knock on your door.

So of course you remember Jimin's distraught. Of course you remember Sung's - his fiance's death.

Because her death was too, the ultimate beginning of yours.

taglist for part 2?

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folkloreguk · 3 years ago

Text

🍒Cherry Ice Cream🍒

A/N: Happy July! I planned this almost a year ago and finally got around to writing it...I hope you like it! As always, I appreaciate feedback a lot! Hope everyone has a lovely day <3

pairing: optional bias (male) x reader (gn)

words: ~ 3.7 k

genre: fluff, comedy, lifeguard!bias, reader is the most awkward and chaotic person ever (are we at the public pool or the circus?? seriously I’m so second hand embarrassed for her lmao), bias is the hottest man in existence, the universe has something against the reader apparently (rip)

PART 2 (nsfw, both parts can be read independently)

You approached the front entrance of the public swimming pool. Everything was still going by plan. Ever since the weather had gotten warmer, you’d had swimming on your mind. And every single person in your life had been made aware of it. Despite the friendly asking and the occasional begging, you still hadn’t found anyone to accompany you to the public swimming pool. You had heard all the reasons: Work, already planned vacations, a sick pet, a hatred of water, a hatred of people, you name it. After all the searching you had come to the conclusion that you were tired of waiting. Nothing could possibly rob you of your excitement about swimming pools. You’d go alone and have a wonderful time. It would be a relaxing day with loads of time just for you. So you had told yourself. But let’s face it, nothing could have prepared you for the utter chaos you were about to walk into.

It began before you had even set both feet into the facility. Your steps were light, and you beamed, ready to enter after you had paid. The strap of your sports bag had caught in the turnstile in the entrance area. Stubborn as you were, you yanked on it, instead of turning around and manually freeing the fabric from the steel contraption. You had put your entire weight on the line, tugging and pulling, when the strap finally came loose from the turnstile. As expected from such antics, you tripped and struggled in your flip-flops, blundering into the compound like a baby giraffe walking for the first time. By the time you tried to compose yourself to look cool and relaxed after such a mistake, you noticed him.

He, who looked like a Greek god blessing you with a visit on earth. He was all tan skin, red life-guard swim trunks, perfectly sculped shoulders, pushed back hair, a smile that put the sun to shame and sunglasses sitting on top of his head. Instantly you thanked yourself for not seriously injuring yourself. The young godman crossed the lawn, presumably to take his seat by the pool, watching out for the visitors. Only he made it look like he was strutting on a runway at Paris fashion week. All you could do was pray that he hadn’t seen you entering his workplace headfirst like some impatient six-year-old.

As people passed you, you realized you were standing in the same spot where you had almost fallen a minute ago. Manifesting that this was just the silly beginning to a perfect day, you paraded into the shaded grassy area to find a spot to set up your things. Countless groups of friends, families, and lone visitors like yourself had already settled down, but you managed to find a fine spot. It was the superb balance between sunny and shady and not too far from the swimming pools and water slides. In seconds you had shed off your clothes to reveal your swimsuit underneath. Although you could barely keep yourself waiting, you decided it was best to stay there a short while before you threw yourself into the waves. Just until the sunscreen had absorbed into your skin. Meanwhile, you would unpack the catchy book you had recently begun to read.

Now and then you raised your head and peeked at the cute lifeguard. You seriously had no intentions of coming across like a creep, but you couldn’t stop yourself. The way he patrolled the side of the large pool had more coolness than the prettiest shot of a hot movie star in a film. You allowed yourself a few seconds, then you’d go back to your novel. The sounds of summer floated through the air – children laughing, water splashing, birds chirping above you – and the scent of the sunscreen catapulted you straight on cloud 9. It felt like your own small piece of paradise. Little did you know, the universe had so much more in store for you.

You hadn’t been buried in your book for even 10 minutes when a group of kids ran by. They were passing a water ball from one to the other and giggling uncontrollably. You saw it coming in your peripheral vision but had no time to react. As they had reached your level, one of them punched the ball especially hard. And instead of catching it, the dark blue ball bounced off one child’s hands and straight into the side of your face. It knocked your sunglasses off the bridge of your nose, but more importantly gave you the fright of your life. You dropped your book while the children’s mother scolded them from the side. After the initial surprise you couldn’t accept their apologies quickly enough. Anything if it could spare you from even more attention from random guests around you. Impulsively, your eyes searched for the cute lifeguard. But he was looking into the opposite direction. At least fate had saved you from embarrassing you in front of him. The last thing you wanted was to look like more of a clown than you had when entering the facility earlier. But against your expectations, the train of unfortunate events was only beginning.

Surely things would be more peaceful in the water, you had thought. When you finally entered the cool pool, it felt like heaven on earth. Fearing a case of recurrence, you avoided the shallower areas, where the children crowded and went straight for the deeper waters. Finally experiencing some form of relaxation, you swam and dived a few laps around the pool. Now and then you caught a glimpse of the lifeguard on the far end of the pool. Just to make sure he was still there. Just to make sure he’s still as handsome as when you first spotted him. And you weren’t disappointed. Gesturing kindly, he helped an elderly woman find directions to the restaurant on the far end of the site. From up closer, his smile and his jaw were even prettier – even though it had seemed impossible for him to become even more perfect.

After a while, your limbs became tired and you retracted into less busy waters, close to the exit and entrance area of the swimming pool. As you paddled your way through bodies, a bug startled you. It had by all appearances chosen you as its victim, as it took direct flight into your face. Even when you swat it away and turned around to change directions, it kept chasing you and only you. Like some crazy, obsessed stalker, it followed you to the edge of the pool. Eventually, you became tired of running and turned to it. If some random flying beetle wanted to fight you, so be it. To the untrained eye, you might have appeared like a lunatic, fanning the air, and squinting against the bright sunlight. But it was war, and you would square up against the most annoying of bugs. After a while, you realized that you were waving off the air – no more bug in sight. Only then you noted the little girl laughing in your direction from the poolside. You were way too mortified to turn into his direction at first, but when you found the lifeguard, he was conversing with one of his co-workers. Once again, you were safe.

Your next approach at a good time was the colorful waterslide close by. Certainly, these heights would not include micro-aggressive bugs. Instead, they included something far more unsettling. Considering there were toddlers going down the waterslide, you deemed it safe and fun. Your mind changed in the first sharp turn, when you tumbled over and hit your elbow from the sudden change of direction. Maybe you should have just stayed in the ring with the bug instead of choosing this more than violent escape. But it was too late. Once on the slide, you had to make it through to the finish line – more or less in one piece. Your grand finale composed of a semi-somersault off the edge of the waterslide into the pool. Although it wasn’t intentional, you still hoped it looked somewhat graceful to the audience at the bottom. Hint: No, it didn’t. You looked like a baby monkey that had been sent down a self-constructed-waterslide in someone’s backyard. It was a disaster.

Feeling over-heated and exhausted from the sun and your embarrassing antics, you found a drinking fountain by the showers to refresh yourself. Patiently, you waited in the short line until it was your turn. As fate wanted it, the next messy incident wasn’t long in the coming. In fact, it only took four sips of water before you accidentally inhaled some of it. You stepped back, choking, coughing, and gasping for air all at once. A helpful woman showed mercy with you and your awkward behavior and softly pat your back. “Are you okay, dear?” she asked. Unable to speak just yet, you smiled and nodded gratefully. Great. Maybe you should add “clown” onto your previous professions in your CT. By now, half the visitors probably knew who you were – a walking safety hazard to yourself.

After retreating to your bath towel set-up in the shade for a while, you had almost found new hope that the universe wasn’t against you that day. You managed to lie there, for a whole hour, without any issues. But then, slowly, another idea crept up on you. After all, what was summer without ice cream? By chance, you happened to know the little ice cream truck next to the yellow waterslide sold your favorite brand of ice lolly. So off you went, money in hands and wild determination in your head. The visual of the handsome lifeguard lingered in your mind even after you had passed the chair he was sitting on by the poolside. You acquired your ice lolly successfully and ripped the wrapper right away. It tasted like summer in food format, and you reveled in the cold treat for a while, as you strolled back in the direction of your bath towel.

Fully aware that you would have to walk by the insanely cute lifeguard again, you tried your best to look cool, next to the large pool. In your imagination, you were glowing in the sun, hair slightly flowing in the warm breeze and steps bouncing happily. You were the personification of summer bloom and radiating everything good about the season. For a moment, you closed your eyes and actually indulged in the warmth on your face. That was when the next mishap struck.

You didn’t even understand what was happening at first. Someone accidentally bumped into you – or did you bump into them? Upon the impact, you opened your eyes. Your ice-cream had vanished from your hands. Turns out, you had dropped it and it had landed only two feet from you. Out of balance, you stumbled ahead even after the impact. And of course, only a second later your foot stepped directly onto the ice lolly. Inevitably, you skidded and struggled to stay on your feet by means of flinging and waving your arms in the air. As if you were some stranger, trying to attract the attention of an aircraft whilst stranded on a desert island. One thing was for sure, you had everyone’s observance tied to you. With an involuntary but comedic performance of theatrical extent, you fell and hit the water surface.

The cool hit you so suddenly, you had swallowed a gulp of water before your instincts had time to set in. Quickly, your limbs began paddling to get you back to the surface. At that instant, a pair of arms suddenly linked under your armpits and swooped you up from underwater. Your brain processed what was going on. Without a doubt, someone had jumped after you and was pulling you out of the water. Stubbornly, you tried to avoid the idea of the cute lifeguard helping you out. Christ, that would really be the peak of all your embarrassing moments. No, it was probably the person you had run into, or someone who had already been in the water.

When you were placed by the poolside and blinked against the blending sun, your worst concerns came to pass. There he was, so close you could have touched his face. His worried expression changed when you opened your eyes, and he smiled, relieved. “Is everything alright?” he asked. You’d think this would make you into the most shamefaced person on the planet. And yet, all you could wonder was how two people’s genes could combine so flawlessly, so beautifully, to create such a man. When he got no answer from your moonstruck figure, he furrowed his eyebrows in alarm.

“Oh my- my god,” you stammered. “Yes! I’m fine, I’m sorry!”

You weren’t sure why you were apologizing. For worrying him? For inconveniencing him? For causing another scene? Either way, he grinned, and you felt your cheeks heat up terribly. You had to get away from there before something cringy came out of your mouth. Although you weren’t sure there was any way you could have made this more awkward than it already was.

“Make sure you have no injuries, okay?” he asked, helping you up. “If you need any medical assistance, just let me or one of the other lifeguards know.”

“Um…okay,” you said. Wow. That was no way to flirt with the most attractive person you had ever met. With all this drama you had gone through on that day, the universe could have at least blessed you with a romantic, your-life-savior-realizes-he-just-met-the-love-of-his-life moment. But no. The movies really were one massive hoax.

“It’s probably best you take a little break from the surprise, before you go back into the water,” he advised you. “And don’t hesitate to ask, if you need any more help.”

If only he knew how many times you had already tried to take a break from the surprise after everything on that day. You stood on your feet safely but felt like a cat that had fallen into the bathtub. At last, you managed a smile in the lifeguard’s direction. “Thank you.”

Funny enough, the stares people gave you bothered you only slightly as you walked back to your spot under the trees. Maybe you had used up all your embarrassment for the day. Nothing could intimidate you anymore. That meant, whatever happened from now on, it couldn’t get worse. Somehow after the pinnacle of chaos, you finally felt some inner tranquility. You went back to your novel, now and then keeping an eye out for potential water balls coming your way. But everything was calm. As time went on, you lost yourself completely in the story line and forgot about everything around you. Maybe this was all meant to happen. Perhaps it was a message, that you should have waited for your family to have a free day, or for your friend to come back from vacation. Would the same things have happened? There was no way to tell. Just as you reached a specifically exciting scene in the novel, a figure suddenly appeared in front of you. You couldn’t believe your eyes.

“Hey,” the handsome lifeguard stood there, smiling kindly. Wide-eyed, you straightened up and greeted him shyly.

“I couldn’t help but notice how happy you were about that ice cream earlier,” he said. “But then you…lost your ice cream.”

“What an interesting way of saying I stomped on it and made an absolute fool of myself,” you smirked. He chuckled.

“However you want to put it, I thought maybe you could use some cheering up,” he went on. “So I got you a new one.”

He pulled two ice-lollies from behind his back. “One for you, one for me.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. “You bought me this? I don’t want to sound rude… but aren’t you supposed to be looking out for the next victim to repeat my foolery?”

“I’m on my break,” he laughed. His eyes crinkled up cutely when he smiled, and it only made your stomach flutter more. “If you want me to leave, I will. I’m not trying to be weird or obtruding. Just making sure you’re okay, because I noticed you’re here alone.”

“Oh. No! Feel free to stay here for as long as you want!” you said, and now maybe you were the one sounding obtrusive. You scooted over and let him take a spot on your bathmat. You thanked him for the ice cream and gleefully unwrapped it. “My friends and family weren’t available today. But I really, really wanted to come here today. Maybe not my brightest idea.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve seen way worse plunges than yours. You were lucky, really. You got away with a small shock and nothing more. It was pretty impressive, actually.”

“I’m glad I have entertaining qualities, at least.”

“I’m just messing with you,” he laughed. “I’m glad you’re fine. This place gets a little wild during the afternoon, especially on weekends.”

“You don’t say,” you chuckled.

“I recommend coming here in the mornings or late evenings, if you want a little more peace and quiet.”

“Thanks, I’ll probably consider it. Do you work here full time?” you asked.

“No, this is just a summer job,” he said. “It’s great. I get to swim for free and be outside a lot. Not to mention this is one of my favorite places in town.”

“You love swimming too?” you asked and regretted it right away. A lifeguard who hated swimming made no sense, after all. But he didn’t seem to think your words were silly.

“I do! I come here a lot to swim, when it’s not as busy and I don’t have to work,” he said. The thought of seeing him again when you came back in a few days – which you already knew you would – made you feel some sort of way. You had been embarrassed, but his sweet words had appeased you. You could definitely get used to seeing his face all summer long. The two of you talked for some time, while you both finished your ice cream. You learned his name, which was just as beautiful as its owner, and that he thought you had actually looked pretty cute (!) when you fell into the pool. You swore he wasn’t even real. Perhaps he was merely a hallucination, a product of your imagination, to cheer yourself up after your messy day. Either way, your head was up in the clouds as long as he was sitting there, next to you, with his perfect shoulders and charming voice. Soon, he had to excuse himself, though. His break was over and as he had put it, he needed to prevent any more ice cream-murders from happening.

After your conversation, the universe had apparently shifted in your favor. You spent the entire rest of your day without any more misfortunes. Like you had talked to a lucky charm who had done miracles for you, you had a fantastic time. You were even brave enough to face a few more go’s down the ever-so-threatening waterslide. As it got later, more people went home, and just as he had predicted, things calmed down. And you were convinced you would stay until the bitter end. Only when a female voice announced over the speakers that the swimming pool would close in 30 minutes, you slowly started to pack up your things.

As you approached the exit, you scanned the area for your favorite lifeguard. But he was nowhere to be found. You assumed he had already finished his shift and gone home. But as luck would have it, as you neared the bicycle stands to retrieve your bike, you saw him already there. His eyes beamed when he noticed you.

“Wow, you held out a long time,” he said. “Had fun?”

“I did,” you said. You could only be grateful your ice-cream massacre was the sole of your antics he had witnessed that afternoon. Who knew how he would look at you if he had experienced your full chaotic capacity? “Thank you again, for making sure I was fine. And for the ice cream.”

“It was no big deal,” he said. “It’s what I’m here for.”

“To buy random girls ice cream?” you teased.

“No, only the special ones get the ice cream.”

“Define special.”

“To be honest? I was genuinely concerned you would feel down. I’ve seen you almost trip over when you first came in, you got hit in the face by a ball, I’ve witnessed your little quarrel with that bug and your somersault from the waterslide looked pretty rough. After all that you choked on water and then ended up falling into the pool and losing your ice cream. I supposed you could need some serious cheering up.”

Oh my god. If only you could have opened a portal straight to hell, you would have taken the chance on the spot. All this time he had been watching you? It couldn’t get more mortifying than this.

“Sorry, I sound like some creepy stalker,” he said. “I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just you-“

“I looked like a clown in a neon suit?”

“You’re really pretty,” he said. Your cheeks warmed up and you could have yelled out loud.

“But you have to admit, at least the clown part is true.”

“Maybe,” he joked. “Don’t be embarrassed. I thought you were – are – adorable.”

“Thank you,” you managed to say. What the hell were you doing? The most handsome guy was complimenting you. You had to take your chance. “Maybe sometime I could buy you some ice cream too? If you feel like it-“

“I’d love that,” he smiled. It was only the beginning of summer, but it was a glorious one. You already knew it could only get better. Instead of cursing the universe, you had to say your thank you’s now. Without your string of bad luck, things would have never led this way. Perhaps fortune was on your side, after all.

231 notes · View notes

kkrazy256 · 3 years ago

Note

“ i thought i lost you. ” with my fav bros Fox and Thorn? <3 (all the sentences are soooo good)

Hey Amiko <3 Hope you don't mind that I used this prompt for CommanderFoxWeek @loving-fox-hours

Title: Redemption Inside the Grave

Prompt(s): Day 2: Hope | Forgiveness, "I thought I lost you"

Warnings: None

Characters: Commander Fox and Commander Thorn

Additional Tags: Post- Scipio, Commander Fox Needs a Hug

Word Count: 1821

[On Ao3]

The amount of datawork that sits on Fox’s desk after a mission is usually a good indicator of how it went.

Good missions start with stacks of blueprints, detailed strategies, and the files of his best troops. These missions end with minimal thanks (it’s expected, it’s what they’re made for. What need is there to show gratitude?), and most troopers on the file with their status update still green and labeled functioning. There isn't much datawork for these types of missions.

Bad missions start hurried by time and Senators, with minimal preparation, and not enough vode (never enough vode). They end with everyone important mad. Mad at him (of course, who else? He deserves it. He deserves it all. He fucked up. He’s always fucking up). It ends with spitting insults about incompetence and hurling threats of decommissioning. But none of it hurts. At least it never hurts more than the blocks of red (deceased) on the files he has to read through and sign off on. These missions end with more vode coming back in bodybags than on their feet, and Fox can’t help but think, I did that to them.

The worst missions? It’s the ones where he wakes up underwater, a weight heavier than an anvil over his chest, stealing every breath and pushing him deeper and deeper into the dark. Missions where he does things he doesn’t fully comprehend beyond I followed my orders, I am a good soldier. Only to look back and think, is he?

It’s holding up his blaster with still hands and perfect calm. It’s taking deadly aim even when he sees the resignation in Rex’s eyes and feels nothing. Nothing until the body hits the floor and he can’t take his own helmet off to pay respects because what right does he have? Because his hands are finally starting to shake, the weight of his actions hitting all at once and dragging him to the bottom of the ocean floor.

But this,

Fox looks down at the stack of datapads on his desk. The room is dark, the desk lamp unplugged and on the ground. There are no windows. The air is stuffy and stagnant; he wonders if they are cleaning the vents again.

The top datapad lights up when he lifts it. The halo of blue illuminates his immediate area. The helmet sitting at the corner looks purple, the visor staring back at him like a void. Every time he blinks, it burns from somewhere behind his eyes. Fox doesn’t remember the last time he truly slept. (Before the ARC trooper, before Scipio —)

It’s a mission summary report, written hastily enough for there to be a few typos. It’s short, barely a few paragraphs long, and his eyes glide over the words without retaining anything. His focus is on the attached list of updated statuses.

It’s all red. Red Red Red Red.

He thinks these types of missions are even worse than the ones where he doesn’t have control.

Red Red Red.

These missions should not end like this. They go prepared, they go with their best.

Red Red Red.

So why do they end like this?

Red Red Red —

Green.

The stack of datapads shift slightly, and the desk trembles as a shadow settles on the edge.

“If it breaks, I’m stealing your desk.” He pinches the bridge of his nose hard, and the throbbing ebbs away into something dull.

“Does that mean you’ll do my datawork too?” Thorn’s voice is light and teasing, but something’s off. He leans forward to pick up the helmet and the blue lights up his face. His eyes are tired, but the crinkling around the edges always betray his mirth. There’s no crinkling there right now; Thorn just looks exhausted. His hands turn the helmet around, fingers tracing over the painted wings on the temples.

“I’ll do it for Scipio.” Fox blurts out, and the fingers pause.

“You don’t have to.”

“I do,” Fox doesn’t know why he does, but there’s something pressing in the back of his brain, telling him that he shouldn’t let Thorn do it, “you should get some rest. Remedy would kick your sheb if he finds out you came here instead of to medbay.”

“Well, you don’t have to snitch.” Thorn sniffs and Fox shakes his head with a scoff. He picks up the stylus to start going over the report in detail.

A gloved hand lands on the corner of the datapad, and Fox looks up. Thorn’s eyes reflect the blue glow, flickering to read the upside-down words.

“Hawk found me.” Thorn whispers.

Fox remembers the pilot during one of the 501st’s shore leaves. Thorn’s batchmate is slightly more serious than Thorn himself, but they share the same air of wild freedom, unable to be tied down. He remembers them taking off their helmets with matching grins, showing him their twin emblazoned wings.

“How’d he look?”

“Horrified. Scared.” Thorn’s laugh is humorless, “I thought he was going to kill me himself if I wasn’t a—.....it wasn’t pretty, Fox.” he swallows hard, “there wasn’t much we could do.”

“...You went with less than two platoons. None of us were expecting the level of activity you got.”

The hand pulls back, leather creaking under the pressure of a clenched fist, “I lost them all, ori’vod.”

“But you’re here.” Fox places his own hand over Thorn’s. Everything feels cold, “I...it’s not your fault.”

“I think if any fingers are to be pointed, it would be towards the commanding officer during the mission, Fox. Which would be me.”

“You weren’t supposed to be the one leading Scipio.” Fox snarls and the aftermath of his outburst echoes through the room. He takes a shuddering breath.

“I was.”

“Fox…”

The air gets stuck in his lungs, and he kneads his palms into his eyes hard enough to see sparks behind the lids.

Scipio was supposed to be his mission. But he was—still is, a complete and utter wreck. After the incident with the ARC trooper, he hadn’t had a chance to stop. It became a blur of meetings. With the Chancellor, with Skywalker, with Rex, with his Guard. All with little variation. Everyone just wanted to know, what happened?

And Fox didn’t have a good answer for any of them.

He’s so tired.

And Thorn had found him in his office then, just as he did now. He had found Fox sitting at his desk with the stylus in a death grip, staring at plans and contingencies. Found him running on fumes that not even caf could fix at that point. Found Fox in his arms immediately to steady him when he stood and started careening to the side.

I fucked up, Thorn. I fucked up so bad.

I’ll go to Scipio. We’ll talk more when I get back, alright? Please get some rest, ori’vod. Please.

And Fox had agreed. Because he was tired.

Tired of seeing the ARC trooper’s bone-white armor out of the corner of his eye every time he started to slip. Tired of the Chancellor’s oily praise for a job well done in killing a vod for the Republic. Tired of Skywalker’s needling curiosity. Tired of Rex not blaming him. Tired of everyone telling him, it’s—

“Fox, it’s not your fault.” Thorn’s words from before the mission mesh with the words that Thorn’s repeating right now.

“Well, who’s is it then?” Fox snaps, slamming his palms back down on the desk. His vision blurs with random patterns from the prolonged darkness, and Thorn’s image swims in front of him. He had gotten about an hour of unconsciousness before his comm beeped with urgent matters from the Chancellor. He’s been on his feet ever since.

He should’ve just stole some stims and gone to Scipio.

“Why aren’t you all angry?” He continues, the plastic of the datapad strains under his grip, “not you, not Stone, not Thire. Not—” He stutters, “not Rex. None of you are, and I don’t understand .”

“Why do you want us to be, Fox?”

He falters, heart stuck in his throat. It beats erratically and his stomach turns.

If they’re mad, there’s something to work with. He can apologize (even if it means absolutely nothing). Amends can be made (how. You fucking bastard, how?) He can fix it. He has to fix it.

How?

“You want us to be angry because you’re angry with yourself.” Thorn sets his helmet down, leaning forward to study Fox with dark eyes that see through his very core.

His lips curl upwards.

“Oh, ori’vod. You want us to forgive you.”

There are tears in Thorn’s eyes. (Or are they his own?)

Thorn’s forehead presses against his, and Fox presses back with a sobbing exhale.

“You already have it. We’re not the ones you’re looking for forgiveness from.”

A strand of long hair slips from Thorn’s ponytail and brushes against his cheek. It hits Fox with a sudden urge for how things used to be. Back when the war had only just started, and they were all shiny and thought things would get better. Back when he had enough time and energy to sit in the command lounge and braid Thorn’s hair clumsily.

Hound’s better at this than I am, you know.

Mmm, yeah but I want my ori’vod to braid my hair.

Spoiled little kih’vod.

“I thought I lost you.” He manages between hitched keening breaths ( when had he started to break down? Just now? Months ago? Two years ago?)

“I’m never gone, ori’vod.” Thorn hums, reaching up to squeeze the back of his neck. It’s so cold, “Just marching—”

Far away.

The door to his office opens, and Fox jumps back.

“...You alright, Fox?” Stone stands at the entrance, a datapad in his hand.

Fox blinks, glancing down at the one in his own hands.

The list of troopers stares back, every name in red.

The Separatist Blockade was successfully broken through. Senator Padmé Amidala was safely extracted from Scipio under the command of Jedi General Anakin Skywalker and the 501st Legion.

No other Republic survivors were extracted. Recovery efforts have been approved and engaged.

— CT-4991 (Hawk)

“Fox?”

“...What is it?”

“The recovery mission on Scipio just returned. We’re heading to the crematorium right now.” Stone shifts on his feet, “you coming?”

“...Yeah.” Fox reaches for the helmet on his desk, red and black without any wings. His eyes feel crusty and swollen. At this point, he has no idea if they’re even open and seeing the right things anymore.

He’s so tired.

Fox slips the helmet on and stands. The world spins, and he bites his tongue hard enough to taste blood. He walks towards Stone.

“You sure you’re alright? I could have Thire take the next shift. He’s—” Stone’s breath hitches, “he’s up for promotion now anyway.”

“I’ll be fine,” Fox says as he passes his Second, stepping out into the hallway.

He’ll be fine.

[ao3] if you wish to drop a kudo/comment :)

#commanderfoxweek2021 #commander fox #tcw #star wars #sw mine

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thyshadowwriter · 3 years ago

Text

Lost & Found. Chapter 2.

Ivar Ragnarsson x oc.

Summary: being rescued by Helga in one of the raids and reluctantly tolerated by Floki, a young girl finds herself amidst a strange place with strange people, but if adapting to the cultural shock wasn't hard enough, catching the attention of the volatile and beloved son of the Queen would soon prove to be the ultimate proving. That if she realizes just how much being around prince Ivar is walking on thin ice.

Author's note: I took some liberties with the timeline.

Tagging: @youbloodymadgenius

An awkward introduction takes place as Ivar visits Floki unannounced.

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

The girl, now Revna, made no opposition to her new name, which in a small amount, made Floki proud in himself, and although Helga wasn't very thrilled, she let Floki have that one. Maybe, with time and understanding, Revna would open up more about herself, or so she hoped.

She was curious about her surroundings, looking around and apparently trying to memorize all of it. But as she tried to move one of the heavy pots, the pain made her gasp and clutch to her side.

Helga rushed to her and guided her to sit on a chair, trying to soothe her.

"You have to be careful, you need to heal."

Revna nodded. Floki took their belongings inside and closed the door. He walked to them and crouched to Revna's level. He showed the palm of his hands to her and pointed to where her wound was, he needed to see if she hurt herself more. Once she regained her breath she looked from his hands to his face and nodded for him.

He uncovered her wound and examined it carefully. It would leave a mark, but it at least it didn't get worse.

"You should be more careful, Revna. It is healing well, the gods favored you." Floki said to her as he covered the wound again.

Looking to Revna's and Helga's dark eyes an idea crossed his mind. Floki quickly raised and began searching the house.

"Floki, what is it?"

"She needs to learn or language, Helga. She cannot live here and not understand us."

"What are you doing Floki?"

He didn't answer her and continued searching until he found a box that caught his attention.

"Here. I knew I had kept it somewhere."

He walked back to them and handed Revna the box.

She looked to the box and frowned then looked to Floki and raised both eyebrows.

"Go on. Open it." Said Floki, urging her to it.

She opened it and inside were a bunch of symbols carved and painted in wood. She picked one to examine it closely, as if by looking they could mean something.

"You can start teaching her with those." Floki said to Helga.

Helga smiled back to her husband, a silent thank you for his help.

Revna took them out of the box and put them on her lap, leaving the box to her side, now completely taken by curiosity, going attentively from one to the next. Helga took some of the runes from her lap, thinking of the lessons she would teach her. It would be just like teaching a newborn their first word, that she knew how to do.

Floki was happy with himself, if he could help Helga in her mad endeavor, he would, gods know she put up with his. As long as the girl learned to respect and acknowledge their gods and their way of life, he could tolerate her. He could try, for Helga.

Floki went to his table and began sorting his tools for his next work, while Helga began teaching Revna the runes and their voices filled the house while he started his work.

A few hours passed like this when the sound of the door being open broke the spell. It was Ivar, who came to visit them, as he would do occasionally.

The gods were testing him, there could be no other way.

Usually, Floki wouldn't mind Ivar's visits, a part of him missed when he was a kid, his home wasn't as empty with Ivar around, but right now, he would rather Ivar didn't show up so soon. He would prefer the girl had more time to get used to them before the inevitable introductions had to be made.

But life was never easy, he could only pray to the gods and hope for the best.

Ivar dragged himself inside and closed the door behind him.

"Hello, Floki. Helga."

"Ivar." Floki said.

"Hello, Ivar." Helga greeted him back.

Helga's hand left the runes she held to the side and she began playing with the girl long locks, while Revna's attention left the runes and went to young man dragging himself on the ground. Floki looked to the girl trying to gauge her thoughts, but her face was unreadable to him.

He could only hope it would be the same to Ivar. He knew very well how Ivar reacted to people who looked to him wrong.

Of course Ivar's attention went straight to Revna. He looked her up and down before asking.

"So... Who is this?"

"We named her Revna." Answered Helga proudly.

"And you brought her back? She'll make a good slave, I'm sure." There was malice in his voice, something that Revna seemed to grasp even if she couldn't understand his words. Her face fell a bit and she pursed her lips together, looking at Ivar with full distrust.

But before either of them would do or say anything else, Helga was quick to correct Ivar.

"She's not a slave. We are adopting her. She's my child."

Ivar looked to Floki with the most shocked expression that ever painted his face, his eyes wide open and his lips parted, like for once in his life he was without words and without a guess of what to do. Were it any other situation, Floki would have laughed, that was a look he never imagined on Ivar, but he too was just as lost, so he just looked to the window as if he could remove himself from the room.

Ivar looked to Helga, who was either oblivious or downright ignoring their confusion and instead was attentively combing and braiding the girl's long dark locks.

"Ah... Well, let's see." Ivar said, the he pushed himself closer to the girl.

He reached his hand to touch her face. He wanted to have a better look at her, in part out of curiosity and in a greater part to assure himself that she was in fact there to be adopted and not some of Floki's scheming.

Or maybe Either Floki or Helga had finally lost their minds, could very much be.

But Revna didn't take his gesture very well and got startled, trying to get far from Ivar but finding herself trapped between his hand and the back of the chair.

Helga held her down by the shoulders and tried to defuse the situation before she injured herself further and Ivar became angry at her.

"Shh, it's alright. Don't be afraid." Helga said to her repeatedly.

"I won't hurt you." Ivar tried to reassure.

But Revna argued something to Helga that neither of them could understand, but if her face and tone were any clue, she didn't sound very pleased.

Ivar cocked his head to the side narrowing his eyes at Revna.

"It's alright, my child. He won't hurt you. It's alright. You don't have to be afraid." Helga tried to calm her down.

Revna said something else but Helga repeated herself, gently patting the girl's head.

"I won't hurt you, alright? I just want to see you." Ivar said to her.

She looked at Ivar then back to Helga who nodded to her with a smile. Revna pursed her lips together again, inhaled deeply until her lungs were full of air and sighed audibly, resting her hands on her lap and turned her attention back to Ivar, nodding to him and allowing him to touch her face, though her eyes started at him like she would throw him in a pyre if she could.

Ivar was pleased to have his way and gave Revna a lopsided smile. He couldn't possibly take seriously the young girl's annoyance and instead was nothing short of amused by the indignant look she gave him.

So Ivar touched her face, trying his best to not make sudden movements and startle her again. She didn't flinch from his touch, but he could feel her muscles tense under his fingertips. He took his time to feel her cheek, the shape of her jaw and her forehead. Her skin was soft and her features delicate, still a tad round but he guessed that would change once she got older.

He could feel her dark eyes looking at his every movement, possibly trying to gauge whether ot not he would hurt her, if he had to guess. Her cheeks became red as he continued to touch her face and her gaze held a curiosity under the poorly hidden grievance.

Ivar then touched her hair, the girl had a dense hair that looked somewhat wild with its dark and shiny waves and curls. Her hair felt soft on his fingers, he took the lock closer to her face and curled it around his finger, then released it.

"See? It wasn't so bad. I said I wouldn't hurt you." Ivar said as he looked back to Revna.

Helga and Floki heaved a sigh of relief. Helga touched Revna's hair again and continued to braid it.

Revna parted her lips as if she wanted to say something to him, but the reminder she couldn't hit her and she rolled her eyes annoyed and sighed, tapping her foot against the floor.

Ivar chuckled at that. He then looked to her lap and saw what he remembered to be the runes Floki used to teach him years ago. He reached out to pick one of them but before he could notice, his hand was slapped away soundly by Revna.

Floki, Helga and Ivar all froze at their positions, looking wide eyed and with parted lips at Revna. Ivar's hand still in the air, Helga's hands on Revna's hair.

Ivar locked his stare on Revna, his clear blue eyes wide open looking at her in complete disbelief.

They stood like that until Floki broke the silence with a laughter that all the surroundings must have heard. He hit the table with a fist and leaned forward trying to catch his breath, his pale face becoming red and his eyes watering a bit.

Ivar moved a bit away from Revna and turned to look at Floki, who was trying to catch his breath, Helga took the runes from Revna's lap and put them away, guiding the girl away from the room.

Once they left, Ivar had his attention all on Floki.

"What are you laughing of, you old fool?"

"Someone finally gave you a lesson. Who would have guessed it would be a child?"

#ivar x reader #ivar ragnarsson x reader #helga x reader #floki x reader #vikings fanfiction

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