#this is why i should wake up at normal times

[mikkomacko]

Him and I- Diamond Rings

Pairing: Mob Nico Hischier x reader

Warnings: some cursing, crying, nothing much

A/n: bit of a fluffer chapter after sad Nico and reader last chapter. Hope you all like it! I’ll be back soon with a Christmas blurb for y’all :))

Previous chapter

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Nico can’t sleep.

You can hear him pacing the room, the light taps of his feet on the hardwood floor as he attempts to quietly distract himself.

He’s always praised you for your ability to be light on your toes, amazed at how you move around on jobs with the boys without making a sound. It’s why he’s always called you sneaky. And it’s a skill he himself has never been able to fully accomplish.

Even now, with fuzzy socks up to his ankles and an awkward gait that he gets from trying to balance on the balls of his feet, you can hear him.

Careful to not move too much, you blink away sleep and watch him. He doesn’t walk too far, going from one end of the bed to the next. Sometimes he’ll look out the window, but most of the time he’s just nibbling on the side of his thumb, one arm crossed over his bare chest.

Something in your chest aches, throbbing painfully in the space that your heart normally resides. Except it doesn’t feel like your heart is there anymore. Only the echoing beats of it, painful thrums in the empty captivity that gapes there.

Maybe you messed up, talking to Rino like that. You wanted to protect Nico, to keep his father from hurting him again but it feels like you’ve just hurt him in place of his father. Nico didn’t get to confront him, didn’t get to ask him what this has all been for. But worst of all, you didn’t even give him a chance at closure.

Softly kicking the blankets back, the rustle of the sheets makes Nico look over. He drops his thumb from his mouth, fiddling with the raw skin instead.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” He apologizes, reaching out for you once you’ve gotten close enough. His hand is cold, even through the shirt you’ve got on and you’re glad you fell asleep with your socks on earlier. You hate the feeling of cold floors.

“You didn’t,” you say, taking a hold of the hand he’s picking at “maybe I just missed you.” You press a kiss to the pad of his thumb, wrapping the digit protectively in your first.

“M’right here,” he eyes your mouth, your tongue instinctively prodding at the scabbed wound under his attention. It stings, not enough to make you outwardly wince but Nico notices anyway. “Should have let me ice that before bed.”

“It’s ok,” you dodge, “just a scratch I swear.” Nico raises his eyebrows, humming like he doesn’t believe you but he’ll let it go, for now.

“Did you have a bad dream?” He cradles your face, eyes examining you like he’s expecting to see physical evidence of a pained sleep.

“No,” you assure, laying your hand over his heart, feeling the steady thump-thump under his skin. Nico wraps you up in his arms, pining you to his chest when you shiver.

Arms squished between your bodies, you happily snuggle into his hold. “Let’s get you back into bed baby,” he murmurs, lips on your temple. Taking him by the hand, you guide him back to the bed, kneeing your way onto the mattress. His body is warm against your back as he follows, collapsing into the pillows.

Mimicking him, you pull the blankets over the both of you. It’s cute, the way his cheek squishes into the pillow, eyes bright even in the dim room. Nico looks younger like this, when it’s just the two of you in the quiet night. No families to sabotage, no Devs boys to watch over. No expectations.

Just you and him.

That spot in your chest throbs again, the emptiness rattling your bones and you squeeze the blankets in your hand, pulling them tighter over you and him. Like that’ll keep everything out.

“Did it feel like this?” You ask, unable to keep the sadness out of your voice. Nico frowns, questioningly. “When it was me up at night, pacing and-and…”

“Scared?”

You nod, the pillowcase rustling in your ear. Nico blinks, gaze morphing from looking at you to looking through you. It’s visible in his eyes that he’s reliving the months after you were taken by Philly, before Johnny and Alex were there to distract you, to help you. How everyday it felt like you were fighting just to breathe. And Nico, he was fighting for everything on behalf of you.

You wonder what moments he sees when he thinks about it, which ones were the worst for him.

“Empty,” he finally croaks, searching your face. “I felt so empty. I wanted to give you everything, I wanted to fix everything and it was hard because I felt like I didn’t have anything to give.”

A lump swells in your throat, pressing tightly into your windpipe and it’s suddenly so stuffy and warm in the room. But the covers feel nice, safe, so you stay buried in them.

“You did do everything,” you tell him “even when it felt like that, just having you with me made it so much better.”

The eyebrow not pressed to the pillow quirks, as if trying to say ‘look at us now, you’re doing the same thing baby’.

“M’not scared,” he murmurs, quiet but not unsure. “About what happened, about my family. Not sad either- I mean of course I’m sad it got you hurt but I’m not sad about…”

“Rino,” you fill in, “you’re not sad that he’s gone.”

Nico’s jaw ticks, the muscles of it flexing as he chews at the inside of his cheek. Unlike his thumb, there no way for you to shield that sensitive piece of skin from his teeth. That doesn’t stop you from frowning though, eyeing the dent in his cheek.

“He never liked me anyway,” Nico finally responds, a yawn stretching his mouth. “I was always just…business. Never a kid to him, never a son, never a man. Never enough, I guess.

“So I didn’t really lose anything. Not in him anyway.”

The rest of the thought goes unspoken, but it’s clear you both know what he’s been contemplating over. Was his mom involved? Did Luca have any idea that Rino was still commanding some of the men here? What about Nina? Was they all in on this gimmick to get Nico back to Switzerland?

You wouldn’t really blame them, if they were. Not that you’re condoning what they did but you know how people feel about Nico. He’s such a strong person, a strong leader, and it almost feels necessary to always have him around. You wouldn’t fault anyone for wanting to have him around, even if you were the collateral damage.

Not that they deserve him. They don’t love Nico the way you do, they don’t see how relaxed and sure of himself he becomes with you, with the Devs. He’s yours to keep and love forever, and as they’ve all seen, you’ll go to hell and back for him.

“How did you deal with it?” You ask, steering away from his family. “That empty feeling?”

All you want to do right now is bundle him up in your arms, tuck him into that hollow part of your chest where no one can ever hurt him again. But that’s impossible, you can’t protect him from everything.

A tiny smile curls at his lips, almost bashful and he’s gesturing over your head. “Hand me my phone.” You shuffle under the covers, stretching across the king sized bed to get his phone off the nightstand.

Nico unlocks it, the screen lighting up his face and he moves onto his back, sitting up on his pillows. You follow, fitting yourself into his side with your head on his shoulder. The hand that finds your hip is warm and safe, almost guarding as it holds you.

Turning his phone to you, he encouraged, Go ahead, take it.”

So you do, blinking away the spots in your vision until the light adjusts and you can see the notes app open on his phone. It doesn’t have a title, but it’s a numbered list.

Sleeping with the tv on

Don’t let her go to the bathroom by herself

Likes when I touch her neck but only softly

Mario voice “it’s a me!”

Talking about her favorite books

Hold her hand when she calls Marino

Car rides with hot coco

Hot coco in general

“Nico what is this?”

He taps at the screen, scrolling all the way to the bottom where the last entry reads Taking care of Alex.

“It’s a list of everything that made you smile or laugh, even for a just a second, for those months after Philly.”

When you think about it, a lot of these moments are things you did with him when you were struggling. Nico stopped setting the sleep timer on the tv and would instead leave it on the channel that plays sitcoms all night. In case you woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep. And he would play guard at the bathroom door for you, even at restaurants and grocery stores when you afraid of being left alone. He’d get you a hot drink and the two of you would drive around Jersey and New York for hours, tolls and traffic be damned. Always holding your hand, touching the back of your neck when he could tell you were nervous. And Alex coming to Jersey had been the final thing to pull you out of the hole. You had a young boy that needed help and a family, and you loved him from the moment he stepped off the plane.

You could give him a family. You were happy to even just try.

“There wasn’t much I could do to make you entirely better,” he whispers, pride in his tone “but I could do all of this to make it a little easier.”

A wet giggle escapes you, tears welling in your eyes. You were so miserable then, so numb to everything but him. Nothing mattered to you, but you remember thinking everyday that eventually he wouldn’t want to do this anymore. He’d get tired of fighting to get you out of bed everyday, he’d get tired of sitting with you and counting to a minute while you brushed your teeth, of laying extra towels on the bathroom floor when you showered because you were scared to close the curtain but water would run everywhere.

Yet this whole time, he wasn’t. He spent months watching over you like a hawk, making lists of how he could get you to smile, and even now he sounds happy telling you about it. Like the memories of all this work is a fond thought to him.

“I love your Mario voice,” you giggle, locking his phone. If you read any more of his little notes you’re gonna start crying, for real. “And when I’d play Mario kart as Yoshi and you’d do his little noise.”

Nico moves his phone to the nightstand, grabbing your thigh and hauling you into his lap. He’s smiling when you look at him, cheeks visibly rosy even in the dark. “Yoshi noise,” he reminisces, “was number 15. I’d practice it all the time so that when I did it, it was perfect.”

You try to picture him in the shower, making food, cleaning the apartment, all those moments when you were sleeping or reading and he had time to himself, muttering the little frog noise under his breath, eyebrows pinched together in concentration.

“You’re the most perfect person, ya know that?”

Nico blinks, a little taken aback by the passionate sentiment but he shrugs and smiles, like it’s no big deal. “I just- I wanted you to know I love you. Even if you had a hard time realizing it then.”

You realize it now, how your mourning brain had fogged up all your emotions then, to point that you were so scared of losing of Nico, when in reality there was never a chance of that happening.

You don’t even know what to say, not that you could if you tried, because that bubble of emotion is sitting heavy in your chest. And you’re unsure of how to burst it, of what words would come out.

Nico must know though, because he takes ahold of the back of your neck, soft and gentle, just like he’s always been. “Let’s go for a drive,” he suggests, squeezing just once.

“M’supposed to be doing things that make you feel better, not the other way around.”

He pats your thigh, nudging you to get up. “This makes me better, you letting me taking care of you…I like knowing you trust me like that. It feels-I don’t know but it’s nice.”

‘Never a kid to him, never a son, never a man. Never enough, I guess’. His words from earlier, becoming even clearer now. He was never trusted to be more than just an heir to Rino, to have more responsibilities. Which is why now, as his own grown adult, Nico feels safe when he’s in charge. And he’s good at it, thrives at calling the shots.

“Ok,” you agree, and you let him guide you up from the bed and into the closet. You let him gather one of his sweaters and some leggings, snow boots and warm layers for you to wear. You let him take care of you, knowing that the both of you are safe with each other.

~~~~

The car inches forward, Nico slow and deliberate as he navigates up the steep roads of the mountains. His song plays over the Bluetooth connection, that one from the bar that he sings all the time and even though you can’t fully remember the translation, it makes you smile knowing it’s a love song.

You take a sip of the hot cocoa filled thermos, sucking in a wince when it burns your bottom lip…again.

“Stop,” Nico laughs, tangling his hand in yours after you returned the drink to the cup holder. “Let it cool down.”

“I thought it was!”

He huffs, squeezing your fingers playfully. “You said that five minutes ago too.” The song switches to something instrumental, the car steadily climbs the mountains, and the snow outside begins to brighten.

It’s all so beautiful, the evergreens bending and swooping under puffs of snow. The baby blue rising over the peaks, making them glow in a softened light.

“I know why you left here,” you say, gazing out the passenger window in awe “but it must be so hard to walk away from something so beautiful.”

Nico makes a thoughtful hum, turning the car off the main road and onto a snow packed one. The view gets even better, and you can’t take your eyes off the landscape.

“It was,” he agrees quietly, “but I found prettier things at home in Jersey.” You can feel his eyes on the side of your face, warming your cheeks and neck until you’re sure they’re flush.

“Timo is very pretty,” you reply weakly, clearing your throat to get rid of the jumble of words still caught in your throat.

Nico rolls his eyes, lips curled in amusement as he pulls to the side of the road. It’s a clearing coveted in snow, messed of boot prints marring it but not taking away from its beautiful landscape.

The sun is continuing to rise, blue turning to purple over the mountain tops, the snow brightening even more. You didn’t bring the clothes to go out and run through it, but you’re itching to get out of the car and snap a photo.

Maybe you could even get Nico to take a quick selfie with you, smiling cheeks pressed together with the open valley and mountains behind you.

“What are we doing here?”

Nico lowers the music, stretching out in his seat and gazing out the front windshield with a satisfied little smirk on his face. “Perfect spot to watch the sunrise,” he explains, nodding out to the view “when the sun hits the mountain tops, everything glows.”

You can picture it, the orange and pink glow, reflecting off big fluffy clouds and snowcapped trees, the last few stars twinkling in the brightening sky.

“Can we get out?”

Batting your eyelashes at him, you pull your best puppy dog face. Not that it’s needed, Nico is already looking at you like he’d give you the sun and the stars.

No hesitancy, he’s laughs. “Yeah, course.” Tugging the hood of your jacket up, you pull the laces tight to protect your neck. Then you’re gathering your phone, tucking it into your pocket and soaking up the last bit of heater before getting out.

“Kay,” you grin “let’s go.”

The air is an icy bite, stings your cheeks and makes your eyes water. You shiver, curling into Nico’s jacket further as you slam the car door shut and kick through the snow. He’s barely getting out of the car by the time you’ve rounded the front, messy hair shifting in the wind now that he’s abandoned his hat somewhere in the car.

“Nico,” you scold, shifting on your feet to generate a little body heat “your ears!”’

He shoves through the calf high piles of snow, hands tucked into his pockets and shoulders hunched, but his face is bright. A toothy smile and pink cheeks, dimples accentuating each side.

God, he’s so handsome. You swallow down the lump of words clawing to get out, reminding yourself that he always has a plan and intention. He’ll say them, he knows what he’s doing. And you trust him.

“Nothing like frozen ear drums to wake you up in the morning.” He jokes, and you step into him, humming at how warm he is even through the wind and layers. You stay huddled together for a few moments, Nico’s nose pressed into the top of your head.

The sun continues to rise, speeding towards the mountains tops and everything grows lighter and lighter. Mountains turn purple and pink, clouds bursting orange and yellow, edging out the dark hues of dawn. Once it all turns gold you pull away from him, the chill even worse after getting used to being tucked into his side.

Slipping your phone out of your pocket, you step closer to the clearing and pull up your camera. You snap a couple photos of the sun rising, tree tops peaking into the edge of the frame. The snow crunches under Nico’s boots behind you, and you’re reminded to get a picture with him.

“Nico,” you sing out, innocently, examining the photos you took as you turn to him. He makes a noise like he’s listening, and you lock your phone. “Can we-“

Everything freezes. The wind stops blowing, the sun halts its ascent, your fingers lock around your phone in a death grip. He’s kneeling, Nico is kneeling in the deep and powdery snow, his frozen fingers locked around a familiar black box.

You must look shocked or surprised or whatever that hot feeling bubbling in your gut is because Nico laughs, just one wobbling little chuckle. Hastily, you shove your phone in your pocket, but then you have no idea what do with your frozen fingers.

“Y/n,” Nico says, like he knows your brain is going a mile a minute “baby.” It’s like he’s calling you, voice a siren song that digs into the nerve endings of your brain and it makes all that noise fade away.

Instinctively, you drop to your knees with him, cushioned by the snow and the double layer of leggings and jeans. He holds out his hand to you, the one not holding the little black box, and you take it between both of yours, warming his fingers between your palms.

“You have completely turned my life upside down, ya know that? Or I don’t know, maybe you turned it right side up because now that I know what it’s like to love you, to have you, I don’t know how I ever lived before.

“Everything feels right when I’m with you, like every moment before us was just steering me to you. You match me, stride for stride. You’re the perfect amount of calm where I’m crazy, of smart where I’m stupid, of solid when I’m impulsive.

“You’ve learned and accepted my lifestyle as if it were second knowledge. You’ve taken my boys and made them your own. You’ve taken me and taught me what it means to actually love and be loved. And I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to show you the same. My darling love, you’ve been a Hischier for a while now, but what do you say we make it official? Will you please marry me?”

The snow has seeped through your pants, soaked into the soft skin of your knees and shins but it doesn’t matter. Maybe you’re numb from the cold, but either way you can’t even feel it. Not with Nico in front of you, eyes wide and glossy with love as he releases your hand to snap open the box.

And there, tucked between two pillowy cushions is the ring you only heard about in passing. It’s not the beautiful and intricate green emerald one from his mother, but instead one of his own design.

A thin gold band, shiny and sleek. A large, round diamond sits in the center, sparkling in the morning sunlight. But the most beautiful part is the tiny pearls beside it, wrapped around the diamond in a delicate band.

Pearls, traditional and elegant and significant for the lifestyle Nico and you live. A diamond, new and modern but just as beautiful. The best of both worlds.

“Yes,” you cry, a wet laugh bubbling out of you. “Of course I’ll marry you, Schao.”

He’s sniffling when he pulls the ring out of the box, taking your freezing and trembling hand in his steady one. The ring slips effortlessly over your knuckle, settling onto your left hand like it’s always belonged there.

“It’s perfect Nico,” you murmur, swiping at your wet cheeks. He licks his lips, nodding in agreement as he delicately runs his thumb over the diamond.

“Yeah it is,” he looks at you, lashes dark and clumped together with tears, his nose and cheeks rosy. “Come here, you’re fucking freezing.”

You’re practically jumping him, arms around his neck and you crash into him so hard he stumbles back into the snow. It’s so fucking cold, wetting his hair and stinging your hands but it doesn’t stop you from smothering him in kisses.

All along his cold cheek bones, on the tip of his glowing nose, on the dimple of his chin, and then finally his lips, chapped from the wind and tears. You hold his face and he holds you, numb hands cherishing each other like the precious gems on your ring.

“I love you,” you whisper into his lips, eyes fluttering open. “You have no idea how hard I’ve been fighting all day to not ask you first.”

He giggles, pecking at your mouth once more. “Yeah?” He kisses you again. “Is that why you went quiet on me?”

You nod, just barely because you don’t really want to stop kissing him. Pushing his hair off his forehead, you kiss between his eyebrows.

“I love you too baby.” He holds the back of your neck, the hoodie protecting you from his frigid fingers. “So fucking much.”

Then he squeezes, just once and you melt back into him, stealing his lips for more kisses. Frostbite be damned.

At least for the moment because after a bit you can feel him shivering, and your hands are so cold they feel like they’re burn off.

“Let’s go warm up,” he pants, breathless and beautiful when you sit up. You climb up from his lap, cheeks aching from smiling and he follows suit, groaning as he digs himself out from the snow angel he’s unintentionally made.

You both dart back to the car, boots crunching and joints protesting but the blast of heat that engulfs you once you get in is so worth it. Tugging off your hood, it takes some wiggling and shuffling but you kick off your boots and wet jeans too, tossing them to the backseat.

Nico reaches for the dash, grabbing for his phone and you realize where his hat from earlier went. He’s balled it up on the dash, phone propped up on it and his camera open and recording the scene in front of you.

He willingly froze his head off in favor of capturing your engagement.

“Well aren’t you a doll,” you tease, making him chuckle bashfully. He tugs his beanie back over his head, tossing his own wet jacket into the backseat.

“For photos,” he reasons, handing you his phone “think one of you tackling me would look real nice over our bed.”

That makes you laugh, setting his phone in your lap while you up the heat on the seat warmers and fish the thermos of hot coco out from the cup holder. Nico’s rubbing his hands together, trying to get them warm while you take a drink.

Perfect temperature. Almost like he planned it to be ready for when you’d get back in the car.

Suspiciously, you eye him and hand over the thermos. All he does is grin though, taking his own drink and winking at you playfully.

Either he’s really lucky, or he’s one smooth fucker.

“Come on, show me the video already!” He laughs when you’ve just been staring at him. Scoffing, you pick the phone up and lean over the console.

“Can I kiss my fiancé first or is that against the rules?”

It’s almost dizzying how struck and lovesick he looks after hearing that. Like he’s been waiting his whole life to hear that name fall from your lips.

~~~~

The bedroom door clicks softly behind Nico, overly cautious to not disturb the boys still sleeping in the other rooms. You drop the pile of wet and soggy clothes off to the side, biting your lip when Nico takes a hold of your hip. He’s gentle when he turns you, crowding you into the door. His palm comes up to cradle you jaw, thumbing at your bottom lip until you release it from between your teeth.

“Hi,” you whisper, the words settling into the stillness around you two. Nico’s eyes crinkle, gaze warm as it washes over you.

“Hey,” he replies, just as quiet. His lips ghost against yours, soft and hot compared to the kisses you shared in the snow. “Can I get you out of those wet clothes?”

You belly swoops pleasantly. “Yes please.”

Boyishly, he chuckles and presses his hand into your face, tilting your chin until he can peck your forehead. “Me too?”

Your smile grows. “Yes please.”

Squeezing your hip, his hands find the edge of his hoodie on your body, dragging it up your body and over your head. It gets tossed to the side with the other wet clothes. Then he’s taking a hold of your long sleeve and doing the same.

Back and forth it goes, you repeating the motions on him, and then him on you until every piece of clothing has been thrown carelessly to the floor. Your mouth finds his, cradling the back of his neck and you walk him back towards the bed.

As if expecting the move, Nico’s arms find your waist, hauling you up until your toes can’t touch the floor. Helpless, you wrap your legs around him, clinging to his shoulders.

He pulls back to see where he’s walking, fingers rubbing circles in your lower back and you lay your head on his shoulder, lazily mouthing at the juncture of his throat and collarbone.

Nico tosses you to the mattress, your body sinking into fluffy duvet and pillows with a shocked yelp. Standing before you, a hand on his hip and the most beautiful you’ve ever seen, Nico grabs at your thigh.

“My first time,” he says thoughtfully, “m’so nervous.”

He knees his way onto the mattress, your thighs spreading to accommodate his frame. “This is not your first time,” you laugh, goosebumps rising on your skin as he drags his palm up the inside of your thigh.

“S’my first time with my fiancée,” he retorts cheekily, pressing his chest to yours. Then he’s pressing his mouth to yours, teasingly licking at the seam of your lips, slow and tenderly, taking his time.

After all, what’s the rush when you get him for the rest of your life.

~~~~

The house is still quiet when you and Nico tiptoe down the stairs, your left hand intertwined with his and he absentmindedly swipes his ring finger into the band on yours.

It’s cute, you think, how obsessed with it he is. Not that you blame him, you never want to take your eyes off it. It’s beautiful and all you can think about is how Nico picked it for you, that he found it with the intention of knowing that it represents you and him forever.

Nico can feel you watching him, knows by the way you stumble into his side and he has to guide you through the living room. His lips quirk up into an amused smile, gaze flicker to meet yours as you cross into the kitchen and you giggle.

Wordlessly, he stops and wraps his arm around your shoulders, drawing you into him. Rising to your toes, you sweetly kiss at the corner of his mouth. Nico’s hand finds your ass, pressing you even closer to him and you make a move for his lips-

“Whoa PG in the kitchen please.”

Nico and you jolt simultaneously, your hand briefly squeezing his as you instinctively move behind him. He’s seemed to have the same reaction, turning as if he were going to shield you before freezing.

“Holy fuck Timo,” Nico gasps, his hold on you easing up “when the fuck did you get here?”

You sigh in relief, relaxing into Nico’s shoulder and trying to calm your racing heart. Apparently this trip has made you more jumpy than you’ve ever been, not that it’s not justified. You were kidnapped, choked, knocked on conscious, and slapped all within few weeks.

“Like ten minutes ago, why are you acting like I pulled gun on you-what the hell happened to you?”

Timo gapes when you look at him, dropping his half eaten toast to the counter and rushing towards you. He basically shoves Nico off of you to take a hold of your face.

“Long story,” you mutter, batting him away “we’ll tell you later when we go to finish the job.”

Nico takes ahold of your hand again, squeezing reassuringly. You can’t help it, you attach to him like two magnet ends, body and mind and soul aching to hold him.

“Are we gonna have to kill anyone again?” Timo frowns, “Because I just got the stains out of my pants.”

You look up at Nico, waiting for his lead. His lips purse, head tilting to the side like he’s thinking about it. “Nah probably not.” Timo slumps in relief. “Now tell us what happened with Amelia?”

Your friend’s whole demeanor perks up at that, blue eyes brightening and eyes crinkling with a huge smile. “We talked for hours,” he gushes, moving back around the counter for his toaster. “About everything! She talked about the shows she’s skated in and her lessons. And I told her about Jersey and the Devs, how big it’s all gotten.

“She wasn’t even freaked out either when I gave her like details on what we do. If anything, she was proud. She kept saying that she knew me and Nico would be big one day.”

He pauses, inhaling three large bites of toast. Crumbs scatter to the plate and countertop. “Timo, that’s great!” You encourage, but he’s not done. Holding up a finger as he chews and swallows.

“So she decided we’d give it a shot, yeah? Not dive head first like you psychos but we’re gonna do long distance and she’ll come visit more, feel it out? But I have a really good feeling about it.”

You’re already overly tender heart swells, and for the first time in a while, everything feels almost perfect. Timo is finally back with the girl he loves after years of enduring an ocean between them. You and Nico are getting married. You’re going home, back to Jersey and Moose and the house that will now have a roof over two Hischier heads.

“Timo, man congrats.” Nico says, awe in his voice. He must be realizing it too, soaking in the moment of things feeling right again.

We’re exactly where we’re supposed to be.

Nico lets go of you in favor of wrapping Timo in a hug so tight it looks bone crushing. Timo chuckles, his grin mirroring Nico’s and they affectionately pat at each other’s chest. “Timo and Amelia, back together. Just like ol’ times.”

“That makes us sound like we’re forty.”

They giggle like school girls, your chest aching at the sight of the man you love with his oldest friend, still acting like they haven’t aged a day since turning 15.

“Will you quiet down,” Jack grumbles, annoyed and half asleep as him and the other boys shuffle into the kitchen. They’re still in their pajamas, bed head and pillow creases on their cheeks. Mercer looks at you, blinking a few times like he’s trying to make himself alert.

“Timo sounds like a fucking goal horn,” Luke adds, equally as grumpy as his brother. It must be a Hughes thing, their repulsion to the mornings.

“And all Nico does is giggle,” Jack glares at him, blue eyes glossy and swollen with exhaustion. He shoulders past Timo and Nico, heading straight for the coffee pot.

Nico looks to you, rolling his eyes but before you can even react back Mercer is there, large and gangly torso blocking your view. Confused, you look up at him curiously.

“Good morning Dawson,” you greet, but he just frowns, looking you up and down. You don’t miss the way he lingers on your busted lip, lips pouting. But then his gaze dips lower, trailing over where your arms are crossed and to your hands.

His gaze shoots up to yours, eyebrows raised in shock and something else. Maybe he’s…impressed? Like he thought Nico and you were gonna keep putting it off or something. Though you suppose he has taking into account that they’ve been telling him since Philly to put a ring on you.

“Nice ring,” he murmurs, voice scratchy and a toothless grin rises on his face. The kitchen goes silent, not even the quiet puff of breathes breaking the silence. Two heads peek over his shoulders, Luke and Alex looking at you expectantly.

“What ring?”

“You guys got married without us?”

Bashfully, you giggle, rolling your eyes at their dramatics. “No just engaged.” You dismiss, waving them off.

The kitchen erupts, a coffee cup clattering to the counter top as Jack and Timo leap to crowd in with the other three. They’re all jeering and shouting things at you, grabbing for your left hand and you laugh. Helpless to their excitement, you let them tug you around and show off the ring.

“I never would’ve guessed you be the first to get married,” Timo teases, whipping around the engulf Nico in a big hug again. Over the top of Luke’s tangled curls you catch Nico’s blush, the big toothy smile on his face. Until you’re being squashed into four pairs of arms.

Like a bunch of children on the playground, you and the boys all squeal and hop around in a jumbled group hug, the only thing keeping you from being bumped over is them.

“Part the Red Sea, please!” Timo shoves them apart, making a gap between Mercer and Alex wide enough to squish Nico in. You happily accept his open arms, let him wrap them around your waist and tuck his face into your neck. The group hug closes up, everyone squeezing you tight.

Giggling, you stroke through Nico’s bed head and he smacks sweet kisses to the side of your neck. You close your eyes, soak in the warm words and arms of those you love. Of your boys.

~~~~

Nico fiddles with his hair in the mirror, tucking it behind his ears and then tilting his head, bottom lip between his teeth as he examines it. Then he untucks it, shaking it out with his fingers and starting again.

“Baby,” you cap the perfume you were rolling onto your wrists. He hums in acknowledgment. “Are you ok? You seem nervous.”

He stops, gaze flickering to meet yours through the reflection. You’re taken back to all those weeks ago when he was first asking you to come to Switzerland, how he was fidgety and wide eyed all night. Did he have all this planned then? A proposal? Or did it just look out that way?

“Yeah,” he croaks, swallowing roughly. “I’m-I am nervous. I mean I’m ok but yeah.”

Placing your perfume on the counter, you slide over to him. Nico turns, propping himself up against the bathroom counter and you step between his parted legs. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Your hand trails up his chest, stroking over the soft fabric of knitted sweater. He looks so snuggly, so sweet you want to wrap him in your arms.

Nico grabs at your hip, eyebrows pinching in pain as he sorts through his worries and thoughts. “I don’t know what’ll happen,” he says carefully “I hate that, not knowing. Especially when it comes to you.”

You smile, thumb fondly tracing over the lines of his throat. His five o’clock shadow scratches at the pad of your finger. “It always works out Nico,” you assure “we can’t know everything, but we’re always prepared, right?”

A grateful smile curls his lips for a moment, but his eyes blink at you sadly. “What if they knew?” He asks “what if they were all in on it? This whole time, after I trusted them? I’ll do it, but I don’t want to have to say goodbye again.”

That empty throbbing feeling from this morning returns, clanging painfully against your ribs and heart. Nico didn’t get to say goodbye to his father, didn’t get to talk to him at all. You took over, you took that goodbye from him without even realizing how it could hurt him.

“Nico,” you sigh, guilty “I should’ve talked to you about Rino before I did anything. Dragging Mercer in there all guns a blazing and forcing him from your life…I mean you didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

You think about that day in the hospital when Nico left. You knew exactly what he was doing, where he was going. It broke your heart that he lied right to your face in front of all his family. It hurt you that he was making decisions for you.

And yet, you did the same. Maybe the circumstances weren’t exactly similar, but you didn’t even hint to him about Rino. No, you sent him out on a day with the boys while you destroyed the sliver of a relationship he might have had with his father.

Nico’s watching you curiously, eyes boring into yours. You wonder what he’s looking for, what he thinks you’re holding back or shielding from that apology maybe. What intention is he looking for?

“I get it,” you add “how you felt with Lena. I didn’t even really think. I was just so mad that he could do that to you, that he’d hurt you like that and I reacted. I wanted to protect you, but I shouldn’t have done it like that.”

He looks pained almost, like your words crawled down his throat and into his gut, twisting and knotting everything up. But he also looks…angry. Eyebrows scrunched and gaze dark, his jaw ticking.

“When are you gonna get it?” He asks, not mean but frustrated. His grip on your hips tightens, dragging you closer to him. “What happened, all this stuff wasn’t done to me. It was done to you, they hurt you.

“I don’t care if it was done to get to me, it actually, physically hurt you. So you don’t have to apologize for what they did, for taking Mercer and confronting Rino. Anyone that would lay a finger on you isn’t my friend or family.

“You are. You’re my family baby, and that’s all I care about.”

Maybe it’s the emotions of the day. Between his proposal, Timo getting together with Amelia, the boys loving on you too, and now this? Or maybe it’s just the fact that the sweetest, most understanding and loving man in the world chooses everyday to love you. Whatever it is, you sniffle back tears, blinking wetly at Nico.

One of his large hands cups your face, thumb gently wiping under your teary eyes. He eyes you lovingly, gaze warm and comforting and for some reason that makes you cry more.

“Eesh,” he laughs, tucking your face into his chest. “Why are you crying baby?”

“I don’t know!” You cry , hiding in the comfort of his embrace. His chest rumbles with laughter, lips smiling against the top of your head and he nuzzles into you.

“Ok.”

After a moment you’ve stopped sniffling, Nico wiping at your cheeks and eyes with the sleeves of his sweater. “Pretty,” he murmurs, a sweet grin dimpling his cheeks. Blushing, you press a kiss to his chin.

“I think everything with your family will work out exactly how it’s supposed to,” you assure him, heart fluttering in your chest when he reaches for your left hand. His gaze sparkles as he examines your ring, thumbing over your knuckle thoughtfully.

“Yeah,” he agrees “I just…I don’t know. I really hope Katja wasn’t apart of it. I thought everything was fine after she came to check on you.”

You hum, unsure of what to say. You can’t guarantee Katja wasn’t a part of it. You also can’t guarantee that she wasn’t. If it were you and Nico, he’d never keep you in the dark about a deal like that. He’d have you right next to him the whole time, through planning, preparing, and even execution.

But Katja and Rino aren’t like you and Nico.

He presses a kiss to the palm of your hand, long eyelashes fluttering as he does so and you think of the day Katja took you for a drive. Rino excluded her from everything, she had no say over what the business did. And you could tell she hated it, especially by the way she lit up when she realized Nico treats you as an equal in the Devs family.

Startled, you look up at Nico with wide eyes. His eyebrows furrow, grip on your hands tightening. “What? What is it?”

“She knew,” you say, “Katja knew. But she wasn’t in on it.”

Her threats in the car, her insisting you weren’t safe with Nico weren’t threats at all. She wasn’t condemning you and Nico for having a life in Jersey, she was warning you. Rino’s plan for his kids, Nico’s stubbornness and ability to push back against his family. Rino’s loathing of insubordination, especially his youngest sons.

He didn’t agree with how Nico rebranded his life and was running the Devs. Katja was warning you that Rino was taking action against Nico.

“Nico she was warning me. She was trying to save us.”

[stxrslutrestored]

SILENT TREATMENT

pairing; rafe cameron x sweetie reader

summary; even after your little confrontation, rafe continues to neglect you, so when he tries to give you his affections, you decide to give him a taste of his own medicine, little do you know how well that may end for you

content; body worship, oral (f receiving)

authors note; re upload! part 2 of waiting for you

last night was good, you wake up feeling relieved, happy to have finally resolved your issue with rafe. you can’t wait to spend time with him today. you roll over when you feel him stir, a smile pasted on your lips, “mornin’ rafe,” you grin, hand coming up to caress his sleepy face. he looks so pretty in the mornings. 

a little smile creeps onto his lips as well, his eyes peel open and he meets your loving gaze, “hi sweetheart.” 

you move to cuddle closer to him, but to your surprise he sits up. you sit up too, but don’t follow him as he gets out of bed and grabs his clothes. 

you tilt your head in slight confusion, but you keep smiling, “where you goin’? we only just woke up.” you’re dreading the next sentence to come out of his mouth. 

he nods absently, “yeah uh.. I just—” he points to the door over his shoulder, “got some work to do.” his voice trails off, and before you know it, he’s walking out the door. 

son of a bitch. 

you sit there for a few minutes in the company of your own silence. you can’t believe it. you’d had a whole fight last night, he’d acknowledged that he was prioritising work too much, and now, at seven in the morning, with no deadline, he’s gone back to it. without paying you a single glance at that. 

you get over it, sure, you are totally over it. you spend the day with yourself, but you can’t help but be peeved the entire time. in the evening you make yourself a meal, only yourself, one portion. rafe is nowhere to be seen, so why should you cook for him?

when he comes downstairs you are on the couch watching the tv with your meal in a tray on your lap. he walks over to the kitchen where the empty pot lies still on the stove. upon opening the lid of the pot and finding nothing his face falls, “you didn’t cook for both of us?” he asks, brows furrowed as he speaks to the back of your head. 

“I didn’t know you wanted food.” you say, “been workin’ all day, didn’t even know if you were gonna come down.” you take another mouthful of your meal.

“what am I supposed to eat?” his face contorts in slight frustration. he looks like a kicked puppy. he hadn’t had to actually think about what to get for dinner for ages, you’d always taken care of it.

“I don’t know,” you put a sickly sweet twinge in your voice, “you could get takeout… or cook. do you know how to do that?” you know it’s a bit of a mean comment but god dammit you’re hurt. he’s hurt you and you will hurt him back until he realises how shitty he’s treated you. 

it continues all week. the snarky comments and disregards of each other. rafe keeps to his work and you keep to yourself. 

you both ignore it with great passion. neither of you caring to acknowledge all the feelings, knowing that when you do, it will be a turmoil that you just don’t want to face.

of course it has to happen, and in a turn of unexpected events, it’s rafe who initiates the conversation. 

you’re just getting into your night clothes when he enters the room, speaking your name. he leans against the doorframe to talk to you. “you look nice.” he says bluntly. 

you smile, but you don’t look up at him, “thankyou.” you slip your nightdress on and then stand to walk over to bed. 

he sighs and meets you before you can sit down, “uhm.. d’you wanna.. maybe do something..” he asks, it’s awkward, he barely ever has to ask, normally it just happens. his hand rests on your hip. 

you shrug, “I don’t know.. I’m pretty tired actually.” you tell him, looking up at him, and yet it’s not an intimate eye contact like it should be right before you climb into bed with him.

“come on.” he murmurs, “let’s just.. be together y’know.” he smirks tentatively, rubbing your hip now, but you don’t return his energy. 

“no. I think I’d rather just go to sleep. you can lie with me if you want.” you make to move past him but he stops you, holding you back. 

“no.” he raises his voice slightly but quickly corrects his tone. “no— no you’re- you’re ignorin’ me.” he pulls you in front of him, his head cranes down just a little bit to keep your gaze. “I know why. okay— I get it but— I- I can’t make it up to you if you don’t let me.” 

you shake your head, “I don’t know what you’re talking about rafe,” you speak so matter of factly, “I just wanna go to sleep right now.” 

“no. no.” he pushes you back, “let— lemme make it up to you.” he speaks, frowning in upset, “I can show you I- let me show you that I’m sorry okay.” 

you furrow your eyebrows, it’s not like rafe to speak like this, he’s never sorry for anything he does, he believes every action he takes has a purpose and that nobody has a right to complain about them. rafe saying sorry is basically him admitting he’s completely and utterly pussy whipped. 

you stay sceptical though, “mhm. what are you gonna do to show me rafe? fuck me? again? for the one hundredth something time in our relationship?” you raise an eyebrow.

rafe stutters, thoughts faltering as you call out the plan he thought to be impeccable. “I’m- I’m not just gonna fuck you.. okay I- I-”

“you’re what? gonna make love to me? touch my innocence? be intimate—” the agitation in your voice starts to come through, you do just want to get into bed. 

his hands come to your shoulders, but the touch is gentle, not firm or commanding like it normally is. he hesitates for a moment and then makes a decisive noise. suddenly he’s lowering all the way to his knees, hands still firm on your shoulders.

“I- I love you okay.” he looks up to you, blinking away the tears forming in his eyes. his hands pull at your nightdress, tugging it off and discarding it to the floor. his hands run down your body. 

“love this body,” he says, “love you. love you so much.” he kisses your lower tummy, maybe in an effort to hide his now falling tears. you didn’t think your silent treatment would provoke such an emotional reaction from him.

“rafe…” you frown, hand coming to the back of his head as he looks right back up to you. you think about telling him to leave it because you feel bad, but then you realise that this despair in him could get you something good, and so you decide to be selfish. “show me.” you tell him, “show me how much you love me.”

rafe’s head lowers and he begins to move down your body. he starts to place wet open mouthed kisses on every spot that his face passes and his hands follow after. he works his way all the way down until he’s kissing just above your pussy. 

“god.” he exhales, “gonna— gonna show you okay.” his hands come up to support your hips as he brings his face down again and his open mouth comes into contact with your most sensitive spot. 

you seethe a breath, legs weakening from the contact but his grip on you is strong and he keeps you upright as he begins to move his mouth. 

he kisses and sucks with ease, tongue swirling around your clit. you have to hold back surprise at the fact he’s so good at this, you’re not sure he’s ever eaten you out before. 

he lets out little murmurs and breaths that seem to send vibrations through your entire body. you have to throw your head back in pleasure, you feel so good.

rafe comes back for a breath, pulling away with a pop. his lips and chin are glistening with your wetness, he looks up to you with wide eyes and swollen lips. 

“do you believe me.” he asks breathlessly, he looks so desperate. so desperate. you take sympathy on him, his hurt puppy look, those wide sad eyes.

you nod, “I believe you. I know you love me.” you smile down at him. he lets out a breath of relief, a smile forming on his own shiny lips. 

he keeps your gaze for a moment and then he goes back down, now with a newfound energy that just makes it so much better. with his face still buried in your pussy he makes to turn you around so that you can fall back onto the bed. you realise now, that you are in for a good night.

[levisjinchuriki]

truly, madly, deeply

summary: toji didn't realize what he lost until he did

warning: angst, crying, toji pleading his case, yelling, mentions of toxic relationship

part 1

toji rests until late morning. you don’t disturb him, knowing he needs the sleep after the storm he weathered last night. while he’s out, you sneak into the room to set a glass of water and painkillers on the nightstand for his inevitable migraine. it's not much, but it’s something. 

you linger in the doorway for a moment after, watching him. in his sleep, toji looks so different. the sharp edges of his features are softer now. the furrow in his brow from last night is gone, replaced by a peace that’s rare. it pains you to watch him this way, knowing that the man lying before you carries so much anguish.

when he finally wakes, you hear the creak of the mattress and quiet shuffle of his feet before he appears in the living room, drawn by the smell of you making breakfast. he lingers in the doorway at first, then steps further into the kitchen, his footsteps slow and tentative.

you don’t say anything, keeping your focus on plating the food. you know he’s watching you, debating what to say—or if he should say anything at all.

you plate the meals, just like you always used to, and set his on the counter. still, you don’t make eye contact. it’s not intentional, just the natural result of a mind weighed down with too many thoughts. but toji’s eyes are on you, steady and unrelenting, following your every movement.

should he thank you for last night? apologize for the mess he dragged into your home? ask how you slept, even though he knows the answer? none of it feels right, and the words remain lodged in his throat.

instead, what comes out is something entirely different.

“can you stop?”. his tone is sharp but not angry—tired, maybe. it’s enough to make you pause, your hands hovering over the dish towel on the counter. slowly, you look up, meeting his gaze for the first time.

“stop what?” you ask puzzled. you’re not trying to frustrate him. you’re not entirely sure what you’re doing.

"acting like everything is normal. it's driving me crazy" toji says, his tone edged with frustration. it’s not really what he wants to say. he’s never been good at expressing himself, not in the way you need him to be.

you notice the turmoil flickering behind his eyes. his words only skim the surface of what’s really going on beneath. there’s so much pain there, unspoken and unresolved, that even he doesn’t seem to know what to do with it.

"i don’t like seeing you like this" you admit softly. it’s an honest confession, one you’ve been holding back for longer than you care to admit. your words catch him off guard, and he visibly flinches, his tough exterior momentarily cracking. for a second, he looks like he’s about to say something vulnerable, but just as quickly, he recovers, masking his emotions with sharp words.

"yeah, well, whose fault is that?" he bites out, his tone harsher than he intends. the second the words leave his mouth, regret flashes across his face. 

he knows it’s his fault. it’s always been his fault. every hardship, every heartbreak, every sleepless night you endured in this relationship has been caused by his actions, his choices. and yet, he still lashes out, deflecting because it’s easier than facing his guilt head-on.

you draw in a breath, steadying yourself against the sting of his words. "that’s not fair" you say quietly. it’s not. he knows it’s not.

toji’s gaze drops to the floor, his jaw tightening as the truth of your words settles over him. the blame shouldn’t be on you for leaving him. if anything, he’s lucky you stayed as long as you did, long past the point when most people would have walked away.

in hindsight, he doesn’t even know why you didn’t leave sooner. you deserve so much more than he ever gave you. 

"how many times has this happened before last night?" you ask carefully, afraid of pushing him too far.

toji’s shoulders sag under the weight of your question. embarrassment flickers across his face, and you can see the truth in the way his jaw tightens. he’s lost count. he doesn’t want to say it, but you already know. his bad habits weren’t new, and they’ve worsened since the separation.

"why does it matter?" he mutters, his tone defensive but laced with shame.

you hesitate, your heart heavy with the truth you’ve been keeping to yourself. it feels too big to say, too tangled with all the unresolved emotions swirling between you. but he’s looking at you now, his eyes searching yours, and you know he deserves an answer.

"because i care about you" you say.

for a moment, his expression softens, the harsh lines of his face easing as your words sink in. he doesn’t say anything, but you can see the conflict playing out in his eyes. 

just because you’re not together anymore doesn’t mean you’ve stopped caring. it doesn’t mean you’ve stopped worrying about him. it doesn’t mean you want to see him drink himself into an early grave. and it doesn’t mean you’ve stopped loving him. that part, you don’t say, but it lingers in the air between you, unspoken but undeniably there.

you half-expect him to make a flippant comment, a typical toji move to deflect from his feelings. but instead, his jaw tightens, and he shakes his head. there’s a twitch in his nose—a tell you’ve come to recognize, the small sign that he’s fighting back emotions he doesn’t want to show.

“don’t do that” he warns. you can hear the strain in his voice, like he's on the edge of something he doesn’t know how to handle. he’s so far from the image of the hard, untouchable man he’s always pretended to be. instead, he looks fragile—struggling, hurting, desperately trying to hold himself together while everything inside him feels like it’s breaking.

toji sniffles, his hand coming up to rub over his face, as if he can scrub away the emotion threatening to surface. the sight of it tugs at your heart in ways you can’t control.

“why did you call me last night?” you ask quietly, your voice careful. 

he looks at you then, and for a second, your resolve nearly crumbles. his gaze is so broken, so full of regret. the deep sigh he lets out seems to drain what little fight he has left.

“because no matter how hard i try, i can’t get you out of my damn head” he says.

your heart hammers in your chest. you open your mouth to respond, but the words catch in your throat. 

“i know i don’t have the right to call you anymore” he continues bitterly—mostly at himself, at the situation, at everything. “but i just—i needed to hear your voice”.

there it is. the truth hurts to hear. despite everything that’s happened, despite the space and pain between you, he still turned to you. when he had no one else, when he was at his lowest, it was you he called. that has to mean something—doesn’t it?

you blink, your chest tightening as you watch him struggle to keep his composure. toji— tough, unshakable toji—looks like he’s barely holding it together.

“i don’t know how to stop” he admits after another long moment of silence, his voice breaking just enough to make you flinch. “thinking about you. missing you”. his hands hang at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching as if he’s fighting some invisible force. “i screwed it all up. i know that. but you—”. he looks at you then, his gaze so intense it feels like it might break you. “you’re still the only thing that makes sense to me. even now���. 

his words sting, but you can see the pain in his eyes—the regret that’s etched so deeply into his features as if it’s become a part of him. he doesn’t move closer, doesn’t reach for you, even though you can tell he wants to.

you’re not even sure what you want to say. that he’s wrong? that he’s right? that you’ve been struggling too?

your heart twists painfully at his words. you want to be angry. you want to tell him that he doesn’t get to just show up like this, throwing his pain at your feet. but you can’t. because deep down, you know that anger isn’t what you feel.

“do you think that makes it any easier for me?” you ask, your voice trembling. “watching you like this? knowing you’re hurting?”. your eyes fill with tears as you stare into his. 

“we ended things for a reason. for a lot of reasons.” your voice wavers as a thousand emotions swirl inside you. his eyes squeeze shut, and he nods, like he’s bracing himself for the final blow. but when he looks at you again, there’s a desperation there you’ve never seen before.

“i know” he says hoarsely. “and you were right to leave. i know i screwed everything up. i know i don’t deserve this—don’t deserve you—but…” he trails off, his voice cracking. “i’ve never felt like this before. not with anyone else. not even close. and i can’t… i don’t want anyone else”.

you want to believe him. you want to believe that he’s changed, that this time will be different, that he won’t let you down again. but you’ve heard promises before. 

“i can’t trust you” you say, the words trembling as they leave your lips, tears slipping freely down your cheeks. even though you’re the one who left, it feels like you’re breaking up all over again, reopening wounds you thought had begun to heal.

“i know i don’t deserve another chance. but i mean it this time. i swear i do”. his voice cracks, and it’s enough to make your chest ache. 

his words sound genuine, the emotion in his voice undeniable, but how can you trust that? he’s hurt you before, made promises before. still, the way he looks at you now—like you’re the only thing holding him together—makes you hesitate.

“i still love you” he adds, the confession spilling out like it’s been tearing him apart. his gaze locks onto yours, desperate and searching for something—anything—that might give him hope.

you look away, wiping at your tears with trembling fingers. you're torn, trapped between the part of you that aches to believe him—the part that longs for the warmth of the love you once shared—and the part that knows better, the one that remembers the cold, sharp edges of his neglect.

you think of the moments of love and laughter—his low chuckle in your ear, the way he’d pull you into his chest and kiss the top of your head, the rare but precious mornings where the world seemed to stop, just the two of you tangled together in the quiet.

but those memories are eclipsed by others, darker and heavier. broken promises whispered in the aftermath of fights that left you raw, the sting of his absence when you needed him most, the hollow ache of lying awake in bed while he chased after his own demons, leaving you to face yours alone.

it hurts too much.

“i think you should go” you tremble.

toji freezes. for a moment, he looks like he might argue, his mouth opening slightly as if the words are on the tip of his tongue, ready to spill out and plead his case. but they never come. instead, his shoulders sag, the fight draining out of him as your words sink in.

he runs a hand through his hair, his fingers trembling as they rake over the strands. his eyes—those same eyes that once held so much confidence, so much fire—are now clouded with regret.

“okay” he says softly, his voice almost a whisper, as if saying it any louder might shatter what little composure he has left. 

he doesn’t move right away. instead, he lingers, his gaze locked on you, searching your face as if trying to memorize every detail, to hold onto this moment even as it slips through his fingers. there’s a quiet desperation in his eyes, a silent plea for you to take it back, to tell him to stay.

but you don’t.

you stand there, frozen, watching as he takes a shaky breath and finally turns toward the door. his movements are slow, reluctant, like every step is an admission of defeat.

when he reaches the door, he hesitates, his hand resting on the handle. for a second, you think he might say something, one last attempt to change your mind. but he doesn’t. he opens the door, stepping out without looking back.

and just like that, he’s gone.

you press your hand to your chest, the ache there unbearable, and you sink onto the couch, tears streaming freely now.

your mind races, his words replaying over and over. i mean it this time. i still love you. i’m sorry. what if he really does mean it? what if he’s changed? what if this time, things could be different?

but then the other voice—the one that remembers the hurt, the loneliness, the promises that were always broken—creeps in. what if he hasn’t? what if it’s the same cycle all over again?

the tears keep coming, and you let them. the ache in your chest feels unbearable, a mix of anger, love, and regret twisting into something you can’t untangle.

you want to believe him. god, you want to believe him. but trust is fragile, and yours has been shattered too many times.

you picture toji on the other side of that door, his shoulders slumped, his face etched with the pain of rejection. you know what he’s feeling because you feel it too—a deep, gnawing emptiness that no amount of reasoning can fill. 

but you also know the truth.

this is the path you chose because it’s the one that hurts less in the long run. toji has to accept that he’s lost the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and you have to accept that some things, no matter how much you want them to, can’t be fixed.

memories of the life you once shared flash through your mind—the laughter that came so easily in the beginning, the quiet nights when words weren’t needed, just the steady rhythm of his breathing as he held you close. 

but then comes the other memories�� the arguments that seemed to come out of nowhere, his voice raised, yours breaking. the promises that felt like lifelines at the time but were discarded so casually. the nights you spent staring at the ceiling, the bed cold and empty, wondering why you weren’t enough.

it’s not fair.

you were never the problem.

you clench your fists, your nails digging into your palms as you fight back the surge of anger and grief that threatens to overwhelm you. how many times did you tell yourself that love would be enough? that if you just tried harder, gave more of yourself, things would change? how many times did you accept his apologies, his promises to do better, only to be left in the same cycle of disappointment?

still, the tiny flicker of hope refuses to die. it lingers, stubborn and persistent, whispering what if in the back of your mind. what if this time is different? what if he really means it? what if the love you both still feel is enough to mend what’s been broken?

you hate that hope.

it feels like a betrayal of all the pain you’ve endured, a cruel trick your heart plays to keep you tethered to someone you know isn’t good for you. and yet, you can’t bring yourself to let it go completely.

the weight of your decision feels suffocating, but you remind yourself that trust is a fragile thing. once broken, it’s nearly impossible to piece back together. 

toji has to learn to live with what he’s lost. he has to understand that love isn’t enough without trust, without effort, without change.

your tears have stopped, but the ache in your chest remains, a dull and constant reminder of what you’ve let go.

you hope toji will find a way to heal, to become the man he claims he wants to be. but more than that, you hope you can find the strength to move forward, to leave the pieces of your shattered trust behind and rebuild yourself into someone whole again.

because no matter how much you still love him, you can’t keep breaking your own heart in the hope that one day, he’ll stop breaking it for you.

---

taglist: @lavenderdaydream97 @smaranshakthi

thank you for reading my mini series!! i haven't made an angst fic in a long time and as much as i wanted to have them be together in the end, it felt forced. don't be mad! <3

[psychebutterflysol]

"𝗜 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨"

a/u: i like doomed relationships. this is just a prologue. next chapter would be real teehee. can you guess where the reader would be reborn?

warning: death, implied unhealthy relationship.

Your life was normal, halting from a wealthy family and ended up with a well-paid job.

The little diamond ring around your finger spoke volumes of the engagement with your beloved fiancee.

There was something that felt missing in your life though.

It was mundane, waking up to an excessively needy lover, who you didn't know if your feelings remained like the first time, plus enduring some bad rumors because you were privileged.

The butterflies previously resided in your stomach morphed into skull moths, and you weren't sure if you could contain them anymore.

Lingering touches and gazes started to seem overbearing, too suffocating, like vines wrapped around your form.

It was another exhausting anniversary of your five-year relationship, and while you were heading back home, texting with your betrothed, you were stabbed from behind.

The sky had already been coated in darkness, the streets had been emptied throughout, all were a perfect formula for a murder.

Being rich was a bitch was your dazed thought, as blood gushed out, red tainted the outfit you loved.

Blots danced in your vision, and when you messaged back a meaningless 'I love you', you officially died.

At least you escaped that boring existence, right?

Fate decided to toy with you by placing you in Genshin Impact, a game you spent most time investing in.

You remembered being proud of your C8 Qiqu and DPS Furina since you usually dragged the sooner to co-op.

So you spent two unremarkable years in Fontaine as a florist, while concealing your knowledge about the future, for all the fanfic you read, and since this world worshipped the Creator too.

You didn't want to get outed as this enigmatic possible imposter or deal with the characters' religious frenzies.

Furina was an interesting case to observe, and Neuvilette often made a few appearances there and then.

Melusines sometimes ran around before your shop, requesting beautiful bouquets.

Business was doing well, not worldwide famous nor near the bridge of close down, just an average shop you expected from an NPC

Strangely enough, you didn't feel guilty for abandoning your fiancee, instead enjoying the fresh freedom you longed for.

Away from her keen eyes, slimy fingers, and unnecessary jealousy.

Recently, there had been rumors about the appearance of a person who proclaimed herself to be the saintess, sent by the Creator.

You could already sense Furina's fuming in the court, and other archons' demeanors.

Oh well, you would just return back to work and watch as another Sagau Imposter fanfic unfolded. Surely, nothing could go wrong-

"[Name]?"

Fuck.

Out of all people, it was her all alone.

Her eyes, filled with twisted feelings, disgusted you.

Her figure engulfed you whole into an embrace, squeezing the breath of your body.

What made it worse, was that you had overestimated the characters' intelligence, and they genuinely believed she was the one.

You could feel their eyes prickling against your skin as you frantically pushed her away, ignoring the shakes of your body and the ragged breaths.

They didn't understand why the vessel of the benevolent and caring God was rejected by this mere mortal.

In their eyes, you should have been overjoyed upon being pampered by the saintess.

And so, the tranquility you experienced shattered easily underneath the pressure of these beings.

Your shop was demolished, your reputation was torn apart, and your privacy was out of the picture, as you were regarded as the saintess's lover.

Oh, if only they knew the saintess considered you her god.

You lost yourself to the person you vowed to stay away.

But the Fatui wasn't happy.

Tsarista was fuming, assuming you had cast a spell on her.

She sent her loyal followers to chase after you, in secret of course.

In the end, you were accused of fraud, tax evasion, and many other crimes.

The execution was held in front of the people, as the saintess drowned herself in sorrow and desperation, you died.

Your body sank deeper into the ocean, red blood mixed with the water, and your eyes closed.

It should have been you.

You were the one who arrived first.

Hell, you even helped more people than her! You knew more things about this forsaken game than her!

Stop looking at you with such pity!

Just because you were being rightfully paranoid didn't mean you were stupid!

There was a tale of a picturesque saintess and a mysterious traveler, alongside a weird creature.

They embarked on a journey to the seven lands of Teyvat.

What a shame, you died even before the story began.

"oh issue of the stars, may fate beest so kind to blesseth thee with anoth'r chance. may teyvat learneth to loveth thee, liketh how the 'saintess' loveth thee. "

[susiekern]

7. the one with a challenge

a/n: I've been fighting with tumblr for TWO DAMN DAYS to post it, so I really hope you enjoy

warnings: swearing, suggestive ig

word count: 1.227

lyrics from: The Apparition & Jaws - Sleep Token

masterlist

“No way.”

“Way.”

The face that Megumi makes rips a laugh from you. It was your classic evening meeting, but since the weather was tragic for the past few days, you’ve ditched the rooftop, settling in your room instead. Lying on your bed with a couple of snacks and a respectful distance between you, you’ve spent the last hour catching up. With how busy Megumi was in the past few weeks, your talks were usually short, and there were fewer of them. Somehow you only now told him about the DM from Zenin, but the amount of strength it took not to scream about it as soon as he stepped into your apartment? You deserve a medal.

“Maybe it’s some sort of ‘be kind to your lamest fan’ charity event. You know, like make a wish.” He says, and you flip him off.

“Maybe I’m just cool as fuck and someone finally appreciates that?” You counter.

“Nah, I’d bet on the charity.” Fushiguro laughs a little when you groan and shove a pillow towards him. For a moment you close your eyes and enjoy the peaceful atmosphere, something you lacked in the past days. Working on a new collaboration, streaming, and maintaining your life at the same time was a bit tiring and mostly overwhelming. That’s why you appreciate the calm evening more than usual. You and Megumi talking about the events of this week, the room illuminated just by the fairy lights, music playing in the background from your PC… it’s nice and relaxing. Very much needed for probably both of you. Mr. Guitarist was close to being done with recording the songs for his job, so he stopped spending almost every waking hour of the day in the studio. You can clearly see that he’s tired, but when you commented on it, he shrugged and said it was more important for him to create something he’d be proud of than sleep for healthy 8 hours.

“What’s with the aggression?” Sudden question silences the thoughts in your head, but you keep your eyes closed still.

“What do you mean, aggression?”

“That’s the fourth time you hit me with a pillow. I got two kicks to my shins and a mean fist in the arm.” He counts all of your attacks, and you peer at him.

“I’ll never believe that this fist hurt you in the slightest. For someone who barely eats and locks himself in the studio, your biceps are crazy. But okay, I suppose I’m a bit more aggressive than usual.” Megumi looks shocked, although you’re not sure if that’s because of your aggression or how easily you’ve admitted it. “It’s been a busy week, and I have a bit too much energy. And I haven’t gotten my normal dose of annoying you and Yuji.”

“Damn, first of all, I still train even when I’m working, thank you very much. And second... I don’t even know how to comment on that. You should just punch Yuji, not someone who spends time with you, and bring snacks.” With that statement, he lies back, with his arms behind his head. It’s not weird that you looked at his flexed muscles and a sliver of abs revealed by his shirt rolling up, right? God, this man is fine. Does he have to be so fine?

“Yuji just whines when I do that, though. You flex. Easy choice.” You sigh and close your eyes again, pretending like it was just a normal thing. Yes, you both sometimes threw a flirty comment here and there, never directly referring to your night together, but it was a little different.

When you were on the rooftop, it gave you the freedom of saying shit in an open space. Here, in your room, you are almost painfully aware of how close he is lying. You can feel the heat from his body and smell his perfume. And you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t doing things to you. But Megumi is no better. You’ve noticed how he eyed you up after coming, taking in your shorts, simple t-shirt, and messy hair. Or how his eyes lingered on your face for a little longer than they should.

“So, you like what you see, huh?” He turns on his side, leaning his head on one hand, his elbow keeping him up. If your eyes were open, you would see how his own trace your body, ending their path on your lips. He just needs to lean forward a little… “That makes sense, I’m the hot neighbor after all.”

“Huh?” That brings you to open your eyes and look at him with shock. Only now do you realize that the snack barrier between you two did close to nothing, given how close his face is to yours. And you do not miss how his gaze moves from your lips, but after another second or two. It’s a dangerous game, but neither of you seemed to care.

“I’ve seen your stream. Well, a part of it. How did you put it? ‘I can’t say he’s bad-looking." You’re blushing at this point. You had no idea he watched any of it, especially since he saw how you answered a question about him.

“Don’t let it get to your head. I was just entertaining the chat.” He smirks, knowing very well that’s a lie, and leans a little closer. Your heart seems to be beating to the rhythm of the Fallen song that’s playing in the background, your eyes peeking at his lips on their own.

‘And I'm not here to be

The saviour you long for’

“Sure.” His voice goes down to a whisper. The seconds go by, and you seem to be frozen, both calculating how bad it would be to take the next step.

“Megumi…” You’re whispering too, hypnotized by how intense his gaze is. You want to tell him you shouldn’t. You really do. But the amount of time you’ve spent thinking about him, about his kisses and touch, keeps you from doing it. Would it really be that bad? Doing this one more time?

“Tell me you don’t want it.” There’s a hint of a challenge in how he says it. And since when are you one to hide from a challenge?

You’re the one to kiss him first this time. His reaction is immediate; the hand that was lying on the mattress cups your cheek as Megumi tastes your lips, and you need to hold back a moan. How much you’ve missed that feeling. His touch is gentle, yet reassuring, when he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss. He moves to hover over your body, holding his weight on one arm.

‘Show me those pretty white jaws

Show me where the delicate stops’

“Fuck. I’ve wanted to do that ever since you stepped on that damn roof.” Whispering, he lowers his lips down to your jaw and neck, and your hands now move to his sides and back.

“You should’ve.” You whisper back. You don’t need to see his face to know he has that irritating smirk on, you can feel it on your skin. His hands make their way under your shirt, and he pulls himself from kissing your neck to look in your eyes. “Just one more time?”

“One more time.”

‘Show me what wounds you've got

Show me love’

tag list (lmk if you wanna be added!): @nytylie @fresa-luna @syrooo @zaranobiyuyu @jvpit3rr @pandabiene5115

[imthepunchlord]

Moon Day

Read more here.

.

As Momo got ready for the day, she absently had noted that the full moon was still out in the bright blue sky, lingering despite the passing dawn. For the early morning, she hadn’t thought much about it. Sometimes the moon lingered in the day. That’s just what the moon does. 

She was, rather literally, hit with Turbo Granny being more riled up than she usually was. She leapt at the passing Momo from a bookcase, yowling that Momo’s breakfast was going to be her’s! The ignited squabble was only broken up by Vamola rushing over and getting a hold of the antsy cat, chiding the grouchy Turbo Granny for starting a fight.

And for once, Turbo Granny was thrashing in Vamola’s grasp, far more restless than she normally was. Normally she was complacent in Vamola’s grasp, so it was… odd to see.

And despite seeing the full moon in the blue sky and Turbo Granny being extra rowdy, it didn’t cross Momo’s mind what this could all mean. 

She was far more crossed and focused on the sudden rough housing and messing up her attire. Her clothes all rumbled. Her hair was askew. She looked terrible. 

Momo inhaled breakfast as quickly as she could, ignoring Grandma’s frustration at her not taking time to enjoy it, and hurriedly tried to fix the mess Turbo Granny caused. She couldn’t do much for her hair, having so little time, and accepted that she’d have to attend school with a bad bedhead. 

Only to pause at the entryway of her home, seeing a familiar white haired yokai boyfriend awaiting her by the torii gate. 

“Okarun?” she proclaimed surprise. 

“Momo-chan, I missed you,” he greeted easily, hand coming up to adjust his glasses. “Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” 

Momo gasped in full offense, rushing up to start pounding him with her fist. “How dare you! That is so rude! I didn’t need to hear that this morning!” 

“But I like it,” Okarun protested, leaning back and taking the half-hearted blows to the chest, honestly, barely feeling them. He did coo aloud, “It’s cute.” 

“But not at school,” Momo bemoaned, slouching against him. 

“Bummer,” Okarun agreed, his hand coming up and reaching for her.  

Momo shot up, bouncing away from Okarun and pacing about in her upset, dodging the reaching hand that wanted to comfort and hold her. “It’s Turbo Granny’s fault! She just attacked me this morning, wanting to fight me for breakfast!” Before Okarun could reply, Momo continued, “Which is so weird. She’s just been so antsy this morning, and you’re here and transformed!” 

“I missed you,” he repeated. 

“Yeah, I know. But why are you transformed—”

Momo then saw the bit of white in the sky, turning to focus on the distant, full moon. 

“Oh,” she uttered, feeling dumb. That’s right, the moon empowers yokai, meaning Okarun was transformed for today… Momo turned to him warily. “Are you going to school today?” 

“Yes. I ran over to see if you wanted a lift to school.” 

“I’ll take it,” Momo said, “but maybe you should skip.” 

“But I want to spend the day with you, Momo-chan,” he replied, leaning forward to nuzzle her with his big black mouth. 

Momo pushed it back, she refused to be swayed by nuzzles. “You can’t go to school like this!” 

“Then we could skip today, yo,” Okarun suggested, making it clear he was set to spend time with her today. 

Momo hummed at that. That was kinda tempting… 

“No skipping school!” Grandma shouted at the door, glaring at them. “If you do, I'm holding your Ken Takakura dvds hostage!” 

“Hag!” Momo snarled. 

“Bummer,” Okarun mumbled. 

“Uh, let’s just get to school,” Momo grouched, climbing onto Okarun’s back. “Vamola!” she shouted. “Let’s go!” 

“Takakura!” Vamola cried in greeting, running up to join them. She beamed as she was greeted with a gruff, “Yo,” and hopped on behind Momo, wrapping her arms around Momo’s waist, at the ready. 

Okarun took off, racing all the way towards Kami High. As they neared it, Momo cried out, “Stop!” 

He did as bid, skidding to a stop, nearly sending them past the road straight to school. 

Momo hopped off, helping Vamola down. “We’ll walk from here,” she declared. “I don’t want anyone seeing you give us a piggyback ride.” 

“That wouldn’t be the worst thing anyone’s seen from us, yo,” Okarun replied. 

“Uuuuh, don’t remind me of that!” Momo snapped, giving that big black maw a shove. 

“My bad,” Okarun offered. Then tensed. 

Momo and Vamola both squeaked as Okarun grabbed them and leapt away, narrowly dodging the fist that was aiming at them. Looking over, Momo proclaimed, “Evil Eye!” 

“Hi, Jiji!” Vamola greeted with an excited wave. 

The Evil Eye stood, peering at them with a mad smile. “We’re going to play, Okarun?” 

“Yo, it’s Monday,” Okarun said. 

“But I’m out.” 

“But it’s Monday.” 

“But we’re both here.” 

“It’s a school day, yo.”

“Tuesday is also a school day you know,” Momo pointed out. 

“Momo-chan you’re bumming me out.” 

“I’m just pointing out that you picked a school day for your fights.” 

“It was just the first day that came to my mind,” Okarun reasoned, pleading slightly for Momo to let it go. 

Pink hair rushed forward, wrapping around Evil Eye’s wrist, catching his attention. They all looked over to see Aira glaring at them, drawing near to join them. “Evil Eye, you’re not picking a fight with Takakura-kun, are you?!”

“We both out,” Evil Eye stated, like it was obvious. 

“As the leader I forbid it!” 

Evil Eye narrowed his eyes. “You’re not the boss of me.” 

“If you come at me, we’re going to skip the fight this week,” Okarun stated, his maw clacking teeth to stress the point. 

“What?!” Evil Eye cried out in outrage. 

“Ok, while you two sort this out, Vamola and I are going to head to school,” Momo said, taking Vamola’s hand. “Morning, Aira!” 

“Nice bedhead, Momo,” Aira teased, her maw mashing teeth in amusement. 

“Shut it!”

“Messy,” Vamola agreed, poking at a loose strand. 

“Momo-chan, I want to go to school holding your hand,” Okarun pleaded, reaching for her. 

Momo quickly dodged him, snapping, “No way! You’re not going to let go!” 

“WHAAAT!”

Momo had a start as the air whipped around her, Aira suddenly in her face, clashing her teeth. “You and Takakura-kun held hands?!” 

“Aira, we’re dating!” Momo stressed, waving her hands about. 

“And I refused it!” 

“You literally have no say in this!” 

“If I start a fight with you, you have to fight me anyway!” Evil Eye snapped, rushing at Okarun. 

“No way, yo,” Okarun drawled, leaping away.

“Hey, I said no fighting!” Aira snapped, turning to the two. 

“Come on, Vamola! If we hurry we can escape!” Momo exclaimed, taking Vamola's hand and running away. Vamola just smiled, enjoying the chaos of this morning. Made it a very festive Monday.

. . .

It was only ten minutes into the first period and Momo was already exhausted. 

And it was the two yokai youths near her.

Okarun managed to bring Evil Eye to her class, and then tried to stay, wanting to go so far to sit on the ground and try to rest his head on her lap. Flustered, Momo “grabbed” Okarun and booted him out, face red at the few students that got to see him.

But Okarun didn't leave.

He stood outside the classroom window, staring at her and occasionally glaring at the Evil Eye for the audacity to be in Momo’s class. 

She glanced at the other yokai youth, finding he was sticking his tongue, drawing odd doodles on his notes. She mentally noted she'll have to share her notes with Jiji later, if she can focus in class.

Cause it was hard when your boyfriend was being so openly desperate. 

And the whole class could see it. 

To quote her boyfriend, she wanted to go home. 

“Is he really going to skip class waiting for you?” Miko wondered, sparing Okarun a glance. 

“He should be taking notes for us to copy,” Muko grumbled half heartedly. She then teased, “But I guess it's worth it seeing how much he looooves you.” 

“Shut up,” Momo grumbled, glancing over, seeing Okarun now slouching against the glass, staring at her. 

She could hear the girls in class whispering and gushing while the guys snickered. This did not help. What was Okarun even doing? He should be going to his own class!

Finally, the teacher spotted her boyfriend leaning against the class window. After a moment of gawking, she went out, snapping, “Mister Takakura!” 

Momo couldn’t stop the elated jolt she felt at the surname. 

Okarun slowly turned to her, giving the teacher a lazy eyeball. 

“Head to your own class this instant!” 

“But Momo-chan—” Okarun started to protest. 

“Is in class as you should be!”

Momo reached out, her “hand” going out and pushing Okarun to his class. 

“OK, OK, I'll go,” Okarun grumbled. 

But he went slowly .

Momo wasn't sure if it was out of reluctance or spite. Not in the mood for either, she pushed him along to hurry him up, ignoring his grumbles as he was ushered along. 

In Okarun's class, he ignored the chastising teacher to go and immediately slump at his desk, feeling so tired now that Momo was out of sight. He didn’t want to be here, he would rather go home. Or just be with Momo. It was agonizing knowing she was just down the hall from him. If he really wanted to, he could throw his weight around, he could be in there or carry Momo out. They could skip school and spend the whole day together, lounging, eating, kissing… 

“Ew, you’re drooling.” 

Was he? 

Okarun sat up, finding he was salivating a little from his black maw. A big tongue slid out to flick over his maw. 

“Disgusting,” Mai declared, turning to a blushing Rin. “You find this attractive?” 

“Vampire,” Rin mumbled, moving to bite at her pencil, still not quite able to deal with Okarun’s cursed form. 

Mai sneered, turning to him in a jealous fit. “You’re gloomier than usual today. Couldn't leave it at home, could you?” 

“Mai,” Rin hissed, “leave him alone.” Glancing at the teacher, Rin whispered, “I’m sorry, Takakura-san, I don’t know why, but she’s been a little… mean-spirited today.” 

“It’s good, yo,” Okarun eased, slouching back on his desk, sighing out clouds of smoke. “The full moon’s out today, that means all yokai get a boost of power.” 

“Power!” Vamola parroting. 

“Is that why you’re transformed?” 

“Yeah.” 

“A-are you going to be ok?” 

“Maybe,” he drawled.

Rin sent a frantic look over at the teacher before she leaned over, asking, “What’s wrong.” 

“I miss Momo-chan,” Okarun bemoaned. 

Mai rolled her eyes. 

Rin reached over, awkwardly giving him a few pats. “It’ll be break time before you know it?�� 

“That’s going to take forever…” 

“There, there,” Vamola said, mimicking Rin's patting.

. . .

Momo had barely stepped out of class when a big, black maw pressed against her in a needy nuzzle. 

“Okarun!” Momo protested, pushing back on him. 

“But I missed you, Momo-chan.” 

“Aaaw,” Miko and Muko cooed. 

“Shush!” Momo hissed. 

“Okarun! Can we play now?” Evil Eye asked, coming to loom behind the two girls. 

“No, I want to spend lunch with Momo-chan,” Okarun stated, near growling in his impatient irritation.

“Okarun?” Momo asked, surprised by the tone. She’s never heard him to agitated in this form. 

Okarun's reply was picking the startled Momo up and dashing away, leaving her friends and Evil Eye in his wake.

“Wha! Okarun!” Momo protested, “Who's going to watch Evil Eye?!”

“Aira,” Okarun answered immediately.

Well, she was most likely going to. She wasn't going to tolerate him being unsupervised. And that's what Okarun was counting on. 

Okarun didn't stop until they were in a secluded section of the school garden. A place he found he could work out in privacy. And now he can settle here with Momo in privacy. He perched himself on a log, settled Momo in his lap and sighed. Now this was what he wanted for today.

“You do realize neither of us have food, right?” Momo voiced immediately, not settling down to cuddle like he wanted.

Okarun hummed at that, feeling a twinge of hunger, but not enough to want to move. His maw deteriorated, letting him deliver an affectionate kiss on her cheek. “Are you hungry?” he asked.

“Yes.” She got up, offering her hand. “How about we get something from the cafeteria to split?”

Okarun immediately latched onto her hand, and Momo noted to try and find something that wouldn't require two hands. She's accepted the reality that she’d get her hand back when Okarun was ready to give it back. 

This was just her life now. 

Her hands were not her own anymore. 

They barely reached the cafeteria when Okarun suddenly pulled Momo back towards him, narrowly avoiding the pink hair that lashed at the air where Momo was. 

“Aira!” Momo exclaimed. 

“This!” Aira pointed at them, “Needs to stop!” 

Okarun huffed in rare annoyance. “Aira, this needs to stop. I’m in love with Momo-chan, not you.” 

Momo gawked flustered, giving him a slight whack. “Don’t say that so casually! I wasn’t ready for it!” 

“Sorry, Babe,” he mumbled.

Aira in turn screeched her own. “Noooo! It’ cannot be so! I refuse!” 

“Haaaaaah,” Okarun sighed, spewing black smoke. “Too noisy,” he grumbled. It wasn’t worth it coming here. 

In the distance, they heard Evil Eye, “THAT’S MY BALL!” 

Aira looked over to the chaos, Okarun took the chance to dart away, Momo still in his arms. Aira turned at the movement, seeing Okarun taking the chance to flee. “Hey!” Aira snapped, “No fair leaving me to watch Evil Eye!” 

Torn between pursuing them or going after Evil Eye, with an exasperated growl, she went after Evil Eye. “That is not your ball! Leave it! No! Drop it!” 

Meanwhile, Okarun wasn’t having an easier time as Momo was having a fit in his arms, tugging at his hair and pushing at his maw. “Okarun! I’m hungry! Food is the other way!” 

With the patience of a saint, the yokai boyfriend took it like a champ, commenting evenly, “I didn’t want our time together interrupted, yo.” He hopped up, perching on top of a chain link fence, turning to Momo with big sad red eyes. “You’re going back to class soon and I’m going to miss you.” 

While Momo would typically coo and swoon at the sweet words of affection, a hangry Momo knew no such adoration.

“Hah?! I gotta starve then?! No way!” She pushed at his maw once more, wiggling to get out of his grasp. 

“Momo-chan,” Okarun weakly protested, quickly dropping down from the fence. He did set her down, watching glumly as she immediately started to walk away. 

“I’m going to go eat! And you’re not going to stop me!” 

“I want to go home,” Okarun drawled, sagging sadly. Still, he followed Momo, unable to just let her go on her own. 

A compromise was made once Momo had food and was content, happily munching on her sandwich. Okarun in turn had his head set in her lap, happy to just be cuddling up. When it was all eaten, Momo slouched back with a satisfied sigh. “That was just what I needed,” she declared. She looked down at the yokai using her lap as a pillow, his eyes closed as he relaxed. She poked his forehead, asking, “You sure you don’t want to eat?” 

“I’m not hungry.” 

“I bet you’re going to get hungry later.” 

One red eye opened, full of playful mirth that was rare to see in this form. “I bet if I’m not, we get to spend an hour cuddling in your bed.” 

Momo raised a brow. “You really want to make a bet about this?” 

That red eye narrowed. “I’m very serious about this.” 

“Ok, ok,” Momo relented, humming to herself as she thought about what to do for her own reward when she won. “I bet if you are, we go to a cafe, my pick.”

“ That’s your prize?” he raised a brow at her, scoffing affectionately. “You just want to feed me.” 

“Well, you’re always feeding me,” she replied, running a hand through his white hair, watching him close his eyes. “Besides, you always squirm when I do and it’s cute.” 

The bell sounded off and Okarun sighed sadly, pressing against Momo, not wanting to leave just yet. He did comment, “Alright, get out your fluffiest blanket when we get home.”

“You better bring your appetite!” Momo shot back.

This time, Okarun did let Momo attend class with no issue, and he himself joined the others. 

Hours went by, and the moon finally faded out, hiding away from the day. By the time school was over, Momo watched in amusement as Okarun approached her, clutching his stomach. 

“Miss Ayase,” he mumbled, “I’m so hungry…” 

“Thought so,” she teased, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, not minding him leaning into her. “Head on home, Vamola! I’ll see you later.” 

“Bye! Bye!” Vamola waved. 

“Come on, Okaruuuun,” she called teasingly, her grin growing as his cheeks flushed. “I have just the place in mind. And you have to accept every bite.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he murmured, blushing as she led the way.

[girloodle]

I dont see how this has anything to do with minding Ps and Qs?

Do I think whether it's biological or societal should have a bearing on whether we take action or not? Of course not.

But I think it is relevant because being aware of men's inherent violent nature can be a wake up call and pull women out of the fantasy that men can be reformed.

Also not every woman is a seasoned radfem but asking questions about our subjugation can push them in that direction.

I know there are a lot of radfems that believe analyzing and asking questions is a waste of time but I think it's completely normal for some women to want to understand the nature of our oppressors and subsequent oppression and that curiosity can be healthy. Analysis is just a tool to reach better understanding.

Personally I'm an analytical person by nature, when it comes to every subject that has my interest, and I don't think it's wrong to want to have these discussions and get to the root of the problem.

You can do that while also making the decision to walk away from men anyway. It's okay if you don't care or find it useful but some women do and I just don't see why that is an issue.

My controversial radfem take is that leaning on socialization and overstating it as an explanation for men's subjugation of women is another way a lot of women cling to hope that they can someday ""deprogram" men and also a way women can deny the reality of male nature. Like look yes socialization is a factor but men have raped and pillaged before there was a system in place to socialize them to do so.

Like tbh if you can be conditioned into dehumanizing the population and eroticizing sexual violence against them, then there was already a deficit to start with. This is the same reason I don't think violent psychopaths are created, they were already like that. It's the same thing with more passive violence like watching rape porn.

They're not doing the raping themselves but they are self inserting when they watch and that's just a relatively lesser form of psychopathic behavior imo.

I know there are some men that don't have a desire to rape or get off on it, but incite enough aggression and put a man in the right conditions and most of them can become perpetrators. Do you think every one of the hordes men who participated in the rape of nanking were violent rapists back at home? There were plenty of ""normal"" men who went back to their homes and participated as a functioning member of society after. Like I'm sorry but if you can be pushed to commit acts of brutal sadism then there's something deeply disturbed with you already.

Men are just unsafe to be around because of their propensity to snap.

I mean honestly do you believe you could be conditioned into raping someone?

[ableedingpromise]

I'm using a blow dry brush and it's actually working!?!??!!?!?!?!?

[selfinflictedgunshotwound]

sorry for only saying this type of shit lately but i kinda wanna drive a car straight into a brick wall at the highest speed possible

[gwydionae]

I get using no specific iteration of the TMNT in a crossover and just making yet another new version. After all, the franchise has had many, many different versions at this point, so it's easy to accept that this is simply one more to add to the pile.

But Naruto has... one. Just the one. So when all of a sudden characters are written/shown to have expertise that they shouldn't have at the age they're being depicted, it just ends up feeling weird.

I get that fitting things into the Naruto timeline can be a chore. Do it too early, and Sakura is kinda useless. Do it too late, and Sasuke's off murdering people. And if you try to set it after the series, the power levels are seriously gonna be out of whack.

But breaking the only canon that has ever existed for these characters makes them feel like... not the same characters. I might be the only one who cares about this, but it really took me out of the story, to the point where I couldn't help but focus on it. I don't want to be distracted from page one of a silly ninja crossover comic.

[bmpmp3]

HIMETCHI i have her in my pix rn. she likes cereal and gummies

[vimbry]

saw a really fun show tonight! got home took pee and became an ex-member of the never passed out club

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

*smacking myself in the face* SHUT UP BRAIN SHUT UP

[mite75]

Guys I dont think 7 hours of sleep is actually the right amount for me.

[the-faultofdaedalus]

“steve’s real fucked up after the ice” fic but it’s nothing to do with the ice, he just did Actually Die but was in relatively decent condition so SHIELD just tahiti’d him and now he’s fucked up from that

[plushie-lovey]

Looking to order a new plushie in honor of my birthday today