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faebirdie · 2 years

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Bionic Exile: Chapter 8

Series Masterlist / Personal Masterlist

Summary: Takeshi makes a choice he can’t come back from. You and Rick finally get some time to yourselves.

Coauthor: @lacontroller1991

Warnings: lots of angst, lots of smut, language, insecurities all around, small mention of self hate

Word Count: 4,719

The portal comes to life with a deafening roar. 10mph winds blow random documents and files around but do little to distract you from the swirling hues of blues and purples that make up the entrance to this other world you’ve only heard stories of. You can’t help but wonder about what could await you on the other side, even though you know that it isn’t for you to find out. It’s for Takeshi.

Takeshi, who you’ve been avoiding for days since you’d drunkenly begged him to stay in this world with you. Since he’d ignored your pleading and left you with little hope of a future for your relationship with him.

And now after burying yourself in the details of what it would take to send the man you had fallen for home, in the exact circumstances and codes needed to direct the portal, it was all set to go. The only thing left to do was say goodbye and pray everything worked as designed to get him back safely. You hate yourself for it.

As wrong as it is, part of you wishes you had pushed this off somehow. You could have ‘accidently’ broken a piece of the machine’s directory or just have taken a few sick days. But it was too late for all of that now. Everything is ready to go and there is no longer anything you can do to stop the inevitable.

Maybe that’s why all you do is stare into the kaleidoscope like entrance to his world. To where he belongs.

Where you can’t follow. Staring mindlessly at the portal, you ignore the sound of the door opening until you feel a presence move to stand beside you. “Is it ready?” Waller’s terse voice asks. You swallow a lump in your throat and barely manage a nod.

“Yes, we just need him now,” Waller nods, neither of you looking at each other, instead both of your attention moves to the door as Rick walks in with Tak. It strikes you as odd, for just a moment, seeing the two of them walk in together like this. Shoulder to shoulder, both heads up. They almost resemble a team.

“Mr. Kovacs, thank you for your patience. We understand how hard it must have been for you,” Waller’s words sound sincere but everyone in the room knows she doesn’t mean a damn word, rather, they all knew Waller wouldn’t give two shits about what happens to Tak in the next couple of minutes, “the portal is set. I wish you a bon voyage,” Waller’s voice drips with sarcasm and it’s noted by Tak who represses a scowl. Pulling out his packet of cigarettes, Tak lights one and presses it to his lips, taking a deep inhale before blowing the smoke into Waller’s face.

“I’m not going back.”

“Excuse me?” Although her reply is monotonous, anyone could see the blind rage in Waller’s eyes. Not you though. Your entire focus has turned to the two men standing across from you. Your eyes flit over to Rick for assurance, who simply nods in reply. The smile that breaks across your face is almost painful. Without so much as a second thought, you jump in Tak’s arms, your limbs wrapping around his body as he holds you up with ease, dropping the cigarette and stomping on it.

“I knew you’d stay,” you whisper loud enough for just him to hear as you ignore the looks you get from everyone.

“Mr. Kovacs, that is not your decision to make.” Jumping down from his arms, you move to Rick, taking his hand in yours and squeezing it in thanks. He had something to do with this. It was the only thing that made sense. Then you turn back towards Waller, stood between the two men you loved, ready to do anything to keep them by your side.

“Actually it is. I’m staying,” he replies, stepping closer to Waller and with his tall frame, he easily towers over her, “end of discussion.” Tak and Waller stare at each other, seeing who would back down first as everyone else in the room just stands and watches, allowing the tension to roll over them. Rick slightly pushes you to stand behind him in case something happens, his other hand instinctively going for his gun in response to the hostility crackling in the air.

“Okay,” Waller backs down, though the strain in her voice is noticeable, causing everyone to remain on edge as she turns around. “Shut it down people,” her voice commands and everyone rushes to shut the machine down. Turning back to Tak, she glares at him, “you don’t know who you’re messing with.”

“No,” Tak shakes his head with an icy chuckle, “you,” he points his finger at Waller, “don’t know who you’re messing with.” Huffing, she walks off as the rest of the crew slowly dissipates, eventually leaving you, Tak, and Rick alone in the room. Letting go of Rick’s hand, you quickly move over to Tak and pull him down for a hug.

“Tak, you do realize there’s no way you’ll ever get back now. Right?” You ask, stepping back to be able to look him in the eyes. Takeshi thinks for a moment before nodding his head, his arms still resting around your waist.

“I know. But you’re worth it,” he whispers as you freeze, suddenly remembering Rick was right behind you.

“Even though you know Rick and I….” he shakes his head in dismissal before looking over at Rick.

“We actually wanted to talk to you about that.”

—-------

“You guys want to… share me?” You ask slowly, tasting the sound of it on your tongue, staring at the two men that stand in front of you. Rick looks over to Tak for a brief second before Tak responds. It feels as though the whole room is holding in a breath.

“Yes. He wants you. I want you. You want both of us. Instead of having you choose, you could have both.”

“What do you think of this Rick?” Your voice is full of care, as Rick’s eyes shift to you, deep in thought.

“I guess we can try it out. I still want at least some aspect of privacy,” he comments as Tak shrugs, silently agreeing to his request, “But what really matters to me is you being happy and getting to be with you. I think this is the best way for this to work.”

“How would we handle… affection?” Although it was still too early in your and Rick’s relationship, you and Tak have been intimate for weeks now. The question had to be asked, even if it did bring a warmth to your face. Tak takes a deep breath in while tilting his head to the side.

“Nothing has to be set in stone right now. There’s two ways we could do it, one on one, or just at the same time,” Tak’s suggestions have Rick quickly scolding him over his flippant handling of such an intimate discussion. But you couldn’t help the butterflies that flutter in your stomach at the imagine of both of them taking you at the same time. I wonder if they’re the same all over, you think to yourself as your eyes flick down across both of them slyly, I mean they seem the same.

“Y/N, our eyes are up here,” Rick’s southern drawl is laced with amusement as the two men catch you staring at their groins. Your head snaps up in embarrassment.

“So sorry,” you mutter as Rick’s face continues to bloom red while Tak simply smirks.

“I mean you already know what mine looks like, you just need to see his,” Takeshi muses as your eyes widen, Rick glaring daggers at Tak who only continues to snicker, “Though on that note, I was thinking I’d head out for the night. Find a bar. You two can finally have some time to yourselves and start to settle into this idea.”

“Are you sure, Kesh? You don’t exactly know your way around here well,” You’re incredibly thankful for his offer, already feeling better about the prospect of being with both of them, but you can’t help but worry about Takeshi out on his own in a world he’s still getting to know.

“I think I can handle myself for one night, sweetheart. Hell, maybe I’ll invite Harley to drink with me. She seems like a fun time if how wasted you are after a night with her is anything to go off of,” he teases.

“No!” You exclaim.

“I’m not sure you and Harley at a bar together is such a great idea, man.” Rick seconds.

A look of genuine offense overtakes Takeshi’s face, “What? You think I’d actually try something with her? Right after a conversation like this? Me deciding to stay wasn’t enough for you?”

Your heart breaks at the just the slightest look of Tak’s insecurities showing through. His fears of being thought of as unworthy by those he cares for had been well hidden, but you’d still picked up on them in the past. And now they were making themselves known.

“Oh, Tak, baby. No! I trust you. 100%. That’s not what this is about at all. I even trust Harley to know you’re off limits now. It’s just…” you trail off, picking at the wording, “Well, Harley’s a bit much. To put it lightly. And you’re still getting used to your new surroundings. I just don’t want her getting you into trouble. That’s all. I promise.” You reach out to take Takeshi’s hand in yours, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles gently.

“She’ll eat you alive.” Rick’s eyes are practically glazed over with memories of missions gone sideways and after mission celebrations falling into chaos at the hands of the Squad’s resident mad woman.

The tension in Tak’s shoulders drops a bit at the clarification from you and Rick. A new look comes over his eyes that you can’t fully place though, even as a slight grin pulls at the corners of his lips. “Got it. No Quinn, then. Just a few drinks at the place on the corner. I’ll finally figure out these ‘sports’ of yours that are always playing.”

Before you can respond, he’s leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead. When he steps back he and Rick just stare at each other for a moment, still unsure how to navigate their relationship. Takeshi settles on leaving Rick with a slight nod before he heads towards the door. As he opens it though he can’t help but get one last quip in, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, Flag.”

Rick’s eyes roll as the door slams shut behind the envoy. You chuckle at the childish behavior of the two men. Though, as the realization that the two of you are truly on your own hits you an awkward silence settles over the room.

“So.”

“So…”

“I’d really like to make you dinner,” Rick finally breaks the silence.

—---------

After settling you at the kitchen counter with a glass of white wine, Rick had made quick work of scouring through the fridge to find ingredients for a proper dinner. He’d pulled out a few slices of chicken thigh, some lemons, and a box of pasta as well as a few other miscellaneous items. You’d offered to help him cook, but he’d refused your offer hastily. All there was for you to do was sit back and relax according to him. Which you were perfectly happy with. Especially since it meant watching as one of the most beautiful men you had ever seen made his way almost seamlessly around the kitchen in an apron you’d bought him for his last birthday. You can still remember how much he’d blushed when he’d first seen it. ‘Mr. Good Looking Is Cooking’ it proudly read. Now that you think about it, this is the first time he’s worn it since Tak had moved in.

“So, whatcha making me, Ricky?” you ask, a teasing lilt to your tone.

“Lemon alfredo with pan seared chicken. Simple and romantic. And almost impossible to screw up,” he turns back to look at you over his shoulder from where he’s stood at the stove, stirring the sauce. The grin plastered on his face might be the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

“I really might be the luckiest girl on the planet. Able to cook and hot! How’d I get so lucky?”

“Trust me, darlin’. I’m the lucky one. And dinner’s ready.”

—---

Rick can barely make it through dinner with the way you keep brushing your foot up and down his leg under the table. Based on the slight smirk you wear, you know exactly what you’re doing.

“This is absolutely delicious, honey,” You say simply, as if your leg hasn’t made its way over his to rest between his limbs, just barely grazing his crotch. You just barely hide your devilish grin behind a swig of wine.

Rick can’t wrap his head around how the meal had gone from easy conversation about what you might do over the weekend to this heated flirting. He’s sure as hell not complaining though. How could he? He loves the mischief in your eyes. So, he reaches forward and removes the wine glass from your hand and leans himself into you, placing a soft kiss just under your ear, “How about we go to your bedroom?” He whispers against the shell of your ear, sending tingles down your spine. Turning your head, you wordlessly nod as you get up from your seat, Rick taking your hand and noticing the fact that you seemed slightly hesitant.

“Don’t get shy now on me, darlin,” he teases, switching a flip in your mind. Smirking, your hand moves on its own accord, brushing against his very prominent bulge.

“Colonel Flag. Me? Shy?” You gently punch him in offense, “Never.”

“Good, you better not be. Cause I have plans for you,” he replies before picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder, playfully smacking your ass as you squeal in delight, your mind racing. Kicking in your door, Rick expertly maneuvers to your bed and tosses you down, immediately crawling on top and claiming your lips with his. Pushing you back, Rick stares into your eyes before you lean up, kissing him softly and tangling your hands in his hair, deepening the kiss with a flick of your tongue against his bottom lip. Rolling your hips upward, you smile into the kiss when Rick groans at the friction, his member pressing painfully in his jeans.

“As much as I’d like to take our sweet time, I want you now,” Rick utters, breaking apart and throwing his shirt over his head and out of the way, yours following immediately after.

“It’s okay, I’m ready for you,” you smile softly, Rick copying your expression with one of his own as he nods, sitting up and fumbling with his belt buckle. Chuckling, your hands work to undo the buckle and Rick gives you a kiss in thanks. As the two of you continue to undress, huffs echo the room while the two of you laugh at each other, both of you looking ridiculous trying to get out of your clothing at warp speed.

“Why are they so hard to take off when you’re in a rush,” Rick huffs as he manages to get his leg free from the jeans, your hands failing to reach the back of your bra from your position still half under him.

“Uh, Rick, a little help?” You motion to the clasp at the back. Nodding, Rick moves behind you, softly kissing your shoulder blade as his deft fingers free your breasts from their cage.

“Can I touch you?” He asks as you turn your head back, meeting his lips.

“Yes. Please,” his hands reach around and take a breast in each, fingers trailing around your nipples as his lips attach themselves to your neck, teeth lightly nibbling at the flesh underneath your ear causing you to release a whimper. Backing into him, your ass presses against his member, sending chills down his spine.

“Ricky,” you moan his name and he swears he could die a happy man now. Moving one hand down, he slips underneath the waistband of your panties and rubs your folds, groaning at the feeling of your wetness against the tips of his fingers. Pulling his hand out, he lightly pushes you forward so that you are flat against the bed.

“Is this okay, sweetheart?” He palms your ass, fingers slightly digging into the soft skin as if he’s trying to ground himself. To let himself know that you were really there and not just some figment of his imagination.

“God Rick, please. I need you,” you wiggle your hips against his as he lets out a laugh, slipping out of his boxers as you push your panties down. When he returns his attention back to you, he has to take a moment to collect himself. She’s even prettier than I’ve imagined, Rick thinks as his cock throbs, his eyes focusing on your slick cunt that invites him. Grabbing a hold of his member, he mindlessly pumps his precum over his length, taking a deep breath in.

“Last chance to back out baby,” and even though he offers you the chance, he really hopes that you don’t take it.

“Too late for that, fuck me,” you look back at him as he gives a mock solute, causing you to laugh. Guiding his tip to your entrance, he runs it quickly over your arousal before pushing in slightly and pausing, waiting for your approval. “Please,” you beg, burying your head against your arms as he fully sheaths himself in your tight cunt, releasing a loud groan.

“Jesus Christ, sweetheart.”

“Are you good Rick?” He nods his head though you don’t see.

“Yeah, it’s just you feel so much better than I’ve ever imagined. And I’ve imagined it. A lot,” his admission has you looking back in shock.

“Why have you never said anything,” for just a moment, both of you forgot what you were doing until Rick’s hands found a place on your hips, his cock twitching in your heat.

“Afraid to,” he shrugs his shoulders and pulls out lightly before pushing back in, more curses tumbling from his swollen lips, “but God. I wanted this for so long,” he briefly comments before starting a quick pace, his hips snapping against yours.

It doesn’t take long for him to feel the familiar tension in his abdomen. Shit no, no, no, he thinks, his eyes wide in panic as he feels his orgasm approaching him, but with the moans falling from your pretty lips and the sound of his balls slapping against your sex, it becomes too much for Rick too fast and he cums. Hard. Biting down on his lip to prevent the moan that threatens to slip, his eyes roll back into his head as his grip on your hips tighten, his cock shooting his seed deep inside of you and you notice. Deciding to not mention it, you rock your hips back against his, coaxing him through his orgasm, and even though stuff happens, you can’t help but to feel a teeny bit disappointed. Coming down from his high, Rick freezes as realization dawns on him. Did she notice? She’s still going, should I act like nothing happened? But the softening of his shaft has him squirming from the oversensitivity and he has to pull out, doubt swimming to the surface of his mind.

“Fuck. I’m so sorry sweetheart. I did not mean to do that,” Rick quickly covers himself as he looks around your room, and though he’s seen it hundreds of times, it sure looks brand new to him at that moment. You reposition yourself so you’re sitting down next to him, his spend falling onto your sheets but you don’t care.

“Hey, it’s okay. It happens,” you rub his arm in comfort as he shakes his head in denial.

“I’ve never had that problem. I am so sorry,” he whispers, turning his head as far away from you as possible to hide his hazel orbs rimming with tears of embarrassment, a sneering voice popping into his head. I bet Kovacs never came that quickly. Bet he could get her to orgasm. Hell, you know he can. You’ve heard them. “Fuck!” He shouts into the room and you jump back, not sure what to do in this situation. Rick sighs before moving off of the bed, “I should probably go,” he whispers to himself, standing up with his hands still covering his member, your eyes laced with concern.

“Rick, you should stay. Please stay.”

“Not a chance,” he chuckles dryly, still not bothering to look at you.

“Rick.”

“Nah, I’m just gonna leave for the night. Never come back,” his hand reaches for the handle before you decide to intervene.

“Richard Montgomery Flag. Come back here this instant,” you command and he turns back around to look at you, a tear having slipped down his face, cheeks still red.

“For what? So I can embarrass myself again? I talk up a big game and then I go and do,” he motions to the wet spot on the spread, “that.” He pouts as you walk over to him and grab his chin, forcing him to look at you.

“It happens. Instead of running away, why not make up for it?” You suggest and for a second Rick questions if you can possibly be serious.

“You’re just making fun of me.”

“No, I am not. Come back to bed. Please?” You pull his arm and he reluctantly agrees. Sitting back on the bed, Rick looks up to you as you straddle his lap, your hands skimming over his chest, avoiding the scar as you stare into his hazel eyes. Noticing he wasn’t all there, it didn’t take you long to suspect what he may be thinking.

“Don’t you compare yourself to him,” Rick’s attention returns as he looks back into your eyes, “I know you. I know what you’re doing Flag. You better cut that shit out or this is done.”

“He could at least make you cum,” he replies but you shut him up with your lips on his. Swiping your tongue against his lower lip, he grants you permission as he opens up, your tongue searching his like the first time. Moaning into the kiss, you slightly rock your hips up and down against his abdomen, the trail of his hair catching your clit and creating friction that has your arousal reawakening.

“You’ve made me cum so many times, Rick. Every time I’ve touched myself, I would think of you and I would cum around my fingers wishing they were yours. So many times at work I would have to slip into the bathroom just to touch myself because you would make me so wound up. So many times I’ve cum screaming your name into my pillow so you wouldn’t hear,” you confess, your nails scratching his scalp as your hips continue to rock against his abdomen, Rick’s cock beginning to grow again. Reaching behind you, you take his shaft in your hand and pump him, watching the way Rick’s head falls back against the pillow. “You make me insane, and now I’ve got you. And might I say, you fill me up so good. You’re so big and you feel so perfect inside of me,” you wiggle down slightly so that the tip of his cock was right under you. Removing your hand, you straddle his hardening member and grind against the length, your hooded clit catching the underside of his shaft causing you to moan. “Don’t get me started on your voice. Whenever you call me ‘darlin’ or ‘sweetheart’ you make me wanna climb you right then and there. Every. Fucking. Time,” Rick’s hands find their way back to your hips and guide you back and forth on his now fully erect shaft. Looking down at where your bodies connect, Rick gulps when he sees your folds sliding over his cock, veins disappearing and reappearing with each movement. “Rick,” you call out to him, his eyes snapping back up to your face. Grabbing his hands from your hips, you place them on your breasts and squeeze around his large hands, causing his fingers to dig into the supple flesh, “Make love to me.” Rick’s eyes soften as he flips you over, you now on your back with Rick hovering over you.

“I am so in love with you,” he whispers, amazed, pushing into your heat and you groan in unison.

“I’m in love with you too,” you reply, pulling him down for a kiss as his hips slowly thrust in and out of you, taking his time.

Breaking away, Rick rests his forehead against yours, your hands fiddling with his hair, “You feel so good baby. So fucking good.” Rick grunts and buries his head into your neck, placing soft kisses as you sigh against the shell of his ear, relishing in the feeling of him deep in you. Circling your hips upward, you feel your clit rub against his pelvic bone. Wrapping your legs around his waist digs him deeper into you, the tip of his cock lightly grazing the spot that has you seeing stars.

“Oh God, Rick. Right there,” you moan out, your nails digging into his scalp as whines echo into his ear.

“I got you sweetheart,” he picks up the pace, snapping his hips into you with sharp thrusts, drilling into your tight cunt, ignoring his own need.

“Ricky, you feel so fucking good. Just like that baby,” you encourage the colonel above you, the coil in your abdomen tightening more by the minute. Removing one hand from his hair, you slip in between your bodies, rubbing your clit as he pounds into you, “I need to cum. I need to cum so bad. Rick please.”

“I’m there with you too baby girl,” he moans out, working his very best to get you to your orgasm. He moves to balance himself on one elbow, forcing his other arm in between your bodies so that he can take over rubbing circles around your clit. The coil inside of you snaps, your release washing over you in waves as you let out a silent moan, breath stolen from you, your eyes screwed shut as your walls clamp down on his dick.

“Good girl. Such a good girl for me,” he soothes, kissing over your face as he continues to thrust into you, coaxing you through your orgasm. Once you recover enough, Rick focuses on his own pleasure once more and it doesn’t take much longer until he feels like he’s going to cum as well. “I need to cum,” he declares and you grab a hold of his face, giving him a bruising kiss.

“Cum in me baby. I wanna see your face when you cum in me,” Rick shutters as he juts his hips against yours as far as he could, his load shooting deep and far inside of you as he cums with a low grunt, his eyes remaining with yours as your hand smooths down his hair damp with sweat, your hips rolling against his as his thrusts become languid and stop all together. Pulling out of you, Rick collapses next to you, both of you trying to catch your breath.

“Rick.”

“Hmm.”

“That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

“You’re just saying that,” he states in denial but you curling up to his body has him questioning his rational.

“No, I’m not. I’ve waited so long for that. And even though it may not have started the way either of us wanted it to, it was so much better than anything I could have ever imagined. I swear to you.” You kiss his shoulder and bury yourself under the cover of his arm, his seed spilling out of you, but you don’t mind, “I love you, Ricky.” Rick turns his head slightly and kisses your forehead before shutting his eyes.

“I love you too.” For the first time in a while, Rick slept like a baby.

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#bionic exile #rick flag x reader x takeshi kovacs #takeshi kovacs x reader #rick flag x reader #takeshi kovacs x reader x rick flag #altered carbon #the suicide squad #suicide squad #dcu #dceu #my writing #collaberation #rick flag smut #smut

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loverhymeswith · 2 years

Note

71. “This is going to take a while.” and 34. “Sorry, bad habit.” w/ Takeshi Kovacs if you please ~ Babs <3

All of It | Takeshi Kovacs x Reader

Summary: Part of the detective!Kovacs AU

Word Count: 591 words

Joel Taglist: @weallhaveadestiny @a-reader-and-a-writer @babblydrabbly @skvatnavle @yespolkadotkitty @heresathreebee @11thstreetvigilante @bewitchedignition @fairchildflag @christinasyellowflowers @lavenderluna10 @immyownlittlebitch

It’s almost midnight when Kovacs finds you hunched over his desk, rifling through a stack of old newspapers. His attention quickly falls to the cluster of half-drunk coffee cups filling the little empty space. While he has been away, the caffeine has been fuelling the gruelling research for your latest case. Until the last hour or so, it’s kept you wired and awake, but the high is beginning to fade and it's getting harder and harder to remain focused.

“I don’t know why you need more coffee when you don’t even finish the first cup.”

You don’t need to look up to know that he’s watching you with a raised brow.

“Sorry, bad habit,” you mutter.

“I’m telling Poe to cut you off in the morning. Have you even moved since I left?” he grunts, taking in your slumped figure.

You shake your head, unable to tear your eyes away from the latest article for fear you’ll lose your place.

Kovacs sinks down into his own chair, facing you. Since he was too stubborn to allow you your own office, you’ve taken to sharing his. The first morning that you’d dragged a chair in from the reception area and planted it firmly opposite his, he had been surprisingly quiet on the matter; the only sign he’d even noticed was the briefest twitch of his jaw.

“You should get some rest.”

Distracted by his presence and the weight of his attention, you drop the newspaper and glare up at him. “You’re one to talk. Where have you been all day?”

“Following leads. But I’m turning in for the night. You should, too.”

It’s alright for Kovacs. His apartment is above the office. He doesn’t have far to go. On the other hand, your own place is a thirty-minute walk away, straight through the worst parts of the city.

It’s not fear keeping you rooted to your seat, though. You’re more than capable of looking after yourself as you navigate the dark and dirty streets of downtown Bay City. You grew up here, after all. Besides, you know Kovacs would probably offer to drive you home. He can be infuriatingly chivalrous sometimes.

It’s not just the desire to crack this case that’s keeping you working into the small hours, either. As keen as you are to find out who’s been sending death threats to the senator, it’s hardly worth losing sleep over.

No, what’s keeping you up tonight, pouring over page after page of historical news stories, is this place itself. The office. The job. Poe. Kovacs. All of it. You’ve never had much of a family before, never had a place where you fit in. That changed the moment Kovacs decided to take a chance on you, and you’ve never looked back.

You’d stay here forever, if you could. It beats your lonely little apartment for one. You’d put up with Poe’s fussing, with Kovacs’ brooding, the bad coffee, the poor pay. All of it.

“This is going to take a while,” you tell him, indicating the pile of papers.” It’s a half-truth. There’s plenty of reading still to be done, but Kovacs knows as well as you do, that it doesn’t need to be finished tonight.

“You better hand some of them over, then,” he grunts, shrugging out of his coat as he prepares to get settled. “You read far too slowly.”

You temper down the urge to smile as you hand him a stack of papers, his fingers brushing yours across the desk. “I’ll take another coffee, if you’re offering.”

#takeshi kovacs #joel kinnaman #Takeshi kovacs x reader #altered carbon #altered carbon fanfiction #Takeshi kovacs x you #detective au

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sage-nebula · 3 years

Text

The past three years were eventful for Misaki Shiki, and not just because she ran her own fashion brand. They were eventful, but they were not easy. Of course they weren’t.

Working on Gatto Nero helped. Shiki and Eri started working on it as soon as Shiki returned from the UG, meaning that they were working on it before Coco murdered Neku and he was trapped in the UG once again. Building a fashion brand is incredibly difficult, especially since Shiki and Eri were still in high school for half of the past three years, and that means that a lot of Shiki’s time, energy, and attention was taken up by her business. This doesn’t mean that she didn’t care about Neku, of course; quite the opposite. She was frantic when she found out what happened to him, that her foreboding feeling had turned out to be right after all, and she was only able to choke down her hysterics when Rhyme reminded both her and Beat that Neku’s death wouldn’t be permanent. Neku would get to play the Game again, whatever Kitaniji had said before, and he would win and come back. That was certain. There was no way he wouldn’t win; all they had to do was wait for and believe in him, and Shiki could do that.

The thing is, the rest of the RG didn’t know that. Neku’s relationship with his parents was . . . complicated, to say the least, but they were still informed of his murder and still had to plan the funeral. Shiki, Beat, and Rhyme all attended; Neku was their best friend, after all, and they’d been around his house enough times for his parents to at least recognize Shiki and Beat in passing, and it would have been strange to everyone (Eri, their own parents) had they refused to attend. How were they supposed to explain that they didn’t want to attend his funeral because they knew he wasn’t really dead? That although it had already been two weeks, they were sure he was coming back? There was no way to explain it, so they didn’t even try. They just attended his funeral, and reminded themselves over and over again that it wasn’t real, that it wouldn’t stick, that Neku would come back.

(At one point during the service, Shiki caught a flash of light out of the corner of her eye that she could have sworn was Joshua. But when she turned to look properly, he was gone.)

In the weeks following his death, Shiki waited by Hachiko whenever she could—which wasn’t often, given how much work she and Eri had to do with Gatto Nero, although Eri wordlessly took up the bulk of the work, figuring that Shiki needed time to grieve. Which was . . . not exactly wrong, but not exactly right, either. Shiki wasn’t grieving, because Neku wasn’t really dead. Not dead forever, at least. He would be back, she knew he would. He just needed more time.

Weeks turned to months. Months turned to a year. A year turned into a year and three months.

It was around this time that Eri started cheerfully suggesting double-dates for the two of them. At first, Shiki politely declined without thinking too much of it; Eri was an extrovert whose life motto was “the more the merrier” and so it wasn’t surprising at all that she’d want company for her dates with Mina. But the third time Shiki declined Eri’s offer to go out on a double-date, Eri frowned and said, “Shiki . . . come on.”

“What?”

“It’s almost been a year and a half. Don’t you think it’s time?”

“Time . . . for what?”

“To . . . you know.” Eri waved her hand in a circular motion in the air. “Move on. Or try to, at least. With someone new.”

Oh.

“I’m fine,” Shiki said, and though she thought her voice was happy enough, it sounded brittle in her ears. Strange, too, like the words were gibberish instead of actual words. I’m fine, I’m fine. “I’m happy enough.”

“You shouldn’t have to settle for ‘happy enough.’ You should be happy! Really, truly happy.” Eri took Shiki’s hands in her own. “Just come out with us. Get to know Takeshi. We’re going for karaoke—it’ll be fun! You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready to, but . . .” Eri smiled ruefully. “You can’t date a ghost, either. I think it’s time to let him go.”

It wasn’t, and it never would be, because Neku wasn’t a ghost, not really. He was just in the UG, which was a separate plane of existence, and he wouldn’t be there forever. Shiki knew that, but knew just as well she couldn’t explain it to Eri without Eri recommending she check herself into a psychiatric hospital. So with a rueful smile of her own, Shiki nodded and accepted Eri’s invitation. She would go on the double-date—just one. Just enough to satisfy Eri.

But one double-date wasn’t enough to satisfy her. Eri accepted that Takeshi and Shiki didn’t vibe, but if there was one thing that could be said about her, it was that Eri was never one to rest when she felt one of her friends needed help. To Shiki, it felt like Eri was pulling potential suitors out of the woodwork; every time she turned around Eri had another blind date to send Shiki on, sometimes as doubles and sometimes just on her own. Shiki went along with them, to placate Eri—but eventually, Eri caught onto that, too.

“Why don’t you just try? You don’t have to try for me, but for yourself?”

“I’m—!” Shiki took a deep, calming breath. “I am trying, Eri. It’s just not working.”

“You’re not trying, I can tell. Your heart isn’t in it. Just attending the dates isn’t enough; you have to unlock your heart if you ever want to let someone in.”

Shiki pursed her lips, to stop herself from saying that maybe she didn’t want to let someone in—that maybe she was fine staying single, fine with waiting for Neku to get back. But this time, it wasn’t just the fact that she couldn’t share this information with Eri that held her back, but the knowledge that it would make her a hypocrite. Wasn’t she the one who had told Neku to give her a chance, to let her in? To open up and let her know what he was thinking? And that had been for far higher stakes than a simple date.

Shiki sighed, and nodded in acceptance. “Okay. I’ll try a little harder.”

Eri beamed. “That’s my girl.”

That night, Shiki texted the last person she’d been out with, a guy named Keisuke, and asked him if he’d like to go out again later in the week. To her mild surprise, he replied quickly and enthusiastically that he would. The date set, Shiki lingered for only a moment more before she gathered her things and went to sit by Hachiko for a while, watching the crowds pass by without really seeing any of the people at all.

She promised Eri that she would try, so she did. She listened when Keisuke told stories about himself and his friends and, to his credit, some of them were kind of funny. He was nice. He was polite to just about everyone they encountered and had real interest in Gatto Nero, even though the only way Shiki and Eri had made any sales so far was through their online store (which was less a store and more a page they made on a site that let indie creators sell all sorts of things). It wasn’t bad spending time with him. Shiki didn’t mind it. And Eri was really happy when she learned there was a third date on the horizon, so that was a bonus, too.

Two dates turned to three, three dates turned to four, and before Shiki knew it she was graduating high school and in a steady relationship with Keisuke.

It had been a little over two years since Neku had been killed, and so much had changed but it still didn’t feel real. Of course, it couldn’t, because it wasn’t. His death wasn’t real, or at least wasn’t permanent. But it had been two years, and she and Eri were now able to do once-a-month popup stores near Tower Records to sell Gatto Nero merchandise in addition to their online store, and she and Keisuke had been dating for six months. Truth be told, her relationship with Keisuke felt the least real out of any of it. They went on dates regularly, and he texted and called her regularly, but she still felt a little flash of surprise when people referred to him as her boyfriend and didn’t notice very much when time lapsed between when they were able to see each other, though he always seemed to. It wasn’t that she didn’t like him. She did, even though Beat and Rhyme didn’t (though only Beat would say as much out loud; Rhyme only smiled and said, “If you’re happy, I’m happy,” and Shiki could never bring herself to respond if she was happy or not). But it was just that being with him was . . . he wasn’t . . .

He was fine. Being with him was fine. It was fine. She was fine. But sometimes . . .

Sometimes, it was the little things.

He was nice. Keisuke was nice. But he had a habit of making little comments. They weren’t mean—he was never mean. But a few months into their relationship he started making little comments that, while Shiki never thought much of them in the moment . . .

“You keep your hair so short. I bet it would be pretty if it was longer.”

“Why do you always wear such baggy clothes? Form-fitting clothes look better, don’t you think?”

“You should wear makeup, you’d like nice with it.”

“You always carry the same bag. You must like that one, huh?”

“Wow, you sure do eat a lot!”

“Your glasses are so big, it’s like they take up half your face.”

“You’re like the only girl I know who never does anything with her nails.”

Nothing Keisuke said was mean. Shiki never felt as though he was being mean, even when the moment had passed and she reflected on what he said later. But his comments . . . his little comments . . . they weren’t one-offs, not really. And it must have been important to him, for him to mention things like her hair or her nails or her clothes more than once. She supposed, if she was going to date him (and she had been dating him for months already), that she should take what he said into consideration, if for nothing else so that he wouldn’t feel the need to comment as much anymore. So she started growing her hair out, and smiled when he noticed and pointed it out and beamed at her for it. She switched up her wardrobe to clothes that were less comfy, but that hugged her body more. She had Eri give her lessons on how to correctly apply makeup. She ordered prescription contacts and made sure to take a different bag with her at least once a week, if not a little more often than that. And she started paying more attention to her diet, too, because it was important to eat healthy, after all.

All of these changes were good ones—positive ones. Keisuke certainly seemed to like them, and while Eri was surprised when Shiki asked for things like makeup lessons or to borrow clothes from her closet, she didn’t mind, either. The only ones who seemed to were Beat and Rhyme; Beat openly derided the idea that Shiki was making changes for Keisuke (“It’s not for him, Beat, I’m just . . . making changes”), while Rhyme gave her strange looks when she thought Shiki wouldn’t notice. Shiki tried not to let it bother her. She was too busy to dwell, what with a deal being in the works for a Gatto Nero store in 104, dates with Keisuke, and time spent at Hachiko whenever she stole a moment away.

Of all the things he found bizarre about her, Shiki’s time at Hachiko seemed to be what stuck in Keisuke’s craw the most. Whenever she told him she was there (usually sketching out new pin or clothing ideas nowadays) he could never let it go. It was a tourist spot, he said. It was weird for her to be there if she wasn’t meeting anyone there, he said. If she had time to be there why wouldn’t she come over to his place, he said. Shiki dismissed his comments by changing the subject or, if he was really reluctant to let it go, with a kiss. It was enough to placate him until the next time, which Shiki felt was a good enough compromise. It was one thing she refused to give up.

And then he saw her phone.

Nine months into their relationship (two years and three months after Neku’s death), she returned from a trip to the bathroom to find Keisuke staring at her phone, which she had left on the sofa behind her. When his eyes met hers, they were blazing.

“Who is this?” he demanded, and flipped her phone in his hand so that her phone’s wallpaper—a selfie she had taken with Neku at Hachiko, weeks before his murder—stared back at her.

“I . . .” Shiki’s voice was lodged in her throat. “It’s me. And a friend. How did you unlock my phone?”

“Why does that matter? A friend?” Keisuke got up from the couch, his phone still in her hand as he stalked toward her. “Who is he? Why haven’t I seen him? And why is he your wallpaper, if he’s just a friend?”

“I . . . that picture’s been my wallpaper for years, I . . .” Shiki shook her head, and took her phone as he angrily thrust it back at her. “I never thought to change it.”

“Never? We’ve been dating for almost a year, and you have some other guy’s pic as your wallpaper—”

“Keisuke—”

“Is he who you’re hanging out with at Hachiko every other day? Is he—”

“He’s dead!” Shiki’s voice splintered on that single word, hot tears she hadn’t planned on burning in her eyes. It was the first time she’d said as much out loud; every other time she’d nodded in placating agreement with Eri’s insistence that Neku was a ghost, or her parents soothingly telling her that they knew that a friend’s death was hard but that they knew she’d make it through. She knew it wasn’t true, not really, and so she’d never bothered to dignify it by saying it out loud. But here, now, as her—as Keisuke accused her of cheating— “He . . . died—he died two years ago. He was murdered.”

“. . . Oh.” The silence was tense. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Shiki shrugged, and sniffed as she swiped her tears off her cheeks—gently, with a finger, lest she smudge the mascara she’d painstakingly applied before going to his apartment that night.

Another moment passed before Keisuke crossed the last few paces and put his arm around her shoulders, and placed a kiss in her hair. “I didn’t know he was dead. I wouldn’t have yelled if I had. I’m sorry.”

Shiki swallowed. He’s not . . . “It’s okay.”

“But . . . hey. He’s gone, right? Has been for a while now.” Keisuke’s voice was light, and when Shiki looked up at him, she saw that he was smiling. “Why don’t we choose a new wallpaper for your phone? Maybe one of the two of us. That will help get your mind away from your sadness, too.”

Keisuke wasn’t mean. He wasn’t trying to be hurtful. And she couldn’t fault him for his logic. What was it Eri had said a little over half a year ago? That it was time to move on? To try?

Shiki squeezed down a sob as she nodded, and scrolled through her photos to find a selfie she had taken with Keisuke upon his request a few weeks prior. She set it as her wallpaper, and forced a smile as he kissed her cheek.

Shiki left his apartment not too long after, and returned to the one she rented with Eri. Eri wasn’t home when Shiki arrived, but that wasn’t surprising; it was a Saturday, and Eri tended to stay out late on weekends. Shiki slipped her shoes off by the door, hung her bag on the coatrack, and went to the kitchen to pour herself a cup of water. She took one sip before she found she wasn’t thirsty; she abandoned it on the counter and went to her room to turn in for the night instead.

She didn’t make it very far. She and Eri kept a mirror in the hallway, just outside the living room, for a quick check to make sure they were ready to leave before they did. Usually, Shiki didn’t pay the mirror too much mind unless she had specifically decided to check it. But as she made her way to her room the mirror caught her eye—or rather, the reflection inside the mirror did, and her heart stopped.

For a split second, she didn’t recognize who she saw.

For a split second, it was if she had forgotten that what they had hung on the wall was a mirror and not a window. The girl who stared back had wide eyes unobscured by glasses, but rimmed with dark, smokey makeup. Her dark hair was just past her shoulders and lightened on the ends. Her lips were painted to make them look fuller, foundation and concealer both caked on her cheeks to hide blemishes, with artificial blush added on top. Her clothes were tight, hard to move in. Her feet hurt from the heels she’d worn. A girl was staring back at her from the other side of the looking glass—a girl who was not who she was, but rather who she had become.

Her reflection’s painted lip trembled, and this time Shiki couldn’t restrain the sob that burst unbidden from her chest.

She tore into her room, ripping her clothes off with enough ferocity she was at risk of tearing the seams. She threw them not in her hamper, but on the floor, and ripped every similar article of clothing—every tight miniskirt, every suffocating tube top—out of her closet so it could join them. She changed into the baggiest, ugliest pajamas she could find, and then charged into the bathroom to scrub her face with makeup remover. She scrubbed hard enough to burn, to tear her skin a little as she ripped off her false eyelashes and tossed them in the trash, her contacts following soon after. She stared at her now blurry reflection in the bathroom mirror, and ran her fingers through her long hair. Her hair. Her hair. That was the next thing. It had to go.

Eri came home in time to find Shiki surrounded by a haphazard pile of her own hair on the kitchen floor, for after retrieving the scissors she hadn’t had it in her to make it back to the bathroom before starting her hack job. (Not that it would have mattered; it wasn’t as if she could see without her glasses, and she was too upset to remember where she’d stashed them.) To say that Eri was alarmed was an understatement; she pulled the scissors from Shiki’s trembling hands and asked, over and over, what had happened, what was going on, was she okay, no she wasn’t okay, but what happened, what was wrong?

“E-Everything,” Shiki gasped, gripping Eri’s shoulders for dear life, fighting to get the words out around her tears. “It’s—it’s not fine.”

That night, Eri held her while she cried. Held her until she fell halfway asleep, and then helped tuck her into bed. Eri was waiting in the kitchen the next morning when Shiki woke, breakfast already made, warm tea prepared just the way Shiki liked it. Eri patted the seat at the table beside her and said, “I’m here to listen if you’re ready to talk.”

Fortunately, an emotional breakdown and a long rest after a strong cry was enough to help Shiki sort through her thoughts, and feelings. She told Eri . . . not everything, but most of it. She told her how she’d lost herself—how she had, without meaning to, changed herself to meet the expectations that Keisuke and she felt the world at large had for her, as one of the lead designers for an up and coming fashion brand.

“That’s why? I thought . . . I thought you just wanted to try something new . . .”

“I thought that, too. But I was just . . . lying to myself, I guess.” Shiki smiled ruefully at her mug of tea. “I should have listened to Beat. He knew. Rhyme too, but she never said so out loud.”

“I always liked your clothes. You looked so cute and comfy.” Eri squeezed her mug more tightly. “You never had to change . . . I never wanted—!”

“I know, Eri.” Shiki placed her hand over Eri’s, and smiled despite Eri’s watery eyes. “I know.”

Shiki wasn’t okay with how things were. She wasn’t okay with how she’d lost herself, how she’d broken her promise to never go back to the old Shiki who always tried to meet others expectations of who she should be, rather than staying true to who she actually was. She wasn’t okay with her relationship, with tying herself to someone she didn’t truly love, who brought out the worst in her whether he meant to or not. She wasn’t okay with Neku, either—with the whole situation surrounding him. She wasn’t okay forcing herself to try to move on and let go, but she also wasn’t okay pretending that she was just fine waiting indefinitely without having even a clue as to how he was faring in the UG.

Shiki wasn’t okay. But she knew what she had to do to get there.

First, she called Keisuke and had him meet her at Hachiko Café—a public place, in hopes he wouldn’t make a scene. She told him, firmly but politely, that she wanted to end their relationship.

“What? I don’t understand—why?”

“I’m not happy. And I don’t think we’re right for each other. I . . .” She reached up to cut her short, unevenly cut hair. She would need to get it fixed sometime soon, but this had to be done first. “I changed myself for you, a lot. And—”

“You looked good. Your hair was so pretty. Why did you do this to it? Where is all this coming from?”

“I wanted to. This is who I really am. And I know that you preferred me the other way, but . . . that’s not who I was. And I think it would be better for you to find someone who can be that person, just like it’s better for me to find someone who likes me as I am.”

“Like that guy on your wallpaper?”

“Like . . .” Shiki smiled a little as she stared down at the table between them. “Yeah, I guess so. Like him.”

“I thought he was dead.”

“He—” isn’t “—is.”

“Then why—why are you comparing me to him? That’s not fair.”

“I know it’s not. That’s why I’m ending things.” Shiki stood up from the table, and pulled her old bag over her shoulders. “I’m sorry, but this is for the best. Goodbye.”

She kept her eyes forward, and left him sputtering protests behind her.

After leaving Keisuke behind at the café, she blocked his number on his phone and changed her wallpaper—not to the selfie with her and Neku, but instead to a picture of her and Eri outside a Gatto Nero popup. It wasn’t that she was giving up on Neku. She wasn’t—she never would. But . . . she needed time, and besides, that picture was outdated. She would get a new one whenever he was able to come back.

In the following days, she made several appointments. One was with a stylist, who fixed her shaky, messy hack job into a cuter pixie cut that would, with time, grow back into a bob Shiki would be more comfortable with. The next was with a therapist, recommended to Shiki by her primary care doctor, whom she would see once a week. Of course, she was limited in what she could tell her therapist as well; it wasn’t as if her therapist would understand about the Reapers’ Game and the UG. But her therapist did understand about unhealthy relationships, about difficulties with self-esteem, about the stressors of launching a fashion brand, about how painful grief was and how difficult it was to balance it with everything else. And in that, her therapist helped.

Three months after Shiki started therapy (two years and six months since Neku’s death), the 104 deal went through and she and Eri cut the ribbon on their brand new, brick and mortar storefront. Three months after that (two years and nine months since Neku’s death), Shiki was able to cut her therapy meetings down to once every two weeks, and her hair had grown out again, enough so that she could get a nice little trim to keep it neat. Two months after that (two years and eleven months since Neku’s death), Eri approached her with a month-long business trip to South Korea to market their brand.

“A month?” Shiki frowned as she looked over the itinerary that Eri handed her. “I don’t know . . .”

“I know it’s a long time, but I think it might be good for you to get away for a little while. You’ve been doing so much better!” Eri added quickly, as Shiki frowned at her. “But, you know . . . a change of scenery might still be nice. And you can still talk to your therapist over video chat, right?”

Eri was right, of course. And she was also, Shiki was sure, all too aware of how Shiki still visited Hachiko whenever she could, and how just a few weeks prior she’d re-sewn a coat she’d made a year ago for a so-called ghost, to move it up a size, just in case.

So Shiki nodded. “Okay. I’ll go.”

Eri beamed, and gave her a tight hug.

One month after that (three years since Neku’s death), Shiki had just stepped off the bus that had retrieved her from Narita Airport when her phone buzzed in her pocket. She fished it out, and smiled when she saw Rhyme’s contact photo beaming up at her.

“Hello?”

“Shiki! Are you back in Japan?”

“Yeah, I’m back.”

“I’m happy to hear it. Things have been a bit hectic here since you left.” A pause. “Do you have some time to talk about it?”

It had been three years since Neku’s death. Things were always hectic in Shibuya, and there was no reason for Shiki to believe that what Rhyme had to talk about was anything related to Neku or the UG. After all, she would have said as much immediately, wouldn’t she?

But—

“Mmhm. When can we meet? Are you free now?”

Rhyme laughed. “I am, but I think I can hear the sounds of the bus station behind you. I think you need some time to at least get your suitcase home before we talk. Call me in about an hour? Or whenever you’re ready, I can wait. Patience is a virtue, after all.”

Shiki smiled. “All right. Got it. Talk to you then.”

“See you later!”

Rhyme ended the call before Shiki could, and Shiki took a deep breath after she slipped her phone back into her pocket. An hour or two. Just long enough to get her suitcase home, a shower and a fresh change of clothes, and then she could meet with Rhyme to discuss what had been happening in Shibuya—why the air felt oddly still as Shiki made her way through the West Exit Bus Terminal, toward the Scramble Crossing.

It had been three years since Neku died, and there was no shock of orange hair near Hachiko when Shiki passed it. Despite everything else that had changed, Hachiko’s plaza being devoid of her partner hadn’t. But . . .

Shiki looked up at the sky as she waited at the crosswalk, and watched as a bird swayed jerkily through the air, as though having trouble flying.

She had a feeling that, too, finally had a strong possibility of changing soon.

#the world ends with you #neo: the world ends with you #misaki shiki #twewy eri #neshiki #fic fix #this started as a meta then turned into a fic & spiraled out of control & it's almost 2am #i spent several hours on this #anyway I don't think that Shiki sat by Hachiko every day for 3 years #she never gave up on Neku but also she had a life to live too #& I can't see Eri being content watching her bff refuse to move on from someone who is (as far as Eri can see) dead & not coming back #she wants Shiki to be healthy & happy #anyway I will revise this later but for now here's this #ntwewy spoilers #neo twewy spoilers #ntwewy #neo twewy

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the-brohood-of-hotties · 3 years

Text

Forget me not

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman REBORN! Pairing: Hibari x Reader Wordcount: 2,210

Summary: Hibari is a weird man, famous for his rather aggressive aura. After he moves into your neighborhood, an oasis inside a big neon town, Hibari Kyouya brings with him the weirdest situations into your life, as he makes a startling entrance with an accident with his "co-worker", Yamamoto Takeshi.

This is an entry for #khrevents April Angst 2021/ Day 8/ Yearning, Longing/ Reincarnation AU/ "I don't want to forget you."

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30658199

The glass door from your coffee shop and gardening club swings open, you don’t really care to see who’s there because it’s almost the end of your shift and you’re really entertained with social media, though you did greet the person entering. “ Good evening. Welcome to the Daily Lily.”

“Good evening, I’m afraid we’ll have to check out your storage.”

“Are you the police?”

“...No.” The voice seemed hesitant, you notice.

“Then I can’t help with that, we have a promotion on cheesecake today though.” You smile and finally look up, afraid it might be a man trying to mess up with you. Well, it was two men, in fact. You’ve heard the rumors around the neighborhood, that Hibari Kyouya was a man with a weird aura that just moved in alone with some exotic pets, while he seemed delicate and handsome, he just had this introverted, aggressive aura and you’d never expect him to show up in your small business as the companion of another guy. Tall, tan skin, dark hair, buff, a scar on his chin in contrast with a bright gentle smile. He seemed to carry a baseball bat in his back, which made the combination of sports and their suits really off, they both seem to be either Japanese or Korean.

While Hibari, the grumpy one, seemed to not be so happy about being with the other guy. Like a puppy and an old cat. "We don’t wanna bother you, but-..." The baseball guy was cut off by a loud noise coming from the back of the store. Normally you would be worried that your co-worker got hurt or something, but today? You’ve been alone for the second half of your shift. It’s not supposed to be noisy there, you’re frozen in the spot.

Hibari immediately bursts into the staff-only area of your shop, and before you can protest, the other guy gently grabs your shoulder. “Everything will be fine, we’ll take care of this situation. I just need you to hide in the restroom.’’

“Excuse me?!” No time for excuses, you heard someone grunting and the loud noises start getting too repetitive. Your phone was given in your hands and you basically got pushed into the room by the taller guy. “Sorry, huuh I really need to go there… ” He said as the door slammed on your face. The restroom was cozy enough, you had it decorated as you wanted, and you were firmly holding your phone in case you needed to call someone...But then, who would you be calling? The police would probably make things worse, especially because they seemed to be armed, or worse, maybe these guys are the police in disguise. You fidget your fingers along the cold black surface as a way to calm down a little, it seemed pointless. The noise was too loud to just put on earbuds and ignore them, but you realize: And if this is all a scheme? Rushing to peek at the door, as your eyes meet the pastel walls of the store, you realize it seems like no one’s here at all. Until you hear the cranky storage door opening, and as soon as you see the Baseball guy again, you close the door. Don’t want him thinking you’ve been spying on whatever happened in the storage, with your heart racing, you hear a gentle knock on the wooden door, accompanied by his voice. “Everything is fine! You can come out. I’m sorry I didn’t say my name before, I’m Yamamoto Takeshi and my company here is Hibari Kyouya.”

Decide to close the shop soon as you could for the day, you come out of the restroom, greeted by the two men.

“I am not your partner, Yamamoto Takeshi.” He mutters, Hibari looks completely clean, you could still mistake him with a businessman. While Takeshi seems to have bruised his hand a little. You offer him your first-aid kit which he accepts, then you close the curtains so there’s no curiosity about that’s going on inside. “So, what happened in my storage?” You cross your arms, with a cotton stained with blood between your fingers, slightly annoyed by the whole situation. Making mental notes of what to tell your therapist later, then going back to cleaning the dry blood on Yamamoto's calloused hand.

“Two burglars, they were armed but easy to deal with.” Hibari finally says something directed to you, maybe it’s the first time he bothered to look in your eyes. Not that you’re annoyed by that, perhaps he’s just introverted. But at the same time, now that he looked at your face, it's like something inside him got frozen, awkward. It's such a weird feeling, especially since he doesn't really show it off, you just can tell. “Are you guys police officers?” You change the subject, brushing it off your mind, Hibari looks away, you can’t tell if he’s offended by being compared to a cop or something else. “Not at all! We just know how to handle them. We’ll send you a check to compensate for the damage and the working time you spent in the restroom as well.” Yamamoto finished his bandage and happily hands you paper and pen. “Just write down your shop’s address and info and the check will arrive in 3 to 5 days.”

You couldn’t really believe in such kindness, or at least knowing how to deal with the consequences of their vigilante work but since they already know the shop you write it down anyway. “ Are you all putting me in some pyramid scheme? You two seem like stage actors.” They do look like handsome actors, you think.

“We aren’t.” Hibari actually pulls out an unused bullet from his pocket to show they’re not lying, effective but scary. He just turns away and keeps browsing the plants you got for sale, examining the quality of an English Ivy’s vine. “Don’t scare them, c’mon. Isn’t this shop your neighbor now?” Yamamoto jokes around, Hibari sends him a deadly look and you decide you won’t touch the neighbor subject ever again.

“If you two excuse me, I have to close the shop and go home. It’s getting late and I don't plan to work more today.” You operate the register and turn off your computer for the day, swinging the keys in your index finger. Anxious to get home to your cat and a nice hot bath to relax. “Thank you again for your kindness, next time you visit the shop anything from the coffee and plants is on me. But don't do crazy stuff again.” You smile as everyone leaves the inside area with you. “By the way, who’s going to take these two burglars out? Did you guys called the police?”

“Kusakabe already took them, before you got out of the restroom.” Hibari says in a beat, interrupting Yamamoto before he could say something else. “Who’s that?” You raise an eyebrow, the Baseball guy blurts out, dismissing any curiosity you might have. “He’s a friend of ours who’s actually a cop!” That’s weird, you didn’t even see a vehicle, and usually, when cops stopped around they were always noisy and had the blue and red lights on. Off-duty cops, detectives, spies, what are these people doing around? Your curiosity around these two can only grow. It’s not like your hometown has anything important in the first place. Anyway, you say your goodbyes and already invited them to come once more. Perhaps it will be good to have these two around, at least against burglars.

Hibari turns to Yamamoto as soon as you disappeared in a street corner, with earbuds on, bursting your playlist for a nice walk and everything “That’s why we shouldn’t operate with any civilians nearby, we might be compromised now.”.

“It wasn’t that bad, I think they got to sympathize with us, it’ll be just a weird day on their life.” Takeshi stretches his arms, it’s quite complicated to deal with you and Hibari all at once. “But, still if we didn’t interfere these guys might take them hostage, steal the shop, or whatever their intentions were. We’re lucky you saw they had guns when passing by the street.”

“I am sure Kusakabe will find out their true intentions, but meanwhile we cannot afford to bring attention to us. No more.” Hibari walked down the street, ready to get to his new apartment. “And, Yamamoto.”

“What?”

“If you get back here in the shop, don’t do anything weak and stupid.” A threat, how much that suits him, it must be a serious matter, no wonder the Foundation decided to settle in that small town for a while. Once Hibari got home, greeted by Hibird’s singing, he lets out a long sigh. What happened today? Two Mafia men going out for a civilian’s small business as if it’s a serious matter for them. But especially, the Cloud Guardian feels like he just knows you from somewhere. Your voice and eyes seem oddly familiar, but if he was to put this feeling into words it’ would simply smell like bullshit. Herbivore bullshit. He takes a long shower, and gets to bed to read something before sleeping, but can’t concentrate on his book. It can’t be, he even loses sleep and feels exhausted, only falling asleep when his body couldn’t take it anymore.

He wakes up in a bad mood, feeds Hibird and Roll, and opens his fridge: nothing, just a bottle of water. Well, he has to remind Kusakabe to do his groceries, but for now, he’ll be ok with going to your shop for breakfast. He gets changed from his kimono to casual clothing, it’s 07:00 AM when he walks down the block and notices no one’s inside the shop beside you, as he opened the door a ring is heard, you turn your head to see who’s there, the shop seems clean and decorated with paper and fairy lights hanging on the wall, plus with the plants of all sorts, making the place lively, with soft lo-fi music in the background. “Hey, good morning Sir.” He murmurs a response and orders blueberry pancakes with a black coffee on the balcony. “Thanks for coming after yesterday, I came here earlier to clean but your partner Kusakabe was waiting at the door to help me out.”

“Good.” As you manage the register, he notices you have cupcakes with colorful glaze and cutesy decor right beside you, and a poster that he can’t read from that distance. You see he’s staring at something and offers him one of the cupcakes. “Today I’m throwing a small event here, the shop will celebrate 2 years of business, come by if you want to.”

“I’m not letting you give me everything in the shop for free.” He rejects and suits himself a table nearby the window. “I don’t like parties, or crowded places so I’ll stop by tomorrow.” This hurts your ego a little bit, but it would probably be embarrasing to have a stranger around, he’s quiet most of the time. You wonder if Yamamoto is more of a party person, then, your thoughts drift to the question: Is Yamamoto Takeshi single? He doesn’t have a wedding ring, and neither does Hibari.

You shake your head before you could turn red in front of him. “Well, I’ll save you a piece of cake my parents made then.” You say, as you get prepared to do everything for today’s menu ready.

“You don’t have to.” Ouch. You decide to not offer him more things, but this behaviour makes you wonder if he has a jealous partner.

Usually you let everything sort-of-ready so you just need to heat them in the oven on the back of the balcony. Cooking is time-consuming, but at least it’s pretty lucrative. “I think I’ll take around 30 minutes since you’re an early bird. You can use a laptop to work or shop for flowers if you like stuff like gardening.” You turn your head to talk to him, but to your surprise, he’s already looking at some pots and examining some other gardening products you have around, you didn't expect him to be this kind of person, gardening takes nurturing, care, and a lot of attention towards a living being who doesn't even communicate like animals. He does like gardening apparently, you expected him to pull off a MacBook and have an online meeting over his meal or something, maybe doing finances of whatever organization he's probably the leader at, at least that's what his expensive suit tells. When you get to serve his plate, the spare chair has a basket full of gardening materials, seeds for fruits and veggies, some pots, a small rake, and a trowel.

As the clients come in and you get busier, he didn’t want to be a burden, so he just sat there and tried to enjoy his breakfast, even though the place was a little more crowded than he would like to. But still, Hibari can manage that for a bit, and then he realizes how the situation just got weirder to him, how come he’s doing that for you? And why did you felt so familiar? Spending most of his life there, just occasionally traveling he never noticed a person that matched that specific scene in his head. Is this some Herbivore bullshit? Maybe. Hibari is still pondering over this subject but as long as no one from the Foundation or Vongola finds out, he just found out a place with good pancakes, open from Monday to Saturday, how convenient. The whole saved your business and life thing or the fact that you’re attractive is just a small detail. When he’s done, Hibari gets up from his table and your co-worker comes to clean his spot. He takes his basket to the balcony for payment, but not before adding a purple flower to his shop list. When he gets to pass all the products, which usually the clients would take one or two plants, but he got around seven, letting the purple flower for last.

A small vase blooming with forget-me-nots, as you pass it on the register, you read the silly little tag you put in some pots as decoration, each has a quirky phrase or pun with the names, that one reads:

“Don’t forget about me”.

#hibari kyoya #KHR Fandom #khr fanfic #fanfiction #reader #hibari x reader #yamamoto takeshi #forget me not #I kinda want to continue this fanfic hhhh

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kenganparadise · 3 years

Note

Would you be willing to do headcanons for the Kengan crew proposing to their S/O? Specifically, Kanoh, Wakatsuki, Takayama, and Gaolang. If you can't do all four, that's fine!

Thank you for all the writing you do!

Oh my god..... thank you for sending in this request!! I needed some fluff today. MAJOR FLUFF WARNING❤️💙❤️

Agito-

• Agito has probably wanted to propose to his S/O for a long time now. Ever since he realized they were his soulmate he knew he wanted to marry them.

• Agito wants them to claim his last name, he wants to be their husband and not just their boyfriend. His heart swells with love knowing he’ll grow old with his S/O. Honestly he can’t wait to spend the rest of his life with them and all the adventures they’ll go along the way.

• He doesn’t spend long looking for a ring. He wants something simple yet personal. He has a saying along with their initials engraved on the inside of the ring.

• He holds onto the ring for a very long time. He probably has it in his pocket or wallet just waiting for the right time to propose.

• It’s very spontaneous. He and his S/O go out for a ride on his motorcycle. The sun is setting and his S/O looks beautiful exactly as they are. They do most of the speaking, Agito’s got a smile on his face as he watches them laugh with love in his eyes.

• “Marry me.” He says, interrupting whatever they were saying. “Huh? W-what did you say?” They blink at him. “Marry me, Y/N.” He repeats. He pulls out the ring, finally it’s able to go on the finger of the person he wants to share his life with.

• Agito and his fiancé/fiancée share the evening together talking about the future. In the morning they’ll call all their family and friends and begin planning their wedding.

Wakatsuki-

• Wakatsuki ponders proposing for a very very long time. He stresses over it a little bit. He knows he wants to spend the rest of his life with his S/O. He loves them more than anything.... more than himself.

• Though he wonders if they want to spend the rest of their life with him. He’s not particularly insecure. But his worries and anxiety get the better of him sometimes.

• He buys them a diamond ring. His proposal plan is super long and complicated and he plans every little detail.

• leading up to the proposal, he tells his S/O how important marriage is and the history of marriage, as well as fun facts and whatnot. He places wedding catalogs around the house. Wedding dress/suit magazines are at their usual spots.

• He just wants to plant the seed in their head without giving away too much. But his S/O is probably able to connect the dots.

• He takes his S/O out to dinner- their favorite restaurant. Or the restaurant where they had their first date. Then he takes them to all their favorite places. He reminds them of all the memories they’ve made together.

• Then he ends the evening somewhere with a nice view. Maybe to a park with sentimental value or the beach- It’s sunset.

• Finally it’s time to pop the question..... poor Wakatsuki. He’s overcome with anxiety. What if they reject him? What if they want to break up?

• His S/O knows him well enough to see that his mind is racing. They’ll put a hand on his shoulder, or caress his cheek. His lover has a warm look in their eyes. Wakatsuki’s dark thoughts disappear. All he can see is his lover.

• He starts the long speech he has been practicing over and over again. He’s spent so long practicing in front of the mirror and in his head- now when it’s come down to it he’s all choked up.

• He goes on about how much his S/O means to him, and how he never thought he could love a person so much.

• Finally he gets down on one knee. “Will you please marry me Y/N?” By now he’s got tears in his eyes and he’s choking on his words.

• His S/O would have to be an idiot to say no. Waka shoots up and wraps his arms around his S/O laughing. He sobs into their shoulder with a huge toothy smile.

• He slips the ring on their finger finally. At last Takeshi can start planning his dream wedding.

Takayama-

• Taka never ever thought about marriage before meeting his S/O. He never wanted to get married. He never even considered that being an option for him.

• Then he met his S/O- his soulmate. He started desiring all these things he’s never wanted before.

• He’s flipping though the TV one day. He sees a wedding show on Say Yes To The Dress. He imagines his S/O standing at the alter. He imagines them in white. He stares at the ceiling and thinks about being married.

• Desire and the need to be married to his S/O grows and grows. He imagines married life with his beloved. He imagines starting a family. Once again his S/O makes him want things he’s never wanted before.

• He and his S/O would have to be in a relationship for a long time before he proposes. Though it’s quite spontaneous.

• He and his S/O are in bed together they’re laying on their sides facing each other. He’s ditched his mask. Taka and his S/O spend nights like this just talking about the universe and whatever is on their minds.

• “What do you think about getting married... to me?” He asks almost timidly. He is worried about their answer. And he has spent a lot of time thinking about rejection. What if his S/O doesn’t want to get married or him?

• His heart skips a beat hearing his S/O laugh and answer. “Well then I guess we should start planning a wedding.” He chuckles. “Wait. Did you just propose to me?!!”

• He wants them to pick out their own ring. He’d love whatever they’d pick out. He’d get a matching one of course.

Gaolang-

• Gaolang has thought about marriage a lot actually. Meeting his S/O and realizing they're “the one” makes him think about it 100x more.

• He’s got the whole wedding planned before he even picks out a ring. His S/O might find wedding catalogs and magazines in their home.

• He picks out a simple and modest diamond ring, something he knows his S/O would love. He gets something engraved on the inside.

• He’s the kind of guy that contacts his S/O’s family and asks for permission for their hand in marriage. He’s a little traditional.

• He takes his S/O out to a very nice restaurant. He books a private room with a great view. He doesn’t want he and his S/O being interrupted.

• In the back of his mind he sees Saw Paing swooping in and ruining the mood.

• After he and his S/O have a lovely evening together and have eaten their fill. He finally starts the speech he’s got prepared in his head.

• He gets down on one knee and pulls out the little box. “Will you make me the happiest man in the world, and marry me, Y/N?” He pulls out that cheesy line. He’s got a rare smile on his face.

• He instantly calls Rama and shares the good news. Gaolang wants a small wedding but he knows that might not be possible. Either way he’s happy to spend the rest of his life and grow old with the person he loves most.

#kanoh agito #wakatsuki takeshi #takayama minoru #gaolang wongsawat

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kung-fu-cutbug · 2 years

Note

did we already send you any 🖊s? we can't remember so here's two: a 🖊 for metabomb the precious ai friend and a 🖊 for another one of your choosing.

(okay wait this ask technically contains three of the emojis. you can do whatever you want with the third one lol)

unless you were the anon who spammed 🖊s at me earlier then no I don't think you have

I don't really have the energy nor the space to do more than one in a single post though so I'll just do Experiment #024960/Metabomb for now

(side note: YES THE READMORE TRICK WORKED thank you so much Sylvi)

robo friend! with lots of trauma, god where do I even begin

they were an AI project secretly being developed by... a character whose creator we don't talk about anymore, I really need to retcon this part of their backstory so I don't need to think about Them every time I infodump their backstory holy shit

things were going well until like day 4 of their existence where they accidentally fucked up another more public experiment

resulting in the both of them being labeled as failures and being killed...

almost

the other experiment—@madame-butterfly-knife's character Ikei, a homunculus/genetic clone of a timeline-warping god, with powers that were decidedly *not* timey-wimey for the sake of keeping things balanced in the roleplay he was created for—woke up a week later except he was an amnesiac

so Metabomb kinda had to string him along and cautiously avoided telling him the truth about their origins outright out of fear that he would abandon them

...then Ikei somehow landed a job at the same institute that created him and things went to shit

he found out the truth about his identity and had an existential crisis over it

Metabomb, meanwhile, freaked out tremendously about it and started possessing/"infecting" everybody they could, including Ikei himself, and getting them to kill people out of fear that the secret would get out (ultimately that was in vain as I just said)

Dr. Claire de Lune, the administrator of the technology institute, then fled because they were afraid that they would be considered guilty by association (although they did kinda execute an innocent woman via lightning strike because everybody else voted them out but whatever)

except Metabomb tagged along with them and started killing even more people, this time with a new goal

the guy Ikei was cloned from, the timeline guy (Grey Takeshi), got their powers because they're from a dimension where memories and being remembered made you stronger—any kinda memories, including traumatic memories

so Metabomb's logic was that if they traumatized enough people they'd be able to find the timeline god and kill them for basically being the reason Ikei hated them so much at the time

so they do that

...but then all of a sudden Metabomb and Ikei are both trapped in a killing game hosted by none other than Grey himself

Ikei gets shot by one of the killers and dies, Metabomb realizes that they've basically become just as heartless as the guy they're trying to get revenge on and commits suicide

...which causes the other people whom they had previously infected to go berserk, form a cult called the Virus Fragments, and start hosting killing games of their own in an attempt to gather enough traumatic memory power to resurrect them

and after a while they do get resurrected, except thanks to the realization that hosting killing games is Bad, they Do Not Like the fact that they were resurrected because people were hosting killing games

so they infect the cult's leader to get them to resurrect Ikei, then grab him and bolt

they struggle to recover for a while afterwards before they and Ikei get dragged into YET ANOTHER killing game, hosted by none other than Junko Enoshima herself

Meta dies again sacrificing their life to save Ikei from getting run over by a sentient truck (who had gotten hijacked by a rampaging vtuber); Ikei summarily goes berserk, kills the truck the next night, and gets executed for it

they both got resurrected by a friend within the cult and eventually help overturn the cult and turn it into an anti-killing game foundation

...which isn't very successful and disbands after several months of two or three people struggling to keep it relevant

now Metabomb is currently just vibin'

alright, here come the fun facts

they weren't even originally supposed to be an actual character; originally, those killing games I mentioned them kickstarting were simply going to be initiated by a nameless, faceless greater scope villain simply called "the Virus". then Knife made a joke about it arguing with Ikei over whose turn on the Xbox it was, I got carried away, and bam, Metabomb was born

Knife actually came up with the name for Metabomb as well, although it was originally used for a different thing—Ikei was originally a pastiche on shonen manga/anime heroes, and when Meta was still the nameless Virus, "Metabomb" was actually the name of Ikei's Stand (which ended up getting retconned later into my character Metabomb pretending to be Ikei's Stand)

their experiment designation number, #024960, is 069420 backwards. wow I'm original

they've undergone a lot of design changes in the just-over-a-year they've existed, and this is reflected in-universe as well—originally they were just a 3' pixelated red silhouette with blank white eyes, but after hanging around other humans long enough they changed their design to be more humanlike and became a 5'6" pixelated red person with emo bangs covering half their face and a short ponytail. after a while, they ditched the emo bangs because they no longer felt the need to "hide" from anyone, and even later on they swapped the ponytail for the long, flowing locks you see now because they finally felt truly free from all the shit from their past that had been bothering them

they can change the color of both their body and their outlines at will—whenever they get stoned, for instance, their white outline turns slightly pinkish! they once tried to make themself a bright neon scenecore rainbow. it, uh, did not work and they were blinded for the rest of the day

they would also die to a single Sour Patch Kid because sweets screw up their programming a little

#asks #metabomb #ocs #tw suicide

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f1nalboys · 3 years

Text

Keiji 'Red' Devlin Bio

NAME: Keiji Devlin

AGE: 23

GENDER: Male

PRONOUNS: He/Him, They/Them

NATIONALITY: Japanese and Irish

NICKNAMES: Dev, K, Red

OCCUPATION: Lead singer and bass player in his punk band Sinful Tranquility. The band is quickly gaining popularity in the underground Anarcho-punk scene, but not enough to fully support himself. He comes from an affluent family (which he hides from most people) and he gets money from his mother every month to keep him afloat.

LOCATION: New York, New York, USA

HAIR/EYE COLOR: Dark brown eyes (almost black), with naturally black wavy hair. Has been dying his hair red for the last four years

HEIGHT: 6’2

BODY TYPE: Lanky, not a lot of muscles, and pretty thin. He does have a bit of chub near his hips <3

FACE: 90’s Takeshi Kaneshiro

CLOTHING: Punk/rock/grunge inspired. Mainly wears Anarcho-Punk clothing (all black, militaristic, lots of anarchist symbols/slogans, liberty spikes in his hair, etc) but tends to steer away from studded/spiked jewelry.

LANGUAGES: Fluent in English, nearly fluent in Japanese, and at conversational level for Spanish, Korean, and Gaelic.

BIOGRAPHY: Keiji grew up as the second of 5 children (4 boys, 1 girl) in Arizona. He was raised by his mom and dad until he turned 12 when his father left, divorcing his mother. His father is a broker on Wall Street and sends the family money each month to keep them comfortable but Keiji resents him for how he was able to make said money.

Red grew up with a need to protect those who he deemed as ‘weak,’ and he got into a lot of fights throughout his school career. His best friend is Naveen and he’s known him since the fourth grade. Naveen’s family was poor, the only member having money being his older brother who refused to help ease their financial burden.

Two months before his 18th birthday, Naveen and Red were talking and Naveen’s brother came up. He got angry at how his friend's brother was treating him so he took it upon himself to go confront the older man. Naveen’s brother was 27, big, and mean, so when Keiji confronted him he lashed out and began beating Keiji up.

Naveen stepped in just as Keiji was getting choked out and, after catching his breath, he grabbed a large rock and bashed Naveen's brother in the head. By the time Naveen was able to pull him off of his brother, he was dead, head beaten beyond recognition.

Thanks to Naveens testimony, Keiji was spared jail time and given 40 hours of community service as the murder was deemed self-defense. This is what sparked his blood-lust. Killing rich people, who were always bad in his experiences, gave him a sense of justice. Naveen and his ex, Indigo, are the only people aware of his killings.

TYPE OF VICTIM: Keiji goes after rich/affluent people. He refuses to kill lower class people and children. Though he doesn’t actively seek out people to kill, he will never pass up the opportunity to do it.

WEAPONS: He is a very hands on killer. He will use anything at his disposal, whether that be a crowbar, a lamp, a baseball bat, anything that will allow him to hear his victim’s pain. He likes to prolong the beatings and he always takes a photo of the aftermath.

PERSONALITY: To most, Keiji is a happy-go-lucky, funny, sweet guy. He’s the type to walk an old lady across the street while carrying her groceries for her. He loves to laugh and to meet new people, and he’s a big history nerd. If the person he’s meeting is rich, he does a complete 180. While the initial meeting/realization might be bad, he will reign it in long enough to convince the person to bring him over to their place/go home with him. That’s where the façade drops.

When he’s killing, he is sadistic. He takes great pleasure in hurting them and will spend hours doing so. A big part of his pleasure comes from their pleas’ for forgiveness and mercy. He finds it very ironic.

FACTS: Keiji is a big time smoker and needs to smoke at least twice a day, maybe more. He loves wine more than hard liquor, but loves mixed drinks more than wine. Heavy weight. Has abandonment issues which results in him having a hard time forming long lasting relationships and he tends to sabotage it himself. Loves watching trashy reality TV shows and will spend hours of his day watching them and smoking weed. Big pothead. Dislikes the police and government. Hides the fact he comes from a fairly well-off family, only Naveen knows.

#slasher oc #s1mps slasher oc #red devlin #keiji devlin #s1mping4slashers masterlist #s1mping4slashers works #s1mping4slashers writing #slashers #slasher x reader #keiji x reader #red x reader #s1mps slasher oc bio #red devlin bio

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dearcat1 · 3 years

Text

(Breakfast)

Part 4 of Unplanned Parenthood

With Sawada, they plan something of a reveal. There's no keeping Julianna hidden and unless they throw Timoteo a bone, the man isn't about to back down so reveal it is. A controlled scenario makes Xanxus feel better about this and Sawada, at least, seems to understand Xanxus's desire to keep Timoteo as far away from his daughter as he can. With Sawada backing him up and Julianna being this young, it will be easy enough to keep Timoteo away. Especially since, for now, they're living in Varia's Castle and Timoteo is under no delusions that he's welcome there. Xanxus kept the condo but he's not planning on living there and his assassins know better than to mess with his suite.

The condo is kept cleaned and organized but empty. As far as Xanxus is concerned, that's Julianna's. She can choose to move there if she feels like it, when she's old enough to make that decision. Or rent it, or sell it. Or do whatever. It's hers. Xanxus steps out of the car, bouncing his daughter in his arms. She's teary-eyed and red-faced, all in all, in a terrible mood and Xanxus can't blame her because so is he. Maybe they're feeding off each other's misery. Xanxus kisses the crown of her head, taking in the Iron Fort in front of him with a pinched expression before he moves. Breakfast and then they're gone, that's all he's willing to risk.

Squalo and Lussuria flank either side of him, Takeshi opens the door for them, smiling warmly at his daughter and laughing when she just hides her face against Xanxus's neck. The shyness is uncharacteristic, she's usually all for exploring the world but Xanxus doesn't mention it. He stalks forward, his jacket flaring behind him and the scowl on his face making sure people stay out of his way. Takeshi opens the door of the dining room for him, Xanxus doesn't break stride. He drops down on an empty chair, in the middle of the table between Sawada and Timoteo. Squalo and Lussuria ignore their chairs, standing behind Xanxus instead. Good.

"Morning," Sawada smiles awkwardly, sending something of a warning glare at Timoteo's guardians. "Hard morning?"

Xanxus snorts, looking down at his daughter when she coos. Xanxus helps her sit down on his lap, her back to his stomach but he takes away any cutlery she could harm herself on. Of course, the first thing she does is grab a fistful of the tablecloth and shove it inside her mouth. "That better be clean."

Julianna looks up at him. She shows him her fistful of spit covered cloth, her babbling still a little sulky but her mood seems to be improving. Xanxus hums, petting her messy, dark hair. "It doesn't usually go into your mouth. What does it taste like?" She babbles back, answering with an enthusiastic high pitched squeal when he snorts. "Ok," he turns to Lussuria. "She's probably going to get hungry any moment now."

Timoteo leans forward before Lussuria can do more than nod. Xanxus's hand on his daughter tightens when the old man stares, his entire attention centred on his baby. "Xanxus," Timoteo's hand squeezes his cane before releasing it, fingers tapping the wood. "Who would this be?"

For now, they ignore Julianna's babbled intervention, though Xanxus does take the time to smile down at her. Small and not as free as her but it always makes her beam. He looks back up to Timoteo before the man can comment, his free hand petting his daughter's hair back, the movement calling attention to his daughter's unmistakable red eyes. "Are you going senile, Nono?"

Sawada makes a sound in the back of his throat, not a warning but a reminder to keep a cool head. They need this to work properly. The Japanese Sky leans forward, smiling at Xanxus's daughter gently. "She's adorable, cousin." It's the first time Sawada has ever mentioned their familial relationship and it's unlikely to be a slip of the tongue. Xanxus hums, eyeing the younger Sky before inclining his head in silent gratitude. Doing that burns but Julianna is vulnerable and small and Xanxus is already struggling, the least he needs is something else to worry about.

"If I don't keep an eye on her," he's mostly giving up the information as an implied understanding of their new dynamic, "she shoves almost everything into her mouth."

"Ah," Sawada sits back, laughing. "Well, if you spit on it, you get to keep it. That's the rule."

There's a glimmer of something in Sawada's eyes that makes Xanxus uncomfortable enough that he turns away, looking down at Julianna instead.

✏✏✏

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#fanfiction #khr #katekyo hitman reborn #xanxus #unplanned parenthood

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yakuzadumpingground · 3 years

Text

Well since I'm feeling contrarian I'm gonna rank all of the yakuza games I've played (which is everything except the original 1 and 2, Dead Souls, and the Japan only games) which is guaranteed to piss someone off. Starting with the best-

1. Yakuza 0

Ok, not a controversial choice. I'm sorry. But the general consensus is correct. On top of having one of the best stories in the series, a really fun combat system (albeit not very challenging, but it's not like i play yakuza for challenge), and some of the most memorable sidestories, the setting really gives this game a certain style that nothing else in the series has. Also, one of the few yakuza games that's decently paced. Honestly, most of my complaints about this game are nitpicks (such as how grindy maxing out your character is) it's just a kind of boringly perfect game, really.

2. Yakuza: Like a Dragon

"BuT iT's TuRn-BaSeD" ok cool guess you're just gonna miss out on a fantastic fucking game. I gotta say, it was a real hard choice between "I wanna see the side stories" and "I GOTTA know what happens next in the story" sometimes. I don't know else I can say about this game: great story, great characters, just a great time. Admittedly, as an RPG it.... needs work. The encounter rate is WAAAY too high and the job class system is pretty busted. Even still, the genre change is a breath of fresh air and honestly pretty charming at times. Play this, goddamn

3. Yakuza Kiwami 2

It was a real toss up between Kiwami 2 and the game in the 4th slot, but in the end, Kiwami 2 wins by being more consistently enjoyable. Unlike the first two games on this list I can't say Kiwami 2 had a good story exactly, but I can say it's an entertaining one. I was rarely bored playing this, and in terms of sheer fun, Kiwami 2 wins that crown. I was *howling* at the ending, my God.

4. Yakuza 5

I'm of two minds when it comes to this game. On the one hand, some of my favorite stuff is in this game. The intro is very unusual but hit me in a weird way that really stuck with me. It finally made Saejima likable. Playable Haruka. Shinada, my beloved. On the other hand, while Yakuza games having pacing problems is pretty much the norm, whoo boy does yakuza 5 test your patience. Sloths move at the speed of fleas on meth compared to this game. Also, the actual overarching story is pretty weak and uninteresting. It's really best viewed as a collection of loosely connected stories. This game definitely has it's flaws, but the high points more than make up for them

5. Yakuza 6

Someone's gonna get mad that this game isn't lower, I'm sure. Yeah, it's flawed. It's not best send off for Kiryu. It's lacking in content. The ending is fucking terrible. But there's still plenty here to love. I love Onomichi, it's honestly one of my favorite locations in this series, even if there's nothing to do in it. It's just wonderful to look at and walk around in. I like the Onomichi cast. Beat Takeshi is there. Having Kiryu's saga cap off with a game about family is a great idea, and until this game's awful fucking ending it's a touching exploration of that theme. But fuck this game's ending. Seriously.

6. Yakuza 3

This is... a weird one. I can both see why the fanbase rejected it at the time and why fan appraisal has gotten so much kinder to this game. Like y6 (honestly y6 is really an unofficial remake of this game) it's a game about family. That being said, I rank it lower than 6 because of the relatively lower stakes and weak plot. It takes a long time for the main plot to actually start, and honestly it can take it's dear sweet time. Whenever I was going main story quests all I can think was about how much I'd rather be dinking around doing mundane shit for the kids. But I can't say this game isn't charming as hell. It's really one of the few times you really see Kiryu as just a... guy. Raising his kids, just living his life. For a series all about high octane melodrama, slice of life is a welcome change of pace

7. Judgment

Ooh, HERE'S the controversial take! Yeah, I didn't really care for Judgment. Judgment is the opposite of y3, where instead the main plot is actually very interesting but we spend. So. Much. Time. On. Bullshit. It's not a short game either. I spent so much of this game wondering when we're getting to the goddamn fireworks factory. Putting the pacing problems aside, the characters are fun but apart from Yagami and arguably Sugiura they don't get much in the way of meaningful development (it feels like Higashi's character arc is almost entirely off screen). The "detective" gameplay is meaningless fluff and adds nothing (note to game developers: tailing missions always suck. They sucked in Assassin's Creed and they suck here) and the attempt to bring back style changing is half-baked. I didn't hate my time with this game, but it left me underwhelmed

8. Yakuza Kiwami

This was actually my first yakuza game. And thank goodness Kiryu is hot because this game is... rough. First off, the story is just not very good. It spends a lot of time with tedious red herrings and extraneous shit with characters we don't care about. I honest to God had a hard time following the plot on my first playthrough because the cast is like 90% unmemorable middle aged Japanese men that show up like once in the first hour and then once in the last (but you're expected to remember them). It doesn't fare any better gameplay wise. It does make one good decision, bringing back style changing, but then for some reason they decided to make every boss fight an awful chore by having them regenerate their hp several times a fight (unless you happen to have the heat to do a heat action, and even then they regen hp so fast it may not help that much). What. The fuck. This snowballs into the Majima Everywhere which... look. I know. Goromi. But this system is still one where you have to fight a boss over and over and over again (in a game where fighting bosses is a chore). I've seen people slide off the series after going from 0 to kiwami, and that sucks. Maybe it was best i started here; if I liked this game, I'll probably like the rest

But there's one game I'd say that'd worse

9. Yakuza 4

When I played Yakuza 4 the first time, it was the ps3 version and I hadn't played 3 yet (it was more expensive.) So when I replayed 4 it was after playing 3, and honestly I was appreciating the game a lot more. After the slog of 3 it was nice to have a game with a snappier pace. And Akiyama was a fun change of pace. Him and Hana have a fun dynamic. I remembered not liking this game; was I too harsh? Could I have appreciated 4 more if I could see the improvements from 3? Then I got to Saejima's section then I remembered why I don't like this game. Honestly, I could go ON about how much Saejima's part sucks, it is easily the worst time I've had playing a yakuza game. I'll spare you that novel for now tho. And from here, the game never really recovers. We move on to Tanimura, the worst yakuza protagonist by the sheer virtue of how boring he is. By the time Kiryu shows up again I was so damned thrilled to see him. But he doesn't really save this game. Yakuza plots are usually convoluted and sometimes hard to follow, but 4's just gets exhausting to keep up with. By the time you get to your 28th betrayal you just can't care anymore. And it all caps off with a lazy fucking ending and the absolute worst final boss fight in the series. Oh Curryman. You deserve a better game.

#sorry i ended up being wordier than i expect #i need to be sleeeeepiiiiing #yakuza

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