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makeste · 3 years

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BnHA Chapter 324: Is There a Force Field Around Him??

Previously on BnHA: Flashback!Rat Principal was all “please tell Midoriya that I spent a concerningly small amount of money upgrading U.A. into a wacky physics-defying funtime grid so as to make the final battle much more confusing for everyone.” Present Day!Mic (or Present!Mic, if you will) and Jeanist were all “if only somebody could deescalate this dangerously unhinged mob, we’ve tried nothing and we’re all out of ideas.” Ochako was all “LISTEN UP PEOPLE.” The mob was all, “god??” Ochako was all, “NO, IT’S ME, OCHAKO. I’M REALLY HIGH UP ON THIS BUILDING AND THE VISIBILITY IS LOW DUE TO THE RAIN, SO I CAN SEE HOW YOU MIGHT MAKE THAT MISTAKE. ANYWAYS, DEKU WAS OUT THERE RISKING HIS LIFE FOR YOU CLOWNS EVEN THOUGH HE’S JUST A KID, SO I WOULD REALLY APPRECIATE IF YOU COULD ALL REMEMBER HOW TO BE DECENT HUMAN BEINGS, THANKS.” Let’s see if her Big Scolding Energy has any impact.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “so I have this speech planned out, and it’s really good, but it also only really needs about 6 to 8 pages, but I’m gonna see if I can stretch it out to 17 pages so I can kill time before we get to the next volume cliffhanger two weeks from now.” Anyway but it really is a good speech though. There are feels, and tears, and more talk about how Deku is so in need of a shower that just looking at him requires a tetanus booster, and more feels, and more tears, and bonus ship drama, and an iconic callback to the very first chapter which reframes the entire series in a new context in a totally epic and moving way, and it’s all very good. Except that Horikoshi is determined to never let anyone actually give this kid a hug. Who hurt you, dude.

omg we are opening on a callback to chapter 212, a.k.a. the chapter with by far the cutest flashback that doesn’t involve any baby Todorokis

baby Ochako is lethally cute. she could literally murder someone with her cuteness. I just want to scoop her up and play airplane with her until she accidentally activates her quirk while we’re spinning around and we both helicopter up into the air never to be seen again

“a child’s insistence” huh well that’s all well and good, but I sure hope this doesn’t mean we’re going to drag out the whole “sternly lecture the obnoxious citizens” plot for another whole chapter. no offense but I think we’re good

so page 2 is just continuing the whole happy/worried faces monologue, which of course is very important to Ochako’s character as it provides the context for why “who protects the heroes” ended up becoming her thing. and this is making me think we actually are in for a whole second chapter of this sob. when will my boy finally get to rest

OH MY GOD SUDDENLY THESE PEOPLE HAVE EYES IMAGINE THAT

HORIKOSHI: [reaches for a box of tissues while tearfully penning an homage to his beloved Spider-Man 2, specifically the train scene where the crowd sees Peter without his mask and they suddenly realize just how young he is]

HORIKOSHI’S HOMAGE SCENE: “COME TO THINK OF IT, I GUESS IT WAS KIND OF MEAN FOR US TO PICK ON THIS TEN YEAR OLD KID WHO WEIGHS 75 POUNDS AND LOOKS LIKE HE LOST A FIGHT WITH SATAN’S MOLDY OLD BASEMENT”

lol at this one guy who can feel the mood of the crowd shifting and is all “WAIT, NO, I WANTED TO KEEP BEING AN ASSHOLE DAMMIT”

as many pointed out last week, this man is wearing an All Might shirt. that’s some fantastic irony there

-- SDKFJWIGKS

“LITTLE GIRL, I HOPE YOU’RE NOT SUGGESTING THAT WE SHOULD ALL BE WALKING AROUND DRESSED LIKE A SOVIET-ERA BUS STOP.” heh. last week I said I was ashamed of BnHA being my favorite manga. that was a lie, actually

(ETA: in the original Japanese Ochako’s next two lines are basically “the only ones covered in mud will be us heroes!” followed by “please give us some time to get rid of the mud”, with that second line basically being the single funniest thing I’ve ever read rdslkjl. Ochako thank you so much for supporting my running gags. “YEAH WE KNOW HE’S DIRTY. WE ARE GONNA TRY AND CLEAN HIM UP, BUT IT MAY TAKE A WHILE, I’M JUST SAYING. I MEAN LOOK AT HIM. HE LOOKS LIKE AN ASBESTOS COSPLAY.”)

doesn’t the megaphone kind of look ever so slightly like an axe that she’s wielding maniacally here

easy there Lizzie Borden

also that’s a really bold claim to make there. and not one she necessarily should have to make, either. but as we all know, there’s nothing that shounen manga likes more than having its heroes bravely hoist heavy burdens of responsibility like good self-sacrificing citizens

p.s. lowkey loving how Kacchan is positioned here standing slightly behind Deku. not presuming to stand in front of him all overprotectively (because he would hate if anyone ever did that to him), and kind of being unobtrusive and letting others take center stage -- but still being close enough to Deku that he can catch him if he stumbles or passes out again

(ETA: or maybe not lmao.

DEKU: [falls to his knees]

KACCHAN: [glancing up from his phone a few minutes later] “someone just sent me the stupidest meme about milk crates -- oh. uh. you good...?”

really, son. “the burdens you can’t carry, we’ll carry them for you. ...later, I mean. right now it’s late, and we’re all cold and wet.”)

also lowkey loving this OchaTsu moment here

I was going back and binging Ochako chapters this past week for reasons, and I gotta say it really stuck out to me just how often these two are paired with each other. they do everything together. it’s a really sweet friendship that often goes unappreciated but it’s very cute

meanwhile, not to be outdone by the OchaTsu, Iida is staring at Ochako with open admiration talking about how she’s fighting too. it’s been so long since we’ve had any IidaRaka you guys. I was starving and I didn’t even know it

oh my lord IT’S FINALLY HAPPENING

THE LIGHT IS BACK. he finally looks like him again. what a cathartic fucking moment omg

ffklkdw

“I KNOW YOU ARE ALL SCARED, BUT THE GOOD NEWS IS, WE DEFINITELY CANNOT GUARANTEE YOUR SAFETY AND WE ARE ALL SCARED TOO!” good pep talk there kiddo

BUT, jokes aside, truth be told this is the exact right approach to take imo, and something that’s long overdue. I’ve said this before, but this new generation of heroes is shaping up to be much more transparent than the All Might generation. they’re basically abandoning the almighty, untouchable Superman “heroes as gods” concept in favor of the more nuanced “heroes as people” concept instead. and that’s a good thing. seeing their heroes as humans, with human limitations and weaknesses and flaws, will hopefully not only lead to more scrutiny and accountability, but also more awareness of how hard some of them are working and how much they’re sacrificing. that’s something All Might never quite grasped back at the start of the series -- that the weak, vulnerable, injured him could be just as inspiring as the mighty, invincible him -- perhaps even more so. there’s a power in seeing otherwise ordinary people show extraordinary bravery and compassion. it inspires others to try and do the same

SSDLHK AIZAWA SIGHTING AAHHHHHH

so he was still back at the hospital this whole time?? smdh at this disrespect. that feeling when your sexy self-insert character’s powers of rationality are too strong, and so you have to nerf him so that he doesn’t ruin your Deku Angst arc twice over by (1) immediately talking some sense into Deku and making him come home Right This Instant Young Man, and (2) not allowing him to leave U.A. in the first fucking place. excuse me, you want to do WHAT now, Midoriya?? that’s it, go to your room

also living for Katsuki and Hawks’s soft expressions. Shouto’s too, although his is tinier and harder to see. and Jeanist’s 12-foot-long neck. imagine Jeanist’s head with Mic’s hair. maybe Jeanist had a mohawk back in the day and that’s why U.A.’s doors are so big now

speaking of soft faces, Enji’s is also excellent

what could this random close-up possibly imply?? hell if I know. but Horikoshi truly fears no discourse and that’s what I love about him

OMGGGG

“smh my child is so dumb.” poor Ochadad. your child is cute af count your blessings

SDOFFHSMH

I’m telling you guys. lethally, catastrophically cute

this speech is still ongoing lol. Horikoshi you’re doing so good but I think we get the point now my dude. you gotta learn how to transition out of these things

UNEXPECTED TOGA WHAT

“there we go” Horikoshi says, crossing off the last line on his list of Ochako ships. “that’s all of ‘em”

poor Ochako is just repeating the same “LET HIM REST, PLEASE, WITH EVERYONE’S COOPERATION, IF YOU DON’T MIND, WE APPRECIATE IT” talking points over and over again hoping someone will throw her a bone and acknowledge her already. SOMEONE PLEASE HELP HER

literally they’re all just staring up at her silently omg. work with me people!!

now she’s saying it for the 56th time but more dramatically all of a sudden

they got so dramatic that for a minute I thought she had suddenly leaped off the building or something

look, not to rush you or anything Horikoshi, but I’m starting to get the feeling that this is yet another one of those “the volume is ending soon so I need to either hurry things up or slow things down in order to make sure we end it on my perfect cliffhanger ending” chapters where you go to ridiculous lengths to drag things out much to the exasperation of your week-to-week readers

(ETA: ftr, volume 31 ended on chapter 306, and I’m predicting that vol. 32 will end with chapter 316 (a.k.a. “you’re next!” [explodes]). I’m guessing vol. 33 will follow suit and likely end on chapter 326, so keep your eyes peeled for a big cliffhanger in two weeks’ time. Deku’s dad?? All Might in peril?? U.A. traitor at long fucking last?? we shall see.)

is Deku straight up falling in love with Ochako right on the spot lol what is happening

I know I just said that I enjoy when Horikoshi gives zero fucks about discourse, but shipping discourse is a whole different beast lol. I hope he’s prepared

(ETA: and for the record, I have no interest in shipping discourse either, as always. and I think this scene can be interpreted as platonic, tbh, with the context being that Ochako was literally introduced as someone who was willing to help him so casually without a second thought, and now here she is saving him again.

I don’t think it really fully hit Deku until this moment how much he needed saving. like I said in another meta somewhere, selflessness is basically just selfishness on behalf of others. and Deku is selfless to a fault, but that’s okay, and it doesn’t mean he needs to change -- he just needs friends who are willing to be be selfish on his behalf in turn. and I think the full emotion of what it means to have friends like that just hit him at last. everything his friends have done for him, how much he needed it and didn’t even realize, and how grateful he is. anyways what a terrible day for rain.)

-- son of a --

is he apologizing?? or pleading?? please tell me that’s not the case, because what the actual fuck. Deku you beautiful precious radiant selfless child, this is the exact opposite of how this should be. all these motherfuckers should be on their knees apologizing to you

DEKU WHY

I DIDN’T ASK FOR THIS FREAKING BOMBARDMENT OF EMOTIONS GODDAMIT. OUT HERE ARMED WITH YOUR FREAKING TREBUCHET OF FEELS TO LAUNCH AT ME UNPROVOKED. WHAT’S WITH THAT

FREAKING CHRIST. THIS BOY IS CRYING HIS EYES OUT AND HORIKOSHI IS JUST ZOOMING IN WITH THE CAMERA, LIKE CAN WE JUST CUT HIM A BREAK ALREADY. ENOUGH OF THIS. HE’S SO YOUNG AND HE TRIES SO HARD AND I JUST NEED HIM TO FEEL SAFE, HORIKOSHI PLEASE CAN YOU JUST GIVE ME THAT ALREADY WHAT IS THE FREAKING HOLD UP!!

GIGANTIC FOX LADY!!!

GIGANTIC FOX LADY PLEASE BE MY HUGGER BY PROXY!! SERIOUSLY GIRL IF YOU JUST HOLD YOUR UMBRELLA OVER HIM OR SOMETHING AND DON’T GO THE EXTRA MILE I’M ABOUT TO LODGE AN OFFICIAL COMPLAINT. THIS IS GETTING RIDICULOUS NOW

!!!!

A KOUTA IS GOOD TOO!!! oh my god if Kouta hugs him I will seriously 100% straight up cry. go on and test me

FOR THE LOVE OF --

is this man expressly forbidden from drawing hugs in his contract or something. DO YOU DO IT JUST TO SPITE ME?? this is tyranny, sir

AND I KNOW, THIS PAGE ACTUALLY CHALLENGED THE VERY PREMISE OF THE SERIES ITSELF, AND HERE I AM COMPLAINING ABOUT HUGS, OR THE LACK THEREOF. “this is the story of how we all became the greatest heroes.” and just like that, he waves a polite middle finger at all of the Strongest Greatest Chosen One shounen protags of old, in favor of something much less conventional, much more interesting, and much more suited to Deku’s character. because if that one sentence doesn’t just sum up Deku to a T. he gladly relinquishes his Greatest Hero status in favor of acknowledging the hero in everyone. what a class act. that’s my protagonist

I love this kid so fucking much I swear. only just PLEASE. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. GIVE HIM HIS HUG

#bnha 324 #uraraka ochako #midoriya izuku #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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sovtwords · 3 years

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a king and his pawns

pairing: kita shinsuke x reader x miya atsumu warnings: 18+, royalty!au, threesome (M/M/F), bisexuality, anal, double penetration, hand jobs, blow jobs, doggystyle, kissing with cum, dom/sub undertones, fluff, established relationship w/c: 7.7k a/n: -AO3 LINK HERE- This is a little side-story thing I wrote for a royal!au I haven't actually gotten around to writing yet so WELP. It's fine tho, this was written for Kita's bday and he deserves it. LOVE YOU!! This fic features men engaging in sexual acts together so if that ain't your cup of tea then feel free to back out if you're uncomfortable! I'm bad at writing smut anyway, you'd probably be doing yourself a favour lmao. Regardless, enjoy!! Please lemme know what you think.

Kita Shinsuke was stressed. It’s not often the King loses his cool, but it seems as though life wishes to taunt him this week. Trade with Corvus has momentarily stopped due to an internal dispute meaning the Kingdom will be low on textiles for the unforeseeable future, a sudden drought has put the crops at risk, and Ginjima continues to test his patience with every new raid on the homesteads just outside of the kingdoms border - not within where Kita can arrest him, but close enough to be a thorn in his side.

He’s so very tired and so very alone, and everyone sees it as they convene for weekly meetings. They eye him with worry, yet he shrugs off every word of concern with the grace as befitting his title, though his Masters of War and Prosperity respectively eye him the most, the worry so potent on Lady Miya’s face he feels a warmth blooming in his chest. She even dares to lay a comforting hand on her king, and he allows only her to disregard her courtesies (not that she would ever forget them) and touch him. It’s nice to be treated well.

The meeting ends, and Kita is so close to retiring to his balcony to rest for a while until he notices that the happily married couple stay. “Ya alright there, Kita?” Atsumu asks, opting to drop all formalities and talk as friends like when they were younger. Kita’s glad for it.

“I’m fine,” he lies, and knows it wasn’t very convincing with the way they stare in disbelief. “Things are just tense right now. I’m sure we’re all feeling it,” he elaborates. Lady Miya takes his hand in hers once more, small fingers gripping tightly onto his. He keeps his eyes trained on them.

“That’s right, but you don’t have to burden this alone. It’s why you have your council. And you don’t have to hide anything from us. We’re here to listen to you, my King, so please – share your worries with us, so that you might feel better.”

Ah. His heart clenches with affection, and a soft smile grows on his face when he looks at the earnestness in your gaze, thumb idly stroking your fingers and momentarily forgetting that your husband is still in the room, sitting just to his left. But it’s so easy to forget that when his attention is focused on the right of the table, when Atsumu himself hasn’t said a word when normally he would screech if anyone dared get chummy with his wife, King or not.

“Thank you, my Lady. It warms my heart to know that you care so deeply,” he says carefully, pulling back with a quiet sigh. “But I’m fine, truly. I find that reading the books that you gifted to me helps me to relax.”

“I know another way ya might relax,” Atsumu interrupts before his wife gets sucked into a long conversation about stories.

“What is it?”

“Well, it’s something more suited for behind the doors of your chambers, if ya catch my drift,” Atsumu smirks, while his Lady looks appalled. Kita feels the tips of his ears burn but keeps his expression as stony as ever.

“That’s crude, Atsumu. And you know that I’m averse to…” he trails off awkwardly, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. Atsumu laughs.

“I know ya don’t take concubines. But that doesn’t stop ya from reading the spicier books in the library, does it?”

“What’s yer point, Atsumu?” He asks bluntly. Better to get whatever trick he has planned over and done with. The blonde smirks, eyes shifting between himself and his wife.

“Was just wonderin’ if ya wanted a private show, that’s all. My Lady here makes for quite the spectacle. Just a way for ya to destress.”

Lady Miya gasps loudly, a blush burning on her face as she stares at her husband in complete shock while Kita’s heart stalls in his chest.

Watch his friends while they… No. That’s a boundary he should not cross. No matter how many times his eyes have slipped downwards to where your chest is pushed upwards by the corsets of your newer dresses, or how smooth your neck looked when you lean over to discuss reports with him, he…no. Such intimacy should belong in their bedroom, not his. Right?

“Atsumu, that's not a funny joke. You should watch your mouth and apologise to your wife for embarrassing her“

“Hold on now, your highness, she didn’t say no.”

Kita blinks. Looking to where she sits, he sees the obvious humiliation on her face, clear as day as the heat on her cheeks. But with it, a look of conflict, a spark of curiosity in your eyes when they lock with his.

“I…If it pleases my King, then I don’t mind. I would do anything for my King,” she says resolutely, and the way your voice grows airy every time she speaks of his title sends sparks straight to his groin. He swallows harshly, opens and closes his mouth a few times as he feels the heat of Atsumu’s smirk boring down on him. It had definitely been a while since he’d done anything of that nature, but… was this really ok?

It’s silent for what seems like forever. Eventually Kita calls out to the servant standing outside the council room.

“Find the largest chaise you can find and have it delivered to my room. I want it there by tonight.”

God’s above, save him. He was really going through with this.

- - - - - - - -

Night has fallen, the castle is quiet.

He doesn’t know how he should act. It seems as though nobody except Atsumu knows how to act, if the way Lady Miya sits with her back straight as a pillar and arms folded politely in her lap was any indication. Atsumu lounges against the chaise in front of Kita’s bed with a drink in one hand and fingers twirling through the sash of your robe in the other , waiting for either Kita or his wife to make any sort of move, though it seems as though their nerves have gotten the best of them.

“Shy, Kita?” the blonde Lord asks. Kita gives an embarrassed furrow of his brows, but stays quiet. Atsumu chuckles. “Well then. Does my King agree to let me be the one in charge tonight?”

How treacherous of Atsumu to ask, but with no real idea on how to go about this, Kita relinquishes control with a mute nod of his head. Better to let Atsumu take the reins than for him to accidentally cross a boundary he was unsure of. Atsumu downs his wine in record time, and moves to place it on a nearby dresser before returning to his Lady. He takes hold of your face with such reverence and love that Kita has to look away and swallow down the bitter jealousy swirling like bile in his gut. He hears Atsumu whisper some reassurances to you, and nimble fingers undo the sash around your waist.

You stand up at Atsumu’s request, and he takes your spot on the chaise, posted in front of the King for his viewing pleasure. “Didn’t want ya to miss this,” Lord Miya says, and swiftly loosens your robes, letting them pool around your feet and laying bare your silky and soft flesh for Kita to see. Dark eyes rove over plump breasts, wide hips and thick thighs, and he’s convinced that no concubine in the world could ever compete with the beauty standing in front of him, made all the more sweeter that you’re a coveted treasure by your husband, making Kita the only other man to ever see you like this. It makes his cock twitch in his breeches, and makes Atsumu smile devilishly because he knows the effect this is having on his superior.

Your gasp alerts him to the fingers that have slipped between your legs from behind to cup your sex, brushing against the light hair that Kita wants nothing more than to bury his face in right now. “She’s as sweet as a peach, this one,” Atsumu coos, pressing all the right buttons and gifting Kita with moans and sighs that Angels would blush to hear. “As wet as one, too. Let’s show King Kita, shall we?”

Without prodding you sit in Atsumu’s lap and allow him to spread your legs wide, and the candlelight makes the slick gathering on your cunt and thighs glisten, Kita’s brain faltering at the sight. His body grows hot with want, with need , and he nearly rips his shirt off of his body, composure slipping with each second that passes. Atsumu offered to let him watch, but now he’s not sure if he’s content to be just a bystander.

You hum and squeal when Atsumu pushes two of his fingers past your folds, pushing in and out at a gentle pace that you’re no doubt familiar with as he prepares you for greater things to come. “Yer so quiet, Kita. Are ya not enjoying yourself?”

The Lady looks at him then, a gentle pinch to her brows. “Are you…not satisfied with me, my King?”

Atsumu flashes an exaggerated pout over your shoulder. “Yeah, my King. After exposin’ my wife like this for ya, is she not enough?”

“She’s beautiful,” he chokes, clears his throat but it has little effect with how thick with lust his voice has grown. “She’s perfect.”

The smile on your pretty little face does funny things with his head.

“Ya hear that, my love?” Atsumu holds you close and rocks you side to side. “The King thinks yer beautiful. I dunno if many ladies can say that. Say thank you.”

“T-Thank you, my King. I’m honoured,” you grin. Kita gives you a small smile in return, though it falters at the edges when Atsumu catches you off guard and thrusts his fingers into you with great speed. It sounds wet and hot and Kita’s hand wraps around the bulge in his pants, stiff and begging to be touched, especially when the usually composed Lady Miya in front of him whimpers and pants like you’re in heat, moving your hips in sensual ways and locking eyes with Kita to steal the air from his lungs.

“A-Atsumu!” you gasp, wrapping a hand behind you to grasp the hair of your husband, but the smirk stays on his face, enjoying your plight. “Be gentle!”

“You love it,” he shushes you, planting kisses on your neck and biting down on your shoulder when you grow too rowdy. “Besides, we promised King Kita a good show, didn’t we? I have to prepare ya, don’t want ya cryin’ because yer tight hole wasn’t ready to be filled.”

You moan loudly when Atsumu brushes over your clitoris roughly, small hands moving to cover your mouth, and it’s the final push Kita needed to remove his trousers and take his cock in hand.

You watch in silence as he undresses, eyes immediately zoning in on the length and girth of his member, biting your lip for a different reason than when your husband removes his fingers from your core. Atsumu brings them up to the light to look at them curiously. They’re soaked from knuckle to fingertip, and when he pulls them apart tendrils of your slick keep them connected. Kita’s overcome with the desire to touch it, to touch you, see how you taste.

The smile Atsumu gives him sends chills through his body, as if his Master of War had read his mind.

“I think he wants a taste, my sweet,” Atsumu rubs soothing circles into your hip with his free hand, keeping his calculating eyes on his King. “What do you think?”

“The King can have whatever he wants,” is your answer, hiding a smile in your husband’s jawline while he laughs. Fuck, they were going to drive Kita insane. What surprises him even more, is instead of offering your pussy for Kita to lose himself in, Atsumu holds out his hand, like offering his fealty to the King once more as he had sworn so long ago.

“Then by all means, have a taste.”

There is a moment where it’s entirely too silent save for the heavy breathing Lady Miya is trying to get under control. A million thoughts run through Kita’s mind as his eyes flicker between Atsumu’s fingers, his childhood friends’ face, and the naked woman before him. It feels like entirely new territory, uncharted waters that Kita has only thought about dipping his toes into before running back out for fear of falling too deep into the water.

But in Atsumu’s eyes there's nothing but trust and desire, and in your eyes there's encouragement and adoration. His heart hammers in his chest, and burns with the overwhelming love and support from his closest. It makes his limbs move before his brain can catch up, leaning forward with his mouth opening while Atsumu’s grin grows wider, taking the digits in his mouth before hesitation can settle.

It’s strange, to suck on your best friend’s fingers, long and thick in his mouth, calloused from years of sword fighting as his tongue brushes against the pads of his fingertips. He can barely taste the saltiness of his skin though, as your sweet juices invade his senses like a summer wine, pure and sweet like the woman they came from. He grabs hold of Atsumu’s wrist when he makes to remove them, licking and scraping his teeth on them in a way that makes Atsumu’s breath hitch with widened eyes, and Kita mentally records it as a win before slowly releasing with a pop, lines of spit breaking the further away Kita gets as he takes his place on his bed once more, precum leaking from his slit.

It is Lady Miya who breaks Atsumu out of his trance with a gentle hand cupping his cheek and turning his attention back to the situation at hand. The smile on your face is light-hearted, if not mischievous, a gleam to your eye letting Kita know that you enjoyed what you just witnessed. “I think, dear husband, I’m ready to get fucked hard for the King.”

An impish grin blooms on Atsumu’s flushed face immediately at his wife’s forwardness. Honestly, Kita had never expected the Lady to be this way. You had always been on the reserved side, befitting your rank and lessons in etiquette. Quiet, polite, spoke when spoken to. If someone had told him a few years ago when Atsumu had introduced you to Kita when you were still giving the twins lessons in etiquette that he would be witnessing you in such a lewd position and answering all of the fantasies he had locked away, he would have almost laughed out loud at the absurd notion.

Funny how life works.

“Should we let his Royal Highness choose how I do it?” The blonde pushes his hair out of his eyes, and both Lord and Lady Miya look at him, eyes alight with interest.

“I…,” Kita clears his throat, brain bringing forth images of every position imaginable. He squeezes the base of his cock. Save it for the grand finale. “I want the Lady on her hands and knees facing me.”

That causes Atsumu to laugh in delight.

“Ah, takin’ her from behind, like mounting a bitch in heat,” he snorts. You pout at the language, but Atsumu kisses it away, lips pressing lightly against the bridge of your nose until you’re smiling again. “Never would’ve assumed ya liked it that way. Not very proper, is it?” Atsumu comments.

“Are you here to question your King on what he likes in bed, or are you going to deliver on your promise and show me somethin’ good?” Kita remarks.

Atsumu delivers another laugh as he lifts his wife off of his lap and places her onto the soft, cushioned chaise lounge as promised, knees spread apart and encouraging you to lean onto your elbows.

For a moment, as Atsumu undresses, he regrets not choosing a position that allows him to watch more closely as he enters in and out of you, but any complaints he has dies when Atsumu spits into his hand and rubs at his stiff member, lining it up with your entrance. Kita nearly cums all over his hand when he locks eyes with the woman across from him as Atsumu pushes in with a sigh of relief, no doubt seeking any sort of pleasure for his aching cock just like Kita. At least he has a pussy to bury himself in. King Kita just has his fist.

Your eyes flutter as Atsumu goes deeper into your tight cavern, groaning and furrowing your brows while you clutch onto the chair beneath you. You whimper when he bottoms out, and are only given a moment to adjust while Atsumu looks at Kita in question.

‘Shall I start?’, he seems to say.

Kita nods, and watches in perverse fascination as Atsumu rears his hips back and thrusts forward once more, making you choke on a scream as he sets a relentless pace, not holding anything back.

Your moans mix with yelps and screams of pleasure as your husband pounds into you from behind, round hands on soft hips and curls loosening from where they were pinned back on your head. Kita’s eyes stay glued to where your tits bounce with the force, hand finally giving him some relief and stroking his weeping cock, unwinding some of the tension in his shoulders and stoking the fire in his gut. He wants to reach out and fondle your chest, your nipples, but stays his hand, fear of crossing that damned boundary getting to him.

Atsumu is loud, he realises, almost as loud as his wife is right now. He groans and he growls like a wild animal, so overcome by the feeling of his Lady, of everything that she is, and praises fall from his lips like the water rushes down the mountain’s peaks.

“F-Fuck, yer so tight, I love it,” he grits, reaching over to grab hold of your chest like Kita wanted to do so badly. “So wet for me, for your King. Ya love getting fucked in front of him, practically beggin’ me for weeks.”

Kit almost feels as if he shouldn’t be hearing this conversation, but such crude words make him fist his cock faster, wet with precum and helping him ease the friction of hand to dick.

“A-Atsumu, I-”

“Don’t lie,” he laughs. He pinches your nippple roughly, and earns himself a gasp. “Every time ya called me yer sweet King, you were thinkin’ ‘bout him, too. Weren’t ya?”

You can say nothing, only look at your ruler with unbridled lust in your eyes. It’s getting harder to breathe now as he pumps his dick in time with his friend’s thrusts, entranced by the look on your face and Atsumu’s voice.

“Thought s-so,” Atsumu stutters when he rubs at your clit and you squeez hard. “Well, I’d do anythin’ for ya. Guess that includes fuckin’ ya silly in front of your King.”

Atsumu tsk’s and lifts your torso up so Kita can have the best seat in the house. Eyes stay glued to where they are connected, pistoning in and out of your walls and glistening with your slick. It brings forth images of wanting to get closer, let his tongue feel the both of them at once but it's so outlandish that it brings heat to his cheeks and pushes him closer to his release, chest heaving with exertion as everyone in the room reaches a crescendo like a symphony of sex.

That is until Atsumu stops abruptly, and it's so sudden and odd when the sounds of skin slapping cease that it causes everyone to lose their high, cooling down with irritation and impatience.

Atsumu's chest heaves air with great effort, yet his eyes are sharp as he regards his King.

"I think," he starts, easing out of his wife slowly, making you whine at the loss. "King Kita is lookin' a lil lonely. And it's our duty as his advisors and subjects to serve the King, right my love?"

You blink in surprise, when a smile curls at the corner of your lips, one that you definitely learned from your husband. Affection blooms on Atsumu's face at your reaction.

"We should give him a hand," the blonde declares, and suddenly he's carrying his wife over to the royal bed, laying you down gently against the rich, maroon satins and silks, hair splayed around you in rivulets like water. With equal parts curiosity and hesitation lacing his limbs, he moves further up the bed at Atsumu's insistence, coming face to face with you as you smiled kindly at him, lidded eyes and bottom lip plump from where you bite it.

He gives you one in return, one of the rare, genuine smiles he reserves for when he's with his closest and when he's happy. The sound of a throat clearing snaps his attention back to where Atsumu kneels at the end of the bed, cock bouncing against his lower stomach with every shift on the featherbed.

"Does my King allow us to do as we please with him?"

It's almost embarrassing how quickly he says yes, aching to feel the touch of something other than his own hand for once. Atsumu smirks.

“Wonderful.”

Moving closer, all three find themselves huddled in a circle of sorts, with two sets of eyes hungrily staring at him. Atsumu looks at his wife, and she stares right back. It becomes apparent to Kita then and there, that there is no imbalance between them. Though you may fold your hands when appropriate and open your mouth when addressed in broad daylight, though Atsumu’s words and hands guide you behind closed doors and you part your legs for him like a blossoming flower, they are, without a doubt, equals in every sense of the word. Atsumu gazes at you with such adoration it would give the poets something to sing about for centuries to come, and he is certain that if you were to give an order, Atsumu would bend and do it for you, no questions asked.

It’s funny - the Master of War and the Master of Prosperity; two things that could never work hand in hand, but ultimately make for a wonderful pair.

And it makes Kita’s heart yearn for even a drop, an ounce of what they share, for someone to look at him the way they do each other.

“Maybe I should give you some tips on how to go about it, my sweet,” Atsumu says, and it’s all the warning Kita gets before a large, rough hand wraps itself around his member. He jerks at the feeling, eyes wide at the blonde smirking before him, and he looks frantically at the Lady beside him who offers nothing more than a demure upturn of her lips.

“What are you doing?” demands Kita, but the words end in a choke when Atsumu’s thumb swipes over the head of his cock.

“I’m showin’ my wife how to please ya.”

“I-I think she w-would..” Kita has to stop talking to emit a whimper when Atsumu’s hand squeezes his dick. He swallows hard. “I think she would know how to please a man by now.”

“Hmm, yer right. She sure does know how to get me going, but…”

He removes his hand from Kita’s shaft for a brief moment to lift his wife’s leg, dragging a hand through your thighs and bringing it back to Kita’s erection, now slick with his wife’s juices and providing smoother friction.

“No harm in remindin’ her of the lessons. Watch carefully, love.”

It moves expertly up and down his length, knowing when to twist and squeeze, when to go fast and slow. Kita’s hips jerk up into Atsumu’s hand, unable to help the sighs and moans flying out from his chest. It feels good, so so so good, and a softer, more feminine pair of hands scrape gently over his chest, toying with his pert nipples and sending sparks straight down to his groin.

“He seems to like that,” you whisper, pressing your lips to the pulse in his neck. Kita is positive it must be ready to burst from his skin right now, yet still you suck and nip and paint his skin in the most delicate hues while your husband’s hand increases in speed. His other hand reaches down to fondle Kita’s balls, heavy and begging for release. Whines and whimpers grow louder as he approaches that sweet edge.

Atsumu hums. “He’s got a pretty cock, doesn’t he, my love? I bet you’re just drippin’ thinkin’ ‘bout it inside ya. Hungry for another man's dick.”

You shiver from your spot beside Kita, a hand scratching at his scalp and sending tingles down his spine, and a pink tongue poking out to lick at his nipples.

“P-Please…” Kita begs.

“Well, ’m hungry myself,” Atsumu continues, and swiftly dips down to take the head of Kita’s cock into his mouth, sucking hard while his hand never ceases its upwards and downwards motion. It's wet and hot, and the swirling of Atsumu's tongue around his tip, lapping up the precum that had gathered is enough to make Kita moan aloud in surprise and pleasure. His face glowing red as he desperately thrusts into Atsumu's mouth but his brain is too clouded with lust to feel embarrassed at this moment.

His fingers grip onto rich bed sheets as he loses himself in the heat of Atsumu’s mouth, that mischievous tongue of his being put to good use and stroking the vein on the underside of his prick before bobbing up and down in time with his hand. It’s almost overwhelming, feeling tongues on different parts of his body but it feels glorious, to have these mouths worship and love him like he craves but never says aloud.

It feels like Atsumu’s mouth is barely on him for a moment before Kita is grasping onto the nearest things he could latch onto, Atsumu’s head of hair and your hand conveniently already in his, and he holds onto both for dear life as he cums with a loud and long groan, releasing into his friends mouth with surprise and twitching with the aftershocks when Atsumu keeps him in his mouth for a tad too long.

“T-Too much, please,” he stutters, and Atsumu takes pity on him for the time being, laughing at how wild and unkempt his King looks right now.

“I guess you’ll have to test out yer skills next time. Come here,” hands reach for his Lady’s face, and he lets drops of Kita’s cum still in his mouth fall into your own open and awaiting jaws, sealing it with a kiss that’s all tongue and wildness. The perverse sight of them sharing his fluids makes his cock twitch to life again with alarming speed, but it’s also the words echoing in his ears that stick with him.

Next time. Implying that this won’t be a once off thing, a strange night to remember for years to come.

It makes him hard in seconds, even after spilling his seed in his friend's mouth.

If the couple beside him are surprised at his recovery time, only Lady Miya shows it with a raise of your eyebrows in pleasant surprise.

“Do you wish for more, my King?” you ask, traces of his load shining on the corners of your lips. He stops himself from reaching over to lick it off.

“Yes,” Kita sighs, and his chest seems to deflate with the motion, his words needy and wanting. “Please - keep going.”

“What do you want? Anything for you,” your hand cups his face with such gentleness he could cry. How sad it must be, for the simple touch of a person could be enough to shake him.

“I n-need you, I want you on top of me-” he has to stop himself with a sharp intake of breath. Eyes wide with fear look over to where Atsumu sits, a uncharacteristically stoic look on his face that makes Kita’s anxiety flare up. After a moment of silent contemplation, he opens his mouth.

“Does my King command it?”

It offers Kita a moment to rethink his words, to retrace his steps before they were taken. And as he looks at the faces of his friends for any signs of discomfort, looks at you for clear rejection, he sees no hesitation or resistance in either of their expressions. Only eagerness, anticipation for what could come. It strengthens his resolve.

“He does,” Kita says, with the air and grace of the King in power he is. And Atsumu grins like that cat who got the cream.

“Perfect,” he sings. “Lay back, yer Grace. Let us do everythin’ for ya.”

Doing as told, Kita finds himself a comfortable spot against the pillows and cushions, cock resting hard on his belly and watching as Atsumu coaxes his wife to straddle his hips. Hands fly instinctively to the squishy flesh of your hips and thighs, smooth like satin, and his grip on you only grows tighter once he feels just how wet you are, practically dripping onto his lower abdomen. It drives him mad with excitement, knowing he’s seconds away from shoving himself into your tight hole.

“Go on,” Atsumu encourages when you look back at him in question. “I’ll help ya when ya need me.”

Biting your lip, you peer down at Kita.

“I’m ready,” he assures you with a squeeze of your hips. You reach down to grab his member and he hisses when you pump him a few times, dragging it up and down your soaked folds. He worries his bottom lip at the sensation, and just when he gets used to it you line him up with your entrance and begin to sink down on him, ever so slowly.

He loses the ability to breathe when your warm heat engulfs him. His eyelids flutter, his toes curl, and they haven’t even gotten to the best part yet. Atsumu hums in approval when you finally sink down, hips flush with Kita’s, sighing in unison. You can’t help the grinding of your hips, trying to accommodate his size and girth, but it makes him growl and still your hips. “Give me a second,” he pleads. And you do, leaning down to give him his first kiss of the night. He can taste himself on your tongue, taste Atsumu along with him, and your tongues tentatively brush and move against each other as you grow accustomed to the feeling of your lips on the others.

He catches his breath when you pull away, blinking out of a stupor, and it seems as though Atsumu has had enough with waiting, for he clears his throat loudly. “Ready to get started?” They both nod. “Good.”

With that said, Atsumu holds on tightly to your hips, hands over Kita’s that stay locked on your flesh, and begins to slowly lift you off of his cock, only to push right back down. Kita groans at the fluttering of your gummy walls around him, head thrown against the pillows while Atsumu increases the speed and pace with which he picks his wife's body up, getting you into a mindblowing rhythm and bouncing you on Kita’s member.

Atsumu certainly dictates the speed and rhythm right now, and the coil in Kita’s gut begins to make a reappearance with every clench of your pussy around him. You’re both at the mercy of Atsumu, who alternates between stealing the air from Kita’s lungs with bringing your hips down hard and fast, or slowly and maddeningly gyrating your hips so that Kita presses against every spot inside of you, massaging that sweet, spongy flesh hidden deep inside that has you gasping out a strange mix of their names and clawing onto Kita’s chest for stability.

“That feel good?” Atsumu asks. He’s met with a chorus of moans and whines from his Lady and his King, but he isn’t satisfied with that. “I said, does that feel good?”

“Y-Yes, my Lord!” You gasp, and are rewarded with kisses and nips to your neck by your husband. Dark eyes peer at Kita over your shoulder, demanding an answer from him as well.

“Yes,” the white haired man grunts. “F-Feels so fuck- fucking good.”

“My, my! Our King has a naughty mouth. My sweet, how does his cock feel?”

Your moans are light and breathless when Atsumu rocks your hips back and forth. Your juices stain Kita’s abdomen, and he’s tempted to reach out and swipe some up on his finger to lick. “He feels so big! So so so big, it’s too much, it’s- oh!”

Kita is almost as surprised as you are when Atsumu guides his King’s hand to your swollen folds, showing him how to rub at your clit with practiced motions. You careen in response, hips moving erratically and crying about how good it feels.

“Tell him, not me,” Atsumu laughs.

“Oh, my King, my sweet King, you feel amazing. I love your cock so much, stuffin’ me full, I can’t take it, I love it I love it I love it!”

Your praise, your words, the heat of your cunt; it all goes straight to his head and his heart, and the coil in his gut tightens dangerously, ready to burst his seed into you and fill you up, but Atsumu has your plans before he can reach his peak.

Atsumu lifts your hips up one final time, but doesn't bring them back down. The disappointment in the room is immeasurable, denied a high once more when they were just so close to falling off the edge. Lady Miya whines loudly and impatiently, having been denied her orgasm twice now.

"I know, baby, I know," Atsumu coos, pets your hair and soothes the furrow of your brows. "But I was gettin' a lil lonely over here. I wanna join in."

Your eyes light up in question, staring at him questioningly and obeying when he orders you to bend over. Chest to chest with Kita, the King cradles you closely, brushes loose strands of hair out of your eyes, and allows himself a simple peck to your lips, one that you return with two of your own.

But you jump in shock when Atsumu spreads your cheeks apart and spits loudly onto your rear.

"Atsumu! You...you mean to-"

"Shh. You trust me, don't ya?"

"Always," she answers without hesitation, and the smile he gives you is warm and full of love.

"Then just wait," he rubs a finger over your puckered hole, spreading the spit and watching in fascination how it responds to his touches. He loves your cunt like a drunk loves his wine, but your ass is just as addictive. Really, any part of you is more than enough for him.

You bite your lip when a finger dips in, struggling to accommodate the invasive digit. Kita distracts you with more kisses, hands on your breasts, pulling at your hardened nipples and drinking in your moans like he's breathing in the fresh air of the morning.

"You are so beautiful," he whispers in your ear, watching over your shoulder as Atsumu adds a second finger, pumps them in and out so carefully. The blonde reaches around to lightly toy with your clit - not enough to make you cum, but enough to make you relax and less restrictive. "He's lucky to have married ya."

"Shinsuke," she sighs into his own ears, and it sends shivers down his spine. It's very rare people can address him as Kita without his title, let alone his first name, but it sounds so beautiful coming from the lips of his friends.

"Yer doin' so well," Atsumu praises, free hand massaging the globe of your ass cheek once Kita’s clumsy fingers take over the role of rubbing your nub. "Stretchin' ya out real good. You want both of our cocks, don't ya?"

"I do, I want them so bad-"

"Think you can handle us?"

"Yes, please! God, Tsumu, I wanna be stuffed with both of your cocks-"

"Damn, you get loud when yer needy." Atsumu drags his erection through the folds of your pussy, gathering as much of your juices to coat his dick once again before he lines it up with your back entrance. "We'll take things nice and slow."

It seems as if Atsumu is reassuring more than just his wife with that statement, and Kita is grateful for it.

You bite down on the skin of his shoulder when Atsumu removes his fingers and presses the tip of his dick at your hole. You’re clenching hard and gasping at the stretch, and Kita works with Atsumu to soothe your cries and kiss away your tears.

He kisses your lips when you give a harsh wail as Atsumu presses in further, not even halfway in yet but groaning at how tight it feels. He spits once again where you're both connected while you twitch and sigh as Kita's fingers return to your swollen bud.

"Yer doing amazing, such a good girl," Kita peppers your cheeks with light kisses, and with one last thrust Atsumu is fully seated with his cock in your ass, glassy eyed and chest heaving with tension as he gives the pair of you a moment to adjust.

He bends over to lick and kiss a line up your spine. "Your turn Shinsuke." Kita stalls, wondering for a moment if you really are ready to take them both at once, but Atsumu mistakes his silence for hesitation. "Need help with that?"

Lord Miya reaches down to gently guide Kita towards your sopping hole, and he sucks in a breath as your hips lower agonisingly slow to sink down on him until both of their members are filling you to the brim.

You're a panting and whining mess atop of him, fighting to catch your breath whilst Kita fights to make sense of what he's feeling right now. He can nearly feel Atsumu press against him through a thin layer inside of your pussy, every budge of his hips making his chest tighten at the friction.

"Tell us when to move," your husband says. After a moment of getting used to the stretch with little twitches of your hips, you nod frantically.

"I'm OK, you can move."

"I'll let Kita do the honours," Atsumu smirks.

Lifting his legs higher up the bed for leverage, Kita gives an experimental thrust into your core. It feels so good when you clamp down with a whimper, and so he does it again, and again, until he's set a slow but steady rhythm and enjoys the look of pleasure on your face, the way you bite your bottom lip to keep from moaning too loud but failing miserably.

Gradually becoming more comfortable and succumbing to pleasure, Atsumu begins to move gently, pulling out slowly and pressing back in, so as not to disrupt Kita’s flow but your reaction is immediate, a sharp gasp and a whine for more, arching your back and trying to reach behind to your husband. He leans over to allow you to thread fingers through his hair, and begins to grind faster into you, trying to match Kita’s pace and intensity.

“S-Shit, yer so tight, yer... fuck-” he curses and stutters his hips. “God I love ya- I love ya so much.”

“Please, g-give me m-more!”

“My pretty little slut,” he coos, and you sob into Kita’s chest. “So- fuck, so fuckin’ greedy. You wanna get fucked hard?”

“Gods, yes! I want to be full of your cum, please please please-”

“S-Shit,” he swears, and Kita watches as the careful, calculated look Atsumu kept in his eyes all night suddenly turns wild, frenzied, just about ready to tear you apart like you desired. “You asked for it, pretty girl.” He gives Kita a look. “Ready?”

The King nods. “Ready.”

The blondes' lips curl up at the edges, and you’re only given a moment before both sets of cocks begin ramming into you with such great force that it has you falling on top of Kita, where he wraps his arms around your frame to keep you steady. Words turn into coherent babbles and cries as they piston in and out of you in near perfect unison, and it’s the friction Kita so desperately craved as your wet walls and Atsumu’s shaft rub him so deliciously that his orgasm rears it head once more, building so perfectly and steadily that he feels like he’s reaching Cloud Nine.

Kita unwinds one of his arms from around your waist to reach Atsumu’s ass to give the flesh an affectionate squeeze, causing him to meet Kita’s eyes over your head. Atsumu leans down to capture Kita’s lips in a sloppy kiss, one that’s more tongue and spit and passion than anything else, and the King barely has any second to catch air when he pulls away before your tongue prods at his lips, lips that he opens willingly like heavenly gates. And when Atsumu joins in again, and he feels two messy sets of tongues invade his mouth, one rough and demanding, the other soft and sweet, he can do nothing more than let out a whine and try to keep up with the wonderful sensations taking hold of his body.

He’s given some reprieve when Atsumu pulls back to sit up, grasping at your hips and fucking into you so fast you’re stupefied, mouth hanging open and drooling on Kita’s chest. He doesn’t mind - rather, he doesn’t really notice, too busy focusing on your bouncing tits in front of his eyes, on the occasional brush of Atsumu’s sack on his skin, and the rising coil in his gut, ready to snap at any moment.

Hips jump erratically off the bed when Atsumu rubs at your clit hard and fast, nearly crushing Kita’s cock from how tightly you squeeze the both of them as your husband brings you to your mind shattering end.

“I’m cumming! I’m- I-”

It’s all you’re able to say as your peak washes over you in waves of heat, and he feels your juices gush out on top of his skin as you do so. Fuck, he’s nearly there, so close, just a bit more-

“I’m c-close, I’m so close-” Kita stutters.

“Cum for me,” Atsumu growls, pounding into your ass with abandon while you fall onto Kita’s torso, arms wrapped around his neck and sobbing so pitifully in his ear. “Cum for us, Shinsuke.”

It’s the push he needed. He’s shooting his seed into your core with a strangled shout, pumping load after load right into you while Atsumu follows, unloading into your ass with a curse and a moan of your name, going balls deep and spilling all that he has while your walls milk them for all that they have.

Atsumu collapses on top of both of you with a tired sigh, and while Kita’s body protests at the added weight, his mouth can’t quite catch up with his brain at the moment, so he simply lays there as the heat of the room falls over all of you like a blanket.

Both cocks begin to soften inside of you. Ever so gently, they pull out, seed escaping your holes and dripping slowly onto the sheets as you whine at the loss and clench around nothing, feeling so terribly empty and almost wishing they had stayed inside of you. But it gives you an opportunity to rest, and Atsumu flips you on your side until he’s laying you down on the bed, littering kisses all over your body and singing praises about how well you did for them, how much of a good girl you are.

You smile sleepily, exhaustion overtaking your limbs, and Kita can only cup your face and rub his thumbs on your cheekbones, uncertain if kissing you would be crossing a line now that the deed has been done. You arch into his touch while Atsumu leaves to get a cloth.

“Was that ok for you, my King?”

Ah. Of course you would put him above yourself. He smiles warmly at that.

“That was wonderful. You were perfect,” he answers honestly, and you practically glow with pride at his words. When Atsumu returns, Kita takes the cloth, opting to be the one to clean the mess between your legs. It’s the least he could do after all that they’ve done for him.

It grows silent once he finishes, looking over to see Atsumu holding you close from behind. Your eyelids are drooping and your eyes grow hazy with every kiss and rub Atsumu gives to you, yet when Kita is about to excuse himself, to find solitude in a bath and let the married couple have his bedchambers for the night, you reach out to him, wanting to hold him, his face, to bring it close to you and trap him for the night.

“Are you sure it’s alright for me to…” he trails off with uncertainty. Atsumu snorts, offering him a kind and warm smile.

“The Lady always gets what she wants,” he jokes, and Kita lets out a fond laugh. “Besides - yer the King.”

“I don’t want to overstay my welcome,” he replies. And he means it. But his heart begs for the opposite, for you to not let him go and let him rest his head on your heart.

It seems as though you hear his thoughts.

“I want you to stay,” you murmur, sleepy but resolute in your words. “Do you want to stay?”

His eyes flicker back and forth between husband and wife. He could leave. He could end things right here, pretend like tonight never happened and go on existing as King like he always has. Things would become too complicated if he stayed. He knows this. And yet…

“I do,” he whispers, and curls into the warmth of your chest while Atsumu rubs at his hair with a fondness not common in him. Kita feels, for once in his life, at home. No castle too big and warm can ever compare to this. “I do want to stay.”

“Well then,” Atsumu says warmly, while you finish his sentence.

“Stay.”

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! scenarios #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #kita x reader #kita scenarios #kita imagines #kita smut #kita shinsuke #atsumu smut #atsumu scenarios #atsumu imagines #atsumu x reader #atsumu x y/n #kita x atsumu #hq smut #hq fluff

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bottomlouisficfest · 3 years

Text

Addressing Some Drama

We prefer not to address drama publicly because this is fic fest and people are here for writing tips and fics, but since people are making misleading posts about this fest, we decided to address it.

Last year, an individual signed up to be both a writer and a beta in the fic fest, but later dropped out as a writer. They said they were able to continue on as a beta, so we said that was fine and removed them from the fest.

Many months later, we heard from a writer whose fic this person had beta-ed that they had insulted BL writers and the fest and had made this writer feel uncomfortable. We received explicit proof of this, and so the beta was blocked from @blouisparadise, as that blog is intended to be a safe space for BL writers. When the person found out they were blocked, they had a friend ask why, and we explained the situation. They later reached out through another friend to apologize, which we thanked them for, but chose not to unblock them from the blog in order to keep it as an encouraging space for BL writers.

To our surprise, the person went on to sign up for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest soon afterwards. We treated them as we do every other writer and welcomed them into the fest despite their previous disparaging comments.

As many of you know, we require all writers to submit a draft of their fic about a month and a half before final fics are due. This draft has no minimum word requirement - it can just be a couple of paragraphs if a writer wants - but it’s a good way to ensure that writers are working on their fics.

This draft deadline is articulated to writers through email and on Tumblr at the beginning of the fest and it is also mentioned as a requirement in the rules for the fest. One week before this deadline occurs, the mods send emails to each participant in the fest to remind them to submit their draft via email. We also posted numerous reminders on Tumblr and on Twitter.

After the draft deadline passed, we didn’t receive drafts from several writers and reached out to them through email. This is the email we sent:

In the email above, we provided an additional week for these writers to either submit their draft OR simply reach out to us about an extension if needed.

We also mentioned on Tumblr and Twitter that we were sending this email, just in case some may not check their email frequently. Immediately, several writers sent their drafts, and some others let us know that they would be sending their later that week. However, there were a few that we did not hear from. We posted reminders throughout the week for those writers to please submit their draft OR to contact us about an extension, just as we did in the above email. We repeatedly reiterated that if writers chose to ignore our requests instead of reaching out, they would be removed from the fest.

When the one week draft extension passed, we had heard from most participants, but there were a few that did not get back to us. We sent them an email letting them know that they had been removed from the fest and that they would not be able to participate in future fests due to lack of communication, which is our only dealbreaker in terms of participation in the fest.

The person who we mentioned above had failed to turn in their draft or reach out to us on any platform, so we sent them an email to let them know that they had been removed from the fest. They sent us the following in response:

At this point, we had posted or emailed at least 6 different reminders about the draft deadline and requested that writers simply reach out to us if they needed more time. We heard nothing back, not even a single line email letting us know that they needed more time, which we would’ve happily accepted just as we did for others. They only reached out after we let them know that they had been removed from the fest. We replied with the following:

We were willing to accept their draft later that day despite the fact that they had failed to reach out to us repeatedly and had now missed two deadlines. We expected that we would receive their outline and we would pretend the entire removal hadn’t happened, but instead, we received the following email:

This email and the accusations made it in have mysteriously been excluded from this person’s post about our response, which made it sound like we had sent a two-paragraph, rude response simply because they had tried to drop out, which is untrue. For most drop outs of the fest, we simply let them know that they’ve been removed and thank them for letting us know. However, for most drop outs from a fest, we aren’t insulted by the writers.

After we received this email, we were extremely frustrated and upset at being told that we somehow lacked compassion after we had done everything possible to ensure that this person and all our writers were aware of the draft deadline and that they should reach out if they need additional time.

We have no issues being accommodating - we have allowed numerous writers over the course of three years of the BLFF turn in their drafts late and turn in their fics late because we fully understand that fic writing is not everybody’s first priority and challenges come up in life. That’s why our only request, which we reiterate constantly, is that people simply REACH OUT TO US when they are struggling or won’t be able to keep to a deadline. We are human beings, we are not all-knowing, and it is impossible to run a fest that had 100+ initial sign ups when writers will not communicate with us. We cannot know that you need help or more time when you choose to stay silent about it.

This writer had countless opportunities and chose to wait until after they had been removed, and even then, we still gave them the chance to submit their draft, only to be told that we had no compassion. As you can also see, they chose to drop out of the fest and express that they did not want to work with any fest like ours because we apparently did not care for their well-being and treated their life circumstances as a burden, also untrue.

This was our response:

Most of this email is addressing their accusations about the mods of the fest lacking compassion. We do everything in our power to help every single writer get through our fest successfully. We send emails, we post writing tips, we reach out to writers to send reminders, we post reminders to both Tumblr and Twitter, we answer questions, and we check our email daily. We have run the fest for long enough now to realize that there will always be issues for some that prevent them from staying in the fest or that ensure they require extra time, and that’s something that we accept and accommodate as much as possible. It’s why our biggest requirement for the fest is simply communication.

We’re not sure why this individual chose to selectively post private emails today in order to paint a picture of a situation that was not accurate, though we can probably guess. We’re also not sure why others in response to that post are spreading lies, but perhaps jumping on the bandwagon of hate is more fun than acknowledging the truth of any situation.

As mods of this fest, we always try to strike a balance between having rules and deadlines in order to ensure things run smoothly, and providing accommodations for people when things come up that make it difficult for them to adhere to a deadline or stay in the fest. We do our best, and we’re sure we don’t always get it right, but we think we did here. We don’t understand how anyone can suggest that providing six reminders about a deadline and an additional week to either submit a draft or to reach out to discuss options lacks compassion. We also don’t understand how anyone can send that email to strangers as though we are bad or cruel people for simply expecting all writers in a fic fest to follow a few very simple, clearly articulated rules.

Human beings participate in fic fests, but human beings run them too. We do not have the time or ability to jump through hoops to track down writers for a fic fest. We’re sympathetic to everyone who signs up for a fest and then has to deal with personal struggles that interfere with their ability to write their fic or stick with the deadlines. That’s why we do everything we can to help those people, but when our attempts to reach out and our reminders are ignored, and when we are then insulted for providing yet another chance, we are not going to respond positively to that. Even less so when it’s from an individual who has a history of insulting the fest and the types of fics this fest includes.

We apologize if we upset anybody with our response, but we also hope that people will read through the full emails to see the full story and realize that all we have ever done with this fest is do the best we can. Since we cannot individually keep up with 90 people and their personal situations as we run the fest, the one ask that we have is that people communicate with us when it comes to any issues they may be having so we can try to help. When someone chooses not to keep up that bare minimum requirement of communication and we respond accordingly, we don’t think we deserve to be insulted for that. Some may disagree, but that’s our personal take.

If you got through this, thanks for listening. And now, back to fics! 😊

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elia-de-silentio · 3 years

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The overarching themes of Vanitas no Carte: Identity

The Case Study of Vanitas is a very good, too little known manga (I hope the anime changes something), with some central themes than are exposed in different ways through different characters. In this meta, I want to explore one that was brought to my attention pretty recently: here a little examination on the various ways to face one's own identity in The Case Study of Vanitas.

The Stable Identity( Noè)

Let's start off with the positives, shall we? Noè has probably the most secure personal identity of all the bunch.

And this is pretty amazing, considering everything he went through. He has no memory of his birth family, but gets adopted by some nice people - who die shortly afterwards. Right at their graves, he is kidnapped by slaves, in an accident that left him injured. Then he is bought by someone who actually treats him nicely and is a good mentor for him, he finds many friends his age - and then one of them, the one he was closest to, turns out to be a cursebearer, kills all of the others and then tries to kill him; he is saved by the mentor, who beheads the friend right in front of him. The most immediate emotion is relief for being alive, and he will always feel terrible for that. Then, he has to witness his surviving friend try to cope very badly with her mourning by repressing her identity and try to substitute it with that of her dead twin. That's a lot.

And Noé reacted to all of this by becoming a confident person, kind and attentive to others, but not to the point of being a pushover. I'm not saying he walked away unscathed from the events of his childhood: he regrets the way he handled things with Louis, the way he didn't understand him, and has developed quite the savior complex as a result.

What I'm saying is that he is probably one of the very few well-adjusted people in the psychiatric ward that is Vanitas no Carte. He is still questioning himself, but in a normal way for a nineteen-years-old that has just left a sheltered environment for the big wide world. He is aware of some of his strenghts (his naivete) and is realizing others (putting unfair expectations on other people, underestimating other people due to racial biases); but most importantly, when he realizes these mistakes, he doesn't run away from them or obsess over them believing they make him a horrible person: he recognizes them, apologizes to the wronged person if necessary, and works on improving them.

This isn't to say he's completely happy-go-lucky with no regrets; he feels guilty about being relieved that he lived while Louis died, and he has a lot of uncertainties regarding his identity as an Archiviste and the impact his powers can have on other people. But he managed not to tie his entire identity to that guilt; and as for the second point, Teacher helped him rationalise that and figure out a conduit that didn't undermine him and at the same time showed respect for others. Noè went through several traumas, but received one thing most of the cast didn't: guidance and support from his environment. Whatever Teacher's actual motives are, he shaped a well-balanced person.

The Group Identity (The dhamps, appearently 99% of vampirekind)

"Us dhams are only loyal to each other!" This is what Dante says in one of the first chapters, giving us the first clues to their status as outcasts.

The war between humans and vampires ended up with each deciding to keep to themselves, but dhampires are the living exception to that silent agreement. So, both societies decide to reject them, and they can't find a place in the world unless they stick to others of their own kind. This common history of traumatic experiences of abandonment and subsequent resentment of both human and vampire society for it goes on to create a very strong group identity: the only ones they give a damn about are those like them, everyone else is a potential enemy and is only good to be exploited.

Then, we have the vampire culture. I mean ... it might be because insofar we have met almost exclusively aristocrats obsessed with their respectability ... but they have a lot of prejudices.

You're born under a uncommon moon? You're a pariah. You're mixed race? You're a pariah. Your parents committed a crime? You're a pariah, and are used as a tool. You're born as part of a set of twins? Either you or your sibling are killed at birth, because of something that is SAID, not even a certified element of vampire biology. You're stuck with a curse? You're executed, no attempts to heal you.

Their society seems to run on an ideal model of person which depends on factors outside the individual's control, and whoever doesn't fit this description and deviates from the group in any shape or form gets ridiculously fierce punishment. They make the freaking Church look good by comparison, at least their repressive and racist side is composed of extremists instead of everymen.

The Clan Identity (Chloé, and partially Noé again)

Chloé identifies with a group of people too; but it's not a race, it's a family. The D'Apchier family, the nobles who are responsible for Gevaudan. Her father made sure she had this idea in her right from the start, and she interiorized it.

And this had mixed results: while on the one hand she was chained to self-loathing by the guilt of having accidentally caused the massacre of the family and was only saved by Jeanne and Jean-Jacques reclaiming her as part of theirs, on the other she was able to resist to Naenia because of the love and responsibility she felt towards the people of Gevaudan. Chloé is, at this point, the only curse-bearer who managed to trick and attempted to fight directly against Charlatan.

Then there is Noé in relation to his Archiviste identity. He seems to think of it mainly in negative terms, very conscious of the living invasion of privacy it turns him into ... and nothing else. We have never seen him wonder about who his birth parents were, ask himself why he doesn't remember anything, why was the clan exterminated, or how he feels about being a survivor, one of the only ones if not outright the only. He sees his heritage as a burden,and hasn't thought of it in any different term. I wonder how a change in perspective could impact the above 'stable identity'.

The Someone Else's Identity (Vanitas, Dominique)

I already dedicated a whole post to this trait they share, so I'll be short: both Vanitas and Dominique hate themselves and try to become something worthy by taking elements of people they admire: Louis for Dominique, a combination of his birth father and Luna for Vanitas.

The Object Identity (Jeanne)

The very first thing Jeanne was said in her whole life was that she was an object. A vessel for something (or someone?) else, who mustn't have feelings or desires of her own. Encouraging, isn't it?

Luckily, this wasn't all she got in life. Soon afterwards, she was adopted by Eric and Louise, who loved her a lot, received kindness by Ruthven, met Chloé who became an older sister to her. Unluckily, all of this was taken away from her in the most cruel way possible.

She couldn't make any sense of her parents's betrayal and death, and the way her life suddenly changed; she rationalised it by telling herself that it was her fault, if she had been just the good object everyone told her to be nothing would have happened. So she accepts the Object Identity: she is a tool, so she doesn't feel, she exists only to obey orders, and as long as she is nobody else will ever suffer. It gets even worse after she fails to kill Chloè: she couldn't fulfill her duties, and both her and her big sis suffered for it. This mindset traps her in a world of pain, but also prevents her from facing the fact that she is subject to a senseless injustice, one she has no control over.

Vanitas managed to help her with that. He validated her feelings, and showed her that nobody had to die if she had them, solving the situation with Chloé and Jean-Jacques. This gave her a nice confidence boost, returning her to the cheerful attitude she had as a young girl; the consequences of this change remain to be seen.

The Unknown Identity (Luna)

This one is interesting because Luna themselves is pretty explicit about it. They see themselves as something 'other', who is outside commonly used categorization; starting with 'male or female' (and here I am left wondering if they had specific sexual characteristics but didn't feel like they 'fit', or were intersex and nonbinary, or had an entirely different biology from both vampires and humans).

Luna doesn't like this condition: they said they tried to figure out what they were, to understand themselves, and they regret doing so now. Why? Maybe they didn't find any answer and were left perpetually unsatisfied, or they found an answer, and they found it to be awful?

Still, this indicates Luna has never been particularly happy with themselves, and this found no resolution. And then they died. Nice, uh?

Well, I think this was all. There are other characters I would like to know more about in regard to this, like Ruthven, Marquis Machina, and Mikhail, but there is still time.

All in all, I'd say Vanitas no Carte explores the theme of identity pretty throughly; many character arcs are still in progress, and I'm interested about how things will develope especially for Vanitas, Dominique and Jeanne.

Thanks to anyone who bothered to read my ramblings!

#vnc #vanitas no carte #the case study of vanitas #vnc meta #vnc analysis #vnc noe #vnc chloé #vnc vanitas #vnc dominique #vnc jeanne #vnc luna #elia's recaps

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psychovigilantewrites · 3 years

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Chapter 14 - A Different Point of View

Summary: Things that happened that you weren't aware of.

Word count: 9,163 words

A/N: Thank you for being so patient with me. I struggled with this chapter due to its nature. I had to further dive into Bruce and Dick's character that I wasn't too familiar with.2020 was a very tough year for me. I lost lots, learned lots. And I thought that the quarantine would mean I would write more. But I was wrong. Life hit me hard, and I stopped doing a lot of things I used to enjoy.Despite being virtually absent last year, you guys stuck by me anyway. Thank you. I love you all for that.Special thanks to my two beta readers. You know who you are. Here it goes.

(i recommend you guys read previous chapters to refresh coz I had to lol)

Ao3

Masterlist

The roles that people played were false- a mere necessity for their career or survival. Everyone was playing a role, whether it was of their own accord or not.

Bruce Wayne was a role- superficial, fake, yet vital to Gotham. Batman, on the other hand, was a completely different role, born out of exigence and a sense of justice.

Dick Grayson, however, genuinely enjoyed playing his role.

Nightwing felt right to him. Being a police officer felt right to him. And especially, if not ultimately, being an older brother.

He listened to the dial tone of his phone, which rung for a few seconds before you finally picked up.

“Hey,” Dick heard your voice, the usual chirp absent that day.

Dick frowned to himself. Bruce was right about you being troubled after all.

“Hey, sis!” he forced the concern out of his voice. “You busy?”

“Nah, I’m just going over some old case files. What’s up?”

Dick leaned back into his sofa. Aside from the traffic blaring outside, the silence in his apartment made it easier for him to concentrate on analysing your speech patterns.

“Can’t I call just to ask how you’re doing?” he teased, easing into the conversation.

Everyone had always told him how he was natural at talking.

“You already called last week…”

Dick smiled to himself. He could already picture your narrowed eyes regarding him with suspicion.

It was good that you were always on your feet, but it was becoming borderline unhealthy. It reminded him of Jason and how he was always so guarded .

He pushed the memory away.

“I can’t call you again?” he rolled his eyes at no one.

“Bruce put you up to this,” you accused.

That’s because he’s worried about you, kid.

If only you knew how much Bruce had changed for you. Dick was glad that you were being loved by Bruce, yet he still couldn't help but feel slightly bitter that he never got that kind of treatment from his father- not the same treatment he gave you.

But he would rather die than admit his selfish thoughts to anyone.

“Yeah,” he conceded, “He was worried about you after last night.”

“I’m fine, Dick,” you insisted.

How many times has he heard those very same words from Jason?

“Well, if you’re not, then you can talk to me,” he offered.

A short pause.

Your response would be what differentiated you from his late brother.

“Actually, yeah,” you admitted.

There it was. No matter how stupid he knew it was for even comparing the two of you, he found that he always had to remind himself not to.

“How did you deal with it? Did it affect you?”

Dick told you his own experience with gore and dead bodies, how he overcame it, how he coped. There was silence after, and he just somehow knew what you were going to ask next.

“How did, uh, he deal with it?”

Your voice came in a whisper, hesitation evidently clear.

Dick was expecting it, but his heart still sank. He knew how everyone acted when Jason was brought up in conversation- he was guilty of reacting as well. He also knew how you were smart enough to avoid that topic.

It had been years. They should all have moved on, because Dick knew that they were also hurting you.

“He came to me as well.” Dick recalled Jason’s hesitant voice over the phone, never directly saying what was wrong, just rambling about things other than what was really going on in his head.

“Then he gradually called less and less when he learned how to deal with it himself.”

The day Dick noticed it, he was happy for Jason, but a small part of him was saddened that his little brother no longer needed him.

“I’ll have to look for that cognitive therapy, then. Thank you for calling, Dick. Talking to you helped.”

Did it really? He noticed your voice had changed again. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone on about Jason like that.

“No problem, kid. Call me if you need to talk, okay?”

The familiar beep left him isolated with his thoughts, wondering if you would trail in Jason's footsteps.

When will the day come when you eventually stop calling altogether?

***

He felt indebted to his city- the city he loved. The city he hated. The city that robbed him of his childhood.

He felt indebted to his family- the family he would give up everything for, the family he couldn’t stop hurting.

And he was sorry. God, he was sorry.

Sorry for everything he’s said and done- or didn’t do. But he still couldn’t stop. Because he didn’t know how.

Yet, no matter how much he claimed to love his family, the problem with Bruce Wayne was that he always expected them to be the people he wanted them to be.

Never like himself, though. No, he would never want them to turn out like him.

“That’s an order. Stay-”

The silence that followed the click in his ear represented the first time you had ever disobeyed a direct order.

It was a little late on your side. Dick and Jason had begun to disobey him within their first six months in uniform. But you had always been obedient- which made it easier for Bruce to trust you in the field.

This first time came as an unexpected and unwelcome surprise. And Bruce was…

Disappointed.

He grit his teeth when he saw you on the ground with the warehouse burning behind you. If he had just been a few seconds late, would you be in the fire, too?

“I almost had him.”

Bruce didn’t miss the wince of pain as you got up to your feet.

He had heard those exact words before countless times from J- no.

Bruce shoved that thought away.

“He would have gotten away, and we wouldn’t have known who it was that did this,” you argued, brows drawn together in a frown, mouth downturned. Your respiratory rate was high, and you were having trouble breathing.

When did you grow so tall? So confident?

Bruce silently pointed to the active security camera he noticed the minute he arrived and saw your expression fall- only for a second.

“I still think I made the right decision,” you insisted.

“You disobeyed a direct order.” He hated his own voice. The way he spoke sounded too militant.

“I acted how I saw fit,” you continued, “You always say to follow my instincts-”

“Not if your instincts contradict my orders.” He regretted his words the moment they left his mouth. He thought he had changed. But no, Bruce was still a dictator.

“Wow. Just- wow.”

He could see the little twitches of annoyance within the disbelief on your face. He understood it completely.

You were walking away, clutching onto your side and weakly limping to your bike, adamant on not seeking his help.

He hated seeing you injured, in pain. It was his fault. If only he was faster, he could have stopped Red Hood from beating you up. If only he predicted it sooner, if only-

“I’ll be heading back now.”

He missed what you had said before that.

“Robin,” Bruce forced out, “Have Alfred check your injuries.”

He should have been there.

When you drove away, he lingered at the crime scene.

Bruce flipped a switch in his helmet, and his lense changed. Non-organic material lighted up bright white. He noticed a fractured piece of shrapnel lying on the ground, less than a centimeter long.

He picked it up and placed it into a test tube from his belt. Switching his view to normal, he saw that it was red, maybe made from fiberglass. He could only deduce that it was a piece of Red Hood’s helmet.

Despite Bruce’s frustrations at you for disobeying him, he felt a swell of pride. You probably landed a hit hard enough to crack the helmet just a little bit that you yourself probably didn’t even realise it.

He shone a UV light on it. A small portion of it glowed.

Bruce had always been numb when he played investigator so that he would remain impartial and objective. That was true justice.

But when he pocketed the evidence and sped to the Batmobile, he felt something he had never felt before.

Against all logic and rationality, he found himself dreading to uncover who the blood belonged to.

***

Bruce never drank his sorrows away. It was dangerous, too easy to develop an addiction to. He could have easily drowned in alcohol at any given chance, like when he thought of his parents, or when he thought-no, knew- he wasn’t enough.

But no, he only restricted his drinking for leisurely activities. He was disciplined. It was the reason why he was who he was.

However, in that moment, staring at the results of the DNA analysis after hours of anxious waiting, he wished he allowed himself a drink.

Not because he was distraught, not because he was in grief- but because he just didn’t know what to feel.

It wasn’t numbness. It was just plain confusion, an internal tornado of emotions whirling inside him all at once.

Footsteps.

He tapped on a button once, immediately closing the window of the test results displayed on the screen.

Composing himself, he clicked on another pending case to pretend he wasn’t on the verge of a breakdown. It’s just another role.

“Master Bruce.”

Why was he still up at this hour?

“Yes, Alfred,” he turned to meet the butler’s tired eyes- just as tired as his own.

Tired because of him.

Alfred was always up because of him. Because Bruce was a disease, constantly burdening others, dragging them down, keeping them up at night.

“I made some sandwiches. They’re light. Please do eat them,” he set the tray on the cluttered desk, simply pushing aside the numerous stacks of papers.

“Go to bed, Alfred,” he told him. Alfred was too old to be up at this hour. And whose fault is that?

“In due time,” he responded calmly, “What of the blood results, if I may ask?”

“Inconclusive,” Bruce lied.

“I see.”

Suspicion shrouded Alfred’s voice.

“How are her injuries?” Bruce asked, the pain finally creeping in, seeping into his bones.

“I commend you for asking about your daughter’s injuries after only four whole hours of staring at the screen, Master Bruce. You would definitely win father of the year.”

“I was occupied,” he sighed, “Please.”

“Her injuries are only superficial,” Alfred said, “Surface contusions at most.”

He still hurt her.

“Thank you, Alfred. Now go to bed.”

“It was only a little more than two decades ago when I was telling you the same,” he grumbled away.

Bruce made sure Alfred was gone before pulling up the results on the screen again, the glaring ‘MATCH’ sign staring angrily back at him as if it were shouting at Bruce, yelling in rage.

And Bruce understood completely. He had failed Jason Todd. He had betrayed him. And now he was back, vengeful, and full of resentment.

But that didn’t matter to Bruce.

Because despite it all, his son was alive.

In the end, that was all that mattered.

***

What did my son do to my daughter?

Bruce watched in horror as you lay unconscious on the hospital bed, hooked to the IV bag. He couldn’t stop staring at the bruises littering your neck.

Bruises that were far too small and evenly shaped to be the effect of a mere throttling.

He knew how the people close to him viewed him. He knew they thought he was strong, unforgiving, cold, emotionless. Especially when they put him side by side with Clark.

But he forced himself to be those things, because if he didn’t, he would have broken down years ago.

He was used to it. The pain. The darkness.

But this time, he felt like he was being crushed.

He felt like he was hanging on by a thread- no. A delicate strand of thin, brittle hair.

“It’s okay, doctor,” you had said, “I know what you’re going to ask me. No, my genitalia does not hurt. He didn��t do anything to me.”

He felt a wave of relief crash over him.

Jason wasn’t that far gone, then.

But as Bruce looked at your neck again, he still couldn’t help but feel nausea crawling into his core.

He still touched her.

Jim left after his questioning, and you drifted to sleep. He went over to you and looked down at your face, taking everything in.

Since when did you look so mature? When did you get so beautiful?

He couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. Even in sleep you had your eyebrows tugged down, as if you were angry that you had to go to bed. He didn’t know why he never saw that small part of you that shouted rebellion despite you almost always following his orders.

He realised that when he watched you sleep, you looked a bit like- no. Don’t ever compare the two.

He closed his eyes and pressed his lips to your forehead, trying to convey all of his feelings to you.

He was sorry. So god damned sorry for dragging you into this, for hurting you, for pulling you down to the depths with him.

Hoping you didn’t feel the teardrop that fell to your forehead, he quickly wiped it away before leaving for his press statement.

***

“Master Bruce, please!”

Another crash.

Alfred’s plea snapped him out of his blinding fury, his crushing pain.

He was standing at the hallway near the Manor entrance, glass and broken wood shattered at his feet, feeling the walls closing in and narrowing as Alfred looked at him in alarm.

“I-I’m sorry, Alfred. I-” he stammered, feeling like the small, helpless boy who watched his parents die before him.

He remembered the time when he was little, only a couple of months after the tragedy. He had done the exact same thing, taking out his anger and anguish by destroying things, triggered by something he had long forgotten about.

At that time, Alfred had held him closely in his arms as he stained the butler’s suit with his snot and tears. Again, a burden to the man who raised him.

This time, he refused the old man’s offer of comfort, walking past to descend to the cold darkness of the cave he was so familiar with.

Bruce didn’t usually drink his sorrows away, but this time, he did.

***

Dick wasn’t a good person. He was far from it.

Case in example, it was the first time he saw you after your kidnapping.

He meant to come sooner, he really did. But he was just so busy in Bludhaven, he couldn’t spare any time to rush over the moment he heard his sister was hurt. He tried to justify it in his head by thinking that you were probably handling it fine.

But he was just trying to make himself feel better.

What a great brother he was.

“So, why are you obsessing over violent crimes?” he asked, trying to keep his voice from breaking.

Desensitization was one thing when you worked in that field, but obsession was a whole other problem. And he didn’t want to see his sister walk down that path.

“A lunatic just kidnapped me a couple weeks ago, Dick, maybe this is my coping mechanism,” you huffed, giving him your signature eye roll.

A lot of things start with just a coping mechanism, kid.

Dick knew it about it all too well. The people he brought in on an almost daily basis, high as kites. The accident last week on the highway at three in the morning, two innocent lives taken because of a drunk man who had started drinking three years ago to cope with his mother’s loss.

The man downstairs in the cold cave, who was just a little boy when his parents died, now living with the trauma while going out night after night to beat up criminals, sleeping only three hours a day at most.

“I don’t want your pity, Dick,” you huffed, “I’m fine.”

Yeah, you were. And that was what worried Dick the most.

“I know you are,” he tried to smile, “Which is why I don’t think this is your coping mechanism.”

You talked to Dick about Red Hood, sharing your concerns about him. This is what made you, you. Opening up to him, offering your thoughts and feelings. It was something he never had with Bruce or Jason. The both of them were similar in that sense.

“He won’t tell me either,” Dick huffed, “It’s always been like that with him. No matter how hard I try to get closer to him, sometimes it feels like he’s getting further away.”

It was the same with Jason as well. Did everyone he cared about just end up running away from him?

“I can relate to that,” you sighed.

“But I have a feeling that he will tell you eventually,” Dick tried to comfort you, “It seems too important not to.”

Dick knew better. Bruce had always excluded information from him, whether it was important or not.

“And,” Dick hurriedly tried to change the subject, “I heard from Alfred that you’re not talking to Bruce. May I ask why?”

“So that’s why you’re here,” you eyed him suspiciously. . “I came to check up on you,” he stated, “I’m sorry I couldn’t come here right after, but my little sister did just get kidnapped.”

When are you going to stop putting your guard up around me, kid?

“I told you, I’m fine,” you insisted.

“Then you’re fine enough to tell me why you haven’t been talking to Bruce,” Dick pushed, “I won’t judge. I’ve had my fair share of cold shoulders and fights with him too. I know first hand how frustrating he can be. So come on, tell.”

He saw you hesitate for just a moment, before conceding.

“We fought,” you began, “It was when I got back from the hospital. He wouldn’t tell me who Red Hood was. And he- he called me ‘Jason’.”

Ah, fucking hell, Bruce.

“Jesus,” he whispered, “What did he say exactly?”

“‘Back down, Jason’,” your voice cracked.

Dick saw the way Bruce spiraled after Jason’s death, and he would never tell you this, but deep down he was against Bruce adopting you so soon after. He thought that Bruce was using you to fill up the hole he too felt with Jason’s absence.

You were so like him, yet so different. Still, Bruce must have been really distracted if he could slip as badly as he did.

Dick would ask later.

“Now that’s something I haven’t heard in years,” Dick chuckled humorlessly.

Jason arguing with Bruce about using excessive force. Jason sneaking out to go for patrols whenever he was grounded. Hell, even Jason stealing whiskey from the cabinet at the age of fifteen.

He could still remember it so clearly. Jason with his dark hair poking into his eyes that were full of fury, cheeks puffed up and red as he pouted angrily at Bruce for making him stay at the Manor on nights Bruce insisted on going alone.

Dick tried to shove the past away. He knew he was making you even sadder.

“Has Bruce made any attempts to reconcile?” Dick remembered the conversation he was having with you.

“Yeah, but I’m still mad at him,” you pouted.

“And you have every right to be,” Dick nodded, “But Bruce, well, you know Bruce. He keeps these things to himself, but obviously he’s still hurting.”

You have know idea how much he’s hurting, Little Wing.

You avoided Dick’s eyes, looking down at your fumbling thumbs as the room became silent.

“I’m seeing someone,” you changed the subject.

“You are?”

Interesting.

“Yeah,” you blushed, “It’s still very new, and we’re not official yet or anything. But we’re definitely testing the waters.”

“That’s great,” Dick grinned, “Who is he? Tell me the deets. Spill the tea.”

He sort of loved gossip. It wasn’t a secret.

“I met him in the library a while back,” you excitedly said, “We exchanged numbers. Started texting, meeting up from time to time. He’s really cute.”

Ah, young love. What Dick would give to be at that age again.

“I bet he is,” Dick teased.

“What’s with that face?” you laughed, “He is! He’s slightly older, and he’s got this sexy bad boy look, you know?”

“I thought you liked the nerdy types?” Dick responded. He saw a picture of you and your classmates on your Instagram. Typical prep school kids.

“I never had a type, you ass!” . “You’re right. I thought you were completely uninterested in boys,” he wondered out loud, “Is he nice, at least?”

“Yeah he is,” you smiled to yourself, “He didn’t know I was Wayne until 2 weeks ago. Before that, we were mainly texting. Now we’re meeting up more. I feel like I can be myself with him. I don’t know, there’s just something about him that makes me trust him.”

So you still have some of your walls up with me, but you trust a stranger? Who is this guy?

“I’m not going to tell him anything!” you quickly added, “I’m not stupid. I know I shouldn’t trust someone I just met. It’s not about the confidential stuff. It’s the little things like how I feel, and my problems, and just- stuff, you know?”

The thought didn’t even cross his mind. Dick trusted you enough with their secret, just as how Bruce did.

“I get it,” Dick tried to rationalise, “You don’t know what it is about the person, but you feel like the two of you just click, am I right?”

It had been like that with Barbara. It had been like that with Kory.

Now Dick was alone, and deep down he knew that they saw him as how he truly was. Selfish.

“Exactly,” you smiled, “Been with anyone like that before?”

“One or two,” he brushed it off, “People like that- whom you just click with- they’re hard to come by. You should see where this leads. Who knows, maybe he’s one of those that would stick around, huh?”

What he would give to have at least one person who would stick with him.

After he met with Gordon, Dick went to the cave to see Bruce who was, of course, facing the computers.

“I know what you’re going to say,” his father’s voice echoed without even turning to look at him.

“Then you know how much you’ve hurt her?” he crossed his arms.

Bruce did turn around to face him, and Dick suddenly felt a tightness in his chest.

He knew that Bruce hardly ever slept, but this was different. He looked disheveled, his complexion pale, his eyes more bloodshot and the dark circles even more prominent.

Alfred did say how badly Bruce took the kidnapping, finding him passed out on the cave floor with an empty bottle of scotch in his hand, but he thought that Bruce would have gotten himself together by now. It was surprising to see him that way, and Dick felt… Uncomfortable.

Something was wrong, and it wasn’t just the kidnapping, nor his fight with you.

“You found out something,” Dick narrowed his eyes, “Something important. What is it?”

He caught a flash of guilt in Bruce’s eyes. “I’ll tell you some other time.”

“Bruce,” Dick groaned, “This is why you keep on hurting her.”

Hurting us.

“I’m protecting everyone.”

“You can’t use that excuse with me anymore,” he sighed, “I don’t need your protection. So tell me.”

“No.”

That was his final word, and he knew that Bruce would never budge.

“Fine,” he let out a breath, “Did you know that she’s seeing someone?”

Bruce frowned.

Which made Dick frown. Since when did Bruce miss things? What the fuck was going on with him?

“Name?”

“Dunno. Didn’t ask. And no, don’t you dare,” Dick pointed an accusatory finger at him, “Do not do a background check on him. She deserves privacy. Hell, don’t even bring it up. You have no right to go poking into her relationships.”

Dick was being defensive, but that was because he was trying to convince himself as well, which was why he didn’t ask you for a name. He knew he wouldn’t be able to resist.

“I wasn’t going to,” Bruce reassured, “She… She deserves a life. A normal life. Not this- not-”

Dick knew then he had to leave, because Bruce’s voice breaking meant he was far from okay, and he knew that Bruce hated to show his vulnerability to anyone.

“Bruce,” Dick said, this time softly, “You’re not alone, you know. I’ve been with you since the beginning, and I’m still with you now.”

And with that, Bruce turned his back towards him again, silently going back to his goddamned computers.

“He’s been that way ever since the kidnapping,” Alfred informed him when he walked up to the manor.

“I don’t think it’s just the kidnapping, Alf,” he frowned at the butler, “There’s something more to it. Did he figure out who Red Hood is?”

“Perhaps,” Alfred pursed his lips, “But he refuses to tell me.”

“That means we know him personally,” Dick theorised, “Who the hell could it be that he’s so adamant on keeping it a secret?”

“I do not know Master Dick, but it can’t be anyone good if he’s got Master Bruce drinking during the day.”

***

Bruce knew that he was wrong to call you by his dead son’s name.

But his dead son was supposed to stay dead instead of haunting him with that glaring red bat across his chest, and having that thought in his head all the time, he slipped up.

He prided himself with his contingency plans and detective skills and preparations, but no amount of time could ever prepare him for when he found out his dead son had sexually assaulted his daughter.

You seemed to have dealt with it surprisingly well, exceeding his expectations. In fact, Bruce thought it was a bit odd that you weren’t as affected by it.

And then he saw it.

He saw what he thought was the internalized anger you felt finally bursting through the seams of your tightly lidded emotions.

And he wasn’t prepared for it.

Bruce didn’t think you had it in you, or else he would never have made you Robin.

But there you were on the ground, beating a man beyond recognition.

He couldn’t dread this moment because he never saw it coming. Not from you. Never from you.

He hurriedly ripped you off the man, flinging you away with force.

Pulse was present, but weak. Flail chest. It took him only a few seconds to observe the damage you did to the man’s face. It didn’t look good.

“Stay back,” he growled at you when you came close.

He couldn’t look at you. He didn’t want to.

“I-I didn’t mean to,” he heard you whisper.

“Call an ambulance,” he ordered.

There was no other choice. He had to take the fall for you.

“NOW!” he snarled at you again. In the background, you were on the phone, but Bruce’s thoughts were elsewhere, calculating what needs to be done.

You moved-

“Leave. I’ll deal with this.” You needed to go. You couldn’t be here when the ambulance and police arrived.

“Batman-”

“I said leave,” he snapped. He couldn’t even hear your voice.

He waited for the ambulance to come before leaving, making sure they saw him escape. Making sure he would be the one the media would attack.

And while he drove back to the Cave, he decided to give his son a call.

“Bruce?”

“Dick,” he sighed. He knew he had always been unfair to his eldest, giving him so much pressure to perform, pushing him to be his best- and ultimately away. He knew that he never showed it, but he was proud of Dick. He always had been from the very beginning.

“What’s wrong?”

It wasn’t a surprise that Dick picked up immediately that something was wrong. If it wasn’t for the fact that calling him out of the blue was what gave it away, Bruce himself trained Dick.

“She- she crossed the line tonight,” he tried to explain, “Jerome Miller. She attacked him. The damage she’s done to him is irreversible. I suspect he will be in a vegetative state for the rest of his life.”

“Jesus,” Dick breathed from over the line, “Why didn’t you stop her?”

“I wasn’t there,” he grit. He thought he could trust you.

But deep down Bruce knew that it was all his fault after all. Who was he to act so righteous when he was the reason your parents died?

“I don’t know if she’ll talk to me, Bruce,” Dick sighed, “Not about something like this. She’s probably beating herself up over this already.”

“As she should.”

“Bruce.”

“Please,” Bruce asked, “I’m worried. She isn’t herself and I can’t blame her for it, but the chances of her talking to you are much higher than if I were to try.”

“I’ll try,” Dick agreed.

“Report to me after.”

“Bruce, we’ve talked about this,” Dick grumbled, “I am under no obligation to report to you. I’m doing this for her. Not you.”

He was trying not to go back to the man he was before, but sometimes he couldn’t help it.

They’re your children, not your soldiers.

He had to remind himself time and time again. It was easier to be just a father to you as compared to Dick and Jason, yet even then he made slips.

“I know,” he apologised. “Thank you.”

Click.

And then Bruce was alone again.

***

Bruce watched you from the corner of his eye when you came back. He noticed that you had put more effort into dressing up when you left the house that day.

There was a slight bounce to your step and a small smile that played on your lips.

Dick was right after all. There was someone you were seeing.

But no, he couldn’t look into it. In fact, it would be hypocritical of him if he did. Dick had many girlfriends and flings, and Bruce didn’t want to know about any of them. Mainly because Dick was his first, and the thought of a boy he raised maturing and having relationships made him feel confused about parenthood.

Not that many of them lasted too long anyway.

Jason was a little different. While Dick had girls lining up after him all the time, Jason was much more subtle about the girls he liked, and that made Bruce more curious- but not enough to investigate.

He thought about when Barbara had caught Jason looking at her, making him turn red. He wondered if Jason would like you.

A tight squeeze in his chest.

He didn’t let his mind linger there.

Bruce felt obligated to protect you, which tempted him to investigate the boy you were seeing. It could be a trap, it could be someone using you for fame and money, or something even more sinister. Hell, it could be Jason himself after that stunt he pulled off.

But there was no evidence, and Bruce wanted to be a father to you this time instead of Batman the mentor. So Bruce would have to trust you on this one.

***

There was something holding Bruce back from telling everyone the truth about Jason.

And because he is who he is, Bruce knew what it was.

Guilt. He blamed himself for what had happened, and telling others about it meant owning up to his mistakes. Bruce never ran away from his fears and feelings despite what others might think. On the contrary, he held to them very strongly, using them as a motivation to fight head on.

This time, though, he felt more self destructive- the worst he had ever felt since he carried Jason’s corpse from the rubble- and so he tried to delay the inevitable.

But time was running out. He had enough time to wallow in self pity. It was time to pull himself together, and the first step began with Alfred.

The Cave was colder than usual that night, air thin and darker despite the illumination he had provided. Bruce was slumped in his usual wheeled chair, cowl resting on the desk after patrol, the weight of his suit almost crushing him in his weakened mental state.

“Alfred,” Bruce sighed, “Please, take a seat. I have something to tell you.”

“I assume this is about the identity of one criminal who has been terrorizing your daughter?” Alfred retorted, sitting down anyway.

“Yes,” Bruce nodded, “This… This won’t be easy, Alfred. I suggest you prepare for the worst.”

“And the worst being..?”

Bruce wheeled himself closer to the butler, leaning forward. “It’s Jason.”

Alfred merely blinked. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m afraid my ears have caught up to my age. I must have misheard you, because for a moment, I thought you said that Red Hood is Jason.”

“You didn’t mishear me, Alfred. It’s him.”

Bruce saw the confusion in Alfred’s eyes, the frantic search for reason. “Our Jason? Jason Todd?”

“Yes, Alfred.”

And then, Bruce felt it. The pain he had been suffering with for weeks spreading to the man who raised him. Alfred clutched his chest with one hand, the other clenching tightly over the armrest of his chair, his breathing quickened.

“Impossible,” he whispered, “Jason died. How?”

“There was an event regarding The League and Superboy punching reality. I won’t get into details, but I suspect that was what caused the initial resurrection. The restoration, however. We know of someone who has been continuously restored time and time again.”

“Ra’s Al Ghul,” Alfred concluded, “But why? Why on Earth would he restore Jason?”

“I don’t know,” Bruce frowned, “But it is an almost perfect revenge plan. I would like to entertain the idea that he has brainwashed Jason into thinking we are the enemy, but I can’t put it past him to develop a hatred for me. I… betrayed him.”

“Master Bruce, this is not your fault,” Alfred rose to his feet, “If it is indeed Jason, we can still help. I have faith in the boy.”

“Me too, Alfred. Me too.”

Bruce didn’t miss the sob that echoed faintly through the cave when Alfred ascended back up.

***

As if in slow motion, he saw every change of emotion on Dick’s face. The way he blinked once in confusion, the surprise approaching as he widened his eyes, and then his eyebrows stitching together in a deep frown, his lips downturning and nose flaring in anger.

Bruce saw the punch coming, but he did not do anything to counter it. Gladly, he took the right hook Dick gave him, appreciating the sting that radiated from his cheekbone to his jaw.

“How long have you known?” his son shook in anger.

“Dick-”

“HOW LONG, BRUCE?!” Dick roared, fists clenched, voice echoing in the cave.

“Since the night he blew up the warehouse,” Bruce replied.

“Jesus, fuck,” Dick ran his fingers through his hair, “Jesus, Bruce. That was over a month ago.”

“I know.”

“We-” he choked on his words, “We deserved to know.”

“I know.”

“So why the fuck didn’t you say anything?!” he slammed his fists on the desk. Bruce caught a few drops of tears that fell to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce apologised, and meant it. But he just couldn’t bring himself to say anything more.

“You’re sorry?” Dick looked at him with eyes far too cold than he knew, “He was my brother, Bruce. He told me things he never told anyone else. We shared secrets and jokes. We went to the same diner once a week to catch up. He asked for my help and I asked for his. And then he died. Just like that, because you couldn’t keep him on a leash. And now he’s back, and you knew it was him, and you’re just sorry?”

Dick’s eyes were wet and red, and filled with contempt. Bruce couldn’t blame him. He hated himself, too.

“Does she know?” he whispered, “Does she know that the man who attacked her is your son, and is my brother?”

Like always, he pushed the pain away efficiently, logically, objectively.

“Yes,” he confirmed, “I told her this afternoon.”

“And she’s not angry?”

“If she was, she did not show it,” Bruce described, “In fact, she looked… Worried.”

“Of fucking course she would be worried,” he snarled, “She’s worried that she’s going to be irrelevant to you now the dead Robin is back.”

“She’s not,” Bruce growled at that, “She’s not his replacement. She never was.”

“Does she know that, Bruce?” Dick snickered, “Did you finally get over yourself and tell her that? Because the last fucking time I spoke to her, you called her Jason.”

Bruce didn’t know how to respond to that. He was good at smiling at the cameras and making speeches and charming an audience, but he was never good with words, real words that described his true feelings to the ones he cared for the most.

“I’m sorry,” he simply said, now numb to everything throughout years and years of practice. “I promise, I will bring him back. Will you help me?”

“What can I do that you can’t?” Dick scoffed.

“You knew him, Dick,” Bruce said, “You knew him in ways I never did. I can predict his movements, but to accurately guess what his motivations are- you knew him better than I did.”

“Fine,” Dick conceded, “But I’m not forgiving you for this, Bruce. I swear, you’re going to pay for all the secrets you’ve kept from us, be it by my hand or someone else’s.”

***

“Did you know that your daughter went out last night to see a boy while we were patrolling?” Dick brought up.

He was looking at Bruce’s back, as he always was.

Bruce was on the computers, going through hours upon hours of security footage and traffic cams for Red Hood- for Jason.

It was difficult for him to put the two together. Jason had always been his little brother. Young, naive, inexperienced. And now that same person was the leader of the underground.

It was definitely difficult.

“Alfred mentioned she went out, but I didn’t know it was to meet a boy,” Bruce replied without glancing his way.

“Well, she lied to me about it at first,” Dick sank in a chair, looking at his nails. “Got pretty defensive when I brought it up. Even tried to deflect by using Jason against me.”

Dick knew you meant to hurt him with your words, and it worked.

He was definitely surprised that you would stoop that low because he always saw you as a sweet, kind girl.

People change. That’s what happens when you stick with Batman.

But Dick didn’t expect you to change so fast.

“She… used Jason against you?”

Bruce finally turned towards him, the ever constant frown a little bit deeper that moment.

“Yeah,” Dick straightened, “It was the first time she’s ever spoken to me that way.”

“What did she say exactly?”

“That I was distracting myself by using humor as a coping mechanism, and that I should come to terms with the fact that it was my brother who kidnapped and sexually assaulted her,” he repeated bitterly.

“What did you say to her that she responded that way?” Bruce asked.

“I was just making fun of her boyfriend,” Dick shrugged, “Why? Do you think she’s hiding something?”

At first, Dick thought that you were genuinely angry at the both of them because you were right- Jason did kidnap you. Jason did do those things to you. And Jason was supposed to be under both Bruce and Dick’s responsibility.

Dick didn’t blame you for it, because he would have probably been angry if the situation was reversed.

It was one of the mistakes he always made as Robin when Bruce was teaching him how to accurately deduce by reading people. Never assume that someone’s motivations would be the same as your own.

“She hid that she has… someone from me. There must be a reason why.”

“Or she knows how you are and would rather not have your nose in her business, Bruce. She did find out about that tracker you put in her necklace. How did she even react to it?”

Bruce had done the same with both Dick and Jason while they were Robin, though it didn’t come disguised as a pretty, shiny piece of metal.

On the contrary, during Dick’s Robin days, Bruce had hid it behind his third molar while he was unconscious. He only found out after a year, when he was held hostage by a mercenary who wanted to use him to lure Batman. Said mercenary had detected the tracking device and pulled it out along with the tooth.

It made him increasingly more hostile towards Batman and his never ending need for control, but at least it saved him a trip to the dentist.

From what Dick knew, Jason died with his tracker on him.

Bruce had said that it was all done in the name of safety.

But would you tell Jason the same thing now?

“I apologised and never replaced the one Red Hood damaged. I thought that would have been sufficient for her to trust me again.”

Dick let out a bark of laughter at that, but it was void of any humor. “Only you would think that not replacing her damn tracker would make her trust you. No wonder she hasn’t told you anything.”

It was probably best not to mention that you were now also sexually active.

“Do you think she’s hiding something important?” Bruce asked.

“Are you actually asking for my opinion?” Dick smirked, “No, but it’s too soon to tell, anyway. Relax, Bruce. It’s like you forgot what it was like to be young and in love.”

That was obviously a joke. Bruce grew out of his childhood the moment he saw his parents getting killed in that alley.

As for being in love, did Bruce ever allow himself that?

***

“What did you say she called herself?” Nightwing asked softly.

The poor girl was scared out of her mind to the point where Dick found it difficult to extract important information from her ramblings.

Well, that’s what happens when someone makes you kill a person.

It was difficult, so difficult, to face the fact that it was Jason behind all of that.

“I t-think, V,” the witness- Elena- stuttered. “She with him. But try to stop him.”

Behind him, he felt Batman pause. He was walking around the club and analysing evidence while listening to the conversation.

“She tried to stop him? Him as in Red Hood?” Dick frowned.

“Yes,” Elena looked down and rubbed her arms.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but,” Dick tried, “You told me they were partners.”

“Yes, but she try to stop him,” she repeated, “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Dick offered a smile, “Thank you very much. You’ve been a huge help.”

“Am I going to prison?” she looked at him with big, wet eyes.

“We’ll make sure you won’t,” Dick assured, “You’ll get the best defense team in Gotham.”

“You can do that?” she asked, hope in her voice.

“It’s the least we could do,” Dick answered, a sad smile playing on his lips.

He’s our responsibility.

“Thank you,” she gave a watery laugh, “Even prison better than with him, I want to be free.”

Dick heard footsteps approaching. As he turned around, Gordon entered the crime scene, followed by his team.

“Of course you’re here first,” he sighed at Batman.

“Gordon.”

“You might have to speak to the police again, okay?” Dick told Elena who was suddenly nervous again by the presence of so many people. “I’ll make sure they know you’re innocent. Gordon is the only one you can trust, okay?”

She nodded, her gaze turning downwards.

“Gordon,” he approached the aging man. He was used to talking with Gordon in Batman’s stead, even when he was Robin, and remembered feeling proud of himself whenever he finished speaking to Gordon regarding cases without Batman having to add anything.

“Nightwing,” he blinked, “It’s been a while.”

“Desperate times calls for desperate backups,” he grinned, “Anyway, the girl. She’s a victim of Victor Ibenescu’s human trafficking trade. Romanian, only thirteen when she was kidnapped. She was forced to shoot Victor by Red Hood.”

“This Red Hood likes his poetic justice,” Gordon snickered.

“It’s still first degree murder, or at least, that’s how the law would make it seem,” Dick reminded him, “But I assure you she’s innocent. Red Hood threatened to kill and rape her if she didn’t shoot.”

That was a lie, on both his part and Elena’s. Judging by the way she averted her eyes and touched her own arm, Dick could tell that she wasn’t telling the whole truth about being threatened by Red Hood- but he also knew that he couldn’t expose her and get into more trouble.

He wanted to let out a tired sigh, but that would give him away in front of Gordon and the other officers. He still needed to maintain his air of hopefulness, and he couldn’t seem like he was troubled by his thoughts.

Time to meet Bruce back at the cave and watch the surveillance footage.

***

“He’s got a partner now,” Dick voiced out his findings, “Since when did Red Hood partner up?”

Bruce’s frown was deep as he stared at the screen.

Dick pursed his lips. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Whether this is Red Hood or Jason?” Bruce hummed, “This definitely does not seem like anything Red Hood would do. He’s always tried to separate himself from others because it furthers his authoritarian agenda. He does not get friendly with people because people are disposable to him.”

“So you think this is Jason, then?” Dick concluded, “Well, Jason never had much of a problem working with others in the past, and he made some friends. He wasn’t the type to be hostile to people.”

“He did have trust issues,” Bruce pointed out, “At the very beginning.”

“Yes, and he kept a lot of things to himself,” Dick agreed, “But he did have friends.”

“Special friends,” Bruce added, “Friends who gained his respect and trust. So the question is- who is this girl and how did she manage to gain his trust?”

“Hey, play it back again,” Dick said, “Those moves.”

Bruce played the security tape, showing the mysterious girl and Red Hood taking down Victor’s men.

“Arnis,” Bruce pointed out.

“It’s a little different.”

“She has incorporated silat in as well. Low stance,” Bruce observed. “She’s skilled, but not polished. It could be anyone.”

There was something familiar about the girl that Dick couldn’t pinpoint. Dick usually had strong intuition- a gut feeling that enabled him to know which facts to focus on during an investigation, or a strong ability to see through people.

But the problem was that it wasn’t solid proof or evidence, something Batman heavily focused on. It was a gut feeling that told him he knew who the girl was.

“Do you think it’s-” he broke off without completing his sentence. There was nothing to back his claims.

“She has no reason or motive to work with Jason,” Bruce shot the idea down, “He’s hurt her. And… She wouldn’t betray me like that.”

“She’s been keeping secrets, Bruce,” Dick reminded, hating the fact that this time it was him who was suspicious.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

Because he never would have thought that Jason was capable of torture and murder, either.

Why didn’t he come to me?

“As you clearly pointed out prior to this,” Bruce grit, “She has her reasons as to why she’s keeping secrets. And it is most probably because of me. All of you kept secrets. But this time, I’d like to let her keep hers.”

It was sweet, seeing Bruce that way.

“Is it guilt?” Dick asked.

“It’s repentance.”

Dick hated playing the bad guy.

Because he wasn’t supposed to be. He was the one people looked up to for inspiration, he was the light to Batman’s darkness, he was the smiles and charms and laughter.

He wasn’t the one who would accuse his little sister of fraternizing with the- was Jason the enemy?

Shit. Jason had messed with his senses. Dick’s head was chaotic, his emotions causing him to tense up.

Was he wrong? Was he just like Bruce? Was he jumping to conclusions just because Alfred told him you were out? Should he investigate this Carter you said you were with?

No. I’m not Bruce.

And now, you were looking at him with angry eyes, betrayed and appalled by his accusation.

*** Large.

That was the first thing that came to Dick’s mind when he saw his little brother.

The last time Dick saw him, he was much shorter, and definitely not as bulky.

And the last time Dick saw Jason, he was giving him a hug goodbye, complaining that Dick had messed up his hair.

And now, Jason was aiming a gun at him.

The gunshot didn’t hurt nearly as much as the thought that Jason had indeed shot him. Did Jason hate him that much?

You’re almost as guilty as he is, Jason’s voice echoed in his head.

“Bruce,” he gasped in the comms, “I’m down. They got away.”

“I heard a gunshot,” the deep voice in his ear spoke.

“Yeah, Jason shot my leg,” Dick winced, “Didn’t hit bone but I think it nicked my artery.”

“There are children here,” Batman said, “I was right. He’s sabotaging the Powers’. Gordon should be here soon. You control your bleeding.”

Dick nodded to himself and took a deep breath before plunging his finger into the gunshot wound to keep himself from bleeding out.

***

“...suspects that the crime lord only known as Red Hood and an unidentified female were behind the home invasion. Maria and Joseph Powers were left in a gruesome state according to reports, but their only child Carrie Powers was unharmed. The authorities are not sure what Red Hood’s motive was, but more will be elaborated during Commissioner Gordon’s public address later this afternoon...”

Dick heard you close the door.

“You didn’t come home last night,” he lowered the volume of the television.

“Uh, yeah,” you answered.

Dick looked over at you. You seemed tired, eyes swollen and red from crying, wearing an oversized t-shirt that he didn’t recognize.

“I was at-”

“Carter’s?” he finished your sentence for you.

“Yeah,” you nodded, sitting down next to him on the sofa.

Dick frowned to himself. Your arms were crossed, you were avoiding eye contact, your body was angled away from him.

“You heard about the Powers’?” he turned his gaze towards the television.

“I saw the news on the way here,” you monotoned.

You smelled like a different shampoo. It was familiar, but Dick couldn’t remember where he had smelled it before.

“So you know that-”

“Yes, Jason did it,” you said rigidly.

“Along with-”

“His partner.”

Ah, now he remembered the smell. Jason’s favorite shampoo. He used to make fun of him for choosing one that was called what it was called. He didn’t really care about it, Dick kept his hair soft and fluffy with multiple women’s hair products. He just liked to rile Jason up because he was so defensive about it.

And with that, Dick let out a long, disappointed sigh.

“Bruce is in the cave. I suggest that you think long and hard about what to tell him,” Dick offered you a soft smile, “But no matter what you choose to say, you’ll always be my sister, and I’ll always love you no matter what, okay?”

You gave him a look of shock, and then realised that he had figured it out.

“I’m sorry, Dick,” you lips trembled, your eyes started brimming with tears.

“No, kid. I’m sorry,” he replied, “Go.”

You nodded and left.

Despite being right all along, he didn’t feel any sense of achievement. Dick couldn’t help but partly blame himself. For being so absent, for being neglectful, for being a bad brother.

Dick wasn’t perfect, but like hell would he stop trying to be.

***

For years Bruce had tried to stop feeling guilty for being relieved whenever someone else takes care of a problem he couldn’t solve- especially when it involved murder.

Bruce had tried to take down the Powers for almost a decade, and everytime he got close, there was always another obstacle in the way. It was difficult to expose the rich and powerful without resorting to violence, without resorting to breaking his principles.

So Bruce was ready to stop himself from internally celebrating their deaths. This time, however, he wasn’t as pleased. Because this time, it was Jason who brutally murdered two people. Jason, who was supposed to be under his care and responsibility.

“Bruce?” he heard your timid, small voice from behind him. “I have to tell you something.”

And there it was.

Bruce turned around and looked straight at you, piercing your eyes with his own as he waited on your confession.

A minute passed.

“I’m V,” you struggled to speak, “I’ve been meeting up with Jason for a few months now. I didn’t know he was Red Hood until you told me. But when you did tell me, I chose to confront him and team up with him anyway.”

Bruce didn’t say anything.

“He- he’s not a bad person, Bruce,” you justified, “He’s just really hurt. He needs help.”

You were telling Bruce things he already knew.

“I- I fell in love with him,” you continued, “And I let my feelings cloud my judgement and betrayed your trust. At first I thought that he was onto something, that his… methods were better than yours. And I was angry that you kept secrets from me. But after last night- after what I saw- I couldn’t- I couldn’t stay.”

Bruce clenched his jaw.

He suspected it. Dick suspected it. But for your sake, the both of them chose to put their trust in you. He had tried so hard to change from his old ways. He learned his lesson with both Dick and Jason.

He didn’t want you to go through the same thing they did.

So, he chose to blindly trust you anyway, hoping that he wasn’t right.

“I’m sorry, Bruce,” you were sobbing now, “I’m so sorry. Please, say something.”

After another minute of watching you break down in front of him, Bruce finally spoke up.

“Hang up your colors. You’re no longer my Robin.”

#Red Who #Red Hood x Reader #jason todd x reader

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randoimago · 3 years

Text

Farewell To all the earthly remains

Part 2 :: Part 3

FANDOM: Hades

Pairing: Zagreus x Reader

Words: 1,465

Support Me (if you want): https://ko-fi.com/jinxitty

Notes: I came up with this concept when I was listening to all the versions of "Good Riddance" last night. The song honestly gives me chills and the fact that it can be interpreted in different ways depending on the version is amazing.

Chapter can be read listening to Eurydice's version of Good Riddance

“Hello, prince Zagreus. I’m [Y/N], I have a contract that I am to go with you each time you attempt to escape.”

That is the sentence that began your relationship with Zagreus, son of Hades. The godling wasn’t too pleased with his father having someone keep an eye on him through his journey out of the underworld. He really wasn’t pleased to have someone basically babysit him. Well perhaps not babysit him as you aren’t going to prevent him from dying, just keep an eye on him for some reason.

It was definitely awkward and tense through the first few runs with each other. There really wasn’t any talking to each other. Zagreus had told you that he’s not going to save you should you get injured, to which you responded that you had your own means of defense. Of course his dad would contract someone that can fight should Zagreus step out of line.

What was really annoying to him is that when he would “die” he’d go back to his damned home and see you already waiting. You would then follow him as he went around to talk to everyone. You’d follow him to the house contractor before going into his bedroom. You’d follow him as he’d take one of his father’s legendary weapons. All the while staying silent.

“If you’re going to be latching onto me, we might as well get to know each other.” He finally spoke up. The two of you were in one of the fountain rooms he had commissioned. A peaceful respite from the constant dashing and fighting. Maybe it was the peaceful atmosphere that made him want to actually talk to you.

“I did not mean to seem like a burden, my prince. I just did not know if you actually wanted me to say anything because I did not want to upset you because this is an unusual circumstance.” Came your response.

That caused Zagreus to feel a bit awkward. He was pretty grumpy with you in the beginning because he just assumed you were doing this because it’s your job. Well, it technically is, but he didn’t think that you would have his feelings in mind when you did things. You are right, if you had spoken to him in the beginning he might have gotten a bit snarky due to the situation.

You making that statement is what caused the two of you to actually talk. He had already seen your fighting capabilities prior, preferring to stay at a range to back him up. It actually was very helpful when it came to his own fighting. Hell, he was surprised that you were even helping him out as he thought you would just watch and wait to see how many times he died.

Honestly, it was pleasant to clear the air between the two of you. You told him a bit about yourself, you were unsure of what to say so he asked you what some of your favorite things are to have conversations. He also decided that since you’re accompanying him that he’d tell you that he’s trying to escape to find his true mother. You seemed a bit surprised at that, which wasn’t too much of a shock to him.

“I see my father didn’t tell you everything when he contracted you,” Zagreus huffed. You gave him a shrug.

“Just what he deemed necessary.”

After the exchange, the two of you continued on your way with battling through the Underworld. The annoyance that Zagreus felt prior was gone and thanks to that it caused him to do much better in combat since it wasn’t lingering in his brain. You also seemed to have less hesitance when it came to fighting, which helped quite a bit for the both of you.

Meg was definitely not ready to lose to the two of you now that you seemed to have some kind of unspoken strategy. The win was much easier than Zagreus’s previous attempts. He definitely gave you thanks as the two of you continued to the lava river that is Phlegethon.

“Are you alright?” Zagreus questioned as he noticed your sluggishness. Of course you wouldn’t be used to the hot temperature of the river, but you just gave him a nod, stating you’re fine. He couldn’t help but worry.

Death happened again due to the new disadvantage the two of you had. You started to apologize, to which he rebuked and said that it’s not your fault. The two of you went through the house again before getting to the legendary weapons, where he told you to take one. You were hesitant but took the bow. Hopefully that would make up for the disadvantage.

A few more attempts went by as you weren’t used to your new weapon. While skilled in range, the Infernal Arms Coronacht was quite a difference to what you’re used to. Each death came with more apologies from you that Zagreus just gave a smile and stated it’s alright.

Then came a rather interesting run. Zagreus was supposed to receive a boon from Athena after the room was cleared but noticed that Athena and Hermes had shown up. Athena stated she was for him, while Hermes wanted to help you out. Seeing you flustered at a god wanting to offer their assistance was intriguing to Zagreus. You did accept as gaining a god’s wrath is not what the two of you need.

There was an improvement in your speed with shooting and moving out of the way of creatures attempting to attack you. Zagreus couldn’t help but be impressed himself.

You two continued with your new boons. Each time you’d stop at a fountain you’d speak to each other about your progress or yourselves or just some random topic entirely. Zagreus couldn’t help but feel himself grow a fondness.

That fondness caused him to do something that caused a bit of confusion. You two were in a fight and he noticed a bloodless coming up behind you. You didn’t notice it. So he quickly dashed over to your side, surprising you as he attacked the bloodless behind you. Unfortunately you two died during that attempt as the enemies he left circled the two of you.

“Prince Zagreus,” you began.

“Just call me Zagreus, I think we’ve died together enough times for you to use my actual name.” You seemed to be debating the idea but gave a nod.

“Zagreus, don’t attempt to save me,” you told him. Zagreus opened his mouth to speak but you shook your head and continued. “You have a goal which is why you’re attempting to escape. Should something happen to me then you need to continue on. Don’t allow me to get in the way of your objective.”

“But won’t my fat- Hades punish you for not staying with me? It is your contract that is having you keep an eye on me.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Zagreus wanted to press the matter further but you took the lead through the house to his room this time. It was a surprise since typically you’d just follow behind him before he led you to another attempt.

Zagreus sighed as he knew you’d wait for him so he made his rounds. He listened to Hypnos being his usual happy/snarky self with joking about if Zagreus truly wants to leave considering he died for you. Zagreus just gave Hypnos a hum as a reply, not caring for his jokes before going to Achilles.

“Is it true that you put your life on the line for [Y/N]?” Achilles asked, apparently hearing what Hypnos had joked about. Zagreus sighed at that. He’s unable to hide anything from Achilles, not that he’d want to.

“I did… But I have no idea why I did so,” Zagreus answered. His confusion was evident as he truly didn’t know why.

“Perhaps you have grown some sort of fondness for them. You two are battling together.” Zagreus noticed the soft smile on Achilles’s face when he made that comment, causing Zagreus to feel a bit flustered. Yes he would consider you a friend at this point, but the smile he was being given did not give off the impression Achilles meant friends.

“I suppose we do have a friendship but I have to escape. They are just helping me, or maybe they’ll turn against me at the last second. I do not know Achilles.”

“Zagreus, perhaps you should allow some time to think of these feelings. Do not push them away for your goals. It would only end in sorrow.” There was a sad look in Achilles’s eye as he made the statement. Zagreus just nodded before meeting back up with you to continue on.

Things were definitely getting a bit complicated.

#hades game #zagreus #hades supergiant #hades zagreus x reader

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junicai · 3 years

Text

Aria + Periods + 127 = Chaos

Taeil

taeil has a younger sister, so he didn’t need her to explain anything to her

honestly, he’s one of the members she’ll go to first if she needs anything

the least likely to make a big deal out of it

just kinda

shrugs

and does what is needed of him

sometimes pain meds don’t do anything for aria’s cramps they get so bad

and on those days, she’ll slid into his bed and either

A: snuggle with him and let him cuddle her

or B: just curl up underneath his sheets until he gets back from wherever he was and then do option A

he really hates her periods

like, more than she does

because she’s always a little deflated in the upcoming days, and for the first two of the actual periods

and he hates seeing her in pain or be sad

even if the thing she’s sad at is the advertisement of the cute dog

definitely chuckles at her when she comes to him with slightly teary eyes and whines that she misses her dog now

but opens his arms willingly anyway, letting his maknae plonk herself in his lap and rest her head on his chest

Johnny

there is no better man to try and make aria feel better

that’s actually a lie

aria will point blank avoid him on her periods

he read once

once

in an article that physical exercise helps with cramps and the other pms-ing symptoms

and now every single time she opens her mouth to complain about her uterus trying to eject itself from her body

johnny’s right there with an invitation to the gym

he’s literally packed and changed, they can go right now

truth be told aria took him up on the offer once

never again

she couldn’t walk afterwards

he had to carry her out

asides from that though

he’s pretty okay with everything?

like obviously, he doesn’t really get it all too much, but if she wants someone to massage her back, then he’ll offer without too many questions

but when she’s crying about something?

oh ho ho ho

bear hugs

just a big ol’ swaddling hug that makes aria feel warm n safe n content

they heal everything

it’s aria’s life philosophy

Taeyong

totally understanding

she needs pads? he’s either already bought them, or will go out to buy them for her

doesn’t have a tracker for her, but somehow knows when she’s cramping the week before its due

once came up with the innovative idea of using their handwarmers as a makeshift hot water bottle when they were on a schedule and aria was suffering :(

aria gets really bad lower back cramps, and its super common to just see him gently pushing her onto the couch

so he can try and massage some of the tension

keeps pads in his travelling bags

completely unprompted - it just started being something he’d pack

like heat packs and pain patches and bandages;

period supplies just eventually got added to the list

was a little uncomfy with the whole thing at the start

but his older sister yelled at him

told him to stop “being a baby” and “she’s your responsibility, act like it.”

aria felt really bad for burdening him with it all

lowkey wished she was a boy for inconveniencing everyone with it

and taeyong had to sit her down and tell her no baby

it was natural and it didn’t bother anybody

that she didn’t have to hide it

that she could come to them if she was in pain because of it

Yuta

oh this man

when he found out that aria was getting lightheaded on her periods

when he found out that she passed out once on her period

did so much research on why that might have happened and how to help

literally stayed up all night and came to aria the next morning like

“are you eating enough iron?”

the answer was no, btw

made it his mission to make sure aria did after that

always has a little bag of nuts or something else in a side pocket of his bag if he knows aria’s on her period

gets concerned asf when she misses her periods

because he knows it’s because of unnecessary diets or her putting in extra time in the practice room

aria loves going to his room when she’s feeling miserable

he’s always down to watch a movie or just lay down with her

he’ll plait her hair or just lay together and press a lil kiss to her forehead when she whines about the cramps

hates hates hates when she cries

he knows it’s because of hormones, he has two sisters

but that doesn’t make it easier

will do absolutely anything to get her to stop crying

once went out at 3am to get her ice-cream

which actually made her cry harder

bc she felt bad that she couldn’t eat it because she’s lactose-intolerant

he just felt worse

that was not a good night

now the freezer in the dorms has a little tub of non-dairy ice-cream with aria’s name on it

curtesy of yuta

Doyoung

when aria first moved into the 127 dorms

he bought a little pink box with a lid that he then proceeded to fill with tampons and pads; the whole shebang

which he then put in the locker beneath the sink

and told anyone that if they made a big deal out if it, he’d kill them :)

incredibly perceptive

knows when aria’s on her period before aria knows

“hey do u need a pad?” “ why do i need a pad?”

*an hour later*

“oppa do u have any pads”

he’s less of a come here and i’ll comfort you type

and more of a, i’m going to help you from the sidelines without ever actually acknowledging it’s existence

like perceiving it makes it worse

honestly aria’s pretty thankful he’s like this

she loves that the other members take care of her like they do, don’t get her wrong

but its like, for five days - she can do no wrong, she’s accommodated, and sometimes walked on eggshells around

it’s nice to have someone who’s going to treat her like normal

to balance it out

does that stop her pulling the “i’m in pain” card when she’s about to get scolded?

Jaehyun

jaehyun doesn’t have any siblings, so he was really learning from scratch with aria

however

that was actually a good thing

because it meant that whatever aria told him; he did

if she needed a heating pack - he’d go find one for her

if she needed to just lie down for a bit - he’d take her into her room and close the curtains to let her take a nap

now, she didn’t take advantage of this

much

but she just thought it was really sweet of him

and tells him as much

and every time, he’ll just pat her head

maybe a lil kiss on the forehead

and pull the blanket up to her chin before leaving and flicking off the lights

that’s kind of the extent of what he’ll do

mainly because the other members have a lot of it covered already

but it’s pretty common for him to give her a piggyback ride somewhere

if her back is cramping a lot and she doesn’t/can’t walk

no complaints

he just kneels down and aria asks him is he sure

like she’s heavy or something

and he’ll just carry her to wherever they’re going

there’s a lot of fantaken pictures from these moments

people speculate that she’s injured or sick

it happens so regularly that nctzens are genuinely convinced that aria just doesn’t possess an immune system

Jungwoo

jungwoo was surprisingly well prepared when aria first bent over from a sudden onset of cramps

man was ready and knew what to do

he had hyuck going out of the room for water

and had a hand placed on her lower back rubbing gently

never really makes a big deal out of it all

although has told her to play it up once or twice because he wanted to go to bed and practice was running late

she did, and they did end practice almost immediately after

honestly, aria’s pretty convinced that all of jungwoo’s information on how to deal with girls on their periods came from a wikihow article

but that did mean that he had taken the time to look up a wikihow article

so she guesses she can forgive him

and honestly, the fact that he takes it upon himself to do a little of her chores?

she’s not complaining

after the first three times she felt bad enough to tell him to stop though

he didn’t

and now it’s just normal

is very conversational about it all

has no problem with asking her what she needs, instead of hovering around and guessing

which makes it easier on aria as well

the first few times, she felt quite burdensome

and jungwoo levelled her with a look when she told him this

“the only way you’d be burdensome, is if you didn’t talk to the rest of us and suffered silently - in pain.”

that was the end of that really

Mark

unfortunately for mark

aria got her first period when she was with him

poor boy thought she was going to die

“ohmygod you’re bleeding - you’re BLEEDING-”

aria had to calm him down before going to the bathroom

he is pretty oblivious as to what exactly goes on

aria complained once that she missed her last two periods because of the stupid diet she was on

mark literally thought she was going to die

very concerned

she had to sit him down and tell him that no, she wasn’t going to die

he’s gotten better over the years

as a topic, he’s still pretty uncomfortable with discussing it

but its less of a “i’m a man and this isn’t a manly topic” and more of a “i don’t know anything about this subject and i don’t want to offend somebody, help”

he did by her her first hot water bottle cover though

up until then, she had been using hot water bottles wrapped in towels to prevent her skin from burning

but mark showed up one morning

with a yellow fuzzy thing hidden behind her back

it was a winnie the pooh cover :(

Donghyuck

cuddle buddies

that’s his main role

aria on her period? donghyuck’s pulling out the fluffy blankets and making a pile of her plushies on his bed

time to pull out netflix and cuddle

aria could cry every single time she walks into his room and he’s just opening the covers for her to slip underneath

he does it every time

and somehow she’s still not expecting it

it’s been five years bestie

has accidentally made her cry on more than once occasion though

he doesn’t mean to!

sometimes he’ll say something in passing

and aria will get upset but won’t show it

because she knows she’s not actually upset - it’s just hormones

so she doesn’t tell him she’s upset

and just leaves to go to her own room

does that stop doyoung telling hyuck off for being insensitive?

not at all

but he’s normally really good! especially after the first few times

living together has generally made him more preceptive

also just growing up in general

if her cramps are really bad she’ll wake up during the night

and if she had slept in hyuck’s bed the night before

then he usually takes it upon himself to go get her pain meds and a hot water bottle

he’ll rub her back and help her fall back asleep

and then he’ll make sure to write down in his phone that she took x brand of pain meds, so in the morning she’ll have to take y instead

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hongjoongtrasher · 3 years

Text

the beauty and the beast (chapter 1)

word count: 2k461

angst

series masterlist

Synopsis:

When you move to a new city due to your father's job, you don't expect to stay for a long and so decided not to get attached to the world around you.

But still, you are "the new girl", unwillingly attracting people's attention because of your family's background. Your strict father expects a lot from you, not to say perfection. And when you are sit next to a certain Jung Yunho, you didn't expect your life to take a radical turn

You don’t even remember when you stayed more than a year in the same city. It probably started around the age of 3, when your father got his promotion he wanted for so long. That’s how your family used to move every year, or even shorter than this. You don’t remember having a childhood friend, and worst, have you ever had friends ?

The unfamiliar view of the busy city at your window made you remember that once again, you had to unpack the few items you owned. You quickly discovered it was more a burden to drag along unnecessary things that would later be a pain in the ass to unpack and pack forever. Only school books, clothes and some other accessories were keeping you company in this new room. So impersonal, cold. But it would stay this way, since you knew you’d probably move on again in few months. While tidying your room, you heard a knock on your door, making you look at it to see your father.

« Y/N ? Can we talk for a bit ? » he asked, a poker face on.

« Yes father. »

Father. From the moment you could speak, he always told you to call him father. No dad, or affectionate pet names. It was just showing the gap that have been created so far between you both. Your mom ? You don’t even remember her face. You learnt from your grand-mother a long time ago that your parents got divorced when you were just a newborn. The reasons to this separation are staying difficult to know, but your father never talked about her in your presence. You always thought that somehow she didn’t want you, that was probably the best reason you could thought due to the lack of her tries to contact you for 17 years. So instead of a mom, you grew up with a nanny who was still living with you and your father. She was a sweet and caring person, always making sure you weren’t lacking anything. You owed her a lot, knowing she was the one who was basically raising you up, of course with the directions of your father.

You soon arrived in the large living room, as impersonal as the rest of the luxurious apartment your father got from his work. It was neutral as possible, but still anybody could notice the taste for luxury he acquired with the time. Trophies, some modern canvas you couldn’t even interpret, a large TV with home cinema etc. Your father was sitting in his black leather armchair, in his usual white shirt and black suit. And you just sat down on the white sofa, waiting patiently for him to start.

« I got you a place in a school from a friend of mine. » he began, and you felt your body being rigid.

Studies were his obsession when it comes to you. You always had to be first, having the best grades, the best in every field you could reach. That was probably also the main reason of why you never got close friends. Because you were « Miss Perfect Brain » and the only child from a wealthy family, most of people thought you were just like one of those entitled kids who would think they are the one ruling in this world. But you were not. Actually, you never wanted any of those thing. How many times you wanted to go to clubs after class ? Just hanging out with kids from your age, sharing hobbies etc…But you never could because your father would always send you to study classes after your school schedules.

« The school ranking is pretty good, so I think you are able to reach 1st place right ? » he continued, his cold glare piercing your body, making you tighten your fists on your knees.

It would be a disaster for you to be 2nd. Actually not really for you, but for your father. With him, it was first or nothing, and nothing would results as punishment for you. Even since elementary school, he would force you to copy the mistakes you’d done until 2 in the morning, « to make you remember not to do the same mistakes again ». Sometimes depriving you from eating until you would perfectly recite the lesson. As a child, you had spent nights crying in your pillow, hating your father for being so mean to you, and today, you just gave up. As long as you were doing as told, everything would be fine, right ?

You nodded as an answer, finding the courage to finally look at his strict face.

« Y/N, this year is going to be a decisional one for you. After graduation, you’ll go to Korea University and study international business. Don’t deceive me » he announced, making you gulp at the end of his sentence.

Of course it wasn’t what you wanted. But what did you want in the first place ? You didn’t know. You couldn’t find any perspectives for yourself. And of course, you didn’t have a word to say.

« Yes Father… »

And without adding any words, he stood up and left for his office, leaving you alone in the living room. You wanted to cry, to yell how unfair it was for letting someone decide for yourself. You throat was dry and your fists were trembling from madness until you felt a comforting hand on your shoulder. It was Sookja, your nanny and the housekeeper. She probably heard the whole conversation, and was knowing perfectly how you felt at this moment.

« This is so unfair… » you mumbled into your breath, trying to hold back your tears of pure rage.

« I know sweetie… » the old woman sighed. « Maybe he will let you do what you want later » she tried to soften your mood, but it was already ruined.

You sighed and stood up, just shrugging to join your bedroom again, head dipping first into your pillow. You didn’t feel like unpacking, so you just stayed in your bed, until your nanny came to inform you dinner was ready. As usual, you were eating alone. Your father never ate with you, because of his schedules. How funny it was to see that even on your birthday he would be absent, justifying himself to be busy but that he would « make it up for the next year ». Weariness eventually took over sadness. This was your daily life, and you didn’t expect it to change now…Unless.

It was your first day at your new high school. You were so nervous that you had barely eaten on the morning. You were apprehending people. Of course you were used to see new faces all the time, but this time was different. You were arriving in the middle of the first semester in a school where everyone from your prom was knowing each other’s, and to crowned everything, your father was accompanying you this morning to greet his friend, the principal for this year. The more the black Audi was entering the school yard, the more you wanted to become a mouse. You hated so much those looks of curiosity, or full of judgment. Your father intimated you to get off the car, which you did, looking at the floor while the Principal was waiting at the main entrance. You didn’t hear the following conversation, your heart beating too fast and in your ear. Some students stopped to watch the scene, and some of them at the windows were taking pictures. How embarrassing. Little did you know a group of boys were also watching from the first floor.

« Heh, is this the new girl everyone’s talking about ? » hummed a blonde boy, his chin in the palm of his hand while he was leaning on the window sill.

« Seems like it » answered a tall boy, a lollipop in his mouth. « Dude, she looks hot »

« Mingi, you even haven’t seen her face yet » groaned the little blonde again.

Mingi shrugged and said. « Hongjoong, she’s rich, so she’s hot »

« You’re an idiot » sighed the said Hongjoong, rolling his eyes in exasperation. « What d'you think Yunho ? »

Yunho stayed silent during the whole conversation, hands in his pockets as he was watching the scenery before scoffing. « She’s just a little rich bitch » he mumbled before turning from this, going to his classroom.

You had to stay at the professor’s room, so that the Principal could introduce you to your homeroom teacher. Strangely enough, all the teachers seemed too nice. Of course they were. The shadow of your father must be planning around. « Let’s go introducing you to your new comrade » said your teacher enthusiastically which made you forced a smile. You silently followed him to the door where he made a sign for you to wait. Your heart was about to explode, as you could hear the sounds for chairs and people chatting in the classroom. You didn’t know how much you waited in this hallway, but your teacher appeared again, calling your name. You jumped a little, not expecting this time to come…so quickly. Gulping again, you slowly passed the door to present you in front of everyone, your eyes scanning the room. « Can you please introduce you ? » Asked your teacher, everyone’s waiting to hear the sound of your voice for the first time. You really wanted to run away and never come back, but you couldn’t. Your father would definitely kill you.

« H-hi, my name is Y/N, nice to meet you » you said, quite unsure of yourself.

Some kids applauded, which made you blush from embarrassment.

« Alright, Y/N you can go sit next to Yunho there » said your teacher, pointing at the front row at the very left of the room, not to say the corner.

Your eyes landed for the first time on the boy called Yunho. His black wavy hair were hiding his forehead and also his eyes, but you could definitely feel he was glaring at you. Not staring, but glaring as if you did something wrong. But what could you have done wrong ? Was sitting next to him a crime ? You awkwardly sat down next to him, feeling the cold tension radiating from the silent boy next to you. At some point, you really felt uncomfortable, to the point you didn’t dare looking at him a single time. You tried your best to focus on the class, nervously holding your pen. Surprisingly, the first two hours of class went by fast, but you still haven’t talked with Yunho, and he seemed not trying to neither. When the bell ranged, announcing the first break of the day, you gathered your things before you heard his deep voice for the first time.

« Move. » he ordered in an annoyed tone, his tall figure dominating your frail one.

Your heart stopped beating for a second, suddenly scared. He seemed mad at you for God knew which reason, but you quickly moved to let him pass, looking at your feet while you could hear a « Tsch… » from him.

What the hell was happening ? Why this boy was hating you from the start ? You took your phone and went to the girls toilet, to regain composure, but still, you felt a dark aura from him. While you were thinking about this, you heard girls gossiping outside the cabinet you were occupying.

« Did you see that ? She is next to Yunho ! »

« The poor girl, I bet she won’t stay next to him for a long time » said another girl, in a mocking way.

« She doesn’t know he’s a total douchebag tho. »

« Hey ! He’s still hot. But yeah, a douchebag »

And they laughed before exiting the place. What does this mean ? You began to get really worried about this Yunho. He seemed to be a bad guy, but was he really ? You inhaled deeply again before going back to your classroom, expecting to see Yunho again, but he wasn’t here anymore.

Class started again, and you couldn’t help but wonder where Yunho went and why he left. Your new Korean literature teacher didn’t seem surprised when doing roll call. « Ditching classes again huh ? » he mumbled before going on.

At lunch time, you searched for a place to eat alone. You didn’t feel like going to the cafeteria or stayed in class to eat, so you went to the rooftop, surprisingly empty. You expected to see at least one or two people…But anyway, it was better for you. Leaning against the wall of the staircase, you took out the lunch box Sookja made for you with your favorite food inside as a good luck charm for your first day. It slightly made you smile and brought you some comfort. You didn’t want to think to anything, just having some peace until you heard loud laughs from the stairs, making you panicking and quickly packed your lunch to see a group of boys who seemed as surprised as you to find you here.

« Oh, isn’t the « New girl » ? » smirked the small blonde guy.

You quickly looked away, mumbling a « sorry » before trying to pass over them, but an arm blocked your route.

« Hey, you could at least say hi when someone’s talking to you » groaned the tallest from the pack.

You felt intimidated. You just wanted to leave, without creating any problems. You looked up at the tall guy, scared about what he was about to do next until you noticed wavy black hair. Yunho was here also, and he didn’t seem to pay attention.

« I-I’m sorry, I just want to go p-please » you said weakly, the panic gaining your body each second passing by.

« Tss, is that how rich bitch like you are behaving huh ? »

This was escalating quickly. You were too scared to do anything, when you saw the tall guy’s hand reaching out for you too rapidly, making you flinch.

« Mingi. Stop. »

It was Yunho’s voice. As you shut your eyes tight, you slowly opened them to see an annoyed Mingi, rubbing his nape in frustration while the blonde guy was shocked. Yunho looked at his friends.

« Hongjoong, let’s go somewhere else » he added to the blonde guy.

Hongjoong nodded and slighlty pushed Mingi away to the stairs, only Yunho staying still, his dark orbs fixed on you in silence.

« Hey, I really hate people like you, but I didn’t want Mingi to do something bad, so you better go now. » he warned, giving you a cold shiver in your back.

Why was this always like this ? No matter where you go, people always hate you, or fake to be friendly to you because of your status. You felt tears filling your eyes, but you with the few pride left in you, you left Yunho alone on this rooftop, running away from him until next class. You were certain of a thing, Yunho hated you and you're far to know he'd soon take advantage of you.

chapter 2 coming soon ! please let me know what you think about this first chapter <3

taglist: @palegardenrebel @mirror-juliet @twancingyunhoe @yeosangmystar @dreamer95 @tinyteenieateez @yunsangoveryonder @tenebrisirae

Couldn’t tag : @nz-pichbg (comment to be added in the taglist)

#ateez angst #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez fanfic #yunho imagines #yunho fanfic #yunho angst #yunho series #ateez series #yunho fluff

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jaegckerman · 3 years

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Notes in Constellations

~ This fic was inspired by the song of the same name by Chiodos ~ Description: Eren wasn't as oblivious as everyone thought - Mikasa's feelings for him were perfectly clear to him. However, it seemed that everyone around him was very oblivious to how he felt about his best friend... even if he could never let her know. Set in canonverse, leading to a slightly different way more smutty version of Chapter 123, but don't expect a happy ending. Tagging: @kirsteiiins because she's awesome. Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7.6K CW: : Smut, I guess?; Angst; Mentions of death and violence; Manga spoilers! Link to AO3

I see her smile in her sleep I know that she's a dreamer I follow every move she makes

If you asked anyone in the Survey Corps, and even before that in the Scouts Regiment, everyone would have told you that Mikasa Ackerman was hopelessly in love with Eren Jaeger… which was too bad, since the boy seemed to have nothing but killing titans on his mind. He was constantly barking at her, taking her kindness for Mikasa simply being annoyingly overbearing, and didn’t shy away from snapping at her for it. Eventually, Armin tentatively came up to him one night and suggested he have a conversation with the girl to let her know that her affections were misplaced. Gently, Armin emphasized, knowing how much it would hurt her and how tactless his best friend tended to be. It made Eren blush furiously; he did run hotter than a normal human being due to his Titan powers, but he could have sworn his whole head was on fire. He was just glad that it was dark outside and his best friend’s keen eye couldn’t make out the color of his cheeks as Eren just hummed noncommittally during Armin’s speech, then scoffed at his words. He stammered something about how Mikasa only saw him as a brother, and changed the subject, with no intention of adhering to the blonde’s advice in any way, shape or form. Neither of them was sure who he was trying to convince.

I know that this is the last thing on your mind, Eren, but what you’re doing is unkind to her and Mikasa deserves better, Eren recalled Armin’s voice as he watched the girl in question, holding back a smile. Levi’s squad was traveling from Trost to the port, and with the railway still a few months away from being completed, they had to go by horse and camp out for the night in a cabin that belonged to Flegel Reeves. They were currently setting the table for dinner, and she was humming absentmindedly before she abruptly stopped and scurried off to the other side of the room… only to return with a bundle of flowers she had picked off the side of the forest path they had traversed early that morning – she was probably the only human on Earth who wasn’t scared of angering Levi; she just hopped off her horse, crouched down, and started plucking flowers from the ground while he snarked at her to stop “farting around” and get going, and Eren had to suppress a chuckle at the scene. He had almost forgotten about his own task of hunting down enough plates and mugs for the entire squad until she looked up at him, probably because she felt him staring. He hurriedly averted his eyes and turned his body back towards the stupidly high cabinet to hide his blush, stretching as he felt around the wooden boards and grabbing what felt like ceramic. With a triumphant little “hah!”, he pulled down a stack of plates and turned around only to find Mikasa watching him; he wondered for a second if he should maybe listen to Armin after all. She quickly shifted her own gaze, her usual stoic mask on, but he had still caught the look on her face just before that, and it was nothing short of… Adoring didn’t do it justice, but his vocabulary was limited when it came to matters of the heart. He suddenly realized just how domestic the scene was, and what that must be doing to her. While she may be as skilled as a hundred soldiers, and damn good at pretty much anything she did, he knew this was a piece of the kind of life she craved the most. Maybe he really was being a selfish, unkind monster in more ways than one.

Because as observant as they were when it came to Mikasa’s feelings for him, what Levi’s Squad never seemed to notice was the way his own heartbeat would pick up whenever she entered the room. They never noticed how his face flushed when her hands brushed his whenever she took pails of water or wooden boards or whatever else he carried from him to alleviate his burden in any way she could. They had no idea that he snapped at her, not because he was annoyed or still jealous of her abilities, but out of concern, since she was always so busy taking care of him and everyone else, she never took proper care of herself. None of them ever seemed to catch his longing stares and, thankfully, no one ever caught him in the dead of night, when his mind was consumed with the fantasies the sight of Mikasa provoked, and he convinced himself it was her hand or her tongue stroking his aching length.

Eren had taken over watch duties with Armin while she fell asleep next to the fire they had built, her need to be close to him overwhelming even her desire for a comfortable resting place. When she didn’t follow Sasha to the cabin and instead shut her eyes right where she was sitting, she had said she wanted to stay because she was cold and didn’t want to leave the heat of the flames. Of course, she never said it was because she wanted to stay with him, because she knew that he would inevitably argue with her, but Eren knew and decided to stay silent. He was so painfully aware that he would not have many more opportunities to see her look peaceful as he snuck glances at her sleeping form while Armin babbled on about something Onyankopon had told him about his home country’s landscape – he didn’t register a word his best friend was saying, and he felt bad, because he was sure it was as interesting and smart as anything Armin has ever said. However, all he could think about was how Mikasa’s sleeping position looked uncomfortable, so he bundled up his coat and made a makeshift bed on the ground for her. She squirmed and her eyes fluttered open for a second when he tried to lay her down gently, but she quickly fell back asleep, with a small smile on her face.

And no one knew just how much his heart ached at the sight, wishing he could give her everything she had always dreamed of, could always give her comfort, and peace and stability and, most importantly, all the love that was threatening to make his heart burst out of his chest. No one knew that he never openly and decisively rejected her, not because he really didn’t believe that she loved him like that, as he always argued when confronted, but because he could not bear the thought of her looking at another man the way she looked at him. He could not, for the life of him, reconcile with the idea that Mikasa, his Mikasa, would shed the mask and be soft and loving and devoted to someone else.

Well, when he turned to look back at Armin, his best friend gave him a smug smile, and maybe one person did know. But still, Armin had no idea how right he had been about Eren being unkind and undeserving… and yet, he couldn’t find it within himself to forgo his selfish desires completely. Not yet.

It's been a long, long night Say you're mine, say you're mine Can I keep you tonight?

He had no idea what had gotten into him. He had never planned on doing this – well, to be fair, he had definitely thought about it, or more like fantasized about how she would tell him that she wanted him, how he would crash his lips against hers, what they would taste like, what she would feel like in his arms, pressed against him…

But he had never planned on the words actually leaving his lips, hoping for an answer that would allow him to cross that line and leave everything behind once and for all. He was so, so tired already, and the fight hadn’t even started yet. And then Mikasa had come to him with her ice cream cone, her eyes shining like they used to when they would play-pretend being Armin’s mom and dad when they were children, and he had tasted the sweet treat that had just been in her mouth, and she had looked so lovely and soft and relaxed for once and… he knew, he could not leave her behind without exploring the possibility, without making completely sure whether his fantasies could actually become reality or not. If he didn’t, he wasn’t sure he would have the resolve to do what needed to be done with no regrets.

So when she came to find him, crying at the knowledge of what he had to do as he stared at the low light emitting from the refugee camp, knowledge that had been plaguing him for three years, feeling weak and exhausted beyond words, he couldn’t stop the awkward question from tumbling from his lips.

“What am I to you?”

As she blushed and her grey eyes started to shimmer despite the lack of light, he wondered if his own betrayed how much he wanted her to say he was… her everything, her most beloved, wanted her to ask him to follow her to the ends of the world, just the two of them. That she was his, and his alone. And in turn, he would take her hand and lead her away, away from all the war and death and show her that he had always been hers.

We dance around just like constellations You keep my body warm And we dance around just like constellations You're keeping me awake at night You make my body warm

Eren had known earlier that, had they not been interrupted, Mikasa might have elaborated on her answer. She might even have corrected herself, retracted the dreaded f-word that had left her lips, might have told him what he wanted to hear. Maybe she would have added that by “family”, she meant the type of family that husbands and wives made up. Or maybe he would have found the guts and the selfishness to fess up in spite of her answer. But alas, it wasn’t meant to be, and it seemed the path he was on was truly the only one available to him.

He would take what he could get before he began the hardest and last journey of his life, though. He indulged in one last night of fun with his friends and the refugees… The kindest strangers he had ever met, willingly sharing their limited supplies with them, and he knew he would crush them under his feet in just a few months. Thankfully, the liquor they were served helped a great deal in repressing that knowledge, at least for tonight.

And when his teal eyes blinked open sluggishly as he awoke from his drunken slumber, he indulged in the warm feeling of Mikasa pressed close to him. Her alcohol-addled breath came out in hot and steady puffs as it fanned across his cheek. When he turned his face to look at her, her lips were so close to his, and he had to close his eyes and swallow hard at the pain that the sight instilled in his racing heart. He clenched his fists against the tears pooling in the corners of his eyes once again, and an unbidden hiccup spilled from his lips, startling the black-haired beauty beside him awake. Silently, he cursed the lightness of her sleep before he twisted his head away from her.

“Eren…?” she murmured, her hand leaving his lapel to rub at her sleep-crusted eyes. “Are you okay?”

“It’s the middle of the night. Go back to sleep, Mikasa…” he murmured, surprised and perturbed at how hoarse his voice sounded.

“We should go back to our beds. This isn’t good for your back.”

Her warmth from beside him disappeared as she gracefully stood up. He took a deep breath, willing the tears away, and took her outstretched hand to help him to his feet. The moment their hands touched, he felt something like an electric current pass through him, and by the quiet gasp she emitted, he was sure she must have felt it too. He looked down at her face, his eyes boring into hers, feeling and conveying an intensity of emotions he hadn’t allowed himself to indulge in since that fateful medal ceremony. Mikasa simply stared back, the silence between them growing heavier, until he broke it with a soft, “c’mon, then,” and led her outside, never letting go of her hand.

And I fall for her, like snow from the sky Gracefully I land in her arms

They arrived in front of the room Kiyomi had organized for Mikasa. They all had plush, comfortable beds, but when she opened the door and turned on the electric lights, he saw the woman had decided to splurge on Mikasa specifically. Her bed was twice as big as his, and the décor looked both cozy and pricey, not almost bare like his room.

“Eren… would you come in for a second?” She looked down at the floor when she asked the question, shuffling her feet nervously. They still hadn’t let go of each other. Ignoring his, once again, racing heartbeat, he nodded and pulled her inside with him. They both sat on the bed and finally disentangled their hands.

“Eren, I’ve noticed, uhm…” She was nervous, and Eren really couldn’t blame her. He had never been the most pleasant person to have serious conversations with, and judging by her behavior, this was definitely going to be a serious conversation. He mentally steeled himself for all the lies he would probably have to tell her.

“What, Mikasa?” His tone was supposed to be harsh, but it came out soft, almost alluring, and seemed to encourage her to continue.

“I’ve noticed how… depressed you’ve been all day. And then, you asked me those questions and… are you sure you’re okay?”

Inhale slowly. Exhale even more slowly. Dig your nails into your palms until you bleed. Hurt yourself, just don’t hurt her, he reminded himself, because really, all he wanted to do was curl up in her lap and cry about how much he just wanted to stop existing, to find a way to escape all the pressure. He wanted to wail and scream about how unfair everything was. Instead, what he said was, “Of course I’m okay, Mikasa.”

He had never been good at repressing his emotions, but over the last three years, he had learned a lot.

“Why did you ask me those questions, though? It was so… unlike you.” She had started fiddling with her fingers, and he could see her cheeks had turned red again. He didn’t answer as he studied her delicate features, because he had no good one; he thought – hoped, really – the interruption would have been it, and she would pretend it never happened.

Suddenly, she turned her head to look him straight in the eyes, and despite the blush still staining her face, determination shone in those onyx irises. “Were you hoping for a different answer? Because I think you know –“

He hushed her with his lips before she could say anything else. He had no idea what came over him, but with the electric current running down his spine once more, with the gasp she emitted, the way she grasped at his shoulders and with how his hands automatically found the sides of her face, tilting to the side to deepen the kiss, taste her sweetness even more intensely, he couldn’t regret it or overthink it.

Just one more piece of heaven before he had to throw himself into hell. Was that too much to ask?

Mikasa suddenly pulled away, her lips swollen and eyes glazed over. “Eren, what – why – I…”

He put a finger to her mouth. “Just for tonight… can’t we just… be?” His eyes were the clearest green, with specks of blue intermingling, a glimmer of hope he thought he had lost forever reflected in them. Mikasa herself studied him with that special look reserved just for him, making his chest swell, and nodded.

So when he leaned in to kiss her once more, they silently decided talking could wait for the next day. Her hands wandered to his hair, longer than she had ever seen it, and pulled a little. A gasp escaped Eren’s lips and she took the opportunity to slide their tongues together, both of them moaning at the sensation. His fingers flew down to her waist to pull her closer as heat began to pool in his abdomen.

Their tongues danced as they fought for dominance, Mikasa’s intoxicating taste overwhelming Eren’s senses. Her hands wandered down from where they were still entangled in his hair to grapple at the buttons of his jacket, pulling it off his shoulders and throwing it… somewhere, neither of them cared. She caressed up and down his back, feeling the muscle ripple below the fabric of his thin shirt. Eren pulled Mikasa’s bottom lip between his teeth and sucked on it lightly, and when a moan wandered from her mouth into his, another spark ran down his spine. He felt himself growing stiffer by the second, and without even thinking about it, he started playing with the buttons on Mikasa’s soft pink shirt, slowly working his way up as he opened them to reveal more of her skin.

“Eren…” she whispered against his mouth, causing him to pull back. Please don’t reject me now, he prayed silently, I need you so much, although what came out of his mouth was, “sorry, I never – is this okay? We can stop anytime…”

Her grey eyes were hooded, and she was almost on top of him, with how much closer he had pulled her, and she was a beautiful sight to behold, her upper body only clad in the pink shirt that had caught at her elbows and her bra, her chest heaving and her skin already flushed. She shook her head. “No, I…”

Suddenly, she was straddling his waist and pushed him down on the bed, shrugging out of her shirt and letting it fall to the floor behind them. “I’ve been wanting this for so long…” She took his hand, which he only now noticed was trembling, and ran it up her defined abs to her covered breast. Her voice was breathy, but her tone determined, when she continued. “Take me.”

Something inside of Eren snapped. With a growl, he pulled her down on top of him and, arms wrapped tightly around her, flipped them over so he was pressing her into the mattress with his entire weight. Their mouths clashed together, all initial insecurity replaced with hunger as they bit and sucked at each other’s lips, licked into each other’s mouths, exploring every millimeter they could reach. Eren’s clothed hips rutted against hers, and the only coherent thought in his mind was more, he needed more.His lips traveled to her neck, and he bit down experimentally, relishing in the moan Mikasa gifted him with.

“Do that again,” she whined, and he was happy to oblige, suckling and biting and eliciting the same response a few more times. He was painfully hard by now, and he moved on instinct when he made his way down her torso, continuing his ministrations. He pulled one of her breasts out of the confines of her bra, and licked over the pebbled, pink nipple.

“Fuck!” she cried out, her back lifting at the new sensation.

“Oh, you like that?” Eren grinned against her sternum as he made his way over to the other side, but her hand against his head stopped him.

“Wait-“ She forced him back on his knees as she sat up and reached behind her back. Eren was confused for a moment, until she pulled her arms free of the bra straps and let the garment join her shirt and his jacket. He was so busy staring at her beautiful chest, wondering if he should resist or succumb to the urge to bury his face in it, he barely registered when she murmured, “You too,” copying his movements from earlier as she unbuttoned his shirt, although she was doing it considerably faster than him. She stared at his newly exposed skin just as unabashedly as he had been looking at her, an expression of pure want etched onto her face.

The sight made Eren unfreeze from his position, pushing Mikasa to lay back down and letting his fingers graze over the soft mounds, not wasting a lot of time before he let his mouth join in. He squeezed and licked and sucked, alternating between each tit and catching the hard nubs between his teeth. He did his best to ignore the way his cock was throbbing, to ignore how badly he just wanted to bury and lose himself inside the gorgeous woman beneath him, how much he wanted to know which sounds of pleasure he could coax from her beautiful, moaning mouth when she was filled with him. Because more than that, he wanted her to enjoy herself. He couldn’t help feeling that, if he could just watch and listen to her come undone, he wouldn’t mind if he never found his own release.

With that thought, he trekked further south, the tip of his tongue tracing the dip in her abs until he reached the waistband of her skirt. He looked up at her for any sign she was uncomfortable after all, but all she did was smile and nod once more. “I said take me, and I meant it,” she panted, and without further ado, Eren pulled down both her skirt and underwear in one swift motion. He kept his eyes on her face, lest he lose all composure, as he rid himself of his own pants and boxers so there would be no more interruptions, no more barriers to overcome. Only then did he allow his eyes to wander.

The sight of strong, collected Mikasa laid bare in front of him did something to him. It wasn’t even just the way she took in his own naked body with so much desire, pupils dilating when they reached his throbbing length like she was starving for him – the knowledge that he was the only one who had ever seen her this vulnerable, the only one she trusted so much she would give herself over to him without a second thought, made him feel like he was on top of the world. It made his eyes sting, and his own appetite reached new heights. He found himself salivating as he pulled her legs over his shoulders and his head dived down to bury his face in the crease of her inner thigh. He peppered kisses up and down and back up before he became overwhelmed with holding back and let the flat of his tongue run up her slit. Her thighs tensed and she cried out, hands flying into his hair much like earlier, and that was all the encouragement he needed to keep going. He licked back down, to where she was dripping, and hardened the tip of his tongue to thrust it inside, pushing and licking in and out of her, relishing in her taste. Mikasa pulled on his hair as another whine left her lips, and he couldn’t hold back the groan escaping his own throat. His cock was literally aching for some friction, but he was sure he wouldn’t last once he was inside her if he touched himself now, so he ignored the urge to stroke himself. Instead, he moved his lips and tongue up a little to lick and suck on the little bundle of nerves above her entrance and let his fingers join in, circling her before he pushed one in slowly. It slipped in easily, her wet heat wrapped around the digit, and his length twitched between his legs, begging to replace it.

“Eren…!” she gasped, her hips starting to move in time with his finger and tongue. “More, please…”

“Greedy, aren’t you?” he teased breathlessly and added another finger, thrusting them in and out of her while he continued to lick and periodically suck on her clit. Her sweet smell and taste and the way she moaned and dug her nails into his shoulders, her legs clenching around him, was slowly chipping away at any semblance of self-control he was hoping to maintain.

“I’m – ah – not – Eren! Oh my God, Eren, I –“ She cried out, her hips lifting and her grip on his shoulders and around his fingers tightening as all the muscles in her body tensed. Eren continued to lick and finger her through her release, until she slumped back down, and her breathing started to slow. He pulled his fingers out of her and locked eyes with her as he lapped them clean off her juices, watching her flush deepen at the lewd action. He moved his body back up, caging her between his elbows and trapping her beneath him once more, and pushed his tongue into her mouth, letting her taste herself.

“I assume that was good?” he asked in between kisses.

“Unbelievable, but… I still want more,” she confessed, so quietly he almost didn’t catch it. Her calloused hand reached down between them and found his cock, giving it a couple of experimental pumps.

“Don’t,” Eren gasped into her mouth. “I won’t last…”

“That’s okay…” Mikasa started, but Eren didn’t let her finish, ripping her hand off himself and slamming it into the mattress beside her head. He did the same thing with her other hand that sought to replace the touch, and held them there, interlacing their fingers.

“No, it’s not,” he gritted out between clenched teeth. He pressed his forehead against hers, and, with a softer voice, continued, “I want this to be perfect for you.” Their lips locked once again as he rubbed his length over her folds until it caught on her entrance, and he finally pushed inside of her. Green eyes clenched shut at the feeling of Mikasa’s silky warmth enveloping the head of his cock, and her fingers squeezed his hands at the intrusion. She broke their kiss with a drawn-out moan of Eren’s name.

With every ounce of self-restraint that he had left, Eren forced himself to slow down instead of just sinking into her completely in one hard motion, like he so desperately wanted to. He felt the way she sucked him in, inch by inch, to his bones, making him shudder and bury his face in her neck to muffle the pathetic whine he couldn’t hold back. His hips stilled when he finally bottomed out.

“Feels so good,” he choked out. “God, Mika, you’re so tight…”

Mikasa placed a kiss behind his ear and wrapped her legs around his waist. Next thing he knew, she thrust her hips up, making his cock move in her, and making Eren gasp again.

“Fuck me,” she breathed against the shell. “Don’t you dare hold back.”

Something feral awakened in Eren at her words, and much like earlier, he found himself growling as he pulled almost all the way out and thrust himself back in hard. Mikasa cried out and Eren felt her head turn away from him to the other side. “Like that?” he hissed, repeating the motion again and again and pushing her hands and forearms harder into the mattress. He pulled his head up to look at her and their eyes met, hers almost black with desire.

“Yes – yes – make me yours,” she sobbed. He swooped down to catch her lips in a kiss and began fucking into her fast and hard, letting his animalistic side take over. Her soft breasts were crushed against his chest, and he felt her hardened nipples brush against his as he moved inside her wet, silky heat, her walls embracing him like she never wanted to let him go. With every push inside, Mikasa cried out against his open, panting mouth, and he used the sounds he ripped from her throat as fuel to hold on just a little longer, to keep that coil in his abdomen from bursting, knowing that after tonight, he might never get the chance to bring her pleasure ever again. If there had ever been a time to show he had perseverance, he thought, it was now.

Her legs fell from his waist, and Eren took the opportunity to take a hold of the left one and hook it over his shoulder. He wasn’t sure what compelled him, but when he was suddenly even deeper inside Mikasa and the woman positively screamed beneath him at the new angle, he knew it had been a good idea. He hooked her other leg over his other shoulder and let his strokes become long and deep, putting as much force behind them as he could.

“Oh God, Eren, yes! Right there, just like that, yes!”

Mikasa was writhing under him, eyes screwed shut and throwing her head from side to side as a string of her sobs and screams tumbled from her lips, echoing through the room. Her breasts were jiggling with every one of Eren’s thrusts, and her hands flew to his chest, nails digging in and scratching down his torso. Tears started to leak from the corners of her eyes as she forced them open to lock with his. Eren was bathed in sweat by this point, both from the exertion of the act and holding back. Just a tiny bit longer, he told himself, even as the heat in his lower body threatened to burn him up from the inside. He let go of one of her legs and let his thumb rub over the bundle of nerves, slick with the same desire that was coating his length.

“Oh, fuck… Eren – Eren!” Mikasa chanted and suddenly, she became even tighter, her walls clenching around him as she wailed his name over and over, sucking him in even deeper, and the dam inside him burst. He shuddered and his skin broke out in goosebumps. Letting his body fall on top of hers, his hips twitched once, twice as he released himself and painted her insides white with his cum, her name like a prayer on his lips.

Mikasa reached up with a trembling hand to stroke his hair. He turned to face her fully and caught her lips with his own. When they broke apart for air, a smile blossomed on her beautiful face. The brightness of it put the rays of sunshine beginning to permeate through the curtains to shame, and he couldn’t help but return it with his own.

They didn’t exchange any words as they reveled in the aftermath of their lovemaking, nor when they got up to get cleaned up. They remained silent, afraid to break the spell, as they climbed back into bed, Eren wrapping Mikasa up in his arms and drawing random patterns into whatever part of her skin he could reach. Eventually, her breathing slowed down, and Eren thought she had succumbed to the exhaustion, until he heard her whisper “I love you” into his skin so quietly, he wasn’t sure he was supposed to hear. And as much as he ached to return the sentiment…

It was easier to pretend he hadn’t.

But I melted away like snow into the ground I told her I've gotta go, I've gotta go

Eren had no idea how he would find the strength to go through with leaving Mikasa behind after last night. She had fallen into a peaceful slumber after their… activities, a flush still on her face and continuing down all the way to her cleavage. Eren, on the other hand, remained restless. He went over everything again in his head – how she had blinked at him lazily, a blissful smile he had never seen from her before curving her mouth upwards, the same mouth that had been singing him praises in the shape of sweet sighs and wanton moans just minutes before, the same mouth from which his name had spilled over and over again in soft cries and literal screams as she came undone beneath him. He pulled her closer, his chest against her back, and buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply, trying to commit her scent and the feel of her skin against his to his jumbled memory, just in case, but… He couldn’t go.

So now, Eren was hoping against hope that the conference today would go differently from what he had seen. He would not steal away after what Mikasa and he had just shared; how was he supposed to break her heart like that? How would he find the strength to deny both her and himself? How could he accept that he would never have her like this again? Not just her body, but her heart and soul laid bare for him? How could he leave and accept that one day, she might show the same vulnerability to another man? Might gift her heart to someone else? As he stroked over her bare arm, Eren was aware his thoughts were in the very least unfair and selfish, bordering on possessive, and in some ways even sexist, and he would never voice them out loud, but he couldn’t help feeling this way in his weak moments, when his guard was down. Armin was like a brother to him, and he could not stomach the thought of losing him. It was Armin’s dream that inspired him to venture outside the walls in the first place. But Mikasa – no matter what life threw at him, he knew that as long as she was with him, he could survive anything. She was the reason he continued to move forward.

If you want to save Mikasa, and Armin… and everyone else… you have to complete your mission.

The words rang clearly in his ears, like Kruger had just said them to him instead of his father decades ago. It was an unpleasant reminder, and Eren had to restrain himself from yelling back at no one, why me? I just want to be with her. Let me be with her!

Mikasa stirred in his grip and groaned quietly. She jumped slightly at the sight of a tan arm wrapped around her waist, but quickly regained her composure when she remembered what happened last night, and another one of those blissful smiles stretched her cheeks as she turned around in Eren’s strong hold and looked up at him lovingly.

“Good morning,” she whispered and pecked the corner of his mouth. Eren couldn’t hold back the grin blooming on his own face.

“A very good morning indeed.” His hand reached up to stroke over the scar on her cheek, like he could remove the mark if he poured enough love into his touch. I don’t want to hurt her anymore.

“Do you think the others are back yet?” Her fingers traced random patterns against his chest and abdomen. Eren couldn’t suppress the shiver her touch elicited.

“It’s still early, and they were really drunk…” He pushed her on her back and rolled on top of her. Her legs wrapped around his waist as if on autopilot, and her eyes were heavy-lidded not with sleep, but lust. For him, and only him. The thought went both to his head and his hardening length, and he grinded against her. His mouth found her neck, tracing soft kisses up the sensitive area until it reached her ear. “We have time…” he murmured. One of his hands wandered down the expanse of her torso, stopping shortly to squeeze her soft breast and rub at the hardened nub before continuing his trek down south. This time, it was him who coaxed a shiver and a moan from her.

“Eren… Please…” she whined, and the sound sent a pang to his gut. Eren’s long, slender fingers found her folds, already slick with her desire, and he groaned.

“So wet already… Is that what I do to you, princess?” His voice was deep and gravelly. Two of his fingers easily slipped into her, looking for the spot from last night while he rubbed against the swollen nub above her entrance with his palm. Mikasa gasped and started moving her hips in rhythm with his movements. He took in the expression on her face, her furrowed brow, her luscious pink lips slightly open as she panted softly; her cute nose, and the blush spreading over her milky skin; her beautiful eyes, silver with unshed tears…

“More, please…” She begged. “Want you inside me again, please…” Eren’s quip about how he was technically inside her died on his tongue at the desperate look in those glittering irises. It was almost like she knew, he thought as he pulled his fingers out. He felt the same desperation take a hold of him, a different kind of desperation than the hunger they’d already succumbed to. This was about making every second they could steal together count. Just in case, his mind repeated, just in case this was the last time.

His mouth captured hers and he licked at the seam of her lips, begging for entrance, morning breath be damned. Mikasa seemed to think the same thing, tangling her tongue with his in a passionate dance and rutting her hips up against his pelvis in an attempt to get some friction. Never breaking their embrace, she rolled them to their sides, her legs still wrapped around him. Her hand took a hold of his cock and, bringing her hips closer to his, she guided it to her entrance and thrust down until he was fully sheathed inside of her.

They moaned against each other’s mouths, breaking the kiss. Their lips remained touching as they opened their eyes. Eren’s emerald irises locked with Mikasa’s silver ones, and he began to move, thrusting languidly and watching even the tiniest twitch in her facial muscles as a symphony of her moans broke through the silence of the room, accompanied by his own heavy breathing.

Remembering the effect from last night, Eren moved his hand down to the leg he could reach, and hiked it up a little. It seemed to do the trick as Mikasa’s lids screwed shut and she threw her head back with a cry. He took in the way her long, thick eyelashes rested against her cheeks, and his arm wrapped around her back to bring her even closer, crushing her against him. He could feel the goosebumps on her skin, every knob on her spine as he caressed it, her wetness spreading over his pelvis as she rubbed against it with every push. Despite the desperation they both felt, they were unhurried, taking their time to savor each touch. And he committed all to his memory, certain that even after he died, the memories and the feeling of it wouldn’t.

When she came in his arms, it wasn’t with the same screams as last night – this time, she cried out his name softly, her face buried in his neck as she tensed up, her walls milking his own release from him once again, making him groan and shudder in turn before they gradually relaxed in each other’s hold. She leaned in for a short, sweet kiss before they continued to just stare at each other, drinking each other in. His hand came up to stroke her cheek, and she nuzzled into it, giving it a peck, eliciting an adoring smile from the green-eyed man.

Suddenly, they heard voices pass by Mikasa’s room and a knock on her door.

“Mikasa? Are you in there?” It was Hange. Eren hid his face in Mikasa’s neck and groaned quietly, this time out of frustration. Then, he had an idea, and with a smirk, he began to give the skin little kitten licks, making the girl squirm and giggle.

“Yes, Hange,” she called back, trying to sound normal, “but please don’t come in right now, I just got out of the shower and I’m not decent.”

The doorhandle was halfway down already, the door almost creaking open, but at Mikasa’s request, Hange let go and left it closed.

“Alright, just… meet us in the kitchen in 15 minutes, okay?”

“Okay!” Mikasa called back.

“You too, Eren!” With that, they heard Hange’s footsteps retreat.

The pair looked at each other with wide eyes. Maybe 15 minutes would have been enough to enjoy each other’s closeness some more, maybe even go for another round, but with the knowledge that Hange somehow knew, they scrambled up to clean themselves up and get dressed as quickly as possible. Mikasa left a couple of minutes ahead of Eren, so as not to make anyone else suspicious, and when Eren joined the squad a few minutes later, no one seemed to give them any strange looks or made any comments. It seemed like, thankfully, Hange hadn’t told anyone, and they made sure to keep some distance between them so as not to rouse any suspicions. Mikasa sat next to a groaning Sasha for breakfast, who was grabbing her head but still shoving copious amounts food into her mouth, and he sat with Levi and Armin as they went over his security for today’s outing.

When they arrived at the lecture hall later, they still left a couple of spaces between them. As Eren listened to a man’s impassioned speech about Eldian rights, which explicitly excluded him and his “island devil” friends, he was both glad for the distance and felt hollow at the same time.

But somehow, he had always known that the kind of life he wanted for Mikasa and himself, the life she had been dreaming about since they were naïve children, was never meant to be. Maybe that was why he had been dragging his feet and had never confessed to her how he felt. Maybe he wasn’t even supposed to have last night or this morning. But he could use it to strengthen his resolve – because, his strongest and perhaps most selfish desire, was for Mikasa to live a long and happy life, regardless of what role he got to play in it.

And so, he fought the magnetic pull begging him to stay by her side, and quietly left to fulfill the mission he had been given long before he was even born.

It's been a long, long night You said you were mine I felt so bad but I had to go No she never wanted me to leave her behind No she never wanted me to leave her

“I want to share your burden.”

Mikasa’s voice echoed in his head. Even after telling her she was a slave and that he had hated her forever, beating up Armin, not to mention the people he killed in Liberio, Sasha… And now, he was literally trying to kill every living being in the world besides the residents of Paradise.

He thought that maybe, at least that night they had shared, and his subsequent disappearance, might have stirred up some resentment in her. The war wasn’t personal, so he could see how she might be able to justify his actions, but that… had been deeply personal. He had basically taken her heart and stomped on it until it was dust, just like the titans under his control were flattening the earth. He tried to make her believe he had only used her body, and that the only passion he had for her was anger and disgust, his own heart threatening to pound out of its cage with how loudly it was screaming at him for the obvious lie. But her devotion to him… her love for him knew no bounds. It transcended time and space and circumstance. It was the only constant he had left, the only thing that still made sense to his muddled mind. It was as certain as the rise of the moon and the sun and the stars, as the ebb and flow of the sea.

Just as certain as his untimely demise.

Here she was, still offering her unwavering support. She acknowledged all the worst parts of him, all the cruelty and the stench of death, and still loved him. After everything, still, still, all she dreamed of was a quiet, peaceful life by his side, and if she couldn’t get the quiet and peaceful part, she would settle for him simply being there. And although every fiber of his being was screaming at him that he wanted the same, it was too late, and he had to let her go. He had to make her let him go.

But would it be so bad to make her happy one last time before he did? This was literally his last chance to be honest with her. And was it so bad that he wanted to defy his cruel fate and feel happy, be free at least one more time, before he succumbed to it?

Eren looked to the side at the small blonde girl, and she nodded, allowing him to use her powers to give into his selfishness before his final moments.

Suddenly, he was transported back to that night, to their conversation in the dim lights of the refugee camp, and he let them live in the reality of what might have been had her answer been slightly different, had there been no interruptions, had he finally taken her hand and just given in and followed her into her dream.

So long, so long, And we dance around just like constellations We dance around just like constellations We dance around, we dance around, You make my body warm, You make my body warm.

#eremika #eren x mikasa #eren jaeger #eren yaeger #mikasa ackerman #eremika fic #cw: smut #cw: death #cw: violence #bee's fics #attack on titan #aot #snk #shingeki no kyojin

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monsoonblooms12 · 3 years

Text

Eumoiriety (Ethan x f!MC)

Summary: Four Years of Pooja Sharma's Birthday, from her first year as an Intern to her first year as an Attending.

Eumoiriety: Happiness due to state of innocence and purity💕

A/N: It's my baby's birthday and I went overboard. This is purely self indulgent and since I have zero to negative self control, this turned out way longer than I expected it to. Anyway, I hope you still like it💙

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Pooja Sharma)

Word Count: around 3.7K (I am sorry!)

Rating: General

Category: A bit angst, A bit fluff

Warnings: None that I saw.

Prompts: @choicesaugustchallenge Day 29 - Birthday

READ ON AO3

Intern Year:

She walks barefoot on the green floor as the dews clinging to grass tips, soothe her like the cold breeze on a summer day.

A few golden rays filter through the canopy that acts as a barrier to the shining sun overhead. When they fall on the grass, the view looks like gold intermixed with emerald.

She wears a white gown, which flutters behind her, as her heart dances with the bees going flower to flower to get their prize of nectar in return for their favour of pollinating them.

There is a calm spreading through her soul, an ease, a slow infusion of tranquillity with her heart beats.

A swish makes her turn. Her eyes capture a silhouette, drifting farther and farther, as if taking her calm along with it.

It's replaced by restlessness.

There is a cajole, a whispered cajole, that urges her feet to run, her mind to think, her heart to wonder.

She follows. One step, and another.

The scene changes.

There are no more trees, no more green with the sun's shine.

At a distance, the waves crash on the sandy shore, their meet with their shore echoing in the silent surroundings.

She looks around and sees it.

The silhouette, now apparent that it was a man, standing with his back to her. He looks unbothered. As if he stole her peace and gave her his unrest in return.

She tries to walk slowly towards, footsteps imprinting on the sand, but the distance never seems to lessen or end.

She tries running, but to no avail.

The waves continue crashing, the footprints continue to get imprinted and the man continues to remain still and silent.

The only change has been in the sky, which is now leaden, dark with humongous clouds.

The thunder begins to cackle.

Once, Twice, Thrice.

She closes her ears with her hands, eyes shut to reduce the impact of the thunderous noise reverberating through every single one of her bones. But the roar keeps getting louder and louder until...

Her eyes snap open, but the echo from her sweven doesn't leave her. She turns around to find her phone ringing, straining her eyes with incredulous bright light (that she forgot to dim). The caller ID is barely registered, but the voice gives away the identity.

It's her sister.

With a flash, all the haze from the peculiar dream gets lost and bubbly happiness takes up the emptied space.

It's their birthday.

The first one since she came here. She had been so busy unknotting the twisted knots of circumstances in which she found herself tangled, that she had forgotten about the once unforgettable occasion of her life.

Maybe she has really lost that childhood she held on so tightly to, she thinks.

But not without a hope. Of a chance to get it back.

Maybe differently.

But the want to relive those carefree days, where the colour of pens you get as gifts, and the decision of who gets the piece of cake with the chocolate masterpiece on it were the only things that held importance. All other worldly, societal woes were secondary, trivial, uncared for.

She wishes her sister and she wishes her back.

3..2..1.. Happy Birthday! To Us!

They scream-whisper together, carrying on the years' long tradition.

The only thing different? They were on their cellulars, ecospheres apart, instead of snuggling and shouting together, and annoying their brother for an entire day.

Subconsciously, a tee-hee escapes her. Thinking about her brother, she takes a look at the clock. Correct 12:03 am on 12th August. If she knows him, he is probably counting the seconds.

At 12:05 am to the dot, another shrill echoes through the silent apartment. Her guess is correct.

On the other side of the screen, sits Idhayan arranging the cake so that Pooja can see the eloquent buttercream designs he has hand made on it.

In the background, there is a blurry motion. It turns out to be Alekhya.

She jumps onto the couch beside their brother, putting an end to his steady concentration.

He makes an irritated face, while she laughs.

And Pooja just watches, giggling alone.

The pang in her chest reminds her, once & once more, about just how much she misses them.

How empty, monochromatic her life is, with all these miles between them.

For the past year, every time any event took a turn for the worse, broke her, or hurt her, she wanted to go back to her safe haven.

The place where the chronicles of her life begun.

Many times, she had found herself convinced (by others as well as her self doubting mind) that she didn't belong here. That she didn't have the calibre, the skills to strive in this fight of dogs, in this race of horses where she felt like a donkey.

Or maybe a snail.

She dreamed of sleeping in her mother's lap when she first found herself in the crossroads of feelings and reason. Making her muddled head clear with words that never crossed the barrier between dream and reality.

When Mrs Martinez died, she imagined herself sitting on the swing, her brother's comfort brownies reduced to messy crumbs, as she let the mountain winds take away the burden of dread that pressed upon her heart.

And the day when Landry's backstab became eminent? She visualized her sister ripping him down, shredding him with knives of words because that's what he deserved.

She knew her father would have made them both coffee like he always did when he came home during breaks from piloting. He would have said a mere few words, which would have been enough for her to see the path ahead.

The mini virtual celebration ends, and the silence settles again. Tendrils of sleep come and go, but never stay.

She is left alone with her thoughts and worries, and a fear of the unknown which is hidden by the curtains of the future.

--------

The day passes like a swift blowing wind in a desert.

It's quiet, too quiet.

And probably for the first time in her life, she adores it. To be away from the hustle of a celebration, which would have been a noise in the cacophony, given the situation.

To get a period of silence for her thoughts to drift away, to think about the unknown, to predict a make or break.

The pages are turned swiftly by her fingers, one of which is clad with a minimal gold ring, another old ritual of hers.

The library harbours the overworked interns, who are now pushing the boundaries of time to find a way to help their friend out.

Their tired eyes pain with the lack of sleep, coffee fuelling through their veins, and mind engrossed in picking up any clue, any line, any tip that could be supportive for them.

Hours pass, no-one utters a word. Pens run on empty notebooks, hands managing to create only messy scribbles. Black and Blue fill the white as if it never existed.

The clock strikes the end hour.

They all get up.

They go home together, for discussions and relaxation.

At the doorstep, everyone enters before her, while she stands still, too engulfed in worries to notice the happenings.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Confetti pops, her reverie is broken.

The smile shines like a jewel in a priceless necklace.

The arrangements are minimal, just champagne, cake and friends, but that's more than enough for her. To make her forget the dark fog of pessimism.

Maybe there is hope left.

-------

Second Year:

12th August.

The day that is drifting closer by the minute.

It has always been Alekhya's birthday for her.

On her phone, In her diary, In her mind.

People might regard it as a beautiful flaw of her nature, the flaw of always placing others before herself.

But to her, the instinct seemed natural, obvious. She had never delved into the whys, and she doesn't want to begin now.

For Alekhya, the circumstances became vice-versa.

And this was the beauty of their bond.

Strong, Pure and Selfless.

They never seem to realize that, though.

They hold onto the strings of simplicity, of sweet uncomplexity. And that is what helps them to bridge the gap between siblings and best friends.

After the tumultuous year, that very much resembled the completion of a voyage through the rough Indian Ocean, where storms ravage through days and endless nights, thunders crack, and waves that scale the heights between the ocean and sky to become mountains of water, crash on the feeble pieces of wood barely held together in the form of a boat, coming back to her origin, her hometown is a necessity.

Especially for her to find that normalcy again.

She survived.

Even though she fell, almost drowned, gasped for a breath more times she could count and nearly accepted her fate.

Until that is, the pale faces of the ones she holds close, the endless stream of tears that scale their cheeks, their breaking hearts, came to haunt her in her reverie and prevented her from closing her eyes & from letting that almost undetectable beat of heart stop.

The wishes from last year come back to her. This time, it wasn't virtual anymore. This time, it wasn't just painted in pixels, but written in buttercream letters, one which she could taste.

This time, the hugs weren't just virtual. They were very real, and very needed.

As she sits amidst the bushes of phenomenal florals, she lets her mind project in vivid colours, the extremities of the last year.

Her heart, breaking into tiny glass pieces, not perceived by the eye but sharp enough to draw blood.

The fear of losing and letting so many others lose along.

The coming close and going away, almost kisses and slide of unassuming hands, those which could easily be perceived as a mistake, but were anything but.

Competing in a nameless competition and almost dying in the process.

Getting the lost love back. Slowly, Gradually. (even if it felt too early to call it that)

And then... Her mind stops as the playful tunes start emanating out along with florescent light from the cellular, and the face of the one who has been a regular image of the thoughts that lull her to sleep.

On the other side, his voice is soft.

She can visualize him in the Diagnostics Office, leaning back on his chair.

Most probably on a break.

The new day hasn't even started for him, yet he remembers that it has, for her.

Their talks are interspersed with comfortable silence. For them, just the knowledge that the person on the other side is still there with them is enough.

All through the conversation, she waits.

In a hope that the irrelevant and unimportant date is written in faded letters somewhere in that brilliant mind of his.

As the line approaches its end, talks slowly halt, she feels a faint pang of sadness.

Maybe he doesn't remember it after all.

She bids her farewell, and as his finger hovers close to the end call button, she hears it.

Crystal Clear but still seeming unreal.

Happy Birthday, Pooja.

Her thanks are intermixed with a light giggle, unable to hold back the pleasure that erupts within her, along with the flutter called butterflies in her stomach.

Maybe there is always hope left, after all.

-------

Last year of Residence:

There have been countless moments when she has asked the time to wait, to slow its rushing footsteps that leave no mark behind.

Sometimes it's a beg, while in other vespertine hours, it's a mindless murmur.

This moment is one of them.

When a handful of sand is slowly released on a windy day, the swooshes and swishes carry them away, farther and farther, leave them with no choice but to fly along.

The minutes were being carried away by the same current, where they had no choice but to pass.

No one had the power to hold it, not even the mighties, the richest, the most supreme.

The conditions now extensively mimic the conditions during her first year.

Just this time, it was textbooks on internal medicine and medical procedure instead of ethics.

The wishes that day are hushed, the minimal party comprising of cupcakes and mug cakes and the gang, christened "The Invincibles" after they successfully tackle one hurdle and another but remain strong and together, in their PJs.

It must be one of the first nights since who knows how long when they spent their time doing an activity that doesn't involve colour coded tabs and complicated biological drawings.

And even though some of them make faux complaints about the wasted time, they all needed this break more than they could express.

The morning sun rays filter through the white curtains guarding the windows way too fast, making them unable to pinpoint the exact moment when the black of the night ceased to exist, when the sky became melanocrysus and when the golden took over the entire stretch.

A single text message pushes her to drop the blanket of laziness, the cocoon she inhabited. Getting up and placing a smile has never been as easy as it was now.

Come Over

------

The condo is inhabited by a stark silence when she reaches there.

She knocks. The click of the doorknob on the other side is almost instantaneous.

His hand wraps around her waist like a reflex deeply etched in his encephalon. For the first time in forever, their kisses are not chaste. Or momentary.

When he whispers a happy birthday wish against her forehead, that's what she would call intimacy.

The purity of the action touches her heart and makes it swell, with an emotion that she predicts will not remain unnamed any longer.

-------

First-year as an attending:

The celebratory vibes are in the air today.

Her stride is confident, heels playing a mellow harmony on the shining floors.

No one doesn't recognize her.

The intern who nearly lost her license to the Head of Diagnostics team, it was a journey that had thrown her off-road a million times.

Sometimes the barriers were pinpricks leaving no marks, and sometimes they were boulders crushing her.

And sometimes, one of these on-lookers would tear down her faith by stabbing her from the back, the cowardice of their soul, being mirrored in the blades of those knives of betrayal.

And yet she stands strong, her resolve unperturbed, as she faces the demons, those of others and those of her own.

It's a fight she has been learning to fight since she was eleven.

To curtain her tears with a glow in eyes, to hide the broken heart behind pretty lies. And just like practice makes one perfect, she has almost perfected the art of having to hide the real her inside.

As she passes the numerous congregations, amalgamations of patients and staff, she is greeted by wishes from old acquaintances whose kindness is apparent in their smile and by wishes of employed enemies, whose disinterest or sometimes blatant hate is too, completely apparent in their voice.

But they are not the ones she is worried about.

Interspersed between these two extremities are people who speak kind and in flattery lines with a sword behind their back.

Those who know how to hide their true intentions in the modulations of voice.

Every time she hears a wish where nothing is apparent, her heart stops for a while.

Strings of thought muddle her head and she tries to figure out the reality behind their words.

Sometimes she succeeds, sometimes she fails.

And sometimes she faces vehement opposition of her tired nerves who ask her to stop caring about those who are passing by.

But she never stops.

Her legs carry her to the Diagnostics office.

Her Office.

The swell of pride, of a fulfilment she last felt when she got into Edenbrook, make her head light.

She tries to stop but gives up the efforts soon.

If she has realized something through the twists of lawsuits and turns of almost dying, it is that if you keep waiting for the turns of the clock to approach a "right moment" for a chance to celebrate, you will probably keep waiting your entire life until your breath is being taken away and all that is left are regrets and missed opportunities of happiness.

So she twirls like a princess in her imaginary ball gown, beaming with satisfaction, and taking pride in giving herself the give of success.

Of making her loved ones and herself proud.

She gets so carried away in the train of thoughts, in which one bougie is connected by another, and one more, that she doesn't notice the person who preoccupies the room.

The halt is so sudden, that she almost tumbles upon the man. Almost.

She manages to get hold of herself, her hand on his back.

He turns, eyes meet.

If someone would have asked her what is cosmic, she would have said "The melt of glowing ambers into ice blue." Sure, she has looked into them more times than she can count or recollect. But every time their orbs meet, the reactions the action produces, she can only give the word seraphic to it.

When Ethan left for Amazon, she would often wonder why is she still keeping the lamp of hope alive. His absquatulation broke her, acted like a spark to her over-thinking mind. She would lie on her bed, eyes tracing the same lines on the ceiling above her over and over again, thinking just what she did wrong. She never reached the end of the path though, never really achieved the answer, even after meandering through a hundred courses of thoughts.

But now, she thanks her old self for living through it all. For not letting that lamp extinguish. For keeping it safe in a little corner of the labyrinths of her heart. Wordlessly, she hugs him, the plethora of emotions becoming quite too much to be expressed in minute syllables.

His whisper next to her ears, the innocently simplistic words induce a shiver in her spine.

But the last word.

4 letters, 1 word.

It hangs in the air like a diamond necklace around a maiden's neck. Like a tiny pendant that shines brighter than all elaborate jewels, all lengthy anecdotes.

It's enough, more than enough for her.

And as their smiles slowly spread like the slow rise of the golden sun, gently letting the rays spread through the humble earth. And those smiles, they shine together, brighter than the Sirius.

Happy Birthday, Love.

-------

Her casual gown, bearing floral patterns, flutters along with the soft grass, she feels a sense of wonder. Whether at the shimmering moon, the stardust spread through the stretch in the woods, or at the simplicity of her surroundings, she does not know.

Her unassuming footsteps walk slow, observant of her surroundings. After walking down the trail, she stops at the clearance.

At a distance, something shines under the silver moonbeams. Her mind beckons her to return back, but her intuition asks her to move on. She listens to the latter's plea.

A small cuboidal box and a bunch of white tulips lay peacefully out of place. She usually would have left it, just in case it was a trap.

But this time curiosity overtook reason and she picks the bouquet up. A small note amidst her favourite flowers.

I love you

No name. No initials. But she knew exactly who had written it. Not because he was the one who asked her to come here, in the heaven hidden amidst the chaos, but because those flourishes of his fanciful lettering would never escape her notice. Even if the only source of luminance was distant fairy lights on trees and the faint moonbeams.

Her eyes travel away from the articles. At a distance, the silhouette stands. The same silhouette from her sweven. But this time, there is no restlessness, no rush, no tension in the air. No thunder cackles and no waves crash. This time the silhouette waits for her, unlike the last time when it was her waiting for him.

He turns, only the shine of his orbs visible. And the shadow of the gorgeous smile that dances on his lips. The last time, his stone mask was too heavy, too powerful for any of them to break or move.

But this time? This time, the mask has fallen off, it has met the end of its existence.

He comes closer, the shadow now a clear image. He goes and picks up the cuboid and hands it to her.

"Open it" He whispers in a soft voice, that disappears as soon as it appears.

She takes it and opens it, as per his words. Everything is perfect and normal.

Except for the space in the middle.

Something sparkles, in silver lustre. Her first instinct is, Diamond? She decided to pick it up

It's a key.

She looks up to him, bewildered. Is it what she thinks it is?

Move-in with me?

She places the box of chocolates down, the key held tight in her fist.

And then she kisses him.

She doesn't have to speak a word, but he understands. After all, why would two intertwined hearts need verbal responses to know what the other one feels?

Only his home, can fill the brick walls of his house with love, and make it a home.

------

They both lay side by side on the lush grass, hands intertwined, hearts beating in unison, silence filling their souls like air fills their lungs.

They look at the stars and the moon. Or more appropriately, the gaze at the starry screen, but the mind plays significant moments from their time together.

Pooja's mind however thinks about the four of her birthdays since she set foot in Boston. The mundane softness of them, contrasting all the birthdays she has had in the rest of her years.

The photo frame of the interns from the first year. The group video call, her life from the second year. The PJ party from the third year. And the key from the fourth.

They are puzzle pieces of the saga of her life, the absence of friends from early years, the gap, the void now filled.

And after years of searching, she thinks she has finally found it. Hidden in the normality, the simplicity, the mundanity of life.

Happiness.

PS: If you are reading this, I am very grateful for you. Thank you for reading and I hope you have a great day🤎

Tags🤎 (Please let me know if you want to be added or removed or if I forgot you):

Perma: @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @udishaman @aestheticartsx @twinkleallnight @schnitzelbutterfingers @sophxwithers @sweatyrysconnoisseur @nikki-2406 @choicesfanaf @trrfanaddict @starrystarrytrouble @gardeningourmet @parkbarks @mvalentine @lovablegranny @mercury84choices @izzyourresidentlawyer @phoenixrising308 @adiehardfan @quixoticdreamer16 @a-crepusculo

Open Heart (All fics and edit): @lucy-268 @maurine07 @bellcat2010 @headoverheelsforramsey @estellaelysian @shanzay44

Ethan x Pooja: @aleynareads @choicesaddict5 @stygianflood @mysticaurathings @jamespotterthefirst @ilikemenbutonlyethanramsey @takemyopenheart @mm2305

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

45 notes · View notes

nafeary · 3 years

Text

Napoleon, Theo, Dazai, and Jean reacting to College Student!MC Stressed by Deadlines

Requested by @hqissodelicate:

hey toni boo, sara/delicateikemenmemes here ❤ i've been Going Through It with school 😔 so i was thinking of how my boos napoleon, theo, dazai & jean would react to MC who's a (stressed, exhausted) student who got yeeted to the mansion in the midst of a bunch of deadlines? thank you boo & i hope you're drinking your water 💙😤

✧✎ A/N: I’m sorry it took me this long to finish... but this was super fun to write and it helped me get back into writing after such a long break due to school bs. I’m not too satisfied with Dazai’a and the haphazard scenario/headcanons mush, but I still quite like this I think. Thank you for the request dear! Take care and drink water, everyone!

Warnings: Stress and mild mentions of anxiety, and like one mention of sexual intercourse

Napoleon Bonaparte

“You’re just a chore, after all.”

You whirled around. “Don’t act like your job is going to be that hard,” you could only scoff in annoyance, “I’m going to be inside my room all day, anyway.”

At first, Napoleon was slightly confused by your statement. Wouldn’t you want to explore this new world at all? But according to code, he’d just smirk and go (sleep) do smth

And true to your statement, you did stay inside your room for the most part

It’s not like your quadrillion essays would write themselves

It’s not like your college would just excuse your tardiness

It’s not like—

“Nunuche, you sure you don’t need a break from... whatever you’re doing?”

Napoleon was quite suddenly standing besides you, trying to read the mess that you’ve created.

“And who gave you permission to enter?”

“Me, obviously. I did have the impression that you were in danger, judging from the amount of curses I perceived.”

You could have died from embarrassment. Of course he had to hear your yells of frustration, stemming from the fact that your laptop was out of order, that you had no idea how to use ink properly, and—

“Have you realised that you regularly zone out?”

“I suppose? But if you wouldn’t mind, I really need to finish...” you trailed off, gesturing to the papers in front of you.

However, at his inquisitive gaze, you decided to explain that these were essays that could very well decide how you’d pass university, and, upon further inquiry, elaborated how a modern student’s life looked like

He never interrupted you unnecessarily, only to ask questions when a concept was too modern for him to comprehend

Your cursed assignments certainly made your life in the past harder to enjoy, but it also brought you and the emperor closer than ever

Unable to access the internet—or visit the college library—you had no proper sources for you references (considering that Comte’s library had no modern content, naturally)

You also didn’t want to bother Sebastian, especially since him and Comte had shown so much understanding for your peril that they practically forbid you from helping him out around the mansion

Their reasoning didn’t make you feel less bad though

Hence, you only had one option left that could complete your last essay

Which oh-so conveniently encompasses the Napoleonic Wars, something you truly did not want to burden him with

“Napoleon? Remember those essays that I have to finish for my university courses?”

“Of course.”

You were twiddling your thumbs, contemplating whether your grades are worth revisiting unpleasant memories, aka the taboo of the mansion

Abruptly, he grabbed your cheeks with just enough force to turn you away from looking at your feet, but not enough to inflict pain. “If there is anything I can help you with, I’d never shy away from it.”

Begrudgingly, you inquired him about his reign with as little focus on the gruesome details as possible your professor be damned

And holy shit, he’s amazing at writing? And Not just cringey love letters? Panty Sniffer Napoleon brrrrr

As you grew closer, he’s spoil you with vitamin-rich snacks (going as far as asking Arthur and Sebastian for medical advice)

He enjoys carving cute shapes out of fruits and eggs because he knows that their and his adorable presence will prompt the perfect amount of distraction to allow a small moment of rest

Says that it’s his duty as your guard and boyfriend to take care of your overworking habits

Expect frequent complaints from your beau, ranging from “how could they assign so many essays? Aren’t students just humans, too?” to “‘Reasons Why Edison Is Better Than Newton’? Do they even know what they’re talking about? Tch!”

Theodorus Van Gogh

You gleefully indulged in his charades for the first few days. They were a welcome distraction from your college work, after all

But the procrastination was accompanied by guilt, your anxiety building up every second you spent helping Sebastian with the chores, and gallivanting around town with Theo

A week passed before your sense of responsibility finally kicked in. So when Sebas came to wake you up just as the sun peaked past the horizon, you were already scribbling away on some sheets you’d found in your drawers

“Ah, good morning, Sebastian-san.”

“Good morning... what are you writing, if I may ask?”

“Just some essays for my college courses...” you said, glancing dejectedly at your notes.

Now that you didn’t have access to the internet, and your laptop’s battery was all used up, it made your work all the more tedious, but you had to set your teeth and do this.

“Give me 10 minutes, and I’ll join you in the kitchen.”

He had wanted to argue, but you didn’t let him. And when he saw you leaving the house with Theo later in the afternoon, he could only shake his head.

You felt like you owed the art dealer, especially since you blurted out his secret the literal next moment, so you committed to helping him while also keeping up with your work

Although, him calling you dog wasn’t nice either—even though, according to Sebas’ explanation, Hondje wasn’t exactly the equivalent to mutt

That cycle continued for days. Helping out around the mansion, getting pulled around by Theo, and writing your essays deep into the night

Not to mention all the worries that pressured your shoulders further and further into the ground

You were missing so many group project deadlines, disappointing people that relied on you... it was safe to say that sleep did not come easy, if barely

Just before you arrived at your room after a late night art exhibit did your body decide to fail you, tripping over nothing multiple times.

It prompted Theo to call you out before you could even think of rushing past the door, steadying you with a hand more gentle than you had ever experienced it to be.

“Sebas informed me that you’ve been working yourself to death.”

You silently cursed the butler. “I haven’t—“

“Give me your laptop.”

Perplexion ran across your mien, wondering how he could possibly have remembered such a modern detail from your countless rambles. “It’s batt— it doesn’t work right now, so it’s not like it would stop me from working.”

Arguing with the devil was a mistake.

He snaked his arms around you, holding the door handle in place with one hand while the other still kept you upright. “I don’t care whether you work or not, I’m not your mother. And regardless of its abilities, hand it over, knabbletje.”

What other choice did you have but to comply?

He ordered—yes, ordered—you to go to bed right that instant

If you hesistanly ask him to do the same (we all know what a hard worker he is), he’ll just press a guileless kiss to your forehand, telling you not to worry about him

The next morning, you were already worrying for your baby’s safety within the sadist’s hands when the devil invited himself into your room

“Ever heard of knocking?”

“Morning to you, too, Hondje.” He sent you an overly handsome smirk, handing you the laptop tucked underneath his arms. “You won’t be able to use that spider web Sebas told me about, but writing should work.”

You stared at Theo in disbelief, all the while internally laughing at him misinterpreting the World Wide Web. Deciding to trust in him, you clicked the power button. And sure enough, it sprang to life. “What... how in the world did you...”

Leo overheard you and Sebas talking about solar energy sometime… hush, just run with it

He fell into the seat next to you, propping his chin upon his fist. “I didn’t do anything. Just asked Sebas whether there was a way for you to use this. Leonardo took notice and tinkered around with it. Don’t ask—ah!”

You threw your arms around his shoulders, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. “Thank you for taking care of me, Theo.”

Would you have lifted your face, then you’d have caught a glimpse of the vermillion shading his cheeks. “I didn’t do it to help you. I simply can’t risk having you become a liability at work. That’s all.”

Anyway, tsundere tendencies aside, you know what another big factor of dating Theo is?

King if you’re not allergic, understandably, if so, he’ll change his clothes before even thinking of visiting you

On days that you decide to be especially stubborn, he pulls you outside, all the whilst whistling for the jolly golden retriever

And as soon as he comes running, your mind goes brrrrr cute dog

Although, he’ll try his best not to distract you from work. He knows from personal experience that it’s a much bigger annoyance than help

Thus, he’ll certainly use his connections and amiable rip Shakes relationships with the residents to help you out with the research process

Also, with his superior memory, he knows what generally makes you happy and relaxed, so he’ll be his usual observant self to decipher just what would help you perfectly relax/finish your work

Hardworking boi, please love him

Dazai Osamu

Dazai is the type of person that doesn’t mind upsetting people and risking someone’s disdain if it supports that person in the long run

And he’s able to read people like books, so it shouldn’t be surprising that he knows you’re overwhelmed before you even realize it

You’ve been going to sleep too late and waking up too early? He’ll gently force you (if you’re 100% against it, he won’t do it ofc) to sleep beside him, making sure that you won’t rise with the sun for once

You’ve been exposing your wrist to heavy sprain? He’ll teach you some handy-dandy 5 Min Crafts techniques that are guaranteed to send your hands on a vacation

You've been suffering from writer’s block? Time to go on a lovely stroll through nature with your boo

Your shoulders and neck are hurting beyond sanity? He swears by hot springs, so the thermae is his go-to for when you need to relive some muscle kinks

He never fails to procure the perfect amount of bubbles and temperature. And depending on how comfortable you are with it, he’ll offer to wash your hair.

And since dude got Disney princess hands, you most probably fall asleep, but our man is there to hold you above the water

His bare thighs are an added bonus, sending your mind into spirals faaaar away from college work

After you’re done bathing, he’ll ask you whether you’d like him to braid your hair (if it’s long enough), and his Disney princess hands will not disappoint

In the beginning, it was incredibly vexing to have a security cam in the form of a handsome man always on the qui vive

But at some point, you started embracing Dazai’s overwhelmingly passive—you knew exactly what he was doing whenever he’d do something random—protectiveness

Especially since it didn’t only help you complete your work; on the contrary, you were always excited to spend time with the Japanese writer

But that didn’t curb your confusion at the whole debacle. Why was he this focused on your well-being?

So, you decided to confront him

“Dazai?” Once again, you were relaxing in his arms, his fingers threading through your hair lulling you into a dreamlike state.

He ticked his head to the side, pulling your entwined hands closer towards his heart. The sun streamed into the run at just the right angle, yet the golden light was not as bright as his vivid citrine orbs.

You sighed, unable to look at his stupid handsome face for too long. ”Why is it that you insist on taking care of me?”

“Someone has to, Toshiko-san.”

You’d have blurted out your feelings if it wasn’t for the sudden embrace you found yourself in. As guileless as it appeared, you knew he was trying to stop you from acting on your thoughts.

Deciding that you didn’t want to pressure him further (after all, you knew that he had a hellish first life), you accepted the unclarity of his feelings—even though his actions spoke loud enough for you to understand.

It was that day that you decided to repay him for all he’s done for you

And you wouldn’t let him yeet himself through a window in an attempt to evade the love sent his way this time

Even if it took decades, you wanted him to feel just as safe and loved as you did in his company

You were glad to have such a caring man by your side who helps you with managing you self care

You could only hope that he’d allow himself to be treated the same way

Please just take our love, boo. We love you

Jean d’Arc

Well fuck, how could he possibly help someone who’s stressed when he himself is a 24/7 McDonalds that only sells Chicken McStress?

Anywho, I feel like he’d be the complete opposite of Dazai when confronted with a stressed MC

He’d care just as much, of course, but he thinks that it would be better to give her space, since he himself understands the desire for solitude well

So yeah, I can see him not going out of his way to check up on you if you weren’t super duper close friends/lovers IF it wasn’t for his friend Napoleon

After all, it was him who gave your boyfriend a lil talk, convincing him that, perhaps even if someone needs space, they probably still need someone to look after them

Living with Jean is basically Ted Talks everyday

Anyway, he embarked on his journey to hopefully help you and and to relieve some stress that was wearing you down (according to the statement of several residents)

And, finding himself halting abruptly, our pessimistic little bean realised that he’s got zero idea what did help you attain bliss

So he opted for the next best option—things he knew that made his friends relax

Plan A

Hearing a few oddly reluctant raps on your door, you went to open it. As soon as you did, the beautiful man who’d captured your heart entered your vision, your eyes finding his amethyst ones immediately.

You two stayed like that for a moments, only breaking eye contact when he sighed and simultaneously thrusted a mug into your hand, already in the process striding back to his own room.

“Uhm… Jean? I’m a bit busy right now, but would you like to come in?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Don’t you find it inappropriate for a man to enter your room, mademoiselle?”

“Jean,” you giggled at his archaic mindset, gently rubbing your thumb between his brows to even out the crease. “We’ve had sex before, you know. Of course you ca—“

Wrong thing to say. He stormed past you, vermillion cheeks practically leaving a trail.

Chuckling to yourself, you turned to the mug’s contents. “Hm? Hot chocolate?”

Plan B:

“If this doesn’t harbor your discomfort…” Your boyfriend reluctantly stood in your room’s corner, standing straighter than a rod.

Frankly, your essays have kept you entirely too busy, and you longed for the warmth of the French man’s feather-like embrace.

“On the contrary, I enjoy your presence.” And you went right back to scribbling away.

Jean frowned. “Haven’t you been writing stories since this morning?”

“They’re not stories… and, yeah? I believe so.”

Stepping towards your seated form, he extended his hand; you grabbed it without thinking twice. “Is everything alrig—whoa!”

With the ease of a seasoned soldier, he picked you up before haphazardly tugging you into bed with bewilderment maring your features. “You should sleep.”

“—what?”

He stared at you blankly, as if expecting you to fall into the land of dreams right that instant.

“Did something prompt,” you slipped your arms out from underneath the duvets, gesturing wildly, “this?”

It was hard to be upset with Jean, his clueless but genuine persona the reason why you fell for him, yet you couldn’t disguise the irritation coursing through your veins—you had work to return to, after all.

“I think you need to rest, mademoiselle.”

Your blinking made him avert his eyes, explaining quietly, “I am uncertain what supports your release of tension, so I thought that perhaps sleeping could help since it certainly does show affect with Napoleon.”

“Ah, and you made me hot chocolate since that’s what calms Mozart.”

After internally simping for his soft and wholesome dumbass energy, you pulled him to bed beside you, claiming that it would help you relax (but only after telling him that it was okay for him to ask for your preferences)

And falling asleep to the heartbeat underneath his broad chest is definitely a 5-star-resort vacation

He’d eventually ask his relationship advisor Napoleon whether it is okay to have you help them out with his reading/writing lessons (you

You, alongside Napoleon, steadily agreed, despite knowing that it was a ploy to keep you away from overworking

Please also love this boy, thanks

Tag List of the most wonderful sweethearts (just message me if you’d like to be added <3): @juminly @kisara-16 @sweetlittlemouse @thesirenwashere @nad-zeta @delicateikemenmemes

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official-weasley · 3 years

Text

The Grief - (The Irreplaceable Charlie Weasley AU)

Warnings: mentions of death, losing a friend

Word count: 3,693

Characters: Charlie Weasley and my OC Nova from TICW which you can find here

Charlie

The longer we followed Andre and Penny the more Nova's grip on my hand tightened. Penny's silent tears and Andre's facial expression weren't exactly an indicator of good news.

“I...I don't know when...or who. Andre found...them.” Penny sobbed, pointing at Tonks and Remus lying on the floor next to each other.

I closed my eyes, trying to calm myself down and suppress the feeling in my chest that wanted me to scream. Nova let go of my hand as she started to cry loudly. She took a step towards Tonks and fell to her knees.

It broke my heart seeing her like this. I was the only one besides Tonks herself that knew how close they were.

About a year after we moved to the Sanctuary, Nova confessed that she was closer to Tonks than Penny and made me swear not to tell her little secret to the latter one. Penny always considered Nova her best friend even though all four of them were very close and even though we weren't teenagers anymore I knew that Penny would be offended if she found out.

Nova said that she wishes she could spend more time with Tonks while I just always thought that they weren't that close or that they couldn't find the time to spend with each other.

She told me that in our last 2 years at school – especially once she and I got together – she started to notice that she and Penny didn't always agree and loved how supportive and unintrusive Tonks was. She said that once she told her that we were together – even though we said we wouldn't tell anyone – it just felt so good and she got a feeling that she and Tonks bonded over it like they never did before.

For some reason, to Nova, Tonks showed a gentler side, the side she never showed due to all the mischief she hid behind and Nova felt bad for needing so long to see her true face – her kindness, support, and unjudgmental nature.

When we found out that Voldemort was back, Nova started to correspond more with Tonks. She was worried for her – her constantly on missions to discover where the Death Eaters had their meetings. It was Tonks that sent us the intel and told us what was going on in England.

After Sirius died, Nova started to notice strange behavior in Tonks' letters. One day she was happy, the next it seemed that she would rather run away or disappear off the face of the Earth. Nova got concerned and with Olivia's help, she made Tonks stay with us for a week. Moody wasn't happy about it but Nova had to know that she was okay.

It was then that Tonks told her about Remus and how she felt about him, saying that she never thought she would find anyone who would make her feel that way and with everything Nova knew about her from school when the girls were talking about boys, she knew that this was serious for Tonks.

From then on out, Nova kept sending her encouraging messages not to give up hope and that she should try and make him see the light at the end of the tunnel.

I still remember the sound Nova made the day when she received one of Tonks' letters. I ran down the stairs so fast that I almost rolled down them, not knowing what was going on. Nova was pacing up and down our living room, having the biggest grin on her face. She was shaking when she hurried to me to show me the letter, being so excited about its content that she told me that Tonks and Remus are together before I could start reading the letter.

Every time Nova got a letter from Tonks it made her day. I knew she missed the girls and being back in England with everything that was going on so it was nice to see her less worried when Tonks told her that everyone is okay and safe.

Tonks might've been over the roof when Nova told the girls that she was pregnant but I bet nothing compared to how Nova reacted when Tonks sent her a letter telling her that she was. Nova cried, wrapped in a blanket – looking like a little fluff ball on the sofa – for what seemed like hours. She was happy for all of her girls that they were happy and more importantly safe. But she was extra excited for Tonks because she finally gave in to her feelings and didn't hold back – something Tonks was struggling with a lot.

We were one of the first to come and visit them when Teddy was born. Remus was over the roof about being a father and it was a sight for sore eyes seeing them be a small happy family.

Nova was shocked, however, when Tonks asked her to be Teddy's godmother. She told her that Remus already asked Harry but she wanted her boy to have a godmother too. Tonks told her that there was nobody else that would even cross her mind and I will always remember how she asked Nova.

“I know we are both an only child and if I ever imagined having a sister she would be just like you and I want Teddy to be surrounded with a family that loves and adores him. Nova, will you be his godmother?”

That night when we got home, Nova couldn't shut up about the fact that Tonks called her a sister and she was so overwhelmed with all the feelings, it was the most adorable thing to watch and it was a plus for me because she was super cuddly after that and I never have enough of snuggling with her.

“No, no, no, no!” Nova's voice brought me back to the cruel reality and I opened my eyes.

“Tonks!” Nova was now leaning over her, her fingers buried in her blouse, shaking her body.

“Tonks, wake up! Nymphadora, please!” Nova's voice cracked as she pressed her head against Tonks' chest.

I kneeled beside her and gently put my hand on her back, not knowing how she will react to my touch. I have known Nova since she was 11 and I have never seen her like this, not even when her dad passed away.

Nova was never good when it came to dealing with negative feelings. She needed a long time to get over what happened to her dad, even though she would never admit it. She rarely talked about him – now more so, when she was telling Aoede stories about her brave grandpa and his adventures.

She liked keeping these feelings for herself, not wanting to burden anyone with them, and always tried being cheerful and happy for the sake of others. I was the only one who knew what she was going through when her dad passed away and it even took years for her to tell me most of the things and it was rather frightening how many emotions she kept inside her.

I made her promise that she will always tell me when she has a bad day or would like to rant or talk about her problems. After all, she was the one who taught me that I should speak up my mind. It was ironic that she didn't do the same. Through the years of us living alone in Romania, it made her see that she doesn't bother me if she talks about what worries her and spoke openly about her concerns about what is happening back in England.

I was proud of her for that and we promised each other to tell each other everything, even the darkest thoughts that cross our minds – it made us feel even closer.

But this...I have never seen her like this. The Nova I knew would cry silently, trying to seem strong for the rest of us and then cry some more when she gets somewhere private.

I feel bad because I have no idea what is going through her mind, what is making her cry so publicly, forgetting that people are around her and Tonks.

Perhaps, she felt the same as me – she hoped that nobody would get killed, that we will all be okay and get through this together. Perhaps she thought the same as I did for Fred – the questions that were fogging my mind.

“Dora,” she pleaded, “please. Please, open your eyes! You, you have to! Please!”

A new set of tears ran down my cheeks. It was so hard seeing her like this, hearing her cry and beg for her friend to come back. I bit my lip, hoping it would make my jaw stop shaking.

“Nova,” I whispered to her.

I wanted her to turn around – to me – so I could wrap my arms around her and stroke her hair and tell her that everything will be okay and that I am here for her.

She didn't turn around. It seemed as if she didn't even hear me. Her head was buried in Tonks' shoulder and her sobs quietened down.

I don't know how long we were in that position, me gently rubbing circles on her back.

All of a sudden she stiffened and lifted her head as if she remembered something.

“Love?” With crying so much, me calling her came out as a mere whisper.

She stood up so abruptly that she almost knocked both of us over. Her fists were clenched and she was frowning. I tilted my head, carefully observing her expression. She looked determined as if she has set a mission for herself in her head. I have never seen her make a face like that before and it was frightening how she could go from crying to brushing her tears away and putting on this emotionless facade.

“Nova?”

I didn't know how to approach her or what to say to her. She looked like she didn't want anyone talking to her and the last thing I wanted to do was upset her more.

“I'm fine, Charlie,” she said with a harsh voice and kissed my cheek.

“Has anyone seen Harry?” She turned to Penny, Andre, Tulip, and Jae who was pressing a cloth to his temple.

Everybody shook their head, observing her and being surprised by her sudden change of attitude as much as I was. Nova nodded before starting to walk away.

“Nova, love, where are you going?” I swallowed thickly, hoping that I didn't sound too concerned for her even though I was losing it on the inside.

“I have to find Harry,” she said without stopping, “I'm fine so don't worry. Go back to your family, Charlie. They need you.”

She turned to me, cupped my face, and pressed our foreheads together. She inhaled and exhaled deeply before giving me a gentle kiss and walked away.

Nova

I was walking around the Great Hall, careful not to stumble over anything as people were still trying to clean the rubble that was left from the battle, trying to find Harry.

I brushed my cheeks to get the feeling of dried tears away. I didn't feel like crying. In fact, I didn't feel anything. I could feel my heartbeat but no emotions – as if I completely shut down. My mind only had one mission – to find Harry and talk to him.

Something broke in me when I saw Tonks, with her eyes closed, looking so peaceful as if she was sleeping. I was a fool to hope that we wouldn't lose anyone. It was enough that I lose a brother-in-law, that Charlie lost a brother. I wasn't even prepared for that, far from it.

I knew that nothing I would do could bring her back but I tried anyway. Why her? Why Remus? Why both of them?

As I was sobbing, my chest pressed against hers, I kept thinking of Aoede, being in Romania with my mum, wondering why mum and dad left without hugging her one last time. I despised myself for it. I hated that I was so weak that I couldn't embrace my daughter one more time. What if I was in Tonks' place? What if that was the last time she would ever see her mummy and it looked like I didn't even care because I was selfish and I couldn't handle saying a proper goodbye?

I kept thinking how Aoede lost an aunt, how I lost one of my closest friends, how Tonks called me her sister, and how those words touched my soul like no other compliment ever did before. It just seemed fitting. We were so similar in so many ways and it broke my heart knowing she finally found her place next to Remus and started a family and now...

And then I stiffened and the tears stopped falling.

Teddy.

I might've lost a friend but Teddy...he lost both of his parents.

When Tonks asked me to be his godmother, I have never imagined that I would have to take the role so seriously. I thought I would be the aunt who lives in Romania and brings an exotic souvenir every time she visits, not have to visit his grandmother and help plan his future and tell him stories about how heroic his parents were.

I didn't want that. I shouldn't need to do that. They were supposed to survive and return to their baby boy like Charlie and I will go back and bring that beautiful grin on our girl's face.

But they won't...they were gone and I couldn't waste my time on my emotions and my well-being. I have to be strong for Teddy's sake, be there for him when he will be old enough to realize what truly happened to his parents. It doesn't matter how I feel as long as he is safe and feeling okay.

I didn't even need to take a deep breath when I finally spotted Harry. I didn't feel nervous. I don't know what made me shut down my emotions and get all protective. Perhaps it was my motherly instinct. I just knew I had to do it. Perhaps it was the fact that I have never experienced such a painful emotion as I did when I saw Tonks and Remus and I simply won't stand for anyone else feeling that way.

“Harry,” I cleared my throat to appear more composed, “can I talk to you for a moment?”

Harry didn't say anything. He simply nodded and stood up. He followed me to the other side of the Great Hall, where we could be alone and I motioned with my hand for him to sit down on one of the fallen rocks.

“I know we don't talk often and perhaps you will find the things I will tell you and ask you about strange but this is something I feel like I need to do and I hope you can understand that.” I started.

“Okay,” Harry said slowly.

“How are you?”

Harry's eyes widened. Clearly, my question startled him.

“I-I'm okay.” He stuttered.

“No, you're not so don't say that. I am not asking you just to get a simple answer, I truly want to know.” I put a hand on his shoulder and mustered a small smile.

“Well,” Harry inhaled deeply, “I feel relief that it's finally over.” He scanned the Hall.

I didn't say anything, only hummed in response. I was hoping he would say more.

“I...honestly, I don't know how to feel. Yes, it's over but so many people got hurt or killed and it's all because of me.” I could see that he was desperately trying to hold in the tears.

“Harry, you shouldn't blame yourself. Just because Voldemort was after you it doesn't mean it would be any different if he wasn't.”

“I know,” he sighed, “but in a way, I will always blame myself.”

“Just give it time and please take care of yourself and take some time off. Don't go around and help others and try to appear strong for everyone else while you suffer on the inside. You need to heal as much as everybody else if not more.”

“You should listen to your own advice.” He smiled sheepishly at me.

“Yeah.” I let out a silent chuckle.

“Harry, do you know about Tonks and...”

“Remus? Yeah.” He bowed his head and sniffed.

“I'm sorry you lost the last person who connected you to your father.”

“And I'm sorry you lost one of your closest friends.”

We both fell silent after he said that and I was surprised how comforting it was to sit with him without saying a word.

I met Harry in his first year when Ron wrote to Charlie about Norbert and I saw him a few times at the Burrow after that. But him constantly having something happening to him and him, Hermione and Ron going on a secret mission, I never had the time to get to know him better. Most of the things came from Ron or Ginny.

“Harry,” I started after a while, “I know it's probably the last thing on your mind but I wanted to talk to you about Teddy.”

“Right.” He replied as if he was just reminded of the little boy's existence.

“From what I have heard about you I know you will start worrying about being his godfather after you process everything.”

Harry only hummed so I continued.

“And I know we never got the chance to talk about us being Teddy's godparents with everything that has been going on and frankly, I was hoping we would never have to have this conversation.” I sighed. “I wanted to ask you how you feel about it?”

“Feel about what? Being a godparent?”

“Yes.”

“It's fine. An honor, I suppose.” Harry shrugged.

“Okay, now let's stop beating around the bush and tell me how you really feel.”

“How am I supposed to feel? What am I supposed to say? That I don't feel ready?” “Yes.”

“That I don't know what Remus was thinking giving the role to me?” “Mhm.”

“What am I supposed to do? They were supposed to survive. I don't even know what being a godfather means. I'm just...I'm just...”

“Say it.” I encouraged him.

“I'm just a kid! I am not old enough for this! How am I supposed to take care of a child, of a baby? I don't know anything about babies.” Harry's chest was rising and falling fast.

This was exactly why I shut down before. Why I stopped crying. Why I wanted to talk to him. I felt the burden of the role consume me the second Teddy popped to mind and then I thought of Harry and how I would feel if I was having the same feelings being his age. I couldn't imagine it. I already felt awful and I couldn't wrap my mind around it how I could help and what I could do let alone be 17 and have to think about it.

“Just a kid,” Harry repeated. “I don't know the first thing about parenting, Nova. My aunt and uncle never treated me as a kid should be treated and everybody that came even close to being a parent figure to me...” He clenched his teeth together, his eyes burning with tears.

“I told you this is going to be a strange conversation and you probably find it weird that I opened this topic here but I needed to tell you that you don't have to worry about it. I know for most things what you have been through and as I said at the start of this conversation, I want you to live in peace and take a breather from everything that has happened to you. It's okay if you don't feel like it and you shouldn't blame yourself for not wanting this.” I wrapped my arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer.

“I will talk to Teddy's grandmother and try and be as involved as I possibly can be from Romania. I just wanted to lift one burden off your shoulders and be bold enough to tell you that because nobody seems to be straightforward with you. Know that nobody expects you to parent him or be there for him when you can hardly keep it together yourself. You'll be involved in his life when you're ready to do so and I needed you to hear that. Perhaps it's the mother in me that is saying all of this, but I want you to start living your life. Merlin knows you deserve a proper normal moment.” I bestowed him with a gentle smile.

“Tha-thank you, Nova. Honestly, I didn't know I needed to hear all of this. How did you know?” Harry corrected his glasses, locking eyes with me.

“Honestly, I am afraid I don't have an answer for you.” I shook my head. “I just felt this urge to talk to you. I know how it is when you bottle everything inside and try to be an adult when you're not supposed to grow up yet. It was my husband that taught me to open up and speak about the things that are bothering me and with you losing so much and so many people that you loved, I felt the need to step in. I'm sorry if it freaks you out or you find it inappropriate.”

“Not at all. I don't remember the last time someone older than me spoke so honestly with me. I am glad you did. It's good to talk to an adult and not pretend that I am one too.” He smiled.

“Alright, I'll let you go back to your friends.” I stood up and Harry followed my lead.

We nodded at each other and walked to the Weasleys in silence.

“Are you okay?” Charlie asked the second I sat down next to him, concern in his eyes.

“No,” I answered truthfully. “But we'll get through this together. Are you okay?”

“No. But we'll get through this together.” Charlie half smiled and leaned on my shoulder.

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