#i took this after midnight last night so it counts as a birthday indulgence | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

keilemlucent · 3 years

Text

a night less cold

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~7.8k

beta’ed: @hawnks

happy birthday pro hero hawks! who’s ready for a night of dazzling and drinking?

you aren’t.

warnings: soft hawks, sick fic, hurt/comfort, a wittle angst, horny shit, fucking while sick, a wittle daddy kink

...

a/n: happy birthday kei 🎉!!! happy to celebrate with a classic little slice of hurt/comfort and horniness <3 i’ve never done a true sick fic, so here’s a wittle bit of that as well!!!

thank you for reading and enjoying this year, and being here!! i’m endlessly grateful and just :’^) full this day. enjoy loves 💕

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Keigo’s birthday was, historically, quite the spectacle.

It was tradition that his once-budding, now-thriving agency would host a massive, grand party at a local venue, either an upscale club or dimly-lit, luxury hotel. Keigo would splurge his personal funds on the best music, food, and drinks that money could buy. There were popular DJs, the best and greasiest foods he could bring in, not to mention an open bar on every floor of the festivities.

It was quite a press event as well. Paparazzi and reporters would line up outside of the venue for a few quick words with heroes and socialites as they spanned the red carpet, colored like the vibrancy of his wings.

The event thereafter was debaucherous, obviously, according to Keigo, and quite a media circus as well.

And this year, you were going as his partner and date, also obviously.

The year prior, you and Keigo had still been relatively secretive about your relationship, but as you’d become quietly public in the recent months, Keigo was itching to show you off.

...

December 27th, you awoke in Keigo’s massive, soft bed to his soft humming and low coos, one of his more birdish qualities. The floating sound echoed from his chest to your ear that laid snug against it as he ran his fingers slowly around the shell of your ear.

As you cracked your eyes open, you immediately noted that you felt a bit... off. There was a sticky dryness in your throat that definitely hadn’t been there when you laid down the night before, at least not as strongly.

You opted to ignore it, tugging Keigo closer by the small of his back and kissing his naked collarbones.

“Mornin’” You yawned, blinking sleep from your eyes. “What time is it?”

Keigo’s humming seized as his hand moved to run slowly up and down the back of your neck, “Early. Get some more rest.”

Shaking your head, you propped your head on your folded arms, regarding Keigo with a quiet reverence.

He was too pretty, it stunned you, most of the time. Even with a mop of slept-on blonde waves and the blushed lines and creases of the sheets on his cheeks, he still looked like some gracious god carved him from amber and marble. With the sheets pooling at his waist and a smirk growing on his lips, you couldn’t help smile back.

“You’re staring,” Keigo grinned without a hint of ire. “It’s cute.”

“You’re cute,” Heat pooled in your chest. “Happy early birthday, tailfeathers.”

“Why, thank you,” He lit up, wings puffing behind him as he tugged you closer by the waist. “I’m very excited for you to come tonight, you know. I get to show off my cute little dove to the prying eyes of the world.”

“Showing me off? I’m flattered,” You mused, leaning into his heat. “I’m excited too.”

Keigo took a quick pause before tilting your chin up with a single finger, “Are you sure you’re okay to go tonight?”

“Of course!” You beamed, nuzzling into his neck and ignoring any odd aches in your sleepy muscles. “Why wouldn’t I be? Getting cold feet, birdy?”

He rubbed up your spine, dropping a kiss onto your crown, “You were coughing a bit last night, dove.”

That was news to you. It explained your gummy vocal chords.

“Dry air,” It had to be, right? “Just gave me a dry throat.”

Keigo didn’t look fully convinced in the sheets, feathers ruffled and forehead furrowed.

It was easy to smooth it away with a quick pounce, straddling his hips and kissing him breathless. A bit of an early birthday treat, you supposed, as you nipped and sucked down Keigo’s neck, the little jerks of his hips and swallowed groans only spurred you lower, down to his naked collarbones, grinding down on the hardening bulge in his boxers briefs—

Until your throat began to sting a bit too much for comfort.

You turned your head away, covering your mouth with the back of your hand and clearing your throat.

“Dry air?” Keigo asked with a lopsided grin, hands moving from their wide splay on your inner thighs to around your ribs, coaxing you back into the sheets.

“Feels like it.”

You tried to brush off the feeling, though it lingered as the two of you readied for the day.

A shower was had, steam filling the bathroom as you both sleepily washed each other. It was early enough to indulge in some chaste (and not-so chaste) kisses between washing each other in the spray.

Water poured down from the ceiling-mounted shower head, slicking the two of you with heat. Your head laid against Keigo’s chest as he washed your back, gently swaying your bodies with the tips of his wings against the dewy walls of the shower.

Resting against his chest was a comfort, so early. The day was packed, and you both knew it. A bit of respite before the chaos was much needed and incredibly welcomed.

“Are you sure you need to go to work?” Keigo whined, the pads of his fingers dipping into any tension in your lower back. “I’d love to keep my little chickadee by my side all day.”

You sighed, “You know I would, but I’ve got that report due today and I think my boss will kill me if I don’t get it in on time.”

Keigo huffed, giving your ass cheek a little pinch. It worked to his favor as you yelped, falling against him. You felt him smirk against your wet hair.

“You could always just quit--” Keigo reminded you, a long-standing offer once more put directly on the metaphorical table.

...

It had become quite obvious that Keigo really loved taking care of you. It helped him in unspeakable ways that he had trouble describing to himself, let alone you. As much as he was considered lazy and brash by his colleagues, regarded as too much and too blunt, often to the point of detriment, he was nothing if not goal-oriented.

He just wanted to rest.

Keigo would give the world to just laze around, preferably and hopefully with you, as much as he could while still being a hero. Trouble was, he wasn’t built for loafing about. His years at the Commission truly altered the way his mind and body ran, permanently. It wasn’t something he was ever very explicit about with you, or himself for that matter. All of the brutal training— disgustingly long days with late nights and early mornings, harsh tests or endurance and stamina, and the pushing and pushing of his speed had a great side effect.

He couldn’t rest most of the time.

His body wouldn’t, couldn’t, as with his mind. Whether he was at home lounging or taking a break at his agency, he was always on guard, mentally sprinting for the next moment, and often without cause. It kept him constantly poised, tense, and on edge.

But when you came into his life, that slowly began to change.

It didn’t happen too early in your relationship, the beginning was slow after all. Lots of dancing around each other's feelings, banter and flirting which both of you equally were equally enraptured by the other, but assumed it was all baseless.

It hardly was.

Slowly as you too became closer, sharing space and nights twisted in the sheets together, early morning cups of coffee and little experiences Keigo never imagined he’d have with another person, something started to shift.

When you started to settle in his life, Keigo had something to take care of and god, did it calm him. His need to be constantly moving, doing something, was still there, but when you were settled in his arms, he had something to do— many things to do.

He had the privilege of taking care of you.

You were far more than an outlet for his energy, that would be a complete reduction of your relationship and you, but it was one of the many things Keigo was so grateful to you for.

...

You sighed wistfully, “Maybe someday, love. For now, I gotta get out of here, I don’t want to be late. And neither should you.”

“Aw, babe,” Keigo pouted, grabbing your ass with two hands, massaging at the residual suds in time with your budding whines and gasps. “Not even time for a quickie?”

“Later,” You slapped his hands away playfully. “Have you ever heard of ‘birthday sex’, love? You’ll be getting plenty of it.”

Keigo gave you one of his signature golden grins, cupping your jaw for a few more desperate kisses before you both exited the shower.

He helped you towel off, starting from your ankles to your thighs, lips trailing with promises of the coming day. They stretched up to your ribs, little nips placed on the underside of your breasts before he dried them. You watched his wings ripple and shift with each brush of his lips, obviously getting off on the treatment as much as you were.

Fuck, did you adore him with your whole heart.

As you both dressed for the day, Keigo checked in, ever attentive.

“I’ll pick you up at your place this evening around eight, be dressed and ready for me, okay baby? We’ll go right to the venue.”

You nodded, reminded of the gorgeous (and pricey) outfit he’d treated you too, fitted just right and coordinating perfectly with his own outfit. It was the perfect match, absolutely ideal to show yourselves as the pair you were.

“Perfect, I’ll be ready, done up and waiting,” You glowed with the thought, ignoring the twinge of pain, deep in your muscles.

Nothing a cup of coffee and a few extra stolen kisses wouldn’t fix.

You dressed quickly, rushing off to the subway as Keigo took off from the wide balcony of his apartment to prepare for his own day of preparations for the celebration.

The party would begin that night and wear into his birthday, midnight sounding would mean a round of shots for anyone who could still stand and a jeering of cheers for the beloved number two hero.

Meanwhile, you and your still-dry throat scampered off to work.

...

It proved to not just be a dry throat.

As you sat down at your desk to begin your shift, a little twine of dread had wormed its way into your ribs as an odd exhaustion settled in your bones.

As your shift began, a myriad of symptoms arose.

The air felt cold, too cold for what you were used to at your office. The cardigan your kept handy hardly did anything to keep out the unnatural chill. You took note of it with a few quick glances at your coworkers, all looking perfectly temperate in blouses and dress shirts.

The knowledge did nothing to soothe your chattering teeth.

Next came the headache, a pounding behind your eyes as snot began to ooze from your nose, a little pile of tissues filled your small trash bin. In an act of desperation, you chugged your water bottle, hoping it would quell some of the stabbing pain that was stuffing your skull.

(It didn’t.)

After your vision went double looking at your monitors, you relented and laid your head on the flat of your desk.

The dry throat you’d had worsened next, little coughs turning into hacking, dry wheezes that couldn’t be ignored in the din of your workplace. You covered them the best you could, trying to put on your best face as you slowly and painfully completed your due report.

All the same, someone must’ve spotted you and your poor state as you were sent home shortly after.

It wasn’t even noon yet.

You tried to rationalize on the subway ride home.

Admitting to being sick meant that the entire night would be beyond fucked. It was supposed to be a perfect night to let loose and be open with your love, not one spent curled in bed and aching.

You had time, you resolved, you could fix this.

Despite the fact that, even in your winter coat, you were fucking freezing, you convinced yourself that you weren’t sick.

You couldn’t be.

The ache in your muscles was from sleep deprivation and fatigue, obviously. The winter air was the source of your burning throat and eyes. Getting sick wasn’t an option.

As you journeyed home, you made a vow to simply sleep off your ills.

Nothing a little rest couldn’t fix.

You practically kicked the door to your apartment open, the sound hardly phasing you as your ears had begun to ring on and off on the ride home. You haphazardly dropped your purse to the floor of your small foyer, kicking off your shoes and padding to your kitchen.

You rapidly tried to think of some remedies while still hardly acknowledging any potential illness.

Your first thought was tea, something herbal with lemon and honey tossed in to soothe your throat. The kettle was set and bubbling as you gathered your supplies for a cup that was sure to soothe you in full.

The kettle clicked off, and you poured the steaming water into your cute mug (a gift from Keigo) with shaking hands, ignoring the trembling and hyper-focusing on making sure the stream was in the correct place.

Was pouring water always this hard?

You ignored the thought.

Rather, you wandered off to the bedroom, praying the heat from the mug in your hands, scalding, would warm your shivering body.

(As if you weren’t already burning up.)

You hardly had sense left in you by the time you crawled into the sheets, ruffling them as you attempted to burrow in any heat they could provide. The chill of the unused bedding seeped into you as your teeth chattered. You couldn’t be bothered to even change from your work clothes, the thought of any nakedness sending a new sharp shiver through you.

You just needed a quick nap.

As much as you wanted to sip away at your tea, your mind was going fuzzier by the minute. You sank into the mattress, steaming liquid (and the night’s coming events) forgotten as you fell into a fitful sleep.

...

Your dreams were sordid.

Vivid colors and loud sounds, hardly making any sense, but still, hardly fear into your cooking brain without reason. It blended into some horrid mix of sensations that had you tossing and turning in your sheets.

...

Tap, tap, tap.

...

The sound made your ears burn.

You groaned, shoving your pounding head into the pillow.

...

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

...

It had to be a sound from the inside of your skull, it had to be with how much it thundered, the pounding in your head going harder with each sharp knock.

...

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

The sound was more insistent now, oscillating between your dream and reality.

The pressure in your forehead wasn’t helping.

...

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap—

...

“What the fuck,” You audibly cursed, pushing yourself out of bed and awake as you could be. Holding yourself above the sheets, your swallowed back bile as your stomach rolled with new nausea.

Your gaze drifted to a red glow in the room, your alarm clock—

8:34 PM.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

Tap, tap, tap, tap—

As fast as you could push your aching muscles to move, you slipped from the bed, whimpering at the chill of the cold floors and air. Shakily, you wrapped a throw blanket around your shoulders and padded to the living room.

Your stomach dropped as Keigo waited outside the balcony door.

His party was starting within the hour.

You hadn’t changed, showered, or done any sort of primping. Your outfit that was still hung on the back of your bedroom door, untouched and cold.

Tears sprung to your eyes as you slowly made your way to the door, trying to avoid Keigo’s gaze.

Your shaking hands undid the latch.

You swallowed back as many symptoms as you could, mind racing to figure how quickly you could get ready and if you even could. Makeup could be completed quickly, messily more than likely, but maybe Keigo could touch it up for you once you arrived. Your hair was a nightmare, but maybe you could tame it with a few extra minutes—

As the door opened, you stepped to the side, wrapping the blanket tighter around you. Maybe, Keigo wasn’t upset with you, maybe you could get your shit together in fifteen minutes—

Keigo’s hands went to his hips, wings tight to his back as a frown settled over his pretty plump lips.

“... You’re not ready?” Keigo asked, stating the obvious as you rubbed a hand over your face.

“N-no,” You cursed at your voice strained and crackled. “Give me a few minutes, I fell asleep.”

You prayed your excuse would be enough.

“... For how long, birdie? Are you okay?” Keigo hardly sounded upset, concern lacing his tone more than anything else.

You turned away from him, trudging back towards your bedroom. It was possible to get yourself ready quickly, it had to be you. The last thing you wanted to do was ruin his birthday with your tardiness (and sickness.) The fear spurred your steps to speed—

But Keigo was always faster.

He caught your wrist, tugging and spinning you back towards him. His hands, fingers wrapped in pretty gold rings, landed on your shoulders. His pretty ambers scanned you down, feathers ruffling as his frown deepened.

“How are you feeling?” Keigo asked, open-ended while his index and forefinger pressed to your pulse point, and his gaze flickered to the fat watch on his wrist.

“‘M fine, Kei’,” You murmured, weakly pushing his hand away. “Let me go get ready, I’ll just be a minute or two, promise.”

Keigo hadn’t looked angry since he’d stepped into your apartment, but his expression was souring in a new way. He pulled you close by the waist, lips finding your forehead.

You both stilled.

You knew you were fucked, with his lips so gentle and sweet against his forehead. He knew you were far worse off than you were letting on.

“Dove,” He murmured, voice low and kind. “How do you feel?”

“S-stop,” You pushed at his chest weakly. “I’m okay, I don’t want to fuck up tonight.”

That made Keigo act, the air practically shifting as he scooped you up in his arms, throwing your arms around his neck as he carried you to your bedroom. Setting you onto the sheets, you wrapped your blanket around you tighter, stomach rolling and head burning with its ache and new tears pricking your eyes.

Keigo kneeled, settled between your knees, cupping your cheeks and continuing to look you over.

“Do you have a thermometer? I think you’ve got a fever,” Keigo asked, tapped your chin towards him when you tried to look away from him.

Ignoring his question (you had to), you bit your lip, “I don’t want to ruin your night, Keigo, ‘m sorry.”

Your words slurred as little tears began to drip down your burning cheeks. You rubbed at them with your blanket-covered fists.

Honestly? You felt pretty pathetic. The fever rotting your skull was definitely affecting your judgment, but you didn’t have the sense to care or rationalize.

“Little bird,” Keigo softened, concern coloring his features. “You don’t need to worry about that. Can you tell me where your thermometer is? Maybe some pain medicine too?”

You shook your head, little tears turning fat as you lowered your head.

Keigo audibly winced, something you hardly caught with your sickness was swarming.

“Baby, don’t cry now, it’s alright,” Keigo assured you, pushing your hands away to take the task of wiping your tears away, the chill of the rings on his fingers almost burning. “Don’t worry about the party.”

“But, K-Keigo,” Your voice wobbled as your wrapped your hand around his wrist, over his watch. “You need to go, your party is soon.”

It was.

Your gazes both slide to the alarm clock nearby, the time steadily creeping towards the party’s official start time for the press. There were already scheduled interviews, you and Keigo were to be photographed and ogled at, him shining and dazzling in his signature, blunt way.

You were supposed to be on his arm—

Except, you were feverishly between his palms, crying steadily at the thought of missing the evening.

“Dovie, I need you to listen, please,” Keigo urged you, rubbing heat into your cheeks (even though they were already scalding). “You don’t need to worry about the party. That doesn’t matter. What does is that you’re obviously not feeling well—“

“I’m f-fine!”

It was meant to be a strong declaration, something that would convince Keigo that your feverish state didn’t impede your ability to attend, or at least impede his.

“You’re burning up,” Keigo reminded you.

Your tummy tossed and you shook your head.

He just kept talking, “I’m staying until I know you’re alright—”

That got you even more upset, shaking your head hard and fast even as your skull throbbed.

“No, n-no, no,” You pleaded. It was one thing for you to be unable to attend the highly-anticipated evening, it was entirely another for Keigo to be late to his own party, let alone fucking miss the event— “N-no, absolutely fucking not, ‘Kei. You can’t—”

You wept into his hands as hot tears trailed from the corners of your eyes to drip down your jaw.

...

Keigo’s heart hurt.

His hands shook, more-than-likely imperceptible to you as you sobbed in his hands, soon in his arms, as he sat on the edge of the bed to pull your burning body into his lap.

He tucked your face into the crook of his neck, playing with the hair at the back of your neck, unable to ignore how hot and clammy your skin remained, despite how you shivered and how your teeth clattered together.

You were sick and worked up, that much was for certain.

His wings flexed, the muscles bound-up and more tense than he would’ve liked. Worry laced his expression, his actions, as he tucked your sweaty and tear-matted hair behind your ear.

“It’s okay for you to miss tonight, there’ll be more times to do things like this together,” Keigo quietly assured you.

“But it’s your birthday—”

“That doesn’t matter to me more than you,” Keigo’s breath hitched with his own honest, full-chested admission. “It’s just a night, chickadee. I’m far more concerned with you.”

That unignorable itch and urge his chest flared, hot and bright as your fever and burning cheeks. He squeezed around your body, wishing he could absorb a bit of your hurt as his lips brushed over your temples.

“N-no,” You pulled away from him, shaking your head. “You c-cannot get sick. No.”

Keigo raised an eyebrow at your teary expression.

“I can do whatever I’d like,” He tilted his head sympathetically. “Which is why I’m staying—”

Your expression brightened in the same breath as you narrowed your gaze. Something about the heat swimming in your skull made things tilt and shift perspective.

Why is he being so insistent?

“Are...” You swallowed around your words, hands folding in your lap. “Are you trying to get out of going to your own event?”

...

That might’ve been too much.

Even your feverish mind could tell you were being stubborn to a fault. The thought of Keigo taking care of you while you were obviously not doing well warmed you in an actually good way.

And it seemed you were expressing that same brand of honesty that Keigo was so known for exercising.

You weren’t even sure how you deduced such a claim, but still, you’d ask, perhaps fanning the flame—

“... Looks like you caught me, little bird,” Keigo chuckled, something sad and low, chin tucking over the top of your head.

You remained silent for a moment, head ringing.

“... You don’t want to go tonight?” You asked, softer this time. The rings on his fingers clicked as he drew absent-minded shapes over your clothed thighs.

“It’s complicated,” Keigo admitted. “I’d much rather spend the night with you, here.”

You were both silent for a while.

The last of your tears ebbed away as the thoughts of the evening of dancing and drinking faded. The outfit in its garment bag was forgotten as your hands buried into Keigo’s hair.

His hands played with the hem of your shirt, a reminder that you’d never changed after work, too sick to even crawl from your business casual dressings.

You broke the silence, voice crackling with a suppressed cough.

“The thermometers under the sink in the bathroom.”

...

Keigo returned after nestling you in your sheets.

He had helped you from your work clothes, gently helping pull off and away your sweat-dampened blouse and bottoms. Gentle hands and nimble fingers slipped you into some sleep clothes, sweatpants and a long sleeve Keigo had left at yours some time ago. The slots that had been cut for his wings felt far too breezy, but the comfort of the garment being his far outweighed it.

You wrapped yourself in it as you burrowed into the sheets.

Keigo sat on the edge of the bed, tapping the tip of the thermometer against your lips, “Open, angel.”

Your lips barely cracked open, just enough for the device to be slotted on the top of your tongue. A few of Keigo’s feathers trailed him, bringing a lukewarm rag that he sat on your forehead.

You shivered and let out a whine, giving him a frown as the thermometer beeped.

101.8 °F.

“That doesn’t sound good,” You muttered, burying yourself deeper. “‘M sorry again.”

“No need to apologize,” Keigo assured you once more. Despite the practiced steadiness of his tone, his wings were half-unfurled, poised and tensed. Nervousness radiated from him in a way that he prayed you were too out of it to pick up. “I just want to make sure you’re alright, dove, promise.”

You gave him a shallow nod as Keigo portioned out a dose of cold medicine into the provided cup, scrutinizing the line on the cheap plastic.

“Why did you plan such a big night if you’re trying to get out of it?” You asked, fisting the duvet. “You don’t need to, do you?”

“I don’t,” Keigo sighed, awed by how quickly he admits his inner workings to you (yet again.) “It is a fun night, a lot of fun. It’s just...”

He trailed off as he set down the sickly green bottle with a sigh.

Why did he plan such a night if part of him was goddamn ecstatic about the opportunity to bail on it?

“A lot. It’s just a lot.”

“... You don’t even like drinking much, do you?” You asked, rising up from under your many blankets despite your shivering.

Once, Keigo did. His birthday was a time to get drunk on a bottle of too-expensive liquor on the floor of his too-expensive, too-empty penthouse while trying not to simmer in the loneliness that had become his norm.

“I used to,” Keigo said, a bit too wistful. “The party was just an excuse to not do it alone.”

It was far more fun to get shitfaced with a crowd of folks who saw him as beloved, even if they didn’t really see him. It was more entertaining to dance the night away, fill his room with pretty, tight cunts, one after the other than lay on the cold hardwood of his own floor, ignoring the clawing despondence that he couldn’t avoid as he got another year older—

Either way, alone or not, fucked up or fucked or not, he always felt rotten the next day.

“I don’t want you to be alone,” Your words were soft, maybe just for yourself, but Keigo caught them all the same. “I’m right here.”

“I know,” Keigo placed the little cup to your dry lips. “That’s why I don’t want to go.”

...

You swallowed down the medicine, grimacing at the taste and gagging. Your rolling stomach didn’t appreciate the flavor, bile rising in the back of your throat.

“Easy now,” Keigo ran a hand through your hair as another cup was placed to your lips. “Sip.”

You wrapped your hands over Keigo’s as you all-but chugged the water, even if your stuffy nose made it taste dusty and odd.

“Good girl,” Keigo beamed, pressing a kiss to your shoulders, urging you back into the sheets. “Can you scoot for me?”

You nodded, purring with the praise, and shifted only enough for Keigo to join you in the covers, perfectly windswept, styled hair mussed up against the pillows, outfit rumpled without a care otherwise.

You both wrapped up the other in an instant.

Keigo was warm, as were you, even if you couldn’t feel it. Your body ached with each movement, your limbs growing heavy with the syrupy medicine.

“You should go,” You told him softly, speaking quickly before Keigo could disagree. “Just for a little bit. Fashionably late, and all. See some folks.”

“... I don’t want to leave you like this,” He squeezed you, burying his face in your hair.

“I’m just sick, Keigo,” You frowned, little fingers pulling at his jaw so you could meet his gaze. “I’m not dying.”

Sure, you felt like absolute shit at that moment, but the tug of slumber was beginning to outweigh your symptoms.

“Are you sure?”

You didn’t miss the tremble in Keigo’s tone.

“Of course,” You rubbed your fingers over his stubbly chin and soft cheeks. “I’ll be right here, always.”

And both of you shared a quiet moment of understanding.

...

Keigo stayed until you fell asleep, though it didn’t take long at all. Your head laid on his chest, hot puffs of breath pulling from your parted lips as Keigo took to running his hands wherever he could reach.

Your body was hot, hot enough to worry him, but he placated his protective urges (as much as he could) with the sound logic that you, indeed, did just have a fever, albeit a bad one.

Keigo left you with an array of feathers, settled around and up against your body, Your cheek was tucked into one of the broader ones, filaments remaining silken and soft. It would be a bit overwhelming, the sensation of you and your body with the crowds, paparazzi and sounds, but he’d manage.

He arrived fashionably late with a golden smile, and left unexpectedly early before the hour even struck midnight.

The turning of his birthday would be shared elsewhere.

...

You were right there, just as you promised when he returned.

The rustling of fabric and feathers is what roused you, half-way and through your medicine-induced haze.

There was the quiet sound of your dresser opening and shutting as your eyes recognized.

Your vision was blurred, but you still outstretched your palm to Keigo. He was still changing, pretty outfit gone, rings and watch discarded onto the top of your dresser. He stood nearly naked, just in boxer briefs and his entirely unbuttoned dress shirt.

“Pretty bird,” Your voice slurred as Keigo graced you with a lazy smile. “Get over here.”

“On my way, chickadee,” The smile in Keigo’s voice glowed, even in the dark of your room. “Thank you.”

“Love you,” You responded, hand falling onto the duvet, not nearly as uncomfortably cold as before. “So much.”

Keigo’s breath hitched with the common affection.

Sleepily, you wondered, “Has anyone told you that on your birthday?”

You didn’t realize you’d said it aloud.

Keigo was by your side a moment later, feathers returning to his full wings, body warm and comfortable and purely home. You snuggled into him, pulling him close with a hand around his waist, pushing weakly at the tension bound up in the fat he carried above his waist.

His wings rustled, settling half-extended over your mattress and undoubtedly drooping to the floor. Your legs tucked around his, his hands settling over your spine to count each of the vertebrae like it was the beats of a song only you too sang.

Keigo tried his best to ignore his own stray tears. It was easier to cry around you, either because he was so damn comfortable around you, or that you were a bit of a crybaby yourself.

Either way, Keigo was grateful for it.

You, in your feverish state, only felt Keigo in all of his rawness. The swell and crest of his breath, the tempo of his heart, the gentle hands and precious pressure he doled out against the tension you bore in your body, all were familiar but blessed no matter how many times you were graced by him.

Keigo wasn’t an angel, he was better than one, wings aside.

You cracked your sleep eyes open, palms around his jaw, cupping and caressing as was your rite.

Your gaze drifted just beyond Keigo to the glow of your alarm clock.

12:03 AM.

“Happy birthday, love.”

Keigo didn’t reply, only giving an audible swallow and a shaky swallow. You can feel his tears soak your fingertips.

You kissed them away, licking at the salt with the tip of your tongue, relishing Keigo’s little giggles, all for you and him to share, just the two of you.

“I adore you, you know,” you admitted, though he already knew so well. “I love you, Keigo. Thank you.”

Maybe a few of your own tears fell as you pressed your cheek to his, kissing up and down his jaw, nosing at the beat of his heart under his jaw.

Keigo layered love onto you, little repetitions, desperately returned, and shared affection. ‘I love you’s and sentiments too soft and important slipped between the two of you as sleep pulled you both under.

...

The morning came with the graces of a gentle, orange sun.

It stretched over the sheets, slipping in, uninvited but not unwanted, from around the thin curtains you had hung.

Once more, you awoke to Keigo’s little coos and hums, though he was far less awake.

Before even opening your eyes, your lips found his own. Both yours and his were parched from sleep, sticky breath hardly pleasant, but neither of you minded.

You swallowed a surprised chirp from him, rolling your hips into his own.

Keigo stilled you with a gentle hand on the back of your thighs, gripping the fat and flesh with enough force to have you purring.

“Mornin’, chickadee,” Keigo broke the kiss only to murmur against your lips.

“Hi,” You pulled away to smooth your thumbs over his cheeks, still sticky from the night before. “I love you.”

And Keigo lit, matching with the rays that filled your room, “I love you too.”

You beamed back, not bright in that same way, but luminous all the same.

Keigo took you in breathlessly, the simpleness of you leaching all air from his lungs and unwanted thoughts from his mind.

If Keigo was like the sun, all gold in the morning and red in dusk, then you were every other star that wreathed the moon. You didn’t see it, not the same way he did, but then again, only Keigo had the privilege of seeing the way how you exchanged pieces of yourselves with each other without fear.

The tenderness of that morning was far, far better than anything he’d had in years past. He missed nothing about the pounding of his skull from the liquor the night prior, the insistent need to piss out his sins and the clingings of at least a dozen perfumes from the night before.

Even that hot and fast burning ecstasy couldn’t compare to sharing the morning sun with you.

“How do you feel?” You asked, breaking Keigo from his quiet worship.

Keigo snorted, pressing his lips to your forehead, gauging the temperature, “I should be asking you that.”

“Sweaty,” You tugged on the long sleeve and bumped one of your now-naked thighs into his own. “I think my fever broke in my sleep.”

Thank God.

Keigo reached around you, rustling around for the thermometer, and placing it under your tongue.

99.3 °F.

“Looks like it,” Keigo let out a sigh of relief. “Do you feel better?”

“Mostly,” You nosed your way back under his chin for all the extra affections you could give. “Just tired.”

“We’ll have an easy day then,” Keigo replied, feathers rippling at the idea of a slow, free day in bed with you.

“But it’s your birthday— “

Keigo cut you off with a finger to your lips and a sly smile, “And I would like nothing more than to spend it, like this, with you.”

You inspected his face for any signs of dishonesty.

There wasn’t even one.

“Okay, then let me rephrase,” You huffed a little. “But what about birthday sex? I really was prepared to have you cum down my throat at least four times today.”

Keigo snorted again, flitting laughter bursting from his lips as he pulled you to his chest and smothered you with kisses.

“There’s absolutely nothing stopping us from fucking until the sun goes down, other than how you feel and what you’re up for,” Keigo reminded you, his hand drifting up to your ass and squeezing. The way you jolted into him with a little whine had Keigo already wanting. “I can make it nice and easy for you, little bird.”

You shuddered, hands drifting to the roots of his wings and teasing the small, silken feathers, “Why don’t you show me?”

Keigo needed no other command.

...

You knew Keigo could be so greedy with his touches. Some nights he’d take and take and take. He’d pull from you anything and everything you’d offer, leaving you gasping and stuffed-full with a happily broken mind. He loved stealing your breath with the pounding of his hips, stealing the sounds from your lips as they came, though you gave them freely.

That day didn’t feel like that.

“I want to be so deep in you, dovey,” Keigo purred, cooing from the back of his throat. His hand slipped between your clammy thighs. “Feel you all over.”

The pad of his index fingers ran over your clothed clit, teasing and wanting in the same moment.

“Y-you can have me any way you want,” Your voice had already gone gooey and high, pitching up and sweetened. “Wanna make you feel good.”

You rubbed at the apex of his wings, where the little feathers bled from the roots of his wings to the base bones. A low groan rumbled from his chest, one of your favorite sounds. Nothing got Keigo weaker than little pets and play to his wings. They were so sensitive from years of touch solely by his own hand. They were coveted, a part of the holy structure of his body that he hardly allowed anyone else to fully take in unless necessary, before you anyways.

That was your privilege.

Keigo slipped your panties off, the cotton fabric discarded and forgotten. A moment later, your shirt followed, leaving you bear to him.

There was still the impulse to cover yourself. Keigo loved looking at you, his pupils wide as they traced over your curves night after night like it was the first time he’d seen your skin and curves.

That morning, the feeling fell away quickly as you urged his own scraps of clothing off.

He was already hard, leaking from the thought and sight of you. You were hardly different, Keigo’s fingers teasing the lips of your sex and pulling away wet.

Without shame, he popped the finger into his mouth, sucking away your slick like it was nectar.

You tipped onto your back, pulling Keigo with you. One hand remained buried and busy with his wing while the other slipped between your bodies, wrapping around his pretty cock and stroking slow.

He gasped into your mouth as you thumbed over the head.

Smiling against his lips, you nipped and sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, enjoying your little moment of control.

Keigo stole it back quickly.

Carefully, he grabbed the back of your thighs, pushed your legs up and out. Before you had a chance to so much as whimper, Keigo slid a finger into your cunt, then two, curling against the bundle of nerves.

Your back arched, your grip on him tightened as you gasped his name like the last note of a hymn.

And Keigo wanted more.

“Tell me if it hurts,” Keigo panted, breathless and strained as he adjusted your legs over his shoulders, bearing his weight on his arms that went to brace around your head.

“C-can I have a pillow?”

“For your hips?”

“Uh-huh.”

Keigo gave you a flurry of kisses, a wordless ‘of course, I want to make you feel so good’. There was an art to wordless communication and Keigo was a goddamn masterful craftsman.

The pillow slipped was your lower back, tilting your hips up and cushioning them from whatever treatment Keigo laid upon them.

With a shaking hand, he removed yours, guiding it to his wings as he lined up his cock with your cunt and fucked into you in a single fluid motion.

The burn of it was enough to have you gasping, scrambling to hold onto his shoulders and tuck your face into his neck with a whine. Keigo soothed you without question, barely rolling his hips are you adjusted.

He settled over you close, chest brushing yours, the cold of the bars through his nipples always a shock, even when you expected it.

“M-more,” You whined, needy and sweltering with a tug of his wings. “Please.”

Keigo hummed, palming one of your breasts with a twist of your nipple, “But, you beg so pretty, little bird. What if I want to hear more? It is my birthday.”

It was, and Keigo wanted to be so close it hurt. He hardly had the patience for teasing, but when your voice got so syrupy and desperate, he couldn’t help but tug at your soon-to-be-fucked mind.

Truthfully, what Keigo wanted most for his birthday fucking was to stuff you so good and full that your tummy bulged under the flat of his palm. He wanted his cock to brush and bruise the deepest parts of you until all you knew was the chant of his name as you came so well and hard that you fucking blacked out.

But, he had to be tender.

Had to be.

“P-please!” You tilted your hips for more of him as if Keigo wasn’t already filling you up fully and perfectly. “Anything you w-want, please.”

“You mean it, little bird?”

“Uh-huh.”

And sweetly, perfectly, Keigo fucked you into the mattress.

There was some reverie in it, there had to be with the way you so gently carded through the hyper-sensitive, rounded feathers that stretched onto his back. It juxtaposed the way he railed and ruined your cunt, slick sticking your inner thighs and his pelvis with each thrust.

Each motion went so deep, you swore you could feel it in your gut. Maybe, that was why Keigo was fucking you so close, with your bodies pressed together and sharing air and heat so closely, it was hard to tell where another experience ended and another began.

You didn’t expect the first time you came, your eyes stretching wide as your crest drowned you well and sweetly. You buried your face into Keigo’s now marked and bitten neck and let out a choked sob as your cunt fluttered around him.

Keigo took a moment to slow, as he only peaked with you, but he wasn’t ready to be done with you yet. His hips barely moved in you, just nudging deeper, and deeper—

“More,” Greedy, such a greedy little whore. “M-more, please.”

Keigo chuckled, pushing some of his sweaty waves back, “Think you can handle it, little bird?”

Your face, hot with pleasure and eyes wide with want, went determined as you tugged on the wings, nails raking through the unpreened feathers.

“Fuck me like you mean it, K-Keigo— Daddy.”

Keigo stilled, raising an eyebrow, ignoring the flaring of hot, yellow fire in his chest, “You really want to push that button so early?”

“Were you planning to fuck me like a pussy the rest of the morning?”

Where did your fire come from? You were sure, maybe it was the leavings of your fever, but you didn’t care. You wore your smitten grin as Keigo’s gaze darkened, pupils so fat and focused, the citrine of his eyes was swallowed whole.

Keigo slapped a hand over your mouth, squeezing around your jaw, and fucking into you once, sharper and deeper than he had before. Your vision nearly went white, body fucked over-sensitive once but still begging for more.

Greedy, greedy, greedy.

Gluttons, the both of you.

As per your request and Keigo’s deepest wants, Keigo fucked you so earnestly, deeply, and without holding back that part of you feared the bed would break.

Each cant of his hips had your tugging at his feathers, the twitch of his cock inside more than enough of a sign at how fucking wild your touch was making him. That wasn’t to mention the filth that rolled from his lips, pants and whines and groans and words—

“Daddy’s little bird just gives so well, d-don’t you?” Keigo’s probably bruising your cervix, but you didn’t have the mind to care. “Letting me t-take whatever I want?”

You nodded behind his palm, half shrieking as his hand slipped between your bodies, rubbing your swollen clit, hot pressure building up in your gut by his hand, just as you liked.

As much as he took, he gave.

It only took a few more moments for you to sob behind his palm, clutching as your shoulders as you came so hot and bright and well, your vision sparkled and went black.

With the way your cunt clamped down around Keigo’s cock, he came just behind, filling you so, so good. His hand flew to your tummy, eyes rolling back in his head as he felt himself fill you with fat cock and thick cum.

You gasped as you came down, panting and clutching at Keigo as he did the same. You hushed each other with des[erate kisses, quiet praises too precious and sacred to be written, but that could certainly be felt in the air that remained conjunct between the pair of you.

Keigo rose from your body, thighs shaking in time with your own as he lowered your legs on to the sheets.

You were both messes, covered in sweat and spit and sweetness, but neither of you cared.

“You okay, little bird?” He asked, soft in the aftermath, kissing the damp apples of your cheeks.

“Uh-huh,” You gave him the best type of fucked out smile. “Can’t wait for more, it is your birthday.”

“And...” Keigo found himself speaking without thinking. “You’re here for it? All of it?”

He knew that, did he really need the reassurance—?

“Every bit of it, lovebird,” You tacked on the nickname, rising on your undoubtedly sore hips. “Every moment.”

And he couldn’t be happier about it.

||||||||||||||||||

thank you for reading!!!! 💕

ko-fi

#salem writes #hawks x reader #hawks #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo #hawks imagines #hawks x you #mha x reader #my hero academia #happy birthday birdie <33 #heart full #its been a weird couple of days BUT!!#here #some good soft smut and just #goodness #and hurt too bc :)#anyways enjoy lovies!!!

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cryoculus · 3 years

Text

oddity - xiao/reader

one of my closest pals is celebrating their birthday, and i took it upon myself to write a little lantern rite piece! i don't usually post my stuff on tumblr, but it wouldn't hurt to try ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

pairing: xiao/gn!reader word count: 3,549 words premise: you and him are nothing but outsiders beneath the sea of lanterns — that’s all there is to it. ao3 link here!

“Traveler, what brings you here?”

The wind whistles through the reeds of Dihua Marsh when you hear his voice. The yaksha emerges from the shadows that cloak his form, piercing yellow eyes studying you with rapt attention. Your chest heaves as your sword glimmers out of existence before wiping a sheen of sweat off your brow. A smile graces your face — one that makes him arch an eyebrow.

“Xiao,” you acknowledge him with a nod. “Just clearing out hilichurl camps for a commission.”

“And your friend?” he asks, arms crossed. “The loud one that floats around?”

You immediately think about how quick Paimon ditched your daily commissions just to get a head-start with the festivities down at the harbor. You didn’t particularly mind the fairy’s excitement, but it was a little lonely without her squawks of encouragement as you shilled monster after monster for the sake of scraping up some mora. But the peace of mind offered by Paimon’s absence is something you liked to indulge in every once in a while as well. Instances like this could bring about new experiences.

Such as running into the Vigilant Yaksha himself, for example.

“Paimon’s gotten quite engrossed with the Lantern Rite.” A lone sigh flees from your lips as you your gaze rivets upward. South from here, the lanterns offered to heavens can be still seen — even all the way in Bishui Plain. They dot the sky even brighter than the stars, burning through the darkness of the night so the heroes could find their way home.

Somewhere much nearer is Wangshu Inn, its massive tree rising above the fog that began to roll in come sundown. You aren’t too far from his stronghold, but what reason does Xiao have to crawl out of his seemingly-eternal solitude? Last you’ve seen him was during that whole Starsnatcher fiasco, and you didn’t think you would cross paths again so soon. But the curious glow of his eyes — devoid of the indifference he’s worn like armor — tickles the back of your head.

If you’re able to…could you try to convince Xiao to go with you?

Right. Verr Goldet asked that specific favor the last time Huai’an commissioned you to repair the Inn’s rickety staircase (again). You took her request without a second thought, despite being wholly unsure of how you’re even going to drag an adeptus back to Liyue Harbor. Though the rift between the land’s guardians and its people has long been mended, Xiao’s hostility wouldn’t be so easily quelled. But it’s as if the stars have guided your fates to intertwine tonight — holding each other’s prudent gazes as you both waited for the other to speak.

Xiao is the first to break the silence.

“I see,” he murmurs, resting his back against a sturdy tree. He draws his eyes up for only a moment before meeting yours once more. “Don’t you have a festival to celebrate, Traveler? If my memory serves me right, there’s only a few hours left before they release those pyro flowers into the sky. It’s…a popular spectacle among humans.”

You crane your head slightly, not quite catching his drift. Pyro flowers? A popular spectacle among…

“You mean fireworks?” you snort.

“Yes, whatever those are.” Though his face doesn’t bear any hint of being flustered, the tips of Xiao’s ears turn the lightest tinge of red — barely visible in the lacking light, but you see it regardless. The yaksha mumbles something under his breath before saying, “I assume a lot of people await your return. What are you doing squandering your time here in the marsh, then?”

If Paimon were here, she would have swooped in and taken this as her one and only chance to make good on your unspoken promise to Verr Goldet. Even in the absence of your floating companion, you begin to consider your chances as well. It’s not like you assured the brooding adeptus would be present during the Rite. Just that you’d try to make sure he was there.

And try, you did when you ask, “I was wondering if you’d want to come along, actually.”

You’re more than aware how…forward your invitation just sounded, but it’s not like you minded whatever answer he’s going to give you. In all honesty, it’d be easier if he rejected the offer and went on his way — doing whatever retired adepti do with their thousand years’ worth of free time. But as you steel yourself for his typical, cold-hearted dismissal, Xiao tilts his chin in the direction of the lanterns released en-masse in the south, gaze softening with a tenderness that’s all sorts of foreign to you.

“I suppose I can spare a few hours.”

The lights down the docks seem a little too bright, and the jovial music rings a little too loudly when you’re conscious of an introverted companion. Xiao’s aversion to human interaction is no secret to anyone, but the adeptus manages to play it cool as you wade across a throng of festival-goers. He flinches a little when strangers bump into him, but does nothing to antagonize them. (Although you do hear the slightest hint of a growl when the stranger in question doesn’t apologize for the inconvenience.) Nonetheless, you make sure to hover around close to make sure you don’t lose him in the crowd.

You consider holding his hand for but a sliver of a moment before chucking the idea out of the window. Xiao would probably hurl you into the next world if you touched him unsolicited, and the mere thought sends an unpleasant shiver down your spine.

It doesn’t take long for you to spot Paimon in the midst of it all — wearing one of those peace talismans around her neck as she nibbled on a stick of grilled tiger fish. The fairy perks up at the sight of you, but she nearly gapes when she sees who it is on your trail.

“You managed to drag that loner here?!” she shrieks, but the shock in her voice was thankfully obscured by the loud music. “How much almond tofu did you give him? Paimon bets it takes an army to make enough almond tofu to convince him to go out of hiding!”

“No such coercion happened for them to bring me here,” Xiao clarifies. “I simply want to witness how things have been faring in the harbor since Rex Lapis’ departure. Hmph. Humans still do so much all in the name of traditions that have long lost their meaning.”

Paimon gasps, as if personally offended. “Lost their meaning…? You! You have no idea how important the Lantern Rite is to Liyue Harbor’s citizens, do you? Come on, Traveler!” The fairy huffs, tugging on your arm insistently. “Let’s enjoy the rest of the festival without the immortal party pooper.”

You gulp. “Paimon—”

“Honorary taste-tester, there you are!”

The familiar lilt of Xiangling’s voice pierces through the deafening melodies of the Rite. She bounds towards your little group with a devious smile curled across her lip — eyes shining with enough intent to scare you. Paimon is a bit more oblivious to the young chef’s intentions. Your companion even greets her once she was close enough.

“I have a huge custom order for the Qixing dinner at midnight, and I was wondering if you could try out my stuff!” She hums, spinning Paimon around gleefully enough to make the fairy forget that she was even frustrated with Xiao. Xiangling, however, notices belatedly that the said adeptus is in her company. “Oh, the guy from Wangshu Inn! What brings you here?”

“Nothing that would interest you,” the yaksha grumbles with a clipped tone. “Didn’t you say something about taste-testing for the Qixing?”

“Ah, right! Traveler!” Xiangling turns to you. “Can I borrow Paimon for a while? I’ll make sure my dad doesn’t turn her into emergency food. I promise!”

“Hey!” Paimon protests. “Who’s turning who into emergency food?”

With the slightest nod of your head, however, the chef is already on her merry way — dragging poor Paimon back to Chihu Rock despite her plethora of complaints. You sigh, telling yourself you’d make it up to her after you’ve attended to Xiao. Speaking of which…

“Is there anything you’d like to do?” you ask, eyes darting around for anything worthwhile to show the adeptus. When you spot Ruijin somewhere at the end of the baywalk, your brain clicks in place. “How about you and I play a few rounds of Theater Mechanicus?”

Xiao’s nose wrinkles at the unfamiliar name. “Is that another one of those strange human contraptions?”

“Uh… You can say that.”

You’ve played a couple of rounds with Xingqiu yesterday when the Feiyun heir practically dragged you here after collecting your rewards from the Adventurers’ Guild. So to speak, tower defense games were not your strong suit. At first, dozens of imaginary enemies have slipped past your elemental wards all because of your poor strategizing skill. It’s a good thing that Xingqiu was quick to pick up on the rules, though. He managed to win you both enough peace talismans to make the Xiao Market turn maximum profit.

Your current comrade, however, is probably just as terrible as you are.

“I don’t get this,” Xiao snarls, banging a fist on the wooden table. “Why can’t I just attack the enemies myself when they arrive? The towers are too weak to defend anything.”

Ruijin chuckles, ruffling the yaksha’s hair as if he was a child. “Patience. The more you play, the stronger the mechanici become. Besides, warriors grow to be more powerful the longer they stay on the battlefield. You know that pretty well, right?”

You have to nudge Xiao’s leg from underneath the table to keep him from pouncing at the game master right there. When you manage to catch his gaze, you shoot him a stern look to keep him in check. Deep inside, though, you’re actually panicking. What if he turns the harbor into some anemo wasteland all because of a silly board game? If that happens, Zhongli might just declare you persona non grata even if he was already retired.

Thankfully, Xingqiu’s knowledge about Theater Mechanicus has rubbed off on you enough to win you a round. Ruijin rewards you both with only half the amount of talismans you garnered when teaming up with the Feiyun heir, but Xiao doesn’t really need to know that. He stares at the jade-carved sigils disinterestedly before pocketing them in his garbs, walking away without a word. As your shoulders droop, you sigh and shoot Ruijin an apologetic look before chasing after your charge.

“Sorry if that wasn’t really your type of past time,” you tell him, matching the adeptus’ pace as he marches forward. “We could always try other—”

“If you’re going to play diplomat between myself and the harbor, listen here,” Xiao interrupts, shooting you a yellow-eyed stare. “Neither of us belong in this city. You’re an outlander, and I’m an adeptus — two creatures that aren’t meant to delve too deep into human affairs. And if you have even an ounce of respect left for our respective origins, you won’t tell me off for being needlessly hostile.”

Huh. So he’s aware that he’s being needlessly hostile.

Though he spoke each word with an even-toned seriousness, all you could hear was a boy that didn’t want to be scolded at. You were a bit surprised to see him lose his patience over such a trivial thing earlier, too. Your mouth quivers into a soft smile, marveling at how human Xiao can be despite insisting he was anything but.

“I’m heading up to Mount Tianheng for a while,” he announces once the two of you reach the end of the road. “Are you coming or not?”

You have half the mind to tease him for checking in on you despite the fact that he can pretty much leave you in the dust if he wanted to. Xiao glances at you impatiently when you don’t give him an answer, and you decide to push away any thought of discouraging him for another time.

“Sure. What are you going to—”

Several things happen all at once. Xiao cuts your words short when he dons his mask, clouds of miasma curling around his form in black wisps. He scoops your knees from underneath you, cradling you to his chest faster than you can blink. And you can only gape in disbelief as he princess-carries you across the city — jumping from roof to roof with the grace of a feline. Xiao doesn’t spare you any looks the entire time, keeping his eyes forward as he holds you securely in his grasp. This reminds you a little of the time he saved you from falling to your death when the Jade Chamber collapsed, but you dared not think of it too much.

You resign yourself to the fact that there isn’t much you can do when Xiao is in Bane-of-All-Evil form and observe the way the tattoos on his arm glow with each precise movement instead. In spite of the corrosive energy emanating from the rest of his body, the aura that those blue-green marks emit is…serene. It’s not all that different from the feeling you get whenever you stand near a Statue of the Seven in Mondstadt. Hm. Maybe Venti’s personally keeping an eye on this one.

The yaksha only stops when he’s gotten to a high enough vantage point, setting you back to your feet. You’re just about to thank Xiao for the ride, but you notice the way his knees buckle once his mask dissolves from his face.

You’re quick to rush to his side, supporting his weight with yours as he shoots you a disgruntled look. All those millennia of keeping to himself probably made Xiao unused to your efforts, but you don’t give him enough room to complain.

“You’re hurt,” you observe as you help him down to the grass. “I thought I was just seeing things when we went to the karma-heavy cavern, but that obviously isn’t the case. Does that have anything to do with the Abyss?”

“You think I’d let myself be tainted with that kind of corruption?” Xiao scoffs, chest heaving as he catches his breath. “This miasma…is all my own. This is the price I have paid for eons of endless slaughter — I’ve already told you that, haven’t I?”

You shoot him a pointed look. “Hasn’t anyone told you that you’re too hard on yourself? No wonder Zhongli is still worried about you until now. The medicine he asked me to give — it’s for that…miasma, isn’t it?”

Xiao closes his eyes, sighing. “Traveler, I don’t wish to discuss this.”

“Well, you don’t have to.”

That makes him stare back at you inquisitively. Xiao’s gaze narrows slightly as you lift your hands — palms facing the clueless adeptus before you. Your eyes flutter closed, recalling the way you purified a dragon’s tears all those months ago. This is essentially the same, right? Xiao is a creature who has borne the weight of suffering for countless millennia, much like Dvalin when the Abyss manipulated him into their favor. You managed to purge the murky tintage of their corruption despite the odds being against you.

Who’s to say that easing Xiao’s suffering — even just for a moment — is impossible?

Flecks of starlight dance across the tips of your fingers, glowing in time with the marks of anemo he bears on his arm. Xiao watches you, stunned into silence as he lets you do as you please. He spots a brush of qingxin flowers just a few meters away, but the gentle breeze that wafts across his face makes him feel like he’s not sitting atop Mount Tianheng, but on another peak entirely. When the yaksha closes his eyes, the qingxin blooms have morphed into gentle cecilias, dancing to the rhythm of a lone bard’s lyre.

Peace, he thinks. He hasn’t known peace in a long, long time.

When Xiao opens his eyes again, it’s to the feel of his head resting on top of a plush surface. The moment his mind registers your face staring down at him with a kind smile, he nearly scrambles out of your lap out of reflex, but you keep him securely in place.

“You napped for quite a while there,” you inform him, one hand smoothing down his hair. “Any interesting dreams you want to share?”

He relaxes back onto the grass when he realizes there’s no escaping you. This oddly reminds him of the quieter days of the Archon War, when Guizhong would let him doze on her lap for hours on end.

“I’d like to…apologize,” he whispers.

“For what?”

After a few moments, Xiao sits upright and this time you don’t stop him. Demonic yellow eyes turn to the vastness of harbor before him — reminding him that the war has long ended, and a new era is in bloom.

“When I told your friend that these traditions have lost their meaning… I bear no ill will to the words,” he murmurs, fingers grazing the blades of grass beneath the both of you. The lanterns have grown in number this year, and they’re much more beautiful compared to when he watched them every year from his balcony in Wangshu Inn. “They offer their lanterns, they offer their wishes to lead their heroes back home. But humans have always enjoyed the leisure of being blissfully ignorant.

“Only a handful of adepti have survived to this day. The heroes they sing their praises to have long passed — unable to hear a word of their gratitude. So forgive me if I deem such traditions pointless.” He closes his eyes and thinks of all he’s lost — his fellow yakshas and the gods that have fallen to defend Liyue alongside Rex Lapis. Though he’s convinced himself he’s already desensitized, Xiao still feels the slightest twinge in his chest. “It’s not as if we ever expected recompense for our deeds. We protected what needed protecting because it is our duty. Nothing more, nothing less.”

He expects you to wear the crestfallen look that Verr Goldet always shows him whenever he rejects her invitations to come along to the Lantern Rite. Xiao has been faced with that expression year after year by countless others, and he thinks it would be no different if you look at him the same way, too. But instead of a tight-lipped frown, your mouth twitches into a grin — barely containing your own laughter as the adeptus starts to glare at you.

“Oh no, I didn’t think someone like you would take that so literally,” you say, wiping a tear off your face. “Xiao, listen to me. The Lantern Rite isn’t just for thanking those who protected Liyue; it’s also to honor their memory. Sounds to me like you’re really downplaying how much the people respect the adepti. Isn’t that little truce with Ningguang enough proof of that?”

Xiao stares at you listlessly, and gets the feeling that he’s being made fun of. “I…might have failed to consider it in that light.”

You sigh, pulling your knees to your chest as you rest your chin on top. “So Zhongli isn’t the only adeptus who has rocks for brains here.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing! Say, do you want to let me hitch another ride and we can craft some lanterns down at the harbor? My treat.”

He decides to overlook the backhanded insult you just made about himself and his lord. This is an era of peace — everyone jokes about things like that more often now. And though it comes as quite the pain to him, Xiao thinks it was time he learns the way of the people from this era sooner rather than later.

As you scribble your own wishes on the sides of the lantern you crafted, Xiao watches attentively on the sidelines. You told him to write down his own as well, but people like him only wish to serve the purpose he’s been summoned to make. Xiao has already fulfilled that eons ago.

When you both let the lanterns drift up above, the pyro flowers — fireworks, he mentally corrects — bloom across the night sky. They come in dazzling colors that make even him, an adeptus, wonder how human craftsmanship has evolved to this day. Perhaps you were right. Xiao does downplay many a detail about the people of Liyue, and that goes beyond their utter respect for the adepti.

However, the citizens are the last thing on his mind as his yellow eyes continue to observe you — the soft gasp that escapes your lips when the display of fireworks has reached its end; the golden lanterns shining across your eyes as you beam with delight. Xiao doesn’t remember the last time he’s ever thanked anyone — fearful that they’ll react the same way he does when faced with pure gratitude. Would you turn away indifferently? Would you dismiss his sentiments even after quelling the darkness in his heart with a single move? In the end, he decides that none of it matters.

You and him are nothing but outsiders beneath the sea of lanterns — that’s all there is to it.

#genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #xiao #sfw #omg im posting my writing again #this is the first and last time

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humanlighthouse · 3 years

Note

hello i am here and i have heihua kiss prompts!! either 8. Laying a gentle kiss to the back of the other’s hand. (+bonus if hurt/comfort!) or 23. A kiss that tastes of the food/dessert they are eating. xoxo

Hello friend!! I went with the second prompt, you will notice a theme in there perhaps :D I hope you like it! This was cross-posted here for better readability~

__________

For their young master’s birthday celebration, the Xie clan went all out, as was expected.

It was a grandiose event, with only the finest of culinary delicacies, the prettiest of dancers, and the best of everything that could be drunk. Everyone of importance in the antiques and less-legally-acquired antiques business was there, in black tie - or almost everyone. Xie Yuchen’s smile never quite reached his eyes but he shook sweaty palm after sweaty palm and posed for the required photos with a level of patience that should honestly count toward his general karma. Thankfully, by midnight, the young master was deemed properly toasted to, fed and celebrated, and the guests bid their goodbyes at last.

Xie Yuchen closed his bedroom door behind him and rested his forehead against the wood panel.

Here’s to another year.

Shrugging off his jacket, he walked into his closet. His own face stared at him from three different angles as he loosened his tie. He wasn’t tired yet, but he should probably change anyway. He crossed the room toward his pajama closet, looking for something comfortable. There had been enough showing off for one night, so he pushed aside the silk co-ords. Maybe the velvet robe. He took it off the hanger, running a manicured hand over the fabric. No. Too hot for the season. He dropped it on a chair. When he turned back toward the closet, he noticed a midnight blue sleeve peeking out from behind where the robe had hung, in the darkest part of the closet. His only hoodie.

There was an idea.

He stared at it for a long moment, before grabbing the garment and shrugging it on over his dress shirt and wool-blend pants. He swapped his leather shoes for crepe-soled boots and turned the lights off.

Less than five minutes later, he exited the manor, having successfully avoided every single person in it. He had had to duck behind a vase at some point so a maid didn’t see him, and for the first time that evening, he had laughed, albeit silently. There would be no real consequences, no consequences at all, even, if he was found out, but it was exciting to sneak out. He snapped a face mask onto his ears, checked again that he hadn’t been spotted, and walked down the street and away from the gates.

As he walked, Xie Yuchen wrestled his phone out of his pants pocket. With the ease of habit, he created a throwaway account, and then pulled up the webpage of his favorite fast food place. The closest one would be too suspicious - he had been there only last month. Selecting the next one over, he submitted his order and paid. By the time he arrived, his number was first on the list, and a greasy bag of treats awaited him.

This restaurant was farther from his house but closer to the river. It was warm enough, that evening, that groups were scattered here and there along the riverside. Xie Yuchen found one empty spot with a decently clean bench to sit on, and dug into the bag.

The city lights twinkled over the water’s surface, ever changing - stop lights turning red and green and red again, car blinkers sparkling to life, office neons buzzing in the distance. There were people laughing nearby. He listened to what he could of their inept conversation as he chewed, salt and fat heavy on his tongue. Usually he would be annoyed at the forced proximity, at the unwanted company of these strangers sharing beers and laughs, but not tonight, for some reason.

Still, it was better to be alone after the night he’d had. Enough socialization for one day. Even after an entire burger and most of a large serving of fries, he didn’t have the energy to keep up the usual pretense. Maybe if he was there with a friend it would be different, but he didn’t have that many of those. Wu Xie certainly counted as one, but according to the birthday card he had sent, he was off raiding a secret spot in the South with his boyfriends this week and wouldn’t be back for a while. Xie Yuchen hoped it was code for something else. At least one of them would be having fun tonight.

He finished the fries and crumpled the greasy paper, throwing it back into the mostly empty bag. The only thing left was what he had been looking forward to: a tub of soft-serve ice cream doused with an extra helping of chocolate fudge. He rummaged around the bag for the plastic spoon and popped open the container, inhaling the sweet scent with a smile of anticipated delight. That would almost make up for tonight.

He carefully chose the ratio of chocolate to ice. That first spoonful was always the best one. He brought it to his mouth and closed his eyes. The fudge melted onto his tongue, vanilla ice cream following right behind, hot then cold, and delicious. He couldn’t help but let out a small moan.

“That good, uh?”

Long legs folded beside his on the bench and for one short second Xiao Hua was tempted to throw the ice cream tub into the river and pretend this never happened.

It was too late. Hei Xiazi had seen him, and he would never let him live this down now.

Oh sure, the man had seen him in more compromising situations, technically speaking, but from the way he smiled at Xie Yuchen’s face, Xie Yuchen knew that his guilt was obvious. He was screwed. Hei Xiazi had just hit blackmailing gold.

“Gimme a taste if it’s that good,” he asked with a jerk of his chin toward Xie Yuchen’s ice cream.

Xie Yuchen frowned and moved the tub away from him. He had expected a few days of grace before the demands started, at least.

“What are you doing here?” he asked in return.

The man’s attire was ridiculous, even by his low standards. Under his usual leather jacket, the one he always wore, the one Xie Yuchen could recognize the stink of from miles away, he wore a tank top and a black polyester tie, haphazardly tied around nothing and dangling well under his belt. He looked like a cheap gigolo. Maybe that was his new side gig. Xie Yuchen made a mental note to inquire about that.

“Well, you see, I was on my way to wish a friend a happy birthday, maybe a little later than I should have, admittedly, but what’s a little night visit between friends? Except, what should I see when I arrive at their home, but a shady silhouette sneaking out of it! Very suspicious, you’ll admit. I felt that it was my duty to make sure that the interloper was properly identified.”

“What bullshit are you sprouting now?” asked Xie Yuchen, eyes narrowed.

“I followed you,” replied Hei Xiazi with a satisfied smile.

“No you didn’t.”

“How would you know?”

“Because I checked. You ran into me here by pure chance and extrapolated the rest,” he guessed.

The smile fell from Hei Xiazi’s face, but the humor stayed in his voice.

“Yeah, okay I did.”

Xie Yuchen huffed a laugh and turned back to his ice cream before it melted.

“I really was on my way to you, though,” continued Hei Xiazi. “Look, I even have a gift and all.”

When he turned, Xie Yuchen found himself faced with a brightly patterned square. The gift wasn’t badly wrapped, Hei Xiazi’s fingers were certainly skilled enough for it, but it had been done with the tackiest paper Xie Yuchen had ever seen. There had been plenty of gifts at the party earlier, covered in gold-embroidered fabrics and satin, tucked into leather boxes and glossy bags, but this was the first that Xie Yuchen had wanted to open all night. It was the only one of those that seemed … heartfelt.

He quickly ate another spoonful of ice cream instead. It was probably just another joke.

“What’s in it?” he asked after a minute.

Hei Xiazi was still holding it out to him, and probably would until he relented. Sighing, Xie Yuchen took the package.

“Open it later.”

At the strangeness of his voice, Xie Yuchen raised his head and looked at Hei Xiazi. The lights were playing on his face, and with those stupid glasses he could never be sure of anything, but it almost looked like he was blushing. The man was looking toward the river, not at him, so Xie Yuchen allowed himself to stare.

In his hand, the ice cream tub was cold and slightly wet with condensation, and the sweetness of chocolate remained in his mouth. There were still people laughing nearby, in riotous bursts, but he found that he didn’t envy them anymore.

It was his birthday, and Xie Yuchen was going to celebrate it the way he wanted.

“Hey,” he called.

With a hum, Hei Xiazi turned, just enough for Xie Yuchen to grab his face and kiss him. He startled but didn’t pull away, rather turned his head aside to deepen the kiss, hands curling around Xie Yuchen’s waist and into his hair. His clever tongue swiped at Xie Yuchen’s lips and he licked into his mouth when they opened.

“Wow, you were right,” he exclaimed when they broke for air. “That is good ice cream!”

With a roll of his eyes, Xie Yuchen handed the tub to him. It was a day to indulge in guilty pleasures, it seemed.

#heihua #kiss prompts #my fics

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fatefulfaerie · 3 years

Text

Free For All

Linktober Prompt Day 31/31

Incarnation: Breath of the Wild

Word Count: 1,674

Triggers: Anxiety

Technically a sequel to the oneshot Night but it stands on it’s own as well.

Zelda was restless as she gripped the edges of her bed, sitting with her head hung low. She figured it midnight and thus knew that sleep was important, especially considering the day that was ticking closer and closer.

And yet she knew she couldn’t rest, her eyes wide with wake and light with awareness. Zelda had gone long past the inner argument of attempting to sleep, now contemplating something much more sordid.

The late hour seemed to fuel her impulsiveness, the absence of handmaidens or attendants, her father asleep and gossip-mongers chatting away in Castle Town bars.

So Zelda stood up and exited her chambers with equal parts excitement and anxiety, hesitantly rushing to Link’s chambers and standing before the door.

She needed comfort. His comfort and his comfort only to relieve her anxieties about the day to come, the approaching dawn.

The princess knocked on the door, three gentle bangs before her hand returned to her side.

It wasn’t opened immediately, in fact there was such a long pause that Zelda considered turning back.

Yet the knob turned and the door opened to reveal Link, with squinted eyes and sheet marks on his face. His eyelids were breaching open slowly, hesitantly taking in the light of the hallway, and the truth of who was before him.

“Zelda?” He croaked.

Zelda considered saying anything as she stared, but it seemed her heart was tired of words. She surged forward, giving Link no time to object as she planted her hands on his cheeks and her lips on his. Link only stepped back at the momentum, them going further into the room.

Zelda rescinded, keeping her face inches from his as she waited for his reaction.

She felt his hand on her cheek, the gentility of it proving her right as his forehead met hers with panting breaths.

With a gentle prompt, he backed her into the nearest wall as if he were kissing her, but it seemed he was actively resisting, especially after her back met the wall with a soft thud.

The heel of his hand was above her head, Link’s fingers tensing up and shaking as they curled in resistance, eventually tightening into a fist, which he banged against the wall.

“I can’t do this,” Link breathed, his eyes disagreeing as they scanned her lips.

“Why not?” Zelda breathed.

“You know why.”

She inhaled to prompt him to say it nonetheless.

“You’re gonna be late,” he said suddenly.

“What?”

Orange.

A bright, unmistakable orange

“You’re gonna be late,” she heard her handmaiden say.

Zelda opened her eyes slowly to a blinding sunlight and two hands on her, attempting to wrest her awake.

“What?” She said groggily.

“You overslept, Your Highness.”

The hands disappeared.

“What?!” Zelda exclaimed as she sat straight up and hastened out of bed, hurrying to her vanity, brushing her scraggly hair.

“The champions are already gathered at the gates,” the handmaiden said as she began to dress Zelda in her white prayer dress. “I apologize for not waking you sooner, but I assumed you were already up. It isn’t like you to sleep in. Were you having a good dream?”

Zelda sighed.

“It started that way.”

“My apologies for ending it,” the handmaiden said. “But the King wants you to depart for Lanayru Mountain at once. He is to escort you to the gates any minute now.”

Zelda didn’t know if she could take a repeat of last night’s beratement, she didn’t even know if she could meet her father’s gaze. She supposed it couldn’t be avoided.

“So much for breakfast,” Zelda muttered before she heard the door knock. Dressed and ready in her white garb, she felt as if she were being pushed out the door.

Zelda took a deep breath as she went to open the door, expecting her father and her mouth popping open with who stood before her in his stead.

The boy who she kissed in her dream last night, the knight attendant with whom she had a crush on, the hylian champion with the darkness-sealing sword who held her fragile heart in his strong hands and didn’t even know it.

Link wore an apologetic smile and held a plate in his hands that had a perfect slice of fruitcake on it. Zelda’s hand went to her mouth at the gesture, trying not to cry.

She decided against it, walking forward and taking the plate out of his hands. Link expected her to begin eating before she instead set the plate down and hugged Link tight.

Link smiled and returned the embrace.

“I convinced your father to let me escort you,” Link said, “instead of you meeting me down at the gates. I figured I would take the opportunity to celebrate your birthday...I wish I could do more to make this day better for you.”

Zelda shook her head as she maintained their embrace.

“Link this is so thoughtful,” she insisted.“Th-thank you,” she said. “I just...thank you.”

“Of course,” Link said, breaching a smile. “Happy birthday, Princess.”

Zelda didn’t copy his smile, her expression actually turning to one of great fear. Link didn’t see her changing expression, how her forehead twisted, wrought concern, how her heart lurched with fear. He did, however notice a different indicator of her fear.

“Zelda,” he said. “You’re shaking.”

He let go of her, blue eyes dancing with concern when he saw the complete fear in her face.

She shook her head as tears breached her eyes.

“I didn’t want this day to come,” she said with a broken voice before it quickened to blubbering. “Now that I’m seventeen, there’s no excuse for me to not pray at Lanayru mountain. I can’t say this day hasn’t come anymore…I…I have to face the entire kingdom thinking I’ll…”

Her voice broke completely as her eyes clamped shut and she brought the heel of her hand to wipe her coming tears. Link, saddened by her condition, led her back into her room with an arm around the backs of her shoulders, sitting her down on her bed. His arm still around her, he was sitting next to her.

“Your Highness!” The handmaiden exclaimed. “Are you all right?”

Zelda replied by sniffling her nose. Link looked from Zelda to the handmaiden.

“Go down to the gates and tell them we are on our way,” he commanded. “I’ll keep her safe.”

“Of course,” the handmaiden said with a nod, departing as Link returned his gaze to Zelda, rubbing his hand up and down her arm to comfort her. She was trying to wipe away her tears and convince herself fine.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Link said soothingly. “No matter what happens, no matter what the kingdom says, what the champions say, you are going to be okay.”

“So you don’t think I will unlock the sealing power either?” She asked with a sniffle.

“I think you will eventually,” Link said. “But I don’t want to stress that I believe that you will because it is those expectations that are tearing you apart. What I want you to understand is that no matter what happens, my opinion of you will not change. I will still be here for you. I will still be by your side. I will still protect you and support you. Obligations aside, you are my best friend. I…”

He knew what his next words were, and thought upon them as he winced at saying the word “friend”. He loved her, he loved her so much that he hated seeing her in this pain, he hated the kingdom for doing this to her, he hated the Calamity for being inevitable, he hated the King for loving his daughter conditionally, and he hated himself for not being able to tell her he loved her.

“I care about you so much.”

Zelda wiped away one of her last tears and looked up at Link.

“I care about you, too,” she said before adding, "a lot.”

Link gave a small smile,

“Goddesses, I’m a wreck,” she said, with a sniffle of her nose, composing herself. Link’s arm moving from her furthest shoulder to the one closest to him.

“I wish I didn’t have to say it, but…” Link said hesitantly. “We do have to go.”

Zelda nodded.

“I know.”

“Are you ready to go?” Link asked. “Where is your slate?”

Zelda shook her head as she stood up, Link following her out of her room.

“Impa has it,” she said as she grabbed the plate with the slice of cake, her and Link heading towards the castle exit. They began to make their way through the corridors in silence as Zelda indulged herself upon her sugary, fruity breakfast.

“How did you get the kitchens to make an entire cake?” She asked after she had finished and handed the plate to a maid. “They are terribly busy in the mornings.”

Link scratched the back of his head as they continued to walk.

“I uhh…” He started. “Well, I actually went to the kitchens last night and baked it myself.”

“Are you serious?” Zelda said, looking at him.

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“I suppose not.”

She studied him as the silence returned for a lingering second before she returned her gaze forward. Zelda stepped centimeters closer to him, so that as they walked, their shoulders and arm and hands brushed, those fleeting touches warming their hearts every time, as if it was always new. Neither of them remarked at the closeness, and even moved their fingers to touch each other more in very subtle ways.

Soon Link and Zelda saw the champions waiting in the distance and their hands drifted away from each other, their shoulders a foot apart. The dawning sun shone upon the scene, and Zelda met it only with fear in her turbulent green eyes, horses ready to take them to Kakariko Village, and later, the snowy mountain behind it.

“It’s okay,” Zelda heard Link say, “deep breaths. Everything is going to be okay.”

#linktober #tloz #zelink #zelda #link #the legend of zelda #breath of the wild #botw #hyrule castle #calamity ganon #last one guys #i made it

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ary-se · 4 years

Text

Heater || Juza/Reader

wrote this in a rush before pulling in buzama banner,, was super busy so it slipped off my mind:---) if i still don't get him, at least he actually comes home in this fic,, but in a completely different sense so i don't think it counts ;-((((

edit: game is still on itaru banner but hey,, gotta do it early 😌✌

word count: 2.5k

"I'm home." Juza muttered under his breath, softly closing the door behind him as to not make any noise. He greeted to no one, being completely aware that he would not receive any sort of response in return, knowing to himself that he got home hours late compared to the time he usually arrives.

Slipping off his shoes that you got him for his promotion half a year ago, he gingerly placed them next to your own pair of heels that you used nearly everyday for work, subconsciously remembering that it was the same pair he bought you for your birthday. In the back of his mind, he wondered when was the last time he stayed silent as he entered his own home, waiting for somebody else to welcome him back before he finally decides to announce his own appearance.

During the first weeks of moving in together, it was hard for you to tell whenever Juza got home—almost every action of his barely made noise whatsoever, right from his numerous attempts on unlocking the door with his own set of keys down to his footsteps as he walks to the living room. It wasn't wrong to say that it kind of felt like an innocent child trying to sneak in somebody else's house, but in reality that wasn't the case at all. That time, your only basis of knowing when he arrives is the time he leaves work and how long it took for him to drive home.

"You better say you're home when you get back from work next time! That way I don't get a heart attack when I see you out of nowhere!" You lightly scolded him once, the panic still completely evident in your features. It was when you were preparing both of your lunches for the next day—you were too deep in thought while keeping yourself busy that turning around and bumping your head directly to his chest nearly made you scream. It didn't exactly help when you learned a few questions later that he has been standing behind you for a few minutes already.

"...Sorry." He quietly apologized, not knowing what else to say right after you reprimanded him. It wasn't his intention to make you feel that way—the reason why he never tried to make anyone acknowledge his presence in the first place is because he didn't want to be a bother. That was why when he realized that you were getting concerned over an issue that he was unconsciously avoiding for the longest time, he already started to weigh the consequences of his own actions.

Juza is so used to putting himself down, degrading his own existence—it was to the point that the notion of other people aside from his family openly welcoming his presence was such a foreign concept to him. If he was being completely honest, he does not have the slightest idea on how he is supposed to feel when that happens, and he doesn't like it one bit. Juza wants to be able to at least show that he is more than capable of feeling appreciation, gratitude like normal people do, however his mindset built from constant self-humiliation holds him back from doing so.

While Juza does not exactly find the thought of his presence being acknowledged as something he is comfortable with, it's an idea he would gladly take pleasure in—as much as possible, he prefers to get used to it, especially if it meant being able to indulge himself into the simple joys of life with you by his side.

From that moment forward, there wasn't a day when he doesn't utter the words "I'm home".

For the first few times, the words were undeniably stiff and iffy coming from his own lips. He sounded incredibly awkward, as if he was forced into saying those particular words. After a week or two, you told him that he doesn't have to say it every time if he really is uncomfortable—you were starting to feel guilty that you had a momentary outburst over something that truly didn't matter in the end. It wasn't even a problem to begin with; there was nothing to fix, so why were you making a big deal out of it?

"No, it's fine." Juza simply shakes his hand in response, rubbing circles to the small of your back to reassure you that he totally meant what he said. His expression gradually steeled into determination as he answered, a huge contrast to his hesitant features from earlier. It was as if he is completely resolved to improve himself even in the smallest ways possible, a way of paying you back for your consideration and patience towards him despite his reputation. Juza believes he still doesn't deserve that kind of treatment from you no matter how many times you comforted him, saying that wasn't the case at all.

Soon enough, Juza was able to say those words comfortably—they roll out from his tongue much more easily than before, as if he has been saying it his whole life. Those words were always spoken out the moment he steps in the house, admittedly expectant of the usual "Welcome back!" from you.

That small exchange became the norm whenever the both of you were back from work. It may appear trivial to other people due to how common those pleasantries are between people who live together, but it held an important meaning to the both of you. It somehow signified the moment you opened up to each other, which was beyond the act of sharing secrets and making memories together—it was far from that. The change of the dynamic between the two of you after that was almost indistinguishable, but it's definitely there. And you're absolutely sure he noticed it, too.

He said those words so much and so often that he soon made a habit out of it. After some time, it didn't really matter to him if you responded or not—the latter solely implies that you were already fast asleep, which normally happens when he comes home late like today.

Juza took off his coat and slowly hung it on the rack, carefully tiptoeing his way to the dark as to not make any unnecessary noise. He prepared himself for the moment he is going to shiver from the room temperature—it is often cold downstairs in the middle of the night, Juza is painfully aware of this because of his occasional snacking on sweets whenever he wakes up during the ungodly hours. That happens more often than he would like to admit, and although he tries to keep quiet about his midnight kitchen raids, you will find out the next morning anyways.

Really... how would it not be awfully obvious, when you swore that you brought home a dozen of cupcakes from work without eating a single piece, only for half of them to suddenly disappear the moment you wake up?

Juza didn't fail to notice how the floor was unusually warm in the middle of the night, the current room temperature more comfortable than he anticipated. The heater isn't supposed to be turned on around this time—that rule is applicable to all of the rooms in the house except the master bedroom, that is.

Did you forget to turn it off before going to sleep?

He let out a curious hum as he approached the dining room. This was one of the rare days when he was too tired to even think of getting some sweets from the fridge—he should turn off the heater first before he retires for the night by your side. That was his only plan, at least not until he picked up soft, muffled voices from the living room. He doesn't recall you texting him earlier about having any visitors, and even if you did, it still doesn't make sense when all the lights were turned off.

Puzzled, he took a peek at the living room in order to figure out what was going on, his confusion getting the best of him.

To Juza's surprise, the voices he heard were coming from the television. It was running the old season of a variety show that he recalled got you way too invested, you eventually felt the need to record all of its episodes during the weekdays. It was the same series you binge watch every Friday night when you're off work with nothing to worry about for the next day.

Most of the time, if not all, Juza joins in your marathon just for the sake of it, and as time passes he unwittingly gets as engrossed as you. It was to the extent that his normal sleeping schedule that he has miraculously maintained for years started to get messed up during weekends. Gradually losing track of time, he always stayed up with you to watch all the recent episodes non-stop, at least that was the case until the last recording finishes playing. Almost every marathon ends with the both of you being panicky despite the sleepiness invading your systems, dawning into the unfortunate realization that the sun is about to rise in a few hours.

You were asleep on the sofa, your body using up majority of the space as you faced the dimly-lit screen. The soft breathings were barely audible, your chest rising and falling rhythmically with the low-volumed beats of the advertisement running on the television. You wore your pair of oversized purple polka-dotted pajamas, the ones you claimed that were definitely not your favorite—pretty doubtful however, considering that you always wore that specific pair of pajamas first and foremost whenever you finish doing the laundry.

The locks of your hair splayed messily on the throw pillows behind you, your figure tightly hugging a certain bolster pillow that Juza swore you brought downstairs from the master bedroom. You didn't fall asleep on purpose, which was apparent from one of your arms awkwardly stretching over your head, your hand dangling on the side of the sofa.

Juza shook his head in resignation. You're going to complain about your shoulder being stiff tomorrow if you stay that way, idiot.

He silently went his way towards your side, fully intent on fixing your position so he would be able to properly carry you to your side of the bed, all while doing his best not to disturb you on your peaceful slumber. Before he could do any of that however, he stopped right in front of your resting figure, kneeling eye-level to your face as he closely observed your relaxed expression.

The soft glow of the television highlighted every contour on your features. The wrinkles between your eyebrows were growing more prominent from the emotional strain you were experiencing at times. Just a few nights ago, Juza recalled you ranting to him about the things that happened to you at work, the frustration in your voice clearly building up as you spoke. The same wrinkles on your forehead creased, your eyebrows digging deeper in every single word you uttered. It wasn't like you to blow up, so Juza figured it was something serious—he will still listen to you either way, regardless if what you'll say is of great importance, or just pure nonsense that came out of nowhere.

You need a good rest, the stress was clearly taking a toll on you—you deserve to take a break more than he does. That was why the last thing he expected to see today is you waiting for him.

Juza sighed. It wasn't necessary for you to do this.

He already texted you that he was most likely going home late due to mishaps in his workplace, which was indirectly a gentle reminder that you did not have to wait for him to come home. Juza always got home in a particular hour so whenever he had to work overtime, the unavoidable guilt always weighed heavily in his chest. He appreciates the fact that you always understood his actions, no matter what the reason was behind it.

"You didn't have to wait." Juza immediately told you as soon as he saw you still downstairs—it was when he got home late for the first time. That time, you also fell asleep in the living room while waiting for him to come back with your phone on your chest—you left the screen turned on by accident, displaying the text messages you and Juza shared. There was a recent message of him telling you to go to sleep, though it remained unread as you were out like a light before you even had the chance to see it.

"I know." You replied drowsily, your tone impulsively confident as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. Juza sent you an inquisitive gaze as you yawned on the sofa, stretching your arms to relieve the soreness of your body from falling asleep in another odd position. Your sleep-addled brain refused to let you think of a good response despite all that, so with all of your remaining energy that night, you gave him a lazy smile as you peeked at him through your drooping eyelids. "But I wanted to."

Your sincere but somehow dopy response told him that this wouldn't be the last time you'll be doing this—he is positive you'll attempt to stay awake if he is once again unable to leave work on time. If he was being completely honest, he felt bad whenever you did that—it wasn't his intention to trouble you by sacrificing hours of sleep for him, which he was sure you definitely needed.

That simple act that you did so often didn't make him less grateful of your patience towards him. If anything, it just gave him more reasons to love you, even though the list is already longer than necessary, ranging from your tiniest, adorable habits to the considerate, thoughtful personality of yours—it was frankly a complete difference to how you managed to draw him in by brute force.

Juza knew right from the start how stubborn you were when it comes to things that mattered to you, so whenever he has to go home late, he is subconsciously aware that you'll pay no heed on what he said about not having to wait for him. Even though that's the case, every time he arrives really late at night, your sleeping figure always manages to catch him off-guard.

"You didn't have to wait." Juza whispered, a soft smile crawling its way onto his lips. His hand instinctively reached out to your cheek, something he typically did before he goes to sleep every night. A part of him was unwilling to pull away, his touch lingering much longer than usual—he stayed like that for a few more moments, barely noticing your free hand extending to his.

"Juza?"

Your eyed opened, clearly in a daze as you stared at him absentmindedly. He only hummed in acknowledgement, observing your eyes shining from the brightness of the television screen. Despite waking up moments ago, you still find it in yourself to lace your fingers together with his, your expression crinkling from the beam forming on your lips. "Welcome back."

He gives your hand a light squeeze. "I'm home."

#a3!#a3! act! addict! actors!#act! addict! actors!#a3! actor training game #a3! juza #juza hyodo #hyodo juza #a3! x reader #ok y'all in all honesty #THIS WAS SO EMBARRASSING TO WRTIE #ngl idk why either...#i had to stop writing for no one knows how many...#plaes send help..pleas e

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shou-aizawa · 4 years

Text

attention [dadmight]

pairings: toshinori yagi & daughter!reader

warnings: angst (:

summary: growing up with your dad being the symbol of peace was hard, and you were finally done trying to be enough for him.

word count: 1.7k

a/n: i’ve had this idea for a while,,, and just got hit with the inspiration to finally write it. even though i love angst, i hurt myself with it, this was pAinful to write but still fun (: i’m considering writing a part 2 but who knows

Being the daughter of a pro hero was hard.

Being the daughter of the number one hero, the symbol of peace himself, was even harder.

Y/N’s mother died not long after giving birth, leaving Toshinori with a daughter to raise on his own, whilst keeping up with the hero work that needed to be done. For a while it was good, it worked out well; Y/N’s earliest memories are of her birthday parties where her dad would show up and brighten the entire event, the day she got her quirk and how proud her dad was of her, the occasional movie night whenever her dad got some free time.

However, things changed. The fond memories were overshadowed by sour moments; her dad missing the occasional birthday, parent-teacher meetings, holidays and the like. Sometimes days would go by where Y/N didn’t see her dad save for the live footage she’d spot on TV screens. It had been fun to see at first, to watch her dad save people and beat villains down without an issue, but the novelty of it wore off eventually and left her feeling something she couldn’t describe properly.

She didn’t realise for years that the feeling was jealousy. Plain, bitter, jealousy.

She basically had to grow up without a dad, all because he was busy with his job. Of course, it was a noble job, it was an important one, it had to be done! But can anyone really blame Y/N for feeling as if the villains her dad fought got a lot more attention from him in their brief fights than she’d ever gotten in her life?

Y/N didn’t give up though. She worked hard in school, got near perfect grades, and eventually got accepted into her dad’s alma mater, more specifically into the hero course. If she was honest, her heart wasn’t really in it for the right reasons, she just thought that if she could excel.. If she could prove herself to be worth the attention, maybe her dad would finally spend some time with her again.

After getting her acceptance letter for UA, she did get that bit of validation. Her dad hugged her, holding her tight and telling her just how proud he was of his little girl and how much she’d grown. They’d had a movie night to celebrate, watching some of Y/N’s favourite movies from when she was younger.

That one night had given her hope. And the fact that her dad now had to patrol less, and was teaching at the same school Y/N now attended only fuelled that hope. Seeing each other would be unavoidable, maybe there would be more movie nights, more hugs.. Maybe she would get her dad back.

Her hopes were dashed, however, when she met Izuku Midoriya.

Y/N had a vague understanding of how her dad’s quirk worked, and despite everything, she’d occasionally entertained the possibility that he would pass the power on to her, but of course, that didn’t happen.

He gave it to Midoriya instead. And Y/N was stuck watching from the sidelines as the two of them got closer, her chest aching with bitterness and jealousy.

When she’d first been introduced to Midoriya, she had tried to be sweet, push her own emotions away in favour of not making a fool of herself, but the smile she would give the boy soon faded into a barely-concealed frown. She didn’t bother correcting it. Midoriya, being one of the only people who actually knew that Y/N was All Might’s daughter - apart from the teachers - had obviously wanted to befriend her, and would always look a little confused at her sudden closed-off expression, but at that point, Y/N was past caring.

He had what she didn’t, and it hurt.

One afternoon, a burst of optimism hit her. For a little while it all felt so simple, as if the right puzzle piece finally found its place and Y/N could look at the whole picture. She just had to talk with her dad, explain how much it hurt to not have him around, how much she wished he would notice how hard she was working, how much she just wanted to spend more time with him.

She used that newfound optimism to form a plan, a good plan, one that would fix things for sure. She baked her dad’s favourite cookies whilst he was out, packing a good few into a small box, then hiding both that and the cookies in her room in preparation for the next day. Dinner that night seemed a little less tense, and Y/N had even told her dad about training, how much progress she’d made with her quirk, and he’d smiled softly, praising her greatly which made a warm feeling sprout in her chest.

When lunch came the next day, she set her plan into motion, fishing the box of cookies out of her bag and making her way to the teacher’s lounge with a bounce in her step, the cookies were to act as the excuse as she didn’t normally drop by the lounge just to talk with her dad and felt awkward doing so without some sort of excuse.

She knocked on the door then poked her head in for a moment before stepping in, a small smile on her face. Aizawa was in the corner, napping in his sleeping bag, Present Mic, Midnight and Cementoss were the other teachers present, and Y/N frowned very briefly at the absence of her dad.

“Y/N! What can we do for ya?” Present Mic asked brightly, and she gripped the box a little tighter, smiling politely.

“I was just looking for my dad-” she held the box up a little and nodded at it, “-I baked some cookies last night but he didn’t get a chance to eat any so I thought I would bring some along today... do you know where he is?”

Present Mic glanced at Midnight, and the two of them shrugged. “Not sure, lil’ listener, maybe if you check-”

“I think he may have mentioned something about eating lunch with Midoriya,” Cementoss interrupted, tilting his head slightly. “But I’m not sure where exactly, unfortunately.”

“Oh!” Y/N said, doing her best not to lose the smile on her face. “Well.. I still have to go eat my own lunch so I’ll just leave the cookies here for when he comes back, if that’s okay?” She asked, swallowing thickly and trying to ignore the familiar pang of jealousy in her chest, one that successfully eradicated the warm feeling she’d had for a little while.

“More than okay!” Present Mic said with his usual grin, “Can’t promise he’ll get all of them, though..”

Y/N forced a chuckle, setting the box down on the closest desk and fidgeting with her hands. “There’s quite a few in there so I’m sure there’s enough for everyone to have some!” She said, then waved a little.

“I’ll be going now.. uhm thank you!” She added, then turned, quickly making her way out of the teacher’s lounge and down the hall, not even sure where she was heading, just letting her feet carry her away.

Her dad was eating lunch with Midoriya. Y/N couldn’t even recall the last time her dad had asked her to join him for lunch.

Did he really care for Midoriya more than he cared for her?

That’s what it felt like. And Y/N decided she wasn’t going to stick around if all she got was the bare minimum, and even less than that most of the time.

She spent the rest of lunch in the girl’s restroom, face in her hands as she cried quietly. She attended hero training, choosing to talk to basically no one. Her lack of effort was obvious, and she earned herself a short scolding from Aizawa.

Not like she cared anymore.

All she cared about now was getting away.

As soon as the day was over, she rushed home, already having decided what she was going to do now. She went to her room and locked the door, despite the fact that her dad probably wouldn’t be home for another few hours. Even if he was home, Y/N doubted he would’ve bothered to talk to her anyway.

She pulled a duffel bag from the back of her closet and set it down on her bed, opening it then going through her clothes and choosing what she was going to bring with her.

A strange sense of calm settled over her as she did this, she pushed her emotions away and focused on the task at hand, gathering essential belongings and setting them down on her bed next to the bag.

She picked up her piggy bank, opening them bottom and pulling out any money that she’d saved over time, setting that down on the bed too.

When everything was set out, Y/N took a step back, eyes scanning over the things she’d collected. A sliver of doubt made its way into her mind. Was she really going to do this? Was she really going to run away?

She indulged the doubts for just a moment before pushing them away again with the shake of her head. This was best for her, she couldn’t stay where she wasn’t wanted any more, it hurt too much, and she deserved better!

Working carefully, she started packing her things into the duffel bag. A change of clothes, a hairbrush, toothbrush, small packet of toothpaste, couple of hair ties, a notebook and pen, and lastly her wallet. She zipped the bag up once she was done, breathing a sigh,

She got changed next, tossing her uniform over her chair without much thought, pulling on some leggings, a loose-fitting t-shirt and a hoodie on instead. She stuffed her feet into her trainers, then picked the duffel bag up and swung it over her shoulder.

She hesitated by the door for a moment, glancing back at her desk and considering leaving a note or something, but deciding not to, realising she wouldn’t even know what to write, and figuring it would just be easier to simply leave.

So that’s what she did.

Y/N left the house, not dwelling too much on where she was going, just following her instincts. Once a safe distance away from the house and anyone who might recognise her, she broke into a run, feet thumping against the pavement rhythmically.

A grin broke out on her face as she ran, realising that she could go anywhere and not give a single damn about what people thought of her, about standards she had to uphold.

She was free.

#mouse writes #bnha #boku no hero acadamia #my hero acadamia #dadmight #dad might #yagi toshinori #yagi toshinori & reader #oneshot #bnha oneshots #bnha imagines #all might #reader insert #reader #angst

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thekidultlife · 4 years

Text

I Want Your Midnights | Lee Jihoon

Pairing: Jihoon x fem!reader

⍟ AU: Idol AU (?)

⍟ Genre: Fluff, a bit of angst on the side

⍟ Warnings: -

⍟ Word Count: 4.3k

⍟ A/N: Alright I know you guys are already sick of me just posting Jihoon fics, but it’s my birthday today, so just...humor me pls. This is almost a self-indulgent fic;;; I’ll be tagging @nrhfzh and all those jihoon stans who sent anons last time!!

(this should be posted on Friday which is Leanne’s schedule, but we decided she won’t post anything this week and I won’t post next Moday;;;)

btw, the song featured here is New Year’s Day by Taylor Swift. I recommend you listen to that song while reading this skkssk

-Hyeri

It was like an ordinary night. Like any night that you have spent before and will spend more in the future. Nothing extraordinary could be noted in particular between you and Lee Jihoon as you both sat eating in the quiet and privacy of his studio, between out of place candles and almost empty chicken buckets. It was as normal as a night can be.

Yet at the same time, in your own little way, it was also special.

Not being overly expressive with your love for each other, subtle gestures and acts of love screamed more than a thousand words could ever do. It never felt lacking or boring or empty like people thought it would be. In fact, your relationship was an adventure, even barely starting, it had been an uphill battle, and you both knew that.

As you came back from the comfort room washing your hands, you made a small scheming grin at your boyfriend who was still gobbling up the last remains of his chicken wing. Taking notice of that, he glanced at you with a smirk of his own.

"I know that look. What are you planning?" He asked as you sat across him, your arms folded confidently.

"Are you done eating?" You replied, watching him with a childish cheekiness in you.

"Well yeah," he dusted off the crumbs on his shirt with an innocent look. "What are you thinking though?"

With a coquettish smile, you stood up from your seat and went to his side. "Nothing really. Though I do want you to close your eyes and trust me."

Jihoon glanced at you with a bewildered look at first, wondering what you were scheming again this time, but when he saw that mischievous glint in your eyes, he knew it was something he shouldn't really worry about and simply chuckled at you.

"Fine, but don't do any funny business!" He finally agreed as he closed his eyes and waited for you.

He could hear you walking away and some wheels rolling. "I've never done any funny business." You denied teasingly.

He scoffed, even with his eyes closed. "Yeah right. Except that time when you drew on my face when I was drunk!"

He knew you were making an incredulous expression right now.

"C'mon! I was just trying to see what you would look like with a mustache," you laughed, walking towards him and reaching for his hands. "Don't open your eyes yet. I promise I won't draw a third eye on your forehead this time."

"Please don't. And please stop sharing meme faces of me to the other members. My reputation as vocal boss is on the line," he retorted back with a toothy grin as you chuckled, guiding him somewhere in the room.

"Can't promise that, Ji. I like my status as the official Lee Jihoon meme distributor," you replied, making him laugh out loud at how ridiculous that title was, before the both of you stopped walking. "You can sit now. I promise there's a chair to catch your butt."

For a while he feared that there really wasn't any chair for him to sit on, yet when he felt the soft foam of his swivel chair, he relaxed for a bit and sat down. Turning the chair around before you backed away, you allowed him to finally open his eyes. As soon as his sight came back, he was greeted by the image of you sitting in front of the electric keyboard with a soft smile on your lips.

"I can't promise you my voice or my playing would be up to your standards, but just…it's the thought that counts right?" You suddenly rambled, giggling.

Blinking, Jihoon was still processing what you were planning until it dawned on him the next second. "Are….are you going to sing me a song?"

You smiled at him bashfully. "Yeah, though I wish it was a song that I made myself, but I guess I'll put my feelings into somebody else's words for now. So you better listen."

Gazing into your eyes, he could sense the sincerity deep in you. You were someone who wouldn't make an effort just for the sake of being romantic. Everything you do for him meant something and was done with great consideration, he understood that, that's why right now, he could feel his heart swell with emotion.

A gentle smile on his lips, Jihoon leaned back. "I'll listen. Don't worry, I won't judge."

“You promised that, okay?” With a sheepish grin, you turned your attention back to the piano and placed your fingers on the correct chords.

With a small nervous breath, you began playing.

"There's glitter on the floor after the party

Girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby…"

Soft chords accentuate your raw and amateur voice. It didn't need to be technically perfect, the genuine emotions which surfaced on your voice reflected beauty in Jihoon's ears. It didn't need to be perfect, but it was real. He always loved that about you. Your brutal honesty, the unapologetic optimism you had. It gives him strength to look forward to another day.

He remembered as he watched your fingers dance on the keys, the first time you met. It wasn't that special. He just saw you on the internet as he monitored his own social media presence, posting stuff about Seventeen and what not. He found your comments funny, your reactions interesting, that he found himself going through your posts every day. He knew he'd love to be your friend if he could.

Yet being an idol wasn't easy. You were so close yet so far away. It wasn’t as easy as typing the words ‘hey i wanna be your friend’ to just another person. His name held weight and Jihoon knew that. With his workload and all the responsibilities he had in his hands, he just couldn’t tell you what he felt. As he listened to your voice reverberating with the acoustics of his studio, he remembered how it took him years to finally stir up the courage and to finally see the opportunity to talk to you.

He was glad he did. If he hadn’t, his heart wouldn’t feel as full as it has been since he met you.

“If you’re really Woozi of Seventeen, then post a picture of yourself in Weverse and in the captions write what’s the last anime you’ve watched.” Jihoon remembered you telling him over chat, it was nerve-wracking back then but it felt silly now. Of course, you can’t just trust a random person claiming himself to be an idol. There were a lot of those these days.

“Let’s be friends first,” you wrote to him with a heart and a smiley face emoji back then. “I want to get to know you.”

“Don't read the last page, but I stay when you're lost and I'm scared and you're turning away…”

Jihoon gazed at you, even then and until now, you were still beautiful in his eyes. No matter how many songs he’d composed about you, the emotions that reside in his chest would never run dry. The way you laugh, the way you talk, the way you’d do just about anything—he only had you in his eyes. Yet things weren’t always roses and butterflies.

You were so frustrated at him at that time when he had gotten scared of his own emotions. Jihoon knew, deep inside, that he had grown to love you over chats on SNS; your witty sarcasm and wonderful conversations were like water and sunlight to the love growing, rooting deeper and deeper into his heart.

He wasn’t unfamiliar to this feeling, yet he had been betrayed by this same emotion in the past and he wished he’d never had to be again this time. He was frightened that you could easily leave him, broken and empty, like the others did. Admittingly, he had lost hope for a love that was unconditional. He didn’t believe that there would be anyone out there who could love him wholeheartedly as much as he did, even through his flaws and his mistakes.

But you suddenly popped into his life, unaware of how much power you hold over him.

“You annoy me so much!” you told him over one fateful video call. “Jihoon, I feel so confused, you know? What am I really to you? Do you want to be just friends or do you want something more? If you want to stay as friends, then fine! I won’t force you. But that doesn’t mean I’d wait for you forever when you’re ready to take this to another step.”

He didn’t enjoy fighting with you. Not at all. Yet he was scared and stuck and didn’t know what to do. Being more meant more risks of hurting you unintentionally.

“But I can’t decide, Y/N! Dating means people will talk, and I don’t want them to talk about you! But I can’t just make everything I feel about you disappear!” he replied, and you were taken aback. “But if letting you go is the price I have to pay for your peace, then I don’t mind hurting.”

Tears were already threatening to slide down your cheeks, and if only you knew how much it pained him to see you like that back then. To hear you trip on your words, to hold back small sobs as you tried to find coherent words to keep the conversation going, it felt like a thousand knives piercing through him.

“Stop that…please. Do you think I won’t feel anything when you say that?” you replied. “Jihoon, I can understand where you’re coming from but don’t ever think that you’re the only one carrying this relationship, or whatever this is. For this to work, you have to share your burdens with me, you have to trust me, to depend on me.”

“I know that all your life, you’re used to doing everything by yourself, and I’m no different. We’ve achieved so many things just by ourselves. But we can’t be like this forever. A relationship isn’t just you or just me. It’s us both. So lean on me, let me carry those heavy feelings and I’d do the same with you. I want this to work, Jihoon. I don’t want to give up.”

Even if it was only through some shitty PC screen that he could see you, it didn’t diminish the weight of those words. He could feel it back then, he could still feel it right now as you played on the piano, singing a simple song—you were the one he wanted, tomorrow and forevermore.

“You squeeze my hand three times in the back of the taxi, I can tell that it's going to be a long road…”

Jihoon would forever be thankful for you. Everything that you did for him, even if unintentionally on your part. He couldn’t admit how much he appreciates you in his life—through early morning calls when you were still far apart, and now through your warm presence in his studio as he worked.

“I’m considering moving there in the next year or so,” you suddenly told him over a phone call as you did your work. “Now that I’m breaking through the Korean webcomic scene, I think it’s better to stay close to my audience. And I think it’s better that we can finally be together, geographically at least.”

He could still remember it as fresh as that day. His heart began beating so fast, a wide grin broke out on his lips. He was worried that it’ll be too much for you to handle, but he had learned as your relationship progressed, that you’re someone who doesn’t get pushed back by hurdles so easily. Besides, you had him.

Jihoon was glad that he can now keep you closer more than ever.

It wasn’t easy, like everything else in life. But there was nothing the both of you couldn’t handle. It took so much silence and deception to hide your relationship from the public—a decision the both of you agreed upon long before. Jihoon knew that the both of you were private people, and more than anything, you didn’t want anyone to become privy to your intimate relationships.

For the first time, in such a long time, Jihoon was able to hold you close. Gazing at you, at your real eyes, at that time, felt surreal. Jihoon always thought he knew almost everything about you, yet he had never anticipated that there were still a lot of things about you which he hadn’t discovered yet.

He never had thought how warm your touch was, how bright your grin was when you were scheming some prank, how loud your voice got when you were so passionate about something, how soft your lips were when you finally kissed for the first time. No matter how much technology brought you two together, nothing compared to actual, real life affection shared between lovers.

“I'll be there if you're the toast of the town babe or if you strike out and you're crawling home...”

Jihoon remembers, as you sang, how you silently embraced him on nights when he felt the world was too heavy on his shoulders. You wouldn’t say anything to him until he would open up; patiently waiting as you tapped an irregular beat on his back. As easily as that, you’d erase all the stress that he had accumulated over time.

You didn’t need to say anything grand or moving, or make all of his problems disappear. Your simple gestures were already enough. You were already enough for him.

“I don’t deserve you, Y/N,” he whispered to you one night as he buried his face on your shoulder. “You’re everything that I want, but I’m not sure if I’m giving you everything that you want.”

You giggled, sighing as you brushed your fingers through his newly dyed hair.

“You don’t have to worry, Jihoon. You’ve given me so much that you never even realized it.”

He pouted, not liking how vague you were. “Like what?”

“Aren’t you just conveniently forgetting how many songs you’ve written for me?” you replied, a smirk on your lips as you twirled a lock of his around your finger.

“But…those are just songs! It’s not as special as the things you’ve done for me…”

“Don’t underestimate them, Ji,” you told him as you pulled back, cupping his cheeks and looking into his eyes. “I know how important music is to you, how it’s an extension of your feelings, and to be a part of it is something I’d consider meaningful.”

For a moment, Jihoon gazed at you; his eyes holding so much emotion. There it was that he knew—he was truly, deeply, madly in love with you.

“Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you…”

Feeling a strong urge, he leaned into you, capturing your lips into a deep and passionate kiss. Everything, everything that he felt for you at that time, he poured into that kiss, making you gasp for air. You cling to him for support, wholly surprised at his sudden intensity, yet not unwelcome at all.

As the both of you pulled away, Jihoon once again returned to your arms, allowing himself to be vulnerable before you.

“I truly don’t deserve you,” he whispered on your shoulder..

“After that incredible kiss?” you teased, “Statement denied.”

Jihoon groaned and you chuckled.

“I know you’re overthinking again, so I’ll say it clearly. You’re more than I ever wanted, Lee Jihoon.”

You paused, patting his head, tightening your arms around him.

“Whenever you call just to check up on me despite your busy schedule, whenever you share funny stories about the members, whenever you act cute and pouty when I ask you to do aegyo for me…what else…?”

He grunted disapprovingly at your comment and you giggled. “I don’t act cute.”

“You do, you know? You’re naturally and inherently cute,” you replied. “You’re cute when you make ramyeon for me even when I just eat the noodles, you’re cute when you offer to hold my bag or open the door for me, or when you insist on paying for dinner, and you’re so cute when you hold me close whenever I feel down and insecure about myself and my work.”

Jihoon was silent, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. He thought you didn’t really catch on those little things he did, but he had underestimated your memory and your powers of observation.

“There’s a lot more I can say, you know? I should make a list for you and maybe stick it on your desk whenever you begin to question yourself again.”

He snorted. “No, thank you. The members would see it and I don’t want them to.”

“I’ll do it when you annoy me,” you joked, despite your words. “Now, I hope I’ve reassured your worries for tonight.”

Snuggling against your shoulder, Jihoon smiled. “Yeah, thank you.”

“Please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere…”

As your words fell like chants into his ears, Jihoon was mesmerized by the image of you singing, his eyes wandering. A bitter memory relapsed into his mind, and a reminder that not everything was golden in your paradise.

It was a cold January night, snow had finally ceased falling at one in the morning. The both of you were inside his studio just like normal; a habit the two of you took comfort in. He was holding your hand tight, keeping it warm with his hands in his pocket, as you scrolled on your phone.

For a while, it felt normal. The sounds of the clock ticking, the gentle thrumming of your heartbeat, the soft breaths you both shared. Yet, just like that, everything gradually became colder. It wasn’t the actual temperature, but your mood as he watched your expression turn from amused to a deadpan frown.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, kissing your temple. For some reason, he had developed a rather intuitive connection with you over time, where he can easily sense your change of moods despite your lack of expression.

You sighed as you looked up, leaning against him. He wondered if you were pondering on telling him the truth, or just keep your thoughts hidden. Before he could actually express to you his own thoughts, you sighed and nestled yourself on his shoulder, closing your eyes.

“Jihoon, is this all a mistake?” you asked, your voice small.

He blinked, furrowing his brow at the complex question. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve read a few things online.”

It was a simple thing to say, yet Jihoon immediately knew what you were talking about. With a sigh, he adjusted his position where he could wrap his arms around you tightly.

“People always talk, Y/N. We can’t do anything about it but continue living our own lives and ignore them.”

“But what if they reveal our relationship as a scandal and you’re forced to leave Seventeen? They could do that so easily, you know!” You asked with a weak voice, clinging to him tightly. “I don’t want that to happen. I’ll never let that happen, Jihoon!”

“Then we’ll announce before they do,” he easily replied, brushing his fingers through your hair. “Have you forgotten how strong the relationship between Carats and Seventeen is? Of course, some will react negatively, but I know that they would be accepting.”

Once more, Jihoon heard you sigh. “Sometimes I feel like I’m just being selfish by being with you. A lot of people look up to you, Ji, and they all want a piece of your world. I don’t want to be possessive of you but sometimes I just question myself, like what if this is wrong? What if this was a mistake?”

Gazing into your eyes, Jihoon felt all of your concerns. It was already given that dating an idol would be hard, and moments of weakness like these could make your anxieties grow into deeper, darker shadows.

“It’s gonna be weird for me to say this but it’s ok to be selfish,” he told you, his words firm and certain. “Oh god, how do I say this…but look, Y/N, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be with me. We’re a couple, and that’s normal. There’s nothing wrong with being a couple.”

“But you’re an idol! If they knew, people would say a lot of bad things about you, and I don’t want that!”

“No matter how many times they say I’m an idol, I’m a human being, first and foremost, and just like everybody else, I have my own personal life which doesn’t revolve around my job. People will always say a lot of bad things about me no matter what I do, but what’s important to me is that I have you by my side, I have everyone by my side. So don’t ever think that this is wrong. You and I are never wrong. Who are they to judge what is wrong or right for me when they don’t know who I am?”

Jihoon realized that after his speech, you turned silent, and instead buried yourself deeper against his chest.

“You’re important to me, Y/N. What other people say doesn’t matter to me anymore. As long as you’re here with me, I’m able to do anything.”

In a quiet voice, Jihoon caught your words. “Thank you for this, Ji…”

“But I stay when it's hard or it's wrong or we’re making mistakes…”

There was always a strange quality to time whenever he was with you. Sometimes time would slow down, sometimes it would pass by in just a blink of an eye. As he began to reminisce instead of actually listening, he realized just how much time had passed between the both of you.

“I want your midnights, but I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day…”

On that certain night, when the both of you were wrapped between sheets, when the bright lights of Seoul reflected on the stark white ceiling, when you were tangled in each others arms, listening to your own fast paced heartbeats after a long night, he remembers you pulling him close, brushing stray locks from his face.

“Jihoon...” you whispered under your breath, your fingers tracing circles on his cheekbones then down his jaw and to his lips. “You’re very handsome, did you know that?”

He smirked at you, placing a chaste kiss on your lips. “What? You still haven’t gotten enough?”

In an instant your face heated up as you hit his toned chest playfully, making Jihoon laugh. “Ehh...! Don’t mention that now!”

As his devious eyes turned soft, he smiled at you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “What is it then?”

You sighed, gazing at the ceiling. “I just thought that someday, I know, things wouldn’t be this way anymore.The spark wouldn’t be as strong as before, the butterflies will eventually disappear. Things would become mundane between us...”

There was a melancholic tone in your words; a detail which hadn’t escape his attention. Yet Jihoon knew that what you were talking about was reality. As the both of you would eventually be consumed by work, by responsibilities, by day to day obligations, it wasn’t a far off thought that the way you felt for each other would turn dim. He knew that, and he feared it.

“But, you know...” you continued, breaking him away from his own thoughts. “Even if that happens, I’m not scared. Even if love do fail us someday, I’m confident that we would still be together, that we can still fix it. Rather than lovers who’re friends, we’re friends who became lovers. Even if you and I will eventually drift off, we still have a strong friendship. And we can rebuild everything from there.”

Jihoon oftentimes wondered how you’re able to get these epiphanies. Your mind was deep and thoughtful, and that was one of the things he loved about you. Conversations with you were never dull as you bounced off ideas at one another. You would always say well-said ideas, often describing how he feels better than he ever will.

“I want to share exciting things with you, Jihoon. I want to be helplessly all over you. I want to feel aroused, flustered, or dying of laughter. But when things get boring or nothing is really happening, or when we have to face bills, chores, or responsibilities, I’ll stay with you.”

A hundredfold, you were better at making him feel loved. He admits that.

“You know, sometimes, I wonder what I’ve done in my past life for you to choose me,” he replied, a wide grin plastered on his face. “You’re everything that I could ever ask for, Y/N. Even if you don’t have to, you still take care of me so much. I swear I’ll make you happy even if I have to walk through fire or sleep on nails.”

“I don’t think that’ll make me very happy,” you replied, grinning. “But...wanna know what else that could make me happy?”

Jihoon arched an elegant brow at you, his lips curving into a smirk. Ah yes, he definitely knows. “I was absolutely right when I said you still haven’t had enough.”

“Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you…”

Thinking of how much time has passed, how much the two of you had been through, almost left him in tears. The memories the both of you shared over the years was incredible that it was hard to let them go.

As he watched you finally sing the last few seconds of the song, Jihoon was sure that this moment would become another beautiful memory he would reminisce about one day in the future. It filled his heart, thinking about a pleasant future with you. A long time ago he had sang a song—doubting what kind of future was in store for him, yet now he already knows that it was something bigger, more beautiful that he had ever expected.

“Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you…”

As the final chord resounded across the room, both your eyes met in soft glances. You smiled at him, the sweetest, most loving smile you could ever muster, and then finally sang:

“...And I will hold on to you.”

Allowing the note to dissipate and disappear, you then turned to Jihoon with a bashful smile on your lips. “Well? Did you like your surprise?”

Already a blushing mess, Jihoon simply burst out giggling as you looked at him in confusion.

“Ya! Why are you laughing?” you exclaimed as you sulked, pulling on the sleeve of his shirt.

Still chuckling, he stood up, pulling you towards his arms as he captured you in a tight embrace. He felt at peace with you more than anywhere.

As it was apparent to you that he was in a rather good mood, you made a bemused smile as you wrapped your arms around him, also laughing on your own.

“What’s gotten into you now?” You asked as he pulled away, now able to gaze into your eyes.

“Nothing. I just thought you’re absolutely cute,” he replied as he cupped your cheeks, squishing them much to your chagrin.

“Seriously, Jihoon! Why’re you so happy?”

“Am I not allowed to be happy now?” he replied, his eyes turning into crescents.

You raised your brows at him with a grin. “You like my song, didn’t you?”

“And what if I did? It was a really nice song, you know.”

This time, it was your turn to burst out into giggles. It was hilarious how Jihoon was being so roundabout with admitting that he liked it; it was incredibly adorable.

“You’re so cute, Hoonie~”

It was no secret that he doesn’t appreciate being cooed at, as he made a small frown upon hearing your nickname for him.

“Now I don’t think I’m so happy anymore.”

“Oh c’mon!” You hit his chest lightly with a chuckle. “Tell me what you really think about it!”

His eyes filled to the brim with endearment for you, Jihoon stared into your eyes, trying to communicate how much he was so thankful that you entered his life.

“I like it. I love it, Y/N,” he replied, caressing your cheek. “It made me remember everything we’ve been through, and how much we’ve grown together.”

“And we’ll continue to the next year and in the future. Thank you for giving me your midnights, Jihoon.”

“My midnights would always be yours, as you will always be my mornings,” he gave you another embrace, embedding the feel of your skin against his, the way your hair brushes through his hands, the sound of your voice and the your scent—he will burn them all into his head so he won’t ever forget how much he loves you.

There were so many words that he could say so he could just express how he was thankful that you became a part of his life, yet none of them seemed fitting to say at that moment. Instead, as Jihoon finally decided upon, that it was best to leave them for future songs and say the words that he really wanted to say for such a long time now.

“I love you.”

-Hyeri

#seventeen #svtcreations #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen woozi #lee jihoon

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aspenflower17 · 4 years

Text

Wrath is The Cat

Hey everyone! This is my first completed fan fiction. It is very long, but I want to make sure I don’t leave you guys hanging with an unfinished fic. It is for Obey Me! and I had fun writing it. Know that I have finished Lesson Twenty regular and Lesson 15 Hard, so there might be spoilers. It also talk about Fruits Basket in this fic, though I don’t think there’s any major spoilers for that (also, if you haven’t read it or watched the new anime, you should!).

I am posting this at midnight, so I apologize if there’s formatting problems or such. Please comment or DM me with anything major you see and I will attempt to fix :)

Satan / Reader

Word Count: 3960

[some angst at the end]

“Are you reading that again?” Satan asked, eyeing the newest volume of My Hero Academia Mc had.

“Technically, this is the first time I’ve read this volume, but yes, I am reading My Hero Academia.“

"Why?”

“Huh?”

“Why would you read that when you could read real literature?”

“Hold on just a minute,” Mc said, fully shutting the volume so she could face him, “What did you say?”

“Come on. You can’t tell me you find that more compelling and as well written as A Portrait of Dorian Grey.”

“I never said one was superior to the other. Just because on is good does not invalidate the other. By that mode of thinking, no one should make new literature because it would never be as good as the classics, which is, simply put, a stupid idea.”

“Well, what about the issue of the art itself. These over idealized figures that couldn’t actually look the way they do in real life. ”

“Says one of the prettiest men I’ve ever met,” Mc muttered under her breath.

“Hmmm… what was that?”

“Are you talking about uber-boobs and uber-muscles?” Mc asked, hoping he honestly hadn’t heard her.

“Among other things, yes,” Satan said, though she could feel him trying to figure out what she’d actually said.

“Not all manga and comics are like that! It’s a trope in both genres. Before I started reading them, it’s something I thought too,” Mc said, not realizing that her voice had gotten very loud and fervent. Satan sat there, looking as if he was deciding whether to continue the conversation. Mc took a deep breath, her inner fan girl needing to quiet down in order to get through to him, “Have you read any?”

“Yes… Well, I tried once. Levi begged me to read one, so I conceded. Long story short, it was not to my liking.”

“Which one?”

“I believe it was called, That Time I Accidentally Fist Fought A Monster.”

Mc pinched the bridge of her nose, a habit she’d subconsciously picked up from Satan. He smiled softly as he recognized the imitation. That was a terrible anime or manga to start someone off on. It had a pretty good story, but it had far too many silly anime tropes for someone like Satan.

“That… That is not the one I would’ve started you out on.”

“And just which one would you have started me out on?”

Mc stopped, and started to think. Most of the anime and manga she liked were romance, and she wasn’t sure if those would be a good fit for him, especially since most of them didn’t have much of a story line besides the relationship. Although, there was one she had been able to get her brother into…

“My first instinct would be Fruits Basket. I’m not sure how much you'd like it at first, but I think if you give it a real chance and read until… the third volume, probably… I think you’d really end up enjoying it.”

“What do you think I’d like about it?”

“Hmmm… You’d probably really appreciate the dynamics between Kyo and Yuki. I also think you’ll appreciate the character depth and development. There’s also a lot of plot intricacies and plot twists. I also agree with a lot of people online that it’s a good introduction to anime and manga.”

“I’ll try it then.”

“Wait… What?”

“I have a feeling you’ve had more success introducing people to new things, especially since you have specific elements you think I would enjoy. So, I will try out your suggestion.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with my impulse reaction? I probably know of one’s you’ll enjoy more,” Mc asked, suddenly feeling a little vulnerable. Fruits Basket was one of the first anime she’s found on her own, and it still stood as one of her favorites. If Satan, who’s opinion she really valued, ended up hating it…

“I find I can trust your intuition most of the time. We also have similar tastes in regards to literature.”

“Oh… Well, I do have a copy of the first volume in my room if you want.”

“You have a copy here in the Devildom?”

“Mmmhmm. I ordered the whole set off of Akuzon after I found out Levi hadn’t read it.”

“I see. In that case, sure.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.”

Mc smiled to herself the whole way back to her room. Though she was still a bit nervous, but after hearing Satan praise her tastes in literature, she was feeling more confident, “If I can at least get him to acknowledge it’s worth, I’ll feel accomplished.”

After grabbing the first volume, she thought for a second and grabbed the second. She put them in her book bag, and started on the familiar route to his room. All the brothers had a defined smell to their room, though Satan’s had always been the easiest for her to find. The smell of books started the moment you turned down the hallway his room was on. Standing in front of his dark wood door, she took a deep breath, knocked, then entered.

Satan was not where she had left him, which was kind of odd to her. Carefully avoiding a stack of books she had knocked over on a previous occasion, she started looking around, “Satan?”

There was some shuffling, and then his voice came from above, “You’re back quicker than I thought you would be. Come on up.”

Wait… What? Up the spiral staircase? For real? Everyone knew how rare it was to be allowed up to the second story of Satan’s room. No one went up without express permission. Even Mammon stayed out after being hexed so many times he’d lost feeling on the side of his big toe. Mc had only been up there once, and that was because Satan had wanted to show off his newest rare book. She had only been allowed to sit in the single armchair he had up theorem and she couldn’t touch anything, and for good reason. Satan kept his oldest, rarest, and most important books up there. He had even put a spell on every book up there to preserve them, and, if rumor was correct, a barrier that stopped him from going up there was he was upset. Aside from the few grimories and numerous magic books he had up there were rare human finds as well, all originals or first editions. One of Shakespeare’s folios. DaVinci’s Codex of Leicester. The Babylonian Talmud as well as an exemplified copy of the Magna Carter, both copies that the rest of the world didn’t know existed. A Gutenberg Bible, though his brother’s had no idea he had it. A collection of Grimm’s Fairy Tales. Even an original copy of the Kama Sutra, which Asmo had given to him as a birthday present.

Getting to the top of the stairs, Mc stopped, not wanting to get too close to any of the books. Looking around, she couldn’t repress the sigh that emerged unbidden to her lips. Soft lighting that was perfect for reading with the spines of all the ancient books facing the world. Scrolls rested in their holders on the far wall. And there was the fourth eldest, crouched near one of the shelves, hand to his mouth and a furrow in his brow, thinking hard about something. His blonde hair had an almost golden hue in the light and his green eyes sparkled.

At the sigh, he looked up and smiled, “Go ahead and have a seat.”

Mc nodded and started over towards the chair she’d sat in the one other time she’d been allowed up here, but stopped halfway. The chair she sat on last time was still there, but now there was another chair. They looked fairly similar, being big reading chairs, but the new addition was much less worn and was more feminine in design. Having found the book he was looking for, Satan walked past Mc, and sat in the larger of the two chairs, effectively showing Mc which chair to take. After sitting down, she had to take a moment. It was by far, the most comfortable chair she’s ever sat in.

“I take it you like the chair then. Good, I’m glad,” he smiled, “I made sure it was large enough that you can curl your feet up on the seat like you do when you’re reading.”

“Wait… This is for me?”

“Of course. You need your own place to sit and read when you’re up here.”

Mc was at a loss for words, the gesture speaking volumes, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Just promise you’ll keep coming over for our reading nights; that’s all I ask.”

“That’s the easiest promise in the world to keep! Of course I will!”

Satan smiled again, one of the real smiles she’d been gifted with more and more frequently, “That’s what I was hoping you’d say. Now, where’s this book you were talking about?”

“Yes, hold on,” Mc turned and grabbed it from her bag, “So, these are collector’s editions, so I’m sure I don’t have to tell you to be careful, but…”

“No problem,” Satan replied, taking the book, “If you’d indulge me, I also have a story I want you to read,” and he grabbed the book he had gotten from the shelf, “Do you remember the mystery author I told you about?”

“Yeah. Isn’t his name A. Cohen?”

“That’s the one. Well, I was wondering if you’d read his books while I read yours? I know mystery isn’t necessarily your favorite genre, but -” Satan cut off, looking down at Mc’s hand on his arm.

“I’d be more than happy to,” Mc beamed.

Satan smiled, “Glad to hear it. Now, these books are hard to come by in the Devildom. Please be careful with them. I happened to find a box set of his complete works, so replacing it would be pretty hard. The first one is Blind Intrigue.”

“Got it. Not that I wouldn’t be uber careful with anything you have up here.”

Satan laughed, “Well, I appreciate that,” and he opened the manga volume.

“Oh, did anyone tell you the way to read manga?”

“You read it right to left, correct?”

“Yes, including the speech bubbles. So, you’d read a page like this,” and Mc proceeded to show the way a page should be read.

“Ah. That would have been helpful last time. Thank you.”

“No problem,” and with that, they both started reading. Mc found Blind Intrigue very intriguing, enjoying that it wasn’t just another run-of-the-mill murder mystery. As she got further into the book, she subconsciously slipped off her shoes, and curled her feet up next to her. She almost forgot about the demon next to her. A sudden shift next to her brought her back to reality.

“I finished it.”

“Ah… W… What do you think?”

“It is much better than Levi’s suggestion. I am interested in continuing the series.”

“… If you want, I did bring the second volume with me…”

“You did?”

“Mmmhmm. I was hoping you’d like it enough to want the second volume…”

“Well, you did ask that I read until the third volume, so sure.”

“Mc beamed as she grabbed for the second volume, after safely tucking the mystery novel between the chair and her legs.

“So, are you enjoying Blind Intrigue?”

“Yes! It is really good. I like that it’s an actual mystery novel, a lot like the Sherlock Holmes stories. Most mystery novels revolve around a murder, but since this one dpesn’t, I like it more.”

“Very good,” Satan said while handing her the first volume back, “So, who’s your favorite character?”

“Huh? In Blind Intrigue or Fruits Basket?”

“Fruits Basket.”

“Ah, Momiji.”

“He reminds me too much of Mammon.”

“I… Guess? Just… give him some time. He’s really great.”

“So… who’s your second favorite?”

“Well, Momiji is my favorite favorite. Kyo is my main character favorite.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I have a feeling you’ll really end up liking him.”

“Ah, well, good to know,” Satan said, as Mc handed him the second volume.

There was silence for awhile until Satan burst out laughing. Mc looked up expecting him to share, but he kept reading; a sign he really liked the story. Pretending to go back to reading, Mc snuck a glance at Satan. He had a content smile on his face, and was even further along in the book than she had thought he would be. She smiled, feeling satisfied and a little vindicated in her choice.

Mc was about halfway through Blind Intrigue when she heard Satan shift on his chair. She looked over to find him sitting with the second volume closed and eyes on her. She in turn closed his book, waiting for him to speak.

“If the rest of the series is this high of quality, I definitely want to finish it.”

Satan helped Mc transport the rest of the volumes to his room that day. Though he really loved the series, he would only read it when Mc was around. As she now had a chair upstairs, Satan suggested they read up there, and he began sharing all the amazing books he had up there with her. It was nice for Mc, especially since none of the other brothers knew she was allowed up there. Satan finished Fruits Basket fairly quickly, not quite gushing about how much he loved the characters and story, asking Mc if she had any other manga recommendations. She was more than happy to oblige. Soon, Satan was reading manga whenever Mc was in his room, but only when she was in his room.

He didn’t like manga that were all trope and no substance, but he would try anything Mc brought him since she usually brought “good manga”. One of his favorites was Jo Jo’s Bizarre Adventures. It came as a surprise to him when, one day he declared a series to be his second favorite, after Fruits Basket, and Mc told him it was a series that Levi had gotten her into.

“You know, I’m sure he’d love discussing it with you…”

“Wait. You think I should go waltzing into his room and say, ‘Hey Levi, I really enjoy The Watchman’s Spell and am all caught up on it. We should talk about it’?”

“Well, yeah, basically. I’ll be there to referee, so I can help if needed. I almost never see you two hanging out together, and I actually think you two have more in common than you realize.”

“He just gets so long winded about… whatever. He also acts childish at times.”

“I do those too.”

“You will apologize though. He will not,” Satan paused a second, and then continued quieter, “Plus, it’s different when you do it.”

“Have you ever considered that he doesn’t back down or stop because he feels like no one cares what he thinks or what his interests are?”

Satan stopped, his retort lost. Was that really why? He considered again, and then turned to Mc, “Okay, I’ll do it, but he’s not invited to our reading nights.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Levi didn’t take the news the way Mc would’ve liked.

“Wha… Mc, w-w-what are you t-talking about?”

“I’ve been showing Satan some manga and he’s liked some of them. I think you should show him some too since you know waaaaaaay more than I do. He really loved Watchman’s Spell.”

Levi seemed scared but also irritated, “You had him read Watchman’s Spell?! Why?!”

“I… I thought he’d appreciate it and when he did, I thought you’d be excited to have someone new to talk to about it…”

“I have the entire internet to talk to about it, plus you. Why would I want-” Levi broke off, scowling as he turned away, but then rounded back on Mc, “Are you doing this to make fun of me? Are you tired of me, and so you’re trying to pawn me off on someone else? What, are you using your pact to make Satan act like he’s interested in talking to me?”

“No, Levi, listen to-”

“Glad to hear it, because you’re not getting rid of me, ya normie! You’re the one that wanted to make a pact, so you’re stuck with me! We’re also best friends so you better-”

“Levi!” Mc grabbed his face with both hands, worried as she saw his tail appear. She had expected some jealousy, but nothing this bad.

Levi stopped. Having Mc this close to his face made his mind go completely blank.

“Just because I expanded Satan’s literary horizons does not change the fact we’ve already discussed our wifeoo’s. It doesn’t erase all the time we’ve spent watching and discussing TSL. All the raids we’ve gone on, owning all the noobs… Though I’m kind of a noob… The point is, Lord of Shadows, your Henry is trying to get the Lord of Masks and you to become friends, just like with the Lord of Fools.”

Levi screwed up his face, bringing up his hand to hide behind. Mc let go, feeling the tension leave the room.

After turning and composing himself a bit (Did Mc just hold my face?!?!?!?), Levi turned, lifting his eyes to Satan, who was simply watching him, “Who’s your favorite character?”

“Zeke.”

“He’s actually my second favorite.”

“Who is your favorite then?”

“Brielle.”

“Ah, that makes sense.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that she seems like the type of character you’d enjoy. She’s not bad. In fact, I enjoy the dynamic she brings to the tower.”

“Well, she became my favorite when she stopped the entire colony from starting an uprising against Charles when they thought he was keeping them from going home.”

“That was chapter 5 right?”

“Y-yes, actually!” Levi smiled, his eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree, as he started discussing the plot and fan theories with his brother. Satan responded to all his prompts or listened quietly, occasionally adding his own thoughts. He was being more patient than Mc had ever seen him be with Levi, and even seemed to be enjoying himself.

Good, Mc thought, watching the two bond, They both needed someone to get them out of their own head. At least I know I can leave these two without too many regrets.

Mc hadn’t brought up the fact her year was almost up to any of the brothers. She didn’t know if any of them had realized how close it was. She was not looking forward to leaving, but she knew she couldn’t let them just revert back to the way they had been, especially Satan. They had all come too far.

“Mc has an interesting thought on this subject actually. Mc, what are you doing over there? Come over here!”

“Coming!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Satan traced his fingers along Mc’s chair. Of course he’d gotten the chair for her so she could be more comfortable, but also to have a piece of her after she’d left. He hadn’t realized how much it would come to mean to him.

He pulled out his DDD, starting to flip through all the photos he’d snuck of her. Her, next to him. Her being so careful with his books. Her, sleeping in his bed, hair splayed across the pillow. He couldn’t count the number of times her scent had kept him from going after one of his brothers since she’d left.

He knew he was being reclusive, and she wouldn’t have liked that. But, weren’t they all being reclusive?

He sat down, head sinking into his hands, DDD put on the arm of the chair. Why did she have to leave? She had been such a breath of fresh air, so willing to discuss anything and everything with him. He had been able to open up to her, and she’d accepted him just as he was. No strings attached. For the first time in his life, he’d felt unique. Wanted. Needed. No longer alone.

He knew she’d been that way with all of them, but… It felt like she’d specifically picked him. He hadn’t been particularly interested in the human living with them, other than to see what she was doing to his brothers. She had been the one to approach him about books. She had been the one to pick his brain. She had read almost every book he’d suggested. He was special… Right?

He hadn’t noticed the tears until he opened his eyes and only saw a blurry floor, “If I’m special, why didn’t she…”

Mc had given each brother a gift when she left. When it was his turn, she’d whispered something in his ear, but she’d been crying so her words had caught. He couldn’t make out the words then, and even though he’d run them through his head more times than he could count, he couldn’t figure out what she’d said. She’d been so beautiful standing there, fresh tears ready to fall. And then… she was gone.

He had isolated himself for a week afterwards. He hadn’t been in the House of Lamentation though. Too many memories. In some small shack in the middle of nowhere. Somewhere he could release all his feelings and hurt no one.

As he was about to get up, a white blur caught his eye. Blinking, he bent over and picked it up. It was a letter. He turned it over, his heart jumping when he recognized Mc’s handwriting. He traced the letters of his name, hands shaking. He then carefully opened the letter and started reading,

My Dear Satan,

Seems you were able to hear what I said when I left. Good. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to get it out.

Anyways, I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t give you your gift in front of everyone else. Not only is it too heavy, but you’re too special to me for them to be part of the gift.

I wish I could tell you everything in my heart right now, but I don’t want to cheapen anything. I will return to you so please be patient and wait until then.

If you would, please go check on Levi for me. I can tell you right now, he’s not okay right now. He gets so lost in his own head and I worry about him. I leave him in your stead until I get back.

Satan, always remember: You are important. You deserve every ounce of love you can get. You also have the right to feel whatever you are feeling. You are not your brother, and I never want you comparing yourself to him, because you are an individual. I may not always be there with you, but never forget: you may not have had control over your birth, but that is not what defines you. You are so much more than a word.

Love,

P.S. I just realized you never told me. Who is your favorite Fruits Basket character?

Satan had never moved so fast down his staircase. Why had he chosen a spiral staircase? He was so eager, he almost knocked over the book pile he was looking for. When he saw what was behind it, he sank to his knees and gathered every Fruits Basket volume in his arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Levi was moping around his room when there was a knock on the door. For a second he thought it was Mc, but then realized she was gone, making himself sad all over again. He shuffled over to the door, and opened it.

There stood Satan with… manga… and, puffy eyes?

“Hey, can we hang out?” Satan asked.

“Sure. I’d like that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Update: I now have a part two to this story and here’s the link

#obey me #obey me!#obey me satan #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #satan x mc

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heroesarelife · 6 years

Note

Could I request for a scenario/imagine of Aizawa finding out his s/o's b-day is a few days after his? Like Hizashi was asking what he was gonna do his s/o b-day. Aizawa asked why did he asked all of a sudden. Hizashi deadpan that their b-day is on the 13 November. Just 5 days after his. What would Aizawa do after knowing their b-day? Sorry if this is too self-indulgent. My b-day is at 13 November so I'm really excited and I love how close both our birthdays are since he's one of my favourites

YEEEEET HAPPY BIRTHDAY MATE! (I will cal you uuuuh 13-non? I am so not creative with anon names i’m so sorry)

I am so sorry this gotten so long omg. My preference for aizawa is showing.

Word count: 1834

Warning: Too much fluff, risk for diabetes ahead.

To describe what he was currently feeling as tired would have been an understatement.Exhaustion filled his bones and joints with surgical precision; heavy ironsattached to his ankles and wrists, weighting his every step and tampering hismovements. Any and all sensations numbed, turning them into nothing but faintexperiences, too distant to feel real. He had work to do. A lot of it. A hellof too much of it for all he was worth.

“E…ser!”

He had approximately two whole stacks of papers to grade andexactly null disposition to do so. However, such was the life of an adult. 30years old as of yesterday, no celebration allowed. With a heavy sigh, Shoutatook the first paper of the bundle, exhaling his entire soul upon seeingKaminari’s anarchist handwriting. This one promised to be a train wreck. Hecould feel the beginnings of a migraine creeping in on him; not that his friendseemed to care about making it worse.

“Oy, Eraser!”

Grunting in what could pass off as a sound ofacknowledgement, he attempted to ignore Mic’s strident voice. He couldn’t catcha break.

“Eraser, say. You have time to karaoke this weekend?”Midnight’s velvet voice reached his ear, with its ever present mischievousundertone. Aizawa failed to answer, running his eyes again through the paper.He must have made a mistake. Having a negative grade was impossible to achieve,even for one with such an outstanding capacity for failing exams as Kaminari.

“I’m saying he probably has plans for [Name]’s birthday.” Micwhined, sighing much more audibly than strictly necessary. Right there, he hadmarked one of the questions incorrectly. Not that this would help the boy’s caseovermuch. Maybe if he offered lessons… Wait just a second.

“Birthday?” Shouta finally raised his head in something of asurprise, only to squint angrily at the cigarette between Mic’s fingers. “Takeyour shitty smoking outside.”

“[Name]’s birthday is this weekend. You know, your s/o.” Notabashed in the slightest, the other hero placed the cigarette behind his own ear,seemingly happy enough with himself. “Aren’t you going to celebrate with them?”he smiled up at Shouta, somewhat wickedly, obviously having noticed that he hadforgotten. Damn it. It had completely slipped his mind. What, between thegeneral consistency of his fatigated state and his personal disregard of hisown birthday, he had failed to notice that theirs was nothing less than 5 daysaway. No, correction: 4 days away. Well, shit.

That explained why they had made a point of telling him,with all airs of importance, that they had no plans for that weekend. Despitehim not having asked them. Things suddenly clicked in his brain and he pressedhis fingers to his eyes, feeling like a dumbass. Of course they were expectingsomething. And he had forgotten.

“Hey, no worries, Eraser!” Mic’s overly excited voicestormed his eardrums, much too close for comfort, as he felt his friend’s armrest amicably on his shoulders. “You still have 4 days to think of something.”

“Shut up.”

—-

The light is what wakes them up. Eyelids fluttering gentlyopen, they look around in confusion, still slightly lost on the dense mist ofsleep. The telltale way in which the sunlight filtered through the room, withalmost devastating clarity, gave away exactly how much they had overslept. Itshould be almost noon at that point. All heavy limbs and fuzzy mind, theystretch languidly, revelling on the soft feel of the sheets tangled aroundtheir body. Trying to pretend the absence of Shouta didn’t bring sadness totheir heart.

Because it did, more than what they cared to admit. Thespace besides them was empty and cold, which by itself felt like a ratherlonely birthday gift. Shouta probably left for work, on a Saturday of all days.At this point, they were convinced that he had forgotten. They could all buthear their own heart breaking just by remembering last night. How they hadwaited awake, because they enjoyed to just wait for the clock to turn midnightso they could just welcome their special day. And how Shouta had arrived frompatrol shortly after, only to promptly collapse in bed, absolutely oblivious asfor what reason his s/o would be excited at such a late hour. Not even a modest‘happy birthday’ before falling into a deep slumber. Nothing.

Already drained of all the possible excitement they mighthave felt for the day to come, they get up slowly, staggering into the livingroom in a daze. At the exact same time as Shouta came in through the front door.He scoffed in half amusement, apparently finding something funny in their dishevelledappearance. “Sleeping much? Sit you down, sleepyhead. I will press some coffeefor you.” He jested through his customary sarcastic demeanour.

Huffing irritably, they sat down on the couch, tellingthemselves that it was absolutely notbecause he told them to, but rather because they still felt just too dizzy fromexcess of sleep. Yes, that was it. As it was, they almost jumped out of theirskin when something suddenly fell unceremoniously onto their lap. A small box.

They looked up at the culprit, namely Shouta, who was nowplacing a hot mug of coffee on the side table, looking as unfazed as always.Feeling their hearts swell with renewed and bright hope, they opened the smallgift. Inside there was the new album of one of their favourite bands, accompaniedby a sweet note signed with the flashy handwriting unmistakably belonging toPresent Mic. The disappointment was so strong that they could swear they heardthey heart die a little bit, almost like a wounded animal attacked by surpriseby a hunter in the woods. Fatal injury. It wasn’t Shouta’s. He had trulyforgotten.

“It’s from Hizashi” their boyfriend explained, rather unnecessarily.Acquiescing silently, they bit down their lower lip, fighting back the sillytears that threatened to spill. It’s not that they weren’t glad with Hizashi’s thoughtfulgift – it’s true that they had been blabbing about that musician nonstop forthe last few months – but it hurt them so to know their own boyfriend would soblatantly overlook their birthday. And he must know at this point, surely. But the cold disregard and lack of acknowledgementfelt a bit much at this point. They sniffed, lightly but still more audiblythan they had intended, and they heard Shouta clicking his tongue, as a clearshow of his own discomfort.

They heard the shuffling sound of clothes and the faintingsteps as Shouta walked away. Well, great. The day was going downhill barely 30minutes since waking up. It was a talent of theirs, apparently. Maybe they shouldput it on their CV and get a job as a day-destroyer, as they were clearly inwrong profession.

Absorbed in their thought, they didn’t hear he come back,and were snapped out of their thoughts by the deep sound of his voice. “I alsodon’t have any plans for the weekend.” Even through their upset haze, hesounded a bit awkward.

Surprised, they raised their eyes to meet his, not quiteunderstanding where this was going. He was sitting on the couch’s armrest.Close enough to be touched if they so much desired, while still giving themenough breathing space. He placed his hand behind his neck, scratching the areaas if in embarrassment, somehow managing to further mess his already sloppylocks.

“What I mean is…” he went on, taking a deep breath as iflooking to gather himself. “I took the weekend off. To spend with you.”

It took some seconds for the information to sink in. Theirheart behaving wearily in fear of further disappointment. But this was a verbaladmission. He had freed his days, to spend only with them.

“So we can do whatever you like. I know it’s not ideal andnothing much but—”

“You remembered.” They croaked, stupidly emotional over thesimple conclusion. Shouta’s eyes widened, and pressed his lips together,letting his hand drop to his lap in some sort of defeat.

“I had… In truth, I had forgotten. Hizashi reminded me.” Headmitted, voice dropping ever-so-slightly to what could be described as anabashed tone. “I’m sorry. I—” He was suddenly interrupted by a soft and muffled‘meow’ which came from some location within his person.

Their mouth fell open, in an almost comical surprise. “Isthat a…?”

Had they not known any better, they would have sworn that thechange of tone in his cheeks was that of an embarrassed flush. However, Shoutamost certainly didn’t do blushing, so it was probably a result of roomtemperature. Right? Right. Despite that, their boyfriend reached somewhereinside the coat he was wearing, revealing the most cute, fluffy, and small kittenthey had ever laid their eyes upon.

Unable to suppress an enthusiastic squeak, as well as thebeautiful warm feeling that began to spread through their heart and stomach,they stretched their hands eagerly, receiving the little thing with carefuladoration. The kitten blinked lazily, apparently confused with the change ofenvironment, rolling over on their palm carelessly and proceeding to adorably pawtheir finger. It had a black and silky fur, and was wearing a loose red ribbonaround its neck, almost as if it was placed there in an afterthought.

“That’s why I left earlier. You said you wanted one for sometime now. And Kayama has a friend whose cat just had a litter and, well, Ithought you would like.” He trailed off, noticing they were barely paying himany mind.

“But�� You said you were too busy to care for one.” Theysaid, feeling their heart twist painfully at the mere thought of having toreturn the lovely creature. They loved it already. “Or would I take it to myhouse? You can maybe visit it sometimes? Or it stays here and I will visit itsometimes?”

“That won’t be a problem if you move in.” He put in, withappalling simplicity, as if answering that obviously the sum of two plus twoequals four. Not as if he had just invited his long term partner to live together.They felt their heart stop, the air leaving their lungs altogether.

“Do you mean this?” They said quietly, emotion taking overtheir soul in strong waves as the kitten bit at their thumb softly.

He nodded, a rare gentle smile touching hislips. “Yes, I do. If you will have me. No don’t.” He added in mild panic, asthe tears threatened to spill down their eyes. He closed the space between themboth, wrapping his arm around their shoulder, allowing them to bury their faceon the crook of his neck as they tried to regain control. “Happy birthday,[Name].” He said lamely, sounding mildly afraid to cause another emotionalburst. But they knew now: he meant it.

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 7 years

Text

My Eyes - Part 6

Pairing: Bucky; Steve x Fem/Reader

Word Count: 4,721

Story Description: Steve is a good man, America’s golden boy, a hero. He’s Captain America for christ’s sake! So it’s normal to want what he has… right? Bucky knows he doesn’t deserve her. He doesn’t even deserve the second chance at life he’s been given. But Bucky can never let him know. Steve can never find out that his friend is in love with his best girl.

Story takes place post “CA: CW” and all tension has been resolved.

Previously On...

2 YEARS LATER

Despite Fury’s threats, Bucky tried to find Y/N. He exhausted all of his resources. When he couldn’t sleep, which was far too often, he would try to find her. After the first few months, he even tried calling her family. But either Fury or Y/N had already thought of that and must’ve changed all their contact info.

The rest of the team was so heartbroken by Y/N abandoning them that they couldn’t find the energy to go looking for her. They didn’t think she wanted to see them anyway. If what she wanted was to disappear, they decided to let her.

Bucky obviously didn’t see it the same way. Months turned into a year and then the year turned into another year. Eventually, Bucky ran out of leads.

Without the objective of finding Y/N and without Steve, Bucky had never felt so lost. He handled it the only way he knew how: fighting. He took on every mission that was offered. Bucky volunteered for the most dangerous assignments, offering to go unaccompanied and lowering the risk of anyone else getting hurt. Everyone knew what he was doing.

After a year of it, Sam intervened. He’d seen just about everything when it came to how soldiers dealt with the loss of a loved one. After countless yelling matches, Sam finally convinced Bucky to see a therapist. Even with the impossible hole Steve left in Bucky’s life, Sam tried his hardest to fill it. The dangerous missions didn’t stop, but at least Bucky could talk about why he was doing it with a professional.

It was a hot summer night in upstate New York. The sound of grasshoppers and other lively critters used to be comforting. But now they gave Bucky another excuse for being restless. He decided to go for a run in the surrounding forest. He didn’t return until 20 miles later, at 3 o’clock in the morning.

Bucky was surprised to find Natasha standing in the grassy opening outside the compound. She was wearing a cotton robe and had her infamous smirk on her lips. It was obvious she had been expecting him.

“You put a tracker on me, Romanoff?” Bucky huffed, still trying to catch his breath from sprinting the last couple of miles.

“Your habits are too predictable for me to ever need one.” She replied.

Bucky wasn’t wearing a shirt, just baggy shorts and running shoes. An iPod was strapped to his bicep. It used to be Steve’s. Bucky suspected that Y/N had been the one to fill it with music since it was organized in playlists based of their genre and/or era. He’d grown pathetically attached to it.

“Did you need something?” Bucky asked bluntly, not trying to be rude but knowing she didn’t just happen to be outside in the middle of the night.

“Fury left a little bit ago.” She said as if she hadn’t heard his question.

“That so?” Bucky hummed uninterested, putting his hands on his hips.

“This is the only area that doesn’t have audio surveillance and I can easily erase the video footage after.” Nat stated.

Bucky was now slightly more interested. “Romanoff, what the hell is going on? Are you planning on killing me and hiding the body?”

With that wicked side smirk, Nat stepped forward and held out a piece of paper to him.

Bucky took it without breaking her gaze. When he glanced down, there were coordinates written down in Natasha’s flawless handwriting.

“That’s where she is.” Nat clarified.

It took Bucky a couple seconds to put together what he was actually holding. And once he did, his eyes snapped up to Nat’s in utter disbelief. “H-How…?”

“It’s been a process. I would’ve gotten it sooner, but Nick made one hell of a firewall for me to get through. It also changed its coding every month, so there were occasions when I wasn’t fast enough to break it in time. I kept having to start over.” She explained the process so modestly, like she hadn’t just hacked into a system that was more protected than The White House.

Bucky’s grip on the thin piece of paper turned vice-like. “Nat…I-I don’t understand…Why?”

The smirk on her lips finally disappeared. “Do you remember that 4th of July after you first moved here? We forced Steve to celebrate his birthday. But he would only agree if it was just the team, that way Y/N could be with him.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed, but he nodded.

“It’s always the moment I go to when I try to think about when we were altogether and just being…happy.” Nat sighed as she got a dazed look. “Tony, of course, managed to get all of those ridiculous fireworks to be set off at midnight. We were all watching them. But I just happened to glance at you. And right when I did, you were looking at Y/N. She was in Steve’s arms, staring up at the sky. We all were. That’s how I almost missed it. I must be getting rusty, because it took me almost a year to catch you. I must admit, you were good at hiding it… because I never caught it ever again. Everything else made sense after that: why you never talked to her and how, when you did, you were so unfriendly.”

Bucky’s hands were clutched into fists. Then he looked at the ground in shame. “Do you-…Nat, do you think he knew?” He barely had the courage to ask.

“I don’t think so.” She assured him.

Then Nat was closing the distance between them. Her hand lightly cupped his cheek, bringing his head up. “I’m sorry you lost both of them. I didn’t know how else to help without upsetting you. This was all I could think of.” She gestured to his flesh fist that was protecting the piece of paper.

“Fury’s not going to be happy with you.” Bucky warned.

She shrugged. “Let me handle Fury.”

Bucky stared down at the numbers, memorizing them without realizing it.

“Hey…” Nat softly grabbed his attention. “You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. I just thought you should have it.”

Bucky had been so focused on looking for Y/N that he never thought about what he would do when he finally found her.

---

ONE YEAR LATER

It took him another year just to have the courage to finally jump in a car and go.

The coordinates put Y/N’s location in the middle of Montana. She sure hadn’t messed around when it came to seclusion. It took Bucky over a day just to cross the state lines. He knew he could’ve borrowed a jet, no questions asked. But he needed the drive to calm his nerves and help him think of what he would actually say.

Bucky’s hands started shaking over the steering wheel when his mind drifted to Steve. Guilt seeped into the forefront of his mind when he remembered a conversation they’d once had.

Steve and Bucky had been flying a jet back from a mission that just needed the two of them. It was an easy in and out. But that didn’t stop the relief they both had as they took the journey back home.

Steve’s cellphone was ringing with constant text message alerts. They must finally have service and he was receiving all of them at once now.

Steve asked for Bucky to grab it for him since he was flying the jet.

“They’re all from Y/N.” Bucky informed him without looking at them. “And one’s from Sam telling you a spoiler from the Game of Thrones episode the other night.” Bucky chuckled.

Steve smiled at that. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

“Game of Thrones? You better not. I haven’t started the damn thing yet.” Bucky groaned.

“No…” Steve smiled, but there was a new seriousness in his eyes. “I wanted to talk to you about Y/N.”

“Yeah?” Bucky asked carefully.

“I know you two still haven’t really had a chance to get to know each other.” Steve prefaced. “But I just need to ask you something man to man.”

Bucky swore he was sweating. Had Steve figured everything out? He sounded so pleasant. But of course Steve would still be pleasant, even after finding out his best friend was in love with his girl.

“If anything were to ever happen to me… Can you promise me you’ll look after Y/N?” Steve glanced over at Bucky, jaw clenched.

Bucky felt a wave of relief. “Steve, that’s never going to happen.”

But Steve was expecting this situation. “We didn’t think we’d both become super soldiers. Neither of us ever expected to live past the new millennium, Buck. We don’t really know what’s going to happen.”

Bucky knew he had a point.

“I just need some peace of mind that she won’t be alone. I shoved this life onto her and I know it’s not fair that I can’t always promise a forever… at least not really. Just make sure you look after her. I know I’m asking a lot Bu-”

“Of course I will, Steve. You never even had to ask.” Bucky cut him off.

“When she moves on…” Steve looked down at the thought. “Please make sure he’s a good guy. She deserves that, especially after dealing with me.”

Bucky reached over and gripped Steve’s soldier. “Steve, I promise. Nothing would ever happen to her.” And his words rang true.

But Bucky drove to Y/N fully knowing he had broken his promise to his best friend. The optimistic or self-indulgent part of his brain (he couldn’t figure out which) told him that it wasn’t his fault Fury hid Y/N so well. But the devil on his shoulder told him that he hadn’t tried hard enough.

---

Y/N jumped awake as her tablet started ringing an alarm on her nightstand. Her heart raced as she realized it was alerting her of an intruder. She lived in a small cottage on a huge piece of land. The dirt road had multiple warnings about trespassing and it could not have been clearer that whoever lived on the property would alert authorities… or just shoot them.

Of all the time she’d lived there, nobody had ever tripped Y/N’s sensors. She lived so removed from society that no one even accidentally ventured far enough into her property to get an alarm. It just added more anxiety to Y/N as she whipped the covers off her body.

Porthos jumped awake and as he heard her shuffling to the vault in her closet. He growled when he spotted her pulling the rifle out.

“Come on, boy.” Y/N commanded as she raced down the stairs.

She opened the front door and saw headlights moving through the trees. Whoever was in the car, they were driving with too much of a purpose. They knew she was here and they were looking for her. There was no way someone, who was just lost, would get this far.

Y/N put the rifle to her dominant eye and placed the butt of it against her shoulder. She tried to calm her breathing. Porthos growled at the car, ready to protect his master as soon as it was necessary.

Y/N cursed to herself when she realized that if the person got out of the car, they would have the advantage of their headlights blinding her.

The car stopped, making Y/N’s heart beat even faster.

The headlights were right in her face, almost obscuring her from seeing even a silhouette.

“You’re trespassing on private property!” Y/N called out. “Legally, I can shoot you right now…so I advise you get back in your car and head back to the main road.” Her gun was aimed. Perhaps not well, but it would definitely do damage.

Porthos let out some terrifying snarls to add to her threat.

“When the hell did you learn how to shoot a gun?” The intruder asked.

Porthos suddenly whined and the ridges on his back relaxed. He knew that voice. The dog sniffed the air and then bolted towards the person.

“No, Porthos!” Y/N yelled, but kept her gun to her eye. However just as she yelled her command, she caught a shimmer on the person’s left arm. Even at night, without so much as a streetlight, she could tell they had a metal arm.

“Bucky?” Y/N whispered. Her gun lowered a little bit.

He was crouched down to his knee now and petting Porthos, who was attacking his face with kisses. The car’s headlights must have been on a timer once the engine was off, because they finally dimmed.

Y/N blinked, allowing her eyes to adjust to the darkness once again.

“Doll, can you please put the gun down? At least for Porthos’ sake?”

Y/N was in disbelief as she reluctantly lowered her rifle.

“What-What are you doing here? How did you find me?” Her voice was so disconcerted that it sent a wave of guilt to Bucky’s gut.

“Nat helped.” Bucky admitted sheepishly.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Y/N gaze darkened.

Bucky was finally walking toward her now. She didn’t seem to like this at all and walked backwards toward the steps of the front porch. Her expression was anxious while still remaining disconcerted from his intrusion.

Bucky misinterpreted it as fear. She was scared of him. He held up his hands in surrender, hoping it would ease the worry on her face.

Y/N was a few steps inside her house, the gun still hanging tightly at her side. “Bucky, please, just go.” She begged him. Her eyes held no welcome, somehow stopping him from entering the home. So his large frame stood right outside.

“Y/N,” His voice was so soft. “I just came to check on you.”

Her jaw clenched at that. “I don’t need to be checked on. I don’t want to be… that’s why I disappeared.” Her eyes darkened. “Thought everyone would have taken the hint.”

Bucky opened his mouth to defend himself.

“Mommy?” A tiny and tired voice said behind Y/N. Porthos ran around Bucky to get to the child and give him a greeting by licking his face. The boy was so small that he made the dog look like a giant wolf.

Y/N’s eyes shut in defeat for a moment. But then she quickly shoved the gun into Bucky’s grasp before the child could see. Bucky caught on and hid it against the wall on the outside of the house, away from the boy’s view.

Bucky looked beyond Y/N to see the little boy. His heart stopped when he saw a carbon copy of Steve Rogers. The child had the same sandy hair and baby blue eyes. Even the tired, yet inquisitive expression was Steve’s.

“Jimmy, you’re not supposed to be out of bed.” Y/N reprimanded, but her tone was still gentle.

The little boy ignored his mother’s scolding. “Who is that?”

Y/N lifted him up into her arms and angled her body so Bucky was no longer in his view. But he still tried to twist around in his mother’s hold to look. Y/N disappeared around the corner and up a flight of stairs.

Bucky was frozen in place, unable to move his body.

Y/N returned a few minutes later. He saw her hand tremble as it ran anxiously through her hair. She took in a deep breath, clearly going through too many feelings and contemplations in her head. Finally she eyed Bucky, who still stood outside the house.

“You can come in, Bucky.” She sighed.

He didn’t move. “Jimmy?” It was practically a whisper.

“It’s short for James.” She shrugged innocently.

“Yes, I know what it’s short for.” He responded softly. “Y/N…I thought-you said you were going to…” He couldn’t even finish the sentence.

“I know. You deserve an explanation, I know.” Y/N admitted. “Please, can you just come inside?”

This finally broke Bucky’s daze. He slowly stepped into the tiny house and closed the front door behind him.

“Fuck, I need a drink.” Y/N muttered to herself.

Next thing Bucky knew, the two of them were sitting at the dinner table with beers in both of their hands. Y/N’s eyes were distant as she mindlessly messed with the paper logo on the bottle. Bucky just watched her patiently, waiting for her to start talking when she was ready.

“I was going to do it.” She finally muttered. “I was at the appointment. They were about to do the procedure and I just panicked. I realized that he was the only thing I had left of Steve. I-I started crying. I completely freaked out the doctors as I sobbed that I couldn’t go through with it. And… that was it.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Bucky asked.

“My family knew.” Y/N defended, finally lifting her gaze up to look at him.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” He corrected.

“Because I was mad at all of you, I was mad at your world. I thought if I bring a child into this life, I don’t want them to ever be a part of that.” Y/N didn’t mean to sound angry, but the words still hurt. “It was what that took Steve’s life.”

Bucky realized she was holding on by a thread. He felt even guiltier for his arrival. She tried to protect her and Steve’s child from danger and here Bucky came, bringing it right to her doorstep.

“You named him James?” Bucky asked tenderly, trying to change the subject.

Y/N gave a shy smirk. “James Wilson Y/L/N.”

Bucky smiled at that. He knew Sam would probably try to hide the tears if he ever found out that Y/N named the boy after the two of them.

“I think it’s what he would’ve wanted.” Y/N wasn’t present in the room anymore. A few tears slid down her cheek. But she quickly wiped them away and sniveled. “Sorry… I haven’t talked about it in so long. Seeing you just reminds me of him so much.”

Bucky suddenly felt like there was no good he was doing here. He disrupted the sanctuary Y/N had created for not only her son, but also herself. The longer he stayed, the worst he was going to make their lives.

Suddenly he stood up. It was so abrupt that it made Y/N jump slightly.

“You’re right.” Bucky admitted. “I shouldn’t have come here.” He started walking toward the door.

Y/N rushed after him. “Bucky, wait!” He paused.

“The nearest motel is almost four hours away.” She warned him.

“It’s fine. I can sleep in my car.”

Y/N grabbed his shoulder. “It’s supposed to storm real bad. I’m not going to let you sleep in your car. You drove all the way here. God knows how long it took you. Buck…you can at least spend the night.”

Bucky read her expression for a moment. “I spent all this time trying to find you. But I never even considered the reasons for why you would want to hide in the first place.”

Y/N nodded. “I know you’re here because you feel you owe it to Steve.” It was the excuse she told herself that made her offer for him to stay. “Come on, you can sleep on the couch.” She added before he could say anything on the matter.

---

Y/N managed to sleep soundly. Maybe it was because she knew her and Jimmy were safe while Bucky was downstairs. But her sleep was interrupted when a crack of thunder practically shook the small house. Her eyes snapped open.

Jimmy would be sprinting into her room at any moment. He was terrified of thunderstorms, no matter how many times she assured him that they couldn’t hurt them. After the first fearsome thunder, he always came crawling into her bed like clockwork.

That’s why Y/N was confused when she hadn’t heard his little feet scurrying down the hallway to her bedroom. She must have fallen back asleep because the storm had been going on for some time now.

Y/N decided to go to Jimmy’s bedroom and check on him.

But his door was open and his bed was empty. Y/N would have panicked if she hadn’t heard voices from downstairs, in the kitchen.

She tiptoed down the steps, hoping to eavesdrop before they noticed her interruption.

“I used to be scared of thunderstorms…” Y/N heard Bucky say. In that moment, she realized she’d never seen him interact with a child.

“When you were a kid?” Jimmy asked curiously.

“Yeah, but even as an grown-up.” Bucky admitted lightly. But Y/N caught the dark truth behind his words.

“Usually I go into mommy’s room. She pretends to be scared too. So I feel like l protect her.”

Y/N smirked at her son’s cleverness.

“So why’d you come down here?” Bucky asked curiously.

Jimmy was quiet for a moment. “I wanted to spy on you.” He whispered it, like it would be less of a confession that way.

“Well it’s probably good that we let your mom sleep. She’s had a rough day.”

Y/N’s amusement disappeared at that.

“Why?” Jimmy asked with the innocence of a child who didn’t know the troubles of adulthood yet.

Y/N took this as her cue to interrupt and save Bucky from answering the tough question. She turned the corner to find that the two of them were sitting at the kitchen counter with mugs of tea.

Her heart hurt at the sight. For a moment, she saw Steve and a glimpse of what a happy life would have been with the three of them together…like a family.

She smiled sadly and Bucky caught it.

“What did I say about talking to strangers, Jimmy?”

“But he’s sleeping on our couch!” Jimmy pointed out and then giggled.

Bucky gave her an apologetic look.

“Do you want to sleep in my bed after you finish your tea, trouble monster?” Y/N asked, coming up behind her son and pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

Jimmy just nodded, remembering the scariness of the storm as another flash of lightning hit. He chugged the rest of his tea.

“Go get comfy. I’ll be upstairs in a second.” Y/N stated.

Rain stopped the kitchen from being completely quiet as Bucky and her were left alone. Y/N leaned her forearms against the counter top, across from where he sat.

Y/N was the first to speak. “I’m sorry that he woke you up.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Y/N. He’s a sweet kid.” Bucky gave a small smile. “I can’t get over how much he looks like him.”

Y/N sighed. “If I didn’t give birth to him, I wouldn’t believe he was mine.”

“He’s got more of you than you think.” Bucky assured her.

She scoffed at that.

“He came down here to investigate me. When he saw that I was awake, he offered to make me tea… said it helped him when his mom made it for him during storms.” Bucky looked her hard in the eye. “It reminded me of you, not Steve.”

Y/N gave him a thankful look.

“I decided to take over the tea making when he was trying to climb on top of the counters to reach everything.” Bucky added with a chuckle.

A thunder crash of thunder boomed.

“Mommy!” Jimmy whined from upstairs.

Y/N stopped leaning on the counter. “That’s my cue.” She was at the edge of the kitchen when she turned around. “I’m glad you got to talk to him, Bucky.”

---

Bucky had miraculously passed out after his little tea adventure. He was shocked that the noises in the kitchen weren’t the ting that woke him. Instead it was the feeling that someone was watching him. He blinked his eyes open to see Jimmy staring at him, barely a foot away from his face.

“Mommy said to wake you up for breakfast. She said not to touch you because it might scare you.” Jimmy whispered.

Bucky chuckled at that. He slowly sat up and rubbed his face. Then he glanced over to Jimmy, who was watching him curiously.

“I like your outfit, kid.” Bucky smirked.

Jimmy was wearing a dinosaur t-shirt, a pink tutu, and yellow rain boots. He seemed very pleased by the compliment.

“Mommy’s making chocolate chip pancakes.” He stated excitedly. But it was like he was telling himself for the first time because he became thrilled and sprinted out of the living room, into the kitchen.

Bucky slowly sauntered in to find Jimmy dancing around the kitchen to the music that was softly playing.

“Morning.” He greeted through his rough voice.

Y/N gave him a shy smile. “There’s a mug for you next to the coffee pot.”

“Can I help with anything?” He offered as he poured himself some.

But Y/N just shook her head.

Bucky sat at the table, taking in the home in the daylight. It was cozy and homey. But he didn’t expect anything else from Y/N.

Jimmy must have gotten tired of dancing, because he was now sitting across from Bucky. His blue eyes studied Bucky like he hadn’t met him last night.

“Are you my dad?” Jimmy asked out of nowhere.

Y/N was putting down a plate full of pancakes right when it happened.

Bucky watched as her entire body tensed.

“No, Jimmy.” She tried to it say casually.

Y/N gave Bucky a warning look, making sure he didn’t intervene.

“This is your Uncle Bucky.” Y/N added.

“Why is your arm metal?” Jimmy quickly moved onto another subject.

“Jimmy!” Y/N scolded. “That’s a very rude question to ask!” Bucky tried to give her a face that said it was all right. But she wasn’t having any of it.

Jimmy, suddenly looked very sad and disappointed in himself. He hadn’t realized it was rude until someone pointed it out. Now he felt bad. “I’m sorry for being rude.” He blubbered, eyes cast down.

“It’s okay, bud.” Bucky tried to reassure him. “I lost my arm in an accident awhile ago. This is just a prosthetic.”

“It’s really cool.” Jimmy commented honestly.

This made Bucky grin.

They ate breakfast with zero awkwardness. Jimmy kept telling story after story to his mom. Most of it was mindless and a lot of it didn’t make any sense. But Y/N paid close attention. Jimmy seemed to accept Bucky’s presence very easily, behaving how he usually did when it was just him and his mom.

After breakfast, Jimmy was playing in the living room without a care. Bucky offered to clean up since Y/N had made breakfast. He ignored her when she argued that she could do it herself.

“You haven’t told him anything about Steve?” Bucky asked as he washed the dishes and Y/N dried.

Her eyes turned down and she shook her head. “He understands that he doesn’t have a dad. He goes to friends’ houses for play dates and realizes that there’s another person there that he doesn’t have. But he doesn’t know anything about the Avengers or superheroes. We don’t have cable and he doesn’t go on the internet. He’s seen pictures and stuff at stores… but he just thinks they’re make believe.”

Bucky stopped washing dishes for a moment and gripped the edge of the sink. He looked over at her with a serious gape. “You can’t keep it a secret from him forever, Y/N. He deserves to know who his father is.”

“Not until he can keep it a secret.” Y/N defended. He gave her a disapproving look. “Bucky, if people found out Steve Rogers had a son… do you know how dangerous that would be?” She chucked the towel on the counter in frustration. “We couldn’t even bury him because of what he was! Steve kept me so hidden... Do you think he’d want to the world to know about his son?”

“Y/N, we’d never let anything happen to either of you. I’m going to keep you safe.” Bucky’s expression was so soft and affectionate. It surprised Y/N. She opened her mouth to say something, but the words didn’t come out.

“Mommy? There’s a red robot in the yard.” Jimmy called out.

They looked at him in confusion.

Then they both realized who it was and snapped back to each other’s gaze.

“Goddammit, Stark.” Bucky almost growled.

Y/N hurried over to grab Jimmy.

“Y/N, stay in the house.” Bucky ordered before going out the front door.

---

Part 7

Please message, reblog, whatever. Because I need constant validation HAHAHA.

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