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lonely-lost-soul · 3 years

Text

Where Loyalties Lie

(Technoblade X reader)

Request 3: Can we get a little angsty fic or headcanon of Techno trying to get the reader to leave L’manberg?

Requested By: Anonymous

~~~

“Tubbo please take a deep breath,” You followed him around the rubble as he paced restlessly.

“I’m president of a crater (Y/n)!” The boy pulled on his ears with a loud whine, “What am I gonna do. I can’t believe Wilbur blew it up-” He felt your hands touch his own and gently pull them away from his oversensitive goat ears. “What am I gonna do? I-I’m a kid…” You frowned, moving to cup his cheek with your hand. He nuzzled into it desperately, welcoming the comforting touch of someone who he considered family.

“You’re going to get through it because you’re strong.” You told him, “and so brave little ram.” He flushed pink letting out a whine of protest especially because he was still surrounded by most of his friends.

You watch as Quackity walked over to the both of you and placed his hand on Tubbo’s shoulder squeezing it, “We’ll rebuild. We’ll be right behind you Tubbo.” He smiled at the kid and you couldn’t help but smile over at him.

“Thank you both. Truly.”

There was one thing that had you were worried you may come to regret, and that was not taking Technoblade’s hand as he fled from the country. You were close almost touching it, he looked like he wanted to beg for you too but one desperate cry from Tubbo had you pulling away. He looked heartbroken but at the same time, you saw understanding in his deep red eyes.

Family came first.

That day he pulled you close pressing a soft kiss on your forehead, “I’ll be back for you.”

You murmured a soft I’m sorry, turning to find Tubbo to make sure he wasn’t injured or dying. The thoughts of the festival replaying in your head, you couldn’t go through that...not again especially because now Tubbo was officially on his last life. Tommy couldn’t fathom how you didn’t blame Technoblade for what happened that day, but to you, two things were clear: one was that Tubbo didn’t blame him which made it easier on your end to forgive him; two Schlatt was manipulative and overwhelming as fuck you can’t blame someone for something they were peer pressured into doing. Speaking of Tommy you ended up finding Tubbo and him in the rubble that day, the taller male was pressing cloth to Tubbo’s bleeding arm desperately, when you took over and Tommy seemed grateful.

However, you had to push your possible regrets aside and focus on the new nation you’d help build, and build it you did. You worked endlessly for months on end creating a lovely new nation for people to live in, Tubbo had dubbed it New L’manburg. You felt his pride and happiness, he just loved seeing everyone together again and happy once again. Finally, the server felt somewhat normal after all that destruction, even if there was a Techno-shaped hole in your heart. Things changed rather quickly when Tubbo was, in your eyes, manipulated to exile Tommy by Dream. You had tried to argue for the boy saying that not only was he Tubbo’s friend but just a kid. You were shut down harshly by not only Dream but Tubbo as well, the look in his eyes was filled with so much loathing and frustration. It’s the first time he ever snapped and was harsh to you, you felt your own frustration bubble up in your chest. You turned on your heel and marched back up into your house, you were not going to put up with this behavior. When you slammed the door shut, and turned around to find Technoblade standing in your living room, with your cat purring fondly on his shoulders; you almost screamed.

“Heh- why are you scared it’s just me?” The hybrid complained his nose scrunching up, “Don’t be cringe- oof-” Techno grunted as you threw your arms around his waist, the man flushed to the tips of his ears and looked away from you, Taffy hopped off his shoulders disgruntledly, “Yeah, yeah, I missed you too.” He pet the top of your head tenderly and you looked up at him with a smile.

“What’re you doing here Tech? If Tubbo finds out he’ll have your head.”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t find me then huh?” He mused lips, quirking into a smile, and you nodded in agreement. “Other than that just running some errands. I’m in retirement now you know. I have to say that ‘New L’Manburg’ is certainly a name.” He did air quotes around the name and you nudged him,

“Be nice.”

“Boo Cringe. I’m a Blood God starlight. I don’t do nice.”

“Bullshit,” You punched him in the arm, “Tea?”

“Please.” He cracked a smile as you walked over to your tea kettle heating the water and grabbing some tea bags.

“So, you came here to run some errands huh? I almost thought you missed me?” Technoblade shuffled a little behind you, how could you read him so perfectly? It was complete and utter bullshit. You heard him click his tongue distastefully behind you and you couldn’t help but smirk cheekily,

“Get off my back woman.” He stated gruffly as you laughed, “but I guess I do miss you a little bit.” You smiled fondly and softly cooed at him and he let out another scoff,

“A little bit?”

“What is this interrogation? You a cop now?” You placed his tea in front of him and he took a sip,

“Yeah, we’re gonna need to do a strip search. Drop your pants.” Technoblade choked on his drink, face turning the darkest shade of red you’ve ever seen from him. You howled with laughter sliding down in your seat beside the man.

“I changed my mind. I didn’t miss you at all, you’re a terror.”

“You love me, admit it.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He murmured looking at you with a sudden softness that was out of character for him. You didn’t notice the change but it was there, oh if only you knew how much of what you said was true. He did love you. He ran his tongue across his teeth and reached out to interlock your hands within his own.

“Come live with me.”

“Tech…”

“I’m in retirement now. I’m going to get some turtles hopefully, maybe some other pets while I’m at it. There’s a lot of room...It gets lonely all alone you know. It’d be nice to have you there with me.” He watched hesitance flicker across your face again just like the day Wilbur blew up L’Manburg. Your thoughts went to Tubbo and how much he needed you, especially now that Tommy was exiled. However, you were also brought back to a few moments ago where Tubbo snapped at you for trying to help. You took a ragged breath and pushed his hand away, he frowned sadly bringing his hand back down to his lap.

“I need to be here for Tubbo. He’s a kid Tech...way over his head. Dreams sniffing around him like a dog looking for his next victim to manipulate. I can’t let that happen, not to him. I know he’s President of this nation and you hate him for that, but he’s my brother and I love him. He’s a tough kid with a lot of fire, but I can’t just leave him in the dust. I love you,” You reached up and cupped his cheek and Technoblade felt his cheeks burn at the implication, “but I can’t leave until Tubbo is safe.”

“I’ll convince you one day.” Technoblade shot back even though his heart ached, that you wouldn’t be coming home with him. But Technoblade wasn’t known for giving up. He was stubborn as hell, he’d win you over yet. You’d come home with him, he’d confess to you and he’d make you the happiest person in the world. You just...didn’t know it yet.

“I’m excited for the day you do Tech.” You snickered softly, you both were startled by harsh knocking on the door.

“That’s my cue. See you soon Starlight,” Technoblade hummed slipping right out the window, you watched him go longingly. You shuffled towards the door and opened it slowly, on the front steps stood Tubbo who was rocking nervously on his feet.

“Hi…”

“Hey LR...you okay?” Tilting your head to the side,

“Is LR supposed to stand for little ram?”

“Problem?”

“No…I suppose not.” He murmured before clearing his throat and straightening his back, “I wanted to talk with you.”

“Oh?” You raised an eyebrow watching him nod his head sternly, you walked outside and closed the door behind you so you could lean on it. “Shoot,”

You watched as Tubbo swallowed thickly, “First off I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier. It wasn’t fair of me to snap.” He watched you nod a little urging him to continue, “however, I am the President now and you have to respect my authority.” Eyebrows furrowing together in frustration you opened your mouth to counter him but he held up his hand, “Dream has an idea of how to rule. He can steer me in a better direction-”

“Pardon me?” You let out a disbelieving laugh, “A better direction? Tubbo, are you forgetting everything we all fought for, we fought him for independence. He killed us!”

“He might’ve changed!”

“He exiled Tommy!”

“He deserved it!” Tubbo shouted back as your nose scrunched up, “He’ll steer me in a direction that you never could!” He snapped before realizing what he said, he slapped his hands over his mouth eyes widening to the size of saucers. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that-”

“Go home Tubbo.”

“(Y/n) please,” He reached out towards you and you held up your hand,

“Go reset the day. You need rest,” You frowned, turning back into the house “see you tomorrow.” Inside the house you shut the door on him and slid down onto the floor, you brought your hands to your mouth and swallowed thickly. A part of you wished Technoblade was still here just so he could tell you to get over yourself, he wasn’t skilled in the art of comforting others, but he could make you laugh. To keep yourself sane you reminded yourself that Tubbo was a child and needed you now more than ever, especially if he thought Dream was dishing out good advice. But you were hurt and a selfish part of you wished you could just go live in retirement with Technoblade and not worry about the new country forming, but you couldn’t ditch Tubbo.

Running a hand through your hair you sighed loudly, one might wonder what exactly could Tubbo do to make you listen to Technoblade’s offer. Honestly, you had no idea if anything would make you do that unless of course they just started executing people or something ridiculous like that.

Restless was how you’d describe the rest of your night, you tried to sleep but after a few hours of tossing and turning you gave up. You decided to make yourself a ‘healthy’ midnight snack, a small bowl of mac & cheese, you didn’t care, you were sad. You sighed softly scratching behind your cat’s ears, “It’s just you and me against the world Taffy isn’t it?” Her purrs rang in the air as she snuggled against your hand, distracting you just enough to swipe a noddle from your bowl. “You fat bitch!” You hissed as she ran off back up the stairs, you leaned back in your chair and sighed, literally nothing was going your way today. Just as you finished up your snack you heard a soft ping upon your window, turning to the sound you noticed your neighbor Phil awake in his house. He held up a hand and waved at you through it, and with a small smile, you waved back. He shuffled back into his home, I guess you both were insomniacs together, Techno knew how to pick a certain type of friend it seemed.

You walked back up to your bedroom and slid under the covers once more, maybe you were wrong and things were going to get better.

Months went by and nothing seemed to change much to your disappointment. Tubbo and you were still a little rocky, you had forgiven him for his harsh words but he always put Dream’s and even Quackity’s opinion before your own. When you came back from visiting Niki one day and saw wanted posters of Technoblade all around the country you almost had a stroke. You confronted Tubbo about it and only half answered you before running off when Quackity called him. That worried you, he normally didn’t like lying, especially not to you.

The same day you were walking into the market to get some fresh fruit when a hand shot out from the wanted poster and pulled you behind it. You were held flush against someone’s chest who chuckled gruffly, you recognized that chuckle anywhere. “Techno! What’re you doing here?” You asked looking up at him with eyes filled with concern, “don’t you know you’re a wanted man?”

“I think that just makes this all the more exciting.” Techno mused running his fingers through your hair, “Plus it’s not like anyone here can catch me.”

“Wrong I could catch you.” He dared to laugh in your face,

“Sure you could, and I’m half sheep.” Technoblade mused and he watched you huff cutely, “Don’t get all huffy at me you know I’m right.” You only waved him off, “seriously though I’m here to do some trading with Phil.”

“Oh…” You gave a nod, “Will I see you more frequently then?”

“You could see me all the time if you moved in with me.” Techno joked again and was surprised to see your face fall a little. Are you serious? Was he getting you to crack? “Starlight?”

“Ask me again in a few months and I might say yes,” You teased brushing the question off swiftly, Technoblade didn’t pry but he could tell you were almost convinced. Just what was going on in this country to make you want to leave your little brother? “Now shoo, go see Phil before he gives up on you.” You gave him a little shove and he stumbled off with a huff sticking his tongue out at you in the process.

After that encounter, you didn’t run into Technoblade for another very long stretch of time. About a month or so after that encounter, Tubbo had shown up at your doorstep a complete nervous wreck. He begged you to help him, claiming he needed diamonds for an upcoming project and wanted you to acquire them for him. “Tubbo I don’t understand why I need to go on this trip? I have diamonds I can just give you. You know I don’t care.”

“But I feel bad about it,” Tubbo argued with you “please just do this for me.”

“You know I’ll do anything for you. If you want me to get them this way I’ll do it. I should be back tonight is that okay? Do you need them sooner?” Tubbo looked relieved as he took your hands in his own,

“No tonight is perfect!” The boy chirped sounding more like himself than he has in months, you couldn’t help but smile. You ruffled his hair a little before kissing his forehead,

“Then tonight you shall have them, Little Ram.”

Tubbo helped you gather the materials you needed for a trip down into the mines, Tubbo even gave you some fire resistance potions. You thanked him for the potions before putting on your armor and heading down into the tunnels. As you were down in the mine the concept of time was always an illusion, so when you finally found diamonds for Tubbo and you left the cave you were surprised to see the sun was just setting. You hummed softly to yourself walking back into New L’manburg excited to show off to Tubbo you couldn’t help but wonder what he needed them for in the first place. However, when you entered town you were greeted by a gathering going on at the center. Everyone seemed to be there clad in what looked to be butcher’s outfits, your vibe was immediately thrown off eyebrows furrowing in concern. Quackity was giving some sort of speech and that finally drew your eyes towards the podium, locked inside a cage was a fuming Technoblade. You rushed towards the group, pushing past Ghostbur and a blue sheep, and grabbed tightly onto Tubbo’s arm.

“Tubbo what the fuck is happening?” He tensed turning towards your face. It was no secret that you and Techno were friends, this wasn’t good at all.

“(Y/n)! You’re back early!” He spoke nervously rubbing his hands together as Quackity turned towards you,

“Welcome back!” Quackity hopped off the podium with a smirk, “Fundy grab them.”

“Quackity hey wait a minute-” Tubbo started as Fundy roughly grabbed onto your arms pinning you in place,

“Ow hey! Watch it! Let go of me!”

“Get your hands off them!” Technoblade snarled nostrils flaring grabbing the bars of the cage tightly.

“Quackity you said we’d leave them out of this!” Tubbo argued and your jaw dropped staring at Tubbo, “You promised!”

He waved Tubbo off with a scoff, “they’re just as bad as Phil, Tubbo. She needs to be punished. We can't play favorites when trying to run a country. We’ll execute Techno then deal with the other traitors.”

“Execute?” You choked, “you can’t be serious! Tubbo you cannot be serious, since when are you okay with public executions?” He refused to look at you, his hair covering his eyes, he only nodded his head in Quackity’s direction.

“Do it.”

“Tubbo!” You shrieked watching Quackity grin maliciously, moving over to pull the lever that would allow the anvil to fall and crush the man below it.

What happened next was a cluster fuck, someone began trying to set off TNT, and Quackity pulled the lever. It fell rapidly towards Techno and he pulled something out of his pocket, in a flash of bright colors and bursts of light Technoblade was ripped apart and pulled back together again. He was alive, Technoblade really doesn’t ever die. He hopped on top of the anvil and jumped the bars of the cage, Fundy had long since lost his grip on you, he noticed Dream ushering him inside a cavern and he paused a moment. The hybrid turned towards you holding out his hand one final time, the world seemed to stop a moment and it was just you and him. His face held a desperate look in it, almost pleading you to take his hand within your own. You flashed back to the day Wilbur blew the country up, Tubbo called your name you glanced over your shoulder once towards Little Ram. You reached into your bag and dropped the diamonds you found for him on the ground, you grabbed Technoblade’s hand and squeezed it tightly. Technoblade smiled and yanked you forward, leaving a heartbroken Tubbo in your wake.

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drabbles-mc · 3 years

Text

As Soon As I Can

Nestor Oceteva x F!Reader

Request from @alienstardust: Umm All the angst in those childhood prompts. I’m a fan! Yes! <3 Maybe something with Nestor? 💫 thank you

I went with this prompt from This Post: When Person A and Person B were kids, Person A broke their arm and had to wear a cast for a while. To make them feel better, Person B decorated it by drawing a bunch of doodles and quotes all over it. When Person A finally got the cast off, they asked the doctor if they could keep it. Years later, Person A takes the cast to a tattoo artist and gets all of Person B’s doodles and quotes tattooed onto their arm so they can wear them forever.

Warnings: language, angst, hospitals

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: I looooooved writing this. Writing has been tough for me lately but this just felt really right. This is my first fic where I’ve done a lot of time skips within the story so hopefully it flows alright. Hope you guys enjoy! xo

General Mayans Taglist: @garbinge @mayans-sauce @thesandbeneathmytoes @paintballkid711 @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @queenbeered @sillygoose6969 @sesamepancakes @yourwonkywriter @chibsytelford @gemini0410 @multiyfandomgirl40 @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @themoonandthewicked @bucky-iss-bae @encounterthepast @everyhowlmarksthedead @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @mijop @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @holl2712 @lakamaa12 @masterlistforimagines @kkim120 @toni9 @shadow-of-wonder @crowfootwrites @redpoodlern @punkgoddess-98 @black-repunzel99 @lexondeck

You and Nestor were sitting in your back yard, sprawled out together under the one tree that managed to survive so many years in the California heat. You were laying on your back, cast-bound arm lying rigidly out to the side. You were staring up through the leaves as you listened to Nestor talk.

“At least they let you pick the color,” he was next to you, laying on his stomach as he dug through his backpack.

You laugh was heavy with sarcasm, “Yea, if I’m not gonna be able to move my arm for the next eight weeks it’s the least they could fucking do.”

“You sound bitter.”

You looked over at him, “I am bitter.”

He chuckled and shook his head, he was about to come back with a witty remark when he got distracted by finding whatever he had been looking for. He smiled as he pulled it out, “Aha!” he held up his pack of Sharpies.

“What’re those for?” you nodded towards the markers.

“For your cast.”

“You’re gonna decorate my cast?” you had to laugh.

“Yea,” he was carefully choosing a few different markers to start with, “Maybe it’ll make you feel better about totally eating it falling off your skateboard the other day.”

You laughed as you reached over and shoved him with your good arm, “Shut up—like you haven’t fallen a million times.”

“No casts for me, though,” there was a cocky smirk on his face.

“No casts for me, though,” you mocked as you tried not to laugh.

You watched him in semi-silence as he started at your wrist and slowly but surely made his way up your cast, covering it with all sorts of doodles and quotes. Sometimes you forgot how artistic he could be. You went back and forth between watching him and just resting your head back and closing your eyes. Neither of you kept track of the time as he stayed sprawled on his stomach beside you. the two of you probably would’ve stayed out until dark if your mom hadn’t stuck her head out and said that Nestor’s brother was there to pick him up and bring him home. Nestor threw all of his things back into his bag before helping you up.

Once he was gone, you took some time to actually look at the cast. You smiled at the amount of work he put into something that you were only going to have for a couple months. Your fingers traced lightly over the many marker lines that now covered your cast. Your mother looked over your shoulder at the artwork, a smile passing over her lips for a moment.

“Did Nestor do that?”

You nodded, not taking your eyes off of your arm, “Yea.”

She nodded, “That was sweet of him.”

You scoffed trying to suppress the smile on your face, “I guess.”

The next eight weeks passed by. And, despite the fact that having your arm in a cast was incredibly inconvenient, it could have been a lot worse. Nestor walked with you to all of your classes, offering to carry your backpack despite the fact that you told him that your busted arm had nothing to do with your ability to carry a bag. Whenever the two of you were together and things were quiet, he would keep adding onto the tiny mural that was your cast. Sometimes you wondered how much more he could fit on it, but he always found a way. For as much as you wanted it off, you were going to miss the bonding time for the two of you. And you were going to miss the artwork, too.

“So,” the doctor smiled and nodded at you, “you are all good to go. We can get the cast off and you’ll be as good as new.”

“Yea?” the thought of having your arm back made you feel giddy.

“Absolutely.”

You felt like a new person once your arm was free of the confines of the cast. Letting out a sigh of relief, you rotated your wrist a few times and carefully ran your fingers over the freshly-exposed skin, glad to feel like you were back in control of your own body.

“I can get rid of this,” your doctor held up the cast he’d just finished so carefully removing, “Unless you want to keep it as a momento.”

“Um, actually,” you felt your face heating up as you avoided eye contact with your mother, “Could I keep it?”

The doctor nodded, smiling as he handed it over to you, “It’s quite the work of art at this point—I understand wanting to hold onto it.”

On the drive home, you felt your mother glancing over at you every couple of minutes, a knowing smile on her face. You tried to ignore it but eventually you broke.

“What?” you were careful of your tone.

She laughed quietly and shook her head, “Nothing. Just, I think it’s nice that you’re keeping it, that’s all.”

“Mhm,” you tried to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks again, but that only made it worse.

You never told Nestor that you kept the cast. You never really knew exactly why you didn’t tell him—the two of you told each other pretty much everything else. The two of you spent almost all of your free time together, and as soon as he found out that your cast had been removed he was dragging you right back out to do things that could potentially break your arm all over again, and you let him. He never asked about the cast, so you never brought it up. There were moments, as the two of you got a little older, where you wanted to mention it to him in passing that it was something that you kept, but the moment never seemed quite right. Each time you went to clean out your room and your closet you would come across it, and each time you were faced with the decision of whether or not you wanted to keep it, and you always did. You always told yourself that you didn’t know why, but you knew.

“Alright,” you were trying not to let yourself get too emotional as you sat cross-legged on his bed watching him pack “You can’t do anything stupid while I’m not around to yell at you for it, alright?”

He chuckled as he shoved another shirt into his bag, “Trust me, there will be plenty of other people around to yell at me. That’s the whole point of—”

“But they can’t do it as well as I can.”

He glanced over at you, a small smile on his face. He knew how upset you were despite the fact that you were still being supportive. Him going into the Navy was something that you hadn’t seen coming. The thought of him being gone for so long after the two of you had spent so much of your lives practically joined at the hip was a bit jarring. You knew the ache in your chest was caused by more feelings than you were ready to admit to him, or to yourself.

“It’s not like you’ll never hear from me.”

You huffed, “Snail mail is not the same as bothering you in person,” you flopped backwards on the bed, “And for the record I still think it’s bullshit that you don’t get to call me.”

He laughed as he stood up and sat on the bed, looking down at you, “Don’t be dramatic. I’ll be in basic for less time than you had that stupid cast on your arm.”

“Yea but it’s not like you’re coming right home after that.”

He nodded, his expression sobering a little as he continued to look at you, “I know.”

“You’ll come home to visit me as soon as you can?”

He chuckled, nodding, “As soon as I can.”

For a moment you thought about spilling your guts—telling him everything that you were thinking and feeling. There was something about the way that he was looking at you that made you feel like maybe he felt the same way. But the confidence that shot through you went away as quickly as it appeared, and the moment passed as he continued to pack his things.

True to his word, you got letters in the mail. You saved each one, kept them stashed away in your closet alongside the cast that was still there collecting dust even after years of being shuffled around. You sent more letters than you received, not that you really minded. You figured that he needed them more than you did.

However as the months ticked by, you waited for him to say he was coming home, but he never did. It was one thing right into the next and the more time that passed by, the more you wondered if this was how he slipped away from you, even though he swore that that wouldn’t happen. He reached out when he could, when he had the time. And you knew that he had other priorities, and realistically you did too. But there was still part of you that felt like things were changing too much.

Your heart sped up inside your chest when you got a late-night phone call from him. You scrambled to answer it, “Hello?”

“Hey,” he sounded exhausted.

“Hey,” you pulled your blanket up to your chin as you spoke to him, “H-how are you?”

“I’m alright,” he sighed, “It’s good to hear your voice.”

You smiled despite the weight settling in your chest, “It’s good to hear yours too. I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

You didn’t want to push and pry, but you couldn’t help asking, “When are you coming home?”

There was a long pause before he spoke up again, “I, uh, I don’t really know.”

“Don’t they give you guys leave or something?”

He let out a tired chuckle, “Yea. But, um, I’m not sure if I’m going to be coming home for leave anytime soon.”

Your heart crumped inside your chest, “Why not?”

“Got some shit that I’m working on lining up here. Doesn’t hurt to stay close.”

You hated that your bottom lip was beginning to tremble, “Right.”

He knew you too well and you could hear the shift in his tone, “I’m sorry.”

“No, no,” you replied immediately, “Fuck, don’t be sorry. I’m proud of you, really. Keep…keep doing your thing.”

“Thank you for always being there. It’s been…it’s been nice knowing someone is in my corner when no one else seems to be,” there was a beat of silence, “You seen my family lately?”

You took a deep breath, “No. Why, everything alright?”

He sighed, “Wouldn’t know.”

You pressed your lips together into a tight line—things had never been simple for him when it came to family, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’ll be home to see you as soon as I can be, alright?”

Your breath was shaky as you exhaled, “Alright,” you were about to say goodbye but your brain betrayed you, “Hey, Nestor?”

“Yea?”

“I love you,” the words fell from your lips, free of their confines after so many years of locking them away.

It might’ve been you projecting, but you could’ve sworn that he let out a sigh of relief, “I love you too.”

That was the last thing that you’d heard from him. He went radio silent after that. You wondered if it was just you that he was ignoring, but no one seemed to have heard anything from him—his own family included. The only things that were running through your mind were terrible. All of your calls went unanswered, all of your texts went unopened. The letters that you sent didn’t get kicked back to you but you never got responses to any of them either. He had blipped off the radar seemingly without a trace and you had no idea why. You lost a lot of sleep over it but at the same time, life didn’t stop for anyone. You had to keep moving forward while a very large part of you was stuck in the past.

You were packing up your room, getting ready to move into your own apartment. You were throwing things from your closet into random bags and boxes—organization had never been your strong suit. As you were leafing through everything, pulling things down off the top shelf of your closet, you were smacked in the face with a stack of papers. You managed to catch them before they hit the ground, tears instantly springing into your eyes when you realized what they were. Your heart sped up inside your chest as you stood on your tip-toes, reaching for the very back of the shelf. The feeling of the plaster underneath your fingers sent a shock through your body as you pulled it towards you. Looking over it, you were bombarded with an onslaught of memories.

Packing fell by the wayside as you sat on your bed, reading through the letters and looking over all the artwork that was still holding up on the cast. How you managed to keep your tears from falling, you didn’t know.

There was a light knock on your door and you looked up, trying to make yourself look much less upset than you were. The smile immediately dropped from your mother’s face when she saw what you were doing, how it was upsetting you. She leaned against the doorframe as she tried to figure out what to say to you to try and make things better.

“I’m sorry, honey,” her tone was sincere.

You shook your head as you set your cast to the side, “Don’t be. You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You hadn’t really spoken much to her about it all—there wasn’t a whole lot to say. You didn’t have any answers and with each day that went by it was less likely that you would ever get them. It was difficult to tell whether or not it was more reassuring for you that no one had heard from him, not just you.

“There’s nothing to talk about. He just fucking disappeared, I guess. I just need to accept it and get on with my life.”

“He was your best friend—you’re allowed to be upset about it, you know.”

Even though you knew it, it was nice to hear her say it to you. Wiping the tears from your eyes before they could stain your cheeks, you nodded, “I know.”

She lightly drummed her fingers on the door frame, “You keeping those?”

There was a long pause before you finally nodded, “I think so.”

She nodded, “I’ll go grab you another box.”

“This thing looks like it’s been through the wringer,” your tattoo artist chuckled as she looked over the cast you’d brought with you.

You managed a smile, “Because it has. I’ve had that thing since I was in, fucking, like eighth grade I think? Long time.”

“What made you decide to get this done now?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know. Figured it’ll be better than moving it from one closet to the next over the course of my life.”

You could tell by the look on her face, that she wanted to ask for the story behind it all. But the fact that you didn’t offer it up, made her not pry. You’d always been open so if you were keeping something to yourself, she respected that. The two of you talked about the logistics of it, and the changes you want to make to clean it up a little bit. You were excited to come back and get it done, though.

Despite the wait, your excitement and nervousness about coming back didn’t fade. You didn’t regret the decision, but it was still nerve-wracking as you got ready to sit down in the chair. She had you look over the pattern she’d drawn up, and when you gave her the okay she laid the stencil out on your arm and got to work. You watched her as she brought it all to life—it was a little cleaner and more grown-up than the original scribbles and doodles, but it felt right. Tears stung at the edges of your eyes but it wasn’t because of the physical pain of getting the tattoo.

She was wrapping it up in saranwrap as she gave you the run-down of taking care of the tattoo. You’d heard the spiel before but you still listened anyway. You had a hard time taking your eyes off of the artwork as you made your way back out to your car. Sitting down in the driver’s seat, you let out a sigh as you tried to inspect the ink as best you could through the wrap around your arm.

The next day, you were putting on a fresh wrap over your tattoo after your shower when you heard your phone buzzing in the next room. With a heavy sigh, you slapped a piece of tape onto the wrap and scrambled to get to your phone before you missed the call. Looking down at the screen, you didn’t recognize the number. But it was an off-hour for a scammer to be calling so you answered it on a whim. Worst case scenario you would just hang up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, my name is Rita and I work at Imperial Hospital. I’m looking for Ms. Y/N?”

“Um, speaking?” you had no idea where this was going.

“Good morning. Someone was admitted and you are their only emergency contact—no next of kin listed. Do you know a Mr. Nestor Oceteva?”

Your heart dropped into your stomach, “Yes,” you couldn’t get the words out fast enough, “Yes I do. Is he alright?”

“He’s going to be fine,” her tone was calm enough to give you the smallest sliver of reassurance, “But we do need you to come in and answer some questions for us. He’s been in and out of it and we need someone who can give us reliable information.”

“O-okay. Yea. Yea I’ll leave right now. It’ll be about an hour or so before I get there though. Is that alright? He’s going to be okay?”

“Yes, ma’am. He’s going to be fine. Thank you so much for your cooperation.”

You hung up the phone and started flying around your apartment to get ready. You had no idea what you were about to be walking into but at this point you didn’t care. All these years you’ve been wondering about him and he was two towns over. You were as angry as you were relieved.

The line of questions that the nurses asked you seemed endless. You knew that it was all important but there was nothing that you wanted more than to be in the room and see that it really was him, that this wasn’t just some cruel trick from the universe.

Finally, the nurse started walking you back. You only heard half of what she was saying to you about his condition as the two of you approached the room. You heard that he was stable and the rest didn’t really matter to you. your hands were trembling as she gestured to the door to his room, telling you that she would give you a few minutes to yourselves.

You slowly opened the door and a sob lodged itself in your throat as you looked at him. He was passed out, whether the sleep was genuine or from the meds you didn’t know. Truthfully, it was almost difficult to see that it was the Nestor you knew and loved—but you could still see it. Underneath the cuts and scrapes, beneath the braids and the tattoos, there was still your Nestor. The man you knew all those years ago was somewhere underneath it all.

Walking over, you collapsed in the chair next to his bed. You reached out and took his hand in your own, seeing the scars and scabs that covered his knuckles. Whatever he’d been doing all those years, it wasn’t treating him well. You let out a shaky breath as the tears started to fall. You tried to keep your emotions bottled up and quiet, but you couldn’t. There were too many there that you had been battling with and pushing down over the years.

Your crying made him stir. With a quiet groan of pain he opened his eyes and turned to look and see who was in the room with him. His entire body went stiff as his eyes flew completely open, unable to believe that you were sitting there with him.

“H-holy shit,” he coughed, trying to sit up, “Y/N?”

He was conscious and able to speak, so you punched him in the upper arm, “As soon as I can my ass, Nestor.”

He winced and smiled, and you could see all of the motions in his eyes, “I’m…I’m sorry.”

“You fucking should be.”

“I am.”

“Good.”

There were a few beats of silence and then he heard the crinkling of the wrap on your arm as you crossed them and he nodded towards it, “Fresh?”

Heat instantly flooded to your face and you fought the urge to get up and run out of the room, “Got it yesterday.”

“Can I see?”

You hated that he was talking to you like everything was normal, but you couldn’t lie and said that you didn’t miss it. Taking a deep breath, you laid your arm down on the hospital bed for him to inspect. A smile instantly took over his features when he saw what it was. He looked up at you, and when he saw the happiness and hurt both in your expression, his smile dulled a little bit.

“I’m so sorry.”

“What the fuck, Nestor?”

“I know, I know. I should’ve said something.”

“Uh…yea.”

“When they let me out of here, will you let me take you somewhere and tell you all about it?”

“I mean. I guess. But only because I’m nosey,” you managed a smile through the tears.

“I love you.”

The words made your heart skip a beat in your chest, “I love you too.”

“That’s way less clunky than a cast,” he tapped the plastic wrap.

You smiled, wiping the tears away, “Yea, I guess so.”

“I can’t believe you still have the same number after all these years.”

You paused, looking down at your hands, “I kept it in case your ass decided to smarten up and call me one of these days.”

“Hospital calling you on my behalf doesn’t count?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “No. No it doesn’t.”

He reached over and clasped your hand in his, “I’m really glad that you’re here.”

With a deep sigh, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the side of his forehead, careful to miss all the scrapes, “Me too.”

There was so much more to be said, but it could wait. You tried to soak up the feeling of his hand over yours, smiles appearing on both of your faces despite the lost time and the gravity of the situation. A lot of things had changed, but as you felt the heat from his palm and the way his thumb traced back and forth over your hand, you knew the important things were still exactly the same.

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva x reader #nestor oceteva x you #nestor oceteva imagine #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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milliedazzledust · 3 years

Text

Tell me you love me (Nick Scratch imagine)

Request from @starryblueeyesandstarryblueskies : Could you do a hurt/comfort Nick scratch fic? Like maybe the reader gets hurt by one of the villains in caos?

+ Request from anon: Just an INTENSE “oh my god thank fuck you’re safe” type of scene with nick

---

“Okay, Y/N, that’s enough”

The girl turned her head to her friend. They were sitting on the stairs inside the Academy of Unseen Arts, talking about spells when the young woman had spotted Nicholas Scratch, talking to the weird Sisters.

“Enough ?” She repeated.

“Stop being distracted by Nick!”

“What ?” She straightened out. “What are you talking about, Brina ?”

“Are you kidding me ?” Her friend laughed. “Every time he walks in a room, your eyes go to him and your mind gets lost into this land of daydream you created to avoid telling him how you feel”

She puffed, averting her friend’s gaze before closing the book on her lap and getting up.

“Stop being so dramatic, Spellman. It’s not like that.”

“Oh yeah ?” She smiled. “Then why has he been staring at you with those love sick puppy eyes ever since he spotted us on the stairs ?”

Her eyes grew big and she took her friend by the hand, forcing her to walk.

“Spellman ! Y/L/N !” They hear Prudence called before they could disappear in the hallway.

Sabrina glanced at her friend, already annoyed, and turned back to the weird sisters and Nicholas.

“Hi, Prudence” She simply greeted her.

“And what is this book I see…” She pondered with a smirk. “Dark magic, huh ?”

“You do know it is forbidden to practice it” Dorcas reminded them.

“Who said anything about practicing” Y/N answered. “It’s called reading”

“Now if you excuse us, we have to go” Sabrina added.

Prudence looked them up and down before turned around, snapping her fingers at her sisters to tell them to follow her. And once again, before the two friends could go, someone stopped them. This time it was Nicholas. He grabbed Y/N by her wrist, forcing her to turn and face him.

“You’re not using any of those spells, are you ?” He asked.

“If I didn’t know better I’d say you’re worried about me, Scratch”

“I am”

“Well, don’t be.” She smiled at him. “You know I’m powerful. And besides, we have everything under control”

He looked between Sabrina and her, not entirely sure he believed them.

“If you need my help you know you can call me” He insisted.

“I know, Nick.”

“Please be careful” He called before she could get away.

“You know I always am” She sweetly smiled.

He pursed his lips, half satisfied by her answer and decided against his best judgment to let them go. Sabrina grabbed her friend by the arm, both of them making their way to the mortal realm. Half an hour later, they were sitting inside Dr.Cerberus’ coffee with Theo and Roz.

“When exactly did you noticed something was different about Harvey?” Y/N asked them.

“About two days ago. He started acting … weird” Theo answered.

“Weird how ?”

“Talking to a wall, having those spasms and drawing symbols”

“You have them ?” Y/N inquired. “The drawings”

“Yes!”

Roz got a piece of paper out of her bag. As soon as she put it on the table, the witches recognized it.

“We were right” Sabrina told her friend.

“What is it ?” Theo said.

“He’s possessed” Y/N explained. “It’s a sigil he’s drawing. It represents a lock in ancient Greek. Typically, when one’s possessed, they’ll instinctively try to protect their mind by making this”

“How … how do we help him ?” Roz continued, talking to Sabrina.

“I don’t know how to perform an exorcism guys” She admitted.

“I do” Y/N announced. “I’ll do it”

“You know it’s risky” Sabrina reminded her.

“I don’t see any other choices, Brina. Unless you want your friend to die, which will eventually happen”

She sighed, knowing the girl was right.

“How do we help you ?” Theo asked them.

“Staying away is the best option for you” Y/N told them.

“Why ?!”

“Once I’ll do the exorcism, the demon will be forced out of Harvey’s body. There’s a chance it might jump in one of yours to hide from me”

They nodded, understanding what was at stake.

“We’ll be a phone call away in case you need us”

“Don’t worry, it’s gonna be fine” Sabrina reassured them.

Once everything was settled, they made their way to the Spellman’s house. Sabrina had the idea to lure Harvey inside. The house would be empty that night so it was now or never. As the blonde witch wrote the message for her friend to come, Y/N started to prepare for the spell. Candles, cauldron with blood and ashes, a circle of salt and her book of Dark Magic were prepared for the ritual.

“As soon as he’s here, get him in the circle then close it with the salt” She explained to Sabrina.

“You sure about this ?” She asked one last time.

Her friend responded with a shrug. Before she could answer, her phone rang, distracting her. She sighed when she realized who was calling her and turned around for a bit of privacy.

“Nick” She answered.

“Hey! When are you coming back to the Academy” He inquired.

“Why ?”

“It’s almost midnight”

“So …?”

“Look, Y/N, I’m just making sure that you’re alright and not doing anything reckless”

“I told you I’d be careful, didn’t I ?”

“Yeah, well I’m aware of your definition of non-existent sense of self preservation”

“That’s offending”

“But true. Now when are you coming back ?”

“Later. I’ve got to go. Brina and I are kinda in the middle of something”

“Wait …”

She didn’t wait and hang up when she saw Harvey approaching the house.

“Ready ?”

“As I’ll ever be”

Y/N went to hide in the kitchen, waiting for Sabrina to give her a signal. She could hear them exchanged words and Sabrina kept talking to distract the possessed boy as she lured him in the living room. Everything was happening perfectly so far.

“Just sit here, Harvey” She told him. “Make yourself comfortable”

As he sat on the chair, she threw the salt she had in her fist, finishing the circle where he was now trapped.

“What is this ?” He asked, confused.

“Y/N!” She called.

The girl walked from behind him, putting him to sleep with a small incantation in latin. They exchanged one final look, ready to get to work.

“Once I’m inside, don’t come near me » She reminded Sabrina. « Do not touch me”

Her friend nodded. She took a deep breath and stepped inside the circle. Slowly, with all the patience she could conjure up, she started to prepare. Drawing signs on the floor with the blood mixed with the ashes, she started reciting a spell. Harvey started shaking, a small sign he was struggling. As she lit the large candle in front of her, she kneeled down, the last words of her spell pouring out of her mouth, sending her into a transe. Suddenly, she was gone. Her head thrown back, her eyes closed, she seemed in another dimension.

“Harvey!” She called inside her mind.

“The boy is not here” She heard a whisper behind her.

“Who are you, demon ?”

“You’re about to find out, witch”

And so her fight to free Harvey started. It was pitch black inside her mind and she could hear the demon laughing, waiting to attack. She tried to make a step but realized she could not move. Shaken, she look at her feet and saw a large pentagram, a witch trap.

“Shit” She murmured to herself.

She couldn’t reach Sabrina to tell her, she’d have to face him alone. Again, she heard him laughing. She turned around, trying to think of an escape but knew no spell would be efficient against a witch trap. Before she could realized what was happening, she felt what seemed like water on the floor. From outside, Sabrina knew something wasn’t right. Y/N couldn’t feel it in her mind but her body was shaking like crazy. Blood was rolling out of her nose and she almost seemed out of breath. Sabrina tried to call her but knew it was useless. She couldn’t help her, not from outside the circle and not by herself. Cursing, she knew who she had to call at their rescue.

“Nick, I need your help” She reached out to the boy through her mind.

“Where are you ?” She heard back seconds later inside her head.

“My house. Bring the sisters with you”

“Why ?”

“We used a spell and she’s not… I don’t think she’s alright”

“What spell ?” He asked.

“The exorcism”

“Who did it ?”

“…it’s Y/N. You have to hurry, Nick, please” She cried.

He didn’t answered back and she guessed he was rushing to get to the house. She turned back to her friend. Her eyes had turned wide. A large, empty white color staring back at nothing. It was like she had big electric jolts to her body. She could see Y/N trembling, the spasms so violent as she fought. Her body was in a tornado and Sabrina knew if she tried to even touch her it could have devastating effects.

“What the hell is going on” She heard behind her

When she turned around, the weird Sisters and Nick were standing there. The sisters stayed back, accessing the room, but Nick immediately rushed to Y/N once he saw her struggling.

“No!” Sabrina shouted.

He stopped right before crossing the line of salt encircling the young girl inside.

“What did you do, Sabrina ?!” He yelled back, his eyes glued to Y/N

“We had … we had to do an exorcism” She explained. “I didn’t know how but Y/N did. And once… once she started, her body just …”

“Why did you let her do it ?!” Nick cut her.

“Do you realize how dangerous this is ?” Prudence lectured.

“You have to help me” Sabrina said, ignoring their questions. “I can’t make her come back by myself”

Nicholas turned back to the girl, walking in front of her from a safe distance. He knew she couldn’t see him, but maybe she could hear him.

“Hey beautiful” He started to speak. “It’s me, it’s Nick. Can you hear me ?”

His heart broke when he saw her shiver more violently.

“I know you’re trapped, but I need your help Y/N”

Again, no reaction to tell him she was able to ear him.

“Try a memory, Nick” Prudence advised him.

He nodded.

“Do you… do you remember the first time we met ?” He knelt down in front of her. “You were on this rooftop, dancing by yourself. You were so beautiful. You looked like a mad woman, so I called your name but you didn’t hear me. I tried to come closer but I must’ve startled you, because you made me freeze on the spot with a flicker of your hand. I knew when you turned around that I was doomed to fall for you”

“Nick..” She whispered, almost as if speaking out loud was hurting her

“I’m here, Y/N, I’m right here love” He said back.

“I’m trapped with him”

“It’s alright, we’re here to help you get back”

“We need the demon’s name, Y/N” Prudence added, her sisters and her already in a circle.

The girl was looked straight ahead, distressed, almost conflicted by her choice.

“Once I tell you, you won’t have long” She told them.

“Why ?”

“He’ll do anything to keep us from casting him out”

“Makes sense” Agatha stated. “The power is in his name”

“Y/N” Nick called. “Which demon is with you ?”

“His name is …” She stopped herself, pursing her lips.

They could see her fighting a battle to open her mouth, to vocalize the syllable that could end her suffering.

“..B…Buka..vac” She murmured.

Prudence gasped, the simple name enough to horrify her and her sisters.

“What ?” Sabrina asked. “Who is it ?”

“He’s a demonic creature” Nicholas whispered, his eyes glued to Y/N. “He possessed people to torture them and drown them from inside”

Just as he said it, she started to hyperventilate. She opened her mouth to speak but only water came out.

“What’s happening ?” Sabrina shouted.

“Y/N, love, listen to me” Nick vehemently spoke, his eyes filling with tears. “You have to fight him back. Please, you have to…”

He couldn’t speak, his heart was breaking watching the girl he loved chocked on invisible water.

“C’mon Nick, get up” Prudence said. “Help us”

They formed a circle around her, locking their hands as they started chanting in an ancient language. Each of them in tune, they were giving strength to the young witch. Nick closed his eyes, keeping on reciting the words. He couldn’t watch her like this, it was too much. He could hear her struggle to keep the oxygen in her lungs, could guess the pounding of her heart and the fight in her head. In that moment he prayed Satan she’d keep breathing. There was a sense of urgency around them all that was more apparent than ever. They were close to losing their fight and all Nicholas could focus on was his love gasping for air. He let the tears freely roamed on his face, trying to shut the sound of her struggle.

And suddenly, it stopped. No more sound of heavy breathing or coughing, just a heavy silence. Fearful of what he would see, Nicholas slowly opened his eyes. He could swore his heart stopped beating right there when he saw her body laying on the ground. Without even thinking or realizing it, he crossed the circle made of salt and rushed to her side.

“No, no, no, no, no…” He kept whispering.

Her body felt cold, too cold to be alive. She felt like a ghost in his arms. He placed a hand of her chest, praying whatever entities could hear him to make him feel a heartbeat. He waited, but nothing happened.

“Move aside, Nick!” Prudence forcefully told him, pushing him away.

She started to pound on the young witch’s chest with all the power she could muster. Her sisters behind her were silently helping with a spell.

“C’mon, Y/N, breath” She shouted. “Breath!”

With a powerful fist she banged on her heart. The reaction was instantaneous and the girl woke up, taking a tremendous gulp of air as she regain consciousness. In doing so, and just as she arose, so did Harvey who had been asleep during the whole process of exorcism. Sabrina ran to him, wanting to make sure he was alright.

As of Nicholas, he didn’t waste a second before taking the girl in his arms, nodding at Prudence as a silence sign to thank her.

“Oh my god, thank fuck you’re safe” He whispered, crying.

Weakly, Y/N reached for him and hugged him as hard as she could.

“Thank you” She said, her head buried in his neck.

“Never, ever, do that again” He answered, taking her head between his hands. “I thought you were dead, Y/N/N”

A tear escaped her eye as she clasped her hands around his wrists, a simple way to ground herself to him.

“For a moment there I thought so to” She admitted.

Slowly, he helped her to sit.

“Harvey, are you alright ?” She asked, turning her head to the teenager.

“Yes, yes I am” He reassured her.

She closed her eyes, sighing in relief as she put her head on Nicholas’s shoulder.

“C’mon, you have to rest” Nick said. “I’ll take you back to the Academy”

She nodded.

“Sabrina, stay with Harvey to make sure he’s alright” She told her friend.

“You sure ?”

“Yes, I’ll be alright”

“I don’t want to leave you alone, not after all this” Her best friend confessed.

“She won’t be alone” Nick answered her. “There’s no way I’m letting her out of my sight”

Sabrina smiled as she watched the young boy bending to take the girl he loved in his arms. Hands clasped with Harvey’s, she watched the Sisters follow Nick and Y/N on their way back to the Academy. Through the small journey, Y/N slept. Safe in Nick’s arms, she knew she could rest peacefully. She woke up, several hours later, disoriented, in her bedroom at the Academy.

“We’re home” She heard a voice comfort her in the dark.

When she turned her head, she saw him. Sitting on her bed, his back to the wall, his eyes glued to her.

“You know it’s creepy to watch someone sleep, do you ?” She joked.

“I needed to make sure you were still breathing” He seriously stated.

She sighed, getting up to match his position. Slowly, she put her head on his shoulder and entwined their hand.

“I’m alright, Nick”

“I know” He said, closing his eyes. “But I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget the sight of you so pale and… and almost …”

“Hey, hey! Nick look at me”

She moved, kneeling in front him.

“I’m here, I’m alive”

She took one of his hand, putting in on her chest.

“Do you feel that ? …”

With a little force, he hugged her as hard as he could. His head on her chest, his ear on top of her heart, he listened closely. She let him have a moment, knowing it must have been rough for him. They stayed like that, in each other’s arms, her hand playing with his hair, for what felt like only two minutes.

“I love you, Y/N” He whispered, admitting his feelings.

“I figured” She joked.

He playfully slapped her thigh, making her laugh.

“Aren’t you going to say it back ?” He asked.

“I guess so”

“You … I’m sorry, « you guess so » ?” He straightened up, pretending to be hurt.

“Is that ego of yours bruised, Scratch ?”

“Very much so”

She laughed before looking at him dead in the eyes.

“Then I should probably tell you a secret”

“Is it a good secret ?” He asked.

“I’ll let you decide on that one”

“Alright, I’m listening”

With a wicked smile she leaned into him, slowly putting her lips on his. It was the sweetness of passion, a million loving thoughts condensed into a short moment, a statement from both of them admitting what they refused to say out loud before.

“I love you too, Nick” she whispered in his ear.

“Best secret ever” he answered, smiling, making her laugh.

#nick scratch #nick scratch x reader #nick scratch imagines #nick scratch imagine #nick scratch fanfiction #nicholas scratch #nicholas scratch x reader #nicholas scratch imagine #nicholas scratch images #sabrina spellman #chilling adventures of sabrina

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mira--mira · 2 years

Text

WIP: A Most (un)Fortunate Marriage, Extended Edition 😉

By popular demand, the first of my wips/drafts. I do plan on finishing this one...eventually. It’s a draft so it��s not edited. Tenses, tones, scenes not quite fully fleshed out, all of that. This picks up where the first fic “diverged”, so it probably won’t make sense if you haven’t read the posted A Most (un)Fortunate Marriage first.

A Most (un)Fortunate Marriage, Extended Edition (T-rating)

Enemies to Lovers, Secret Childhood friends, Royal + Fantasy AU

Hashirama/Madara

*CW for body horror involving crushing eyes (not a main character’s or humans)

6K words

“It’s just a trip to Sora-ku,” Hashirama winks at Tobirama. What could go wrong?

Now, staring at Uchiha Madara of all people to emerge from the forest, Hashirama curses his arrogance.

This is probably the worst-case scenario. He’s off his horse and his broadsword is still attached to Shinzan’s saddlebags. Shinzan who’s staring at Madara’s monstrous mount with wide, panicked eyes, ready to bolt at any second. Only Yamane could stare the creature down and willingly charge at it. Why didn’t he saddle her instead?

Hashirama swallows and keeps his eyes on Madara. Looking away would be a death sentence. The other man is mounted and his scythe gleams on his back. Madara is all speed. Rapid attacks that finish an enemy before they have time to react. Hashirama knows, he’s fought him and watched him fight. Turning away to grab his sword, assuming Shinzan doesn’t spook with his own sudden movement, would only give Madara an opportunity.

Why is he in Sora-ku? What could he possibly want here? Unless the Uchiha were trying to request more supplies before they headed north to wait for the invasion. Or were their spies in the Senju castle that overhead his conversation with Tobirama? Did Madara come here to kill him? The wingless hippogriff was inhumanely fast, it was possible.

“What? Couldn’t wait for the ceremony? So enthusiastic for our nuptials, you just had to come find me yourself?” Hashirama taunts. If he could pull Madara from his mount he might have a chance…but the hippogriff would try to rake him with its talons and the crow on Madara’s shoulder would no doubt try peck at his eyes and blind him. He was outnumbered, three to one.

“Tch,” Madara sneers, gloves clenching around his reins. He’s still holding tight to them, but he could drop them at any second. “I want to marry you as much as I want to blind myself. Though looking at your face, I already feel my vision going.”

“Then you should really visit the physician if you think this,” Hashirama cups his face, Madara doesn’t so much as twitch at the movement, “is anything less than a work of pure art.”

“I’d say go fuck yourself Senju, but you might take that too literally for my comfort.” Madara looks down at him, literally, and Hashirama fights back the burn in his cheeks. He looks too tall and self-important, shoulders wide and imposing as the one visible black eye pierces through Hashirama like a sword.

“At least I’m getting some! You might want to remove the stick first, that tends to make things easier.”

Madara’s eye twitches. “Really you’re going to give me advice? Going to give a demonstration too?” Hashirama sees the exact moment Madara registers what he just said. Two bright pink spots appear on the high on his cheeks, but otherwise he does a remarkable job hiding his embarrassment.

“Well, dear husband-to-be…” Hashirama grins, for the first time feeling like he has control over this situation.

“Not even in your dreams, Senju,” Madara spits, bristling like a cat.

“Maybe in yours though.”

Madara opens his mouth to yell, cheeks a proper splotchy red now, but his monster interrupts him. It makes a noise somewhere between a hiss and whinny and takes a step forward towards Shinzan.

Shinzan bolts.

Hashirama’s stomach sinks, a ball of ice forming where, he realizes with unease, he was having fun teasing Madara. For a second it was a game, not a standoff. He swallows hard and looks back up at his enemy, who’s regained control of himself.

Their eyes lock and Hashirama sees his death laid out before him.

And then Madara scoffs and turns away, nudging the monster down the river.

He’s not…

Hashirama hardly dares to breathe. The crow turns around on Madara’s shoulder, watching him with its beady eyes.

“Why?” He finally croaks out, because he can’t just accept the impossible luck that landed in his lap.

Madara pauses.

“You’re still useful to me. I’ll kill you after we deal with the Otsutsuki.” He nudges the monster’s flank and doesn’t stop again, even as Hashirama gapes at his back.

Was that…a peace offering?

It was as terrible as he’d expect from an Uchiha.

Madara

The day has been a disaster.

He never finds Moku and worse he didn’t kill Senju Hashirama when he had the perfect chance.

Madara scowls as Kuro passes the last tiny field, before the wilderness rose up around them, empty plains before the older, wilder forest sprung up in the distance. The moon is sinking in the sky, the cold chill of early morning permeates the air as dew forms on the plants around him.

He’s late.

He should have left hours ago, probably when he first saw that damn Senju, but he held onto the small sputtering spark of hope. He was owed something after letting that annoying bastard live, surely. But no. Not a single sign of Moku, but over a dozen farmers scared stiff when he questioned them. Father will no doubt have to send an apology on his behalf, but Madara feels he’s owed that as well.

Maybe he moved. Strange as it would be for a peasant farmer to move, it could be the case. Sora-ku was known as a city where people found their luck or destitution. Maybe he died. Madara’s hands clench around the reins. He scowls down at Kuro’s shadowy feathered neck.

Unhappy with his train of thought, Madara of course turns to an even worse one.

What the fuck was Hashirama doing in Sora-ku? He knew about the marriage proposal, so he would have had to left the Senju lands and headed straight there after receiving it. He must have been desperate to ride any horse besides his normal blonde goliath. What was so important to him? Why was he that desperate? Are the Senju trying to ally with Sora-ku? He’d heard the rumors of the years of Hashirama spear-heading the project. Are they trying to get money for the reinforcements up north? That makes sense. They lost their advantage when Father sent the marriage proposal, this was their attempt at trying to get it back.

Why didn’t I kill him? Madara’s scowl deepens.

There was the easy answer: killing him now could provoke the Senju into turning on them and a war on two fronts would decimate the Uchiha.

Hashirama might be a long-term threat that would eventually need to be dealt with, but he was a necessity now to fight the Otsutsuki. There was always the last resort, Madara could do as Mother did four years before and let the fire consume him to lay waste to their enemies. If it was timed right, he could wipe the Otsutsuki and their twisted magic out singlehandedly.

At the cost of his life.

And it was one Madara was willing to pay but Father had nearly forbidden it outright and Izuna threatened to kill him himself if he even considered doing something so reckless. So Hashirama had to live so Madara didn’t have to use his last resort.

But neither of those were the real reasons. They should have been, but they weren’t.

Why couldn’t I kill him?

Madara has no answer and that pisses him off almost as much as his utter failure to find Moku.

Izuna is completely unsympathetic to his plight, but he weathers Madara’s bad mood so it evens out in the end. He doesn’t tell Izuna about Hashirama. He’d ask the inevitable question and even Madara’s reasonable answers would trip over his tongue like leaden excuses.

The court, as expected, was in a frenzy about his upcoming marriage. For the first time in his life, Madara had the complete unwavering support of every noble behind him. He was making the ultimate sacrifice tying himself to a Senju, even if it was temporary. All of them expressed condolences, Hikaku’s mother went so far as to slip him a vial small as his pinky nail, filled with clear white liquid in case the suffering was too much to bear. He’s even certain the poison was supposed to be for Hashirama, not him. But as much fuss as the court made, no one outright opposed the decision. They all understood the purpose.

So in two weeks’ time, Madara finds himself once again in Sora-ku, standing across from Hashirama in an open field as an officiant wraps their bleeding palms together with a white cloth and declares, “I now pronounce you married. The Senju and Uchiha kingdoms are hereby bound by blood and union.” It’s the only shared marriage custom their clans shared. And as soon as red blood drips down and blooms on the cloth, their fates are sealed.

“What? Not even a kiss to celebrate our union, beloved?” Hashirama whispers with false enthusiasm, the endearment an insult on his tongue. “Want me to give a demonstration of that too?”

Fuck you, Madara wants to say but the bastard ruined that insult for him.

“I’ll find you a mirror, I’m sure you’ll be occupied for hours,” he sneers and tightens his grip on Hashirama’s hand. He doesn’t flinch, but his eye twitches and that’s almost as good.

There’s no time to waste on faux-ceremony though. Their blood hasn’t even dried when the officiant unwraps their hands and declares the wedding concluded. And that’s it. Not even a feast afterward, only their goodbyes. Madara hugs Izuna tightly to him as Father wraps his arms around them both. Off to the side, the three Senju stand like stiff statuettes.

“Send a dove mid-way and when you arrive,” Tajima says and pulls back. He rests his heavy hands on Madara’s shoulders, rings glinting on more fingers than not.

“Of course.” It’d take nearly five weeks to travel up to the fortifications up north. Five weeks with Hashirama and only a small handful of Senju and Uchiha guards. He barely stops himself from grimacing at the thought.

“I’m proud of you, Madara,” Father tightens his hands, “and I know Kou would be too.” Madara swallows hard around the sudden lump in his throat. It strikes him suddenly: he’s going to be holed up north in a glorified wooden camp surrounded by Senju and Uchiha for gods only knew how long without Father or Izuna. They’d either succeed and drive the Ootsuki back or fail and die trying. And he’d have to do it without Izuna or Father by his side. Alone.

Tears burn in Madara’s eyes but don’t fall. He stands stock-still as Tajima leans forward and kisses his forehead before pulling back completely. Izuna is at his side in an instant, yanking him into another hug. He is crying but also glaring, daring Madara to say anything about it.

“You…you better not die. I’ll never forgive you if you die up in some northern wastelands without me,” Izuna’s voice trembles and the tears almost spill over in Madara’s eyes. He hugs his brother back tightly, and then pulls his face up to kiss both of his cheeks.

One last hug and then Madara forces himself to step back. He wouldn’t leave at all, otherwise. From the corner of his eye, he catches Hashirama staring at him, surprise plain across his face.

“Walk in the light, Madara.” Father clears his throat and Madara stands up straight.

“Under the sun and moon.” He returns and pivots on his heel towards Kuro and the carriage filled with food and supplies. He’s already dressed for the road. He married Hashirama in the same comfortable traveling clothes he met him in before.

It really was a complete sham of a wedding.

Traveling with Hashirama proves to be one of the most irritating experiences of his entire life, in large part because it’s not nearly as bad as he feared.

They’re moving as quickly as they can with the two carriages behind them, drawn by four solid workhorses apiece and manned by two riders, a cook, and three mounted guards each. Madara brings up the rear, keeping enough distance between himself and the carriages so Kuro doesn’t spook the horses. They’re all nervous and twitchy and Kuro, already irritated at the slow pace, certainly doesn’t try to place nice. The Uchiha horses are more resigned to her presence, still uncomfortable, but resigned. The same cannot be said of the Senju horses. If one of them doesn’t drop dead from a heart attack before they reach the north, it’ll be a godsdamn miracle.

Obviously no sane horse wants to be anywhere near Kuro, not even Hashirama’s goliath that somehow has always managed to stand its ground against her. So he obviously expects Hashirama to be in front of the carriages, leading the way. Doubly so because they’re passing mainly through Senju lands because their roads are better and getting stuck in the mud is the last thing anyone wants.

He does not expect Hashirama to ride side-by-side with him.

What are you playing at? Madara glares at him, refusing to lower himself enough to ask. Hashirama glares back and they’re stuck in a silent standoff most days. Which, judging from his easygoing attitude with the other Senju, a complete opposite to the stone-faced goodbye he gave to his father and brother, is unusual.

Or maybe it’s not and he’s just playing hero and guarding the company from big, bad scary Madara. The Senju horses flinched anytime Kuro came near and the Senju men took out tiny wooden statues of their god when he came near. He’s not sure of their exact purpose, maybe they were meant to banish him, cleanse the area of his presence, or whatever else fucking nonsense the Senju thought hunks of non-magical wood did.

The only true peace and quiet Madara got was at night. He stayed outside the small camp the others made and set up a simple cover and blanket on the ground for himself and slept with his head pillowed on Kuro’s shoulder as Karasu kept watch on his chest. It was necessary. There wasn’t a place to stable Kuro and keeping her around horses at night was a disaster waiting to happen. He also saw the way the Senju looked at Karasu and the convenient little nets they started to carry. He wouldn’t kill Hashirama but if one of the others touched his bird or his mount they’d regret it.

Madara resigns himself to this new status-quo. And, of course, just when he made his peace with it, Hashirama goes and changes everything.

They’re two days past the halfway point, Madara took one of the doves from its cage in the back of the carriage, tied the little messages to its foot and sent it off, when it pours. They’ve been lucky so far, avoiding the worst of the autumn rains, but now their luck runs out.

Everyone is soaked to the bone, huddled up and miserable except him. Oh, Madara’s soaked as well, it’d do no good to dry off when the rain is still coming down in sheets, but he gathers his fire in his chest forcing the chill away.

When they stop for the night, he doesn’t grab his portion of the dinner and then hide away with Kuro and Karasu, he waits by the edge of the Uchiha’s carriage. It’s still drizzling but nothing like the monsoon rains that decided to blow through earlier…

“M-madara-sama,” the guard captain, Naori, walks up to him. She’s shivering in her leathers, lips blue from the cold.

“Turn around,” he pulls off his gloves and ignores the look of intense relief that flashes in her eyes. Madara didn’t burn and it was always hard to judge how hot too hot was for normal humans, but he’s practiced this trick enough on Izuna, that he feels confident he won’t accidentally scald anyone. He places his bare hand on the captain’s back and forms a seal with the other. One sharp breath in and searing heat lights up his palm and trickles into the captain, drying her clothes and hair. Her shoulders slump with relief before she snaps straight and bows lowly to him.

“Thank you, sir. If his highness would be so amenable…” the other Uchiha are lined up behind her, dripping with water.

“Of course,” Madara waves the first one, the cook, forward. “If it rains overnight and the clothes,” he pauses, eyeing their blankets, “or anything else needs to be dried, let me know. It won’t due for anyone to get sick.”

“Thank you, highness.” All of them bow and he dries each of them off, proud how no one winces or pokes at an obvious burn. He doesn’t think they could hide it either, he’s watched Izuna stick his fingers into enough flames when they were younger and his immediate, unmistakable reaction to the fire.

In fact Madara feels pretty pleased with himself, until he looks at the Senju side of the camp and sees the six of them, minus Hashirama, bundled up tightly together, those damn little statues lined on the ground as they stare at him like he just ripped someone’s heart out. Hashirama’s expression is impassive.

Great. He can’t leave Kuro and Karasu alone tonight, but should he worry about the Senju murdering the other Uchiha in their sleep? With a grumble he goes and leads Kuro into the space between the Senju and Uchiha carriages, closer to where the Uchiha have made their bedding. They have tents but the carriages act as a strong enough windbreak that it’s not worth it to set them up every night and they’d only get filthy and muddy from the water tonight.

“Behave,” he grabs Kuro by the beak and looks straight into her black eyes. She tosses her head with an insulted whinny and collapses to the ground, face buried between her forelegs. Madara settles back against her shoulder as Karasu preens on his chest. He runs his bare fingers lightly over her head as he watches the Senju carefully from the corner of his eyes.

He’s staring straight at them and yet he’s still surprised when Hashirama breaks away from the group and walks towards him. Madara forces himself to keep relaxed, but the sudden heavy tension that descends on the camp is unmistakable.

Are they finally going to fight? He knows that’s what they’re thinking. It’s what he is.

But Hashirama just crouches beside him, trying to look casual. He doesn’t sit on the blanket on the ground, wisely choosing not to come within range of Kuro’s hooves.

“What?” Madara snaps, when it’s obvious he’s just going to play the silent game again.

“Is it…hard to use your witch magic?” He asks carefully, like he expects Madara to actually answer. Why does he want to know? Madara squints at him. Hashirama’s a bit tense, but he doesn’t look actively hostile. He’s also as wet at the Uchiha used to be. Does he…does he want me to dry him off? Oh, he’s going to have to beg if that’s the case. Madara barely fights down the savage grin that wants to spread across his face.

“I’m not a witch,” he says instead and enjoys the irritated look on Hashirama’s face.

“Really? We all just watched you use magic and you’re going to lie—”

“I’m not a witch. I’m a witchson,” Madara draws the word out so it can really sink in. He’s not surprised the Senju are ignorant per se, the Uchiha had been too before Mother, but it’s still an advantage he can hold over Hashirama’s head, so he will.

“And the difference?” Hashirama grumbles.

“I’m not a woman, obviously.”

Hashirama exhales sharply. Oh, is someone pissy because he’s cold and wet?

“But you have the same magic, otherwise? The fire, the birds, the bewitching—”

“Bewitching?” It takes a moment for him to figure it out and when he does, Madara laughs. Laughs hard enough to displace Karasu, who flies to the top of his head and pulls angrily at his hair. “You think,” Madara wheezes, “my mother was a seductress? That I inherited that from her? That definitely says more about you than me,” he grins and enjoys the way two red spots appear on Hashirama’s brown cheeks. “She was a Sun Witch, not a Mind Witch.” There was still something to be said about exerting power over anyone that looked directly into his eyes though. People tended to freeze up but it was the nervous instinct of a rabbit spotting a hawk.

“Like I would know that when both of you dress in pure black,” Hashirama mutters, looking at the ground.

Both?

“You met her?”

“Once.” Hashirama’s shoulders hunch towards his ears. And she didn’t kill him. That was…strange. “It was my first solo monster hunt and I wandered too far tracking the [wyvern*]. I finally found it, but it was dead and she stood over it. I thought she was going to kill me, but she said I was amusing and left.” From his expression, Madara guesses there was more to it than that but this is the first actual conversation he’s had with Hashirama and he’s too off-put to bring it up.

“I remember the [wyvern*].” He had been eight and it had wondered too close to one of the western villages in Uchiha land.

“Did she…did she say anything else to you?” Hashirama doesn’t look at him.

“Not that I can remember,” Madara answers carefully, truthfully. He was more interested in showing her whatever tricks he had learned when she’d been gone, or showing her work he’d finished from the tutor, or telling her whatever thing Izuna had done to irritate him that week.

“Alright, uh, thanks,” Hashirama clears his throat and stands. He doesn’t ask Madara to dry him off and Madara’s left staring at his back in confusion.

He thought that would be the end of it, but infact was only the beginning. Hashirama steered his goliath horse next to him the next day and instead of their march of silence started to talk to him. At first he asked about magic and when Madara refused to answer, like hell he’d give the Senju any actual advantages, switched to more mundane topics. He mostly talked and Madara listened. All too soon, he knew more about Hashirama’s favorite foods, the drafty weather in his room at the Senju castle, and how much of a stick in the mud Tobirama could be. The last one he wasn’t surprised by. He’d met Tobirama even less than Hashirama and had never had a proper conversation with him, but he looked like he’d been sucking on lemons the entire monarch’s summit.

Hashirama does manage to wrangle a few stories out of him to. He’s a smooth talker and Madara finds himself responding before he can stop himself. Hashirama enjoys these little victories, Madara can see the damn smile on his face, and only tries to talk to him more.

Within a week, he’s horrified to realize Hashirama could be considered an acquaintance, and that’s not too far off from a friend in Madara’s limited social life.

And just as he suffers this crisis, a basilisk attacks.

The ground shakes beneath them and Madara curses, steering Kuro towards the source. It bursts from the ground before she can charge forward. A combination of lizard and snake, with bright yellow eyes running down the length of its body.

At least two screams, one horse and one human, are cut off when they make contact with one of the dozens of eyes.

Fuck.

“Protect the carriages!” Madara yells at Hashirama and sends Karasu off his shoulder. He reaches for the knife on his thigh and rips his sleeve up. Without hesitation, he sinks the knife into his flesh and drags it up his arm until the blood drips freely down.

Monster bait. None of them can resist magical blood.

“Madara!” Hashirama’s eyes are on him, on his arm.

“Are you a fucking amateur, Senju?! Protect the godsdamn carriages!” He knees Kuro’s flank and she shoots forward towards the basilisk. It’s young, not fully grown. It still towers taller on its small hindlegs than Hashirama is on his goliath mare by several heads.

The basilisk’s head swings in Madara’s direction and he can feel the force of the eyes on him. It just had to be a fucking basilisk.

He makes another seal with his hand and closes his eyes.

[Show me what you see.] Pain stabs him right between the eyes but he, and Kuro once he smears part of his blood on her forehead, can see through Karasu’s eyes above. A basilisk’s eyes line their sides like stripes, running from the head to the end of the tail with a hard ridge above them to offer protection. It also means the eyes, except the two-front facing ones on the head, can’t look straight up.

“Kuro!” He drops the reins and reaches for the scythe on his back. He slashes at the basilisk’s side, wincing as the metal clings off the armored hide. It may look smooth but the scales are notoriously hard, only the underbelly near the base of its tail and under its jaws are soft enough to be pierced by metal.

The slash does nothing except aggravate it, but between that and the delicious smell wafting off Madara the basilisk is now completely and utterly focused on him.

At least it’s not the civilians. That’s cold comfort as the monster hisses and dives for him. There’s a reason groups of at least three were sent after basilisks. He can’t even burn it properly, not with how fast it moves and flammable humans and horses still too close for comfort.

Madara urges Kuro on and she pivots to the left just as jaws almost as wide as he is tall crash into the spot they just were. There’s no time to recover either. The basilisk pushes itself up on its tiny forearms and rears towards him again.

Only to suddenly shudder and topple over with a pained cry. Karasu dips down and Madara sees Hashirama and his menace of a horse slowly backing away from its left hindleg. The goliath must have stomped on it and then shoved her massive body against it.

That fucking idiot… Hashirama has no way to see. He tied a blindfold around his horse’s eyes, but he’s just tensed there, eyes squeezed shut and ear cocked towards the monster as if that would be enough to dodge any attack.

An attack like right now, the basilisk’s long tail lifts as it still struggles to push itself up. Madara curses and correct Kuro’s course, heading straight for the jaw.

“Hashirama! To your right! Three seconds!”

He can’t see anymore, Karasu’s too low to the ground, flying alongside Kuro’s legs, and she can’t regain height with the basilisk on its side and all the eyes staring upward. Madara grits his teeth and leans over Kuro’s sides, legs braced around her middle to keep his balance. His scythe gleams and the blade sinks into its throat and tears.

The basilisk shudders, gives one last hiss, and falls still.

“Is it dead?” Hashirama calls and Madara ignores the small pang of relief that he dodged the tail and didn’t get his chest caved in by an overgrown snake.

“Don’t look at it!” Madara snaps and guides Kuro to its chest. “The eyes don’t dim until ten seconds after its death.” Karasu lands on the ground and tilts her head up. The perspective is nauseating, but Madara stumbles his way off of Kuro’s back and starts digging in her saddlebags.

“Then what are you doing? I can hear you moving,” Hashirama complains, his voice getting steadily closer.

“How many were turned to stone?” Madara asks instead, his hand closing around a dragon-tooth knife.

“Four,” Hashirama’s voice drops, “two Senju guards, an Uchiha coachmaster and horse.”

That was doable number.

“Hashirama, in five seconds, you need to start plucking its eyes out. Work from the midback to the tail, it petrifies from the head down. As many eyes as you can. Use your hands, a knife, I don’t care, just get them out.”

“What? Why?”

Madara ignores him, counts down the last few seconds himself and then releases his seal. His head throbs as he opens his own eyes, vision swimming but he wastes no time before plunging the knife into the basilisk’s chest, above its heart. Metal wouldn’t pierce through the hide, but dragon teeth would. Too bad they were rare enough that someone would be stupid enough to try and steal it from him if he mounted it on a spear or any other useful weapon with a long reach.

Despite his confusion and hesitance, Madara sees Hashirama step forward from the corner of his eye, take out a sharp steel dagger, and awkwardly start cutting an eye out. Most were the size of his fist but he was going to slow.

“Faster! Before they petrify!” Madara snaps, already watching the stone start to creep from the basilisk’s face down its neck. He cuts through the beast’s skin, and saws through its ribcage, wincing as the blood and gore coats his arms. The worst is still yet to come. He finds the basilisk’s heart, nearly the length of his forearm and starts cutting through the arteries and veins holding it in place.

“Again, do you want to tell me why we’re doing this?” Hashirama complains.

“Do you want to save your people or not?!” Madara shouts back.

There’s a heavy pause and then, “You can unpetrify them?!”

“Yes, if you cut out enough fucking eyes!” That finally motivates Hashirama like nothing else. The petrification creeps down the basilisk’s neck and chest and Madara pulls the heart free just as he sees the first wet muscles start to harden to stone. He turns and sets the heart on the ground. Hashirama has ten eyes pulled out, some more beat up than others.

That’s cutting it too close. Madara turns back to the beast and starts racing against the petrification, scooping the eyes out without hesitation. He only gets a few more before the stone hardens them but sixteen eyes is much better than ten.

“How does this work? Is it a spell?” Hashirama asks curiously, face full of hope.

“It’s a politce,” Madara mutters, dreading what comes next. Their traveling companions are starting to creep forward, eyeing them in relief and confusion. Naori spots the collection of eyes and heart and breathes a heavy sigh of relief. “I need the largest glass jars you can find, honeycomb, lichen, and six eggs. The glass jar first.” The Uchiha spring into action but the Senju stare at him in distrust.

“You heard him!” Hashirama snaps.

“Yes, your highness,” the Senju bow to him and turn back to the carriages, noticeably slower than the Uchiha.

“How strong is your stomach?” Madara asks, watching as the Uchiha somehow scrounge up a glass jar as big as his chest.

“Huh?” Hashirama blinks at him. “Pretty strong? Why?” Gods Madara wishes that was enough, but if he gags and vomits it’ll ruin the entire mixture.

“Cut the heart up. As small as you can,” he mutters when the Uchiha set the squat jar in front of him. Next to it they set a honeycomb and two eggs. The Senju bring the four other eggs and reluctantly two of them go with four Uchiha into the forest to find lichen.

~ ~ ~ ~

“Huh, alright…” Hashirama trails off, mouth agape in horror as Madara picks up one of the dim yellow basilisk eyes and bites into it. The taste is foul and bitter, somewhere between a lime and a wet rotting fish. As soon as the eye turns to mush, he spits it out into the jar and takes another bite, chewing as fast as he can.

The Uchiha captain turns green and one of the remaining Senju guard faints, the cook barely catching him before he hits the ground.

“What?” Hashirama croaks.

“Cut up the fucking heart,” Madara growls, reaching for the next eye.

Hashirama turns to his own work, but can’t help but glancing at Madara from the corner of his eye, clearly disturbed. Yeah, this isn’t exactly my cup of tea either. Madara shudders and fights down the urge to gag. This is why the cure for petrification isn’t widely known.

He works through all sixteen eyes, reminding himself that the poor bastards accompanying them didn’t expect to die from a basilisk of all things and a few foul-tasting eyes was better than eternity spent as a stone statue.

~ ~ ~ ~

Madara finishes and shoves the jar away from him. He staggers to his feet and finally lets himself gag, spitting up bile. Someone comes up behind him and when he cranes his neck, he expects to see the Naori, not Hashirama. His water skin is in his hand and Madara takes it gratefully, swishing around water in his mouth and spitting it back out.

“Basilisk eyes will still petrify. Removing them from the body slows the process, it doesn’t stop it,” he coughs rubbing his mouth on his shoulder because his hands are coated in grime. “Something in salvia stops it permanently, I don’t know what, but it’s the only way.”

“Does the heart…”

“The heart is fine.” He takes another swig of water and then washes his arm where he cut himself at the start of the fight. Once Madara doesn’t feel quite as awful, he returns next to the disgusting jar, Hashirama a lurking shadow behind him. He moves mechanically, refusing to look too deeply in as he cracks the eggs inside, squeezing out honey from its comb, and adds the tiny bits of heart Hashirama sliced up.

The Uchiha and Senju return from the forest, lichen in hand and he adds that too, ignoring how confused they look compared to the others left behind. Madara’s certainly not recounting the ordeal.

“So that’s it? Sixteen basilisk eyes, a heart, some lichen, six eggs, and honeycomb?” Hashirama wrinkles his nose, peering into the jar.

“It’s not about exact numbers. Typically, it’s four eyes and two eggs per petrified person but it’s always better to have more eyes than not. The rest is just…” Madara shrugs, unsure how to explain it. The honeycomb and lichen was to make it stickier, but it wasn’t as precise as the rest. He watched Mother make this twice before when one of his younger brothers was caught in an attack. She saved him but he died weeks later to the Senju. “And there’s one last requirement,” he pulls his knife out, not the dragon-tooth one, and reopens the cut in his arm, letting blood drip into the mixture, “the blood of a basilisk killer. Mix it together and then roll in in cloth and wrap it over the victims’ eyes. They’ll be fine by morning.”

Thank the gods Naori takes over from there. She barks out order to find cloth and mixes the vile concoction herself while Madara darts away to clean himself up in peace. He feels disgusting, smells even worse, and it’ll be godsdamn miracle if he doesn’t have to burn these clothes.

Kuro trots along beside him and he finds a small river soon enough. The bank drops abruptly off the side and it’s bitterly cold when he steps in, but it’s clean water. It’ll do.

Madara submerges himself, working on untangling his hair when Karasu caws in warning and he already knows what idiot is trotting up next to him.

“Can you not give me five minutes of peace?” Madara growls and twists to see Hashirama, leading his horse.

“I’m sorry, we were just attacked by a basilisk, I didn’t think it’d be a great idea to go off on a merry jaunt by yourself right now.” And he has the gall to grab Madara’s filthy clothes and plunge them into the river, scrubbing with a soapstone.

#naruto #hashimada #madahashi #madara uchiha #hashirama senju #wips #a most (un)fortunate marriage extended edition

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amymel86 · 3 years

Note

Hello! Do you have any bits of your awesome writing to share for WIP wednesday?😍

I just saw this anon!

And thank you for asking <3

This is a bit more of this as yet untitled 'post-apocalyptic/fertility/modern arranged relationship???' fic. The first bit I posted on tumblr is here and as before, some things are not yet decided (like town names) and things may change...

“Are you sure this is what you want to do, darling?” Her mother’s voice on the telephone was a balm to her soul.

Sansa’s finger brushed the soft vivid petals of the small potted iris she’d bought at the store today. The iris symbolises hope, wisdom and courage among other things and she prays that the pretty purple and yellow bloom will lend her some of those. “I’ve got to try something, Mum,” she says, turning her attention to the two separate bundles of paper in front of her. Two men, two candidates, two different futures. Sansa had filled out all the matching service’s extensive questionnaires and scrutinised all the information she could find on the program. It seemed simple enough – you’re rewarded for helping to repopulate. In turn, the authorities help to pair you with someone who should be a good match dependant on all the information they have about you. The aim is that this new generation of children are raised in the traditional family unit. That had appealed to Sansa. “I can’t seem to find the right guy all on my own anyway,” she said into her phone.

“How do you know it will be safe, though?”

“It says here that my situation will be monitored by my own caseworker. I can call them any time I want. They’re not just going to drop me at the guy’s house and just leave us get on with it.”

“Hmmm... tell me about them? These men that they’ve narrowed down for you.”

“One’s called Waymar, he’s a financial advisor here in the Vale,” Sasna pauses, looking at the man’s photograph on his paperwork before fishing out the other. “And the other is called Jon, he owns a farm in the Reach.”

“None in the north then?” Her mother has been itching to get her back home. “I just wish there was a way to know that either of them were good men, Sansa. That’s all I want for you.”

Sansa put the two photos together. Two possible fathers for her child.

“That’s what I want too.”

***

“Shit! Holy fucking shit!” Jon says to himself, hanging up from his phone-call. “Mance!” he yells, bursting out of his trailer to find the old man. “Mance! It worked! It fucking worked!”

He’d relented. When Mance first put it to him that he should sign up for that weird government breeding program or whatever the fuck it was, he thought the old man’s last brain-cell must’ve fried up in the sun. But if they were going to make it easier for them and it meant Mance could keep the farm (and Jon could carry on living there rent free), then it was worth a shot. So he had relented. He’d filled out what seemed to be a gazillion and one questions about himself, his politics, his views on family and finances and education and fucking... art and shit. These damned government people wanted to know everything about him down to whether he scrunched or folded his toilet paper it seemed. He’d even had to lie. He didn’t like doing it, but there was no way that a fertile was going to pick him if he didn’t. So, he fished out an old photograph – one taken before the bar brawl that lost him his sight in one eye, and he’d also lied his asscheeks off by claiming he had ownership of the farm. He knew – he knew – that these lies are just more things that were going to trip him up one of these days but with Mance urging him on, he’d signed that damn form and offered himself up for the program.

And now a fertile had chosen him.

Him.

Fuck, he might throw up.

This can go one of two ways. Either completely up Shit Creek without a paddle – with his lies and reality crashing down on top of one another, leaving them exposed... or, his fertile somehow looks past his deceits and sticks with him and they-... well, shit, he could actually become a father. No-one becomes parents these days, especially not ‘round here. Fertiles flock to the big cities, to men with bigger pockets, or they work for couples who can afford to pay them off in exchange for a kid or two.

“It worked?” Mance asks, rolling out from under an old Ford pickup that needed a new exhaust. “They sendin’ us a peach?”

Jon shook his head. “They’re not sendin’ you anyone, old man. An’ don’t call her that – they’re-“ Fuck, what did the council call them on all that paperwork? “Reproductively abled.” He’ll have to remember that if he doesn’t want to offend her.

“Well, shit,” Mance grins. “What did I tell ya? Knew your pretty face was good for somethin’!”

Jon frowns. “Ain’t so pretty no more though.” He might have to go get himself a patch to cover his milky, sightless eye. It’s fine most of the time since Mance is the only one he sees unless he’s going to drink at Hobb’s, but he certainly doesn’t want to put off his ferti- reproductively abled friend who’ll be arriving in three weeks.

“She got a name? Your new peach?” Mance asked, earning him a glare.

“Sansa. Sansa Stark.”

Mance grunts and nods. “Sounds fancy.”

Yeah... It did sound kinda fancy he supposes. Jon’s first reaction had been that it was a mighty beautiful name, but now he thinks of it...

“Shame we can’t look her up – see if she’s a beauty or not.”

Jon can’t remember a time when that was an option. He was barely 11 at the highest point of the virus’s hold. Government officials had deemed certain channels on the internet were causing more harm than good by spreading false rumours, incorrect statistics and completely counterintuitive medical advice. The whole thing was shut down, now deemed illegal, only to be reconnected again three years later apparently looking like a foreign landscape from the one before. The internet was no longer a platform to socialise, only government approved informative sites remained. Mance says it’s better this way – that all people used to do was post vain images of themselves for attention anyway.

Jon wouldn’t mind seeing a vain image of Sansa Stark right about now though.

Not that it mattered terribly. As long as they get along and she decides to stick around she could be as ugly as sin. In fact, she probably will be, won’t she? Most pretty ferti- reproductively abled women stick to the cities and its high-fliers.

It doesn’t matter, he told himself. You just gotta keep her happy here and-

“Mance?” he asks, an issue coming to mind. The man grunts in acknowledgement. “Where the fuck is she gonna sleep? She’s not gonna want to stay in my trailer.”

The man grins in response. “I’m glad you asked, boy. I’m glad you asked.”

***

Her caseworker was meant to meet her at the train station. It was quite a drive to the farm and he was meant to pick her up, make sure she’s safe and happy and introduce her to Jon.

That hasn’t happened.

“Please accept my apologies, my dear,” Mr Baelish said down the other end of the phone. “There’s been a mix up with my schedule. We can set you up for the night at a local motel or ask your match to come and get you. Which would you prefer?”

Sansa eyes the dirty looking motel across the street from the train station. Everything here at [[INSERT TOWN NAME]] seems a little on the... rundown side. Maybe the sooner she gets to the farm, the better. Plus, her tummy is all a flutter with anticipation to actually meet Jon. She’d wound up swaying towards Jon as a match due to a few reasons; 1 – he does not live in, around, or anywhere near Harry or his crazy mother. 2 – he owns a farm, and that had conjured up hazy daydreams of idyllic country life. Sansa may enjoy big nights out in the city, drinking her dirty margaritas and feeling her bones vibrate against the base beat in a nightclub, but she knows that’s not what she wants to raise a child around. A child will want to run barefoot through wheat fields and chase chickens and milk cows and –

Let’s just say Sansa has a few ideas and that they all helped to sway her away from city pleasures and towards farmhouse life. And Jon

And last, but not least, reason number 3 – Jon himself. Put side-by-side, his and Waymar’s photographs looked rather similar if truth be told, but Jon won out on something that Sansa just couldn’t describe. Looking at his photograph gave her goosepimples along her forearms because it was like he was looking right back at her. There was something in the depths of his eyes – a kindness? A wit? A strength? She’s not sure, but she couldn’t find the same qualities when she stared at Waymar’s likeness. And his answers too. His questionnaire was full of how he’d like to teach a kid how to walk and ride a bike and fix a... a tractor for heaven’s sake! And so her head was flooded once more of this idyllic life where they got up to watch the dawn stretch over the farmland and they’d grow their own vegetables and she’d bake a pie every day and it would just be perfect.

Perfect, perfect, perfect.

Sansa glances around the near abandoned train station.

This doesn’t look so perfect right now.

“Could you please arrange for Jon to come and get me, Mr Baelish?”

***

It’s been an hour and fifty-six minutes precisely since Sansa last spoke to Mr Baelish to arrange her match coming to get her. An hour and fifty-six minutes of sitting on the curb, waiting, surrounded by her three suitcases. She’d started off by sitting at the nearby bus stop, purely because it was somewhere to sit and she had a clear view of the road, but after the rude bus driver insisted that if she’s sat there, she must be wanting to hop on his bus, Sansa decided to park her butt on the dusty, sun-baked curb instead. Her legs were beginning to numb and she was starting to get a headache from the sun beaming down on her head. The curls she’d styled into her copper locks have likely lost their hold by now. What a waste. Opposite, on the other side of the street, beside the dirty little motel, there was a tiny bar that advertised the fact that it hosted exotic dancers at the weekends with a blinking neon sign. Next to it was a hunting and fishing ‘emporium’ and beside that was a vacant store with an old dirty sign that read ‘Blouses & More!’. Presumably, the ‘& more’ still wasn’t enough to keep that fine establishment in business in this funny little town. At the end of the block was ‘Tarly’s Drugstore’ and Sansa had been debating with herself whether or not she should haul her suitcases over to go buy a drink and a magazine for about the last hour and fifty-five minutes.

But she hadn’t wanted to miss Jon Snow’s arrival.

Jon Snow, who seemed to be pulling up outside Tarly’s Drugstore in a dusty Ford pickup truck right about now. Sansa stood, expecting him to come right on over considering how long she’d been waiting for him, but she found herself wondering if she’d got it all wrong when she hadn’t caught a good enough look at him before he darted straight into the store.

Sansa is done with waiting. She grabs her smallest case and places it on top of her larger one, trying her darnedest to roll all her luggage across the road in a lady-like fashion. She could feel the eyes of several passers-by on her while her stiletto heels clip across the street. In turn, her own gaze fell to Jon’s cream-coloured truck. Its front bumper looked a little rusty and wonky too. There was a big gash in the leather of the bench seating on the passenger side. On the truck bed, there were a number of items, including a rocking chair that seems to have a couple of spindles on the chair-back missing, and a new double bed mattress wrapped in clear plastic. Sansa was almost done frowning at the state of the vehicle when the over-door bell of the drugstore tinkles.

“Holy shit,” he curses. And yes, it definitely was Jon standing right in front of her. Only... well... his hair was tied into a knot at the back of his head and.... and... he was wearing a black eye patch? “Uh,” he stood there, arms laden with bottles from the store as the gaze from his one good eye quickly darted down her frame and back up again. “You’re her, right? You’re Sansa Stark?”

Sansa found she could only nod, looking him up and down, like he was with her. He was in jeans with oil smears, some tough, heavy looking boots, a somehow pristine white vest and flannel shirt with the arms ripped off.

Speaking of arms...

Gods-damn! Sansa’s focus was momentarily derailed...

“Sorry, I-“ Jon starts before his grey eye drops to the floor and then returns to her, looking a little bashful. “I didn’t expect you to be so pretty.”

Oh boy. He may be wearing an eye patch right now but this man could win over a thousand girls with that smile, Sansa’s sure of it. She resists the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl. She’s here to find out if they’re well suited enough to start a family together – she needs to keep her head and think rationally, not allow herself to be swayed by his rugged country boy charm. It was Harry’s looks that enticed her in the first place – and look how well that turned out for her?

“Thank you,” Sansa says, blinking back at him before his words truly hit home. “Didn’t they give you my photograph?”

Jon shook his head. “No, ma’am.”

Huh.

“Did they show you mine?”

Sansa bites her lip and gives a nod.

Jon grimaces. “So I guess you weren’t expecting this?” He points to his patch.

Sansa shakes her head. “No... did you... did you do something to injure it?”

Jerking his head, Jon begins rubbing at the back of his neck with his free hand. “It’s a long story... but... it ain’t gonna get any better, if that’s what you’re askin’.”

“Oh.”

They stood, staring at one another for a heartbeat or five before Jon sucks in a breath over his teeth and glances down to the bottles he clutched to his chest with one arm. “I tried to get you some things to help you feel at home,” he says, “these are the nicest smellin’ soaps ‘n’ stuff from Tarly’s.”

“Thank you,” Sansa replies, knowing full well that she brought her Highgarden Floral Scents bathroom range with her.

Jon chews on his lip as he eyes her suitcases. “Lemme get those for you,” he offers before dumping the bottles in his arms into the truck bed and reaching for her luggage. Sansa’s heeled shoes seem welded to the spot. Jon notices. Scrubbing both hands down his face in resignation, he takes a step closer to her and Sansa realises for the first time, that he had dirt beneath his fingernails. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. “It was a shitty thing for me to do,” he offers, his words low and husky. Sansa feels the timbre of his voice set off a trickle of gooseflesh down her spine. “I’m sorry.”

She blinks at him, momentarily confused.

“About this,” he explains, brows high on his head as he points to his patch. “I shouldn’t have sent that old photo of before this happened, but – fuck – even my ex-girl won’t acknowledge I exist anymore with this and I knew I shoulda been honest about it but-“

“This ex-girl...” Sansa suddenly found herself left with a sour taste in her mouth. “... does she still mean something to you?”

Jon licks at his lips, his eye falling briefly to her own. “No, ma’am,” he shakes his head.

#jonsa #jon x sansa #wip wednesday #but late #oops

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spine-buster · 3 years

Text

peaceful easy feeling ft. b.boeser | five

A/N: This is the last part of this mini series! I know this adventure was short but thank you all for coming along on the ride :) A quick reminder that I will be announcing my new fic, who it will feature, a small blurb, & a clue as to what to expect from it this Thursday at 7:30pm EST. Happy reading!

CONTENT WARNING: parents with disease/sickness (Parkinson’s); parent death; swearing; sex; alcohol use; lots of emotions.

* * * * *

“You look beautiful, baby,” Brock cooed as he adjusted his cufflinks – well, not really. He was looking at Grace, not really caring about his cufflinks. Seeing her stand there in her beautiful dress, her hair curled and pinned, and her delicate jewelry hanging off her ears, neck, and wrists…she was a vision. He was so lucky.

They were about to leave to attend the Parkinson’s Foundation of British Columbia Gala. Grace had planned virtually the whole thing, though she worked with the head of the foundation on most major decisions. She arranged the venue, catering, got major sponsors (okay…the biggest were her uncles, but there were a lot more), organized the silent auction, and arranged the entertainment for the evening. Everyone who attended their weekly meetings would be there. Brock knew the Aquilinis would be there. It was a party, yes, and a function to raise money, yes – but at the end of the day, it was a culmination of Grace’s strength after Hamish passed away.

“Thanks, babe,” she smiled over at him, taking one last look at herself in the mirror. “Are Petey and Svea ready to go?”

Brock nodded. “Petey’s been texting for fifteen minutes asking if we’re on our way yet,” he joked.

“You can blame it on me,” she winked. “Unless Petey takes a good look at your hair. Then he’ll know it was you.”

Brock laughed out loud, taking the few steps needed to stand right in front of her and wrap his arms around her. “Hey…before we go,” his voice was low and he looked down at Grace. “Your dad would be so proud of you for planning this.”

Grace nodded her head. She knew. It was a lot of work, and she completely went in head first with planning all of it and maybe, sort of taking over the entire operation, but it was worth it. She had planned something that would raise money that, hopefully, would fund research so that nobody would have to go through what she went through. She didn’t just want to be known as an heiress daughter of a billionaire; she wanted to be known as so much more. An heiress who used her money to fund research projects and arts centres; an heiress who donated her time and money to worthy causes. She once told Brock that she knew she wasn’t the smartest girl in the world, but that she thought she had a big heart. She hoped this was the start of others in her community, and in Vancouver, realizing that she had a big heart.

***

“Grace, this is amazing,” Svea couldn’t help but say astonishingly as she took yet another look around the giant room, decorated to the nines with flashing lights and impeccably dressed people chatting and drinking and dancing. Svea knew Grace would be busy throughout the night, so she wasn’t trying to hog her after their limousine ride together. But now that Svea got her alone, she had to verbalize it again, just like she did when she walked in. “Like, I don’t think you understand. It’s incredible.”

“Want to let me plan your wedding to Elias?” Grace winked, taking a sip of her drink.

“Oh shut up.”

“There she is!” the women both heart Elias yell. They turned around and saw him and Brock walking towards them, both with drinks in their hands. “Grace, this is so cool.”

“Thanks Petey. And thanks for donating your jersey.”

“Anything for you.”

Grace focused her attention on Brock. “Esther wants us to take a group photo with everyone before everyone leaves,” she said, and Brock nodded his head in agreement. She looked at Elias. “If I get everyone together right now, do you mind taking it?”

“Like I just said Grace, anything for you.”

***

Fatigued, physically and mentally exhausted, but still somehow feeling the adrenaline coursing through her veins, Grace climbed into the limousine with Brock, Elias, and Svea at the end of the gala so they could go home. They dropped off Elias and Svea first, naturally, and Elias had to wake Svea up as she slept on his shoulder throughout the ride. It left Brock and Grace alone in the limousine together, hands clasped together as the driver drove through the streets of Vancouver.

“You did amazing tonight,” Brock mumbled, his voice low and full of sleepiness but still so direct and meaningful. “I love you so much, Grace.”

“I love you too, Brock.”

“When we have kids, I’m gonna let them know this was the night I knew you’d become my wife.”

Grace stiffened at Brock’s words, but he was too tired to notice – the small smirk on his face not disappearing despite anxiety – not adrenaline – now coursing through Grace’s veins. She thought about the implications of his words, how he just outright admitted that she was the one for him. She thought about her feelings for him, and if she felt the same. She did. But was it possible to still be apprehensive? She loved Brock with her whole heart. She’d never met anybody like him, and likely would never meet anyone like him again. She loved him too, with everything she had.

But then she thought about her parents.

Her parents were young and in love once too. Her parents were once obsessed with each other and madly in love. Her parents had decided to get married and have a child. Her parents had decided what Brock was laying out on the proverbial table – what Brock was so willing to give her – and look what happened. Things didn’t work out. Love didn’t work out. Love was complicated. They separated. Grace went to live with Eliza but didn’t like it because she missed dad. She told Hamish who told his lawyers. His lawyers brought it to the judge. Divorce proceedings started. Grace went to live with Hamish. Eliza demanded alimony for her lifestyle, to maintain it, if not to exceed it. Eliza demanded child support. Eliza demanded nannies, a multi-million dollar house, and expensive cars. Hamish would tell Grace her mother was selfish. Eliza would tell Grace how stingy her father was. Eliza would tell Grace how her father only wanted custody so he didn’t have to pay child support. Hamish told Grace Eliza only wanted child support and alimony so she could hire babysitters and nannies while she went to spas. A pawn while she was at her mom’s in Shaughnessy; a pawn while she was at her dad’s in West Point Grey. A pawn when dropped off at school at Crofton House. A pawn at the dance studio, her happiest place.

What if she and Brock turned out the same way?

***

“You okay?” Brock asked Grace.

Grace wasn’t there. She was somewhere else, in her mind, thinking about events long passed. “Your father’s the cheapest man I’ve ever met,” she could hear her mom say in the kitchen as she waited for her cereal before school at seven years old. “Cheap cheap cheap cheap cheap! He’s always been so much work to be with, your father. He refuses to get you a Range Rover – did you know that? Your dad wants you driven around in some…in some…I don’t know, some Toyota.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Grace said absent-mindedly, giving her pasta a few more twirls to make it seem like she’d eat it. “Will I still be able to go to dance?”

“Who knows?! Your father may even take that away from you too! It scares me, the things he’s taking away from you.”

“But I love dance.”

“Well then maybe you should stay with me. Daddy will pay me to take you to dance.”

***

“Your mother is a piece of work, let me tell you,” Hamish mumbled as he slapped his cellphone down on the counter. “She was always so much work to be with. Always so much work. Now she wants $60,000 a month in alimony. Alimony!”

“What’s alimony?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Hamish said. “Have your teachers taught you yet what it means to be selfish?” he asked. Grace nodded her head. “Well your mother is selfish. One of the most selfish people in the world.”

“Grace? You coming to bed?” Brock’s voice was groggy as he stood in the doorway of the ensuite, his usually well-kept hair everywhere, his eyes sleepy.

“Yeah…yeah, sorry,” Grace apologized, getting up from her seated position on the toilet lid. “Sorry baby.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah I’m fine,” she said, grabbing Brock’s hand and leading him back to bed.

“You’d tell me if it wasn’t right?” he asked softly as she cuddled up against him in bed.

“Of course,” she said, a nervous lump in her throat. “Of course.”

***

“Gracie…please tell me what’s wrong,” Brock said in a low voice as he tried to wrap his arms around her, only for her to flinch slightly and back away. That hurt him more than anything.

“Nothing’s wrong,” she said unconvincingly.

“Yes it is—”

“Can we just drop it,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee. “We’re supposed to be on a date.”

***

“What’s the matter with you?” Elias asked, sick of seeing Brock so gloomy and moody the past several weeks. He’d noticed a change in him, and though Brock was usually very open about what he was feeling with him, he wasn’t this time, and Elias was…skeptical. Well, not skeptical – worried. This time, Brock had a girlfriend and was moody, and Elias didn’t know what to expect. “What’s going on?”

“Something’s wrong with Grace,” Brock revealed to Elias.

“What’s wrong?”

Brock shook his head. “She won’t tell me. But she…she zones out a lot, like she’s thinking about something…and it’s so intense that she doesn’t even hear me calling her.”

“What’s she thinking about?”

Brock shrugged. “She doesn’t tell me. She’ll never tell me.”

“Well when did it start?”

Brock thought about it. He really thought about it. He liked to think he was in tune with changes in Grace. “The gala.”

“The Parkinson’s Gala?” Elias clarified. Brock nodded his head. “Well, could it be about her dad?”

“It’s something more,” Brock was adamant. He knew she would be sad and would never be the same after her dad died. That was a given. No-one was ever the same after the death of a parent, so he didn’t blame her for that. “It’s…it’s something more.”

***

“Is everything okay with you?” Svea asked delicately as she and Grace were shopping at Holt Renfrew. Well – Grace was shopping at Holt Renfrew. Svea was basically just following her around, because it wasn’t like she could afford anything.

“I’m fine,” Grace said unconvincingly.

“Are you sure? Because you know you can talk to me if things aren’t okay.”

Grace took a deep breath in, trying to compose herself. Knowing what she knew about Svea’s parents and their love story, she doubted that Svea would be able to provide any…critical insight, so to speak. But Grace tried anyway. “How d’you know a guy is your soulmate, Svea?” she asked.

Svea was taken aback. It was quite the loaded question to lead with. “I’d say it’s when you can picture the rest of your life with them. At least that’s one aspect to it.”

“Can you picture the rest of your life with Elias?”

“Yes,” Svea answered automatically, because she could. It was as friends, sure, but she still pictured the rest of her life with him. “Can you picture the rest of your life with Brock?”

Grace paused. Her response wasn’t as quick or forthcoming. “Yes.”

“But?”

“But what?”

“There was a pause there,” Svea said. “But what?”

“But what if, like, things change?” Grace asked. “What if the love doesn’t last? What if it breaks down?”

“You mean like your parents?”

Grace didn’t want to glare at Svea – she really didn’t, because Svea was one of the sweetest people alive – but she did. She glared at her. “No,” she said forcefully, trying to cover.

“Love always lasts. True love always lasts. Look at Elias and I – I mean, we’ve loved each other our whole lives—”

“You and Elias won’t even hold hands or kiss each other,” Grace said angrily, unable to control her emotions at this point. “You won’t even admit you love him romantically. How the hell is that love?”

Svea just stared at Grace, unable to formulate words. Tears welled in her eyes too, and when Grace saw them get red, she hated herself even more. She hated herself already for making Brock worry, for not telling him the truth, for hiding things from him; now, she hated herself even more for making Svea emotional. “I’ve gotta go,” she said, leaving quickly, unable to look back at Svea as she left her in the middle of Holt Renfrew alone.

***

“If you don’t tell me what’s wrong right now or I’m leaving,” Brock said sternly, his voice raised. Both of their voices had been for the last while now, since they were fighting. He looked at Grace as she stared back at him indignantly from across the kitchen. “We can’t have a relationship if we don’t communicate – if you don’t tell me what’s been bothering you.”

“There’s nothing wrong.”

“Is it something I did? Did I say something?”

“It’s not you.”

“Then what is it?”

“There’s nothing wr—”

“Tell me what’s wrong!”

Grace stayed silent. She could feel herself going red. She could feel the emotions in her bubble up. She knew she wouldn’t be able to hold it in much longer. “Leave.”

Brock furrowed his brows. “Excuse me?”

“Leave my apartment now.”

Brock stood stoic in spot. “You don’t mean that—”

“LEAVE!” Grace screamed at the top of her lungs, taking every ounce of strength left in her to not cry.

They were in a standoff. Brock stood stoic. Grace stood stoic. Staring at each other, waiting for the other to move. Neither did for a while, waiting it out to see who would crack first. She didn’t mean it, Brock kept thinking. She doesn’t mean it. She doesn’t mean it. But with every second that passed, with every heave of Grace’s chest, with every moment of silence signaling her refusal to budge…

Brock cracked.

He picked up his keys, gave Grace one last look, and walked out the door.

***

It was a few agonizing, excruciating, unbearably lonely few weeks later when Brock received a phone call in the middle of the night. 2:38am. His phone’s ring blaring throughout his empty apartment.

“Hello?” his voice was groggy, tired, exhausted.

Silence.

“Hello?” he asked once more, louder this time. If it was any one of his teammates he’d knock them dead the next time he saw them – Petey especially.

The voice was small and defeated when it finally did speak, asking Brock the question, “What if we end up like my parents?”

Brock was wide awake now. He got up in bed dramatically, holding his phone against his ear so tightly that he could hear the charger fall out of the electrical socket. “Gracie,” the shock was evident in his voice.

“Will you come over?” she asked.

Brock threw the covers off his body dramatically. “I’m on my way right now,” he said. He’d drive his car in his slippers if he needed to.

“Be careful.”

“I’m coming. I’ll be there soon.”

***

“C’mere,” Brock said the millisecond Grace let him in, wrapping his arms around her and engulfing her into a hug as she clung to him like he’d float away and wrapped every limb she had around him. He’d made it to her apartment in record time, speeding through the streets of Vancouver to get to her. It was probably dangerous, but it wasn’t like there were other cars on the road at 2:45 in the morning. “Talk to me Gracie. Talk to me,” he urged as he felt her tears against his skin.

“I’m so sorry,” she mumbled into the crook of his neck. “I’m so—Brock, I was so bad. So bad.”

“Shhhhh shhhh shhhh, don’t,” Brock cooed. “Just tell me what’s wrong. What’s going on in your head, Grace?”

“Brock…” she began, swallowing her tears before continuing. She pulled away slightly so she could look him in the eye, wiping her own red ones with the palms of her hands. She knew she looked awful, but she also knew Brock didn’t give a shit. “I just miss him so much.”

“Your dad.”

Grace nodded quickly. “Every part of me misses him. But then I started to think about how awful he and my mom were during the divorce,” she explained. And to Brock, that said everything. Grace told him about it ever since they met – the general, the specific, the nitty-gritty details – and it was awful. To have that whirling around in her mind would have definitely affected her. It all made sense to him now. It all made sense, knowing she never wanted to go back to that. “And I got scared…I got so scared. I just kept remembering how bad it was. So on the night of the gala when you said—”

“So it was something that I said—”

“Nonononononono,” she vehemently shook her head, bringing her finger up to his lips to silence him. “No no no no no. I—Brock—I love you with every part of me too. But…but what if we end up like my parents? What if we fall out of love? What if it—what if it ends badly? What if we ended up hating each other? They’d always say things like it was so hard to be with one another and—”

“Is it hard to be with me?” Brock asked, not wanting her to go any further and knowing that at this point, he needed to intervene.

“NO! Never!” she exclaimed. She never wanted Brock to think that ever. She cradled his face in her hands. “Being with you feels natural. It feels like it was always supposed to be this way. It’s so easy. It’s so peaceful.”

“Then that’s how it’ll always be, a peaceful easy feeling,” Brock whispered. “What’s there to be scared about, baby?”

Grace shook her head, tearing up again. “Nothing when I’m with you.”

“We won’t end up like your parents because we’re not your parents,” he said. His words were so simple but they hit Grace like a ton of bricks. “We’re different people. I love you more than anything, and the thought of hating you—Grace—I—it’s never, never crossed my mind. I never could. You give me everything. Do I give you everything?”

She nodded. “Everything.”

“Then I’m gonna keep giving you everything. And I’ll do it till the end of time, Gracie. Because I love you. I can’t picture myself with anyone else. I can’t…I can’t picture going through pain with anyone else besides you.”

Brock’s words were loaded – she knew that. “I can’t picture going through pain with anyone else besides you.” Grace nodded. The sentiment was so serious, but so right. When she really thought about it, would she have wanted to experience this pain with anyone else besides Brock? No. He meant the world to her. And that’s how it was always going to be. “I’m so dumb,” she shook her head at herself.

“You’re not dumb. For what you went through, it’s a legitimate worry,” he reassured her. “But I promise you, I promise you, I’ll love you with everything I have and you’ll love me with everything you have, and we won’t end up like your parents.”

Grace was overcome with emotion. “I love you so much, Brock.”

“I love you too,” he leaned in to kiss her, once, twice, then again and again. When they stopped, he wrapped his arms around her body and lay down on her couch, bringing her body down with him. He wiggled out of his hoodie. Then he pushed her body down slightly, and that’s when Grace knew exactly what he was doing. She lay her head on his bare chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“Can you feel it?” he asked softly.

Grace nodded.

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emotionalcello-makefanfics · 3 years

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Disclaimer tho, all my knowledge of the fandom is strictly from fanfic and google. I don't read the comic or watch the anime. I only have some vague knowledge of what's canon or not and making this fanfic has been somewhat of a fever dream.

Tags: Fluff and angst. Attempt at humor. Crying. Probably ooc. No smut, just holding hands and some hugging and some kissing. Shouto smokes, and probably incorrect depictions of smoking. Implied child abuse (you know who). Lowkey Fuyumi bashing.

Warning: In character cussing from explodo boy.

Summary:

They found each other in coinciding vulnerability. Shouto was smoking, Katsuki was crying. Miraculously, no one died. It seems that vulnerability is exactly what they need to get through their respective problems, because vulnerability makes them do the one thing the two boys are allergic to do, opening up.

Or, Shouto and Katsuki cope with each other. It miraculously didn't end in explosions, just a lot of physical affections and crying.

Words: 10.9 k

You don’t have to take life so seriously Shouto! It can be whatever you want to be, it’s yours!

Shouto knocks his head back and parts his lips. White ribbons bleed to the orange sky. The clouds are pretty pink instead of white. The smoke doesn’t blend in with the white clouds anymore like a few hours ago. He taps the amber ash on the portable coffin-shaped ashtray. More than a dozen filter buds crammed there.

He should go back to his room. Any darker then it would be noticeable when goes back to his room. But there’s always that small whisper at the back of his head: Maybe after one more. This spot has been his salvation from overstimulation. It’s the highest building in UA, the rooftop of the dorm. He’s been here for two years and has always been alone.

The door slammed open.

High on nicotine, Shouto passes through shock to immediate acceptance that he’s busted.

Only, he’s not busted. The next sound that came is sobbing. The first thing he sees is awry blond hair and a tear-streaked red face. Soon came the already red blood-shot eyes, staring at him with a sadness that not even in Shouto’s wildest imagination can imagine on Bakugou’s face. It takes a few seconds too long for the default glare and anger to return.

“The fuck are you doing here!” He yells, his voice croaks in a not angry way. Wet and breaking at the pitch.

Shouto, still a bit floaty and relaxed from the nicotine in his system, nor is he yet to register the shock from seeing Bakugou’s tears, just points down towards his fingers.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” his voice is scratchy, a tad bit deeper. He never smoked so many that that happened. Then again, today is a special day.

Seemingly just as shocked, Bakugou seems to still. Shouto expects crackling hands, bared teeth, or maybe a ‘TELL ANYONE AND DIE’, but never that he strides his way and sits on the floor beside Shouto.

“Still have one of those?” Bakugou leans back.

Wordlessly, Shouto digs the last pack from his pocket. There are six left. Bakugou takes one, and Shouto lit a fire on the tip of his thumb towards Bakugou.

“How do you do this?” Bakugou says, eyeing the fire.

“You’ve never done this before?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I have Icyhot! Now fucking tell me already.”

“You put it between your lips, and inhales a bit as you put this corner on the fire.” Shouto crowds him cupping the end of the smoke with his palm and keep the fire controllably small. It feels like Deja Vu, but this time, Shouto is showing someone how to smoke instead.

Bakugou tries, and before Shouto can say to take it slow, Bakugou already choked and doubled over coughing. Shouto pats his back.

“What the fuck was that!” Bakugou roars and grimaces when he sees the stacks of cigarette buds on his ashtray. “How the fuck do you smoke that many!”

Shouto shrugged, “I’m used to it.” He puts out his bud on top of the pile and picks up the mostly one-piece cigarette that Bakugou chucked to the floor and lights it up. He feels eyes on him as he put the filter on his lips and lit it up in one smooth move.

With the cigarette properly lit, he offered, “Wanna try again?”

“No! That shit’s nasty.” Bakugou snarled at the hand holding the smoking cig.

“Suit yourself,” Shouto takes a deep drag and sighs. Surprisingly, Bakugou doesn’t up and leave, and more so that Shouto doesn’t mind the silence.

Alas, it only lasted exactly 33 seconds.

“How the fuck did you get in here!” Bakugou grumbles, “The door was locked.”

“I made ice stairs from my balcony.”

“Like how Elsa did?”

“Exactly like Elsa did, she was my inspiration.”

Bakugou snorts. No sadness left, just a condescending smile, which is better than the ghostly tears in his eyes.

“How did you get in through the locked door?”

“How else would you think?” Bakugou lifts his hand, cradling a small cluster of explosions.

Shouto face palmed, dragging it down.

“What?” Bakugou barks.

“Well when they figured out the door broke then they gonna figure out that someone’s been here, don’t they?”

“That nicotine is already killing your fucking brain cells.”

“That’s not how it’s-”

“Let’s get the fuck outta here before anyone finds us you loon.”

“But I-”

“You’ve burned through enough death sticks, let’s go!” Bakugou grabs his hand and pulls him up.

“Fine fine, let me tidy up.” Shouto could barely close his ashtray with all the buds in it, and he dusted the ashes that drops to the floor.

Shouto already makes the stairs down to his room before looking back at Bakugou, “Want me to drop you to your balcony?”

“I don’t know,” Bakugou narrows his eyes dangerously, “Will it suddenly melts away as I walk on it?”

Shouto huffs, “You have no faith in your favorite sparring partner?”

“The only thing I learned these past couple of years with you being shoved at my face as my sparring partner is that you’re a little shithead.”

Shouto makes the stairs towards Bakugou’s room first, reveling in how badly Bakugou tried to cover his amazement at the stairs.

“Just like Elsa’s, right?”

“You want me to give you Elsa’s number 1 simp trophy?”

Shouto melts Bakugou’s step and lets him fall blond head first into his balcony.

“YOU’LL FUCKING PAY FOR THAT, COCA-COLA SHITHEAD!”

Bakugou roars, and Shouto giggles as he jumps upstairs to his room with explosions fading behind him.

Not until he’s laying in bed that night that he thinks about Bakugou’s tears again. Rest assured, his imagination spiraled to ‘what could it be’ until 4 am.

++++

I don’t understand why your dad wants you to be number one when he should’ve want you to just be happy. Nothing in life really matters unless you’re happy.

Shouto loves everything about living in the dorm, but it has one and only one weakness. He can’t smoke as freely.

His dad knows and just rant about how it’ll affect his performance.

Now, Aizawa knows, and he’s at the principal’s office.

Shouto instantly knows how. Bakugou broke the rooftop door. Iida must’ve found it, reported it to Aizawa-sensei. Maybe his homeroom teacher has magnifying vision too because Shouto could’ve sworn he left no trace.

Yet Shouto can’t find it in him to blame anyone. He knows as an aspiring hero he shouldn’t smoke, those reasons never matter at those desperate times he needed to smoke.

“Tea?” Nezu raises his pot of pink teapot, Shouto narrows his eyes at the paw (how did that paw hold the teacup?)

“Yes, thank you.” The cup is equally pink, with two cheerful yellow flowers on each side. This looks like a tea set Eri had.

Shouto sips the possibly herbal tea, trying to ignore the glare Aizawa-sensei is sending his way from beside Nezu.

“Todoroki, how long have you been smoking?” His sensei’s voice gravels, like he just woke up from bed, his bed hair supports the theory.

Apparently a little mental, Shouto said, “Overall or in school?”

“Both.”

“Started when I was in first-grade junior high school.” As soon as he has any time away from home. “In UA, as soon as I stayed at the dorm.”

“Now, Todoroki,” Nezu put his paws together, “You know someone as young as you shouldn’t smoke. You’re underage, and an aspiring hero on top of that...”

Nezu then continues his PSA on smoking. Nothing Shouto hasn’t heard. Every word goes in the left ear and came out the right. He also isn’t surprised that Aizawa will be taking his stash of cigarettes. It doesn’t suck as much because Shouto doesn’t have a lot left anyway, nor is he been regularly smoking. He smokes when he’s stressed and nothing else could calm him down. He never reached out to the cigs first. The coffin-shaped portable ashtray reminded him that.

As soon as he’s back at the dorm, he’s greeted with a cheerful environment. Half his classmates are hanging in the living room. There’s a group playing Mario Party, a group that’s putting on nail art, and a group that seems to cook something ambitious. Shouto usually joins the group, but not today.

“Todoroki!” Iida comes from the hall, “Aizawa-Sensei came earlier and ran through your room! He seems to confiscate a pack of cigarettes. I’ve tried to tell him that it’s all a misunderstanding-”

“No, it’s mine.”

“Todoroki! At our young age as aspiring heroes we sho-”

“Nope, sorry not today Iida. Good night.”

Todoroki feels a few eyes on his back, but he walks on. With him naturally keeping things to himself, his friends tend to worry but they trust him to reach out to them in his own time. When it gets too long they usually check up on him. Shouto wished they never will.

+++++

You have the power to be whatever you want, but why are you following the wishes of someone you hate? I know he’s your dad, but your life is yours, Shouto.

Shouto’s wish didn’t come true when Bakugou bugs him on the rooftop again two days after he was raided.

It’s Deja Vu, but fewer tears from Bakugou and Shouto isn't a pack and a half deep in cigarettes.

“I fucking know you’d be at my spot again!” Bakugou spat scathingly.

“Excuse you,” Shouto scowls, “I’ve been smoking at this spot since the dorm opens. This is my spot.”

“Well, I’ve been- I’ve been-” Shouto should’ve known that Bakugou would turn red and explodes instead of admitting he’d been caught emoting, “What the fuck are you doing here anyway! You’re doing nothing!”

“No thanks to someone.”

Bakugou narrows his eyes, confused at the implication, but his exploding friend is smart, so he figured it out, and isn’t happy with what he figures out. “The fuck, get your accusing eyes away from me discount Sans, I don’t tattle.”

“No, but you exploded the door which leads to Iida reporting it, which leads to Aizawa inspecting the premises, and him figuring it out that smoked here.”

“That’s just your fucking fault for not covering your trace clean!”

Shouto inhaled indignantly, but then too tired to justify himself. There’s no ending of arguing with Bakugou, and Shouto had learned to choose his battles.

“How about you? How did you get in here?”

“Stole a key from Iida.”

“Are you here to cry again?”

Bakugou’s palms explode, his face an embarrassed flush and teeth bared in anger, “WHOS FUCKING CRYING!!?”

“I have eyes.”

“You’ve been sucking on those death sticks way too much.”

“I wasn’t smoking that type of substance.”

“Whatever, I’m not dealing with this,” Bakugou turns to step away.

“I don’t get it, it’s not a big deal!” Shouto raises his voice a bit, for some reason his heart rate picks up when Bakugou starts leaving. “So what if you sweat through your eyes? Midoriya does it almost every day, sometimes twice a day...”

“Don’t fucking compare me to fucking Deku you fucking fried ice cream!”

“...And Midoriya beat you at this year’s Sports Festival,” Shouto dismissed.

Bakugou grits his teeth, but his eyes watch over Shouto. “Stop stalling and tell me what you want from me,” Bakugou growls.

Shouto’s eyes widen at the sudden honesty, he nibbles on his bottom lips, “Stay here?”

For a second, Bakugou glares at him, but after two years of being his classmate, Shouto can confidently say that they’re friends. He knows Bakugou isn’t angry at him. As to prove his point, Bakugou sits beside him, a bit closer than Shouto expects him to, though still with that permanent scowl. Shouto moves his palms from his pocket, letting go of the aluminum ashtray. Shouto tests the waters and moves closer so their shoulder bumps. No explosions, no snarl, success.

Instantly, Shouto relaxes. Focusing on the pressure of their shoulders, the light shifts Bakugou does (because he can never fully stay still), and the clouds moving. No thought, just being alive.

Alas, no quiet ever lasted long with Bakugou, he expected it though.

“No wonder Aizawa figured it out, this place still stinks of tobacco.”

“It does?” Shouto takes a deep sniff, all he smells is Bakugou’s sweat that always smells sweet because of his quirk. “I didn’t smell anything.”

“Yeah no shit scar head, your nose is probably numb at this point.”

“I don’t smoke that much.”

“Said someone who smoked more than a dozen in one sitting,” Bakugou’s nags turns to worry, “Damn, was it really in one sitting?”

“Is that worry I detected?” Shouto deflects.

Bakugou grits his teeth, “I’m not worried! Go die off lung cancer I don’t fucking care!”

“Good, then, because yes it was, and there’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Fucking hell it’s not! What the actual fuck are your lungs made of? I barely suck it past my throat and I almost coughed out my insides.”

“I missed your dramatics,” Shouto says genuinely, and he waits for an explosion to come. Bakugou doesn’t do well with praises thinly veiled with snark.

It never came, Bakugou watches him closely instead, “Yeah? And who’s fault is that?”

Shouto dared to glare back, but it didn’t last long, he knows the answer. Shouto had come out of his shell nicely, as Momo had put it. He’s still awkward, can’t really quite grasp ‘pop culture’ and how to correctly implied it, but he regularly hangs out with his friends. As of late, he’s noticeably withdrawn. Going straight to his room after class, and opting out of game nights, nail nights, and even soba nights.

They had been giving him space, which he finds endearing. Of course, Bakugou isn’t one to give anything liberally.

“Mine...” Shouto admits, and Bakugou looks surprised.

The fun part of befriending Bakugou is that Shouto could be a bit of a bitch and Bakugou would be a bitch back, and it wouldn’t matter. No one’s feelings were hurt, and Shouto can let go of steam without guilt. Shouto could’ve been in denial, said that Bakugou should step off his dick and no feelings would be hurt.

But he had enough of space, though admittedly, he should’ve confessed that with someone that wants to be in his space.

“Finally, you’re done moping around, everyone’s been on my ass worrying about you.”

“Why would they be on your ass?”

“Hell would I know.”

“Was that the reason you cried?” Shouto is just teasing, but the grim in Bakugou’s face isn’t a familiar one.

“I told you that didn’t happen!” he growls lowly.

Shouto considers, clueless yet curious. “I’ll tell you about me if you told me about you.”

“Just because you’re vomiting your crisis that I didn’t ask for, doesn’t mean I’m obligated to do the same!”

“Okay, that’s fine too.”

“No, shut-”

“My mom and dad are getting back together.”

Bakugou’s expression mellows to confusion, “That sounds convoluted as hell. Didn’t they just got a divorce or something?”

“They never got a divorce. She’s just sent to a mental hospital and never came home, doesn’t mean the marriage is legally broken.”

The fact seems to sink slow with his explosive friend, “What the fuck.”

Shouto sighs, looking down his jittery hands, his mouth dries. “Last year when I visited my mom, we were talking about the future. She said she’d filed for a divorce, and I’d live with her.” Shouto feels oddly numb, but there’s this dull ache deep in his chest that’s constant. “I should’ve known. She said that before he ‘tried to change’... she said that when everything was still bad, she thought it still happened.”

“What still happened?” Bakugou sounds angry, but he always does.

“I got hurt a lot when I was a kid, because of training. She thought he still hurts me.”

He felt the shoulder beside him tensed. Beside Shouto’s jittery hands is Bakugou’s clenched shaking fist. Shouto looks up from their laps and finds that Bakugou’s face... an eerie stoic.

“Hmmm,” Bakugou hums, and a chill runs down his spine. “When did you start training by the way?” not even a curse in that sentence.

Shouto realizes then, this is Bakugou truly angry, even though Shouto can’t figure out why on earth would he be.

“The day after my quirk manifested.”

His childhood is unforgettable. The day his training starts with fear and pain, then ends with exhaustion and anger. The day Touya never came back, the day his mom left, the longing stare towards the backyard wanting to play with his brother and sister. He remembers it all, like a tattoo in his memory.

“We been knew that Endeavor was an ass but I didn’t know he’s a fucking child abuser.”

The words snap him away from his musing. This time, Bakugou looks angry angry. Teeth-gritting, scowling, boiling anger.

Oh, that’s why he’s angry.

“It was training.”

“Not at five fucking years old you e-boy himbo!” Bakugou barks.

“That’s new, what’s a himbo?”

“Not the fucking point!” Bakugou takes his shoulder away, and suddenly Shouto feels cold. Then he’s held by his shoulders, pinned by sharp maroon eyes, and the lack of warmth turns cold when a growl says, “You’re telling me that your dad’s been abusing you, and no one stopped him? And he’s fucking getting away with it??”

There are so many things wrong with that question and implied statement. One is that it was not abuse. Two is that no one could’ve stopped the then number two hero. Three is that Shouto didn’t tell him any of that but Bakugou assumed anyway.

Shouto doesn’t get to say all of it as Bakugou lets go of him and takes deep breaths. Bakugou pinched the bridge of his nose, seemingly displeased at what he’s thinking.

“Why did you think your mom wants to get back together with your dad?”

Shouto feels relieved now they’re back on topic, “I don’t know. It feels like one moment she’s afraid of him, and now she wants to be with him again. I guess... he did ‘try to be better’. Everyone else seems to forgive him, but I can’t.”

Then Bakugou does something that he didn’t expect, he defends them, “I mean... He’s not that much of a dick now, right? He’s a dick but he was pretty alright when we have a work-study at his agency. And your mom’s better, so maybe they could make it work?”

Shouto knows it’s technically true, but displeasure clawed him still, his blood boiling.

“I don’t care whether it works! I hated that she forgives him so easily!” Shouto shouts.

“Well, that’s selfish of you, isn’t it! It’s her decision, not yours!” Bakugou barks back.

“What the fuck do you know about it?” Shouto spats, he stands up, “They’re going to destroy each other, and what then? Do they want me to just look at their trainwreck while they insist everything is okay? No! I’m not going through that again!”

“You’re just not trusting your mom! Things changed!” Bakugou stands up too, he looks exceptionally angrier than ever.

“No, I don’t. Especially after she said she wanted to get a divorce with him then changing her mind only a year later. Of course, I don’t trust her!”

“But isn’t it better to have both your parents together?”

“No, it doesn’t especially when she’s not happy!”

Bakugou doesn’t bark back, and Shouto only realized how Bakugou’s question was laced with a cracked voice. Shouto looks, only partially surprised that the eyes that look back thinly veiled with tears. The heat in his bloodstream wanes out, more worried/horrified that Bakugou is now openly crying.

This is the worst. Both of them are socially awkward lone wolves that have no idea how and what to do with emotions. So, Shouto does his #best.

“You can tell me.”

Bakugouu glares. Okay, so maybe Shouto’s #best isn’t what he needs.

“Only if you want, if you don’t then it’s okay too.”

“Shut the fuck up, thermostat.”

What else do you do when someone cried? Shouto racks his memories of times when he was crying a lot when he was little, trying to find examples he could follow. He remembers his mom.

“Come here.”

“The fuck are you trying to-”

Shouto cuts him off with a hug. It’s as awkward as it comes. Shouto has his arms around the broad shoulders, his chin hooked on the right side. Shouto doesn’t know how tight he should hug, but it’s enough to press their chest together. Then one of his arms, the left one, rubs Bakugou’s back, emitting a slight warmth. In two languid swipes, Bakugou’s tenseness bleeds slowly.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” Shouto says, mimicking what his mom had said once upon a time when he’s upset. “But it’ll be okay. Maybe it’ll take a long time, or it’ll be really hard, but you...” have me, you don’t have to deal with everything alone, was what his mom finished with. He doesn’t know if Bakugou would see him as reliable, but Fuyumi had said that intentions are the most important. “You have your friends, and you have me. I don’t know what will help, but I’ll do it if you asked.”

Shouto surprised himself that he means it. When he encounters an emotionally fragile situation, he usually gets Midoriya, or Urakara, or Momo to handle the situation. With Bakugou however...seeing that his usually prickly friend tipping at the edge like this, Shouto felt like he wants to help. Perhaps it was the camaraderie of the S.S. Emotional Constipation that makes him reach out his personal hand towards Bakugou.

Shouto found another surprise when Bakugou hugs him back, his spiky blond head tucked at the crook of his neck. Shouto also didn’t expect the reflex tears pooling in his eyes at the feeling of tightening arms around his torso. He’s being held, tight and needy. When was the last time he’s held like this? Tears pours without his will when he realized the last time someone hugged him was Touya as Dabi when he was about to burn himself along with Shouto.

They stay there on the rooftop just holding each other as if they’ll fall apart if they don't. When Bakugou lets go, his eyes are even redder than it already is. When those red eyes look up, he noticed the tear streak down Shouto’s face and doesn’t comment about it.

Instead, Bakugou says, “My parents are splitting up.”

Shouto says nothing, only to pull him in his arms again.

They say nothing else as they sit at the same spot on the concrete floor leaning on each other, hand in hand. Shouto instinctually teared up again when he remembered the last time someone holds his hand was his mom as she walked him to a park, all those years ago. Other than that, it was for survival and fighting.

Bakugou leans his head on Shouto’s shoulder first, Shouto says nothing about it. He then leans his face on top of Bakugou’s hair, it feels like a bed of grass, Bakugou says nothing about it too. Shouto realizes that Bakugou can be vulnerable as long as no one points it out. Being untalkative, Shouto can do just that.

The future is scary, especially when their supposed foundation is changing. Bakugou’s foundations are breaking apart, while Shouto had grown accustomed to the torn apart pieces now move together crossing fingers that they fit.

But the future is for tomorrow. The changes are not theirs to make. All they can do now is hold themselves together as everything changes, hoping they don’t break in the process.

Eventually, nightfalls, but none of them moved. Shouto suspects that Bakugou might be sleeping on him.

It’s a suspicion no more when Aizawa found them there, and Bakugou doesn’t stir from being found. Those tired eyes already look exasperated as he finds Shouto’s tear-streaked eyes looking back.

Aizawa sighs, “Is it life-threatening ?”

Shouto knows that the teacher is prone to worries despite his appearance. Their stumble at first year seems to scar him and made him extra vigilant with his students ever since.

“There’s nothing we could do about it,” Shouto says, which is true, but seemingly a wrong thing to say.

“That doesn’t answer my question, trouble child.” Aizawa scowls, which means his worry cranked up to max. “Are the both of you facing a problem that harms you, or threatening your life?”

“It’s nothing like that,” says the bundle of blond in his shoulder. Bakugou sits up and stretches, yawning so big his jaw seems to unhinge a bit. He doesn’t look angry, just tired. “It’s family drama, you know how it is.”

“Is it really just drama?” Aizawa squints at Bakugou, too knowing for someone without a mind-reading quirk.

Bakugou looks at Shouto, searching and prodding. Shouto doesn’t understand what he could be looking for, or what he wants. Bakugou just sighs, “Yeah, just drama.”

Aizawa looks at Shouto too and softens. “If you two need to cuddle you can just do it in your respective room.”

“Nah, too many nosy people.” Bakugou starts to leave.

Shouto follows with a “Good night Sensei.”

Aizawa grunts.

“We can use my Elsa stairs,” Shouto pipes in as he walks alongside him.

Bakugou looks at him and huffs, “Turns out you’re not a himbo after all.”

Since Bakugou won't tell him, Shouto looks up ‘himbo’ himself. This raises a lot of questions about how Bakugou has been seeing him, but Shouto decides that he’d be offended by it.

++++++

You could still be lonely even though you have tons of sibling, or even when they really love you. I guess they just don’t know how to show us they love us.

He really should’ve known. He really should’ve fucking known.

The thought spins in his head as he smoked the last cigarette on his freshly bought pack. No one to catch him this time. It’s the weekend and he’s supposed to be at home, but it’s unbearable to be in the same room with his family. Usually, he could just slurp his soba in feigning ignorance but not now.

He’s sitting by the bench of a lonely park. He’s been sitting here since sun down. He has no idea what time it is. His phone in his pocket is on silent, he hasn’t checked on it since he walked out.

He should’ve stayed at the dorms, fuck the family dinner.

It’s not that Shouto wants things to end up badly. It’s not like he doesn’t want to be home, especially since his mom finally comes home after so many years. Everyone is happy that she’s back, even Natsuo, even his dad. Everyone except her. It looks so hard for her to be there. Shouto can see in her face that some places still hold strong bad memories for her.

His mother is strong because she pulls through. She holds herself through it all even though it seems only barely.

Yet why is he still so angry at her? Maybe not angry, frustrated. Shouto wants to ask her clarity. Why is she doing this? Why did she change her mind? Why come back here? Why not grasp the independence she had been telling Shouto she strived for? Was she coaxed to be here? Was she feeling some kind of responsibility to go back here? To salvage that sham of a marriage she had with Endeavor?

Shouto wants to ask, wants to understand. He crowded her with questions that moment when they said they’d be getting back together, only for his mom to wince, eyes widen, and quickened breath. For the second time in his life, his mom had looked at him with fear. Today, Shouto could barely meet her eyes again.

Is he really such a monster in her eyes just because he’s half his father? Then why go back to his father at all?

Shouto bought half a dozen packs as per tradition. Also because of his self implied tradition, he puts all the ashes in the coffin-shaped ashtray, even though there’s a park ashtray right beside him.

“You carry that everywhere,” Says a groveling voice that Shouto would notice anywhere.

Bakugou is in casuals. Black jeans and a grey hoodie seem like he’s out in a hurry. Just like Shouto.

“You’ve got to stop stalking me,” Shouto inhales deep, watching red amber burns till the filter and sighs.

“Who fucking stalking you Zuko.”

“Zuko doesn’t have-”

“Shut up,” Bakugou plop his ass beside Shouto, sitting waaay too close. He snatched the coffin tin, inspecting it. “Even when you didn’t smoke you carried this.”

“How did you know?”

“It shows your pocket, not big enough for a phone.”

Shouto knows he can’t get away once Bakugou began prying. “My first friend gave it to me.”

“That fucking Deku???”

“No,” Shouto chuckles at the image of Midoriya taking the role of what his first friend did. “It’s someone I met first-year junior high. She gave me this after introducing me to cigarettes.”

“That’s so fucking passive-aggressive I would’ve punched her in her teeth,” Bakugou grumbles, putting the ashtray to Shouto’s lap. “And why the fuck would anyone smoke at thirteen anyway!”

“Exactly because we’re thirteen, Katsuki, just because,” Shouto chuckles again at the memory. Seemingly too carefree from the nicotine, Bakugou had become Katsuki in his tongue. Katsuki bristles at his given name, but says nothing about it. It mysteriously made Shouto very happy.

“Among everything though, she was my first best friend, she teaches me a lot of things that make me who I am. She made me realize that I didn’t have to follow my dad’s wishes. That I can be what I want to be instead of what I was born for. That it’s valid to be lonely even though I technically have a big family. That it’s okay to not strive to be the best and just to be... happy.”

Shouto closes his eyes, remembering her lessons always fell bitter-sweet. But he’ll hold it in his heart forever.

“What you’re born for?” Katsuki says scathingly.

“Yeah, you know about this.” Shouto was told that Katsuki had eavesdropped on his conversation with Midoriya. Shouto was born to fulfill another man’s vendetta. A purpose first, and a son last.

“Seem like a wise person for a thirteen-year-old,” Katsuki sneers.

“She was, I loved her,” Shouto’s confession brings Katsuki’s face to a red grimace.

“Shit, I didn’t ask you to tell me your fucking secrets.”

“It’s not a secret.”

“Oh, really?” Katsuki spat bitterly, “Then why are you hiding your girlfriend from us?”

So many things wrong with that question. Shouto raises his eyebrows in surprise, “She’s not my girlfriend, and I’m not hiding her. She’s dead.”

The grimace fell like a hot potato, it would’ve been fun watching how Katsuki splutters if he didn’t look like he’s legit choking. “Holy fuck, that's... fuck, then why the shit you’re so stoic talking about it,” Katsuki seems appalled.

“It happens a long time ago. She seems accepting of her death that I... well I want to respect her decision.” Shouto knows it’s weird to not feel mournful of the departure of your closest friend. He still misses her, but she had been so positive until the very moment she left. Shouto was sure that she’s happy, so Shouto wants to be happy for her.

Katsuki paled, horrified, seemingly to misunderstand again.

“She had a terminal illness. Very likely no chance of survival. She chose to live her remaining time normally instead of undergoing treatment.”

“There’s... There’s no way her parents let her do that.”

“They’re economically challenged. They tried though, just too late in the end.”

“Fuck...” Katsuki cursed, running through his hair roughly. “Never thought you’d be the type of person to have life-changing moments like that.”

“A lot of people have proven to me that everyone has potential to be unexpected, and that’s just how it is.” Shouto looks pointedly at Katsuki, who glares at him in retaliation. “There’s a reason why we’re both here instead of home.”

“Yeah?” Katsuki mumbles, clearly not wanting to talk.

Shouto doesn’t too, to be honest, and yet keeping it in feels more exhausting, “My mom’s home.”

“No shit?” Katsuki was mildly surprised, “So it’s really happening huh.”

“It’s like walking on eggshells with her. I wanted to ask, but last time I did she flinched at me. I couldn’t look at her today.”

Katsuki sighs. This time, Katsuki is the one that scoots over till their shoulders touched all the way to their thighs. The contact makes Shouto breathes easier, he’s drawn to it like moths to a flame. His body goes limp as if it’s been too tense too long from holding itself together, and he drapes himself on top of Katsuki. Shoulder pressed together, his head heavily falls on Katsuki’s shoulder. Instinctually, his hand looks for another hand. Katsuki snakes around his hand and clasps it with his. It’s uncharacteristic, but Shouto finds himself grateful for it.

It’s warm, it’s damp, it’s grounding. Like lying on even earth after running away for so long.

“I don’t want her to be with him under the obligation that parents are supposed to be together for the kids. She’s been through so much, I would’ve understood, but I didn’t know how to say it without triggering her.” Silence follows, and Shouto realized what he said. “Sorry, uh, I’m not insinuating-”

“Shut up candy cane, I know.” Katsuki leans closer, his head on top of Shouto’s.

It’s warm, just what he needs in the middle of an emotional crisis at the beginning of November. It’s a bit out of character for Katsuki to do this, nor Shouto, neither of them are known for physical contact or talking about their personal lives. Yet here they are.

And Katsuki speaks anyway, “They’re fighting.”

Shouto, contrary to what Katsuki called him, isn’t a himbo. He knows who they are and he knows what a fight could entail.

“Did they hurt each other when they fight?” Shouto asks, then mused even if they did, could Katsuki do anything about it? Shouto couldn’t back then.

“No!” Katsuki says, indignant, “Of course not, they’re just bitching at each other about... about... I don’t know, it’s fucking stupid.”

“Hm, that’s good.”

“Fucking hell it’s good, they’re being idiotic!”

“They’re not hurting each other.”

Katsuki paused, his hands clenched tighter, “Did he hurt your mom when they fight?”

Shouto takes a deep inhale at the surge of memory. The fear that settles is old, he knows. Just leftover trauma that never went away, still, it bubbled to the surface, makes his skin cold.

Not trusting his voice, Shouto nods.

“They were fighting about me,” Katsuki says after a while, his voice a bit shaky, and Shouto knows better than to point it out. He keeps his head on the shaking shoulder and listens. “They didn’t know I was listening, they never did. They never... Turn-Turns out they didn’t even plan on having me.”

Katsuki holds his hand tighter and trembling.

“I’m a fucking accident,” Katsuki spat, venom dripping in every word. “Then they had a shotgun wedding, they didn’t even love each other at all.”

Shouto hears one escape of a sniff and lets himself relax, feigning clueless that Katsuki must’ve been crying. He lets the silence stretches until the hand holding his relaxed and the shaking subsides. Shouto had the same breakdown before. It downs to him that they’re not so different after all, children of a loveless relationship. Though he wonders if that instantly means he’s unloved. It had felt that way, but now... now it feels so much complicated than yes or no.

“Does it matter why we’re born?” Shouto hears a deep inhale of an incoming rant but he cuts it off with, “We’re our own person, with our own lives, and our own dreams. No one can tell us otherwise. Not even the one who makes us.” Shouto pauses and listens, what came to his ears is soft breathing, so he continues. “So what you’re not planned? That doesn’t mean you’re unwanted,” Shouto rubs his thumb over the damp knuckles, “You’re not unloved.”

Because Shouto had been to the Bakugo residence. Bakugou Mitsuki is as explosive as he is, but he can see her adoring stare at her son even when she’s scolding him. Bakugou Masaru is softer, always trying to calm both of them and giving small smiles when Shouto tells him stories about his son at school.

“What the fuck do you know, water dispenser?” Katsuki lowly growls, but it doesn’t have that biting hate, he doesn’t move away from Shouto.

So Shouto only hums and lets the silence stretch. He grabs the ashtray with his other hand, rubbing the plain surface with his thumb, remembering her, thanking her.

“What’s her name?” Katsuki says after minutes of silence, his voice with less snarl.

“Arisu.”

“... I’m sorry you lost her.”

And that’s what happened, isn’t it? Shouto may be able to let her go, but she’s still lost to him. Still hurts, Shouto still mises her. “Thank you.”

They didn’t let go of each other until Shouto’s phone rings. It’s Natsuo. His brother is just as unhappy about their parents' reunion, though for him it’s more about hating their dad and less about questioning their mother as Shouto did. Natsuo called to offer to spend the rest of the weekend at his place. Shouto immediately agrees, then he remembers Katsuki.

“Is it okay if I bring one of my friends?”

Katsuki instantly glowers at him.

“Who?”

“Katsuki.”

“Who??”

“Bakugou.”

“Oh, yeah sure. Buy some dinner on the way, I didn’t get to eat much.”

“Okay, me too.”

As soon as they hang up, Katsuki bares his teeth.

“Who says I’ll go with you, Pokeball?” His voice raised a bit, his arms crossing defensively.

“I’m not, I said if. You don’t have to, but if you want, you can.”

“No one fucking asked you for shelter,” Katsuki scoffs, facing away.

“I know...” Shouto knows Katsuki would rather leave than accept help. The only way he accepts it is that if no one acknowledges it. He knows Katsuki can take care of himself, but Shouto is the one that doesn’t want him to leave just yet. Shouto knows he’ll go back to Natsuo’s place only to hear him bitch about Endeavor when the real problem is with their mom and her odd decision.

“Can’t you just stay for dinner?” The desperation in his voice is real, Katsuki seems to notice it and is bewildered by it. “Please?”

Katsuki’s eyes widen at the magic word because no, Shouto doesn’t say it often, much less towards Katsuki, he had enough ego already.

Nose flared and fist clenched, Katsuki finally barks, “Fine! But we’re cooking instead of ordering take-out, I fucking know what you’re gonna get you soba simp. Your brother better has a kitchen.”

“He does,” Shouto replies, the upbeat tone in his voice is rare. Can you blame him? He’s excited that he’s not coming home, and Katsuki goes with him with his admittedly superior cooking.

At Natsuo’s apartment, Shouto helped Katsuki cook, nothing more than chopping stuff. Natsuo gave him a brief summary of what happened at home after Shouto left, but thankfully, he’s not saying too much because Katsuki is there. Once Natsuo finished talking and left to get beers, Shouto gives Katsuki an arm squeeze of thanks. Katsuki only grunts.

Dinner is ‘simple’ in Katsuki’s opinion. Stir-fried vegetables, miso soup, and hamburg steak. As always, it’s delicious, and Natsuo who’s none the wiser to Katsuki’s God-like cooking skill is blown away.

They’re in the living area on the sofa watching TV when Shouto scoots closer again. Natsuo is in his room studying.

“You can stay here for the rest of the weekend if you want,” Shouto says, bumping shoulders.

Katsuki frowns, eyes on the screen. “I don’t have my change of clothes with me.”

“You can borrow mine, I have some here.”

“Ran away a lot don’t you?” Katsuki sneers.

“You have no idea,” Shouto admits.

The sneer falls, “Why?”

“Just because I finally can.”

“You couldn’t before?”

Shouto shakes his head, finding his head heavy, so he lays his head on Katsuki’s shoulder again. “Before he was number one, he insists on using all my free time on training. If I didn’t, he’d take my phone, or the internet, or my manga, even burned them on some occasion. He even flushed my pet fish, rest in peace Kiya. Then he’s number one, and the dorms are established... so...”

Shout shrugs. He doesn’t reach for Katsuki’s hand this time, just pressed against him, afraid if he pushed then Katsuki would retract. Shouto doesn’t want to stop his newfound comfort just yet.

Then his hand is grasped by a firm clammy hand. Shouto keeps thinking of how Katsuki’s sweaty hands must be because of the nitroglycerin of his quirk. If he’s not thinking about Katsuki’s quirk then he’d think about how it makes his heart skipped a beat that Katsuki initiates the touch again. So yeah, clammy hands that hold him tight.

“Why didn’t you tell anybody?” Katsuki says, weaker than he’s accustomed to. It makes Shouto wary.

“I don’t know what is there to tell.”

A groan stretches, “What do I do with you?”

“Hey...” Shouto mock complains “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Does he still train you like that?”

Shouto feels a bit of whiplash with all these questions. Katsuki has been asking personal questions left and right, and Shouto doesn’t understand why answering it doesn’t feel as hard as usual.

“No, not since he became number 1.”

Katsuki scoffs, “Got what he wanted didn’t he?”

“Sometimes I wonder if that’s the case. When he got it, he didn’t seem happy, just angry. Then he started wanting the family he broke to get that number one spot.”

That renders Katsuki to another bout of silence. He knows Katsuki strives to be number one too, and at first, Shouto had ridiculed him about it. Why does a superficial title mean so much anyway? Katsuki changed over the years though, with Midoriya being the main cause of it.

Heart on his throat, Shouto dare asks, “Hey, Katsuki? Why do you want to be a hero?”

Katsuki tensed, but Shouto holds him tighter, “Why are you getting nosy all of the sudden?”

Shouto knows he’s not getting things easy, “I just wanna know.”

“Yeah, that’s nosy.”

“No, I just want to get to know you.” Shouto bites his lips as soon as the words left, was that too forward?

They’re not looking at each other, but Shouto can feel the glare directed at him. “Why?”

“We’ve been friends for a while...”

“We’re not fucking friends-!”

“...But I feel like I’m taking you for granted. I didn’t even know you’re going through something so big.” Some friend I am, Shouto broods.

It takes a few seconds, but Katsuki defeatedly sighs, and Shouto smiles in victory, “At first, I just want to be the best.”

“Best at what?”

“Everything...” Katsuki muses, his head knocked back, “Then I realized that it was an impossible goal... Did a lot of thinking, did a lot of uh, self-reflecting. Started talking to Ito-san too. I realized that I just want to be needed.”

It makes sense why Katsuki is here then. Shouto wished he could outright say that he needs him so Katsuki would stay longer, but just imagining him doing so already makes him pink in embarrassment.

Ito-san is the school counselor, her doors are open for every UA student. Shouto had half the mind to go to her, but there’s always this weight of silence from being a son of a high-profile hero. Endeavor always drilled him about secrecy and how he shouldn’t say anything about his family to anyone or it’ll ruin everything. It’s the reason why Arisu was his only friend, she was dying, and she did take his secret to her grave. Shouto still feels guilty about that.

“Have you ever talked to Ito-san?” Katsuki asked as if reading his mind.

“Can’t.”

“Why?”

“Everything that comes out of my mouth is tabloid-worthy. Endeavor had drilled me from way young that I can’t run my mouth about our lives. He’s right about that at least, I didn’t want paparazzi swarming us demanding half-assed rumors if I can help it. It had happened before, someone even sneaked into my mom’s hospital to reach her. I guess... that’s also why I never told anyone at all about anything.”

“You told Arisu didn’t you?”

Shouto bites his lip, guilt gnaws at him, “Because I know she won't carry my secrets long enough.” Please don’t hate me. Shouto’s grip on Katsuki tighten.

“But you told Deku, you told me.”

“Well, I trust you,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing. “You sure you don’t want to stay over?”

Katsuki leans away, and the cold strikes immediately. Shouto leans back, pointedly not looking at red irises.

“Fine.”

Shouto quickly looks up, then he finds Katsuki’s face odd. There’s something familiar with it. He’s... smiling, only slightly, but it’s a smile, and his eyes aren’t furrowed or angry or glaring. His eyebrows relaxed and he looks.... soft. Maybe Shouto fell asleep and currently dreaming.

“I’ll need to call my parents first,” Katsuki says after clearing his throat, looking away a bit flushed.

“Sure, I’ll get you settled.”

Shouto is half excited half worried. He told Natsuo that Katsuki will be borrowing the couch, which only replied with a hum while his eyes doesn’t leave the book. His brother is not unfamiliar with runaways. Shouto isn’t the only one seeking shelter at his place.

Shouto passes the balcony where Katsuki is screaming at his phone. Shouto can only hear muffles, but he gives Katsuki some privacy and gets some spare clothes. When Shouto sees that Katsuki is still on the phone even after ten minutes have passed, he takes the liberty of taking a shower first.

When Shouto walks out, he finds Katsuki sitting by the sofa, his hands suspiciously inflamed. He faces the screen but looking particularly nowhere. Shouto had seen those empty looks before.

“Katsuki?”

He jerks slightly as his name is called. Katsuki schooled his expression to a careful stoic, walls up. No matter, Shouto thinks, sometimes you don’t need to tear down walls to help a person, just hold their hand through the gate.

“Go take a shower, bath’s warm.”

Katsuki nods, taking the towel Shouto offered and the spare clothes. Shouto makes tea, for him, his brother, and Katsuki. Shouto delivers the cup of tea to Natsuo’s room, seems like the books are multiplying around his brother.

“Tea,” Shouto says before putting it on a coaster.

“Thanks.” Natsuo finally looks away from the book and takes a sip. “That Bakugou, how is he?” Natsuo asks, knowing that Shouto only brings his friend here in a dire situation.

The only other person he brought was Kaminari, believe it or not. Kaminari had said he didn’t want to come home for the weekend because he was scared of facing his parents after he came out via text. From the replies, it hadn’t been good. Kaminari spent the rest of the stay switching between sobbing and full-on crying. Only God knows why Kaminari asked him instead of any of the Baku-squad, but Kaminari is still his friend too, so Shouto provides.

But today with Katsuki is different though. Shouto had to beg him to stay, whether it’s for the benefit of him or Shouto the line had blurred.

“Hopefully he will be,” Is all Shouto can offer. Natsuo nods before going back to his book.

Shouto lays out his futon in the living room adjacent to the sofa. He’s laying down, scrolling at his phone. Putting his dad on read and ignoring Fuyumi’s and mom’s chatbox. He opted to look at cat videos instead. Soon, Katsuki came out of the bathroom, drank the offered tea, and laid down on the sofa.

They spent probably an hour separately looking at their phones when Shouto finally calls it a night. He turned off the lights, and tuck himself in. Before he said goodnight, Shouto thinks and his desires take.

“Wanna hang out tomorrow?” he asked.

Blood red eyes look at him from the screen, “Where?”

Shouto shrugs, “I don’t know, just around, get my mind off things. There’s a cat cafe I’ve been wanting to see, then we’ll go from there.”

Katsuki stares, seemingly thinking it over, “Have you ever been to a rock climbing gym?”

“A what?”

Katsuki smirks, sharp-teethed and evil, “Oh you’re in for a fucking experience, red velvet oreo.”

Shouto is a bit suspicious, even so, he finds himself looking forward to tomorrow.

+++++

I’m sorry for not telling you sooner, but you shouldn’t think that way. Of course you’ll have more friends. You’re more lovable than you think, Shouto.

Something changed between them after that weekend. Comfort grows between them. Comfort that they don’t want to let go just yet, perhaps not anytime soon.

The bad thing about it is that everyone notices. Everyone.

To their friend's credit though, they came to school together, walking very close to each other. It was fully initiated by Shouto, but Katsuki didn’t snap or push him away, so he assumed everything is okay.

Everything is absolutely not okay because the moment he walks to class everyone has eyes on them. Shouto thought it won’t matter to him, but Katsuki tends to be defensive. When Katsuki is defensive, he pushes people away. Shouto tried not to watch Katsuki for the whole class.

Momo noticed, of course, but she notices more than superficial things.

“Shouto,” Momo whispers, “Everything alright?”

Shouto gives her a smile and nods.

It’s not until they’re getting up for lunch that Shouto is tested in a form of Kirishima.

“Bakubro! How long have you been dating Todobro?”

The world screech halt, and Kirishima tensed at the sudden chill he’s feeling. When Kirishima found the source of burning in his back, he sees Shouto, glaring hard and terrifyingly at him. Face darkens, pupils small, ready to kill.

Kirishima squeaks, “He-hey, uh-”

“Back off Kiri, it’s none of your business,” is all Katsuki says. Not even a scream, just a conversational tone as if he’s bored. No defensiveness, no snarling at Shouto in retaliation. “The fuck are yall extras staring at? Move outta my way, I’m hungry!” Then he left.

No one is barging Shouto with questions instead. It’s out of character of his classmates to not poke their nose in something juicy, but as he drops his butt at his chair, he finds himself alone in class.

Shouto is left in class with a big wave of relief, so much that he couldn’t stand. Why is it that the thought of Katsuki pushing him away scares him this much?

A hand landed on his desk, he looks up to find Momo’s honest stare, “Something is not alright.”

Shouto sighs, “No.”

Unlike Katsuki, Momo never pries, only assuring that she’s there for him. Unlike Momo, Katsuki understands that some things can’t be fixed, wherein if he opens up to Momo and some others, they tried to help by fixing. The number of times his friends told him, again and again, to go to Ito-san when they found out about Dabi being his brother is an exhausting amount. Maybe that’s why Shouto has been more comfortable with laying his problems to Katsuki.

So he eats lunch with Momo in the silence of comfortable company, and there’s just that.

+++++

Thank you for being there for me. You’re the bestest best friend I could ever wish for. And you won’t be lonely for long, you’ll see.

Shouto has peaceful days following that first Monday. His comfort with Katsuki doesn’t change. Though they don't get together on the rooftop anymore (Iida never let go of his key since Katsuki managed to steal it), they still gravitate towards each other whenever they don’t feel particularly great.

Katsuki would approach and say things like, “They want me home this weekend.”

“You wanna stay at the dorms or my place?”

“Can’t. I know they wanted to talk to me about who I wanna stay with.”

“We can make up an excuse if you want.”

“Hm.”

Then they spent the rest of the day together, just sitting at the school’s lawn, looking at particularly nothing. And if they sit too close together and their clasped hands only partially hidden by their legs, no one pointed it out.

Shouto would approach and say things like, “Fuyumi wants to call me, I know she’s just gonna talk about how I’m tearing the family apart.”

Katsuki snaps from his bed towards the window where Shouto is stepping down from his Elsa stairs.

Katsuki’s shock then turns to fury, “Your sister, Fuyumi, THAT Fuyumi said that to you?”

“She wanted the family together. I think she’s frustrated that I keep making my parents' union difficult.”

“You know what, her spicy mapo tofu isn’t that delicious anyway!” Katsuki barks his hands clenched down mini-explosions. It’s one of Katsuki’s outbursts that Shouto doesn’t understand, nor does he understand why her mapo tofu is related in any way, so he doesn’t comment.

“I’m gonna head up to the roof, wanna come?”

“No, you’ll just smoke and you’d give me fucking cancer.”

Shouto feels cold, Katsuki had never said no from hanging out before, “Fine.”

“Who said you can leave? Come here!” Katsuki held his ankle from the balcony, gripping tight.

Shouto blinks, remembering what Aizawa-sensei had said some days ago. “Oh, are we gonna cuddle?”

Katsuki’s face set aflame, “Just fucking come in here Katy Perry, before I yank you by your stupid Poland flag hair.”

Shouto finds himself obeying at the thought of cuddling, but then confused, “Why Katy Perry?”

“Hot and cold.”

“I guess that’ll make sense if I know who Katy Perry is but.”

Katsuki spat a curse, “Alright, time for a session of pop culture.”

“But I already had them with Mina and Sero”

“And they’re doing a shit job about it if you didn’t know the person that shapes a whole ass generation.”

It started with a music video of Hot and Cold by Katy Perry and ends with a retelling biography of Lady Gaga. Who knew Katsuki is so knowledgeable about female pop stars.

“TELL ANYONE AND DIE,” He said after Shouto pointed it out.

Most important of all, they did cuddle. They were sitting on the bedside then suddenly they’re laying down side by side. They’re watching a gameplay video of a Swedish man playing a horror game, another important role in pop culture as Katsuki said. It’s an old video, and Katsuki said that the man owns some part of Antarctica, which Shouto knows it’s some kind of an inside joke.

The nights getting late, and Shouto is reminded of the text on his phone, how it vibrates occasionally. Shouto has been in Katsuki’s room for four hours, but he doesn’t want to go back to his room.

Katsuki notices him lingering, “You wanna stay here for the night?”

Shouto looks up from Katsuki’s phone with big sparkling eyes, “You sure?”

“Tch, I wouldn’t have offered if I don’t.” Katsuki looks away, exposing his neck that seems red to the tip of his ears, “It’ll be a little cramp though with my single bed.”

“I don’t mind it. Just don’t kick me out of bed.”

“No promises.”

Katsuki didn’t. He curled away from Shouto as soon as the blankets tucked. Their backs pressed against each other because of the small space. Shouto finds it hard to fall asleep, could be the new environment or the gnawing anxiety.

He’ll admit that Fuyumi is his favorite sibling. She’s there for him when he was condemned in that lonely manor only to train and study. Fuyumi stays back for him, tend to his wounds, cook for him, keep him company. Natsuo had left and rarely come back, even though he’s there for Shouto in the end.

Then his dad had a bootleg redemption arc and Fuyumi dropped him like hot potato and shoved both of them together despite what Shouto feels about his dad. When his parents are getting back together, Fuyumi stopped consoling Shouto and started to support them blindly. So desperate to have their family together. Doesn’t she know that there’s nothing to salvage? Doesn’t she remember what he did?

“I can hear you from here, air conditioner,” Katsuki grumbles, his back vibrates, “Go to sleep.”

“I’m trying.”

Shouto can’t stop thinking, can’t stop getting angry and getting hurt. It hurts when his sister is pointing the blame at Shouto, it hurts even more when it’s kind of true. It hurts that despite his fear of facing her, he still owes her a call at least. He’ll never be ready for what she’s about to say, never be ready to be hurt by her. Shouto turns around and buries his face at Katsuki’s back, ducking under the cover.

“What is it?’ Katsuki asks, not demanding, but Shouto’s floodgates are opened.

“I don’t understand how they could forgive him. He hurts mom, he hurts Touya to a point that he left and hates us, and he... he hurts me. It’s just training but-but- fine, okay, it hurt and I was scared most of the time that he’s not gonna pull his punches. Fuyumi forgives him so easily, and mom just went back in there even though they were never in love in the first place. It’s like they’ve forgotten what he had done, how deeply he scars all of us. Like what- like what happened didn’t matter.” Shouto’s voice breaks the whole time, a sob escaped in between the jumbled words and he’s trying so hard, so hard not to cry.

Katsuki turns around, his arms wrapped around Shouto’s hunched shoulders. A burnt sweet scent hits his nostrils, his face pressed against a defined neck and collarbones. All tenseness bleeds away when Katsuki starts rubbing his back, and tears break from his eyes without his will. Shouto wraps his arms around his friend’s torso, feeling his chest constrict when Katsuki mercifully says nothing about the silent tears landing on his chest.

He shuts his lips, pressing tightly because he’s not sobbing to Katsuki’s chest. They’re comfortable with each other but not that comfortable... right? Shouto’s tolerance to breakdown cries is thanks to exposure to crying most of his childhood, the same can’t be said for Katsuki. The hug is enough, it’s everything. Shouto never realized how much he craved being touched until that day Katsuki sits way too close to him.

His lips pressed tight keeping from sobbing, but his hands tremble on Katsuki’s back instead.

“Damn, you’re touch starved aren’t you,” Katsuki sighs to his hair, his face buried there.

“I didn’t know,” Shouto’s voice shaking pathetically, breaking at the edge and Shouto is too torn to care about it.

“Me too.”

Shouto doesn’t know which one Katsuki meant, but neither let go until they sleep.

++++++

I love you too, Shouto. Don’t be scared of letting people in, okay? Not all of them are gonna leave you, I promise.

Things get rough, but their comfort pushes each other through.

Katsuki chooses to stay with his dad, but he’s co-parenting with his mom. Katsuki spends his weekends at both their house, switching every weekend. There’s still tenseness between his parents, and Katsuki explodes whenever his dad or mom asks Katsuki about the other. ‘Stop fucking asking me! If you wanna know so much then you shouldn’t have gotten the divorce!’ Katsuki doesn’t want to hear their reasoning, feeling better to just accept the change and move on, but Shouto thinks he’s just not ready to hear it. Sometimes Katsuki stays at the dorms with Shouto or the Todoroki estate when he gets overwhelmed.

Shouto finally talks to his mom. At first, it didn’t go anywhere. She’s as unsure as Shouto, but her willingness to try and salvage the marriage is as honest as it comes, even though her feelings might not be there yet. It feels like hearing Fuyumi talk, hearing the same desperation and blindness in putting things together. It’s hard to understand her foolishness, but Shouto tried to trust her. Shouto’s opinion might have been persuaded a little when his father announced that they’ll be moving houses due to mom’s tense reaction to the place. It’s a plus that his dad is willing to do that for his wife, but Shouto is still keeping an eye on them.

Then things get better, but their comfort doesn’t stop. Shouto is comfortable in following his desires without questioning them, but he quizically finds that Katsuki seeks him too even though he no longer approach Shouto with that near tears scowl, and situation bomb.

“How’s your mom?” Katsuki asked out of the blue under the summer blue sky. They’re sitting by the school lawn, their backs to a tree trunk, their friends strangely been leaving them alone.

“She’s fine.”

“Then why did you want to meet here?” Katsuki murmurs, looking down at the comic book Shouto lends him but not reading it. The tips of his ears are red.

Oh, Katsuki is testing the waters, “I just want to be with you.”

Katsuki flushes, “Ew, where the fuck did you even get that cheesy line.”

Shouto pays the snark no mind. “We haven't had any excuses for being together lately, do we?”

Katsuki hums.

“Do you not like it?”

“It’s fine,” Katsuki grumbles.

“Say... If I ask you to go to a cat cafe this Saturday, will you go?”

“Satan in hell, cat cafe again? I still have fucking fur on my black jacket from the previous visit! I felt like we’ve been to all the cat cafes in the country!”

Shouto pouts, “That’s not possible.”

“Let’s go hiking instead.”

“Okay.”

Katsuki twist his head towards him, “You would?”

“Just us two right?”

“Obviously, there’s no way I’m taking those extras. Those nature documentaries made them wimps.”

Shouto only listened to the first word he uttered, “I’ll go with you.”

Then Katsuki looks him that way again. Soft eyes, relaxed eyebrows, fond stares, and the most devastating of all, a small genuine smile.

“Cool. Come to my place, we have to wake up early. I miss seeing the sunset there, it’s awesome.” There’s light in his maroon eyes, excited to go, and he’s taking Shouto with him to his hobby, his precious place.

Shouto feels warmth radiating from his chest all the way down to his toes, a smile blooms on his face. He’s been feeling this mysterious warmth pretty often lately, only now has he realized that Shouto is happy and that he hasn’t been lonely despite his current family strain.

Katsuki’s rambling about his favorite hiking spot is cut short when Shouto leans in to kiss the corner of his lips. The smile is exchanged with shocked parted lips. Shouto feels himself shrink by the silence of Katsuki’s loud mouth and the pinning stare of his sharp eyes. Blood rushed to Shouto’s cheeks, knowing that he’s blushing up a storm, suddenly nervous.

“Is that okay?” Shout asks, too cowardly to say that he wants more, closer, to continue being together for no reason at all other than just because.

“No.”

He’s grabbed by the face, and a pair of lips pressed against his. Shouto expected to be bitten, his head clawed, and his lips bruised. But the weeks he spent with Katsuki should’ve made him know better. Because the gentle hands cradling his face, the complete capture of his lips, and the soft nips are all unsurprising. Shouto melts away, leaning his whole weight so they’re chest to chest. He grabs Katsuki by the hips, pulling closer, kissing back.

Katsuki hums, and the vibration echoes on Shouto’s body deliciously. Katsuki’s lips taste sweet and hot as it moves to nibble Shouto’s bottom lip. The hands cupping his face moves past his neck. One is clutching his back and the other plays with the hair at the back of his head. Fingers card gently around his nape and Shouto has a whole body shiver.

Then the lips go missing, and Shouto goes limp in Katsuki’s arms, gasping for breath on his chest.

“And that’s how you kiss, Strawberry Shortcake,” Katsuki says smugly, patting Shouto’s back condescendingly.

Shouto scoffs and leans back. Katsuki still has that fond eyes as he looks at him, but now paired with a cheeky smirk. Shouto wants to kiss that too, and Shouto does.

From then on, it’s expected that he sometimes steps down his icy stairs just to cuddle with Katsuki, and it’s perfectly acceptable that Katsuki barges into his room and starts pulling his hand towards wherever he wants.

They’d still bicker sometimes, and sometimes Shouto unintentionally steps on some lines that set Katsuki to explode. Sometimes Katsuki is frustrated with him. Those days they fight makes him nervous.

But they always say their apologies eventually. Katsuki always comes back and tries again with him. Even when the fights are between them, they eventually get over it and get better while they’re still leaning onto each other for comfort.

Eventually, Shouto keeps the coffin ashtray in his keepsake instead of his pocket.

He’d like to think that he can finally let her go now that she’s proven right.

Shouto finds someone that loves him, someone that makes him happy, and someone that doesn’t leave.

++++

nicknames that didn't make it: Colgate toothpaste, hot pocket, tide pod, dry ice. nicknames that I magically forgot: Half and half.

Tag yourself as Shouto’s nickname, I’m water dispenser.

#todobaku #bakutodo #todoroki shouto #todoroki shōto #bakugo katsuki #todobaku fic #todobaku fanfic #Todobaku fanfiction #emocel's #I'm crying #i googled shouto's nickname for this #I saw 'Strawberry Shorcake' and I lose my mind #I saw a trope that Bakugo smells like caramel becs of his quirk and i lose my mind #todoroki shoto fluff #boku no hero #boku no hero fanfic #my hero academia #my hero academy fanfiction

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fabulouspotatosister · 4 years

Text

just for a day

summary: What’s a little acting between friends? If friends was even the right word.

word count: (idk yet man lol ) 3,373

request: Hello! I just wanna say your writing is absolutely amazing! If I may, could I request an 11 x reader where the reader’s friends keep bugging them to get a boyfriend, but they say they already do and they have to ask the Doctor to be their “boyfriend” (kind of like with Clara at the beginning of Time Of The Doctor) and eventually leads to feelings being spilt? If not, that’s perfectly fine!

a/n: this got WAYYY too long and for that i am so sorry lmao. i’m writing and posting this on the same day so if there are many mistakes or it doesn’t make sense that’s on me. anyway, i hope you enjoy this fic!

gif credit: @pavel-chekovs

“You’re back!”

You’d expected screaming. You’d expected yelling, and a fair dose of pterodactyl-esque screeching from the students in your advisory class, but what you weren’t expecting was crying. And lots of it. Nearly every fresh-faced elementary student was in tears, some sobbing quietly and some full-on bawling as soon as you walked through the door.

It was nice, cute even, but honestly a little disconcerting.

“Hi, everyone,” you said, shutting the door carefully behind you. The sight of their crying faces immediately activated your Parent Mode. “Are you all okay?”

“Perfectly fine!” Marih chirped, president of the class and therefore a little more levelheaded than the rest, which earned her a handful of disagreeing sighs. “What? Guys, you look ridiculous crying,” she continued, as she wiped her cheeks with the back of her palms and gave you a toothy grin. “We’re just happy you’re here again.”

You smiled at her, and reached out to pat the top of her head. “That’s great and all, but it’s like you guys haven’t seen me in ages.”

A heavy silence fell over the whole class. You saw students shift in their seats and look down at the floor, suddenly very interested in their black school shoes. Even Jaden, the class’s resident troublemaker, didn’t say a word. Marih cringed, ran a hand through her long dark hair, and smoothed the front of her checkered uniform.

“How long have I been gone?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. Marih seemed to cringe away at the question. “I thought I was only travelling for a week!”

“Actually,” Marih said, stretching out the word, “you’ve been gone for three months?”

Your mouth fell open. You stared at her for a moment, dumbfounded, before you dug into your pocket and fished out your phone – she was right, it had been exactly three months and a week since you’d left the school to go travelling.

You groaned. “Oh, I’m going to kill him.”

By travelling, you meant time travelling and by him you meant the Doctor. The madman in a box that you’d run off with. You had let him turn your life upside down in the best way possible since he dragged you into the TARDIS, with his stupidly gorgeous smile and eyes and – you were getting off topic. Now you were plotting the murder of the man that you would consider to be the most incredible thing that had ever happened to you.

“Hey, ma’am?” came a soft voice from the front of the room. Karyll, with her tied-back hair and glasses, looked up at you from her seat. “Why are you looking like you’re going to kill someone?”

“’Cause I am,” you said cheerily, shoving your phone back into your pocket. Oh, you were going to have words with him, and they would most definitely not be nice ones. “Have I missed anything big? Were you nice to my substitute?”

A collective wave of disagreement swept over the class, and you couldn’t help but let a smile slip onto your face. These were your babies after all, and if you’d really been gone for three months then they were sorely missing their Second Mom.

Maybe the tears weren’t that much of a surprise after all.

“Okay, good morning everyone! Now, if we’re still on schedule, and I really hope we are, we should be talking about integers…”

The late afternoon sun drifted through the curtains of your classroom, filling the room with an almost hazy glow as you sat with your best friends in a haphazard circle of desks. Your kids had all gone home already, and a little pile of flowers and chocolates sat neatly on your shelves, right beside your lesson plan folders.

Denise leaned forward to look at them, her curly hair falling over her face. She was the elementary students’ science teacher, and was so well-organized it was almost inhuman. She would have liked the planet where everything was arranged alphabetically, you thought.

“I’m jealous, my students never give me gifts,” she said as she leaned away. “Sis, where have you even been?”

“Long story,” you replied, and it was. You weren’t sure if you could fit everything you’d been through – travelling through time, going to planets lightyears away, and of course all of the near-death experiences – into a story that you could tell in under an hour, and you weren’t going to try.

“And you’ve been travelling? By yourself?” Julianne, an arts teacher, raised her eyebrows at you from behind her laptop. “God, that’s lonely. Oh – unless…” Her calm expression morphed into something truly evil in your line of work – mischievousness. “Unless you had someone with you.”

“I mean –” Oh no, this was going to be hard to get out of. “I mean, I wasn’t alone,” you said, hoping the smile on your face was enough to mask your utter fear. You knew exactly where Julianne was going and you hated it. “I was with someone.”

“Ooh,” Julianne said, her grin growing so sly it was sending shivers up your spine. “You’ve been gone three months, has anything happened between you and your travel buddy?”

Heat rushed to your face. If you were a cartoon character steam would be pouring from your ears. “Why would you say something like that?”

Julianne shrugged. “We’ve been telling you to get a boyfriend for so long. You said you’d be gone a week, and then you disappear for three months… that kinda says something, don’t you think, Denise?”

“Definitely.” Denise grinned, and you shot her a helpless look.

“We’re doing this because we love you,” Julianne sang. The light from her laptop was enough to make her look absolutely menacing. “So? Travel buddy? Or more than that?”

The Doctor wasn’t just a travel buddy, and he was so much more than that – but you hadn’t found the words for what he meant to you, at least not yet. Companion was enough for you and him, but even then, there was a weight to that word. And there was definitely a weight to your partnership, but you wouldn’t call it… dating.

Julianne simply waggled her perfectly shaped eyebrows at you. You swallowed. You and the Doctor were a long story too, and Julianne wasn’t going to be happy with “maybe” for an answer.

The words were out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. “Fine, he’s my boyfriend!”

I want to crawl into a hole and die was your inner monologue, and your background music was Julianne and Denise’s raucous laughter. I want to crawl into a hole and never have to face the world ever again.

Smash cut to you, standing nervously in your bedroom, gripping your phone so tightly you were sure it was going to break. Your plans of killing the Doctor for dropping you off late would have to wait. The phone rung once, twice, and you chewed your lip. If he was in the Time Vortex, any version of him could answer the phone and you couldn’t deal with that on top of everything, not today at least –

“Hello?”

You heaved a sigh of relief at the sound of the Doctor, your Doctor’s voice. “Help?” you squeaked out.

“Help?” the Doctor repeated. There was a blaring noise, and then the sound of electricity crackling. Something fizzled and popped, and the Doctor shouted something that sounded like a swear. “Oh, shut it – you – sorry, sorry. You were saying?”

“Uh, where are you right now? Are you somewhere?” you asked.

“I’m not somewhere, I’m drifting! Right above Earth, approximately right where you are,” he said. You could hear the smile in his voice. It quelled your anxiety somewhat. “I’m doing maintenance. Agh – ow! I think I can see the roof of your house through the clouds, unless that’s someone else’s house. What color is your roof?”

You giggled. “It’s brown. You’re in the same time as me?”

“’Course I am,” the Doctor said. You heard the clanging sound of metal being dropped. “I never left.”

The Doctor liked to run off on his own when you were home and have his own mini-adventures. He liked to come back and say he’d spent his time with alien royalty, or something like that. But instead he was staying put, he was waiting, for you. It made the next part so much harder.

“I need you to be my boyfriend,” you said quickly, covering your burning face with your free hand.

“Oh,” the Doctor said simply. Another clang.

Oh? “Just for a day,” you coughed. “I kind of said that I had a boyfriend, and that he was my travel buddy, and now my friends kind of want to meet you. It’s my grade’s family day tomorrow, maybe you could, uh, show up?”

“And be your boyfriend,” the Doctor said.

You nodded, then, “And be my boyfriend. Just for the day. You never have to show up again.”

There was a beat of silence, and for a second you thought the Doctor was going to say no – he had every right to, of course, and you could just lie and say that he couldn’t show up – but the Doctor laughed, cheerful and warm. “Ding-dong! Okay! What time tomorrow? I have to study, I’m a bit rusty in places.”

Your mouth fell open for the second time in twenty-four hours. “You’re serious?”

“Very! Any pet name preferences?”

You groaned loudly, and the Doctor laughed again. “Shut up!”

“Alright, alright. Guess I’ll have to do my own research.”

There was another moment of silence, and when the Doctor spoke again, it was much softer, much less playful. His voice almost sounded fond. “Goodnight?”

“Goodnight, Doctor,” you said softly, and the call cut off with a series of short beeps.

Was it a surprise that you barely slept at all? You had spent the whole night with your imagination running at full capacity, your mind latching onto every single thought and concept it could come up with. You slipped in and out of sleep, lying still in bed whenever a possibility popped into your head. To say you were nervous was the understatement of the year – but what was a little acting between friends?

If friends was the right word for it.

You waited for the Doctor behind the school, leaning against the concrete wall and watching the TARDIS fade into this plane. Wind blew into your face as the TARDIS groaned and wheezed, eventually materializing in front of you.

“I’m not late, am I?” the Doctor said, sticking his head out of the TARDIS doors. He grinned widely, his hair falling into his face. You grinned back at him and pushed yourself off the wall.

“You’re early, which is a first,” you said. The Doctor frowned at you, stepped carefully out of the TARDIS, and frowned some more. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“I think I’ve earned the right to look at you however I’d like,” the Doctor huffed, adjusting his bowtie. He’d ditched the tweed for the day, it seemed, going with a long green coat that annoyingly complimented his eyes. The frown didn’t last very long, though, because he went right back to grinning brightly at you. He held out his elbow in your direction. “Shall we?”

“Here’s the lucky girl,” Julianne cooed as you walked into the empty canteen. All the tables were pushed aside to make space for all the games you’d be playing – in the corner of your eye, you saw the Doctor light up at the sight of all of the streamers and balloons. “And here’s the lucky boy – oh my god, Denise.”

“What?” Denise popped up from behind a large speaker, then blanched. “Oh, now I’m double jealous.”

The Doctor pulled away from you to lightly kiss both of Julianne’s cheeks in greeting. Julianne looked positively starstruck when he stepped back to stand beside you, quickly waving Denise over. Denise had her mouth hanging open, still clutching a microphone in her hands.

“Hi,” you said, gesturing at the Doctor, “here’s my boyfriend.”

The Doctor raised his hand and smiled. “Hello! I’m John Smith, lovely to meet you both. You’re my girlfriend’s girl friends, I assume?”

“Uh –” Denise blinked owlishly. “Yeah, we are.” Then, quietly and to herself, “Holy moly.”

You couldn’t help but grin at their flabbergasted faces. The Doctor rested his hand on the small of your back, and you leaned into his touch as if it was the most normal thing in the universe. That was enough to make Denise stumble into Julianne, who barely even reacted, as she was still staring wide-eyed at the both of you.

“I think we caught them off guard,” you said. The Doctor chuckled and leaned down to kiss the top of your head.

“You did when we met, sweetheart,” the Doctor said smoothly. Sweetheart echoed in your ears and bounced off the walls of your already racing mind. Your heart stuttered in your chest. That was bad.

“Oh, are we doing charm now?” you asked. “Are you trying to be charming?”

“I did say I would study,” the Doctor said.

“You guys are insufferable,” Denise said, but she was beaming at you. “If you could get your hands off of your travel buddy for just a few minutes, I need help with the mics, the families are gonna be here any minute…”

Her voice trailed off as she walked back to the speaker. You stood on your tiptoes to kiss the Doctor’s cheek, feeling his skin heat up underneath your lips. “See you later.”

“…See you,” the Doctor echoed, and bent down to kiss your cheek too. He turned on his heel and walked towards the decorations, softly muttering, “Ooh, balloons! Love a good balloon…”

You stared at him for longer than you should have, watching him poke and prod at the balloons lying on the tables. He put his face very close to one and smiled at his reflection in the plastic. Affection welled up in your chest, and a tiny smile slipped onto your face.

“Look at you, you’re smiling at him,” Julianne chimed, sidling up to you and nudging your side. “That’s disgusting.”

“Says the girl who said I needed to get a boyfriend,” you shot back.

The Doctor went still for a little bit and turned to face you, smiled and winked, then went right back to inspecting balloons. Julianne made a strangled noise, and you made one too. So he was doing charm, and you hated to admit that it was absolutely working on you.

“I meant to say disgustingly adorable,” Julianne said. “You’re so lucky.”

You gave him another glance as you walked away to help Denise with the mics – “help with the mics” was apparently code for “I’m going to tease you more about your new boyfriend” which wasn’t helped by the fact that every so often, the Doctor would look in your direction and just smile, which was enough to make you stumble over your own words and give Denise more teasing fodder.

The parents and their kids eventually filed into the canteen and you flipped into Teacher Mode. You stood next to your students, pinched their cheeks and then greeted all of the parents and got everyone ready for the program. (You didn’t notice how the Doctor mirrored you, standing a little far away and watching, a dumb smile on his face.)

Julianne and Denise were the emcees for the family day, big smiles on their faces as they rounded up everyone for the games. At the mere mention of games, the Doctor was back at your side at an instant, his eyes glittering with excitement.

“Please don’t destroy the kids,” you pleaded.

“No promises,” he replied, and then proceeded to destroy the kids in most of the games.

The first game had Julianne call out for whoever could bring an item of her choice to the table – the Doctor, with his coat that was surely bigger on the inside, had no trouble pulling out whatever was asked. Even when Julianne started to test the waters and ask for increasingly insane items, the Doctor just kept going. He jumped in joy like a little kid at the win, bounding up to you and pressing a kiss to your cheek. You’d just blushed and smiled, ignoring the butterflies that were multiplying in your stomach.

The Doctor holding your hand wasn’t new. The Doctor being close to you wasn’t new. The Doctor being affectionate with you wasn’t new. But now it was all under the guise of being your boyfriend. Of course it felt different, but to your surprise and growing horror, it didn’t feel bad.

The Doctor shouting your name snapped you out of your thoughts. He was standing on a piece of newspaper as Denise started to get music ready, waving his arms to beckon you over. His coat was gone, thrown onto a nearby table, and even without it he was dashing.

“I need you over here!” he yelled, still jumping excitedly. His hair bounced up and down with the movement. “I need a partner!”

You let your feet carry you to him, trying to ignore the stares pointed your way. The Doctor took your hand in his and pulled you onto the newspaper.

“Stay close,” the Doctor said. “I’ve got this.”

Loud, thumping music filled the air. The Doctor spun you around and you squealed in surprise, moving your feet clumsily to the music. Suddenly, it stopped, and the Doctor pulled you back onto the newspaper. It was a tight fit, and you had to press yourself against his body to even stay standing. The butterflies in your stomach went crazy at the contact, and once again you tried to ignore that, too.

“What did I say?” the Doctor breathed, his breath tickling your ear, his smile wide and manic. “Let’s dance!”

The paper got smaller and smaller, and the two of you got closer and closer. Sweat started to bead on your forehead, and the Doctor had rolled his sleeves up in the middle of all the chaos. In the end, it was just you and another pair of parents, tiptoeing on their own folded pieces of newspaper.

“I’ve got an idea,” the Doctor said, his voice loud over the music. “When the music stops, jump into my arms.”

“Seriously?!” you shouted, and the Doctor nodded enthusiastically. “You’ve got the balance of a drunk giraffe! You’ll drop me!”

“Do you trust me?” the Doctor asked.

There wasn’t any question. “I do!”

“Then jump!”

The music stopped, and in the split second where the Doctor stepped onto the now-tiny folded newspaper, you ran and leapt. For a moment, it seemed like he wouldn’t be able to catch you at all, and in your mind you could already see it – you crashing into him and sending you both tumbling to the floor.

The Doctor’s arms shot out and caught you. Cheers erupted from everyone in the canteen, and behind you your competitors both lost their balance and fell face-first onto the floor. You wrapped your arms around the Doctor’s neck to steady yourself in his arms, feeling him shake slightly as he kept you aloft.

“We won!” you gasped, still basking in all of the cheering. “As expected from my lovely boyfriend.”

The words left your mouth as easily as breathing. You smiled up at the Doctor, breathless from all of the dancing. His skin shone with sweat, his hair was a mess, and his bowtie was askew, but even that was enough to make you throw all caution to the wind – still in his arms, you pulled him down and kissed him.

Cheers erupted from everyone again, but you could care less. The room could be empty and nothing would have changed. As cliché as it sounded, all the mattered was the feeling of the Doctor’s lips against yours. Your hands found their way into his hair and he melted into your touch, pulling you closer to him.

“You know,” the Doctor breathed as he pulled away, “I don’t want this to be just for a day.”

“Good,” you replied. You leaned up to press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Because I don’t either.”

#doctor who #doctor who x reader #eleventh doctor x reader #11th doctor x reader #doctor who fanfiction #eleventh doctor fanfiction #oh god i spend too long on the intro for this i'm so sorry

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alienheartattack · 3 years

Note

What do you think the aot characters would major in college? I’d love to hear your hcs on this!

Ooh, this is fun! Thank you for the ask! I had a college AU planned out years ago but I don't think I ever decided what their majors are.

Eren and Zeke - Eldian Studies (assuming there are area studies fields, like European Studies, East Asian Studies, etc). Both of their senior theses are a little too zealous in defending the Eldian Empire and their wars. Alternately, they’re war-obsessed history majors.

Mikasa - I really like the idea of Mikasa majoring in French Language and Literature, idk it just feels right for her goth ass. (I have a fic idea that I never fleshed out where Levi goes to college after being discharged from the military and falls into a taboo-ish relationship with Mikasa, a Ph.D student who teaches his French 101 class.) I could also see her doing an East Asian Studies (or Hizuru Studies in canon) major if she wanted to dive more into her maternal ancestry.

Armin and Erwin - Political Science. I mean, duh.

Hanji - Biochemistry. Also duh.

Levi - In Agape I wrote him as a classics major because it feels like the right combination of low culture and high culture, like in the ruins of Pompeii there's graffiti from 2000+ years ago that's pretty sexual— stuff like, "Theophilus, don't perform oral sex on girls against the city wall like a dog!” (That’s a direct quote, btw.) I could also see him as a history or psychology major.

Jean - Equine Sciences (j/k). I could see him switching majors a few times before going poli sci as well, but with a different focus than Armin. I could also see Jean as an engineering student who’s a big asshole about being an engineer, but eventually gets humbled in some way (either by flaming out and being forced to switch majors or having some social comeuppance that makes him act like less of a dick).

Connie - I thought hard about this and honestly Connie does not seem like the type to be able to get through college unless he picks an easy major, something nebulous like “media studies” (which my boyfriend majored in because it was easy). No matter his major, he intentionally picks the easiest classes in order to coast his way to graduation. Alternately, he studies to become a gym teacher so he can major in essentially running around with a ball and yelling at kids.

Sasha - My joke answer was “food studies” although that is a real field that examines food within a multi-disciplinary context. Which led me to thinking that maybe Sasha might be interested in a sociology major, something that emphasizes her caring about others more so than her love of stuffing her face. (In all of my high school/college AU headcanons, Sasha is a major stoner, though. As is Connie.)

Historia - In a modern AU I’d have her go to college with the intention of following her parents’ wishes, like pre-med or pre-law, but she rebels and switches her major to something “less prestigious” that’s her actual passion, maybe something in the arts or early childhood development so she can become a preschool or kindergarten teacher.

Annie - I imagine her as a philosophy major (so she has a retort for whenever someone gets annoyed with her asking what the point of anything is) or a German language and literature major. If she goes with German, I headcanon that she actually thinks it’s a beautiful language and will defend it vigorously, even though none of her friends agree.

This has been long enough so I’ll end it here, but if you have any questions about specific characters I’ll be happy to answer them!

#headcanon

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certainempatheticturkeymuffin · 4 years

Text

So....

I finally got my Four Swords manga and read the entire thing in one sitting.

I have a few notes.

Red is a dumbass and I love him.

That whole hugging scene with Red and Blue came a little out of nowhere, but it was funny.

Red is an arsonist and I love him.

Green totally has the hots for Zelda.

I don't know why but Vio is my favorite.

Red is close in second though

Blue got fucking EATEN by the fucking Big Poe

And Red fucking saved him by being an arsonist

TWICE

Green is definitely the straight one, you can tell.

Shadow is dramatic as fuck

Vio is also dramatic as fuck

Shadow has a fucking DRAGON

Shadow literally destroyed Hyrule Castle and Castletown in a day. He's technically up there with Calamity Ganon

Shadow tricked Link into freeing Vaati!

My take was that Shadow was being heavily mistreated by Ganon and Vaati, which laid down some abuse subtext and....holy fuck that was sad. Maybe it's just 'cause my family was abusive that I got that read, but wow.

Shadow needs to be protected.

I love Shadow he needs to be given the good fucking things in life.

In the LU could he technically be brought back by one of Wild's blood moons? I read a fic about that. Does he count as a monster though? Then again, the blood moon enhances your cooking, so really I don't see why it can't give Shadow his physical form back.

Shadow deserves good things.

He just wanted attention and a family.

He killed himself to kill Vaati....I mean, I knew that before hand, but seeing it with my own two eyes....fuck

Shadow is a troll and I love him

He and Vio were just messing with Blue and Red lmao

Blue learned patience by being frozen in ice until Red decided to set him on fire, which, how long was that really? It was stated that they only left Vio alone for a day, so it must've only been a few hours. Must've felt like an eternity though.

I feel like Red and Blue were the main characters for most of the middle really.

I'm not complaining, their dynamic is hilarious and I love them

But I wanted to see Green and Vio interact with them more y'know.

I feel like Vio only really interacted with Shadow

And even then he was kinda lying the entire time.

Oh Hylia, Shadow's face when he realized Vio was going to smash the mirror.

That was just betrayal on so many levels

And he had just opened up about thinking Vio was the only one he could really trust.

After that I honestly feel it was dickish to just kill him.

And then he lives

Zelda is a top tier fucking Queen(tm)

She had no obligations to comfort someone who had kidnapped her and yelled at her

But she did and it was super sweet

THEN THE FUCKING SENTIENT CLOUD

I didn't know the clouds were sentient and honestly I'm still having a crisis over it

And in the beginning I thought Shadow just straight up killed Link's dad and I was like "oh damn okay this is darker than I expected"

But nope the fucker is still alive.

I feel like the knights of Hyrule were kind of a deus ex machina

And the final show down with Ganon was underwhelming

Vaati is a bitch

I think Red was the highlight of this story

And the fucking art style, because damn the expressions were funny

And I'm glad they implemented the subtle ways to tell them apart, like the textures of the tunics, the color of the shirt under the tunic(Green's is black) the light and dark eyebrows, and the eyes themselves.

Tingle was unexpected and I wanted him to go away like Green and Vio did

Honestly I still don't understand why people love Tingle, he annoys me.

Back to the actually good characters-THEY FUCKING LITERALLY TURNED A LITTLE GIRL INTO A DOLL

Her fucking doll(Rosie?) was creepy as fuck!

That trick was absolutely CREEPY AS FUCK

And I like how the four just wreck the bastard with toy weapons

And they keep them as real weapons when they leave

Like, how does that work lmao

Red set a fucking forest on fire

Red is an arsonist

Red is brilliant and I love him

Vio is an asshole and I love him

Just playing up how "Oh yeah Green is dead" and fucking messing with Red and Blue

I noticed Shadow is super touchy-feely with Vio and he's probably touch starved which makes sense.

Okay so Shadow wasn't dead, technically, is he still alive if all he can do is wave from Link's shadow and stuff?

It seems like a bad ending for Shadow.

In the LU, does this mean that Four just fucking stole the Four Sword and killed Vaati? Or did Zelda find some other way to seal him, 'cuz like, I'm pretty sure Four has the four sword in LU right????

So many plotholes but if this means I get more arsonist Red content, then I'm down.

Also, Shadow is gay af for Vio

Like, my gaydar was off the charts

YOU DON'T JUST GIVE A BRO THIS LOOK

70. And, like, Vio, you JUST fucking killed Shadow, don't give me this shit

71. This art is super gay, you can't deny that, they are literally fucking wrapped around each other

72. And Shadow wanted to fucking rule the world WITH Vio, like, DAMN he's thirsty 73. If it were me, I'd still prefer ultimate authority 74. Just in case y'know 75. And Shadow was so ready to spill his secrets 76. And he was so fucking heartbroken when he saw Vio with the sledgehammer 77. Like fuck Vidow is definitely my top pairing. 78. And Green and Zelda, the token straights 79. And we can't forget Red and Blue 80. Like Red was hardcore flirting with Blue, you can't change my mind. 81. Zelda was so fucking confused when she saw that there were four Links, and it was cute and hilarious 82. I normally don't like Zelda, but she was so cute and sweet that I really couldn't help it. 83. Also that chad drawing of a past Link that split into four was funny 84. It was just so fucking out of place 85. They literally only rescued two of the six mages, so are the other four still trapped or were they released when Vaati and Shadow "died"? 86. The knights of Hyrule had to save the four, so are they technically the weakest Link? 87. Fuck I made a pun 88. I fucking hate myself 89. Blue was probably my least favorite of the cast, but that was probably because he reminds me of my sister 90. Y'know, the sister that hits me, yells at me, and calls me names? 91. It just rubs me the wrong way. 92. But aside from that, he was great. 93. A bit of a cocky asshole, but great. 94. And Link's dad just thinking he sees his son's dead body and Shadow just yeeting him into the dark realm. 95. Damn Shadow was an asshole 96. Vaati was even worse though, trying to get Link's father to kill his four sons. 97. That would've sucked. 98. Link hiding behind Zelda's chair was funny 99. Green and Zelda with the childhood friends turned lovers aspect would be cute 100. I like how a fairy just pops up out of no where in the middle of the book

I think that's it?

I love this book and it'll probably be the only one I ever reread.

If you didn't know, I hate rereading content unless I find it or a certain part of it worth reading through again. Which is to say, one, maybe two, fanfics(oneshots technically), and maybe this manga. So yeah, quite an exclusive club.

I don't regret this purchase!

#four swords #legend of zelda #vidow #blue x red #zelink #zelda x green #commenting on a book #does this count as a book review?#fuck it #book review #book chat #gushing #some LU discussion #tags are hard #manga #manga commentary #no regrets

199 notes · View notes

deobienthusiast · 3 years

Text

greatest blessings

• pairing: lee jangjun (golden child) x female reader

• word count: 8,902 words

• genre: mafia!au, gang member!au, angst, fluff

• rating: PG-13

• warnings: mentions of kidnapping, mentions of murder, gun violence, curse words, mentions of blood ⚠️IF ANY OF THIS MAY BOTHER YOU PLEASE DO NOT ENGAGE!!⚠️

• notes: (yall the this the longest fic i’ve ever written) also the is going to say joochan, but i remember you messaging to change it to jangjun🖤

• requested: yes | no by anon

For as long as you could remember, you were thrown into the world of danger. Your father, a notorious mafia leader, was the most respected, feared, and wanted man in South Korea. There was never a moment where you and your mother weren’t a target of some type of hostile fallout between your father and some other mafia members. Because of this, you never saw much of your father during your childhood. He kept his distance to keep you and your mother safe. In his place, he left his right hand guard, Dongwoo.

Dongwoo kept close watch of your mother and you, while training a young protégé. A boy named Jangjun. His father was a mafia guard and wanted his son to follow in his footsteps. Of course, Jangjun ended up having a huge falling out with his father, as he turned to Dongwoo as his father figure. You grew to like Jangjun. He was a lively boy with a giant personality. He lived to make people smile or laugh. Jangjun was always joking or yelling at the top of his lungs. When he needed to be serious, however, his temperament switched. Jangjun followed orders. He never shied away from a job.

As he got older, he grew into a devilishly handsome and incredibly talented man. And you took notice, big time. Jangjun truly blossomed, and in his eyes, so did you. You weren’t the quiet little girl that constantly ran to mommy with every tiny taunt made towards your giant thick-rimmed glasses. Instead, you grew into yourself. Thickened your skin, and became your father’s daughter. Every taunt Jangjun made now was met with a snarky remark that made his lips turn up into a smile. He thought you were beautiful.

You two were well aware of your feelings, but too stubborn to admit it. Jangjun because he didn’t want to believe in fate, and you because your father didn’t want you to be with someone that was a part of the mafia, a part of this life. A life full of danger and uncertainty. Unfortunately for him, your heart had other plans. You and Jangjun came clean with your feelings, and fell in love. As cheesy as it sounds, Jangjun was your other half. His personality never changed, and his love for you grew. Jangjun, himself, grew into a very powerful man. He became part of a mafia gang of his own which further fueled your father’s anger at your relationship.

Much to his dismay, you both got married. A small ceremony just on the outskirts of town. The only people present were your mother, Dongwoo, and Jangjun’s members. Your father being too bitter and self absorbed to show up. Not that you minded. Nothing, not even your father would ruin that day for you and Jangjun. You never bothered to get in touch with him after the wedding. Only opting to find out how he was through your mother. That’s how your father found out the news of the birth of your daughter, Mina.

If people thought Jangjun was head over heels for you, you would always tell them to watch how he acted with your daughter. Jangjun took being a dad to a whole other level. His senses heightened, and he took every precaution necessary to keep you and Mina safe. His whole world became about that little girl. A spitting image of her father, she had his bright smile, boisterous personality, and dark brown eyes. She was a crowd favorite, especially to Jangjun’s members like Bomin and Donghyun. When the members were around, they were the first two she ran too. Jangjun would always joke and say his daughter loved them more than she loved him. No one could be fooled though. No one would take her father’s place.

“Daddy!” You heard Mina yell as you folded up clean laundry in your bedroom.

Your husband’s laugh filled the large house you lived in as he made his way into your shared bedroom, your daughter perched in his arms. Identical facial expressions of crescent moon eyes and wide smiles made their way towards you as you gave both of them an amused look.

“Guess who I found hiding under daddy’s desk in his office?” Jangjun asked with a smile.

Your eyes went to the little girl who now had an innocent smile on her face, one she definitely learned from her father. “Office? Mina, you know daddy’s office is off limits.”

The little girl pouted, resembling her father through and through as she spoke in her little voice. “I was playing hide and seek with Joochan-ie.”

You and Jangjun laughed as he muttered. “Of course it was Joochan. Who else would let her get away with anything.”

Giving him a pointed look, you spoke. “Perhaps her father?”

Jangjun smiled at you before tickling the little girl’s stomach making her laugh. He set Mina down before kissing her forehead.

“Now, go play. With Bomin this time, since he’s the only one that listens.” Jangjun told her as her little legs carried her out of the room.

Just as she got past the threshold, you sighed. “You have to remind them not to let her into your office.”

Jangjun pulled you into his arms as he hummed, kissing your forehead. “I will.”

Kissing you softly, he pulled you even closer as you laid your hands on his chest. “I’m serious, Jun.”

Your husband pecked your lips once more. “I know you are. I’ll tell them. I promise.”

You nodded, feeling a little better at the situation. It wasn’t the area itself you were worried about, but rather the objects occupying the area. Jangjun kept all his weaponry in a locked closet in his office, but one pistol stayed perched under his desk in case of emergency. Your daughter’s knack of exploring (which she also got from Jangjun) worried you sometimes. You didn’t want her to ever find that weapon. She was too young to know any of the business her father was in, and you two planned to keep it that way for as long as possible.

Jangjun laid another soft peck, this time to your forehead before getting a notification on his phone, letting him know someone was here.

“Daeyeol?” You questioned, making your husband nod as his grip around your waist loosened.

He sighed before giving you a small smile and heading downstairs. You finished up with the laundry, putting things away where they were supposed to, stopping in Mina’s room to put her things away, before making your way downstairs. Passing by Jangjun’s closed office door, you stopped momentarily, wanting to sneak a listen, but remembered the talk your father had given you when he first caught you doing it when you were five. It scared the living daylights out of you, and since then you hadn’t done it. You never let your curiosity get the best of you.

You walked through the living room before landing in the kitchen, you looked over to the dining room and smiled. Your daughter sat on Bomin’s lap, coloring in a coloring book the boy must have pulled out as he watched. Upon hearing your footsteps, he looked up, giving you a smile. You returned it as you entered the kitchen, still watching the two. Bomin was on the newer side of this whole mafia thing. Being only 20 years old, he was raised in a mafia family, but much like your daughter, he was shielded away from it all. Bomin was tall, slim, and just looked like a baby. Sporting a very youthful look, it surprised people to hear his voice as it didn’t match his look at all. Bomin was on the quieter side, he opened up to the others, but to you he remained quiet. Very respectful and only speaking when spoken too. Mina loved the boy and managed to pull a more playful side out of him. This prompted Jangjun’s leader, Daeyeol, and Jangjun himself to have Bomin be in charge of the little girl.

“Hungry, Bomin?” You asked softly, making the boy lift his head from the very secretive conversation he was having with your daughter.

With a shake of his head, he spoke. “No thank you, noona. I appreciate the offer, though.”

You watched him bring his attention back to the little girl on his lap. One arm was wrapped protectively around her little body, holding her close to him as she continued to color and point out the different colors. Despite the boy politely turning down your offer, you still made him something to eat, along with the others. Once finished with all the meals, you moved towards the table. Neither your daughter nor Bomin stirred at the movement as you sat down, getting a closer look.

“Look at my picture mommy! Bomin-ie helped me.” Mina exclaimed, holding up the picture decorated in various colors like purple, black, brown, pink, and orange.

You smiled as you gently took it from her. “This is beautiful Mina! Truly a work of art. It’s good to know that you at least got something from me.”

Bomin chuckled at your underlying dig towards your husband as you stood to hang it on the fridge with her other colorful pictures. Just as you finished, you heard a door slam from upstairs as your husband came down the stairs, looking rather frustrated. Taking one last quick peak at Bomin and Mina, you walked towards him.

“Hey, is everything okay?” You asked, laying a hand on his cheek.

Jangjun physically relaxed as he leaned into your touch. “Daeyeol wants me to leave town for two days with him and Tag.”

“Leave? You haven’t left town since Mina was born.” You said, your hand dropping back to your side.

“I know. I told Daeyeol that I’m not comfortable leaving you two alone, but he insisted that there isn’t any other way for this job to work unless I leave with him.” Jangjun softly spoke, looking over your shoulder to eye Bomin and Mina.

“Jangjun, we weren’t finished talking.” You heard Daeyeol’s soft, yet stern voice resonate through the house as he made his way down the stairs.

With him came seven other guys as they watched the encounter. Jangjun’s frustration bubbled over again as he grunted, heading for the kitchen.

“Jangjun, you have to come with us.” Tag spoke softly.

Your husband shook his head. “I’m not leaving them.”

His hand raised as he gestured towards you and Mina.

“And I’m not giving you a choice. You’re our best gunman, you’re needed for this job. Besides the guys will be here to watch over the house and the girls.” Daeyeol told him, hoping to ease his nerves more.

This time, Jangjun’s emotions got the better of him as he slammed his fist down on the marble countertop. The loud noise caused you to jump and Mina to quiet as her head snapped towards the kitchen. Bomin quietly watched as well. You looked at Donghyun as he nodded at you.

“Bomin, take Mina upstairs.” Donghyun said as the boy stood up.

Mina wrapped her arms around the boy’s neck, hugging tightly to him as he headed for the staircase.

“Go with them.” You whispered to Donghyun as he obeyed almost immediately.

You waited for the three to disappear before speaking. “Jangjun, if you’re really needed for this then you have to go.”

His head shot towards you. “No I don’t. I’m not leaving you and Mina here alone.”

“We won’t be alone, and you know that.” You told him softly.

He let out a sigh of frustration as you and Daeyeol proceeded to try and ease him into the job. After a few minutes of consolation, Jangjun finally gave up his fight and headed upstairs to pack.

Daeyeol watched him before looking at you. “You know I wouldn’t pull him away from you if I didn’t have to.”

“I know. That’s why I helped you convince him. He’ll probably still complain, but it won’t be as bad.” You said making Daeyeol chuckle.

Jangjun came back downstairs, this time with your daughter in his arms as he walked over to you. Tag and Daeyeol took his bags.

“We’ll be in the car.” Tag said as he headed out the door.

Mina watched the two guys before noticing the bags in their hands.

“Are you leaving daddy?” She asked softly.

Jangjun set her down as he kneeled in front of her. “Yeah, I am baby. I won’t be gone long though, okay.”

She didn’t bother giving him an answer, rather she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, giving him a hug. They pulled apart as she gave him a kiss on the nose, making your husband smile.

“I love you, daddy.” Mina said as Bomin picked her up.

Jangjun poked her little nose as he whispered back to her. “I love you more, mini me.”

Bomin took Mina back upstairs as Jangjun turned to you. “And you, how am I going to be able to leave my adoring wife?”

Rolling your eyes, you laid your hands on his chest. “I’m sure you’ll manage.”

Jangjun kissed you as you whispered so only he would hear you. “Be careful and please come back to us.”

He nodded his head, pecking your lips once more before speaking. “I promise. I love you.”

You uttered those words back to him as he headed for the door. He gave you one last smile before speaking to Y who stood by the door.

“Take good care of them.” He more than ordered as the older male nodded.

Y closed the door, locking it behind him as you let out a sigh and prepared for the next two days.

Though it felt like years, hours had passed since Jangjun had left and you were feeling the full effects. Jangjun hadn’t left town in three years, vowing to never leave you or Mina by yourselves. You knew, however, that if duty called, Daeyeol would look to him first.

You started to prepare dinner, knowing that eventually you’d get complaints about seven men plus a three year old toddler being hungry. As you cooked, you heard someone enter the kitchen.

“Kimchi fried rice,” You heard Y say. “Why am I not surprised?”

You looked over your shoulder. “As if Mina will eat anything else.”

He smiled. “Like father, like daughter.”

You nodded to yourself as you heard the metal legs of the barstools scrape across the tile floor.

“I’ve gotta give you credit.” Y started. “Jangjun is much more grounded with you around.”

You grinned. “Is that a good thing?”

He nodded without hesitation. “Absolutely. Some people think that mafia members can’t handle family and work, but Jangjun is a prime example that both can work together.”

You thought about what Y had said as he continued to talk. Jangjun always made sure to make time for you and your daughter. He was an exceptional father. He never missed a birthday or anniversary. Any special occasion, Jangjun was there. Jangjun literally did everything to keep you and Mina safe.

“He’s definitely a hard worker. He’s also the best father. Mina adores her dad.” You quietly replied.

Y smiled to himself as you spoke again. “Do you ever want to have kids someday?”

He looked at you for a moment before bringing his gaze down to the marble countertop, tracing his fingers over the pattern. “I want to. It’s hard though. Finding someone that accepts my lifestyle.”

“That’s what you’re doing wrong. You don’t find someone that accepts your lifestyle. You find someone that accepts you.” You told him.

“Is that what you did with Jangjun?” Y asked.

Just hearing his name made you smile. “You could say that.”

“Hyung,” Someone said from behind Y as you both turned to the voice.

“Seungmin, what is it?” Y asked him.

“It’s Mina.” He said barely above a whisper as you dropped the spoon you were holding.

Racing up the stairs, you pushed past the two boys with your daughter as you dropped to your knees in front of her. She held a tight grip to the doll she was playing with as you checked her.

“You’re okay? You’re not hurt?” You asked quickly.

“Of course I am, Mommy.” Mina said with a giggle.

“But Seungmin said,” You started turning towards the boy as he interrupted you.

“She’s fine. It’s-it’s what she said.” Seungmin counter softly.

Y looked at the boy. “What do you mean? What’d she say?”

“I mentioned reading her a story so she could go to sleep. She kept saying she was tired, but she said that when her daddy reads her a story, her friend is with her too. Her friend in the backyard.” Bomin spoke up.

You turned to your daughter as she smiled. “In the backyard? Baby, our backyard is gated, there’s no one in the backyard.”

Mina’s little head nodded quickly. “Yes there is mommy. A man. He’s the same size as Bomin-ie. He comes every time daddy reads me a story. He visited me last night.”

Your eyes doubled in size as you looked towards Donghyun and Bomin. “What is she talking about? Is she talking about Daeyeol?”

Donghyun shrugged. “She said the man always wore a mask and a black hat.”

“He says he knows daddy, and that he knows me too. He even knows my name. He knows you too.” Mina said excitedly.

You pulled Mina into your arms as Y and Donghyun made their way towards her window. The large window made for a view of the entire backyard. Picking Mina up from the floor, you held her tightly in her arms as the two men kept looking out the window. They talked amongst themselves as you felt your daughter shift in your arms.

“Mommy, am I in trouble?” Mina asked quietly, almost too afraid to speak.

“You’re not in trouble, Mina.” Bomin spoke up before you could as Mina’s dark brown eyes trailed from your face to his.

“You promise?” She asked again.

Bomin nodded with a small smile. “I promise.”

“Mina should sleep with you tonight. We’ll put Joochan and Y outside your bedroom door. The rest of us will keep watch at every corner of the house that we can. If this guy comes back, we’ll be waiting.” Donghyun told you as you nodded.

Heading for your bedroom, you grabbed Mina’s favorite teddy bear and a pair of pajamas. You kept a close eye on her as you fed and then bathed her. As she fell asleep, there was a knock on the door. You opened it as Donghyun gave you a small smile.

“Is Mina asleep?” He asked softly.

You nodded. “She fell asleep about ten minutes ago.”

As if sensing the uncertainty in your tone, Donghyun spoke. “Hey, don’t worry. We aren’t going to let anything happen to Mina, or you. Jangjun would have our heads if we did.”

You laughed slightly as you nodded, agreeing with him.

“Just get some sleep.” He reassured as you thanked him.

As you closed the door, you took precautions and locked it behind you as you sighed, crawling into bed. You laid a kiss to your little girl’s head before laying your head on your pillow and drifting off to sleep.

You awoke to a sound just outside your door as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes. Looking at the digital clock on the nightstand, you let out a sigh, getting up to go to the bathroom. When you opened the door, Y and Joochan had moved to the bottom of the stairs surveying the perimeter of the house. You took the opportunity to use the bathroom, bumping into Bomin on the way. He gave you a soft smile as you spoke.

“Will you watch over Mina really quick? I still don’t want to leave her alone.” You asked softly.

Bomin nodded as he headed for your bedroom. You quietly slipped into the bathroom as you looked over your reflection in the mirror. Running a hand through your hair, you turned on the faucet, running your hand under the cold water. Splashing some water on your face, you turned the water off and wiped off your face. You let out a sigh before opening the door. As you headed back for your bedroom, you quietly opened the door and jumped at the tall figure in the corner.

“Oh, Bomin you scared me.” You whispered out as the figure just stood.

“Bomin,” You whisper out again as the figure spoke.

“Not Bomin, my dear. Your friend is right there, by the door.” The voice spoke, prompting you to look at the ground.

Sure enough, Bomin’s body lay limp against the wall as you dropped next to him.

“Bomin, Bomin, hey can you hear me?” You leaned your head next to his chest, checking for a heart beat.

“Your friend is fine. I didn’t kill him. Not yet at least.” The man spoke.

You shook your head. “Don’t hurt him. He’s just a child.”

The man nodded. “I won’t hurt him, so long as you give me what I want.”

You looked at the open bedroom door before hearing the man tsk.

“Nuh uh. Close the door quietly. Don’t let anyone know I’m here.” He started.

You reached up for the doorknob, closing the door slowly as the figure made its way towards your bed, carefully sitting on the edge. You breath hitched in your throat as the body leaned over your daughter.

“Boss was right. She looks just like her father.” The man said.

“You’re the man my daughter’s been seeing. You’ve been watching her.” You told him with a fearful tone.

“Well of course. The boss wanted to make sure you didn’t leave town with Jangjun.” He told you.

You shivered at the way your husband’s name sounded on his tongue. “What do you want from me?”

Even in the darkness, you could make out the grim smile that was now perched on his face. “You, my dear are going to take your daughter and come with me. You two are very valuable, and it will help us get what we want from your husband. We’ll take your friend, too. Just for extra insurance.”

You felt a tear roll down your face as you watched another man crawl through your window. “We set up a diversion in the backyard. We’re all clear.”

Busting open the door, you scream. “Help! They’re in here!”

A pair of arms wrapped around your core as they pulled you back into the room, sticking a cloth over your mouth and nose. You struggled before falling limp, as everything went black.

When you came to, you were in a room blocked entirely in cement. The floor was cold underneath your body as you let your eyes adjust to the one single hanging light. It was bright enough to illuminate almost all of the room as you sat up. A pounding feeling took over your head as you groaned.

You looked around before spotting a chair in front of you with a boy tied up. You squinted to get a better look and gasped as you scrambled to your feet.

“Bomin! Bomin, hey, I’m right here. Look at me.” You lifted his hanging head, taking in the swollen eyes and busted lip.

The rope surrounding his hands and ankles were chafing the skin, rubbing it completely raw as the rope was starting to turn an orangish-red color. Bomin’s unconscious body stayed pinned to the chair as you continued to check him before stopping as you heard a lock rattle. A large door opened behind you as you kept your hands on Bomin’s legs, not bothering to turn around.

“I see you’ve noticed the work we did on your friend. He put up a good fight, but not good enough. Perhaps this life isn’t cut out for him.” A man said as you turned around.

The man looked familiar. Almost as if you had seen him before, but you couldn’t remember. His onyx colored eyes made you shiver as he spoke again.

“I’m surprised you don’t recognize me. I’ve only known you your entire life. I’m a former acquaintance of your father’s.” He told you.

You shook your head. “I haven’t spoken to my father in years. I don’t even know if he’s still alive.”

The man chuckled. “He is. Oh he is. And he owes me something. You see, your father and I made a deal 20 or so years ago. A deal that required me getting a larger amount of money. As you know, your father is a very powerful man. The most notorious mafia leader. He’s worth a lot, and he has a lot. In exchange for what I gave him, he gave me two billion dollars. Just a mere quarter of what he has in total.”

You looked back at Bomin, feeling him stir slightly as you spoke. “What did you give him.”

The man leaned forward, his face being hit with the light as your eyes widened. “My son.”

You let out a gasp as it all hit you. Jangjun had never had the best relationship with his father. He never truly wanted to be in this life, so he never forgave his father for just leaving him with some strange family. Though he always said he’d have to thank him some day for it allowed him to meet you. You had a feeling that thank you was never going to come now.

“I haven’t talked to my son in almost two decades.” The man said.

“Jangjun cutting ties with you had nothing to do with me.” You told the taller male.

“Yes, but you were a big influence. You don’t talk to your own father. No wonder he decided not to talk to me. Had he decided to, this whole thing would’ve been taken care of. I wouldn’t have had to kidnap you, Jangjun and I would still have a good relationship.” He started.

You scoffed. “You still never told me why I was kidnapped. And where’s my daughter?”

“Mina is fine. She’s asleep in the main house with my wife. I wouldn’t dare hurt my granddaughter.” He told you.

“No, just your daughter-in-law. Right?” You countered.

He shrugged. “You don’t seem to understand. You are worth a lot of money. In fact you and your daughter are worth the exact amount I’m owed by your father. So if he won’t give me my money, then I’ll use you two to get it myself.”

“Killing us won’t get you your money.” You whispered.

“But selling you will. Shipping girls off to other countries for, we’ll say “work”, pays a lot. And people know who you are and who your father is. I’ve had people lined up to pay me even more than your father offered just to have you two. However, I choose not to be too greedy.” He told you with a smile.

The resemblance between Jangjun and his father was uncanny. Each time the man smiled it reminded you of your husband. The dark eyes and slightly raspy voice were also similar to Jangjun.

Bomin jerked slightly under your touch as you turned back to him. “Bomin, hey. You’re okay.”

“I’ll leave you to think about what I said. I’d get comfortable though. It might be awhile.” The man said as he headed for the door.

He opened it before peeking back in and throwing two rags and chemical cleaner towards you. “You can untie your friend. He shows no danger. You can also clean up the mess his blood made on my floor. I don’t want a stain.”

The door slammed shut behind him as you heard Bomin groan before mumbling out. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” You asked quietly, not quite hearing him.

“I’m sorry. This is my fault.” He repeated louder this time.

You immediately shook your head, grabbing one of the rags to wipe at the blood on his face. “No. Bomin, no. This isn’t your fault. None of this is your fault.”

“They took Mina.” He whisper-cried with a sniffle.

“Mina’s fine. He told me she’s fine.” You whispered back.

He shook his head, drool and sweat mixed with blood fell from his face and mouth. “They’re gonna kill her.”

You froze at his words. “W-what?”

“I said, they’re going to kill her.” Bomin repeated, huffing out a groan at the way the muscles in his stomach contracted.

“How do you know?” You asked softly.

He attempted to lift his head, getting a look at your eyes as you gently held onto his face, keeping his head up. Your eyes pleading for him to continue.

“I came to in the van while they were driving us here. They were talking about you and your inheritance. You, you're worth a lot of money, but Mina isn’t. She’s not because,” You interrupted him.

“Jangjun is her father.” You whispered.

Your eyes had cast down to the suit pants he was wearing that were now battered in dried blood and dirt stains. You felt him nod in your hands.

“Mina is worth nothing to them. When your father dies, you get his estate, all his money. He left everything to you. Mina nor your mother are mentioned. Once they had sold you overseas, they were going to kill her.” Bomin breathed out.

Your hands started to shake as you lifted your head to meet his tired eyes. He coughed before speaking.

“You have to find a way to get out of here and get Mina.” He told you, making you shake your head.

“I’m not going to leave you. If we survive this, Mina would kill me.” You joked, making the boy crack a small smile. “We’re gonna get out here.”

Jangjun’s head hung low as he sat at the dark wood dinner table that sat in the middle of your dining room. In front of him was a picture taken on your wedding day. The look in your eyes that you were giving him made him feel at home and so so loved. He knew of course from the moment you agreed to go on a date with him that he was completed smitten over you. Jangjun didn’t want anybody else. He vowed to do anything to keep you safe. He did the same when Mina was born. Now, here he sat. Alone in his big house, after finding out the terrible news.

“How did this happen?” Jangjun asked calmly, scaring the others to no end.

Joochan gulped as he watched Jangjun’s fingers trace the cool black exterior of the picture frame holding your wedding picture. The guys noticed the way he ran his finger over your stomach in the picture. You were pregnant during the time you got married.

“I told you to watch over them.” Jangjun said.

All the guys nodded, but only one knew it was meant for him.

“I was. I-I did. We just,” Y started.

“You just what?” Jangjun countered, looking at him.

His face was stone cold. Eyes darker than usual. It made Y shiver.

“I, there was a small scrap in the backyard. They must have created a diversion. We headed to help Jibeom and Seungmin. It was all a set up though. When we checked upstairs, they had already left with Bomin and the girls.” Y said softly.

Jangjun stood up, making Y take a step back before Daeyeol came through the door.

“There’s someone at the gate.” Daeyeol said, walking through the front door. “They really want to speak with you. They said it’s urgent.”

“Who is it?” Jangjun asked, not taking his eyes of Y.

“Your father-in-law.” Daeyeol spoke, making Jangjun turn to him.

Jangjun nodded as Daeyeol opened the front door allowing Tag to enter with a man Jangjun had seen briefly in his lifetime, but still recognized.

“Mr. Choi, funny seeing you here.” Jangjun said.

Your father held a few inches on Jangjun as he looked around the large house taking in the other men with him. His eyes landed on your husband as his booming voice spoke.

“Lee Jangjun, nice to see you. I see you're doing well for yourself.” Mr. Choi said.

Jangjun scoffed. “I know you’re not here for small talk. What do you want?”

“More like what I have. I know my daughter and granddaughter were kidnapped under your guards supervision. I also know that you are unsure of who took them and where they are. Well I know.” He finished, catching Jangjun’s attention.

“You do? Where are they?” Jangjun asked, dark eyes wide with anticipation.

“Son, I’d sit down for this. Because it’s a lot.” Mr. Choi told him.

Jangjun listened, sitting in the chair he was previously preoccupying. His hand landed on the wedding photo, holding it down protectively.

“Where are they?” Jangjun asked again.

Your father shook his head. “When you were brought to me to be trained when you were younger, your relationship was already strained. You didn’t want this life, and you were forced into it. That being said, you grew into it. Your hatred led you to become the man you are today.”

Jangjun shook his head. “Your daughter did. Can we just get to the point please.”

“They were kidnapped by your father.” Mr. Choi said.

“W-what? No! There’s no way my father is even still alive. He had too many enemies!” Jangjun reasoned.

“No. It was your father. He is still alive. You see, you ended up in my care, being trained by Dongwoo and I because your father wanted you to become a mafia leader of your own. In exchange for giving you to me, I was going to give your father a lot of money. I saw a lot of potential in you, and promised your father you would be a huge success,” Your father stopped to look around the house again. “I was clearly right. However, a dangerous enemy had made his way into Seoul, and I had to leave the country. I never got the chance to pay your father his money. Now he’s taking the girls.”

Jangjun looked at him confused. “What will that solve?”

“Because they’re worth something.” Jibeom spoke up.

Mr. Choi nodded. “Technically, my daughter is. Mina isn’t. At least not yet. My will leaves everything to my daughter. That’s the money I owe your father plus more. I’ve had overseas enemies that have been dying to get their hands on her. With her in your father’s custody, they are probably swarming the phones in negotiations.”

“What about Mina?” Jangjun asked.

You father let out a sigh. “If she’s no value to them, then your father will kill her.”

Jangjun felt his heart stop at the mere thought of someone hurting his daughter or you. He wouldn’t be able to live without the two of you.

“Okay. So we go get them.” Jangjun quickly said as the members nodded, getting ready to prepare themselves.

Mr. Choi spoke up. “Hold on. You don’t need to be going to get her.”

Jangjun looked at him with fire in his eyes. “And why the hell not?”

“Because you’re the reason she got kidnapped.” Your father said.

Jangjun was fuming at his words as he yelled, venom dripping from every word. “No. You’re the reason they got kidnapped. Not me. I didn’t make a deal with my father, you did. I didn’t promise him money then fall back on my word, you did. You’re to blame for all of this. So if you think I’m going to entrust my wife and daughter into your hands, you are surely fucking mistaken.”

No one had ever talked to your father in the manner Jangjun just did. He was too feared, too respected for people to disrespect him. He wasn’t used to someone not falling to their knees begging for his mercy. Jangjun gave him one last look before him and Daeyeol started throwing out orders. All the guys prepared, Jangjun yelling out things to grab and ordered people around on a plan before everyone stopped and looked at Mr. Choi.

“Where are they?” Jangjun asked again.

Your father cowered slightly at Jangjun’s tone before speaking. “At least let me go with you. So I know that they are okay.”

Jangjun looked at Daeyeol who sent a shrug his way as he sighed. “Fine. But stay out of the way.”

The man nodded as they all headed for the door. They got into separate cars, Jangjun opting for the one your father got into as they drove off the property. Jangjun’s head perched against the window watching the buildings fly by as he messed with the cool, black metal on his left ring finger. He brought his ring-clad hand up to his mouth, kissing the metal gently as he whispered to himself.

“I’m coming for you baby.”

You felt around the walls of the room you were in, hoping to find some type of fault in its build as Bomin watched you. The swelling in his eyes had gone down only slightly, but was still very prominent. The feeling was starting to get back to his hands and arms as he would lift them every so often to rub at his legs. He would grunt each time his hands ran across his torso or the cuts and bruises on his face.

“Bomin, just stay still. Moving isn’t going to help.” You chastised.

The younger boy nodded as he spoke. “Did you figure out a way out of here?”

Shaking your head, you spoke. “The door opens from the outside. It’s like it molds into the walls because I can’t even find a pattern where the door would be.”

Bomin lifted his head, looking around the room before his eyes landed on the light fixture hanging from the ceiling. “The light.”

You turned to look at him. “What about it?”

“How much of the room is it lighting up? Do we have another light source?” Bomin asked.

There were no windows, and with no signs of a door, you wouldn’t be able to know if there was an exit. “As far as I know it is.”

“You need to pull it from the ceiling.” Bomin said.

Tilting your head, you gave him a confused look. “I don’t understand.”

“The light fixture. The surrounding area around the part hooked to the ceiling, that could be your way out.” Bomin breathed out.

You walked towards the light, looking up at it before reaching up for it. The low hanging light was just out of your reach.

“I can’t reach it.” You said before jumping.

Your hand wrapped around the cord, pulling at the light fixture slightly.

“Harder,” Bomin prompted.

You yanked at the cord, hearing a tear from above you as your feet could finally fully lay flat on the ground. Bomin’s head lifted to look at the fixture before nodding to himself.

“Again.” He instructed.

You pulled on the cord a third time, this time harder than the rest as it dropped almost three feet down, pulling the wiring from the ceiling with it. Pieces of cracked cement lay by your shoes as you looked at the boy.

“Unscrew the bulb.” Bomin said. “Then break off the leg of that chair. Make sure to break it at an angle, you want a sharp end.”

Nodding, you unscrewed the fluorescent bulb, cursing silently at the temp of it as you carefully set it down in Bomin’s lap before reaching for the old chair. You looked back at Bomin as he mustered up enough energy to move his legs.

“You gotta break the chair.” He repeated.

“Bomin, I can’t,” He stopped you.

“Throw the damn chair at the wall. Hard! Then grab the sharpest piece from the rubble and hand it to me.” Bomin spoke again.

You nodded as you got a good grip on the chair. Lifting it up, you took some steps back before getting a running start. You threw the chair with everything you had at the wall. It landed with a crash, falling to the floor in pieces as you scrambled to find one. A piece from the top of the chair stuck out as it had snapped in half, providing a point at the tip. You quickly grabbed it, handing it to Bomin as you heard something unlatch.

Bomin tossed you the lightbulb as he whispered. “It’s going to hurt, but at the first chance run up to the guy and bust it in his face.”

You nodded preparing yourself as the door was pushed open. You went to read your arm back before recognizing the person who opened the door.

“Daeyeol,” You called out, making Bomin’s head snap towards the opened door.

Daeyeol’s face began to soften in relief before he noticed Bomin. “You guys are okay. Thank god you guys are okay. Jangjun, I found them!”

Daeyeol quickly checked over you before you pushed him away. “Check Bomin. Check him first, I’m fine I promise.”

Daeyeol didn’t hesitate to listen, dropping to his knees to check on the youngest member. It was no surprise to you as Daeyeol had always been more protective over Bomin. You headed for the door before stopping, immediately. Your eyes met those of your father’s making you take a step back before hearing a familiar voice.

“Daeyeol, where are you,” Jangjun stopped, making you let out a sigh of relief.

Feeling your feet take off before you could process it, you ran right into his arms. Your weight hit Jangjun like a truck making him grunt, but he didn’t lose his footing as he lifted you off the ground. Pulling you closer into him, he let his head fall into the crook of your neck as you wrapped your fingers into his dark locks, tugging at them slightly.

“Oh thank god! I thought I was going to lose you. I’m so glad to have you back in my arms.” Jangjun brought your feet back to the ground as he pulled you in for a deep kiss.

You kissed back before pulling away. “They still have Mina.”

“They got through all the guards in the house. Your father barricaded himself in a room with Mina. He’s not coming out.” Tag said as he jogged over to the two of you.

You looked past him at your father’s lingering stance before speaking.

“Daeyeol is probably going to need help with Bomin. He needs medical attention.” You told Y.

He nodded, heading back inside the bunker-type building as Jangjun grabbed your hand.

“Come on.” He started to pull you away from the building as he stopped in front of your father.

Your grip on Jangjun’s hand tightened as you looked at the man.

“I’m so glad you’re safe.” He told you.

You didn’t look at him as you spoke. “I want to find my baby.”

Your father nodded as he turned towards the main house. He led you and Jangjun into the house as you were met with Seungmin.

“He locked himself in the master bedroom on the second floor. Mina’s in there with him. We aren’t firing any shots.” Seungmin said.

Seungmin led the way upstairs before stopping. Joochan and Donghyun were waiting by the double doors as your husband spoke.

Jangjun nodded. “We gotta break the door down.”

Joochan and Donghyun nodded as they took a step back. They both lifted a leg before kicking open the double doors to the master bedroom. When they fell open, you were met with your daughter and Jangjun’s father. He held Mina in his arms as everyone stopped.

“Jangjun. My, my, look at you. My only son. Look at the man you’ve grown into.” Jangjun’s father said.

Jangjun spoke lowly. “Give me my daughter. Now.”

You watched his grip on Mina tighten as she reached out towards you and Jangjun.

“Daddy.” She whined slightly, wriggling in his father’s grip.

Your father stepped past the both of you, making you look at him.

“Please, let her go. I’m the one that owes you something. Not them. This little girl, my daughter. They are innocent in this.” Your father pleaded.

Jangjun’s father chuckled. “You think I want anything to do with this child. She’s worthless. Take her.”

He set Mina down as she took off through the broken doors, immediately running to Jangjun. He picked her up, holding her close as she wrapped her little arms around his neck.

He kissed her forehead before handing her off to Donghyun. “Both of you, go to the car. Stay with her.”

They nodded as Jangjun waited until the two guys got downstairs before turning to your father.

He nodded as he spoke. “I’m here to give you the money I owe you, Lee.”

Jangjun’s father shook his head. “I don’t want your damn money. I want her.”

A slim, boney finger raised up to point at you as Jangjun’s wrapped a protective arm around your waist.

“She is worth more than anything. I gave you your child back, so you give me her.” Jangjun’s father continued.

Your father spoke up. “That wasn’t our deal.”

“You broke our agreement years ago. Time for new negotiations. Don’t you think?” Jangjun’s father said before Jangjun looked at you.

He gave you a tender smile before whispering. “Don’t look.”

You nodded, wrapping an arm around his torso and hiding your face in the crook of his neck. You felt him move slightly before hearing the click of a gun. Shutting your eyes, you jumped as two shots were fired off. Lifting your head, Jangjun looked at you as he pecked your forehead. You heard groaning behind you as you turned. Jangjun’s father lay on the floor clutching his leg as he let out another painful groan.

“Let this be a lesson to you.” Your father told him.

Jangjun kept his hand around your waist as he led you to the staircase before stopping. He turned back around, heading towards his father with his gun in hand before stopping in front of him, pointing the barrel right at his head.

“Don’t you ever come near me, my wife, or daughter ever again, or next time, I’ll put a bullet through your fucking head.” Jangjun told him, earning a look of fear from his father as he tucked the gun back into the waistband of his pants.

He walked back over to you, as you headed down the stairs and outside of the house. Jangjun kept his grip on you as you, him, and your father got into a car.

“Daeyeol took Bomin to the hospital. I told him we’d meet him there.” Jangjun spoke softly, as to not spook you.

“Where’s Mina?” You asked.

He turned to point at the car through the back windshield as he countered. “She’s with Joochan and Donghyun. They’re going to follow us.”

You nodded, leaning into Jangjun as he pecked the top of your forehead. Your father sat up front as Y drove, watching the two of you through the rear view mirror. He sighed to himself as he collected his thoughts throughout the drive.

As the car pulled into the drive of the hospital, you and Jangjun were the first two to jump out and head into the hospital. Daeyeol spotted the two of you as he walked up to you. The rest of the crew had joined inside the emergency room as he spoke.

“They took him back and admitted him.” Daeyeol said softly.

Jangjun nodded. “How bad is he?”

Daeyeol sighed. “Three broken ribs, a fractured orbital bone, a cracked nose, lacerations around his wrists and ankles. Surprisingly, he had no internal bleeding or head trauma. They said he’ll be fine.”

Donghyun was the last to enter the hospital, Mina perched on his hip as he walked up to you. You smiled, thanking him quietly as you took her from his arms. You held her close, laying a hand on the side of her head as you kissed her temple. Jangjun pulled you into him, gently pulling Mina down to kiss her forehead as he whispered to you.

“I’m so glad you both are okay. I would’ve been lost without you.” Jangjun said quietly.

You smiled, pecking his lips lightly before hearing a door open. A nice looking lady came out, wrapped in a long white coat as she spoke.

“Are you Choi Bomin’s party?” She asked, making all of you nod. “Great. Well as I told Mr. Lee before, Bomin is going to be just fine. He just needs a lot of rest and time for healing. He’s very lucky. Though his injuries were serious, they weren’t severe.”

“Can we see him?” You asked softly.

The doctor smiled. “Of course. Try not to overwhelm him though, okay?”

You all nodded as Daeyeol looked at everyone. “Jangjun, you can go first if you’d like?”

Jangjun inhaled slightly before nodding as he looked at you and Mina. “Do you want to come with me?”

You nodded as the three of you headed for the room. Jangjun opened the door gently before ushering the both of you in behind him. He closed it behind him as you walked over to the side of Bomin’s bed. Mina’s head lifted slightly, taking in who was laying on the small bed as she spoke.

“Bomin-ie.” She called out faintly.

It was loud enough for the boy to hear as he opened his eyes slightly turning to look at you. Bomin smiled as his brown eyes looked at Mina. She kicked slightly in your hold, letting you know she wanted to be put down. You sat her on the side of Bomin’s hospital bed as you whispered.

“This is where you have to sit right now, okay?” You asked her.

Her little head nodded as she spoke. “Are you sick Bomin-ie?”

The three of you laughed slightly as Bomin nodded gingerly. “I’m okay, mini me. Just a little down and out. I’ll be here for a little while.”

Mina pouted slightly. “But what about our tea party?”

Jangjun gasped slightly. “Oh no, not the tea party.”

You rolled your eyes at your husband as Bomin smiled. “Have Donghyun fill in for me, okay? I’ll be back soon though. I promise.”

He lifted his hand to hold out his pinky as Mina linked her tiny finger around his.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Bomin.” Jangjun said, looking at the younger boy.

Bomin smiled as Jangjun spoke again. “Thank you for keeping them safe. You risked your life for them.”

“When you put me in charge of Mina after her first birthday, I promised you I’d take a bullet for this little girl. I’d never go back on my word. You know that.” Bomin told him.

Jangjun nodded with a smile. “Thank you.”

Bomin grinned before speaking. “Just make sure I’m not in here for months. I hate hospitals.”

The three of you laughed before someone spoke. “You’ll be out of here in no time. I made sure that you got the absolute best care and best doctors and nurses working on you.”

Bomin’s eyes took in the man at the foot of his bed as he spoke in a confused tone. “Thank you.”

“Bomin, this is my father.” You said without looking at the man.

Bomin nodded as he relaxed slightly.

“Thank you for doing your absolute best to protect my daughter and granddaughter.” He told Bomin.

Your father turned to Jangjun as you rounded the bed. to stand next to him. Jangjun wrapped his arm around your waist, squeezing slightly in a sign of affection.

“Jangjun, I underestimated you. I never gave you a chance when my ex-wife told me that you and my daughter were getting married. Then she told me about Mina, and I knew I needed to get past my own reservations. You make my daughter very happy. You've both created a beautiful little girl who I must say looks, just like her father. Family is a person's greatest blessing. I know you have your own little family, but if it’s not too much to ask, I’d like to be a part of it.” Your father said, making you and Jangjun look at each other.

Jangjun gave you a look that meant he was letting you decide as you smiled at him. You turned to your father as you spoke.

“It’s going to take some time, for us to move past everything and this, of course. But, I know Mina would enjoy getting to know her grandfather.” You told your father, watching a smile grow on his face.

He thanked you as Jangjun exhaled. “Well, I think it’s time to go home. What do you think?”

You giggled slightly, sparking a small smile from your husband as you nodded. “Just as long as you’ll be there.”

“Oh, absolutely. I’m never letting you out of my sight again. That was the worst day of my life. Now, time for us to go home and for me to never let go of you and Mina. Like, ever.” Jangjun told you, making you laugh.

He picked up Mina, who instantly cuddled into him as he pecked your forehead.

“My greatest blessings, that’s what you two are.” Jangjun whispered as he led the two of you back to your home, where he cuddled and held you close the entire night.

#kwritersworldnet #kdiarynet #lsn.works #kpopscape #kpopficsnetwork #golden child #golden child jangjun #lee jangjun #golcha #golcha jangjun #golden child imagines #golden child scenarios

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welllpthisishappening · 3 years

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Welllp This Is...Holiday Fic, Version 3.0

Hello, internet! It is December, and that means it is also time to regain our festive feelings through holiday-type fic. Of which I have written just...an absurd amount of. So, before we start slamming on some more keys with inevitable cliches and kissing (and the list of prompts I’m going to post later and maybe start writing tomorrow) here is a wholly self-indulgent, self-promotional list of the copious number of holiday stories I’ve written. Under the cut, because honestly it’s ridiculous.

Multi Chapters

To Make the Season Bright Rating: M Words: 49,683 Chapters: 5

It's just one weekend. At Christmas. In New York. With everyone there. With Killian there. It's fine. Emma doesn't mind – he's always there and she wants him to be there and it'll be good. Great, even. Festive. She's looking forward to it. She just hopes she doesn't do something stupid. Like shout feelings in his face. That probably wouldn't be very festive.

The Gift Receipt Rating: M Words: 46,244 Chapters: 5

It genuinely makes sense in her head. After all, Mary Margaret is being Mary Margaret and Emma just needs five seconds to herself and for her friends to get off her back and saying she can’t talk to Killian Jones because she and Killian Jones once went on a very bad date is the perfect excuse. It’s also not true, but whatever. It works. Until Emma needs to bring someone home for Christmas. To get the entire town off her back. So, she comes up with another plan and another lie and pretending to get back together with a guy she was never actually with will make their inevitable break-up incredibly easy. It makes sense. Seriously. That is, of course, until Killian agrees and there’s far too much pie and radio hits of the 70s and opinions on animated Christmas classics. It gets a little more complicated after that.

Older Now, But Not Done Hoping Rating: T Words: 25,577 Chapters: 3

Killian Jones has lost his festive spirit. It's been forcibly removed by corporate America and private developers and how much alcohol the customers at his bar drink every night. Although, he supposes, that means he's making a profit, but that also feels a little Scrooge-esque and he doesn't have time for visits from ghosts. Because he's suddenly got a whole schedule in front of him, written out and planned by his roommate. To reclaim their mutual and collective festivity. Together. Oh, and he's in love with her. At Christmas. And all the time, really. This is going to be great.

It’s the Thought That Counts Rating: M Words: 27, 178 Chapters: 3

It was, in theory, a good idea. It was, in theory, an absolutely fantastic idea. Because there was still, sometimes, a crisis or two in Storybrooke and nothing would be more chaotic than trying to find a Christmas present on Main Street, while also trying to keep said Christmas present a secret. Ordering gifts on the internet makes sense. It's just a few clicks and online sales and the presents will be there in plenty of time for Christmas to be perfect. Emma and Killian are positive. Except then the presents don't show up and it's Christmas Eve and plan B isn't so much a plan as it is just a bit of pre-holiday desperation and the entire town knows what they're up to.

One Shots

The Best Laid Plains Rating: T Words: 4,040

Emma knows what she wants. And she remembers what the qualifications are. She just needs some help with them. Or: She and Killian once decided they'd only get married if one of them came out with an outlandish proposal.

Following the Recipe Rating: T Words: 3,802

Emma can't bake cookies. That doesn't stop her from engaging in cookie-baking competitions. At Christmas. And Killian is more than happy to help.

Grounded Rating: T Words: 6,064

Being stuck at the airport is the worst at normal times. At Christmas, it's at least ten-thousand times worse. Unless you manage to make friends with the vaguely attractive, frustratingly charming guy sitting next to you in the terminal.

Carol of the [Wedding] Bells Rating: T Words: 7,926

Going to Vegas with your friends for Christmas? Totally normal. Getting married to one of your friends while in Vegas at Christmas? Might take a bit more explaining. Especially when neither one of you can remember it.

More Than You Could Ever Know Rating: T Words: 5,040

It’s the perfect plan. So, she told the new guy at work that she was already married and couldn’t date him. Fine, no big deal. Emma has someone more than wiling to pretend to be her husband and a friend more than willing to do her pre-party hair. She’s certain everything will work out. The very last thing she expects is for Killian to be jealous. Because she might have picked the wrong Jones brother to play doting husband.

Once Again As in Olden Days Rating: T Words: 6,462

She’s absolutely freezing cold. It’s a dumb metaphor, one that only serves to make Emma even more pissed off than she already is. Because two hours ago it was summer. But a few more hours before that, she was also locked in a tower guarded by a fire-breathing dragon. And now she’s outside. With her kid. And a pirate that isn’t hers, explicitly, but keeps staring at her like he wouldn’t mind if he was. So maybe it’s not the worst. Maybe she’ll be able to get warm eventually.

Want Something That Will Last Forever Rating: T Words: 5,093

The weight in his jacket pocket is getting heavier. Burning a hole. A metaphorical one. Because a literal one would probably freak David out and David is already worried enough and Killian is a very good friend. Who is willing to help David plan his proposal to Mary Margaret. Even if it messes everything else up in the process.

A Fair, Even-Handed, Noble Adjustment of Things Rating: T Words: 9,267

Emma just wants to do something good. Give back. Maybe get a few bonus points. Metaphorically speaking. Not the last one. That defeats the purpose of all of this. But she can’t really think straight because he keeps humming and using nicknames and stealing all the flour. And she’d give up all the bonus points she’s, maybe, accumulated by, possibly, doing good if she could just remember what his name is. This is not going the way she planned. At all.

Heart to Heart and Hand in Hand Rating: T Words: 7,052

She was cold. She was tired. She did not want to be ice skating. She wasn’t really ice skating. She was just…kind of standing there – while getting yelled at by security guards and stared at by her boyfriend and they were being pushed off the ice. Not literally. And Emma knew she was being a Grinch or, maybe, just Max the Dog because she wasn’t in control enough to be a Grinch, but Killian wanted to go ice skating and well…fake it ‘til you make it festivity, right?

Kiss Her Once [For Me] Rating: T Words: 9,500

To say that the last year has been hectic would be the greatest understatement in the history of the modern world. Or, like, libel. In print, it’s libel. Because the last year has been filled with political promises and campaigns and far more press conferences than Emma realized were possible. And now, with Washington D.C. ahead of them, the only thing Emma really wants is to figure out how many boxes she’ll need to move all her stuff. That is, of course, until Killian finds her sitting in the middle of Regina’s hallway, a distinct lack of alcohol in her system, and the guarantee that he’s got a plan. For fun. Of the festive variety. It includes mistletoe.

Prompt: Santa!Con Rating: T Words: 2,444

Killian is very drunk. There are people dressed like Santa everywhere. And Emma isn't sure she heard the question correctly. She might be a little drunk too, honestly.

Prompt: Killian Wakes Up Without Any Blankets Rating: T Words: 2,444

He's freezing. Presumably because his wife — who he loves very much — has once again stolen all the blankets.

Tripping Over the Blue Line

A Few Days Off for Christmas Rating: T Words: 11,903

Matt's first Christmas at the brownstone means several things. Chinese food. Bad bread pudding. And unexpected guests.

A Chance of Snow Showers Rating: T Words: 3,372

Everything's a competition on this team. So no one is all that surprised when Killian agrees to race during family skate. Even with a baby strapped to his chest.

Dropping Gloves...In the Name of Festive Fashion Rating: T Words: 3,038

It’s probably one of the more ridiculous things any of them have ever done. It’s also one of the better ideas any of them has ever had – it’s festive and in the spirit and the fans will love it. And maybe it’s kind of fun because it ends with another win and some positive press before the break and Phillip’s jacket is really just…a work of fashion art.

All Knotted Up Rating: T Words: 2,188

He’s never actually done anything like this – brought a girl home for Christmas. No, not just a girl – Emma. Emma was coming to the brownstone for Christmas and the entire Vankald family would be there with traditions and bread pudding and there had to be gifts.

He needed to buy a gift. Or, at least, get a gift. And the list of people who wouldn’t laugh right in his face at the idea of Killian Jones, captain of the New York Rangers, freaking out about that was growing more and more slim by the minute.

We’ll Take a Cup [Defense] Of Kindness Rating: M Words: 19,204 Chapters: 2

It's one night. New Year's Eve. And a whole list of rules. Because Regina might have actually lost her mind. Or maybe that's just Emma. Because they've played a million games in two days, or it's at least felt that way, and planning an outdoor practice a few weeks before the Olympics seemed like a good idea at one point. Now it just seems insane. So she's going to wear this dress and kiss her boyfriend. A lot. He's good. Better than good. Great. The greatest. It's New Year's Day and, yeah, sure it's freezing, but Killian hasn't actually tried to push Scarlet on the Subway tracks yet so that seems like a step in the right direction. So he's a little distracted a few weeks before the Olympics, but that's fine. It's good. Or it'll be good. Eventually. Soon. In the meantime he's probably just going to kiss his girlfriend. A lot.

First Line Center Rating: T Words: 9,508 Chapters: 2

She hadn’t read the invitation. It hadn’t changed in years, after all - a set of rules and expectations for a New Year’s party that they were all going to break anyway because the most traditional thing about this team was flouting tradition. So, Emma had mostly ignored it. Until. A shout and Killian refusing to wear a tie and something crashing in her kitchen, one kid worried about another and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was missing something. There was a joke about fresh ice to be made, she was sure.

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #cs fic #captain swan fic #there are a lot of words here #and somehow the full week of writing i had got away from me very quickly #so we're going back to the same prompt list as last year to try and regain some sense of productivity #anyway that's coming later #for now here's all the holiday-type kissing i've written already #more blue line than i remembered honestly

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the-delta-42 · 3 years

Text

My Brother

Following a premise that was sent to @nerdasaurus1200

This fic will be a slight AU of The War Cricle, but will feature the same characters.

Marinette tried to keep the fact she had a brother as quiet as possible, but that is becoming increasingly difficult because a. he’s the technician at the College and b. he’s having ‘relations’ with Ms. Bustier. And then today he had to go and ruin their cover. Now granted, it was technically her fault.

“Marinette, you forgot your lunch.” Said Michael as he popped into the classroom and handed Marinette her lunch bag.

“Thanks.” Said Marinette, gritting her teeth.

“Have a good day, little one. Caline, I’ll see you tonight.” Said Michael, as he walked out of the room.

A moment of silence passed, and then Marinette was bombarded with questions. One thing she knew for sure- she was going to kill him.

Caline looked up from her computer as Michael left the room. True to form, Marinette looked composed, except the look of murder that lived in her eyes. Caline decided that the ‘Lila Rossi take down’ file could wait for a few minutes, as the class bombarded Marinette with questions.

“Alright everyone, calm down. Yes, Michael is Marinette’s older brother. He and I are in a committed relationship. Unless Marinette wishes to say more on the matter, that is all you have to know. Now, back to your seats and continue reading in your textbook.” Instructed Ms. Bustier, going back to her computer. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Marinette giving her a silent ‘thank you’.

“HOW could you not tell us you had a brother?!” Asked Alya, openly gaping at Marinette.

“Hmm, let’s see, would you want people to know if your brother was going out with your teacher?” Was Marinette’s snarky response.

“Wait, if your brother’s 22 and Ms. Bustier is 30, why are they together?” Asked Kim, looking at the bluenette.

“I’m 23.” Corrected Ms. Bustier, looking slightly offended.

Kim winced and sunk down into his seat.

“And that’s how Kim failed literature.” Said Alix, getting a solid five minutes of laughter from her classmates.

It’d been a few weeks since Michael had made his presence, and his relationship with Ms. Bustier, known to the class.

The class stiffened when they heard a sob. Everyone looked around, before Marinette spotted Ms. Bustier, one hand on her forehead and the other holding a pen as she marked some higher years’ work. Everyone wondered what was on the work to make Ms. Bustier cry.

“Dear god, they are so stupid.” Whispered Ms Bustier, looking at the student’s answers.

Marinette pulled out her phone and sent a text to Michael, ‘Cal needs your help. Something bad just happened.’

Not a minute later, she got a reply ‘Be there in 5.’

True to form, Michael arrived in five minutes and walked over to the desk and spoke with Caline in low tones, before looking at the paper and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Alright, everyone,” Said Michael, getting everyone to look at him, “Who can tell me who William Shakespeare was?”

“He was an English play write who lived between 1564 and 1616.” Said Max, automatically.

“Well, one of the students in the year above you put, a man shaking a spear and selling weed.” Said Michael, making everyone freeze, “You do not know how depressing it is to know that 4th grade students are smarter than 2nd grade students.”

There was a collective wince from the class as the news sunk in and Ms. Bustier dissolved into a fresh wave of tears.

The school found itself on the business end of a surprise inspection. The inspectors had gone around the school and continuously tutted at the students, teacher and other people in and around the school.

One inspector froze when he saw Chloe Bourgeois openly bully another member of the class, before turning to Ms. Bustier, “Are you really going to allow that to continue?”

Everyone watched as Ms. Bustier handed the inspector a piece of paper.

“So, the reason bullying isn’t punished is because the Principle has kept brushing it under the rug?” Clarified the inspector, frowning at the document.

“Pretty much, we once had a staff member who wasn’t even a week into the job before they were fired because they attempted to give a detention to one of those names.” Explained Ms. Bustier, leaning forwards on her desk.

The inspector frowned and said, “If you’ll excuse me for a minute, please.”

An hour later the art teacher poked his head in and said, “Damocles has just been relieved of his post.”

“What?!” Exclaimed Ms. Bustier, getting to her feet, “How?”

“They confronted him about the issues with his ‘exceptions’ list and found he’d misappropriated school funds.” Said the Art Teacher, as Ms. Mendeleiev walked past.

“What’d he do?” Asked Ms. Bustier, as Michael came up to the room.

“He’s put some of it in his own pocket, and he used the rest to turn his office into a superhero den, complete with hidden rooms and compartments.” Said the Art Teacher as Michael squeezed past.

“They also found evidence of, er, ‘inappropriate’ images of children, on school computers.” Said Michael, as he approached Caline, “After you showed them that list, they interviewed each staff member individually and found grounds to relieve his of his position as principal.”

“You do not know, how happy that makes me feel.” Said Caline, grinning.

The day after Damocles had been relieved of his post as Principal, all the teachers seemed to gain new life to them. Ms. Bustier was happy to finally give Lila a detention for ‘distracting the class’, it only got better when they finally got phone number for Lila’s mother. Caline thought she should’ve brought popcorn. Lucky for her, Michael was kind enough to provide some.

Michael narrowed his eyes and folded his arms as Marinette introduced Luka to him. He examined the boy, looking him up and down, before looking at Marinette.

“So, he’s the boyfriend?” Said Michael, getting a vehement refusal, making Michael leaned back smirking, “Ah, so this is the gay one.”

Marinette had taken a sip of a drink, which she proceeded to choke on. “MICHAEL!!”

“It’s okay, I get that a lot.” Said Luka, looking at Marinette’s brother, “You’re taller than I thought you’d be.”

“My friend, as you may have observed,” Said Michael, looking down at Luka, “Our father, is a literal, fucking, giant.”

Luka frowned, before nodding.

Marinette rocked back and forth as Michael typed away on the computer.

“If you keep doing that, I’ll start thinking somethings wrong.” Said Michael, making Marinette freeze and look at him.

“Michael,” Asked Marinette, “how long have you known Caline?”

“Since we were in school,” Responded Michael, “we were in the same class, I had a crush on her and was devastated when she started dating someone else, but I chose to support her in whatever made her happy. Why do you ask?”

“It’s just that Adrien’s dating Kagami, and I know I should be happy for them, but…” Marinette trailed off.

“But you can’t help but wish you were the one he was in love with.” Finished Michael, looking at her, “Little one, it’s alright to feel those things, it only becomes wrong the moment you start to interfere with their relationship. Give it some time, and perhaps you’ll have your shot again.”

Marinette gave her brother a watery smile, before he crossed the room and pulled her into a hug. Both being unaware of the couple standing outside the door.

“Come on, Nonna’s visiting today.” Said Michael, making Adrien and Kagami hide in a cupboard.

Michael was pacing in the waiting area outside the hospital room.

“Caline’s going to be fine.” Said Sabine, looking up at her son.

“But what if she isn’t?” Asked Michael, his pacing increasing, “She’s been in there for hours, what if somethings gone wrong? What if she’s lost? What if the baby’s lost? What if they’re both lost and all I’ll have of them is the ultrasound photo?”

“Michael, did I ever tell you what your father did when you and your sister were born?” Asked Sabine, making Michael look down at her, “He ran through the hospital, screaming and yelling for doctors because I was screaming, he called for emergency services and, eventually, had to be sedated, but when he woke up and met you and Skye, he practically melted.”

“So, you’re saying we all get our spiralling panic attacks from dad?” Asked Michael, getting a small smile from Sabine.

“You all get so much from your father, and from me.” Said Sabine, placing her hand on Michael’s cheek, “I know you feel like you failed because you weren’t there for Sam and Brianna, but you’re with them now and I know that they are just as worried for Caline as you are.”

Michael smiled slightly, before looking down. Sam and Brianna were with Skye and Nora, while Michelle was being watched by Marinette back at the bakery. Michael’s head jerked up at the sound of a newborn baby crying. Quickly jumping to his feet, Michael made his way over to the doors and looked in through the window. A nurse opened the door, making Michael jump back and nervously grin.

“Congratulations,” Said the Nurse, her face completely straight, “you’re a father.”

Michael looked past the nurse and spotted Caline holding a screaming bundle.

“Can, can I go in?” Asked Michael, nervously.

“As long as you don’t have anything contagious,” Said the Nurse, looking at Michael and then at his mother, “Everything should be fine.”

“We had our temperatures checked when we arrived on the floor.” Said Sabine, gently pushing Michael towards Caline and the baby.

“Cal?” Called Michael, making the red head look up.

Caline smiled and gestured Michael to come closer, carefully positioning the bundle so they could scream at Michael. Michael perched on the edge of the bed, the baby’s screams quietened and two, big, bright blue eyes stared up at Michael.

“Looks like this one is a daddy’s girl.” Said Caline, as the baby continued to stare up at Michael.

Then, out of nowhere, two small sneezes made the couple smile. The baby sneezed for a third time, before looking back at Michael and then at Caline. Soft coos were coming from the baby.

“Are we still going to go with the name we agreed on?” Asked Caline, as the baby continued to stare at them.

“Maman,” Called Michael, getting his mother’s attention, “Come meet Sabine.”

“Why are her eyes so big?” Asked Sam, tilting his head slightly.

“Because a person’s eyes are fully grown when they’re born, dummy.” Said Brianna, folding her arms.

“Then why are there people with really small eyes?” Continued Sam, as baby Sabine cooed up at them.

Michelle stared at her baby sister, before getting up and toddling over to Marinette, while baby Sabine started to try eating her foot.

“What is it with babies and eating themselves?” Asked Toby, before tossing the contents of his shot glass into his mouth.

“Why are you drinking cold coffee out of a shot glass?” Countered Skye, as Michelle returned with a Ourse plushie, sat down and started to doze off.

“What is it with Michael’s kids all being really quiet?” Asked Marinette, making her parents look at each other.

“Marinette,” Said her mother, “All of you were quiet babies, we had to by special baby monitors so we could actually know if any of you were having trouble.”

“I get the sinking feeling that there’s a horrible story coming.” Said Marinette, making her mother sigh.

“We’ll talk about it later.” Said Sabine, watching as baby Sabine’s eyes lit up when Michael trudged in, “Is everything alright?”

“Let’s just say that Caline’s lucky she’s on leave,” Said Michael, rubbing his eyes, “the schools had to get the police involved in what we thought was a minor internal issue.”

“What issue?” Asked Caline, as she returned from the toilet.

“Can’t say, because there are little ears about.” Said Michael, subtly gesturing to the small children and Marinette.

“Hey.” Protested Marinette, as Toby ushered her and the children from the room. Toby returned a minute later.

“They’re in Marinette’s room,” Said Toby, unaware of the Kwami floating under the sofa, “and there’s a movie on, so they’ll be entertained for a few hours.”

“We found a fuck ton of child pornography on a staff member’s computer.” Said Michael, groaning as he sat up, “Damocles wanted it to be dealt with quietly, however, at that point I’d already contacted the police.”

“Missed being in the uniform that much, huh?” Teased Toby, getting a glare from Michael.

“We’re still going through the folders, but we’ve already unearthed enough for the police to take it off our hands.” Said Michael, as his phone went off, “Ugh, what now?”

Michael answered the phone and all traces of tiredness vanished, “You what? Right, right, I’ll tell them.”

Michael hung up and looked around, “Okay, bad news first, they found evidence that Marinette was molested amongst the files, on a lighter note, Damocles has been arrested because they found he’d been backing up the pictures individually to his personal computer.”

There was a tense silence.

“When they say ‘molested’ do they actually mean ‘raped’?” Asked Skye, after a moment. Michael was silent, making Skye snarl, “Where is he?”

“They didn’t say.” Said Michael, as his twin started pacing.

“But we could find him, right, like we did with Li.” said Skye, rubbing her forehead.

“Skye, the reason none of us were prosecuted for Li was that they never found him.” Said Toby, making Caline frown.

“Who’s Li?” Asked Caline, making everyone freeze.

Michael opened his mouth, before freezing. He placed a finger to his lips and quietly made his way over to the door, upon reaching it, he pulled the door open, making Adrien and Kagami tumble into the room.

“What the hell are you two doing here?!” Snarled Michael, grabbing Adrien’s collar and pushing him against the wall, Skye doing the same with Kagami.

“W-we came to see Marinette.” Stuttered Adrien, as Michael glared at him.

“How much did you hear?” Growled Michael, before he heard a shuffling sound by the steps leading up to Marinette’s room.

“I heard enough.” Said Marinette, sitting curled up on one of the steps.

Michael and Skye froze, before the former sighed, “Marinette, go to Maman and Papa’s room please.”

Marinette went without a word, leaving Michael and Skye to deal with Adrien and Kagami. Michael set Adrien down, before glancing at his mother. Sabine understood his silent question and followed Marinette, as Michael started pacing around the room.

“Well, that was a fuck-up in a dixie.” Said Michael, running a hand down his face.

“No kidding.” Muttered Toby, as Tom started making some tea.

“Who’s Li?” Asked Adrien, making everyone look at him and Kagami.

“If we don’t tell you, you’re going to ask Marinette, aren’t you?” Questioned Skye, folding her arms across her chest.

“If we need to.” Said Kagami, her voice cold.

“You do that, and I’ll rip your spine out and strangle you with it.” Snapped Toby, his nails growing and sharpening.

“I doubt we’ll need to resort to violence.” Uttered Michael, looking at the two, “If we tell you, you must never speak of it.”

“Depends on what it is.” Said Kagami, glaring at Michael.

Michael glanced around the room, his eyes going to each person, before they settled on his father. Tom nodded but did not look happy about it.

“For three years, starting when Marinette was five,” Said Michael, his tone flat, “our uncle, Li Cheng, molested and raped her. When the family found out, we tore him apart. We don’t know how, but the authorities never found his remains.”

“Shortly after that, we came across an old man with a… unique music box,” Continued Skye, looking at her knees, “We don’t know how, but we found out that he had something that help suppress the memories. It’s why Marinette can’t speak, or understand, Chinese. It blocked off a major part of her memories, we never pushed the matter because we couldn’t risk the barricade breaking and having the girl that we all came to know, and love die at the hands of her own memories.”

Caline, Adrien and Kagami sat in shocked silence. The confession changed their view on everyone in the room. A cracking sound drew their attention to Tom, a broken cup in his hand with blood dripping onto the work surface. Skye sighed and got up to treat the wound, as Michael collapsed into a chair.

“W-what happens now?” Asked Adrien, looking around.

“Since Maman is explaining what happened to Marinette,” Said Toby, his voice hollow, “we have to clean up the remains of the barricade as best as we can.”

“We don’t actually know what’ll happen,” Corrected Michael, looking at his brother, “for all we know, Marinette will bounce back. But the reverse is also true, Marinette could be destroyed, and a different person takes her place.”

Michael’s ear twitched, he could hear sobbing. He doubted that it was his mother crying.

The next week, Marinette seemed to be a shell of herself. Adrien had asked if it was alright if Alya knew, Michael just said, “That’s up to Marinette.”

The following weeks slowly turned into months, and Michael found himself leaning against the wall as the school broke for summer. Michael carefully watched Marinette leave with her friends, he didn’t know if Marinette told Alya, but the two seemed to be closer. He often found Marinette cuddled up with her friends at any one time, so far, it had been five. He trusted Luka, Nino and Alya, he wasn’t sure about Adrien and Kagami.

Michael frowned when he spotted Lila approaching the group but smirked when the Italian tripped over a chair leg.

“I really shouldn’t laugh,” Said Caline, balancing baby Sabine in her arms, “but I wish that was caught on camera.”

“It’s against the law, remember?” Joked Michael, as everyone looked down at Lila.

“I was talking about the security camera.” Caline pointed to the small, black orb that sat in the top corner of the room.

“Oh, I forgot about that one.” Smirked Michael, as Marinette and her friends vanished through the door.

“I don’t see how, you installed it.” Remarked Caline, as Sabine started whining because her mother had stopped bouncing her.

Marinette rolled over and looked at the alarm clock, it was slowly ticking down to the time the alarm would go off. Normally, she’d get up and silence the alarm before it sounded, but she currently had a mod of blond hair pinning her arm down to her mattress. Marinette froze when she heard a snuffling sound. A red furred Labrador Retriever peaked over the edge of the bed. The dog gave its best impression of a grin, before barking at them. The cuddle pile jumped as the dog bounced onto the bed and started licking Marinette to death.

“Bridgette, no, why?” Whined Marinette, as the dog dropped herself down on top of Marinette.

Bridgette’s tail wagged harder, before a particularly loud bark, waking a small black cat hiding away on one of Marinette’s shelves. The cat jumped and hissed at the dog, while Marinette tried to wrangle the overgrown puppy off her bed. The cat jumped down and landed on Adrien’s lap. Felix glared at Bridgette and settled himself down on Adrien and started purring. The rest of the group slowly became aware of what was happening.

“Why couldn’t your brother get you some normal pets?” Asked Kagami, glaring at the two animals.

“A cat and dog are normal.” Said Alya, stretching her back.

Kagami glared harder and continued to grumble as Bridgette jumped off the bed and bounded out of the room. Adrien slowly got to his feet, carefully adjusting the cat in his arms as he followed after the dog, Nino and Alya following soon after.

“I’m not going to be able to get back to sleep, am I?” Asked Marinette, her arm covering her eyes.

“No.” Said Luka, before grabbing the covers and pulling them off, “Time to wake up, Mike and Celine are bringing their kids over today.”

Marinette whined and rolled over. That whine turned into a squeal as Kagami grabbed her and hauled her into her arms and started carrying her to the door.

“Nooo, I don’t wanna wake up.” Whined Marinette, dramatically struggling as Kagami princess carried her out of the room.

“If we’re lucky, none of the Kwami’s woke up.” Muttered Luka, nervously glancing at a doll house situated in the corner of the room. A loud snore came from Plagg’s room. Luka sighed in relief and followed Kagami and Mainette after the others.

“Fucking cat, trying to steal my camembert.” Drooled Plagg, kneading a cushion in his sleep.

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #nino lahiffe #alya cesaire #luka couffaine #kagami tsurugi #caline bustier #Delta Writes #War Circle AU #literally every class member #tom du #sabine cheng #mature themes #tw; past non-con #tw; threats #tw; trauma #tw; mental health

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