#if he was prepared for his life brother and best friend to die

[starryevermore]

my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand ✧ azriel

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pairing: azriel x vanserra!fem!reader

summary: azriel tries to fix the mess he made. you almost let him. 

word count: 4,529

warnings?: angst city™ bitch, dual povs, threats of death, traumatic childbirth, azriel begging for forgiveness, open ending, there will be no other parts to this, not proofread

PART ONE

As the only daughter of Autumn, your relationship with your brothers was quite different than their relationships with each other. You were no threat to the throne. A female could never be High Lord. Yet, that did not let you free from Beron’s iron tight grip on his family and their perception by Prythian. The only thing a female was good for was marrying well and producing children. If you ever proved yourself to be an embarrassment to the Vanserra family, you learned the limitless bounds of the former High Lord’s wrath. Your brothers would be there to help mend you, offering comfort in the best ways they could. It wasn’t much, but it meant a lot to you. 

It damn near broke your heart when you realized you had to leave them behind to be with your mate. Beron would never—ever—allow you to be mated to an Illyrian brute. Knowing that your brothers would only be hurt if you told them, you decided that Eris was the best option in confiding your plan to run. Together, you left a note saying that you were leaving to be with your mate and he helped you cross Autumn’s border. You prayed to the Mother that Beron was not too cruel to him, or your other brothers, when he discovered your disappearance. You knew you would likely not see them again, and you hoped they might forgive you for that. Then everything Under the Mountain happened—you were trapped in Velaris for fifty years, all too aware that you would never find out if they did. 

That was the one blessing, you supposed, of returning to the Autumn Court all these decades later. With Beron gone and Eris as High Lord, it was easy to fall back in with your family. Though Eris was ready to march down to the Night Court and burn Azriel where he stood, and your other brothers were ready to follow, things calmed down in the end. The rage still simmered, hovering just below the surface. All it would take was one wrong move by the Night Court and any alliances Eris had previously forged would go up in smoke.

Despite your request for no further correspondence, the Night Court continued to periodically reach out to you. Mostly Feyre because she had been your friend, but occasionally Rhys who would inquire about the status of your pregnancy. Though he never said it outright, you knew it was to find out if your babe had wings. His motives, you were unsure. Was it out of concern for your wellbeing? You recalled how panicked he had been during Feyre’s pregnancy. Perhaps he was worried about you for your sake. A larger part of you thought it was out of concern for his brother. That if your babe had wings, then it would mean you would surely die. And if you were to die, could you find it in your heart to let your mate be by your side one last time? Your skin itched at the thought of Azriel anywhere near your babe. 

Truthfully, you didn’t know. Whenever your healer, a kind elderly fae named Brigid, would ask if you wanted to know, you would always decline. You didn’t want to experience your pregnancy knowing there was an expiration date. You wanted to live it, to enjoy it. Because Nesta could not bargain with the Cauldron any longer. Not even her, in all her power, could save you. You would rather spend your final days healing from Azriel’s betrayal and preparing for the birth of your child than worry about the inevitable. 

Besides, you were worried that the loyal shadow wound up wrist would run to Azriel at the first sign of harm to you. 

Eris was not fond of that choice. He was certain that he could find a way to save your life should it come down to it. You were less convinced. But he was a prideful male, and you had learned long ago to not get in the way of a male’s ego. If he wanted to be delusional, so be it. That didn’t mean you had to feed into those delusions. 

Today, however, was a day of celebration. The Fall Equinox had come and so the Forest House was alive with fae from across the courts. The Night Court wasn’t present—hadn’t even been extended an invitation, if Eris was to be believed. You admired his loyalty to you, but you knew the Night Court was not an enemy to be made. To be their ally was to be protected. In a land still wrought from the effects of Amarantha and the King of Hybern, it would be too costly to be making enemies of a court so powerful. 

You ignored those concerns today, trying to focus on the festivities. It was hard to enjoy them. You were at the end of your pregnancy. Brigid had warned against your attendance, arguing that you needed to rest. But you were stubborn like your brothers. If you wanted one more night of revelry, you should have it. 

That was, ultimately, your downfall. 

You were dancing with one of your brothers, Crispin. Or, at the very least, dancing the best you could. You were sure it looked pathetic—a far cry from the elegance Beron beat into you. You were having too much fun to care. So much fun, you almost missed the pain shooting through. 

You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your lips. Crispin froze, extending his arms out to help steady you. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Do you need to sit?”

“The babe—there’s something wrong with the babe,” you manage, keeling over from the pain.

“Give me one godsdamned reason not to gut you where you stand.”

Azriel barely glanced up at the male in his house. It was only a matter of time, he mused, before one of your brothers came for him. For some reason, Lucien hadn’t been particularly high on the list he made, ranking the likelihood of each brother to come breaking down the door. Mostly because Lucien spent most of his time in the mortal lands, far away from news of what Azriel had done. But, eventually, all word gets out. 

“Because I deserve a more painful death than gutting me would provide.”

Lucien’s hand wound itself in Azriel’s hair, yanking it back. A blade pressed against his throat. “Damned right you do. She was always too fucking good for you.”

“I know.”

“Do you know how many males would kill for a mate as kind as her? Do you know how many males begged Beron for her hand? You are lucky she ever spared you the time of day,” Lucien hissed. 

Again, Azriel said, “I know.”

And he did. Mother above, he did. Every day of the last nine months, Azriel had been kicking himself for treating you the way he did. How had he misread all of the signs? Why did he let his anxieties, his worries of not being good enough for you, cloud his judgment? Azriel found himself wishing he could turn back time, stop himself from ruining the best thing he ever had. 

Now, he was left in the dark. His friends scarcely spoke to him. Ever since Feyre and Rhys learned of his accusations, word spread among the Inner Circle. Cassian looked at him like he didn’t even know his brother. Mor sneered the first time she saw him. Amren hadn’t said a word to him. And Nesta…He was sure she was going to rip his wings off and throw him off the House of Wind. Even Elain looked at him as if he were a monster. Sometimes, though, Feyre would fill him in on the few replies you sent to her letters. And if he asked pathetically enough, Rhys would send you inquiries about your wellbeing. Those never got a reply. 

Azriel almost wished he had a mission to go on to distract himself. To able to take his pain out on another helpless soul. But Rhys had barred him from his work. A punishment for his actions, Azriel was sure. Rhysand would never call it that. Always said something about giving Azriel time to reflect. But Azriel was tired of reflecting. Reflection wouldn’t undo what he did. Reflection wouldn’t bring you back. 

“You’re a pathetic excuse for a male,” Lucien spat. “Hybern should have killed you. It would have spared the rest of us from your waste of a life.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. It would have killed you, he was sure, if he had died. But at least you would know he loved you. At least you wouldn’t be aching because your mate proved he didn’t trust you. You wouldn’t have your babe, but at least you could be assured that Azriel would never accuse you of infidelity. 

“Have you seen her?” Azriel croaked. 

Lucien released his hold on Azriel’s hair. He fell forward, but didn’t turn to face the male. He could hear Lucien’s snarl as he said, “Color me surprised when I return from the mortal lands to learn from Elain that you cast my sister aside, made her leave her home, because you refused to listen to her. You’re lucky that Eris answered my letter with haste, explaining she was safe in Autumn. Consider yourself even luckier that the High Lord made me wait to come here before I got that answer. Do you have any idea how far she had to travel on foot? You made a pregnant female—your mate—travel through Winter alone.”

Azriel held back his sob. 

“A farmer had to be the one to bring her to Forest House. She would have died if not for his kindness.” Lucien’s hand curled around Azriel’s throat, his nails digging in. “Their blood would have been on your hands if they did.”

“I-I didn’t think—”

“No, you didn’t—”

Hurt,a shadow whispered. Azriel’s head snapped up. He wrenched himself out of Lucien’s death grip, searching for the shadow he hadn’t seen in months. Most of the others had stuck around, hissing their disapproval in his ear. But he knew one had gone missing, prayed to the Mother that it was making sure you were safe when he couldn’t. Come quick.

“What?” Azriel breathed out. No. No. It couldn’t mean you. You were safe, in Autumn. You were under your brothers’ protection. No harm should ever befall you there. None…Unless—

She’s hurt. The babe is stuck. Come—quick.

Azriel jumped out of his seat, moving faster than he had in months. This couldn’t be. The babe didn’t have wings. Surely, if the babe had wings, you would have told Rhysand. You would have told someone. Unless, you didn’t know. He had to get to you. He had to see you. 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“She’s gone into labor,” he managed. The room felt like it was spinning. Was he about to lose you forever? No. No, he couldn’t handle that. He could handle you alive, hating him forever. But to lose you like this…For you to not know how deeply sorry he was, he couldn’t live with that. He would sooner follow you in death than live in a world without you. “The babe has wings.”

Lucien’s eyes narrowed. “They’ll kill you if you go. They’ll make me look like mercy.”

“I-I need to get Madja. She has experience with this. I need to give her a shot.” Azriel sniffed, praying the tears wouldn’t fall. Not now. “Even if she never lets me see the babe, I need to do everything in my power to give them a chance to live.”

Azriel half-expected Lucien to drive his dagger into his heart. Instead, his lip curled. “Go. Before I change my mind. I’ll warn my brothers of your arrival. They will welcome Madja’s help. But whatever they decide to do with you, I will not interfere.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m not doing this for you.”

“I know. But…thank you.”

Your screams do not sound like your own. It sounded like, felt like, it was coming from someone else. Nothing about this, truthfully, felt like it was happening to you. You were vaguely aware of your mother on your right side, Eris on your left. Brigid was between your legs, trying to help the babe into a proper birthing position. Somewhere beyond the closed, oak door you could hear your brothers Crispin and Heath shouting at someone. Oh, you hoped they were terrorizing the servants. 

“You’re alright, my love,” your mother was saying as she stroked your hair, “you’re doing so well.”

Your scream was your only response. Fuck. You had never experienced pain quite like this before. Not even Beron’s flames compared to this. It was a miracle you hadn’t passed out yet. Though, the thought of shutting your eyes and closing out the rest of the world was quite tempting. No. You needed to stay strong. If not for yourself, then for your babe. You had to give her a fighting chance. 

Her. You were so certain your babe was a female. Brigid had never told you, because you had never asked. If you had known, the gender or the status of wings, you would want to tell Azriel. It would be the one thing, you were certain, that would break your resolve. You weren’t sure if you ever wanted the shadowsinger back into your life, but…Well, he had always want a babe that looked just like you. A little princess to dote on. To show how to fly. 

Another scream ripped through you. It felt like your soul was being torn out. Like sharp talons raked down your body, gripping at your essence, ready to take you back to the Mother. You wouldn’t go back. Not until your babe was born. After that…If the Mother wanted you, she could take you. Your babe would be in safe hands with your family. 

Desperately, you tried to search out for the shadow that not left your side in nine months. It had become a source of comfort. Its cold nature soothed the flames of Autumn burning inside of you. It reminded you of home. But when your eyes flicked to your wrist, then down your arm, it was gone. How long had it been gone? Why did it abandon you when you finally needed it? Where did it—

Something slammed against the oaken door. 

Eris’s head snapped up to glare at the wood. “What in the Cauldron is happening out there?” he hissed. 

“Go, check,” your mother said. “We need to keep this room as calm as possible. If your brothers are picking fights out there, then they’ll only make it worse. She cannot afford any unwarranted stress.”

Eris gave a tight nod and stepped away from your side. He didn’t even make it halfway across the room before the door slammed open, the wood splintering. A body hit the floor. Your vision was too blurred to make out who, or the person who stepped over him, approaching your bed. That is, until she was close enough for you to recognize the all-too-familiar face. 

“Madja?” you managed. “How—”

“He brought me here,” she said, stepping in between your legs. Brigid made room for you, taking the opportunity to move away to grab some fresh towels. Madja tutted at the sight of you, then got to work. 

“I don’t want him here!” The words tumbled out before you could stop them. 

You barely caught Madja glancing over to the fallen figure. In the haze, you finally recognized the wings. Azriel. He was here. Your breath caught. That was why the shadow had left you. It had gone to find him. Was it out of loyalty to its master? Or was it out of concern for you? A little shadow escaped from Azriel, speeding back to you. The cold thing stroked your face, as if to comfort you, to apologize for leaving you alone. 

Azriel’s head lifted. You were grateful you couldn’t see the hurt in his eyes. Crispin and Heath each grabbed an arm, dragging your mate back up to his feet. Though you all knew he could easily fight them off, he didn’t make a single move. Purple was already beginning to blossom on his exposed bits of skin. Had that been why you heard your brother’s shouting? 

Too pained to stand the look of him, you focused back on Madja. “Better or worse than Feyre?” Your voice was tight. It took every bit of your energy to not roar in pain. 

“The babe is starting to come out, but her wings are stuck,” she said. “We’ll have to break bones to get her out.”

“Mine or hers?” you nearly cried. 

“Both.” Madja glanced up at you. She masked her sorrow well, but you saw through it. You knew the next thing she was going to say, and you knew your answer, too. “I don’t know that I can save you both.”

“Her. Save her.”

“NO!” Azriel shouted. 

You barely processed Eris’s body slamming into Azriel. He let out a low groan at the contact. If you weren’t already in so much pain, you would have been able to feel how much that hurt through the bond. You wondered how much Azriel could feel. For the last nine months, you had kept your end closed. But after going into labor, it took too much effort to push him away. 

“You are the last godsdamned person who gets to make decisions about her,” Eris hissed. “You’re lucky I don’t throw you in the fucking dungeon—”

“I already gave him the whole speech, brother.”

Lucien? How did he get here? How did he know? 

Azriel ignored your brothers. To Madja, he pleaded, “Give her a chance—both of them a chance.”

Eris’s fist landed square on Azriel’s jaw. “Don’t even look in her fucking direction.”

“All of you, out!” your mother shouted. The males all froze in place. “What did I say about removing unnecessary stress? Eris, take him to the library and let him stay there until this is over. The rest of you, make yourselves useful.”

Your attention turned back to Madja, ignoring the sulking males, as her cold hand touched your knee. “We have to make a decision, dear.”

From the corner of your eye, you watched as Azriel stiffened. He wouldn’t be pleased with you, you were sure. And perhaps it was cruel to subject him to the cold pain of losing a mate. But that was mercy compared to what he did to you. 

To Madja, you said, “Do what you must.”

Azriel stared at the oak doors of the library. Eris and Lucien had been left at his guards while Crispin and Heath disappeared to gather more supplies for Madja and Brigid. He paid them and their snarls no mind. Nothing could distract him from your wails of pain echoing through Forest House. Every inch of him, every fiber of his being, called for him to go to you. To be by your side. It was only your words that kept him still. 

“I don’t want him here!”

Five words was all it took for you to rip Azriel’s heart out. How you did it so succinctly, struck him right to the core, when it took an illogical rant from him to break yours was a mystery to him. Worse yet, Azriel wasn’t sure you were even aware of what you were saying. You looked like you were barely processing Madja’s appearance. Did you truly want him gone? 

Visions of your near-lifeless eyes looking at him flashed through his mind. He was going to lose you today. Was it a kinder fate for you to die than live in a world with him? Would things be different if he hadn’t fucked things up so spectacularly? Azriel imagined you in your shared home, your family—the Inner Circle—surrounding you. Love for you would be in the air, not contempt for him. Would that have been enough to save you? 

He shook his head. He was being ridiculous. Your family—the Vanserras—loved you, too. Perhaps more than the Inner Circle. While his family was content to ignore his existence, yours was willing to strike him down where he stood for even deigning to show his face in Autumn. He was sure Crispin and Heath would have actually killed him if they hadn’t drove his body through the door first.

Azriel flinched as another scream ripped down the halls. 

“Don’t act like this is painful to you,” Eris snarled. 

Azriel managed to lift a glare to him. “I can feel everything she does. If she is hurting, so am I.”

“That mattered little to you when you accused her of being a whore,” Lucien said. 

“And I will regret to the day I die. I will spend the rest of my days atoning for what I did.” Azriel lifted his chin. “But would killing me save her?”

Eris stepped closer to him. “Don’t even pretend to care about her. Where have you been these last nine months? Where were you when her morning sickness left her unable to leave the bed for days, unable to keep anything down? When she would go to Brigid for updates on the babe? When she couldn’t even pick out things for a nursery because the perfect one was left behind in the Night Court?”

He jerked like he had been slapped. Sometimes, he could still feel the sting of Feyre hitting him. Until today, she had been the only one brave enough to hurt him for what he did. Azriel would take every beating, though, if it meant you would live. 

Azriel opened his mouth to respond, but fell short. Silence rung through Forest House. Your screams—they had stopped. The cries of a babe did not fill their place. He tugged desperately at the bond, hoping to feel your pull. Nothing. There was nothing. 

No.

No, he couldn’t lose you. 

No. 

Against his better judgment, Azriel fled from the library. He raced down the hall, the eldest and youngest Vanserra hot on his heels. He needed to see you. He needed to know that you still lived. Perhaps you were asleep. Birth was exhausting. Azriel remembered Feyre slept for hours after having Nyx. Perhaps you were doing the same. But then why wasn’t the babe crying? 

The door was ajar when he reached it. It took little effort to push it open, to open himself to the scene on the other side. On the far side of the room, Madja and Brigid had the babe. A beautiful little girl. His beautiful little girl. Azriel’s eyes flicked back to you. Your mother was covering your body with a blanket. Were you truly sleeping? No, you were too still, even by fae standards. Your chest didn’t rise. Your eyelids didn’t flutter.

Azriel’s gaze fell to your limp hand hanging from the edge of the bed. He sank to his knees, reaching for it. He half-expected Eris or Lucien to rip him away, to throw back back over the border. But no one touched him. 

“Let him mourn,” he heard your mother say. 

“He doesn’t deserve it.” Whether that was Eris or Lucien, he wasn’t sure. 

“It matters little what he deserves now.”

You couldn’t be gone. You couldn’t be. Somewhere beyond, a faint cry rang through the room. A weight lifted off his chest. At least the babe survived. At least Madja managed that. But…None of that mattered if you weren’t here, too. None of it mattered if you couldn’t hold her. 

A hand touched his shoulder. He lifted his head to stare up at your mother. “Her name is Bronwyn.”

“Thank you,” he whispered. 

“We’re going to take her to a wet nurse. But…you may stay for as long as you like. Ignore my sons. They are in pain, too.”

“Thank you,” he said again. 

Silence filled the room again. Azriel was certain he was alone again, until he heard padding of footsteps along the wooden floor. He didn’t have to look up to know it was Madja. 

“She could still live. It is not…It is not the worst birth I have seen. I have seen weaker women pull through from more horrible circumstances.”

“Why do you tell me this?”

“We believe, when people are in this state of limbo, they can still our world. Talk to her. You might be able to pull her back.”

“She wouldn’t come back for me.”

“Then why did she nearly tell her mother to come get you?” Madja patted his shoulder. “Food for thought. Do as you wish, Spymaster. I will be back to check on her later.”

Azriel did not move for three days and three nights. Despite what Madja had said, he couldn’t find any words to share with you. Everything felt wrong. What was he supposed to say? Apologies would scarcely suffice. Should he beg? It was tempting, but he wasn’t sure his pathetic snifflings would return you, either. 

Every so often, your mother would come in, Bronwyn in her arms. She would lay the babe on your chest and coo about how much she was growing already. Lucien would come in to tell you about what he had been doing in the mortal lands. Eris was rant about the politics of being a newly minted High Lord. Heath would talk about the latest book he had read. Crispin came once—sobbed about how he should have realized what was happening, should have gotten you help sooner. 

Everyone else had something to say. Something more moving, more earth-shattering, than whatever grovel he would wretch up. 

But on the fourth morning, as the morning sunlight began to stream onto you, he lifted himself from his knees. There was just enough space beside you that he could curl up to. It cramped his wings, but he was willing to ignore the pain. 

“I should have cherished you,” he whispered. His throat was tight. “I should have trusted you. I do, trust you I mean. Before you, I never knew unconditional love. Even through the last few centuries together, it still boggled my mind that you could look at me and find something worth loving. When I came home that day, I was so scared that you had finally found something better. It will never excuse what I did.”

He reached up, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Come back, my wildfire. Not for me. I could spend the rest of my life making up for that mistake, but it would never be enough to warrant your forgiveness. But your family…They shouldn’t be hurt because of what I did. Come back for them. Come back for Bronwyn. Come back, and you will never have to see me again unless you so wish it. Just…live.”

Azriel’s eyes squeezed shut. He felt wetness drip down his face, onto your soft skin where his face was pressed. “Please, live.”

Your eyes opened. 

#azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel x fem!reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel x female reader #azriel fanfiction #azriel fan fiction #azriel fanfic #azriel fan fic #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #starrywrites #starryevermore

[julescarstairs]

I feel like this goes without saying, but can we all agree that Kel and Conor would be Parabatai in the TSC universe?? It just feels right.

#SC SPOILERS IN TAGS #the duty of the role of sword catcher really makes it seem like a one way street #but there is NO denying the importance of Kel to Conor as a person #not just as his sword catcher #Kel literally lives to die for Con #but Conor doesn’t WANT Kel to die #he wouldn’t keep adding ‘but you won’t’ at the end of their oath #if he was prepared for his life brother and best friend to die #they’d be Parabatai in the Shadow-verse I’m telling you #sword catcher #sc #sc spoilers #the chronicles of castellane #conor Aurelian #kel saren #the ragpicker king

[me-and-your-husband]

mine truly and forever || j. miller

summary: joel comes back to you in whatever way he can. part two of “yours truly and forever”. 

warnings: smut, creampie, oral (male and female receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, unprotected sex, language, dirty talk

word count: 4k

A/N: this took me awhile to get out, sorry everybody! also, i really didn’t plan on writing a part 2 to this, but the demand was really high. not my best work, so i just fed you all with smut instead lmao

here’s my masterlist if you’d like to read more of my work!

You had long since given up hope that Joel was coming back for you. 

Every morning, you woke and swallowed down the tightening in your throat, the knot in your stomach. You believed he had moved on. Maybe he found his brother and settled down with Ellie.

Anything was better than what was most likely. Anything was better than him being dead.

You rose with the sun and fell with it too, wondering every day if you’d ever see him again. If you’d ever get to laugh with him, or cry with him, or touch him. Some part of you thought that, maybe, your night spent together was just his desperation for some human touch. All you were to him was a way to satiate his desire. Maybe.

You tried not to think about it, but the thought of him him him seeped into everything you did. Feeding the cows? You thought about Joel. Harvesting? You thought about Joel. Cooking? You thought about Joel. Laying awake at night, eyes flitting across the darkness, searching for something? You thought about Joel. 

So, yeah, you’d given up on the idea of him awhile ago. 

It had been two years since that night. The night you gave yourself wholly to him. The night you let him into the most intimate parts of your body and soul. Since you let him crawl through you, seeing into your depths. 

The first few months after him were honeyed in hope. When your alarm went off, signaling something was trying to breach your perimeter, you rushed to the camera and prayed it was Joel. It was always just some stray infected or moose or something that wasn’t him. As the snow melted, your heart was loyal. You breathed in the belief of his words every morning. The slush on the ground a reminder that he’d be safer in the warm weather, that he’d come back to you sooner. The summer was warm. Your garden thrived, preparing for his return. You ate strawberries on your porch and basked in the golden sun, soaking in the heat. Your skin dripped in sweat, heart dripping in steadfast hope. 

In the winter, you faltered. You still hoped for his return, you still believed in his promise, but you started thinking about other possibilities. Though, you rarely entertained them. Another spring passed. And another summer. Another fall, winter, and spring. It was summer now, but the heat was more suffocating, the sunshine more of a nuisance.

Over the last winter, you grit your teeth and weathered your bones. You felt betrayal, deep in your gut. Had he lied? Just to keep you solitary? To keep you from chasing after him? To keep you away?

You didn’t know. You didn’t care. Did you?

You didn’t know.

You had given him everything, but he couldn’t keep a promise.

You forced yourself to separate the idea of him from who he really was. He was a man before he was yours. He craved the life that would offer him something to do. He craved you, but didn’t he crave others? Did he crave you, or did he crave someone to take care of him? 

Who was Joel Miller? Who was he, and who was he to you?

Was he even the type to come back to you? No. Probably not. Not when he’s lived through this for 22 years. Not when he’s seen his friends die. Not when he’s killed. He wasn’t the type to lay down and become a farmhand.

Besides, you saw the way he looked at Ellie. Part of you was sure that he’d never leave that girl. She meant more to him than he’d ever say. He was never just yours. He never would be. 

So you shoved the thought of him to the corners of your mind, rejecting it endlessly. You’d never let yourself think too hard about him, only ever letting his image flit about your mind like a lost butterfly. You shut him out and never sought him out again.

Another morning fell into your lap. The sun barely peeked over the horizon when the sound of alarms ringing out through the property jolted you awake. You rolled your head to the side to stretch a sore muscle, hand reaching under your bed for your rifle. No reason for alarm. Whatever it was, a stray infected or an animal, no doubt, would fall into one of your traps, or you’d pick it off without wasting a single bullet. All in a day’s work.

You slid on the first pair of shoes you could find, slipping out the door and making your way towards where the camera had signalled the breach. You groaned as you realized just how early it was, the sun barely illuminating the ground you stepped on. 

You held your rifle out as your eyes scanned the fence line. Nothing. It must have been one of the traps that set off the alarm. Sighing, you push the buttons on the padlock and it opens the gate. 

Moving to the nearest trap, you peek the muzzle of the rifle into the hole. It was still dark, but you made out a figure standing at the bottom of the pit.

“Move and I’ll fucking shoot you,” you yelled. No response, just the sound of heavy breathing. “You infected?”

Your name was whispered into the air like a breath of something you never thought you’d hear again. That beautiful, rugged, rich voice. The voice that you loved, so dearly. The voice that you hated.

“Joel?” 

“It’s me, honey,” he was breathless. It was almost as if it was his first moment of rest in twenty years. 

Your heart skipped a beat, breath faltering for a moment. You didn’t let the tears threatening to pool in your eyes spill. Instead, you threw your rifle to the side and got on your knees, reaching into the dark pit. “Take my hand.” 

Extending your hand, you almost immediately felt his large, rough one envelop yours. You used most of your strength to pull him up, him hoisting himself up once he got a good grip. He falls on top of you with the momentum, catching himself before his figure crushes yours. You could feel his heavy breath on your face, painting invisible lines of what you both want. A sea in his eyes, pooling with everything that’s happened since he left you, with everything he wanted to say, everything he wants to say. You lean into him a little, breath hitching and brows furrowing when he finally attaches his lips to yours. 

It was like an oxygen mask, breathing you to life. It was more desperate than any kiss you had shared. He was here, in your hands. He was alive. He was heart and flesh and blood and he was with you again.

Your arms pulled him in close until he groaned into your mouth. You pulled away to study his face. He didn’t meet your eyes, instead, absorbing every feature of your face that he had missed for so long.

You began to lift his shirt to see why he had groaned, but his hand on your wrist stopped you. 

“Joel,” you warned. “Lift up your shirt.”

“Take me to dinner first, hey?” He chuckled. He was stalling. He didn’t want you to see whatever was under his shirt.

You gave him a warning look before he gave in. Sitting up, you gently lifted his shirt. There wasn’t a concerning amount of blood for once, just small lacerations here and there that might need a few stitches. However, the skin underneath the marks was full of vibrant purples and blues and yellows, painted across the flesh of his abdomen like some sick piece of art. A small gasp left your lips at the sight, but Joel tilted your chin up to look at him, pulling his shirt down with his other hand. 

“Just fell, darlin’. I’d do it all again to get to you.” 

Heat spread across your face, tinting your cheeks. All the resentment you had for him fizzled away (but was it really resentment if you could forgive him with just one kiss? Or maybe that was just the power Joel had over you). 

“Let me patch you up, cowboy,” you said as you stood up, grabbing your rifle and pulling him up with you. “Come on.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Leading him through the house by his hand, the silence settled nicely. Something unspoken lingered between you two, remnants of what happened still drifting. Ideas of what might happen were tempting.

You led him to the bathroom, instructing him to sit on the counter. You opened the cabinet and grabbed everything you’d need. 

“It’s like every time we meet, you’re on the verge of death, Miller,” you said as you laid your supplies out.

He grunted. “Not on the verge of death right now, honey. Just a little banged up, is all.” You told him to take off his shirt. He did so without a word of protest. “I’m just lucky I’ve always got my favourite girl to patch me up.” His hands reached for you, wanting you to be close to him. He grabbed your hips and positioned you in front of him, between his legs. You didn’t look away from the cuts and bruises on his chest and stomach. 

“Not always, apparently,” you muttered under your breath as you began to dab his chest with a damp rag, washing away the brutality of what he went through to get to you. His brows furrowed, his hand moving to your wrist. 

“Don’t be like that, honey.”

“Fuck you,” you whispered, pulling your wrist from his grasp and going back to your task. You were both silent as you cleaned his chest, both avoiding eye contact.

You grabbed the dated peroxide. “Might hurt.”

He nodded in acknowledgement. He made no noise when you applied it to the areas of concern, but the cords in his neck tightened nonetheless. 

“Sorry,” you whispered, the desire to sooth him and shut him up with your mouth still clawing at you. He grunts in acknowledgement. You continued to clean him up, till all his wounds were stitched and his skin was clean of blood. 

“Done,” you finally spoke, throwing out the dirty rags and cleaning up. You went to move past him to get out of the bathroom, but he slid off the counter and blocked your exit. Your face was only a few inches from his chest. “Joel,” you warned, “let me out.”

“Not 'till you tell me why you’re so mad at me, darlin’,” he said, his voice gruff yet soft. His hands slid up and down your arms, which were on your hips. 

You tried to push past him again, but he didn't budge. 

You huffed, and his eyes softened, large hands moving to cup your face. “You don't know how much I missed you,” he said, brows furrowed. 

You closed your eyes. “I do know.” You felt him press his forehead to yours, and you reciprocated, hands moving to hold his wrists. You didn't have the energy to be mad at him anymore. You just wanted him. 

“Then let me show you,” he whispered, breath fanning over your lips, driving you wild. Everything about him was intoxicating. 

His lips found yours again, still needy and fervent, but there was something more. Something hungry. Something growing, something left over. 

He pushed you against the bathroom counter, hands moving across your body, touching you everywhere, anywhere he could. His hands ghosted over your breasts, across your thighs, rubbing your hips, caging you in. You whined, “Touch me.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere. I just need more,” you said, breathless. 

At that, he placed you on top of the counter before he lifted your shirt from your body, “Nothin’ underneath? Knew I was comin’,” he said with a smirk. You were breathless as he kissed you again, sliding your pants off your body. He broke from your mouth to lay wet kisses on your neck and chest, biting and sucking his mark into your flesh. 

You whimpered when he gently ran a finger over your clothed core, bucking into his hand, desperate for anything more. He groaned when he felt how wet you were, your slick already pooling in your panties. He didn't have it in him to tease you. Not today. 

He slid your panties down your legs. You felt the heat of your core come in contact with the air, your slick beginning to drip down your thighs. He dropped to his knees, looking up at you with nothing but pure desire, want, need, and, dare you say, love? 

He kisses the soft inside of both thighs, your hands tangling in his hair, before his face hovers over your soaked core. He pressed his head into the inside of your thigh, running a finger through your folds. You moaned at the seating contact, watching as he brought his finger to his lips and captured your slick on his tongue. He moaned, “Missed this pussy.”

He played with your clit experimentally, just to see how wet you could get without his saliva, before the tempting sight of your pussy collapsed him. He dove in like a man starved, licking and sucking, spreading your folds apart to get further inside. Your hands still fisted in his hair as you moaned. He draped one hand across your abdomen to keep you still, hips bucking up into his mouth. 

His mouth was a magic ailment, drawing that familiar sensation from you in a matter of no time. The coil in your belly grew, hot and heavy, until his work on your cunt sent you over the edge, gripping his hair and moaning his name. 

“That's it, pretty girl. Give it to me,” he said as he worked you through your high. When he noticed you squirming, whispering “s’too much”, he moved from your core and up to your mouth. Your hands spread across his chest, still bare, as you tasted yourself on his tongue. Your juices were smeared across his face, glistening in the hair there. 

“Take me to bed, cowboy,” you said against his lips.

“Yes Ma’am,” he breathed. He picked you up, wrapping your legs around his body, and carried you to your bedroom. You pressed kisses across his neck and chest as he moved. 

When he laid you down on the bed, he caged you underneath him. You reached to his belt, unbuckling it and throwing it to the side. He removed his pants, and you began palming him over his boxers. He was rock hard, eating you out almost getting him there in itself. 

“Please,” you said, nearly inaudible. “Will you let me taste you?” You stroked his bulge. 

“Fuck, honey. How could I say no to that?” 

You rolled so you were on top of him, freeing his thick cock from its constraint. He sat up on the edge of the bed, you sinking between his legs. 

You stroked his cock, smearing the precum around the tip. He was sensitive. You could tell he hadn't had anyone since you, and he definitely didn't have the time to take care of himself. He groaned as you began giving kitten licks to his tip, hand fisting in your locks, not guiding you, just needing a place to find solace. 

“Gonna be the end of me,” he groaned when you put him fully in your mouth. He threw his head back, tears pricking your eyes when you tried to take him all. He was desperate for his release, but he was desperate to release inside of you even more. 

“Baby, m’ not gonna last. Wanna finish inside of you,” he groaned. You lifted your head from his cock, wiping the saliva from the corners of your mouth, eyes wet. 

“So pretty. C’mere,” he said, gesturing to his lap. 

You climbed atop him. “Wanna ride you,” you said, sucking into his neck. 

“Fuck, okay. Okay, you can ride me honey,” he said. You were absolutely ruining him. 

You kissed him silly, straddling his lap. He was so enamoured with you, everything you did. The way you tasted, smelled, sounded. He was pussy drunk. 

You parted from him to run his tip through your entrance, still soaked with your cum and his saliva, collecting your wetness. Lining him up with your entrance, you moaned into each other’s mouths when you sunk down onto him. Allowing yourself a moment to feel him sheathed fully inside you, stretching you out, filling you up, letting your body remember the way you blended together, you kissed him with a renewed passion, something you thought had died. 

You held onto his shoulders as support, his large hands gripping your hips, gritting his teeth. When you lifted yourself off of him and back down, you set a desperate pace, grinding yourself down on his cock. 

“Not gonna last long, pretty thing,” Joel groaned, eyes fixed on where you were connected. You were too set on your release to care, you just knew you wanted him inside you forever. 

“Don’t care,” you gritted out, panting and out of breath. The noises filling the air were downright unholy, but neither of you had it in yourself to care. “Want you to fill me up.”

Joel growled, “Fuck, honey. Fill you up so good, you’ll be dripping out of me. That what you want?” He asked, landing a smack to your ass as you bounced on his cock. You moaned. Your release was right around the corner, your cunt clenching hard on his cock, thighs beginning to tremble. Joel moved a hand to circle your clit, hell-bent on getting you there. “So pretty,” Joel said, almost whimpering. “So good for me. Squeezin’ me so good.”

His words went straight to the fire growing in your core, your slick pooling at the base of his cock. Finally, the coil snapped, your orgasm dancing down your legs and up your body. Your thighs and frame trembled as you tried, you really tried, to keep bouncing on his cock, but your thighs were too weak at this point to keep going. Fixed on release, Joel flipped you so you were caged underneath him, barely missing a beat before spearing his cock into you. He swallowed your overstimulated whimpers. 

“Gonna make a mess out of you. Fuck, almost there,” he groaned. 

“Inside, inside, please,” you choked out, still delirious from your previous orgasm. However, you felt another one building inside of you, the friction of his body as it rubbed against yours added to your previous stimulation was enough to get you there again. You lazily toyed with your swollen clit, not having enough energy to focus, yet you knew it wouldn’t take much.

Joel barely noticed your state as his hips faltered in their pace, hitting that sweet spot so good. You had barely any control left over your body, but as he groaned and the muscles in his front tightened, the feeling of his hot seed filling you up was enough to send you into a frenzy. He groaned into your neck, your loud, wanton moans filling the air. As he filled you to the brim, you shook underneath him, your third orgasm overtaking you. 

When he had recovered, Joel looked down to where you both met, taking note of the creamy ring formed around the base of his cock. He grinned, still breathless, as he gently unsheathed himself from your core, watching you squirm and wrinkle your nose at the overstimulation. He laid down next to you, and you naturally curled into him. 

It was still morning, the rest of the day still ahead of you, but as Joel pulled the blanket over the two of you and watched your chest heave, he had the feeling that time didn’t matter anymore.

Your eyes fluttered open and met his. You noted how sore your body was, but the pull at your heart was no match. He had been watching you sleep, watching as you cuddled into his warmth and trusted him enough to hold you as you slept. The bright daylight filled the room, lighting up all his features, shining on the pretty grey in his hair and beard. 

“How’d you sleep, honey?” he asked, his voice gravelly. You could feel his heart beating as you laid against his chest. 

You hummed, “Better than I have in a long time.”

He smiled. There was a soft silence for a while as you just looked at each other, his hand stroking the skin of your face, kissing your cheeks and forehead, down the bridge of your nose, and ending at your lips. Finally, he said, “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

Your easy grin faltered for a moment. “It’s okay. I just…” you breathed in, “I thought you were dead.” 

He pulled you into his chest. “I’m okay. ‘M right here, darlin’.”

You leaned into his touch, basking in the knowledge that you weren’t going to lose him again. 

“Come back to Jackson with me.” 

“Jackson? In Wyoming?”

He nodded.

“Joel, that’s far…” 

“I’ve made the trip twice now.”

You were silent for a few moments, thinking. He spoke again. “I know this is your home, and it’s been your home for years. And I-”

“Joel,” you cut him off. “Anywhere you go is my home. I’ll come to Jackson with you.”

Joel Miller’s smile was something rarer than diamonds or gold, but it appeared on his face as real as ever. 

Joel kissed you like the world had never ended, like you were his world. That’s because you were. 

A week of bliss later, you had packed everything you’d possibly think you’d need on one horse and two backpacks. You’d set all your cattle free to roam and disarmed your alarm system. You had made Joel map out your route to Jackson, ever the planner, going through every minute detail. Nights were spent wrapped around each other, and mornings were spent wrapped around the blankets. You spoke of the life you would have together in Jackson, spoke about Ellie, spoke about everything. 

Often, you’d look up at Joel and be met with a punch to the gut. The idea that the man you spent two years of your life praying for, standing right in front of you? It hit you out of nowhere sometimes. It was hard to be thankful in a world like this, in a world that did nothing but take and take and take from you. It was hard to believe that he was really here, that the world gave you something good for once. Sometimes, you’d have to touch him, really touch him, just to make sure he was really here. Just to make sure you hadn’t finally gone crazy and started to imagine him. 

You began to fear that the world was going to whisk him away from you. Maybe a clicker would get him, or maybe a stalker. Maybe you’d react too slow, too quick, too late, too poorly, and he’d try to save you. Maybe he’d get another infection. God knows that man does not take care of himself. 

These fears plagued your mind day and night, awake and asleep. They brushed your thoughts when he touched you, fingers working you into a puddle, you melting into him. These thoughts were unspoken, never would they be said aloud, or they just might seize you in your sleep and become real.

When you got to Jackson, the fear of losing him never ceased, but you did come to realize something. 

You realized that what you were feeling, this utter, disgusting dread and fear of losing the one you love the most, was completely natural.

You loved Joel with all of yourself, and you knew that if anything happened to him, you’d lose all of yourself too. 

After so long, your hearts were molded to one another, holding on for dear life. And you’d spend that life together. Truly and forever.

series taglist: @winters-fairy @charlyrmv @gvfslayallday @cloudroomblog @lol-im-done @freyafriggafrey @jasminedragoon @daddy-din @dealswiththedevilsblog @coolchick333 @rizzetteee @m3laniehearts @fuglyputa24 @daixylie @mi0o @kissykris @c0wb0ym3nace @snixx2088 @randomstory56 @mmeerraa @doublevirgogirl @daydreamerblues @onlyrealjoy @happinessinthebeing @leathargic @violenttsoho @gingerdarkroast @intoxicatedapple @callsign-athena @cherriebat @sofiparallel @textsfromeponinet​ 

tlou taglist: @jordie-gvf @sunxflowerxx @themusingkitten @anxiety-made @mmerraa 

permanent taglist: @winters-fairy @idkwhattonamethisblogs 

#joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x reader fluff #joel miller x reader angst #the last of us #tlou #hbo's tlou #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x reader smut

[prodagustd]

the road not taken | myg

Summary: To have the job you’ve always wanted and the life you’ve always dreamt of you had to break a few hearts, including your own. Four years later after running away from your home, your family and friends, you realized that maybe you fucked up; you’ve been a bad daughter, a bad sister and a bad friend. Getting your shit together seemed difficult enough, you didn’t expect that it included facing the first man who ever broke your heart: your brother’s best friend.

part one: back home

part two>

—pairing: lawyer!yoongi x actress oc

—rating: +18

—genre: brother's best friend, one sided pinning (or both?)

—warnings/tags: angst, fluff, eventual smut, angst, sexual tension? lmao, slow burn, flashbacks, ANGST!! Btw english is not my first language !!

—words: 12k

—a/note: literally finding the courage to post this rn because yesterday i had an identity crisis and i wanted to delete everything!!! but i hope you like it more than me <3 feedback is very much appreciated, if you want to be on the taglist pls let me know!!

series masterlist | teaser | playlist

Four years ago.

In your almost twenty one years of life, you never had to spend the holidays without your eldest brother, you were never prepared for that. All the attention of your family was fixed on you now, making you feel like you were an only child for the first time. It felt weird, but nostalgic, like you were waiting for him to enter through the door at any moment. You supposed it was going to happen at some point, opening the gifts with just your mom, sitting on the front seat of the car for the first time while listening to christmas songs on the radio, only to arrive to your grandparents’ home and attempt to survive the questions of your future alone, that didn’t sound fun at all. 

Simon, your eldest brother, didn’t die, by the way, he just got a girlfriend. A girlfriend? Yes, a girlfriend, that word wasn’t part of his vocabulary, or at least it wasn’t a few years ago when he left for college, but now all of a sudden he had a serious one, the kind who invited their boyfriends to spend the holidays with their families. Now Simon wore knitted sweaters, drank black coffee and listened to all the bands your uncle liked, he grew up, or something like that, but you didn’t think he grew up enough to get a girlfriend, to fall in love. Well, you hoped he was in love, you didn’t meet the girl yet but you hoped he was, at least that was what he said. 

Yes, Christmas without your brother sounded a bit sad, but New Year’s eve on the other hand… didn’t sound so bad. 

If your brother’s absence would’ve happened years ago, you would’ve planned this the same way as always, getting drunk with your highschool friends at the only decent party that there was in your hometown around that time, only this time he wasn’t going to be around to tell you to stop drinking or to take the joint off your mouth when you failed to hide from him to smoke weed. But this year you got sick of all that, you got sick of the same faces from highschool and all the girls who approached you just because they wanted to fuck your brother, or all the girls who fucked your brother’s best friend, maybe you got sick of the same music, the same party, the same people. This year you felt like you were seventeen again, too afraid to wish that something different could happen, maybe this time you weren’t coming home alone after watching Yoongi giving the first kiss of the year to some random girl, maybe this time your heart wasn’t going to hurt that much. 

Yoongi, your brother’s best friend, was painfully always there in your life, you didn’t know how the mess that was your brother was able to have such a good friend, they knew each other even before you were born, when they were only four and met each other at basketball practice. Yoongi was always like your brother’s conscience, the voice of reason, the calm one, the designated driver ever since he was sixteen, the smart one, the boy every mother wanted as their son. Yoongi was the boy who helped you with your math homework when you were eleven, he was the boy who defended you when your brother made fun of you, the boy who gave you his joystick so you would stop crying when you found out your brother was making you play with the one that didn’t work. He was sweet and kind with everybody, you wished you knew that when you were twelve so you could save yourself the eternal heartache that came along with being in love with a man who only saw you as your brother’s little sister.

Yoongi was always mature, always wiser, always older. And you were always immature, always stubborn, always younger. Just a brat who couldn’t stand the fact that he was the only one you wanted, but the only one you couldn’t have.

Maybe forgetting about him when he went away to college was the best thing that happened to you, you pretended he didn’t exist during the school year and made yourself believe you got over it, that your heart didn’t jump every time you called your brother and you heard his voice in the background, that you didn’t read every birthday message he sent you since you were sixteen until you memorized them, that you didn’t compare every guy to him and that you weren’t annoyed when you realized that none of them was half as intelligent as him. You were obligated to pretend you weren’t condemned to look for his face in every crowd ever since you were a teenager. All that mental effort was wasted away when you came back home for the holidays and saw him sitting on your couch again. 

You repeated the cycle every year as you pretended that your heart wasn’t tired of it, like seeing him that morning in your kitchen didn’t make your heart drop like you were twelve years old again. 

It began when you heard voices coming from the second floor, an outburst of laughter, your mother’s laughter, and then the laugh that echoed so many times in your dreams, were you still in a dream? You thought you might be in one when you entered the kitchen and saw the long figure of the man, the long figure of Yoongi, sitting on a stool as he peeled a tangerine and listened to your mother talk, but the minute they noticed your presence they fell silent. 

Two pairs of eyes landed on your sleepy face, making you aware that you were wearing your old pajamas, the one that was pink and had a bunny pattern all over it. You locked eyes with him and it felt like it hadn't passed a day since the last time you saw him.

“What are you two gossiping about so early?” You wondered out loud, slowly approaching the aisle of the kitchen, slowly approaching Yoongi, whose hair was slightly shorter from the last time you saw him and whose cheeks were still red from the cold outside. You arrived three days ago, confidently thinking that even if your mind was a mess at least you didn't have to see your brother's best friend's face.

In your mind, you cursed your mom for always telling him that he will be forever welcomed in her house. 

“Why do you care?” He spat at you, following your figure with his eyes as you sat in one of the stools beside him. “That’s between your mom and me.”

“Dude,” You said under your breath, grabbing a tangerine from the bowl of fruits in front of you “You have to get a fucking girlfriend.” 

Your mother frowned, annoyed, but Yoongi is too used to you to do anything else but  laugh.

“God, darling, you barely open your eyes and you’re already cursing.” She complained, shaking her head in disapproval. You shrugged, pretending to pay full attention to the tangerine in your hands. 

“It’s fine, Lila. I can handle her.” He said, carefree as ever.

You scoffed, “Yeah, sure.” You played it cool, as if that didn’t make your heart jump a little.  “What are you doing here, anyway? Weren’t you supposed to come back for christmas?”

“Why?” He asked, “You want me gone?”

You saw a stupid smirk appear in his face, the same one you’ve seen countless times in the past. It seemed to be the only thing that could put out your cocky attitude.

“Don’t be stupid.” You managed to answer, running away from his eyes. 

You heard him sigh “I finished early, I arrived last night.” He answered the question, reaching his hand under the counter to pinch your thigh, as if that could shake off your bad attitude, plot twist: it only made it worse. “That’s what I was talking about with your mom, I left Simon behind while he was still dealing with exams.”

“Such a good friend.” You joked. 

“Maybe… But hey, he’s the one who ditched me for a girl after all.”

“Well, if it’s a pretty girl you can’t blame him so much.” 

“If you say so…” He hissed, rolling his eyes “What about you, huh?” He changed the topic “What are you doing here two weeks early?”

“You see, this is my house.” You quickly replied, putting the first tangerine segment between your lips to avoid saying the truth. He narrowed his eyes, shaking his head.

Of course there was a coherent reason for why you weren’t in school right now, but since you arrived you couldn’t seem to quit the bad attitude, especially in the mornings, it was driving you crazy. 

“You shouldn’t ask, dear.” Your mom intervened, turning around to wash her mug previously filled with coffee  “Sensitive topic.”

Yoongi’s eyes shifted to you again, as well as his whole body, curiously raising his eyebrows. 

“Sensitive topic.” You mocked your mother, annoyed that she used such words. She was quick to disappear from the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone. You wondered if she was already tired of hearing you whine. 

“Don’t think I won’t ask you about it.” He smirked, stealing a segment of your tangerine just to annoy you. 

Oh, you were sure he would want all the details. 

“Whatever.” You gritted your teeth. “You only came to see Lila? I bet she would love to switch you with me.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Yoongi smugly said, ignoring the sudden annoyed look on your face, he was too used to it to be bothered by it. “But as much as I love your mom, I came to see you.”

You blinked, not sure what to say next. Now your angry expression turned into a surprised one, cursing yourself for feeling excited to hear that. You knew Yoongi finished early and was coming back home, you asked your brother about it last time he called you, you were just playing dumb when you asked, but when Simon told you he was going to be in town you didn’t expect to see him in your house the next day he arrived. 

“Me?” You tried to confirm.

“Yeah, you.” He said, booping the tip of your nose “Simon told me you’ve been having trouble with your car, I thought I could help.”

You nodded, that made more sense than him just coming to see you. 

“Simon is such a snitch.” You murmured.

“I can’t deny that…” He laughed, looking at you tearing apart your tangerine and putting another segment between your lips, “Do you… want me to help?” 

“Maybe…” You murmured “Do I have to pay you?”

“Maybe…” Yoongi answered, imitating your tone “Or you can just tell me why you are here before the break, I don’t know.”

You squinted at him, knowing it was just a matter of time until everybody found out you dropped out of college, but there was certain relief in delivering the news to Yoongi, something inside you told you he would understand.

“Bold of you to blackmail me when I know you won’t fix my car properly.” You accused him, mentioning that time he tried to fix your brand new car when something happened to it and you had to take it to his uncle’s garage when he made it worse. 

“C’mon, that was only once.”

“Let’s not make it twice, then.” You clapped your hands, getting off the stool to walk towards the stairs to your room again “Let me change first. And don’t try to seduce my mom while I’m gone, it won’t work.”

You heard his laugh from behind, and even if you thought about it, you didn’t dare to look back.

Not even five minutes later, you found yourself with him in your cold garage under the dim old light that provided you the tiny room. You supposed it was easier to open the garage door but you didn’t want your fingers to be frozen. 

You sat on the old desk in the corner of your garage as you watched Yoongi open the hood of your car, trying not to stare when pulled the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows. 

He was wearing a beige sweater that tightened around his shoulders and his waist, Simon told you that he and Yoongi started going to gym lately and you could tell, his back was wider than you remember and you hated how different he looked from the last time you saw him. 

You hated to think there were people who saw him everyday and couldn’t tell the difference. 

You looked at your feet hanging in the air, hearing him suck his breath just to let you know he was just about to start throwing questions at you. 

“So?” He asked, persistent as always. 

“So what?” You played dumb. 

“So?” He emphasized, not willing to give up. 

So? You didn’t know how to start. Serious talks weren’t your thing, and even if you knew that Yoongi wasn’t expecting that from you, you still felt a rush of nervousness when the absence of his voice filled the room, your cue to start talking. 

“Mmm… It’s difficult to explain.” You trailed off. “I’m starting to think that I might be the black sheep of the family.” 

Your words made him turn his head at you, curious to hear more. 

“The black sheep?” He repeated. 

“Yeah, I think so.” You confirmed, without saying anything else.

“Fine…” Yoongi scratched the back of his head, a bit confused, something that was normal when he was with you.  “You’re not giving me a lot of context.” 

You knew this, but making a joke was easier than telling the whole truth. You wished you could tell him jokes until he forgot what your mother told him. But no, your mother already opened her mouth and now you had to explain your life crisis to the man in front of you. 

 “Let’s just say.. I dropped out of the semester…” You mumbled, unsure of your own voice “but I’m thinking that it is not just the semester, maybe it’s the whole thing.”

Yoongi turned his whole body to you, paying full attention to your words “Really?” He asked, just in case you were joking, but by the look in your eyes and the tone of your voice he could tell that you weren’t playing. You just nodded “Why, though?”

“That’s something I’ve been asking myself.”

“You don’t know?” He chuckled, making you roll your eyes. 

“Maybe I don’t know.” You tried to admit, but that was a lie. 

“Mmm, but I think you do know, though.” He contradicted you, turning around to keep checking your car. 

“Well, kind of… Do you want me to tell you half of the truth or a lie?” You offered him, leaving him without many options. 

 “Well, you are not very democratic, Pinky.” He scoffed, using the not-so-funny nickname he’s been calling you ever since you were kids. Only Yoongi could still be calling you like some character from an old cartoon that aired twenty years ago. “But I choose the half truth.” 

“Wise decision, as always.” You commented, clicking your tongue. “The half truth is… that being a nurse is not my thing, I don’t want to be that predictable, being the bitch in highschool that ended up being a nurse. At least I want to be the bitch in high school who ended up being something else. And I was not happy at college, not even a bit. I don’t think that’s who I am” 

Yoongi frowned, trying to process all the words you just vomited. If that was half the truth, what was the whole truth? 

“Wait, wait. Let’s go for parts.” He stopped you. “So, now you were a bitch in high school?” 

“You know I was.” You said, rolling your eyes.

Bitch was a strong word to call yourself, but to be fair you weren't being the nicest with yourself these past weeks. You stared at him, waiting for him to admit that yes, you were a bitch when you were seventeen years old, but that would be a lie. Yoongi would never have called you a bitch, you did have an attitude, you weren’t the friendliest in the mornings, you weren’t friends with everyone, you treated boys like shit, but you weren’t a bitch to him. 

“Isn’t that too… harsh?” He asked softly. 

“Isn’t it the truth?” You kept pushing it, but you were crazy if you think he’s going to agree with you. 

Yoongi shook his head, taking a long step to break the small distance that was between the two of you so he could be in front of you. As a gentle gesture, he put his cold hands on your knees, it was not an unusual gesture, but it had been so long since you had him that close that you couldn’t help but shiver. “I know you don’t like me getting all sappy, but I hope you know that only you get to decide who you are, and if you don’t think that is a nurse, then it’s not.” He rubbed his palms on your clothed skin, searching for his last words. “But, I must say, I don’t think a bitch is who you are either.” 

The cold room suddenly turned warm under his gaze, catching you with your guard down once again. You hated when he turned conversations into something like this, and worse, you hated when you bumped into the ugly reality that surrounded you when his eyes stopped looking at yours. This was not easier than last year, you wondered if it will ever be easy. 

“Well, the boys in my class might disagree.” You said, looking straight into his eyes. 

He laughed. “Well boys at that age are dumb.”

“Boys are always dumb.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Even me?” He asked, batting his eyelashes at you like he was a little girl. 

“Especially you, I bet you don’t know what the hell are you doing right now with my car.” 

Yoongi reached out to try to pinch your knees, but you escaped from his fingers. “God, you’re so mean.” He complained 

“So mean?” You questioned, moving closer to him and pretending to be annoyed.

“Yeah, so mean” He repeated “But not a bitch.” 

You rolled your eyes, watching him turn around again to come back to your car. You can’t help but feel disappointed when he moved away. “So… If you are not a nurse, what are you?” 

You tilted your head, thinking about it. What were you? Well, in your room you were a dancer and in your dreams a mermaid, but in reality you were too embarrassed and too afraid, too insecure to admit what “you were”.

“I don’t know.” You hesitated to answer. You loved Yoongi, in more ways that you could ever allow yourself to love him, but you could not tell him all your dreams just like that. 

“Liar, liar, pants on fire.” He sang, mocking you, but from your position you could only resist pushing him into your car. “You don’t have to say it, I already know.” 

You quirked an eyebrow, curious. “Do you?” A smirk appeared on your face, but he couldn’t see it, he was still working on God knows what. 

“Kind of…” He laughed “I don’t know exactly, but I do know that you are too bright to just be a nurse, with all due respect to the nurses, of course.”

You stared at his back until he turned his head to find your eyes, offering you a soft smile. You mentally cursed him, if he hadn’t turned around you could blush like a teenager without care, but now your cheeks were red and your heart was jumping, the only thing you could hope for was that he couldn’t hear it from where he was standing.

“That isn’t very respectful to nurses.” You simply said, and he shook his head, laughing. 

“Maybe, but I still stand by what I said.” 

“Well, whatever I might be,” You started saying, trying to keep talking with all your feelings still swirling around inside your chest, “I still don’t want to disappoint any more people by making the wrong decision and coming back to live with my mom in six months.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but laugh, not because he was mocking you, but because he couldn’t believe how you couldn’t be at least a little positive, how you were only twenty one and you felt like there was no turning back. 

“Who don't you want to disappoint?” He chuckled, “I really thought you didn’t care about that stuff.”

“I thought so too!” You exclaimed, just as surprised as him. “But I already disappointed my mom, Simon will be disappointed too when he finds out, I’m sure.” 

“God, you’re so wrong, I don’t even know who I’m talking to right now.” He tried to joke, but the feeling of emptiness that had been living in your stomach for the past months didn’t go away just like that. “Do you really think that about your mom?”

“I don’t know!” You said, throwing your arms in the air to be just a little more dramatic that you were already being “But when I told her she made that face that she does when she’s annoyed or upset, now she wants to talk to me about the future every time we sit down to eat, she looks at me like that all the time, like she’s mad with me or something.”

For the past few days you tried to understand your mom, but you failed when you tried to understand yourself. After Simon followed Yoongi to law school, your mom expected you to do something similar, and when you decided to be a nurse she was content enough, both of her kids were off to college now, nothing could go wrong. 

Your mom always bragged that she knew you like the palm of her hand, the only conclusion she could reach when you appeared at your house with the news was that you were never happy with what you had, you always had to have something else, something you couldn’t have. And even if you were about to be mature enough to admit she was right, you knew she wasn’t completely. Yes, you were a brat, but you felt in your heart this time was different. 

 “C’mon, Pinky. I don’t think your mom is disappointed, I’m sure she is just confused. You were two years into college, she must think this came out of nowhere, she’ll have time to understand that it didn’t.” He turned around a pointed a tool hanging on the wall, you didn’t knew the name of it, or what the fuck he was doing with your car, but you handed it to him anyway. “And, she’ll have even more time to understand that you’re not Simon and that her children are two completely different people.”

“Do you think?” You murmured.

“Yes, dummy. And you’re crazy if you think your brother would ever be disappointed in you for something like that, he is the first person that supports you no matter what, he’ll understand that dropping out of college is not the end of the world.” 

You stayed in silence, not daring to say a single word after what he said. You wanted to say that you were tired of all of that, how predictable Yoongi was, how terribly annoying it was for him to always be right. How was it that he always knew what to say? Was it so hard for him to be wrong at least once so you could argue with him? So you could correct him and tell him that he was saying nonsense? Yes, it was. You just rolled your eyes, even if he wasn’t watching you. 

“You’re insufferable.” You said, when what you really wanted to say was just “thank you”, but he understood. 

“Maybe I am.” He laughed, “But at least I’m not the one trying to find excuses to be miserable.” 

You watched him put the tools aside and closed the hood of your car, but you were too focused on something else to ask if your car was okay or not. He grabbed a piece of cloth lying next to you and wiped his hands, “What about my grandma?”  You wondered out loud, like he knew what to do about that as well. 

“You’re seriously not thinking about your grandma right now.”  He leaned over your car, with his arms crossed over his chest while shaking his head disapprovingly. If it was any other guy doing that, you would have told him to get the fuck away from your car, but Yoongi still had his sleeves rolled up, which made you think it was okay for now.

“But I am.” You answered “I can already picture her face when she finds out, I can already hear the comments of her neighbor’s daughter, how she’s on her fourth year of medicine and I’m going back to square one again or some shit like that. The worst thing is that Simon is not here, so I’ll have to endure all of that alone.” 

Yoongi was run by logic most of the time, so it was hard for him to understand how fast your imagination flew, but he knew that was part of your very theatrical self. It wouldn’t hurt him to become a little more like you, maybe being a rational person made him more intelligent, but sometimes made him more of a fool. 

“And since when do you care what your grandma thinks?” He laughed, “She will always have something to complain about, to impress her you would have to be born again, but this time blonde and with blue eyes. Do I need to remind you again, that woman doesn’t have a loving bone in her body?”

“God, stop.” You sighed, fully knowing he was right. 

“You stop.” He laughed, “Stop trying to make everyone happy but yourself.” 

“Well, maybe that’s the hardest thing to do.” You murmured. 

“Getting your shit together is the hardest thing to do, but I’m sure you’ll get there.” 

Believing Yoongi surely is not the hardest thing to do for you, but when it comes to believing in yourself is a whole different thing. 

“Says the man who always has his shit together.” You snorted “Difficult to believe you.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, moving from your car to sit next to you on top of the uncomfortable desk “That’s not true.” He tried to deny it.

“Yeah, sure.” You bumped his shoulder “Name one time you couldn’t balance your personal life with your academic life.”

Yoongi straightened his back, crossing his arms over his chest and pretending to think about it.

“Mmm… Right now?” He murmured.

“Right now?” You repeated, raising your eyebrows in disbelief.

“Yeah, look at me.” He pointed at himself. “I don’t think I have a personal life at this point, all I could think about was finishing early to come home to my mom so I could take care of her, and guess what?”

“What?” You asked, curiously. 

“She told me she already planned a trip with my aunt for both Christmas and new years. She ditched me, and now? I’m alone, I’m starting to think my personal life was just my mom.”

You covered your mouth, not being able to hold yourself back before bursting in laughter. “She ditched you?” You laughed, but he nodded, annoyed that you’re laughing at him. “Oh my God, she got rid of you.”

“She got rid of me.” He affirmed. 

“Lucky her, honestly.” You teased him “Isn’t that proof enough that you have to relax with her? You’re in college worrying about her health and she’s here organizing trips with her sister.”

Yoongi shook his head, still in denial, “Maybe, but she can’t do things like this without letting me know first.” 

“Why not?” You scoffed “She’s an adult, isn’t she?”

“She’s an adult, but I’m her son.” He huffed “And that’s all I’ve ever known to do, care for her.”

“Well, you can take care of her at the same time you take care of yourself.” You reminded him “I’m sure that’s what your mom wants as well, she would be pissed to know you’re forgetting about your own life being busy worrying about her.”

Yoongi knew you were right, he knew that more than anyone but still couldn’t help but worry about his mom. She had her siblings, who always knew how to take care of her, but he always felt like it was his responsibility as her son to do it, no one could take that thought off his mind. The only reason he brought it up was because you asked, but it was not a thing he wanted to discuss right now, he could put his social life on pause if that meant his mom was going to be okay. 

He turned his head at you, offering you an amused grin as he ruffled your hair with his hand, willing to change the topic. “Why are you scolding me? I’m supposed to scold you.”

You pushed his hand off you, “I don’t need you to scold me, I have enough with my mom.” You sighed “Besides, if it were a competition, I would win. At least you have a future, I’m more fucked than you.”

“No, yeah. I’m sure of that.” He teased you back “You just have to make up your mind, I know it’s a mess inside there but I believe you can do it.”

“I hope so.” You said, and this time your words are sincere. “But for now the plan is to survive the holidays, then I can get my shit together.” 

Yoongi laughed, sitting next to you on top of the uncomfortable desk. “Sounds like a good plan to me.” He agreed.  “And you know, about christmas…”

“What about christmas?” You asked, at the risk of looking so visibly lost in his eyes. 

“I was thinking… Since I don’t have any plans for Christmas…” He hesitated to say, lengthening the syllables of his words. “I was thinking… If you want to, I can go with you in place of your brother. You know, so you won’t be alone.”

The offering took you off guard, among all the things Yoongi could tell you, (the realistic ones, not the ones that only happened in your dreams) that was the most surprising. You had spent Christmas with Yoongi in the past, but your heart jumped at the thought of him spending Christmas with you, and not with your brother. Was he serious?

“Really?” You asked, afraid that he could see the excitement in your eyes  “Would you do that?”

“Of course.” He smiled, “We can talk shit about your grandma together.” 

You can hardly hide the smile on your face, you have to suppress the immense urge you have to hug him. “In that case, I would love it if you come.” You dared to admit “I mean, you owe me that for fucking up my car again.” You pointed at your car, already knowing that he couldn’t fix it. 

He closed his eyes shut, throwing his head back “God, I’m sorry.”

Present

You had been wishing to sleep in your childhood bedroom for the past two months. You had been wishing to lay under the baby blue covers, have your mom kiss you goodnight and sleep a nap long enough to heal your heart. 

You had been feeling like you were thirteen again for the whole year, thirteen and completely clueless, thirteen and scared, running home because you just saw your brother’s best friend kissing a girl at the bus stop, hiding under the covers and trying to forget that you were thirteen and there was no way he could ever see you the same way as that girl. 

The last time that you visited your mom’s house was a year ago. You texted her every week, sent her and your brother gifts and tickets so they could see you in the current play you were in, but visiting her house was harder than it looked for you. You managed to come once every few years for thanksgiving, telling your mom that you were busy and that theater life was like that, but the truth was that after so many years you still couldn’t find the courage to spend more than two days in the town you grew up in, not after everything, not after Yoongi. 

After so long, you were back where you started, running home after hitting a wall. The life you built with your own hands, the life that was supposed to be your dream turned out to be a lie, the boyfriend of three years you thought you loved was now gone, and the only person who ended up breaking your heart was yourself. 

When was the moment you stopped calling you brother every three days? Or when you stopped showing up at every birthday? When was the moment you got so far from the person you used to be? You weren’t thirteen anymore, you were twenty five and just now you realized that no matter how many shiny people you have around, you are still alone and far from home. 

Now you were headed home, with a bag full of clothes in the trunk of your car, prepared to install yourself in your mom’s house for the rest of the winter, determined to get your shit together, just like you thought you did a few years ago. Oh, how you wished you didn’t have to do this, how you wished you weren’t a complete mess. You wished you could enter your mother’s home and ignore the fact that you didn’t remember when was the last time you told her I love you, but to be fair with yourself, you didn’t remember the last time someone told you I love you either. 

Your mom knew you were coming, she was the first one who knew about your break up with Ian, your boyfriend, so she was assuming that you were sad and heart broken, and even if that was true, it wasn’t because of the break up, you were the one who left him. 

You didn’t know why, but you assumed that Ian understood what your relationship was, a sad pact that benefited both of your acting careers, a good image for the media, both of the most successful young actors being allegedly in love, and for you, just an arrangement to avoid being alone. How surprised you were when he got down on one knee and proposed, with his mom’s ring on one hand and a bunch of your so-called friends hiding in the distance, preparing to celebrate when you were supposed to say ‘yes’. He had a smile on his face, convinced that wasn’t the worst idea that ever crossed his mind. You thought it was clear that you never wanted to marry him, you believed you found someone who loved you enough not to leave you alone but not enough to marry you. God, you sounded crazy, but that was what you became, a superficial celebrity whose whole life was calculated enough so people thought it was perfect.

You felt like shit when you had to say no to Ian, but you had no other option. Everything was so fake it made you want to throw up, and on top of that, he was the asshole who didn’t even bother to invite your family to, what was supposed to be, your engagement party. If you were to say yes, where was your mom to hug you? Or to tell you that you were being mental for marrying someone you didn’t love? That was the moment when you knew you were about to lose it, that’s when you knew that if you stayed there you would’ve lost your mind, and you were so close to doing it, the only thing that finally woke you up was a marriage proposal. 

You turned right, immediately recognizing you were close to home. You had to start doing things right, but where do you begin?

Four years ago

When you arrived home, the realization that almost every person in your life had found someone except you hit you. It started when your best friend, Emma, finally got a girlfriend last summer, then it followed with your brother spending the holidays with his new girlfriend, and now, to your complete surprise, you had to find out that even your mother was seeing someone for the first time in years. 

Yes, at first you thought it was going be to weird to see your mother leaving you every afternoon to have dinner with her new boyfriend, -whom she refused to present to you just yet-, but after the first week of cooking for yourself to sit in the kitchen island and eating while watching a random youtube video, you realized it was not weird, but it was making you feel extremely lonely. Love seemed to be everywhere around you, but not for you.

That afternoon you helped her do the groceries, but she had already warned you that, once again, you were going to have to cook for yourself since she was not going to be around tonight. 

All your friends from home were still away and they weren’t coming back for another two weeks, so you were almost completely alone in your hometown. And without you wanting it, only one particular name swirled in your mind, wondering if he was as lonely as you were, which he probably was, but you didn’t want any part of it. You were still trying not to look around too much in the grocery line hoping to see a familiar face, forcing yourself not to look up when you knew you were passing his street. You promised that you weren’t going to wait to see him again, as if that way you could prove something to yourself.  

You expected Yoongi to disappear only to see him again the day before Christmas, you were sure he wasn’t going to appear at your doorstep like that morning, it wasn’t going to happen, you convinced yourself of it. Because of that, on the way home when you were riding in your mom’s car as you came back from the store, you thought that maybe you were just hallucinating when you saw him waiting in your driveway.  

Your mom got down from the car first, you watched her giving him a hug and then observed them talking, you were sure he was going to offer to help with the bags and you were sure your mom was going to smile and accept his help. Your mom loved Yoongi, and Yoongi loved your mom, you could see it. When Yoongi was a kid and his mother had to spend long days at the hospital your mom always opened the doors of your house so he wouldn’t be alone. Like you, Yoongi grew up without a dad, so his mom was lucky to have your mom to look out for him when she wasn’t around. 

You mustered courage and got down, surrounding the car to get to the trunk where the bags were and finding him with his arms already busy. 

“Hi, Pinky.” He let out and in the cold you could see his breath. His nose was red and his eyes crystallized from the weather. 

You barely got to open your mouth to greet him before your mom spoke. “Yoongi was looking for you.” She told you as she headed to the porch.

“Really?” You wanted to know, just in case your mom was lying, for some reason.

“Yeah, really.” He answered, watching you grab the last two bags and closing the trunk of the car. “Do you have any plans tonight?” 

Your heels suddenly dug into the ground, making you stop dead to check if you heard that right. Yoongi didn’t notice, he started to walk backwards, heading towards the door as he looked at you and invited you to follow him. You took the first step, not knowing what to say, not knowing how to react. Did you have any plans tonight? For a second your mind went blank, completely forgetting you had a date with Robert Pattinson as Edward Cullen in Breaking Dawn at nine pm. 

You avoid his gaze, trying to come up with an answer. “Do you have any friends?” You asked. Classic you, insulting him in case he noticed your face was two seconds away from burning red. You heard your mom grunt as she entered through the door, but Yoongi just laughed. 

“Do you?” He attacked back, smirking “Going to the store with your mom on a friday night, I thought you were popular in high school.” 

“I was not, you must have confused me with my brother, we have the same nose.” You scoffed, walking with him to your house “And I do have friends, they’re just not around.” 

“So you don’t have plans.” Yoongi confirmed for himself, letting you enter through the door first. 

“No, not really.” You admitted, leading him to the kitchen to leave the bags on the counter. “Why? Did you want to take me out?”

The question was intended to come out as a joke, but it burned on your tongue. You often tortured yourself with those kinds of comments, but his answer was worse than any kind of cruel joke you could’ve made to yourself.

“Yes.” He said, leaving his bags next to yours. “That’s what I was thinking before you made fun of me for not having friends.”

You stayed quiet, pretending to look for something in the bags, pretending you weren’t screaming in your mind. Why on earth was he here? Why was he torturing you this way? You were enough of a mess, the last thing you needed was this, bringing you more torment than you already had. 

You sighed, quickly coming up with another answer “Sorry I can’t retract myself.” You said. “But what were you thinking that was so important for you to come to my house instead of texting?”

“I was afraid that if I texted you would’ve said no.” He admitted.

You arched an eyebrow “Why?” You questioned. 

“Because… I saw that the theater is doing a Christmas special, and they’re showing Home Alone tonight.” 

“Which theater?” You asked, but you were fully aware which one was. 

“You know, the one near the park with the weird fountains.” He said, confirming what you were thinking. 

You wondered what to say next. There you had Yoongi, inviting you to watch a movie with him, ‒your favorite movie to be more specific‒ but at the place you used to secretly go to theater classes when you were thirteen until you finished highschool. You knew the place had those kinds of events where they showed old movies following a theme, as Christmas approached they never failed to show Home Alone as many times as they could. 

Would it be so bad for him to find out that you used to be obsessed, maybe still were, with musicals? You never told him about that, let alone about the classes, that was something you used to keep to yourself and no one else, so going out with him meant to out yourself to him. It was inevitable for people to recognize you there, you knew a lot of your friends from back then were still very attached to the place, unlike you, who decided to leave everything behind once you left for college to be someone you didn’t want to be. 

“I don’t know, I allow myself to watch Home Alone only once a year.” You tried to excuse yourself.

“I know that, that’s why I came here instead of texting” He said, “But I’ve come up with a solution, I tell you this, we can go and watch Home Alone tonight, and on Christmas we watch Home Alone 2.” He offered, but you felt offended he even dared to mention Home Alone 2. 

“I don’t like Home Alone 2.” You reminded him. “I think it’s un-”

“Unrealistic that they lose Kevin twice, yeah, yeah, I know!” He interrupted you, stealing the words from your mouth. “But I like Home Alone 2, I think it’s still a good Christmas movie.” You stared at him with narrowed eyes, pretending to think about it, as if your heart was strong enough to even try to say no to him, even if that meant you had to go back to the place where you used to be a completely different person from who you were in school, and most importantly, even if that meant you would have to watch Home Alone 2. It was painful to admit that you already knew your answer when you saw him in your driveway. “Don’t be boring, Pinky. I’ve already got tickets.”

Just for a moment, while the dim lights of your kitchen lighted up his eyes as they begged you to go with him, you wished you had plans that evening already. You took a second to imagine a scenario where you told him that you weren’t free that night, that someone was going to pick you up later. You tried to imagine his face when you told him that you were in fact going out on a date with some other dude and pictured him heartbroken because you rejected him. But of course that wasn’t the case, your friends from college used to joke around and say that men ran away from you and only the brave ones were capable of asking you out, there was no way you were going out with someone who knew you in high school. And even if that were true, you lived in a reality where Yoongi wouldn’t flinch if you told him you were going out with someone else, a reality where you could never reject him. There was a part of you who enjoyed the pain of coming back to him, of being around him and living with the knowledge that at some point you'll have to get over him.

“Fine.” You finally gave in “I guess I could watch Home Alone 2 on Christmas” 

He smiled victoriously, raising his fists in the air like he won some trophy.

You didn’t know what was worse, whether to have him around or not see him at all, you knew that the safest option was not seeing him, but your poor heart didn’t seem to understand that it was for the best. 

Present

When you parked your car, you realized you didn’t have the keys to your house anymore. You were sure they were somewhere in your apartment back in the city, but even if you had remembered to look for them, you wouldn’t have found them, you had no idea where they were. It has been a long time since you thought about putting foot in your home, your real home, not the one back in the city, with countless empty rooms you had never used. They keys to your home, where were they? You bitterly laughed as you walked towards the porch, with your bags in your hands and your heart on your sleeve, that was how disconnected to the place where you grew up in you were. 

The little pumpkins your mom put on the porch reminded you that the last time you were home was also october. The play you were in last fall was just about to end and you visited home for a weekend just to ask your mom to go and see you for your final performance. You remembered how angry you felt when she told you she and Phil, her boyfriend, had already planned a trip to Scotland for that same weekend. It took you a whole year ‒or even more‒ to realize that while you were busy living your life, your family was doing the same thing, you disappeared for months and they had no other choice but to keep going without you. 

You stood in front of the big wood door for a few seconds, feeling like some prodigal daughter, until you decided to finally ring the bell. 

As soon as your mom opened the door and you caught the surprised look on her face, you knew you weren’t supposed to be there, at least not yet. 

“Darling! What…?” She breathed out as if she had seen a ghost, but to be fair you weren't far from looking like one, you didn’t remember the last time you had a proper sleep. “What are you doing here?”

You shrugged, not knowing if she was joking “I called you on the phone last month, don’t you remember?” You asked. The surprise on your mom’s face morphed into confusion, and for some reason it made your chest hurt a little. 

“You told me you were coming Friday the 5th.” She said, but she didn’t move from the door, as if you were about to turn around, leave and come back for the date she thought you were coming.

“That’s… today.” You reminded her.

She frowned, raising her left arm to check the apple watch on her wrist, the one you gave her as a present for mother’s day a few months ago, immediately realizing that you were right. “God, where’s my mind?” She exclaimed, cleaning her hands on the apron she was wearing to grab one of your bags from your hand, finally leaning back to let you in. “Sorry darling, I don’t know what I was thinking when you called me.” 

“It’s okay.” You said, more to yourself than to her, closing the door behind you “These days my mind is nowhere near, either.”

“No, it’s not okay. I can’t believe it flew over my head like that.” She kept complaining, taking off your coat for you to hang it on the coat rack “Do you have any more bags?”

You nodded “In the car.” 

“Okay, let’s go grab them later.” She said, turning around to head towards the kitchen with a quick pace. “Follow me darling, I’m about to finish cooking, you arrived just in time for lunch.” 

Well, your mom always seemed to be in a hurry, she was like every other mom after all, but today she looked more rushed than usual, making you wonder if your arrival was that unexpected, did you suddenly ruin her Friday just by appearing at her doorstep? The answer wasn’t clear to you, when she turned around you lost the chance to say that she shouldn’t worry since you were planning to spend the whole weekend in your room.. Now you were just trying not to look disappointed when she didn’t give you a hug as she disappeared into the kitchen.

You followed her, taking off your converse and throwing them somewhere in the hall. Your mom had enough energy for you both, it was like she forgot that you had been driving all morning to get there, maybe she thought you arrived on a jet, you didn’t know. You thought your tired face was sign enough that all you needed was a hot shower and a long nap. 

“What am I gonna do?” She murmured to herself, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that you were there earlier. “Your room isn’t ready yet!” 

You scowled, sitting on one of the kitchen stools. “What do you mean my room isn’t ready?” 

“We’ve been using it as a storage room lately, until Phil adjusts himself.” She told you, but you didn’t understand a word she said. Storage room? Why was your mom’s boyfriend using your bedroom as a storage room? 

“Mom, what are you talking about?” 

“I’m sure I told you!” 

You shook your head “Tell me what?”

She tilted her head with her mouth hanging open. You visibly saw her trying to remember something, filling the room with silence. Then, it hit her, her silence suddenly broke into laughter, she realized that, whatever was she was talking about, she didn’t tell you, you just didn’t know what. “Darling, Phil moved in september, how come we didn’t talk about this?” She let out, wondering out loud. “We are still getting the hang of it, he still has a lot of boxes, we decided to put it in your room for now.” She explained, like it was nothing, but you knew it wasn’t. It took her a long time before she introduced you to Phil, she always made it clear to him that her priority was her kids, so it was a big step for her to let Phil move in. 

You shook your head, immediately avoiding her gaze when you felt a sudden rush of guilt washing over your body when you tried to remember when was the last time you spoke with your mom on the phone apart from last month, when you told her you were coming today. 

“Oh, mom, I had no idea.” You said as if you were apologizing, you kinda were. “I’m gonna start looking for somewhere else to crash, I still don’t know for how long I’m staying.” 

She waved her hands, rushing to interrupt you “My God, sweetie, no! You know you can stay here for as long as you want, this is your house!” She said, but you struggled to believe her “But I really thought you were coming next Friday! When was your last show?”

God, the last thing you wanted to think about now was work.

“Just last week.” You replied, hoping that she wouldn't want to comment too much about it. 

“How was it?” She continued to ask, going against your wishes.

Terrible, you wanted to say, you couldn’t wait to get off the stage. You did your job and you left, all your partners begged you to stay for the after party but you were exhausted, you left as soon as you could. That was supposed to be an important moment for you, the wrap up of your first main role, a clear achievement of your short career. After you did the first show of the season you went to bed wishing it could last forever, but last week you were just relieved that it finally ended. 

You wouldn’t tell that to your mom, you didn’t want to worry her, so you just told her a little white lie. 

“Oh, it was great.” You smiled, hoping that in that way it would be more believable. “I had a great time, but I needed to come back home for a while.”

“Well, you worked hard, now you deserve to rest” She said “And besides that… how have you been, huh?” She asked with a soft voice, making you raise your gaze to find her warm eyes and a warm smile. You failed to remember that you couldn’t lie to your mom, she always saw through you, and to be honest she would be a fool not to notice the tired look on your face. It bothered you just a bit that the main reason why she was asking about it was because of the breakup.

“Why, because of Ian?” You asked. 

“No just because of him, just… how have you been about everything?” 

“Well, fine, I think so.” You kept lying “Me and him… I don’t know, I don’t think I felt the same way about him anymore, I had to end it, I’m sure he deserves someone who feels the same, right?”

She hummed, not really convinced. “You deserve someone like that, too, don’t you think?” 

“Maybe.” You sighed “But that topic gives me headaches.” 

Your mother snorted, “Well, don’t expect me to be satisfied with that answer, after you take a nap I’m gonna ask you all about that.” 

“How nosy.” You chuckled. “You just want to talk shit about your ex son in law.”

“Of course, don’t act like you don’t want to do that too, I know you too well.” You rolled your eyes, but of course she was right. “Anyway, since I thought you were coming next week I planned a dinner for tonight with everyone, they’ll be so happy to see you, but you know, I understand if you want to skip it with everything that’s happening, I’m sure no one will ask about it, but still. You came here to be alone so I don’t want you to feel overwhelmed around a lot of people.”

“Ask about what? The news isn’t out yet” You asked, confused. 

Your mom turned around again, looking as confused as you. “Haven’t you checked your phone today?” She asked cautiously.

“No, it died a few hours ago. I haven't had the chance to charge it in the car.” Your words made her confused expression fade into a concerned one.

“Darling, you might want to check it now.” She pointed to the charger that was connected next to the fridge. The look on her face could only mean that something wasn’t okay.

You slowly got off the stool, heading towards the other side of the room as you took your phone from your pocket to connect it to the charger. You knew it was just a matter of time until people found out that you and Ian broke up, but you thought the news would’ve be handled the same way as always, a statement from both you, the only reason why you didn’t do it yet was because you and Ian weren’t talking since the proposal happened. 

When your phone finally turned on, a rush of anxiety ran down your body when a thousand notifications began to appear on the screen, including fifty missed calls from both your manager and publicist, you had a feeling that maybe the situation was worse than you thought. “What the fuck happened?” You murmured to yourself, looking at your mother in search for answers. “Did Sally call you?” You asked her, fully knowing that Sally, your manager, had strict orders not to bother anyone in your family with calls about anything related to work. 

The room suddenly fell in silence, your mom hesitated to answer, you knew she didn’t want to be the one to give you bad news.

“No, but a friend of mine sent me an article.” She explained, her voice suddenly sounding small. “I didn’t read it, you know, I didn’t even open it, I don’t like gossip.”

Your mind tried to put two and two together; missed calls from your manager, an article about you, gossip, that didn’t sound fucking right. 

“Fuck, I have to call her.” You gritted your teeth, wasting no time marking her number. You felt your head swirling just by imagining the sound of her voice yelling at you for not answering her calls. 

Less than five seconds later, like she was waiting by the phone, she picked up. “Fucking finally.” Was the first thing you heard, “Where the fuck were you?”

The irritated tone on her voice took you by surprise, making you jump in you place “Driving, for four fucking hours.” You rushed to say “My phone was dead, what is going on?” 

You heard her inhale, trying to keep her calm “Every single person in the world is trying to reach me right now except you. It’s a mess.”

“What?” You try not to yell “I just got home, I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Honey, it got leaked, has no one told you yet?”

Then, a beat of silence. The stress on her voice is enough to make you believe her, you didn’t have to think twice. Of course something like this was going to happen to you, you couldn’t run away from the city and pretend everything behind was going to stay as it was, your life from six hours ago was still there, and it was still a fucking mess.  

“What part?” Was the only thing you could say. You felt yourself entering a cloud of uncertainty, your fist clenched on your lap and while you listened to her sighing, preparing you for the answer, you held your breath as if that way you could stop time.

“Everything.” She spat. “Listen, I didn’t want to freak you out with this, I tried to keep this situation on the low but it happened anyway. The story’s out, pictures are out, every fucking thing is out.”

You suddenly tense, feeling your heart dropping to the pit of your stomach

“What? What do you-?” You stuttered. 

“I know you didn’t want anyone to find out about the proposal but it's the main headline, sweetie.”

Sally is not someone who’s known for sugarcoating her words, she was straightforward and didn’t mind being the person who delivered bad news, but today you could tell she was especially stressed, you were sure she was trying to handle this issue alone with you being gone for hours. 

“Fuck.” You hissed “What about him, have you called his manager?”

“Of course I called his manager, but all of a sudden that prick doesn’t want to collaborate with me on this, apparently Ian doesn’t fucking care, how about that?”

“How come he doesn’t care?” You asked exasperatedly.

“That’s the idea that I got when his manager told me to manage this issue myself.” 

You pinched the bridge of your nose, taking a deep breath as you took a moment to think about it. You knew Ian well enough, but you always held onto a kind version of him, the version of him who made you stay for so long, the version of him you chose to remember so your memories weren't all bad, but that version made you felt guilty for the question that was rotting on your mouth, waiting to be spat. 

“Do you think it was him?” You asked her, but her bitter laugh on the other line made you realize it wasn’t a difficult question to answer. 

“I mean, would that be so crazy?” She said “You and I are pretty sure who called the people to take those pictures. He's not happy, honey, to him this is just payback for what you did.”

That word echoed in your mind for longer than you would’ve wanted to, was that the way he decided to put this to an end? Payback? 

Four weeks ago, you thought that was it. When you were at the backyard of the house of Ian’s grandparents and you saw him on his knees, asking you to marry him, you thought that was the moment when every bad decision you ever made caught up to you, when everything exploded in your face. Now you realized it didn’t end there, everything you’ve done still has consequences.

You closed your eyes, trying to ignore your mom’s eyes in the back of your neck. You left the room, coming back to the hall so you could be alone. You couldn’t just hang the phone and pretend none of that happened, as tempting as it sounded, you had to take care of it. “Okay, now what? Can you clean it?” 

“I’ve been trying, but it can’t disappear, you know? It’s been up for a few hours.” She replied. 

You nodded, as if she could see you “Okay, listen, it doesn’t matter. I can’t deal with this right now, I don’t care where it came from, I don’t care how the pictures look, what people are saying, I don’t want to know any of it. If people saw it, I don’t give a fuck, it’s me who doesn’t want to see it.” You firmly said “If the story’s out, fine, but I don’t want any major media posting the pictures, can you do that?” 

You heard her humming “Mmm, are you sure you want to handle it in that way? No statement to the media? No post on instagram? Just radio silence?”

The thought of making a statement about your relationship in public made you want to throw up, “Are you kidding?” You laughed “There’s no way I’m making a statement about this if you can’t even get Ian’s manager on the phone for him to do the same. If I say anything about this and he stays quiet I’m going to look worse of a villain than I already am for rejecting him.”

“Honey, I don’t think you understand this.” She stopped you, “This isn’t just news that you broke up, this is news that he proposed to his girlfriend of three years and she said fucking no, a.k.a a scandal.”

You rolled your eyes, wanting to curse her for treating you like a five year old child. “No, hear me out, I’m not playing his game anymore.”

“You’re not the one who’s playing his game, he’s the one playing in yours.” She emphasized, “Let me be clear with this, and I’m trying to be nice even though I’ve been working all morning to get this to disappear just for you. You were the one who decided that the relationship was going to have this kind of publicity, you can’t back down now. This could harm your image, you need to make a statement whether he does the same or not.”

You stopped for a second, hating how right she was. Every bit of your relationship with Ian was out to the public, that was the whole point of it from the beginning. Your image as an actress wasn’t entirely constructed by your work,  you took charge into making every piece of your private life part of it too, you sold it of your life to the public. After so many years of sharing everything with the media and fans, you knew it would be strange to stay in silence now, but in a matter of seconds the words piled up in your mind, making you see how ridiculously soulless a statement like that would look, lying about how much love and respect you held for Ian but at the end it didn’t work out, that you decided to stay as friends since you still loved each other so much, when the truth was that he was the one who leaked the pictures in the first place. 

You were once again reminded to face the consequences, and that was what you were about to do. 

“Sorry, Sally, but I'm not making a statement.” You let out, nervously tapping your foot against the floor “I started it, you’re right, but now I’ve decided to end this here. This is my private life we’re talking about, let me keep this thing to myself. The only thing that they need to know is that we’re no longer together, and from now on the only information they’ll get of me is about my work, are we clear?”

Your whole body shook in anticipation, expecting her to yell at you and tell you to do whatever she said, because you knew she knew better. You hoped she somehow didn’t see through your mask, you weren’t as hard as you wanted to sound, you weren’t as confident as you wanted to be. For years working with her you trusted her advice against all odds, and you knew she always meant well, she was just doing her job, but at this exact moment in your life you needed to stay silent.

She hesitated to answer, battling with herself and the love she had for you. “Look kid,” She said “I’m going to let you do what you want, but if this doesn’t end well I’m going to look for you in whatever farm you’re staying in right now and I’m going to strangle you, now are we clear?” She asked, repeating your last words. 

It took you a second to understand what she just said, you felt so anxious you didn’t understand if she was giving you a green light or not. When you snapped out of it, you realized it was the closest you’ve felt to be relieved. 

 “We are clear.” You confirmed. 

“I sure hope so.” You heard her sighing once again “I’ll make it disappear and you make sure to keep your phone close in case something happens. Can you do that?”

“Yeah, sure, I’m sorry for the trouble.”

“It’s fine.” She brushed it off “At least you’re not dead, I would’ve felt guilty for cursing you so much.”

“God, maybe the news of my death would make the news about the proposal disappear.” You tried to joke, fighting against the horrible feeling you still had on your stomach. 

“Okay, kid. I’m hanging up before you get more morbid. Take care, okay?”

You chuckled quietly, “Thank you, Sally” You said before she hung up “Really, I appreciate it.” 

The call ended, leaving your ears ringing and your heart hammering against your chest. You stayed in the hall, sitting on the first steps of the stairs and trying to make sense of what just happened. 

You were aware that Ian was angry at you, you couldn’t tell if you broke his heart but you knew that you hurt his ego, and somehow that was worse. You had to admit that your ego was as big as his, so you understood he had to do the same thing to you. Sally was right, you led yourself to this, you managed the circus that was your public life and you were the one who chose him to cover up how miserable you felt. You still felt your blood boiling just by thinking how cruel it was what he did, and at the same time you couldn’t allow yourself to be angry at him because you thought you had it coming.

You thought you were so stupid for thinking that once you got here you were going to be okay, as if you could run away from yourself, as this house was a bunker, protecting you from everything you ever did. Suddenly, you felt all your emotions stacking up your throat, you felt your eyes burning before your whole face was soaked with hot tears of regret, you didn’t even remember when was the last time you cried, that’s how fucked up you were. 

You covered your face, sobbing against your palms as you tried to calm yourself, remembering your mom was waiting for you in the kitchen and you had to come back to be a functioning person, but before you could, you heard her steps approaching you, gasping when she found you crying. 

“Darling, what happened?” She asked, the concern in her voice made your heart hurt.

You quickly wiped your tears with the sleeves of your sweater as you watched her kneel beside you. “Nothing, just…” You tried to lie, but what was the use of that? She would know, and you were still going to continue carrying the pain on your chest for the rest of the day. You shook your head, feeling her thumbs wiping your tears from your face.

“It doesn’t look like nothing.” She whispered, like it was a secret between the two of you. “It’s about the article, right?” You nodded. 

“It’s…” You inhaled, trying to catch your breath. “It’s about more than that.” 

And then, the truth. As if you were a criminal caught in the scene of the crime, you had to tell the truth. 

After you spent the whole afternoon trying to explain to your mom what was going on with your life, nothing could erase the worried look on her face, looking at you like you were thirteen and you had the flu, wanting to take care of you until it went away. 

You felt ashamed, but you couldn’t keep lying to her, not completely at least. You had to tell her that you were never really in love but you felt so alone back in the city, you didn’t have anyone else. Most of your friends were fake, you were tired and sometimes overworked, not even your job was making up for the miserable life you were living anymore. You knew Ian was seeing other women and you couldn’t even find it in yourself to confront him about it, terrified that he’ll leave you in your big apartment alone. Your mom listened with a frown on her face, confused, asking why you never told her, asking why you never called, and you felt so embarrassed, so guilty for disappearing for so long. 

“I’m sorry” was the only thing you could say, and even though she waved it off and said that you didn’t have to apologize for anything, you knew that wasn’t real. You had a bunch of this to apologize for, you didn’t even know where to begin.

After a shower, she offered her room for you to take a nap, and as you got into her bed, she sat next to you, hugging you for the first time in months. 

You breathed out against her chest, feeling like a kid again around her arms. It was like she was trying to extract the sadness out of your body, and maybe it worked for now. 

“You’re still invited to join us for dinner tonight, you know?” She murmured “I know you’re sad but it’s just us, maybe it’ll cheer you up.”

You nodded, “I’ll think about it, is that okay?”

“Of course, darling.” She smiled, kissing your forehead before getting up to leave.

Before she opened the door, you stopped her.  

“Wait mom, who’s coming?” You asked before she disappeared from your sight.

She turned to you again, smiling. “Your brother, of course.” She said “He’s bringing Yoongi and his mom, I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to see you.”

You snapped your eyes open, but before your mom could see your reaction she disappeared through the door, leaving you alone and with your heart clenched in your fist. 

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[bakugoushotwife]

inextricable p3 Sasuke xFem!Uchiha!Reader)

a/n: thank you guys for your patience in waiting on this last part! I will be releasing the angst ending later today and will link it to this post for convenience later!! i also have to thank you for voting in how this part should turn out and overall even reading these!! this has by far been my favorite series and makes me want to do more in the future! also also, I was thinking about making this expandable if I get more requests, so you can request specific moments for the Uchiha Princess like Kakashi finding out she's pregnant or more on Sasuke and Y/N's stay in the Sand!

cw: violence, death, fighting, mentions of sex nothing crazy, pregnancy, etc. not proofread so shoot me

wc: 17, 212

part one // part two

He was thinking about you. He wondered what you would think if you could see him like this, teeming with rage and anguish. Ever since he was told about the truth, since he shared that truth with you, he hasn’t been able to stop the rage brewing inside him. He watched his brother die, he helped kill him. He endured three days worth of suffering in his brother’s genjutsu, watching helplessly as his parents died over and over. His brain was so damaged when they found him, it took a Tsunade miracle to piece him back together. He lost his best friend, separated in order for him to foster this hatred in order to carry out this revenge. He has done what his brother wanted: he has activated his mangekyo and stalked the man with the most to do with assigning Itachi this mission. Yet still, he yearns for your company. He wants you to see the man that wrecked your life too. He wants to help get your revenge too. But you’ve always been so much calmer, he guesses that was Kakashi’s influence. Would you join him in this crusade? No. You’ve tried to talk him off the ledge several times, you would be appalled with his behavior. That realization hurts a little bit, hurts in a different way than everything else. Itachi engineered him to be a being of hate, knowing that someone would stop him from going too far. Does he think Kakashi or Naruto have the capability? Did Itachi prepare for that person to be you?

He knows that the newly-recognized Hokage Danzo will be in the Land of Iron, that all five kage would be in fact. He didn’t initially plan on a visit to the Leaf, but the opportunity to see you again weighed heavily on him. He just wanted a chance to talk to you in person. To try and convince you one last time to join his revenge tour. He could teach you more and keep you safer than Kakashi can. You are the last of the Uchiha, you are inextricably bound to him. He needs you, this is meant to be a journey for two. You would come to him this time, he’s sure. You may disagree with his methods, but he remembers you swearing your allegiance to him, telling him with big teary eyes how much you missed him. Surely that would outweigh any anger you have. That’s why he sent Madara ahead to scope you out in the Leaf, to make sure you were safe and well cared for. So imagine the surprise, the pride, the wide amalgamation of anxiety and something close to fear that Sasuke experiences whenever Madara comes back to report the antithesis of what he had expected. 

“The Sharingan Princess is not in the Leaf.” 

Sasuke’s head whipped toward the masked man. “What? Not in the Leaf? Where is she?” He asks in rapid succession, getting to his feet. 

Madara held his hands up in uncertainty. “Who’s to say? She seems to be cloaking her chakra very cleverly. She’s been listed as a deserter in the Bingo Books.” 

Sasuke narrows his eyes in confusion, his mind reeling. He couldn’t figure out what would make you leave so suddenly, he hadn’t had the chance to speak with you in months, too focused on his plans. Had you become so worried you came to look for him? “Were you able to find out why she left?” He asks in more of a statement, expecting the man to provide more information. 

You could hear the smile in the masked man’s deep voice. “Pain attacked the Leaf. It seems many died in the initial attack, including your lady's father. Naruto Uzumaki was able to get Nagato to reno-rebirth them all, but it seems our Green Goddess of the Leaf left before that happened. They haven’t seen her since. Naruto Uzumaki keeps making efforts to find her, no luck. It’s believed that Y/N Uchiha has obtained the Mangekyo Sharingan with an ability similar to Shisui’s dangerous Kotoamatsukami.”

Sasuke’s rendered speechless. You’ve been on the run for several months, with Mangekyo powers and with a renewed sense of hatred? He had to find you. His mission to the Iron seemed incomplete now, and he couldn’t risk the Leaf finding you first. He glanced at the other members of his team and sighed. 

“We have to find her first.”  

Madara chuckled. “No need. It seems the Last Uchiha Princess was searching for you, and found you indeed.” He says, stepping aside to reveal your form. Time slowed to a stop, he swears. Your hair had returned to its full black, all the traces of dye long gone. The moon’s beams gave you an angelic glow. Your shinobi headband was gone .Two swords crisscrossed in sheaths on your back. Your eyes shined the color of blood, the symbol of your Mangekyo made his lips spread into a grin. You were beautiful, just as he knew you would be from his crows over their many visits. Revenge and anger flowed through you freely, and he thought that looked good on you. 

A girl with bright red hair and eyes stepped forward with her arms crossed. She looked at you with malice. Your eyes snapped to her. “Whatever you’re thinking about saying to me, don’t.” 

Sasuke nearly chuckles. Your presence was like medicine, and he was relieved to know your ferocity remained intact. 

Karin frowned at your words, and the shark-featured boy next to her giggled lightly. “Oh don’t mind her, Y/N,” He says, as if you’re old friends, “She’s probably just wondering how you found us.”

“I could detect Sasuke’s chakra even if he repressed it to zero.” You reply flatly. “Plus, I ran into this guy and followed him back up here.” You add, still eyeing the girl analyzing you. Her eyes flickered back to Sasuke, who was watching you carefully. You smirk at her, tracking her eyes. “Hey, girl.” You chuckle, the smile on your face vicious, eyes crazy. “Don’t try it.” You say as sweetly as you can manage, clapping her on the shoulder and moving towards your old friend. 

She frowns, the smile on Sasuke’s face as you come closer was unmistakable mostly because he had never smiled so widely before. Suigetsu elbows her, distracting her from watching your every move. 

Your smile wasn’t missable either, and you did have to repress the urge to wrap your arms around him and cry out in relief. However, given the reputation you’ve both acquired, it would be in bad taste. It’s been years, four to be exact, since you last laid eyes on him. He’s perfect, tall and well-built. Your cheeks grow warmer as you realize just how beautiful he has grown. It’s also like no time has passed, his chakra presence putting your nervous heart at ease. He holds his hand out with a small half-smile. You never look away from his eyes as you gently place your palm in his. You turn your eyes off, returning his tiny grin. The moment felt intimate despite all the other people gathered in the hideout. The truth was the two of you had been imagining this moment for years, wondering when you’d find yourselves together again. He looked at you gently, with all the love left in his mangled dark heart. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” You say plainly, you’re both walking a fine line of collapsing into all your emotions and showing none at all. You felt vulnerable, and in front of Sasuke that was alright, but in front of all these new and dangerous Akatsuki members, you wanted to look strong. Because you are, the months that passed proved fruitful for your talents. 

“I’m glad you’re okay.” He adds after, his thumb stroking the back of your hand mindlessly. 

“It’s good to see you safe.” You say, essentially the same message. We’re alive and back together. 

He makes a nervous chuckle of some sort. He thought it was interesting that you considered him safe, he was a rogue nin and now you were too. “I’m..sorry. About Kakashi.”

Your grip on his hand loosened momentarily. The memory of his death flashes before your eyes and you're forcing yourself to smile gratefully. “I appreciate it…it truly was the last straw.” 

“Do you think he would support you?” Sasuke asks, more out of own curiosity since he knows that Kakashi is alive. He feared you finding this information out, would you flock back to him? 

You nod. “Kakashi specifically asked me to leave the village just before he was killed. I have to believe that he knew I would come to you.” You answer truthfully, able to talk yourself into believing that your adoptive father’s support and love for you could never waver. 

He hums at your response. Perhaps you were right, it was a calculated risk that the Sensei took on his deathbed. It was desperate, but it made sense. Kakashi knows you well, he knew the craving for revenge that brewed in your heart and he wanted you to satiate it safely. Maybe he knew that the other Uchiha would never hurt you, maybe he just hoped that was the case. Either way, Kakashi would be stupid to think you wouldn’t search for the only other person that mattered to you. 

“How did you find my chakra?” 

You smirk again, proud of yourself. “I’ve told you, dear Sasuke, I’m very strong.” 

He matches your expression, knowing that with his Mangekyo where it was as of now, you were probably just as prodigious as him. “I know you’re powerful, Y/N. I want to know the specifics.”

“I have insane chakra control and tracking abilities from my senseis.” You say, moving your bangs to show him the seal on your forehead. “I found an old friend of yours…name’s Kabuto.” You share with a shrug, watching Sasuke raise his eyebrow in interest. “He told me about Danzo...the man that ruined our lives. Apparently there’s a Kage Summit in the Iron, I knew you’d be around here somewhere. I could sense all the chakra pooling and then I saw Madara standing down there, almost like he knew I was coming.” 

“Interesting indeed, I wonder why Kabuto felt inclined to help you.” He says, truly just wondering out loud. 

“Same reason anyone does, power. He’ll be an issue later.” 

Sasuke is markedly impressed. You had a variety of different talents and abilities, and though you may never be as strong as he was, he doubts many could ever be as strong as you are. And for a time, you were inarguably stronger. He was glad he never sparred with you. Your prowess in most fields made you borderline invincible. Perhaps Kakashi was no slouch after all. 

“You’ve unlocked your Mangekyo.” He states, but his brow is raised like he wants you to add further comment. 

You nod, hand still in his warm one, eyes still locked. “Kakashi’s death.” 

He nods, the intensity of his gaze makes you feel like a precious jewel under his microscope. “I see. Your abilities?”

“Similar to Shisui’s. I don’t have full blown mind control, but I can move the body and speak with the mouth. They usually don’t remember anything that happens.” You reply with a broad grin, now this was something you definitely were proud of. "My other eye lets me cast my jutsu effects on others. So if I put someone in a genjutsu, they see my delayed sense on me and whoever I touch."

Once again he has to fight a chuckle. It felt weird, the odd rhythm of his heart as he looked at you with such fondness unfamiliar to everyone else. The other Akatsuki decided to give you some time to catch up, much to Karin’s dismay. They went to make preparations for their short journey into the Iron. This left the two of you standing alone in a cliffside cave, staring at each other in hopes it said everything you wanted to say. 

“Have you performed a susano’o yet?” He wonders where the limits of your expertise were without Kakashi there to guide you. 

You shake your head. “I haven’t needed to, you know how it goes.”

He nods. “That’s good, but you’ll need it soon.” He says with a hint of his familiar arrogance. 

It makes you smile this time though, and you nod in agreement. “Alright, noted.” You hum, your smile so warm and genuine that it’s hard for him to imagine you as you were when you entered the cave. He takes time to admire your features, the arch of your brow and the pink dusting your cheeks. He notices the stress lines forming under your eyes, which makes him frown. But mostly he notices the purple headband on top of your dark hair and the purple earrings you wear, complete with purple bracelets. It was interesting, your clothes all black, he felt the need to comment his thoughts. 

“I thought I was purple and you were green?” He asks, the ode to childhood seemingly out of place given your current conversation of power. 

You touch the headband with your free hand, almost like you knew that’s why he said anything at all. “Oh. I guess I was. I just like the familiarity of purple.” 

The sentiment in your voice hits him like a ton of bricks. He had noticed the headband before, thinking it was some sort of reminder of him. But it ran much deeper than that, the headband was your prized possession. It gave you lines to both Sasuke and Kakashi, made you feel close to them. You needed no reminder of him, you needed a connection. He thinks of the way his chest tightened every time he saw something in the same deep green of your tricycle, the same shade of your chakra, the bright lime. It put your face in his mind each time it happened. His hand squeezes yours, suddenly refocused on the lack of a normal childhood he had, you had, what you two could have had together. 

“We’ll kill him. For Itachi, for Shisui.” 

You nod. “For our parents, for the entire clan.” 

Naruto slams his fist on the wall, clearly frustrated and guilty. He can’t find you. He can’t find Sasuke, though, even he is smart enough to assume you two are together. Losing Sasuke crushed him. He loved him like his own brother, even though he never really knew how that felt. He saw Sasuke’s strength and wanted to surpass it, make a name for himself and become Hokage. But how could he do that if he can’t protect the people he loves? Losing you was a devastating blow. You were family, his love for you hard to quantify. You were the sunshine of Konoha, how could you leave? 

Kakashi insists it’s his fault, though it’s easy to see his grief wearing on him. He told you to leave the village. At that point, he was scared for your life. He just wanted you to get away, preferably finding Naruto. He should have been smarter than that, but in that moment of weakness he’s able to admit he thought about the possibility of you going to Sasuke. He wasn’t angry, nor would he say he’s necessarily disappointed. It’s hard to put a name on this feeling, other than guilt. He’s sad, and he’s worried about what this means for the future, but he knows if you were here right now he would sigh with relief and hug you close. 

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Naruto.” Kakashi breathes, trying to hold tightly to the students he had left. He can see how this weighs heavily on the young man, his face tightened up as he tried not to scream and cry. 

“My friends! What have I learned if I can’t even keep my friends in the village?!” 

“It has nothing to do with you, Naruto..” Kakashi says in comfort, his own heart panging at the sentiment. What kind of Dad am I if I can’t keep her in the village? “They…have their own troubles to deal with. In time, we will get them back. I don’t think he’ll hurt her.” Kakashi adds, hoping to ease some of Naruto’s worries.

The blond widens his eyes, looking at the last teammate. “He’s tried to kill Sakura twice!” 

“He won’t.” Kakashi repeats, more sternly this time, trying to convey a message behind the simple statement. He was trying to say, ‘Yeah, well, Sakura isn’t his childhood friend and last lady Uchiha either. She doesn’t matter to him the same way Y/N does.’ 

Naruto’s lips tightened in a thin line, seemingly dissatisfied with Kakashi’s urgency. “Aren’t you worried sick? She’s an enemy of the village now!”

This was true, as a deserter there were no exceptions. Classified as a SS threat, there was nothing he could do to lower your profile now. All you had were enemies, in a way, Kakashi was hoping you did make it to Sasuke. He tried to sway Tsunade, explaining that he told you to leave, but it was no use. The Lady Hokage was visibly upset by this as well, a mentor to you in your teenage years. He knew it would take work, but he knew he could get you admitted back into the village after some time. Even if you had to serve a small sentence, it would be better than living as a rogue nin for all your days. He only wished there was a way to find you, but you knew how to hide. He had taught you. And you didn’t even know he was alive, if only he could talk to you. 

“Of course I’m worried about her future, but I’m not worried about her safety at the moment. It would be wiser to come up with some sort of plan.” 

“Go on, take it.” Your best friend says, holding out a red crane fashioned from folded paper. He had made you all kinds of things, a paper purple  rose, a gray elephant, an orange cat. He never looked you in the eye when he handed you the little trinket, almost like he was embarrassed. 

You smile softly, gently taking the bird from him and inspecting it. He really was quite good at origami, and you wondered when he learned how to do this. “Thank you Sasuke.”

“Mm.” He grunts in acknowledgement, fingers busy working on yet another paper craft. 

“I wish I knew how to make you something, I feel so useless over here.” You chuckle, setting the crane down next to his other creations. 

He sighed, like it was a dumb thing to say. “You are giving me something.”

You hum in amusement, thinking about what he could mean. You two rarely spoke in lengthy flows, much of your communication was non-verbal or through a system of subtle noises. “I’m stumped.”

He looks into your eyes this time, and slides his latest design across the mountain-side hideout floor.You arch your brow and notice the light shade of pink dusting his cheeks and nose bridge. You look down at his symbol of affection, a green paper heart under your fingers. 

“You came to me, that’s quite the gift.” 

It’s your turn to heat up. You knew you couldn’t tease him like your first instinct is to, since he’s being so vulnerable, but it also made you feel a tad exposed. “You have a point there.” You hum, deciding to combine both approaches. “Does this mean this qualifies as the date you said you would take me on when you saw me again?”

It’s no wonder that neither of you are well versed in the language of feelings and human emotion. All you knew was that Sasuke meant more to you than anyone in the world. 

A couple beats of silence pass, and he hums in approval. “Yes.”

The three of you stand on the bridge, carefully watching as Danzo Shimura unravels the heavy bandaging around his arm. When he drops the gauze, Karin gasps. His right arm was riddled with the sharingan of your dead clan. Your eyes narrow in anger, the pit in your stomach impossible to ignore. These are the deep seeds of hatred, and you are letting them grow. Sasuke’s eyes widen and then squint in disgust, the stare in his eyes as dark as they come. 

His regular sharingan analyzed the mutative arm his enemy possessed, and with a menacing tone he asked, “How did you get those eyes in your right arm?”

Danzo looked unbothered, the eye visible to his challengers closed, the other side bandaged up in similar fashion to his arm. It made you feel as if he were hiding more of your clan’s eyes under there. You searched to find Shisui’s, determined to take it back, but you couldn’t see it easily. That was to be expected, your brother’s Kotoamatsukami was easily one of the most powerful Mangekyo abilities to be had, and your training on your own had discovered it was much the same. You could now influence thoughts as well as control the body, you could choose when to release it, and it was only penetrable by other genjutsu. Still, it would be nice to have your brother’s eyes back in your family and usable for your Eternal Mangekyo. It was clear either way that the man before the Last of the Uchiha severely underestimated the power of each of you individually. 

“Through various means, it would take too long to describe.” He answers nonchalantly. 

“Any explanation would have upset me more.” Sasuke says with a stern frown. He closes his eyes. “Forget it. I’ve decided to kill you. Y/N, stay back unless I need you.” He says, to which you nod affirmatively. You would step in if his chakra was running out, as your chakra control and storage made you tireless. He nods back, satisfied with your answer. “Before that, let me ask one thing: Is it true that Itachi Uchiha eliminated our clan by order of the Elders?”

Danzo doesn’t respond. He simply starts weaving hand signs and staring blankly at him, and then he runs. He sprints full speed straight at Sasuke, reeling his arm back for a chakra packed punch. It’s stopped by a purple wall of Sasuke’s chakra. 

“Part of a susano’o..” You wonder softly aloud. 

Danzo stumbles back in surprise. The fist of Sasuke’s summons sweeps Danzo into the air and threatens to crush him. 

“So this is the Susano’o.” The old man groans, obviously struggling for breath in this chakra hold. The fist starts to squeeze inward. You’re standing off to the side, not quite able to read Sasuke’s expression, but his raised voice tells you everything you need to know. 

“I’m going to ask one more time. Is it true that Itachi Uchiha eliminated my clan by order of the Elders?” His voice thunders, larger than you’ve ever heard before. 

Danzo looks at you, clearly unfocused on Sasuke’s line of questioning. 

“I’m asking if it’s true!” Sasuke roars again, demanding his attention. The Susano’o’s fist tightens once more, and you’re sure Danzo’s bones will start to break soon. You smile at this, knowing it is kinder than what he deserves. Danzo grunts out, the pain clear. “Answer me!” 

“I–I didn’t think he was that kind of man.” The Leaf’s Hokage says with a trace of disgust. Sasuke gasps softly at his words. “Damn Itachi. I see he revealed everything to you before he died. As I thought it seems that you are truly special, that younger sister of Shisui as well.”

Sasuke seems stunned, lost in thought momentarily. You’re thinking of the night of the massacre, what Itachi said to him then. He made hate his driving emotion in hopes of this, this revenge that’s happening right before your very eyes. He built Sasuke himself, pushing him as far as he could go to increase his power. Did he do this for you as well? Did he know that you would become such a powerhouse yourself, was he expecting you to be part of this retribution? 

Surely. Itachi was nothing if not meticulous and intelligent. He could basically see the potential future, and he figured out exactly how to play the cards to his game. He knew. He knew there was nothing he could do to keep the two of you apart forever. He just needed it to happen long enough for Sasuke to breed this strong emotion in his chest. He needed you to learn under talented teachers until the day you came back to serve in avenging the Uchiha. 

Itachi and Shisui were betrayed by the shinobi world, abused and thrown away like nothing. You find yourself clutching your fists and begging for a chance at one of the men that made it all happen. 

“Answer me!” Sasuke’s voice cuts through your hazy train of thought. 

“I…I didn’t think Itachi was the kind of man who would reveal secrets.” Danzo says, genuinely frustrated that Itachi dared to share their corrupt ways. 

“Does that mean it’s true?” Sasuke asks calmly. 

You watch as his susano’o grows in power. The formerly bony skeleton mass of purple chakra became strapped in muscle and flesh, eyes glowing like two stars in its skull. You marvel at the creation, grinning at what you would be able to accomplish in time. Who knows, maybe you would get the chance to try it out against this pile of trash. Sasuke stands proudly before his susano’o, knowing he’s effectively bulletproof. Karin gasps and covers her face in fear, making you roll your eyes. And she hoped to be with Sasuke? Sakura was more bold. 

“Self-sacrifice…That’s what epitomizes a shinobi. Never seeing the light of day. Toiling in the shadows. It is as it was in the past. That is what a true shinobi is.It describes not only Itachi. Countless other ninja have died the same way. Niceties alone will not make the world go round. Peace was attained all because of people like him.” He says, almost generous in the way he speaks. That demeanor quickly turned sour. “People like you who misunderstood Itachi’s intentions couldn’t possibly understand. Still, for Itachi to reveal such a secret to you makes him a traitor to the Leaf.” 

Upon hearing those words, Sasuke’s Susano’o fully closes his fist around the man, and your eyes widen slightly as the blood oozes out from its palm. 

“Don’t say anymore about Itachi!” Sasuke said, staring at the dangling corpse of Danzo. 

“You’re right…Then let us proceed to a battle of the eyes.” Danzo’s voice rang out from behind him, kunai drawn. Sasuke whips his head around, Mangekyo fully displayed, Susano’o surrounding him. Danzo charges again, attempting to plunge the blade into the chakra shield. 

You were astounded that the fool was even alive, knowing it had to be some kind of ability related to the sharingan he stole. But even you had to laugh aloud at his pathetic attempt at piercing a Susano’o. Karin looked at you wearily, and you just shrugged. It was a terrible move. 

“As expected…Susano’o.” Danzo says as if the gigantic chakra skeleton man did not tell him that it was a Susano’o. You cover your mouth so as to not laugh again. “Just the thing to protect yourself.” 

At just the moment he finished speaking, Sasuke’s susano’o dropped a pile of rocks likely from the landscaping above. It landed right on top of Danzo, yet you felt as if he would somehow escape this death too. You watched as the debris cleared, focused on Sasuke and his chakra levels. He was using quite a bit with his Mangekyou and Susano’o. You needed to figure out what kind of jutsu Danzo was using and quickly, to end this for good. 

“The power in its attack is as expected.” Danzo says, you and Karin quickly look to the side of you. There he stood, up on a carved stone tower a few hundred feet away. Sasuke stared at him, you could tell he was working to sort it out just as you were, but the emotion he felt was getting harder and harder to ignore. 

You knew this couldn’t be a genjutsu. You were extremely resistant and everyone’s chakra remained undisturbed. It had to be some unique ability connected to one or all of the sharingan in his right arm. Sasuke’s Susano’o had only formed from the spine up, yet it had the balance to rear back a punch to the tower, sending Danzo flying on a lifeboat of a stone slab under his feet. He landed on the ground below, just in time for another punch from the chakra being. Fog from the debris clouded your vision and flew towards you both, Karin screaming out in fear. Against better judgment, you wrap your fingers around her wrist and reluctantly pull her out of the way with you. 

You turn your regular Sharingan on, searching for Sasuke within his Susano’o. You see him fly towards the head of his summons, and you hear the faint deep rumble of, “Amaterasu.” 

You sigh, knowing he would be even more depleted by this, and Danzo would know that too. The fog clears enough for you to see the Elder being consumed by the signature black flames of Sasuke’s Mangekyo ability. Danzo plummets to the ground in agony as Sasuke lands back on his feet with his chakra shield summon dissipating around him. 

You can see how tired he is, and you begin to worry. He’s been using his Mangekyo all this time, it had to be bleeding or close to it. His body heaved with heavy breath, yet you knew this still was not over. Effectively the third time he had killed the Hokage, but it was not over. You and Karin scanned for his chakra presence, shouting in unison, “Sasuke, behind you!” 

“Wind Style: Vacuum Bullets!” Danzo shouts as he weaves his hand signs to activate the jutsu. It sends several compressed air bullets flying Sasuke’s way, and you wince as once slices open the top layer of skin on his arm. It shatters the rocks as he flies through the air to avoid them, sending himself flying over the bridge. 

“Sasuke!” Karin cries out, moving towards him. Your hold on her wrist keeps her in place, she looks at you with confusion. 

“He’s not an idiot, he has a plan.” You promise, eyes focused on the scene. 

Before you know it, Sasuke is rising before you, standing on the back of a giant hawk. Karin sighs in relief, but you just smile smugly. You never doubted him for a minute. 

Danzo chuckles. “Amaterasu. It’s been a while since I last saw that. You are Itachi’s younger brother after all.” 

It’s now that you can see his face that you confirm your earlier suspicions. His left eye is already bleeding. He hovers in the air on the bird, crouched on its head. Your eyes flicker between him and the enemy, watching as an eye closes on the back of his arm. That had to be significant. 

“You’ve taken over Itachi’s jutsu.” Danzo observes, just serving as kindling for Sasuke’s fire. 

“I told you never to speak of Itachi again!” He reminds not-so-politely. 

“Brothers with the same ability…Yet, what your eyes perceive is so different. I wonder if the sister of Shisui is the same. The truth about them doesn’t matter to you. You direct your hatred at whomever you can lay your hands on. You two make the sacrifice of the Uchiha Clan meaningless.” He spits, holding that disgusting right arm over his face. 

Sasuke snarls. “You have no right to talk about the Uchiha!” His bird soars toward the man standing on the bridge, his hand gripping his sword. Danzo begins to weave more hand signs.

“Wind Style: Vacuum Blast!” This attempt sends some of the debris towards the hawk, which the rogue nin easily evades by jumping off and pulling his sword in the air. Sasuke scans for him in the smoke, catching the spinning shuriken hurled his way. He easily evades this as well, bending backwards out of line of danger and flipping himself to a safer position. He positions his sword in front of his face and spots Danzo atop a large rock pillar. He sends two more rounds of spinning shuriken Sasuke’s way. He catches one on the tip of his sword and sends the other one flying in the air. You notice the screech of his hawk, as if he was instructed to do something here. Sasuke slings his sword, sending the rotating weapon back to the sender. Danzo knocks it upwards, watching as it takes a chunk of rock off hurtling toward the spot where he stood. He had no choice but to move towards Sasuke. The Uchiha jumped toward him, hopeful of landing a blow with his sword, but Danzo caught him by his neck. 

Your eyes widen in anxiousness, Karin once again pathetically screams his name. The hawk screeches again, and you see the missing shuriken from earlier come back into play, slicing Danzo’s arm and allowing Sasuke to strike yet another fatal blow. You inched forward, hoping this was the final time. How many times could Danzo use whatever it was he was using? Surely he would be done soon. Karin elbows you as another eye on his right arm closes. 

“It’s like they represent his lives, almost.” You say, to which she nods. 

“No way!” She says, prompting you to follow her eyesight up to where Danzo once again stood above you all on one of the only carved pillars remaining. 

“It’s useless.” Danzo says to Sasuke once more. The wind blows across Sasuke’s face, moving his hair to let you see the serious glimmer to his eyes. He would not give up, you would have to join him yourself when he got too tired. His eyes widened again, and out from his body came a murder of crows. Danzo seemed genuinely thrown off by this, searching wildly around him, coming face to face with the figure of Itachi. 

“Th-this is…Itachi?” The man asked, staring at the sharingan of the boy gone too soon.

Itachi stares blankly at him, more crows circle overhead. 

From the ground, you watch Sasuke’s chakra dwindle even more as he says,”Die…Amaterasu.” 

Danzo is consumed in flame yet again, but now you begin to expect his scheming survival. “I commend you for placing me under genjutsu.” 

Sasuke capitalized, taking the time that he had for Danzo to be distracted to appear behind him, sword nearly pressed into his back. 

“However…” He knew Sasuke was there. He realizes this truth too, grimacing. The blade of the sword dropped a little. 

“Sasuke! Now’s your chance! Why did you stop?” Karin yells, and you want to punch her for her stupidity. 

“He can’t move.” You say, the answer is obvious to you. And sure enough, a curse mark burns its way up Sasuke’s body. 

“I was aware of your genjutsu long ago. It is a far cry from Itachi’s powerful Tsukuyomi in which he freely manipulated time.” Danzo says dismissively, he’s growing arrogant. 

It’s clear that Danzo placed this mark when he touched Sasuke earlier, and you didn’t come this far to watch him lose. This is what you were here for, it was time for you to take over. You turn your eyes to Mangekyo, ready to throw your version of Kotoamatsukami down. You feel a hand on your shoulder before you can focus, causing you to turn toward the figure.

Seemingly, Karin had the same hopes to help as you did, mindlessly running up the pillar and subsequently being plainly kicked off. She lands in a pile of rocks with a loud whine, and you fight a smirk. 

You shrug the hand off your shoulder, faced with Madara Uchiha. You sigh at him. 

“He needs to do this on his own, it’s Itachi’s will.” 

“Sometimes I think you’re just making shit up for your own benefit. Itachi doesn’t want him to die!” You argue back with a faint snarl. 

Once again, you can hear the fondness coating his voice. “Oh, dear Y/N, have some faith.” Madara encourages, eye flickering between the fighting above and you. It was apparent that someone had to keep you back, or else you would prevent Sasuke’s growth. Danzo makes eye contact with you both on the ground, seemingly deep in thought. 

You sigh and fold your arms over your chest, pouting like a child. “I deserve revenge too.” 

Madara nods. “And you will have it, my dear. We both want to see Sasuke at his fullest potential. He cannot do that if you save him now.” 

You bite the inside of your lip and nod. “Fine.” 

But Madara is not dumb, he won’t leave you unattended now. 

“He’s your ultimate mistake.” The words from above caught your attention, watching with true fear as he swung Sasuke’s own blade toward his paralyzed body. You jump, but Madara’s arms stop you. 

You gasp. The Susano’o reappears, much bigger and sturdier than before. It burns a mass of purple flamed chakra, the skeleton becomes armored and stands tall. Sasuke lets out a guttural yell, and you can tell his chakra stores are expanding, as if he’s leveled up his hatred yet again. The curse mark fades, and he gains control of his own body. 

Danzo sucks in a breath and flies through the air. He tries to stay out of reach of the Susano’o, landing on the remnants of the bridge in front of the armored mass. Sasuke shoots an arrow of pure chakra at the man. He looks as if he’s about to weave, but then abandons it in favor of summoning a massive tree to absorb the blow. 

“Wood style?” You hum to yourself, amused and confused. You notice how his chakra has plummeted with the attack as well, making you take a sigh of relief. It all makes sense to you, something Tsunade showed you a long time ago. Hashirama cells…it must be to manipulate the powers of the sharingan. He must be getting close to his last few extra lives, and that’s why he’s getting desperate. 

“Sasuke! That’s the real Danzo! The jutsu that makes him invincible is broken right now!” Karin yells out, making you hum. She was smarter than she acted. “He’s vulnerable!” 

That makes you slap your hand over your face. If she figured it out, if you figured it out, that means he had figured it out too. The last thing he needed was her advertising that he knew. 

Danzo’s seals were fast, but Sasuke raced to hit him with another purple beam of chakra. He was clearly exhausted, one eye closed it was ailing him so badly. He was breathing hard, trying to accomplish his one true goal for the two of you. He felt rejuvenated, having you there to watch. He didn’t want you to fight. As good as you were, he hoped he could prove to you that he could defeat anyone on his own. 

Karin celebrates, but you hold your breath. 

Surely, Danzo reanimates just next to the spot he was standing in. You look at Karin, she had figured out his chakra levels were fluctuating just as you had. 

“The key has to be in the eyes that close. Maybe they’re used up for the time being?” You hypothesize aloud. 

“Sasuke!” Karin brainlessly calls again, causing you to grab her and shake her a little. 

“Get a grip. Your screaming is only going to distract him or get him killed, and if that happens, I will kill you. So shut up, and keep watching Danzo for better reads.” You say, to which the redhead tearfully nods. 

Danzo runs for the Susano’o only to be impaled by the chakra weapon. It’s almost as if nothing happened, Danzo appears again right in stride, still running towards Sasuke. He creates a gigantic air bubble, blowing it towards the Susano’o. It’s guarded easily, but you can tell these attacks are just to bait him and tire him out more. You believe in his abilities, but he didn’t have to fight alone, so why make him?

“Madara, please, he’s running out of time.” You say shortly, eyeing the masked figure that still stood so close. 

“No.”

You huff, folding your arms again. “This is ridiculous.” You turn your head back toward the action in front of you. Or rather, inaction. Danzo stood, catching his breath and analyzing his next move. You would finish him where he stood, no time for pleasantries.  You were sure he would do the same if he wasn’t so wiped. 

To your surprise, Danzo summons a massive elephant-like beast. It creates a vortex of wind as Danzo sprints toward the Susano’o. The summon sucks everything toward it like a vacuum, allowing him to get close enough for another wind style attack. The Susano’o is unable to move properly, and it seems as if Danzo needed that to happen  . 

Sasuke sends a fireball for the beast to eat, gaining mobility of his Susano’o back, He swings around in time to punch his opponent in the face and body, sending him flying towards the rocky ground. Sasuke falls to his knees, and you inch toward him, though you know you won’t be allowed to move much further. Sure, you could try to fight Madara, but that would only distract Sasuke and possibly damage his support so you didn’t want to take the risk. Though it slowly became more and more of an option as you watched your best friend cough up blood. 

Your heart quickened, the thought of the only person in the world that held your heart perishing here, right in front of you, just days after you’ve reunited, felt like hell. You needed him to get up and finish this so that you two could get the revenge you deserved. 

The Susano’o starts deteriorating, matching Sasuke’s chakra levels. Karin explains her findings aloud, and you nod along with her explanation. “Oh please don’t–”

“Sasuke!” She calls up to him, “I figured out a little bit of that guy’s jutsu! Listen. Alright?”

“When all ten of your eyes have closed on your right arm, your jutsu will be undone, isn’t that so?” Sasuke asks, focused on the enemy. 

You smirk, and look at the girl with a glimmer in your eyes that portrays exactly how smug you feel. 

Danzo seemed unimpressed, but his words prove otherwise. “You knew about Izanagi?” 

“As I suspected!” Sasuke says, dropping down to his level inside the remnants of the Susano’o. 

“You tricked me? What a crafty brat.” 

“Y-you fool! Why are you engaging him?” Karin asks, and you slap her arm. 

“Haven’t you questioned him too many times? Let him prove himself.” You say with a fond smile, proud of what Sasuke had been able to accomplish. You still wanted to vent your rage, but Madara had a different target in mind for you. 

Danzo tried to stop the Susano’o’s approach with a gust of wind, but it was only delayed. He dropped an elbow down on top of the Hokage, waiting to see if an eye closed. It did. 

“Sasuke! Get away from him now!” Karin panics, outwardly showing her fear. That’s where she made her mistake, and you know it. “Prolong the battle!” 

You groan, watching as Sasuke turns away from her loudmouth. He doesn’t hear her, you don’t think. He’s entirely too focused. “You idiot, if that means that his jutsu is undone, then all of Sasuke’s chakra is still gone and he’s uninjured.” 

Sasuke has his back to you, but when he turns back around he’s flinging shuriken at the man coming at him in the air. Another eye closes. Just two more minutes, two more killing attacks. Danzo disappears from midair, appearing behind him. Sasuke’s palm is encapsulated by chidori, one of the only things that he learned from Kakashi. He forms it into a sword, wielding it by his side as he yells, “How many Uchiha did you kill to get that right arm?!” 

Danzo has a chakra blade of his own it seems. “It was Itachi who enabled me to get it.” 

“You made him do it!” Danzo’s eye grows wider and everyone watches in wonder. Sasuke’s lightning blade rests burrowed deep in his chest. 

“You were too hasty. My eye is still open. Go to Itachi so he can lecture you. I win.” 

You shook your head in disbelief. No, this couldn’t be it. He had done it! What did he mean, he wins, no he doesn’t! Not against Sasuke, not here. 

“You may think you’ve seen through Izanagi..” But then the man’s eyes go wide in a mix of shock and fear. He coughs up a stream of dark blood. It’s not working, you think, Sasuke put him under a genjutsu. The last eye closes, and you clench your fists as you eagerly watch on. Sasuke pushes the man back slightly, freeing his lightning blade from his abdomen.

“You’re the one who is going to see Itachi.” Sasuke states smugly, watching as his opponent fell to his knee with a grunt of pain. Sasuke’s exhaustion was clear, and you hoped this would be the extent of it. You’re not as confident about him having to do this over if the Izanagi was undone. With another yell of suffering, Danzo falls forward on his hands, inches away from Sasuke’s feet. 

“Now that’s battling with your eyes. Don’t underestimate the Uchiha.”

You watch them carefully. Danzo never used Shisui’s eye, perhaps he was worried about you or Sasuke or even Madara getting it back. You knew that he was seeking power and prowess, but you were sure he would allow you to keep your brother’s eye. You want to get it back, it should’ve never been abused like this. None of this should have happened like this. Danzo is the reason your brother is dead. All because they wanted his abilities. You are his second coming, the now mostly heartless version of the boy who had been so kind. Your abilities will make up for the loss of his. 

Ripping you out of your thoughts was Sasuke’s yell of pain. You focus back on the present, moving toward him as far as Madara would allow. Karin runs fully fledged, and you’re annoyed that he lets her. This of course is an ultimate move to keep you out of danger and to allow Sasuke to be the best. Madara knows Karin can’t contribute anything too useful, whereas you could have used your Mangekyo ability to control everything. 

Karin crouches next to him. “Are you alright? Hurry up and bite!” 

You roll your eyes. That would be how her healing works, how stupid. He grabs her arm and his eyes flitter over to you for a moment. He looks back down at her wrist and reluctantly chomps down. You can actually feel your body temperature increase when she moans out and turns red, obviously getting something from this. 

“Bringing that woman was a wise decision, she’s useful. I see why Sasuke chose her.” Madara says, and you wonder if he gets pleasure from pissing you off. You’re fully capable of healing too, it really wasn’t necessary for her to be here at all. Sasuke did want her to join, however, and now you’re wondering why. It felt silly to be so jealous at a time like this, so you force the thought out entirely, choosing instead to watch the scene before you. 

You watch as Danzo summons yet another huge tree from his Hashirama given ability. It makes you wish you could make trees this powerful under your plant jutsu, but the wood style was so unique to the first Hokage. 

“What a persistent guy!” Karin says as Danzo reaches to undo the bandages covering his head and right eye. You almost shout for her to get out of the way, but something causes the words to die in your throat. 

“Not yet. This is where we battle with our eyes.” Your stomach sinks. This could really only mean one thing. The sharingan in his head was Shisui’s. All you see is red, wishing you could throw caution to the wind in order to get it back. 

Almost as if he’s able to read your thoughts, Madara’s other hand claps down gently on your shoulder. “We’ll be getting it back.” He promised, needing both of the Uchiha to unlock their eternal Mangekyo status. His visual prowess combined with yours would make any opponent terrified to stand across from you. 

Sasuke realizes this as well, recognizing the sharingan pattern of your older brother. He charges at Danzo with his left hand consumed by Chidori. But Danzo doesn’t wait for him to make it, choosing to run around to hold Karin by the neck. You clap your hands over your face. Of course, she would be annoying this entire mission and then get herself taken hostage when the battle was nearly won.

“You used your visual prowess too much, didn’t you?” Danzo asks, a smug expression on his face. 

Karin struggles in his grip. “Sasuke..!” 

“Useless.” You mutter, directly arguing Madara’s earlier claims. “I could have healed him faster and avoided this.”

“Isn’t it ironic that you, who glorified self-sacrifice, would take a hostage?” Sasuke asks calmly. You know that he has a plan. 

“It’s not that I consider my life precious. But for the sake of the Hidden Leaf Village…for the ninja world…I cannot afford to die here.” He replies, making it clear how much of a rat he truly is. He cares not for the Leaf like he claims, he only cares about power and winning. “No matter what the means, I must survive. For I will be the one reformer who will change this ninja world. This woman will be sacrificed for that cause.” He adds, tightening his hold on the redheaded healer.

You can’t find it in yourself to care. You just want Danzo dead and your brother’s eye returned to you. You want to get rid of this whiny brat that thinks that she has any of Sasuke���s attention. You want to balance out the scales and go home, wherever that would be. 

“Sasuke help!” She pleads again, not an ounce of self-preservation instinct in her. 

“Don’t move…Karin.” Sasuke says authoritatively, causing the girl to smile with relief. You gasp. He looks terrifying right now, nothing but coldness and brutality emanating off of him. He shoots a beam of his chidori straight out, hitting Karin and Danzo both. 

Karin’s eyes are wide, blood seeping from her mouth. Even you are surprised. Your shock turns into a smile, appreciating his desire for revenge. He would never let Danzo get away, just like he had promised to himself and to you. 

Danzo is stilled, hit in a vital point. It should just be seconds before he draws his last breath. 

“Brother…one down.” He says with a satisfied smile. 

“Sasuke…what was I to you?” She asks desperately, as if the answer was not clear by his willingness to sacrifice her life to get what he wanted. 

“Karin…You managed to get taken hostage, you are nothing but a burden to me.” His chidori finally powers down and Karin’s injured form falls face first onto the cement. Danzo’s breathing grows heavy, and you can still hear the woman struggling for her own breaths. Sasuke is satisfied. There is no guilt or remorse. 

Danzo turns and starts to lightly jog away, his desperation clear. He had no other options, and was cornered once more. Sasuke starts to calmly walk after him, his dark eyes glowering with a crazed desire. He smirks, walking Danzo down. Madara takes you with him as he jumps to the bridge, cutting off his escape. 

“Danzo..I’m taking Shisui’s eye.” He says with finality. Sasuke reflects on the night he found out about Shisui, the pain he felt for you. He couldn’t have imagined what it would be like to lose Itachi yet, and if you felt even a fraction of the way he did now, you deserve this retribution tenfold. 

Danzo seemed enraged. “For the sake of the ninja world…for the sake of the Hidden Leaf…I will not let you three live!” He declares, a black seal appearing on his body. 

“Sasuke! Get away from Danzo!” Madara yells, dissolving into the ground below. You and Sasuke jump into the air.

You shake your head. “No! Shisui’s eye!” You remind, eyes fixed on the man destroying himself just to keep you from having it. The two of you land on the Samurai Bridge, close to Karin’s body. There’s not any time to process what happened, and you think you’re hallucinating when you see Sakura walking toward you two. 

She pleads with Sasuke to allow her to join your team, claiming she, too, has defected. You immediately know she’s lying. If another team seven member left the village, every available ninja in Konoha would be after her. And, as sweet and talented in medical nin as she was, she was not gifted in evasion or lying. 

Sasuke seemed to play her game, telling her she could replace Karin on their squad if she killed her. You could see the terror flashing in her eyes. She wouldn’t do it. Karin groaned in obvious agony, watching all three of you. As Sakura approaches her, you share a glance with Sasuke. You shake your head, eyes flickering over to the other women briefly. He nods, agreeing with you. He lights his hand with what little chakra he has left, but before it goes anywhere, Kakashi flies onto the bridge, swooping the pink-haired woman away.

Your heart stops, your mind goes blank even. Kakashi? You really must be hallucinating now. You watched him die, how on earth is he standing before you? Is this a joke, no, no, a cruel prank. He sets her down, instructing her to take Karin somewhere else, if you hear him correctly. 

After that, you’re not really sure what happens or what’s being said. You can hear the cold and biting tone in Sasuke’s voice. He’s really going off the rails, he’s getting more cruel and more dark. You knew that was Itachi’s goal for the most part, but only to drive this revenge and keep the name of the Uchiha respected. But he had killed the most prominent motivator behind the massacre, shouldn’t he feel better? Kakashi…it really is him. It’s his voice, all the body language is the same. A strange noise comes out of your mouth and you’re embarrassed when your knees buckle. 

Kakashi is relieved to see you unharmed and relatively safe. He sees the myriad of emotions on your face, and for a moment he wants to pause all of this arguing to give you a hug and tell you that it is really him. That he’s not angry with you and he’ll do anything it takes to keep you safe, even if that includes hurting Sasuke. 

You hear the battle between them commence, a few ninjutsu here and there until Sasuke summons his Susano’o. You know no matter how this ends, you’ll be heartbroken for a time. You wanted revenge too, but even you could admit that you were worried for Sasuke once again. And if Sasuke hurt Kakashi in any permanent way, you would hold that against him. His Susano’o falters, running on fumes of chakra at this point. He taps you in. 

“Y/N, take care of this pretender!” He demands, enraged, that Kakashi has the sharingan and the chakra control to use it as a non-Uchiha. 

But you don’t move. You know you can’t, you could never even imagine it. Deep down, Sasuke knows this too. That’s why he gives you such an order in the first place. He’s losing himself, he can feel that. All his love and care for you has been devoured by this Amaterasu of emotion. The only thing he can comprehend is hatred, is the need for crushing anyone and anything that’s hurt him. He’s jealous and angry at you, too, for having someone care about you like Kakashi does. You didn’t have to experience everything on your own like he did. Once, he wanted you to get revenge too. He wanted your hatred to burn and consume you just as it had him. But yours wasn’t strong enough. No, because you had weaknesses. Your loyalty to him could be blinded by your devotion to the man who raised you. Maybe at some point he had appreciated this about you. Part of him may even be glad that you had a family. But when you denied him the first time he was baffled. He knew you had to care for him more than that, right? But here you sit, on your hands and knees in the river, denying him again. Uchihas feel every emotion deeply, and you love him. You have always loved him, so how dare you choose Kakashi right now? It was your chance to prove that you were indeed strong. 

Kakashi was going to be a few seconds too late. Sasuke moved toward you with the intent to kill this time, and he was stunned. Was he really this close to bringing you back home only to be responsible for your death?

Your eyes widened once you realized that he was coming at you, and then all you felt was a gust of wind and a strong body and chakra wrapped around you. You looked up, arms around the neck of Naruto Uzumaki. Maybe under different circumstances you would smile at him. But now, your emotions are so conflicted. Even when Naruto smiles warmly down at you and sets you back on your wobbly feet, you don’t know what to say. Because really, you are just as bad as Sasuke. You let him attack Karin and you would have let him kill Sakura on a whim, just because you knew you could. You got revenge, but you were devastated about not retrieving your brother’s eye. You fed off of Sasuke’s negativity instead of him feeding off of any of your light. You knew there were more targets, but how many innocent people would you have to hurt to finish attaining revenge?

Part of you died again with Kakashi. With every loss, your heart grew smaller and your eyes more powerful. You enjoyed being powerful, but at this cost…the price was much too high. It becomes clear to you that the only person that can save Sasuke is himself, and only Naruto can get close enough to him to force this. Kakashi’s hand is on your head, bringing you out of your thoughts while Naruto and Sasuke exchange words and promises. Sasuke wants to attack the Leaf, Naruto swears to defend it to no end. Life was so different just moments ago, but you have to let Sasuke go. It’s the only way you can ever hope to mend what you have, if that time ever comes. Kakashi’s hand is large, but it’s a welcome reminder of the best thing to come of this: his return.

“Are you alright?” He asks, eyes carefully analyzing you. He knew this must be beyond difficult, as most your life had been, he understands. 

“I think so.” You reply unsurely. The truth was absolutely not. How could you be okay? You were in the Bingo Books but all you sought was justice, corrupted by the desire toward the end. And now, the only true love you’ve ever known would have killed you had Naruto not showed up. 

Madara and Zetsu show up, trying to de-escalate the situation and take Sasuke away. Zetsu wanted to further the fighting to take you back, and perhaps capture the nine-tails inside Naruto, but he was luckily talked down from that. They disappear, and you’re left looking around at Kakashi and Naruto without a clue in the world what to say. 

“Don’t worry Y/N-chan, Kakashi-Sensei and Old Lady Tsunade will get all of this taken care of! We want you to come home!” Naruto says cheerfully, though you can tell he’s hiding his emotions by distracting himself with yours. 

You look down at the river beneath you. “Is it really that easy? I..I don’t know how I can face anyone..” 

Kakashi’s face softens. He knows the feeling. “You’ll do what you have always done before. You’ll train and go on missions and earn back trust over time. It won’t be easy, but it’s nothing you can’t manage.” 

“Plus we’re always here for you!” Naruto adds, patting you on the shoulder affectionately. “I missed you! I looked everywhere for you Y/N…” He chuckles nervously, clearly not trying to get on your case.

“I know, you got close several times. I’m sorry…I thought that this is what I wanted.” 

“It’s alright, really! Don’t worry about it, you’re coming back home to the Leaf and now we can train together and we’ll be ready to take on Sasuke!” He holds his hand out for you to take, and you do. You squeeze it out of appreciation, and he seems a little lost for a moment. It causes a smile to sneak up on you, he wasn’t familiar with acts of affection and it made you wonder why he held his hand out to you at all. 

“We’ll be ready.” You confirm, heart aching already at the thought of the Last of the Uchiha standing against each other instead of beside. Your smile is weak and it’s easy to tell that you’re still weary, but it means enough to the jinchuriki and your father figure that they both smile softly at you in return. 

“Let’s go home.” Kakashi hums, relieved to have you in tow. But he felt immense guilt over Sasuke, and what lay ahead for you. 

Home. You nod, wondering the same. Wondering what home really means, and if life is always this painful. 

Naruto starts talking about some old story that Jiraiya told him, and you’re grateful that he keeps the journey from being silent. 

“Gaara! I will stay and fight with the Kage!” You proclaim, taking up a spot beside him and aiding Tsunade in his healing. 

He hums his approval. “Good, your prowess will help us well.” He says honestly, the last time he saw you was at the Kage Summit, and you were not so helpful then. But before that, you helped save him from Sasori and Deidara, and before that, you were kind to him at the chunin exams. Overall, he has more reasons to believe in you than not, and he chooses to trust in you. 

The Mizukage sprays a lava jutsu all over the place, allowing the Raikage to pull off some lightning style moves. 

Madara re-emerges from the rubble in a big blue Susano’o not unlike Sasuke’s. You hum, finishing up Gaara’s healing to form a Susano’o of your own. You had been practicing it as far as you really could, stressing yourself out by reliving your different traumas until your summon was perfect. A bright green chakra statue comes together in the sky, your Susano’o standing directly against Madara Uchiha’s. Madara throws attacks at you, Gaara’s sand creating a protective barrier around everyone else. You crush the attacks with your hands. 

“Another pesky one of my own, is that so?” Madara chuckles deeply, almost admiring your perfect Susano’o. “It’s too bad I’ll have to kill you, child!” 

Gaara covers his Susano’o with his sand, preparing for his ultimate sand coffin burial. Madara shoots his chakra through, piercing the layer and preparing for another attack. The Mizukage covers the field in mist, obscuring the rinnegan’s ability to see. The Raikage takes the opportunity to get through, and you follow his lead to take a shot at Madara’s Susano’o too, the sound of chakra against chakra like nails on a chalkboard. You knock him from the being, powering yours down to fight regularly. You punch the ground, creating a physical rift and hopefully some sort of visual one.

The Tsuchikage talks Naruto’s shadow clone into trusting in the five Kage’s abilities, especially with you as added backup. Naruto trusts you too, maybe more easily than you deserved, but his clone sped off and left the six of you to take Madara down. 

Madara wraps vines around the Tsuchikage’s defense, and you recognize the plant style similar to yours. You grin, you summon your own vines in the variety that would smother out his own, considered more powerful but also more chakra consuming. Your seal appears on your forehead, and you’re ready to consume what you’ve had stored for so long. 

Your vines take out half of his plants, but it's not enough. They start to admit a poisonous pollen, which Tsunade advises everyone to avoid. Everyone jumps in the air, giving Madara an opening to reform his Susano’o. The commotion of his summons sends everyone flying towards the tree roots he’s created below. He uses a fire style to light the wood on fire, smoke inhalation making you all fall forward, unable to overpower it. The Tsuchikage uses all of his remaining strength to use a metallic jutsu, repelling the flame away. 

It takes a few minutes, but slowly you all wake, rushing to the Tsuchikage’s aid. Madara reveals his addition of Hashirama’s powers to his own, taking the time to insult Lady Tsunade’s powers in comparison to her grandfather’s. He even calls her a weak woman, to which your promise he will pay for. 

“Alright it’s time for you to stop talking!” You grit your teeth, watching Tsuande’s 100 healings jutsu seal wraps around her body, and her punch is enough to actually physically crack Madara’s Susano’o. You’re mystified by this, and proud of one of your teachers for defending her abilities. Hashirama was a God amongst men, there is no comparison to be made except for maybe Naruto. The Mizukage has to jump in to extinguish another bout of fire style. Her water dragon comes next, allowing Tsunade and the Raikage to score hits on the chakra shield. Their punches land, cracking the usually impenetrable guard and taking Madara right out of it. 

“I’ll admit it. Undoubtedly you are not weak woman. However, Hashirama, I don’t know exactly what it is you’ve left to all your followers. But this falls short of your abilities. If you’re going to let your underlings take over, you should have taught them how to resurrect you. The only thing that is ever truly passed down, of course, is hatred.” He says smugly, arms folded over his chest. 

Tsunade flies at him. Landing a punch to his chest. The Raikage calls for Gaara, letting him enact his plan. He captures Madara in a sand pyramid, and you jump over to land with Tsunade. 

“Way to go!” You cheer, just as a beam of chakra erupts from the tree root you’re standing on, shooting right through your mentor. It lifts her into the air, the rest of you staring in shock. Apparently Gaara sealed a wood style clone instead of the real Madara. Tsunade yells out, a guttural mix of frustration, anger, and the desire to win. She ‘cha’s’ the chakra beam impaling her,  and this time even Madara is surprised. She holds onto the other end of the tentacle-esque formation, slamming it to the ground below her. Madara sends her flying into a pile of rocks, even more shocked when she pushes them aside and stands ready to fight again. 

The Tsuchikage tries an attack from behind while Tsuande aims one at his front, but Madara is able to deflect. He summons five clones for every one of you, taunting you with the option for them to use Susano’o. Yours forms again, ready to take on most of the clones yourself. Your Susano’o fights with two samurai blades, slashing through several members of Madara’s army. One still hits the Mizukage, sending her flying back as well as Gaara when he tries to intervene. Lady Tsunade and the Raikage land a few shots on their own shadow clones, and then Madara decides to pick the Raikage out of the crowd. He puts him under a genjutsu, and the Tsuchikage’s summon is the only thing that saves the former’s life. 

The Five Kage plus you stand aligned, ready for what came next. You knew the clones were going to be an issue, though Madara seemed less sure about them now that your Susano’o stands tall too. 

The Tsuchikage sends out a particle style jutsu, absorbing the rest of the clones and forcing Madara into his perfect Susano’o. You force yours to his level, knowing that if you don’t, all five Kage will die. Madara hits the cliff, sending everyone but your shielded form back a few hundred yards. His Susano’o walks up to yours. You slash at him, but he’s quick. He lands a hit on your chakra form, making you take a couple steps backward. You block his next attack with one sword, using your other to stab through. For a moment, you believe your attack is what causes him to drop from his Susano’o, but he declares that something is wrong with the jutsu he’s been using. 

You grin, knowing that if you can continue to hold him off, you may overpower him simply from your chakra stores. He obviously has virtually hundreds of years of fighting experience and Hashirama Senju was his opponent, but still, you  tell yourself that your power compares to no one else, not even your brother. 

“It appears that the reanimation jutsu has been released.” He says unbothered, though you feel like it’s a ruse. You drop from your Susano’o in favor of your right eye’s Mangekyou ability, Subete o Mamoru. It allows you to project your genjutsu onto everyone else, giving you the opportunity to give the Five Kage your delayed sense. 

Madara barrels toward you, and the only person you can’t protect is Lady Tsunade, who barrels ahead to meet him. You watch her stutter mid-air, her seal must have worn off. The Raikage jumps to catch her, but she’s gently placed down on a tree root before anyone can actually make it to her. You’re all confused, as she seemed to have passed out in the air. When she comes mentally back, she seems re-energized, claiming she got to see an old friend. It must have been the reanimated souls making it back, someone came to see her. You wondered if it was Dan, or her brother, or even Jiraiya. 

Madara claims that she will see him then again soon, releasing the jutsu. He voices his desire to go for Naruto instead, which you vehemently protest. 

“Even if we can’t stop him, we can’t just let him get to Naruto!” You proclaim, arguing with the Kage of the Villages. You’re not sure what happens next, all you see is the ground beneath you growing closer dangerously fast. 

It’s Kakashi that shakes you awake. The sun is hanging in the sky, things are mostly quiet other than a low rumble of a few people talking here and there. His eyes look at you with worry, but your gentle smile puts him at ease. You were mostly unharmed, just a few scrapes and bruises here and there. You fought valiantly and stood toe-to-toe with Madara. He pats your head. 

“Is it over?” You ask, looking around at the immeasurable damage done. 

He nods slowly. The war is certainly over, but Naruto and Sasuke were standing against each other for the final time. 

“What is it?” You ask cautiously, able to read that there was more to know. Your heart drops, and you fear that you’ve lost your friends. 

“Naruto and Sasuke are fighting in the valley.” He states, watching your expression shift. You didn’t even know Sasuke had shown up, and you immediately feared that he was fighting with the other Uchiha. 

“Sasuke? Did…he–”

“No, he fought for the Leaf…he needs to fight Naruto a final time, I think. To fully put this to bed.” Kakashi explains calmly, lifting you into his arms to take you and Sakura to the scene. He lets the two of you heal each other, silently. There was a quiet understanding that you had between each other, and you were okay with that. 

When you get to the valley though, all the fighting is done. The two boys lay almost lifeless on the rock, missing an arm and bleeding out. Sakura runs over the rock to Naruto, and you find yourself automatically moving the same way, sitting by Sasuke’s side with a pained smile. 

Sakura is in tears, healing Naruto and looking between the two of them in wonder.

You hold your hand over Sasuke’s wound, and the look in his eyes is heartbreaking. His other hand closes around your wrist, pushing your hand away. 

“I don’t deserve it.” He says, seemingly realizing the mistakes he’s made all at once. As he looks at you, someone who had every right to turn out just like him, but someone who was so much better. You were kind and forgiving and full of love for other people, and it hurt him to look at your brightness. Especially when he almost smothered it out, almost killed the person he cares most for simply out of anger. 

You peel his hand off of yours, pooling your chakra to heal the wound. “You deserve to live, Sasuke.” 

“I hurt you. I’m sorry, you didn’t do anything to deserve that.” His voice is thick and shaky, and you know he’s fighting tears. 

You rest your other hand on his face. “Apology accepted. The world doesn’t work off of who deserves what, Sasuke. We can only do that for each other, from now on. I’ll give you what you deserve if you can do that for me.” 

He nods, watching you stop his bleeding and bandage the nub that used to be his right arm. You’re beat up, and he wonders who you were fighting with and against in the war. He wonders how you can forgive him so easily and touch him so tenderly after everything he’s put you through, all the back and forth and the mistreatment and the danger. He can tell by the softness of your features, the gentle smile playing at your lips and the life that shines in your eyes, you aren’t upset. You meant what you said. He feels another emotion, one he’s felt in short bursts before, but this time it’s overwhelming. Anger and hatred burned from the inside, turning everything to blisters and scars. But what he feels as he looks at you, it soothes. It’s a rush of cool water relieving all his burns, stronger than the gusting winds of his doubt. He knows it will be alright, for the first time. He knows he will do whatever it takes to give you what you deserve, it’s the least he can do, so he’ll do even more than that. 

He’ll make it up to you, or spend his life trying. 

Kakashi was chosen as the Sixth Hokage, much to your enjoyment. You knew the job would keep him on his toes, but you couldn’t imagine anyone better for it. He pardons Sasuke for his crimes, citing his war effort and even Itachi’s work to protect the Leaf as the reasons why. 

Itachi and Shisui are officially commemorated as Heroes of the Leaf. It warms your heart to know that this came from Sasuke’s journey. Just like you had hoped, Naruto forced him to save himself and understand his actions. 

In an effort to continue making up for his transgressions, he vows to search the hidden villages for any more Kaguya-level threats to keep the Leaf safe for as long as he lives. Itachi would be proud. Sasuke cites you as the biggest reason he was able to come back to himself, the way you stood strong was inspiring. A true example of the honor, strength, and integrity of being an Uchiha. 

It has only been a few months, but the two of you have become inseparable. All is right in the world, the Last of the Uchiha stand side by side wherever you see them. That doesn’t change even as he gets ready to set out on this mission, your journey unarguably bound with his. He knew you would come with him, but part of him worried that you would change your mind. He worried that you would realize that you were better than him, that he had done unforgivable things, he broke his promise. He swore he would never hurt you yet that’s all he’s ever done. 

So how can you look at him so happily, bouncing up to your fellow Uchiha with a bright smile and a bag hanging off your shoulder, no doubt packed for the trip. How can you leave Kakashi behind in favor of him, the man who almost killed you? The warmth in your heart sparks life in him, determined to take your forgiveness and make the most of it. You look as magical as you usually do, your Uchiha-crested shirt form-fitting to your womanly figure. You took the comfortable and utilizable route of shorts, knowing that you would be active. Your cloak is snapped above your chest, the purple cape flapping in the breeze. And that damned purple headband keeps your dark hair out of your shining and love-filled face. 

You love him, he realizes again. Once, it upset him. He felt entitled to your love without even really knowing what it meant. He thought a woman’s love was pure devotion, that it was something mindless and just another facet of life. From his earliest ages, he remembers assuming he’d marry you. He remembers not being bothered by the idea, but didn’t think you were much like a wife when you were little. His mom was quiet and sweet, and you were a yelling demon of a girl. His mom always made good dinners and always made him happy when he cried,so that’s what thought love meant. And he could live without a good dinner or and he doesn’t cry often enough to need someone to cheer him up. 

That’s what he used to believe, until now. Now that he’s watching you carefully pack onigiri in a small box, rambling on about Shikamaru and Temari’s wedding that would happen while you two were gone, it all makes so much sense. The unfathomable care and worry he had for you that night, grieving your loss as a child, wondering if he would ever see you again. The jealousy of watching you become close with Naruto and Shikamaru, the deep need to have you by his side at his lowest mental point, it’s because he loves you too, and it means so much more than he thought. 

You fill the emptiness in him with your smile, the sound of your laugh makes his heart beat funny but he likes it. If anything happens to you, he fears what he truly would become then. He decides to push that out of his mind, knowing he would never allow that. You would be safer than you’ve ever been, because he would die for you. 

Your eyes narrow at him. You could tell by the look in his eyes that he wasn’t listening, he was lost in his own head again. You wonder if it’s a good or a bad place, whatever he’s thinking about. You think it’s pleasant, from the small grin betraying him. His hair ruffled slightly with the breeze, his dark cape doing the same. He stood tall, seemingly growing more even over the past few months. He traded his purple clothes for black, knowing you would keep the purple alive. His robes were simple, but you thought he would get too warm on the long road ahead. 

Over the past few months, the two of you had grown closer, however that was possible. It seemed easier now, like after your traumas you were able to let things flow more freely. Unfortunately, neither of you were magically gifted with the ability of affection all of a sudden, though you were each trying to work up the nerve to display your true emotions in a more bold way. So far, the furthest confirmation you had received from him was the green paper heart tucked still in the pocket of your bag, and the most he had from you was your utter stoppage of Karin every time she was around. It was clear how much you meant to each other, and you were able to say as much. You usually stayed with him in his old apartment, which made conversations flow unfiltered and with plenty of wonder from you, gazing at the nearly barren place. 

He’s been here since you were kids, and it didn’t have any personal decoration or flare to it. It barely looked lived in, though you imagine his desertion at 12 had a lot to do with that. Yet still, it was a time capsule of comparison. You had six years of learning to be a person with Kakashi, he had six years of beige walls and a ticking clock on the wall. Nothing but his own mind to keep him busy, his emotions and need to get stronger motivating him to train hard. You marveled at the dust settled over everything, opening the window to air the apartment out. You two had spent that afternoon cleaning the entire place, and you displayed a few pictures and some of the origami he made you to decorate. He smiled at the gesture, a picture of the two of you as rogue nin framed. It made him want to chuckle, so he did, though it sounded strange.

“What, you don’t like it?” You pouted, moving to grab it back. He quickly stopped you by stepping in between the picture and origami setup on the dresser and your lunging form. 

“It’s just an interesting picture, that’s all. I do suppose that’s the only one you have, though.” He admitted with a shrug, a tiny smile on his lips. He was amused by the pouting and by the effort to make his apartment seem more like a home despite the fact you two would be leaving it to dust over again in a few months anyway. “I like it.”

You arched a brow. “Are you lying?” 

“No. I don’t get the point of decorating when we’ll be leaving again, but I think it’s nice of you to worry about things like that.” He says, and you look at him critically, deciding he was telling the truth. 

“Because it’s still yours. It makes me a little sad to think about tiny Sasuke growing up here. I guess I can’t undo that, of course, but..I can make the future better.” You say, pouting again at the idea. 

He smiled and nodded. He definitely agreed, you were just about the only thing that could make him better. 

So now that you two are ready to set out, he wonders if he has the nerve to push things just a little further with you. You set all his paper origami creations on his table that day a couple of months ago, all except the most important one. 

“Hey, did you keep the..paper heart-thing I made you..?” He asks just as you were about to ask if he was listening. So that’s what he was thinking about. The question and his awkwardness makes your heart quicken. 

You nod. “Yeah, it’s right here.” You reply, undoing the button on your bag so you can pull it from the pocket to show him. 

He smiles softly when he sees it, and almost instinctively looks away. “Why did you keep it, instead of putting it up in my apartment?”

“Because this one means something else, I thought.” You say back, quicker in response than he anticipated. There’s a knowing tone to your voice, like you understand what he’s working towards and are letting him have the time to do it. 

“It does.” He confirms, and it wasn’t as hard as he expected. He holds his hand out to you again, like he did in the cave months earlier, but instead of letting you grab it, he looks down at it like he wasn’t sure how to accomplish what he wanted. He wasn’t sure how to simply express his affection for you other than what you did to him after the war. He tilts his hand a little and rests it on your cheek instead. When you touched him like this it was gentle and sweet, he could feel your forgiveness. He hoped you could feel his love for you.

“I love you too.” You hum, sinking into the touch. He could feel your cheek move for your soft smile. Your fingers close around his wrist, The two of you just looking at each other. There was nothing else to say, out loud anyway. His heart softened at you words, you did know him so well.

Time heals most wounds, and so does working missions with your partner. It felt like the two of you versus the world, in a good way. The way you had always imagined it would feel. The wide open sky welcomes you both, stars lighting the way of your walk. It had been another few months since the two of you left the Leaf to start exploring threats, and since you confessed your previously unspoken love for one another. Not much had changed since then, other than the two of you holding hands as you talked about all kinds of different things and explored the hidden villages. 

The beautiful night sky just served to highlight your beauty, in the eyes of Sasuke. It really was a miracle that you didn’t fall for someone else while he was gone, truly the Last Princess. Uchiha were unusually beautiful, but you were angelically so. Not to even factor in your immense power and perfect persona. He wasn’t completely sure anyone deserved to be with you. He was lucky you gave him that chance. 

“We should rest here for a while.” He says in that ever calm voice of his. You hum your agreement and begin to set up a little pallet bed for each of you. He came over to help set up his own, remembering something you had said a few months ago. “Hm. Isn’t Shikamaru and Temari’s wedding today?” 

You gasp and nod, pilfering through your bag for a scroll to write them a letter. “Yes! I completely forgot, thank you for reminding me!” You say, taking out the paper and bearing down on the ground with your ink pot. 

“Silly girl.” Sasuke mused, summoning two crows. “This will be faster, and they’ll show clones of us. What would you like to say?”

You stand back up, pleasantly surprised that he would send chakra birds to deliver your message faster. “Of course, of course, uh let’s see.” 

You stare off at the stars above you, biting your lip. Maybe everything really was worth it, if in the end he gets to keep you. You’re impossibly seductive, even when you’re simply thinking of what to tell your good friends.

“Congratulations, Shikamaru and Temari! I’ve known that this is how your story goes since we were chunin, the chemistry you two have is so amazing! I love you two so much and so does Sasuke!! We’re sending you a wedding gift when we get to the next village so be on the lookout for that. Can’t wait to see you both soon! Sasuke, say bye!” You say, cheerful and bouncy. He can’t help himself, everything in his body aches to grab you in his arm and kiss you, uncouth as it may be. So he does. He steps forward and wraps his left arm around your waist, tugging you close.. You look up at him when he does this, only surprise and excitement on your face as your hands brace yourself on his chest, waiting expectantly. He brings his hand up to hold your face in the way he likes so much, thumb gently stroking over your cheekbone. He leans down, trusting his body to know what to do. Your lips meet his, soft and warm. He finds that he does know what to do, mouth moving over yours easily. You feel him relax, hands still balled up in his clothes. His body is tingling, your breath giving him life and motivating him to keep going on. Only when he’s breathless does he pull away, resting his forehead on yours. His heart races but in a comforting way. Like he would spend the rest of his life chasing that feeling, of your hands and lips on him and no one else. 

His eyes widen when he realizes that the chakra crows would replay the scene, and you seemingly understand this at the same time. You giggle and shake your head, turning back to them. “He gets a little excited, sorry about that you guys.” 

He smiles sheepishly, waving towards the birds. “Um, yes, I apologize. Congratulations on your marriage,” He weaves the sign to send the birds, looking horribly embarrassed when he turns back to you. 

You can’t help but laugh again, giving him a shorter but just as sweet kiss. “Well now the Leaf gets to commemorate our first kiss!” 

The journey involves a few firsts for the young couple. You discover that you have an insane fighting chemistry, able to read each other’s moves and capitalize. Fighting together feels amazing, like all is right in the world. You train and keep your abilities sharp together, eat every meal by each other’s side. 

You’ve been traveling for a little over three years, marked by your eighteenth birthday. Sasuke had already celebrated this milestone earlier in the year, but he wanted to make it more of a spectacle for you, if that can be believed. He visited a shop and had cookies made, and even sacrificed some of the money to spend the night in an inn. It still wasn’t nearly what you deserved, but he wanted you to feel loved by him. He’s not stupid, he knows he’s not very romantic verbally, so he had to rely on his actions to help. 

You, of course, nearly sob at the gesture. It was impossibly sweet, and it got his message across perfectly. 

“Happy birthday, Y/N.” He says after showing you the room you two would rest in for the night. You were taken with the space, it was bigger than Kakashi’s apartment, and it was decorated beautifully. The Mist definitely knew how to leisure. 

“Sasuke…this is great!” You beam, throwing your arms around his neck. “I love you!” 

“I love you. Don’t waste the cookies.” He says, returning your hug. He relished the way your body felt pressed against his, the way you tucked your face into his neck and the way your hands rubbed circles into his shoulder blades.  

You giggle at the sentiment, releasing him in favor of trying your birthday cookies. 

That night, you celebrate another first time, gifting all of yourselves to each other and demonstrating all your love. 

“I think we should be married.”  He says almost absentmindedly, the two of you walking by some official-looking building in the Stone. 

“Oh, is that so?” You reply with a short hum, wondering if he was being serious. Though, admittedly, he’s not the type to joke around. 

He hums in reply. “Yes. We’ve loved each other our whole lives, I think it’s safe to get married…I know that ladies enjoy things like that.” He adds, as if he hasn’t been daydreaming about marrying you since you sent chakra crows to celebrate that occasion for friends of yours. 

You arch your brow. “Just ladies, hm?” You tease with a gentle yet mischievous smile. 

“Not just, I…I believe you deserve to be a wife and not a girlfriend. That title undermines your importance to me.” He says, cheeks turning red despite your closeness.

You squeeze his hand. “Well, is that your way of proposing, Sasuke?” You whisper, almost afraid of looking up at him for his answer. 

He squeezes back. “Yes.”

“Then I say yes.” 

He stops walking and looks at you, a soft smile on his face. He holds your cheek and gives you a loving kiss. It says what he cannot find the words to, that you’ve made him the happiest man with that answer, that he wants to have your marriage in order immediately. 

“Would you like to have it done here, in the Stone?” You ask, looking over the village you were visiting. To be transparent, you didn’t much care where you were married and you didn’t care for a big party in an event. You would be more than happy to marry Sasuke quietly in the Hidden Stone and have the legal work forwarded to Kakashi to announce the celebration. 

“I would like that, dear Y/N.” 

And so that’s how it went, you visited the officials in the Hidden Stone and had them perform a short and simple wedding ceremony. You both remained in your regular shinobi clothes, only the giddiness on your face revealed the importance of the situation. 

You promised to love and support each other always, be honest and loyal forever, and to respect and honor each other above all else. When the village official pronounces you man and wife, you whoop and holler just to aggravate your new husband. He flusters, the only other person in attendance was the officiant, and even he chuckles at the scene. 

“Well go ahead, kids, make it official and kiss!” The old man cheers, his day made by the charm of young love. 

You don’t have to be told twice, leaning in to each other for a lengthy union. His lips were always a tad icy, giving you goosebumps every time. Everything else about him was warm, his hand on your face and the care he took in kissing you. Like usual, he rests his forehead against yours. This time his smile is hard to miss. 

“My lovely wife.” He muses, proud of himself for making the moves. He wishes Itachi were here to see him, he’s sure he would be proud of his choice of bride. He hopes that Shisui would be happy to see his little sister married to him. This was a long time in the making, fated to the highest degree. You were practically made for each other, and now you two will make a new Uchiha name. 

You two continue your missions as husband and wife, the last of the Uchiha united. Another year passes without incident. You miss Kakashi and the rest of your friends, getting word from Gaara in the Sand that Naruto and Hinata were married shortly after Sakura and Rock Lee. It makes you happy to know that all of your classmates were safe and enjoying their lives. Gaara congratulated you two on your marriage, just passing your first anniversary. He graciously offers for Sasuke and yourself to stay in the Sand for around a month or two, in order to rest and help them with some recurring invaders. 

The two of you agree to stay, being put up in a nicely sized inn room for the duration of your rest. The Inn reminds you of your birthday treat, and you two can’t help but recreate that night several times over the course of the next two months. 

It takes three and a half months to fully absolve Gaara of his concerns with the Sand. 

  There had been a string of violent robberies in the village, yet it seemed like the perpetrators were traveling into the village each time. It ended up being a team of rogue nin from another village, and you were able to take them into custody easily. Later that day, when debriefing Gaara on the situation, you nearly fainted. You were hit with a bout of lightheadedness and felt yourself fall into the wall that is your husband. 

One of the Sand shinobi brought you a chair and Sasuke helped lower you into it. Gaara hummed in concern. “Are you alright, Y/N? Should I send for the medical team?” He asks Sasuke, who looks to you. 

You wave off their concerns with a hum. “I’m probably just a little dehydrated, I can check.” You say in an effort to ease their worries. Your palm is covered in your chakra, allowing you to scan your body for any ailment. You place your hand over your kidneys, expecting to see a little damage. You were not expecting what you found instead as you gasp dramatically. 

“What is it?” Gaara asks with more concern. 

Sasuke crouches beside you, taking your free hand in his own. 

“I’m pregnant.” You say softly, lips parted with shock. The room is quiet for a few moments, Sasuke visibly surprised. His hand squeezes yours tighter. 

“Congratulations again, you two.” Gaara says with the trace of a smile. “Should I send word, or would you like to keep this between you for now?” 

“We need to make arrangements to go back to the Leaf.” Sasuke replies, his mind made up. You still couldn’t quite tell how he was feeling, but you didn’t want him to assume you were useless now. 

“Woah, Sasuke, I don’t want to go back home yet. We can wait until I’m further along! We can get so much more done.” You advocate, anchoring the hold on his hand to make him look at you instead of the Kazekage.

“I’ll not have you in harm's way, not now.” He says, effectively dismissing your argument. Anything can happen to you at any time. You’ve just changed his life, the entire way he thinks. He was going to be a father…

He couldn’t risk anything happening to you on this journey. You were the most important person in the world, the thought of anything happening to you already was unnerving but he selfishly wanted you to come along. But now it’s not just you, you were rebuilding the clan, a job much more important than his. He nods to Gaara, as if to say, ignore her and do what I’ve asked. Gaara nods back. 

“Sasuke, please, don’t just banish me!” You pout, still worried that he was upset about this surprise. He turns to face you, his features softer than just a few moments ago. 

“My love.” He breathes, holding your face and placing a kiss on your forehead. “I’m not punishing you, I could never carry on if something happened to you and now the child. You won’t ever for a moment be alone if you don’t want to be, Kakashi would never forgive me if I didn't send you home. I’ll join you before it’s time, I promise. It’s my job to protect you.” He reminds, smiling softly. It’s a mix of emotion, he doesn’t want to miss you like that ever again. But he had to make a choice for someone other than himself, for you and what’s best for you now that you’re giving him the greatest gift a wife can give her husband, especially in this case. 

You reluctantly sigh. He was right, and you knew it. Part of you knew you wouldn’t be able to be a shinobi in the same capacity again, so you wanted to keep fighting to stay. 

In the end, Sasuke won. You’ve been back in the Leaf for five months, estimating yourself around six and a half months along at this point. You basically moved back in with Kakashi, who spends all of his spare time preparing for his grandchild. All the ladies of the Leaf are thrilled, doting on you as you dote on them. Many of you are pregnant, hoping for another generation of classmates, you all would joke. 

Hinata and you schemed the same way Sasuke’s and your mother did, planning playdates for children that aren’t even here yet. Sasuke was right, you were happier in the village with other women that knew what you were going through and the comfort of Kakashi and Naruto. Sasuke stays by your side in other ways, regularly sending his chakra crow clones to make sure that you and baby are healthy. Being apart this time isn’t as hard as it was before, maybe because you know he’ll come back this time or maybe because your relationship was much more concrete than it had been in years passed. In any event, you were counting down the days until he came home, just missing your lover.

You were over at Naruto and Hinata’s place when Sasuke came home, and he figured that would be the case based on the amount of times his crows had to track you there instead of his apartment or Kakashi’s. Hinata gets the door when you hear the knock, giggling happily at the visitor and escorting him into the living area. Sasuke hums at the sight of you, letting you jump all over him once you’ve realized he’s back. 

He chuckles at your behavior, kissing your forehead without embarrassment. Naruto and Sasuke exchange pleasantries, you can tell how the men have missed each other and you make a mental note to let them have some time to catch up soon. He comes back to you, resting his hand gently on the small bump you’ve formed. He thought pregnancy looked amazing on you, and he wondered how it was possible for you to grow even more beautiful to him. 

“I missed you.” You hum, resting your hand over his. 

“I missed you, my love.” He returned, and the sound of his voice makes your baby kick ferociously. You gasp and then giggle, Sasuke’s brow arching in careful confusion. You move his hand to the location of the kicks, and his eyes widen slightly when he feels the sensation of pressure. 

“They like the way your voice sounds, I think.” You giggle again, memorizing his shocked look. It was sweet, he was fascinated by it and couldn’t believe that he was the cause. 

“Oh, well, be nice to your mother.” He said, a small grin on his face, his hand moving in subconscious circles over your belly.  At this moment, everything is perfect. He never imagined a life like this for himself. His friends laugh and are happy to see him, the woman he’s wanted his entire life is at his side and growing his child in the first step to rebuilding their clan. 

You’re at peace, knowing the only thing you’re missing now is Kakashi, who was probably still working hard at keeping the village secure. You’re safe, loved beyond measure, and living the dream. You know your family would be proud of the shinobi and woman you became, and now you can only pass on their memory to the Uchiha you would give life to. 

“Would you like to go home?” Sasuke asks, and for the first time, you know exactly where home is.

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tags: @cococola-cocaine @hinari27 @bbylime

#naruto x reader #sasuke x reader #sasuke series #inextricable #kakashi x reader

[giorno-plays-piano]

No Apologies

Pairing: orc!Bucky Barnes x reader x orc!Steve Rogers

Warnings: noncon, kidnapping, forced marriage, breeding, magic tattoo, double penetration, my usual orc filth, bad dirty talk.

Words: 2.6k

Summary: Strange, you thought, nervously biting your already hurting lips as you watched them giving you a simple massage, their callous thumbs gently drawing circles on your skin. You'd never thought they would prostrate themselves before a human woman they abducted and married against her will.

P.S. Ok, it was not me who wrote it, it was a horny spirit possessing my body yesterday 👀

__________

"Fucking finally!" A huge dark-haired orc twice bigger than any man exclamed, inadvertently making you jump as you stared at him and his friend.

These two barbarians were the ones who captured you and brought you to the orcs' caves where other human women abducted recently were held - before they were forcefully married to those who kidnapped them, that is, just like you were a couple of hours before.

"Did you mark her with a tattoo?"

The orc behind you smirked, proudly gesturing to your naked crotch with a faintly glowing heart - a magic emblem of sorts, an orc's claim to demonstrate you were a monster whore, a wife of an orc. Or of the two of them, like in your case.

"You're scaring her," the other male said gently, his hand on his friend's shoulder as he eyed you up, humming with satisfaction when you tried to stop your tears, humiliated and afraid, completely naked in front of him. "Thank you for preparing her, brother. We'll take it from here."

The orc behind your back let out a sound close to a bark - he was probably laughing - before finally taking his hands off you and marching back to the main cave where the girls were held before they were given to their respective husbands. A couple of hours before you were presented to your personal orc bastards, you were scrubbed clean, marked with a crotch tattoo, and fed a few sickeningly sweet fruits for your first mating night, as orcs called it. Although, technically, tattoo was binding you to your orcs, the ceremony was considered official once they both filled you with their seed, your kidnappers informed you kindly. It was in your best interest, they said, since if your husbands wouldn't fill your baby room, other orcs could make their claim and take you for themselves. All you had to do was to spread your pretty legs and get a good fuck, they smirked, making your nauseous as you clenched your fists, your arms bound behind your back from the moment you were captured.

Well, you couldn't imagine sleeping with these two brutes with their cocks the size of your arm and staying alive.

"It's gonna be alright," the fair-haired orc smiled at you, gesturing to their bed - a pretty fancy bed for crude creatures like them - and stepping closer to you as if he meant no offense, and you wed him willingly. "We won't hurt you."

"Sure," you whispered as you watched the dark-haired orc licking his tusks as he stared directly at your naked chest. It was cruel of them to pretend to be kind, but they were orcs. Cruel was what they were. "You gonna tear me apart, and I will die."

"What? No, no!" The orc protested immediately as you took a step back, shivering, your arms aching from the rope. "We will prepare you properly before doing anything. It won't hurt, I swear!"

Yes, sure. As if they cared about your well-being, dragging you here like a sac, not listening to you wailing while you plead for your life until your throat started to hurt.

The other male narrowed his eyes at you, visibly irritated, before advancing at you and holding you by the arm. You flinched, your eyes on the ground not to provoke him further. You'd probably die if he decided to punch you. "You humans think anyone different from you is a monster, but, unlike you, we never marry a woman to abuse her. You'll be fine, stop trembling like a mouse."

The hot touch of his rough, work-weary hand only made you shake harder. They were two scary, scary creatures, and you could do nothing to protect yourself, naked and bound, alone in the caves full of orcs who treated you like a child's toy. Nothing good was gonna happen to you here. It was bad enough to be kidnapped, but kidnapped by monsters...

You didn't even feel it when tears welled up in the corners of your eyes. Again.

"Please don't hurt me," you mumbled, afraid to raise your eyes to your captors, your knees trembling.

The orcs looked at each other silently, and the blonde one shook his head, sending his friend a sad smile. The other one softened his grasp on your arm then, gently guiding you to the bed with his other hand caressing your back. "We won't, little girl. I promise, it won't hurt at all."

He waited until you landed on the bed with an anxious look on your face and gestured to the several little bottles on a nightstand you haven't seen before, the other orc opening one of them and pouring some sort of oil on his hand. "Look, all of this is to make you feel better. We'll oil you well before doing anything, and magic will help. It won't hurt even a second. It's your mating night, it's for your and our pleasure."

He nodded to his friend who eagerly spread the thick herbal substance between his huge palms, and the man landed on his knee, taking your feet and massaging the oil into the skin. For a second you shivered, expecting something weird to happen, but you felt nothing except warmth slowly spreading beneath orc's fingers. It was... alright. He wasn't beating you into submission, at least.

"See? We'll put it all over your body, and you'll feel fantastic," the fair-haired male sent you a reassuring smile, pouring the oil directly on your skin, massaging it into your feet and going up as you stared at him, dumbfounded. He was really giving you a massage, an orc who kidnapped you and forced you to marry him just a couple of hours before. "Bucky, help me, please."

You stared at them, unsure, when they both put themselves of their knees in front of you, each taking your foot in their hands and slowly rubbing in the oil. It was still scary to let those huge men, almost complete strangers, touch you, but at least they weren't actively trying to rape or punch you. Strange, you thought, nervously biting your already hurting lips as you watched them giving you a simple massage, their callous thumbs gently drawing circles on your skin. You'd never thought they would prostrate themselves before a human woman they abducted and married against her will. Why were they doing it? Why bother about what you felt? They clearly didn't care for your consent before, so why?

The more oil they used, the less cold you felt, you came to realize as orcs rubbed your unbound hands and shoulders with care, their breathing deep, calm as if they weren't aroused by your naked body. You could almost believe them if you didn't see their cocks bulging beneath the fabric of their pants. Instantly panicking, you raised your eyes to the ceiling to avoid looking there, and they softly rubbed your wrists where it hurt the most from the ropes.

No, they said they wouldn't abuse you. Surely, there was no reason to lie to you? They could have already taken what they wanted, there was no need to coax you into mating with them. It would still feel good for them even if they tore you apart. Instead, they kept spreading this strange magical essence, making sure you were all covered in it, their hands travelling to your shoulders and stomach as they kept rubbing your skin glistening from oil.

It almost felt nice, especially Bucky's arms on your belly. All of a sudden the dark-haired orc you were so scared of turned out to be really affectionate with you, his hands massaging your tummy tenderly but not going lower as he stood on his knees in between your thighs, his friend sitting on the bed behind your back, his fingers softly rubbing below your shoulder blades. It felt good. Serene. The orcs seemed almost disarming now. Was it the magic of the oil? It must have been. But weren't you supposed to feel hot by now? You thought the oil definitely contained some form of an aphrodisiac, considering they were going to bed you, anyway. But you just felt calm and nice, and it didn't make you want to jump on their cocks.

"I thought you'd put something arousing in there," you admitted as Bucky put his hands on your hips, and the other orc, Steve, chuckled. "So that I'd do it with you."

"We don't need any sex potions to arouse you. This oil is to make you relax. Doesn't it feel nice now?" he whispered into your ear gently, his hands cupping your breasts. "You'll be soft and warm, that's all you need to feel pleasure. Now please spread your thighs for Bucky, he has to put this oil inside you, and you won't feel pain at all when we bed you."

Letting your body relax and lean on Steve's chest for support, you slowly spread your legs for Bucky, and he generously poured magic oil onto his palm before covering your crotch with it, his thick fingers rubbing your lower lips and your clit as you exhaled loudly, turning your eyes to the ceiling. It was better now. Maybe you hadn't wed them willingly, but they treated you far better than you expected. Now you believed they weren't going to tear you apart, and you let out a sigh of relief, tears finally falling down your cheeks before Bucky gently wiped them away, his fingers caressing your face as you stared at his soft, warm expression.

Your breasts were already slick with oil, too, but Steve was still massaging them, pressing his thumbs in your nipples, rubbing them in between his thick fingers so that they became puffy and started to itch. Soon it felt really good when he pinched and tugged them a little, leaving nice little kisses behind your ear.

When Bucky slipped his fingers inside your already leaking pussy, you were kissing Steve then who stuck his longue, thick tongue down your throat. It took just a little fingering till you cummed nicely, Bucky's hand slick with your juices as you moaned, your lower belly pleasantly hot. You cummed two more times once your orcs started eating your holes out, their lovely tongues reaching every right place as you orgasmed with your legs spread wide, your knees trembling. Yes, it felt really nice now when Bucky's tongue pressed that spongy spot inside you, and you cummed on his face.

When you let out a moan again, Bucky left a loving kiss on your crotch tattoo gleaming softly in the dark. "That's a good girl. See, told you it would feel nice."

You caressed his thick, coarse dark hair absent-mindedly, "It's because you didn't put your horse cocks in me. They're too huge."

You heard Steve snickering as he hugged you from behind, his pulsing member rubbing your lower back. "Horse cocks, baby? That's a very nice thing to say."

Bucky smiled at that, his fingers on your aching clit, "Don't worry, the oil is working. Now we can breed your cunt, and you'll feel real good, kitten. I bet you'd ride me first thing tomorrow morning."

"Doubtful," you murmured before Steve turned your face to him and made you open your mouth, his tongue licking yours as his cockhead teased the tight ring of your muscles, slowly penetrating your ass.

Bucky was getting as much impatient, his monstrous cock sliding with ease in your pussy while you let out a sigh: it felt so good, just as they said it would. They were warm and strong and gentle, and even their cocks felt right once they started moving in one rhythm, stretching your holes. Your pussy had been tiny for Bucky's member thick as your arm, but now when his cockhead kissed your cervix, you just cummed a little, your pussy spasming and clenching around a nice, thick cock. Having Steve fuck your ass was even more bizarre idea, and yet it didn't hurt either. On the contrary, when his cock was rubbing against Bucky's, separated just by the back wall of your vagina, you orgasmed again with your eyes rolling inside your skull.

Fuck, that was it. You needed to mate. You wanted your holes full of orcs' seed to consummate your marriage and have them fucking you whenever you wanted. Wouldn't it be nice? It'd be so lovely if you could just stroke their cocks whenever you felt like fucking, and they'd sandwiched you between their bodies like now. You imagined walking up to Bucky and just getting your panties down, showing off your aching pussy to have him hammer his cock in you immediately. Or perhaps complaining to Steve that your empty cunt hurt, and you needed his thick, fat cum to feel better. Surely, it would be lovely to have them constantly use their cocks to please you.

You were cumming your brains out. You couldn't even count how many times you orgasmed already, the orcs changing angles and poses to have you on cloud 9. They were talking to you - Steve said something about the restriction to cum in your mouth unless you got knocked up, but Bucky assured him you were getting pregnant real soon - but you couldn't say much with your brain switched off. Now you could only think with your pussy. Sure, why not get pregnant with little orclings? Your orc husbands said they'd keep fucking you, anyway. They'd be so proud of you with your tattoo getting bigger, showing you were knocked up with orcs' seed, a sweet little slut with monster babies in your belly. Your orc husbands would fuck you as much as you wanted them if that happened, they promised to you as your pussy started spasming again, the tip of Bucky's cock kissing your cervix.

"I think it's time," Steve licked his lips, slowly taking his cock our of your ass while you moaned in protest. "Shhhh, baby. We have something special for you."

The other orc smirked, pulling out his member, too, his tip rubbing your drenched lower lips until Steve's cock joined him. You opened your eyes right away.

"It can't be," you said, your voice hoarse as you stared Steve in the face. "You're joking."

"No, baby, you're ready to take us both," he murmured, squeezing your perky nipples as his cockhead penetrated your cunt, Bucky's member entering your poor leaking hole at the same time, stretching it enourmously. "We have to end the mating ceremony like that, fucking you in one hole. Look how good you're taking us."

You stared with horror at your bulging belly, their cocks stretching you so much it looked like you were already pregnant. Shit, why did it feel so good to have them in your cunt together? These too monstrous, barbaric cocks pounding your sweet human pussy, soiling it with their dirty cum, forcing you to bear them babies... Could you ask them to do it more? To have their cocks in you every day? Bucky said something about you riding him tomorrow, right? You could do that. You could milk his horse cock till he emptied his balls in you. And you could suck Steve off real good, regardless of the taboo. You were definitely gonna get knocked up today, why waiting when you could give him a great blowjob with your tight throat?

Shit, two monster cocks abusing your cervix felt so fucking good.

Yeah, you were gonna make babies with them. You were gonna let your orcs have you where they wanted you if you got to command them to fuck you whenever you wanted to.

"A nice creampie for you, baby, for being so good to us," Bucky murmured into your lips, kissing you as your belly grew bigger with his and Steve's seed filling your baby room. "Look, your tattoo is already glowing. Congratulations on becoming an orc mama, you sweet slut."

____________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @biiskuitx @stupendouslovegardener @melodierin @yeolliedokai @what-is-your-wish @lou-la-lou @gachawipes133 @eralen @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer

#bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes #bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #yandere #orc!stucky

[leedosbunnyboy]

Kyojuro Rengoku; The Fire Kindling in My Heart

Genre: Fluff, Implied Smut

Pairing: Kyojuro Rengoku x Male Reader

Warning(s): Very narrative-driven, Slight feminization (Reader is referred to as a wife), Kyojuro and Reader bathe together, Implied bath s3x

Summary: Living with the love of your life can do a number on you, especially when you live every day wondering if he’ll even come back alive

Part II

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

Ten years…

Ten years since you’ve first started living with the flame hashira’s family.

Kyojuro Rengoku, the flame hashira, was your best friend since you were kids. So whenever your parents were killed by a demon, it was only natural he’d invite you to live with his family.

You were eternally grateful for his kindness and did everything anything necessary to attempt to repay his kindness; however, Kyojuro never once asked anything of you, simply saying you being alive and within his presence was more than enough. Even now, Kyojuro was twenty and you were nineteen, he was still as caring as ever. Always bringing you gifts from his many missions.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

You knew you liked the slayer. Hell, you’ve known since you were twelve. That was when Kyojuro held you as you cried on the second anniversary of your parents’ death. You wailed, you screamed, you looked a mess, all covered in snot and struggling to breathe, but Kyojuro never once judged you. He simply continued to hold you and you let you cry into his shoulder, whispering sweet words into your ear when you calmed enough to no longer be shaking. That’s when you knew, your heart belonged to him.

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

You weren’t any good with swords, hence why you never chose to pursue the path of a demon slayer. Kyojuro tried his best to teach you, but you simply couldn’t figure it out. Instead, you decided to learn medicine. If you couldn’t help Kyojuro on the battlefield, you could at least help him in the aftermath. While Kyojuro spent his days training to pass Final Selection, you would learn how to blend herbs and roots from the kind old doctor up the mountain. Returning home at night to prepare dinner for Kyojuro and his younger brother, Senjuro, as well as to clean out any scrapes the older might have received during his training. You would run a bath for the swordsman and massage his tense shoulders until he began to doze off. Afterwards, you would tuck in Senjuro for the night, making sure to read him his favorite stories. The younger always asking if he could grow up to be as brave as the heroes in his stories, and you always reassuring him that he would be even braver. You would then head to Kyojuro’s room and fall asleep in the slayer’s arms.

A warm feeling would arise in your chest every night. You loved this routine.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

When Kyojuro was promoted to a hashira, you couldn’t really bring yourself to be happy. First off, his missions almost always had him away from home, so now that he was an even higher rank, you knew there was almost no way he’d be home for a while. And second of all, he’s almost died multiple times, and now that he was a hashira, you knew you would have to get used to it. Every time you had to wipe his blood off his skin, every time you had to stitch a gaping cut, it pained you. You constantly worried for him, and now to know the man you cared for so deeply could die any day now, did nothing to ease your constant fear. But he assured you, “I’m very strong (M/n)! It is my duty to protect the weak. Of what use would my years of training be if i never used it to protect the weak?” God, he reminded you so much of his mother.

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

By some miracle, Kyojuro had some time off. A week off specifically. A week of not having to worry about if he’d be killed on the battlefield, a week of not having to hold your breath each time a crow came to your residence out of fear of hearing of his death, just a week of relaxing with Kyojuro by your side.

However, fate had other ideas.

In the middle of his break, he was called via crow to report to his master’s residence. Lord Ubayashiki if you recall correctly. You’ve never met the man but you’ve heard great things.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

“Must you really go? I’m sure you can simply tell him all he needs to know in a letter.” You now stood at the entrance to the Rengoku estate. Barely catching up to the flame hashira on his way out:

“I wish it was that easy (M/n), but if the master requires my presence it must be important.” He held your hands, his fingers brushing over your knuckles in an attempt to calm your growing worry. “Hey, I fortunately still have 3 more days of my break, remember? When I return, I promise I won’t leave your side until my rest is over.” He flashed you that god-forsaken smile of his. The smile that calmed you down and had your heart beating faster than the speed of a shinobi.

“When you return, please hold me?” You looked up at the man, silently swearing him to hold up his end of the promise with just your eyes.

“I swear on my honor, (M/n).” And with that, he was on his way.

You watched until you could no longer see his bright hair over the tree line, before returning back to sit at the engawa, distracting yourself by counting the stars.

“You really love my brother, don’t you?” Asked a small voice.

“Is it really that obvious?” You chuckled, brushing a loose strand of hair out of your face.

“Of course it is. Your face lights up every time you’re with him.” Senjuro comments as he moves to sit next to you.

“Then why doesn’t he say anything?” You asked, tears beginning to well in your eyes. “I doubt he’ll ever feel the same. He needs a strong hashira woman to marry, not a lowly pharmacist like me who can’t even wield a sword properly.” You wiped some stray tears away with the sleeve of your kimono. It was blue and had coi fish and lily pads as the design. Kyojuro bought it for you. He said you’d look pretty in it.

“You shouldn’t be so harsh on yourself (M/n),” Senjuro rested his hand on your shoulder, “I know my brother cares deeply for you. Why else would he invite you to live with us?”

“Because your brother is an honorable man who pities the weak. It was for no other reason than helping a pitiful boy who couldn’t even help his parents.” You clenched your hands into a fist as to not cry.

“Don’t say such things about yourself.” Senjuro shifted to rub your back. For such a young boy, Senjuro was very was mature for his age. I guess having to raise yourself due to having a drunkard as a father does that to a kid. “You know, Kyojuro told me he joined the slayers corp because of you.”

You turned towards the younger boy, surprise etched into every corner of your face.

“When he saw you that night ten years ago. Alone, all at the hands of a demon, he promised to not allow that to happen to anyone again. He said he made two promises that night; to kill all demons and to never let you be alone again.” Senjuro recounted, his smile brightening upon feeling your back relax.

“He truly cares for you (M/n). When he returns, please consider telling him about your feelings. I promise he won’t hate you, no- he can’t ever hate you.” Senjuro smiled at you.

“I will.” You wipe the remainder of the tears off your face. “Now, let’s get you back to bed, yeah?”

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

Kyojuro returned by sunrise. Ubayashiki simply wanted to inform him of his next mission after his break.

He slowly crept into his home, peeping into his father’s room to see him sound asleep. Most likely due to alcohol rather than exhaustion, but at least he isn’t yelling at Senjuro, or god forbid, (M/n).

He then made his way to his room, but not before peeking into Senjuro’s room. His heart swelled at the sight of you resting with Senjuro in your hold, his head resting in the crook of your neck. A half-read story in your hands.

“Poor things. You both must’ve been very tired.” Kyojuro whispered as he moved to wrap you both in a blanket. You reached out a hand to grip his. “Oh, it’s you.” You stated, half-asleep. “I’m sorry (M/n). I didn’t mean to wake you.” He softly smiled. “No, it’s fine. I was about to awake anyways. Let me just lay Senjuro down and I’ll make us some breakfast alright?” You shifted to rest the younger Rengoku on his futon before tucking him in with a blanket. “Sounds good to me.” The flame hashira smiled as you dragged him out of his room and into the kitchen.

“Are you in the mood for anything specific?” You asked as you wrapped an apron around your waist. “Some miso soup would be amazing!” He stated. “With sweet potatoes i assume?” You smiled back to him. “You know me so well.” The flame hashira chuckled heartily. “Well of course I would know what my best friend likes.” Not to mention how i’m crazy in love with you you thought.

Just before you could finish the meal, a very annoyed and very hungover Shinjuro came barging into the kitchen. His eyes glanced over to Kyojuro before a look of disgust overtook his face.

“Sir Shinjuro. Would you like some miso soup as well?” You offered. Mostly to break the uncomfortable silence which had overtaken the area.

“Sure, sure, whatever.” Kyojuro’s father had never particularly hated you, in fact, the flame hashira might even go as far as to say his father liked you. Well, he’s never shown it, but he’s also never yelled at you, and according to Kyojuro those are the same things.

You smiled towards the retired hashira before preparing three bowls of soup, as well as an extra for when Senjuro decided to wake up. Normally Shinjuro would have him up at this hour but you decided to let him sleep in just a bit longer. You brought over the bowls and set them in front of the two men before taking your seat beside Kyojuro, apron still wrapped around your waist.

“Is it good?” You asked Kyojuro. “Of course it is! Everything you make is delicious (M/n)!” The flame hashira would say before wolfing down the entire bowl. “Tasty!” You chuckled at his antics. “Shall i get you some more?” He nodded and you arose to pour him some more.

“He has two arms and two legs (M/n). I’m pretty sure he can pour his own soup.” Shinjuro would remark as you stood. “It’s completely fine. I have no issue with it.” You stated once you returned with Kyojuro’s bowl. “He is a hashira. It won’t kill him to get up every once in a while. He doesn’t need you to be waiting on him hand and foot-“ “That’s enough father.” Kyojuro interrupted. “I would never ask something of (M/n) if it were to hinder him. Now please let us eat in peace.” Shinjuro tsked before continuing to eat. “Say, Kyojuro. Why don’t you get that wife of yours to go wake up Senjuro. He has to start training soon.” A blush found its way to both your and Kyojuro’s faces at the comment. “I-I’ll go get Senjuro.” You quickly stood and scurried to the younger’s room. “I can run you a bath if you’d like Kyojuro?” You offered before you fully exited the kitchen. “That would be lovely (M/n), *cough* thank you.” He stated, face still red and clearly flustered.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

“Thank you (M/n). This is wonderful.” Kyojuro said as he sunk into the warm water. “It’s no problem at all Kyojuro.” You smiled at him and began to work on massaging his tense muscles.

“About what my father said, I apologize if it made you uncomfortable.” The flame hashira said as he relaxed into your touch. “It’s completely fine.” You contemplated on whether or not to say what was on your mind. “I actually kind of liked it.” You whispered, but Kyojuro heard you.

“Oh?” He leaned his head back to make eye contact with you. “Would you enjoy being my wife? Would you like to wait here for me on my missions and then when I’d return, I’d hold you and whisper sweet things into your ear?” Kyojuro teased. His smiled widened as he saw your ears begin to turn red. “Well, I already kind of do that.” You said, attempting to distract yourself by working on kneading the older’s tense muscles.

“(M/n)…” Kyojuro called. “Hmm?” You cautiously looked up at him. “Could you please join me?” You swear you could feel your face turn darker than a beet, but you complied nonetheless.

Now you found your back resting against the chest of the flame hashira as he worked on cleaning your hair.

“How long have you wanted to be my wife?” Kyojuro teased. “Since we were kids. I’ve always admired you Kyojuro. Your resolve, your determination, your kindness, your pure heart, all of it made me fall deeper and deeper in love with you.” You finally admitted what you’d been holding with you for the past seven years. “What if I told you I felt the same?” Kyojuro asked. His hand falling from your hair to hold your hands. “Are you sure it’s not just because we’re both naked and pressed against each other?” You joked. “Well not that I don’t enjoy this, but it’s not at all the reason.” He pulled you closer to him. “All I do is for you. Joining the demon slayer corp, training hard to become a hashira, waking up in the morning, it’s all for you (M/n). While I’m away on missions, all I do is long to come home and see your beautiful smile while you’re reading to Senjuro. To hold you while you work on whatever new interest captures your attention. To taste your amazing cooking. To simply be around you is my will to live. You’re my everything (M/n).”

“But I am a man. You deserve a strong woman to carry your bloodline. Hell, I can’t even wield a sword correctly, how do you expect me to be good enough-“ Kyojuro’s lips met with yours. “Please stop speaking such nonsense. I don’t need a bloodline, I only need you (M/n).” A comfortable silence overtook the bathroom as he simply held you. Relishing in the presence of each other.

“I’ll tell you what (M/n). After this mission is over, I will marry you. How does that sound?” Your heart was beating uncontrollably. “Hello?” Kyojuro giggled as he caught sight of your flustered expression. “Don’t laugh at me! The man I’ve been in love with just expressed his feelings towards me and asked me to marry him in the same hour.” You slapped his chest as he continued to laugh. “Well, do you accept?” He looked into your eyes. “Of course!” Kyojuro smiled and captured your lips again. “Good, now let me show you just how much I love you.”

You two became one beneath that water. Much to the dismay of Shinjuro’s ears.

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

As quickly as he returned, he had to leave yet again. Now you stood again at the gate of the estate. Kyojuro’s hands in yours as you begged for him not leave.

“I must go love. This mission is important.” Kyojuro chuckled as you continued to cling to him.

“Come back safely. You owe me a wedding!” You whined.

Kyojuro nodded and brought your lips to his. Holding you tightly and he hoped you would feel all his love.

“Promise you’ll return to me.” You held out your pinky to him.

He intertwined your fingers and kissed your knuckle. “Promise.”

“Say… what kind of mission are you even going on?”

“Something to do with a train. I’m sure it won’t be hard. I’ll be back quickly!”

#demon slayer #demon slayer x male reader #kyojuro #rengoku #kyojuro rengoku #kyojuro x male reader #rengoku x male reader #kyojuro rengoku x male reader #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba x male reader #kny #kny x male reader #mlm #bxb #male reader

[artiststarme]

Sometimes Sorry Isn't Enough

Sometimes Steve wondered how he was still alive. What made him more deserving of life than Barb? He kept putting his life on the line and yet he scraped by with only scars as evidence. He’d fought the demodogs and the mindflayer. He’d thrown Molotov cocktails at Vecna/Henry/One’s face. He’d been prepared to die every single time. So why was he still here?

He wished he’d chosen to jump off the quarry’s cliff when he found out that his parents had left him behind for good. Wished that he hadn’t been too quick for the demodogs to catch in the junkyard. He wished that he’d taken Max’s place in the face of Vecna’s curse. All he knew was that he didn’t want to be around anymore.

He loved his friends, loved Robin and Eddie in particular, but it wasn’t enough. Robin had better things to do than deal with his trauma that he’d roped her into without her consent. If it weren’t for him being so desperate and needy for attention, she would never have been involved with the Upside Down. She wouldn’t have been psychologically tortured by the Russians or exposed to the Hell that existed beneath them. She’d be better off without him.

And Eddie. Poor Eddie didn’t deserve any of this either. He was simply the town’s scapegoat that was at the wrong place at the wrong time and now his life was forever changed because of it. His body was marred in scars where the bats mauled him, eerily similar to the ones that existed in Steve’s flesh. Steve should’ve done more to protect him instead of forcing him to play decoy and then his friend afterwards.

Instead of forcing his problems on the Party once again, Steve stewed by himself in his empty crypt of a home. The house was dark, the air was cold, and his heart was heavy. He poured pain pills, originally prescribed to deal with his horrific migraines, into his hands and took a deep breath. Unlike all those other times, he wouldn’t escape death again. As he swallowed pill after pill, his heart sank deeper. It was better this way.

He was unconscious by the time Robin arrived, a feeling of proud terror driving her away from her family dinner and to Steve’s side. He was unconscious when Eddie gave him CPR and mouth to mouth, imagining their first kiss would be much different than it actually was. He was on the verge of life and death by the time Hopper speedily pulled into his driveway and threw him in the ranger before the ambulance could even arrive to take him to the hospital, begging him the entire way to open his eyes.

When he woke up to hospital smells and bright lights, he initially felt disappointed. He’d failed once again to leave the wretched world that never seemed to want him. But when he looked around, he felt a spark of hope in his chest. Hopper, Eleven, Robin, Eddie, and Dustin were in various chairs and cots scattered throughout the room. Eddie was curled into a ball by his feet on the bed while Robin was pressed against his side, her head on his chest as if she was waiting subconsciously to hear each beat of his heart. Hopper was sat in a chair by his bedside, his fingers loosely gripping the bed frame. Eleven was on the window’s ledge, her brow furrowed like the world was on her shoulders still. And Dustin. He was on a cot right beside Steve’s bed, his body facing him and his hand wrapped around his wrist.

Steve felt guilt flood him. He always felt like he was surviving on luck alone, deserving to die and never quite doing so. He didn’t realize that he was surviving off the love of his friends, his family, and that they were doing the same. It would take awhile to change his way of thinking and for him to start appreciating the life he had but he would get there eventually. Especially with his best friend, his boyfriend, his little brother and sister, and Hopper by his side.

#it still doesn’t stop him from putting everyone else first though #he will always put his life on the line in the drop of a hat #stranger things #steddie #fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #dustin henderson #eleven hopper #chief jim hopper

[miabebe]

Where you're convenient (II)

Scenario - Yes it was circumstances that forced these arrangements but why was it that at its breaking point, all you want to do is hold on to it?

Pairing - Husband! Seokmin × reader

Word Count - 11K (oh yeah I'm insane)

Warnings - oral (f recieving), fingering, unprotected sex (well there's babies wanted here so), riding, cum eating

A/n -  part 2 is finally here! These keep getting longer idk why 😭 I'm gonna take a small break and shift attention to my series before I return for part 3 (woozi)!

P.s all 3 parts are not related, they can be read individually, they simply share the same trope of marriage of convenience which I'm an absolute sucker for 🙃 Read Joshua's here!

The moment Seokmin’s eyes fell on the entrance of the overpriced restaurant, he knew exactly why his sister insisted on this meeting.

Sighing deeply, he parked his car in a vacant lot and ran his fingers through his untamed hair, glancing at his reflection of the mirror. There was no need to look his best for this meeting, just presentable would do - afterall, he was not here to impress. Grabbing the bag you handed him earlier today, he made his way in, eyes falling on his sister and her company - a pretty woman, definitely around his age since clearly, this was yet another attempt to set him up on a date.

He greeted them with his usual sweet smile before hugging his devil of a sister, whispering a bunch of obscene words in her ear which she coolly ignored, habituated to his reaction to such meetings over time. Although he was already prepared to leave, he slid across the boxes of cupcakes you made and took a seat, pulling out his phone, while his sister raved to her friend about how you made the best cupcakes in the world.

Seokmin 17:48: Just met Minseo. Should be home in an hour. Traffic's really bad.

And then his sister began her usual business of introducing her friend to him, then him to her, then mentioning how 'surprisingly' the two of them were so similar, subtly hinting how they would be so compatible.

Seokmin rolled his eyes, familiar with this drill, listening to her blabber with a struggling, polite smile. This was quite a frequent occurrence - every now and then Minseo would bring a friend or colleague to introduce them, afraid that her useless brother would die single given how uninterested he was in dating. Today's friend was Sumi, her colleague from the first ever company she worked in, who was apparently his age, recently single, also loved pizza and working out. Barely interested in the ongoing conversation, Seokmin kept glancing at his phone time and again, relieved when it finally buzzed.

You 18:04: Okay, have fun with MinSeo, tell her I said hi!

You 18:04: Also, look at this [attachment]

It was a photo of Aera, her mouth, hands and clothes covered in a light pink frosting as she laughed at the camera both innocently and mischievously.

You 18:05: I swear to god, I can't look away from her for a second.

"Are you even listening Min-ah?

Seokmin looked up at both ladies staring at him with a tinge of annoyance and turned his phone to show them the picture that was making him smile so ridiculously. Instantly, they broke out into a series of awws and little praises making his heart swell with pride. That was his daughter afterall.

"Isn't she the cutest?" Sumi looked up from his phone. "She's two and a half right?"

"Actually she's 2 years and 10 months." Seokmin took back his phone, taking another look at the love of his life. "Born in May."

"A Taurus baby?"

"Gemini." He corrected. "Last week of May."

"She must be quite the troublemaker huh?"

"You have no idea." Seokmin laughed typing a reply.

Seokmin 18:08: What have you done to my sweet angel?

"Shall we order food first?" Minseo picked the menu card. "What about pizza-"

"Not for me." Seokmin shook his head. "I'm not eating. In fact, I have to leave soon."

"Min-ah, come on, you're seeing me after so long-"

"I literally saw you last week, at mum's place."

"But it's your first time meeting Sumi, don't be rude."

Seokmin turned to her friend. "I'm sorry, I would stay longer but I haven't seen my daughter all day and I'm sure there's food at home already." He glanced at his sister before turning back. "I don't know if you know, but my wife makes really good food, she's a chef."

"A pastry chef." His sister corrected. "I mean no one makes desserts better than her but you're the better cook. "

You 18:10: Angel? She's the devil spawn, this little thing.

Seokmin 18:11: Are you calling me the devil? How dare you

"Maybe," He looked up from his phone. "But I always eat dinner made by my wife."

Minseo rolled her eyes yet again, but Sumi nodded understandingly. When the two women discussed for 20 whole minutes, finally placed an order for themselves and Sumi excused herself to the washroom, Seokmin turned to his sister.

"Why won't you give up?"

"Why won't you give in?"

"Because, everyone you try to set me up with is not my type.."

"Really?" Minseo raised an eyebrow. "What about Sumi is not your type? You two are literally the same people."

"Yeah well, did you see her nails? Clearly she loves manicures and stuff like that."

His sister blinked, lost. "And that's a problem because?"

"I have a child you idiot, I can't have those claws around her?"

"So she'll stop getting them done. That should solve your issue."

"I don't want anyone to change themselves or give up on things they like because of me."

"I'm about to kick your ass Lee Seokmin." She muttered angrily. "I have tried to set you up with all kinds of women yet no one is good enough. What do you want Min-ah?"

"What do you want? Why do you keep dragging me to these-"

"Because I want to see you happy!"

"I am happy!"

"Say what you want Seokmin, that's not a happy marriage."

He sighed. "What problem do you have with Y/n?"

"With Y/n?" She looked at him perplexed. "Not one damn thing. In fact when you leave her, I might just ask her to marry me, I love that woman so much. The question is......do you?"

Seokmin blinked, not finding the words. Love? Sure he had a crush on you a couple of years ago but to be honest, nearly everyone did. He was in his final year of culinary school when he caught sight of you at the freshers party, walking in in that tight silver dress, looking like a dream. Rumor was you already had a boyfriend so Seokmin simply introduced himself and walked away, letting that little crush of his fade over time. Soon after, he successfully graduated, got a job at a Michelin star restaurant and life was good until he met you again, almost 4 years later at an alumni party.

Now, did Seokmin still have a crush on you? He didn't know really, he didn't even have the time to sort his feelings, not when you were giving him the flirtiest eyes, hands and body moving not very decently on the dance floor and especially not when you dragged him by the collar to a nearby room and the two of you fucked for hours.

"You always go silent when I ask you this Min-ah. It's a simple yes or no question."

Minseo looked expectedly at her brother who had now diverted his attention to the notification bar and time on his phone - you had still not replied to him. Panic slightly bubbled in his chest. Was something wrong?

He quickly downed the glass of water before of him and grabbed his bag.

"I'm sorry noona, I should head home. I think Y/n needs me."

Before she could reply, he dropped a kiss on her forehead and ran out to the parking, leaving his sighing sister behind. Through the glass she watched her brother rush away in his car, wondering how many more of such set ups it would take before he admitted what he felt for you.

Though Seokmin wanted to get back home as soon as possible, with all that traffic, all he could do was wait, fingers tapping on the wheel, mind getting restless. It was not like you to take so long to reply, he knew that much. Sinking back into the car seat, he glanced out at the streets that he no longer walked down ever since he became a father. The life of leisure he once lived was no longer a possibility because now he lived only for his daughter. And you.

It wasn't a part of his life plan to become a father so young but apparently, things have their own way of panning out. He was supposed to become a famous chef, open his own chain of restaurants, establish himself as a successful businessman and retire by 45. Instead, he found himself getting a phone call from an unknown number about 2 months after that fateful night of the alumni party. It was you.

It was indeed strange that you asked to meet up at your workplace considering the two of you had made it very clear to each other that this was a one time thing, but he went regardless. Over a cup of coffee and a piece of cake you broke the news that you were pregnant and the child was his. Now Seokmin knew condoms were not 100% effective but that night the two of you had used quite a few of them, given how many rounds went down.

You told him you were going to have the child and if he wanted, he could be a part of the baby's life too. Of course he wanted to, even though this entirely threw off his life plan, of course he would be a part of his child's life, there was no question. Seokmin had grown up without the presence of a father his whole life and he knew what the felt like - there was not a chance he would let that child go through the same as well. So he told you he was there for whatever you needed and however you needed him.

The first trimester was quite uneventful. Seokmin had barely seen you after that meeting in the cafe - the two of you would just keep in touch via texts. He would check up to make sure you were eating on time and that the morning sickness wasn't too much. You would simply answer his questions and thank him. But you didn't ever ask much of him.

By your second trimester, he had moved into the building across yours so he could be near you for anything you wanted and everything you needed. He helped drive you to and from your prenatal visits, did grocery runs whenever you worked too late, carried your bags and boxes up the stairs. It was all on his own though, you still had asked for any favours.

The first thing you had ever asked of him was nearly a month later, around the 7th month of your pregnancy. In the middle of a rainy night, with a small bag slung over your shoulder, you had knocked on this door, mildly drenched and shivering. Seokmin instantly panicked even though you repeatedly assured him you were alright. The problem was your dick of an ex boyfriend, constantly knocking down your front door leaving you no choice but to take the fire escape and come here. That man had been behind you for months, insisting you take him back into your life, not taking no for an answer. His persistence had forced you to even change homes and numbers over the last year but now somehow, he had managed to find you again. You asked if you could stay here for a day or two till he stopped bothering you and Seokmin immediately agreed. He had no idea you were going through all this.

One day turned to two and two became a week. Seokmin had now began accompanying you almost everywhere, constantly keeping an eye on your surroundings and it was a miracle he hadn't landed a punch on that slime ball of an ex of yours. That man would harass and embarrass you publicly, he would turn up drunk at the doorstep and create a scene, throwing up and passing out, he would follow you to your workplace and just sit in the store hours on end. Things became exponentially worse when he found out that you and Seokmin were not in fact in a relationship, just expecting a child together - he went ballistically crazy with his attempts to get you back.

Panic rose in Seokmins chest just thinking about those days years ago, hoping to god everything was fine at home. He glanced at his phone again as he parked his car and rushed out, bolting up the stairs, unable to wait for the lift. When he opened the door of his apartment, toys and books and things were scattered everywhere, in the middle of the living room, a bunch of disorganised chairs and sheets haphazardly thrown around.

Seokmin slowly and quietly approached the mess pushing everything aside, heart racing in his chest, thoughts plaguing his mind till he spotted you and his little girl, fast asleep in what was clearly a blanket fort, making him sigh in relief. Your phone was lying next to you and Aera was lying on top, head snuggled in your chest, raising and falling rhythmically. You looked so beautiful tired, sleeping with your hair askew and mouth slightly open - seeing the mess all around, Seokmin knew it must have been one of Aera's uncontrollably active days. He smiled at the way your arm protectively wrapped around her and how she clung onto you - watching the two of you together was always his favourite thing to do. But he knew it must hurt to carry her weight on top for so long so he slowly crouched and quietly tried to take his daughter into his arms but the moment he lifted her-

"Daddy!"

Seokmin laughed as his girl, now somehow fully awake, began excitedly moving in his arms in a little dance to welcome him home, giggling away. He stood up, hugging her back and peppering her tiny face with kisses as she proceeded to sing loudly in joy. (She truly did take after him.) He watched her amused, trying to make out what in the world she was saying, when you let out a soft groan, making him turn. As you stretched awake, yawning and sighing, eyes slowly fluttering open, flashing him a sleepy smile, Seokmin felt his heart flip in his chest.

"Why, why, why doesn't your daughter sleep Mr. Lee?"

He chuckled. "I think she takes after you Ms. L/n."

"Oh no no, I was always the obedient child in the house. Your sister told me you were the troublemaker."

"You're calling this cutie a troublemaker?" Seokmin scrunched the cheeks of his daughter earning the cutest laugh. "She looks like the best baby in the world to me."

You sighed, getting up and rubbing soft circles her tummy.

"You're always gonna be daddy's baby girl aren't you?"

You could too if you want to.

Seokmin ignored his stupid mind voice and glanced at your tired self, slightly worried. "How was your day?"

"Decent." You smiled. "I was working on orders in the morning - there was a baby shower I had to cater for in the afternoon. I swear, I stepped out into the balcony to take a call for literally 5 minutes and your 'best' baby here had lathered herself in all the frosting I made. Then I had to sit make another batch while while the sugar turned your daughter into a hyperactive destruction machine. She didn't even sleep in the afternoon and I had just managed to get her to sleep when..."

"Sorry." Seokmin gushed sheepishly. "I thought I was helping-"

"No, no thats okay, she needs to bathe and eat anyways. Better you wake her up, she gets all cranky otherwise."

Seokmin dropped a sweet kiss on his child's cheek as she continued to search for something in his ear lobe with utmost seriousness.

"How was your day? How's Minseo?"

"Oh same old, just complaining about her kids and mom, the usual." He didn't need you to know the exact details of what happened. Not when it didn't matter to him anyways. "She said she had dinner prepared at home so we didn't really eat anything."

"Oh no, you must be so hungry? I have a few orders to pack for tomorrow, let me quickly finish that up, then we can do dinner yeah?"

Seokmin nodded as you walked away to the kitchen, sleep barely shaken away.

The good thing about Seokmin's apartment was the large pantry, which when you first came to this house was merely a storeroom but over time, it had become your working station. After you had graduated, given your sweet tooth, you had travelled around, meeting different chefs, taking small courses and mastered the art of dessert making. Not only did that trip help get away from and over your ex boyfriend but it had also solidified your skill set as a pattisier. After coming back to Seoul, an old senior and friend had contacted you, offering you a job in her bakery cafe till you worked on your own business plan and all was going well till that alumni party.

Sure, when Seokmin introduced himself to you in your freshmen year you thought he was possibly the most gorgeous person you'd ever laid your eyes on. He didn't seem too interested in you and that was fine, given you were already in a relationship with your high school boyfriend. Meeting him again, so many years later, finding out he had gotten oh so much hotter and having suffered a dry spell for so long, you had managed to somehow get into his pants for what was the best night you had ever had. You had quite literally fucked him out of your mind, and were happily moving on with your life when the news of the pregnancy hit.

You did go to work in the initial months but as the third trimester approached, it was hard to balance your wellbeing and the strain that came from working. Your boss was kind enough to let you keep your job and that's how for the last 2 odd years, you found yourself working from home, only preparing and delivering on custom orders the shop received, allowing you to keep both your passion alive and make decent money.

"I was going to give Aera a bath-"

"Okay!"

"-but the neighbours kids want to take her downstairs to play."

Normally, you wouldn't let her go down when it was late and dark outside but she needed to get that sugar out of her system and you needed to be alone with Seokmin for a bit. There was something you wanted to talk to him for a while now.

The giggles of your daughter faded in the background as Seokmin walked into the kitchen, pulling out a tub of something from his bag.

"I'm going to make the best ravioli you've ever had for dinner."

You smiled watching him wash up and put on an apron, getting ready to bustle away in the kitchen. You loved watching Seokmin cook - there was something so elegant and attractive about how well he navigated around while cooking, smoothly chopping and stirring away. He never let you make dinner. Though he slogged in the kitchen restaurant from day break till the evening cooking away, Seokmin never let you cook when he was home. He'd say you didn't have to worry about it when he was there. Actually, as long as he was around, you never worried about anything.

You didn't think there would come a point where Seokmin would become your partner for life but here you are. Years ago, when your ex was tormenting you, you had contemplated just moving out of the city but it was Seokmin who held your hand and asked you to face him bravely. You did, you really tried, but it didn't matter when the other man was such a terrible pain in the ass - nothing changed. It was then that Seokmin’s mother suggested that the two of you get married, hoping that would settle things once and for all but you refused.

As idealistic as that seemed, it was never your intention to bind Seokmin with you in such a permanent relationship but he didn't seem to think so. If a marriage was what it would take to keep his child safe, he was willing to do it. It took a few more months, a few more threats from your ex and a reasonable suggestion from your sister for you to finally agree to it. Within a few days the two of you were married with a set of promises said out loud and a set of them silently agreed upon

One, this would be an open marriage - two of you were free to see and be with other people and two, 3 years later, you would reassess where this relationship stood and what it's future would be.

You had agreed on this arrangement for Seokmin more than for yourself. Once you gave birth, you knew you'd be busy with your child and work, but you didn't want Seokmin to feel trapped because of one night's decision. True enough, after Aera came along, you didn't even have the time to look at another man, forget thinking about one. Sometimes you wondered if Seokmin found someone but from the intel that had reached you, it didn't seem like he had. He'd always come home immediately after work, he didn't usually go out anywhere on the weekends, his friends always complained to you that they never saw him around - Seokmin spent every breathing minute he had free with his daughter.

You glanced at the calendar hanging on the wall beside Seokmin for the nth time this month, noting each day that your wedding anniversary was approaching. It would soon be time to reevaluate your marriage with him but if you didn't find anyone and if he didn't find anyone, you wondered what he thought about your idea. One that you had been nurturing for a while now.....

Seokmin could feel your eyes burning into his back and knew you wanted to say something. By the time he walked into the kitchen you were already done with your orders which meant the last 20 minutes he spent cooking, you were simply lost in thought about something. Something Seokmin had a feeling he knew.

Ever since a month ago, when the restraining order against your ex was finally approved and the threat on you had been lifted, Seokmin had a gnawing feeling about the future of this relationship. You were not interested in a marriage to begin with, now you didn't have a reason to continue in it either. That could only mean one thing - you were going to leave him. The time had come.

Seokmin held his breath as you approached him,

"Seokmin, I was thinking...."

Please don't say you wanna leave me. Please don't say it. Please don't say it.

"It's been almost 3 years since we've gotten married and had Aera. She's not all grown up yet, but she's grown up quite a bit and....."

Please. Please. Please.

"I was thinking maybe it's time we...."

Seokmin took a deep breath preparing himself. This was it.

"Get a cat or something?"

Seokmin turned to you surprised. "A what?"

"A cat, or a dog if you prefer that, any pet actually."

"So you're not leaving me?"

"Huh?"

"I mean" Seokmin mentally smacked himself, rambling to his defence. "You're.... leaving that decision to me? To get a pet? Why? I mean why a pet, I mean why so suddenly?"

You sighed, leaning against the counter. "Aera constantly needs me around because she gets bored. She's young, she needs company and I'm hoping a pet can give her that? I mean obviously the better option would be if we.... I mean if she....."

Seokmin looked at you confused. "If she?"

Well, fingers crossed, here we go.

"I don't know, could have a sibling? Kids need company to grow up and I think it would be nice if Aera could have a little brother or sister....."

Seokmin stared at you, his expression unreadable before his voice softened, leaving him uncertain. "Do you really want that? Another child?"

"I think I'm ready for another one?..... if you want one that is." You add quickly. "I don't want you to feel compelled or anything. We can still just get a pet-"

"No..." Seokmin shook his head, clearing his throat before continuing. "I don't mind. I don't mind having another child. It's just....I don't know how complicated the adoption process is-"

"Oh." You scratched the back of your neck. This conversation was a lot harder than you had anticipated. "I wasn't thinking about adoption actually..... I mean it's great and everything but I was thinking more of a child of my own..... our child."

Seokmin blinked rapidly. "O-ours?"

"I mean we already have one together, I think it'll be a lot less complicated if I were to have another one that.....you be the father?" 

.

.

.

That would not make anything less complicated.

"Your silence is scaring me Seokmin. There's no compulsion, it's only if you want. I might be the one giving birth but your preference matters too. If you don't want this then we'll just forget this conversation ever happened."

It was ridiculous you thought he might not want a future, a bigger family with you when he had been dreaming of this for the last 3 years.

"I love Aera more than anything in this world. If I could have another child that's part me, especially if it'll make Aera happy, of course I'd want that. It's just...."

"What?"

"How...." He refused to meet your questioning eyes. "How are you and supposed to.....you know?"

"Oh." Of course there would be a discussion about the process and of course you're flushed a violent shade of pink. "I uh looked into that, there's a few fertility clinics here that do a procedure called IUI, intrauterine insemination or something like that, basically it's an artifical process of.....sex?"

"Ah....." He nods slowly. "That sounds-"

You wanted to know what he's thinking, you wanted to know what he wanted but the doorbell rang, pulling you away from the conversation. Knowing the delivery person was here for today's orders you quickly excused yourself and turned your attention to your work, bringing out the orders, taking them down to load the van. By the time you're done and ready to listen to him again, Seokmin has already finished up in the kitchen and has his eyes glued to his phone.

He didn't acknowledge your presence, which is rather odd because Seokmin is always so reactive to you. Realising that he was perhaps not comfortable or in a disagreement with the discussion, you decided to end it and not being it up anymore. Instead, you resorted to cleaning up the mess in the living room, pointlessly might I add, for within minutes, your daughter came barging in, done with her playtime, ready to make a mess again. Before she could topple over the box of toys, Seokmin appeared out of nowhere, swooping her into this arms, protecting your just cleaned zone. He flashed you a smile, continuing to play a game of Aera-plane with her as you hugged your knees and watched them.

Seokmin was a great father and that was the reason you wanted to have another child with him. That and the fact that he was also a great person - one could scour the whole earth and not find a man even half as good as him. Though you had entered this marriage with the idea that it could end anytime, with each passing day, that turned into a strange fear - a fear of him leaving you, especially now that you and Aera were no longer in danger. When even your marriage could not keep your ex away from you, Seokmin decided to take things in a legal direction to finally get him out of the way. Now that all of that was successfully done, the number of things binding this marriage had reduced.

When you discussed the idea of having another baby with your sister, she asked if this was an attempt to add to the list of reasons keeping this marriage together. Oh hell no. If anything it was the exact opposite. Having another child with Seokmin would only lead to one thing - you falling in love with him all over again and him not feeling the same for you yet again. It would make ending this relationship, whenever the time came for it, that much harder. But you knew for Aera this decision made sense - it was only for her sake.

Seokmin and Aera had now switched to the game of Aera-train, the two of them crawling all around the space on their knees, making you laugh at their antics. You grabbed your little girl and pulled her into your lap, smothering her cute face with kisses as she wriggled in your grip. Exhausted, Seokmin lied down beside you, mouthing a thank you.

"How much more playtime is it going to take before you burn all that sugar missy?"

"Hide and seek!" Aera clapped, still not understanding how exhausted the two of you were. "You and daddy hide, I count."

"Aera, you need to shower-"

Not listening, she slipped out of your lap, plastering herself against at wall, closing her eyes.

"One, two-"

"Sweetheart-"

"Seven, ten, twelve-"

Seokmin looked up. "Who the hell is teaching her numbers?"

"Thirty, forty-"

Laughing you quickly pulled Seokmin to his feet, the two of your scrambling to find a place to hide and in the hurry, settling in the tiny gap between the closet and the bathroom, bodies pressed against each other. As the laughter faded, you realised just how close you were, faces inches apart, breath held and heart racing.

Hearts.

With your hands pressed against his pecs, you could feel his racing too.

"Should have hidden in different places huh" Seokmin whispered, earning a short nod from you.

"It's too late. We're stuck, I guess."

Seokmin couldn't tell what exactly you were talking about, somehow it's different. You gulped the phantom lump in your throat, trying to look away but there's only so much you could look at around you. When you looked at him again, he was lost in thought.

"What are you thinking?"

"I uh." Seokmin cleared his throat. "I was reading up about this Intra- thing."

Oh. So the conversation wasn't done. "Uh huh."

"It's expensive."

"Yeah it is...." You had already done all the research for it of course. "Which sucks because it doesn't have a very high chance of success either."

"Not to mention, it requires many tests and appointments."

"Yeah, it would interupt with both our work schedules too."

"Exactly.....so I'm not sure if it's really the best option for us?"

You looked at him straight in the eye. What was going on in his head? Why was a completely wild thought entering your head?

You nodded slowly. "Maybe we should look into the alternatives. Try and do a little more research?"

"And find an option that's affordable, efficient, and not very time consuming."

"That would be ideal.....I wonder what that could be."

Both of you knew what it could be. Both of you knew exactly what it could be.

"The only way I can think of is," You tried not to let your voice shake. "The way everyone usually does this...."

Seokmin frowned, "There are other ways?"

How could a man this fine be this stupid?

"The way we already made a child Seokmin."

Just the memory of that night sends blood rushing down Seokmin’s body. That was not an event of loving baby making.

"You want to do t-that again?"

Your stomach literally wanted to hurl its contents. "Do you?"

"I mean," He could feel the sweat drip down the groove of his back. "If that's the best way to have another child. It does seem like the practical, logical, reasonable choice."

"Yeah..." You met his eyes, hoping to god he could tell you were lying. "That's the only reason why...."

The thick, unresolved tension makes you shiver, prompting you to shift in the space, and Seokmin's arms immediately grabbed you at the waist to keep you steady - he was terrified that the secret in his pants would expose him for what he truly was.....absolutely and fatally, gone for you.

If you had ever given him even the slightest indication that you wanted him, Seokmin knew for a fact that he would have given you a whole lot of babies by now - there was nothing more he wanted than a life and a family with you. But you only ever smiled at him sweetly, never letting on anything further and Seokmin was okay with that too. He was okay with whatever you wanted. Now you wanted him to put another baby in you and he had no idea how he was going to stay sane doing that. Or after that.

"Speaking of which...." You pulled away from him, looking concerned. "Where's the child we already made?"

It had to have been a while by now and Aera was usually much better than this at hide and seek, making the two of you panic and rush out of your hiding space, calling out to her. In less than a minute, Seokmin found her curled up in the couch fast asleep, snoring away.

You groaned. "She hasn't showered or eaten-"

"Shh, it's okay." Seokmin crouched beside her, attempting to carry her to her bed. "We can just-"

"Caught you!"

Much to Seokmin's disappointment, your daughter jumped out of the couch, kicking her feet, ecstatic that she had him fooled. You covered your mouth so Seokmin could not see you struggling to hold back your laughter as Aera ran around chanting, caught you, caught you.

"Well isn't she a smartass." You noted, trying to soothe his annoyance.

"Yeah, we need to stop letting her hang out with Yoon Jeonghan." He muttered as he picked up his running daughter, seating her on the side of his hip, squeezing her cheeks. "And I caught you so now playtime is over. It's shower time, you little pig."

Aera whined, trying to reach for you to save her and you stepped back. "No, no, you've done enough today. You've to sleep soon-"

"Not sleepy." She groaned, snuggling her head into Seokmin’s neck, as he walked away, shaking his head.

"You're not gonna let mommy and daddy sleep tonight are you?"

You froze in the middle of the hall hearing his words.

Tonight?

You were not really sure what came over you when you suggested having sex again to make another baby. Maybe it was the proximity of the space or the fact that he was already so on board with the idea or just because you've been wanting to jump this man for 3 years now. You don't really know. You didn't know how you were even going to sleep with him just one more time. Or how to handle things after that. Maybe this was a terrible idea.

Of course it was a terrible idea. And it was only further proven when you grabbed Aera's night clothes and walked into the bathroom to find both father and daughter settled in the bathtub, engaged in a waterfight, making you raise your eye brows in question.

"She put water all over me!" Seokmin justified as Aera covered her face in soap bubbles, hiding from you. "It's not my fault, she insisted I get in with her."

Yes but why did he have to take his shirt off for that? And why did your eyes have to follow those little rivets of water running down his bicep and chest? You tore your gaze away from him and quickly pulled your child out of the tub, and the moment you set her down, she giggled and bolted, making you sigh.

"I'm banning sugar in this house." Seokmin laughed.

"She usually gets sleepy after a meal." You threw him a towel too and looked away as he caught it. "Shouldn't disturb us too much tonight."

Seokmin stared at you as you left. Tonight?

You wanted to do this tonight? Hell no. He needed time. He needed to convince himself to not let this one time raises his hopes, to not let himself fall more miserably in love with you. How was he ever going to do that? Everything you did only made him that much more whipped for you. Even now, after he washed himself up and walked out, he saw you softly drying Aera's hair, singing her favourite song, and leaned against the door frame, smiling fondly. Just the thought of another child, part you part him, running across this space made his heart swell with joy. He really wanted that.

When you meet his eye and smiled, he returned it, ignoring his racing heart and walked off to heat the sauces for dinner - a non spicy one for Aera and another spicy one for the two of you. Your eyes followed him, noticing that he had donned a new pair of grey sweatpants which were hanging low on his hips, coupled with a white tank top that was doing a terrible job of hiding his pecs. God this man wanted to end you.

By the time you put Aera in her baby chair, he had already set everything on the table and true to his word it is the best damn ravioli in the world.  You told him that and that was all the conversation that took place - dinner was unusually silent. Maybe because the both of you had the same set of thoughts running through your minds, both apprehensive about what would go down in the coming few hours. Even Aera had noticed the silence, her head turning between the two of you, her expression confused all through dinner. Yawning, she watched her parents awkwardly move around each other in the kitchen, even more polite and formal than they usually were as they cleaned it up.

You left Seokmin to put Aera to sleep as you headed to the shower to wash up for the night. Staring at the mirror, you stripped out of your clothes, observing everything that had changed over the last three years - you hadn't really cared for the post pregnancy effects on your body but somehow today you were feeling conscious. Taking a deep breath you convinced yourself that it was fine - that this was a one time thing anyways, that this was just to procreate, nothing else. Still, you quickly shaved yourself, used your best smelling soap and wore a new night suit - a pink one, with tiny flowers all over the shirt and shorts.

By the time you returned, Seokmin had already put Aera to sleep and settled in front of the TV, ready to play the next episode of masterchef, the one show the two of you being professionals thoroughly enjoyed. You wondered if you has misread his statement and had unnecessarily readied yourself for tonight and contemplated changing into something different when Seokmin sensed your presence behind him and asked you to hurry up. Biting your lip out of embarrassment, you walked over and settled down on the other end of the couch where you usually sat, not noticing the way his eyes trailed down your body before gulping and looking away.

"You're wearing a new nightsuit." He observed, avoiding mentioning that he also noticed you smelt different than usual - sweeter, more addicting.

"You're wearing a new trackpant too." You added so it didn't seem like you were the only one who was prepared for tonight.

"I.... didn't really notice. Just grabbed the first thing I could find and..." Lies. Pure lies. Seokmin deliberately wore the most loose sweatpants he could find hoping to god it would hide the raging boner he was housing between his legs. Even though he had already jerked off prior to showering to avoid being caught, he knew just the thought of what might happen tonight was enough to bring it back and sure enough, just your scent was enough to do that. He pulled a pillow onto his lap, starting the episode to divert the topic.

As the show continued, the two of you did your usual drill of discussing the recipes, how you'd do it differently and what he'd change to improve it. The thought hadn't stopped running in the back of your mind though, about whether tonight was indeed the night. About who was going to bring it up, how you were going to do....it.

"That guy, he's got a great future as a pattisier." Seokmin pointed at the screen. "If he ever opens a shop, I bet his dessert will be some of the most in demand in the city." He turned to you smiling. "Unless you enter the business. Then nobody stands a chance."

You laughed a little sadder than you intended to. "Having my own business feels like a once upon a dream now. With Aera now, I'm not sure how I can handle a whole business by myself-"

"Of course you won't be by yourself. I'll be there, with you, for you." He tilted his head. "Always."

"You've always wanted to have a restaurant of your own too. What about your dream?"

"I'm already working in one of the best restaurants in thr city. I'm living half of it already. I wish you could live yours too."

How did he always place you before him? Why was he always so good to you?

You turned to face him, leaning against the handrest. "What if we both had one dream? We could open a small business of our own which could feature both my desserts and your food."

"That would work." Seokmin nodded. "But it would require an extensive kitchen, we both need a ton of very different equipment, a lot more investment and time on our hands too. I mean if both of us are busy, with not fixed working hours, who'll take care of the kid?" He paused for a moment before reminding himself and you. "Kids."

Your heart felt like it was in your mouth.

"If they're of school going age, it shouldn't be so hard to handle should it?"

He mirrored your posture, more interested in the prospect now that it seemed possible and you continued.

"I wanted to have my own shop by the time I was 30, which means we have another 6 years for that. Aera will start going to school when she's 5, so there's another 2 years for that."

"Which means if we want our second child to also be of school going age by that time then we should have one by....." Seokmin did the math on his fingers. "Early next year."

You nodded, doing math of your own. "Given it will take 9 months to get one out, it means I have to get pregnant by latest...."

"March." Seokmin concluded, staring at his hands. "Which is this month."

Fuck.

"And given the best time to get pregnant is when I'm most fertile and that's..." You glanced at the date on your phone screen and looked up at him just as he lifted his head. "Now."

The two of you stared at each other in the silence as the end credits of the episode rolled on the screen, the next one waiting to be played.

"Is..." Seokmin took a deep breath. "Is that the future you really want? Running a business together, having 2 kids.... us?"

You really really really wanted that.

You nodded slowly. "If you want it too."

Seokmin took a whole minute to stare at the floor before turning off the TV, submerging the two of you in the dimness of the night lights.

"I do." He tossed the remote aside, slowly meeting your eye. "So, we do this.... right now?"

You glanced around the house. "Well, we are done for the day. All we have left to do is head to bed....."

Fuck, fuck, fuck, this was really happening?

"Wait," Seokmin panicked. "I don't have any condoms, I'll need to buy-."

"Lee Seokmin."

Oh no. "Yeah?" Had he messed up already? Did you not want to any more?

"We're trying to have a baby."

"I know....." and when the realisation hit, Seokmin felt all the blood leave his brain and shoot straight to his dick.

"So I..... so we're....I'm gonna do this raw?"

You looked at him, just a little amused. "That's kinda how getting pregnant works."

"What if you don't get pregnant?"

"Considering I got pregnant even when we did it with condoms, I don't know if that's going to be such a huge problem."

"Things don't always work out the same right? What if you don't get pregnant?"

"Then....we're going to have to do this till I get pregnant."

"This as in I...." Seokmin held his breath. "We have sex raw and...."

Your stomach flipped inside you. "And you come inside me, yes"

"I'm gonna fucking die." He muttered under his breath.

"Huh?"

He looked at your confused face, having not heard him. If you were going to let him re-live this, you deserved it too.

"Well, we have to do this right."

"What right?"

Seokmin ran his hand through his hair knowing he was digging his own grave with this.

"Come here." He tossed the pillow aside and held his hand out, pulling you closer as you took it, guiding you to straddle his lap. Both of you let out a soft groan as you felt his hard length under you and he could feel how soaked you were, through both your shorts and his pants.

"I know we're doing this to get you pregnant but when was the last time you...." slept with someone.

"With you." You confessed. "3 years ago."

Seokmin nodded slowly. "Then it's only right I make sure you feel good."

"What about you?" You stared at his collar bone instead, absentmindedly playing with the fabric of his tank top, wondering what the answer would be. Dreading what it would be.

"With you."

You looked up a little surprised. "You didn't see anyone else? In 3 years?"

"You didn't either."

"I didn't have the time."

"And I didn't have the need." He looked at you so earnestly, you wanted to bury this man in you and never let him go. "I'm happy with my life. I'm happy with Aera, I'm...." He smiled softly. "I'm happy with you. I'm not seeking anything else."

You cupped his cheek, running your thumb across the bone. How did you get so lucky?

"Seokmin." He hummed as you let your hands wrap around his neck. "Hurry up and put a baby inside me."

Groaning, he hooked his hands under your thighs, lifting you into his arms with surprising ease. Moving to the room with soft footfall and gently dropping you onto the bed, he watched as looked at him, pupils blown, reminding him of that night all those years ago. Fuck he really wanted to be inside you.

"Move back." He tapped your leg, clambering on the bed slowly as you obeyed, scooting behind, letting him slide his fingers between the elastic of your shorts. "Up."

As you raised your hips, he pulled down both your shorts and your panties in one go, leaving you feeling both strangely exposed and admired.

"You didn't have to." He muttered and you know he's talking about you shaving as he ran his hands up and down your thighs softly, before meeting your eye. "You're unbelievably beautiful, no matter what." A shiver ran down your spine as he leaned to drop a small kiss on your belly.

"Seokmin please..." You whined, pulling him up, unable to take the wait anymore. "Please just...."

"You don't have to beg sweetheart." He dropped another kiss on your forehead, then your jaw. "Let me make you feel good first, then I'll fill you up." His finger slipped between your soaked folds. "....and then again, just to be sure."

You let out the most unholy moan as his words shot straight to your core and his fingers easily found your clit, drawing soft circles, driving you insane in all ways possible. Seokmin looked at you with the softest eyes, laced with a hint of undeniable desire, like he was craving you. "Is it okay if I go down on you?"

Okay? It took all the sanity left in you to nod slowly, like you weren't eagerly throbbing just at the thought of it.

As you propped yourself on your elbows, he slowly slid down between your legs, pulling them over this shoulders, holding back a groan at the sight of the wet mess you'd made - you were dripping and he revelled in it. Eyes still locked with yours, his tongue ran up your folds, making you grip the sheets below, mouth falling open in a not so silent sigh. Fuck you hadn't been touched properly in so long and the fact that it was Seokmin again of all people was making it so much better. You'd been wanting him for way too long now.

"You need to keep it down baby." It took everything in you to turn the moan that left you into a whimper. How on earth were you supposed to that when he was saying such things??? "Our daughter is asleep next door."

You nod hurriedly, lacing your hand through his thick hair, as he went down on your again, smiling against your skin. He knew you needed him, badly, and God he wanted you so much too, he wanted you in entirely.

His nose brushed against your clit, making you almost writhe at the overstimulation, stopped only by the tight grip of his hands around your thighs. Unable to grab much of the sheets with your free hand, you slid it under your shirt, grabbing a boob, squeezing it pathetically as Seokmin watched you, nearly coming in his pants. Maybe one day he would admit this out loud, but the first year after Aera was born, watching you feed her with your breasts spilling out of your bra always drove him certifiably insane. As pathetic as it sounded, he was jealous of his months old daughter but now..... Seokmin slid his hand up your body, feeling how perfectly your free breast filled his hand, the moan he let go against your clit vibrating through your body, pulling out the sexiest gasp he'd ever heard.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, you were going to be the end of him.

"More." You moaned, pushing your hips up, desperate to be filled. "Seokmin, just a little more-"

And that's when letting go his ministrations on your boob, he brought his hand back down to your entrance, pushing a finger in. And then another. And God, though you were throbbing and practically dying to be filled, the intrusion sent the pain of the stretch shooting up you, making you wince and grab all you had your hands on a lot tighter. Sensing your discomfort, Seokmin stopped immediately, raising himself up, his face hovering over yours, concerned.

"Did I hurt you?" He hadn't touched you in so long, honestly he had no idea how to touch you either - what you liked, what you wanted, he didn't have a clue. He'll learn, he swears if you let him, he'd memorise every small detail, every single sign.

"Just...." You panted, feeling the pain ebb into pleasure. "No, no, you didn't, please don't stop."

Obeying, Seokmin instantly began pumping his fingers, still watching you closely. Under his gaze you felt so exposed, like if he looked a little deeper into your eyes he would see the unbelievable amount of love you had for him. Would that be such a bad thing though?.....

Fisting the material of his tank top, you pulled him down, pressing your forehead against his, letting your moans spill right into his ears. Chest swelling with pride, Seokmin picked up the pace, alternating between scissoring you open and pushing his fingers knuckle deep. Lord why was he so good at this?

Seokmin watched as your breaths got shallow and quick, knowing you were nearly there and brushed his thumb over your clit with just enough pressure to push you over the edge. Back arching off the bed, you clenched around him, feeling wave after wave of pleasure erupt across your being as though every nerve in your body was set on fire. Seokmin stopped but did not pull out, eyes fixed on the way you were a panting mess under him, still struggling to ground yourself.

"That...." You focused your vision on him, a slight smile dancing your lips. "That was fucking good."

"Hmm language." Seokmin laughed, finally and unfortunately pulling his fingers out leaving you empty and wanting. You turned to him as he buried his elbow into the mattress beside your face, propping his head on his hand, glancing down at you. You looked at him and he looked at you, blinking slowly, letting so many unsaid things pass in the silence. Bringing your hand up, you traced the outline of his features with a strange sadness that when all this was over there was going to be distance between the two of you again.

Seokmin needed you to stop that. He needed you stop looking at him, to stop touching him like that, there was only so much he could control himself. He knew he wouldn't get this chance over and over again and he wanted to make it count as much as possible. For you and for him.

"Didn't actually get to eat you out." He muttered in your ear, running his fingers between folds, gathering your release, spreading it around your throbbing hole. "Wanna make you come on my tongue."

To his momentary disappointment, you shook your head. "Some other time." What? "Right now I need you to get inside me."

"Just one-"

He stuttered to a stop when you ran your hand down his torso, palming his erection, it's thickness literally making you salivate. God you wanted him in your mouth so bad but you needed him inside you a lot more desperately. You had slept with him him before, you knew he felt like heaven and you had waited long enough.

"Seokmin please." You squeezed his length, earning a low growl from him. "I want that baby. I really want it." When he moved, hovering over you once again, palms planted beside you, you didn't even realise the words that left you. "I really want you."

Seokmins eyes widened, processing your words, but that was before you clawed the material of his tank top on his back, making him sit up and strip out if it in a flash. He didn't have it in him to get out of the bed and step put of his track pants, opting to pull his length out of them instead, stroking it, spreading his precum all over it. He watched your eyes fixed on his movements, mouth slight open, before you blinked up at him, sighing like you couldn't wait. Mirroring your desperation, Seokmin slowly pushed himself into you, slipping in with a satisfying ease, bottoming out with a groan. Your nails raked his bare back, struggling to ground yourself as he filled that emptiness in you oh so well.

"Move." You moaned, adding a please at the end as though he wouldn't happily bury himself in you again and again. Though he needed a minute. He needed to memorise the feeling of you so warm and tight around him. Fuck you were a dream.

When you whimpered his name again he finally started moving, pulling back a little and pushing himself all the way in again and again. You slid your hands up, hooking them onto his shoulders, feeling every bit of him inside you, walls throbbing with every drag against it. It took everything in Seokmin to not empty himself entirely in you when you clenched around him, slowly approaching your high.

"A little longer." He pleaded. He didn't want this to end yet. "Hang in there a little longer for me beautiful. Come with me."

Then maybe he should have shut his mouth. His words had your heart racing as you felt that familiar build up in you, the one that has your toes curling. Seokmin knew you were going to come soon with the way your kept fluttering around him, squeezing and releasing him in a way that was testing his sanity.

"Shit." He muttered, burying his face in the crook of your neck and pulling your leg, guiding it towards his waist, making you wrap both of them around him, his length reaching spots you didn't even know were possible. It only took a few more strokes of increasing speed before you felt that knot tightening in you rapidly unravel, pushing wave after wave of please coursing through your body, literally blinding you for a minute there.

By the time you regained your composure Seokmin was still in the same position, buried deep inside you, his breath softly caressing the skin of your neck, face hidden from you. You slowly ran your hands up and down his back, letting him know you were okay. In fact you were better than okay, something told you if he fucked you a little longer you would fall apart around him all over again.

"Go on." You tightened your legs around his waist, feeling how he was still so painfully hard inside you. "Do it Seokmin, come inside me."

To your surprise, you felt him sigh, as he attempted to pull out but remained unsuccessful given the way you had locked him against you.

"What's wrong?" You could feel your heart thump in your chest at his uncertainty.

"Can I be honest with you?"

Oh no. "Of course."

Please don't end this.

"I....."

Please don't say you don't want this.

"I don't want you to get pregnant again."

The way you immediately let him go makes him quickly pull up, his eyes meeting yours which look devastated. Was all he wanted just sex? 

"Yet!" He added hurriedly, panicking at your misinterpretation. "I don't want you to get pregnant again yet. Not that I don't want to have another child with you, God no, there's nothing I want more, just....." He gulped looking away. "Not yet."

His words don't offer you much comfort.

"Why not?" You whispered, terrified of where this conversation was going. "I thought we both thought the timing was right...."

"It is. Its absolutely right. It makes absolute sense. It's just..." Did us making this future together not make sense? "I don't know what this is going to make you think of me but I can't keep pretending anymore. It's going to sound incredibly selfish of me but...."

Please please please don't say you don't want me anymore.

"I want you." You looked at him surprised. "I want you entirely. I don't want you to just be the mother of my children, I want you to be my woman. Mine." He sighed, refusing to meet your eye, terrified to learn what you think of him. "If you get pregnant now, it'll be another few months of dealing with the pregnancy, then the baby and I love the thought of that, god I really do, but a part of me just wants you to myself for a while. To have you as my wife, as a partner, to make love to you again and again and-"

"Wait." You stopped him, unable to take the weight of his words. Did this mean he.... "Look at me." You held his face in both your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes. God, if only you both had just a little more courage, this could've happened years ago. But clearly, it was still not too late.

"Seokmin."

"Hmm."

.

.

.

.

"I love you."

Your husband's eyes widened with a whole range of emotions. "Y-you do?"

"Fuck Seokmin, I love you so much. I've been in love with you for so long. How could I not? There's not a thing about you that doesn't make my soul crave for you. I just thought I was a burden, a responsibility you had no choice but to fulfill-"

"No choice?" Seokmin looked at you incredulously. "You are who I would pick over and over and over again, till my last breath, God I love you so much it drives me insane-"

Before he can say anything more you pulled him down into what you realised was your first ever kiss, and he immediately kissed you back, like he wanted this more than he needed to breathe. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer like you couldn't bear to part from him as his hands found your waist, pressing you against him. You didn't want to stop, neither did he, until he pulled away, burying his face in your neck, holding you in a tight hug, one that felt so complete and made you realise how perfectly they two of you fit against each other. And that this entire time Seokmin was still inside you, waiting to finish. As you involuntary clenched around him, Seokmin groaned in your ear.

"Lie on your back."

He pulled back at your words, raising an eyebrow. You gently pushed him off you, his back hitting the mattress.

"Off." You patted his pants, and he quickly lifted hips and kicked it off just before you swung your legs around his waist, straddling him. Seokmin let out a low whistle, slightly smiling at the sight of you above him. You ran your hands down his pecs to his abs as he tucked an arm under his head, watching you.

"Hey."

You hummed in response, tilting your head at him.

"I love you." He looked at you earnestly. "I really really do."

"I love you too." You confessed again, leaning down to drop him a quick kiss, your hand wrapping around his length. "But right now, let me make you come big boy."

Seokmin somehow felt himself get more hard, if that was even possible, as you pumped his length in your hand a few times before raising yourself and aligning it against your entrance, slowly sinking down on it. As your mouth dropped open in a silent sigh feeling him fill both your body and your heart, Seokmin moaned, his free hand running up your thigh. Rocking your hips, slowly readjusting to his thickness, you threw your head back, baring your neck in a way that made Seokmin's mouth water. As he tried to bring his hand up to strip you of your shirt, you beat him to it, slowly unbuttoning it and sliding it off your shoulders, allowing Seokmin to sit up and wrap his mouth around your breast. You ran your hand up the nape of his neck, relishing the way his tongue swirled around your nipple, wondering how in the world the two of you managed to keep your hands off each other all these years. You didn't think you could do more than a while without this man's touch from now. Pulling him from you, you pushed him back once more, holding onto his shoulders for support as you began moving your hips up and down his length. Seokmin cursed under his breath as he gripped the flesh of your ass, guiding your movements. Honestly, he didn't even need you to ride him to finish, just the look on your face, the perfect combination of love and lust, flushed red, slightly shining with sweat, fuck that was enough for him. He held on for as long as he could, hating the idea of not being in you anymore, but when you bit your lower lip, eyes hooded, he couldn't stop himself anymore.

"Fuck, I'm coming."

To his surprise you immediately pulled yourself off him, stroking his dick in your hand, as he finally lost it, his cum splaying all over his abs and your stomach. He looked at you eyebrows raised as you, collected his cum with a finger and slipped it your mouth.

"Do not." Seokmin groaned at the sight. "Don't make me go again, I might just break you."

You laughed, dropping into the space beside him as he put his arm around you, pulling you closer.

"Why though? Wasn't all this for baby number two?"

"Yeah well, I don't think any of what we did was part of traditional baby making."

Seokmin laughed. "You're not wrong there but what about the plan then..."

"I think we can give ourselves some time before we execute our perfect life plan." You cupped his cheek. "Besides, I think everything is perfect already with you by my side."

You had no idea how long the two of made out after that, simply entangled with each other. Maybe it was until you both realised how desperately you needed to shower (though you continued to kiss and giggle under the water.) You only stopped when you stepped out and heard a soft whimpering in the baby monitor, prompting you to quickly get dressed and rush to Aera's room, Seokmin following behind.

He stood, leaning against the door as he watched you lift her into your arms and holding her against your chest.

"Why won't your daughter sleep Mr. Lee?"

"Again, I think she's taken after you Ms.L/n."

"It's Mrs. Lee." You corrected, making him smile.

As he watched you put your child to sleep, be didn't think he could love you any more. Little did he know, in a little over 9 months, mini Seokmin would make his way into this world, and Seokmin loved you more than ever.

#lee seokmin #seokmin smut #dokyeom smut #dk smut #seokmin angst #dokyeom angst #dk angst #seokmin fluff #dokyeom fluff #dk fluff #seventeen seokmin #seventeen dk #seventeen dokyeom #seokmin × reader #seokmin scenario #seokmin one shot #dokyeom one shot #seokmin fic #dokyeom fic #Joshua smut #jisoo smut #jihoon smut #woozi smut #seventeen scenario

[koushuwu]

kiss me slowly

pairing: kageyama tobio x reader

word count: 1,9k

summary: tobio has been in love with you, his older sisters best friend for years. after all these years, he's feelings are strong as ever when he comes back home to japan during the holidays, and mistress luck turns out to be smiling upon him.

tags/cw: fluff, kisses, best friends younger brother!kageyama tobio, mutual pining, not beta read, also not edited we die like neji. bare with me, i'm concussed and wrote this thing on paper before hastily typing it in here.

the first time kageyama kissed you, he might have sworn he could’ve passed out right then and there. maybe he already had. maybe he’d passed away and ascended to heaven. that was probably it, because your lips against his felt like nothing short of his own personal heaven.

kageyama tobio had loved you from afar for years upon years, but he’d never known how to convey these feelings to you. it was a wondrous feeling. intoxicating. but it also hurt. it ached so deep and heavy in his chest that when he was younger, he’d sometimes wished he’d never met you at all. wished that his sister had picked a different best friend.

as he grew older, those wishes seized. although he would sometimes still wonder if it’d been easier. better. if he’d never known you. as if that choice had ever been his to make. he did wonder, but after moving to italy in pursuit of his volleyball career, those thoughts subsided, along with the memories of you.

that was at least what tobio though, but then came around the first holidays where held been able to travel back to japan, since joining ali roma. they say that absence makes the heart grow fonder. it wasn’t a saying that tobio had ever really given any thought. at all. but then he crossed the threshold of his childhood home, removed his shoes in the genkan, stepped inside, and there you were. he knew that miwa was going to be home as well. for some reason though, despite knowing that you and his sister were still very much attached by the hip, he hadn’t expected to see you standing right there. in his kitchen. smiling. at him. and talking. to him. shit. you were talking to him.

“— grown so much! welcome home!” and as you rounded the table and pulled him into a hug, all he could muster was one single breathless word.

“… yeah.”

when you pulled back, he thought for a spilt second that you lingered, looking at him with an expression he couldn’t read. but then you were already stepping back towards the kitchen counter and he must’ve imagined it. he must’ve. but he knew that he hadn’t imagined the way his heart hammered in his chest and his palms got clammy.

“still quite the talker, hm?” you chirped. “i’m preparing snacks for miwa and i. you want any?” okay. so maybe his feelings had never really subsided after all. instead, they’d been buried deep inside, during a time where he hadn’t been faced with these feelings and the subject of them, close to every single day.

throughout tobio’s time back in japan, things only got worse. or maybe they got better? tobio had no way of knowing at the time, how the ache is his chest would soon be soothed. all that he knew was that you hung out with miwa on the daily, and seeing you that often was both a blessing and a curse. more often than not, you and miwa would insisted that he joined. that he watched movies with the two of you. had drinks with the two of you. spent time with the two of you, interrogated about his life in italy. and he did. because as much as it hurt, he still wanted to spend as much time with you as he possibly could. be as close as he could. but in doing so, tobio found it harder and harder not to think about you. he shouldn’t be thinking about you like that. he shouldn’t. but the thoughts and the desires kept intruding on his brain and he knew that he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t stop.

gradually, you started spending even more time at the house, even when miwa wasn’t home. some foolish part of tobio’s brain couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, you came around for him. couldn’t help but hope that that was the case.

on that particular day, he almost convinced himself when you knocked on the door to his room. almost.

tobio was splayed out on his bed, tossing a volleyball into the air. over and over. toss. catch. toss. catch. toss. catch. it helped him focus. helped him remember the feeling against his fingertips. even more so, it helped him keep himself together in your presence.

“where’s miwa?” he asked, eyes trained on the ball. as if he wasn’t the one living under the same roof as her. as if you were the most likely to know. but truly, mostly because whenever he talked to you, his brain went blank. completely and utterly, and his tongue desperately tried to compensate, which always turned to questions like that.

“out. probably still at work, i think,” you said, shrugging. toss. catch. that made sense. toss. catch. 

“oh. yeah.” toss. catch. toss.

“i can go if you’d rather be alone.” catch.

“no i–” his tossing halted for a moment as he looked at you. “stay,” he said. he didn’t want you to leave. he lowered his arms, ball still perched on the tips of his fingers. he wanted you to stay. and he wanted you to keep smiling at him like that. and you did.

“alright,” you said, leaning back in the chair you’d occupied since you’d come into his childhood room. there’s a short pause, but you never stop smiling as you look into his eyes. he wants to look away. he doesn’t want to look away. ever. “italy sounds magical,” you then said. he nodded but didn’t say anything, tongue tying on knots as he took you in. “does it ever get lonely all the way over there?”

“I–” that was unexpected. he thought it over for a moment. tossed the ball back into the air, and caught it as gravity did it’s thing, pulling it back down. “hm. maybe sometimes.”

“you know, if you’re lonely, miwa and i would love to come visit.” did you know how his heart hammered in his chest? did you realize how much he wanted you to visit him? did you have any idea just how much he wanted you, and just you? toss. catch. toss. catch. “tobio.”

“hm?” he hummed. toss. catch.

“if you don’t stop tossing that ball while i’m talking to you, i’m going to steal it.” toss. catch. he stopped again. looked over at you. hadn’t even realized when he’d looked away. when he’d started tossing the ball again. it just happened.

“sorry,” he mumbled sheepishly.

“if you don’t want me to come, that’s fine btw. you don’t have to–”

“no.” he didn’t mean to be so stumped in his answers. but he couldn’t help it. his brain was spinning with the thought of you in his apartment in italy. you in his kitchen. you in his living room. on his couch. in his bed. he shook his head. toss. catch. “i would love that.” toss. catch. toss. catch. you moved beside him. his gaze flicked to you, the moment the ball was in the air. the split second before you were on him.

“told you i’d steal it!” you exclaimed, pouncing to snatch the ball out of the air. tobio had no idea what happened next. or more like, he didn’t know how it happen. one moment you were going for the ball, the next you were falling. you were falling. onto his bed. onto him. panicked, he reached to catch you as you crashed against him. the ball smacked against the wall as tobio’s large hand had slapped it out of the way in his attempt to break your fall. which he had. with his body. 

“oompf.”

it was quiet for a moment, except for the volleyball bouncing on the floor a couple of times before it continued it’s adventure, rolling until it came to a halt against the opposite wall.

“i’m sorry,” you said lifting yourself up on your elbows. “are you okay?” you didn’t move to sit up. you didn’t. maybe because tobio’s hands were splayed out over your spine. or maybe you just didn’t want to. you looked into his eyes, the air around you seemingly growing heavier by the minute.

“i’m okay,” he said. the silence stretched. he should probably say something. he should let go of you. he should ask you to get up. he should. he should. he should. but he didn’t. he didn’t, because he didn’t want to.

“are you going to kiss me?” you asked, the question hanging in the air, charged. he wanted to. his lungs felt completely void of air. he couldn’t. he shouldn’t. he wanted to. so badly.

“no.”

“i’m sorry.” you pull back when the rejection leaves his lips, but his hold around you tightens. he doesn’t want to hold you back. he really doesn’t. but he can’t let you go. not when– you look away and his chest aches again. more than it’s ever done before. “it’s okay. of course you don’t want to. i’m sorry!” for being so forward. for making it awkward. for falling on you, for assuming– tobio heard all the things you didn’t say in that one single apology. 

“it’s not that i don’t want to–”

“it’s fine,” you blurted out, cutting him off. the muscle in his jaw ticks. he can feel it. he doesn’t mean it. but you’re misunderstanding him and he never hated his poor communication skills more than he did that very moment. “you don’t have to explain.” he brushes his knuckles against your jaw before his palm settled on your cheek, turning your head back to face him.

“i want to,” he said. “you have no idea how much i want to. how long i’ve– but i know that i won’t want to stop if i do.”

“okay,” you said. it was quiet for another moment as you looked at each other. “okay, well. that’s good. because maybe i don’t want you to stop.” tobio found his eyes growing wider at your admission. the first time kageyama tobio kiss you, it was actually more you the kissed him. as you leaned down and pressed your lips to his, tobio found himself scared that this was but a dream. that one wrong movement would have you vaporizing and disappearing from. but the press of your lips were so soft. so tender. the hand left on your back fisted in your shirt. clinging on for dear life as his lips finally moved against yours. he’d passed away and gone to heaven. there was no other explanation for what was happening right now. it was sweet. it was magical. it was perfect. it was you. he pulled you closer and you obliged. it was– it–

“finally!” miwa’s cheerful voice echoed in tobio’s room, and startled the two of you pulled apart. shock painted in your features as well as his. but kageyama miwa looked nothing but happy to have caught the two of you kissing. the smile on her face said it all. and then– “took you long enough. anyway, finish up soon, okay? i brought dinner.” she turned and left.

the second time kageyama tobio kissed you, was only mere moments after the first. he was smiling. you were smiling. the heavy atmosphere had lifted but the magic was there. the second time tobio kissed you, it was quick and full of wonder. like the promise of many more to come. and while tobio knew he was going back to italy soon and the ache of leaving you behind was overwhelming, at least he knew that he could be looking forward to you visiting him when he inevitably started feeling lonely without having you close.

*:･ﾟ✧ thank you for reading ♡

#fanfic #kageyama tobio #best friends younger brother #best friends younger brother!tobio #kageyama tobio fluff #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama tobio x reader fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x reader fluff #haikyuu fluff #DONT LOOK AT ME I KNOW I SHOULDNT BE LOOKING AT SCREENS RN BUT HELLO???? #kags was knocking down the doors in my brain #held me at gunpoint until i wrote it #useradrienne #just bc #ily <3

[starchaserwrites]

@jegulus-microfic / february 11: map / word count: 755 cw:implied sexual content

The situation is this, in two days it's the wedding of his two best friends IN THE WORLD, which is wonderful and James is so excited for them after all they had to go through to get to this moment. He honestly loves them from the bottom of his heart, but maybe he would love them more if they hadn't decided to have the wedding IN THE MIDDLE OF FUCKING NOTHING. When they decided to have it in France since Sirius and his brother lived there with their uncle from the moment they ran away from their parents' house, the idea sounded sensational, but upon discovering the great little detail that it would be in a small rural village with zero signs in English, James slowly began to panic a little.

And here he is now, without a map since his phone lost all signal and internet access and subsequently ran out of battery, stuck in an old unheated rental car on a dirt road waiting for an endless flock of sheep to cross and not knowing a lick of French apart from "Bonjour" which won't help in this situation. Oh, and it's now pouring. Fantastic.

And you see, of course James has already considered going out and shooing the sheep out of the way, but contemplating he doesn't know where he's going, that wouldn't be good for the sheep who are probably just trying to get back to their pen, or anyone else. That's the only reason, of course it's not because he's afraid of the sheep. Definitely it isn't. 

When the daylight was almost completely gone and James was resigned to die waiting there (why do they need so many sheep in such a small town), a tapping on his window made him jump out of surprise at the thought that the sheep had finally agreed to hasten his death. A horse and its rider were standing by his window, but in order to see his face James had to roll down the pane and poke his head slightly out of the window.

"Vous avez besoin d'aide?" 

James had never regretted not speaking French as much as he did at this moment. The man on the horse looked like something straight out of a "Horse and Rider" magazine, but hotter. With his shiny black boots, wet shirt clinging to his body highlighting his strong arms and abs, and black curls accompanied by the most stunning pair of silver eyes James had ever seen in his life. So what if he wants this god to fold him in half? Sue him.

"Sorry, I don't speak French," James said sadly, putting an end to his fantasy.

"No problem, I just asked if you needed any help." replied the man on horseback in such a fluent way catching him off guard, but with a divinely thick accent. Fantasy resumed.

Oh, a deity had definitely decided to come down from Olympus to personally help James.

Later, inside the castle that Reg called home, and insisted on taking him because, and quoting him, "it's dangerous to drive around here so late at night, lots of wild animals", James emerged from the shower with only a towel wrapped around his hips, not expecting the silver-eyed man to be waiting for him with clean, dry clothes in the room. 

Nothing could have prepared him for the heat he felt as he was scanned up and down by that hungry gaze. So in a moment of enlightenment he remembered the only French phrase he knew.

"Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?"

"God, if you weren't so hot I'd be feeling so much cringe right now."

James's prayers of being folded in half were answered that night.

The next morning, he awoke to feel the warmth on his right side move and Sirius's horrified screams.

Hold on. Rewind. 

Sirius? So he was able to find the address in the end?

"Really James? My baby brother? And this is why you weren't answering your phone? We thought you were dead!"

Oh, so it is “Reg” as in Regulus. Wow.

“I died and went to heaven.” 

And in the blink of an eye Sirius was on top of him trying to throttle him.

In the end, all the necessary explanations were given. Sirius wasn't happy at first to learn that Regulus and James could become more than a one-night stand, but he eventually accepted it and the wedding went off without a hitch.

James had never been so grateful for a flock of sheep before.

#i got carried away #jegulus #james potter #regulus black #james x regulus #starchaser #sunseeker #marauders #jegulus microfic #len writes

[8aji]

too busy saving everybody else to save yourself. // s.s.

to think of a life without him filled you up with such sorrow you thought you'd let yourself drown just to be with him one last time. — or, an account of the events that transpired after the night of august 14, 2003.

pairing. shinichiro sano x baji!reader

wc. 18k

tags/cw. MDNI, angst with happy ending, fluff, hurt/comfort, best friends to lovers, baji!reader (reader is baji’s sibling), manga spoilers, shinichiro lives, anxiety/panic attacks, smoking, mentions of death, characters cry a lot, mentions of head trauma + hospitals + needles + blood, reader gets called 'nee-chan' a couple of times but other than that its pretty gn, very suggestive (one make/out sesh), takeomi is clowned a lot + please let me know if i missed anything!

a/n. its finally done sob i spent so much time polishing this as much as i could and what was supposed to be a 1k drabble mutated into this lmfao but all in all this fic is my baby, my child, and i love it so so much i just hope y'all will like it as much as i do !! a massive thanks to @tetsutits for betaing and to @mosviqu for letting me run the storyline through her !! hope all of u enjoy lots n lots !!

m.list ˖ tags ˖ byi/dni

One step, one blink, one breath, one step, one blink, one breath; like on autopilot, the pattern repeated itself over and over again. You could feel it beating inside your skull; the pounding of your heart resonated throughout your body, acting as the fuel behind your every move. 

Your blurry gaze amplified all of your other senses, sending your brain into a downward spiral of emotional overwhelm; the loud keyboard clicking, the obnoxious chatter, the drinking and munching of coffee and donuts, all of it made you want to tear your ears off. How could the world keep turning, people existing like normal, while you were being consumed by the tightness enveloping your lungs? The thought made you want to light up the whole building, watch it burn as the flames simmered the concrete to ashes to relieve the turmoil brewing inside your body. 

“I'm coming for Baji Keisuke?” You asked, barely managing to string the words together in a coherent sentence, head going a thousand miles per hour. “He’s my brother.”

The officer behind the desk pulled down his magazine, looking you over and taking in your dishevelled state. “Ah,” he sighed as soon as your brother's profile appeared on his screen. “Baji Keisuke, the little rascal with the breaking and entering charges, huh?”

lips forming into a thin line, you nodded, biting your tongue so as to not insult the man in front of you who, for some reason, couldn't help but chuckle, as if a twelve year-old kid being detained was funny. 

“Can I see him?”

He gave you one last obnoxious glance, before typing on his computer.

“He’s currently under police custody,” he explained condescendingly as if you didn’t know, pulling a manila folder and pressing the button on the printer, handing you a pen in the meantime. “He's only got a minor charge compared to the other brat he came in here with,” He let out a quiet cackle, not wanting to attract anyone else’s attention. To you, it was like he acted this nonchalant to rile you up, make your blood boil. And, in spite of your reluctance to admit to it, it was working. Being in his presence made you want to punch him. “We’re betting on whether the other kid’s gonna get charged with manslaughter or not.

“And just between us,” he made a come hither motion, but leaned forward on his chair at your lack of reaction. “I’m betting in favor of manslaughter, so I'm crossing my fingers for the guy to die soon, ‘ya know?”

Had you been wearing long sleeves, he would’ve been able to see you rolling them up, emotionally prepared to be charged with aggravated assault against a police officer

Fortunately, another officer called out your name, catching your attention before you could act on the violent scenarios coursing through your brain. You didn’t bother excusing yourself before leaving to find your brother.

He looked small, smaller than he actually was, as he sat on the floor with both his knees close to his chest. His eyes were puffy and red, it was obvious he had been crying; though by the looks of it, he had yet to stop.

The cell door sounded like nails against a chalkboard as it scraped against the floor. It made him flinch in surprise, snapping him out of the borderline-dissociating trance as he looked up at the intimidating officer, trying to gauge his intentions while gathering all the energy he had left in his body to fight off the man just in case he needed to. But as soon as he made eye contact with you he could feel himself lowering his guard. 

He didn’t even hesitate, his body moved on his own, running past the officer and straight into your arms, letting the harsh sobs he had tried bottling up rack his body, along with muffled apologies and incoherent explanations.

“It's okay,” you mumbled against his hair, trying to calm down his heart wrenching cries. He nuzzled his face against your neck, trying to get impossibly closer to the sound of your voice. You waited for him to nod, still clutching at your clothes with all the remaining energy he had. “He's strong, he’ll be alright.”

Though at this point you were unsure whether your words held any weight against the grand scheme of things; hopefully all your promises won’t turn into bold-faced lies.

You made your way out of the cell together, holding his left hand as he used the other to rub at his eyes, itchy and dry from all the crying. The two of you walked past a couple of cells before he stopped for what seemed like a millisecond, mumbling something under his breath in weak anguish. Had you not been hyper aware of everything going on around you, you wouldn’t have noticed the slight tug at your hand.

Kazutora sat on the floor the same way Keisuke did, knees pulled up to his chest, biting his cuticles raw to stop his brain from looping the traumatic set of events like a broken film; still, it wasn't enough to stop his whole body from trembling in shock. The distress fresh in his eyes made you want to drop everything just to hold him close, comfort him like you did with Keisuke. 

But you didn’t have much time, the officer behind you pressured the both of you to move, and considering Keisuke remained under police custody, you weren’t willing to risk him getting locked up again now that you had him by your side.

“Wait for me over there, okay?” You said, pointing at the waiting area. “I just have to fill out some paperwork and then we can go home.” He held your hand even tighter in his grasp in response, as if he was scared to let go. “I’ll be quick, promise.”

Reluctantly, he dragged his feet as he walked, not wanting to stray far away from you. At least there was still some sort of stubbornness left in him. You’ve never seen him act like this, uncontrollably crying and apologising, devoid of the mischievous glint in his eyes. Knowing the Keisuke you knew was still there comforted you.

“How, uh, how much is bail gonna be?” You asked once he had made himself at home on the plastic chairs. Thankfully it was someone else behind the desk instead of the asshole you had the misery of interacting with. 

You knew it wasn’t going to be cheap, already having a grasp of fines and bail costs thanks to your friends getting into trouble, but even with this knowledge, their response sent a shiver down your spine.

Maybe you could use some of your own savings, or part of your college fund. Using your mom’s money was also an option, but you didn't want to put the burden on her. If you skipped a semester it could give you some time to earn the money back, but you were already behind in a few classes, and the minimum wage from part time jobs wouldn’t stack up too much, so was it truly feasible?

Fuck, you knew they were children but you couldn’t help but curse at their recklessness, their stupidity and naivety. Did they actually think stealing a bike would be that easy? And now you have to pay for the consequences, quite literally. Of course, you could always leave him here, let him face the consequences straight on. There was nothing forcing you to bail him out. But who were you kidding, you’d kill for him, of course you were going to pay.

Making sure he was still where you left him, you looked over your shoulder back at him. He was slumped over his knees, aimlessly playing with his fingers as his eyes fixated on the corridor leading to the cells, a solemn sadness washing over his features. 

No. 

You weren’t going to. You were going to pay for your brother’s sins, or whatever the cheesy line says, and leave to never look back. You didn’t owe this other kid anything, most certainly when you couldn't afford it. But, after knowing him for so long, the thought of him staying in the middle of four cold walls until further notice broke your heart.

“Actually,” you sighed. This was gonna cost two semesters instead of one. “Could I pay for someone else’s bail as well?”

At first, he refused to acknowledge your presence, biting harder into his fingers. He tried self-soothing through slow back and forth rocking motions and the unintelligible words that spilled from his mouth, hugging himself tighter the closer you got. 

He didn’t move, frozen in place as if the lack of movement would make him invincible to the naked eye. He didn’t cave in no matter what you did, not when you kneeled in front of him nor when you whispered his name in hopes he would acknowledge your voice.

It only took a couple of seconds after that for him to shyly meet your gaze, warming up to you in an instant and clinging onto you just like Keisuke had done, though he did so with a lot more desperation, this sort of comfort foreign to Kazutora. He felt so small in your embrace, burying his face in your shoulder, the only thing he could do was claw at your body for reassurance. Other than that, he didn’t speak, didn’t cry, he almost didn’t move, to the point it had you questioning whether he was actually breathing. 

Once you coaxed him out of the cell and got a hold of your brother, your sole focus was on guiding the boys beside you out of the precinct as fast as possible, one hand holding Keisuke’s while the other rested on the back of Kazutora’s head. They didn’t need to spend more time than necessary in this place, surrounded by grimy cell blocks and seemingly socially inept officers who couldn’t keep their rambunctious laughter down.

Wakasa was sitting on his bike outside the police station waiting for the three of you, and though initially it was supposed to be just the two of you riding along with him, he wasn’t surprised you paid for your brother’s friend’s bail. He kept a fairly laid-back exterior, lit cigarette hanging from his fingers replacing his preferred strawberry flavored lollipops, inhaling back the smoke that seeped from his parted lips and freaking out on the inside.

The two of you were hanging out when multiple calls blasted through your phone, prompting you to rush to where you were now. First it was one from the hospital, one of the bearers of bad news that didn’t let you dwell on the fact that Shinichiro had written you down as one of his emergency contacts. Then came the call from the police station, sinking your heart down to the bottomless pit in your stomach.

“Everything alright?” He asked, putting out his cigarette, smothering the stick with his boot along with the other three he had finished while you were inside. 

You hummed in response, words dying in your throat. The silence around you itched and burned, made your skin prickle with discomfort, and even so, no one dared say anything besides the occasional noise of acknowledgement. They weren’t dumb. They were one-hundred percent aware of what they were doing, and this wasn’t something you could blame on their age either. Yes, they were kids, but a twelve year old should be able to discern right from wrong; aware that stealing is bad and that murdering people is wrong.

And deep down, you knew this was even more fucked up than it appeared to be. You knew Kazutora wouldn’t have cared for the victim had it not been Shinichiro. The only reason he was shaking like a leaf, flinching when Wakasa fastened the belt of his helmet against his head, was because he hurt Mikey’s brother. That’s not to say Keisuke was innocent, it was clear he wasn’t. Intentionally breaking into someone’s shop to steal a very valuable, very expensive, piece of equipment and potentially complicit in someone's murder. 

You wanted to tear your eyes off at the thought. Did they really think they could get away with this? That it would be as easy as stealing some candy or gum from the corner store? You wanted to curse them out for being so stupid, so naive. But looking down at their sunken faces, eyes bloodshot and teary as they sweated fear from every pore on their fragile skin, it made you want to excuse all their horrid behaviour, ignore the fact they committed a crime and in the process they mortally wounded an innocent man. 

You held down an involuntary gag at the violation of your principals, the memory of what had just gone down stirring unwanted bitterness inside your stomach. You were no one to criticise the two kids sitting between Wakasa and you. They could be stupid, but you were the weakest of them all.

“Let’s get going then.”

You could question your moral compass later, first you had to get them home.

The voices of the characters talking in the background faded into an uncomfortable white noise as your muscles dissolved along with your bones, breaking through your skin and seeping into the cushions of the couch. Each time you breathed in the more stressed you became at the uncertainty of your friend’s mortal status. 

You hadn’t received any news from the hospital, and though you knew that if they hadn’t called by now, they probably wouldn’t at least until tomorrow morning, that didn’t stop you from imprisoning your phone close to your chest. Maybe if you channelled all your strength into your hold then you’d lose the urge to cry.

In spite of their initial resistance, it didn’t take long to put the kids to bed. The two of them drifted off to a bitter, yet hopefully replenishing, sleep as soon as their heads hit the pillow. It wasn’t surprising, the whole incident had drained the both of them to their core.

“‘Sure you’re okay?” Wakasa asked, and had it not been for his voice you're sure you would’ve dissociated the rest of the night. Maybe the kids would find you the next morning still sitting on the couch, frozen like a statue as you stared at the ceiling, and freak out because they’d think you had died along with ‘Shinichiro-nii’. 

You hummed, it was the only response you could muster it seemed, with your eyes zeroing in on his shoulders, then his cheeks and then his earrings. Looking straight into his eyes would do you no good. It’d blow your cover in less than an instant, and though it’s fair to say it was a shit cover, amplifying your grief through your dejected silence instead of toning it down, it made you feel safer from the imminent doom. Still, shitty cover up or not, Wakasa knew you weren’t okay. You wouldn’t be able to fool him even if he was stupid, and at this point, he’s convinced you wouldn’t be able to fool anyone; a single glance your way was enough to tell you were silently crumbling. 

He let his head fall backwards against the back of the sofa, sighing in acknowledgement. No matter how many times he asked, deep down he knew you would only cave in at your own account, But at least his question somehow managed to bring you back down from the maze your brain had started fabricating to earth. And maybe, just maybe, if he gave you enough space that’d prompt you to speak. He didn’t mind waiting. Not for a couple of seconds, or the couple of minutes those seconds turned into, or the couple of hours they mutated into next, and so on until days and weeks and years had passed, until the scarcity of time felt infinite.

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” You broke the silence, biting the edges of your words as if you wanted to hide them back inside, voice shaky and heavy against your tongue. 

He hesitated, sharing a seat next to you inside the same sinking uncertainty boat, “Shin-chan’s stronger than you think.” He tried reassuring you, or himself he wasn't sure, but at this point the more he tried to tell himself his friend was still breathing, the more it felt like a lie. Shin-chan was stronger than the two of you thought, but was he really? “He’d be heartbroken to know you had little faith in him.”

At least he got you to chuckle, “I’d be heartbroken to know that I was right.”

You fell into an uncomfortable silence not long after, the stakes of the conversation too high, and if you continued talking you’re sure you’d end up giving Shin up for dead. But like this, maybe you could finally force yourself to get some sleep. The weight of your eyelids had doubled, eyes growing heavier against your will, and though you didn’t want to, just in case something happened while you were unconscious, you knew you’d be of no use without at least a few hours of rest. Plus, you promised yourself you’d never lose any sleep over a guy, ever, and you weren’t about to make an exception for Shinichiro Sano.

Not even an hour in your slumber, you almost threw your phone to the other side of the room as its desperate cry pierced your ears. You’re sure Wakasa almost had a heart attack with how fast straightened up next to you, and it wouldn’t be a surprise if it somehow managed to wake up both Kazutora and Keisuke, although your brother was more of a chronic heavy sleeper.

“What are you waiting for? Answer it!” Feelings heightened in his barely awake, panicked state, the desperation was palpable in his words. And though uncommon for him to act in such an erratic manner, he had bottled everything up the whole night, it was time for the stoic facade to break. 

But, even so, in spite of your friend’s heartbreaking desperation you didn’t move. Not after the third ring or the fourth. You didn’t dare move, staying frozen on the couch, groggy from waking up yet hyper-aware of everything going on around you despite your mild dissociation. The sole thought of moving towards made your brain press against your skull, screaming at you to stop. 

Not answering meant that Shinichiro could stay both simultaneously alive and dead, his fate linked to whether you picked up the call. If you didn’t, maybe he wouldn’t die after all, he’d stay stuck in the unknown limbo of immortality until you made a call. 

But then again, this was your only chance to get an update on his status. And it wasn’t only you anxiously waiting on any sort of news. Wakasa was waiting; Keisuke and Kazutora, although asleep, were as well, and you could only fathom Benkei and Takeomi’s reaction. Mikey and Emma were probably up to date, the hospital must’ve called their grandfather before they reached out to you. And looking back at the people that depended on you, it really wasn't fair to put your own self-indulgent selfishness over the needs of others, was it?

It wasn't. Of course it wasn’t, but after putting everyone before you for as long as you’ve lived, didn’t you deserve to be selfish? At least once, when it pertainted the condition of the unrequited love of your life, didn’t you deserve at least that much?

“Hello?” Wakasa answered through furrowed brows and twitching lips. From the way he spoke, you could tell he was biting on the inside of his cheek to release some tension, putting enough pressure to draw blood. “This is Wakasa Imaushi speaking,

“–can’t get to the phone right now, can’t you just talk to me?” Voice getting progressively louder, he challenged the person on the other side of the call. “He’s my best friend, don’t I deserve to know whether he’s alive or not?!”

Only when his voice broke at the weight of his own desperation did you manage to snap out of your trance, snatching the phone out of his grip, ignoring his glassy eyes as you spoke into the receiver, mumbling your name through a shakily put together voice.

You’re not sure whether you imagined it or not, almost choking on a withered sob, but you could feel the moment your teeth sunk into the skin of your hand, digging hard enough for blood to prickle to the surface, preventing any other noise from coming out. 

With your vision blurry and a tightness in your chest you could not describe, your body had gone completely numb, and yet your nerve endings were scorching under any semblance of atmospheric pressure, forcing you to feel everything, everywhere, all at once.

Had Wakasa not been there to catch you, you’d have collapsed on the ground, a pitiful wailing mess. Tears soaked through the fabric of both your clothes as you held each other close. For what felt like hours, the two of you stayed like that. Face buried against his neck and his against the top of your head, he rocked you back and forth in his arms until your tears stopped mixing themselves with your spit, sharp inhales tuning down into soft sniffles. And though his eyes burned with unshed sorrow, he kept on humming at your unintelligible mumbling.

“See? I told you he was stronger than we thought.” He whispered, though it sounded closer to a whimper, and nuzzled his cheek further against your hair. As if trying to ground himself, he gave you a tight squeeze, still in doubt whether he was trying to convince you or himself. 

Only after a while, once both of your breathing had evened out, did you raise your head up from its hideout, hesitant footsteps catching your attention.

“Nee-chan?” You heard a tiny voice coming from the hallway, a little insecure, as if he didn’t think he deserved a proper response. 

“I’m sorry ‘Tora, did we wake you?” You peeled Wakasa’s arms from your body, rubbing the haziness of your eyes away. He shook his head in response, carefully moving away from the shadows after acknowledging your lack of anger.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

His puffy eyes shimmered red under the soft moonlight coming through the living room window. He took meticulous steps in your direction, side-eyeing Wakasa and still wary of you, not knowing how you would react after his intrusion. Each one was lighter than the other, the wooden floors refused to creek underneath his weight, almost as if he had trained himself to become weightlessly invisible.

Slowly as to not startle him, you stretched your arms in his direction, beckoning him towards you and silently encouraging him to trust you. Even after drying out his tears once you tucked him in bed, holding his hand a little longer while Keisuke slept next to him, you’re sure that wasn’t enough to reassure him you wouldn’t blow up on him. For Kazutora, interacting with most people felt like trying to navigate an active minefield.

Hugging him close to your body, you pulled him on your lap and softly rocked him back and forth; the same way Wakasa had done with you. He nuzzled closer to you, letting himself relax against your touch once he registered you weren't a threat, basking in your warmth. 

The silence the three of you fell under was deafening, uncomfortable even, though you didn't intend for it to be. Kazutora had this question stuck in his throat, sitting heavy against his vocal cords while the bitter taste of bile stained his tongue.

“Is…” he trailed off, still doubting whether he deserved to be asking such a question. “Is Mikey’s brother going to be okay?”

He tensed up at the lack of immediate response. The lack of positive reassurance that he hadn’t completely messed up everyone's lives made the grip he had on your arm grow tighter in fear of you letting go. 

You didn’t. You weren’t planning to do so. Even if nausea piled up at the end of your oesophagus as the conflicting set of emotions brewing at the pit of your stomach, you were sure he needed you as much as you needed him to keep yourself grounded 

“He will.” You brushed your fingers through his hair, lips curled up into a smile once you felt him relax against you once again. “Right now he’s resting, we can visit him in a couple of days, if you’d like.” 

The silence amongst you became heavy once again, but inside Kazutora’s head the cacophony of your words bounced against the thick layers of bone and skin like worthless cries of distress. What he did was inconceivable, and in spite of that you still cared.

“I didn’t mean to,” barely a whisper, the words died out before they could be properly enunciated. They prickled and ached and stung at the walls of his throat. Something he couldn’t name but feel deeply inside his bones stopped himself from vomiting it all out. But mess after mess, like building blocks stacking one on top of the other, they piled up and pulled him down like a ball and chain made out of his own flesh and when he tried to pull at it to set himself free he could feel everything spilling out in a tangled cry. “I didn’t mean to hurt him, I’m sorry!” he cried, clutching onto your shirt and arms, anything he could get a hold of to ensure you wouldn’t leave him alone. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Holding him tightly and shushing his cries, you could do nothing more than let his tears wet at your shirt, mumble that it was okay even if it truly wasn’t; even if the two of you knew it was a lie. The weeping child in your arms did nothing but pull at your heartstring, conflicting feelings arising in your chest. In spite of the fondness you felt for the kid, the same fondness you felt for all of your little brother’s friends, you had unconsciously developed a grudge towards him, bitterness and resentment for hurting Shinichiro. 

His lashes rested against his skin, casting thin shadows under the sunlight streaming through the window. He had always looked peaceful when he was sleeping, chest rising and falling as if following a metronome’s tempo. You can remember taking long summer naps next to him and the rest of your friends, you always being the first one to wake up. Every summer the three of them arrived late to at least five Black Dragon’s meetings because they had slept in. Shinichiro had developed this antsy habit of arriving weirdly on time yet slightly late ever since then, he couldn’t tolerate the idea of letting down whoever was waiting for him; you wonder how he’d react if he knew the shop wouldn’t open today.

So peaceful yet fragile., never in your life would’ve you remotely imagined you’d be sitting next to your best friend’s hospital bed, eyes puffy and droopy while his head laid covered in bandages. The beeping of the monitor filling up the unnecessary silence that wouldn’t have otherwise been there had he been awake. 

Had he been awake, he would’ve talked to you non-stop, retelling everything that went down to the most insignificant detail, sprinkling hyperboles as much as he could just to appear a little cooler in front of you. But it's not like he had to try anyway, to appear cooler, that is, you already thought he was the coolest person in the whole wide world; though you’d go as far as saying he was the coolest person to ever exist. The sole idea made you smile, tears welling up in your eyes as you wondered if he’d blush once he found out how highly you thought of him. 

And of course, had he been awake, he would’ve been worried about everyone but him. He would’ve asked about Mikey and Emma, if they had slept over at the hospital or at home with his grandfather, who he would’ve proceeded to ask about. He would’ve bitten his tongue to prevent himself from even mentioning the economic implications of his stay, but you would’ve been able to read right through him.

Then, had he been awake, he would’ve asked about Keisuke and Kazutora. He would’ve be worried about them, berated you with a flurry of questions, emotions switching from anger to guilt in less than a millisecond; angry at your deplorable encounter with the police, guilty because he was the one that called, and maybe if he hadn’t, then Mikey’s friends wouldn't have gotten in trouble.

He would’ve asked about the shop, if anyone was there watching over it while he was resting in the hospital, deflating a little after finding out it wouldn’t open for the day. He would’ve asked about Wakasa and Benkei and Takeomi, ask if they were aware of what happened, if they had already started making fun of him after finding out a twelve year-old sent him straight to the ER; he would’ve sighed at your response, shaking his head because instead of making fun of him his friends were worried. 

Finally, he’d ask about you. And maybe you would’ve cried or laughed or screamed. Maybe tears would’ve pooled in your eyes, the fact your friend was breathing finally sinking in. Maybe you would’ve giggled at your past unjustified worries because he was here now and you never should’ve doubted him, not even for a second. Maybe you would’ve broken down, fatigue deep in your bones pulling you to the ground until you could do nothing but lay cold and empty and happy on the floor because you had not dared sleep but at least the existence of his consciousness remained.

But the only one speaking was the wind blowing through the curtains, kissing his forehead and messing up his hair just to give you the opportunity to put it back in place through the insecure brush of your fingers

Resting your forehead next to the palm of his hand, you sighed in defeat; maybe you should’ve let him rest alone. You had spent the whole morning next to him, ignoring any hunger cues alerting you it was time for breakfast or lunch or any sort of meal time that could fuel your body from complete exhaustion. Still, even if you wanted to fall asleep, it was like your subconscious wouldn’t let you. Every time you closed your eyes and felt yourself slip into a deep slumber, you were jolted awake to your own dismay. 

Not being able to rest had started to eat away at your own sanity. Only eight hours had passed, but every second felt like a thousand and at this point, you had become a walking contradiction; hungry but unable to eat, tired yet unable to fall asleep. Your body was failing you, unable to react to any sort of external or internal stimuli, and you’re sure wouldn't be able to cry no matter how much you wanted to do so.

But even then, apparently you could still scream.

The weight of his hand on top of your head caught you off guard. It almost made you fall from the chair and smack your head against the bed’s metal skeleton. Maybe if you got a concussion and slipped into a weird pseudo-coma after a harrowing God-knows-how-many-hours-long surgery he’d feel guilty enough to make up for the tachycardia that had your heart beating where your brain should be.

“Hi.” He smiled, words a little slurred as the remaining anaesthesia wore off.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Oh, I see ‘you missed me alright.”

And you did. Even though less than a day had passed since the accident, picturing a whole lifetime without him was enough to permanently alter your brain chemistry. But he was here now, he was back and he was safe and the toothy grin he sported reminded you of home.

“Don’t ‘cha know it’s rude to eat in front of someone who can only chew on ice chips?” He joked, flinching as the nurse adjusted his IV drip.

You were forced to leave the room after a flurry of hospital staff came running at your volatile reaction; Of course, you were quick to reassure that your friend had only woken up and that everything was fine, before leaving for the cafeteria; giving them some space to work on Shinichiro would be good. Plus, not that he was ‘okay’ and you weren’t worrying about his health every second of every minute of every hour, you could address the sudden pangs of hunger poking at your stomach. 

“I’ll buy you dinner once you get out.” You smiled, scooping some of the jell-o into your mouth through your innocent smile. But, again to your dismay, the mischievous glint in your eyes ratted you out. Shinichiro knew that ‘dinner’ meant the cheapest ramen you could find, maybe add an egg to spice it up, and ice cream you’d eat directly from the tub; a long lived tradition between the two of you. “I’ll even add chives this time.”

“Gee thanks,” he mocked, as if he’d rather do anything else than eat stale ramen with you. As long as he got the chance, he’d do anything. He’d probably lick the floor for you—not that he’d ever let you know, but if you asked he would, no questions asked. That’s what happens when you love someone. You’d be willing to do anything and everything for them even if it's irrational. “Can I choose the ice cream flavour at least?”

You hummed, focusing on scraping the plastic spoon against the plastic container in your hands to avoid his gaze. “Only this time though, so don’t get used to it.”

“Everything’s looking good so far, we’ll do another check up in a couple of hours.” 

Right, you were still in here. Talking like everything was seemingly normal made you forget that you were still in the hospital, watching over your post-op, bedridden friend. 

“Lay with me?” he asked, not before the both of you thanked the nurse who excused himself after gathering the remaining equipment. “Please?”

You shouldn’t, something inside your head made sure to let you know even if the urge to hold him close was overpowering. He had just barely woken up after a long emergency surgery, and you taking up space would be of no help for him to get the rest he needed. But the silent plea in the puppy dog eyes you had trained yourself so hard to resist, the subtle pout and the cute dopey-ness that had yet to wear off were far too tempting to resist. 

His little celebratory cheer made you inwardly squeal as you slowly moved to his side, watching him wince in pain while he slowly shuffled himself closer to the edge in a clumsy attempt to make some space for you.

The thumping of his heartbeat reverberated in his chest, the stress melting from out your bones. You couldn’t help but sigh in content once you laid your head on his chest. Now that you were wrapped in each other’s arms, it felt like you could finally rest.

“Tired?” He mumbled against your hair, breaking the silence that had settled in the room as you basked in each other’s presence. You hummed in response, nuzzling your cheek against his body and almost purring like a cat at his warmth. Letting your eyes close involuntarily, you couldn’t help but be lulled to a premature slumber. With how comfortable you looked, and because your obnoxious yawning was too contagious, he wanted to do nothing but follow in your footsteps. 

Instead, his eyes stayed wide open and stuck to the ceiling as if the off off-white paint that covered the concrete was the key to shutting down his brain long enough for sleep to take over. It didn’t matter that his blood had been infused with what felt like at least twenty hundred thousand milligrams of various pain-deafening substances that were sure to knock him out in a matter of seconds, falling asleep seemed to be an unattainable goal.

Whatever they had injected into his body increased his senses’ sensitivity, multiplying it times a hundred instead of dulling them down to nothing. And it didn’t stop at the uncomfortable overtly bright fluorescent lights or the suddenly deafening sound of unoiled wheels from hospital carts being rolled around. It was the way he could feel you barely resting your weight against his body, as if scared the least amount of pressure would make his heart stop. The way he was met with your now dull eyes, almost bloodshot but not quite, sunken with a thick coat of desperation, or fear, or some sort of premature grief, as soon as he woke up. Or how, in spite of only being gone for less than a day, it seemed like you had spent a lifetime unable to exist alongside everything you held dear.

Hyper aware of all those little details and more, it hit him without warning, and suddenly, he could feel the overwhelming urge to cry.

It prickled uncomfortably at his eyes, the skin around his charcoal orbs itching like it was on fire. His mouth felt cottony, smothering his airways and cutting his airflow while his tongue rested uncharacteristically heavy in his mouth with the weight of unsaid words. It broke all his bones at once, leaving him numb on the ground, still like a corpse, and unable to suppress the dooming feeling of his own life spilling from his pores, mixing with his blood until the air around him turned thick and metallic.

In the blink of an eye he had been one step closer to the grave, barely hanging onto a thread of consciousness as the view of his shop turned blurrier and blurrier, and now he was breathing. His lungs had finally regained consciousness and he could feel everything around him overwhelmingly loud and clear and close and real. 

Now awake, he could feel you laying on top of him, almost passed out due to the immeasurable amount of stress he had put you under. And maybe if it wasn’t for his reckless habit of parading around life with his guard lowered or for the lack of proper security measures at the shop—because who on earth would rob him? There’s no way he could be that unlucky. Impossible. Or maybe it was his inability to dodge, to hold his stance in a fight because even if he was strong, without proper technique he was rendered useless and, holy shit– he could’ve died.

He could’ve died and then Manjiro would’ve been forced to grow up way too soon because he would have to take care of Emma and grandpa—although knowing both his siblings, Emma was more likely to turn into the head of the house. And then his friends would’ve been left to grieve his death, make sad speeches about the best moments they had together and, fuck was Takeomi terrible at writing; his speech would just be a big mess of incoherent words stuck together. And what about the shop? Who was he leaving the shop to? And what about Inupi? Inupi was just a kid and he can’t just leave him all alone; he had promised to himself to take care of him the same way he took care of his siblings— fuck, Izana as well. Who was going to look after his brother? He was planning to introduce him to all of you guys soon. The two of you would’ve gotten along so well and,

And you. 

What about you?

You looked beyond heartbroken. Words couldn't begin to describe exactly what somberness mulled deep within that brain of yours. If this is how you reacted to the possibility of him dying, then how would’ve you reacted to him actually doing so?

A choked sob rips through his lips, the sound painful as it breaches its forceful containment.

“Shin–”

“I’m sorry.”

“What…” you trailed off. The strained cry had erased any speck of slumber. For a second you thought you had dreamt it, that your brain had finally gone off the rails and you were hearing imaginary voices. That was until you looked up at him, eyes welling up with unshed tears, body stiff as if to prevent them from falling. “What’re you sorry for?”

“I just remembered the beach trip we were planning for Manjiro’s birthday,” he sniffled, “and I think we’re gonna have to cancel.”

“That’s okay, we can reschedule—”

“Yeah but I– I know he was really excited for it, all his friends were.”

“We’ll talk to them, make sure they understand—”

“And you were excited about it too,” avoiding your eyes even after you had tried to coax him into meeting yours. He felt so far away, almost unreachable despite laying right next to you. “And I know how much you love the beach and I really wanted to go with you even if we were gonna have to chaperone six hyperactive children,

“And, and I know the guys were gonna come with and we had it all perfectly planned out with this huge dorayaki cake thing and now we’re gonna have to cancel because of me—”

“Wait,” you shush him as gently as possible, sitting up and holding his hand tightly between yours. “What do you mean ‘because of me’?”

Almost as if he had never started, your question managed to shut down his rambling like forcefully closing a water faucet. He had this estranged, far-off look darkening his face, eyes glassy, almost as if he were dissociating. It made your stomach churn with anxiety. Never in your many, many, years of friendship had you seen him lose himself like this.

“Because,” he paused, trying to swallow down the knot grappling at his throat, fighting off the urge to tear it off with his bare hands. “Because it's my fault we’re cancelling.”

“I– What’re you talking about?”

He groaned in desperation. Why was this so hard to explain? 

“I’m the one who’s bedridden.” Still dizzy after waking up and to the best of his ability, he tried sitting up, wincing in pain to then give up and lean into his forearms. “I’m the one with random needles poking through my skin, fresh off the ER because my skull was bashed into with one of my own tools and maybe, just maybe, if I had been more aware at the time, I could've avoided the hit.”

“Shin, this wasn’t your fault—”

“But it is! Can't you see?” 

“Shin–”

“D’you know what I did when I heard someone break the glass?” He looked at you expectantly, voice raised in frustration. “After I called the cops; do you?” You shook your head in response, knowing that any attempt to help him calm down would be futile. “I grabbed a wrench. 

“After the operator told me to hide and wait for help because I told them it sounded like more than one person was inside, I grabbed a stupid wrench and decided to face them,

“I decided to face them even if I'm well aware I wouldn’t be able to take two people at once.”

And though he seemed to be dead set on believing that somehow he managed to land himself in the hospital,  you wouldn’t allow him to give himself up to the restless thoughts, no matter how badly he wanted to indulge the bitter part of his brain that had gotten used to putting himself down. 

“Someone hit you from behind,” you tried, “you were ambushed, of course you wouldn't be able to take them on.”

His defeated sigh gave you some sort of uncomfortable comfort. Knowing it made you glad that he had finally given up was a conflicting feeling you wish to never re-examine or experience again.

You sat up, swallowing the foreign relief down, and scooted further up the bed’s backrest. Your elbow rested well above the pillow where he laid, and you couldn't help but use your leverage to gently brush your fingers through his hair, only relaxing once he visibly melted against your touch.

“You didn’t do this to yourself, this wasn’t your fault.” You whispered, fingertips soothing his worries as they ghosted the skin of his forehead. “You’re not responsible for every single thing that goes wrong, no matter how much you try to convince yourself you are.”

He can’t recall a single moment in his life in which he felt like he was relieved from his self-imposed duty—the duty of an older brother, primary caretaker, and practically a parent. Someone who must put everyone’s needs above his own well-being. He’s responsible for everything going on around him, the good, the bad, the neutral, the everything. It only made sense that the break in and the subsequent series of events were, in part, his responsibility. 

And he knew it was irrational thinking because how on earth would he have known what was going to happen? But he couldn’t help it, not when all the consequences of his actions reflected on the bigger picture; everyone relies on Shinichiro Sano, and it was his duty to fulfil. 

“And I promise you no one is disappointed in you. Not a single one of us.” You press your lips against the top of his head, smiling through your own teary eyes at the little hum he involuntarily let out. “We’re all so, so happy that you're awake and talking and I bet Manjiro would rather move his beach birthday party a hundred years from now than lose his brother six days before his birthday,

“The beach is not going anywhere, and neither are we, okay? We are not going anywhere.” 

And you knew it wasn’t not enough. Your words weren’t enough to shut up the swirling negativity spiral in his brain. But at least it was enough to calm him down, enough for him to fall asleep in spite of the dampness kissing his skin; he might have successfully managed to suppress the heart wrenching sobs, but he was not strong enough to hold back the tears that cascaded down his cheeks.

You follow through not long after, head lolling to the side in an uncomfortable position that would for sure leave your neck aching for days. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. There was no dreaming this time. No nightmares or worst case scenarios crafted deep within your subconscious. In spite of the gloomy circumstances, the two of you had fallen asleep. Finally, being in your arms was beyond comforting. Plus, indulging in the rest your body had craved for hours made it easier to regain consciousness once Manjiro decided to jump on the two of you in surprise, never minding the possibility of further injuring his brother by mistake.

Being on the receiving end of his lovable violence hurt more than you thought it would, one of his hands landing straight on your stomach and the other on Shinichiro’s chest, but you couldn’t blame the kid. Based on what Keisuke had confided in you last night, Manjiro had witnessed both his best friends’ arrest as well as his brother being pulled out unconscious on a stretcher out of the shop.

Beyond a muffled apology, he didn’t utter anything else, like his voice had given in. He clung onto Shinichiro’s body like his life depended on it. 

A swift knock on the door caught your attention, though Manjiro didn't even bother looking up, face tucked against his brother’s body, letting himself relax as his brother’s fingers threaded through his blond locks. 

Emma poked her head from behind the wall, hands holding onto the door frame for balance. From where you laid you could see how her eyes were almost as puffy as yours. They were rimmed with a bright red, the same shade that was splotched all over her cheeks and nose. Mansaku stood beside her, holding onto his hat.

You could physically feel the relief washing over Shinichiro the moment he saw his whole family entering the room. He laid lighter next to you, with a brighter smile decorating his lips. It was like his body had melted from hard concrete right into a puddle, your previous conversation seemingly forgotten as a twinkle of warmth returned to his pretty eyes.

Careful not to let Manjiro fall in the dent you were leaving as you stood up, you beckoned Emma over. She cuddled up to Shinichiro, clinging onto him while her soft sniffles filled the silent room, and you swore you had almost started tearing up again at the sight.

Mansaku placed a hand on your shoulder, making you flinch in surprise as he acknowledged your presence. Like a wordless thank you, he nodded at you before stepping closer towards the bed, letting his hand rest on Shinichiro’s, and gently squeezed as if making sure his grandson was truly there. 

In no way shape or form was it the perfect family meetup—a perfect one wouldn’t entail the eldest-grandson-slash-parental-figure stuck in a hospital bed. But by the way they huddled together, Shinichiro pinching Manjiro’s cheeks, the latter not even fighting him off like he usually would, and patting Emma’s head in reassurance, with Mansaku displaying the ghost of a smile as he stood next to his grandchildren, the four of them gave off the feeling of everything being okay.

The familiar warmth between them left you to watch the scene like an outsider in a third-person point of view. It made you feel like you were intruding, messily glued to one of those fancy family portraits. 

In spite of both your families spending the majority of their lives around one another, you weren’t a Sano. No matter how close Keisuke and Manjiro were, no matter how much Shinichiro and you acted like a married couple with at least five children, you were never going to be one. You knew this from the start, but even so, the knowledge didn’t stop the churning of a deeply seeded loneliness inside your stomach. 

You didn’t bother with your goodbyes. Even if you had promised Shinichiro you’d spend the rest of the day together—pretending to be bothered and reluctant when you sealed it with a ‘pinky promise’ to hide the fact you’d willingly play nurse whenever he needed it—something from within told you it was your time to leave, you weren’t that important after all.

The question swirled inside your skull, bitter as it scratched your bones, as you leaned against the walls outside the hospital. At first, you intended to camp out in a waiting room, maybe join them after you had finally calmed down, but instead your legs had taken you right outside, landing you in a secluded area between the building and the many trees surrounding it so you could confidently retrieve the crushed package from your back pocket without disturbing anyone

Your thumb burned as you attempted to roll the sparkwheel of your zippo lighter, the metal forming uncomfortable crevices against your skin. You had to hold back the urge to bite down on the cigarette you had clumsily stuck between your teeth instead of your lips, frustration welling up and threatening to burst from the seams that clumsily held you together. 

Waiting for the uncomfortable itch to burn at your throat, you traced the outline of the red koi fish at the corner of the lighter, eroded after thumbing at it like a nervous tick over the years. Every time you felt your eyes water you made sure to compulsively take another drag, as if the smoke could cloud your thoughts, mixing them up with the familiar nostalgia.

Anyone would think that after incinerating your taste buds with each stick you burn, you’d get used to the taste. Whoever said it gets easier the more you do it was a liar. They were as disgusting as ever, flavour the exact same as those you had tried when you were younger, fooling around with your friends. It first started when Shinichiro and Takeomi brought a couple of cigarettes they had stolen from his grandfather to one of your hang outs. It prompted the three of you to continuously choke and make fun of each other for doing so until there were only mustard coloured butts squished on the floor. 

Neither Takeomi nor you had really enjoyed the experience, but for some reason, Shinichiro was quick to grow fond of the taste. He made sure to carry around a twelve-pack wherever he went, lighting up cigarette after cigarette in strategic places so the smell wouldn’t stick to his hair or clothes. Not soon after, the rather unhealthy habit had extended to the remaining two of you, who couldn’t help but carry your own packs to satisfy your newly birthed cravings. 

Looking back, you’re sure younger-you did that to be a little more like Shinichiro, just like Takeomi, and for other even more childish reasons like appearing more mature and attractive in his eyes; you clearly remember him having a thing for older women for a while. Sure, the two of you were the same age but still, you felt like he didn’t see you like you wanted him to, and the only way for you to change that would be to gain some more common ground with him right? 

So yeah, just like Takeomi, you wanted to be more like Shinchiro, but unlike Takeomi—as far as you know—you had started buying cigarette packets mainly to share back and forth with your best friend in, what you would call, a weak attempt at flirting. 

At least the cringe memory managed to rip you out from the insecurity whirlpool you were being sucked into, making you groan while softly hitting your head against the concrete wall. Thank god Wakasa existed to berate you into stopping the unhealthily embarrassing habit. Back then you were just a kid, but were you being for real? Were you seriously intending to build your whole life around a man to the point you’d indulge in one of the most common and deadliest habits in the world for a slim chance at a high-school romance? Fuck, was younger-you so painfully stupid to even think–

“One of you is already in the hospital, we don't need you to auto-hospitalise.”

The old man’s voice made you jump, fumbling with the cigarette until it fell to the floor. You tried to hide the coughing fit to the best of your ability while frantically stomping on the lit stick laying on the ground. It didn’t matter that you were an adult, you were still terrified of getting caught smoking by the man.

“Would you mind sharing one with me?” He asked, ignoring the way your face morphed into a confused frown. With nimble fingers, you opened your cigarette pack once again, handing him your lighter when he was unable to fetch his from his pockets.

“You still smoke?” You questioned, adding a hasty ‘sir’ once you noticed how informal you had sounded. 

He chuckled in response, taking another puff. “I only stopped doing it in front of the children.”

This time it was your turn to chuckle, playing with the gravel underneath your feet to avoid looking at the man at your slip-up. Still, even with your gaze fixated on the ground you could tell he was looking at you in curiosity. 

“I didn’t mean to laugh it’s just,” clearing your throat, you stumbled with your words, debating in your head whether you should come up with one of your horrid cover ups or tell the truth. “You always smoked around us when we were little, like you didn’t care.”

You thought he would’ve left you alone after that, knowing you were purposely disrespectful towards him. It would’ve been better that way. Then you would’ve been left to wallow in your own self-pity in peace, with no one to stop you from finishing the seven remaining cigarettes. But he didn’t, taking you aback as he stayed rooted right by your side. 

Had you been anyone else, he would’ve called them out. To cover up his own embarrassment or to make up for the disrespect? Not even he could be sure. But he had seen you grow up next to his own grandchildren, sharing your love and caring nature with them along with your mild irascibility and your talent for keeping Shinichiro on a tight leash. He couldn’t help but grow fond of you, even if most of your one-on-one interactions had consisted of you running away from him before he managed to scold you. 

He had only stopped smoking once Manjiro was born, self-awareness finally sinking into his thick skull as he watched his two grandsons play together. No one had questioned him back then, letting him sit on the couch undisturbed while he read the morning paper. It was only after Sakurako had passed away, that he had started to notice the many areas he was lacking, watching both Shinichiro and you fill the gaps in each other’s broken homes while he alienated himself from the responsibility of taking care of his family. The two of you worked so in sync, he would be of no help—or at least that was what he had told himself.

“I wasn’t the best grandfather.”

“You think?”

“I know.” He smiled at your attitude; snappy as always, the only difference was the way you now recoiled in embarrassment at your slip ups. Using his fingers to get rid of the ash, he tapped on the back of the cigarette before taking another drag. “Thank you for taking care of them when I couldn’t.”

Not even a noise of acknowledgement, your vocal chords had closed themselves shut at the man’s sudden mild vulnerability. Out of all the things you expected him to ever say to you, a ‘thank you’ was never on the list. He was always sporting his characteristic cartoonish frown, speaking to everyone in a clipped tone with pointed words.

“You’re more important to us than you think.” He stepped on the cigarette butt. “That is one of the reasons why I can’t let you believe what happened to my grandson was in any way your fault.”

“‘Sorry?” You mumbled in confusion, his words pulling yet another frown onto your face; did you miss any pivotal points in the conversation? How had the conversation switched from his apparent familial issues to you? 

“I know you feel guilty for what happened, even if you weren’t involved.” He sighed, not bothering to look you in the eye before continuing his speech. “You’re not responsible for your brother’s doing.”

“Yeah,” you scoffed in mild amusement, as if that wasn’t something you’ve been trying to tell yourself; all Bajis share their fuckups. But then again, of course he wouldn’t understand. “Easier said than done.”

This time you didn’t try to make up for the way had snapped at him. And bless the man for being able to read the room, because he didn’t push the conversation further. Deep down he knew you needed the outlet; you may have already cried, but all your anger was still pent up inside of you. And after everything you had done for him and his family, it was the least he could do for you. 

“It doesn’t matter what we believe, we’re always responsible for everyone’s mess.” You scoff in dismay. “It’s like we were born for our families to have a provisional caretaker. 

“So thank you for trying to tell me I didn’t break into Shinchiro’s shop, I know I didn’t, but it's still my mess to fix.” The aftertaste of the words laid heavy in your mouth, trickling down your throat like bitter bile tearing through the tissue. You didn’t like how they sounded; they were too impersonal, too selfish. You took a deep breath, holding yourself upright in spite of the pang in your chest. “Not that i wouldn’t have taken care of Shin if someone else had been responsible for what happened, I lo– I– I care too much about him to just leave him be but its just—”

You cleared your throat, “If I had made sure I knew where Keisuke was going or, or if I had actually tried to listen to him when he told me he didn’t know what to give Manjiro for his birthday then maybe– just…” 

You trailed off, unable to finish your sentence without breaking down the walls of the dam you thought you had finally managed to piece back together. You didn’t want the responsibility of rebuilding them back up, you don’t think you’d be able to do it as quickly as you’d want to. But you weren’t venting your sorrows to the wind. Mansaku Sano was still standing next to you, hands locked behind his back as he waited for you to continue, and though he was well aware of the times in which he had to remain quiet, he also knew when it was time to speak up. 

“Then what?”

“Then,” you swallow, “then none of this would’ve happened, and he would’ve been okay.”

Your body itched for another cigarette, pawing at your skull for you to smother down the tears spouting from your eyes, even if the smoke would make your eyes teary once again. But with Mansaku Sano standing next to you, you didn’t dare touch a single one; it didn’t matter that you had just finished spilling your pent up emotions, you drew the line at smoking with Shinichiro’s grandfather. The thought sprouted a melancholic smile on your lips; Shinichiro would have a field day when he finds out what just went down.

The only thing left you had to ground yourself was the cold metal of your lighter, already starting to heat up at the warmth of your skin. You ran your thumb over it once again, the pattern already engraved in your mind. The habit had probably developed out of your need to be comforted by familiarity—of course the lighter was the right candidate, from its colour and texture, size and temperature, you had everything about it memorised like the back of your hand. 

“It’s a really nice lighter.” You hadn't realised you were playing with it until he spoke up; twirling it between your fingers over and over again, flipping it open and close, lighting it up before shutting the lid and extinguishing the flame. 

“Thanks,” you sniffled, and right after you finished speaking, your voice hoarse and tired, you regretted ever doing so. You felt like a child once again; like when your mom tried to comfort you after you had scraped your knee, or when a couple of older middle-schoolers had beaten your friends up. A child like when the day was finally over and you had to go back home from a play-date, or when your favourite toy had fallen inside the river while walking over a bridge. You regretted speaking the minute you had discovered your voice sounded as weak as you felt, and yet, at the mention of your beloved trinket, you felt the warm giddiness wash over your body forcing you to speak. And so, once again like a child, you did. “I got it at a summer festival, Shin got it for me.”

“I thought you said you wanted to come visit him.”

For a minute Keisuke didn’t speak. He looked straight at the ground, feet planted on the floors like roots had grown out of him as he held your hand.

Earlier this morning he had clung onto your waist while angry tears rolled down his cheeks. The moment he caught sight of you putting your shoes on the genkan he had broken into a run, letting his body smash against yours, and almost making you lose your balance. Both you and your mom had tried your hardest to calm him down for what felt like hours but to no avail. He persisted, begging for you to let him accompany you to the hospital. 

Outside of Shinichiro’s room, it was a whole other story. All of a sudden he had decided he didn’t want to see him eye to eye. His reaction made you internally groan in frustration. Had you listened to your own gut feeling telling you Keisuke wasn’t ready to come with you, it would’ve saved him the stress of making a choice for himself. Instead, you were too weak to his puppy dog eyes and wobbly pleas, and now his eyes had started to water as he tried to hold back his own hiccups. 

“I promise Shin-nii isn’t angry at you,” you cooed, kneeling down to the floor and looking up at him. When had he gotten this tall? When had he grown this much? Were your efforts enough to shape him into a decent person? “and if you truly don't feel comfortable we can go home, I promise I won’t get angry.”

He rubbed at his teary eyes with his free hand before nodding at you, trailing behind you as you stood up and knocked on the door.

“Hey!” you poked your head into the room with a smile, one that faltered as you tried to keep your mouth from falling open in awe once you noticed how the sunlight streaming from the window kissed every inch of Shinichiro’s skin as he quietly read the book you had given him as a joke. He looked up at you, pearly whites all up for display, and mumbled a soft mumbled a soft ‘hey’ right back at you; he looked so pretty he could be mistaken for an angel. “I brought Keisuke with me, ‘that okay?”

He hummed in response, marking the page he was reading before setting it aside. Even after the events that took place at the shop, you knew he wouldn’t mind your brother visiting—he had a soft spot for him after all. The verbal confirmation was more for Keisuke’s sake, who prompted by it, let go of your hand and walked into the room, a tinge of fear staining each step he took. 

Shinichiro grinned, gently waving his way. And though the both of you had always found some sense of comfort in the warmth of his smile, it took less than a second for Keisuke to burst into tears. Sobs wracked his body as he stood frozen in the middle of the room, frantically drying out his cheeks with his forearms in vain. Tears kept pouring from his caramel eyes down to his cheeks until they stained his striped shirt.

At the sight of his distress, Shinichiro tried standing up as quickly as possible, almost ripping off his tangled IV. Thankfully, you managed to stop him before he could; the moment your brother had started crying you were already by his side wrapping your arms around his fragile figure.

Much like you had done the past few days, you combed his hair with your fingers while shushing his cries. It had become almost like a habit, Keisuke running to you in the middle of the day, hugging you close while you dried his tears for him. You’d think he’d ran out of tears by now, but something you didn’t take into account was how similar the two of you were, always feeling everything too much, all at once.

“You’re okay,” you whispered into his hair, “you’re okay, and Shin-nii’s okay, see?” you asked him, holding his tear streaked cheeks and motioning his face to meet your gaze, waiting for his breathing to even out before you coaxed him into looking at Shinichiro. “We’ve got you, the two of us, we've got you.”

He smiled at him once again, though you could see a twinkle of sadness in his eyes, as extended one of his hands for him to take. Warily, he warmed up to the invitation, wiping the remaining tears from his face before dragging his feet to the edge of the bed, asking if he could sit with him in a very un-Keisuke nature; it was unusual for him to ask before acting on his impulses.

Shinichiro softened once he felt Keisuke nuzzling his cheek against his chest. He ran his fingers through his dark locks, and as he did so you couldn’t help but think how his hair kept getting longer and longer with each day; hopefully no one from the school office would call you letting you know it was time to chop it off once classes were back in session.

In between hushed whispers, they talked amongst each other for a while. At first, Baji kept giving one word responses, still insecure in spite of your reassurance, but it wasn’t long before he started to loosen up, giggling between sniffles at Shinichiro’s questions and mocking his ‘honorary-brother’ back with teary jabs.

It was a solid dynamic they had been able to build after years of trust and consistent interaction; your two favourite boys extending their love to each other like they were flesh and blood. In that way, the two of them were similar, fiercely loyal and willing to give themselves up for those they loved. You were grateful that Shinichiro was there for Keisuke as he grew up, unknowingly making up for everything you lacked.

The mumble of your name caught your attention, popping your nostalgia blown bubble. Keisuke and Shinichiro alike were beckoning you over, the latter extending his arm as the two of them scooted over and patted the free space next to him.

He held your hand like you were a princess stepping onto a carriage, gingerly helping you keep your balance as you toed-off your shoes. You let out a sigh once you plopped yourself on the bed, letting his arm curl around your shoulders while he kept your hands interlocked, rubbing the skin with his thumb. In spite of the giddiness warming your stomach, you forced yourself to roll your eyes in response when he teasingly asked if you were comfortable, pretending to be bothered by his apparent clinginess 

“‘Your sister made you try the jell-o cups already?” he asked Keisuke, the younger boy looking up at him through puffy eyes and wet lashes, and once he shook his head in response he whistled, turning towards you as if disappointed. “You haven’t made him try ‘em yet?” 

“‘Came straight to see you.” You brushed off, pretending you didn’t feel his body tense beside you and smiling to yourself in subtle victory when he gulped.

“You should’ve gone to the cafeteria first.” He scolded jokingly, clicking his tongue as if that would help him hide his blushing cheeks that hurt from his own shy affection. Soon after, he switched his attention to your brother, ruffling his hair before speaking, “Remember those jell-o cups you used to share with Manjiro and Haruchiyo? The ones they sold at the konbini?”

“Yeah, but they don't have ‘em anymore,” Keisuke pouted, brows furrowed in thought. His sharp canines poked at his bottom lip, tilting his head up at Shinichiro and grinning. “Mikey almost fought the cashier guy when we found out they stopped selling them!”

“Yeah, I remembered that.” He chuckled, recalling the time he had heard the employee complain about Manjiro’s sudden aggression on one of his morning milk runs. “But guess what?” he sat on his forearms, dragging out the silence to build anticipation. He waited for the two of you to raise your heads from his chest, sharing an evident impatience as you urged him to continue. He took a deep breath before grinning once again. “They still sell ‘em over here.”

“No way! Really?!” The boy stood up in less than a second, forcing you to grab onto the neck of his t-shirt to prevent him from falling flat on his ass while he cried in glee, tears seemingly forgotten. Those jell-o cups in particular had been a staple of everyone’s childhood; you had been eating those snacks for years and years. You can clearly remember the clear disappointment in his face when he told you they had been discontinued, his somberness rubbing off on you.

“Yeah!” Shinichiro exclaimed back, scooting closer to your brother and placing one of his hands on the bed railing behind your brother, aiding you in your task of preventing Keisuke from falling to the ground. The memory had suddenly made its wake into his consciousness after mulling over ways to comfort your brother and coming up empty handed, until he had suddenly turned to his bedside table where an empty plastic cup sat with a flimsy disposable spoon. “Manjiro and Emma got a bunch from the cafeteria to take home, you could do the same.”

You were almost taken aback by the speed he used to turn his face towards you, surprised he didn’t give himself whiplash before he asked you with as much excitement he could muster, “Can we?! Please, please!?”

His pleading words made his bronze eyes sparkle under the fluorescent lights and though you know you shouldn’t, you can’t find it in yourself to say no. You smiled and nodded without a shadow of a doubt that you’d do anything in your power to keep the toothy grin you missed on his lips.

“Does that mean I can go get one now?” He pleaded, tilting his head and yet again putting on display the best puppy-dog eyes he could muster. “Please? I haven't had one in years, I wanna know if they’re the same as I remember.”

“Knock yourself out.” Shinichiro said before you could respond, ruffling Keisuke’s hair before the latter jumped down, ignoring the fact you didn’t give him a proper response before running off to the cafeteria.

You sighed unimpressed, turning towards the man beside you and letting yourself slump against his figure. His chuckle only made you roll your eyes.

“What? Were you planning to say no to him?” 

He knew you too well for your own good.

“Shut up.” With a gentle push you force him back down on the bed, elbowing him lightly in the process and pressing your head back against his chest. You almost hum in satisfaction when he let himself fall back down without resistance, caving in under your touch. “I could’ve said no.”

“Yeah, right.” This time, he was the one rolling his eyes, mocking your mannerisms and chuckling when you smiled, hoping the apparent ‘nonchalance’ would mask his now increased heart rate, and the faster beating coming from the vital sign monitor.

“I could’ve!” You tried to sit up in retaliation, pretending to be annoyed, yet you didn’t resist when he pulled you back down. He held down his own giggling once he felt you cuddling up closer to his side, tracing random patterns on his dotted hospital gown and realising too late how close both your hands were. The proximity made you nervous; even if the two of you were practically laying one on top of the other, holding hands felt like a foreign act of intimacy. 

Subtly enough, you tried reaching out for the tip of his fingers, moving what seemed like less than a millimetre per minute. Soon enough, he took notice of your plan; hesitantly, he moved his own towards you, letting your fingertips rest against each other for a couple of seconds, like he was asking for your permission, before interlocking his fingers with yours.

“You really can’t stay away from me, can you?” he teased, gaze focused on your entwined hands through his lashes as he felt too shy to look anywhere near your face. It seemed that hiding the pink-ish blush staining his cheek had become his number one priority; you were so close, so everywhere, he wouldn’t want it any other way, even if the closest he’d get to you would be through friendly teasing, bordering the line of ‘definitely, a 100% and unmistakably platonic’ flirting. 

In your mind, you were desperately scavenging for any semblance of a comeback, preferably witty and with the same energy he was giving you.Instead, all you did was sigh.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

You blamed the gusty confession on a moment of weakness, likely born out of your depleting energy mixed with the way his hand fit against yours like two perfectly carved puzzle pieces. You weren’t sure why you had said what you did, the way you did; voice softening as the longing you had suppressed your whole life coated every syllable that rolled down your tongue. 

He hummed in response, giddy and satisfied, before backtracking in confusion. The lack of sarcasm or annoyance lighthearted mockery caught the two of you off-guard, though it seemed to have a bigger impact on him as his body tensed up for a moment. If you were to look up at him, you’d probably see his head tilted to the side, with warm cheeks and the ghost of a frown clouding his features.

And that’s exactly why you don’t. 

Not like this; you wouldn't allow yourself to do so, wouldn’t even dare. Not when the stakes were this high, multiple worst outcomes served on a silver platter for you to choose because once you look up at him he would notice the way you see him, like he hung up each individual constellation up in the sky on his own and then all of it would be over for you.

For the both of you. 

“Do you, uh,” the slight shake in his voice made you gulp, like you had an inkling of a very possible question he could ask. Maybe this would finally be the end of your friendship which, to your own dismay, could be very easily broken by other things that weren’t death itself, “do you know if Keisuke has talked to Manjiro yet?”

You cleared your throat, holding back the sigh of relief, and shook your head. “I don’t think he knows how.”

“He’s scared?” 

“I think so,” you pondered, “they’ve been friends since forever, I think he’s scared of losing…him.”

Knowing that both you and your brother’s situation overlapped in so many ways felt weird; both Baji siblings were scared to lose their respective Sano brothers. It sounded funny, almost cute, like both Bajis and Sanos were meant to stick together generation after generation. You would’ve giggled at the thought, explain the parallels between the two relationships to Shinichiro and laugh at the silliness of it, yet the fear that had taken possession of your body the last couple of days lingered at the thought. 

Scared of losing him.

You almost choked on the words sitting heavy in your mouth, like you had confessed to a crime. Had you been alone, maybe they would’ve urged you to cry.

“Hey, ‘you okay?” You hadn’t realised that the worry had bled onto your face, dripping down your cheeks and coating your eyelashes with sorrow until he spoke up, tearing you away from your trance. But you couldn’t help it, the lingering torture you endured at the hands of your brain replaying past events, from the bailing your brother out of jail as he sobbed to having Wakasa answer the call for you, Kazutora crying in your arms and Shinichiro blaming himself for his own accident, the more you felt like losing yourself in his embrace, tightening your hold on his hand. “You left me there for a second I thought–”

“No.”

“What?”

“No, I’m–” you stuttered, “I don’t think I’m okay, I–”

Rejection after rejection, you’ve seen what felt like an infinite amount of his confessions go sideways, and yet he handled each and every one of them with grace. You’d attribute his resilience to the amount of first hand experience he’s had with it, and though at first it had taken a big toll on him. By now, rejection was nothing to him. He could make a fool of himself in front of anyone and he really wouldn’t care; he has told you so himself. 

But you were not Shinichiro, and you could never be him.

You were resentful and impulsive, oftentimes reacting way before you think. You were impatient and whiny, though you tried your best to suppress that particular trait to no avail. You were a selfish, self-destructive being that somehow managed to keep the insecure neediness brewing inside on the down low. 

And you could go on. You could go on because you were stubborn, volatile, melodramatic and a part of your brain really does think you were just setting yourself up for failure listing every single negative character trait that comes to mind. But it didn’t matter because that just further proves you're not Shinichiro Sano, that you were never going to be Shinichiro Sano because you were weak.

Too weak to answer the call, too weak not to try and escape uncomfortable situations, too weak to hold back the urge for a smoke, too weak to forgive Kazutora, too weak to confess your feelings for your best friend even after bawling your eyes out at the thought of a life without him.

Too weak, too weak, too weak. 

Being weak is all you’ve ever known. 

The thoughts poured and they wouldn’t stop, crashing against each other like the same bumper carts you rode along with Shinichiro at the funfair with your siblings. Back then, you were all smiles and laughter, and right now you wondered if the two of you would’ve held hands if it wasn’t for Emma sitting in the middle of you both.

And he was so warm next to you, not pressuring you to clarify whatever word-vomit you just spewed instead of a proper comeback. So sweet as he squeezed your hand to let you know he was there to help in whichever way he could to lull your worries to sleep. So kind as he took care of you when you should be the one taking care of him. Always so him.

You had no right to be a coward, at least not in front of one of the strongest and bravest people you’ve ever met. It wasn’t fair. Listing your flaws from the top of your head would never justify your body preventing itself from spilling the truth just so you could try and grasp at the fragile strings of self-pity to sew yourself back together as unspoken words necrotize your tongue. 

The same way you wouldn’t dare look at him, you wouldn’t dare stay away from him. It’d kill you just to try. So fuck every martyrish thought in your head, fuck the burned cigarette butts stained with indirect kisses, fuck the many nights the two of you spent stargazing in his garden, the infinite amount of chocolates you bought him for valentine’s day to make up for the emptiness of his locker; and the countless times he had dropped everything he was doing for the chance to spend just a couple of minutes with you. Fuck the worn out red koi fish engraved on your lighter and the possibility of breaking the promise you two made of never straying away from each other.

“I can’t stay away from you,” you took a deep breath, “I think I’d rather die than live a life without you,

“The sole idea of losing you almost sent me over the edge, and even after you were out of surgery I was a mess,” you stopped yourself again, giving yourself the chance to swallow down the knot in your throat; it didn’t work. “I was going insane without being able to talk your ear off because even when I talk about something you couldn’t give a shit about you still give a shit, you give so many shits when it comes to me, too many,

“You’re loyal and gentle and charming and you’re always smiling, and it's like, it's like you're absolutely everything good and even then you genuinely have no idea how wrapped around your finger I truly am, 

“And I don't think I’ve ever properly thanked you for existing because I don't think I’d be the same person I am right now if it wasn't for you, and even if I'm not perfect, I- I wouldn't trade myself for a better version if that meant you wouldn’t be in my life.

“So, yeah, I guess you’re right, I don’t think I can,” you let your shoulders sag, like the confession finally burned years upon years of cover-ups and excuses and fake scenarios you had come up with before bed stored in the darkest depth of your brain. “Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't be able to stay away from you.”

Pensive, he melted further against the pillows, letting his muscles melt at the sound of his own sighing. Even if you weren’t directly looking at him, you hear his smile reverberating throughout his body, and the sole idea of him possibly reciprocating your feelings made you impossibly giddy; a little too giddy. It was easy, after all, to get your hopes up once you lose yourself in him, his warmth and comfort. And for less than a second, you can see your hypothetical future with him pass right in front of your eyes, forcing you to accept a premature victory. But as the silence between the two of you started to drag itself out, you couldn't help but reluctantly welcome the acrid heartbreak tearing through your skin.

“I’m sorry,” you tensed up, “I shouldn’t have–”

“No, no, it's–,” he blurted out tongue tied as if your words had snapped him out of a trance, mirroring the same giddiness you had displayed with the same hint of hesitancy, “no one has talked about me like that, I guess it just caught me off-guard.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I don’t– don’t think I'd be able to stay away from you either– not that I want to, of course it's just– sorry give me a minute.” Looking off to the side, he tried to collect himself, clearing his throat and pinching his cheeks, the skin already stained with all sorts of shades of pink. For him, it was inevitable not to become all shy and flustered, the least he could do was bite his tongue so as not to break into a fit of giggles, prevent himself from swinging his legs and twirling his short strands of hair like a lovesick middle schooler. All because of you. “Just, um, just to be clear before I look like an absolute fool, not that I don't look like an absolute fool on a daily basis, but this is a confession, right?” 

You raised your head up in confusion, tilting your head and furrowing your brows. Had you not been so baffled by his self-explanatory question you would’ve fawned over this version of him, giddy and soft and in love with you because just by looking at his eyes you could tell he was looking at you like you hung the moon up in the sky—it was easy to decipher; after staring at him the exact same way countless times, you were bound to familiarise yourself with such display of devotion. And had he not looked this adorable, you would’ve teased him for being so painfully and hopelessly dense, but you didn’t have it in you to do so, only managing to nod in response.

“So you like like me?” He continued, waiting for your reassurance, either a nod or a smile, or any signal that he was right. “So you are in love with me?”

“I mean, I wouldn't say I'm in love but if that's what makes you sleep at night.” The more you stared at his face, the dimples on his cheeks, the creasing of his eyes at your words and the giggle he couldn’t help but contain, the wider the smile creeping at his lips became.

“Will you say it then?” He prodded, moving closer to you, now unable to hide the twinge of pink that grew what seemed like a thousand shades per second.

“I don’t know,” your legs innocently dangled from the side of the bed, trying to win back control of the situation by cutting down on your proximity, and sitting up properly from your half-lying position, “will I?”

“Please?” he begged, cupping one of your cheeks with the palm of his hand and pulling you closer until you could feel each other's breaths. His skin was warm against yours, the roughness of his palm from working non-stop at the shop offset by the tenderness he carried around for you. 

And though you wanted to drag this on, enjoying the back and forth, you were so whipped for this man that you couldn’t stop your nonchalant act from crumbling as soon as you heard him once again let out a shy giggle after he nudged your nose with his.

“I love you.” 

Voice dreamy and saccharine sweet, like confessing to your lifelong desire, you whispered, and just before your lips touched, through lidded eyes and uneven breath he whispered back ‘and I love you’. 

After his own confession, you were unable to pay attention to anything that wasn’t him. All your senses were muted as his soft lips gilded against yours. The taste of the honey chapstick you applied almost compulsively melted against his tongue, and he wondered if like him, you could still faintly taste the strawberry chapstick you had gifted him a while ago; the same one he hadn’t stopped using since, going as far as asking the hospital staff to retrieve it from the pockets of the jeans he was wearing the day of the accident for him.

He bit back a whimper when he felt you bite down gently on his bottom lip, unable to ignore the way you smirk against the kiss once your hand makes its way up to the side of his neck to rest on his pulse point, in the perfect position to feel his heart doing somersaults underneath your touch. It made him want to melt right against you; the more you wandered down his body, the bigger the urge to hold you grew.

His calloused yet delicate fingers traced your skin, running from the apples of your cheeks down to your chin, coaxing you to fully give into him as he traced the tip of his tongue against your lips. He could feel himself grow hard once you gave him permission to enter, basking on the hidden whine you let out at the feeling of the warm muscle enveloping your whole body, drool pooling at the corner of both your lips.

Away from your face, he trails his hands slowly down your torso confidently ghosting the skin before the facade is broken the moment he almost freezes up once he gets to your chest. The blush on his cheeks deepened as you took notice of his apparent nervousness, laughing it off before he continued his path down to your hips, 

He was sure he was ready to die right here in your arms the moment you softly suck on his tongue, his eyes almost rolling towards the back of his skull as you hands grazed his clothed dick. The teasing touch made him groan, the vibrations against your lips feeding the urge to get closer to him. And almost like he had read your mind, you shivered at the tight grip of his hips guiding you over lap until you were resting flush against him.

“‘Want you so bad.” He panted in between giggles, nudging your noses together and pecking your lips over and over again. You barely managed to catch your breath between his kisses; when he leaned away you pulled him in, and when you did so he tried to follow the path of your lips until they were once again interlocked with his. The two of you ignored the satisfying burn of your lungs like the feeling of your bodies close against each other was good enough of a replacement for oxygen itself. “–Waited so long for this.”

He pulled you down a little harder against him, bucking his hips against your. Mewling into the kiss, you wrapped both your arms around his shoulders, perhaps taking too much enjoyment in the minimal friction against your core. The sensation of him rutting desperately against you forced you to meet his attempts for more with an equal amount of want.

“You feel so good.” you cooed, whimpering as he sucked at the skin behind your ear. “Shin, Fuck, you’re so good at this.”

Before he could stop himself, he was groaning at the praise, peppering kisses along your jaw and neck and refusing to come back up to meet your lips to hide the raging blush tinting his skin, spreading from his cheeks up to his ears.

“You like that? Like it when I say you're doing a good job?”

He hummed, though it sounded more like a whimper, and waited no time to pull your face back against his, connecting your lips again in a messy kiss, to, presumably, stop you from teasing him. He took the opportunity to indulge himself, once again tracing the outline of your lower lip with his tongue and nipping at the supple skin in retaliation.

In spite of your own reluctance, you broke the kiss first, finding the way he tried to chase your lips with his eyes half-lidded in pleasure, indescribably cute. You took a minute to fully take in this version of him, his breath uneven and with a thin sheen of sweat making some of his black locks stick to his forehead. His lips were puffy, glistening with saliva as they part involuntarily in an enrapturing appetite. 

He looked so pretty like this, you didn’t think you’d have it in you to control yourself. 

Once you had lowered the sheets covering his legs, one of your thumbs proceeded to draw circular patterns on his exposed thigh, chuckling at the way he flinched before relaxing against you. Gently ghosting your fingernails over his skin, you hiked up his hospital gown until you had full access to the band of his boxers, toying with the elastic but doing nothing aside from that.

“You want to do this here?” He pulled back, eyes wide and dazed with need yet frazzled at your sudden boldness, as if nearly dry humping in a hospital wasn’t bold enough. His hands played with the hem of your shirt, sending shivers down your spine every time his fingers grazed your skin. He looked like a deer caught in headlines, a way cuter version of Bambi, and you couldn’t help but nuzzle your nose against his cheek before kissing him gently, once, twice, thrice.

“Only if you want to.” 

“I do,” he swallowed, clearing his throat to keep himself lucid as he felt the tips of your fingers breaching the hem of his underwear, cold against the warmth of the covered skin. “Fuck, I really do, I need you s’bad I–”

“You fucking disgust me.” 

Like a pair of surprised kittens, the sudden interruption had the two of you jumping away from each other, almost falling off the bed while desperately trying to pull the sheets back into place. In turn Shinichiro tried helping you regain your balance, grabbing your arm before you crashed against the floor, nearly pulling down one of the hospital monitors in the process. 

“Don't you know how to knock?” You bit back, taking his comment more personally that you should’ve. 

“Didn’t think it’d be necessary.” Wakasa crossed his arms in front of his chest, shifting the lollipop in his mouth from one side of his cheek to the other. Standing beside, Benkei held a teddy bear and a lavender flower arrangement, mixed along with baby’s breaths and eucalyptus. If anyone had to guess, the bewildered expression he sported only meant he’d rather have his friend die than see whatever blasphemous activities you were performing. But then again, he probably expected to see his friend bedridden and weak instead of the free front row tickets to your ‘dry humping a post-concussed Shinichiro’ expectale. “‘Thought the worst thing we’d come across was him sleeping.”

“Why did you think coming across me sleeping d’be the worst case scenario!?” Shinichiro butted in lightheartedly, though you wouldn’t rule out the possibility of him actually being serious. “Are you saying I look ugly when I sleep?”

“No, you dumbass,” Wakasa deadpanned; even with his usual unbothered facade you could tell he was grateful for the ordinary banter, questioning his stupidity with a hidden smile. “How’re we gonna talk to you if you’re asleep.”

“Wait, what happened? I didn't see,” Takeomi joined in, panting as he held a couple of balloons that had ‘it's a boy!’ written all over them. “These two assholes left me while I was getting something to eat.”

The two of you groaned at the sound of his voice, pressing the heels of your hands against while Shinichiro hid his eyes behind his forearm. Even if you wanted to be lowkey about the whole situation, sweep it under the rug to avoid facing the embarrassment over again, you knew you wouldn't be able to hide it from anyone, not even Takeomi, and he wasn’t the brightest. 

Shinichiro’s hair was a tousled mess and his skin was dusted pink. Both of your lips were puffy, glistening under the fluorescent lights, and your breathing was uneven still. No matter how much the two of you tried to regulate it back to normal, it seemed to follow the rapid rhythm of each other’s heart beat.

“Nothing happened.” You grumbled, willing to attempt a lousy cover up in spite of your friend’s, including Shinichiro, giggling. Once he found out, it would be impossible for him to let it go. But even so, it took a lot of effort not to join in your friends’ laughter; it was funny to fuck with him—not literally—his puzzled frown as he borderline begged for someone to let him only feeding in your teasing. Still, once he found out. “We were just talking.”

“Yeah, talking about fuck–”

“Wakasa!” “Dude!” 

The two of you exclaimed as the blond tilted his head to the side, making his earring jingle. A teasing smile stretched on his lips as the four of you waited for Takeomi to process what was just mentioned. Knowing the speed in which the neurons within his brain transported information, it’d take a little while.

To everyone’s surprise, it only took him a couple of seconds to do so. You could visibly see it in his expression, morphing into one of amazement the minute realisation hit him straight in the face

“Did’ya– No way, you finally fucked?” And though his lack of decorum made the two men beside him laugh louder and the two of you groan as if to muffle his voice, he paid your reaction no mind other than using it as an affirmative response to his question. “No way, congrats dude! Who would’ve thought you needed to almost die just to lose your virginity.”

“I hate you so much.” Shinichiro playfully complained, a stupid grin threatening to make its way onto his lips disproving his claim. Seeing his four best friends standing around him right after waking up from what could’ve been a tragic accident made him feel all sorts of things he found himself unable to explain. It almost made him want to cry once again—happy tears this time.

“Anyway, now that you’ve got someone to stay with,” you changed the topic, interrupting yourself to fix the stray hairs sitting on top of Shinichiro’s head before caressing his cheek with your thumb, “I’ll go check whatever Keisuke’s doing, I‘ll be back in a sec.”

“Wait no, don’t go…” You had to resist the urge to give him another quick peck at the way he dragged out the ‘go’, and instead, grabbed your phone from his bedside table to respond to the missed messages coming from your mom. “Don’t leave me with these people.”

“Very funny Shitty-chiro.” Takeomi fake laughed, letting himself fall on one of the chairs nearby, stretching his arms before fully slumping against the backrest and looking at you. “But’s fine, I left Haruchiyo in charge, Senju’s with them as well.”

“Well that doesn't make things any better, does it.” At your snapping voice, he raised his hands up in surrender, as if the idea of letting a 13 year-old in charge of two 12 year-olds didn't have multiple flaws. Doing a 180° turn, you turned towards Shinichiro, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze. “I’ll be quick, promise.”

“Wait, before you go,” Wakasa interrupted, stopping you from slinging your bag over your shoulder. He took the bright red candy out of his mouth with a pop, using it as a little wand to emphasise his speech, before he continued. “Who confessed first?”

“Yeah!” Takeomi sat at the end of his seat, gaze switching from Shinichiro to you and vice versa. “How did Shinichiro confess to ya’?”

Again, faster than the usual processing speed of his cognitive skills, he managed to string the hints together, gasping at the silence that settled between the two of you as you tried to silently decide who should say what. Shinichiro opened his mouth like a fish, as if trying to come up with something to appease his friend’s reaction before giving up and averting his eyes, pointing at you with his thumb.

Wakasa’s smirk only grew the more Takeomi seemed to sink back into the chair in dejection. “‘gotta pay up Omi-omi.”

The ruffling of bills and the complaints birthed out of the apparent loser’s mouth distracted you momentarily. You were about to laugh at the scene in front of you, two of them waiting with their hands stretched out as Takeomi reluctantly placed the wrong amount in his palm, grunting when Wakasa noticed it wasn’t the amount they had agreed on, before it clicked in your head.

“Pay up,” you mumbled to yourself, “Pay up, pay up? Wait, did you three bet on us?”

“Kinda,” Benkei sent you a reassuring smile, counting the hundred yen bills that were handed to him once again; when it came to money matters, Takeomi wasn’t someone you could trust. “We bet on who’d confess first.”

“And you didn’t bet on me?!” Shinchiro exclaimed, a little louder than he intended.

“Sorry man, ‘didn't have faith in you,” Wakasa folded the five crinkled bills in half before stashing them in his back pocket. “After your failed attempt I kinda accepted you weren’t going to win, Benkei was always betting against you, though.”

“But ‘ya admit it!” Takeomi jumped from his seat, waving his now empty wallet in the air like he was fencing with the worn out leather rectangle. “He did confess first!”

“Hell no, it only counts if it was a successful confession.”

“So the bet wouldn’t count if one of them got rejected? What's the point then!”

Wakasa groaned, pressing his temples with his thumb and middle finger, “It only counts if the two of them understand whatever was done was a confession.”

“But the lighter was him confessing!”

“Takeomi, that was the vaguest confession to ever be seen by the entirety of mankind.”

“What confession are you talking about…?” You interrupted the animated discourse with a question. In spite of enjoying the banter between your friends, you remained in the dark. Shinichiro had never confessed to you, or even remotely tried to do so. You were a hundred percent certain, after all, had he done so you were sure you’d be dating by now. 

“The lighter you always carry around,” Takeomi responded, “the fish one.”

Instinctively, you patted the pocket where your zippo lighter sat, carefully trailing your thumb lightly over the red imprints as you pulled it out. It looked almost exactly the same way as it did during the summer festival. The only difference, aside from the way the metal reflected the cold hospital lights instead of fireworks and paper lanterns, were the couple of dents on the metal and the previously well-defined engraving softening over the years.

“S‘not just a fish,” Shinichiro chuckled, letting himself fall back on the bed while hiding his flustered state behind a seemingly lame explanation. At this rate, he was sure his skin could be permanently stained a pinkish-red. “It's a red koi fish.”

“Wait,” you snapped your head from the lighter to him, letting your mouth fall open in surprise, “you, you meant that?”

“What do you…mean?” Shinichiro poked, voice twisting and forcing the ‘mean’ to come out strained. Watching your shoulders tense up and, somehow, simultaneously relaxed made him wary of the whole situation, like the universe itself was playing a prank on him. And though unlikely, he wasn't ruling out the possibility of random cameras popping up from behind the door or through the window or maybe from underneath his bed with a huge poster reading ‘you’ve been pranked!’.

He had given you that lighter seven years ago, the engravings were probably faded by now, there was no way…

“Red koi fish mean romantic love, don’t they?” 

It took him a couple of seconds to properly run your words through his brain, before his eyes widened in amusement mixed with the mild disappointment his seventeen year-old-self had forced himself to ignore after his confession had gone wrong. “You knew!?” 

“Uh…yeah? We learned that in literature class.” You shrugged with a sheepish smile in an attempt to tame down the laughter that had started bubbling in your throat at his mortified reaction. He groaned at your response, throwing one of his arms over his eyes, the sound mixing with a cry as the movement pulled on the IV digging into his arm.

He licked his lips a couple of times and rubbed the skin above the needle in an attempt to soothe the ache. Stalling, he was trying to buy time before he asked anything that could potentially hurt him. “Why didn’t you say anything?” Aside from flustered and pouty, slightly amused at his own failed attempt, he appeared to be a little sullen, perhaps even sad. It was obvious to you, though you didn’t know why; maybe he was blaming himself for losing the opportunity to get in a relationship with you way earlier. Or, maybe he blamed himself for putting any sort of pressure on you; back then, he wasn’t a hundred percent sure how you felt about him, so maybe you had purposely ignored his advances because you didn't want him. But that couldn’t be it, could it? Less than a couple of minutes ago the two of you were confessing your love for each other, so if that were to be the case, when did your feelings for him start to change? “Did, uh, did you not like me back then?”

Looking at his hopeful yet gloomy expectant features, he appeared so small and vulnerable in front of you, you wanted to give him a hug. The question had visibly caught you off-guard, your brows furrowing as soon as he was done talking. Who would’ve thought that a seemingly innocuous event from your past would come back transformed into an apparent irrational insecurity. It prompted yet another silence upon the two of you. And though it felt eternal, it lasted only a couple of milliseconds, interrupted by both your annoyance and Takeomi munching on the chips he bought at an inflated price on one of the hospital’s vending machines. 

“Do you mind?” You turned towards the obnoxious mistake you had chosen as a friend, snickering as he shrugged in questionable indifference, mumbling a muffled ‘go on’ before motioning you two to continue with a shake of his hand. But at the lack of positive feedback from anyone in the room he stopped himself to explain.

“What? It’s like watching a live romcom,” he shoved more chips into his mouth, “The ones we watch every friday, ‘ya know what I mean?”

“Okay,” Benkei clapped both his hands together, gathering everyone’s attention before he pulled Takeomi into a standing position and pushed both him and an amused Wakasa towards the door. “Seems like all of us are hungry, we’re heading to the cafeteria real quick, we’ll send Baji back up when we’re done, sounds good?”

“Sounds good, thanks, Benkei.” You smiled at him, watching the three of them leave and sighing in satisfaction when you saw the way the gentle-giant punched Takeomi’s arm once they were far enough for his complaints to appear silent. “But to answer your question,” you turned towards Shinichiro once again, sitting at the edge of the bed and resting your hand on top of his. You could see the way he visibly relaxed against your touch, the warmth of your skin coaxing his insecurities away little by little. “I did like you very much back then, too much for it to be considered healthy, I'm pretty sure…”

“Why didn’t you say anything then?”

“Well, I, you know,” you stumbled over your words, suddenly feeling the embarrassment for your younger self was all over you. Why didn’t you say anything? Well, in hindsight, you didn’t think Shinchiro had it in him to use a literary reference as a means of confession. Not because he was stupid, that was Takeomi's role, but because it was very un-Shinichiro. You had been witness to the countless failed confession attempts and nothing included anything as subtle and detailed as the lighter he had gifted you. Back then, he professed his brimming infatuation with an honest smile, the well-rehearsed question ‘would you go out with me?’ and absolutely nothing else. And though the ‘courting’ period included him acting all whipped and soft, he was usually very blunt when it came to asking people out, gentle but direct. 

Although, thinking about it a little bit more in depth, he had always been very romantic, sometimes cringy with the shitty pick up lines, but during movie nights he had always chosen movies with clear romantic subplots, and you can recall that one romance poetry book he kept borrowing from the library, unable to finish it before returning it—at least that’s what you thought, by the amount of times he had taken it home.

When you were both in middle school and high school, he would watch couples holding hands with a gentle smile, sometimes going as far as spacing out and letting a dreamy sigh fall from his lips—he always brushed off the person asking the reason behind his sighing, but you were paying attention to him more often than not, so of course you knew—and of course, you couldn’t forget the many times he had shared hypothetical scenarios with the four of you, most of them consisting of him fantasising out loud the sort of dates he’d like to have with his hypothetical s/o or what he would do for them before being relentlessly teased by all of you.

So, in retrospect, him trying to confess through a pretty much evident symbol extracted from one of your favourite books was a very un-Shinichiro, Shinichiro thing to do, if that made any sense. 

“I think…I might’ve gaslit myself into believing it was a coincidence, didn't wanna get my hopes up.”

“I thought, I– I thought it was pretty obvious that I liked you.” He chuckled, scooting to the side in order to make more space for you to lay, next to him, the same you had done most of the days you had spent here. “Everybody knew I did.”

“Wait, really? I thought you were being friendly!” You let out a laugh, watching him soften up even more at your obliviousness and simultaneously hold back laughter of his own. “Don’t laugh at me! You were flirtier with Wakasa than with me!”

“You can’t blame me!” He finally laughed along with you, interlocking your fingers together and pulling you close until you were squished next to him, and waited for you to get comfortable before continuing his spiel. “Waka’s my best friend, we’ve always been like that, and you know it.” He nuzzled his cheek against your head, muttering the words in the quietest way possible, like he didn’t want to be heard by anyone but you. “Plus I couldn't flirt with you, I'd blush and cry afterwards.”

“Yeah, I’d’ve cried if you flirted with me as well.”

“Hey!”

“I mean it in a good way! Happy tears or whatever.” You sighed with a giddy grin, caressing his cheeks with the back of your hand before smushing them together, forcing a pout and giving him a quick peck on the lips. “I promise I’ll forever be in love with you.”

© 2023 SHINACHIRO ; Do not repost my work. Do not recommend my work outside of tumblr. Do not translate my work. affiliated with @tokyometronetwork

#shinichiro x reader #sano shinichiro x reader #shinichiro sano fluff #shinichiro fluff #sano shinichiro x you #shinichiro x you #tr fluff #tr x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #master collection. #tr collection. #shinichiro sano angst #shinichiro angst #tr angst #tokyo revengers angst #tw smoking #tw hospitals #tw anxiety #tw mentions of death

[teecupangel]

Modern AU where Desmond and Connor are friends and Desmond has met Haytham plenty of times. One day, Haytham shows up at the bar Desmond works at, and after some time, Desmond calls Haytham "Daddy."

Either as a joke or even a slip of the tongue, but to both their embarrassment, Haytham actually likes it.

Later, Connor is confused about why Desmond looks like he wants to die, and Haytham is trying to weigh the pros and cons of actually acquiring his son's friend as a sugar baby.

“Do you think Connor would be alright if I were to court his best friend?”

Jenny stared at her disaster of a younger (half-)brother.

Considering how old Haytham was already, Jenny was pretty sure this could be counted as his… ‘midlife crisis’.

Why he was suddenly fantasizing about becoming a sugar daddy to his son’s best friend though…

The Kenways had always lived for the drama.

Their father’s life was full of it and Jenny herself had been a big drama queen when she left the Kenway mansion after a fight with their father that she still refuses to apologize for.

Hell, everyone close to the Kenways were still wary of talking about Tessa after the messy divorce their parents had.

So really…

Haytham deciding to start another drama by seducing his son’s best friend?

Not that surprising, all things considered.

Although, she hoped he would pick someone better than…

“The Auditore boy?” She asked with a frown, having had dealings with the Auditores because they walked similar circles.

“God no.” Haytham shook his head as a look of sheer disgust decorated his face.

Good to know his brother still had standards then.

Who else was her nephew’s close friends again?

It wasn’t like she knew which of them was his best friend.

Someone that would catch her brother’s attention…

She blinked before staring at Haytham with dawning despair.

“The Miles boy?”

Haytham gravely nodded.

Well, considering who her nephew’s other friends were…

The Miles boy would be the best option.

But…

“Forget if my dear nephew would be alright…” She raised an eyebrow as she said, “William Miles will kill you if he learns you’re seducing his son.”

“If he learns.” Haytham reminded her.

Dear god.

Jenny was right.

Haytham was preparing for another dangerous (and forbidden) drama in his life.

And Jenny was simply too happy to have front row seats to it.

#we didn’t specify how old desmond and ratonhnhaké:ton are so… #their age is whatever you want it to be #i trust you guys #no usual tags because #haydes #the kenways bash the auditores though

[kaitaiga]

COD MW OC: Damien Whitlock

GENERAL INFO

Full Name: Damien Whitlock

Nickname: Damo

Birthday: 7th March 1996 – Sydney, Australia

Face Claim: Zane Phillips

Affiliation: 2nd Commando Regiment (2CDO REGT), Tactical Assault Group East (TAG-E), SOCOMD.

Rank: Sergeant

Call sign: Bravo 2-6 (2CDO)

Height: 186cm (6’1)

Weight: 90kg

Blood Type: B- (B NEG)

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Pronouns: He/Him

Languages: English, Arabic (conversational), Indonesian (conversational)

Family:

Father: Arthur Whitlock

Mother: Audrey Mae Whitlock

Older Brother: Thomas Whitlock

Older Sister: Sienna Whitlock

Younger Sister: Zoe Whitlock

Affiliates:

2nd Commando Regiment

→ Captain Lachlan Jones

→ Sergeant Daniel Greenhill

Task Force 141

→ Sergeant Major Hannah “Sparrow” Cayton (@revnah1406)

→ Sergeant Annabelle “Kit” Pham (@applbottmjeens)

→ Charlotte “Jade” Le Jardin @sleepyconfusedpotato

→ Joyce “Joe” Hardman @mctvsh

→ Captain Price, Gaz, Laswell

Los Vaqueros

→ Alyssa “Aly” Martinez (@alypink)

Para SF

→ Captain Arjun Dhingra, LT. Aditya Tripathi (@welldonekhushi)

Urzikstan Liberation Force (ULF)

→ Farah Karim

→ Alex Keller

Other

→ Jackson Wyatt (1CDO, Warcom)

→ Benjamin “Otter” Lee (SAS)

Appearance

Hair: blond, short mullet.

Eye Colour: blue/grey

Build: tall, muscular

Scars: Bullet wound (left shoulder), knife scars (forearms)

Beauty Marks: Right jaw, above and below the left eye.

Tattoos:

Personality and Traits

Damien comes across as a very laidback and open guy, very easy to approach and talk to. He is a pretty big jokester, likes to crack a few jokes here and there to make people laugh or lighten the mood.

Though in the heat of battle, he has known to be brutal towards his enemies, sparing no mercy and absolutely no time - getting a job done quickly and efficiently. He isn’t afraid to speak his mind when needed, even if it may be more emotionally driven.

Nevertheless, towards those he likes, he is a very caring and loyal person. Ride or die buddy. It’s pretty damn obvious too, he’ll never stop bugging someone he cares for no matter where they are in the world. He can read their emotions like a book too; he can tell when someone’s feeling down and will try his best to cheer them up.

ESFP-T (MBTI)

Damien’s also the sort of guy to take care of others but not himself. Truthfully, after he lost Daniel, he found it very hard to cope. Thus, he took on Daniel’s role of looking after others.

Damien is also really good with any sort of trade work which he learned whilst growing up on his family farm. You need an electrician, mechanic, or welder? He’s your guy.

Skills/Specialisations

Like any other commando, Damien has undergone a multitude of training, preparing him for anything and everything. Alone or with his squad. A few of these include:

Demolitions and Breaching

CQC/Melee Attacks

Wilderness Survival

Long Range Recon

HALO / HAHO (including water insertion)

Roping (aid climbing)

Hostage Rescue

First Aid

And so on. In his own time, Damien frequently trains in Jiu-Jitsu, earning his purple belt, further enhancing his CQC.

Biography

Coming from a family of farmers, Damien spent most of his childhood living and working out on his family farm in rural New South Wales. Throughout his younger years, he was constantly harassed/bullied by his drug addicted older brother, Thomas. Young Damien was no match for him but luckily enough, his older sister had his back at all times. Thomas would eventually runaway and was never seen again – presumed dead.

As he grew up, Damien attended an all-boys boarding school in Sydney where he met Daniel Greenhill – his best friend for many years to come. He never really excelled at any subjects other than wood/metalwork and P.E., so when it came down to his final ATAR exams he absolutely flunked them. Not wanting to continue studying or returning to farm life, Damien worked the odd job here and there to make ends meet.

Whilst working one of his jobs alongside his buddy, Daniel had dropped that he had met a special forces operator by the name of Jackson Wyatt and suggested that he should meet with him.

After hearing all about Wyatt’s career as a Commando, Damien was sold on the idea; so much so that at the age of 19, he enlisted into the Australian Army after being trained by Wyatt himself much to his parent's disapproval. He served two years as an infantryman within 3RAR before completing the Commando selection course and earning his green beret, where he was placed in Lachlan’s B Company. Turns out he had a real knack for this sort of thing as he continued to undergo a range of further Commando specialist courses after initial Commando training.

 Since then, he’s done multiple tours to Urzikstan, Afghanistan and Iraq where he was introduced to Captain Price (via Lachlan) and Benjamin “Otter” Lee (via Wyatt).

Damien has since then worked alongside Captain Price closely thanks to Lachlan’s close connection to him, particularly in Urzikstan, but isn’t opposed to flying out to lend a hand wherever.

Modern Warfare I

During 2019, Damien is first seen in the UK on a training exercise with the SAS before he is swiftly sent to London’s Piccadilly Circus to assist against AQ’s terrorist attack, alongside Gaz. Afterwards, he joins the SAS Anti-terror wing along with Price and Gaz to clear a house in Camden, full of AQ affiliates in search of any information related to the Piccadilly attack and The Wolf.

Damien returns to Urzikstan alongside 2CDO REGT, where not long after he is called to assist Captain Price, Gaz and the others at the US Embassy, also aiding to save the Ambassador’s Assistant, Stacy. Following this, he follows the rest of the team back to the ambassador’s residence only to find the Wolf had been extracted by AQ forces already. Furthermore, he is seen briefly helping SAS and CIA on the night raid to locate The Wolf at his compound.

2020/2021

After the events of MW19, Damien spent this time on rotation in TAG-E, though was later sent back to Urzikstan on an emergency deployment to help aid in the assassination of an AQ leader. This proved to be a struggle. They were given little to no information and thus were subsequently ambushed, leading to the death of best friend, Daniel Greenhill, who tried to pull an injured Damien out of enemy fire.

After the funeral, Damien spent his time spiralling down. He became depressed, not leaving his Sydney apartment for days at a time and ultimately almost being discharged from his duties. Though thanks to his Captain and two close friends - Lachlan, Sparrow and Aly - they helped him find the means to work towards getting better and soon enough, he was ready enough to go back to his duties.

Modern Warfare II

In 2022, Damien is first seen undercover at Café Gracht alongside Captain Price where they wait for representatives from both AQ and Las Almas Cartel to show up. After seeing Gaz tranquillise the cartel member, they all move to enter Laswell’s vehicle and leave the area swiftly.

Later on he returns to Urzikstan, where he is again enlisted for help by Price to rescue Laswell from AQ along with ULF fighters.

Modern Warfare III

Damien spends this time going home to Australia for a little while before being sent on another tour around the Middle East. It is in Urzikstan that he (and 2CDO REGT) work alongside Phillip Graves and his Shadow Company, unaware of the events in Las Almas concerning Los Vaqueros and TF141. He is only made aware when seeing his friend Sparrow again, where she rips the SC patch off of him and promptly has a go at Damien for wearing that thing around them, explaining the full story.

Trivia

EDM and rock/metal music is what he listens to most.

He is a Mclaren F1 fan, as well as being a big fan of the AFL team: Collingwood Football Club (Magpies).

Absolute gym junkie. Has an extensive collection of pre-workout, protein powder and creatine stored in his apartment (and snuck onto base). If he wasn’t a Commando, he’d probably be a bodybuilder or athlete of some sort.

Damien keeps a scrapbook that he fills with stickers, trinkets, thoughts or drawings from various places he has visited.

During his downtime in Sydney, he likes to go café-hopping! He’s a big foodie. Also likes to take long walks during the night, overlooking the Harbour Bridge and generally just taking in the city lights. It's one of his favourite things to do to ease his mind.

Thanks to Daniel, Damien is pretty good at speaking Indonesian and really enjoys Indonesian food! His favourites are nasi campur and soda gembira. He’d mix Indonesian and English together to gossip about something to Daniel. After they both graduated high school, Daniel took Damien to visit Jakarta for the first time and he loved it! Also owns a couple batik shirts.

Drives a 79 series Landcruiser. His number plate is “WHITLOCK”.

Does jiu-jitsu and is currently at a purple belt.

Frequently visits Daniel’s grave when he has the time. He sits there for hours just catching him up on every little event or thought that has happened, as if he were there to listen like the old times. Frequently catches up with Daniel's family too, they've taken him in like he's their son.

In the past, Damien has never had a good relationship - they’ve all either cheated on him or ghosted him. He gave up looking for a partner even though he longed to have a family of his own.

Moodboard + Playlist

#long awaited redo of his old profile lol #damien whitlock #cod oc #my oc #my art #call of duty #call of duty oc #mwii #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare #oc #call of duty fanart #military oc #Australian oc #call of duty mwii #mw2 #Jackson Wyatt #benjamin otter lee #oc profile #cod oc profile #oc reference sheet #Spotify

[after-witch]

My Heart Was Not So Heavy Then [Yandere Spring Spirit x Reader]

Title: My Heart Was Not So Heavy Then [Yandere Spring Spirit x Reader]

Synopsis: You've always known you were going to die in the spring.

Word Count: 8600ish

Notes: yandere, reader is a married woman, misogyny, mentions of expected pregnancies and childbirth, reader becomes pregnant, physical abuse (slapping); some animal birthing descriptions

You have always known that you were going to die in the spring. It was not a fact that you shared with others--you learned very early that such talk was not acceptable. It earned you stares and whispered words and on one occasion, sore knuckles from your mother rapping them with a stick, sternly telling you to stop talking like that.

So you did. 

You pretended not to know that one spring, when the flowers were in bloom, you would die and cease to be. You kept this knowledge with you, a secret in your pocket, but you no longer let it slip from your lips.  You kept your thoughts to yourself between the snow melting and the heat of summer rising, wondering, always wondering: is this the spring? 

And if you grew up with death woven into your thoughts, stitched like embroidery into your heart, was that so bad? You still grew up. You had friends and played. You learned to read enough to get by and you loved to paint, when your parents could afford the materials, and life was sweet and bitter in all the right turns.

And now you were old enough to marry, though the prospect of it all--marriage, birth, death--seemed almost fruitless sometimes. What was the point? How long would it last? 

You were going to die in the spring. And your husband didn’t even know.

--

You had a beautiful dream that morning. A lovely thing. Hazy--perfect for spring. Something that would no doubt be half-remembered by the early afternoon, only recalled in desperate snatches that you could not possibly hold onto for very long. Not when there were chores to be done and your husband’s younger sisters and brother to mind and neighbors to visit and your mother-in-law to appease. 

Such beautiful dreams were lost in the tumult of life. It was to be expected that you’d never fully retain them past childhood, and certainly not now, married and expected to carry your load in your husband’s household while you waited to start your own. 

When you were a child, the thought of your impending death was almost like an adventure. But now, you’ve found, it makes your heart feel sick with worry. Would it be worse to die before or after you had a child? Should you even have children? Was it wrong not to tell your husband what you knew? 

But you remembered your sore knuckles and the way people stared when you told them, voice high and babbling, that you were going to die in the spring. So you said nothing. You woke up and you ate and you worked and you slept and you dreamed.

Even snatches of beautiful dreams, fleeting and whispered, were better than nothing. 

Your mother-in-law--and you all live under the same room, mother-in-law, husband, wife, and his younger siblings--doesn’t care much for dreams. She told you so, the first time she caught you smiling at the breakfast table, still lost in the dizziness of a lovely dream. 

Dreams are for children, not for married women, she had said. Someone about to have children of their own, running around your feet. Someone who is expected to be a proper spouse, a proper mother, a proper everything.

Best forget about your dreams, is what she told you. And you knew she meant it in every way possible. 

Your husband, Thomas, doesn’t seem to mind your dreams. Figurative and otherwise. When he has a few extra coins in his pocket, he sometimes buys you paints, a little easel. The paints are cheap and the easels need to be carefully prepared before they will accept paint, but you don’t mind the effort. When you’re ready, he always ushers his mother into the house and lets you sit outside and work.

Your paintings will outlive you, and maybe that’s why you like it so much. 

Not that your mother-in-law sees the benefit in any of it. Though you’re glad, at least, that she prefers to send you outside the home to work. Go to town, collect herbs, collect wood to be chopped by your husband or his brother that is old enough to wield an ax. 

You don’t mind that she puts you to work outside the home so much. There will be plenty to do inside once you’re married, she tells you now and then, and even more once there’s a baby in your belly. 

The thought makes you feel already heavy, leaden, like there’s a chain wrapped around your stomach keeping you to the floor… but you don’t tell her that. 

Instead, you briskly step through the threshold as soon as you can, sometimes pulling off your husband’s younger sister who loves you (and you do love her, despite her clinginess, despite the knowledge that you won’t be here forever) and wishes you would stay home with her instead.

But you like the woods. You’re always alone in the woods. There’s nobody here to judge you. For your secrets or your paintings or anything else. 

--

The woods are quiet and not-quiet, all the same. Buzzing insects and the trill of birds and the snap of branches from foxes and deer and perhaps, on occasion, a bear. 

But there are no squealing children, shouting neighbors, or nagging mothers-in-law here. No children dragging against your skirts, no mother-in-law staring at your belly, tsking, wondering no doubt: when will you be ripe? 

Ripe. What a thought. Your hand goes to your belly. You and Thomas had already started… becoming one, as they say, before you were married. You’re not meant to do so, until you’re married. But you were betrothed and Thomas said no one would mind very much, if your belly was a little round at the wedding that winter. But you weren’t pregnant at your wedding. And not now, either. 

You wish you could avoid town for a little longer. And, more wistfully, you wish you could remember your dream from this morning. It was something beautiful and fresh. It made you feel renewed that morning, gave you a spring in your step. But what was it? 

You sigh, ready to turn at the fork and head into town--when you hear it.

A horrible bleat. 

You know that sound, and what it means. 

Your legs carry you quick as anything towards the wild, primal noise, and sure enough, there--on the other side of a fence is a sheep, keeled over on her side, bleating awfully with one fresh lamb sitting at her head. She licks it in between her awful screams and you know that there must be another one still beside her. But it won’t come out.

You hop over the fence and her bleats intensify at the sight of you, despite the soft hushings you give her.  Your hands reach towards her exposed underside and you see the edge of a leg, tiny and jerking. But no matter how much she bleats, it does not progress.

It’s stuck.

You tug your sleeves up to your elbow--they’ll probably get bloody anyway, but best to spare them as much as you can--and stick your arms inside, feeling the wet, squirming gore covering the lamb that refuses to be born. 

“Do you need help?”

Your mind jerks but you force your body to stay still, lest you injure the lamb. You glance up and there is a young man standing in front of you, behind the fence. A stranger. He has chestnut hair that glints a little golder in the spackle of the spring light.

“I--”

The lamb tries to push again, which only seems to make the little thing underneath your hands tremble. But it moves no further.

“It’s stuck,” you say, tongue almost sticking to your mouth. There is no time for introductions or questions when there is a bleeding sheep and a stuck lamb before you. That can come later, as it always does, in times like these. “I need someone to push on her while I move it.” You pause, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Or I need four hands.”

The man laughs and leaps easily over the fence, landing right next to you. When he crouches, the smell of forest flowers spreads, though there is no breeze to bring them. He wastes no time in assisting you, and he must be the son of a farmer, you think, the way his hands deftly manipulate the lamb through the sheep’s thick wool and skin.

As he does so, your hands slip further inside, gripping the slick bloody wool and turning, turning--until there is a little rush of thickened blood and the lamb slides out. There is a moment of silence in which  you think, poor lamb, poor thing.

But it bleats. It lives. And the mother jerks her body up, terrified bleats turning to ones of relief, and soon the stubborn second lamb is joining the first in getting its first mother’s bath. 

“Bluebells,” you say. And then your mouth goes to your lips. 

The man looks at you, and quirks his head to the side. “Hm?”

“Bluebells,” you say again. Then you smile and look down at your hands, covered in wetness and blood and birthing gore. “I… dreamt about them last night. I’ve been trying to remember my dream all morning, and it came to me just then as the lamb came out. How funny.”

He stares at you. You think back to your mother, your neighbor, your friends--the look they gave you when you told them about your spring-induced death. But you just told him about a dream. Why should he look at you so intensely? 

But the look is gone before you know it, and instead he smiles. It’s a toothy smile. He stands, and then extends his hand to you. You glance down at your bloody hands and help yourself up, and he merely shrugs, and lets out a little laugh.

He insists on following you to the farmer’s door, so that you can let him know about the lambs. He tells you that his name is Robert, but everyone calls him Robin, and you can call him that, if you don’t mind. 

You don’t mind, so you do. 

“Did you make a wish?” He asks suddenly, as the two of you make your way up the winding, cleared path between the neighbor’s fences. 

You’re busy wiping your hands on your apron--oh, how Thomas’ mother will seethe at the sight of it. “A wish?”

The man does a little spin as he walks--a spin!--and you can’t help but smile at him. He looks to be about your age, but he seems more carefree than the other men in town. Certainly more carefree than Thomas, who as of late has begun to calculate how much he will need to work, to make, to save, in order to expand his family’s home for your own children. You try not to think about that.

“A wish,” he repeats. “during your dream. On the first bluebell of spring.” 

You laugh, and a cow somewhere on the other side of the fence moos in response. Silly thing. You’re not sure whether you’re referring to the cow or yourself.

“I’m afraid not,” you say, shaking your head. “I didn’t know.”

The man pauses his steps and hums. His fingers go to his lips, as if this is a serious conundrum, indeed. You remember, then, that you never asked his name. He hops back over the fence and you’re about to call out when he lets out a noise of success, and saunters back with a sprig of bluebells in his hand. 

You didn’t see them there before. But you were paying more attention to your hands than the flowers. 

He holds them out to you, and raises his eyebrows. “They aren’t the first bluebells this year, but I don’t think it will matter much.” 

Making a wish on bluebells. How silly. But it’s just the sort of thing you used to do, when you let yourself indulge more in your secrets. 

You reach out and brush the petals with your fingertips, letting the soft petals and stems tickle your skin.  Then you close your eyes and make a wish.

You keep that wish in your pocket with your other secrets.

---

That night, Thomas holds you too roughly in bed and pushes too roughly inside you and you close your eyes and think, suddenly, of the bluebells. And the lamb. And the blood. And Robin. 

When he pulls out, the stickiness of it all makes you wince. You don’t tell him that you pretended at your own release, and he doesn’t notice the lie. 

“That should take,” he says, voice breathy. He rests his head back against his pillow and glances at you. Is it wariness in his eyes, or weariness? Sometimes you wonder if he regrets the marriage. Most of your friends, married off earlier than you, were already with child. Or had one weaning from a wet nurse already. 

You wonder if any of them missed their dreams and took them out of drawers and gazed at them, the way you like to do. Any notions you had of leaving town and being a painter died long ago. When your parents died, maybe--but perhaps earlier. When your parents tutted at the idea of paying for painting lessons or when they pulled you out of schooling because you didn’t need much, they said, to run a household. Or when you had that first realization that you were going to die someday, in the spring, when the flowers bloomed, and was there any point to pursuing a life when it was all going to end, anyway?

Thomas says your name and you’re pulled out of your reverie. He leans forward and kisses your cheek, and you lean against him. He’s not a bad man, really. He buys you paints. He peels his mother-in-law from your presence when she’s overbearing. 

But sometimes you catch him staring at your empty belly with a frustrated sadness that makes your fingers curl. 

Beside you, on the bedside table, is a sketch of bluebells you made when you came home. You didn’t bother using your paints on it--you don’t have the right blues to capture them just right. 

--

The next day, you dutifully visit the farmer to ask about the lamb. You tell your mother-in-law this, and she smiles, grateful that you’re enduring yourself to their neighbors. It is essential, she has told you before, that you maintain a good standing in the community. 

And you aren’t exactly uninterested in the lamb or the farmer. But you’re mostly hoping to run into Robin on your way there, if only to ask him to help you find more bluebells like the ones he gave you yesterday. You want to dry them out and save them, and perhaps the next time Thomas’ purse is heavy (though when that will be, considering all the things he is planning, you don’t know) he might be able to find a suitable paint.

But when you ask the farmer if he’s seen the man who helped you yesterday, he gives you a look. A look that reminds you of rapped knuckles and whispers.

“I don’t recall anyone with you yesterday,” he says, glancing behind you before giving you a look that was perhaps skin to pity. Maybe he remembers the dusty rumors from your childhood. Or maybe the sun is in his eyes.

“Well…” you start, and it’s best to shrug it all off, isn’t it? “I’m sorry to have bothered. I’m glad to hear that the lambs are doing well.”

It’s funny how easy it is to wash away strange looks with complacent, neighborly smiles. Funny and a little sad. The farmer waves you off and gives you a basket of fresh bread his wife baked and vegetables his son harvested and a tin of jam his daughter made. You imagine baking bread to give to neighbors and something inside you shudders.

So the farmer didn’t remember seeing Robin. Perhaps Robin was standing behind you. Perhaps the farmer had gotten into the drink a little early. 

Perhaps Robin wasn’t real and you were losing your mind and dying from some unknown illness that was finally, finally going to kill you and--

But when you reach the fork in the road that leads in and out of town, there is Robin, leaning up against a tree, a thistle of something dancing in his teeth. He’s wearing a loose white top with frills, almost akin to an undershirt than anything else, and plain black trousers. When he catches your eye, it drops from his mouth as he practically runs toward you. 

You think to ask him about the farmer, but he’s talking--there is a bit of green stem in his teeth--before you can speak.

“Did you dream of bluebells again?”

You smile, a forced politeness, and shake your head. You didn’t dream of bluebells, and it was a shame. Instead you dreamt of your belly growing big and there was an awful pain and grayness, and you were dead before your child could even walk, and your husband didn’t care--all he did was pick up the beautifully squirming baby and go on his merry way. 

“I dreamt about…” But you can’t tell him about that. You wouldn’t tell your husband about this dream, much less a stranger wearing 

Robin’s grin broadens. “What? You can tell me. I like hearing about these first dreams in spring, you know.” 

You’ve known this man for less than two hours, yesterday’s lamb birth and walk to the farmhouse considered, but you find him refreshingly strange.

But you shake your head.  You shake your head. You wouldn't burden a stranger with the troubles of your life that spill into dreams. What would this young man care about the woes of your life, anyway? Your fears about death and life and marriage. Though perhaps he had a wife. Perhaps she was at home, toiling over the hearth, while he sprawled about the woods and talked gaily with others and grinned at them and gave them flowers. 

You force down the bitter kernel of resentment. It wasn't fair to him, you suppose, to spin such an assumption out of nothing. He looked young enough to remain untethered, and men often went longer without marrying, anyway. He was a helpful--albeit unusual--young man who helped you pull a lamb out of a stuck sheep and escorted you to-and-fro afterwards. That was all.

“You think too much,” he says, and the shock of it pulls you out of your thoughts and brings a bit of heat to your cheeks. You do think a lot. It’s a bad habit, started from childhood, when thinking about things (you’re going to die in the spring) was revealed as preferable to saying them out loud.

“You’ll get wrinkles,” he points out, voice sing-song, and gestures a finger towards your lips, which are set in a somewhat serious frown. 

He grins. 

“It doesn’t matter. Look--” He sweeps his hand down towards the ground, and you instinctively step back as you notice for the first time that there is a carpet of bluebells underneath your feet. They weren’t there before… or were they? You were so often lost in thought in the spring that you perhaps paid more attention to the limited nature of your future than you did the world around you.

And aren’t these just the most vibrant bluebells you’ve ever seen? Their color reminds you of 

“Witches' thimbles,” you blurt out. He quirks his head again, like you’re a fascinating specimen at a museum. Not that you’ve ever been to one, or will likely ever go. “That’s… another name for them, isn’t it?” 

Heat blossoms across your cheeks. You feel stupid. Silly. Who cares about another name for bluebells? It’s exactly the sort of thing that made people give you strange looks when you were younger--blurting out facts that no one cared to hear. Whether it was the fact of your impending demise or a stream of names for spring flowers.

But he doesn’t look at you like you’re strange. Instead, he busts out laughing.

“Yes!” Like an extremely enthusiastic tutor, thrilled that his pupil has finally gotten an answer correct. “Or wood hyacinth, lady’s nightcap…”

He crouches down and brushes his hands over the blossoms, drooping blue-purple bells that sway just enough in the breeze.

You crouch down--oh, it’s so untoward--and take a sniff. Bluebells don’t have a very strange fragrance, and you only get a bit of bright greenness. And then another name comes to you, and you can’t help the carefree grin that spreads across your face before you spit it out. 

“Crow’s toes!” 

He stares at you, and there’s a split second where you think ah, that was too much and now I’ve ruined everything, before he bursts into laughter.

“Cuckoo’s boots!” He counters, voice choking with mirth. 

It takes you only a moment before you’re the one bursting with laughter, and your crouch turns into a full blown sit right on the ground. Your skirt will be dirty and if someone comes across the pair of you, the local gossip will never end, but you don’t seem to care in the presence of the laughing, strange young man in front of you.

When the laughter fades and you’re left inexplicably sitting on the ground in a pile of bluebells, you finally think to ask something of him. Something you really ought to have asked before, but you were distracted. By lambs and bluebells and the season itself. 

“Why haven’t I seen  you around before, Robert?” 

“Robin,” he says, light and easy. He shrugs just as easily. “I’m only around sometimes. I like to travel.”

His eyes are a brilliant shade of blue. Not quite deep enough to mimic a bluebell, but there’s a dancing light in them. The thought is too much, and you clear your throat and help yourself to your feet. 

There is a difference, you think, between being yourself (when is the laugh time you laughed giddily? The last time you made a joke? Your husband could be kind, but he was not silly or carefree or funny…) and being improper.

“Well,” and your voice is back to sounding almost prim, an echo of your mother-in-law. You are a married woman, after all. “I’m glad I’ve caught you when you’re visiting, then. Thank you--” He looks up at you, and there’s confusion in his eyes. Maybe a little hurt, too. “For your help with the lamb,” you finish.

He doesn’t stand up, which is odd enough. Instead he pulls his knees up to his chest and stares up at you. “I didn’t do much.” He sighs, a soft, long sound that makes you want to contradict him. “You could have done it even without four hands, I bet!” 

The compliment makes you want to stay. It also makes you want to leave. 

“It’s nothing.” You glance down at your hands. They aren’t a painter’s hands, though you often wished they were. They were a farmer’s hands. “My parents were farmers and I grew up here. It’s not the first lamb I’ve helped birth… or cow… or goat.” A low sound from your throat, a mirthless chuckle. “Or a person.”

He blinks up at you. 

“Do you have children?”

Your hand goes to your stomach.

“No.” 

Your lips get tight and thin and yes, perhaps it is time you left. 

He groans, suddenly, and flops back on the grass. One hand splays over his forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he says, sounding annoyed and sorrowful and pouting all in one breath. “Ugh!” He opens his eyes and stares up at the sky. “Sore subjects, there’s always sore subjects…”

You almost feel a little sorry for him. He reminds you of… yourself. Somewhere, deep down, buried under layers of corrections that began with rapped knuckles.

“It’s all right,” you tell him, voice soft. “You didn’t mean anything by it. It’s a common enough question, I suppose.” 

“Please don’t go,” he asks, and you want to smile a little at the wheedling tone in his voice. “You’re fun. I like it.” 

You shake your head and lift up your skirts. It’s too much, isn’t it? Someone might see. And even if they don’t, there’s that pit growing in your stomach, a pit all women must cultivate for situations like these. 

He continues to lay in the grass for a few moments, before he hoists himself up and jumps back into a standing position. He’s back to smiling, as if nothing had ever been said between you.

“If you stay…” His voice is teasing you, drawing you in, pulled candy held on a stick. “I’ll let you use these.”

And you take a step back now, when he crouches and reaches for a  bag left loitering on the ground. You don’t remember seeing that bag. Maybe you are too overworked lately. Your brain must be frazzled and fried like eggs in a hot pan. 

But instead of pulling out a weapon or something else that has your lips ready to shout for help, he pulls out… paints.

A set of paints. And a traveling easel, with a sheet of cloth ready to be bolted over it. 

You stare at the paints. Then at the bluebells. And then at him.

“I… could stay for a little while.” 

--

That evening, blue paint stains your fingertips while you finish your sewing for the evening. Your husband’s shirts, first; then your mother-in-law’s; then the children’s; and then your own. 

There is a robin perched in the window and you laugh. A bright, beautiful sound in a room that has seen little giddiness since you and your husband have made it your home. Your husband, busy with his own work, looks up at you with a peculiar expression.

But he says nothing. 

He said nothing about your fingertips, either. Although he clearly saw them when you came home. Instead of asking--and you would have told him, surely?--he pursed his lips and gave your arm an affectionate squeeze and told you that he’d bartered for some fresh cheese from the neighbor. 

You like cheese, so you’d thanked him, and went about your day.

And now it was evening, bordering nightfall, and the time for chores has ended as a new nightly task was set before you. The task that had you unfastening the laces of your dress, and then  your stays, and climbing into bed in your night chemise to wait for your husband.

The window behind you was open, letting in the cool spring air. Singing crickets were as good as music and darkened pinks and purples filtered through the window, the last bits of dappled colors before night would come. 

The robin is still there when you tilt your head up and look out the window to catch the fleeting sunlight. 

And you swear the bird quirks its head as your husband unfastens his trousers and climbs into bed.

--

It’s not right to do this. You know it’s not. But you meet Robin again, and again, and again. The spring seems longer than ever and for once you are not fretting about childhood prophecies, you are not foregoing thoughts of happiness and friendships because you’re worried about the fact that you won’t live to cherish them forever.

Instead, you’re meeting with Robin at the same spot, the far far end of the neighbor’s fence where only the lambs like to go. Where the stubborn lamb was born and comes, sometimes, sneaking underneath the fence and sitting between the two of you.

Together, you paint. After a while, Robin brought a proper easel with him, along with a canvas worth more than ten of the canvases your husband could ever afford to buy you. And the paints, oh the paints! Such rich shades that perfectly mimic the natural colors of the world around you. For once, you are making progress on bluebells that aren’t hampered by a limitation in color or quantity. 

But you don’t just paint. You talk. About your dreams and the future and everything but your secret. Because for once, you’re not thinking about it. 

Because Robin makes you laugh.

Because he makes you feel like yourself, or someone you used to be. Like you can peel off layers of smoke and grease and find yourself again, fresh and new.

Because he makes you feel unmarried.

And if you come home later than usual, if you sing more than you ever had before, if your smiles and laughs fill the house with a lightness it has been sorely missing… is that such a bad thing? Your paintings of bluebells are hung up in your bedroom, and your husband hums at them and says they look pretty. And it’s not exactly like being a real painter but it’s nice enough for the life that you have--and that’s all we can ever hope for, isn’t it? 

--

Robin’s kisses are tinged with the flowers he likes to nibble on now and then. Spicy and sweet.

Today his kiss tastes of honey and you draw back and press disbelieving fingers to your lips. When he grins, as he always does, his mouth is sticky with thick, orange honey.

“Wh--where did you get--” You sputter, licking the taste in your mouth. A delicious floral honey, earthy and sweet. 

“Honeycomb.” He gestures behind him, somewhere in that wild, beautiful forest that surrounds the carefully plotted paths the townspeople made so long ago. Then he pulls out a chewed piece of raw honeycomb, jagged and broken. It’s a wonder he didn’t get stung. 

You laugh--oh Robin, silly Robin--and say nothing more, but lean forward and begin to lick the rest of it from his lips. 

Before the afternoon is out, the two of you make love for the first time. Beneath the tree, above the bluebells, yards away from the stubborn lamb who fell asleep by the fencepost hours before. 

--

“You wicked slut!”

There is a flesh-colored blur and then a sting across your face. Not painful but humiliating and surprising and oh God, you think, at least it wasn’t my knuckles.

She knew. They knew. Your mother-in-law and your husband and probably half the town, if not the whole of it. Someone saw you two (the farmer? You hope not, thinking of his basket and his smile, but thinking of his strange look at you, too) and your mother-in-law has put two and two together to make four.

Four being that you and this young man are clearly engaged in something other than paintings and picnics. You could tell her that you’ve only kissed, nothing more. But it would be worse to admit to anything right now, when gossip has inflamed her imagination.

Do you dare look at your husband? No. Not for more than a second. He stands, firm, his mouth pressed into a frown. But he says nothing as his mother screams at you and slaps you once, and then twice.

“Have you been together?” She practically shrieks the words out, and spittle flies towards your tingling cheek.

“I--” You don’t answer, but your stuttering is enough. Your face is enough. The way your body seems to shrink inward is enough.

Your mother-in-law’s voice turns into a ragged gasp, and she huffs until she sits herself down in a chair pulled from the kitchen. She’s done, burnt out, probably thinking of ways to turn you out of the house.

You don’t know what else to do, so you turn towards Thomas and look at him as fully as you can despite the pain in your cheek and the guilt rolling about your chest. 

He stares at you for a moment. And then he raises a hand to slap you, the way his mother had slapped you, the way that his mother has slapped the children and no doubt, the way she slapped him, when he was a child.

But he doesn’t touch you. His hand lowers, slow, and you catch a hint of tears in his voice as he tells you to go to the bedroom and stay there.

Guilt, regret and rebellion, turn over in equal measure in your stomach. 

--

You’re not allowed to walk beyond the plot of the garden fence surrounding your home. Your mother-in-law forbids it, and your husband does not contradict her.

He does tell her that you are never to be slapped again, and that is at least something.

But what relief comes from that is overshadowed when he throws away your paints and your papers, your sketch pad and your pencils. 

“No more,” he says, voice low. “No more.”

“Why?” You ask, and you see yourself in his eyes. A wife who sneaks out of the home to dally with young men in the forest, a wife who comes home with paint on her fingers, who stains his mended shirts with the color of bluebells.

He says nothing. He gives your shoulder a squeeze and asks you to mind the cooking supper while his mother goes into town.

--

You begin to throw up in the mornings.

You begin to have strange dreams, feverish ones, of bluebells and births and sticky dark lamb’s blood.

It’s not until your mother-in-law treats you more tenderly that you realize what it all means. The sickness and dreams and odd feeling in yourself.

You haven’t bled since the end of winter.

You are with child.

--

The news lightens the household. At least, it lightens Thomas and his mother, who is beside herself with preparations for you. She spends the evenings working on a pile of baby clothes and often comes home from the market with fruits said to ease your stomach, poultices she swears will be ideal when you begin to have swollen feet. 

You don’t want to have swollen feet. You don’t want to think about how Thomas must now build the addition to the home sooner than anticipated, and how you’ll have to learn how to feed your child and raise your child, and how there will always be a tether between the two of you that could be snipped at any moment. 

Your husband brings you things that are pretty and sweet. But never paints. You don’t think you’ll ever see him walk through the threshold with those again. 

But you can’t complain about how he treats you. He insists on buying cushions for the chairs, so you don’t have to sit down as far. He minds what you eat. He holds you in the night, and no longer insists on entering you--a respite in several ways.

He says nothing when you look pensive in the evenings, hands itching for your pencils, your paints.

He never asks whether or not the child might be his, which is just as well--because you have no idea.  

The robin comes back only once, which dispels your fantastical notions that perhaps it’s been Robin in disguise all along. That would be ridiculous, of course. Just as ridiculous as the notion that you were some carefree unmarried thing, free to dance about with a stranger in the woods. Just as ridiculous as the notion that you’re going to die in the spring.

--

“Please?”

Thomas frowns. You haven’t been allowed past the garden in several weeks. It was now nearing the end of spring, your dreaded season, and something deep inside you was going mad with the need to see something past the confines of your marital home. 

“Just to the end of the path and back.” You sigh and stretch your legs, lifting up your skirts to show him your swollen ankles. “It will be good for my legs. And fresh air is good for the baby, or so your mother says.”

Thomas can be stern. He has a right to be, you assure yourself, all things considered. But he is not terribly cruel. And so he sighs and tells you yes, but only to the end of the path, and don’t stop for strangers, and come right home. 

And you intend to obey him like a dutiful spouse. You really do.

It’s just… when you get to the end of the path, near the fork in the road…

There is the bleating of the lamb.

The smell of bluebells, richer than before.

The twitch of your hand, aching for a brush and paints.

And Robin, leaning up against a tree, a flower rolling in between his teeth like a wayward goat.

He catches your eye, and pushes himself off the tree. His grin is as easy as it was the day you met him and the many days in between.

What do you say in situations like these? Your heart thuds, but offers no answer. Your stomach twists, but says nothing at all.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, head downcast. “I haven’t been able to come.”

“Hm?” You glance up, and he quirks his head. Like a bird. “It hasn’t been that long.”

It’s been weeks, and there’s a stinging in your chest. You’re one of many, most certainly. Or he does have a wife at home and he’s been busy with her and you’re a silly, stupid fling that he’s forgotten about. Heat rushes to your cheek faster than it should--damned pregnancy. 

“Sorry,” he says, his eyes wide and his smile chipper. “I said something stupid, didn’t I? I don’t have a head for time.” He sighs, and the soft, languid sound of it goes a long way towards soothing your hurt. 

Then he finally looks down at the swell of your stomach and his eyes get wide, the crisp blue of them seeming to glitter as he 

“I see…”

He walks a few paces back to the tree and plops down, his back against the bark. You hesitate. You should go home. Someone will see you. More than that, you said you’d go back. You can’t even keep your word, how are you ever going to raise a child?

But you take one step and then another, and Robin reaches out and helps you lower yourself to the ground. 

The silence between you feels uncomfortable. But apparently Robin feels nothing of the sort, because all he does is stretch out his legs and pull out his bag (and God, you swear, where did it come from today?) to retrieve paints and easels and your fingers practically shake as he hands them to you.

You talk while you paint, but there is nothing light about your conversation this afternoon. Just as there is nothing light about your painting. It is bluebells, yes. But not a pretty field of them buzzing with bees and floating dandelion seeds and spring sun. Instead it is dark and overcast, the soggy aftermath of a storm.

“I want it on my terms,” you say, and your frown is so set that your teeth begin to ache. Robin hums, and your brush drags down over the canvas, agitated. He doesn’t understand. He can’t. He’s… 

Robin watches you paint, and then pulls up a long blade of grass and begins to chew on it. 

“Tell me, then.” As if it’s the easiest thing in the world to say to anyone. Much less him, in your current state. 

“Thomas told me this morning,” you begin, laying it out with a simmering anger. “That perhaps I can paint again when we’re done having children. When they’re grown. When it will be… appropriate.” The word drips from your mouth like poison.

How often have you heard that damned word in this world? It’s not appropriate to tell people that you see green people in the woods. It’s not appropriate to tell your mother that you met a fairy and she was very nice, and gave you a flower to put under your bed when you slept. It’s not appropriate to mention at breakfast that the flower was magic and it told you your future, that you were going to die in the spring and that was that.

You don’t notice that you’ve stopped painting until Robin’s hand is on yours. When you glance at him, he looks a little serious, and it’s so unlike him that the brush slides from your fingers so that they can intertwine with his own.

“Tell me,” he says. “About the secret in your pocket.”

Your throat constricts. “I don’t have a secret… in my pocket or otherwise.” You feel heavy, suddenly. Because of your skirts and your child and your life. 

“I was your secret for a while, wasn’t I?” He taps your nose, a gesture that might have made you giggle a few weeks ago, but now only makes you frustrated. He’s never serious enough, when you need him to be. “You can tell me.” He quirks his head--the bird--and adds, lightly. “I already know, but I’d rather you tell me.”

And… you do. 

You tell him about the woods and things you weren’t supposed to see, and your dream about your death that has followed you ever since. You tell him about the way people looked at you until you stopped talking about it at all. You tell him about Thomas’ mother slapping you and the baby growing inside you and the fear that you will die before it is born or die before it is old or die before you’re ever, ever allowed to paint again. 

When you’re done, he laughs. He throws back his head and laughs, and it hurts and confuses and tears are blinked away as you try to muster up what to say to him.

The blade of grass gets curled up in his mouth, and he blows on it--a whistle. 

“It’s easy. Just don’t get any older.”

It was your turn to laugh. A short, bitter thing.

“Everyone grows old.” 

They do, don’t they? Growing old has been a part of you since childhood. Eggs to chicks to hens to table. Watching your grandfather go from lifting you up high to sitting in a chair to lying on a table, his body looking waxy and stiff as everyone wept around you and the room smelled funny. 

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. As if the very idea was ridiculous. 

“You don’t have to do what they want. Grow old--or don’t. Be a painter--or don’t.”

Your fingers brush over the unfinished canvas in front of you. 

“Even if I could stay young forever--and I can’t. I… I can’t be a painter when my husband won’t buy me paints.” You frown, which only deepens as you speak. “Or when I’m about to have a child, who will need me to nurse it and care for it, who will pull on my skirts when it learns to walk, who will need to be wiped and washed and taught. And soon enough I’ll be just like Thomas’ mother, and I’ll nag my own daughter-in-law and maybe I’ll slap her when she displeases me. And then my children will be grown but I’ll be old and I won’t be able to hold a brush even if I wanted to.” You take a breath. “And that’s assuming I don’t die well before then, in a spring just like this, and everyone else moves on after me because that’s just what you do when people die.”

He shakes off your words like morning dew. Unimportant, silly things. 

“You made a wish.” He picks a bluebell and twirls the stem in his fingers. “You dreamt of bluebells and you got the first wish of spring, and it will come true.” 

There’s a pang of stinging irritation in your chest. Maybe you shouldn’t have stayed. It feels like no time at all has passed between you and all the time in the world at the same time.

“Robin.” There’s patience in your voice, and something sterner that reminds you of Thomas’ mother. “Wishes aren’t real. Not like that.” You can’t just wish yourself to never grow old or be a painter or do whatever it is you want in this practical, limited place called life. 

His smile softens, sweetly. You’re reminded of the kiss with honey between his teeth.

“You had a dream that you would die in spring, and that is real. But you don’t trust in wishes?”

His fingers tighten over yours. Just enough for you to notice. And then they loosen and he’s splaying his hand out, palm up. “Come with me, then. I’ll make your wish come true.” 

And he doesn't say it soft and honeyed and low, a temptation. He says it with sureness--with a grin on his face, with the gold in his hair shimmering in the afternoon light, with the blueness of flowers in his eyes. 

“It could always be like this,” he says, looking out towards the fence across the way. “If you come with me.” The stubborn little lamb toddles after its mother and there are bluebells surrounding you and Robin at your side.

And a baby in your belly.

“What about my baby?” You blurt out the words, a hand resting on your stomach.

He shrugs, and far away, the lamb bleats. You realize that he never asked if it was his child. Like Thomas, he says nothing of it. It's a baby in your belly and that is that, or so it seems.

“Keep it if you want to. Or we can give it away, if you feel bad.” 

You don’t ask to whom you’ll be giving it away, but the way he says it unnerves you, untethers you just a little. 

You don’t think he’s talking about leaving the child with an orphanage or on the doorstep of a kindly neighbor. Beads of sweat stick to your back and you think of the stones you used to see in the woods as a child. Large, smooth paved stones. Someone (your grandmother? A neighbor? A whispering thing that dripped words in your ear while you slept?) told you that women left babies there to be taken by fairies and spirits and anything else that would have them.

Green men didn’t always look green, and just where did Robin get his bag and his paints and his bluebells? 

You don’t bother asking him what he meant. You’re not sure, really, that he’d tell you. 

The thought of not keeping your child never actually registered before today. But then, running away with Robin never registered until this moment either. 

What do you want? You stare at Robin’s outstretched palm and look at your own naked one. The memory of the stinking rich lifeblood on it comes to mind, as does the sight of your friend’s round bellies, the screams and sweat of the birthing rooms you attended with your mother.

Is that what you want? A child? That life? The uncertainty of wondering when when when will I die? 

There’s a lurch in your chest and you want to leave before it becomes too much.  You stand, wobbling, refusing Robin’s hand and starting down the path without another word. 

He yells after you, jovial, unconcerned.

“Tomorrow! It has to be tomorrow!” 

--

On the way home, your hand plucks the last of the blooming spring flowers so that you can explain  your long absence in front of what you’re sure will be frowning, tutting faces.

But when you stride frantically in, skin flushed and hand clutching a bouquet, everyone stares at you like you’ve lost your mind. You were gone less than a half hour--the time it normally takes to walk up the path and back.

That night, your bed feels rock hard. Or maybe it’s just your nerves that keep you afloat, refusing to let you sink into the mattress as you’d like to do.

Your hand rests on your stomach and Thomas isn’t in bed yet, late nights doing work to make more money to build you an attachment so that you aren’t sharing the same space as his mother forever, and you both love and hate that he’s not here.

If he was here, you might not have the luxury of thinking about anything at all.

But you do, and the thoughts race inside your head, bouncing to and fro like frantic children.

Do you go with Robin? Is Robin a human? Do you keep the baby? Can you leave Thomas? Is it better to live here and die here or go somewhere else and perhaps, be there forever? 

There is no bird in your window that night, but you swear you smell the delicate scent of bluebells. Fresh and green and bitter, right under your nose. 

--

Thomas lets you walk to the end of the path again, because you complain about your swelling legs and he thinks getting out of the house is better for your increasingly isolated mind.

And so, here you stand at the fork in the road. 

You could turn around and walk home. Back to your husband and his mother and the new life that awaits there. You would let your mother-in-law tut over you and tell you the best way to nurse and feed and how long to wait after birth to conceive another.  You would let Thomas guide you and hold you and look at you with stern pity when you wanted nothing more than to paint. You would live there and die there, and who knows when that would be? Could you stand the agony of each spring, every shifting season, promising life for others and death for you? Could you stand never picking up your paints again? 

You could walk towards the farm. To the lamb and to Robin, to a beginning that might not have an end at all. You could see if Robin’s skin would peel back green or if he knew where to leave your child so that it could have a good life (but would it?) and ask him if he meant it, when he said you never grow old. 

What life do you choose? Which one could be called a life at all? Both? Neither? 

Take a step back. Take a step forward. 

Stop keeping secrets in your pocket and splay them out on the table and make a choice.

Make a damned choice.

But you don’t get to make one, after all.

Instead, a familiar hand grabs your wrist and tugs you forward, and you stumble over bluebells that don’t crumple down even when you trample on them. 

“Robin--”

He’s there, smiling and holding onto you, and behind him is a wild field of bluebells that are so thick and fragrant it’s as if you walked into a maze of them. You spin around, his wrist still holding your own, but the path is gone. That world is gone, lost and brushed over with this hazy spring afternoon. 

He leans forward and presses a kiss to your nose. He smells like flowers and honey and something bitter underneath that has perhaps always been there, covered with the scent of paints and lamb's blood and your own uncertainty. 

“Well?” His grin is as vivacious as ever, and his chestnut hair seems to shine more deeply here, glimmering with golden hues that beg to be run through with your fingers. 

In his eyes is the lamb, the roundness of your belly, the deep hue of the bluebells in your dream and the paint that stained your fingers. Were his eyes always so rich? Or did you fill them with your conversations and your laughter, your kisses and your touches? Just as he filled you with dreams and smiles and an airiness you'd long since plastered over.

“Come on!” 

He pulls you along, laughing and you don’t know where you’re going. Whether you will live forever or ever paint again or what it will be like. You only know the three of you will start there together, whether you wanted it or not. 

You were always, in the end, going to die in the spring. 

#yandere #yandere oc #seasonal spirit #afterwitch writes #my bb!!! #wahh I can't believe he's done and the series is rounded out #how funny that one person being like hey you should do other seasons #led me to do this ;asdfsd #seasonal spirits #folklore writing #original stuffs

[asimmutableasgravity]

paper rings (teacher!spiderdads)

this is dedicated to ran podiumspray who helped me get this idea all fleshed out idk maybe if i get like 20 notes I'll write it fr idkkk

EDIT: read chapter 1 here!

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Someone drops their lunch tray on the table with a large bang. Miguel sighs before he looks up at Jess, who sits across him at the table. He always hopes that maybe he's intimidating enough that no one will sit near him in the canteen, that maybe people still believe that rumour that Mister O'Hara actually is a vampire who sucks people's blood.

But even if that were true, Jess would probably still sit across him and gossip.

Jess has been the closest thing Miguel has to a friend in this place, so he knows that she knows that he's not being an asshole when he continues to write down his lesson plan in his notebook. He's an excellent listener, she's said before. And she only comes by if she has something juicy, something Miguel cares about.

"I heard Parker got divorced," She says, twisting open her apple juice.

Miguel's pen stops moving.

He looks up at her.

He turns to where Peter is standing in line. A kid is engaging him in a lively conversation, and his eyes are bright in the way they always are. But Miguel, under Jess' guidance, knows how to sniff out details. Something something literature something something. He can see the dark stubble dotting his chin, the unironed shirt and the dark circles under his eyes.

"He could just be stressed," Miguel offers.

"He's not wearing his wedding ring." Okay, maybe he's not the best at looking for things yet. Miguel squints, and he can't see the glint of silver that Peter usually flaunts.

"What are we talking about?" Someone's puffy cardigan presses against Miguel's arm, and he has to close his eyes before registering Lyla beside him.

"Can you come with a bell? So I can be prepared for when you pop up and ruin my lunch." His assistant stares at him, unimpressed. She's never been scared of him, and that lets her get away with too much. He hates it.

"I'm not a cat, you're just a bitch." Eloquent as always. She follows Jessica's line of sight, and she jumps in her seat "Talking about Parker's divorce?"

She says it loud enough that people around them are turning to look at his table, and Dios mio, Parker is looking at him from the stall and he wants to die. He can eat in his cubicle. He takes his entire tray and walks out of the cafeteria.

He walks straight to the lounge, scanning his ID and walking forward and turning to the left and right, with one last right to get his cubicle. The cubicles are set by order in seniority, so a small carpeted wall separates him from Parker's mess of a desk.

He sets his tray down, and in the air-conditioned silence of the room, he eats. It's lonely, but it's peaceful. It's tranquil. He eats his salad and finishes his lesson plan. He drinks his apple juice. The only thing left on his tray is the cookie, kept in a white paper bag.

He stares at the carpeted divider. His is sparsely decorated, with two photos pinned up. One of his brother at the beach, and one of tiny Gabriella with her uncle at the same beach.

Miguel is a family man. That's all he has to be. He wakes up, makes Gabriella's food for school, sends her off, goes to work, picks her up and takes care of her. He meets Gabriel once a week for family bonding. Sure, he doesn't have much of a life outside that, but he doesn't need one. He's fine.

The cookie isn't his favourite. It's too sweet for him. He keeps looking at the wall.

He knows that on the other side of that wall, Peter's wall is full of notes and letters from his old students. Different cards in every single colour of Post-It note, all thanking him for the impact of his teaching.

Now, he's divorced.

The man so proud of his wife and his toddler, the man who would flaunt her so much, the staff is well aware of Mary Jane Watson-Parker and Mayday Parker's day-to-day escapades. Similar to Miguel, he holds his family as a priority.

Something that feels like concern tugs at him. He tries to squash it down. Peter has been one of the worst colleagues he's ever had. He goes on tangents in his class more often than actually teaching, he rewards the smallest step forward, and he's remarkably laid-back. On paper, he's a terrible teacher.

He's a horrible seatmate, music almost always loud enough to be heard in Miguel's cubicle and always ready to lean over and ask Miguel stupid questions about his class and his day. They're the only two teachers who joined from their year to have stayed in Romita Senior High School, but that's where their similarities end.

But the man's going through it. And as much as Miguel thinks he's a nuisance, he's not (He sighs.) the worst thing on the planet. He stands up and takes his cookie. He walks five steps and places it on the mountain of papers he calls a desk.

Is that too cheesy? Too vague? Too incomprehensible?

He hears the lounge open, and he sees a familiar spike of greying brown hair walking forward, about to take a right.

Miguel panics. He looks around for- aha- a pen and draws a haphazard smiley face on the bag. It's shakey, and Gabriella can do better. But Gabriella is a saint, of course she could do better.

Miguel runs back to his seat and stays completely still. He starts counting. Peter walks past his cubicle, his cheap cologne smelling very faintly of cedar and vanilla.

"Oh, nice." Peter says. "Free cookie."

Miguel feels underwhelmed. Maybe he'll never do anything nice ever again.

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#spiderdads #spiderbite #across the spiderverse #into the spiderverse #itsv #atsv #miguel o hara #peter b parker #miguelpeter #snippets #writing wip #maybe idk