#again this is all lighthearted i like the glare lots as well | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

haravath0t · 1 year

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First Impressions

A/N: Hello all! It’s been a while since this idea had been in my head, but I finally had the time to finally flesh it out into writing! It’s a bit self-indulgent on my end, but I hope you all enjoy! As this is my first attempt to make a fic that features a gn!reader, please let me know if there’s any misuse of pronouns or factors that take away this inclusive experience!

Pairing: Alhaitham x gn!reader

Summary: Although you are the third roommate to Alhaitham and Kaveh, you find yourself having trouble being in the Scribe’s good graces. What happens when you finally crack?

Content/CW: angst(ish), fluff, roommate quarrels

Word Count: 3.5k

A lot of people are wary of interacting with Alhaitham. One can argue they could be afraid, or even find him difficult to handle. However, Alhaitham hopes it stays that way. With the exception of Kaveh, he doesn’t really feel the need to interact and waste much social battery to get on with his everyday life.

That was, until he met you.

Alhaitham and Kaveh had both, after countless arguments, agreed that maybe an extra roommate can do them some good. Perhaps a third person to balance them both, to be a buffer. That also meant that Alhaitham and Kaveh had an extra pair of hands in the maintenance of the house. And that’s when you came in the picture: A famed researcher in bio-alchemy. In the midst of all the haughty scholars and researchers, Alhaitham had seemed to approve of you, seeing that your demeanor whenever you presented your findings was quite confident rather than arrogant. He’s read your works at one point, being the ultimate factor to the full approval of your thesis. He’s secretly seen your career take off since then, archiving each journal or research article that you have published for future scholars to reference for their research.

Having overheard your woes about finding a good place to stay, finding your trek to the Akademiya to be grueling, Alhaitham was quick to respond. Your friend was quite shocked at his intervention with a casual offer of “My roommate and I are looking for a third roommate if you’re interested.” Hearing your approval of the offer a few days later made Alhaitham feel satisfied to say the least. It seemed logical, and who knows? Maybe he wouldn’t have to utilize his soundproof headphones all too much in his home. He felt that your timid demeanor could probably make Kaveh feel the need to be a little more calm himself.

Boy, was Alhaitham wrong.

He found the energy of you and Kaveh to be similar the minute you had moved in. As you were settling in one of their rooms, moving your items from their boxes and into their respective places in the room, Alhaitham found himself easily annoyed. He didn’t realize he’d be required to interact so intensely with you. He thought that given your genius and your shy demeanor in the Akademiya, you’d be hardly the type to be so…talkative. Alhaitham made it a note not to fall once again for the first impressions of a person like you.

While he helped you move in, he was met with a bunch of “thank you”s that he had to put an end to by a simple “you’ve thanked me quite enough.” Kaveh seemed to get along with you without a hitch, the architect chatting away with you and immediately laughing from your vibrant energy. It wasn’t long till you directed questions at him. Kaveh already had given you a small lighthearted warning: “Alhaitham just doesn’t like stuff like that. Don’t pay him any mind.” Alhaitham and Kaveh soon realized that you are quite the persistent character.

“I only find it fitting to know who I’m living with, no?” You ask at the table, resulting in Alhaitham’s green eyes to narrow slightly, a small huff leaving his lips.

“Well, I assure you, knowing your roommates doesn’t quite make paying your share of the Mora easier.” He retorts. Kaveh sends him a small glare towards the Scribe, groaning in embarrassment. He seems to be grateful that you initially didn’t take offense, doubling down instead.

“Still, it doesn't hurt to, right? It’s quite harmless, and will prove more beneficial.” You rationalize. It makes Alhaitham send you a small hum of quiet approval of your rebuttal. That was enough for you that night.

Unlike Kaveh, you seemed to be a lot more perceptive, seeming to be more aware of Alhaitham’s boundaries and his time in the house. You knew that Alhaitham liked to be left alone in the mornings till he had his coffee, that Alhaihtam would not stay a minute longer past his work hours, that Alhaitham liked going home to nap in the afternoons if time permitted. Of course, all of this comes from trial and error on your end to be a good roommate, in hopes of finding at the very least a friend.

Whenever Kaveh wasn’t home, out of town to gain inspiration for his next project, it was always you at home. Alhaitham would often find himself waking up at the same time as you. Three months after you moved in, he noticed coffee already brewed, along with a small note of encouragement left by you. Sometimes, he’ll see you on your extra cheery days making lunch for two. There will also be times where you are curled up in the couch of the living room, notebook and pencil in hand as you calculate the proper concentrations needed from each reagent towards a potion. Sometimes, he cannot help but peek over your shoulder, replying with some small constructive criticisms.

“Perhaps you can consider an alternative reagent that isn’t slime condensate.”

“Don’t you think this problem is better resolved in your lab and not…at home?” “I don’t think the Akademiya currently have these in stock.”

“Hmph, I don’t know. There’s a bunch of books on my shelves regarding Alchemy if you’d like some refreshing.”

You try to not take so much thought into his short statements. At first, you were happy that you managed to get his attention. However, it can hurt to have his words from his objective standpoint. It even seeps through in the mundane things in life.

Whenever you cook? “Ah, what an…interesting flavor.”

Whenever you clean? “Maybe a better method can efficiently clean the space better.”

Whenever you reorganize the space? “Maybe…leave this one to Kaveh.”

It’s hard trying to make a friend out of Alhaitham.

A year later, and it feels like your friendship with Kaveh grows while your progress with Alhaitham has not been anywhere near fruitful. It sometimes leads you to overthink; are you being annoying? Do you seem that incapable in Alhaitham’s eyes? Do you still fit into his idea of competency the way you initially did when he invited you to move in?

You’ve been thinking you were good about hiding your woes, until one night with Kaveh home, you two got into quite a heated argument.

“Hey, come on, you know I need the space!” Kaveh groans, rolled up parchments in one hand, a briefcase on the other. You look at him with an apologetic look in your eyes. “I know I’m sorry, can you spend another night working in the living room? I desperately need the shelves of books here to help with my manuscript!” You try to reason, but the architect has started to become irked.

“Again? You told me that two days ago! When will you get it in your head that your research has hit a plateau?!”

Kaveh’s words had made you wince, eyes stinging from the tears that were threatening to fall. He clearly got you at a weak spot, clear as day when you try to refute. “But that’s why I need the books here! For reference so maybe-”

“So maybe what?! You’ll spend another night putting books in and out of shelves all night?! Then you start clanging pans around in the kitchen because you skipped meals, then Alahitham and I wake up? Oh, why? Well, because your schedule requires us to accommodate YOU!”

You didn’t bother saying a word, your lip quivering and your eyes rapidly blinking your tears away. Before Kaveh fully sinks in the uncharacteristically hurtful words he hurled your way, you’re already taking your various folders and papers with your own bag and trudging to the living room. It’s not long till Alhaitham’s green eyes can’t help but peer at your current state, curled up and writing quietly with some quiet sniffs. You can sense his red and yellow pupils scanning your various items in curiosity, but try your absolute hardest to not engage in a conversation. You didn’t need additional troubles, additional criticisms thrown your way.

“Oh? What’s that?” He asks, genuinely curious. However, unlike your usual peppy tone and behavior, you respond with a more curt tone in your voice.

“Just my manuscript.”

It makes the young Scribe quirk an eyebrow, slowly walking towards the couch where you sat. You used to ask him to read it, asked him what he thought, asked him if he would want this time to talk about it with food or drinks. Oddly enough, he’s seen less and less of that part of you as the time went by. He did hear what tonight’s conversation with Kaveh consisted of for you, the volume of the voices having stirred him to take off his headphones for a little bit. He heard quite enough, thinking maybe, just maybe, your doubts will be eased by his words. He can do that, right? Would you like that, perhaps?

Well, not that he cares all too much, of course. It’s just curiosity towards the paper and the need to pacify the quarrel between roommates. Nothing more, Alhaitham deduces. After all, a scholar with so much potential like you deserves to have the best quality of work to be produced. He addresses the elephant in the room without thinking much about it.

“You know, you shouldn’t let Kaveh hurl such hurtful words just because he too is stressed. Adding some weight to other’s opinions towards you and your work will only set you back. You’d be further away from objectivity. Surely you know this, right?”

He asks this, not intending to sound harsh. He knows he’s put you in a rather uncomfortable position right now, seeing how you wince and writhe a tad in your seat, your eyes glued onto the papers in front of you.

“It’s not as simple as that, Alhaitham.” You reply, a tone that is practically devoid of your usual soft and affectionate demeanor. However, Alhaitham doesn’t seem to take this as a proper answer, his eyes narrowing and his arms crossing. He responds, his head tilted to the side. “I find it to be quite simple if you take out the weak links to your situation.”

“Well, it’s not simple for me, okay?” You hiss, tears stinging your eyes once again. You couldn’t handle the way the two have been hounding you lately. You’ve been so adamant on your manuscript to be submitted for peer review, so engrossed in your own work, that it felt like you weren’t able to retrieve some ounce of freedom or “you time” that you had before. It doesn’t help when Kaveh was constantly out, or when Alhaitham only spoke to you to provide unsolicited advice and constructive criticisms.

“What factors are there that could possibly put you in such mental distress?” He asks, stepping closer to you, the coffee table now being the only border between the two of you.

“Many things!” You cry out, having snapped now. You feel like you want to cry, scream into a pillow, hug something, throw something. Everything all at once. “This manuscript! The rent! Trying not to be in the way of Kaveh when he’s hammering away his projects! Trying to be a good roommate, because you seem to absolutely regret the decision to have me here with you two!”

Alhaitham knows he’s pushed you quite a bit, not pressing the matter any further. However, his eyes widen ever so slightly at your bold claim regarding him. You…thought he regrets having you? For once, you catch the young Scribe off-guard, especially when he felt like his feelings were well put across for you.

Despite this opinion of his, he knows he wouldn’t want to leave you alone in such a state. He keeps it in his mind to give Kaveh quite the conversation later, seeing how your eyes practically sunk in your sockets, how your usual glow on your face has been depleted, or how your legs are constantly bouncing up and down. He doesn’t know why, but he can’t seem to properly predict your next move sometimes. He can’t seem to gather an adequate amount of information about you to better know you, feeling as if you were a walking wild card. For once, the Scribe seems to be a bit nervous, but his willingness to settle things in a rational manner pushes him to stick to this confrontation.

He watches as you clutch onto your papers slightly tighter, allowing you to take as much time as your need to formulate thoughts. If he wants to do anything at this moment, it’s to hear every single word you want to tell him. With a shaky inhale and exhale, you respond in a direct manner too, although not as harsh as your poor attempt at a toughened facade had offered before.

“Sometimes I wonder if you even like me…it sure feels like you hate me sometimes.”

Alhaitham’s gaze towards you seems to soften ever so slightly, the main issue having left your lips in a small tone. He watches as your lips quiver, your shoulders slumped, and your eyes that usually are willing to gaze into his eyes are looking away as you quietly sob in frustration. The air is thick, awkward, as you nervously play with your pencil, hoping desperately your words don't harm any existing goodwill he has towards you. Though it seems to spur on your tears, your doubts are now in the forefront of your mind. Alhaitham is seeing this vulnerable side to you for the first time, seeing how who he thought was the self-assured alchemist now clutching onto their pencil like a vice, crying not only because of work, but because of something he’s been a great influence in.

He wants to set the record straight, sitting down next to you. Your tear-filled eyes look up at him nervously, unsure of what his next words would be. However, you brace yourself nonetheless.

“I don’t hate you, nor do I regret you moving in,” He starts observing your reaction. In the time he’s known you, he expected this much from you, the way your eyes widened in slight surprise and the way your lips parted to argue something else.

“Just let me say my piece, please.” he urges, his mouth curving a bit when you nod. “If there’s anything I think about regarding you, it’s respect. It…”

Alhaitham sighs, being a tiny bit self-conscious now as he is pushed to think of his words carefully, and to heavily assess this with you. It’s a very rare feeling he gets, but an icky one nonetheless “I felt that maybe you’d appreciate an environment that would push you and encourage you for the better. You are quite the capable scholar. Your passion towards bio-alchemy shows in your work. It is equally a strength as it is a flaw. Perhaps, you may argue that your passion in everything, academically and at home, pushes me in a new perspective.” He concludes, nodding to himself, almost chuckling at how he’s even coming off as doting to you. He shakes his head, his eyes looking over at yours.

“Perhaps I lack in how to properly showcase this gratitude and respect towards you. I will make sure to work on this. You and Kaveh are the only two people I actively see and talk to anyway.”

You cannot help but feel utter confusion, your eyes widening a bit as he speaks his own perspective of things. You don’t know whether to be relieved, more frustrated, embarrassed, or all of the above. You decide to try to delve further in, for it would be quite foolish of you to blindly accept this as gospel.

“But…you find me to be quite annoying, do you not?” You question, bringing your sleeves up to your eyes to wipe your tears. “You constantly groan or you, like, you know…pull up a book, I don’t know…” you continue, your voice trailing off. You shrug a bit, looking up at him, feeling your body heat up at his silence and his gaze. “You know what I mean…”

Somehow, your current behavior seems to amuse Alhaitham. Not only is this the longest conversation you two have had in the year of living with each other, but it also allows him to see the multiple sides of you. His lips have a hint of a smile in them as he lets out a quiet chuckle. “You can be annoying, yes.” He states bluntly, crossing his arms as he sits more comfortably beside you. He sees the way you wince at this, but how you lean towards him. It is a sufficient cue for him to know that you’re listening regardless. “But, everyone can have a behavior that causes people to be annoyed, right? It doesn’t deter from the bigger picture of my opinion towards you.” He adds. He sees you nod, adjusting yourself as you face him now on the couch, your head resting on the cushion as you continue to talk.

“You do have a tendency to leave a mess when you use things in the house.” You say, an attempt to tease the silver haired man, a hint of a smile on your face. Alhaitham snickers a bit, finding the way you pout at his shortcomings to be quite…endearing. Cute even.

“And you have a tendency to buy too much groceries for the week.” He retorts, clearly a little more at ease, finding it quite fun to rile you up. It works, watching you gawk at him in what can be interpreted as mock offense.

“That’s because I-”

“Want to make sure we are all well-fed.” Alhaitham finishes, seeing the way you almost seem embarrassed by his response. Turns out, as much of a wild card as you are, the Scribe has taken a liking with your spontaneous driven decisions to go out. Maybe he did like the way you brewed coffee for them, or the way you dance to yourself while you clean, or the way you mutter a string of curses when an inconvenience hits you. Maybe he did enjoy the way you went out of your way to “annoy him” during the day at the House of Daena, or the way you include a tiny note and doodle when you make him lunch, or the way you practically launch yourself when you hug someone. Although he always saw Kaveh so easily affectionate and doting towards you, and how you willingly reciprocated, Alhaitham cannot help but wonder if there’d be a space for him too. If there’d be a time where those short bursts of your energy would be prolonged. If this would synthesize into something that benefits you both. However, he opts to not tell you this just yet. He wouldn’t want you to know this all anyway, knowing it will be in the back of your head if he does. So he opts to let you find it out for yourself.

“Look, Y/N,” he starts, sighing a bit. He tilts his head to the side as he also leans against the cushion of the couch. “I’m not going to coddle you or sugarcoat things for you in regards to your work or your shortcomings, but I am trying to help. I want to take care of you because I…well…you know, care about you. I hope this is something you can stomach for the time being.” You cannot help but soften your own gaze too, feeling a little warm from Alhaitham’s current doting tone despite saying things in a crude manner. However, you can see that if you two ever tried to meet in the middle, you’d be quite a powerful pair. You can see the potential of how you two can flourish with his rationality balancing out your passionate personality. You appreciate him for his honesty anyway, and his ability to tell things “as is”, and the type of person everyone needs to truly assess their growth would be a truthful person like Alhaitham.

“Hmm, I surely won’t be able to stomach this whole thing tonight. It’s definitely flipped my worries about…well, us.” You say, a shy giggle leaving your lips as you point between you and him. “I cannot help but wonder what to do next knowing this now.” You admit, a small smile given towards him.

“Maybe this is just one of the few things you don’t wonder about. Maybe you should just let time tell. We are on the same page after all, don’t you think?” He asks, his gaze a little softer towards you, a slight smile on his face. If you looked hard enough, you can argue the aloof Scribe looked…hopeful.

You cannot help but smile wider, your eyes crinkling as your excitement is displayed on your face. “Hmm, I suppose you’re right. We’ll just see.” You conclude softly, nodding to show the satisfaction of where things are now.

Alhaitham seems to reciprocate, letting himself fully rest as he sits on the couch with a small hopeful smile on his face. Many people tend to be wary of talking to Alhaitham, being simply too afraid or thinking they won’t get along with him. But when it comes to you? He’s more than glad that you have been quite the opposite.

If you liked this, please comment and/or reblog! Writers like me appreciate it! ❤️

#rose writes #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x gn!reader #genshin impact angst #genshin impact fluff #alhaitham fluff

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eddies-house · 7 months

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Smoke Signals

Chapter Eight - Sweet as Apple Pie

W/C: 6.9K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Honesty ensues well into the quiet hours of Halloween.

A/N: this chapter is so full of dialogue....do y'all prefer a lot of dialogue throughout chapters or more scenery descriptions? Or a good amount of both?

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The living room was only illuminated by the flashing, gory scenes from the TV playing A Nightmare on Elm Street. It wasn’t your first choice and you had made that clear as you talked your way through the intense parts, keeping your focus on the popcorn bowl in your lap as you scavenged for a melty M&M. You preferred something more lighthearted but your unintentional guest insisted that with it being Halloween and all, it was ‘like the law’ to watch a horror movie. Perhaps you were somewhat okay with it, at least you didn’t have to pretend to have fun at a party and you were in fact cozied up on the couch watching a movie while eating your Halloween candy like you’d longed for in the first place. The only difference was the blood and violence playing out on the screen that you hadn’t planned to endure.

“You’re not even paying attention.” Eddie tosses a pillow your way, sending popcorn and M&Ms tumbling all over your lap.

“Eddie!” You scold.

When you glare at him, you’re met with an expression that can only be recognized as the kind someone exhibits when doing all they can to contain their laughter. Crinkled eyes and pursed lips ready to explode in a fit of boyish giggles. He wasn’t drunk anymore, no longer able to escape your incessant teasing should you choose to hold it over him.

A handful of popcorn mixed with candy is flung at him, a piece successfully clinging to his hair and several M&Ms rolling down his chest into the crevices of the couch that would never see the light of day again. There’s no ignoring the adorable pout on your lips and the way you’d become such a stubborn thing from the smallest inconvenience.

“Haven’t I been through enough tonight?” He frowns, dramatically picking the snack out of his hair to toss it toward you, landing somewhere on the rug below for you to some day clog your vacuum with.

Ignoring his question, the bowl is abandoned on the coffee table, movie long forgotten about as you bring your legs up to your chest and shift your eyes directly to him. Beneath his remaining eyeliner, you can make out the exhaustion forming under his eyes, bags growing more intense with every waking hour, his chapped lips parted ever so slightly as the light from the TV flashes over his features.

You begin to feel selfish for changing into your fluffy pajamas earlier, your pants a checkered orange and black pattern while you opted to wear a well loved gray t-shirt with faded letters that could barely be made out anymore. Eddie remained in his black jeans and tattered cut off, his jacket that previously adorned your shoulders hung snugly on the hook near the door.

There was no way you had anything that would accommodate his long legs although you could probably get by with offering him one of your larger shirts. You wonder if his skin is covered in goosebumps or if he tends to run hot and remain unbothered by the chilliness of your home. Embarrassingly so, you hadn’t learned how to use the fireplace yet. Blankets were a necessity and you found yourself cuddling up with nearly five at a time as the weather grew more frigid.

“I meant to ask, what is your costume? Yourself?” You question. An attempt to ease into offering him something warmer to wear as well as genuine curiosity.

“No?” He leans forward laughing, his attention bouncing between you and the movie. “Ozzy. Ozzy Osbourn.” He states proudly.

His tattoos draw you in as he brings his arms up to cross over his chest, his posture uncharacteristically comfortable on the opposite end of your couch. You were sure he was almost sober so it must have been sleep deprivation allowing him such luxury. A laugh bubbles in the back of your throat as you process his costume, something so convenient as it was practically his actual wardrobe, only a tad more revealing than what you were used to him wearing.

“What, so you just smudge some eyeliner on and you're Ozzy?” You giggle.

“Oh.” He scoffs. “And you put your hair in pigtails and you’re Dorothy?”

“Um, no?” You cock a brow. “A lot of work went into my costume. It just looks like you shredded up your poor shirt and smudged black all over your eyes.”

A giggle vibrates through his body, an actual giggle, almost a squeal as he buries his head in his hands. Another postcard for the space in your brain that was becoming larger with each interaction.

“Also, aren’t you cold? I’m fucking freezing and I’m covered in layers–”

Eddie continues to laugh, the image of a slap happy boy becoming clearer and clearer. His heavy hand makes contact with his thigh, deep chuckles following as you study the crows feet forming at the corner of his eye. Extra prominent tonight.

“I am–I’m fucking cold.” He throws his head back.

It’s contagious, the energy lingering in the air as you join in. You’re unaware of what’s so funny; it seems the mundane act of being alive is hilarious.

Tears threaten to spill, the kind that don’t come around very often; the kind that hold pools of joy, seas of dopamine longing to spill down your cheeks. A salty mess that would paint the prettiest memory, glossy eyelids and parted lashes more immaculate than any piece of art Eddie could imagine. Before you can allow him to indulge in such a sight, fat tears of euphoria are sucked back in, any excess wiped on the pads of your fingers.

“Do you…want a shirt? I-I dunno if I have any that’ll fit comfortably but…if you’re cold? Or I might have a sweatshirt!” You hop up, recovering from your fit of laughter in your moment of realization.

You don’t give him time to answer, immediately retreating to your room. His heart feels as if it's gnawing through his chest at the way you worry about him; the fact that you would even be concerned for his well being is still something he would never get used to. Not many people have offered him that courtesy throughout his life, always equating his family name to something undeserving of any friendly gesture.

When you return, an oversized navy blue sweatshirt in hand with a grin on your face, he swears his heart convulses on the spot. And when your fingers brush against his as you offer it to him, his lungs are rendered breathless, the desire to linger a little longer pulling him in like gravity. Your soft skin against his rough fingertips is enough to mess with his brain chemistry, reducing him to a useless man at your mercy, though he’d never admit it. Not because he didn’t want to but because he was him, and why would someone as delicate and kind hearted as you ever settle for someone as damaged and twisted as him?

Someone so dainty, so lovely, would never in a million years look at him and find him desirable.

When he thanks you, it comes out as an ungrateful mumble, his eyes suddenly glued to his lap in insecurity. That look on his face that you’d come to recognize, a look of absence. His mind fed on him and sucked him dry of emotion, eyes blank and devoid of the life that just seconds ago they were so full of.

“You okay?” You ask, a gentle approach, voice velvety soft with hints of concern.

He doesn’t give you a verbal answer, only nodding while his gaze stays on his lap, the sweatshirt held weakly between his ringed fingers. His silence is reason enough to believe that it was a lie. You just couldn’t put your finger on what exactly had happened in the time you’d left the room to you handing him an article of clothing.

“Do you want…to go to sleep?”

The question pierces his doughy brain, stuffed with self depreciation and alienation, only a smidge of room available to process your words. But even as the words puncture his thoughts, the self hatred won’t deflate fast enough. So he stares. He stares at you, those big chocolatey eyes dipped in sadness and self loathing, the ambience now melancholy. An ache seeps into your chest, traveling up your throat and stinging your eyes at the sight of such a sorrowful man who had just moments ago blessed your ears with his deep laughter and looked at you with such glee. Suddenly he was gone and once again, he was chasing his inner monologue, you could tell by the way he stared off into the distance, how he had removed himself from the room momentarily.

“Hey, what’s going on?” You crouch in front of him, the blue light from the TV the only thing allowing you to map out his features.

“Nothing.” He whispers, snapping out of his trance.

His irises warm up, only slightly, but you can still make out the muted glaze cast over them leftover from his moment of despair. He isn’t out of the woods yet.

“I-I’m fine. Sorry, was just…thinking.” He mutters, slipping the sweatshirt over his head, the material fitting comfortably over his torso, hair now frizzier than before.

“What are you thinking about?”

You almost lose him again, thoughts swallowing him and nearly drowning him right before you. But the touch of your hand over his pulls him out, a token of your kindness. A wordless reassurance that reels him back in.

“Everything.” He sniffles, head shaking as if to ward off the waterworks.

Eddie doesn’t let any tears fall, withholds them. Forces them back into his tear duct, regretting the vulnerability he was further pushing onto you.

“Like what?” You gently push, thumb stroking over the back of his hard working hand.

Moments follow your question, contemplation behind his gaze while he hesitates. The world seemed to never be patient enough for him. So you would.

For him, you would.

As the gap of silence grows larger, you only give him more encouragement in the form of your thumb continuing to stroke his knuckles, your stare soft on his profile. There was no rush, not when he’d just hours ago welcomed you into his tortured past. Not when his nose crinkled as his eyes grew wet again, lashes coated and lip bitten between his teeth anxiously.

“Um–” He chokes out, not a single tear allowed past his waterline.

You offer a squeeze of your hand, sympathy pouring from your touch into him. He only tenses up at the sentiment, its effect foreign to him.

“I should go.” Dragging his hands down his face, he’s puzzled when you stop him from standing.

“Eddie.” You maintain eye contact with him, even as his eyes dart around the room, you attempt to keep him focused on you. “I don’t know what’s bugging you but…it can’t be anything crazier than what you’ve told me tonight.”

Uncertainty pools in his dark irises, honey hues nearly gone in the almost-dark room. The TV lighting only offers you the tiniest crumb of espresso and swirling caramel that usually brought him to life. Though, you aren’t entirely sure they’d even be there had you turned the lights on, his grim demeanor clearly yanking away any happiness he had experienced moments prior.

“I-I–why…why are you trying to help me?” He struggles to get the question out, appearing to be engaged in an internal battle, almost as if he was blindly attempting to make his way back to you, his mind holding him hostage.

You can’t hide the surprise taking over your face, the utter horror at the fact that he would ask such a thing. Maybe he regretted sharing everything now that he was allegedly sober again? But that didn’t change your feelings on the topic, you cared. Whether he word-vomited due to his scattered brain thriving off the alcohol or whether he was stone sober, his feelings mattered to you and you wanted him to know it.

“Because you’re a person, Eddie.” You begin, once again taking his reluctant, clammy hand and draping your touch over his knuckles. “Any person deserves compassion. So what’s bugging you? I won’t judge. Promise.”

Holding your pinky out, an empathetic smile paints your lips.

“Pinky promise.”

Within seconds his eyes go from dark discs of despair to those famous honey pools of fondness. You take note the way he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his pinky around yours, warmth blossoming in your chest and spreading all throughout your body. And if he needs another moment of quiet after that, he doesn’t communicate it but you gladly welcome it.

My feelings. My feelings are bugging me. Taking me hostage.

It’s what he wants to say but realistically he shoves the dreadful words into the back of his throat as he comes up with something else, another way to convey his thoughts without simply outing himself, making a fool out of himself that you would surely laugh at.

“I-uh, I’m not very good at this.” Eddie tries to escape the conversation.

To be fair, he did the same thing with his therapist, it wasn’t anything personal. It was his own flaw. But you may have better luck than his therapist, he regrets. Simply because he would become something he didn’t want you to see him as: an emotionally stunted boy with too many complicated feelings, love drunk on the first girl who had given him more than the time of day. Just because you were nice to him, didn’t entitle him to reciprocated feelings.

“That’s okay. I don’t think anyone is.” You whisper.

Eddie’s eyes shut tightly, his thoughts too painful to voice yet he forces them out–or rather they claw their way out of his throat the second he looks into your begging eyes. Wordless pleas reach out to him as his brain threatens to shut down any and all communications.

“I just–I don’t…I shouldn’t even be here.” He sighs deeply. “I-I don’t deserve to be here.”

At his admission, you find it difficult to voice anything comforting. Any words you had waiting for him were swallowed at the raw emotion he was displaying. The look on your face forces him to continue, he needs to fix the situation but he fears he may just make it worse and chase you further away. He had been digging his own grave for some time now, never learning when to just stop and lay in it.

“Chrissy–um, Chrissy.” He whispers, eyes fluttering shut.

None of it made sense and he was trying his hardest to wrap things back around and allow you to make the connection in your head.

“You–you remind me of…C-Chrissy.” A tear trails down his cheek, his hand rapidly wiping it away as he pathetically attempts to repair the conversation.

Instead of offering another squeeze to his hand, you make your way onto the couch next to him, thigh dangerously close to his as you run a hand up and down his back. You expect the discussion to end there but he only continues.

“And–and that scares me. Cause, it-it should’ve been me, I should’ve been dead–I should be dead!” Eddie’s face grows more red, the topic clearly weighing heavy on his heart. “I can’t–I can’t do it again.” More tears flow down his tinted cheeks, uncontrollable at this point.

“It feels–it feels l-like it’s going to–to happen again.” He becomes more and more worked up, barely breathing while he rushes the words out in one breath. “Like–like the universe or some shit i-is gonna punish me.”

Your eyes sting, that uncomfortable frown beginning to pull at the corners of your mouth as you watch him self destruct before you. Something you’d never ask of him though he was voluntarily spilling the contents of his bleeding heart into your hands.

“Okay, okay.” You begin to soothe.

“I d-don’t get good things.” “G-good things don’t–don’t happen to me.” He hiccups.

“Shhh, you don’t need to get upset with yourself.”

Bravely, you go to use the corner of a nearby blanket to blot at the tears trailing down his face to which he flinches away, shaking his head. That alone would normally be enough to send you to the other side of the couch, bashfully avoiding eye contact until he took the initiative. But something within you realized that he shouldn’t be left to take the initiative. Not when he was displaying such pain, such vulnerability that you were convinced not many people had ever seen.

“God, so pathetic.” He utters under his shaky breath.

“Hey.” You softly scold, hand wrapping around his forearm. He doesn’t flinch at your advances this time. “You are not pathetic.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Eddie.”

“Don’t throw me a pity party.” He grits.

“I am not throwing you a pity party. Stop that.”

It’s out of character, the way you stand up to him. If it were anyone else you probably wouldn’t have made it this far into the conversation but you can feel your blood boiling as he dismisses his emotions. You can’t sit by and allow him to continue throwing punches at himself. Your sudden anger appears to silence him, his glassy eyes glancing at you in disbelief but still obeying your demand.

“I’m being a hypocrite but I-I just…stop.” You whisper, the devastated look on your face enough to bring him to his knees if he were standing. Instead he remains seated with his focus solely on you.

“I know…” You search for the right words. “I know what it’s like to feel like you don’t deserve good things.”

Eddie doesn’t interject your speech, only listens intently with sad eyes and wet cheeks. He doesn’t deserve the time day let alone your dedication to his sorrows and worries.

“I, um, I grew up practically raising my siblings.” You begin to explain. “And, um, that responsibility really makes it feel like your needs come last. And it just gets worse and worse as the years go on because…it’s hard. Feeling emotionally neglected while tending to everyone else’s emotions.”

His gaze doesn’t once wander, completely devoted to you, to your story. There’s not an ounce of judgment seeping out of him. The familiar feeling you were so used to when you opened up every once in a blue moon where you felt deeply misunderstood and silently criticized was nowhere to be found. All you could make out was pure empathy. Compassion. Curious brown eyes searched into your soul, not just scraping the surface but fully diving into the depths you so willingly lead him to.

“I-I don’t know what it’s like to lose someone like that–like you did Chrissy.” You tread carefully, as if you were afraid to even mention her name. “I mean–I lost my dad recently but…I didn’t witness anything and it was because of health issues. We weren’t close and I actually…really hated him.” You nod, staring meanly into the carpet.

“But, I, um, I know what it’s like to keep people out. It’s not fun but it’s all we know isn’t it?” You chance a laugh, earning you the tiniest upturn of his lips. “And I mean, things are fine with my siblings and my mom, I guess. But it still feels like I need to shut them out. To protect their emotions. And for some reason it just…makes sense to leave them out of it? I dunno.” Your voice trails off, confidence wavering.

“It does make sense.” Eddie speaks up, voice scratchy.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” He bites his lip, canine digging into his own flesh before releasing it to speak again. “Feels like they wouldn’t get it. Or they shouldn’t have to. At least that’s how it feels with Wayne. I know I can tell him anything but…why bother him with all the shit going on in my life when the man has already gone through hell because of me?”

He takes in a deep breath before sighing and continuing. “Fuckin’ had to raise a kid that wasn’t even his.”

There’s a certain disappointment to Eddie’s tone, a condescending scowl splayed across his face, only directed at himself as he twists his rings around his fingers.

“Um.” He pipes up again, seeming to snap himself out of a trance he’d lured himself into. “‘Nough about me.” A smile spreads over his pretty lips, not a genuine one.

“Eddie.” Like silk, your tone is soft.

“Stop doing that. You don’t have to do that. Not around me.”

His chest deflates with an exhale, his pretty eyes still wet and wandering around the room. There’s a lost child hidden within them, someone desperately trying to cling to the current adult reality but appearing to get lost in the process. That look was too familiar and there was a sliver of relief in knowing you weren’t the only one who wore it but it yanked on the most tender parts of your heart to know Eddie was suffering just the same as you, if not more.

“T-tell me about Chrissy.” You whisper. “Only if you want to.”

When Eddie’s roaming gaze finally lands on you, he never would have expected to be met with such sincerity. Not a drop of malice in your voice, not one trace of aggression. The kind that he was buried in when forced to confront a whole town who suspected he was responsible for her death. Every mention of her name was always followed by an accusatory finger and seething anger, pitchforks practically aiming for him. The worst part was he didn’t blame them. Now, he didn’t mention the hellish underworld beneath Hawkins to you and had explained that the earthquake took Chrissy with a vengeful force right in front of him. You had no reason to believe him, but you did. You could’ve believed he was a murderer as everyone else. You didn’t. A piece of him wishes he could go into detail about the horrors that once lurked under Hawkins but he’d already breached his contract enough telling you that he was attacked by “creatures”, never going into full detail and telling you that they were gigantic bats. And you didn’t seem to mind, never pushing for further explanation, only taking what he was willingly giving to you.

“I…” He begins. “I…she…she was…”

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to–”

“No.” He whispers. His fingertips swipe underneath his eyes, collecting a fair amount of running eyeliner. “I-I uh, I want to.” He nods to himself.

“Chrissy was uh, was one of the good ones. Not a mean bone in her fuckin’ body.” Eddie starts. “Even if she was in the ‘popular crowd’ she never bullied anyone. She thought I was mean and scary at first but…she never…she never showed it. She’d wave to me every now and then.” He laughs at the memory, only making your soul ache.

“Now that I think about it, maybe she only waved because she was scared of me.” He chuckles in self deprecation. “Can’t blame her. Everyone’s scared of me. Always have been.”

“I’m not.”

Your sudden interruption has his brows knitting together, a softness overcoming his eyes. He was a mess of a man and you continued to tend to him as if he was deserving of any of your attention. He wasn’t, and he truly believed that.

“What?” Eddie attempts to buy some time, stupidly racking his brain for something of some kind of intelligence.

“I’m not scared of you.”

“I–thought you were. I mean, I wasn’t exactly…nice to you when you first moved in. I yelled at you all the time–you don’t have to lie to me.”

“I used to be, yeah. I’m scared of practically everyone before I get to know them so it wasn’t just you. But I’m not anymore.” You explain honestly. “Keep telling me about her. If it’s not too much. She sounded like she was a lovely person.”

“Yeah. Yeah, she was. Had a crush on her for like forever. Like since middle school when we kinda hung out at the talent show.” Suddenly, he’s shaking his head again, as if to erase his previous thought. “It’s stupid. ‘M twenty four and I’m whining about–”

“Stop.” You whisper, a bold hand squeezing at his knee. The action sends his nerves into a frenzy.

“Nothing you say is stupid.”

No one has ever been so patient, so accommodating over his feelings and deepest tragedies showcasing themselves in his darkest hours. It’s strange enough that he begins to wonder if someone is pulling a prank on him. If he’s being played like a violin only to be laughed at when the curtain is pulled back. He couldn’t help it, it was all he had come to learn after all. Eddie knew you didn’t have it in you to commit such a heinous act against another individual but his mind had been poisoned time and time again, only sending him into a spiral of ‘what-ifs’ any time positivity lingered just out of his reach to grasp if he was brave enough.

“I barely even knew her.” He seemingly gives up, hand lightly smacking down on his thigh. Your touch remains on his knee, burning a hole into his bones as he stares at it.

“That’s okay. You clearly care about her.”

It makes him want to scream, the way you validate every sentence he utters out. It’s not what he’s used to, his therapist never even gives him this amount of attention. And it’s not fair that a soul like yours had been damned to hear his problems and witness everything that made him ugly. Eddie was convinced that his soul was tainted and if he imagined what it looked like, it was an inky black stain on reality with hardly any signs of life. If he only knew that in the two months you had known him, he was the most vibrant and adoring soul you had ever come across.

“I–we just–we really connected. Right before she died.” He manages to struggle through his mind demanding that he internalizes his thoughts. “It felt–good. She saw me…for me. Instead of some–some motherfucker that poisoned the town’s precious ecosystem and she didn’t see me as…a freak.”

You offer a nod, an encouragement for him to keep going. His heart that he kept locked up tight in his chest had been slowly oozing out of him, trickling into your living room.

“She, um, she had a boyfriend. Jason.” He clears his throat, staring at the ceiling. “He was an asshole. Not to her, he treated her real nice. But when Chrissy wasn’t around he was a douchebag. Started a manhunt for me when shit went down. He thought I—he–he thought I killed her and—and sacrificed her?” Eddie almost questions, as if he couldn’t believe his own words.

“All because…I was the leader of a Dungeons and Dragons club.” He admits bashfully. You only let your thumb glide over the rip in his jeans, a comforting gesture. “Everyone, uh, thought it was a cult. Satanic panic and all that shit.”

“That’s fucked.”

“I agree. Super fucked. Especially because it dragged everyone down with me. Dustin basically put his life on the line for me, I’ll never be able to make it up to him.”

As he expresses his gratitude, Eddie pulls his right arm out of the hoodie sleeve, pulling the material up to display his bicep to you. The one with the very badly doodled character, somewhat resembling a gnome.

“But…” He drags out, slapping the ink proudly. “This did really excite him at least.”

You examine the drawing, taking his bicep in your hand without a second though as you try to determine exactly what you were looking at. You didn’t want to offend him but you genuinely couldn’t make out the picture. It was messy and scribbly and could have been created by a five year old. “Eddie, I’m sorry but–what is it?”

“Dustin drew it. It’s his D&D character.”

“Oh!” You smile brightly.

“You don’t have to pretend it's good, he’s a shit artist.”

“Not shit. Just…inexperienced…maybe?” You joke, wincing at your own words.

“Very.” Eddie confirms. “Dustin’s more of a brains kinda guy. Gareth and I took care of all the artwork, y’know like logos for the club and our band–”

“You had a band?” A grin sneaks past your lips.

“I–uh–yeah.” He admits with defeat, his shoulders slumping.

It’s only then that you realized you still had been tracing your fingers over the inked drawing, not one protest stopping you from doing so. In fact, Eddie only glanced down briefly and smiled, his cheeks tinting pink. It wasn’t clear whether it was because of your touch or because of embarrassment.

“Hang on, when did this all end up being about me?” He glares at you with mock anger.

“No, no, no. Don’t turn this around. What was your band’s name?”

“Jesus Christ.” He whispers, distress evident in his tone though his face only conveys amusement.

Eddie didn’t have to entertain the playful conversation that had suddenly engulfed the two of you. He didn’t have to banter back or let you touch his arm. He didn’t have to talk about Chrissy even though his mind was plaguing him and he was the one who brought her up. Nothing was required of him and you made sure he was aware of that.

But oh, how you reveled in his endearing blanket of an aura as he allowed you to peek behind the oh so heavy curtain that hid his deepest and most tragic thoughts.

–

Marvin’s Grocery had become more and more familiar with your frequent trips over the weeks. You were determined to perfect an apple pie recipe that would make anyone melt at the taste. Donnie had extended an invite to her famous Thanksgiving dinner and though it was weeks away, preparations were still under way, your oven enduring more use than it ever had in its short lifetime.

Guilt ate away at you as you placed the freshly baked pie on the counter to cool. You didn’t want to be an intruder but Donnie was so insistent when gracing you with the plans back at the supermarket. It would be your first Thanksgiving away from home and you were set on spending it alone, preparing to create a one person feast and pig out all by your lonesome. Now, you were going to be faced with at least 30 other guests according to Donnie. That was intimidating enough and when you tried to reject her invitation to save yourself some embarrassment, she only interrupted you, stating that everyone is going to love you and that even your short time in the spotlight at the Halloween bash left a great impression. That everyone wanted to get to know you.

Then she bestowed the responsibility of one dessert upon you. Everyone was required to bring at least one dish, store bought or homemade…it didn’t matter as long as you contributed. You had weeks to perfect it and though you didn’t need to go through the trouble, the people pleaser in you raged on.

Cinnamon and nutmeg graced your nose, a comforting scent that had you salivating and yearning for a piece of warm, gooey apple pie. The kitchen was a mess, bowls scattered along the counter top and a bag of flour leaking onto the floor. You were usually consistent in keeping clean as you worked but the daunting task of perfecting your pie held your complete and undivided attention.

Buttery, flaky crust called your name as you finished folding your laundry. The TV blared some popular sitcom that had to have been new as you didn’t recognize it. Regardless, the pie had interested you more.

It came out beautifully, nearly commercial ready with the criss cross crust and everything. This was your best outcome yet and you only hope it tasted just as delicious as it looked. You’d finally perfected the design and it didn’t completely deflate on itself this time, a win in your book.

Regretfully, you cut into the perfect dessert, forming the perfect triangle and plating it as delicately as possible. This was your baby as far as you were concerned and the passion that had gone into it was going to be recognized, even if only by you. A quick dollop of whipped cream is placed on top, the only thing missing was ice cream although you weren’t the biggest fan of pairing the two treats, satisfied with just the baked slice of heaven.

It was too flawless, the slice had been perfectly cut and presented like a five star restaurant had prepared it. Such perfection could not be recreated and you simply needed at least one witness to applaud your work or at the very least acknowledge your newly discovered baking skills.

–

Two knocks and no movement. Yet…

The breeze nips at your cheeks, leaving you to regret not throwing a sweater on even if only for a few seconds. Your hand shields the fresh slice of pie, a desperate attempt to conceal its warmth. Your masterpiece would not be spoiled at the hands of the inevitably changing weather.

Another two knocks. A bit more urgent this time.

You can hear shuffling just beyond the door, an eager shiver running down your spine. Irritation begins to build within you at the stinging sensation at the tip of your ears, the temperature being especially unforgiving.

Two more knocks.

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’.”

You hear the grumble and can’t help but feel your spirits lift.

“Wha–Bambi?” Eddie reveals you, a shivering mess on the porch with your hair in disarray and a plate of pie in your trembling hands.

Without hesitation, he steps to the side and waves you in. There’s a certain coziness to him, his hair extra frizzy as if he had been laying on it and his eyes a tad puffy. Almost like a large teddy bear. His black sweatshirt swallows his torso although he’s wearing shorts, a psychotic move in this kind of weather.

“Try this.” You demand, holding the plate out in front of him.

His eyes only stare widely at the treat, grogginess obvious in the way he rubs his eyes and yawns. Another postcard moment.

“What is it?” He asks gravelly. It just about melts you into a puddle on his floor.

“Apple pie!”

Your enthusiasm takes him back, a surprised expression pulling at his features as he hesitantly takes it. It crosses his mind that you mentioned taking on baking recently, a slow shift at The Bourbon pulling you both into mindless talk as you cleaned. He gathers that you were at the peak of your sugar rush, no doubt stealing licks of batter and tastes of sugar as you baked. If this was the result of you baking all day, he needed a minute to wake up.

“Okay, okay.” He sighs, brushing past you to set the plate on his kitchen counter, snatching a fork from one of the drawers.

“Why do you need me of all people to taste test?” He asks a bit unkindly. He doesn’t mean it but you did wake him from a deep slumber, one of the best naps he had in a while. Probably the only nap he’d taken in a while as he recalls.

You don’t seem to recognize his irritation, thankfully too caught up in the bubbling excitement around your homemade treat. “Cause it’s for Thanksgiving and I really want it to be good.” You explain, bouncing on the balls of your feet impatiently.

An eye roll has you blushing–it shouldn’t–but it does. All of Eddie’s little quirks whether they were forming out of grumpiness or not, only made him all the more endearing. The fork finally meets his mouth, heaven about to bless his taste buds–or at least you hope.

As he chews, he makes it a point to keep a straight face, watching you squirm with anticipation being far too fun for him.

“How is it?”

Eddie shrugs. Okay, maybe not all of his quirks were endearing.

“Eddie!” You wail, hands gripping the edge of the counter.

“Alright, alright.” He mumbles, taking a step back as he swallows. The crust crumbles just right on his tongue, warm gooey apple goodness filling his taste buds and sending him right back to his childhood. The happy parts. “Really fuckin’ good. You have any more?” He asks, going in for another bite, a smug grin displaying across your face.

“No, you were being rude.”

“Wh–c’mon.” He just about whines as you steal the plate from his reach, tucking it behind your back.

“Say sorry.”

“I’m not sorry, now give it back.” An adorable frown pulls at his mouth.

“Eddie.”

“Bambi.”

Big brown eyes stare into yours, stubborn intent evident behind them. It instantly fades when you give him your best pout, your eyes shining with a silent plea. With a deep sigh and another eye roll, he gives in. It was like stealing candy from a baby except even easier as he fumbled his stoic expression and contorted his face into something more apologetic.

“‘M sorry.” He mumbles.

“You’re what?” You smile, acting oblivious.

“I’m sorry!” Eddie throws his hands up in surrender. “Happy?”

“I guess.” You sigh, placing the beloved dessert back on the counter for him to devour.

“Why you baking so much?”

His mouth is crammed with pie after he asks, crumbs resting at the corners of his mouth and whipped cream decorating his upper lip. You determine that he’s a messy eater, sloppily shoveling pie into his mouth until it physically can’t hold anymore.

“Thanksgiving. I’m in charge of a dessert. What are you bringing?”

“Nuffin’.” He mumbles through a mouthful.

“Why not?” You practically whine.

With a rough swallow, Eddie licks his lips, leaving no trace of the coarse sugar that was previously sprinkled on the crust. When you glance down, the plate is empty, the pie had vanished into Eddie’s stomach.

“I’m not going.” He says simply.

Not going? If he couldn’t go back to Indiana for Thanksgiving, where was he going to go?

“I don’t uh, I don’t do holidays.” He elaborates.

“Don’t do holidays.” You scoff. “You did Halloween just fine.”

It should gross you out when he retrieves a carton of milk from the fridge and starts chugging it straight from the container. It doesn’t. Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he sets the milk on the counter, eyes meeting yours as his elbows come to rest on the counter, his head propped up in his hands.

“Then that’s the only holiday I do.”

“You have to go.” You whine like a child, stomping your foot.

“I don’t have to do anything.” There’s a certain kind of attitude in his tone, a playful attitude that wasn’t actually meant to offend you, only to spur you on.

“You have to go or else you can’t have any more pie!” You complain. “Please Eddie! You’re like one of the only people I’ll know, you can’t not go.”

Your worried eyes and pouty lips are convincing enough though he might as well have a little fun. Get under your skin.

“Now you’re being mean.” He juts out his lip.

The look on your face is priceless, eyes widening and mouth hung open in shock. “Am not! You’re going to Thanksgiving because if you don’t then I’m gonna feel guilty the whole time I’m trying to pig out.”

“Guilty?” An amused grin plasters itself to his face, his figure returning to tower over you as he ceases leaning over the counter.

“Yeah, you can’t spend Thanksgiving alone.”

He swears there are tears in your eyes, making it unexplainably hard for him to tell you no. Then again, he always found it hard to tell you no. Just last week you and Jett begged to decorate the bar with pumpkins and other Fall objects. The only reason he said yes was because you looked up at him with those perfectly pleading puppy dog eyes, your hands behind your back as you swayed back and forth. And because you offered to use the pumpkins from your porch, the bar’s dwindling budget sure to be untouched.

“Tell you what…” Eddie begins his proposition, you listening eagerly as you lean over the counter with your head propped in your hands as he had done seconds ago. “If you make me my own personal pie—“

“Done.” You chirp.

“I will consider it.” He finishes, glaring at you.

“How about…I give you the rest of the pie I have sitting at home right now and you promise you’ll go?” You light up at your own idea.

“I will consider it.” He repeats.

“No deal.”

You cross your arms stubbornly, eyes closing as you tilt your head up in a snobbish manner. A groan escapes him, you peeking an eye open only to see his nose scrunched in defeat, his tongue licking the back of his teeth and clicking.

He lost the battle.

“Fine.” He sighs, exhaling through his nostrils in annoyance.

You don’t miss the tiny smile tugging on his lips as he collects the remaining whipped cream from the plate and licks it from his fingers. His front was faltering, the big scary dog ready and willing to fall at your feet if you just said the word.

~end~

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damn-stark · 22 days

Text

Chapter 33 Haven’t I given enough?

Chapter 33 of Sugar

A/N- I’m trying to use like 3 chapters of the manga per chapter, but bro these domain expansions make that hard! But moving forward I’ll have a chance to use less manga chapters so we don’t have to move on so fast!

Warning- Swearing, ANGST ;), fluff, violence and blood, SPOILERS!! long chapter!

Pairing- Choso x Gojo!fem-reader, Suguru Geto x Gojo!fem-reader

Episode and or chapters- chapters 226-230 (but only the beginning of 230) of the manga

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

*A COUPLE DAYS AGO*

“Can I say something like, whenever I think about a father I never think about you, but you were kind of like one and a lot better than my actual father?” You say with a teasing smile even if just under the surface emotional tears threaten to burst out. And your emotions are especially more heightened at the moment because you’re dancing a dance that’s supposed to be with your father, but instead, it’s your brother.

“No,” Satoru shoots you down quickly and looks at you with a pointed look. “No sappy shit at all for the rest of the night. Even if I appreciate it,” he finishes with a grin.

“So,” you add with the same teasing grin. “I can’t say that even if I would have loved a sister I’m glad I got stuck with you?”

Satoru shakes his head and counters. “No, but again it’s appreciated.”

You laugh softly and drop your head to smile at the ground before you look back at your brother and catch him looking around the dance floor with wonder for a moment before he looks at you with an all too snarky grin. “Considering how much you could do for this wedding in a couple of days, I wonder now how your other wedding was. Was it over the top?” He dares to ask. “I remember Suguru would spoil you even if he said he shouldn’t.”

You glare at him and then whisper sharply. “I won’t talk about my other wedding to another man with you right now. It’s bad luck.”

Satoru scoffs. “Where did you hear that from?” He asks teasingly.

“I'm just assuming, I mean we would be talking about my previous marriage on my wedding day, that’s gotta be some kind of bad luck,” you mumble, making him laugh.

“Women and their superstition,” he says under his breath, mostly just to taunt you because he knew you heard him.

“This is why you’re single,” you remark.

“No I’m single because death for me could be around the corner, and even if it won’t catch me, it could get them, so I’m sparing someone actually,” he goes on to say without sounding lighthearted at all. He let himself be vulnerable.

“Death is around everyone’s corner, no one is immortal, not even Sukuna,” you tell him softly now that you have the space to have a heart-to-heart. Even if people are watching you two dance, they can’t hear you, and Satori won’t run over and interrupt either of you—“don’t deny yourself of a happiness you deserve just because you think you’re doing something good. You don’t actually know anything.”

Satoru scoffs but he doesn’t counter. He knows you’re right, but he does bring up one argument. “You almost died after Suguru died, why would I want to put someone through that?”

You sigh and avert your gaze to share your answer that you take no time to actually think about. You just know grief and loss well, you’re great friends. “Because as selfish as it sounds, at least you were happy. It’s about the memories you made. Sure after death those memories hurt, but after a while, you can look fondly at them and thank the stars that they were in your life, that you got to share your life with them and live together. After a while you’ll realize that they weren’t meant to be in your life forever, they were a chapter in your life you’ll always cherish.”

Satoru lets out a deep sigh, and you meet his gaze and make him laugh softly—but honestly, it sounds pretty forced.

“How poetic of you,” he whispers.

You smile at him and laugh softly.

“Well,” he says softly. “I'm happy you got to meet someone else that you get to write a chapter with. I hope you can share many chapters with this one. And I’m glad Suguru was such a great part of your story.”

You grin and nod before your lips flicker down to a frown and your eyes dull. “Can I tell you something?” You ask in a very low whisper so none of what you’re saying can be heard.

“Go ahead,” he encourages you.

You sigh and hold his gaze to share a secret. “Sometimes I wish I could go back to when I was a naive teenager who dreamed for most of her day and knew hardly anything about the world. It’s only when I’m really down, but I still sometimes want to go back.”

Satoru swallows thickly and sounds completely genuine. “Sometimes I wish the same,” he admits.

You both share a small smile and you can’t help but lay your head on his shoulder and sigh deeply. You stay quiet for a moment after, but before you can finish your dance you break your silence to say one more thing in private. “I want you to write a new chapter in your story after all this is over, Satoru. Let the kids take over and start something new.”

“After I win,” Satoru says softly and confidently. You don’t look at his face, but you know he’s expressing his ever-so-bright and smug confidence. “I will.”

——

*NOW*

A slash to the jugular also doesn’t mean immediate death. You know that too.

So please don’t let this slash on Satoru’s throat be deadly.

“Gojo!” Yuji yells out mere seconds after you with just as much panic as you currently feel riddling your heart.

“Come on,” you mumble and step closer to the screen in some hopeless delusion that you could be closer to your brother.

Nevertheless, seconds later steam rises off Satoru’s slash as he uses RCT to mend his flesh back together.

“He’s healing himself!” You exclaim because you forgot that it was a possibility in your panicked state.

“But as long as he remains within Sukuna’s domain, the slashes won’t stop coming!” Higuruma reminds everyone and makes your excitement dim.

Which is good, you can’t get overly excited.

“Sukuna’s domain has no enclosed barrier,” Choso interjects. “Shouldn’t it be easy to escape his range?”

You let out a deep breath and glance over at him past your shoulder before you drift your gaze to Hakari responding. “Even if we assume Malevolent Shrine’s effective range encompasses the area of razed Shibuya, with Gojo’s speed, he should be able to break out of it in a flash.”

“No,” you cut in to explain. “His teleportation is just an application of limitless where the space between his location and his destination is compressed.”

“But in this short window immediately after his domain was destroyed, Gojo cannot use his cursed technique,” Kusakabe doesn’t fail to add what you left out.

“Which means…” Miwa trails off to let Kusakabe answer.

“He’s in one hell of a pinch.”

You clasp your hands together and return to your seat in between Choso and Yuji to try and watch how your brother will go on about destroying Sukuna’s domain while the monster keeps hitting him with slashes he can’t deflect, and has to keep using RCT for to heal all those shallow cuts—that surprisingly doesn’t cut any material of his shirt, or his pants.

What kind of material is his clothes made from?

Regardless! In the blink of an eye, Sukuna hops off the roof and tries to swing his fist, but your brother quickly blocks him.

“You’d think I’d let you run?!” Sukuna exclaims, and you start to wonder why your brother isn’t running or actually fully healing any of his cuts.

“What is he doing?” You whisper out loud.

Choso catches your comment and probes while you watch Sukuna and Satoru exchange swings. “What do you mean?”

You sigh and shift your body towards him, but keep your eyes on the screen to not miss a thing. “His cuts are still very shallow, he can use this time that Sukuna isn’t throwing more slashes at him to finish healing. He can multitask. But he isn’t…” you trail off and start to think of an answer.

Is he going to use RCT to heal his cursed technique?

“He’s up to something,” you mumble to your husband and can’t help but let a small smile creep onto your face.

“That shrine,” Yuji interjects while Sukuna and Satoru face each other after a heated exchange. “What would happen if he destroyed it?” He asks.

“Usually, objects materialized within an innate domain don’t hold any special meaning or importance,” Kusakabe explains, proving to be quite a patient teacher. “You can think of them as if they didn’t exist at all.”

“If that shrine is simply a symbol of the domain, so to speak,” Mei-Mei says, “then you would not be able to destroy it and there would be no purpose in doing so.”

“So he can’t do anything?!” Kirara shouts, “isn’t that like, super super bad?!”

You glance at them and see that they’re grabbing their face and looking completely stunned at the screens.

“New Shadow Style,” Satoru announces, “simple domain.”

A bright barrier suddenly grows around your brother and those deep cuts now start to completely disappear.

“Simple domain!” Kusakabe exclaims and Yuji follows by yelling out in surprise too.

“I thought he said he couldn’t do that?!”

You scoff and retort. “Satoru can do anything he puts his mind to, it’s an annoying trait, but it’s true. He probably just can’t teach it because he also tends to get everything right in his first try.”

“Why the hell is someone like that in charge of the first years then?!” Yuji follows by asking and you can’t actually answer that, so you shrug. He doesn’t really seek an answer so he drifts the subject back to the fight. “He used simple domain to counter the sure-hit effect while simultaneously using reverse cursed technique to heal his body. How is he even able to manipulate cursed energy while he’s still using RCT?”

“Even still against a real domain,” Choso comments while he picks your travel cup off the ground and hands it to you as you leave it forgotten on the ground—“the only thing a simple domain will do is buy you some time.”

He could use the falling blossom emotion technique, it would be the perfect time so why isn’t he?

This is all hurting your head, so you take a long sip from the tea and slide your hand on top of Choso’s, feeling him instantly secure your hold in his hand by squeezing it tight. All the while Sukuna breaks into Satoru’s simple domain and starts swinging.

However, he does miss your brother because he reacts fast, but Satoru’s domain fades away by the second until there’s nothing left to protect him, causing the slashes to hit him once again.

“Told you,” Choso follows up on his previous comment.

You swallow thickly and notice your brother doing another Simple Domain, albeit this time he doesn’t use RCT either…

“Why the hell—Gojo stopped using reverse cursed technique to heal himself!” Kusakabe points out loudly in frustration and confusion.

You albeit look at the screen proudly as your theories are starting to become a fact.

“I told you he’s up to something,” you remark to Choso quietly so only he can hear.

“What?” Choso asks.

You meet his gaze and smirk at him. “Watch,” you don’t give out the surprise you assume Satoru wants to give. “I should’ve bet you.”

“I never doubted you.” He deadpans.

You hum and shrug. “I still should’ve. I could’ve won something like a kiss, or a second to gloat.”

The corner of his lips perk up to a smile and he lifts your hands to kiss your knuckles whilst you look back at the screen whilst Ino argues against someone, but you don’t catch who.

“…Like I said, that's under the assumption he’s using cursed energy normally! Right after using domain expansion, he started using RCT at max output, which consumes twice as much cursed energy! And that’s not even taking into account the fact that Sukuna’s still pouring on attacks!”

Is he forgetting that Satoru Gojo is fighting?! He’s not like everyone else.

Nevertheless, as you continue to watch the fight you notice that Satoru’s second simple domain breaks, and more cuts slash his face. It honestly seems like he’s close to reaching his end, but then in the blink of an eye, he zooms to Sukuna and catches him completely off guard when he jumps on him to wrap his body around Sukuna’s.

“Cursed technique reversal,” Satoru announces and proves you right; he leans back and points two fingers at Sukuna.

“Yes,” you mumble happily and suddenly stand up.

“Can he do that?” You hear Okkotsu shout, which is surprising, you’ve never heard him be so emotional. He looks so reserved.

“That’s why he didn’t heal himself,” you point out proudly.

“He was using his RCT to heal his exhausted cursed technique?” Okkotsu asks rhetorically to the group.

“Red,” Satoru mutters and blasts out a bright and powerful technique that sends Sukuna crashing through his shrine, and finally gets him badly wounded.

Will that affect him completely? No, but he’s still wounded.

“Jeez. What a pain in the ass,” Satoru sass’s Sukuna, making you hold your cup against your chest as you smile brightly.

“Using RCT to heal his exhausted cursed technique?” Okkotsu still can’t seem to grasp what just happened.

“Okkotsu!” Kusakabe yells out, but the boy goes on.

“I’d like to say it’s impossible but the fact is Gojo is doing just that! A cursed technique that’s been burnt out by using domain expansion is an entirely different matter than physical damage,” he explains. “Just like when a machine overheats, even if it isn’t broken, you have to let it cool or it won’t work.”

“So what you’re saying is that RCT can repair damage but can’t cool an overheated technique?” Maki asks.

“That’s why I always thought, but it looks like my understanding was incomplete.”

You sigh and sit back down again, but out of the kindness of your heart, you explain why he’s having such a hard time understanding what Satoru just did. “That’s Satoru Gojo for you. Don’t overwork yourself, man, he’s strong, stronger than everyone, what he can do will never compare to what we can do.”

“Yes,” Okkotsu mutters, “I'm understanding that.”

“You can expand your effective range, can’tcha?” You catch Satoru ask Sukuna smugly.

But as if answering, Sukuna does a hand sign and does exactly what your brother just asked, causing your smile to fall.

“Are you crazy…” Kusakabe’s words trail off in your ears as Satoru expanding his own domain expansion and leaving you all in the dark once again catches you by surprise.

“Does he just want the same thing to happen again?!” Ino exclaims.

“He isn’t that naive,” Shoko defends your brother.

“I see,” Mei-Mei muses.

“He switched the internal and external conditions for the barrier,” Higuruma points out, and Hakari adds on to that piece of information.

“Which means this barrier…”

He trails off and Yuji excitedly picks up where he left off. “…can guard itself against attacks from the outside!”

You clench your jaw and lean forward to watch every screen carefully to look for any crack or difference in the barrier since that’s all you can look at as of now.

“Seems a bit unfair that he can just change the conditions of his domain on the fly,” Kusakabe mumbles.

You’re really starting to hate all these domain expansions! They leave you completely in the dark, you can’t see what Satoru is thinking and planning, and what Sukuna might be scheming. You can’t see if Satoru might miss something or if he needs some kind of aid, you have to wait, not long, but at this very moment time isn’t kind, it’s determined to torture you by moving slowly.

But you also know you shouldn’t let yourself feel so tortured, it hasn’t been long at all since the fight started, and there’s hopefully still so much more time to go.

Satoru has gotten wounded but he hasn’t hit the brink with no return. Sukuna hasn’t even tried yet either, which means there’s still a lot more stress to go through, and you can’t let this affect you as much as it is.

��Do you need to step out?” Choso worries over you.

You meet his gaze and shake your head. “No, no. I just need to remind myself that he’ll be okay.”

Choso nods. “He is. He’s done great so far.”

You sigh deeply and let those words repeat in your mind so you can hold onto that hope and not push yourself to a dangerous edge of deep anguish.

“There isn’t just one way out of a domain,” he adds to try and calm your nerves. “Not for strong sorcerers like them.”

You knew that but you still need to hear it from someone else.

“Either of them can break it without meeting a catastrophic end, or your brother can be a smartass and have something up his sleeve…not like he has any.”

You can’t help but snort and crack a smile at his silly comment, making the corner of Choso’s lips tug on a faint smile because of the fact he could make you smile.

“They are taking longer,” you point out and glance back at the screen still displaying the black barrier.

“I don’t think it’ll last much longer,” he says.

You take his hand again and he interlaces his fingers with yours before he tucks them in his sleeve as he hides his hands in his large sleeves, and slouches down to rest his elbows on his legs.

The pictures on the screens are at a standstill for a few more seconds before the barrier explodes, and Satoru finally shows up back to back with Sukuna.

“I should have bet you,” Choso remarks.

You glance at him and smirk before you lean over and press a peck on his cheek. Instead of pushing yourself back to your spot you stay pressed against him and watch the fight continue on screen.

“Take it from the top, eh?” Sukuna brings up something neither of you understand, and then hits Satoru with multiple slashes that harbor so much strength that your brother goes flying back.

Again, you can’t stress yourself over every wound your brother gets, and or every hit he receives, but you really can’t hold back from feeling anything but panic and stress. Just like when you watched Choso fight Kenjaku, only you weren’t expecting his babies then or married to the man.

You can’t even imagine being in your current state and having to watch a similar situation with Choso now. You’d probably die from a lack of air in your lungs, or die from a collapsed lung because of how heavy you feel it. Or your heart would explode. Either or.

“Why?!” Yuji bellows.

“Looks like Sukuna’s also changed the conditions of his domain somehow!” Kusakabe points out.

“Hey,” Kashimo cuts in with blunt honesty. “If he dies I'm going out there next.”

You clench your jaw and snap back. “Shut up.”

“You can’t try and stop me,” he thinks you’re trying to defend him, but that’s the furthest thing from the truth, even if you do consider him a friend.

“No,” you spat. “Stop talking like if this is the end. Satoru has proven he can take what’s thrown at him.”

“Hm, well he’s also gotten pretty close calls, I wouldn’t bet all my money on him, he’s proving to be a losing bet.”

You draw in a deep breath and get ready to argue, but Choso gives your hand a gentle squeeze and leans forward to shake his head.

You take that as a sign to let it go and only listen because your brother is still standing…And Choso is also right, Kashimo is not worth your time.

“I learned this one when I was a kid,” Satoru interjects and omits a technique you’ve used before, and one you wanted him to use; the Falling Blossom Emotion technique—“I haven’t used it much since I mastered my domain, but not bad right?”

You lean forward and manage to catch Kashimo’s gaze like you wanted and shoot him a smug smirk.

“Falling Blossom Emotion!” Kusakabe yells out and slightly startles you.

“What is that?” One of the students asks.

“Dunno.”

“Not sure.”

“No idea.”

“It’s weird how in the know you are Acchan.”

Yes, how does he know a secret art form?

“It’s a secret art of the big three sorcerer families,” Panda explains to the clueless ones before you had a chance to—“an anti-domain technique. Not so secret if you knew about it Kusakabe.”

You hum and continue to explain how it works while you still look at Kusakabe suspiciously. “It’s an application of cursed energy that automatically repels anything you touch. It won’t work against Satoru’s infinite void, but if you’re up against a simple technique like Sukuna’s slashes then it’s pretty damn useful. It saved my life against Kenjaku because it doesn’t tear apart like a simple domain either.”

“But you won’t come out unscathed,” Choso adds. “Remember, you only managed to get spared from getting hurt because Tengen broke Noritoshi—Kenjaku’s domain.”

You sigh and nod. “Right. Still, It’s useful.”

“Exactly,” Shoko agrees from across the room where she can smoke without letting any of the fumes hit you—“it’s enough and Gojo can heal his burnt-out cursed technique with RCT. At the very least he’ll buy enough time to heal.”

Or…not considering he proceeds to open yet another domain expansion.

“Damn,” you groan and feel a grip on your throat tighten.

Plus this time the domain grows a lot larger, as if he’s trying to capture Sukuna's entire domain range within it. But then he switches up his domain and it grows incredibly tiny, consuming all of Sukuna’s domain, and making that weight on your chest only get heavier.

And again you can’t push yourself to a brink, you’ll only freak out and that won’t be good, so instead of waiting again you get up and pass Choso a quick comment, “I'm going to get some air, I’ll be back.”

He stands up immediately, but you grab his bicep and assure him. “I’ll be okay, I just need to calm myself down.”

Choso seems hesitant and like he’ll ignore you and follow you, but he actually listens and lets you go outside by yourself.

And as much as you despise solitude you actually find a moment of peace where you don’t feel like your head will explode.

Maybe it’s the silence or the fact that you’re not overwhelmed with thousands of screens, or surrounded by multiple people. Which, you never mind being around so many people, but today with your stress everything’s a bit overwhelming.

However, when you look out at the city past the balcony, you can’t help but feel a bit…not scared, it’s not fear you feel upon looking at the secluded city, it’s disbelief.

The city used to be filled with people but now it’s all been evacuated due to the fight. It honestly makes it feel like it’s the end of the world. Which is chilling and brings forth a hint of loneliness, but also curiosity.

Is this how your world would be without non-sorcerers?

It’s kind of lovely…

Nevertheless, you turn to face the door and just look up at the white sky and get startled by your phone ringing. When you check who it is your breath hitches when you see Larue’s name on your screen.

“Hello?” You answer nervously as you think the worst. “Larue?”

“She’s fine,” he says right away since he hears the fear in your voice. “They all are.”

You let out a deep breath and now feel a bit puzzled as to why he’s calling. “Are you okay?” You ask. “Did the flight get delayed?”

“No, no, I’m just calling to let you know…” he pauses and exhales deeply before he continues. “I’m returning to Japan with Miguel. And before you ask, Manami, and Toshihisa stayed with Satori, and they will all be protected by the guards.”

You blink repeatedly in disbelief and can’t even answer right away because of how thrown back you are.

“They’ll all be fine, but now you have to fight harder to go back to Satori,” he says nonchalantly.

“You left Satori?” You ask because when you meant that you trusted your family to take care of your daughter you only meant Miguel and Larue, not Manami or Toshihisa.

Sure you know that they’ll probably be safe in Africa nonetheless, but Manami has little patience for kids, and Toshihisa doesn’t feel that much responsibility for taking care of kids, he acts like her brother, and they fight together!

“I know I’m sorry I told you something else, but I knew you’d protest otherwise, and you’d want to keep Satori here,” he explains. “Besides, Miguel wouldn't agree to fight without me. He says it’s better to fight with more friends.”

You rub the bridge of your nose and let out a worried sigh. “Of course, he’d say that,” you finally muster something else. “Just…I wish you would have told me before I sent my daughter away, but,” you groan and clench your fists. “There’s nothing I can do about it now,” you mutter to yourself.

“Why can’t either of you just talk to me?” You ask with annoyance. “First…” you trail off and let out a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, I know this doesn’t work in our favor, but think about this, who better to take care of your daughter in a time like this than family? She’ll be fine.” Larue speaks softly and kindly to try and comfort you. He tends to do that all the time.

“I told you she’d be mad,” you hear Miguel tell Larue. “You should have told her before.”

“Quiet.”

“Well,” you mutter and turn your fist to look at your nails. “It seems we'll fight together now.”

There’s nothing you can do now.

There’s nothing you can do now…

“If!” Miguel cuts in from the other side. “There's a chance Sukuna will be dealt with before it’s our turn to join, so, if we join, you’ll fight with us.”

You let out a deep sigh and nod. “Yes. If. Still…if I’m not there be careful, if I am—”

“We'll fight with all we have like we always have, for Suguru and for our family,” Larue inputs, making you lift your eyes and look at the white sky with a softened look.

“Yes for our family, Suguru, and Nanako, and Mimiko,” you repeat quietly. “They’ll be avenged today.”

“They will,” he says confidently at the same time the door opens behind you; and thinking it’s Choso coming to check on you, you peer back.

However, to your surprise it’s Kirara.

“Larue, I have to go,” you cut off your conversation and look back ahead. “I’ll see you.”

“Be careful, and I’m sorry again.”

Larue hangs up first letting you put your phone away to turn and face Kirara, noticing they have water bottles in their hand.

“Is everything okay? Are you feeling fine?” They immediately worry.

You smile brightly and nod. “I'm fine, I just needed to catch my breath.”

Kirara lets out a relieved breath and grabs at their chest. “Good,” they say breathlessly. “I saw you come outside and I got worried.”

You smile with appreciation and approach them to grab their shoulder and press your reassurances. “I'm fine Kira. There’s still so much that’s going to happen so I thought a break would somewhat calm me down.”

They hum and hand you water. As you take it they grin brightly.

“About what’s going on, I would have come sooner but I wanted to wait to give you some good news,” they add with growing excitement. “Satoru managed to break Sukuna’s shrine, and he wounded him! Which might be nothing in the grand scheme of things, but it’s process, don’t you think?”

Finally, Satoru managed to probably scrape Sukuna, and get rid of that ugly open domain!

“It’s something,” you agree with Kirara. “Thank you for that. I needed to hear it. Now how are you feeling? I need to ask before I don’t have the chance to.”

“Me?” They point at their chest. “Well, to be honest, worried for Kin, you, and the rest of my friends, but mainly Kin. And you. This is much bigger than Egypt or anything we’ve faced, Kin can die…I’m scared he’ll die.”

You sigh and watch the agonizing grief already take root behind their eyes. Nothing has happened to Hakari, but Kirara still fears for the life of the man they love. You can relate to that kind of fear.

“Yeah, I know what you’re feeling. I’ve had the bad luck of living through that fear more than once. I can’t say it’s easy. And it won’t go away until you see them breathing after the fight…and if something does happen…” you start to be honest so they know what they might face. So they can somewhat prepare for that blow to their soul.

“…You will die a little, it’ll be agonizing going on without them, you won’t know how to live, but…it won’t be the end,” you admit softly, seeing their face twist with horror because even if they like to hear you say the truth, hearing this truth is hard.

“You’ll relearn how to live,” you continue. “The color will return to every corner of the world, and your grief will be a scar. You’ll find that time will heal what was broken, and…” you pause and smile softly at them. “Those you least expect will help you realize that it isn’t the end.”

Kirara swallows thickly and looks down with a sad frown, but then they seem to realize who you’re referring to and smile. Yet you don’t see it so you quickly interject. “I’m not trying to be negative, I just…”

“I know,” they cut you off and finally show off that smile to you. “You just want to prepare us. I understand. I admire it.”

You smile softly and continue with the other matter to bring up something more positive. “Kinji is strong, he’s got luck on his side. He’ll be fine.”

They tighten their hold on their water bottle and let out a deep sigh. “Yeah, that’s what I keep telling myself.”

“I believe in the abilities you and Kinji possess, and your unbreakable spirits,” you add sweetly and cup their shoulder again. “You will preserve. He will too.”

Kirara pats your hand and offers you a soft smile. The door proceeds to open and this time Choso is the one that shows up and calls out your name with panic before he throws out his concerned filled question. “Are you okay?”

You meet his gaze and nod. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just needed some air.”

Choso still studies you to make sure, making Kirara grab your hand to put it down before they step back and excuse themself. “I’ll get back inside. If you take longer I’ll come back to update you master.”

“Great thanks!” You nod and watch them leave before you put all your attention on Choso. “You know when you fought Kenjaku, when I was watching you on that screen Tengen put up, I could barely breathe. I felt the exact same way I’m feeling now. Only ten times worse. That’s how I knew I loved you, how I knew I couldn’t live on without you being by my side.”

Choso’s face grows a deep red and his hardened expression falls, letting a happy gleam twinkle in his eyes.

“When I was watching you while I waited,” he shares his side of the story now. “I was going crazy. Besides being angry at Kenjaku and wanting to go kill him, seeing you there was driving me crazy.”

You smirk and approach him to close the gap left between you and cup the sides of his neck. “I hate watching this fight. Just like I hated watching you fight,” you say.

Choso grabs your cheeks and nods softly. “I know sweetheart. But hey, I’m with you. I was the one fighting the last time, but I’m here now.”

You let out a shaky breath and nod in comprehension before you slide your arms around his neck and muzzle your face in the crook of his neck to feel comforted by his warmth, and feel secure by his tight embrace before you have to go back and continue watching your brother fight.

“Can I tell you something?” Choso interjects seriously as he rubs your back.

“Hm.”

He sighs deeply and continues without breaking that serious demeanor. “My brother who has a stutter is in prison.”

Oh? Is he using your trick on you?

“It’s just heartbreaking knowing he’ll never finish his sentence,” he finishes and you hear the pride in his voice.

You pull back and see a faint proud smirk on his lips, which only makes what he said that much funnier, and makes your heart skip a beat before it flutters after hearing his pun that he most likely learned just to cheer you up.

And it worked, you smile widely before you drop your head on his shoulder and laugh.

“That’s just so messed up,” you murmur.

“It really is,” he agrees before he grabs your shoulders to step back and face you. When he sees your amused grin he can’t help but smile in awe.

“That one was the quickest one I actually understood. The other ones took longer,” he admits before he brushes his thumb over your lips that are pulled to a smile, and leans in to press a gentle kiss on them. “Do you feel like going back inside now? Or do you still need time?” He then asks.

“If I stay longer I'll be tempted to listen to another joke and just go on and tell you the ones I know, so let’s just go,” you say and take one of his hands to return inside.

Yet before you can walk past that door, you lean over and press a peck on his cheek. “Thank you,” you whisper in his ear. “That really made me feel better.”

Choso smiles bashfully and turns his head at the same time you do, letting your lips meet for a short kiss before you return inside.

——

*A COUPLE MONTHS AGO. EGYPT*

“I wonder what this says.”

Without looking at what the students are referring to, you share the story behind all the hieroglyphics carved on the walls. “To summarize, it's about a man loving his wife so much that he couldn’t fathom going on a second without her after her death, so he killed himself so they could be wrapped away in the same sarcophagus...” you trail off quietly and peer over at the sarcophagus of the man and woman.

How loyal and in love was that man with his wife that he chose death over continuing to live on because she would no longer roam the earth.

How stupid too, but how envious do you feel as well…they never spent a day apart after they married, and they never spent a day apart after death. Their love is endless now that it’s forever marked in this pyramid…

Your love for Suguru will always be marked within Satori, but that isn’t enough.

Are you a terrible person to admit that? To say that a child born out of love isn’t actually enough to commemorate your love for Suguru, because no matter what, he will always be gone now, and every time you look into her eyes you will remember who you couldn’t save.

“You know how to read hieroglyphs, master?!” Kirara snaps you from your stupor.

“No,” you deadpan and twist around to point your flashlight at their face. “I read up on the history of this pyramid after we were told we had to come here.”

Kirara flashes their light on you with their lips formed to an ‘o’ and whispers. “That makes a lot more sense.”

You can’t help but muster a gentle smile before you move down to admire more of the work carved on the walls. “Their children built this after their death,” you muse and hear stone scraping against the ground; and as if a sixth sense you interject right away as you sense trouble. “Put it down Hakari, we’re here on a mission not to be tactless grave robbers.”

“How does she even know?” You hear him whisper as he puts down what he has in his hand.

You smirk and choose to leave the question unanswered for a dramatic flare.

“Besides we have enough to deal with, we don’t want to get cursed now do we?” You tease and spare them both a glance before you walk along the wall to continue admiring the art.

“I’ll welcome whatever cheesy love-crazed curse they cling onto me,” Hakari remarks smugly and cracks his knuckles.

You look down at the worm cursed spirit wrapped around your neck and share a judgy look like if you're your best friend.

“Well,” you scoff and smirk. “We’ll be your smirking revenge then,” you murmur.

Hakari chuckles loudly after you didn’t think he’d catch it, and your cheeks grow slightly hot. But you’re filled with more pride than bashfulness because he laughed at something you said without having to be forced to do it.

He and Kirara usually tend to joke with you and appreciate more of your brash humor than your puns. Nanako and Mimiko have reached that stage in their lives where you aren’t that funny to them. Where they once used to find you hilarious now they can’t stand any of your jokes, it’ll pass, but hearing your students find you funny is…refreshing.

“We should keep going, the sooner we find the curses the sooner we get out…”

“And explore,” Kirara blurts exactly what you were thinking.

“Exactly,” you praise them and look over your shoulder to flash them a grin.

“You know, considering that you and Tsukumo are special grade, I never thought you’d be so laid back,” Kirara says, making Hakari scoff and retort.

“We know Satoru can be lazy when he’s not working, why does this surprise you, Kira?”

“Well Satoru is Satoru, and Tsukumo and our master are different. I just thought they’d be more serious on missions.”

You make no effort to walk out and instead walk over to where the sarcophagus is to admire the details still visible on the stone, whilst Hakari slowly makes his way to the entrance of the next passageway you’ll take.

“It’s because we’re special grade that we’re so laid back in missions,” you share honestly. “We’re risking our lives more than others, especially those who hire us, why can’t we enjoy ourselves while we’re out?”

“Hm…well that sounds smart,” Kirara says.

You turn and face them with a smile, realizing at that moment that Hakari was already out of the room so finally decide to do what you said and walk out, followed by Kirara.

And up until now you never knew how fast of a walker Hakari is when he wants to be because you can barely catch up, you have to basically jog to catch up to him.

“Hey, what’s—”

Kirara cuts themself off when Hakari puts his hand up to shush you both.

“What?” Kirara whispers out.

Hakari looks over his shoulder and you notice the seriousness in his gaze now so you lose all your awe and amusement and fall serious too. After you quickly focus on trying to catch if it’s cursed spirits he caught, you see just that, a terrifying amount of cursed energy up ahead just in the dark room past Hakari.

“I’ll follow your lead, you two,” you remind your students since you brought them along to train. “We could call Yuki and the twins, or plan something ourselves.”

Hakari and Kirara meet each other's gaze and brainstorm in silence for a moment, making you turn your flashlight off and just focus on the cursed energy the curse radiates.

But wait, there’s not one curse there’s multiple…Which shouldn’t be all that surprising, why wouldn’t a pyramid made for passionate lovers be cursed? They probably cursed it themselves without knowing.

And if there's multiple just past the passageway, how many are multiple exactly? And why are they ahead and why weren’t they where you just came from, hm?

“The way we came from must be the way out,” Kirara interjects exactly what was on your mind. “So the curses ahead will probably not be aware of us until they see or hear us, so we could surprise attack and gain the upper hand…”

“…but if we attack, does that mean somehow there’ll be more? We haven’t quote on quote triggered any alarms, they could be unaware and only be active when we trigger their defense system, so what if there’s more hidden in the shadows, and attacking these fuckers only triggers more to come out?”

You sigh and nod softly. “That could happen, and…” you swallow thickly and feel a grip around your heart. “We would expose Yuki and the twins…”

It’s not that you don’t trust Yuki, you trust her more than anything, but this place doesn’t have a fortified foundation anymore and it’s hundreds of feet tall and made of stone. This can all easily crumble down and bury you and everyone else with it. That’s what worries you.

But they are paying you to get rid of the curses that haunt this pyramid, so how can you do this without making a mess?

“Kin…master?” Kirara whispers out for your attention.

“Hm?” You probe and look over. And the moment your eyes land on them you see that two huge beetles have made their way on their arm and shoulder.

“Stand…” you gag at the sight of their creepy legs and bug-like bodies. “Stand still.”

You flick your fingers to flick off the one on their shoulder by manipulating a small whirlwind. Next, you aim your fingers to flick the one off her arm, but it starts to crawl up so your aiming is off and instead of swiping it off swiftly, the beetle bounces up and hits their mouth, causing them to squeal out.

Hakari quickly leans over and puts his hand over their mouth and pushes them against a wall, whilst you freeze and drag your eyes out to the danger, hoping they didn’t hear, but they did; snaps echo in the room and then instead of some kind of messed up figures you see glowing white cloudy eyes all staring at the three of you.

“Shit,” you hiss and slowly lift your hand to prepare to shoot fire.

However, suddenly they all start to sprint towards you, and since you’re in a narrow passageway they can easily overwhelm you. And even if there’s a lack of air and water inside, you still have a lot of stone and sand, so to buy you time, you stomp your foot on the ground and thrust a fist up to lift stone off the floor and make a wall to block them from reaching you so fast.

“We need to find enough empty space to face them, this will buy us time to run before they break out and come and find us. Come on,” you urge them and lead the way back to where you came from, finding yourself back in the tomb room, but since that space isn’t as spacious you plan to move on.

However, just before you can make it out, the people carved on the walls pop out from the walls and grow tall, and have the same cloudy white eyes, followed by rotting appearances that make them look like unwrapped mummies.

One of them catches you off guard and lunges at you, causing you to yelp and stumble back, and bump into the sarcophagus.

This makes the corpses suddenly stop what they’re doing and take a second before they all suddenly screech loudly, making Kirara and you cover your ears.

“What did they do?” Hakari asks with concern.

You don’t try and answer because you don’t know, instead, you push the students behind you and throw your hand out to engulf every single corpse in flames that is born from your cursed technique.

Yet even if your cursed technique exorcizes them all, that doesn’t stop the ground from starting to violently shake, which in turn causes the walls and ceilings to start crumbling and dropping dirt and small rocks.

“It’s coming down,” you murmur in disbelief as you snap your head in the opposite direction because you hear multiple distant footsteps approaching rapidly—“and the others are coming. We have to run and take care of them outside. Go!” You bellow and push them ahead of you first.

Hakari leads the way, and you don’t proceed to run into any obstacles in the way, but that’s because you're running through passages that aren’t marked with stories, or paintings of people. You’re running down an empty hall with a falling ceiling that you barely catch with the help of you manipulating the air within the room to keep the ceiling from collapsing on all of you.

“Go!” You shout sharply so they would understand. “There’s only so much air in this room, and soon there will be nothing. Go! I’ll catch up.”

Kirara shakes their head and they quickly argue back. “No! We can make it out together!”

The other curses are approaching fast, you can hear their footsteps get louder, and this ceiling is only getting heavier to keep up as more stone falls on it.

“If I drop this the entire room falls before either of you can make it out, but I can hold it up and walk out alone. I can’t move air through all your lungs, just mine, you’ll die. Go!”

Kirara steps back and this time Hakari hesitates to listen to you, after all, he hasn’t told you but you have changed his life. He felt believed in because of you, how could he let a mentor like you go?

“Kinji Hakari,” you scold. “I’ll catch up soon and we’ll fight together.”

He draws in a sharp breath and lets his eyes linger on you for a moment.

“Kinji,” you shout.

Said man turns sharply and runs away with Kirara, letting you use more air to hold up the falling stone.

However, you can’t say you won’t welcome death. Because you will.

Oh sweet death, how tempting is your offer because there in your realm is him, Suguru Geto.

He will welcome you with open arms and you can be with each other for the rest of eternity because it’s true, you can’t live on without him by your side.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble to the image of Satori, Nanako, and Mimiko as you get ready to drop the stone weighing you down to also drop it on the curses only feet away now.

However, like shining white lights of hope, Hakari and Kirara return to the hall with their breaths held since all the air in this room is either flowing through you or being used to hold up the stone.

“No, what are you two doing?!” You panic.

And since they can’t answer they simply ignore you, and they work together to use their cursed energy and punch through the floor, making it all suddenly crumble down and pulling you with it.

Since you lose your concentration when you’re falling, the stone you were holding up falls too, but unlike you, it stops when it hits the floor you were on. Some pieces fall with you, but thankfully not enough to crush you.

And thankfully you don’t fall to your deaths, you hit some solid ground not far below the previous floor. Your body does instantly hurt at impact, but you’re all alive. You’re alive, Hakari and Kirara went back for you. They didn’t have to, but they did.

They went back for you…

Why—no, you know why, you’re their mentor, but you didn’t think they cared so much as to risk their lives for you. You wanted to die, but they risked their lives and saved you…

“Master!” You hear Kirara yell before they get on their hands and knees and crawl over to you. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

You drift your eyes over to meet theirs and with lingering disbelief, you nod slowly.

“Why?” You can’t help but ask. “Why did you go back?”

“I know, I know it was stupid,” they defend themselves and Hakari. “But how could we let you take all the risk? You’re our mentor! We care about you! You’re special to us.”

You blink repeatedly and hold back tears even if your throat starts to sting.

“Yeah it’d be pretty stupid to let you die,” Hakari interjects. “Where could we find another mentor like you?”

You sit up and snap your eyes to him and offer him a faint smile.

And for the first time in a while, you feel a bit of your broken heart heal. Whereas before it was like you were left with scabs over your broken heart, now it’s actually mending as you realize that it doesn’t have to be the end.

——

*NOW*

“What’s going on?” You ask the group of attentive sorcerers as you return to your seats.

“Gojo’s nose is bleeding,” Yuji lets you know.

You look at the screen and in fact, do see a dribble of crimson blood running down his nose. Which means he’s probably exhausting his technique and his head.

And Sukuna hasn’t even used any of the ten shadows yet…damn.

“Domain expansion,” Satoru and Sukuna say simultaneously.

“Again,” you mutter.

And just as you came back too!

“They activated it at the same time!” Yuji points out.

“Which means Sukuna can restore his burn-out technique with RCT after all!” Angel interjects, making Kurusu speak after her.

“But has he been able to do that all along, or did he just figure it out?”

“How many times have we said the word cursed technique today?” Yuji muses, making you look over at him and laugh softly.

Yuji catches your reaction and can’t keep down his smile.

“Within the three minutes, it takes for Sukuna to destroy Gojo’s domain from the outside…Gojo needs to damage Sukuna to the point where he can no longer maintain his domain,” Kusakabe mentions really melancholy.

“Let’s not talk as if Gojo’s on the ropes,” Shoko argues. “If Sukuna is drawn into unlimited void for even a few seconds, he’ll be incapacitated.”

Your attention piques and you can’t help but chime in hopefully. “Exactly and if he’s able to destroy Malevolent shrine within three minutes Satoru will win.”

It’s really some high hopes, but you trust Satoru more than anything.

“You really think so?” Yuji asks with doubt laced with fear.

You draw out a deep breath and turn your head to meet his gaze and nod with a confident look to comfort his nerves. “I know it. It may not happen right now, but I know it’s possible. Not only because Satoru is strong, but Sukuna is overconfident. In a situation like this, overconfidence can lead to your demise with a simple mistake you make.”

Yuji’s eyes return to the screen to watch the black barrier floating in the sky. “Hm, I have noticed overconfidence leads to mistakes.”

“Not that it’s bad, it can be a good thing to be overconfident, you just can’t leave out any details, do you get what I’m saying?” You explain yourself and lean towards him. “Like you can’t doubt the weakest player, always think like they have something up their sleeve even if they don’t. Be aware.” You say and then lift your head to speak loud. “That’s why I beat Kusakabe in a card game, he doubted my skills!”

Yuji looks over and Choso’s eyes snap at the man you dragged in the conversation.

“You cheated!” Kusakabe shouts back, making you look at Yuji and shake your head.

“I milked him dry, he's just a sore loser. Get over it man it’s been two months!”

“You’re already rich, why did you need more money?” Kusakabe grumbles.

You shake your head and cross your arms over your chest. “It’s not about the money, it’s about the gloating I got to do afterward. And it’s about winning too.”

“I told you that you shouldn't have played against her,” Hakari interjects with a smirk.

You smirk now too and catch Kusakabe grumbling. This time you can’t counter because the domain breaks and both men are sliding back on their feet when they land. Only one has his face wounded and that’s Sukuna.

Way to go Satoru!

“Again simultaneously!!” Kusakabe shouts.

“Keeping us on the edge of our seats,” Mei-Mei says.

“I mean, this is just…” Choso trails off.

“Any more of these domains and one of them will give out,” you say and drop your hands to lean forward and slouch.

“Satoru needs to—” Choso cuts himself off as those two damn words are announced again.

“Domain expansion!”

You let out a frustrated huff and lean back to grab Choso’s hand since you’ll be left in the dark again.

“Just now!!” Okkotsu exclaims as the domain turns small again.

“Ah,” Higuruma utters.

“What's up?” Hakari questions Okkotsu’s outburst.

“Maybe, just maybe Gojo expanded his domain an instant earlier?” Okkotsu says.

Hopefully. Just hopefully.

You sit up as you can’t handle your nerves and use your other hand to pick up the cup and try to drink your tea. However, you’re too worried so you just put it against your lips and watch, while Choso tightens his hold against yours to provide as much comfort as he can at the moment.

Nevertheless, only a couple of seconds later the domain breaks and your heart sinks a little when you see the Zenin’s pride and joy, Mahoraga looking down at your brother.

“No,” you gasp quietly.

“Cursed technique reversal,” you hear your brother try to counter, but Mahoraga seems to easily deflect that technique and swings down his mighty blade and breaks the ground Satoru jumped away from in time.

“What?!” Satoru exclaims.

“That’s Mahoraga!” Someone exclaims.

“So that’s the crown jewel of the Zen’in clan,” Mei-Mei muses with what you detect is awe.

Awe for a beast that can—

You don’t even want to think about it.

“It’s a shikigami with the ability to adapt to any attack,” Choso says.

“You’re saying it was even able to adapt to unlimited void?!” Yuji blurts his question.

“Of course, it can,” Mei-Mei responds, making you draw in a deep frustrated breath before you clench your jaw and your hands.

“He’ll get rid of it,” Choso tries to assure you. “I’m sure of it.”

You shake your head stiffly and contradict the hope you just shared mere minutes ago. “No, you don’t know that,” you snap back. “You don’t know anything.”

You slip your hand off Choso’s and stand up to continue watching the fight in your fuming irritation.

A/N- It feels like these past few weeks have flown by!!

Tagged- @deniseabad1928 @secondary-character-25 @starlightanyaaa @notsaelty @d4rno @moonnime @kodzukein @yozora7154 @heijihattorisgf @elegantweirdorchest @natakina

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smilesrobotlover · 6 months

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Whumptober day 23- shadows, stalking, who’s there?

The only times that I use all three prompts is when it’s a super goofy and lighthearted fic lol.

Anyways Twi loves cats. So very much.

Warnings: implications of broken bones, implications of animal abuse, but it’s very, very mild.

~~~~~~~~~~

Everything about this place put Twilight on edge. He couldn’t explain it, but he constantly felt like he was being watched by something in the shadows. But everytime he looked over his shoulder, there was no one watching him. He tried to convince himself that he was overreacting, but the feeling never went away. Eventually Twilight found himself alone in an alleyway, away from other people. His heart rate spiked as he looked around, his paranoia getting the best of him as he got even more lost. The sun was setting, making the alleyway harder to see, which didn’t do him any favors for his anxiety.

Something was knocked over behind him and he flinched, pulling out his sword to protect himself from whatever appeared. But he found nothing, just an empty alleyway with knocked over crates scattering across the ground. Twilight growled and got low.

“Who’s there?” He called out in a firm voice, holding his sword defensively. It was silent for a moment, until Twilight heard the tiniest little meow. He gasped when he saw a little orange kitten wander out from behind the crates, staring at Twilight with the biggest, darkest eyes he’s ever seen. The rancher quickly put the sword away, the fear of being stalked immediately leaving him as his heart practically exploded. He gave a small squeal that the others would never let him live down, and he got on his knees as the little baby trotted towards him, sniffing his hand cautiously before rubbing his head against it. Twilight gave out another squeal and picked the kitty up, scratching its little head as it purred.

“Oh sweet spirits above you are so cute,” Twilight cried, trying not to smother it with kisses. The kitty sniffed his cheek and Twilight gave it a very gentle squeeze. “You’re just a babyyyyy.”

The kitty meowed and Twilight practically started weeping, stroking its back gently, until he heard another noise behind him. Twilight snapped out of his stupor and he shot up, holding his sword in one hand and the kitten in the other.

“Who’s there?” He called out, more aggressively this time, holding the kitten protectively. This time, a group of men walked out from the buildings around him, surrounding him. They all snarled and sneered, pulling out their various weapons. Twilight glared at them, holding his sword defensively. “Who are you?”

One stepped up in front of the others, swinging around a club arrogantly. “We’re just simple folks trying to make a living, my good sir.”

Twilight narrowed his eyes. “And what does that have to do with me, exactly?”

The leader chuckled, looking at the men around him, who chuckled as well. “You’re worth a lot of money, boy. And we got families to feed.”

Twilight growled. “You’re bounty hunters!”

“Not very bright are you?” The leader sneered. “So soft too. I knew the kitten would lead you in somehow.”

Twilight gasped. “You used it against me?”

“Of course we did. It wasn’t easy to get either, the darn mother was so… feisty.”

Fury built up in Twilight’s chest. “You took it from its mother? What kind of a monster does that?”

“Oh please, it’s just a cat.” He said nonchalantly. Twilight growled holding the kitten tighter against his chest, and the bounty hunter scoffed. “Get him boys, try not to hurt him too much.”

Twilight brought his sword behind him, deflecting an attack from behind. He kicked the person who attempted to take a blow at him, and dodged another attack from someone with a knife. He fought defensively, making sure that nothing would hurt the kitten bundled up in his arms. He deflected an attack from a sword and punched the owner’s nose, hearing a satisfying pop. He kicked another bounty hunter in the chest, hearing a loud crack as he was slammed against the wall. One grabbed the arm that was cradling the kitten, and Link gave him a death glare. He saw the fear in the hunter’s eyes and he punched him hard in the face. Soon, there were only two remaining, the leader, and one holding a spear. They looked at him in fear, and the leader glanced at the other one.

“C– c’mon! It can’t be that hard to capture him!” He shouted. The spear-holding bounty hunter huffed and charged Twilight. The rancher planted his feet and grabbed the hunter with one hand, throwing him across the alleyway. He turned to the leader, who looked terrified. Twilight gave him a smirk and checked the kitten, who was purring and snuggling up against his chest. He gave a hum of satisfaction and walked over to the leader, who hopped back.

“W-wait! Wait hold on, we can come to an agreement,” he stammered, dropping his club. Twilight glared at him, holding his sword to his throat.

“Why would I come to an agreement with you?”

“We’ll come for your friends next, boy. They, especially the smaller ones, seem easier to nab than you.”

Twilight pressed his sword up against his throat, snarling. “I’m not going to let you hurt any of them, especially the smaller ones.”

“You know, if you give yourself up willingly, I might… well… forget about them.”

Twilight tilted his head, then snorted, bringing his knee to his gut and punching him unconscious.

“As if I’d give you the chance to hurt any of them,” he muttered, grabbing rope that fell out of the crate. He set the kitten down and tied up the bounty hunters, walking away from the alleyway with the tiny feline in his arms.

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

The kitten was talkative as Twilight walked towards a farm as a wolf. He held the kitten gently in his mouth as he talked and talked about his life on the farm.

“And I tried to catch a mouse myself, but it was too fast for me and the others kept making fun of me ‘cause of it,” the kitten rambled, and Twilight only hummed in response. When he got closer to the farm, he made sure to stay out of sight from the farmers, not wanting to scare them with the presence of a large wolf. But luckily, a different pair of eyes saw him, a momma cat came running towards him, looking frantic as she saw her son in the wolf’s jaws.

“Mommy!” The kitten cheered as he was set down, and he ran to his mother while she rubbed her face against him.

“You’re safe! I was so worried!” She cried.

“I got taken by humans, but that’s ok! Because this wolf saved me!”

The momma cat looked at Twilight, and rubbed against his legs. “Thank you so much. Wolves don’t normally help us smaller animals. You’re too kind.”

Twilight booped her with his nose, and the kitten joined them.

“He’s not actually a wolf, he’s a human! He just turned into a wolf!”

“Oh, enough with your stories,” his mother scolded.

“But it’s true!”

Twilight gave a wolf-like chuckle as the kitten and his mother argued. Soon, more kittens came by, looking at the large and gentle wolf with their mother and brother.

“Woah! A wolf!”

“Is he nice?”

“Mommy don’t get eaten!”

Twilight laid down as all the kittens laid on top of him, playing with his ear, snuggling in his fur, and licking his nose. The rancher was enjoying every second of it.

“I’m so sorry about my kits, they don’t know manners,” the momma cat apologized, but Twilight huffed it away. He loved being bombarded by kittens. “I can't blame them for wanting to play on you, your fur is so soft.”

Twilight booped her with his nose and rested his head on the ground. The momma cat reluctantly curled up on his side while her kitties joined her. They all nuzzled in comfortably, some of the kitties making biscuits on his back. Twilight rested his head on the ground and let out a huff, and soon, the animals were drifting off, with Twilight feeling like he was in heaven.

He loved cats.

#originally twi was gonna get captured because he saw a kitty #cuz he will forget about all dangers in the world for a cat #but then I thought it’d be funnier if he was so protective of the Kitty that he beat the crap out of everyone trying to hurt him #like he would #lbl twi #link between links #smiles writes #whumptober #whumptober 2023 #whumptober day 23

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waterfallofspace · 8 months

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One Is Not Better Than None

Soooo I was scrolling through my google docs and remembered this little AU that I started writing (with the help of @themiseryandcompany) a few months back when I first joined snzblr~

And well, the actual 6 part story where they meet isn't finished, and reading it back... the parts that ARE finished could use a lot of editing~ it was one of my first attempts at snzfics, but I did find this little drabble/side story from the same AU~

It's not good, definitely not up to my current standards, but I did a little editing to make it hopefully readable, aaaaand since I've been a bit slow with content, I'll throw it out there incase anyone wants it!

~For Context: In this AU B/akugo is a doctor, and S/hoto is his boyfriend/a barista~ Word Count: 1.3k of utter nonsense that I'm posting because why not~

All Characters Written As 18+ In This Story, (picture late 20's)

~~~~~~~

Katsuki’s days off are few and far between, so when he does get time to spend at home, he finds that he often has a shadow.

Shoto seems to require constant contact, as if he fears that should their bodies stop touching for even a second, Katsuki would be out the door again. It would be annoying beyond belief, if it was anyone else. But it’s not anyone else.

He smirks over the journal he’s reading as Shoto lets out a breath that borders on a whine. He’s been trying to beat that level for an hour, and it seems like he’s just had to restart once more.

“It’s not funny,” Shoto starts, catching Katsuki’s eyes as he glares up from his perch on Katsuki’s lap. A half-hearted gaze at best. “I’ve been at this forever. I just wanna beat it but this one boss has a frankly offensive level of regen. I know the strategy but I keep messing up the timing.”

With another sigh of frustration, the glare is long forgotten, instead replaced by a look that leaves Katsuki fighting the urge to kiss him until all the breath is sucked out of their lungs.

“Why don’t you just take a break and come back to it later when you’re less frustrated?” Katsuki offers, running a hand through Shoto’s mismatched hair. “Isn’t that what you always tell me when a recipe I’m trying for the first time isn’t going the way I want it to?”

“Yeah, but…”

“What, too proud to take your own advice, Icy-Hot?”

It’s a nickname that came into being the first time Katsuki stayed over. Shoto had been sick at the time, and it was one of the first nights of pure vulnerability they’d experienced.

With a fever, his body gets incredibly hot, but at the same time, he’s always swearing it’s freezing, shivering to make his point. During the night Katsuki tried to get him to take some blankets off, lest he smother himself to death, and Shoto’s reply was “I’m an icy pop”. (To this day he still blames the fever talk for that little nugget).

To which Katsuki responded with a lighthearted “Oh yeah? Then why is said ‘icy pop’ so hot he nearly burns to the touch? Icy pop, more like Icy-Hot” and it just stuck from there. He normally saves it for playful teasing, such as today, but occasionally it slips out with a touch of softness when Shoto falls asleep in his arms.

“No, this is different. I’m not frustrated, I just wahh!-” He breaks off, and Katsuki glances at him to see his eyes glossing over, mouth hanging slightly open, right on the brink for a few seconds until-

“heH-! hH’KESHHiew!”

A beat passes, Shoto’s eyes still unfocused, Katsuki biting a blessing back on his tongue.

“Snff- Bless me.” And with that, Shoto’s back to the level, leaving Katsuki to stare at him with a mystified expression.

After several minutes of silence, and Katsuki’s eyes never leaving his face, mouth still slightly ajar, Shoto finally breaks away from his level to glance up at his boyfriend. “Uhh… what’s wrong..?”

“Y-you… sneezed…”

Shoto lets out a small chuckle, letting his phone rest on the couch as he sits up to meet Katsuki’s gaze. “Yeah? And? I do that quite often, you should know that by now.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes, as Shoto continues with a smirk. “And even if I didn’t, it’s a perfectly normal bodily function. You’re a doctor, I’m worried for your patients if hearing someone sneeze shocks you this much.”

“But… you… it was…. only one?”

“I guess so, yeah.”

There’s another pause, then Katsuki begins again, his words coming out uncharacteristically timid. “It’s… it’s never just one…”

The dumbfounded nature of Katsuki’s voice is enough to make Shoto burst into laughter. The joyous sounds finally snap his boyfriend out of the trance that the single sneeze had put him in, as he lightly punches Shoto’s arm.

Shoto pulls away, still shaking with the joyous tune dancing from his chest, rocking the couch with each burst. For a minute, Katsuki feels his heart start beating through his throat, mind running wild. His full laughter is so rare… I’d do anything to hear it for the rest of my life.

Finally coming to his senses, Katsuki fires back with, “Hey, don’t laugh at me! I’ve never heard you sneeze just once before, it’s always at least two, more often in the hundreds”

This earns him a very weak punch, laughter still dancing through Shoto’s eyes. “I’m not that bad!” Sniffling lightly to test the waters, Shoto shrugs. “But yeah, just the one, I don’t feel any more. I’m sorry, I’ll make up for it next time I’m sure.”

Shoto reaches forward, touching their lips in an apology for the harm that his lack of a fit had apparently caused. Katsuki leans into the kiss, but his eyes still seem a bit far away.

~~~~~~~

The rest of the day, it felt as if Shoto was under constant surveillance. Every time he looked over at Katsuki, his boyfriend was watching him, and would quickly avert his eyes, pretending to be doing something else.

Finally enough is enough. Shoto stands from the chair he was lounging in, and walks over to Katsuki who’s currently trying, and failing, to pull his eyes away long enough to read an article on his phone.

Wordlessly, Shoto leans down and rubs his nose against the cat-infested couch. Usually his meds are enough to starve off any really desperate attacks, but living in an apartment with your allergens is enough to set anyone off.

Add to that Shoto’s already sensitive nose, and it’s a sure thing that you’ll get at least a couple small fits per day. However, right now he needs that fit immediately, and his meds seem to be working a bit too well, so it’s time for drastic measures.

Rubbing his nose at all was a sure fire way to form a tickle, but add to that rubbing it against an allergen, and the reaction was certain to be quick and merciless.

“What are you doi-” Katsuki starts, but is cut off by Shoto’s breath catching, as he holds up a finger, attempting to explain himself before the fit can start.

“You... w- were... hehh- ihh... st- staring... at m... ESH’shiew-! Ishh’yu-! kishh’oo-! tishh’iew-!”

Still trying to catch up, Katsuki can only blink, muttering to himself, “I was staring…”

“huh- ishh-tishh-kESH’iew! Tishh’oo! Heh- hH’kschh!”

“Bless you-”

“hep’kschh-kshh-nggxt’shiew! hehh… hH’ngnt! G’nxxt!uhh Hh’ ihhh… hDT-”

Shoto pauses for a second, watery eyes pointed at the ceiling, seemingly stuck in a hitchy agony, caught between the overwhelming urge to sneeze, and the denial taunting him.

With a shaky exhale, and a snff, he tries to finish the sentence he began earlier, “Staring ahahh at-”

-which the sneezes pick as the perfect time to release themselves. “ihh’keschh’oo-! hH’ISH’hieww-! Staring at me. Oh, bless me. It was starting to scare me a little."

Katsuki flushes at the accusation, admitting to himself, and only himself, that there may be a touch of truth in it. He sheepishly hands some tissues to Shoto, who takes them with a wink and a chuckle, cleaning himself up as Katsuki averts his eyes.

Once finished, he drapes himself onto the couch, lips hungrily capturing Katsuki in a deep kiss, only stopping once he needs to take a desperate breath and duck another “hh’kssh-! Ihh… heH! hahh’keTSH’iew-!” into his shoulder.

“Bless you… Ya know, you shouldn’t have done that, you’re gonna be sneezing for hours now ya dumbass.” The words may sound harsh, but there’s no fire behind them.

Shoto lets his head rest on Katsuki’s chest, looking up at him, eyes alight with mischief. “Well worth it in my book. As much as I enjoy you watching me, I was starting to worry you’d forgotten how to blink.”

This earns him another light punch, but the laughter that comes with it makes his statement even more true.

Anything is worth getting to hear that laughter. The true kind, the kind he doesn’t let other people hear. I’d do anything to hear it for the rest of my life.

Slowly he lets his eyes close, drifting off to the sound of Katsuki’s heartbeat, their breathing falling in sync, exactly how it was meant to be.

La fin.

#waterfalldrabbles #because this is not a fic as much as a...#'tosses it at you and scurries away' type of drabble #it's not very good but hey! it doesn't need to be!#just a little bit of nonsense as a light apology for taking so long to fill requests or post anything worthwhile~#i am currently in the middle of a specific collab with a beautifully talented person #and I'm INSANELY excited to share our baby <333 #buuuuut for now~ have this nonsense and please forgive me for it #(i will say tho~ reading it does make me a little happy because I can definitely see improvement now!)#(whiiiich does mean that it just looks even worse haha~)#okay okay ill stop stalling and hit post #b/akugou & s/hoto doctor AU #incase i ever finish/post the actual fic theres a tag for that now

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celestialnxva · 2 years

Text

Opposites Attract

Bruce Wayne x Avenger!Reader

Summary: In which a powerful witch finds love with a man who quotes himself to be a ‘rich kid with lots of issues.’ What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: It can get pretty suggestive because of the flirting, but it’s a pretty lighthearted fic.

WC: 4k+ words

A/n: I keep writing angst and the only fluff fic I wrote was the Stephen oneshot. It’s time I added another one to the list. Also, it’s Batman with Justice League.

masterlist. | main masterlist.

Bruce had finally gotten himself cornered by a lunatic with the rest of the Justice League. It was only a matter of time when his crime-fighting days would finally come to an end. For the first time in his life, he’d run out of ideas on how to escape. Between him being mortally injured and all of the other League members being compromised due to the tiny Mister Mxyzptlk bending their reality once again to cause mayhem, there was no way out anymore. He was too powerful to counter. As death approached him, he braced himself for the inevitable and gave himself the consolation that he did everything he could to protect the innocent and bring as much justice to the world as he could.

But of course, fate seemed to play with Bruce’s life like a cruel game of poker when he watched a group of heroes he despised the most come to save the day. Again. If he had the strength to do so right now, he would absolutely be rolling his eyes at the sight of the one and only Avengers. As for the reason as to how they are here: trailing behind them was none other than the Question himself.

As Superman weakly helped Bruce stand up, Bruce glared at Question with irritation. Before Bruce could even speak, the Question was one step ahead of him and countered his unspoken argument.

“‘Why did you call the Avengers, Question?’’ he mocked plainly. If he could see Question’s eyes, he would be rolling them due to Bruce’s display of distaste from Question’s decision. Question chose to ignore the glare and gestured towards the group who was already helping the League back to safety on their jet. “Perhaps you can thank me later for my consistent paranoia coming to your rescue when we get back to the base.” And with that, he disappeared into the crowd of heroes. They all made their way towards the jet, except for one person, the one he never really get along with (yet was always secretly curious to know more about): you.

“Well, if it isn’t the one and only Batsy! My my, let me just say that you look absolutely enchanting with all that blood all over your suit!” you exclaimed dramatically while floating down to the ground in front of him. He watched as you casually sent a magical blast from your fingertips towards the mischievous imp that was slowly regaining consciousness. From his experience in working with and observing the extent of your powers, he quickly came to the conclusion that you were the real reason as to why the powerful being was knocked out and defeated. To make matters worse, Superman happily cheered you on like the supportive friend he was as they both watched you open up a golden portal to shove the mischief maker back into his own dimension. You let out a happy sigh and turned towards Bruce with a wink.

He was too frustrated and too moody right now, so he really didn’t want to deal with any of your teasing antics right now. Sensing the shift in his friend’s mood, Superman decided that he did not want to be anywhere near an irritated Batman, so he silently pleaded with his eyes if you could take him to his own Bat-jet (or whatever Bruce liked to call it).

He never thought he would say this, but he wished Superman stayed with him instead. Life was so tough sometimes, honestly.

You chuckled at his irritation. You weren’t really fazed by it when you held him up with ease. “Oh dear, it seems that my damsel in distress needs his knight in shining armor to save him once again!” you gasped out loudly before laughing softly against his ear at your own joke. A shudder ran down his spine when he felt your breath brush against his sensitive neck. Of course, he would never admit that he only let you touch him because he loved to feel your firm touch against his body, but he shamefully liked it and it pissed him off. Though, he supposed that out of all the Avengers here, you were the most tolerable. It really could have been worse, so your presence will have to do.

You gently lead him to his jet, knowing that he was probably not in the mood to deal with Stark’s attitude or Superman’s bickering with Captain America. Being alone with him wouldn’t be so bad! You could say you like the brooding bat and you don’t really mind having a jet all to yourself with him. Besides, it was probably better to keep your antics away from the rest of the group. Everyone that had the displeasure of being in the same room as you and Bats had noticed your obvious affections for him, but they couldn’t seem to have the heart to tell him of how completely oblivious he was to your flirtations, due to his desire to keep emotions as far away from him as possible.

Even if he didn’t want to address his emotions, it was getting out of control. The way you held him right now drove him crazy; he can’t get enough of the feeling of your body so close to his. His mind was constantly plagued with thoughts of you: your chaotic personality, your body, the way your costume hugged your features in all the right places, your lips, your beautiful skin. God, he just wanted to—

Bruce. Stay focused. Now’s not the time to let the witch know about your minuscule fascination for them.

When you two finally settled into the jet, you rested your hand on the control panel and casted a spell that could take you two back to the Hall of Justice. From where you currently were in the world, it would be a relatively long flight back. Being stuck with Bruce for a while wasn’t too bad, right? Sure, it was a bit cramped to your liking, but with this jet on autopilot, you had time to turn around and talk to your currently injured ally behind you. When you did so, he groaned and braced himself for the onslaught of your incessant chatter.

“So,” you drawled out before smacking your lips comically. “Word from Question is that you were in quite a predicament before I saved your ass,” you commented before flashing him a lopsided smile (that he had grown to adore). “I can’t help but feel touched that the mighty Batman needed saving from a little ol’ witch like me,” you cooed, which caused him to narrow his eyes slightly. “I had the situation under control,” he lied through his teeth. Yeah, like hell would you believe that.

You raised your brow at his response and leaned forward for as much as you could to rest your head on the jet’s seat. For some reason, he couldn’t find the strength to pull away from your close proximity to his lips. He trusted that you wouldn’t do anything too bold with him, as he had figured out by now that your teasing was nothing too serious. You smirked at him and tilted your head to the side. “Somehow, I don’t really believe that… Bruce.”

The mention of his name made his eyes widen in shock and despite his terrible condition, his body became alert with paranoia. How the hell did you figure that out? He hasn’t told any of the League yet about his identity and you didn’t even visit him that often, so how did you figure it out?

When you sensed his panic, you waved your hand dismissively and shrugged. “Come on, it just made sense. If Stark was one of the billionaires that had enough money to become a self-made hero, then surely the one upper crust social outcast from Gotham City, who actually had the motivations to become a hero, would use his money to do the same exact thing,” you assessed, leaving him completely stunned. Watching you analyze him so accurately made him realize that he knew absolutely nothing about you. At first, he believed that you weren’t really a League member nor his friend, so he didn’t feel the need to make a file about you. But now, it was clear that he had more of a desire to do as much research as he could about you. He never really had someone figure out his identity so quickly with little to no evidence to support it. He supposed that it was admirable, even though he should find it dangerous.

You finally leaned back and gave him room to breathe, despite Bruce silently wishing for you to stay where you were before. Then, he looked up and saw your eyes soften with a shimmering, unrecognizable emotion, and suddenly, he became curious as to what you were thinking about.

“Despite you being a rich kid in a bat costume, I always admired how powerful you are in your own right,” you said sweetly.

Wait. You what? You admired him?! He surely thought you looked down on him because of you powers.

You chuckled knowingly at his shocked expression.

“Come on, Bruce Wayne, you’re not just a man dressed in a bat costume. The thing about you is that—unlike Stark, you seem to dedicate your entire life to making sure that not only Gotham City was safe, but you also do everything you can to change the systemic problems. Unlike him, you want to get to the root of the problem and prevent crime from happening at all. And that, to me, is the one thing that I respect the most about you.” You paused and flashed him a kind smile. It was the most genuine smile he had ever seen you do towards him. Without knowing it, his heart skipped a beat at the sight.

“You are a wonderful hero, inside and out. You are a natural leader and one hell of a better superhero than those randos with magical superpowers. I mean come on, the last time I hung out with you guys, you saved the day with just your badass combat and heavy strategic skills!” you exclaimed, your mood suddenly shifting to a more playful one. He couldn’t help but smile sheepishly at your compliments, even though he found it so strange that you suddenly wished to compliment him. He supposed that’s one of the most intriguing aspect of your personality: your unpredictability.

You saw that you were nearing the destination and your heart sank a bit in your chest. You kinda wished that you could stay a little longer all alone with him. But the man had yet to say anything. At least, until now.

He shifted in his seat and clutched his aching stomach before his eyes hesitantly met yours. “I can see what you’re doing. You’re selling yourself too short,” he grumbled. “You were there to back me up that day and defeated those demonic armies with your superpowers.” You tensed up at his words and your eyes diminished its original joy. When he saw you change in demeanor, he felt a little bit guilty for pointing that out.

You decided to speak up.

“Ya know,” you hesitated at first, before you decided to let Bruce in on a secret. “I don’t really have superpowers; at least, not in the traditional way that the Hulk or Superman have them.” Your eyes blurred into a more somber expression. With that look alone, he decided to stay quiet, knowing that this was a topic that you must’ve held close to your heart. “I’m not a superhero, I’m a witch,” you corrected him. “I can use my magick to help others, sure, but I didn’t exactly choose this crime-fighting life.”

Considering the fact that Batman had self-proclaimed that he was a brooding mess with lots of issues, he knew out of everyone that this moment was a moment of vulnerability. He assumed that some of the League members might have felt insecure in their place here, but he never really met someone that is insecure about their reputation as a hero. It surprised him that you trusted him with this secret, despite you not knowing him that well, but he chalked it up to you trusting him with a sentiment so morally grey because of his own brooding nature. You continued. “I like to think that I am a normal human, just like you. The only different thing about me is that I decided to play with magick that I just wanted to keep for myself.” Your eyes saddened at the memory before they darkened with bitterness.

“A man named Dr. Strange had recently gotten involved with the Avengers, but he was my friend first. When we met each other while studying the ancient practice of the Mystic Arts, we just clicked and decided to stick together for a very long time.” He nodded in understanding, familiar with the practice. You looked at him before you shamefully stared back down at your gloved hands. “He was the one who told me that I would feel fulfilled if I joined the Avengers, but I quickly realized how wrong he was from the moment I stepped foot in their base. It may be selfish, but I just want to live a peaceful life, Bruce. I don’t want to save people anymore.” Your eyes shined with sadness and pain. “But of course, destiny had been called me to suffer a crueler fate, and that was—“

“to feel guilty at the thought of abandoning your life as a hero, so you stayed one, despite all the pain,” he finished, reaching out to rest his hand on top of yours so he could make eye contact with you. You made a soft noise of surprise at his touch and you looked up at him with your own wide eyes. He observed how they were filled with so many conflicting emotions that seemed to swirl around in endless circles, no doubt the same feeling you felt in your heart too. Seeing you so vulnerable tempted him to be vulnerable too, for the first time in his life. If your gaze was always this deep and earnest, it made sense that Wonder Woman had admired you for your ability to let her rant for hours on end about anything she ever wanted to talk about. And now, here you were, giving him the opportunity to let his emotions go, to finally feel them fully without anyone else’s judgment. Your ability to do this may be what he liked the most about you, even if he would never confess that to you.

His thoughts cleared when his eyes shifted to the scenery in front of you. It seemed that you two had finally arrived at the Hall of Justice. However, you knew that it would take a while for the jet to park itself in the designated ‘parking lot’ for all the cars and jets, so you continued speaking.

“I… know I’m not the one that you could get along with. I’ve known that fact for a long time. But if there is a redeeming aspect of myself, it’s that I’m waiting with a heavy heart for a chance to finally put the fighting behind and use my magick for the purpose I originally had intended to fulfill with it: build my own cottage and grow my own garden in the middle of the woods,” you explained with a hopeful smile before you let out a final sigh.

While his heart burned with shame over his icy behavior towards you, there was something so endearing about hearing a powerful witch such as yourself wish for a life dedicated to taking care of nature. You reminded him of all the good qualities that Poison Ivy had. It touched Bruce’s heart, even if you sometimes irritated him with your teasing. Now more than ever, you seemed to be more relatable to him than he originally thought.

It made you much more desirable in his eyes. It was scary how many emotions he had to repress, just so he could appear calm in in your presence.

Then, your eyes met his again. He could see that you were waiting for his reaction, anything from him that could provide a source of comfort for you. But he was at a loss for words. How quickly his life changed in just one flight. From the moment you put him in his jet, he never knew that he could find a friend in you. It made his heart soar and beat wildly in his chest. But in your eyes, he seemed to not care about anything you said, so you just decided to brush the deep conversation off and focused on landing instead.

When the jet had finally stopped, you got up and got out of the jet. Reaching up, you helped him get down from his seat too. He knew didn’t need to be babysat and taken care of, but you didn’t make him feel like it was that. For the first time in his life, he found someone that had always respected his abilities as a hero. You surprised him when didn’t interrogate him about everything in his entire life because you understood why he kept his life a secret in the first place. Finally, for the first time in his life, he finally met someone who saw him as Bruce: not Bruce Wayne or Batman. Just… Bruce.

While he was stuck in his thoughts, you dusted yourself off and guided him down the empty cave and towards the elevator to get you both to the main floor. But before you could press that button, he suddenly gripped your wrist and whipped you around to face him. You knew he was a mysterious man, but when he slowly backed you up against the wall, you couldn’t help but wonder if your choice to rant to him was the right one. You closed your eyes in fear and turned away from his gaze. You braved yourself for a hit or a yell from Bruce, but nothing happened. Instead, he pinned your wrists against the wall. Your eyes snapped wide open at his action and you stared at him in surprise. Your breath hitched in your throat when he leaned in close to your face.

“Will you…” he trailed off in silent nervousness, but he forced himself to move past his fears. He searched your eyes for any signs of discomfort. Despite your position, you more so showed signs of pleasant surprise and dare he say it—excitement. Taking it as a sign to stay in his position, he continued voicing his request while he leaned closer until you could feel the breath of his whispers against your parted lips.

“Will you take off my cowl?” He whispered quietly. When you heard his request, you gasped lightly in shock. Wasn’t he always going on about people not being allowed to get to know what he looks like? Nonetheless, you hesitantly reached up and slowly pulled off the cowl to reveal the ethereal sight of none other than Bruce Wayne. For the first time, you saw as his eyes seemed to hold deeper emotions than you had ever seen him express. Your heart pounded in your chest as you watched his eyes wander all over your face. His eyes finally settled on your lips and at that moment, you realized exactly what was going on.

“W-What are you doing…?” You inhaled sharply as your hands flexed against his. You could feel a soft sigh from him that seemed to fill your entire body with chills. This was the right time to confess before it is too late. “I’m tired of this, of my distance towards you and my inability to…” he paused as you felt his hands move up to intertwine with your fingertips. “to… touch you, to hold you and to make you mine,” he almost growled out while you tried to figure out what he was trying to tell you. Was he saying that he liked you romantically or if he wanted to pursue something more physical? You hoped it was the former, since a relationship with Bruce was something you had always dreamed of having. Having him so close to you right now was causing you to burn bright with the hope of finding love with him.

Suddenly he caused you to accidentally squeak in shock when he leaned in to breathe deeply against the skin of your cheek. There was no kiss—at least not yet. But somehow, this moment was more intimate than any kiss you had ever received in your life. And from your reaction, it made him only want you more; to continue to fluster you and feel your cheeks burn up against his own. “Tell me. Tell me that you do not feel the same towards me,” he sighed hotly before his head moved slightly back to press his nose to the side of your lips. You realized now that the two of you were here in the Justice Hall garage just a moment away from kissing and clawing at each other’s skin in an attempt to seek a sense of intimacy that both of you had never experienced before.

“Tell me you don’t feel the same towards me and I’ll back off,” he murmured. He was so close to you, to the point where you could drown in his pounding heartbeat. From the way he treated you with so much passion but with a certain gentleness to it, it made you finally realize that he really wanted you to tell him that you loved him; that his shaky, nervous breaths were not due to his lust, but rather because of his desperate hope that you might like him back. How could you not say no to him when he’s being so vulnerable with you?

You let out a shaky sigh from his sudden confession and the feeling of his body pressed up against yours. After all this time, you thought that your love was unrequited, but here he was at your mercy with desperation in his eyes for more of your touch. You didn’t want to keep him waiting, so you decided to finally make a move.

Instead of releasing your hands from his restraints, you nuzzled your cheek against his to display your reciprocity for his feelings. It took everything within him not to act out sinfully while he felt your breaths against his neck.

“(Y/n),” he whispered desperately to you, his hands gripping tighter around your wrists. “Please, tell me you feel the same way.” You hummed in response and leaned back until your lips almost touched his. “I like you too. I always have,” you confessed to him so delicately that drove him absolutely wild with unruly passion to make you his. “You mean more to me than you know, Bruce,” you whispered before your lips barely pressed a kiss to his lips. He growled under his breath in frustration from your teasing, but the next words that slipped out of your mouth finally compelled him to kiss you like his life depended on it:

“I am yours entirely. My heart belongs to you.”

At this point, he was too far gone to scold himself for feeling so strongly towards you despite knowing barely anything about you. He knew now that love doesn’t have to make sense. Even if there wasn’t a day that would go by without him being vexed by your outgoing personality, he still adored it nonetheless. He was okay with it because you were his light outside of Gotham City and he only hoped that one day, he could see your endearing lopsided smile when you find out about the cottage he had built for you both to retire in for the rest of your days.

Maybe it was cliche to think that opposites really do attract, but Bruce didn’t care. What matters now was you are his and he is yours.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #dr strange #doctor stephen strange #stephen strange #batman #batman animated series #batman x reader #fanfic #writing #dcau #justice league #justice league unlimited #tony stark #marvel

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over--and-out · 2 years

Note

Can i request an Eddie Munson x male reader who plays piano or violin (just like more classical music) and how Eddie would react to the different style of music

but its no rush man, just make sure to drink water and chill 🙏 :D

Stereotypical, Overcomplicated

Eddie Munson x Male Reader

Summary: Eddie isn't too excited to be doing homework, but you learn that he knows just how to keep you distracted long enough to keep from doing it.

Warnings: season four spoilers but not really, not proofread, fluff fluff, Eddie the Procrastinator

You weren't too thrilled to open the door when Eddie knocked, a groan peeling out of your throat and the metalhead smirked upon seeing the look on your face. "Not impressed, Darling?" It was the sarcasm that made you roll your eyes.

"I hate Mrs. O'Donnell's class as much as you do. Crotchety bitch." Eddie laughed a bit, his bag flopping unceremoniously to the floor and he looked around.

"It's clean in here." Your brows furrowed at his words and you laughed a bit. "Um... yeah?"

He shrugged in response. "Not surprised, you're usually... clean I guess." He shrugged and looked around until his brown eyed gaze landed in the piano graciously sitting in the living room. "That's fancy, you play?" He gave a small gesture to the instrument and you looked up from where you were organizing homework on the table.

"Oh, uh... yeah, a bit. My mom had me take classes all through middle school, you don't remember me complaining about that?" He laughed a bit and ran his fingers over the fallboard.

"Ah, yeah, yeah, I do. Just wasn't sure if you still kept it up." His eyes met yours and you laughed a bit at his response, causing the metalhead to smile in return before looking back down at the covered keys. "Play somethin' for me?" Once again his eyes met yours and you gave an enthusiastic nod as you make a quick waddle over to the piano. You'd always enjoyed playing, even if the lessons you had to take were annoying. Eddie quickly stepped out of the way and held his hands up in mock surrender, watching as you revealed the keys of the piano and flipped through the music book waiting to be used.

Your fingers danced along the keys briefly as a test and Eddie pulled a chair next to you to listen. He leaned his head on his palm, watching you curiously and a small smirk played on his face.

"Don't be shy, sweetheart." You gave him a small glare and smiled.

You began the tune, beautiful and classical and Eddie's smirk immediately grew when he heard the melody of your skilled fingers.

"Moonlight Sonata? Dude that's the most stereotypical-" you cut him off with a sharp high note and you turned your gaze to him.

"Well I didn't see you making any song requests Munson." He laughed and ran his hands down his chest, wiping the sweat off on his Iron Maiden band tee.

"Well I don't remember you asking." You gave a playful scoff.

"Well you don't seem the type to know a lot of classical music." He smirked and tilted his head, scratching his chin in thought.

"Yeah well, remember the three years in drama class sweetheart? Lot if it there, bunches of classical music." Your eyebrows raised in questioning.

"Any did you like any of said classical music?" You tilted your head, your tone mischievous.

He shrugged, picking at his black nail polish and he made a face in thought. When he spoke, he had that slightly dramatic lilt to his tone. "I suppose. Some of it was good, yeah. HATED that Wizard of Oz play though. The lion suit was itchy as shit." You gave a loud laugh at his annoyed tone.

"Wizard of Oz doesn't count as classical music!" "Oh come on, we were basically opera singing, I hated it! That's gotta give me some brownie points man." Your laughter grew as he continued before he gave a scoff and gently shoved you.

"Yknow just because I'm a metal kind of guy, doesn't mean I don't venture into the realms of other music." You gave a nod and gently bumped your shoulder into his. He gave a look, playful and lighthearted as he bumped into you as well.

"I know. It's just hard to imagine is all."

"Oh I bet it is Mr. Stereotypical Monlight Sonata. Your taste is wayyyyy too complicated."

"You mean versatile? Flexible?"

"Nah man just straight up overcomplicated. As complicated as this practiced judgement has ever seen."

"Is that even a word?"

"Yeah, it's gotta be."

With the playful banter between the two of you dragging on into the evening, the homework laying on the table lay forgotten, doomed to meet the fate of a zero.

#eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things eddie #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x male reader #fanfic #fluff #eddie plz marry me #he's so sweet #eddie munson guys

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literaryhomos · 1 year

Text

literaryhomos on tumblr;

C/W: nothing really, just fluff. maybe a bit suggestive if you fucking SQUINT. likely ooc tighnari *shrugs* :]

Now, as we may ....

Rainy, With A Chance Of A Flustered Fennec

Pitter patter, pitter patter.

The rain runs down from the dark sky above you, caught by the leaf that lies above your head as you try to take shelter from the heavy rain that seems like it should be a bad omen all on it's own.

Great. Just great.

Especially since Tighnari finally decided to pair you two up on patrol together.

The man in question sat beside you underneath your makeshift shelter. Ears drooping, eyes glaring into the scene before you, knees pinned to his chest by his arms and tail, his obviously pissed demeanor somehow makes the already awkward atmosphere even more tense.

You gulp a bit, looking around for at least something to break the extremely uncomfortable silence. Alas, you would never be as lucky to find a sentance topic around you besides the rain, the thunder, and the exact same things that Tighnari is seeing and extremely annoyed at.

Well, you gotta start somewhere.

"So .... how's it been?" It's a generic question and you think know the answer, but at least it makes the atmosphere a little less uncomfortable.

Tighnari sighs. "Fine, I suppose. If you don't account for the unexpected and extremely random thunderstorm. You know, the one so severe that we had to put a complete halt to our patrols so we didn't get flash flooded?" He gestures to the scene before you, slumping over and letting out exasperated sigh. "Then yes, everything is just perfect."

You blink a few times, taken aback at Tighnari's snappy response, opening your mouth before closing it again. It's probably best not to say anything anyways.

Well, that didn't work.

You two sit in silence for a while. Somehow, the atmosphere got even tenser, neither of you seem to really want to say anything to change it.

Tighnari was the first to speak up.

" ... I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier, I didn't mean for it to come out that way."

"It's fine, just caught me off guard." You admit. "I didn't really expect it."

"Yeah, I understand. Still though, it's just ..." He pauses as he tries to find the words. "... frustrating."

"In what way?" You can think of a few examples off of the top of your head, but there's probably a lot more knowing Tighnari. It's fine though, you don't mind.

You love his thoughts.

It's just a shame you don't hear them more.

"Well," he begins listing off the mishaps and inconvieniences of the day on his hand. "First of all, as I said, this storm was completely random. I don't exaggerate when I say that either! Nonetheless, it's very hard to plan for a flash flood in general, not knowing about it only makes it worse."

Tighnari moves on to his second finger.

"Not only that, but the rain being as heavy as it is has thrown a wrench into anything I had planned today, and likely anything that the other forest rangers had been assigned as well. This will be a massive hit to research, patrols, everything!"

You inch closer to Tighnari with every reason he finds to hate today in particular. By his third finger on his hand, though, you can't exactly blame him.

Today has been rough for everyone with the sudden storm, but for someone like Tighnari, as productive and perfectionistic he is, it isn't out of the ballpark to assume he would be a hit a little harder by the time delay.

Tighnari has always been someone who devotes a lot of time and energy into his passions. One of those passions is botany and with it comes his forest ranger occupation. The way his eyes almost sparkle as he explains his favorite plants - often mushrooms - before giving an almost-pout as you stare into them, thinking you weren't paying attention. You were, not to worrry, you just enjoyed teasing him. He'd lightly smack you on the back of the head after. You'd laugh as he gets more and more 'annoyed' at the lighthearted teasing, especially when you point out how much his tail wags every time you speak.

You always adored those silly little moments, when the cold, stern Tighnari was suddenly a flustered mess. Nobody else wanted to get on his bad side, so nobody else even tried to tease him.

Of course, you didn't care that much.

Yet your train of thought is interrupted by finger snapping in front of your eyes.

"Hello? Excuse me?" Tighnari's eyes are narrowed. Oh boy, he's 'mad' again. "Were you even paying attention just now?"

"Hm? What do you mean? Of course I was paying attention." You respond, you can't keep a smile from crawling up your face.

"Oh really? What finger am I on then?" He folded his hands in his lap, as if he were trying to hide them without being too obvious.

Cute.

"5." Tighnari's eyes widened. He seemed surpirsed that you were actually paying attention and that you weren't just staring off into the space behind him.

You chuckle. "What? I keep telling you, Tighnari, I always listen."

"You do, you do." Tighnari sighs for probably the 15th time today.

"You really should start giving me more credit, fox boy."

"Yes, yes, I kn-" He pauses for a moment, ears [?] up, glaring at you before taking a deep breath and asking you as calmly as possible, "... What did you just call me?"

"Nothing."

"You sure?"

"Mhm. 100% certain. I didn't say a word!" You raised your hands in lighthearted resignation, as Tighnari gives you a side-eye, expecting more out of the perpetual chatterbox that is your existence the short time he's known you. "Though, I do think I deserve that extra acknowledgement I commented on earlier, you know?" You not-so-subtly cover the side of your mouth twisting up into a smirk, as you inch towards his ear. "My clever little fox boy?"

Said ear twitches as you whisper that last sentance, Tighnari instantly forgetting what he was doing in order to tell you the hundreds of thousands of reasons why you 'shouldn't' do that. Somehow, the scolding gets even more intense when he gets a proper look at you, who happens to be shaking from absolutely anything but laughter.

Nope.

Not giggling at all.

You try to convince him of this fact only for the first word out of your mouth to derail into a wheezy laugh. Seeing Tighnari red-faced, his eyes narrowed and his lower lip jutted out in some semblance of a scowl, which really looks more like a flustered pout than anything just sent you over. It's too funny, seeing Tighnari so riled up over a silly little nickname.

Just a nickname.

A stupid little nickname that you came up with on the spot.

Just your 'clever little fox boy.'

After your little outburst, Tighnari began to stutter, twitching almost like you had. Before you knew it, any of his previous drive to 'discipline' you had dissipated, laughter almost drowning out the heavy rain around you two. Tighnari pushes you lightly as you push back, not understanding why he's laughing yet not being able to stop.

As the giggling dies down, you notice Tighnari smiling back at you.

"Feeling better?"

" ... Yeah."

Tighnari turns to you, ears perking up again as his eyes meet your own.

Yet you drown in his.

"I think so."

Your hand searches around, for what you aren't sure, at least until it finds Tighnari's. It's smaller than you'd expected.

" ... Glad to hear it."

Your free hand raises to meet Tighnari's face, lifing it to meet his eyes better.

Lifting it so he may meet your eyes better.

You pull him closer, inch by painful inch.

You're so close now. So, so, agonizingly close. Your face burns, Tighnari's scorching against your fingertips

You stay like this for a bit, neither of you dare make a move.

You breathe his air the entire time.

Only for an abrupt hand to meet the one on Tighnari's face while his other hand pulls away from yours.

He looks away, ears twitching, tail curling into itself.

You do the same. Wondering if you overstepped his boundaries.

Praying that you didn't.

You sit in a suffocating silence together, once again.

" .... Storm's clearing up."

You try to make due with the cards you dealt yourself. It wasn't the best draw, but you hope it isn't insalvagable.

" ... Yes. It would seem so."

Tighnari stands up.

"Come on, we need to check up on the other forest rangers to make sure none of them are hurt."

You look up at him. There's no bite to his words really, just an order that you have to follow because he's your boss.

There's no bite.

That's good.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm coming."

You get something behind you before standing up and following behind Tighnari, who's already walking away from the shelter of the leaf and into the light shower from the clouds.

He looks surprised when you open your umbrella above him.

" ... What are you doing?"

You look down at him, his head tilted in a puzzled manner.

"Keeping you from getting wet? What do you think an umbrella's for?"

You let out a lighthearted chuckle. Somehow, Tighnari looks even more confused.

"Of course I'm aware of what an umbrella does but ... why?"

He brings his hand to his face, seeming to think irrationally deep for such a small action.

"There's nothing to gain from this. I'm used to the rain, I've even coated my tail with a waterproofing oil to prevent further hassle in heavier storms. So I genuinely cannot piece together as to why-"

"Ah- ah- ah- ah!"

You bring a finger to his nose.

"Shush."

Tighniri's eyes dash between your finger and you, somehow even more perplexed than before.

You sigh and explain.

"It's me wanting to keep you dry from the storm, Tighnari. It's not something that needs to be thought about like an 1,000 piece puzzle or something. It's just a simple act of kindness and nothing more. Just- Just accept it, okay?"

You pull away your finger as Tighnari's eyes follow behind it. He looks down, thinking again. Then he inhales.

"Fine. Just this once."

He looks back at your face, smiling. You respond with a sheepish smile of your own.

As the both of you begin to make your way through the rainforest, you measure your odds and wrapped your hand around Tighnari's.

He tenses up.

You worry you may have used up your last chance.

Yet all your worries melt away as he secures his grip around yours, rubbing his thumb against your skin.

You look back at eachother, a warm gaze shared between you.

You make your way to the nearest camp.

A/N: HALLELUJAH I GOT HIM DONE. okay tbh i'm not too proud of this. there are some parts know i could do better on, it's kind of all over the place, i feel like i butchered tighnari pretty hard, and the TITLE. OH GOD THE TITLE/NEG. gave me a fucking ANEURYSM BRO. I'M ON THE BRINK. but at the end of the day i finished it and ig that's what counts? i mean 'wives' is a nyt bestseller so i can't be too bad at this. also the wc is like 300 words lower than my first guy lol. whoopsie daisie. anyways yeah, thanks for reading, feel free to req anything at all if you like my little sillies.

lmao i'm not even a genshin writer i just like tighnari send help 🧍

also technical sequel to this but can be read seperately as shown above

Wc; 1,781

#tighnari x you #tighnari x y/n #tighnari #tighnari x reader #fluff #i don't know how to tag #help me

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jmrothwell · 11 months

Note

“i said i love you, you heard me.” “oh i know, i just want to hear you say it again.” for Sweet Tarts!

This sucked. This job was supposed to be Carrie’s retreat and chance to get away from everything. Enjoy the beauty of nature and all that.

Instead she was stuck keeping an eye on the cabin’s while everyone else went on the big celebratory end of summer camp hike and picnic because she’d gone and severely twisted her ankle. So here she sat in the bunk of her cabin. Foot elevated on a stack of pillows while she fiddled with the two-way radio Reggie left behind.

Reggie had actually offered to stay with her. After he offered to carry her the whole 5 mile hike out to the picnic site and back again. Both of which she rejected. Her ankle didn’t need to also ruin his final few days.

Didn’t mean she was any less bored all alone like she was. Or that she secretly wished she had accepted his offer to stay. He’d been the biggest surprise of this whole experience and it could have been nice to get some time together, just the two of them.

She glared down at the radio in her hand, checking the volume settings probably for the fifteenth time in the past five minutes. And just like every other time before it was on and at a decent volume level.

So why had it been silent ever since everyone left?

“Reggie? You there?” She asked through the radio and was met by silence.

Reasonably Reggie could have his hands full. A few of those kids were energetic speed demons and daredevils with no sense of self preservation.

It’d be better to let him work if that were the case. He’d get back to her when he was able.

“Reggie?”

“Hey Carrie. You all good? Over.” Reggie said through the radio. His voice made the corners of her mouth twitch upward, though she could easily do without the worried tone.

“I’m fine.” She said, adjusting herself so she was sitting, back propped against the wall and holding her pillow in her lap. “You don’t need to sound so worried.”

“Oh. Sorry, I guess. Why are you…calling? Is this calling? Yeah, calling. Why are you calling? Over.”

“Dork, you left the radio for me in the first place. I’ve been waiting for you to call me first.”

“Oh, sorry about that. I got a little caught up. Over.”

“Yeah I figured.” She rolled her eyes and bit back her smile as she pictured the blush that must be breaking out across his face.

“Carrie, you need to say ‘over’ when you’re done talking or I won’t know if you’re done. Over.”

“You seemed to understand I was done perfectly fine.”

“Carrie.” Reggie whined, holding out the vowels in her name and causing her to giggle in spite of her foul mood when he followed it with a quick lighthearted. “Over.”

“Fine, fine. How’s the hike going?” She said, before adding her own exaggerated and purposefully over enunciated. “Over.”

“Well, Brydon is convinced he’s discovered a new kind of rock, Charlotte keeps needing to be reminded to not pick the flowers, and Max nearly joined you in the twisted ankles club. Over.”

“Sounds about right for them. If you need help let Chalotte know I still have some pink glitter cord we can make bracelets with later, but only if she leaves nature where it’s meant to stay. Over.”

Reggie laughed. “I’ll pass the message on. Over.”

“What about you? How are you holding up? Over.”

“There’s been a lot I’ve wanted to show you. Kind of wish I brought my camera with me. Maybe we can just come back together later, when your ankle is feeling better. Over.”

He wanted to spend time with her, just the two of them, as well. Carrie hugged the pillow tighter to her chest to counter the feeling of her heart pounding. “God, I love him.” She said out loud, a little shocked to hear herself say it.

Although that shock was nothing compared to realizing that she’d also held down the button to speak on the radio when she had. A simple twitch of muscle since she’d gotten used to the movement during their short conversation.

“The signal cut out, repeat last. Over.”

It was the perfect opportunity to pretend she hadn’t said it. But, well, just because she couldn’t enjoy the lake and woods like she wanted didn’t mean she had to completely deprive herself of things she enjoyed. To hell with ‘but isn’t that too fast?’ What was life without an occasional risk?

“I said I love you.” Carrie repeated over the radio, recognizing the smug tone of Reggie's request a beat too late. She groaned. “You heard me. Over”

“Oh, I know.” he laughed back and she was glad no one else was in the room to have to hide her blush from. “I just wanted to hear you say it again. I love you, too.”

Carrie hid her face behind her hand in spite of herself. Her laugh bubbled out of her chest as he called back over the radio.

“Carrie? You still there?”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I was waiting for someone to say ‘over,’ over.” She laughed, maybe a little smug.

“Well played. I deserved that.” He laughed, before he let out an exhausted groan. “I gotta go. Parker is trying to scale an oak tree. We’ll talk more later? Over.”

“Can’t wait. Over.”

“Me neither. Over and out.”

#JatP Sweet Tarts #julie and the phantoms fanfiction #reggie x carrie

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wenmistry · 2 years

Photo

OC-TOBER DAY 3: CONTROL

Struggled so much with the pose on this one, but the harsh lighting definitely makes it harder to see the anatomy problems LMAO. I’m super proud of the hands though, I think I’ve got a lot better at them recently.

These are some of my Line of Duty OCs, DS Ethan Layton (left) and DS Eli Dawson (Right). I’ve got a whole fanseries written out in my head that I really want to put to paper but I just haven’t had the time to. I’ll put a little snippet below the cut though, for anyone who’s interested ^_^ Sorry if the writing is (once again) a little stiff/unrefined. It’s 4AM and my brain is goop.

“Sarge?”

Ethan turned in his chair to face his co-worker, who was holding a stack of files to her chest with one hand. He smiled politely and crossed his legs, laying his pen down on the table.

“Are you busy?”

“No, do you need something?”

“Er, no, but a detective from WP just came in—he’s asking to see you.”

“Witness Protection? Is it WP/MP?”

“The man just said ‘Witness Protection’... does it matter?”

“No, sorry.” Ethan paused for a moment and looked away. “Why’s he here? What does he want with me?” He furrowed his brow.

“He said he wanted to ask you a few questions. He’s in interview room two.”

“Alright... Thanks, Rosa.”

As she walked away, Ethan sat up and threw his jacket on. He pocketed the pen and his phone, and made his way to the interview room. A nervous breath escaped his lips and he went to adjust his tie, only to realise that he wasn’t wearing one. He didn’t know why he was so anxious—this was Witness Protection, not Anti Corruption.

A familiar face greeted him when he opened the door. A tall, lanky man with ashen brown hair that was slicked back and to the sides. His vivid green eyes pierced into Ethan’s soul and he felt an overwhelming sense of dread wash over him.

“DS Dawson,” he managed to stomach his anxiety and force out a greeting, though it was unclear how well the taller man could see through his façade. “Why are you–”

"Close the door.”

“I-I... What?”

“I said, close the door.” Dawson looked down at him menacingly as he pulled out a chair. His voice was calm but stern—his tone lighthearted as if he were talking to a dog. “We’ve got a lot to discuss, DS Layton.”

Ethan swallowed loudly and clicked the door shut, but he didn’t move.

“What is this about? Did I do something?”

“I’m not AC-12, Layton. You know that.” He patted the back of the chair encouragingly. “Take a seat.”

Ethan relaxed and released a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding.

“Thank God... I was worried there, for a moment.” He laughed timidly as he spoke and sat down in the chair.

Before it could even groan under his weight, the chair was swiftly taken from under him and he was thrown to the floor.

“Uh! Just because I’m not AC-12 doesn’t mean you don’t have something to answer for.”

A quick kick to the stomach drew a panicked cry from Ethan’s throat and he swiftly brought his knees up to his stomach to protect himself from a second blow.

“You need to learn when to shut your trap! Speaking to AC-12, giving them Perry’s alibi, you should’ve known he was being framed, you fucking moron!” Dawson’s voice cracked with rage and he stepped away, glaring down at the smaller man venomously. “What, did you think it was all just a big misunderstanding? That we could all go home safe after we talk things through? That’s not how it works around here.”

Ethan’s body felt heavy as he dragged himself to his feet. “I’m not as stupid as you think I am, Eli... I knew he was being framed. Even AC knew. You picked a stupid target—everyone knows he’d never hurt a fly.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll have you know we choose our scapegoats wisely. I’d keep an eye on that one, lad.”

“W-what?”

Dawson took a few steps forward and backed Ethan into the table.

“You’ve got a lot to make up for, rat,” Dawson jabbed a finger into Ethan’s chest, “if WP/MP gets busted, you’re to blame. You know what happens to people like you, don’t you?”

A small, red Nokia emerged from Dawson’s pocket and Ethan’s eyes widened.

“No...”

“Take the phone.”

“No!” Ethan yelped in terror as Dawson grabbed a hold of his jacket and pulled him closer. “N-no! I’m not being your fucking errand boy! I’ll tell AC-12. They’ll bring your whole unit down—everyone knows you killed that fucking witness!”

“I don’t think you know what you’re dealing with.”

Dawson’s breath on his face sent a shiver down Ethan’s spine. Eli pushed back his blazer jacket to reveal the gun holstered at his belt, and Ethan gulped.

“Y-you can’t kill me here. You won’t. You’d get caught in seconds.” He snapped. He tried desperately to seem confident... but he sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than anything.

In response, Dawson simply laughed.

“You’re going to take the phone, Layton. You’re going to take it, and you’re going to wait for a text. From me. Telling you what you need to do to get us all out of this stupid mess. AC-12 won’t hear a word about this, you understand?”

Ethan opened his mouth to protest but soon gritted his teeth as the muzzle of Eli’s service pistol grazed his chin. He froze, unable to do anything as Dawson slipped the phone into the breast pocket of his jacket.

“You should’ve kept your rat mouth shut.”

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oldflyingraven · 1 year

Text

Day 25: Silence is golden

Prompt: Lost Voice

Mumbo gets sick and loses his voice.

Read it here or on AO3!

@whumptober-archive

The first thing he realised when he woke up was that his throat was burning. Swallowing felt like needles were poking his trachea. Well, that wasn’t ideal. Not at all actually. He had a Sahara meeting that day! Mumbo groaned and immediately started coughing when his breath caught in his throat. He bit back a curse at the pain that shot through with every cough.

The cold ground made him shiver when he got up. Now that he was standing he was realising that his whole body was aching. Was this his body’s way of punishing him for overworking again? Well, his body could stuff it. Sahara was so close to being up and running that he wasn’t going to stop now. They’d sold multiple memberships and were getting ready to start selling things. He tried out his voice and was dismayed to find that the only response his vocal chords gave was a quiet squeak. When he tried harder he could barely get out a hoarse and quiet voice.

Tea. The solution might be tea. With a lot of honey. He quickly made his way to the kitchen and made a cup. With more dismay he also realised that he was pushing it with time. He’d have to fly to the shopping district if he wanted to make it on time. Quickly packing the tea into a thermos he grabbed his rockets and ran out.

In his haste to be on time, combined with the deep ache in his bones, he fumbled the landing and spilled tea over himself. Mumbo flushed red with embarrassment. High pitched laughter which could only belong to Grian made it worse.

“Nice landing Mumbo,” he teased. Mumbo glared at him but didn’t respond. Grian raised an eyebrow at his lack of response. “Cat got your tongue?”

“S-” his breath caught again and he was forced to cough again. “Voice gone,” he admitted with defeat.

Grian frowned sympathetically. “Sick?” he asked.

Mumbo raised his shoulders. Logic told him that yes, he was definitely sick. But he didn’t feel like admitting that. Admitting that he was sick would mean admitting that he’d overworked himself again. And that would mean another well meaning lecture by Xisuma.

Iskall was the last one to arrive. “Hey guys!” he greeted happily.

Mumbo raised his hand in a small wave.

“Hey Iskall! Mumbo lost his voice,” Grian said. Mumbo didn’t have the energy to be peeved at Grian for revealing it. It’s not like he’d be able to keep it hidden for long.

“Oh no! Are you alright?” Iskall asked.

Mumbo shrugged again. “I’ll be fine,” he whispered hoarsely.

“Well keep the meeting a reasonable length, okay?” Iskall said.

“Appreciated,” was Mumbo’s quiet response.

A reasonable length was a flexible term. Grian and Iskall had been discussing various things for the past two hours. Mumbo had tried to add on when he could, but he’d end up just sending the two of them messages instead of talking. Even with doing that instead of speaking he was exhausted. The achy feeling hadn’t gone away and he was starting to shiver even in the warm room.

“I still think we should try to partner with Idea! Just give them a small section in the warehouse to sell their ideas!”

“While I think it’s a good idea, no pun intended, I don’t think Keralis, Bdubs and Xisuma feel like it Grian.”

Mumbo couldn’t stop himself from coughing again. The attempts at talking had left his throat more wrecked than before. “Sorry,” he whispered.

Grian’s face softened from the lighthearted scowl he’d held before. “You look worse than before Mumbo,” he said gently.

“I’m fine,” he responded. Blinking with surprise, he found Grian’s cold hand against his forehead.

“You’re warm,” he said with concern.

“Oh,” he breathed out. Perhaps that was why he was shivering so much. “I didn’t realise.”

“Let’s wrap this up then. Go rest Mumbo. Sahara won’t walk away,” Iskall said.

Mumbo nodded softly. Going back to bed seemed like a good idea. But- he frowned. “Long flight,” he whispered.

“I’ll take you through the Nether, yeah? It’s a lot shorter if we go through there,” Grian said, wrapping a friendly arm around his shoulders.

“Okay. Thank you.”

#whumptober2022 #no.25 #lost voice #hermitcraft #fic #Mumbo jumbo #Grian #iskall85 #FlyingRaven oc

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messygray · 2 years

Text

Faraway Home

we're so far away from home, but you are home, Zhang "Raphael" Yong Cheng & Han "Atticus" Myeong-Jin & Seo "Saint" Won-Min

“And just like this–” there’s some sort of a garbled grunt of effort and a leg juts from somewhere under the sheets for just a moment- before another body is sent flying off the bed, landing with a solid thunk onto the floor below. “The little birdie is forced to fly free from its nest.”

There’s a wince from another in the room, but the resounding “Ow!” that follows immediately after is to be expected.

The head of Raphael Zhang pokes from somewhere over the edge of the bed, a shit-eating grin hanging lopsidedly upon his lips. His hair is a dark mess, but mischief sparkles in his eyes at the sight of Atticus Han on the floor. “Tell me I’m wrong.” He taunts teasingly as he watches with glee at the way his buddy on the floor rubs his surely sore ass with mild displeasure.

“One– you are wrong. Two, ow? Three, There was no need for a physical demonstration, and I was just getting comfortable!” Petulance laces Atticus’ tone, but it only causes Raphael to grin harder, his frame shuffling a bit to get comfortable with his new position- an arm dangling over the edge of the bed, almost tauntingly at Atticus.

“Yeah, well I think Saint needed to see a live action reenactment for himself, besides-” the boy cuts himself off to reach for a pillow, “You deserve it half the time, this is just karma biting you in the ass, Kit.” He finishes with a swing of his arm, pillow coming down to whack poor Atticus in the face as if the kick out of bed wasn’t enough as it is. “And comfortable? In my bed? I think you are mistaken, sir. What am I, your cuddle buddy?” he ends with a mock of discontent. A subtle huff of dissatisfaction.

There's the softest thud upon contact with said pillow, a whine of displeasure, and another faint ‘Hey, I’m just enjoying the show.’ and then Atticus is fully laying down onto the soft carpet-covered floor; as if he’d given up trying to get back in bed before he even tried. The simple, plain white cotton shirt he’d decided to wear for the night riding up his waist to flash just a sliver of his toned abdomen.

Briefly, Raphael’s more than intrusive thoughts beg for him to reach over and lift it up Atticus’ body further and reveal more of that smooth, flawless skin underneath; for the stupid shirt to stop teasing. But before he could reach over, maybe come up with some excuse to pass his actions off as, and much to his disappointment, the other’s own hand comes down to tug the shirt down further. Just the opposite of what the boy in bed had been hoping to accomplish.

“Ugh, rude. Anyway- you do realize that’s not what it means to ‘leave the nest’, right? You dumbass. It means you’ve matured and it’s time to live on your own from your parents or childhood home!” The boy on the floor rolls his eyes, but his friend still hanging in bed doesn’t seem to pay it much mind. Or more accurately, hadn’t been paying attention to, mind still wandering elsewhere for another brief, lingering moment. Raphael recovers quickly, though.

“Yeah, yeah, same thing-”

An objection.

“Quit whining, will you? You’re like a little baby- our little baby kitten who still needs his mama. Haven’t quite left the nest yet, I guess~”

This time, the pillow comes flying for Raphael’s head instead; he just narrowly dodges the flying object, much to the lighthearted contempt resonating from Atticus at the moment. He lifts his head to glare angrily at Raphael, before settling back down once again. A raucous laugh echoes through the shared room, mocking amusement filling the atmosphere- Saint somewhere in the shadows mildly wonders if the hotel would kick them out for the disruption. They were currently away from home- the entire lot of them- for a meet, after all.

But neither of the other boys seemed to pay any mind, too busy nearly engaging in a wrestling match with one another- if one tempted the other enough.

(“Shut up, I am not a baby!” “Yeah, well you sure do act like one, are you even the youngest between the three of us?” “Shut up-” “-Aw, the lil kitten is angry with me~ how cute.” “I’m gonna kill you-” “You couldn’t touch me even if you wanted to, sweetheart.” “I swear to fucking god, Raph–”)

“Anyway-” The voice of Raphael pulls away from what was the beginnings of an argument between the pair, “If we must start on the topic of leaving home, I guess we should start with Saint, eh? Mr. I flew quite literally thousands of miles. Tell us, what is it like to be so far away? Why did you decide you wanted to be so far- I mean, obviously for kids like us, I think being away from our parents isn’t that big of a deal but. You’re sheltered.” He suggests, and although his words are laced with subtle curiosity, his tone is light and playful, as if not to prod the softest of the trio too hard. “...And your boyfriend is not the answer, if you tell me you flew all the way across the globe, left your parents in the Americas, and then proceeded to struggle and live here just for a boy, I’m gonna hit you.”

The seriousness in Raphael’s tone forces a giggle to fall from Saint’s lips, now the spotlight shining on the third boy who’d sat mostly quiet for much of the engagement in the past hour. But Saint merely shrugs his shoulders, expression barely readable through the dimness of his corner of the room.

“What, I can’t use my boyfriend as the answer to all?” he giggles, shoulders shaking like crisp leaves in the wind.

But the room falls silent soon enough, still. Raphael, who’d finally sat up from his awkward position in his bed, eyes Saint almost expectantly. Atticus continues to lay splayed out like a starfish on the floor, as if his own bed wasn’t right beside him the entire time.

“... stop looking at me like that and go back to fighting, will you two? It’s not as interesting as you want it to be; there’s nothing to know, because I came for… the academics.” the mellow boy finishes lamely, cheeks heating in mild embarrassment. How lame, to fly all the way across the world to attend some exclusive school run by the rich. Neither Raphael or Atticus would understand.

And they didn’t, if the exchanged look between the two was any indication at all.

“But for the record- it was lonely at first. And leaving quite literally felt like I was leaving this metaphorical “nest” and never to return.” Saint pauses and grabs a pillow from his own bed, as if to distract himself for a brief moment. “And cc is now my family; you guys are helping to fill the gaping hole in my chest from leaving home, you know? I left one nest for another.”

“Ugh, what a sap.” Almost as if on cue, Raphael couldn’t help but make a quip, mouth missing the filter that he so desperately needed.

Saint, who had been expecting him to make a comment, however, immediately launches the aforementioned pillow at Raphael’s head.

He doesn’t miss, unlike Atticus. And the pillow bounces from the top of Raphael’s head, before slumping to the ground.

A howl of laughter punches through Atticus’ chest and the moment is celebrated greatly by the boy who’d been picked on by his buddy for the better half of the last hour; the conversation is forgotten in an instant, as Raphael is left dramatically rubbing his “injured” head.

Neither of the three dwell on their “nests” afterwards.

They flew away so long ago.

#raphael zhang #zhang yong cheng #atticus han #han myeongjin #saint seo #seo wonmin #seaweed #summer waves

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elytrafemme · 3 years

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this is the worst day of my life all my mutuals are with me on team allay but we’re leaving mayzier behind...

edit: CALLI NO

#nightmare.personal #mayzier #/LH #my heart can't take this how will i ever recover #i need an actual tag for zie it literally is just their url spelled incorrectly gdi #okay hold on let's do #zie tag! c:#PERFECT.#again this is all lighthearted i like the glare lots as well

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todoscript · 3 years

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you receive a love letter in your shoe locker from an anonymous admirer

characters: bakugou katsuki, kaminari denki, kirishima eijirou, midoriya izuku, shinsou hitoshi, todoroki shouto

genre: fluff. very slight angst.

word count: 3.2k+ total, 400-700 per character

warnings: jealousy, possessiveness, feelings of doubt (mostly all fluff though)

author’s note: i’ve been on spring break so i found some time to write this! i absolutely love writing for these six (not like they’re my faves or anything pshhhhh—)

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

he’s already fuming the moment you open your locker and hold out the pastel pink card, sealed by a shiny heart sticker with your name written in smooth calligraphy.

it doesn’t take much for him to realize some other dunce head is trying to make moves on his girl.

and he absolutely won’t stand for it.

he stomps over to you and snatches the letter right out of your hands as you’re reading it.

your complaints go ignored behind him while he inspects the writing with the most livid expression.

you know that ugly face he makes when it comes to his over-exaggerated anger? the one with his eyes all squinted and the corners sharpened upward?

that’s his face as he continues reading, growing more twisted at every mushy sentence this anonymous admirer had the gall to say to you.

at one point, he can’t stand to read it anymore so he crumbles the letter in his fist before igniting it into crisps.

you scold him for causing such a scene and letting his anger get the best of him, but bakugou is still annoyed about it regardless.

“tch, who the hell does this shithead think they are, trying to make moves on you when we’re already together?! i’m gonna kill them when i find out who it is!” he exclaims, hands instinctively sparking with heat that scares off the other students walking by.

you mentally facepalm at this. still, you go about reassuring him that you won’t be swayed and take his hand to walk to the dorms together.

“katsu, you know it’s going to take more than a love letter to make me leave you, right?”

“heh, damn right, it’s gonna take a hell of a lot more that’s for fucking sure,” he sneers, a confident smirk on his face as he knows everyone else never had a chance with you to begin with. they can keep sending those letters and he’d make sure to burn them before they could even reach your hand.

on the way back to the dorms, he makes a conscious effort at pda—arm wrapped around your waist while his eyes glare daggers at any extra that even so much as looks at you the wrong way—asserting his claim over you.

meanwhile, having bared witness to that whole scene, your secret admirer is trembling in the corner. they make note to never send you another letter again unless they want their life to flash before their eyes in a fiery explosion.

KAMINARI DENKI

surprisingly enough, kaminari takes the whole situation more positively than most people expected.

in fact, he’s actually prideful about it.

just as he’s about to head over to your locker so you two could walk to class together, sero pokes his shoulder.

“hey, did you see all those written love confessions in y/n’s locker?” sero whispers behind his cupped hand near kaminari’s ear.

the blond scrunches his nose, confused. “no. what love confessions?”

“the letters that were stuffed in your girlfriend’s locker.”

again, kaminari is still puzzled at this. he realizes there’s only one way to understand what sero means.

when he glances in your direction he’s met with you fumbling around with a pile of letters balanced in your arms. his vision zeroes in on the envelopes, deciphering the fancy stationary and pretty embroidery.

oh. they’re love letters.

“other people are trying to make moves on your girl. what are you going to do about it, kaminari?” sero chimes in with an important question and honestly, kaminari can’t exactly make out a solution. or rather, he feels he doesn’t need to.

sure, he should be a little annoyed over the fact that others are disregarding your relationship.

yet could he really blame them for taking such a liking to you?

you’re pretty, smart, nice—the whole damn package.

he’d be more shocked if you didn’t have any secret admirers lurking around.

kaminari decides to leave his friend’s question relatively unanswered and continues his trek to your locker.

“hey, pretty girl! whatcha got there?”

taken off guard by his appearance, you nearly drop all the letters in your arms.

“denki, you scared me!” you exclaim. “these? they’re just some love letters some anonymous person placed in my locker. don’t worry though! i don’t plan on returning their feelings.”

smiling at how quickly you reassure him, he crosses his arms behind his head. “nah i’m not worried, babe. i don’t feel threatened or anything. it only makes sense that my girl is popular after all!”

you’re pleasantly surprised by how rationally he reacts to the scenario. though, knowing his character, he can’t just seem to leave it at that.

“yep, seems like we’re quite the popular couple!” he grabs your hand, wanting to show each other off as you make your way to class.

the bakusquad sees this as another opportunity to egg him on.

“and just how many love letters have you received since the beginning of the school year, kaminari?”

the blond freezes at the question. kaminari bites back words, but begrudgingly answers.

“...zero.”

KIRISHIMA EIJIROU

“heya, babe!” kirishima enthusiastically calls to you, approaching your shoe locker. “ready to go back to the dorms?”

“yeah! in just a second though!” you reply.

as kirishima comes closer, he sees you occupied with some envelopes in your hand.

“what’re all those?” he asks, pointing at the refined stationary curiously.

“ah some letters gifted to me from an anonymous admirer. something about wanting to make their feelings finally known, but i’m not interested in them,” you say, clearing up everything before a misunderstanding could arise.

“oh, that’s cool.”

you quirk a brow at how relatively chill he is at this revelation. you were expecting a bigger reaction at this, but kirishima just simply smiles his genuine, care-free smile.

you don’t think much of it though. shoving the letters in your bag to dispose of later, you walk side-by-side with him to the dormitories.

little do you realize that kirishima actually mistakens this as pure, platonic admiration rather than infatuation.

to him, if they had really wanted to profess their love to you, they’d do it in person where you could see and hear them. not behind fancy penmanship and some pretty paper.

after all, that’s what a true man would do!

but as the days continue to roll by, he’s starting to have second thoughts.

“y/n, i’m telling you, with the amount of letters you keep receiving from them, you gotta find out who this person is!” he overhears mina lecturing you at your desk, going through another pile of notes that were left in your locker from that morning. lately, you’ve been greeted by an astounding number of these things each time you visited your locker.

“mina, there’s definitely no need for me to go out of my way to find this person.”

“aw, but look at all the sweet things they said about you!” mina recites a line from one of many letters. she muses about how the writer sentimentally compares your aura to that of a dandelion wisp in the wind—free and lighthearted yet fleeting and out of reach.

“how romantic!”

you roll your eyes, indifferent, but one side-glance at kirishima from your desk tells you that he’s beginning to interpret the situation differently.

the redhead has to admit that all those things that anonymous admirer said to you were… pretty sweet.

kirishima has always been a man of action—an passionate believer that actions spoke volumes compared to words alone. however, after hearing all of that, he’s wondering how he’s able to compete in that aspect.

he seeks you out during lunch and asks you something beneath a lonely corner of trees.

“y/n, do those kinds of things make you happy..?”

you tilt your head, curious about what he’s exactly referring to. one glimpse back at his demeanor in the classroom earlier with mina gives you an idea.

“do you mean all those letters i keep getting?”

kirishima nods slowly.

“well… i have to admit, it is nice to know that i’m ‘liked’ by other people,” you phrase delicately. “but all those pretty letters and sweet words don’t mean anything to me if they aren’t coming from you. besides, i always thought it’s better to let your actions speak for you, don’t you think?”

hearing your answer, kirishima’s face lights up immediately. before you can properly react, a pair of lips meet your cheek.

you rub the warm skin where his lips touched, flustered for a moment. kirishima grabs your hand, walking you two back to the lunchroom with a newfound surge of conviction in his steps.

MIDORIYA IZUKU

“ooh, look midoriya, seems like someone else has a crush on your girl.”

as midoriya’s tidying up his red shoes and bringing out his slippers for class, his male classmates inform him of the pink envelope held in your hands.

midoriya looks over in your direction. he watches as you peel the letter out of the envelope and begin reading its contents.

he doesn’t miss the slight flustered look on your features, observing how you scan through the writing while tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, glancing over your shoulder as if your secret admirer was peering at you from behind.

“you better hold onto her tightly if you don’t want her stolen from you,” one of the boys warns, more so as a joke, but midoriya doesn’t take their banter lightly.

“knock it off, guys. just because someone else likes her doesn’t mean she’s going to leave me or anything,” he says this with as much confidence as he can muster, but his demeanor betrays him.

when he goes past your desk in the classroom later, he can’t seem to meet your eyes.

“good morning, izuku!” you greet him mirthfully. however, midoriya fails to return the greeting with the same enthusiasm.

“g-good morning, y/n…”

it’s hard for you not to notice that something is up by the way he heads straight to his desk afterward without another word.

throughout class, midoriya finds it a challenge to concentrate on anything but that letter you received that morning. his mind stumbles into the hole of bad possibilities—ones of you leaving him, those sweet words from your anonymous admirer making your heart flutter more than he ever has.

“—zuku… ‘zuku… izuku!”

he gets pulled out from his thoughts by your voice and turns to see the concerned look on your face.

“you okay? you haven’t touched your pork cutlet bowl this entire time.”

he stares down at his food, untouched since he sat down. “oh sorry, i guess something’s just been on my mind today.”

your brows knit together. “it’s about the letter i got today, isn’t it?”

midoriya stares at you, debating whether to deny your statement, but knows it’s pointless to try when it must have been obvious.

you take his silence as confirmation and grasp his hand that lays flat on the table.

“izuku, look at me,” you tell him and watch as his eyes slowly trail to you. “you know i wouldn’t leave you over some silly letter, right? no amount of words they can say to me could ever make me think differently about you.”

at this, a comforted smile spreads on midoriya’s face. he nods and squeezes your hand as a sign he took your words to heart before chowing down on his food, the uncertainty inside him disappearing.

SHINSOU HITOSHI

“another one?” you inquire to yourself in disbelief, opening your shoe locker to discover a rose-colored envelope waiting for you atop your slippers.

“dang, y/n, that’s like the fourth one this week!” uraraka comments, peeking over your shoulder.

“ooh! i wanna see what they wrote for you this time!” mina approaches from behind. you allow her to grab the delicate letter from your fingertips.

she over-exaggeratedly clears her throat, unwrinkling the paper by pinching at the sides. “‘you are the one who brought me sunshine when i only saw rain.’”

“aw! how sweet!” uraraka clasps her hands above her heart, seeming almost moved.

though the girls are all smitten by the love poem, you bite your tongue, hoping to suppress the urge to gag in front of them.

your boyfriend shinsou is on equal wavelength as you, witnessing the scene unfolding so early in the morning. he’s grown tired of replaying this spectacle for the past four days now.

his eyes navigate to the note and envelope in mina’s hand. by the script and the use of the same stationary, shinsou can tell the love letters you’ve been receiving are all from the same person.

“damn dude, you got some serious competition.” overhearing the girls, kaminari jabs at shinsou’s sides teasingly. “so, you gonna do anything about that mysterious guy trying to go after your girl?”

the violet-haired boy shrugs. “why should i? it’s not like i feel threatened.”

kaminari whistles at his confidence.

shinsou says he doesn’t care about it, putting on a level-headed and indifferent facade. but that was honestly far from the truth.

in actuality, he’s a bit pissed.

what kind of person goes around sending anonymous love messages to someone who’s already in a relationship? what the hell do they hope to gain out of doing this?

shinsou more than trusts you won’t be swayed by them, no matter how many times those notes discourteously greet you every morning.

you never bring up the topic of the letters whenever you two are alone, not wanting shinsou to be bothered over it and create a hassle. all in all, he’s grateful for this, and also for the fact that you make a point of never taking any of those letters seriously and dump them into the trash bin whenever the chance arises.

however, he can tell by your body language that the whole situation bothers you and makes you uneasy.

so, during one incredibly early morning, he decides to do some scouting.

he plays off his odd punctuality by saying he left something in the classroom yesterday and wants to get there early to look for it.

lo and behold, he finds a male student hovering around the lockers—suspiciously darting his head back and forth to be on the lookout for any other students.

little does he realize he’s already been caught red-handed.

“hey you.” shinsou abruptly calls out to him and the boy nearly jumps. “what are you doing here?”

the boy panics at his question, fumbling with his answer while hiding something behind his back—what shinsou presumes to be another one of those cheesy letters.

“u-um, just want to get to class early!” he sputters.

“is there any special reason you’re standing in front of my girlfriend’s locker then? ’cause last i checked, the lockers for general education students were located on the opposite side.” shinsou emphasizes his words with a bite of malice, arms crossed.

“i just lost my way is all–” the student suddenly stops mid-speech, his words and actions forcibly coming to a halt. all thoughts are overturned in the presence of shinsou’s quirk.

“i’m going to make this quick and easy for you to understand. not only are you going to forget about this conversation, but you’re also going to stop handing my girlfriend those love letters.” shinsou bends down to the boy’s height, staring at the abyss in his expression.

“and i’d also appreciate it if you kept your eyes off what’s mine.”

it’s safe to say, your influx of letters had been effectively cut off after that day.

TODOROKI SHOUTO

todoroki is no stranger to finding love letters from avid admirers and fans in his shoe locker before and after classes.

in fact, an unprecedented number of them had begun taking up all the space there after his impressive performance at the sports festival.

when he started dating you, however, he had made a clear declaration that he wouldn’t be accepting anymore of them.

but to be on the opposite end of having to watch you unlatch the door of your locker to have letters and notes practically tumbling out, todoroki wasn’t exactly sure what to make of this feeling that made his stomach twist into knots.

he notices the alarming amount of them and concludes they’re all from various students in different grades and departments.

“y/n, you’re getting pretty popular,” uraraka says, eyeing the stack of envelopes. “must be your dance performance from the culture festival! i remember you did get a lot of cheers in the crowd.”

“guess all those cheers came with a lot of fanboys, huh?” the invisible girl, hagakure, teases.

you jokingly nudge at them to stop with the teasing, but pause when your eyes cross todoroki’s. he’s giving you a look you can’t decipher—one that edges between troubled and apathetic yet you can’t tell which it is.

you send him a nod, silently acknowledging his presence as he waits for you to finish your business so you could head back to the dorms together.

watching you dispose of the various piles of letters has todoroki contemplating about what uraraka and hagakure commented on. about how popular you were getting and how your admirers have been bold enough to profess their reverence for you despite your relationship status.

todoroki’s not entirely sure what to make of this information. he doesn’t linger on it for long though when you finally approach him, your sneakers slipped on and your backpack securely hanging off your shoulders.

“ready to head home?”

a smile finds his lips at your appearance. he softly utters his response.

during the small distance to the dormitories, todoroki reaches for your hand and intertwines your fingers together. as seemingly minor the gesture is at this point of your relationship, it’s a detail you mentally take note of.

usually, when it came to publicly displaying physical forms of affection, you were the one to initiate it. you have to admit, seeing the assertive side of todoroki is like a small breath of fresh air.

as you continue your short journey home, a couple of male students walking by greet you enthusiastically. though you wave back to kindly acknowledge them, you feel the grip on your hand tighten, followed by a slight tug closer to todoroki’s side.

that alone is enough for you to realize something is definitely troubling him.

“sho, is there something wrong?” you ask, steps still walking in tandem with him.

todoroki’s voice doesn’t waver in the slightest as he replies, “no, why would you think that?”

“you’ve been awfully possessive all of a sudden,” you note, “is this because of those letters from earlier?”

“...maybe.”

you quirk a brow, amused. “is that a yes or a no?”

now todoroki is silent. your steps come to a halt. not parting your laced hands from his, you turn to look him in the eye.

“sho?”

“it’s just… when i realize that there are other people looking at you the same way i do, i get… uneasy.” his gaze drops to the ground as he confesses this, hand squeezing yours. the uncomfortable churning in his stomach settles a bit now that the words are out, but he finds it hard to ease the atmosphere.

this is where you picked up from where he left off. your hand goes to his cheek, gently cupping it so you can tilt his head up at you.

“oh shouto, you have to know that you’re the only one for me and i don’t plan on looking at anyone else but you,” you assure him. todoroki stares into your eyes, and in them, he can’t find any hesitance or flutter of doubt.

at this, he lifts your twined hands and grazes your knuckles ever so softly against his lips, wondering whatever troubled him so much to begin with.

#bnha x reader #bnha scenarios #bnha headcanons #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #kaminari x reader #kirishima x reader #midoriya x reader #shinsou x reader #shinso x reader #todoroki x reader #mha x reader

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