#i’m not sure i liked any of my parents’ siblings enough to put up with this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

literaila · 2 months

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it's not my fault

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: tsumiki and megumi get into an argument

warnings: sibling stuff, fluff, two oblivious (stupid) parents

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year five.

“couldn’t you say something nice?” tsumiki is asking megumi when you walk in. “she just wanted to—“

you set your bag on the table, just barely able to make out their words.

they were... quiet in the car, you realize suddenly. but you hadn't thought that anything was wrong. megumi's typically burnt out after school, and tsumiki waits until you all get home to start telling you about her day.

but it only took a minute of you running back out to the car to grab something for it all to fall apart.

megumi groans. “i don’t even know her.”

you round the corner, just stopping there so you can observe. neither of them seem to notice you, or your wide eyes at both of their stances. the matching scowls on their faces.

they look so similar that it shocks you just briefly.

tsumiki has her arms crossed, shaking her head. “you still don’t need to be mean about it.”

“i wasn’t mean.”

“yes, you were. you told her to leave you alone.”

“that seems like a pretty straightforward request.”

“everyone at school thinks you’re mean,” tsumiki is pouting, looking dishearted at his reaction. typically, megumi will agree with her just for the sake of it. “and i always have to defend you, even if it’s true.”

megumi sighs, shrugging. he's got his satoru-type scowl on, and even though he looks disinterested--as usual--you can see it when his frown deepens, and he shifts away from tsumiki. “well, stop then. i don’t need you to come to my rescue. i don’t care what people say.”

“well, i do! you’re my brother.”

“that doesn’t mean you have to treat me like your responsibility. i can handle myself.”

“you’re always alone at school,” tsumiki disputes, almost whining at him. “if you were nicer—“

“i’ve never complained—“

“okay,” you turn the corner, brows already raised. “there’s a lot of raised voices going on. you two are going to wake up the neighbor's cat.”

tsumiki is pouting at megumi and he just rolls his eyes. both children stand facing each other, standoffish in the living room, arms crossed.

usually, they fight about what movie to watch, or who got to sit in the front seat last.

but those fights don’t typically involve yelling.

sure, they’re both sensitive about their childhood. about living here and being with you and satoru. they'll bicker about being little, megumi hating it when tsumiki mentions either of their biological parents, and tsumiki hating it when he refuses to listen.

but even then, tsumiki goes to hide, and megumi just shuts down.

this seems… different.

a part of you rationalizes that they're both exhausted from school and getting to that age where their priorities differ.

you don't have any siblings, but you quarreled enough with nanami and haibara back at school to know how these types of arguments work.

and unless one of them admits that they're wrong, it's never going to end.

with that thought in mind, you put on a learned smile, standing between the two of them so you can look back and forth between the two children, observing both of their very closed-off body language.

it's a little cute, honestly. they both look very different, but their matching stances and glares are worth much more than biology. you almost want to stop them to take a picture.

satoru would do it if he was here.

“tough crowd,” you say, feeling the tension between the two. “what’s going on?”

“nothing,” they both say, at the same time, but megumi with an attitude and tsumiki with a sniffle.

really, you should find a book about expressing emotions. you and satoru are teaching them far too much about denial and avoidance.

you make a mental note to look it up later.

you blow out a breath. “yeah, well, i heard the yelling, but i’m missing some context."

you look between the two of them, but they’re not looking back. both sets of eyes are focused on each other, identical glares bouncing off of each other. they could be communicating in some secret language and you would have no idea.

in fact, you can basically see the thoughts they're forcing towards each other on their faces.

“hey,” you poke them both on the forehead at the same time, trying to get their attention on you. “talk to me. what happened?”

they both remain still as statues for a moment, not bothering to consider the question.

but after a moment, tsumiki blinks, and her frown increases, which makes megumi roll his eyes--like he already knows what she's going to say, and doesn't care.

“megumi was mean to a girl at school,” tsumiki says, finally looking at you with big doe eyes. her face is pained, confused, and worried.

and honestly, she could ask you for anything with that look and you'd give it to her.

but megumi sighs. “i wasn’t mean.”

“you told her not to talk to you!”

he looks to you, less pleading but confident. “if i want space, shouldn’t i tell someone that? isn't that what you say?”

you open your mouth. “well, it depends, megs, you can’t—“

“you’re always mean,” tsumiki’s eyes are filling with tears. she looks at you too. and usually, she would apologize for interrupting, but not right now. “nobody at school wants to be around him. he scares everyone, and they don’t believe me when i say that he’s nice.”

“tsumiki," you begin, face softening, "you shouldn’t—“

“that doesn’t make me mean. why would i want to hang out with people who don’t like me?”

you turn, “megumi—“

“they would like you if you weren’t always saying mean things!” tsumiki tells him, her sweet voice rough with frustration. the tears begin to slip from her eyes.

and you can feel it when megumi moves another inch away, wanting to flinch back from her sadness the same way you do.

“i don’t want them to like me,” megumi corrects, shaking it off. “i don’t care what they think.”

tsumiki frowns even deeper, eyes growing wide. “what about what i think?” she asks him.

“are you going to stop hanging out with me?”

“maybe.”

“how? we literally live in the same house. your room is down the hall from mine.”

“guys—“

“i’ll ask dad to move rooms. he won’t mind.”

“oh, sure. because you’ll be able to avoid me at the dinner table—“

“why are you always—“

“guys.”

they both look to you, glares immensely misplaced. their mouths are still open, ready to interrupt each other at a moment's notice.

you look between them, finding matching pictures on either side. clearly, they're both upset about something different. and still, you don't really understand, but it doesn't seem like they're going to explain anything further.

why would they when they can just keep arguing?

you purse your lips, closing your eyes for a moment, trying not to laugh.

really, if they wanted you to take them seriously they shouldn’t have grown up to be so cute. they shouldn't look like that.

harsh, angry breaths fill the room as the two of them wait for your instruction. you should probably be able to fix this problem immediately--you could by sending them both to their rooms and forcing them apart--but you'd rather talk this through.

plus you don't want either of them to think too hard about any of it. you hate it when you fight with satoru and take a break, just to linger in that anger like a quicksand you can’t pull out of.

“okay,” you say, once there’s a moment of silence. “i know you’re both upset.”

“i’m not—“ you look at megumi and he stops, little frown on his little face. his cheeks are red in indignation, and he's got clenched fists. you can tell that he wants to say something, maybe to you, maybe to tsumiki, but he won't.

you ruffle his hair. “it’s fine to be upset with each other,” you tell him, looking to tsumiki, her face entirely sad. “but going back and forth isn’t going to solve the problem, okay? and neither is saying anything just to hurt each other's feelings.”

“but he just—“ you shake your head, wishing with everything in you that you could go get one of satoru’s blindfolds right now.

it physically hurts to look at them, they're so precious.

you are a terrible mother for finding this moment slightly amusing. to be fair, you spend far too much time with satoru, and deflection is a family trait.

you finger tsumiki’s hair, pushing it from her eyes. “should we take a break?” you ask them both. “or do you want to talk about it now?”

“break,” megumi says, immediately.

“talk about it now,” tsumiki answers, at the same time.

for two people who are so alike, they sure think differently. you want to smile at the very predictable answers but refrain.

“okay…” you pause, thinking. “tsumiki, why don’t you tell us why you’re upset? megumi will do the same, and then we can take a break, or keep going.”

they both glare at each other.

“and nothing mean," you add because it feels necessary.

tsumiki sniffs. “everyone at school says that you’re cruel,” she tells him, a devastating pout on her face. “and i don’t like that. you’re my brother, and i want people to like you like i do.”

you both look at megumi, waiting.

he's silent for a moment, processing his sister's words, but then he’s got a scowl on his face. “i don’t care what they think, they’re all stupid anyway—“

“megumi.”

he looks at you, pleading blue eyes. you can see that tsumiki got under his skin, but you shake your head.

“see?” tsumiki complains, voice high-pitched. “he’s always—“

you wipe away a tear, nodding. “i know, sweetie, but it’s his turn. you can go next.”

you turn to megumi, wanting to laugh at his annoyed face. “don’t call your classmates names," you say, giving him a look. "it's your turn. tell tsumiki why you’re upset, megumi.”

he sighs again, looking towards the floor. he kicks at the hardwood, shaking his head. “i don’t like it when you baby me. i don’t need you to defend me, or try and take care of me at school. i’m fine.”

tsumiki swallows, not saying anything.

you look between the two of them, trying to read the complex emotions of your almost-teenagers. unfortunately, they're closed off from you, and you can only guess.

both of your hands rest on one of their shoulders, squeezing. “do you both want to answer? or should we sit down for a bit? i can make a snack or something. it might be good to cool off."

you say it mostly for yourself, because, honestly, any second you're going to break.

the two children look at each other, communicating telepathically, and then they nod.

“you should treat everyone respectfully,” tsumiki says, as an answer. “even if you don’t care what they think, you should still be nice.”

megumi frowns. “if i don’t want to talk to someone, i shouldn’t have to.”

“but you just told her to go away. she probably feels bad now, and—“

“i don’t even know her," megumi interrupts, brows furrowing.

okay, so maybe you should've separated them a couple of minutes ago.

“chiyo's my friend!”

megumi rolls his eyes. “just because she’s your friend doesn’t mean she has to be mine.”

“but you were mean.”

you look between the two of them, megumi annoyed and tsumiki frustrated.

“okay, kids.” you breathe out, wishing you had a brother to fight with, just so you knew what it felt like. just so you could be a part of this argument. “i know you’re both mad, and you disagree. that’s fine. let’s take some space, breathe, maybe i can—“

“just because you think i was being mean doesn’t mean that i was," megumi blurts out, like he can't hold it in.

you pause, mouth opening. you're about to say something, but you don't get the chance.

“if everyone doesn’t like you,” tsumiki argues, “then it’s because you’re mean.”

“maybe they just suck.”

“they don’t suck. this is—“

and then it all breaks down.

“well well,” satoru peeks his head around the corner, white hair a shock to all three of you. “look who’s falling apart without me.”

you sigh immediately, a hand against your temple. of course he would come in at the worst moment possible. “satoru, please go back out the door. i'm sure you forgot something at the store."

the two kids look at satoru, neither one of them happy to see him. there's a similar fire in their eyes, and you know that if he hadn't shown up they would've continued arguing until you pulled them apart.

he walks over to you, slinging an arm across your shoulder. his grin is far too self-satisfactory. "what'd you do?" he asks, tapping you.

"i didn't do anything," you tell him, "leave them alone. they're working it out."

"by yelling at each other?"

you push his arm off of you, glaring. "you just walked in at a bad moment--"

you say something else, telling him to get out again, and satoru laughs back at you, asking if you missed him, and neither of you seems to realize that the two kids are just staring at you.

megumi and tsumiki share a look, like this is a typical occurrence (it is), then shake their heads at the same time, like an echo of each other.

their faces have cooled, scowls fading as you and satoru bicker.

tsumiki sighs and megumi scratches the back of his neck, and for a moment, they both avoid each other's eyes.

but eventually, you and satoru look back at them.

"i don't want to talk anymore," megumi tells all of you, beginning to walk away. satoru tries to grab the back of his shirt to keep him in place, but megumi just shrugs him off.

and then he walks down the hallway to his room and closes the door gently, clearly no longer bothered by anything tsumiki said. or maybe too bothered.

but, you think, at least he didn't slam the door.

you can recall yourself telling satoru to give him space, to let megumi deal with his emotions as he pleases before you force him back into the spotlight, to apologize or hug tsumiki, or...

you blink and look back at her. she's still got a small pout on her face, but her eyes have relaxed, as red-rimmed as they are. you know, and tsumiki knows, that she's really just worried about him. trying to protect him in her own, sisterly way.

and, really, there's not much you can teach her about that.

so you just smile gently at tsumiki, wiping away some moisture from her face. "just give him a bit, hmm? let him think."

she sighs but relaxes into your hand for a moment, her shoulders slouching as she gives into defeat. and then tsumiki shrugs at you, agreeing despite herself, and walks over to satoru to give him half of a hug.

it's not a moment later that she follows megumi and walks down the hall, escaping to her room. you both listen as her door closes.

"wow," satoru whispers, shaking his head. "you did a number on them."

"they had a fight about school," you say, nudging him. "i had no part in any of it. i just walked in."

he wraps two arms around the back of your neck, smiling eagerly at you. "so what you're saying is, it isn't your fault?"

he's mocking himself, and the reoccurring events that happen when you leave him in charge. which you've sworn to never do again, by the way.

you scoff. "when i get home you've started all the problems," you tell him, shaking your head. "they're fighting because you instigated something."

"we're communicating."

"whatever."

satoru quirks a brow at you, eyes just barely visible behind his glasses. "the parenting books aren't doing much for you, are they?" he asks, rhetorically.

"you realize i caught you with those in your room multiple times right? i know you read them."

"you'll never prove it," he says, smiling maliciously.

"and neither will your parenting skills."

satoru snorts, nudging his nose against yours in an odious way. "clearly, you guys can't last a day without me."

"it wasn't a day," you argue, shivering at his touch. "more like an hour. you just went to the store..." you pause, tilting your head at him. "and where are the groceries, by the way?"

satoru looks away, hands tapping on the back of your neck, humming innocently. "oh, i might've... slightly misplaced those."

"satoru."

"i got distracted--but it's not my fault. there's a new kakigori shop down the block."

you look at him blandly.

satoru, because he cannot be trusted, smiles sweetly at you as he places a peck on your lips, as a sort of apology.

obviously, you don't return it. not even in the slightest.

satoru hums as he pulls back, already knowing that he's won. "so, i'll just get dinner..." he says, grinning at you.

you roll your eyes but wrap your hands around his neck, letting a little smile fall across your face.

you and satoru are sitting on the couch when you see megumi creeping down the hall, on his tiptoes, purposefully not looking at the two of you.

it's been an hour or two, the silence echoing across the house almost a bad omen.

but you decided not to bother either of them. considering the fact that you still don't know why they were really fighting, or why they didn't just talk about it like they usually would, it seemed like the best option.

and also, satoru shouldn't be involved in any conflict resolution. he'd probably suggest wrestling it out in the backyard.

still, as you watch him pass by, you lean away from satoru, your legs completely tangled in his. you stretch your neck to watch him, relying on satoru's hand around your waist to keep you steady, but he's too far down the hall for you to see where he's going.

but a moment later, you hear him knock on a door, and then a small, quiet voice telling him to come in.

you relax back against satoru, already grinning proudly. "see? i fixed it."

satoru laughs, his breath soft against your temple. "you didn't do anything. megumi just felt guilty."

"well, i taught him that."

satoru noses the side of your head. "mmm, i'm pretty sure i did."

"of course you didn't."

he shakes you a little, as a punishment for your words, but sighs. "what were they fighting about anyway?"

"megumi was mean to one of tsumiki's friends, i think. i missed... pretty much all of it."

"who?"

you frown. "chiyo?"

satoru snorts a little, and you shift to look at him, raising your brow. "megumi mentioned her."

you turn even more, eyes wide. you poke his cheek with a finger, and then wave for him to continue.

satoru groans, fingers trailing through your hair. "he said that he overheard some girls talking about 'miki."

"behind her back?"

satoru smiles, a bit sadly, nodding.

"oh."

"yeah, oh."

you frown. “what did they say?”

satoru licks his lips, watching your eyes as you concentrate on him. “dunno. megumi wouldn’t tell me.”

you roll your eyes. “of course not,” you say, sighing. “and he didn’t tell her?”

satoru winces. "okay, so… maybe i told him not to,” he whispers, like a confession, voice going a bit high at the end. and then he laughs at your annoyed expression. "what? i didn't want her to get sad."

you shake your head at him, tsking.

you could scold him for protecting tsumiki, but you know that you probably would've done the same.

so you just turn back towards the hallway, resting your head against his shoulder. after a moment, satoru nuzzles himself into your neck, humming against your skin.

it's a very unpleasant feeling.

"do you think i should go get them for dinner?" you ask him, quietly.

"nah," he kisses the side of your neck, looking down the hall with you. "give them a little while."

and it's about twenty minutes later that the two siblings walk back into the living room, megumi's lip quirked at tsumiki, and tsumiki beaming back.

after all, you and satoru have taught them well.

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belovedmuichiro · 3 months

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I saw a post once that entertained the idea of Tsutako being in the background of Sanemi’s hometown in the anime, and it got me thinking about a sanegiyuu childhood meet cute.

…

- When Giyuu was 13, he took a trip with Tsutako to a neighboring city where her fiancé had come from

- Though Giyuu was a much friendlier person as a child, he was still quiet, reserved and nervous. As a result, being in a bigger city was overwhelming and he struggled to keep up with Tsutako as they walked

- Before they could reach her fiancé’s home, Giyuu was separated from her in a crowd

- Without any people skills to speak of or the confidence to ask for help, Giyuu let the crowd swallow him up until he found a small spot he could cower in

- He ended up hiding under the stairs of a shrine where nobody could see him. He cried so quietly, nobody could possibly hear him either, but a boy did miraculously find him

- The boy was strikingly beautiful with stark white hair and piercing eyes. His presence made Giyuu stop crying almost immediately, but only because he was mesmerized.

- When the boy spoke, he was blunt and sort of rude but Giyuu hung onto every word he said as if he was a kind spirit come to save him

- “You cry like my little siblings,” he observed. It was a simple, random sort of thing to say but it perplexed Giyuu so much that he didn’t cry any longer

- Giyuu learned that this particular shrine is where the boy would find one of his brothers hiding, so when he saw Giyuu curled up, he thought something might’ve happened to him

- Giyuu reluctantly explained he was separated from Tsutako while visiting. In truth, he wasn’t sure if he should trust a stranger but they were clearly of a similar age and that put him at ease compared to an adult

- The boy gave Giyuu a small canteen of water before they could continue because the crying had obviously overwhelmed him. He then asked for the fiancé’s name, which he scowled upon hearing, surprisingly knowing the person

- “Is that bad?” Giyuu nervously asked

- “He’s one of the sons of our landlord,” the boy explained, “He’s fine. His family’s a buncha dicks.”

- Profanities aside, Giyuu asked if he could lead him there, and the boy agreed

- “What did his family do?” Giyuu asked on the way

- “Their kid brother said some shit about my family bein’ too big and my brother got into a fight with him about it.”

- “How big is your family?”

- “Nine of us. I have six siblings.”

- Giyuu learned that his mother had just given birth, which prompted the rude comment from their landlord’s son. He also had a father who he didn’t want to talk about on account of him angering some violent people

- Though the boy didn’t seem terribly interested in prying into Giyuu’s life, he still asked, “What about you?”

- “I just have my sister. My parents died when I was young.”

- “Lucky you have a sister.”

- “Yes… I’m Giyuu, by the way.”

- For a moment, the boy looked hesitant to give anymore details about himself, but must’ve decided he doesn’t have much to lose.

- “Sanemi.”

- On the way to the landlord’s home, it began to rain so Sanemi pulled Giyuu aside near a food stall to wait it out.

- Giyuu, as luck would have it, did have a small amount of money on him and suggested they share a meal.

- Sanemi agreed, not letting on that he rarely has enough money to ever eat out. However, Giyuu became curious when Sanemi awkwardly held his food at his side and wouldn’t take a bite.

- He didnt want to admit it, but his plan was to pocket whatever Giyuu bought him to bring home to his family. He wasn’t going to tell Giyuu, but the boy’s earnest, honest face pulled it out of him

- In response, Giyuu bought him another and asked that he feed himself as well

- When Sanemi finally did eat, Giyuu smiled for the first time. It flustered Sanemi, who quickly learned he couldn’t handle a pretty face

- When the rain ended, people came flooding to the streets in overwhelming numbers that scared Giyuu again

- To reassure him, Sanemi grabbed his hand and returned his earlier smile, promising he’ll be okay as long as they stick together

- Giyuu took to Sanemi with awe. The crowd was still scary, but Giyuu grounded himself in the feeling of his companion’s hand and trusted his word.

- Eventually they did find themselves at the landlord’s house. Most of the family was out looking for Giyuu, but luckily Tsutako stayed and was there to greet him.

- This was also a relief to Sanemi, who wasn’t sure he would be able to resist driving his fist into the face of the boy who fought with Genya

- Sanemi intended to leave with no commotion, just an odd empty feeling at the notion of leaving his new acquaintance, but Giyuu stopped him

- “Thank you for helping me,” he said with much more confidence than the first time he spoke. “You’re very kind, Sanemi.”

- Sanemi, flustered, shrugged and promised it was no problem. “Couldn’t just leave ya there…”

- “Maybe we’ll see each other again.”

- When Giyuu said this, he held onto the hope that because Tsutako new husband had close ties to Sanemi’s, they would surely meet again one day

- It was hard to explain but Giyuu felt drawn to Sanemi, like he was a special person he was meant to meet

- Of course, he couldn’t predict the tragedy that would befall both of them

- Years later, long after Tsutako and the Shinazugawa family were murdered, Sanemi was welcomed into the Hashira and finally met Giyuu again

- Only this time, he was quiet and cold. He didn’t give any indication that he remembered Sanemi and didn’t have any of the kindness he was full of as a child. Sanemi decided that he must’ve turned into a conceited ass with no time for the little people, he probably didn’t even remember him.

- But it was impossible for Giyuu to forget who Sanemi was. Even under all the scars and curses, he was still the boy who saved him that day. But Giyuu knew they had fundamentally changed as people, and clearly Sanemi wanted nothing to do with him any longer

- Unfortunately for them, the draw remains there no matter how far apart they try to drift.

#emmie speaks #I’m. love them.#sanegiyuu #demon slayer #kimestu no yaiba #kny manga spoilers #baby sanegiyuu

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littledovesnow · 5 months

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young!coryo x fem!reader fluff

a/n: fluff fluff fluff i love fluff !!!!!! hoep u little snakes like it too <3

-----

Staring at the clock on the wall, you wanted nothing more than to be back in your bed, tea in your hand.

You felt the headache start not long after you woke this morning but thought nothing of it as you gathered your Academy uniform, putting the blame on the new perfume your younger sister was trying.

A soft nudge on your right drew your attention away from the clock, your boyfriend looking over at you curiously.

“Hm?”

“Are you feeling alright? You’re usually one of the few who willingly engages in this dreadful class.”

Coriolanus gestured to the literature class going on around you two, the professor going on about something or another.

Shrugging, you twirled the pen in your hand. “I’m fine, Coryo. Just a little tired.”

Narrowing his eyes, Coriolanus didn’t believe you one bit, but he also knew you well enough to realize that you weren’t going to budge.

“Grandma’am and Tigris went out for the day, you can come rest at my place after classes.” He was privy to your rambunctious home life- two younger siblings and parents who only knew how to fight with one another.

Smiling, you thanked your boyfriend before trying to focus on the rest of the lesson.

-----

Staring at yourself in the bathroom mirror, you were half temped to bribe the Peacekeepers stationed at the back exit of the Citadel and skip the rest of your day. What you thought couldn’t get any worse had surprised you in the worst way possible.

Taking a deep breath, you made sure the slight wave of nausea was out of your system before joining your classmates in the bustling hallways, wanting to avoid a certain blonde’s eye.

“Hey, are you okay?”

You jumped as Clemensia came alongside of you, worry evident on her face.

Sighing, you felt you façade crumble just a bit, confiding in the black-haired girl. “I’m starting to think I’m getting a migraine.”

They were a rarity in your life, you could only count on one hand the number of migraines you could remember, but they gave you hell every time.

Clemensia’s worried frown deepened, unsure of how to help. “Do you want me to get Coriolanus or anything? See if Casca could spare a morphling bottle?”

Shaking your head, you softly groaned at the pain it caused. “No, no don’t get Coryo. He’s got enough on his plate already, he doesn’t need to worry about me, too.”

“You’re kidding if you think he doesn’t worry about you.” Clemensia replied, following you to an emptier hallway, taking your bag while you unscrewed the water bottle.

You gave the girl a look, dropping the now-empty bottle into your bag. “Do not tell Coriolanus. If I still feel like this in a little I’ll tell him.”

Clemensia could see it on your face, you had no intentions of telling your boyfriend, but she didn’t want to interfere, unsure of how Coriolanus would react if he head the news from someone else.

“Whatever you say. Now come on, Casca will probably put us in the Games if we’re late to class again.”

-----

Coriolanus knew you weren’t telling him something when you didn’t respond to Arachne’s dig at your clothing, something you two were known to bicker about.

He scootched his chair over towards you, lacing your hands together. “You sure it’s just tiredness? Because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not bite back at Arachne, even after our anniversary.”

You felt your cheeks flush at the comment, but you chose to otherwise ignore that part of his comment. “Maybe I have a headache, too.”

Frowning, Coriolanus chewed on his lip. He knew you’ve suffered from migraines and knew that sitting in a classroom wasn’t the best way to get rid of one. “A migraine?” He whispered, not wanting to aggravate the ache anymore.

“A small one. But it’s really nothing, I’ll be fine.” You admitted, still not letting him in on the full truth. “Now shush. I’m not in the mood for Dean Highbottom to unleash whatever punishment he’ll come up with if he catches us talking.”

Coriolanus remained quiet for the rest of class, thumb rubbing soothing circles on the pulse point on your wrist.

As soon as he dismissed the class, Coriolanus was on his feet, grabbing both his and your bags. “Come on, let’s go home.”

You rose after him, grabbing onto Coriolanus’ blazer as the world tilted for a moment. “Hold on.”

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” He asked, setting the bags down to hold your other elbow, keeping you steady.

“Just a little dizzy. Nothing I haven’t experienced before.”

Growing tired of your half-truths, Coriolanus let out an exasperated sigh. “You don’t have to lie to me about how you feel.”

You popped an eye open, seeing worry and anger written over your boyfriend’s face. “Fine, fine. I feel like I was hit by a train, okay? My head’s hurt all day and I nearly threw up after Festus showed us his lunch.”

Coriolanus swore under his breath, helping you to your feet. “You should’ve said something earlier. I’m sure you could’ve left and rested.”

“I’m sure all would have been fine if I suddenly disappeared, Snow. Remember what happened when I left a few months ago for my grandmother’s funeral?”

Coriolanus did indeed remember; he was nearly expelled for the reign of terror he caused after noticing your mysterious disappearance.

“That’s what I thought.” You mumbled, squinting as the bright clouds increased your headache tenfold. “Jesus, when did it get so bright out?”

“I have a few train tokens left, come on. It’ll be faster than walking, and it’s darker in there.” Coriolanus passed the two tokens over to a Peacekeeper, who in turn let you two onto the train heading to the Corso.

-break-

Collapsing on your boyfriend’s bed, you hummed in content when he drew the curtains closed. The walk up to his family’s penthouse nearly took you out, but a promise of hot tea and a nap gave you the strength to make it up.

“At least change before you sleep, don’t crease your uniform.” Coriolanus toed off his shoes, moving your own heels out of the way to avoid a potential tripping hazard.

You groaned, but sat up and shed the maroon blazer and coordinating button-up shirt. “What would I do without you, Coryo?”

Grinning, your boyfriend threw on a pair of more comfortable clothing, helping you into an outfit you kept in a drawer at his place. “Suffer through Arachne’s awful opinions and Festus’ crude remarks alone, I presume.”

You blindly threw a hand out, lightly slapping your boyfriend’s thigh. “Be nice, Coryo.”

Coriolanus laughed quietly, joining you on the bed. “Life is more fun when being bad, you know that.” He quipped, right hand going to rub soothing circles on your back. “Go to sleep, the faster you get over this migraine, the faster we can practice for our next anniversary.”

You were already nearly asleep, Coriolanus guessed, otherwise you would have had a stronger reaction than a simple snort.

-----

a/n: hey send requests that would be dope but i won't write smut it's not my vibe

#coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #hunger games imagine #the hunger games #coriolanus snow fluff

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justpuppylove · 1 year

Text

Doll- stepdad dream smut

Stepdad!dream x afab reader smut

Kinks/warnings: Stepcest [PLEASE DONT FUCK YOUR STEP-SIBLINGS OR PARENTS. I DO NOT CONDONE THIS.], daddy kink, use of little one and other names, praising, thigh fucking, slight breeding.

A/N: im gonna step away from the Wilbur smut for a sec but I’ll make sure to make my way through those requests soon :3

Your mom introduced your stepdad dream a few months ago and he seemed like a decent enough guy. You were against your mom dating again after your father passed away but you eventually came around to the idea of dream staying with you guys. This isn’t to say you see him as a father figure, he treats you like his child in some ways but there’s just always been something off about you guys having a “father-child relationship”. He’s always been pretty touchy with you and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it. At first it was playful touching, nothing coherently sexual about it, but then it progressed into you sitting on his lap and him running his hand up your thigh. Of course your mom never knew of any of this and you hoped she never would, you felt so guilty every time it happened but for some reason that made you even more turned on.

You walked into your bedroom and shut the door. You ran to your bed and flopped down; utterly exhausted. Exams were getting the best of you but you finally had some time to rest. Then you heard a knock on your door.

“Doll, do you want to watch a movie with me? Your mom is gone for the weekend and I’m bored.” Dream said, dragging out the D in bored. You were so tired but how could you say no to dream?

“Sure I’ll be down in a minute, pick out a movie for us.” You said reluctantly dragging your body off of your bed. You hear him turn away and start walking back downstairs as you head over to your closet. You get out a oversized shirt that dream had gave you as a hand-me-down and you change into it. You wanted to be comfortable so you took off your bra and didn’t put any shorts on so you were just in his shirt and your underwear. When you were done you made your way downstairs to dream cooking popcorn in the kitchen. You walk into the kitchen to grab a few snacks and go to sit them onto the living room table. You hear the microwave ding and you walk back into the kitchen to see dream putting the popcorn into a big bowl. You squeeze past dream, grinding against him as you do so, to look for the salt. You hear him let out a groan before walking up behind you, pressing your stomach up to the counter top as you feel his hard dick against your ass. You let out a whimper as he reaches up into the cupboard to grab the salt out.

“Is this what you were looking for darling~?” He asked you, putting the salt infront of your face but keep your bodies in the same position. All you could let out is a little ‘mhm’ as he backs away, walking into the living room. He presses play as you follow him onto the couch as you see him pat his lap, signaling for you to sit on it. You feel your face grow red as you press yourself onto his lap, his dick pressing onto your pussy as you let out a small moan. “What’s wrong baby?” Dream says as he feels his way up your thigh. You respond to him by pressing yourself harder onto his dick, “Is this the problem little one?” He says pressing has fingers onto your clothed pussy. “Awe, you’re soaking wet. Do you need daddy to take care of you?” He asks. You nod, “I need your words sweetheart”. “Yes daddy, please take care of me.” You say highly embarrassed. He giggles into your ear as he begins rubbing your pussy through your underwear, your hand shoots to his and you try to press yourself onto his hand. He slides your underwear down before sliding off his own. His hard dick shoots up as he makes you wrap your thighs around his dick. He starts thigh fucking you while both hands are squeezing your thighs. You hold onto his wrists while he kisses the back of your neck. Your pretty moans and his groans fill the room. “Fuck, you don’t know how long I’ve needed this doll. Ive needed to use your pretty little body so bad.” He says before fucking your thighs faster. His precum and your wetness covering your thighs as his dick slides between your folds and hits your clit in just the right way. “Ah~ gonna cum daddy” you moan, squeezing his wrists. “Cum for me, you’re doing so good” he says as he removes one of his hands from your thigh to circle your clit instead.

He cums all over your thighs as you cum onto his dick. He picks your body up and turns you around to face him. He kisses you as he slides his dick inside of you, making your yelp. “Shh~ its okay, I have you. Daddy has you.” He says as he pulls you closer, slowly pushing his dick in until he bottoms out. He begins fucking into you, making you bounce on him. He lifts your shirt up and watches your tits bounce as you move up and down on him. He smirks at how embarrassed you got at this. “Is my little baby embarrassed? You’re so adorable.” He said before grabbing one of your hands, holding it as he fucks into you harder. Your moans get louder and louder as you feel yourself getting closer to cumming. “Just like that, cum for me baby.” He says before playing with one of your tits. “I’m going to cum inside of you okay? Can you handle that doll?” He asks. He let out a few yes’s before cumming on his dick for the second time. He slams into you a few more times before spilling his seed into your pussy.

He pulls you off of his dick and gets a paper towel to clean you both up with. He puts his clothes back on before sliding your underwear back onto you. He lays on the couch and pulls you in. The credits of the movie roll as you fall asleep.

#dsmp #justpuppylove #dsmp smut #dream smut #smut #dreamwastaken #dream team smut #dreamwastaken smut #stepdad #mcyt smut #mcyt x you #mcyt #mcyt x y/n #dream smp #dream team #stepdad smut #stepdad dream

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canthelpit0 · 14 days

Text

American

Pairing: matt x poc!reader

Wordcount: 2.2K +

Summary: reader is a third culture kid. Her parents are immigrants, and she hates it. She wants to be everything she is not.

Warnings: angst, crying, hating your own culture, racism, internalized racism, middle eastern!reader, reader discerned as average, established relationship, pet names, hurt/comfort, no use of y/n, no oc; reader described to have curly hair, brown eyes and hair.

(A/N: not me reflecting lmao. asks and req are open <3 feedback is appreciated!)

I hate my culture. I hate my frizzy hair, I hate the fact that my eyes are a plain brown. I hate the fact that I’m not white. I hate that when someone asks me where I’m from and I say America, they go “no where are you actually from?”. I hate my brain. I hate the way I think. I hate the way I wish I was someone else. I hate myself, and I hate the way I hate myself.

I was never considerably pretty. Well not really. Sure the facial harmony, the potential is there. But I’m just not good enough.

I wish my hair was straight.

I hate the way I hate my own culture. I really do. But I literally can’t fit into the American beauty Standards , but I can’t fit into the middle eastern ones either.

My home country is America. I was born and raised here. But both of my parents are immigrants from turkey. -Wich means we’re not very wealthy.

I hate it when people ask me where I’m from because I look ‘exotic’.

I wouldn’t consider turkey my home country. I hate it there. And I don’t know if it’s just my internalized hatred or whatever, but I do.

Even in the country itself I’m not considered Turkish enough. In the US I’m not American enough…

I’m never enough.

Not to my parents, not to my siblings, not to my boyfriend. Not to myself. I’m not good enough.

we go to turkey for vacation every year and I’m sick of it.

I speak the language enough to communicate. I hate half the food because I’m a picky eater. It hurts even more because I’m not even considered properly Turkish.

I hate the way all my cousins, except for one, live In turkey. I hate the way they’re so close to each other. And despite being in the cousins group chat, they’ll always send in pictures of them all together. Pictures that I’ll never be in, simply because I’m halfway across the world.

Years ago, whenever we visited, it didn’t matter, the fact that I live so far away, but now they were judgy.

Besides I don’t trust anything there. Sure the stuff there is cheaper, but you could literally put me in an official Nike store and I would still tell you the shoes are fake, even tho they obviously aren’t.

I did an internship at a disposition and shipping company. I know that those shoes come from the same warehouse. I just don’t trust anything Turkish.

Growing up with so many myths that my parents taught me to live by, until I realized it’s just a bunch of bullshit, made me believe that nothing purchased in turkey is of any quality.

And it’s not even to hate on the nation or anything, it’s probably my own fault.

I hate the way all the other middle easternerns are so confident in where they’re from, flexing the fact that they naturally know more languages than Americans.

But I just wish I was one of those stupid Americans. Oblivious to the rest of the world and all the flaws in human nature. I wish I was a skinny white woman born into an upper middle class American family.

But instead I have to be what I am.

I hate it when I hear people talk in my ‘native’ language. Even tho that’s the only language we speak at home.

Sometimes I feel great knowing that I have culture and just naturally great genetics, and potential and resources to be better than those stuck in a village in my ‘home’ town.

But then it dawns on me that I’m not American, even if I was born and raised here it’s not my home country. And as much as I feel like it should be and is, it’s not.

It dawns on me that I’m not white. I’m not one of them. And I never will be.

And that makes me question why Matt is even dating me.

There is so much internal self hatred and racism going on in me, yet still he chose me over those white girls.

And I don’t get it.

Every time I look at myself in the mirror I sigh. Let’s ignore the fact that I’m not white like that and will never be. Even being middle eastern, or whatever the hell turks are considered, I don’t look like that either.

I fit literally nowhere. Sure I have dark brown hair and brown eyes, I look pretty average. But I still don’t look Turkish, I don’t have that straight hair or painfully skinny body.

I let out a heavy sigh without even noticing. These thoughts were getting loud again.

I hate how strict and conservative my parents are. I hate the painful lack of empathy they show, because I always have to be perfect, when I’m oh so confused of what type of perfect.

I don’t know if they want me to be a cheerleader and prom queen and top of my class like they never could. Or if they want me to be conservative or something.

Probably the latter, but-

“What are you thinking about?” Matt’s voice suddenly snaps me out of my daze. We literally had laid down to sleep and all I could do is pity myself.

I feel a lump in my throat and only now realize how i feel like I’m going to break into sobs.

Matt must’ve heard my uneven, shaky breaths.

Matt was spooning me, his arms wrapped around my waist, holding me close to him. He rubs my sides gently, tracing shapes on my skin.

I sigh in response. I feel like I haven’t used my voice in so long. I feel like if I speak now, I’ll break into sobs.

“Baby?” He whispers softly. I feel him pull away slightly until he turns me around to face him.

“Talk to me sweetheart.”

Matt is such a kind soul. I literally didn’t tell my parents we were dating until we were already dating for 7 months, just because I was that scared. I wasn’t allowed to date or do anything intimate. As if it wasn’t normal for a teenager to want to.

“Why do you like me Matt?” I blurt out before I can think.

“First off, I don’t like you, I love you. And second where is this coming from?” He asks sweetly his eyes having a tinge of concern to them. He looks so sweet and caring.

“Why tho?” I inquire. My voice low. I know my eyes are glassy, I’m quite literally holding back tears.

Matt licks his lips and sits up. He turns the bedside table lamp on. The dim yellow light aluminates the room slightly, just enough so that I can see his prominent features even better.

“What do you mean?” He asks again now sitting up fully. He has his legs Chris-cross, looking down at me while I still lay on my side.

I sigh trying to gather my thoughts. I purse my lips lying back on my back. I stare at the ceiling for a moment.

“Why do you love me?” I purse my lips. I blink furiously trying to hold back tears.

The way he looks at me is sweet and caring. I sit up just like him. Both of us now sitting across each other, Chris-cross.

Matt and I have been together for a long while, so he knows me. But I never openly talked about it.

“I love you because you’re kind, and caring. I love you because you could talk for hours about things you are passionate about. I love your voice, I love your face, I love the way you’re so delicate with everything. I love the way you touch me. I love you because even when we were just friends you were so kind to me and everyone around. I love you because you’re you.”

By the end of his rant I was crying. Tears streaming down my face while i try to hold in gut wrenching sobs.

Matt’s eyes soften even further. He shifts again so his back is against the head-bored. He grabs me gently and sets me down on his lap facing him.

I cry. Feeling vulnerable I burry my face in the side of his neck. I try not to sob too loud, but I can’t hold it in. With my sobs my body shakes as I try to breathe through it.

“Shh you’re okay baby.” He comforts, gently rubbing circles into my back.

I let out shaky breaths and sobs as I try to calm down. I feel like I’m overreacting. Sure I feel shitty about myself, but then again I can’t do anything to change who I am, so what’s the point in crying about it.

I don’t know for how long I cry, I just know that after a while I couldn’t anymore. I cried so much I ran out of tears.

“You want to talk about it?” Matt asks softly under his breath.

I let out a shaky sigh and shift slightly. I look him in the eyes for a second before letting my head fall forward closing my eyes. I know my eyes are probably red and puffy.

“I just..” I trail off, thinking of a way to describe this to Matt.

“I hate being an immigrant’s daughter..” I say slowly trying to figure out a way to understandably say this without sounding crazy or overly sensitive.

I feel Matt’s hand ghost over my cheek caressing my face gently. He picks up my head slowly so I’m looking at him. My eyes meet his as I try not to cry anymore.

“Talk to me, honey.” He says oh so sweetly.

“I just wish I was American.” I sob. Without even realizing tears were rolling down my face again.

Matt doesn’t say anything waiting for me to continue. He wipes away my tears gently, his eyes full of concern.

“I hate myself and everything I stand for.” I breathe out under my breath as if I’m terrified by that fact. And I am. I hate that I hate myself.

“Baby..” Matt whispers softly. He looks at me like I am everything. He looks at me like I’m the only thing that matters and me saying that I hate myself tears him apart.

“I don’t have a culture. I mean I do, but I’m a third culture kid, I’m not enough for either culture.” I sob. I can physically feel my bottom lip trembling.

“Baby, I love you for you.” Matt says again softly. He wipes away my tears.

“But I hate myself Matt. I hate the fact that I exist.” I breathe out. I close my eyes tightly, because after all, I could barely see anything through my tears anyway.

Matt, being the empath he is, was on the verge of crying too.

No American ever pronounces my name right, but the actual right way just sounds wrong at this point.

I will never find my name on those keychains. And while today, I don’t care about it, back when I was younger and everyone had those, I just couldn’t find one.

“Don’t say that” Matt breaths out. He was still actively wiping away my tears while trying not to cry himself.

“You don’t get it Matt. I’m the problem.” I breathe out harshly. “I feel like I always act like such a brat about it. But my parents had dreams too.” I breathe out.

I see a tear roll down Matt’s cheek and it feels like a slap across my face. I feel my stomach drop. I hurriedly put my hands on his face wiping away the tear while crying myself. Matt’s hands go to my waist holding me.

“Don’t say that.” He breathes out. “You’re allowed to feel things.”

Another wave of sadness washes over me. But before I can break out into sobs again he pulls me into him.

Matt cradles my head into his chest hugging me tightly. I feel safe in his arms. I know Matt loves me for me, but sometimes it still felt like a cruel joke.

Like when I was asked out in middle school as a joke. But we’ve been dating for almost a year now.

“I love your hair, I love your eyes, I love your face, I love your culture, I love your humor. I love you.” Matt assures me. He rubs my scalp gently as I continues to let out small sobs that shake my body.

“I love everything about you. I love you the way you are, and you know that.” He uses his other hand to rub my back comfortingly.

I continue to cry in his arms listening to the sweet nothings and the praises Matt whispers to me.

It hurts knowing I hurt him. And I really want to believe him, and I do. But I don’t agree.

After a while of crying I calm down again.

This is a topic I’ll never be able to talk about without crying. It’s a deep rooted pain.

Being how I am, I hate it.

After a while we move back to a laying down position. “We’ll talk about this later.” Matt assures firmly yet he was still looking at me kindly.

I simply nod. Matt turns the bedside lamp off. He pulls me closer to him. He cradles my head to his chest and I hug him back. I cling to him like my life depends on it.

I know it’s not going to be easy, but it’s exhausting to hate myself this much. I wish I didn’t. I really do.

Masterlist

A/N: All of us third culture kids have probably at some point have experienced some type of internalized racism. I wrote this in a fit of sadness after realising that my dreams are just dreams. I cried so many times while writing this. I hope you guys liked it 💕

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo , @slut4chriss , @mattsturniololoverr , @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n , @st7rnioioss , @t1llysblogs , @nonat-111 , @blahbel668 , @rockstarchr1s , @sturnsintrouble , @nayveetbhh , @tillies33ssss , @sturncakez , @strnilo , @somegirlfromasgard , @mattslovelygf , @sturnsmaeve , @sturnstvr , @lucianastrun , @jnkvivi , @jamiesturniolo

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daydreamwritting · 3 months

Note

Hi! Any thoughts about Jasper, please 🙏

This was so vague that I’ve been sitting on this for a few weeks because I have a lot of thoughts about this man. Here are some moments I came up with, things I’d imagine that take place on those normal days around Forks <3 hope you enjoy!

First off, any hobby you like is also his hobby. And if he doesn’t end up liking it he sure as hell is funding it because he loves seeing you happy. Even if it all goes to waste when you abandon one project for the next one.

He’d probably take you on more hikes you thought were physically possible. Insistent that you don’t get out in nature enough to just take a breather. He makes sure to find good trails with spot to sit and explore, knowing you’ll be extra happy if there’s a waterfall. You slowly join his family’s “hiking days” on sunny days as much as your parents allow. Even though the hiking/camping trips were always the excuse, you and Jasper ironically spent most of those days doing just that. I mean, when else are you suppose to hike? Between school, homework, and supernatural threats, there’s not enough time in the day!

When it comes to your protection it’s always a bit hard for him. All he wants to do is stand in front of you and protect you from any dangers of the world, but he knows that you can stand your own ground, and he lets you, especially when it comes to you bickering with his siblings. Whole arguments have been made by asking if Jasper is such a bad gentleman that he can’t open a car door which lead to the whole I’m my own person and am fully capable of opening my own door argument. For a bunch of old vampires, some of them truly argued like teenagers.

He 100% uses his gift on you. Of course he respect you and your boundaries if you want him to back off. But sometimes you’ll be stubborn and tell him to back off and he has to politely explain that you literally look like you’re going to pass out and if you don’t calm down in the next ten seconds he will do it anyways because your physical safety comes first.

Being with you meant being around your best friend, something Jasper was nervous about in the beginning, he’s not very familiar with the human friend department. However, he was relieved to find out your best friend is a lot like you. Easily fitting in with both of you and your activities. He often joined you two when going to the library or shopping. You also learned there’s a whole lot more board games you guys can play with three people. Board games became a specialty when hanging out with your best friend since Edward, Alice, and sometimes even Emmett cheat. They are impossible to play with.

Your favorite days were the rainy ones. Jaspers bedroom had floor to ceiling windows and you practically demanded he put a bed in there so you can get all cozy and watch the rain fall and totally not to use as an excuse for cuddling. You got what you wished for and you and Jasper started an exclusive book club with just the two of you. In rainy days, you’d read a book together and talk about it. Of course you can’t stand reading out loud so you insist on getting two copies of every book so you could both read at your own pace. Jasper thought this was silly as first, but understood the appeal when he laid down next to you on the bed and started reading to the relaxing sound of rain in the background. It was nice, and almost distracted him from the rest of the chatter he was forced to hear around the rest of the house.

#twilight saga #twilight #jasper hale #jasper hale x reader #headcanon #oneshot #new moon #eclipse #breaking dawn #the cullens #sorry this took so long #i still have no idea what i'm doing #how do you use tumblr

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l0velybvnny · 1 month

Text

cursed

pairings : megumi x reader | yuji x reader (platonically) | gojo x reader (platonically) | nobara x reader (platonically) more to be added?

summary: “so you’re also a vessel huh? that’s cool i am too of the one and only ryomen sukunas sister!” y/n says while pointing to herself a toothy smirk on her face as she stares at yuji itadori the newest student of jujutsu tech. “huh?!” he exclaimed in shock.

yuji itadori truly didn’t know what to think of everything so far— so much was happening. first his grandfather died he ate a cursed finger.. gross and now he’s the vessel ryomen sukuna the strongest curse to ever live.

it all happened when his friends from the occult club had a finger— the same finger he would go on to eat that supposedly attracted curses to his friends endangering their lives and the boy he met, megumi fushiguro. he had to eat the the finger really— the curses would’ve gotten all four of them he had to fight them somehow and he couldn’t do it in his normal body.

so, of course he ate it in an desperate attempt to save his friends and megumi fushiguro after eating it— he doesn’t remember much afterwards expect a tall blindfolded guy fighting the supposed curse now living in his body until everything fades to darkness.

after arriving at jujutsu tech and fighting more like getting beat by the principal yagas dolls he and gojo the blindfolded man he met back at his old school find him a dorm after packing up his things his sees fushiguro and a girl near by what yuji assumes is his door and that the girl resembles him in hair color shocked he walks over to them noticing how fushiguro and the girl are talking and he doesn’t looked annoyed or irritated.

“oh, fushiguro!” itadori calls out, looking at the pale boy with a grin on his face and then turning his gaze towards the shorter girl before he even gets the chance to speak she walks towards him leaning in his face which makes him flush due to the close proximity.

“hey hey! you must be yuji itadori i’ve heard about you!” the girl speaks enthusiastically, much like him “so you’re also a vessel huh? that’s cool i am too of the one and only ryomen sukunas sister!” y/n says while pointing to herself a toothy smirk on her face as she stares at yuji itadori the newest student of jujutsu tech. “huh?!” he exclaimed in shock leaning towards her like she did towards him looking at her features noticing the other pair of closed eyes under her red and black ones.

“sukuna has a sister?! since when gojo-sensei didn’t tell me anything about that?!” he says in shock looking at the shorter girl in unconcealed surprise. “yeah yeah! get this, my clan put her in my body cause they thought it could kill me but i didn’t so i’m her vessel!” she says with a wide grin, ignoring megumi’s grumbles in the background while she talks to the boy in front of her looking up and waving happily at gojo behind yuji which he happily reciprocates.

“no way! so their siblings does that make us siblings too?! i’ve never had any siblings!” she says copying her grin as she nods her head enthusiastically. “yeah! we’re basically siblings now this is so cool! i’ve never had siblings who don’t want to hate me!” *she says, looking up at the boy. “I’m y/n kamo! i’m kinda apart of the kamo—“ gojo coughs clearing his throat, catching her attention as she pouts and closes her mouth. “that’s enough n/n, we can’t tell everything can we now?” he says, walking forward and placing his hand on her hand as he speaks.

“sorry sensei..” she murmurs, walking back towards megumi after gojo pats her head and clings to his arm as he keeps his usual stoic face. “anyways, yeah.. that’s basically it i’m y/n kamo you’re new sister okay?” y/n says with a happy grin a mouth suddenly appearing on her cheek and speaking. “you insolent brat, shut your mouth you speak to much don’t you see these men getting annoyed with you?” the mouth speaks until y/n throws her hand over it huffing. “shut up..” she murmurs quietly.. excusing herself as she walks back towards the girls dormitory.

“so.. she’s like me?” itadori speaks up after a moment of silence turning his gaze towards gojo after he watching y/n walk away. “hmm.. more like you’re like her, she was here first after all. the both of you are both vessels for the ryomen siblings at that so i’d say yes you two are alike.” gojo speaks thoughtfully, running his fingers over his chin as he does so.

“oh, that’s nice. i don’t feel so weird anymore..” he speaks, turning his gaze back toward her disappearing figure as she turns the corner furrowing his eye brows as he sees her mutter to herself shrugging it off he turns back to fushiguro and gojo wondering what’s in store for him now that he’s a vessel.

#megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #yuji x reader #yuji itadori #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #nobara x reader #nobara kugisaki #fluff #cursed vessels #angst #crack #jujutsu kaisen #jjk

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television-overload · 23 days

Text

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 6/34 - christmas lights

[Read on AO3]

“You talked to Skinner, right?” Mulder asks, nervously turning his hastily-wrapped gift of a bottle of wine in his fidgeting hands.

It feels dangerous, as he walks up the driveway to Maggie Scully’s house. Scully walks beside him in her usual place. His hand lightly brushes against the small of her back with each forward step, his way of keeping her close when there are threats lurking in the shadows.

Threats Scully seems to be paying no mind to. Instead, her excitement is palpable.

He sees where she's coming from; Having a secret of this magnitude just between them is admittedly thrilling. He's just not sure it's worth the risk of ruining Christmas, though, but maybe that's just him.

“Of course I did,” she answers, charging ahead without a lick of apprehension. His brave little fiancée. “He'll call after lunch.”

“Just making sure,” he mumbles. “If he forgets, we’re gonna be stuck here all day.”

“Mulder…” She shoots him a look.

“Right, sorry. Sorry.”

Festive strands of lights, unlit in the daytime, adorn Mrs. Scully's bushes and trees in her front yard, their clear bulbs glinting in the sunlight. It's a sight to behold when the sun goes down, he's sure. Though he's hoping he won't be here long enough to find out.

“Dana!” a voice calls, and they look up to see the front door open slightly, with Mrs. Scully herself peeking out.

Mulder’s hand drops from Scully’s back.

“And Fox! I’m so happy you could make it! I hate the idea of you spending Christmas Eve all alone.”

Truth be told, he enjoys his quiet Christmases. Better than the ones he had before his parents split, in any case. The slight pity in her voice makes him uncomfortable, but he smiles anyway, playing the part he has to play. If this works out (and he's invited back for another Christmas), he takes solace in the fact that there will never again be a secret like this to keep. He might even enjoy himself next time.

“Well aren’t you two all dressed up,” Maggie says as they step over the threshold, taking in their appearances. “The rest of us are barely out of our pajamas!”

Mulder looks around as the entryway opens up into the living space. Bill and his family are seated on the couch, and another red-headed man sits adjacent to him on an overstuffed chair, raising a cup of coffee in welcome.

‘We come in peace,’ Mulder thinks.

He waves in greeting, giving a nod in Bill’s direction. The unflappable stare he receives in response is nothing less than he expected.

They really are overdressed. Everyone else is in a sweater of questionable taste or casual winter-wear. And here they are dressed like they’re going to court.

Which… they are.

Mulder loosens his collar at that thought, suddenly hyper-aware of the countless pairs of eyes fixed on him, as if he has the words ‘I'M ABOUT TO MARRY YOUR DAUGHTER/SISTER’ tattooed on his forehead.

Is he always this sweaty in this suit?

“Charlie, I didn’t know you were going to be here!” Scully says jovially as she sheds her coat. The red-haired man stands and makes his way over to them, wrapping Scully in a massive bear hug. It's an effective enough distraction to take the heat off Mulder, which he is certainly thankful for.

Up close, he can tell the man takes after Maggie more than Scully’s father in appearance, unlike the eldest Scully son. The red hair though, that's gotta be all Scully. His heart stutters at the thought of a red-headed baby, one they might have had if the IVF had worked. He pushes it back forcefully. He'd thought he was over that by now.

“This is my partner, Mulder,” Scully says, drawing his attention back to the present. She introduces them with a hand resting on her brother’s shoulder, gesturing up at her tall partner with a smile.

“Mulder, this is my younger brother, Charlie.”

Mulder nods and puts on a smile, hoping he might have a chance at getting on one Scully sibling’s good side.

“Heard a lot about you,” Charlie says, shaking Mulder’s outstretched hand. “From Dana, not Bill, don’t worry. She’s the only one I listen to,” he jokingly adds, and Mulder stiffly laughs, the tension easing just a bit.

He wonders what she tells her brother when they get a chance to talk. All good things, he hopes.

“You’re stationed in Japan, right?” Mulder asks, shoving his hands in his pockets. He’s not adept at making polite conversation, but he thinks it’s going okay so far.

“That’s right. Managed to get enough leave time to make the trip finally.”

“How long will you be in town?” Scully asks.

“Just until Tuesday. The Navy can’t be without me for too long or else the entire base falls apart.”

Bill pushes out a forced laugh at that and shakes his head in fond annoyance.

When a lull in the conversation presents itself, Mulder pulls Scully aside, ducking his head so that his whispers won't be overheard.

“We can postpone our plans,” he says into her ear, "I know you don't get to see your brother very often. I'll call Skinner and let him know.”

“No, Mulder, it's okay,” she says, reaching out and gripping his sleeve. “I'll see him tomorrow. I want to do this.”

His eyes study hers. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Heaven help him.

“I'm blaming you if this gets me on another brother's bad side,” he warns.

“Charlie’s not like Bill. You'll be fine,” she says. “Talk to him about Japanese cryptids or something, he might actually be interested.”

Mulder laughs nervously. “That feels like a setup, Scully, but I'll take your word for it.”

-.-.-

Mulder has some success hiding in the corner with a freshly-poured cup of coffee while the others mingle, but of course his luck can only hold out for so long. It isn't long before Charlie spots him, tracing an unmistakable path across the room to intercept him before he can escape.

“So, Fox. Or is it Mulder?” he starts.

Mulder turns, accepting his fate. “Mulder’s fine,” he answers with a polite smile.

“What are you two up to?”

The taste of coffee goes bitter in his mouth, and it takes some effort not to go straight into a coughing fit. “What?” he asks, eyes seeking out Scully already, though she's nowhere to be seen.

“Work,” Charlie clarifies. “What kinds of stuff are you doing at work?”

“Oh, right.” Mulder drops the panic face, his shoulders relaxing. “Well, I'm sure you wouldn't be interested. Boring stuff, mostly.”

“I find that hard to believe based on what my sister’s told me.”

Yeah, but how much does he know? That’s the question.

“Uh. We had a fast food worker a little while ago that ate his victims brains.”

He’ll leave out a few details and let the man believe it was a simple case of cannibalism. He doesn’t exactly feel like talking about proboscises or shark mutants or mentioning the fact that the brains were completely removed from the victim’s skull right before a nice family lunch.

“Eugh,” Charlie makes the appropriate sound of disgust, “How'd you figure that one out?”

“You really don't want to know.”

The youngest Scully sibling seems to accept that answer, to Mulder’s relief.

“You guys certainly live interesting lives, don't you?” he says.

“You could say that,” Mulder says. “I think your brother would prefer if they were less interesting, though.”

Charlie rolls his eyes. “Don't listen to him, he's just mad Dana's not his helpless baby sister anymore. Which, mind you, she never was. She'd wipe the floor with him shooting targets with our beebee gun growing up.”

Now here’s a subject that really interests Mulder. “I believe that,” he says, smiling at the thought of Bill getting humiliated by a teeny tiny Scully. “Got a scar on my shoulder to prove it.”

“She shot you?” Charlie asks, his voice laced with equal measures of incredulity and fascination.

“Oh yeah. With the precision of a practiced medical professional.” He smiles proudly, which probably isn’t the usual affect of a person describing how a bullet tore through their body, but Mulder wears that scar like a medal of honor. “In her defense, I deserved it,” he continued, “I wasn't in my right mind at the time, and she had no other way to stop me.”

Charlie blows out an impressed breath, brows raised in wonderment. “Well, I'm glad you can laugh about it now,” he comments. “You know, Bill might enjoy that little tidbit. I think he thinks you've trapped her with your roguish handsomeness, or possibly voodoo.”

Mulder laughs, though somewhat uncomfortably. Sometimes he wonders if he’s trapped her too, though he doesn’t think ‘roguish handsomeness’ has anything to do with it.

“No, for reasons beyond my comprehension, she's decided to stick around,” he says awkwardly. “Despite my best efforts to make her see the light.”

Charlie nods, as if that was the response he was expecting. “You and Bill aren't all that different, then,” he says, clapping Mulder on the shoulder. “Only, you know when to give in to that Scully stubbornness and admit defeat. He, unfortunately, doesn't.”

All the better for me, Mulder thinks.

They fall into an awkward silence after that, each taking a sip from their lukewarm coffee. Mulder glances around the room in search of his partner again, hoping she’ll come rescue him from small-talk hell when—

“So what are you actually up to?”

This time he plays it cool, swallowing another sip of coffee as casually as possible before asking, “What do you mean?”

“Come on. When I asked you earlier, you started sweating,” Charlie says, lightly smacking Mulder’s arm with the back of his hand. “Now you've got me thinking you're hiding something.”

Mulder gives his best clueless look, a tactic which only has about a 50% success rate of getting him out of trouble. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Sure you don't,” Charlie says, entirely unconvinced. He has the same expression as Scully has when he’s pitching her some wild theory at work. It’s almost unsettling to see it now on an unfamiliar face. “My sister's got that ‘sneaking around’ look she used to get when she was doing something our parents wouldn't approve of,” he continues. “I was the youngest sibling, remember? I saw everything.”

Okay, denial’s not working, time to bail. The scrutinizing eyes of Charles Scully are locked onto him, and he gives a knowing smile.

“Well, whatever it is, I'm glad you're doing it. She seems happy.” Mulder lets out a breath, not sure what the approval of his partner’s younger brother means exactly, but grateful for it all the same. “I think making Bill mad gives her a thrill,” the man continues, casting a glance at his big brother.

“I'm afraid you might be right,” Mulder agrees.

Charlie shakes his head. “Well, that's Dana for you. Appearances are never what they seem.”

Mulder couldn’t agree more.

“Ain't that the truth.”

-.-.-

Lunch is a fairly painless affair, all things considered. Maggie had the good grace to sit Bill and Mulder on opposite ends of the table, and Charlie doesn’t mention their previous conversation again. The last remnants of dessert are being scraped off plates when the phone rings, its shrill tone interrupting conversation.

“Dana, your boss is on the phone for you,” Maggie speaks, popping her head around the corner from the kitchen.

“Oh, brother,” Bill says, instantly looking to Mulder with a nasty glare. So much for being off the hook, Mulder thinks. He wordlessly sends a complaint to Scully about her brother’s behavior, flicking his eyes pointedly toward Bill Jr., and she’s forced to suppress a smile as she hurries into the kitchen. He hears her mumble something into the phone, though it’s far enough away that no one in the dining room can hear.

When she returns, she’s wearing a serious facial expression.

Showtime.

“Mulder, that was Skinner,” she says, her tone regretful. “He's calling us in.”

“Ugh, on Christmas?” he whines, putting a little extra oomph into his indignation for appearance’s sake. Bill doesn’t appear to be buying it.

“He says it should only take a few hours—they just need our input on a case,” Scully explains, just like they’d rehearsed.

“Well, if the Assistant Director says so,” Mulder says with a shrug, and Scully shoots him a look that says he's pushing his luck. He can't help but smirk for a second before carefully masking his face. This was her idea.

“Are you kidding me, Dana? This is a family holiday!” Bill protests, a vein bulging in the side of his head. As if he’s never missed a holiday for work. Yeah, right.

Scully’s composure remains cool and confident, despite her brother’s lack of reason. “Director's orders, Bill. I'm sorry. I promise I'll be here all day tomorrow.”

He scoffs. “I'll believe it when I see it.”

Maggie, to her credit, takes their sudden departure in stride, hugging both her daughter and Mulder before ushering them out the door, promising to see them tomorrow bright and early.

They smile like giddy, rule breaking schoolchildren all the way to the car.

~~~

Lovely tag list ♡: [if you would like to be added or removed, let me know!]

@today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @numinousmysteries @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @slippinmickeys @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear @whovianderson

#msr #txf #x files #xf fanfic #mulder and scully #my fanfiction #fox mulder #dana scully #of our own making #ooom #msr adoption fic #adoption

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cloveroctobers · 5 months

Text

DECEMBER PROMPTS 🧊 — 3. MICHAEL “MIKEY” BERZATTO

A/N: I want to attempt to make this a bit lighter but with the way the bear is set up? Happiness is a process. 🥂 Also this takes place BEFORE 7 fishes? Maybe a year or two prior, so thats probably six or seven years ago from now? The timeline isn’t overly important with this show so whatever your brain feels is cool with me! Also decided to do this in headcanon/note form this time around because things are definitely about to get hectic for me. Merry Christmas Eve or Happy Holidays to you all! 🫶🏽 hope its filled with nothing but greatness + all things that are lovely and not chaos.

PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE + I’m using: SCENARIO — 4.) Decorating the tree + DIALOGUE — 2.) “You know what they say, don’t eat yellow snow.”

<- read my previous December anthology prompt here.

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Michael Berzatto always loved cold weather and sure his birthday happened to always fall on a brutal cold day… he always put more effort into everyone else’s.

It’s something he’s always done and maybe it had to do with his childhood where most birthdays his own parents forgot about it, treating it as any other day because that’s simply how they viewed their own and wouldn’t even get him a card at least.

He grew up fast and pushed those terrible feelings as far down as they could go and focused on caring for everyone else.

Lucky for him, he had his younger siblings that always managed to put a smile on his face, showing him that they wouldn’t ever forget

and a shit eating grin would also appear thanks to his best friend Richie who always showed up with packs of beer and encouragement to head out to a strip joint but somehow Tiffany always figured out that plan!

a gallon of warmth poured into his chest when you would call him at midnight or the break of dawn, wanting to be the first to send him well wishes for another year.

You were always something special to Michael.

Which is why on the morning of November 15th, he showed up to your place, just to tell you later that you were going tree hunting while he went down to Chicagoland to get the rest of his hours in.

He heard how bummed out you were about your boyfriend not being in town (yet again) to go get a tree for the place you moved into back in July.

Michael didn’t particularly hate the guy but he also felt like he didnt care enough as much as he should with someone like you.

He was always elsewhere and Michael was just praying that he didn’t ask you to marry him and call it selfish but he didn’t see a glimmer in your eyes when you looked at the guy.

Michael felt like you two were just dating out of convenience—until you both found better, which YOU would but you didn’t seem to see that.

Which of course sparked arguments and the guy walked in on that argument, demanding to know what was going on and you didn’t want to escalate the situation so you sent a warning glance for Michael not to take it there.

He never listened.

A ban from the house was laughable to Michael because who tf did this guy think he was to tell him to stay away from his best friend’s house? He maybe “the man,” of the house but he wasn’t man enough to love you. You have to show you care in a relationship and put in the work and this guy wasn’t it. You were an after thought and that pissed Michael off.

and he didn’t give a shit if the guy was 6’6 and built like a linebacker, it was fair game in mike’s eyes! Michael would say what he felt and he was super protective over you—which you appreciated but not in that moment.

Before hands could ever go flying and out of the respect he has for you, he said his peace and left the home—since thats what you wanted…with the both of you not speaking for a week—which was painful.

And also painful to Richie’s ears because Mikey wouldn’t shut up about it!

You as a topic? Was never on the low.

“Are you finally gonna admit to the audience that you’re sweet on them, Mikey Boy!?” The amusement was clear in Richie’s piercing blues and Michael was tempted to smack it right off.

“Shut your mouth and get back to work, ya bastard!”

Michael knew the guy talked shit about him behind his back but regardless Michael was in your life WAAAY before this guy was even a factor! He wasn’t going anywhere,, unless you told him to but he hoped that never happened.

Your boyfriend didn’t like how you kept Michael around but he knew how to put on a mask too, being a FBI agent and all that, which means he was hardly around anyway so…that gave Michael more time with you in the end, which definitely made your boyfriend more irritated when he bothered to check in from work!

Michael found it funny that your boyfriend thought he was doing something by flying back to Indiana with you to spend (the controversial holiday) thanksgiving with your dad, step-mother, and half-siblings just to disappear again into his work as soon as the both of you returned to chicago.

While he was off on a case, Michael was there taking on the failed promises, which included: tree shopping.

Having a hybrid schedule, working as a publisher and just starting a meeting with a client, you were caught off guard the morning Michael greeted you on your front steps on HIS birthday.

He was all grins and barely in the appropriate wear for the approaching winter but fr! a hoe never gets cold you know? “You asked what i feel like doing for my birthday, right sweetheart? Spending it with you doll face and gettin’ us a tree, how’s that sound?”

You can can barely get any words out due to being on a call but a sweet smile that actually matched your eyes was enough confirmation—although it was on the tip of your tongue to argue, Michael took that to his advantage that you couldn’t in that moment.

Which didn’t mean you wouldn’t hammer him with texts a little later—but Michael sucked at texting so your attempts would probably go unseen anyway.

It was around six, you just got off thirty minutes ago and went to freshen up, ready to text Michael when he’s already at your door, keys in hand, shining teeth of a smile, your favorite sandwich in hand: a wrapped Porchetta, chicken parm, or a caprese sandwich (if you don’t eat meat) ready for you to eat on the go, since the farm closes at eight-thirty and the drives about thirty to forty-five minutes depending on the traffic…

Michael’s got terrible road rage and hates traffic but you’re not the best driver when the sky falls so you have no choice this evening but…he’s at ease with you on the passenger side.

He’s telling you entertaining stories as you eat and when you’re done, he’s asking for your review—although it’s your favorite sandwich so of course it’s going to be highly rated! but he just likes to hear you talk about the things you enjoy

he’s interested in your day since your work days are completely different and he’s not afraid to give his opinions if the author you’re working with sounds like an asshole.

Shopping with you can sometimes take forever but Michael doesn’t seem to mind. If you’re looking for the perfect tree, even if it’s ugly as hell, you’re gonna get the damn tree.

He’s used to artificial trees because the real one his family had after he just turned fifteen, his ma threw a lit cigarette at once, unbeknownst to the rest of the berzatto family, almost burning it to a crisp as she whipped around to yell at a seven year old Sugar about something, so his dad swore off “spending his hard earned money for Donna to ruin,” leaving Michael to stop looking forward to Christmas trees

Yet he was here on his birthday with you, happy to be here and help you find whatever you needed.

“What about that one?” You pointed at what would probably be the eighth one, if Michael thought to keep count.

He can’t help it—

He glances over his shoulders and scowls, “looks like uncle Lee, fucking balding in the middle.”

“Michael!”

“Wha? Am I wrong?! I’m just sayin, sweetheart…if you love that one, I’ll like it.” Michael raised his hands in surrender while you huffed, rolled your eyes and spun on your flats, diving in between a row of fully stocked trees.

Eventually you find a wide white spruce tree that the both you felt strongly about to bring back home

and the man is willing to throw his back out for you, getting it up your steep front steps, not allowing you to help him one bit, which is frustrating for you ofc.

Once positioned in your living room, just the way you want it, Michael wipes the back of his hand against his forehead dramatically.

“What would you like to drink?”

“I’m fine. Just gonna get some air, then when I get back we’ll discuss when you want to decorate it, yeah?”

You shake your head at Michael while he heads back to the front of the house through the screened in entrance before entering November’s air.

When he’s taking longer than expected, you go hunting for him just to flail around on some black ice after stepping down from the last step but manage to somewhat catch yourself on the railing.

Thankful for a bruise rather than a broken tailbone, you curse to yourself as the throbbing pain shoots down your femur.

And surely, Michael fucking berzatto appears from the shadows to assist you, “hey! whatcha doin’ down there?”

“I slipped on some stupid black ice…where were you?”

“You sure it wasn’t the yellow snow?”

“The what?” You exasperate as Michael guides you to your feet.

Michael points at the spot to the right of your front lawn and you scowl as he says, “you know what they say, don’t eat yellow snow!”

He laughs but stops short as you cut your eyes at him, “did you come out here to piss on my lawn when there’s two bathroom’s inside?”

Michael scoffs, “don’t go pointin’ fingers at me because you busted your ass. That ain’t my fault babe and you know I wouldn’t do that! I told you that was Richie’s drunk ass.”

Sighing you rub at your sore thigh, “I still owe him a kick in the ass for that.”

“Yeah you do,” Michael smirks as the both of you move to head back inside, “despite that, it was good house warming.”

You nod as you’re back inside the warmth of your new home and rest against the couch while Michael’s back to analyzing the tree you picked. “Hey, I’ve got you something.”

Michael shakes his head although a twitch of a grin is there,“I told you that you didn’t need to get me anything.”

“Shush,” you held up your hand at the man who raised his brows at you, “it’s nothing crazy but it’s in the fridge.”

He sighs at you but goes to your bright yellow kitchen nonetheless. Michael always gets caught up standing in your kitchen, just imagining all the meals he could get up to in here since it seems so bright and welcoming yet empty.

You were more of a breakfast person which is why he was always down to go to diners because of you, whereas he was more a lunch person because of his old man, hence why Chicagoland was a deli spot but Michael was okay with shifting his ways for you.

When he opens your fridge, he scans through it, easily picking up on what items belongs to your macho boyfriend and scoffs to himself before spotting a medium sized box tucked in the back of the fridge.

“Did you find it, Mikey?” You call out to your friend who latches onto the box, kneeing the fridge closed before making his way back into the living room.

He plops down on the couch next to you, eyeing you while you smile over at him patiently waiting.

“Here goes nothing,” Michael quietly says before pulling the top back to eye the mold of the zuccotto, “…you fucking didn’t.”

“I did,” you nod before explaining, “I thought about making one but I also didn’t want to disappoint you and then I remembered you’ve been wanting to try that bakery that’s here on my side of town, so I made a call and hope you like it.”

Michael swallows the lump in his throat at the gesture. He can’t remember the last time someone’s got him a cake but this wasn’t just some simple task. This was important because this means you listened.

You listened to how he told you that his nonna used to call him, “pumpkin bear,” because he was chunky and the shade of a Orange left in the sunlight fresh out the womb and that she made the best zuccotto he’s ever had and never tried anyone else’s since she’s passed.

Not even his ma could touch his nonna’s but he would never tell the woman that!

“The bakery’s a combined Italian-French place which they don’t really advertise until you’re actually inside but the little elderly lady who made it was the cutest thing and I thought you’d probably trust her.”

“I wanna kiss you on the mouth, you’re so good to me, you have no idea!” Michael pointed at you, voice thick with emotion.

This may seem small to any other but it really meant a lot and you could sense that as Michael gripped your hand to squeeze and press kisses to. “Happy birthday, Mikey.” You whisper.

Michael groans as he pinched the corners of his wet eyes for a moment, “I love you, you know?”

“I love you back,” you smile, “now can we try!?”

“Hell yeah we can but I get first bite this time.”

“I guess…it is your birthday after all.” You wink.

The taste test was so worth it, to the point Michael made it his mission to go meet the elderly woman down at her bakery during one of his breaks from the restaurant.

He shared kind words and got to know Giuseppina or “Josy,” up until the point they actually became friendly with Josy sending her husband Charles over to try what Chicagoland had to offer as well.

He had you to thank for that, reminding him of the good in his life, even what once was.

It isnt until the first week of December when Michael comes around again to decorate your tree.

“What the hell happened?” Michael quizzes you when he spots you with a brace taking up a huge portion of your thigh.

Guess that makes sense why you took so long to get the door.

You sigh, “hello to you too, Mike. Care to come in?”

“Yeah, yeah. Hi.” Michael greets, gripping your hip and pressing a kiss to your cheek before stepping into the too warm house.

You tell him you slipped again and that resulted into a bruised bone, which is less severe than a fracture and something you can heal at home with ice, and meds you wouldn’t be taking—so you’re just taking it easy.

“Why hasn’t inspector gadget put down any salt yet?” Michael commented as he shoved his thin jacket into the small closet tucked in the corner of the living room.

You have your oddly placed fireplace lit and boxes everywhere to dig through.

Sighing you plop back on the couch, “He’s busy but he brought up the decorations from the basement and I can do the salt myself.”

“Oh yeah? Why haven’t you?”

“…it’s cold.”

Michael fans his hands at you, “newsflash babe, we’re in Chicago not Kansas or wherever the hell he’s from and after we’re done tackling this tree, I’m gonna fix it.”

“Mikey—

“Did you hear what I said?”

The look he sent you with his dark eyes made you mold your lips together and cross your arms before you pushed off the couch to head over to a few of the boxes.

Michael does the honors of playing some Motown Christmas music on your tv to fill the tension, but he wouldn’t apologize for looking out for you.

The bare minimum when it comes to your boyfriend doesn’t impress him, not one bit and although you didn’t like and told Michael that you didn’t like him dragging your man, you couldn’t change Michael’s mind about him at all!

He was gonna hurt you and Michael was waiting for the asshole to just rip the band aid off or when you woke up and dumped him yourself.

Michael knew you had it in you and knew you deserved better than to just settle for what looks good on paper.

The smooth deep growl of Marvin Gaye singing, “I want to come home for Christmas,” (I heavily stand on the fact that Marvin Gaye is one of Michael’s favorite singers!) filled your home as the both of you went through the boxes, picking out your decor that brought all sorts of feelings to your frame.

You reminisced about what your life was and if your dad still had any of your old ornaments you made as a child, knowing your mother would have and what your life could be as you took your side of the tree, placing ornaments up as Michael hummed to the music.

The both of you worked in silence which wasn’t the usual although Michael was much louder than you, being quiet wasn’t the norm of your friendship.

And it wasn’t because of what Michael said to you, you weren’t that sensitive—it was you getting in your head about the holidays.

About your dad, step-mom, and siblings deciding not to speed Christmas with you like originally planned because they were going on a cruise and the possibility of your boyfriend traveling to freaking Europe around that time for work made you think about the upcoming loneliness

Yes you had another friend outside of Michael but it was just this odd feeling that you didn’t particularly want to define or gave much thought about until now…

“Hey, stop thinkin’ so hard and just be here with me, huh? Your favorite person on the planet.” Michael calls over the music, after catching you staring up at the length of the tree with one ornament still in your hand.

When your eyes meet his and that famous grin stretched over his features, you roll your eyes once you realized what he said, bringing you back into the spirit and moved around the living room in search of your stool.

Michael holds the stool until your comfortably on it before moving one hand to the small of your back to keep you stable.

When you glance back at him you state, “how do you know?”

“Know what?”

“You’re my favorite person when there’s a billion people in this place?”

“Ah, It’s all over your face! You know how they say heart on your sleeve? Well in your case, it’s on your face.” Michael comments as he holds your stare before you slowly get down to be face to face with him, “and don’t you worry, you’re mine too.” 🥹🥹🥹

You pat his jaw, “damn straight, baby. And don’t you forget it.”

“Never will,” Michael chuckles, “do I get to do the honors of putting up the star?”

You plop down on the couch, digging through what’s left in the box you were working on, “we don’t have a star.”

“…Run that by me again?” Michael turns to you.

You nod, “we wanted to do something…less traditional and it was between either a bow or what he went for…a stag.”

Michael eyes the topper and scowls as he reaches for the cream deer head, “im gonna keep my mouth shut on this one.”

“Thank you.”

“welcome.”

after awhile, Michael finds his way collapsed next to you eyeing the tree as the both of you sip at some cranberry punch you made the other day, eyeing some rosemary you had floating through it.

“It actually turned out pretty, no?” You ask, shoulder to shoulder with the bearded man.

Michael sips from the mason jar and savors the earthy tangy flavor, “best lookin’ tree I’ve ever seen!”

Resting your head against Michael’s shoulder you take in the scenery, feeling a little less alone as Michael’s lips peck your brow, reminding you that it’s best to hold onto what you have, rather than what you don’t.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆𐙚 ⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆𐙚 ⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆𐙚 ⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆𐙚 ⋆⁺₊

read my final ~5 days of Xmas~ anthology prompt here.

#Spotify #queued #the bear #the bear season 2 #the bear s2 #the bear hulu #the bear fx #michael berzatto #Michael Mikey berzatto #Mikey berzatto #Michael berzatto x reader #Mikey berzatto x reader #december prompts #jon bernthal #donna berzatto #natalie berzatto #carmy berzatto #richie jerimovich #tiffany jerimovich

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scary-grace · 1 month

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Enough to Go By (Chapter 5) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Chapter 5

You end up on a rooftop, you and Tenko and Kurogiri. Tenko has a pair of binoculars, and he lets you look through them before you have a chance to ask what he’s looking for. “We’re in Hosu,” he says. “The current location of the Hero Killer.”

“Are you going to fight him?”

“I’m doing what you said.”

You can’t remember what you said, except for your stupid joke. “Making him unfuckable?”

Tenko snickers, and somewhere behind you, Kurogiri does the same – which is extra weird. “No. Putting us back in the headlines.”

“Oh.” You don’t like this. “I’m not a strategist. You shouldn’t listen to me.”

“Why?” Tenko gives you a weird look. “You’re not stupid. Your ideas aren’t any worse than mine.”

“I don’t want you to get mad at me if it goes wrong,” you say. “I’ve heard you get mad at Kurogiri.”

Kurogiri chuckles. “That’s different,” he says. “Shigaraki Tomura. Tell her why it’s different.”

“Shut up,” Tenko says. He put the hand back over his face once he let go of your hand, but he’s turning red around it. Again. “Kurogiri’s not my sidekick. I don’t have to listen to him.”

“You don’t have to listen to me, either,” you say. “I don’t know anything about being – this.”

“You understand them better than I do,” Tenko says. He gestures at the expanse of Hosu before you. “What would it take to make you stop trusting heroes?”

You already don’t trust heroes very much. What would it take to move people like your parents or your siblings, who live in the other Japan, to where you are? “To see them choose wrong.”

Tenko gives you a curious look. “What do you mean?”

“Heroes can’t save everybody. They can’t be everywhere. They can’t be there all the time. But nobody ever thinks that the heroes won’t choose to save them,” you explain. “If you wanted to shake things up, you’d have to make it so the heroes choose wrong. For everybody to see.”

Tenko’s eyes light up, and the smile on his face this time looks less like your friend’s and more like the villain he’s become. “Then we’re in the right place,” he says. “This city is crawling with heroes looking for Stain. Let’s put them in a bind. Kurogiri, bring the Nomu. All of them.”

“Nomu?” you squeak, even as multiple portals open around you. “You have more than one?”

“We have lots. Sensei only gave me three.” Tenko gestures proudly at the monsters emerging from the portals. Everything about them looks like they’ve been put together wrong, from their staring eyes to their featureless faces to their pasty skin that smells like rot. The news reports about the attack on UA were clear about one thing – the Nomu that faced off against All Might was fast and extremely strong. “What do you think?”

One passes close to you and you cringe away, closer to Tenko. “They’re awful.”

“Exactly,” Tenko says. He stares down at the city, an expression on his face that’s somehow grim and vicious at once. “Let’s see what the rest of them think.”

The Nomus crawl down the sides of the building and vanish into the city. Tenko hasn’t given them orders, and neither has Kurogiri. You have questions – a lot of questions – but you’re not sure what it’s safe to ask. You’re Tenko’s sidekick, but that doesn’t mean his plans are yours to comment on. It feels weird to keep quiet, too. You and Tenko used to get in trouble for talking in class because you never ran out of things to talk about.

“You don’t look weird.”

You cough. “What?”

“You don’t look weird,” Tenko says again. You look at him, surprised, and find him looking straight ahead, peering through the binoculars. “I should have let you fix my shoulder the rest of the way.”

“What did you end up doing with it?” You reach over and part the cut fabric on his shoulder, wincing as you get a look at the bandaging job. “Next time, just let me finish.”

“Can you fix the rest of it?”

“I can’t do more stitches when it’s been open this long,” you say. Tenko grimaces but doesn’t swear at you. “There’s a chance it’ll get infected. If it does –”

“I’ll send Kurogiri to find you.”

“Tell him to give me a heads-up instead of just snatching me. I might need to grab antibiotics and I don’t want to make two trips.”

Tenko nods like this makes sense, which it does, except for the context. You’re standing here on the roof of a building in a city that’s already facing one villainous threat, while your childhood best friend turned aspiring supervillain has just released another – on your advice, no less. You try to rationalize it. Hosu is crawling with heroes, like Tenko said. If they’re good heroes, they’ll divert their attention to protecting the civilians. Heroes fighting Nomus will get Tenko the headlines he wants for the League of Villains, and if nobody gets hurt aside from the heroes who signed up for the job –

You need to be careful with that line of thinking. With that line of thinking, you could excuse what happened to the students during the attack on UA. “Can I ask you something?” you say, and Tenko nods. “Why did you go after the students?”

“I wasn’t after them. The point was All Might.”

“But you brought all those other villains,” you say. “On the news they said that Kurogiri moved the kids all over the training facility so the villains could kill them. And –”

You’re thinking of something else you heard, from Kazuo – that Tenko tried to kill at least three students directly, and All Might’s arrival was the only thing that stopped him. “He was supposed to be there from the beginning,” Tenko says. “All Might. Dividing the students up was supposed to distract him. Split his focus so he’d be more vulnerable to Nomu.”

You don’t know what you were expecting him to say, but it wasn’t that. “Those villains were weak,” Tenko continues. “The brats could deal with them on their own. It would have taken All Might two seconds. But two seconds is all we would have needed.”

“So it was – strategy.”

“Yeah.” Tenko lowers his binoculars, glances at you. “Do you believe me?”

The words leave your mouth before you can think better of them. “I’d believe you more if I could see you.”

Tenko was in the process of looking away. Now he glances back, and you can tell he’s startled, even through the fingers of the hand. You’re not sure what the hands are for. When he attacked the USJ, he was wearing multiple sets, but usually he only wears Father around you. You haven’t asked him to remove the hand before – only asked him where it was when he wasn’t wearing it, and when you think it over, you can’t see any commonalities between the times when it’s off and the times when it’s on. Maybe it’s the kind of thing you can ask about now that you’re Tenko’s sidekick again.

Tenko grips the binoculars one-handed, reaching up to remove the hand with the other. “The brats weren’t the real target,” he says.

“But you still tried to kill three of them.”

“Yeah,” Tenko says, like it doesn’t matter, without care – and without malice. “They were right there, and I thought All Might wasn’t coming. Everybody had to see how he failed again.”

Again? You’re not the biggest All Might fan, but you don’t remember hearing about All Might failing to save children who were being held hostage. In fact, when All Might has to prioritize, he saves children first. Tenko is watching you now. “Do you believe me?”

“I believe you,” you say, and you see his shoulders relax. “You’re not a very good liar.”

He never was. When you were trying to get away with things as children, you did the talking. Tenko’s job was to stay quiet and not make eye contact with whichever adult was questioning the two of you. No matter how desperate he was not to get caught, a few seconds of eye contact was enough to break him. In the present, Tenko smiles slightly. “Lucky I’ve got you.”

You like seeing him smile, and you’ve seen it twice tonight. The knot in your chest relaxes, only to tighten again as a chorus of screams rise from the city below. Tenko lifts his binoculars eagerly and you twist your hands together, trying to contain your unease. You have your best friend. He wants you with him – his sidekick, just like you used to be. You still know how to make him smile. And he’s a villain, the kind of villain who, when his plan to kill All Might looked like it wouldn’t pan out, decided to kill three children instead. What are you doing here?

More screams from below. You wonder how many civilians are being hurt, how many heroes are protecting them versus chasing Stain. You know there’s a free clinic branch in Hosu, one that’s open overnight just like yours is. They’ll be busy tonight. At least you won’t have to worry about them treating injured villains as well as civilians.

Or will they? What are the Nomus, exactly? Where did they come from? Is that the kind of question you’re allowed to ask Tenko now that you’re friends again? “Um,” you start, but he doesn’t look at you, just keeps peering through the binoculars. Sometimes he focuses so hard it’s like his ears stop working. You remember that from when you were kids. “Tenko?”

He still doesn’t answer. You reach out, touch his shoulder, and he startles so badly that he drops the binoculars. If he grabs them with all five fingers, they’ll disintegrate. You catch them for him, since it’s your fault, and pass them back once he’s ready. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s – fine.” Tenko’s shoulder is tense beneath your hand. You’re still touching him, and you shouldn’t be. You pull your hand back. “What is it?”

“The Nomu,” you say hesitantly. “What are they?”

It’s quiet for a second. “Shigaraki Tomura,” Kurogiri warns. “You should not –”

“She won’t tell,” Tenko says without looking at him. He hasn’t put the hand back over his face. “They’re – I guess you could call them zombies. They’re made from bodies. Usually two or three bodies, and three or four quirk factors. It’s usually the same quirk factors. Shock absorption, regeneration, speed. I don’t care if you touch me.”

You’re too busy trying to wrap your head around the fact that somebody’s figured out how to raise the dead to catch the last thing. It takes you a second to get to it, and even then, you have to ask a clarifying question. “You don’t care? Or you don’t mind?”

“I don’t mind.”

Something is wrong with you. Something is really wrong with you that you’re more interested in why Tenko doesn’t mind if you touch him than in the fact that Tenko has multiple zombies at his disposal to turn loose on unsuspecting heroes and civilians. You try to focus. “Where do the bodies come from?”

“I don’t know,” Tenko says. He’s frowning slightly. A moment later, he puts the hand back on his face – but before you can decide if it’s because he’s mad at you, he hands you the binoculars. “Look.”

You look through them. You’re looking in the wrong spot, and after a few seconds of trying to give you directions, Tenko gives up and just covers your hands with his, moving you in the right direction. His index fingers are lifted, protecting you from his quirk. You see what he wanted you to look at quickly enough – heroes facing off against the Nomus. Endeavor facing off against the Nomus. It looks like the heroes chose right.

You can’t deny that it’s a relief. The civilians will always be your priority, and even if almost everyone has a quirk, most of those quirks are useless when it comes to defending against zombies with multiple quirks, and they’re banned from using them anyway. But you have the sense that Tenko’s not pleased, and when you look at him, you see him scowling behind the hand. “They’re making it look too easy,” he complains.

“These Nomu were not as strong as the Nomu from USJ,” Kurogiri says. “You were made aware, Shigaraki Tomura.”

“These heroes aren’t as strong as All Might,” Tenko snaps in response. “Master set me up – again –”

You spot something through the binoculars. Something Tenko needs to see. You push them back into his hands. “Look at that.”

Tenko’s still scowling, but he lifts the binoculars to peer through them. A second later he startles. Even without the binoculars, you can see a dark shape in distant flight over the city, something clutched in its claws. You don’t know who the Nomu grabbed, or where it’s taking them, but Tenko can’t fail to be pleased with that. Can he?

He can. A moment later he swears. “Fucking Hero Killer –”

Your heart sinks. “What happened?”

“He killed it. To save some hero brat.” Tenko’s binoculars are crumbling in his hand. You wonder if he even notices. “Fucking Hero Killer. Fuck!”

You’re pretty sure that’s not the end of the story. The Hero Killer saved a hero, after claiming that there’s only one true hero, and it’s All Might? You slide your phone out of your pocket, clear a bunch of notifications from your friends’ group chat, and navigate to Twitter. Somebody’s got to be reporting on this live, and sure enough, you find “Hero Killer” trending, plus a livestream of Stain’s arrest. He’s getting arrested, and with at least twenty murders under his belt, there’s no way he’s getting out of Tartarus in this lifetime. You touch Tenko’s shoulder again – after all, he said it was fine – and speak quietly. “Hey.”

“What?”

He won’t look at you. “Look at this,” you say instead, holding out your phone. “The heroes got him.”

“So?”

“So that’s it for him,” you say. “He’s going to prison for the rest of his life. All Might’s definitely not going to fuck him now.”

It’s quiet for a second, aside from a wheeze emanating from somewhere behind the two of you. It’s still weird to hear Kurogiri laugh. You don’t even know if he has lungs. Beside you, Tenko’s doing everything in his power to hang onto his scowl, and it’s not working very well. “Is that the only joke you know?”

You feel a surge of relief. “I’ll stop using it when you stop laughing at it.”

You hear the sound of helicopter blades in the distance, growing closer. Tenko can hear it, too. “Kurogiri, let’s go. We’re done here.”

You barely have a second to wonder where you’re headed before the black mist wells up, and you’re not entirely surprised to find yourself back in the bar. Kurogiri’s behind it already. Tenko’s sitting at it, the chair next to his kicked outwards. As you watch, Kurogiri sets two glasses down and lifts an unopened bottle of champagne. He opens it, pouring first Tenko’s glass, then the glass in front of the empty chair.

Tenko glances over his shoulder, spots you, and gestures impatiently at the chair. You sit down next to him and study the glass of champagne. Tenko’s already chugging his, but he stops halfway and glances at you. “Why aren’t you drinking it?”

You could lie, but you don’t want to. “I watched him pour it, and I don’t think you’d drug me. But I still have to be careful.”

Tenko doesn’t look offended. Instead he swaps glasses with you, and Kurogiri makes a discontented noise. “She doesn’t want to drink your backwash, Tomura. Even if you did brush your teeth before we left.”

“Shut up,” Tenko snaps at him. He’s turning red again. You look down into your new glass, trying not to laugh. “I brush my teeth all the time. You’re not special.”

That one gets you. You start laughing, and Kurogiri makes that weird wheezing sound. You’re starting to realize that unlike the villain you met earlier today, who was all over the place, Kurogiri’s got two distinct aspects – one that’s more formal, more severe, and another that’s significantly more relaxed. The second one sounds younger, too, and the impression only grows stronger when Kurogiri speaks again. “If you drink someone else’s backwash, it’s like making out with them indirectly.”

“No it isn’t! I didn’t ask you!”

Tenko is bright red and sputtering, and Kurogiri’s yellow eyes are crinkling, almost the way a person’s would. It occurs to you what this aspect of Kurogiri reminds you of – a sibling. You teased your younger siblings the exact same way, when you could get away with it. Well aware that you’re making some kind of statement about the whole thing, you pick up the glass that used to be Tenko’s and take a small sip. It doesn’t taste like anything but champagne.

When you look up, you find Tenko and Kurogiri watching you. Staring, more accurately – Tenko’s jaw is dropped. You will your face not to flush. “Thanks for switching with me. As long as you don’t pass out in the next half an hour, we’re good to go.”

“So you have to stay at least that long.”

He doesn’t want you to leave. You take another sip of champagne, giving yourself time to get under control. You don’t want Tenko to know how pleased you are with the thought, or how ambivalent you are at being pleased by it. “I guess I do.”

You stay for another hour and a half, reading over the news coverage of the Nomu attack and the Hero Killer’s capture until you can barely keep your eyes open. But you have an early morning, and even though Tenko complains that you have to go and makes fun of you for agreeing to take Yoshimi to her appointment, he doesn’t suggest that you back out of it. As Kurogiri is determining where to set a warp gate to send you back to Yokohama, you ask him why not.

Tenko gives you a weird look. “I know you,” he says. “That’s not who you are.”

He’s right. It isn’t. And as much as you’re pleased by the thought that your best friend still knows you after all these years, the disquiet lurking underneath it follows you home, curls up on your chest as you try to fall asleep. You’re not the kind of person who’d turn your back on a friend, or go back on your word once you’ve given it. But apparently you’re the kind of person who watches a villain turn monsters loose on innocent people and does absolutely nothing to stop him.

You might have made your choice already. You might have stepped over the line. But you have a bad feeling that you’ll be looking back over your shoulder at it until it’s vanished over the horizon, knowing you made the wrong call and knowing deep in your bones that there’s nothing else you could have done.

You’ve done basically nothing, but you still get the sense that you’re leading a double life. You comfort yourself with the thought that even if you went to the police, you’d have nothing useful to tell them. You don’t know where Tenko’s hideout is. You don’t know anything about who makes the Nomus or where they’re hidden. You don’t know anything about Kurogiri except that it seems like there are two personalities in there, and what Kazuo said about his quirk not being natural. You’re still not sure what Kazuo meant by that. Just like you’re not sure who Tenko’s master is.

The things you know would be absolutely useless to them. You know that Tenko recovered from his USJ injuries only to get immediately slashed up by Stain. You know Tenko likes champagne but can’t hold his liquor for shit. You know he’s smart and strategic, a lot more than the news gives him credit for, which is bad for them and probably also bad for you. You know he likes video games more than he did when he was a kid, but he likes you just as much as he did back then. You like him just as much, too. Probably too much.

You haven’t seen him again since that night in Hosu. You know he’ll send Kurogiri to find you if he needs you, and the fact that he doesn’t need you means he’s not getting hurt. But you’re watchful anyway. No matter where you’re walking, day or night, you find yourself keeping a close eye the shadows, watching from your peripheral vision in case one of them hides a warp gate. Or better yet, hides Tenko.

“Hypervigilance,” Kazuo remarks when he catches you at it, one partly cloudy day in early June. “A hallmark of traumatic stress. You could benefit from counseling.”

“It’s not wrong to be wary,” you say. “Things are more dangerous than they used to be. Don’t you feel it?”

“Another hallmark of PTSD. Persistent, negative cognitions about yourself, others, or the world, exemplified by statements like The world is more dangerous than it used to be.” Kazuo can be a real asshole sometimes. “But you’re correct. Crime rates have steadily increased as All Might’s taken a step back from the public eye.”

“You really think it’s All Might?” You glance sideways at Kazuo. “Not the League of Villains?”

“The League of Villains is a symptom,” Kazuo says. The two of you got to the park early; the rest of your friends are running late for your meetup. “I looked into the backgrounds of those who were captured in the attack on USJ. For the most part, I found petty crime – thievery, fleeing from the police, physical violence committed in the course of fleeing a crime scene or an altercation with heroes.”

That tracks with the kind of villains you run into at work. Most of them have done next to nothing to earn the title. “Looking back further,” Kazuo continues, “I found poverty, substance abuse, quirk-based discrimination, childhood trauma. There were some among the criminals at USJ who sought violence specifically and consistently from an early age, but for the majority of them, it was far from inevitable that they would become criminals. It could have been otherwise.”

Thinking about what’s going on with Tenko, you’ve gotten in the habit of playing devil’s advocate. “And that’s on All Might? One hero can’t fix poverty, or childhood trauma –”

“No, they cannot. But the presence of heroes gives everyone else an excuse not to try to fix anything,” Kazuo says. He gives you a look. “There will always be some villains. The existence of enough villains to allow your friend to form a League of them means that society is failing.”

“You’re not wrong,” you say. Usually when you admit that Kazuo’s right, he moves on, but this time he keeps looking at you. “What?”

“At least try to deny it,” Kazuo says, and you know what he’s talking about. “One day I won’t be the one asking.”

You know he’s right, but as much as Tenko occupies your thoughts, you don’t have much time to dwell on him on a daily basis. Yoshimi’s sick, cancer in her lymphatic system, and with her family out of the picture and her shitty boyfriend dumping her the second he found out, you and your friends are on overdrive trying to support her. Since you’re the only one who works in the field, a lot of the daily stuff is falling on you. You’ve been taking some shifts at the central clinic so you can check in on her while she’s there for treatments, and since the high school students are all studying for their medical assistant exams, you’ve been grabbing fill-in night shifts at your regular clinic at the same time. You’re getting four hours of sleep a night, if that.

You’re exhausted. So exhausted that, when the shadows in the corner of your vision turn out to be mist as you’re walking home from the park, you keep walking straight into Kurogiri’s warp gate without a second thought.

When you arrive in the bar, Kurogiri seems surprised to see you. “I thought you might run.”

“I’m too tired to run,” you say. “Does he need me?”

Kurogiri nods, as much as a person with mist for a head can nod. “Follow me.”

You balk when you realize where you’re headed. “He doesn’t want me in there.”

“He asked me to bring you there specifically,” Kurogiri says. “Don’t worry. He’s cleaned.”

“Oh.”

The door to Tenko’s room is open, but Kurogiri knocks anyway. “Shigaraki Tomura, the girl –”

“You’re here.” Tenko appears suddenly in the doorway, the hand clamped over his face. “That was fast. You didn’t run away?”

“What kind of sidekick runs when their boss calls?” You look Tenko over. “Kurogiri said you needed me. Are you hurt?”

“My shoulder’s a mess,” Tenko says, unconcerned. “I needed to talk to you. Come in.”

He takes a few steps back, leaving room for you to step through the door. The memory of how Tenko reacted last time is still fresh in your head, and based on Tenko’s expression, he can tell. “I cleaned it,” he says impatiently. “Come in.”

In spite of the fact that your best friends have usually been boys, you haven’t spent a lot of time in boys’ rooms. The ones you have been in aren’t exactly standard. Kazuo’s room looked like an interior design magazine spread even before his mind snapped, so minimalist it was hard to imagine anyone actually living there. Sho’s room looks more like a girl’s room than yours does. Tenko’s room back when you were kids just looked like a kid’s room. Like how you would have wanted your room to look if you weren’t already sharing it with two siblings.

Tenko’s room, compared to the last time you saw it, is no longer filthy. You can see the floor, at least, and some rearranging has occurred. The desk and monitor setup has been shifted unceremoniously into one corner of the room, and on the wall where it previously sat is a flatscreen TV. You can see that it’s hooked up to a router, as well as a cable or smart TV box, and there are a few consoles and controllers strewn around nearby. Across the room from the TV is a coffee table. And behind that, a bed.

You gesture at it. “Was this here before?”

Tenko doesn’t answer. “Kurogiri, go,” he orders, and you glance over your shoulder just in time to see Kurogiri vanish from the doorway. “Sit down.”

You sit down on one end of the bed and Tenko sits on the other. He slides a collection of games across the coffee table to you. “I like all of these. You can pick which one we play first.”

“I’m not good at games.”

“I’ll teach you what you need to know,” Tenko says. He pushes the games at you again. “Pick.”

You start sorting through the games, searching in vain for any title you know while you try to shift the subject back into reasonable territory. “You said something was wrong with your shoulder. Can I look at it?”

“It’s not that bad.”

“You said it was a mess,” you point out. “Let me see.”

“Pick a game and then you can see it.”

You see exactly one title you know – Call of Duty. You hold it up and Tenko frowns. “We can play that one for a bit. In co-op mode. But after that –”

“Show me your arm.”

Tenko scowls, but he moves from the other end of the bed until he’s within reach. He’s wearing a short-sleeved shirt, oversized to the point where you can draw the neckline aside and reveal the wound. It’s clear that the stitches have been disturbed. The wound site is red and angry-looking and you can see scratches around it. There should be a scab on the part that Tenko wouldn’t let you stitch, but it’s clearly been peeled away. It’s either infected already or about to be, and either way, the healing process is going slower than it should be. A surge of frustration sweeps over you.

You look up at Tenko and find him watching you, unrepentant. “What?”

“You were scratching this.”

“It itched,” Tenko says. He gives you a weird look. “You never said not to.”

“I didn’t think I had to say not to scratch your open wounds.” Your frustration seeps into your tone. “You should have sent Kurogiri to get me as soon as the swelling started.”

“I tried. You’re always busy.” Tenko’s voice takes on the quality of a sneer. “Kurogiri’s been watching you for three days. You’re at that other clinic with that girl all the time.”

He didn’t use to be like this. He didn’t use to be jealous. “She has cancer. She needs someone –”

“She has other friends and doctors and parents and some loser boyfriend somewhere,” Tenko says. You start to argue that Yoshimi doesn’t have a boyfriend, courtesy of said boyfriend being a loser, but Tenko cuts you off. “She has lots of people. I only have you.”

He has Kurogiri, his master, the doctor, the Nomu – or does he? Shigaraki Tomura has those people. Tenko only has you. You peel your eyes from the angry mess Tenko’s wound has become and look up at him. “If I had known you needed me, I’d have found a way to be here. You’re my best friend.”

“I know. I –” Tenko breaks off, frustrated. “I didn’t mess with it so you’d come back.”

“I didn’t think that,” you say. “I know you scratch sometimes. It seems like less than before.”

“Only when you’re here.” Tenko shifts in his seat. You’re about to tell him he shouldn’t worry about that when he speaks again. “I feel different when you’re here. Can you fix it?”

“I’ll need to take the stitches out and clean it before I bandage it up again, but yes.” You look around for the medical supplies and Tenko pries open a drawer full of them. “Then we can play the game.”

“I can’t believe you like Call of Duty.”

“It’s just the only one I recognize,” you admit, and Tenko laughs. You like hearing him laugh. “Get ready to lose all respect for me. You might want a better sidekick.”

“I don’t need a better sidekick,” Tenko says. “I’m good enough for both of us.”

Warmth floods through you, pooling in your cheeks and your chest and the pit of your stomach. He remembers. You pull on a pair of gloves and open the suture kit. The sooner you rebandage his wound, the sooner you can play a game with your best friend for the first time since you were kids.

But after you’ve taken out the stitches, as you’re bandaging his shoulder, you notice something. The other times you’ve seen Tenko and treated his wounds, he’s been wearing long sleeves, and when you’ve cut them to get a look at the injuries, you haven’t paid much attention to whatever else might be underneath them. Now, with his arms exposed by design, you can see things you didn’t before. Tenko’s always scratched. After fifteen years of scratching he’d naturally have scars. But when the two of you were kids, you never saw him scratch his forearms. And you’ve never seen scratches look so uniform, so evenly spaced. You’ve seen things that look like that before. They weren’t scratches.

You look up and find Tenko looking at you already. “Sensei had me do them. So I’d be stronger,” he says. Your heart seizes in your chest. “Not in a while, though. When I got strong enough he let me stop.”

“That’s messed up.” You’ve been careful not to speak against Tenko’s master, not when you know so little about him, but you can’t hold back this time. “Hurting yourself doesn’t make you stronger. It just makes you hurt.”

“What would you know about it?”

“Lots. I see it every day.”

Tenko gives you a look that tells you just how little he thinks of whatever you’ve seen, and you lose patience. You let go of his arm and pull up the sleeve of your own short-sleeve shirt. “I don’t mean at work.”

Tenko’s jaw drops behind the hand. “Who made you do that?”

“Nobody made me. I did it myself, which makes me a lot dumber than you,” you say. Tenko’s lines are even. Yours are jagged, because you were angry or crying or hurrying to finish up before one of your siblings needed the bathroom or your mom came back to keep arguing with you. “Was your master trying to make you stronger? Or was he trying to teach you not to show when something hurts?”

Based on the way Tenko’s red eyes flash, you know you’ve hit the nail on the head. “What were you trying to do, then? When you were being dumber than me?”

You were being really dumb. So dumb that it’s embarrassing to talk about. “It’s a reset, biologically. Injuries force the body to release endorphins, which make you feel better for a little bit. There was a while where I had trouble controlling my temper. It helped me do that. Or at least not show it.”

“A while,” Tenko repeats. “You should have had trouble the entire fucking time.”

“I did,” you admit after a second. “You used to tell me it wasn’t okay, what my family was like. It took a while to believe you.”

Half the reason you didn’t believe Tenko was because you knew his family was messed up, too. No matter what else your dad did, he didn’t scream at you or lock you outside without dinner. But as you got older, you realized why your parents didn’t do that: They needed you too much. They needed your help with the extra kids they shouldn’t have had, and the older you got, the more it started to infuriate you.

You saw evidence of it everywhere, in places it was and places it wasn’t. They didn’t wipe your memory because they cared that you were upset about your missing friend, they did it because they needed you to be quiet and helpful instead of sad. They didn’t let you choose your favorite snack or go to a birthday party once in a blue moon because it was the fair thing to do, they did it so you wouldn’t complain about all the times you weren’t allowed to. They promised they’d make it up to you every time they shorted you in favor of your siblings with quirks, hoping the apology would make you forget. By the time you were fourteen, you weren’t forgetting anymore.

Tenko’s watching you from behind the hand, but you don’t want to be watched right now. You focus on placing the bandage. Maybe if you do that, you can pretend this isn’t happening. “What happened?” Tenko asks. “With your family.”

“Nothing,” you say. Nothing like what happened to his. “They’re out there. They call me on my birthday. Every so often they ask me for money. Do you really want to talk about this?”

Tenko doesn’t follow up. On that, at least. Three of his fingers brush across your exposed upper arm and it takes every ounce of self-control you have not to jump out of your skin. “These are old, right?”

“Not as old as yours,” you say. “They aren’t recent, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I stopped, so you should, too.” Tenko’s palm covers your upper arm for a moment, then lifts away. “It wouldn’t kill you to control your temper less, anyway. When was the last time you got really mad?”

“Three days ago. Yoshimi’s boyfriend ditched her, so I called him and lit his ass up.”

“Sure you did. I bet you never raised your voice,” Tenko says. You look up, offended. “You probably sounded like some kind of evil shrink, telling him what a piece of shit he is and how you understand that he can’t help being an asshole but it would probably be best for everybody if he took a long walk off a short ledge –”

He’s mimicking the soft, semi-conciliatory tone you use when you’re trying to de-escalate a situation, looking at you from behind the hand with a smirk on his face. You’d get mad, except it’s a pretty accurate imitation, and you like the thought that he knows you well enough to pick on you like this. “I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about getting really mad. Really losing control. When’s the last time you did that?”

You can’t remember. You shrug helplessly. Tenko heaves an exaggerated sigh. “It’s a good thing we’re playing Call of Duty next. If getting your ass kicked in a video game can’t wind you up, nothing will.”

It’s been a while since you played an actual video game. You were bad at it then, and you’re really bad at it now. Tenko makes you play a round in single-player mode to see what you’re good at and where you’re weak, and he spends the entire time laughing so hard that you’re worried he’s going to dislocate a rib or fall off the couch. It takes you way too long to hide away from the enemies onscreen long enough to ask Tenko a question. “What’s so funny? I know I’m not doing it right –”

“You’re just –” Tenko wheezes, then makes an effort to get it together. “Up here in the corner of your display is the map. The dot is where you are. And then everything in front of you is your point of view. That’s why it’s called a first-person shooter.”

“I know,” you say. “The display –”

“You control that on this side of the controller. And that’s where your trigger is, too. The other side handles motion,” Tenko says. His shoulders are twitching, like they do when he’s trying to hold in his laughter. “I’ll watch the map for you. Just go where I tell you to go.”

“Okay.” You adjust your grip on the controller and prepare to be humiliated.

Tenko directs you to move straight forward, which you do. Then you make a left turn and jump up on a crate for a better firing angle, at which point someone shoots at you. “Shoot back,” Tenko orders. You press the trigger. “Nice work. Okay, now jump off the crate and –”

You jump off the crate as requested, but then you get your buttons jumbled, and instead of running in the direction Tenko told you to run, you find yourself bumping into the wall repeatedly with your viewpoint stuck directly upwards. “Tenko –”

Tenko is howling with laughter again. The hand dislodges and falls off his face, and you see his eyes crinkling at the corners, his smile just a little too big. Some girls in your class said his smile was creepy, but you always liked it. You liked that you always knew which of his smiles were faked and which weren’t. “I’m stuck,” you say, and he laughs even harder. “What did I do?”

“If you were doing what your character is doing right now, you’d be doing this.” Tenko mimics pointing a gun straight up at the sky, and suddenly you get why he’s laughing. “You’ve been running around like this –”

No wonder you keep running into walls. Now you’re laughing, too. “You weren’t kidding,” Tenko says, shaking his head. “You really are terrible at it.”

You set the controller aside and wipe your eyes. “You sure you don’t want a different sidekick?”

“I have the sidekick I want.” Tenko glances at you, almost shyly. “We’ll need allies, though. I want you to meet them.”

Your stomach lurches. “Do you have them already?”

“One of the brokers is bringing them. He finds them through the black market.” Tenko sets the controller back down in your hands, adjusting your fingers to the right buttons. Then he unpauses the game. “Once I have them all – go right. No, your other right. Once I have them all, I want you to meet them. I need them to work together, and to stay calm instead of fighting each other. You’re good at getting people to do that. Watch out, there are – nice work.”

He’s giving you a strange look. “What?” you ask. “I didn’t get killed yet.”

“You’re better at shooting people than running around. That’s weird.” Tenko’s expression stays odd for another moment; then he grins. “Works for me, though. As long as you don’t mess with your viewpoint too much, we can play together.”

“Works for me.” You’re still going to be pretty useless, but at least you can protect Tenko’s back. That’s more than you’d be able to do in a real fight. The thought kicks off a flood of anxiety, and before you can stop yourself, you find yourself speaking out loud. “Tenko –”

He pauses the game mid-switch to co-op mode. “Yeah?”

“I don’t know if I can help you the way you need me to,” you say. He gives you a skeptical look. “Medical stuff is one thing. I’m good at that. If your allies need help with that, I’ll help them, too. But the rest of it, I’m not – planning, getting people to follow you –”

“I can do that part. But villains fight all the time. Like kids do,” Tenko says. He smiles slightly. “If you can handle me, they’ll be easy for you.”

“But I know you,” you say. “It’s different.”

“So you’ll get to know them, too.” Tenko’s confident, just like you remember him being. Once he’s decided how something will be, it’s hard to shake him. “Come on. Let’s clear this level.”

It’s an easy level, or you think it’s supposed to be. You spend most of your time running backwards, keeping one eye on the map so you don’t lose track of Tenko and the other eye out for enemies of any kind. On reflection, you do think your accuracy with shooting is a little weird. Between this level and the next one, you rack up a decent number of kills. “You’re already getting better,” Tenko says, grinning. “I bet we can beat this thing if we keep playing.”

“I’d like that,” you say – but you’re still thinking about Tenko’s semi-crazy idea that you meet a bunch of villains for crowd control. “About the allies – you trust me, but they won’t have any reason to. I’m still a civilian.”

“You’ll need a disguise,” Tenko says, which wasn’t what you were hoping he’d say. “Something that hides your face. “If any of them have a problem with you, they can take it up with me.”

You don’t know what to say to that. The idea of Tenko getting into it with other villains over you makes you feel sick. “I don’t want you to get hurt because of me. I don’t want you to get hurt at all. You’re my best friend.”

“I’m not your boss,” Tenko says, which doesn’t make any sense. Your confusion must show on your face, because Tenko elaborates. “Earlier. You said sidekicks don’t run from their bosses, but I’m not your boss. I don’t want to be your boss. I want –”

He breaks off, clearly struggling with what to say. There’s a patchy flush coming up in his cheeks, and you see his hand rise, twitch toward his neck – then fall back. “I don’t want to be your boss,” he says again, looking everywhere but into your eyes. “I want – you should –”

“Shigaraki Tomura.” Kurogiri’s voice issues from behind you, and you and Tenko both jump. “Your master wishes to speak with you. You are overdue.”

“Shit,” Tenko mutters. His grip on the controller tightens, and you lift it out of his hands before all five fingers can touch it. “Where’s – I need –”

“Here.” You pick up the hand from the floor and pass it to him, feeling a chill go down your spine as you touch it. “Go talk to him. It’s okay.”

“I’m late. It isn’t.” Tenko settles the hand back over his face. His free hand rises again, clawing at the side of his neck, and something about the image, the situation, feels uncomfortably familiar to you. “I’ll send Kurogiri to get you again soon. For another date.”

“This was a date?”

“Of course it was.” Tenko gets up, heads for the door. “Remember. Find a disguise. I’ll see you soon.”

He’s gone, and a second later, so are you – Kurogiri drops you in an alley off the street you were walking on. He lingers for a moment, and the question explodes out of you. “It was a date?”

“I told him it’s not a date unless both people know it’s a date.” Kurogiri looks vaguely uncomfortable, and his voice is in the other register – the one that sounds more like an older brother than a servant. “Next time I’ll tell him I can’t find you.”

“Don’t do that,” you say at once. Even reeling like you are now, you’re sure that you want to see Tenko again. “Just – warn me, if you can. If it’s a date or something else.”

“I can do that.” Kurogiri vanishes, but his voice lingers for a moment more. “You protect him, too.”

What does that mean? Maybe it means that Kurogiri sees you like he sees himself – a protector of Shigaraki Tomura, although if there’s anyone you’re trying to protect, it’s Shimura Tenko, your best friend. Your best friend, who’s in a lot more trouble than you thought he was.

You’re standing in the middle of an alley. You need to get moving before someone peeks in here and starts asking questions. You slide your phone out of your pocket, raise it to your ear, and lower it as you step back out into the flow of traffic on the sidewalk, like you were taking a call that just ended. Your apartment’s not far away, so you’ll get there, and then you can think about all of this. The villains – the date – the scars on Tenko’s arm that look too much like yours – the scratching that didn’t start until after the hand covered his face. The hand he calls Father.

And that’s when you realize what it reminded you of, what happened when Kurogiri told Tenko his master was waiting for him. He was himself when you spoke to him, even after he put the hand back over his face – right down to how he reacted when his master called for him. Because his reaction looked the same as his reaction to his father calling for him when the two of you were kids.

You had a bad feeling about Tenko’s master, and now it’s worse. You have a bad feeling about what your involvement with Tenko means now, because he wants you to back him up when it comes to dealing with other villains, to take the de-escalation and conflict resolution skills you learned the hard way and put them to use keeping a band of villains together under Tenko’s control. You have a bad feeling because Tenko’s told you to find a disguise, to hide your identity like the villain you aren’t. You aren’t a villain. Are you?

Maybe you aren’t a villain – yet, a voice in your head whispers, you aren’t a villain yet – but there’s something wrong with you. There must be. Because knowing all that, knowing that you’re getting drawn further into Tenko’s plans, doesn’t do a thing to dampen your excitement at the thought that he wants to go on dates with you. That he likes you. That your best friend, who you always thought you’d have developed a crush on if the two of you had gotten to grow up together, might feel the same about you as you do about him.

#shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #shigaraki tomura #x reader #self insert #reader insert #please hold

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heavyhitterheaux · 11 months

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Idk if you are still accepting concepts for First Lady verse but I have one. The triplets are in there teens like 17 and Axel bring a couple of friends over. His tell him that they have a crush on his mom and telling him how hot she is and how if they had the chance they would hit it ! Jack over hears it and steps in and tells them that’s not how they talk about girls let alone women and just gives them a sad talk about respecting women!

Thank you

“Ax, babe!” You said while walking into the living room where he and all of his friends were playing 2K on his xbox.

“Yes, mom?”

“Can you reach up on the top shelf and get me something from the cabinet in the kitchen? I don’t want to bother your dad because he’s busy.”

“Sure, I’m coming.” He said while pausing the game, but what you didn’t notice was that there were multiple sets of eyes on you from the minute you stepped into the room.

“Heyyy, Mrs. Harlow.”

“Hi boys, are you staying for dinner?” You asked and they all eagerly nodded their heads yes.

“If you’re cooking then of course. I’m tired of eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at my dad’s. He can’t cook.” Anthony, who is Axel’s best friend, said in response.

“Hmm, sounds like my husband.” You muttered and Axel immediately stifled a laugh.

Axel walked into the kitchen with you and you pointed to what you needed before he grabbed it with ease and simply put it on the counter behind you and proceeded to give you a light pat on your head and laughed and you immediately tried to swat his hand away.

“Dad wasn’t lying, you do walk around here like you’re 6’3, but barely 5 feet.”

“He said that?!”

“Oops.”

“That’s fine, I got something for him when he comes back upstairs from being in the studio.”

“Look, I’m innocent and it wasn’t me.”

“Oh no you don’t. You’re going down right along with him.” You said as you were looking in the cabinets below to figure out which pan you wanted to use that would be big enough for what you were making as Axel made his way back into the living room.

“Yo Ax, I have the biggest crush on your mom, she’s gorgeous.”

“Me too and she’s definitely a MILF.”

“Let me get the opportunity just one time, I’m hitting that.”

“I see why your dad got her pregnant so many times.”

“Okay, chill. That’s my mom you’re talking about.” Axel responded while shaking his head in disbelief and getting defensive. One thing he didn’t play about was people disrespecting his mother, father, or any of his siblings.

“We know and I thought that was already established.”

“Don’t do that because it’s not only disgusting but disrespectful towards her.”

“We’re just playing, Ax. No need to get upset.” Brandon said while holding his hands up in defense while they suddenly heard Jack’s voice.

“I know that I didn’t just hear what I think I heard.” He said while coming into the living room and it immediately got quiet.

“Uhh…”

“What we don’t do under my roof is disrespect women, especially my wife. I know all of your parents and I know for a fact that you were raised better than that.”

“Mr. Harlow…” Anthony started to say, but he immediately cut him off.

“Turn the game off now, because it’s clear that this needs to be addressed.”

Without hesitation, Anthony, who was the closest to the console, turned the game off and Jack simply sat down across from them.

“I admit that when I was your age that I was guilty of doing the same thing, however, I was already with Y/N so that’s not 100% accurate, but that is exactly how the people around me would talk about women. It is not only disgusting but disrespectful like Axel said and there is absolutely no reason for you to talk about the opposite sex like that. They’re human beings who also have feelings and they’re not just some object. Think about how you would feel if someone talked about your mothers the way you all are talking about Ax’s.”

“We were just joking.” Brandon said quietly, but Jack simply shook his head.

“But were you though? Because it didn’t sound like it and it’s nothing to joke about. Women deserve respect for everything they do and put out into this world whether you agree with it or not. Your mothers didn’t spend hours of being in labor with your big ass heads to have you come out into the world and act like this. Women literally make the world go round and we would cease to exist without them. How do any of you expect to get and keep a girlfriend or eventually get married if that’s what you want if you act like this?”

“Well, if we were to get married, it would stop.”

“It needs to stop now. Being young is not an excuse. We’ve been married for almost 28 years and it definitely wouldn’t have lasted this long if I was continuously disrespectful towards her. From this point forward all of you need to do better and apologize to her when she comes back in here.”

Just then you walked back into the living room to look for Jack since he wasn’t in the studio when you went down there to look for him.

“Hey smush, when did you come up here? Anyway, is PG coming over for dinner too? That means that I need to run to the store to get more ingredients. I told Jess to make three tres leches cakes and Blanca is making chocoflan. Do you think that’s enough?” You asked while leaning down to kiss the top of his curls.

“Been up here for a few minutes and I think they are. Tell Jess to make four because knowing Urban he wants to have one to himself and Blanca probably needs to make four too.”

“Okay, let me just make the list…”

“Mom, we can go to the store for you.” Axel said and you immediately eyed him.

“Are you sure? It’s a lot.”

“Yeah, we got it.”

“Okay, I’ll send you the list and make sure you take daddy’s credit card.”

“WHAT?!” Jack exclaimed and you immediately laughed as Axel held out his hand towards him.

All he did was sigh before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet.

“Remember happy wife, happy life, dad.”

“Mmm hmm. Stick to the list and get me another bottle of ranch” Jack said and you immediately rolled your eyes.

“Oh, and Mrs. Harlow we’re sorry.” Anthony said and you looked at him confused.

“For what, sweetheart?”

“For being disrespectful towards you and talking about you like you’re an object. Mr. Harlow overheard us and set us straight.”

“Oh. Well you’re forgiven. Just remember all of you would literally crumble without us. Do better moving forward and realize everyone deserves respect.”

“We understand.”

Axel grabbed his keys and the rest of his friends followed him out the door when you simply looked over at Jack before he pulled you into his lap.

“Was it that bad?” You quietly asked and Jack simply nodded.

“Bad enough and I never want anyone talking about you like that and I overhear it. All of them looked like they were about to shit themselves when they saw me and found out I overheard what they were saying.”

“I’m so happy that Ax has such a good daddy to look up to.” You said while leaning down to kiss him.

“He was the one trying to get them to stop, too.”

“I figured. My baby doesn’t play about his mama.”

“And I don’t play about my wife. I love you, baby.”

“I love you too. So much.” You said while leaning down to give him several pecks.

“We need to start planning what we want to do for our 30th wedding anniversary. Damn, you’ve been with me for that long?!”

“34 in total and yes. Wouldn’t have it any other way and we’re going for that many more.”

“Still remember when I first saw that pretty girl with braids in her hair across the street from me.”

“And it was the blue eyes and freckles for me.”

The two of you were sitting in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before you spoke up again.

“Baby, did you say that I walk around here like I’m 6’3 even though I’m barely five feet?”

“Who… who told you that?!”

“Your second born.”

“Imma kick his ass, he wasn’t supposed to say anything!”

#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow x black reader #first lady of pg concepts #first babies of pg

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s1ckh1mb0 · 1 month

Text

Country boy dio! who only loves his sweetheart and their little family.

__________________________________________

Who convinced you to come live with him on the farm. He spends every day workin hard on it. Dealing with all the animals, workin in that hot sun all day. Harsh tan lines turning his once pale skin a golden bronze. His blonde hair slicked back into his mullet. Sweat sticking to his skin from the past four hours of him barreling hay to keep everything in pristine condition so you didn't have to worry about a thing.

It had been such a long time since he had left his piece of shit to rot in his loneliness. Once his dear mom had passed and things started to get bad between him and his dad he left and didn’t look bad. He started doing any work he could to get. He went from dealing to helpin in some different shops doing just about everything. Within the years he had fucked up and had four kids. He loved them even if he knew he didn’t have means to care for them. He did his damned best to make sure they had what they need before he had anything.

Shit was hard for a hot minute. That was he stumbled across an elderly couple who were saying how they needed to get rid of their old farm but had no one that even wanted to look at it. He couldn’t help but jump at the opportunity. It was hard for the first two years but him and the kids had somewhere warm to stay. He ended up confiding in Jonathan who felt like it was his duty to help Dio. He ended up talking to some friends and spread word around about Dio’s work and soon enough people were coming to him for just about everything. Business was booming all year round.

He never expected any kind of success, just wanting to make enough to get by but this was amazing to him. But he did have a problem, having four little boys was not easy. Especially when he went out to the city to restock on stuff. Ungalo and Rikiel were both over hyper and god it was hard to keep up. They would run around the store like they would back on the farm. Dio would always scold them but this time he couldn’t because he was as actually glad they did since that led him to meeting you.

He had noticed they ran away once again and when he saw them they were in your arms as you asked them where their parents where. He was shook by your looks. The way your clothes fit, huggin you nicely. The books you were once holding now pressed against his chest. He could see the dermal piercings on your chest peeking out your shirt. It was so new to him and god be moved it.

He snapped out of it when he saw the boys pointing at him and he had to rush over while still holding Giorno and Donatello.

“M’ so sorry bout that. These two given me hell.”

“Don’t worry bout it, I got siblings I know how it is. You and mama must have your hands full.”

“Nah s’ just me.”

“Oh shit, my bad hun. Didn’t mean to like be insensitive.”

“No no, don’t worry doll.”

You smiled a bit at the name as you handed off Ungalo and Rikiel to him.

“I’ll see you around I’m hoping?”

“Yeah, most definitely.”

———————————————————————

“Pa! S’ getting too hot out here. Come in the house!”

He turned around when he heard your voice. He put his pitchfork down and took in the sight of you standing on the porch. You looked so fucking good. Your curls were framing your face, your plump lips with a small frown due to you hating how the sun was beaming against you. Dio loved it though, seeing it bounce off your moisturized skin. And you of course weren’t by yourself no. You had his- you guys four little boys. Giorno on your hip, rikiel standing next to you and holding on your leg, and ungalo chasing Donatello all around the porch.

He wanted to marry you then and there. You accepted his four boys and raised them like you had given birth to them. And the boys loved you like no other. Often fighting with their papa to get your attention. Rikiel and Giorno were especially bad. They absolutely adored you. And dio hated to admit it but he sometimes grew jealous at how much you babied the boys.

He made his way over to you when he realized you were still callin out to him. A small smirk appearing on his face as he approached you.

“Miss me, doll?”

You didn’t even get to respond when Donatello and Ungalo tackled their father into a hug. They only 6 and 7 but they were damn big boys just like they daddy. He chuckled as he picked them up into his arms as if they weighed nothing.

“Y’ four bein good for ya mama/papa, huh?”

Rikiel was the first one to speak up, peeking from behind your legs.

“Ma/pa said you were gonna take us t’ the city! And that we were gonna see TiTi Erina and Uncle Jonny!”

Dio cocked an eyebrow at this which caused you to explain.

“Erina called earlier while I was cookin. It’s lil Lisa Lisa’s birthday tomorrow. Wan’ take the boys to see their cousin. Plus I could do some shoppin while we’re out there. Get the boys some new clothes. Same f’ myself. Like to look good f’ my man.”

Dio couldn’t help but chuckle at your last comment. He also took notice at how his accent was starting to rub off on you.

“Yeah alright, guess m’ takin you four t’ the city after all.”

Amid the kids cheering Dio had leaned down to plant a kiss on your glossy lips. But the kiss was cut short when a tiny hand tugged at Dio’s hair. It was none other than his youngest boy Giorno. The mini version of him, they were so alike even though he was only a mere two years old.

“Y’ lil brat, can’t hog ‘em all to y’self.”

He was only met with babbles from Giorno which made you chuckle.

“Protective jus’ like his daddy.”

“Hmph. Guess he is.”

His smile grew on his face as he watched you usher the boys into the house. God he loved you more than life itself…

Part 2 coming soon!

#Spotify #fanfic #x character #x reader #x black reader #x black plus size reader #x black male reader #x male reader #jjba x black reader #jjba x reader #jjba smut #jjba part 3 #jjba part 1 #dio x black reader #dio smut #dio x reader #dio brando

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hyperfixatedfandomer · 10 months

Note

Do you have any Spider hc for your modern au? And could you describe his room in more detail? - I can only imagine a cupboard under the stairs of Harry Potter 💀

(The ask refers to my modern au Spider-centric fanfic. Chapter 5 is on the way so make sure to check it out!)

I’m glad you asked! Let’s dive right in with this diagram.😌

This is something I did months ago. Spider’s room looks much different now but this sketch should give you the basic idea of what Socorro’s living quarters look like.

Okay, the most prominent feature of the room? Crystals, crystals everywhere. Kiri is a crystal girlie and, as the closest person to her, Spider couldn’t escape her influence. He has a bowl with crystal pebbles on his work desk, and amethyst stones under his pillow. (Amethyst symbolises protection, so Spider puts it there to ward off bad dreams.)

Plastic plant vine decorations, since he can’t have real ones in an environment with no windows, but he makes it work, taping it to the roof of the room and making it look like his own little forest.

Has a mushroom table lamp. Not much light from it but hey, at least is looks aesthetic ✨

His desk is messy as fuck, since Spider is trying to fit both notebooks, trinkets and sketchbooks on it. Bestie barely has space to do homework and often prefers libraries or parks for that reason. (Plus it’s a good excuse to be connecting to ✨Eywa✨)

There is a ukulele shoved in the tiny free space in front of the bed. He barely plays it because he’s so busy with school and friends and doesn’t want to annoy anyone with his singing, but lemme tell you a secret: he’s really good at it.🥹

Polaroid photos litter a wall opposite of the doorway, fairy lights hanged around them to remind Spider of the happy moments he had with his siblings, and sometimes even the parents (he has an image of a smiling Neytiri, but it’s tucked away far enough so no one looking in would notice it.)

He also has pages with sketches hanged up on it, be it works he’s proud of, or shading/colour/anatomy studies he’s recently done and wants to keep in mind.

And yeah! The room is tiny as hell, but Socorro makes it work!

#atwow #atwow fanfiction #atwow modern au #atwow spider #spider atwow #avatar spider #spider avatar #spider socorro #avatar 2 #avatar way of water #avatar #avatar headcanons #atwow kiri #Kiri atwow #Kiri sully

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an0ther1 · 30 days

Text

Untitled pt.2

Leah x OC

A/N: A little more in my current project. I’m still getting a feel for my characters. Feedback/thoughts welcome.

“What are we at, one more week?” Kim adjusted the weight on the bench press bar.

“Abouts yeah. I make it to the end of the week without any pain and things feel normal, I’ll get to run on the grass with everyone next.”

Kim laid down on the bench. “Well I’m sure you know what I’m going to say, but I’m going to say it anyway. Don’t do anything stupid and listen to your body. If something is off, waiting an extra day or 2 isn’t going to kill you.” She pushed the bar up off the rack. “Trust me.” She grunted as she lowered the bar to her chest.

“I hear you. And I won’t.”

“Hey Caps.” Beth came bouncing to the end of the bench. “Le, what time do we have the venue for Saturday?”

“Umm, 9 until whenever really. Though I told ‘em it would probably wrap up around 5. 6 hours for a baby shower seemed like more than enough.” Leah answered as she spotted Kim.

“Probably right on that. So we have 2 hours to decorate? That should be plenty. I think Steph has the catering scheduled for between 10 and 11.” Beth twisted her lips as she tried to remember.

“What did I do?”

“Catering. What time is that showing up?”

“Ah, yeah. 10:30 bouts. I’ll call and confirm on Thursday though.”

Kim put the bar back on the rack and sat up. “If we can get in at 9, I’ll schedule the cake and sweets to come around 10.”

“So we just need all the girls to show up at 9 to set up?” Leah switched with Kim after removing a few pounds from either end of the bar.

“Yeah, that should be about it. Caitlin promised that she kept a check on Katie and the games, but Stina is going to claim that she will be the one running the games so she can see what she came up with.”

“Good idea Meado. When Katie called dibs on games and said she was going to use a few “McCabe family classics” I was a bit worried about what those would entail. You really never know what you might get with an Irish family that large.” Kim helped Leah lift the bar to start her set.

“I thought most of Katie’s siblings were younger than her?” Steph asked.

“Ask her to name all her cousins some time.” Lotte interjected as she joined the group. “We talking about Erin’s baby shower?” The group nodded. “You know she’s right there.” Lotte pointed across the room to Erin, their social media content creator, who was sitting in a chair with a laptop balanced on a very round belly. “I thought this was supposed to be a surprise.”

“She has her headphones in editing. She can’t hear anything.” Beth shrugged. “You have everything worked out with Dylan?”

“Yeah. Him and Tao have some plan that Dylan swears Erin will fall for. They’re going to tell her I have a children’s event to attend so I can help set up.”

“Great. And Viv has been talking to Erin’s family, she just needs to confirm the time with them.” Beth added.

“What about Dylan’s family?” Leah said as she finished her set in the bench press. “I know they're American, but is Dylan’s parents planning on being here when Gemma is born? They might be in by then.”

Lotte shook her head. “Dylan told me and Tao he doesn’t talk to anyone in his family besides his cousin Rose.”

“Wait, isn’t that the middle name they’re giving Gemma?” Steph asked.

“Yeah. Rose is the cousin he grew up with. Dylan talks about her like a sister. I think she’s a year or two older. But she’ll be there. So he’ll at least have some family.” Lotte finished.

“Sounds like this is going to be a fantastic party for our little Gooner and her mum.” Kim looked around the group. “But now, finish up your reps. We’re on the pitch in 30.”

Everyone saluted their captain before dispersing.

**************************

The week for the most part had gone smoothly. The team didn’t have their first January game for another 10 days. But Leah was finally going to be able to join team trainings next week, after almost 9 months, and the anticipation was wearing her thin. Several times she was asked if she was excited, or nervous, and repeatedly reminded that the wait was almost over. Almost. She was sure Saturday was going to be full of the same, though the full Arsenal staff and then some would be at Erin’s baby shower, so Leah would hear it ten fold. She needed a break. Which is how she found herself out to dinner on a Friday night, alone, sitting at the end of the bar top of the restaurant she had come to the previous week. She had come in a little earlier this time though, hoping it would be less crowded before the dinner rush, and she had been right, allowing her to get the same seat at the end with her back to everyone else. Tonight she would be any other diner. Not soon to return from injury, Leah Williamson.

Leah greeted Colin as she took her seat, ordering a glass of Chardonnay. The bar keep was placing the glass in front of Leah with a menu before she had even gotten comfortable.

“Would you like the chicken again?” The ginger asked.

“Might do an app first. Take my time and do some reading on my phone if it’s no bother.” Leah smiled.

“Not at all. I’d say the hummus is great. That and the pitas are made in house.”

“Yeah? Alright. I’ll start with that, thanks.” Leah pushed the menu back towards Colin. “And I’ll order the chicken a little later.”

Colin reached for the menu. “I’ll have that right out.”

Leah leaned back in her chair and pulled up the book she was reading on her phone. Picking the wine glass up off the bar, she took a small sip and relaxed. Colin placed a plate in front of her a short time later and for the next 20 minutes or so, she enjoyed her wine and appetizer completely uninterrupted while she read. The noise in the restaurant slowly rose as the main dining area filled and the seats at the bar top were taken one by one. Colin had just refilled her wine and was putting in her dinner order when someone finally claimed the last seat next to her.

“Is this seat taken, miss?”

Leah had heard that voice before. She lowered her phone. “No it’s not. By all means.” She smiled at the new guest. “Hello again RJ.”

“Miss Williamson.” RJ smiled softly as they pulled out the chair before placing their coat over the back. “Nice seeing you here again.”

“Will you be watching another football match?” Leah asked as she watched RJ prop their phone up on top of the bar.

“I was planning on finally watching Sinclair’s last international match. Figured if I did it in public I wouldn’t cry.” RJ waved at Colin and gave him a thumbs up. Clearly not needing words to order.

“Are you Canadian?”

RJ chuckled and shook their head slightly. “No. But as a kid I just kind of decided she was my favorite player and that was that. Figured after a month I should finally just bite the bullet and watch the damn game.”

“Mmmm, yeah, retirement games are hard to watch. She’s still playing one more year for the Thorns though, yeah?” Leah finished the last of her wine and caught Colin’s eye, signally for another glass.

“She is. But that doesn’t make watching this any easier.” RJ picked up their phone and waved it before unlocking it. Leah couldn’t help but notice that their background looked like an abstract black and white print of some sort. Once RJ had the game queued up they set it back on the bar top. “You’re welcome to watch. But I won’t bother you if you wish to continue what you were doing.” They hit the play button on the screen.

“Thank you. I think I might try to finish this chapter of the book I was reading.” Leah turned back to her phone as Colin placed RJ’s drink down and refilled Leah’s wine glass. The pair sat in companionable silence as Leah continued reading.

“Who do you think is going to take the armband in the future?” Leah broke the silence after putting her phone down. “Sinc has been captain far longer than I can remember.”

“Fleming.” JR’s said with a seconds hesitation.

“Seriously? She’s so young?”

RJ turned in their chair and looked Leah straight in the eye. “Really?” They paused for a moment. “You, the youngest captain in England history, is going to say that Jessie Fleming, who is 25, is too young.”

“Oh. Yeah I see your point.”

“Aside from her age.” RJ turned back. “She’s been a regular fixture on the national team for about 9 years. When Sinc and Schmidt stepped off this field she was the 4th longest tenured player on the team.” RJ took a sip of their drink.

“You aren’t just a casual fan, are you?

RJ side-eyed Leah. “What makes you say that?”

“A casual fan generally doesn’t know those types of statistics for a player who don’t play for their team”

“How do you know she doesn’t play for “my team”?” RJ used air quotes. “She may not play for the US, but.”

“Ew. You’re a Chelsea fan?” Leah dramatically recoiled further from RJ who just laughed.

“No.” RJ smiled. A full bright, cheerful smile. “I am a fan of the players individually, especially Fishel and Macario. But not the team as a whole.”

“Do you even have a WSL team?” Leah raised an eyebrow.

“I do.” RJ smirked. “And don’t worry. They wear the right shade of red.” They leaned back in their seat. “Can I ask you something? None football related and not terribly personal.” They rushed out the last bit. “And you obviously don’t have to answer.”

“Well with those conditions, sure.”

RJ tilted their head. “If you hadn’t become a pro footballer, what would you have chosen to do?”

“Probably an accountant or something like that. I’m pretty good with numbers and enjoy that there is always an answer to any problem.”

“Figures.”

“What’s that s’pose to me?” Leah asked, offended by the assumption, regardless of what it was.

“You play football like a mathematician, calculated.”

“Oh.” Leah adjusted in her seat, sitting up a bit straighter. “Thank you.”

RJ just hummed in response.

“What about you? You obviously know what I do and now what I would do.” Leah relaxed a bit in her chair. “Colin said you did something in media, I think.”

RJ glanced down the bar at the mentioned bartender. “Digital media.”

“What do you do in digital media? That seems like a, a very broad field. And do you work for a company in the UK?”

RJ took a long slow sip of their drink, clearly stalling as they then swirled the liquid in the glass before answering. “The company is US based. I do a lot of behind the scenes stuff, sometimes editing, camera work, desk stuff.”

Leah picked up her phone. “Must be a small company if you’re doing all of that. Is there an Insta page I can check out? Give a like.”

“Yes, we have an Instagram account.”

“Okay. What’s the name of the company?” Leah had the app open and was just waiting.

RJ had their glass to their lips when they answered. “-third.”

“What was that?”

“Attacking Third.” RJ repeated.

“Really? That’s the show that covers the NWSL, right?” Leah started looking at the company's account on their app. “If they cover the NSWL, what are you doing here? Covering former NWSL players or something?”

“Something like that.”

Colin approached with a plate in hand. “Ms. Williamson, your chicken.” He slid the plate onto the bartop. “Enjoy. RJ, did you want anything?” RJ raised their now empty glass. “Be right back.”

After Colin dropped off the drink, the pair continued watching the game in silence as Leah ate her meal. Her plate was finished and cleared away when the match hit halftime. “I should get going. I have an event I need to be at tomorrow morning with the girls that will be far more mentally draining than 90 minutes on the pitch.”

RJ chuckled. “I can only imagine.”

The footballer gave the other patron a soft smile. “It was good to see you again. Maybe we’ll get lucky again.”

“I’ll get my hopes up.” They smiled. “Have a good evening Ms. Williamson.”

#leah williamson #woso community #woso fanfics #woso soccer

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