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mae-gi-writes · 3 years

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Once Again (Pt.2) | Iwaizumi Hajime (Haikyu!)

ONCE AGAIN | PART TWO

Summary:

Iwaizumi’s broken marriage results in his five-year-old son trying to match him up with his primary school teacher, whom he thinks will make a wonderful replacement for a mother.

Genre: fluff, angst, f! Reader x dad! Iwaizumi

Taglist: @multi-fandom-fanfic, @168-cm-png, @bakugouswh0r3, @yatoatyourservice, @ayocee, @marvel-ing-at-it-all, @astrolcve

A/N: Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! Thanks to everyone for the kind feedback and for reading my work <3

< PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART >

----

He swings his beer over the counter, "one more."

He shouldn't be drinking. Imagine the damage it's doing to his organs, alcohol sweeping through his bloodstream and purging him of all coherent thought. Iwaizumi can hear Oikawa's nagging voice in his head even within the depths of intoxication.

Does he care though? He should. He should care. Because his job is basically to get people in their best shape.

And here he is, drinking away his sorrow, still shaken up by the way Hoisuke's fingers had grabbed for him that night. The bundle of nerves he'd squashed down had only intensified upon dropping his son on his mother's doorstep the same weekend and though he knew he should've said something to Mizune, he couldn't find the will to utter the words out, lest they came back to haunt him.

His phone buzzes in his pant pocket and after finishing it out with clumsy fingers, he manages to press down onto the green button.

"Yeah?"

"You're drinking!"

"No."

"Iwa-chan~" Oikawa's voice pierces through the receiver, sickly sweet and yet with a dark threatening undertone, "what are you doing?"

"Fuck off, shittykawa."

"Where are you?"

Iwaizumi doesn't answer. He doesn't need to, for Oikawa's already exclaiming the said bar's name as he takes another sip of his newly-filled beer glass.

"I thought you said you wouldn't drink anymore," Oikawa reproaches, "think of what Hoisuke would say--"

"I said fuck off."

There's a small pause where Oikawa bristles, before he says in a quieter tone, "what's wrong?"

Still, Iwaizumi says nothing but takes another huge gulp of his beer. His head feels buzzed, disoriented.

"Iwa-chan."

The said man press his lips in a taut line.

"Iwa-chaaaan."

"I'll talk to you later," Iwaizumi barely hears his friend's protests before he cuts off the call and downs the rest of his beer like a parched man, eyes narrowing towards anyone who dares reprimand him of his behaviour.

"One more," he rasps out towards the bartender, whose sending him a look that closely mimics one that clearly says he's had enough. But he scowls in response and that's enough to make the bartender's eyes slip away.

Seriously. What is wrong with him? It's already been four months goddamnit. Get over yourself. He wishes he could punch himself in the face. God, he sounds like a loser. He looks like one. And it's no wonder that his wife has left him for someone better, richer. Everything that he's not.

Not to forget that this wound will never leave their son's heart.

"One rum and coke please."

A presence lingers in his right and the brown-haired man turns with a glare at the ready, eyebrows furrowed and lips pressed in a thin line to scare whatever stranger that comes a little too close for his liking.

What the--

He stares at you. You stare back at him, just as dumbfounded. Looking the same, yet completely different.

"Miss Y/N?"

"Iwaizumi-san?"

He feels the sudden urge to hide his empty glass, "what--are you doing here?"

"Don't look so surprised, Iwaizumi-san," you chuckle at what you think is his flabbergasted expression, "I'm still twenty-six you know. I came here with a few of my friends."

His eyes slide towards the table in the far corner -- easy to spot since it's one of the loudest -- before he almost misses your question, "and you?"

"I come here often."

"Ah I see."

As you pay the bartender who slides your drink over, you bristle for a bit before you ask hesitantly, "mind if I sit here?"

Iwaizumi shakes his head. It's not like he can say no after all. You're his kid's teacher. And shit, how many beers has he had? He better not run his mouth. It's a dirty habit of his whenever he's shit drunk.

"So," you start off slowly, looking so out of place next to the said man with a scowl so dark it can scare off the most violent of gangsters that the corners of Iwaizumi's mouth tilt upwards in amusement, "how's it going?"

Seriously? You're seriously going to do that? His gaze searches your features for a moment, satisfied when warmth floods your cheeks.

You look away, "you don't have to look at me like that, you know. I just thought you’d want some company."

"What makes you think that?” Iwaizumi says while he flags down another beer from the waiter.

You blink at him, “I can go if you want--”

The man sighs, rubbing his temples with tiredness, “that’s not what I meant.”

A weird, empty gap of silence ensues. Long enough that Iwaizumi gets his fourth beer of the night in his hand and he takes a grateful swallow.

He really should not be drinking so much.

"Where do you work?”

You’re persistent. He’ll give you that, “personal trainer. I work at the sports academy.”

“That’s cool,” there’s a small smile edging upon your lips, “you like it?”

He nods, pauses briefly, before asking, “do you?”

Of course it’s a little too close for comfort, especially since you’re Hoisuke’s teacher and all. But you merely relax in your high stool, swinging your legs while nodding eagerly. He can’t help but notice the tightness of your dark jeans, your black high-heeled boots, “I don’t see myself working as anything else. I’m bad with people most of the time.”

Taking another swig of his beer, Iwaizumi feels the tension slowly ease up from his shoulders, “well you’re way better with kids than I am.”

“You’re pretty good with Hoisuke."

“That’s because you haven’t seen him throw tantrums.”

You laugh, "oh don't worry, I have. I know all about his little fits. All my kids have one, at some point."

You say it lightly, but there's definitely love laced in your words and for a minute, Iwaizumi thinks back to the way Hoisuke kept on praising you, the way he spoke so affectionately about you.

"Do you still play volleyball?" You ask him while sipping on your drink.

He mimics the gesture, "sometimes. The guys are all over town so it's harder to meet up now."

"Dang, your team was so good though."

"It was Oikawa that held us together. We weren't that good," he tastes the bitterness of Karasuno's victory on his tongue.

"That's not true," you protest, fiddling with your empty glass, "the only reason why I watched Aoba Johsai's games was because I liked watching you play."

Dark coffee-coloured orbs sweep up to yours at that statement, as if trying to peel layers off yout shell, as if wanting to confirm the truth of your words. You feel like cowering away but you don't, instead holding his stare in hopes that he doesn't notice how your hands tremble slightly underneath his scowl.

And then, features softening ever so slightly, he murmurs out, "thanks."

You know he means it in the best way possible.

-----

One drink turns to two. And two multiplies by four. And soon enough you're tipsy off your head and singing so blatantly off-key you wonder why Iwaizumi's still by your side. You haven't been this drunk in ages and this sense of freedom makes you bold; you tug him to the dance floor to join your friends, order shot after shot as the music gets louder and your head gets lighter, proceed to blabber your mouth off about literally anything and everything that by the end of the night, you wish the ground would swallow you whole so you won't have to deal with Iwaizumi the next day.

You're not entirely sure how you find yourself being dragged by none other than the said man himself, or how your nose is currently lodged in the crevice between his neck and shoulders. But he smells good, like citrus and a mixture of mint and-- you sniff a little more -- is that cookie dough? Your mouth waters just at the thought.

"You smell like cookie dough," the words tumble out of your mouth in a jumbled mess and you inwardly feel like stabbing yourself.

So pathetic. Pitiful really.

"That's Hoisuke," Iwaizumi replies, surprisingly patient even when he's clearly not impressed, glaring at the lamppost ahead, "it's his flavour of the month."

"That's cute!" You giggle, "just like you, Iwa!"

The man sighs while shifting his grip upon your waist, "let's just get you to bed."

You probably doze off at some point or black out because the next thing you see upon opening your eyes next is the ceiling.

Hoisting your head up and groaning when your head pounds in warning, you lie back down as nausea takes over.

Shit. This isn't your room. You know that much.

What the fuck happened last night?

You remember dancing atop tables, remember spotting Iwaizumi by the bar and talking to him because he just seemed so sad and lonely. You remember dragging him onto the dance floor, dancing together, his hands on your waist--

You danced with Iwaizumi?!

The thought is enough to trigger another pounding. You groan once more, placing your hand atop your head in hopes that it will stop it from throbbing. It doesn't. But before you have more time to wallow in your self-pity, the door creaks open and your eyes almost pop out of your head when you spot a mop of brown spiky hair enter the room.

Iwaizumi.

Oh fuck. Your brain short circuits. Fuck fuck fuck.

Surprise crosses his face, clearly having not expected you to be awake yet. He walks over to place a glass of water by the nightstand and grabs your palm to tilt two aspirins into your hand.

"How's your head?" He asks.

"Fine," you wince. It's far from fine. In response, he holds out the glass and you gladly wash down the pills, warm and feeling suddenly vulerable under his stare.

Chewing onto the inside of your cheek, you muster up all your courage to ask, "what--happened last night?"

You don't miss the way his eyebrows shoot up, "you don't remember?"

"...no."

Is that amusement dancing in his eyes? You're not sure since it's gone just as quickly as it came before he says, "you got drunk. Danced on the table, had too many shots and made out with two different men--"

"I'm pretty sure the last part didn't happen."

"You said you didn't remember," he smirks lightly.

"I can't even flirt, let alone kiss strangers."

That earns you a chuckle from his part, causing your heart to flutter slightly as he straightens up, "you probably want to wash up. Bathroom's on the right. I'm in the kitchen if you need me."

"Okay," and as he turns away, you quickly add, "thanks, Iwaizumi-san."

He nods back, exiting the room and finally allowing you to collapse back against the bed to try slowing down your galloping heart. Jesus christ, you think to yourself as you slowly take in your surroundings. From the lack of furniture and with only a few clothes flung over a wooden desk chair shoved in the right, you guess it's his room. A closed laptop and a small plant sits on his desk. On the left is the nightstand filled with sports books and some manga, a closet shoved in a corner and the floor is made in veneered wood.

There's no sign of family pictures, nothing that indicates the warmth of a cosy household. It doesn't take a genius to understand why. While Hoisuke had begged you not to tell his father, you weren't a stranger to the young boy sobbing in-between breaks because he misses his mother.

Well, it's not like you're allowed into family affairs anyway, as much as that breaks your heart.

After a much needed shower and a quick brush of your teeth -- you had to make do with using your fingers with his toothpaste, too embarrassed to actually ask him whether he had a spare toothbrush -- you walk out into the kitchen to see Iwaizumi already seated at a quaint wooden table laden with eggs and toast. Behind him sits the kitchen stove and white countertops next to a fridge fitting snuggly on the left corner. On the far right of the room is a large dark grey couch and a tv set, and just behind it is a small hallway which seems to be the entrance -- guessing by the coat rack and array of shoes.

"Sunny side up or boiled?" Iwaizumi asks as you take a seat opposite him. He has already poured you a cup of strong coffee and you inhale before sighing in bliss. Your headache already feels slightly better.

"Anything is fi--" you're interrupted by his scowl, quickly changing your answer to, "sunny-side up please."

He grunts, passes you the plate and digs into his own fried eggs, the soft boiled ones forgotten at the centre of the table.

"Uhm, forgive me for point it out, but that's a lot of food Iwaizumi-san," you mumble out, not missing the way his features harden slightly.

"Force of habit," he mutters in-between mouthfuls. He doesn't need to say more, for you're pretty certain he's referring to the family he used to have, those lazy Sunday mornings that started out with brunch.

You eat in companionable silence and though it'a definitely less awkward than last night, your mind still races trying to figure out what to say to erase the permanent furrow between his brows.

Or is that his normal demeanour? To be honest, you're not quite sure yourself.

So you settle for thanking him for last night, to which he replies, "do you usually drink that much?"

"No," you duck your head, avert your gaze, "I got carried away. I'm really sorry."

"Well I wouldn't have expected my kid's teacher to be that wild," he muses while taking a bite of his toast.

Alarm zaps through you, making your eyes go wide, "I swear I'm not usually like that, really. I just--this was an exception--"

"It's fine, miss Y/N. I know," his brown pupils lock onto yours briefly, "I'm not going to report you."

"I--" nothing can really make up for your behaviour last night. You know that much, "still, I'm sorry. That wasn't appropriate," you glance up, chest tightening at the intensity of his stare, unflinching. Unwavering.

He cocks his head at you then, a semblance of a smile along his mouth, "I was pretty entertained, if you ask me."

"Was I that bad?"

"No. But let's just say that you won't want to show your face around for the next week or so."

You groan and bury your face in your hands, "what did I do?"

"You might've broken a beer glass or two," he gives you a look, "on purpose. And tried to steal the Dj's headphones cause he wasn't putting the music you requested."

"Oh god," you want to bury yourself right then and there and to your surprise, you see him laugh softly before he nudges your coffee towards you.

"Drink," he orders, "it'll make you feel less shitty."

You're about to retort with a roll of your eyes, only to be interrupted by the doorbell ringing. From the way Iwaizumi tenses, you know it's not just the mail man.

Excusing himself to go unlock the door as you twist in your seat to follow his figure, shock courses through you the moment your eyes land on Hoisuke's.

Then, his mother.

An alarm bell rings through your mind.

"I thought you said evening," comes Iwaizumi's grunt, totally unlike the guy who'd been chuckling a few seconds ago.

"Hoisuke wanted to come back early for some reason," the woman says, her gaze flickering to yours for a brief moment. It's enough to cause you to swallow hard. She continues, "I'll pick him up on--"

"Miss Y/N?!" Hoisuke shouts out suddenly and before you know it, you're being tackled into the child's arms as if you haven't seen each other forever, "what are you doing here?! Daddy!" he whips his head around in accusation, "you lied about not really really liking Miss Y/N!"

"Wha--No!" Iwaizumi yells as you frown in confusion, "huh?"

"Daddy said that really really liking someone means you wanna be boyfriend and girlfriend with them, like he was with Mama before she moved houses," Hoisuke blabbers on, totally oblivious to how the three of you keep on staring at him in growing alarm, "and then I asked him if he really really liked miss Y/N because I really really like miss Y/N but he said no, but that's a lie!"

"Hajime, what is he talking about?" His ex-wife is quick to narrow her eyes, "what have you been telling him?"

"Nothing, it's not what you think--"

"I think," she pointedly glances at you, "I should leave now. We'll talk about this later."

And with that, she swivels around and storms out, leaving the three of you to stare after her in a mixture of shock and confusion.

Hoisuke, oblivious to the sudden tension, blurts out, "daddy, why is Mama angry with you?"

----

The few weeks following the tiny incident that had resulted in an awkward misunderstanding between you, Hoisuke’s parents and the said child himself had caused you to retreat back into the shell of professionalism that included avoiding Iwaizumi whenever it was deemed possible. It hadn’t been hard since he was usually present and waiting outside class to pick up Hoisuke right on time, making it much easier to avoid conversation with him altogether.

You’d texted iwaizumi right after reaching your humble abode the day he’d practically saved your drunk ass and though you spent a few spare moments to chat in-between the bustling activities of life, it doesn’t erase the fact that he’s still Hoisuke’s father, one of your dearest students. That, and the fact that you don’t really find it fair to put Hoisuke in-between the two of you, if there’s anything worth digging for anyway.

Who are you kidding? It’s not like Iwaizumi would ever be interested in you in that sense. Having spotted his ex-wife once or twice proved that his style was of more refined women, the type that would drink wine instead of chug down beer and who’d enjoy gifts such as perfume and romantic dates instead of going on grocery trips and meal-prepping for the entire week.

“Miss Y/N!” Hoisuke’s voice pierces through your thought bubble and your eyes quickly find his grin as he jumps towards your desk, "are you coming to our house this weekend too?!"

"Wh--What? Uhm-- no I don't think so--" eyes quickly flitting over the classroom, you're relieved to find that the rest of his classmates are long gone, "I don't think that's appropriate."

"But why? I even told Mama that I wouldn't be coming this weekend because you were," he pouted and it took all of your determination not to melt, until his words registered in your brain and your eyes widened, "o--oh, but that's--"

"Hoisuke?" You both turn to see his father's head poking through the door. Your body reacts instantly, warmth flooding through your limbs and flushing through your cheeks.

"Daddy!"

"H-Hello, Iwaizumi-san," you bow your head slightly. He returns the gesture, facial expression not giving anything away. His son bounds up to him with just as much vigor, "daddy, can we invite miss Y/N this weekend too?"

You might have laughed at Iwaizumi's shocked face if not for the fact that you are the person in question.

He splutters, "Miss Y/N has things to do--"

"But she came last weekend!"

"Yes well, it's bad manners to impose on someone when they're not free," Iwaizumi replies sternly, "come on now, we're gonna be late for Karate."

With a loud sigh and a scowl that resembles so much like his father, Hoisuke mutters out his goodbyes while Iwaizumi catches your eye, bowing slightly and muttering a silent "sorry" before he guides his son out of the room. You're glad he's out of earshot that he can't hear the stuttering of your heart against your chest.

You place a hand on your chest, sigh tiredly before looking down at your students' papers, "get a grip, Y/N," you mutter to yourself.

But it's not that easy to control yourself when Iwaizumi is making it so easy to like him.

----

Iwaizumi: sorry about yesterday.

Y/N: it's okay. Hoisuke’s young, it's normal for him to want for a motherly figure around.

Iwaizumi's fingers drum over his knee as he watches with slight interest the newest male volleyball team practice their serves. He shouts after a few, calling them out for theit lazy postures, but other than that he can't seem to stop his thoughts from winding their way back to you.

"Who is she?" Mizune had asked him on the phone on the day following their encounter. Her tone was friendly, yet held that tone of warning that he was so accustomed to.

"How does that concern you?"

"I want to know who you're bringing around to hang out with Hoisuke."

"She's an acquaintance of mine," he paused, "and Hoisuke's teacher."

"That's inapropriate if you ask me."

Scoffing, he replied, "like what you did's so appropriate?"

A small pause ensued. When she spoke next, there was no mistaking the edge to her voice.

"You can't keep using that against me, Hajime."

"Don't tell me who I can or can't hang out with."

He'd hung up without bothering to wait for her response, seething and red hot with rage blubbering through his stomach.

Of course now that he thinks it over, Mizune has a point. Mixing the professional and the personal have never ended in happy endings. Not that this has ever stopped him before. He doesn't believe in what everyone else thinks is right. That's also one of the main reasons why Mizune couldn't handle it anymore. Or so she said before she went to suck someone else's dick.

His phone vibrates and fishing it out, a scowl instantly shadows his face upon seeing Oikawa's name flash across the screen.

Oikawa: Iwa-chan ~ have you asked her out yet?

Iwaizumi has to force himself to stay in control and not pound his phone to pieces when he types out his reply.

Iwaizumi: No.

Oikawa: BUT WHYYYY~ YOU SAID YOU FOUND HER CUTE.

Oikawa: and Hoisuke likes her. He already knows her.

Iwaizumi: I didn’t say that. And she's not interested.

Oikawa: Just because you suck at picking up cues doesn't mean she isn't throwing them at you 😏😏😏

Iwaizumi: shut up, shittykawa.

Oikawa: Just do it or I'll do it for you.

Iwaizumi: I don't even like her that way.

Oikawa: why'd you rant about not wanting to hurt her feelings yesterday night then?

Iwaizumi's hand rubs at his face with a groan. Oikawa's a little shit most of the time, but he's a perceptive little shit.

Oikawa: I mean it. Ask her out or I'll do it for you.

Oikawa: gotta go now. Match is starting. See ya!~ muah ❤

"Dumbass," Iwaizumi growls under his breath before shoving the phone back into his pocket. Easier said than done to ask someone out so casually, especially when she's Hoisuke's teacher.

If she accepts, great. If she doesn't, he'll have to suffer through humiliation for the rest of the year or avoid picking up Hoisuke altogether.

Oh fuck it.

He lets his body send the message before his brain can catch up to the way he has thrown himself under the bus, shoves his phone back into his pocket and tries to put the thought out of his mind even though the device suddenly feels hot and heavy in his pant pocket.

Iwaizumi: we're having takeout and movie night on Friday. You're free to join.

----

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swbumblebee · 3 years

Text

What if Qui-Gon Jinn was not particularly special in his post-mortem abilities?

AKA “Old Ben” and his many Force parents.

They had all watched, their collective Force aura swamped in sadness, grief and longing, as Qui-Gon finally introduced himself to Obi-Wan.

They’d never call him ‘Old Ben’. The fact that he was only 40 years old notwithstanding, this was the boy they’d raised, grown up with, idolised. They remembered him toddling about the gardens, fascinated by the brightly coloured flowers; Getting shy around pretty people and developing awkward crushes. They remembered him standing alone at the head of an army, quietly confident and immeasurably capable. They had vivid memories of him carrying them back to the creche, so steady and strong; of his measured wisdom, and the confidence that Obi-Wan Kenobi would always triumph.

They remembered the mullet.

Nobody named “Old Ben” ever had a mullet.

The man they now, as they always had really, looked to for a light when everything else went dark.

They didn’t catch the murmured words. They were Jedi after all, (even if they were now technically one big Jedi rather than a temple full of Jedi) and eavesdropping was rude. Nobody listened to the sulky mutterings of the presence that was Quinlan Vos.

Their boy was nodding, sitting quietly on the floor whilst he finally, finally after weeks of careful and gentle persuasion, of them all keeping a tight rein on the order’s maverick (“Do not, we repeat do not, come out of the water tank. You’ll give him a cardiac arrest or something”) believed in the presence he saw before him.

They watched once more, pleased, as their missing piece allowed himself to be bullied to his feet, and guided over to the pile of blankets he called a bed.

They could feel Qui-Gon’s bitter relief as he perched next to his former student, his longing to pull the blankets up around his boy and smooth back his hair.

But words were all they had.

Still, as Obi-Wan Kenobi had shown the Galaxy; you could do a lot with words.

---

They’d argued (as much as an incorporeal fusion of spirits could argue) at length over who got to go next.

“I knew him longest, he’ll trust me!”

“He needs someone calm, measured. I will go”

“No offence Master Plo but you’ll make him cry. He needs cheering up, I’ll go!”

“Vos so help me Force-“

“I was the Master of the Order, I should do it”

“Master, we’re dead. I’m not sure seniority applies.”

In the end it was narrowed down to two options; Bant Erin, Obi-Wan’s oldest friend. Sweet natured and kind, she would be the perfect choice.

And Mace Windu.

It turns out seniority does still apply beyond the grave.

---

A small part of Obi-Wan’s subconscious was telling him that it was starting to get a bit awkward.

The transparent blue form of Mace Windu was looking down at him, the welcoming smile quickly turning into a grimace.

“…Obi-Wan?”

No. no no no this was not happening. He didn’t have time to go round the bend he had a child to protect!

He wasn’t sure if it was reasonable to measure sanity on the volume of dead loved ones he was hallucinating, but somehow one seemed saner than two.

Though it turns out he’s insane, and so not a good barometer of these things.

He knew his stare was starting to get very unnerving as his hysterical inner-ramblings reached a fever pitch.

“…Obi-Wan, are you alright?” Imaginary Mace Windu asked, concern and a tiny bit of nervousness showing on his face.

“I’m fine, how are you?” Obi-Wan asked, remembering a solid piece of advice from his formative years; Always fall back upon good manners when in unfamiliar territory Padawan mine.

Well, this was about as unfamiliar as it got.

Imaginary Mace looked at him, utterly baffled for a moment.

“Well…I’m dead, I suppose, is how I am” he answered awkwardly.

“Right. Obviously.” Obi-Wan nodded politely. “My condolences”

There was another awkward silence.

Imaginary Mace tilted his head for a moment, listening for something.

“Well…here I am” he said, spreading his arms a little.

“…yes.”

The other Jedi frowned at Obi-Wan’s strained reply and his act of scrubbing his hands down his face as if to wipe away the image in front of him.

“Qui-Gon didn’t…didn’t mention we were coming?” he asked tentatively.

Obi-Wan shook his head, wordlessly.

The frown on Imaginary Mace turned into a complete scowl as the pieces seemed to fall into place.

“JINN” he bellowed, and Obi-Wan felt it echo in the Force like nothing before.

“He can’t hear you, he’s with Yoda”

Another figure popped into existence next to Mace, and Obi-Wan rubbed his eyes once again as Depa Billaba bowed to him.

“Obi-Wan” she greeted with a grin.

“…hi” He took a deep breath, mentally cursing his absent-minded Master.

“Are you alright?” Depa didn’t stop for a reply as she looked down with him and gestured at him, gently instructing him to get up from the floor. “Oh look you’ve scraped your knee there! Master I knew you’d startle him!” she scolded her former Master.

It felt like he was having an out of body experience as Depa ushered him into a chair (the only chair in the hut), Mace looking on anxiously.

“There we go” Depa soothed as she got him settled “I wish we could make you some tea my friend.” She said disappointedly.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat.

“You ah…you can’t?” he asked, something permeating the haze. Of this whole situation, that seemed by far the most unfair thing.

Mace smiled encouragingly, seemingly happier to be on more binary ground.

“I’m afraid not, we are beings of the Force, like your Master.” He explained, before scowling again. “Who, I would kill if he weren’t already dead,” he growled.

“I’m so sorry Obi-Wan” Depa said, dismayed “We all wanted to come and be with you, but we though Qui-Gon might be best to start with, so as not to overwhelm you”

“Sorry about that” Mace said apologetically.

They sat in silence a moment, Depa and Mace watching him process.

For the first time ever, Obi-Wan had exactly zero thoughts in his head.

He was starting to feel the pressure.

“All?” he tried.

Depa and Mace looked at each other.

“You ah…you said ‘all wanted to come’” he clarified.

Depa nodded happily.

“Yes yes, we’re all there Obi-Wan” she smiled at him

“Any Jedi slain by a Sith, or the machinations of the Sith, is there” Mace explained.

Obi-Wan was having the slightest bit of trouble taking deep breaths. Neither of his companions seemed to have noticed.

“Where?” he asked, only mildly aware that his voice was getting just a little pitchy.

“In the Force, we’re all one in the Force” Depa started again, and then paused a little lost for words.

“We’re all together and we kind of…share our presences” Mace picked up, with difficulty “Everyone who was killed by Palpatine’s evil, everyone from us right down to the littlest initiate, we share one consciousness in the Force.”

Obi-Wan was none the wiser.

Mace waved a hand frustratedly.

“Sorry, Plo explains it better”

“Plo?” Obi-Wan loved Master Plo. He loved all of them. And they were gone.

“Hello Obi-Wan”

“Well, if Plo and Depa get to see him I’m bloody well here too!”

“Hi Obi”

“Obes!”

He could only watch, speechless, as the faces of old friends, comrades, mentors and carers crammed into his hut, all looking at him with unadulterated, unfiltered pleasure and love was the last thing he saw before his scrambled brain decided it’d had enough, and he knew nothing but darkness.

---

It turns out, living with the forms of all your dead teachers, carers and friends was actually rather trying, after a while.

“Oh thank goodness you’re not still drinking that awful caff”

“I like caff – Master Plo please don’t try and lift that”

“Relax Obi dear, we’re incorporeal”

“Can still see things though”

“Vos get out of my fresher!”

“What does this do?”

“Never you mind. No don’t – Ugh. Why don’t some nice, well behaved padawans ever come to see me?”

“They’re not allowed, only those who knew you personally can visit. We thought it might get a bit stressful otherwise.”

“…I can’t imagine.”

Aside from having to adapt his busy routine to accommodate half a dozen fidgety and curious…ghosts (?) poking around his small hut at any one time, another unexpected addition to his (attempted) isolation on Tatooine was the nagging. And Force could they nag! The concentrated worry of many, many, beings with nowhere else to direct their extra energies was powerful.

“Obi-Wan you haven’t drank enough today. Go and check the vaporators”

“Padawan aren’t you going to eat?”

“Listen, that plie of cloth can’t be good for your spine”

“Force! Get some sun block Kenobi or you’re going to look like an old shoe in three months”

“No right, I saw a sunhat he can buy at the market”

It was…weird. He’d always been very self-sufficient, not to mention being the centre of everyone’s attention was difficult, to say the least. But as the months went on, he found himself transitioning from awkward acquiescence to see-sawing between mulishness and good-natured obedience. The stubbornness rising usually when the despair did. But those days were few and far between.

And now, when they did occur (for one can only avoid one’s demons for so long) and he felt like he was drowning in the weight of existence, he could rely on his friends for encouragement, care, and the motivation to carry on.

“If you join us before your time I will KILL you Obi-Wan Kenobi. Now kriffing well eat something!”

---

Of course, when their brother, friend, son, comrade, teacher and last hope did at last join them, there was no nagging or disappointment (or violence). The ultimate Jedi was back in the fold and they were once again complete.

#And they're fussing #Obi-Wan Kenobi #mace windu #I See Dead Jedi #depa billaba #jedi order #fluff?#snippet of nothing

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zhanyes · 3 years

Text

Tianshan dating headcannons because i also love these two dumbasses too

Also dedicated to @el-mundo-real who requested tianshan headcannons 🖤

. . .

- Literally no one knows whether they’re dating or not. Not even themselves because they don’t talk about it

- Jian yi thinks they’re dating already and Zhengxi says they’re still getting there (somehow they’re both right) and they make a bet

- He tian likes staying over at Mo’s and he’s gotten pretty close to mama Mo

- Mama Mo teaches him how to knit !! He tried to knit a scarf for Mo but it came out a little messy and tangled. Mo still wears it anyway saying it’s a waste of yarn if not used (He’s actually really touched)

- He eats dinner there about 5 times a week and sleeps over thrice a week. He’s a permanent fixture in the house now, he has his own plate and mug, utensils, toothbrush, a spare key, and more than half of his closet migrated to Mo’s closet

- Sometimes Mo “accidentally” wears He tian’s sweaters and He tian dies a little bit every time

- Sometimes He tian deliberately wears Mo’s clothes and it’s always tighter and a bit shorter on his body so when he moves his arms the shirt rides up. Mo guanshan shouts at him to change and to stop contaminating his clothes but his ears are red anyway

- They bicker A LOT. Over the smallest things because He tian loves riling him up and Mo gets riled up too easily

He tian, for the 7th time in 5 minutes: “What does this thing do?”

Mo guanshan, losing his mind: “THAT’S A FUCKING MICROWAVE WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK IT DO?!”

- There are times when homicide is the best option

Mo Guanshan: “I acknowledge that I can be mean sometimes-”

He tian, in the bathtub: “Sometimes?”

Mo Guanshan: “Shut the fuck up. So I brought you a bath bomb as a peace offering.”

He tian: “That’s a fucking toaster.”

Mo guanshan: “Exactly. A bath bomb.”

- Contrary to what his actions say, Mo guanshan is actually relieved that He tian spends most of his time in their apartment. He tian never told him but he can see how lonely the other teenager is

- Mo guanshan tries to teach He tian chores because He tian knows nothing about cleaning or doing everyday things

Mo guanshan: “How the fuck do you not know how to wash dishes where the hell do you eat?!”

He tian, drinking milk straight out the carton: “Obviously on plates, Momo. I just throw them away after.”

Mo guanshan, sputtering: “WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU THROW OUT PLATES?!”

- The first and only recipe that He tian managed to cook successfully is instant noodles with boiled egg that’s not quite cooked enough. Sometimes he brings Mo noodles as breakfast in bed and he looks so proud of it Mo has a hard time saying that the noodles are overcooked and that noodles aren’t exactly breakfast food (he eats it anyway)

- Mo sometimes, only sometimes, brings He tian grocery shopping because he needs to learn how to buy food for himself. Somehow He tian always ends up in the miscellaneous section where he has a pack of ballpens he’ll never use, 2 journals he’ll also never use, a couple of scented candles, various dog clothes and leashes for the dog he doesn’t have, a couple’s mug, and a vase in his cart

- He tian stopped trying to barge into Mo guanshan’s bed and sleeps on the futon on the floor beside it. It’s not the most comfortable and he had a hard time sleeping on it at first but he likes being in Mo’s company even while sleeping

- Sometimes Mo would move in his sleep and leave his arm dangling on the side of the bed, He tian grabs it of course and Mo wakes up to sweaty palms. He still leaves it for a few moments before harshly slapping away He tian’s hand

- Mo’s hands aren’t smooth at all because of working all the time and practicing the guitar but He tian loves them all the same. He likes to feel the contrast in textures with his slightly smoother hands

- He tian has a thousand pictures of Mo guanshan sleeping in various angles and poses. He has his favorites framed and keeps it on his bedside table in his apartment so when he’s sleeping there he still feels like they’re sleeping together

- Mo guanshan has a few of He tian sleeping but he swears up and down that he'll never do anything as disgusting as that. He makes one of them his wallpaper.

- Sometimes when they don’t feel like sleeping yet they stay up talking and arguing about random things

Mo guanshan: “Why would aliens be in space? The ocean is definitely the way to go.”

He tian: “But why would they be in the ocean? They’ll drown.”

Mo guanshan: “They’re aliens maybe they have gills or some shit.”

He tian: “I’m telling you they’re not in the ocean, Mo.”

Mo guanshan: “And I’m telling you you’re wrong, bastard.”

- On rare days they would stay up talking about their pasts and about life in general, with the lights closed and the only source of light is the moonlights from the window

- One of these nights, Mo told He tian about what happened to his dad and their restaurant, why they’re in so much debt over it and He tian holds Mo’s hand tightly throughout

- He knew better than to say that he could pay for that debt so Mo doesn’t need to worry anymore (He still says it anyway and Mo blew a fuse) but he swore to help Mo through other means

- The next day he orders a whole carton of mangoes, apples and peaches in his apartment and learns how to peel properly through youtube and Zhengxi

- He goes to Mo’s part time job in the grocery and helps him peel fruits, Mo guanshan doesn’t mention anything when he notices the bandaids on the other’s hands but he does cook him beef stew for dinner

- As expected He tian’s presence brings more customers and the manager asks if he wants to work there permanently but he said he’s only working for Mo so the manager can give Mo a raise instead

- Once, Mo got sick so he missed his part time job for the day (He was supposed to give away flyers on the streets) and got extra pissy because He tian didn’t visit him and wouldn’t answer his phone

- Apparently He tian took over his job for the day and he only finds out when he goes to the manager and the manager asks when his ‘boyfriend’ can come back to work again because the customers love him

- He tian almost never talks about himself but once he talked about the puppy who disappeared after he saves it and then found out that it’s still alive after all these years

- Mo keeps quiet about it the whole time he was talking and the next few days he takes time to knit a small dog plushie and leaves it on He tian’s futon

- He tian didn’t cry, he didn’t (he did), but he hugged Mo and whispered a sincere thank you. For once, Mo lets it happen

- Mo quickly regrets his decision when He tian names the plushie “Chicken sandwich”

- He tian brings Mo in a lot of not-dates (according to Mo) like arcades, ocean parks, festivals, and fairs because he didn’t get to go as a kid and he wants to experience it for the first time with Mo

- They get crazy competitive in every game. Every. Single. One. If it’s a co-op shooting game they would compete on who kills the most enemies, if it’s a harmless crane game it becomes a competition of who can get the most plushies

- They both each have a photobooth strip. Mo keeps his as a bookmarker in a journal, and He tian has his in the back of his phone.

- They go on a double not-date with Jian yi and Zhengxi and it ends up in almost getting chased by a police car at 2 am in pokemon onesies and holding a bag of chips

- Sometimes Mo would visit his dad in prison and just rant to him about He tian

Mo guanshan: “The nerve of that guy to do something like that in front of a teacher urgh.”

Papa Mo: “Your boyfriend sounds like a fun guy, son. I want to meet him soon.”

Mo guanshan: “BO-BOYFRIEND?!”

Papa Mo: “Yes???”

Mo guanshan: “No??? That bastard isn’t my boyfriend??”

Papa Mo: “Are you sure about that?”

Mo guanshan: “...Yes?”

- Enter gay panique because he doesn’t actually know whether He tian is his boyfriend or not

- They don’t call each other boyfriends and they never talked about it so no??? But they’re also not just friends so maybe??? Do they go on dates?? Can grocery trips be considered dates??

- He rings up Jian yi and the blonde just laughed for 5 minutes straight without stopping and he wonders how he’s still breathing

Mo Guanshan, after hearing Jian yi laughing for 5 minutes: “Are you fucking done?”

Jian yi, trying to catch his breath: “Man this is some top-tier entertainment.”

Mo guanshan: “WELL?!”

Jian yi: “Look bro literally no one knows whether you’re dating, fucking, planning each other’s murder OR planning a murder together.”

Mo guanshan: “What if it’s all of the above?”

Jian yi: “Then congratulations…? Please don’t murder me?”

Mo guanshan: “Urgh you’re fucking useless I should have called Zhengxi.”

Jian yi: “Wait don’t, I don’t wanna lose the bet. How about this, there’s a festival upcoming for couples and families, if He tian asks you then you’re probably, maybe, dating?”

Mo guanshan: “That’s stupid. AND WHAT BET?!”

Jian yi: “Ah woops gotta water my dog.”

- Mo tells himself that it’s stupid and there’s no way he’s falling for that...but he feels disappointed anyway when He tian doesn’t ask him the following days

- He tian asks on the last day before the festival, but he asks mama Mo first and Mo guanshan second cuz he wants to celebrate with both of them. He confessed that he’s never actually went to a festival with a family before so he was trying to build up courage to ask

- Mo guanshan is an absolute goner after that

- On the day of the festival, they find Zhanyi there on a date but decide to leave them alone. While they were leaving Jian yi kept throwing Mo guanshan so much winks that Zhengxi thought he got something in his eye

- The festival was fun but Mo couldn’t take his eyes off how happy and content He tian looks

- Queue cliche fireworks scene but it’s He tian being amazed by the fireworks and Mo looking mesmerized at him thinking, “Ah, I want him to look at me like that.”

- The next day, he drags He tian to visit his dad in jail

Papa mo: “Oh this is a surprise, you’ve never brought someone before?”

He tian, trying to introduce himself: “Hello, sir. I’m He tian, Mo guanshan’s fri-”

Mo guanshan, cuts him off: “Boyfriend. He’s my boyfriend, dad.”

He tian:

#19 days #19 days headcannons #19 days hc #tianshan #mo guan shan #he tian #zhanyi #jian yi #zhan zheng xi #am i procrastinating updating my fics and 19 days socmed au by posting random 19 days stuff?#yes yes i am #old xian

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hannigramficrecs · 3 years

Text

Newly Added Fics 5/16

Hello everyone, sorry again for the slight hiatus! I’ve replied to all the messages in my inbox (at least the ones that were sent to me before this past friday), so if you asked me something before that, be sure to check out my replies!

As usual, I’ve emboldened the fics I really liked and italicized the ones that are incomplete.

Looks Like Love by luvkurai [words: 5,987] — (AU)

After his sister's wedding, Will kisses his childhood housekeeper (and first love).

Betrothed by slashyrogue [words: 3,932] — (AU)

In one month he would marry a total stranger.

Titan Arum by ProxyOne [words: 64,614] — (AU)

Will is a botanist, working in the greenhouse of the local Botanical Gardens. He is getting his life back on track after his divorce, but he can't help but notice someone who keeps coming back to his greenhouse to draw, day after day. A man who seems to have been paying very close attention to him...

Find Me In The Dark by Rising_Phoenix [words: 40,131] — (AU)

After a fateful accident, the marriage of Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter has reached its end. Grief and the inability to stop them from falling apart has brought an irreconcilable distance between the formerly deeply devoted couple. While Hannibal is apathetic towards his husband, ignores him, and is withdrawn, Will has started an affair with fellow teacher Francis and drowns his desperation in more and more alcohol.

Light of All Lights by whiskeyandspite [words: 20,377] — (AU)

Dracula-like fic without any of the vampires

The Stage Just For You by CarnivalMirai [words: 6,494] — (AU + Age Gap)

Will has landed himself the role of Odette for world-famous choreographer Hannibal Lecter's rendition of The Swan Lake.

There Will Be Bells by Entropyrose [words: 36,639] — (A/B/O)

In Georgian England, male omegas are very rare diamonds. Baron and Baroness Graham have a plan to build their wealth and social status by offering their son Will's hand in marriage to a mysterious older Duke, an Alpha named Lord Hannibal Lecter. Will's personal feelings need not apply.

Alpha Mart by slashyrogue [words: 63,164] — (A/B/O)

Will needs an alpha. After years of fake knots, half-assed suppressants, and his own damn hand during heats he’s reached the end of his rope. He doesn’t do dating so he decides to waste his life savings and hype with the current trend. Alpha Mart.

Enchanted By Your Name by CarnivalMirai [words: 9,207] — (A/B/O + PWP)

“Now, my husband would prefer it if I got the job done quickly.” He says, slashing down the back of each gag as he passes each man, watching as the silk falls gracefully to the floor. “However, I want to have some fun. Considering you’ve troubled my husband so much… it’s only fair, right?” One of the men whimpered fearfully. Or: The name "Will Graham" is a name you'll only ever hear once.

I've Been Building Black Ships by cloudsarefluffy [words: 8,116] — (A/B/O + AU)

Alpha Hannibal moves to the States with his sister Mischa after being overtly done with the fancy life of a count, and his blind omega neighbor gives him an insight into love that he never quite expected.

A Rare Find by hit_the_books [words: 5,379] — (A/B/O + AU)

Life as an omega bookseller can be quite lonely. However, as the owner of Graham’s Books, Will Graham is reasonably content. That is until he meets—long-time customer and crush—Doctor Hannibal Lecter in person for the first time. Attraction blossoming between them both, Will agrees to a dinner date with the good doctor.

We All Have a Hunger by 1ntothew1ld [words: 12,260] — (A/B/O + Age Gap)

Hannibal will ensure a properly slow and painful death for an alpha who allowed a beautiful young omega to go to waste as this one has. Too skinny for his own good, a stuttering and humble mess. The likes of the omega in front of him belonged at Opera houses and in million-dollar mansions, not scrounging for his next meal. Meek and afraid in some disheveled row house. When he finally looked back up the alpha had to conceal the utter punch to the stomach that meager glance was, blue eyes full of innocence but also hunger.

The Doctor Is In by Kummerspeck7 — (A/B/O + PWP)

Will nearly scoffed. "You can't expect me to believe you'd want anything other than a delicate flower to adorn your side, keep your ostentatious home, bare you the exact number of children you want--No more, no less-- all while being available at your whims." "Not at all." Hannibal disagreed. "I would no more put a wilting flower in my home than in a bouquet given as a gift. Tell me, Will, is that how you are treated? Forbidden from work, cloistered inside and used at Mr Brown's discretion?" "My Alpha's discretion." Hannibal looked pointedly at the curve of Will's neck, free from a single scar. "Not yet he isn't."

Teenage Wildlife by writtenbyizzy [words: 10,163] — (Age Gap + Sugar Daddy)

While reluctantly prowling Grindr for a sugar daddy to pay for his dog Bean's vet bills Will comes across Hannibal, and gets far more than he bargained for.

Just As Poised As I Remember by CarnivalMirai [words: 5,721] — (Age Gap + School)

When Will was in high school he had an incredibly handsome psychology teacher-- tall and sharp with a thick European accent. And now, a decade later, said psychology teacher-turned psychiatrist... just swiped right on him.

We Can Chase the Dark Together by K_R_Closson [words: 16,615] — (Fantasy)

Will tips him and Hannibal off the cliff. Instead of hitting the water, he wakes up in his bed, several years in the past. His first, and only, priority is to find Hannibal again.

We Killed a Dragon Last Night by inameitlater [words: 88,150] — (Fantasy)

Will remembers falling. He wakes up months before Jack got him to work for him. Months before he met Hannibal for the first time. Free from his past he decides to change events and meet Hannibal again.

My Only Constant Is You by TheSilverQueen [words: 25,369] — (Fantasy)

Hannibal Lecter is an immortal who can never die. Will Graham is a time traveler who can never stay in one place. Perhaps that is why they are perfect for each other.

Motinos Kalba by Lyla_Joy [words: 6,040] — (Fluff)

Five times Hannibal Lecter spoke Lithuanian on accident and one time he meant too.

You Make Me Feel (Good) by sourweather [words: 7,190] — (Fluff)

Will Graham has sensory issues. The world gets too loud, he gets overstimulated easily, but most of all he hates being touched. He never expected someone to work so hard to make him comfortable, to be so patient with him.

Pick Me Up by sourweather [words: 6,053] — (Fluff)

Will doesn't go to bars much. He doesn't end up needing a ride home much. But when he does get drunk, he always wants to ask Hannibal to pick him up.

Hard to Get by JSinister32 [words: 5,561] — (Jealousy)

Will and Hannibal had been broken up for six months. When confessions are made during a work function, can they find it within themselves to forgive?

Polar Opposites by Lyla_Joy [words: 19,513] — (Kidnapping)

“Says the cannibalistic serial killer who knocked me out and is now holding me hostage,” sassed Will. The Ripper didn’t smile but his eyes crinkled in the corner. “Please call me Hannibal.”

Fate Is A Keen-Eyed Hound by LydiaFearing [words: 5,890] — (Mischa)

Hannibal may be a successful, charming psychiatrist but Mischa worries that her brother is lonely so she gifts him a puppy. Hannibal reluctantly falls for his little dog but wants to get involved with time-consuming FBI work and not just anyone can be allowed to look after his pet. Luckily, Alana can recommend a boarding kennel in Wolf Trap.

The Significant Other: The Will and Hannibal Edition by house_of_lantis [words: 18,431] — (Murder Husbands)

After their terrible and abrupt break up, Will and Hannibal attempt to maneuver through their social circles, side step ongoing gossip, and deal with the fact that Will knows the truth of Hannibal. Through impossible odds, Will and Hannibal do find their way to each other again.

Dancing with the Beast by proser [words: 86,347] — (Murder Husbands)

In order to catch a mediocre serial killer, Will must pose as Hannibal's date for a series of pretentious social events. Hannibal is dramatic and jealous as ever, and Will is having a great time without the encephalitis. Of course, it's a love story.

Arriving at the Crossroads by HigherMagic [words: 7,558] — (Mpreg)

"You haven't been my psychiatrist for a long time," Will echoes. "But you've been my friend. You've helped me. With…" He gestures vaguely to his head. "When my brain was on fire. On consults. When it's dark and I need a guiding light." "It pleases me very greatly to be a source of comfort and reassurance for you, Will," Hannibal says. "I have wanted to be that for you, for a long time."

The Hanged Man by justhavesex [words: 13,076] — (Mpreg)

Will Graham had never wanted children before, but he had never considered it to be a consequence of his omegan brain not finding anyone worthy, but the moment he had met Hannibal Lecter he had been filled with want. In which a dinner party one-night stand results in a pregnancy that changes Will's entire life.

I Don't Even Like Lana Del Rey by perpetuallycaffeinated [words: 4,328] — (PWP)

The tension and low thrum of arousal were making Will speak impulsively. He knew this, but he’d just finished his drink. There was nothing he could use to stop the question, blunt and presumptuous and rude. “So, what, you’re my daddy?”

A Bad Combination In The Dark by perpetuallycaffeinated [words: 1,957] — (PWP)

When a nerve wracked Will Graham accidentally cuts his hand on Dr. Lecter's letter opener, things quickly get out of control.

The Best Bait by sourweather [words: 3,327] — (PWP)

Will is a good fisherman, he knows which bait to use for his catch. Will seduces Hannibal at a party by being sexy.

Whimsy by justheretoreadhannibalfics [words: 3,001] — (School)

Doctor Hannibal Lecter is standing in as a teacher while Professor Graham is out of town on a case. The students start to kind of like him, and become very invested in his love life.

Callipygian by ProxyOne [words: 2,260] — (Season 1)

Hannibal has a lot of sketches of Will, which he normally keeps safely away. One day though, Will shows up unexpectedly and Hannibal is caught unawares, and unprepared.

L'appel Du Vide by sourweather [words: 5,413] — (Season 1)

Will is hiding things from his coworkers. From himself. But Doctor Lecter knows.

Friends Don't Frame Friends: A Lesson for a Clueless Cannibal by LadyFelixTristis [words: 5,041] — (Season 1)

Ear? What ear? Will Graham doesn’t try to thwart Hannibal Lecter’s plans for him. He just does. By accident. And then on purpose.

For All My Pride, You Were the Fall of Me by nobetterlove [words: 13,212] — (Season 2)

After being released from the BSHCI, Will grabs the dogs he can't live without and leaves without a trace

Letters to God by CarnivalMirai [words: 4,698] — (Season 3+)

Will writes letters to Hannibal every day after his incarceration. But they never make it.

Blankets, Coffee Cups, and Christmas Morning by sourweather [words: 6,352] — (Season 3+)

Hannibal wants to enjoy the domesticity. The love, the closeness, the being Known. But something about his life with Will makes him want to lash out.

All These Fictionary Tales by ProxyOne [words: 18,492] — (Season 3+)

After the fall, Hannibal is presumed dead. Will has been declared dead. But Will isn't willing to believe that Hannibal would just abandon him like that

Seduction by BloodunderMoonlight [words: 7,086] — (Season 3+)

“For fuck’s sake, Hannibal.” Will glared at him, brimming with wrath he had only seen behind Will’s gun. He had no doubt Will would draw out a knife from beneath the duvet or pillows, but clearly words were enough to make him gobsmacked—“Are you a fucking virgin or monk? If all these can’t get you to bed then I don’t know what can.” Hannibal stood gaping at Will.

Blood, Cedar and Dog Hair by sourweather [words: 3,351] — (Season 3+)

Something terrible happens while Hannibal is in prison. Something he never prepared for.

Hidden Potential by sourweather [words: 20,789] — (Soulmates)

The first time you make eye contact with your soul mate, you see a vision of their greatest accomplishment. They call it your Peak. Unfortunately for Will Graham, his soul mate's Peak is a vision of blood and horror. Fortunately for Hannibal Lecter, his soul mate's is too.

Karoliai by slashyrogue [words: 4,577] — (Sugar Daddy)

Will works at a jewelry store. He has worked there for three months and sold less than any other person there. His boss tells him to sell something by the end of the day or he may not have a job tomorrow. If there was one thing Will hated more than having to talk people into buying jewelry they didn’t need, it was trying to do it two days before Valentine’s Day.

#hannibal #hannigram #hannibal fanfiction #hannigram fanfiction #hannibal fic recs #hannigram fic recs #hannibal fanfic #hannigram fanfic #hannibal fic #hannigram fic #nbc hannibal #hannibal tv #will x hannibal #murder husbands #hannibal au #replies

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palbabor-writes · 3 years

Note

OK so please consider typical Shig/reader where theres unspoken mutual attraction and they're not quite together but it's Post-kamino Shig, like IMMEDIATE post-kamino where he's still processing and incredibly vulnerable from just losing his sensei. I've had this in my head for a while but IDK how it would go and I think you'd do it justice (just ignore this if u don't wanna i just needed to put it out there 😌)

ugh, i loved this idea. where do you find them lydia? they just live in your mind rent free and i want to go to there. gosh, thank you for the ask.

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Adult language, SMUT, NSFW/18+ only, mild angst, pivotal life moments, TW: drinking/drug use, masturbation, blow jobs, face fucking, spanking/mild pain play, vaginal fingering, cunniliginus, overstimulation, switching, dirty talk, loss of virginity (if you squint), dominance, vaginal sex

Word Count: 11,800

Notes: oh man. so, if the word count didn’t give it away, this is plot, with a hefty dose of porn. in my mind, this is all part of the grieving process for shigaraki and he’s having a rough time coming to terms with what he’s needing to do. yeah, AFO supported him and enabled him to build a following, but he also hid all of the major pieces from him (i.e. the doctor & gigantomachia) so i can see him mourning for AFO as a teacher & as a psudo loved one, after all, at the end of that chapter he’s clutching those hands to him like he’ll fall apart without them.

Edited by the lovely Lydia: @kugutsuu. she is the best and if you’re not reading her works, all I have to say is: YOU SHOULD BE.

Mise en Place

/mē-ˌzäⁿ-ˈpläs/ noun or verb a French culinary phrase which means "putting in place" or "everything in its place.”

This has got to be the strangest, hole in the wall, bar you’ve ever worked at.

The patrons are touchy and most seem downright dangerous. The whole lot of them are more like mid level criminals than the usual haggard, overworked, regular, citizens you find in local watering holes. Meanwhile, the gentleman who runs the day to day operations shares more similarities with a will o’ the wisp than a man, and the bar itself is smack dab in one of the seediest parts of town.

The liquor selection, however, is top of the line. Some of the labels you haven’t seen outside of posh hotels or high class country clubs, and many of the older bottles are rarities. Honestly, there are so many of the high brow bottles that you’re not sure who to ask about the rail selection. There’s no real order to the place and it’s the most free reign you’ve ever been given with your mixology experiments. There’s not even a listing of drinks to go off of. But, if the disgruntled evening crowd is happy, then so is the upper management. All they ask is that you lock up before you leave.

No, nothing about this place makes sense. But, it does pay well and, right now, that’s the only thing you need to worry about.

There’s one other barkeep, a stogy man named Akio. He usually works the day shift, but late yesterday afternoon, he’d given you a call and asked if the two of you could swap for the duration of next week. At first, you’d balked, worried you’d need to schmooze with an unfamiliar bunch of regulars, who’d then decline to tip simply because you were new. But, Akio had sweetened the pot with the promise of $20,000 yen, so, you’d agreed.

“It’s fairly quiet in the afternoon,” Akio reassured you. “It’s really just putting away shipment and serving the odd customer who happens to pass by. The only thing...well, I’m sure you’ve met him. You’ve been working there for over a month, no way you could miss him.”

“Who?” you ask, twirling your spoon in your mid-morning coffee, curious, but not wanting to seem overly eager in your questioning. You like your night shift and you’re not wanting this to become a regular swap. You detest having to lug heavy boxes to and fro, pulling liquor and checking lot numbers, ick. Plus, if it really is that slow in the afternoons, it would only be a matter of time before Kurogiri would come after you with a duster and ask you to clean the upper shelves. Yeah, no, thanks. This would be a one week deal, ONLY.

“His name is Shigaraki. He’s, er, different. I suppose you’ll meet him soon, if you haven’t already.”

“Shigaraki? No, that name doesn’t ring a bell. Is he--”

“I have to go, my son is here. Thanks again for the swap and talk soon, (Y/N).”

The line clicks and you let your phone fall from your ear, clattering the metal and plastic along your kitchen table. Shigaraki, you think, taking a scalding sip of your coffee, no, that’s not a name you’ve heard before. Wonder what it is about him that has Akio so on edge. It’s not like him to give you, er, whatever that strange heads-up had been. Either way, it would take more than a vague descriptor like different, to spook you off.

******

Akio was right, on all counts, about the haze of monotony that permeated the afternoon shift at the bar.

Well, right on everything except a sighting of that elusive Shigaraki guy. No, the whole afternoon it’s just been you, Kurogiri, and one, rather sloshed old man, who you’ve long since cut off, and propped at the far end of the bartop. It’s been a dull, slow, day. Thank God you’d taken that extra cash from Akio, or this might not even turn out to be worth your while.

You’re slipping another bottle of whiskey on the lower shelf when you hear a barstool scrape back. You turn at the sound, your head already lifted and a small, friendly, smile lingering on your lips. There’s a lanky guy, dressed all in black with a mop of wavy white hair, working himself onto the small seat. His head is lowered and he hasn’t bothered to look up at you, not yet, anyway. He looks, not really young, but you can’t tell and you’re not about to let some underaged kid worm his way in here. You’ve had enough of those punks sneaking in in the evening, thank you.

“Gimme a shot of scotch,” the man says, his voice low, with a quiet rasp racing along the tone. It’s a strange timbre and it makes you pause, your eyes scanning those pearlescent strands of hair that are hiding his face from view.

“Hmph,” you snort, arching a brow at his attempts at concealment. He must be underage, who comes up to a barkeep with a ducked head and demands a scotch?

“Let me give you a piece of advice, don’t come into a bar and immediately refuse to make eye contact with the bartender. We’re like animals at the zoo, we startle easily and don’t like surprises. And, with your face tucked like that, I can’t gauge your age. So, before I get you that unnamed and unbranded scotch, I’m gonna to need to see some ID.”

The man lifts his head at your preamble and you feel your breath catch at the raw annoyance that’s etched across his scarred and cracked face. His eyes are a rich red, closer to ruby and they latch onto yours, insistent and sharp. It’s a deeply intense stare and you can’t seem to pull yourself away, your brow furrowing at his sudden shift in demeanor.

“I don’t have an ID,” he snaps, his lips lifting into a snarl, showing you the vivid whiteness of his teeth.

You lick your lips and his gaze follows the motion, eyes lowering, freeing you from that uneasy imprisonment he’d abruptly ensnared you in.

Your heart is beating rapidly against your throat and you shake your head, refocusing your bewildering reaction to this guy's presence. “I-I haven’t heard that one before,” you say, taking a few steadying breaths and tossing a dirty glass in the dishwasher, looking for any task that will let you step away from this strange interaction.

“You must be new,” he says, leaning back and hunching those dark shoulders. You watch him out of the corner of your eye and shut the dishwasher door, hitting the button to run a cycle.

“Nope,” you correct him, pulling out two fresh glasses and lining them up on the bartop, reaching for the rail scotch. “I’ve worked here for over a month.”

“Never seen you before.”

“That makes two of us,” you reply, flipping the bottle up and filling both glasses with four counts of the dark liquor. You press one to him and lift the other for yourself. The man narrows his eyes at you and looks pointedly at the glass in your hands.

“You supposed to drink on the clock?”

You laugh and he shifts back at the sound, his head bowing forward, another scowl lifting his lips. Realizing you must have made him uncomfortable, you step toward him and clumsily clink your glass against his, tilting your head at the surrealness of this whole conversation. “They don’t really care what I do. Come on, stranger who has no ID, bottoms up.”

He looks from you to the shot a few times before finally relenting and taking the vessel in a strange four fingered grip, his middle finger arched carefully away. Once you’re sure he’s actually going to toast with you, you sling your shot back, enjoying the sharp burn of the rich liquor.

You’re about to ask your new drinking companion another question when you hear his chair scrape back. By the time you’re stepping toward him, he’s already pacing down a back hallway, blending into the darkness and disappearing from your sight.

“Um! You can’t...I don’t think you can go back there. And you gotta pay, dude! Hey--”

“He doesn’t need to pay.”

You always hear Kurogiri before you see him and today is no exception. He’s standing at the entrance to the back of the bartop and he’s watching the path the strange young man took, his shifting face turned from you. You cock your head at his assertion and swiftly place your empty glass into the soapy water of the filled sink. He likely saw you take the shot, but you’re not about to leave evidence behind.

“What do you mean?” You ask, watching as the wisp like man turns and steps toward you, his amber slits watchful. It’s like he’s sizing you up and you shift on your feet, uncomfortable at the frank, open, assessment.

“He’s Tomura Shigaraki, and he owns this bar.”

******

You’re off for the next two days and the wait, the silence, is abjectly harrowing. You can’t sit down, can’t relax, can’t focus. The one time you decide to get overly familiar, of fucking course, it would be with the owner. But no one has called, and no one has sent you any messages. The empty static of your job's reticence doesn’t alleviate your nerves.

Who knows, they might want to act out the sick power play of having you show up for your shift, only be fired as soon as you darken the doorway.

The next afternoon, you take a familiar route to the bar, your feet tapping hollowly along the steps and alleyways that wind to the rusty entrance. You come in the front, blinking against the darkness, and lock the door behind you. Everything is quiet. But, in forty minutes, the open sign will switch on and you need to get your bar set up, plus slap on a little bit of makeup. You’re so lost in thought that you’re almost to the long bartop when you spot him.

It’s Tomura Shigaraki. He’s sitting at the same bar stool and his head turns as you approach, those unearthly red eyes lingering over you. It’s a different look, very, very removed from that harsh glare he’d given you the other day. He looks less hostile and more, well, curious.

You give him a cursory nod and pad behind the high counter, taking the final glasses out of the dishwasher and removing the stoppers from all the open liquor bottles. He’s still watching you and you can feel his gaze as it bores into your back, your side, your front. You attempt to ignore him, but the constant threat of those insistent red eyes is beginning to frustrate you. Finally, once you’ve replaced the cash drawer, you lift your gaze to his.

“What is it?” Your voice sounds waspish, but you don’t care.

“Nothing,” he replies, leaning forward and propping his chin on his palm, not breaking that unsettling leer.

“So stop staring at me,” you bristle, unsure why your heart is starting to beat a rapid tattoo against your ribs. You don’t know this guy. Sure, he’s mysterious and almost handsome, in a dark horse kinda way, but there’s no reason for him to give you this odd staredown. You’ve done absolutely nothing to warrant this attention, well, besides drinking on the job, but he could just fire you for that, if it was so troublesome. Either way, he should either speak up, or knock it off.

He smirks at your impudence and murmurs a raspy, “No,” back, his head tilting, waiting for your next move.

“You’re a real charmer, you know that?” You scoff, crossing your arms and jutting your chin defiantly.

“Whatever you say,” he breathes, that smile of his deepening, making his vermillion eyes shine. And, just like that, the two of you wander into a stilted game of give and take.

For the first few days, he makes sure he’s there before you arrive for the last of your afternoon shifts, his dark back already perched over the bartop as you shut the door behind you. Then, when you transition back to the evening shifts, he’s there too, sitting at that familiar perch, his eyes always, always watching, observing. You continue to ignore him and he seems to relish your agitated silence, flashing you dark smirks and quiet laughs.

Finally, two weeks into this stagnated stalemate, you make a point to strike up a real conversation with him. He’s obviously taken aback by your first few questions, his eyes wide and jaw tense, but he plays along.

Over time, the two of you carefully erect a haphazard friendship. And that chair of his? That center barstool? He used to not mind if another person was sitting in it when he arrived late, but recently that’s all changed. Now he guards it ferociously. Snapping and glaring at anyone who is stupid enough to drift into it.

Along with the lingering looks and burgeoning, almost flirty, dialogue you’ve pushed him into, he’s also gotten very demanding of your attention. If you spend too much time talking with another customer, or with Kurogiri, he pouts and darkens until you return, his tense form losing that sharpness. It's almost like he’s got a crush on you, but he’s not sure what to do with the newfound sensation, lost and confounded by your teases and grins.

Most people, you notice, give him a wide berth, but not you. No, you like his keen wit and heated musings. He’s fascinating and you want to see more. And in his flustered confusion, he lets you lean in, blinking and wide eyed at your open, flagrant interest in him.

******

As the weeks drift into summer, things start to change at the bar.

There’s some atypical deposit of power that’s been bestowed upon the place. People you’ve never seen before, begin to frequent the premises, sharing videos and whispered conversations about that man, Chizome Akaguro, better known to the general public as the Hero Killer.

Tomura flits between several, dark moods, clutching his newly injured shoulder and murmuring complaints about hero society, All Might and the Hero Killer. Apparently, there had been an altercation between the two of them and Tomura didn’t hide his ire, his agitation from you. No, he would vent to you, his voice gravel and ash as he snarled his rage.

Then, as if things couldn’t get any stranger, one evening a young girl begins to hang around, pestering you for a soda and prattling on and on about blood. Another new guy slips in a few hours later, his skin marred by thick, ragged burns and staples. He’s quiet, rudely demanding a shot and nursing it in a corner, his bright blue eyes flashing as he stares vacantly out at the crowd by the well.

A quiet man, called Spinner, asks you for a water, and you acquiesce, watching as his green hands wrap around the glass, downing the liquid in a quick gulp. Later, there’s a robust, loud, clearly confused guy, wearing a skin tight black bodysuit loitering by your bartop. He keeps entreating you for a drink, then tells you to buzz off seconds later. Exasperated, you plunk a whole bottle down beside his glass and continue on with your work, ignoring his chatter.

Finally, a man in a white mask and a top hat rounds out the strange posse and the group gathers together, hovering around Tomura, asking questions and listening to his rasping answers.

Thankfully, the rag-tag group leaves soon after closing, all of them shouldering their way back out into the night. You shake your head as the door closes behind them, gathering the collection of dirty glasses they left in their wake. Only Tomura remains, sipping meditatively on his drink, his red eyes foggy and unfocused. You know from experience that it’s not a good time to ask him questions, so you continue with your closing duties, keeping your eyes down.

Something is going on, that much is clear. But, unless you could worm the information out of Tomura, you’d likely never fully know all of the details. Part of you warns that it’s likely dangerous. Many of the people who haunt the bar are low level villains or brokers, not a winning combination if you’re wanting to stay out of the fray, and on the right side of the law.

You finish wiping everything down and return to Tomura, asking him softly if you can wash his empty glass. His eyes lift to yours and the expression that greets you almost makes you want to reach out and cup his cheek. He looks tired, worn thin and so, so needy. You’ve never seen him like this. It almost feels like he’s showing you something he’s never revealed to anyone else, a vulnerability that only you can see. He’s giving you access to a quiet secret that can hang between the two of you, safe in the knowledge that he can trust you with it. That urge to stroke a finger down his roughed brow rises again, but you shove the impulse away, rattled by your sudden, visceral, reaction to him.

To distract yourself, you snatch up his glass, and turn from the intensity of his stare, a slow prickle of gooseflesh trembling along your skin. As you run hot water and soap over the vessel, you feel your heart begin to pound and you chance another peek at Tomura’s quiet form. As usual, he’s watching you, but he looks unfocused again, that broken vulnerability tucked away. You want to ask him if he’s ok, but before you can croak the words out, he pushes his stool back and paces down the dark hallway, leaving you alone and bewildered.

******

A few days later, you ask Kurogiri if you can sneak away for a minute, you need a break. The bar has been packed since nine and you could use a quick breather. It’s the first night Tomura hasn’t stopped by and his absence has bothered you. You missed his grumpy quips and his persistent glances. All this time, you’d thought it was just him that was catching any kind of feelings, but it looks like he’s somehow managed to nag his way into your psyche, too.

You take the back stairs quietly and let yourself out onto the alleyway balcony, climbing the rickety fire escape to the rooftop. You’d found the access to the roof your second week and it’s still your favorite place in the whole bar. On a clear night, you can see all the way to downtown Tokyo. It’s always quiet this high up, tranquil and serene. You brace yourself against the concrete wall and watch the lights of the city glimmer, like distant jewels, in the darkness.

You pull a small joint from your pant pocket and flick your lighter on, setting the edge of the rolling paper alight and taking a slow drag. The inhale fills your lungs with a light pressure and you savor the feeling before blowing a thin line of smoke into the night. You get a few more hits in before you hear the fire escape stairs rattle, signaling that someone is coming your way. You debate dampening your roach, but you don’t want to waste it, so you tuck the smoldering paper in your other hand, maneuvering it out of sight.

The white shine of his hair always gives him away.

Tomura hops over the ledge and his eyes are already lifting, searching for yours as he stands. You arch an eyebrow at his tense stance and you can’t help your giddy smile. “Everything ok?”

“Kurogiri said you were taking a break,” he replies, dipping his long fingers into his pockets and sauntering over to the patch of concrete you’re braced against.

“Yeah,” you confirm, waiting until he’s closer to lift the joint back to your lips, taking a steadying pull and scooting over, so he can fit beside you on the wall. “It’s busy, and I’ve been slinging drinks all night. Just wanted to decompress for a bit.”

Tomura doesn’t reply, but he does slot himself close, the warmth of his broad shoulder radiating against yours. The two of you drift into a companionable silence, and the only sounds that greet you is the quiet hush of traffic below and your inhales and exhales of smoke.

“You got another meeting?” you ask, crossing your arms and pressing minutely closer, enjoying the distant shiver Tomura gifts you.

“No,” he murmurs, his voice low. You think that might be the end of the conversation but he continues a few seconds later, his head tilting toward yours, those red eyes scanning your upturned face. “They’re on a mission. I’m not able to participate. It will need to be like a SIM game. They are the pieces that I’ll move over the board, they’ll act to my battle plan.”

You turn to him, your eyes wide. “So, they’re just...pawns? Little NPC’s that don’t matter?”

Tomura laughs and his teeth gleam in the moonlight and distant shine of the neon lights. “Of course not. Do I look that heartless? No, they’re valuable players and if this goes right, we’ll be able to take on the next level with a decided edge.”

You let that last comment hover, pausing to take another huff, your eyes lowered, brooding over his words. “So, you’re their vanguard leader?”

“Sure,” Tomura nods, “We can’t keep grinding each mission, hoping to pick up any XP these heroes happen to drop. We need to make waves of our own.”

“Oh? Like the Hero Killer?”

“No,” Tomura snarls, his arm tensing beside yours, a hand rising to scritch at his scarred neck agitatedly. “Nothing like him. We’re looking past him. He was too short sighted, so busy following his own code of justice that he didn’t notice he was breeding more heroes, not putting them down.”

“Hmm,” you sigh, thumping your head lightly against the concrete behind you. “That is true. But, you can’t deny he’s brought up some serious divisions. It’s funny, really. It makes me think of this little hero toy I had when I was younger.

It was of an older hero, he prolly died long ago, but I loved that toy when I was a kid. Then, as I got older, it stopped mattering and one day, without me even realizing it, it lost its importance entirely. I wonder if hero society will ever shift to that. With the fractures that have been seen at UA and all over Japan, it could be a matter of time before real change starts to happen. Anyway, I wasn’t meaning to grill you on your, uh, projects. I was--”

“What toy?”

His question nonpluses you and you cock your head, blinking up at his peripheral stare. “Um, I think it was of that fast hero, O’clock. It was my older brothers originally, but he passed it down to me. No idea where it is now. It likely got lost in a move or accidentally left behind.”

Tomura lifts his eyes from yours, his jaw clenching and a slow gulp echoing down his lean throat. You watch the bob of his Adam’s apple, fascinated by the movement. That urge to touch him is back and you have to clench your fingers into your palms to quiet it.

You’re so distracted by your primal reaction to him, that you miss his question and he has to repeat it, his eyes slipping back to yours, the red dark.

“What?” you ask, blinking against the acuteness of his gaze.

“Can I take a hit of that?”

“Of what...oh.” You lift the half smoked joint and chuckle at yourself, pressing the smoldering paper toward him. “Sure. You had one before?”

“Does it matter?” He scoffs, carefully taking the white roach from you and raising it to his chapped lips.

“Go slow,” you warn as he begins to inhale, his eyes drifting to a half mast, concentrating.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he grumbles, pulling a tentative, but heavy, drag into his lungs.

“Fine,” you scoff playfully, “do what you want. But don’t blame me when you’re coughing up a lung.”

He rolls his eyes, but doesn’t heed your advice and, seconds later, he’s clutching at his throat, dropping the joint onto the broken gravel and concrete as he heaves. Instinctively, you thump him on his back and run your palm soothingly over his lean shoulder blades, surprised by the corded muscle that greets you. For a relatively thin guy, he’s certainly packing some strength under that unassuming form of his.

Tomura startles at your touch and he yanks himself away from you, his head ducked, eyes fastening onto yours, the irises accusatory and bright, burning with some underlying emotion that you’re too nervous to name right now.

“Uh,” you begin, aghast that you’ve upset him, “m-my bad…”

But, he’s already leaving, his head firmly turned from you, clambering over the edge and back onto the fire escape, leaving you alone in the darkness.

******

After that night, you can’t slip him out of your mind. Even when you sleep, you can see those red eyes of his, gleaming and hungry. One evening, you’d even woken with your fingers firmly pressed to your throbbing clit, stumbling and gasping, shaking free of a dream of him. He’d felt so real, so in focus and you can’t catch your breath, fingers still rubbing a tight circle over your quivering bundle of nerves. You pant as you break yourself, sukling in the whites and reds that haze over your vision. Yeah, that crush of his definitely isn’t a one sided thing.

The next shift you work, he’s waiting for you, perched in his familiar seat, his shoulders curved and tight. You give him a glance, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. His hands are lowered, fiddling with something under the bartop. You begin to open your bar, trying to quiet your wandering thoughts, not wanting to perturb him again. You’re uncorking a red wine when he presses something across the mahogany wood of the bar, toward you.

It’s small, with dark colors and a tiny, familiar, upper half mask. You let the bottle of wine thud against the counter, abandoning the half opened bottle to move closer. It’s...it’s your-- No. It can’t be yours, but it is the same toy, the one you’d mentioned on the roof the other night. How did he?

You gulp and look up at him, your heart pulsing wildly against your ribs. For the first time, he looks away from you first, his white hair pillowing across his brow. His lips start to rise in an all too habitual scowl and his raspy voice lifts to your ears. “If you don’t want it,” he grouses, one hand pulling away from the offered toy, clearly flustered by your wondering gaze. Without thinking, you slip your fingertips over the top of his hand, prolonging the touch, sulking in the warmth of him.

His fingers curl, some unconscious tremor racing along his digits. He almost yanks himself away, but then he stops, sighing as his eyes lift to yours. For a long moment, the two of you watch the other. You can hear his breathing speed up and you can almost smell the shift in the air. All it would take is one, tiny push to break that delicious tension.

Tomura’s nostrils flare as you start to lean closer, your body curving toward his, fingers still pressing into his skin. Your tongue dips out, wetting your lower lip and pulling it into your mouth, sucking on the plush flesh. His eyelids have lowered and he’s mirroring your motions, his elbows assisting his lift, his face upturning, seeking, reaching.

With a bang, the front door is flung open and it breaks the spell that’s fallen over the two of you. Tomura leans away first, his eyes narrowed in agitation, sliding from your open face to the darkness of the entryway. You exhale a shaking breath and follow Tomura’s gaze. It’s that masked man, the one with the top hat and he’s already striding confidently forward, peppering Tomura with a series of questions.

Snagging up his gift to you, you walk back to your bottle of wine.

******

You don’t have a chance to see Tomura again until he tells you, one evening, that the bar is going to be closed for the next few days. Then, over his shoulder, you spot the blonde boy, strapped and bound into a stiff chair and you blanch, stunned, too overwrought to give him more than a one word acknowledgement before stumbling back outside. In all of your talks, he’d never mentioned anything like this. That boy looked like a kid, barely past middle school, his eyes wild and defiant, but also so, so frightened.

No, you think, pacing your apartment, it’s impossible to come to terms with this. You can’t stay there, can’t work there. It’s too dangerous, too close to a real criminal den for comfort. You have to look out for yourself, no matter your feelings for the man who’s wandering down some long, lost pathway, toward a future you can’t even comprehend, let alone see.

So, you hand in your written resignation.

Kurogiri is behind the bar when you bring it in, and you’re hoping that the early morning conversation will spare you from having to see him. The wispy, purple hand of Kurogiri is just about to take your letter when Tomura barges down the hallway. His eyes immediately land on you and he steps forward, a dark look passing over his palled features.

“Why?” he growls, fingers snatching the paper from Kurogiri and crumbling the parchment to bits, his quirk rendering your typed words to nothingness.

“I don’t want to be a part of any kidnapping. It…” you pause, looking toward Kurogiri and, to your surprise, he nods to Tomura and moves away, leaving the two of you alone in the vacant bar. Tomura is still glaring at you, but he’s waiting for you to finish your thought, his jaw grinding quietly.

“This doesn’t feel like you.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Tomura scoffs, his chin jutting at the assertion.

“This doesn’t change society. This is just some petty attempt to get back at the UA staff. It’s like...It’s like you’re asking for trouble to seek you out. You’re smarter than this. Besides, what are you going to do with him?” you smart, crossing your arms and balling your fingers into your fists.

“What do you know about anything? That kid’s been oppressed by hero society, literally muzzled and bound--”

“As if you’re doing any better! He’s still muzzled and bound, Tomura! He’s just in a different location. This is insanity. Who put you up to doing--”

“That doesn’t matter. This conversation has nothing to do with that. You can’t leave,” Tomura snaps, his head lowering, soft white hair falling over his face. “Give it a few more days.”

“What? I can’t stay if the bar is raided and it’s prolly gonna be if you keep that kid. Besides, that’s not--”

“Just...just give me a few more days. I don’t want to beg you, I shouldn’t fucking need to beg you. It’s not an impossible request (Y/N). Just--”

“Fine,” you sigh, uncrossing your arms and watching him. He looks on edge, haggard and angry. Those emotions aren’t projected at you, you know that. Nevertheless, it doesn’t lessen the danger he’s asking you to stand with him in. But, you can give him a few days and you tell him so, trying to ignore the pattering of your heart when he looks at you and smiles.

******

Then, Kamino happens.

You weren’t there, thank God. But he was, and now, no matter what he’d asked of you, no matter what he’d hoped for, everything shifts apart. Days linger into weeks and you’re trying your best to reason that he’d made it out in one piece. Surely, you would have heard something. The capture of the leader of the League of Villains would have been a morsel that the media would have wanted to crow about, especially after the loss of All Might.

Late one evening, your phone rings.

It’s an unknown, blacked out number, but something tells you to answer, so you pick it up. You almost gasp when you hear that familiar rasp and you listen to what he tells you. You can’t get over how brittle and cracked his voice sounds but you write down the address he gives you. He cloaks his true motivations with a lie. Apparently, he has your last paycheck. Like that even matters to you. Honestly, you’re just glad he’s safe and whole. But, he’s gone to all this effort to build a bridge back to him, so of course you’re going to go.

You check and double check the directions, carefully maneuvering and weaving through bus stops and back streets. Somehow, you make it and find yourself pressing open a dilapidated door and stepping into a small room. Only darkness greets you, even though the bright midday sun is shining outside. The place he’s brought you to is on a dock, on the outskirts of town, close to the salty edge of a bay. You can hear the mournful cries of a seagull as you close the door behind you, sealing yourself inside and blinking into the gloom.

It takes you a minute to catch sight of him.

He’s lingering along the edges but you can make out the glow of his eyes, red and fierce. He looks different. It’s only been a few weeks, but it looks like the weight of years has crushed him under its unfeeling grind in that short amount of time. No, Kamino has changed him, rendering him unhinged and dangerous, drifting along the peripheral of your vision. Still, you haven’t come here to witness him falling to bits at your feet. No, you’d come here with another, darker motive.

Now, to work.

“What happened?” you ask, keeping your back firmly against the door. Watching him move closer, those red shoes of his glinting over the dark wooden floors.

“Sensei is...gone,” he replies, his voice hollow and faint. He’s mentioned his Sensei before and you’d heard the man’s strange voice echoing from that back television, like some distant, terrifying specter. But, you knew he was important to Tomura, more like a father than a teacher. However, you’d seen the news. You knew he was beaten to a pulp and captured, locked away and out of Tomura’s reach. Now, he can’t ask his Sensei for advice or support, not anymore. Even knowing what little you’ve gleaned about the strange man, Tomura must be devastated by his loss.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, genuine in your sympathy.

Tomura nods and fishes for something in the pocket of his trench coat, lifting a thin slip of paper out and showing it to you. “Here,” he sighs, still not meeting your eyes directly.

“Oh,” you say, moving away from the door and taking a few steps toward him. “You really did ask me here for the check, huh?”

“What else did you want?” he grumbles, his voice regaining a small slice of that familiar rasping. The question lingers and you feel your pulse speed up, your palms itching at your sides. “Or, did you want to scold me again?” Tomura continues disgruntled, and you can see a grimace pass over his face.

“You deserved it,” you confirm, taking another step, only wavering when you’re a few feet from him. “You wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn't kidnapped that UA student. Now, the kid, and your Sensei are gone and you’re stuck here. Wherever here is”

“Look at you, quite the oracle aren’t you? So, you did come here to berate me.” Tomura snaps, dropping your pay stub to the dusty floor.

“No,” you shake your head, not wanting this to spiral out of your control, not wanting him to simply shut you out, alone on that pier, left with all of your what ifs. “No, I didn’t come here to do that. I-I...it’s just that...well...that wasn’t you. That whole plan...it still doesn’t make sense”

“How the fuck would you know what is, or isn’t, me? You said that that morning, too. I didn’t like it then and I don’t like it now,” Tomura bristles, closing the distance and bowing up to you. You can feel the sheer heat of him radiating against your shirt and you shiver at the sensation. If you lift your hand you could touch him, you think distantly. He’s so close...He’s so...

You gulp, trying to quell your rising emotions. “I guess, I don’t know then.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Fine,” you say, biting your lip.

“Fine,” he repeats, no doubt thinking that will be the end of it, but you’re not finished.

“You’re better than this you know,” you tell him, eyes searching for his, not relenting your glare until he finally meets you halfway, his red eyes flashing.

“Better than what? Better than you? A half baked woman, slumming her way from mid range bar, to mid range bar. Hoping you’ll catch the eye of the right person, someone who can pluck you from all the muck and grime that you lift that pretty little nose of yours at.”

“What?” you breathe, a snarl of your own etching across your face.

“Don’t act like you didn’t know what you were doing. Fucking leading me on like that--”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You thought I’d be your ticket out, or you could wager me later for a better piece, something stronger, someone that could do something for you.” Tomura is seething, his chest bumping against yours, the red of his eyes burning as he glowers at you.

“Tomura- I don’t know what you’re talk--”

“Stop saying that. You stupid, or something? And stop saying my name like that. Like it fucking matters. You could have had anything, you know? But...but you took it all for granted. You had the world...and then it...it’s...it’s just gone.”

He’s not talking about you anymore. Even though he’s growling and spitting rage at you, he’s not talking about you. “Shigaraki,” you begin, trying to see some way to reason with him. To bring him back to you.

“Don’t call me that,” he groans, his head dipping, almost resting against your shoulder. “I haven’t earned...that’s not me.”

“Alright. What am I supposed to call you?” you whisper, overwhelmed and trying to resist that urge to pull him into your arms. You’ve never seen him like this, and you don’t know, you don’t…

“There you go again, acting like you care.” Tomura scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“I do care, you ass,” you bite, turning your head toward him and letting your voice fall beside his ear. He snarls at the assertion and presses impossibly closer, trying his best to put on a show of wavering strength, knowing you might still be bullied into backing down, into denying him. But it’s not working, no you’ve come this far and you don’t want to leave him, not like this.

“I care,” you repeat, still murmuring next to his cheek, so near you can hear, and feel, his ragged breaths, hot against your skin.

“About what?” he grunts, moving his head from you, determined to not let you win.

“About, well, you.”

“Liar,” he spits, but his voice wavers, showing you a tiny, tiny sliver of hope.

“Am not,” you counter and watch as he leans back, those vermillion eyes searching for yours. One of his hands lifts and he ghosts the digits over the top of your shoulder, watching as you shift toward the distant touch, pulled to him, like a magnet.

“Such a liar,” he posits, fingers hovering beside your neck, twitching with want.

“No, I’m not,” you gasp, your voice so faint, you’re worried he might not hear it. But he does and he dips his head toward you, inches from your face, lips already parted and waiting.

“Prove it,” he challenges, his voice deepening, losing that sharpened edge at long last.

So, you shove him.

You’re not sure why that’s your first, instinctive reaction, but it’s too late to question your motives and it sparks a crazed response from the man in front of you, snapping him out of his head and refocusing him.

He fumbles backwards, caught off guard, his red shoes catching as he lumbers, trying to not fall. His eyes flash at you and he instantly rights himself, moving back to you. Through it all, you can hear yourself saying something. It sounds like it might have been another taunt, but you can’t focus, not when he’s pressing himself against you, his fingers finally, finally touching you.

Tomura can’t seem to settle now that he’s gotten ahold of you, his fingers tracing over your neck, your shoulders, your face, your sides. He’s panting and gasping, his fevered exhales fanning over your prickling skin.

“Get off me,” you moan, batting at his wandering hands.

“No,” he sighs, cupping your jaw and dragging you to his shaking lips. His kiss is clumsy, almost childlike. He lifts and leans, pressing halting smacks against you, grunting when you twist from him, fighting his hold.

“You don’t deserve it,” you tell him, wanting to lance that boil that’s festering in his mind, knowing he needs the pain before he can handle the sweetness of the pleasure. The last thing he needs is love. No, not right now. Hopefully, there will be time for that later. But for now, he needs something raw and shattered, something that will let him see that it’s not impossible to pick up the pieces, that he can be whole again, he just needs to try.

He drags his rough lips over yours and you lower your fingers into his snowy hair, pulling him closer, demanding that he give you more. He gasps at the sudden shift and you slip your tongue into his mouth, tangling it with his and yanking stammering moans from him. Your lips are slick now and you use the extra lubrication to slip down his neck, leaving him trembling above you.

You dip into each and every scar, laving over all those old hurts until he’s snarling. You leave a bruising bite against his pulse and he snatches your face between his palms, dragging you back to his lips.

“Stop squirming,” he complains, his forehead bumping against yours, trying to keep up with your rapid fire laps and sucks.

“No,” you laugh, fingers lacing into the lapels of his trench coat and using the leverage to drag your breasts over his hardened pectorals. He grunts at the sensation, one arm wrapping around your lower back, pinning you to him. When he finally manages to work his way free of your frantic presses, he lowers his lips to your neck, mimicking the same path you’d taken with him, his teeth nipping and pulling until your humming, giving him a thin cry of encouragement that spurs him on.

Tomura drags a canine over your pulse and you shiver, folding into his crumpled embrace. He’s almost having to hold you upright and he growls when you slip from his arms, annoyed you’re making this so fucking difficult.

“I said, keep still,” he reminds you, heaving you back up, lean forearms bracing you to him. You smile and lace your arms around his neck, wanting his lips again. He allows the pull, loving the contrast of your plush skin against his. He’s a fast learner and this time, it’s his tongue taps and maneuvers for entrance, swallowing down your needy pants. His nose presses into your cheek and you cup at his jaw, stroking the warm skin until he slows his frantic pace, meeting you halfway, and lingering in your wet softness.

Then, just as he’s getting comfortable, you dig your teeth into his lower lip, pulling until you bleed out a little taste of copper. He snarls and shoves you away, lifting the side of his hand to his injured mouth.

“What was that for?” He snaps, tapping his fingers against the wound, watching as they come back red. “The fuck is wrong with…” His ire stutters to a halt when he catches sight of you.

You’ve already slipped your shirt over your head and now your fingers are twisting until you unclasp your bra, sliding the lace down your arms. The cool air makes your nipples tighten but you don’t attempt to cover yourself from him. Instead, you arch an eyebrow at his abashed expression and begin to unbutton your pants, your fingers teasingly lingering over the button and zipper, before lowering the denim down the curve of your hips.

You don’t even hear him approach. No, you’re too distracted by your little show to notice him until you feel those warm fingers tracing over the newly bared swells of your skin. You lift your head and your eyes catch his, smiling at the hazy hunger that’s blazing out at you. His touch is tentative and you roll your eyes openly at him, lifting your own hands over his, pressing him until he’s digging those four digits into your sumptuous flesh.

His thumb rubs over your pebbled nipple and you reward him with a low moan, your eyes slipping behind your heavy eyelids. He cups at your other breast and lifts the weight of you into his palm, openly marveling at the feel of you. Still, it’s not enough and if you’re going to get your point across, you need him to give you more than these lazy strokes.

“Take off your jacket,” you tell him, stepping away from him, quaking minutely in the loss of his warmth.

“What?” he asks, clearly too overwrought to hear you. So, you help him along. Your fingers snatch the shoulders of his trench and you yank it off him, tossing the fabric down to the gritty floors. Then, you shove at him again. He isn’t as taken aback this time and he rallies immediately, snatching at you and dragging you against him, making you gasp at the harsh sensation of his dark clothes against your bare front.

“What do you want?” you ask him, licking your tongue along the underside of his jaw, listening to his shuddering breaths. “What do you want to do to me, Tomura? Come on, I know you’ve got some idea. Fucking show me. Don’t let me boss you around, unless that’s what you’re wanting today to be about. I can take those reigns from you. I’m better at this after all. Less...flustered,” you pause, sucking and nipping at his neck, enjoying the indecisive flex of his fingers on your upper arms.

He allows you one more bite and then he’s tossing you down, not caring where you land. Thankfully, you sprawl over his discarded jacket, the fabric sparing you from the neglected wooden floor. You’re trying to regain your bearings when you hear his belt clatter to the floor. You look up at him, watching as he flings that dark shirt away, showing you the lean muscles that you’ve wondered about for so long. God, for someone so lanky, he looks fucking good.

Tomura smirks at your expression and swiftly yanks his pants and boxers away too, revealing something even more mouthwatering. Fuck, fuck, you think, an involuntary gasp leaving your lips. His cock is thick, pulsing and absolutely dripping with his precum. The tip is a lovely pink, curving toward that chiseled stomach of his and damn, you want to suck on it until he’s putty in your hands.

As if he can read your mind, Tomura steps closer, giving himself a few tugs as he peers down on you, imperious and almost perfectly in control. “You want it?” He asks, trying to hide that sudden shift in his voice, wanting to show you that he understands what you’re expecting from him. You nod and bite your lip, looking up at him from feathery eyelashes.

“Come here,” he requests, slowing those pulls and letting his precum slip from his fist to the floor, tempting you with those tiny droplets of arousal. Obediently, you rise to your knees, fingers tracing up his thighs, smiling at the light buckling he gives you, his calves twitching and shaking.

You tease your way to the apex of his hips and pause, lingering along that dip of his stomach. “Can I taste you?” you question coquettishly and you adore the moan that falls from his lips.

Taking that as a yes, you slowly lower your mouth to him, ghosting the tip of him over you. Rubbing him back and forth, painting that thick precum over your lips until they’re glistening. Tiring of this little game, his fingers dip into your hair and he grips you, hard. With one pull, he’s burying that velvet heat of his length past the ring of your lips and into the sweet cavern of your mouth. His cock swells and throbs as you lap ravenous at the hefty weight of him.

He’s salty and earthy and you let your tongue swirl over his slit, lapping into that leaking gap until he’s murmuring nonsense over you. He’s almost too big for you to take, so one of your hands lifts and wraps around his base, easing your sucks and ensuring that none of him is left out of this gift of mind numbing ecstasy you’re bestowing upon him.

There are several veins, racing along the side of his cock and you tickle along each of them, pressing until you can feel the beat of his heart, frantic and fluttering. Soon, he begins to silently ask you for more, rutting his hips against your face, scraping himself along the back of your throat. When you heave around him he lets out a loud, elongated moan and digs in again, lingering until you’re nearly choking.

You chance a peek up at him and are surprised to see him gazing right back, those red eyes of his clouded and muddled. His hand keeps an insistent pressure against the back of your head, demanding that you keep going. So, you pick up the pace, lapping and sucking, hollowing your cheeks until a thin line of your drool begins to trickle along your chin, dripping onto your knees.

“Can...can I…” he begins, fingers starting to tremble, his knees buckling. No, that’s not what you want from him. You shake free of his hand, letting him slip from your mouth, and he stammers and sputters at the loss, his eyes narrowed and dark, glaring at you with a raw frustration.

“No,” you tell him, keeping one hand on him, stroking him, maintaining that steady pressure until he’s grunting, his hips instinctively canting into the tantalizing motion. “No, you don’t ask me for anything. Yeah, I can finish you off, if you need me to take control, but it’s not going to be on your terms. If you’re wanting something Tomura, you better fucking take it. Stop asking me for permission. I’m not-- mmph--”

He rips your hand off of his dick and his fingers curl beside your ears, forcing your mouth back, and impaling you on his length, immediately gagging you on his heady thrusts. You inhale sharply, your breath catching, failing as he keeps railing into you. More saliva slides out of your lips and you falter, a weak whimper echoing around him.

“Mmm,” he growls, holding your face as he presses against the back of your throat loving the clenching and mewls you give him. “That feels fucking good, (Y/N). Taking all of my cock, ah- fucking choking on it. You’re so fucking greedy. Don’t worry, I’ll give you more. Let’s see, what would make this even better, oh, I know. Saw it in a porn once. Put your hands behind your back and don’t move them unless I tell you to.”

Immediately, you clasp your fingers together, letting them rest against your lower back. The suspension knocks you off kilter, but Tomura braces your head with his other hand, pinning you between his palms. His dick is still lancing in and out of your mouth, scraping against your tonsils, making you swallow and open, trying to push yourself past that oppressive gagging sensation.

“Ahhh, such a good girl, now spread your legs and lift up, just a little bit, yes- right there. Better keep those hands still,” he taunts, pulling his cock out until it hangs against your lower lip, glimmering with the sheen of your ministrations. Then, he dives back in, thrusting and grinding until his balls are papping against your soaking chin. Your legs tremble as you hold yourself up and you can feel your own arousal, slipping down your inner thighs, splattering onto that dark trench coat of his.

You’re heaving under him, grunting and slobbering trying to not fucking choke on the girth that’s being pistoned into you. He’s gasping praise at you, his white head thrown back, and his lower abdomen is rippling, letting you know he’s so, so close to spilling down your abused throat. He bows over you as he cums, spewing thick ropes of his release into you. You gulp at him, determined to let every last drop slither down your waiting throat, longing to savor everything that he’s giving you.

True to your promise, you keep your hands clasped and you nearly topple over when he tugs free of your lips. Tomura takes pity on your wilted form and lowers himself to his knees, wrapping one hand around you and tapping twice on your shaking digits, letting you know you can relax your grip. You fall forward, and he waits above you, watching you with a mounting fascination. Once you catch your breath, you look up at him, not caring that you’re still covered in a mix of tears, spit and his cum. He smirks at your dishevelment, pleased by your open display of your wanton lust for him.

“See? It’s not hard to take what you want, to do what you want,” you pant, still trying to gulp down a few more rough intakes of air.

Tomura sucks his teeth at your bravado, but you notice he’s having a little bit of trouble steading his own breathing and his hands are twitching as they reach for you. You hum when he cups at your dips and curves, lingering over spots that make you moan for him. As he plucks at one of your puckered nipples his eyes lift to yours and he leans close, pressing a wet line of kisses against your collarbone.

“Lay back,” he rumbles, still sucking at the hollow of your throat. You do as he says, propping yourself on your elbows, curious and waiting. He’s slowed down now that he’s slaked that first brush of pent up aggression, but he’s still got a little more to burn. You can see it, lingering behind his vermillion eyes, gleaming under the carnal intrigue.

His fingers, so dangerous and deadly, race down your sides, falling to the juncture of your legs and dipping into the slick that he finds. He parts your folds, bracing himself over you, his lips sucking bruises into your skin. The gossamer threads of your leaking cunt run down his fingers and onto his open palm and he groans into your neck, nuzzling his nose to your skin and inhaling, deeply.

“Does that feel good?” He asks, his voice scraping, like sandpaper, hoarse and undone along your heated cheek. Ok, you think, arching as he dips one digit into you, you can let him have that one question, especially when your mind is fogging over like this, unable to think of anything but that ache that’s pounding through your core. You roll your hips again, urging that finger to slip further and he hisses as you pull him in, your walls trembling at the intrusion.

“Fuck,” he grunts, lifting himself to look down at you, his eyes wide with an awed marvel. “You’re so…”

“Mmm, so what?” you ask, wanting him to keep talking to you, loving rasp of his tone as it tells you such sinful things.

“So soft and warm and...God...so wet,” he replies, adding another finger, watching as you whine for him, your lower lips parting and welcoming him. He pumps the digits, in and out, at a steady rate, waiting for each quiver and ripple, trying to feel his way along, wanting to please you.

“Can--” he stops himself, flushing as your eyes open and snap to his, a rough displeasure written over your face. He tears his gaze from yours and scowls, letting his fingers press a rougher rhythm into you, sucking his teeth at his unspoken inexperience.

“This feels good,” you reassure him, not wanting to completely leave him adrift, knowing that he does need a little piece of guidance, for this part, at least. “Why don’t you get a closer look?”

Tomura looks back to you and nods before sliding down your body, lowering himself until he’s face to face with his prize. His mouth drops and he licks at his chapped lips, painting a few, warm, exhales against your sensitive folds. You squirm at the sensation and he grins, leaning closer, his free hand spreading you for his inspection.

“Is this…” his voice trails off and you can feel him wandering his way to just the right spot. When he lifts the fleshy hood of your clit and thumbs the distended pearl you gasp and shiver, your head falling back against his jacket, thumping against the floor.

He laughs and you can feel him getting ready to swipe at you again, his thumb already slippery and near, the heat of it radiating against that sensitive bundle. “You like that,” he crows, repeating the motion until you’re writhing. “But—” he ponders, moving so his lips are pressed against you, resting on those sopping folds, waiting for you to look up at him. Once your head lifts and your eyes meet his, he lowers his mouth, sliding his tongue over you.

“Oh,” you whisper, your hands automatically lifting and curling into his hair, threading the white tendrils along your palms. His tongue is rough and bumpy as it glides along, pausing to lap at some of your arousal. He smacks his lips at the taste, savoring the flavor before voraciously pressing back into you for more. When he pauses his explorations to give your clit a soft suck, you can’t help but flail, your back bowing and thighs tightening around his head.

Tomura grunts at the rough treatment, prying your legs apart but not letting up on that suction, pleased he’s found something that makes you tremble to pieces in his hands. He’s always liked working you up, so it makes sense that, in this instance, he’s no different.

His long digits are scraping into you, dragging along your quivering walls and spreading your cunt apart, leaking your arousal all over his jacket and onto his chin. He’s not satisfied yet, you’re not satisfied yet, so he keeps going, listening and watching, catching on to what makes you cry out his name, learning and adapting at an alarming speed.

“T-Tomura,” you keen, your hips lifting, grinding yourself against his face, begging him to not stop. You feel a smirk lift his lips and his tongue begins to circle and lick over your clit, maintaining a steady pressure. Meanwhile, his fingers have latched onto something delicate and spongy within your pussy, repeating an arched gesture, curling and uncurling as they stroke your budding flames higher.

“So good…” you murmur, hardly able to form the words as you feel that all encompassing tingle race along your bloodstream. “You’re doing so f-fucking good.”

In response, he begins to suckle on your clit, lightly tracing a canine over the pulsing bundle and that’s all that it takes. Your head dips back, pressing into the floor so hard that your neck arches with your back and your legs wrap around him, holding him to you as you quiver and shake under him. You can feel your heartbeat as you return to yourself, thumping a rapid beat over your breastbone and radiating out to your fingers and toes.

Tomura, for his part, hadn’t stopped lapping at you, his tongue replacing his fingers as he pushes the wet appendage into you, soaking up each wave of your release. Even when you’d dropped your death grip, your legs and arms flopping away from him, boneless and shaking, he’d kept on. After a few minutes of this, his lips suddenly feel a little too ragged, the chapped skin scratching against your sensitive, overstimulated, flushed lower lips. You do your best to wriggle away, but he stills your movements, not quite finished.

“Ah- that...it’s starting to hurt,” you grouse, pushing a hand against his bowed head. That declaration seems to get through and, finally placated, he gives you one last lick and lifts his head, his eyes glinting down on you, dark and mischievous.

“I want to fuck you,” he tells you, wiping a hand across his mouth, dragging the last of your essence away. You tilt your head and grin up at him. “So fuck me,” you reply, spreading your legs again, making room for his trim hips.

“Not like this,” he qualifies, his eyes hooded as he runs a hand along your leg, enjoying your skin, warm and pliant under his palm.

“Then how?” you ask, a little bewildered by this shift in attitude. Tomura leans up, resting on his haunches, leering at your nakedness, another smirk lifting his lips, arching that scar.

“Stand up,” he instructs.

You pull your legs away and slowly rise to your feet, waiting for him to do the same. Once the two of you are eye level again, he tugs you to him, his lips pulling and nipping at yours. You can’t help but melt into his persistent touch and when he feels you slacken against him, he starts to push you backwards. He walks you slowly, carefully, but once your back touches the cold wall, his caresses become rougher, more insistent.

He’s lifting your chin and his teeth are doing more biting than nipping, pulling at your lips until you’re gasping and swollen. He begins to lift away and you protest the movement, but his hand presses into your chest, shoving you back to the wall. You freeze at the forceful treatment, your eyes opening and fastening onto his. Waiting for his next move.

Tomura’s regained that wild look, his eyes hardening, sharpening like ruby slips of flint as they linger over you. “Turn around and brace your hands against the wall,” he commands and, for an instant, you debate pushing back, challenging his order, but that’s not what you’re here for. No, you’d come here with one thought in mind.

To see if you could show him what choices, what strong inner drive, wholly independent of his Sensei, he did have.

You’d watched that kidnapping debacle and all you could think about was how much better, how much stronger he’d be if he could just get out from under the thumb of that man, that voice on the tv. Even with this informal exercise of your own, Tomura had taken to your carnal lessons like a fish to water. He had always been a natural born leader, someone who cultivated and demanded change, he just needs a chance to try. A chance to prove that he didn’t need to ask permission, to ask questions. No, he only needed to act and he could make his aspirations a reality.

So, you turn, splaying your fingers against the wall and waiting for his next move, tilting your head, wanting to see him. He runs a calloused hand over the plush swell of your ass, kneading the skin and stepping closer. Once his hips are flush with your posterior, he ruts his newly re-hardened cock against you, his ever copious precum aiding his motion, letting him glide between your cheeks, easing into that cleft. You groan and press back, wordlessly asking for him to keep going.

Suddenly, his palm smacks against your ass, stinging the flesh and sending a sharp crack around the barren room. “I said, push out more. How am I supposed to fuck you when you’re plastered to the wall like that?” Tomura questions, his voice deep and guttural. You brace your hands against the peeling wallpaper and jut your ass out, presenting yourself to him, quietly hoping he’ll reward you with another spank. Pleased, Tomura does just that, his other hand lifting and smarting against your other, neglected cheek, imprinting his mark on you, even if it’s only for a brief moment, and his fingers linger on the warmth he’s raised from your skin.

“Good girl,” he groans, taking his cock in his hand and searching for that weeping entrance to your waiting pussy. You aid him as best as you can, arching your hips until he finally, finally slips into you. Tomura lets out a deep sigh as your cunt devours his cock, slicking him into the heat of your rippling channel. “Oh, fuck,” he moans, pressing until his hips are flush with your ass, grinding his bony hipbone into your supple softness.

He gives you a brief second to adjust before he bows his head over your shoulder, panting and grunting. “Hold on,” he gasps, slowly pulling his hips back and then ramming his straining cock back into you. You mewl at the sudden ferocity of his thrusts, your head dipping against the steady weight of the wall.

He offers you no reprieve as he pounds into you, his teeth latching onto your skin, sucking and drooling, losing himself in you. His balls tap against your swelled ass and you moan when he traces one hand around you, his fingers seeking your clit and pinching at the nub.

Your teeth begin to chatter, but he doesn’t let up, maintaining that mind numbing pace, pressing and grinding until you can’t fucking think straight. He’s completely untethered and he slakes out all of those pent up questions, feelings, hurts and wants against you. After a time, he begins to murmur things to you, finally sucking up his loose tongue and resting his chin on the mess he’s left on your skin.

He’s worried he can’t do it.

He’s never been alone, not like this.

Sure, he has the others, he has Kurogiri, but it’s not the fucking same.

He needs to see this through.

He wants to, he has to.

Where do you go, when there’s no one else to turn to?

It’s like a confessional, this rutting he’s doing and it’s bleeding all of those thoughts away, letting them pool against the front of his mind and then, pop, they shift away.

Oh this helps, he thinks, loving how you’re fucking taking him, how much you fucking need him. He can’t let you go. He can’t, he won’t. You’re all he has left. After all this, he can’t lose anything else. No, you were right, he’s gotta start taking things, snatching up pieces until he becomes this unstoppable force, greater than his Sensei, greater than All Might, greater than all of them. Yes, yes, yes, when he has you like this, everything else feels so fucking simple.

He’s slowing, his hips beginning to stutter and press erratically against you. There’s no need to worry about you cumming for him, not when you’ve already broken around him so many times in the last few minutes. No, the second he started panting all of those thoughts against you, you were lost, your cunt gripping him so tightly you were worried it might never let go.

Finally, with one last thrust, Tomura grinds his hips against you, his cock swelling and pulsing as he spills himself into you. The sensation of his cum splashing against your walls hurtles you over that edge one last time and you almost collapse, your legs shaking so badly you can't support your own weight. The only thing that prevents you from falling is Tomura. His arms snake around your waist and he holds you to him, his forehead resting heavily against your shoulder, sticking to your skin.

After a long beat, Tomura pulls himself out of you, grunting at the loss of your warmth and sinks to the floor, dragging you with him. Naked and gasping, the two of you cling to the other, waiting for the world to stop spinning as you come back to yourselves. Tomura recovers first, tugging you to his chest and wrapping himself around you, his chin perched on the familiar slope of your shoulder.

“You didn’t...you didn’t need to do this, but...” Tomura halts, his voice soft as his lips press rough kisses to your skin, silently saying what he really means, what you mean to him.

“That’s not true,” you counter, turning your head toward him. “You deserve to make a choice for yourself. You’re your own boss now. Now all you have to do is act like it. Don’t make those mistakes again. You call the shots, not your Sensei, not anyone else in the League, just you. You’ll have other choices soon, so don’t doubt yourself, it’s not like you.”

He huffs out a laugh and buries his nose in your neck, inhaling your scent as he licks at a rising bruise. “I don’t think you’ll like my next choice,” he rumbles, one hand drifting over your side and cupping the soft mound of your breast.

“That depends on what it is,” you smile, your eyes closing at the tempting touch.

“Mmm, do me a favor,” he begins, nipping at your earlobe. “Get on your knees and open your mouth. You looked so fucking pretty when you were sucking on my cock, I wanna see it, one more time.”

“What?” you question, absolutely incredulous, “again?”

“Do as I say (Y/N),” he replies, rubbing his rising length along your ass.

“God,” you gasp, bucking at the sensation, “what have I done? At this rate, I won’t be able to walk for a week.”

“You’ll like it,” Tomura promises, his voice dark, “I’ll make sure that you do.”

Notes: never have i ever liked that kidnapping bullshit. i guess it lets AFO face off with All Might, but for Tomura’s development? it makes no sense and he’s never done anything like that again, in canon. so, uh, yeah. booo kidnapping scheme.

Tags: @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx, @yixxes, @ghstmthr, @rekoii, @diaouranask, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love

#asks #answered asks #pal muses #on Tomura’s dick #and his trauma #shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki x you #shigaraki x reader #tomura x reader #tomura x y/n #tomura x you #tenko shimura #shimura tenko #reader insert

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amillionlanguages · 4 years

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2+ Months of Language Learning Prompts!

Sometimes it can be tricky to know what to learn if you are teaching yourself a language. Here are some ideas for what you can focus on learning each day for the first two months of learning a new language! I formatted it so there is the general topic for the day and then in parentheses are some ideas to get you started but you can definitely learn a lot more than what I’ve written down! These are just to help generate some ideas!

This definitely would move pretty quickly if you covered all this material in 2 months so you could definitely spend more time on each topic if you need! This would require quite a bit of time each day in order to learn it all. This could totally work for a 4 or 6-month challenge where you spend 2 or 3 days on each of the topics I listed if you don’t have enough time to cover each topic in just one day!

Polite phrases (thank you, please, yes/no, you’re welcome, I’m sorry)

Introductory phrases (hi, my name is, I’m from, I speak, how are you?)

Pronouns (I, you, he, she, they, we)

Basic people vocab (girl, boy, man, woman, person, child)

Basic verbs in present tense (to eat, to drink, to walk, to read, to write, to say)

Sentence structure (how to form some basic sentences)

Negative sentences (I do not __)

Question words (who, what, where, when, why, how, how to form questions)

Numbers (0-20, 30, 40, 50, 100, 1,000, 1,000,000)

Time (hour, minute, half hour, reading the time)

Meals (breakfast, lunch, dinner, snack, dessert, appetizer)

Basic foods (apple, banana, rice, bread, pasta, carrot, soup, water)

More foods (beef, pork, fruit, vegetable, juice, coffee, tea, chocolate, cake)

Kitchen (stove, oven, kitchen, fridge, table, chair, bake, boil)

Eating supplies (knife, spoon, fork, plate, bowl, cup, glass)

More verbs (to make, to have, to see, to like, to go, to be able to, to want, to need)

Family (father, mother, son, daughter, aunt, uncle, cousin, grandmother, grandfather, parents, grandparents)

Transportation (car, train, plane, bus, bicycle, airport, train station)

City locations (apartment, building, restaurant, movie theater, market, hotel, bank)

Directions (north, south, east, west, right, left)

Adjectives (good, bad, smart, delicious, nice, fun)

More verbs (to give, to send, to wake up, to cry, to love, to hate, to laugh)

Colors (red, yellow, blue, green, purple, black, white, brown)

Emotions (happy, sad, calm, angry)

Physical descriptions (tall, short, blonde, brunette, redhead, eye color)

Body parts (arm, leg, hand, finger, foot, toe, face, eye, mouth, nose, ears)

Descriptors (rich, poor, beautiful, ugly, expensive, inexpensive)

Basic clothing (shirt, pants, dress, skirt, jacket, sweater, skirt, shorts)

Accessories (belt, hat, wallet, gloves, sunglasses, purse, watch)

More verbs (to keep, to smile, to run, to drive, to wear, to remember)

Animals (cat, dog, horse, cow, bear, pig, chicken, duck, fish)

More animals (turtle, sheep, fox, mouse, lion, deer)

Months (January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November, December)

Seasons (fall, winter, spring, summer)

Weather (sunny, cloudy, hot, cold, snowing, raining)

States of being (I’m hungry, I’m tired, I’m thirsty)

House (bedroom, living room, bathroom, stairs)

Furniture (bed, lamp, couch, door, window)

Electronics (phone, TV, computer, camera, radio, headphones)

Nature (tree, flower, plant, animal, grass, animal, outside, sky, sun, moon, clouds)

More verbs (to teach, to learn, to understand, to know, to listen, to hear)

School (classroom, elementary school, high school, college, student, class, grade, homework, test)

School subjects (math, science, English, art, music, chemistry, biology, physics)

School supplies (book, pencil, pen, paper, notebook, folder, backpack, calculator)

Classroom features (student desk, teacher desk, whiteboard, chalk, clock, bell)

Jobs (teacher, scientist, doctor, artist, dancer, musician)

More jobs (surgeon, manager, engineer, architect, lawyer, dentist, writer)

More verbs (to buy, to sell, to work, to ask, to answer, to dance, to leave, to come)

Comparisons (less than, more than, same, __er than)

Languages (French, German, Chinese, Russian, Spanish, English, Japanese)

Countries (France, Germany, China, Russia, Spain, Mexico, United States, Japan)

Religion (church, temple, mosque, to pray, Judaism, Christianity, Islam)

Past tense (I was, he ran, she wrote)

Hobbies (shopping, sports, soccer, chess, fishing, gardening, photography)

More verbs (to describe, to sleep, to find, to wish, to enter, to feel, to think)

Art (paint, draw, painting, gallery, frame, brush)

Morning routine (to wake up, to brush teeth, toothbrush, toothpaste, comb, soap)

Future tense (I will run, he will write)

TV + internet (online, internet, to watch TV, TV show, movie, documentary, cartoon)

More verbs (to look for, to stay, to touch, to meet, to show, to rent, to wash, to play)

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girl-with-cat-eyes · 3 years

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Wednesdays

Summary: Wednesdays are Janus Picani's busiest day. Between meetings, snack day, soccer practice, and art club, he's running around like a chicken with his head cut off. This Wednesday, however, is sure to change the lives of the Picani family forever. Jan's sure they can handle it though.

Ships: Platonic Moceit, thvi

A/N: I've been rewatching the old Reba sitcom from the 2000s and I'd forgotten just how good it was. Good enough that I wanted to write an au for it. Thank you so much to @amazon-me-bitches and my lovely qpp @forever-forgotten-angel for beta reading this and helping me to work out the kinks with the plot. As always, leave a comment if you like this. Enjoy!

For most people, Mondays were their busiest day. It made sense; returning to the workweek, school, etc. For Janus Picani, however, the title of busiest day went to Wednesday. His firm always had partner meetings, they were Emile’s day to bring class snacks, Remy had soccer, and Virgil had art club. On top of that, Jan’s therapy sessions were Wednesdays, which meant he had to make sure all of his work was done 15 minutes early so he could get to his appointment on time. Safe to say, to say Wednesdays weren’t exactly his favorite day.

“Emile! Get down here! You don’t want to be late for school!”, He called upstairs as he finished making breakfast sandwiches. Virgil stood across from him, packing lunches for his brothers.

“He probably can’t find his backpack. He left it down here after he finished his homework.”

Janus sighed, “This wouldn’t be a problem if he just left his backpack down here every night. Remy go get your brother and tell him his backpack is down here.”, the young boy got up, rolling his eyes and Jan had to bite back a sigh. Remy had always been his sassiest child.

“Why can’t Virgil do it?”

Virgil raised an eyebrow at him, “Because I’m making lunch, I can go get him if you want to make your own sandwich ?”, Remys shook his head and ran upstairs, Virgil chuckling at the sight.

Janus finished plating breakfast and turned to thank Virgil, frowning when he saw that Virgil had only made two lunches. He looked pointedly at his son, “You’re not eating?”, he asked.

Virgil shrugged, “I’m gonna get lunch at school today. They’re having burritos.”, Janus nodded. As long as he was eating. Patton came downstairs before he could reply, Remy and Emile in tow.

“I found these two trying to play on the Switch.”, Emile and Remy sat down, guilty little grins on their faces that told Jan that they didn’t regret it, “Good thing I went to check on them.” “Good thing indeed.” He handed Pat a plate, pouting a cup of coffee for his husband? Ex? Janus wasn’t sure what to call the man he’d been married to for 20 years, separated from, hadn’t divorced, and who still lived in the house with. Regardless he poured him a cup of coffee, “Ok so you’re taking Emile and Remy to school and I’ll take Virgil. I’ll pick up Remy and you pick up Emile and-” “-and I’m catching a ride home with Thomas after theater. I’m working on the sets for Little shop today.”, Virgil piped up and Jan had to hold back a grimace at the mention of his boyfriend. He like Thomas, he really did. In terms of high school boyfriends, Thomas had been nothing but a gentleman. But the thought of his son dating still upset Janus deep down; according to his therapist, he was grappling with the thought of his baby growing up.

“Ok.”, he replied, keeping his thoughts to himself. It wouldn’t do any good to speak them when they were his problem to deal with, “I’ll pick up takeout on the way home.”

“Jan? I was wondering if you’d want to come to the restaurant today for lunch?”, He turned to look at Patton. Based on the tone in his voice Janus knew that this wasn’t just a friendly invitation to taste a new menu item. He sighed: he’d been planning to work through his lunch today so he could get out on time.

Regardless, this seemed serious, “Ok. I’ll be there at noon.”, he promised. He quickly finished his breakfast and looked over to Virgil, “Ready to go?”, he asked. He nodded and finished pouring his iced coffee and they were off.

The ride to Virgil’s school was as quick as always. Music played lowly on the radio, lowly on the radio and Janus hummed along. It would be peaceful if not for the fact that Virgil kept fidgeting and staring out the window. Something was up, “Ok. Something’s wrong. Spill.” Virgil turned to look at him, “What? Nothing’s wrong.”, He straightened his face, trying to appear calm. Janus didn’t buy it for a second, “I’m fine.” “Virgil James Picani. I have known you since you were born. I have held you for night after night. I know you inside out. And I know when you’re lying to me. What’s wrong? Is someone bothering you?” Virgil shook his head. “No. It’s just that Mr.Prince, the drama teacher, wants me to be Seymore’s understudy. And I know the chances of me going on stage are rare but I don’t want to take that chance. And I don’t know how to tell him without letting him down.” “Baby bat, just tell him the truth. I’m sure he’ll understand.”, Virgil nodded. The issue seemed to be solved, yet Janus had a feeling that there was something else wrong. But before he could ask any more, they’d arrived and Virgil was getting out. “Love you, Dad! I’ll see you after school!”, Janus shook his head, trying to keep his concerns down. He’d ask Virgil after school. It was fine.

Being a lawyer certainly had its perks; financial security being a prime example. Meetings running long weren’t that though. Janus sighed as he rushed into Pat’s. The warm lighting and delicious smells greeting him. Even if he’d preferred to work through his lunch, Janus couldn’t deny that the thought of Patton’s cooking made his mouth water. There was a reason people came from near and far to this place.

Speaking of Patton, Janus spotted the bespectacled man sitting in their usual booth, a bottle of wine waiting there. He smiled at the thought and sat down, “I thought you weren’t a fan of day drinking?”, he quipped. Pat rarely drank at all, but especially not during the day. “I’m not but I know you don’t mind a glass of wine at lunch.”, Pat poured him a glass, “Salmon or duck?” “Salmon.”, Janus answered. Patton made a delicious pan-seared salmon with risotto and kale salad. It was delicious and sounded lovely right now. Patton nodded and ordered that for him and glazed crispy duck for himself. “So.”, he began as he buttered a roll, “What did you want to discuss?” “Who says I have something to discuss? Maybe I just wanted to have lunch with you?”, He was stalling obviously. Trying to get time to steel his nerves.

Janus raised an eyebrow at him, “You and I know very well that Wednesday is our busy day. If you wanted to just have lunch you would have asked on another day. Therefore this is something important that you don’t want to talk about in front of the kids. So what do you want to discuss?” Patton sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Whatever he wanted to talk about was weighing heavily on his mind. After some time he finally spoke, “I want to finalize our divorce.”, he spoke quickly, like he wanted to get the words out of his mouth as fast as he could.

Janus nodded; he supposed it made sense. They had been separated for over a year now, they slept in separate bedrooms, and they hadn’t had sex since long before they separated. While they still cared for each other, the love they once shared was long gone. The only reason they were still married was the cost of getting a divorce. Considering they’d spent 20 dollars on a courthouse wedding neither had been too happy to shill out thousands of dollars to end their marriage.

The question was why now, and why couldn’t he say it in front of the kids. They’d sat them down months ago and explained that while they loved each other and would always be a family, they weren’t in love anymore. Virgil had taken in the best; being the oldest, he’d seen the signs for a while now. He’d taken it upon himself to comfort his younger brothers. Remy tried to pretend that he was fine, but both Janus and Patton knew better. He’d taken the thought of his family splitting up harder than he was showing. They’d both spoken to him about it, reassuring him that they’d always be a family. And they’d started having family activities every Saturday. Emile had taken it the hardest. The six-year-old didn’t truly understand what was going on. They were still having conversations explaining what it meant. Janus had even begun researching child psychologists at the recommendation of his therapist.

“Ok.”, He spoke, “Why now though? I thought we’d agreed that divorces are too expensive…. You met someone.”, the realization hit Janus like a ton of bricks. Everything made sense. Pat would feel guilty about pursuing someone else while married, even if they were separated. And he wouldn’t want to talk about this in front of the kids until he knew for sure that it was serious.

Patton nodded, “I did.”

“Well, tell me about him. I care about you regardless of our marital status. And I want to know about the person you’ll be bringing around our kids.”

“Ok. His name is Logan and I met him a few weeks ago. He came in here for dinner and he’s just the cutest. He got so excited when he found out we use crofters in our thumbprint cookies and our victoria sponge.” Patton smiled fondly at the thought, “We’ve been on a few dates and… It’s not just a fling. I can see a future with him, Jan.”

Jan took a sip of wine, “Ok. I’ll ask around for good lawyers when I get back.”,

Patton squealed and hugged him, “Thank you so much Jan. Maybe I could invite him over for dinner sometime. That way you could meet him and I could introduce him to the kids.”, Their food came at that moment, which meant Patton had to stop hugging him. Janus was thankful; he’d never been the type for hugging. Except with his kids.

“Ok. But you have to tell them about the divorce first. Deal?” “Deal.”

Virgil was generally considered a good kid by his peers and teachers. Quiet perhaps, but overall a good kid. He didn’t break rules, got good grades, and overall kept to himself. The one anomaly about him was that he was dating Thomas sanders, or rather that Thomas Sanders was dating him. Thomas was a bright and outgoing person; if this was a 2000s sitcom, he might have been considered popular. Not only that, but he had a fairly popular youtube channel where he did skits, challenges, and more. Virgil barely even had social media. They were a couple regardless, and Virgil was known as a good kid.

He didn’t feel like a good kid as he watched the Chipotle employee make his bowl. He’d signed himself out of school early along with Thomas, and now they were getting lunch. The thought of skipping school kept buzzing around his head, even though he’d gotten all of his assignments from the classes he’d be missing. Besides he had bigger problems to worry about.

He sat down beside his boyfriend and took a bite of his food, “What am I going to do?” He asked in a small voice, fear lacing his tone. Thomas reached across the booth and squeezed his hand.

Hey,”, Thomas whispered, his voice soft and reassuring, “It’ll be ok. I’ll be right here no matter what.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”, Thomas squeezed his hand, “Now really eat, you skipped lunch yesterday.”, Virgil nodded and the rest of lunch passed silence. The pair simply enjoying their food together. Virgil grinned and poured queso onto his bowl and smiled at his boyfriend.

“You’re so cute.”, he whispered. Thomas blushed at the compliment and Virgil considered it a win. Sooner enough they were done with their meal. Virgil stood up and gathered their trash, “I’m gonna go the bathroom.” “Ok”, Thomas nodded, “I love you no matter what.”. Virgil smiled and went to the bathroom, anxiety twisting his stomach in knots.

Janus sighed as he drove home. Patton had messaged him earlier that he was making dinner and Jan didn’t have to pick up any takeout. Of course, that made Jan’s life easier, but it also meant that they were going to talk over the divorce with the kids. Great. He peered at Remy in the backseat, sipping his chocolate milk without a care in the world. God sometimes Jan wished he were a child still. Childhood was so much easier, “I think your Dad is making dinner tonight.” Remy looked at him, “I thought we were going to pick up takeout?” “He messaged me saying that I don’t need to pick up any food.”, Remy nodded and smiled before looking back out the window. Janus understood: Patton was an amazing cook. Hopefully, they’d all be able to eat after this. God, how would Remy react? He’d already taken the separation hard. And Emile, he barely understood what divorce was. And Virgil, the oldest, the one who buried his feelings the most. He probably wouldn’t want to talk about it and would bury his feelings to help his brothers.

They pulled into the garage, Remy grabbing his stuff and running inside, “Take off your shoes and change before you get mud all over the house.’, he called after him. Janus took his time collecting his things. ‘Just go in. Better to get it over with.’, his thoughts raced around his head like an angry swarm of bees. He took a deep breath and walked inside.

The smell of garlic and tomatoes washed over his sense, Patton was making Italian food. He took a deep breath, enjoying the smells. Patton stood next to the counter, buttering a long baguette for garlic bread. He looked up and gave a reassuring smile, but Janus could see the nervousness in his eye, at least he wasn’t alone in the feeling, “Hey.” He greeted, “The lasagna is almost done and I’m making garlic bread right now. There’s stuff for caesar salad in the fridge if you want to help out.”

Janus nodded and took off his jacket before washing his hands and making said salad, “Where’s Emile and Virgil?”, he asked, praying that he sounded casual. The salad offered a great distraction from his thoughts, greeting parmesan meant he didn’t have to focus on this upcoming family discussion.

“Virgil is helping Emile with his homework. He’s learning addition.”, Patton supplied as he put the bread on a tray, placing it in the oven. “There are brownies in the fridge. I figured we could make sundaes. Hopefully, it’ll make the conversation easier.”, Janus nodded. Remy and Emile might not realize it but Virgil would know something was up. Pat rarely made dessert on weekdays.

Soon enough dinner was done and all five of them were sitting around the table. Virgil still looked anxious and Janus wanted to bang his head off the table. There was no way he’d be able to ask what was wrong after this conversation. Why did this have to happen tonight?

Patton smiled, “So how was school guys?”, ‘Subtle Pat, subtle. Why don’t you just hang a banner above our heads that says We’re getting divorced’. Janus took a large sip of wine so his thoughts would stay in his head.

“Ok,” Remy spoke up. “But I keep getting headaches during the day. The lights in the class are too bright.”, This had been going on for a while now. The fluorescent lighting of the classroom seemed to give Remy migraines, and his teacher wasn’t budging on letting him wear sunglasses to prevent it.

“I’ll talk to your teacher in the morning.”

“My day was good Daddy.”, Emile grinned, “We learned about ecosystems.”, Janus smiled. Emile was so young and innocent.

“Virgil?”, The teenager in question looked up from where he’d been staring off into space. He took a quick bit of lasagna before speaking.

“It was fine.”

He was lying. Something was wrong and Virgil was trying to act like he was ok. Janus wanted to ask more questions, to figure out what was bothering his son. It wouldn’t work though. Virgil guarded his privacy with his life. Prying would only make him more tight-lipped. Janus just had to wait for Virgil to come to him with what was wrong, and in the meantime, hope that it wasn’t serious.

Besides, even if Janus thought it was a good idea to ask, there were other things at hand. Patton nodded to him and he knew it was time. “Your father and I have some news.”. Patton began. Janus held back a groan.

“Are we going to Disney World?”, Emile was practically bouncing in his seat at the thought of such a trip.

“No.”, Janus made a mental note to talk to Patton about a family vacation. Maybe it would help reassure Remy and Emile that they were all still a family. “It’s not that. You all know that we’re always going to be a family right? No matter what happens we’ll always be together.”, Virgil was ghostly pale and Remy had his fists clenched. He didn’t even have to say it. They knew.

His middle son jumped up, “No.” He was tearing up, “You promised.”

“Remy..”

“No! You said we’d always be together.”, Tears began running down his face. A knot formed in Janus’ throat. Why did they have to do this?

“And we will. No matter what.”, Patton tried to soothe. It was met on deaf ears.

“No, we won’t! That’s what they all say! They say nothing will change but it does. Next thing you know, you’re in different houses and splitting custody and no one will want me. And then I’ll be back in foster care.”

“Remy that won’t happen. We love you.”, Janus wanted to take his son in his arms. Wanted to hold all of his children and promise them that they still loved them all, and the divorce wouldn’t change that. But Remy ran upstairs, the sound of his bedroom door slamming shut echoing through the house.

“What’s going on?”, Emile’s face was contorted, confusion visible. Of course, he wouldn’t fully understand what was going on. The six-year-old had barely understood the separation.

Patton sighed and knelt down next to him, “Your father and I are finalizing our divorce. We won’t be married anymore.” Emile blinked.

“Why? I thought you weren’t getting one?” Patton sighed, “Things have changed.”, Emile blinked at him. This was going wrong. It was too soon. They should have eased them into this idea. Shouldn’t have sprung it on them like this.

Understanding bloomed in Emile’s face. His next words were a whisper, so quiet that Janus almost didn’t hear them. But he did, and it felt like getting hit by a truck. “Are you divorcing cause Virgil’s pregnant?” “EMILE!”, Virgil shrieked. Janus felt like he was watching this from above like it was a tv show playing out in front of him, and not his life. He looked next to him. Patton appeared to be in a similar situation.

“It’s the truth.”

Finally, Janus found himself able to speak. There were a million questions inside of him longing to get out, but all he could say was, “What?”

Luckily Patton was able to voice one of his questions, “Virgil, is this true?”. Virgil refused to make eye contact with either of them and Janus knew it was. His eldest child looked almost ashamed, shoulders tense and body hunched over.

“Virgil…”, He started, but he was upstairs before Janus could continue. Janus shut his eyes. Amazing. One of his kids was pregnant at 17 and another thought he was going to be sent back to foster care. His head met the table with a groan. Patton rubbed his shoulder.

Emile still stood in front of them, “Am I in trouble?”, he asked, voice shaking. Janus leaned forward and picked him up. He bounced Emile on his hip, stroking his back.

“No baby.”, He ruffled his hair and booped his nose. “You aren’t in trouble ok. Everything is just kinda stressful right now. But none of that is your fault, ok?” Emile nodded and buried his face into Jan’s chest. Patton joined the hug, stroking Emile’s back and humming softly. They sat there in this position for about 10 minutes before Janus pulled away, gave Emile a kiss on the forehead, “We love all of you so much and the divorce won’t change that ok?”

He nodded and Janus stood up, “I’m going to go talk to Remy, he might be easier to get to open up than Virgil right now.”, He handed Emile to Pat, who bounced him on his hip.

“Ok. I’ll make a pot of hot cocoa to take up. Hopefully, it’ll get him to open up.”, Janus nodded in thanks and made his way upstairs.

Remy’s room was as dark as ever, the twelve-year-old liked to leave the lights in his room dimmed. Janus peaked his head in, seeing him laying on his bed, face buried into his pillows. “Remy?”, He called out. The child in question didn’t respond but Janus knew he was awake, “Can I come in?”

There was silence for a moment and Janus thought about what he would do if Remy said no. He wanted to respect his privacy, but at the time this was a conversation that needed to happen. Remy thought he was going to be sent back to foster care and Janus couldn’t let him just think that. Luckily Remy soon answered, “Yes…”

He walked in slowly, eyes trained on his son. His son who was terrified that he was going to be sent away. He swallowed, “Remy you aren’t going to be sent back to foster care. I promise that.”

Remy sniffled and his heart broke for his middle child, “That’s what they said last time. They said they loved me and I’d never be sent away again. And then they said they were getting a divorce and it wasn’t a good time for them to adopt a kid.”

Janus sighed and began stroking his hair, “And I’m promising that no matter what we’re not sending you back there. We love you. You’re our son, our wonderful son who we love so much. The divorce is between your father and me. And I won’t lie and say that it won’t affect you or that nothing will change, because things will change. A lot of things will change. But the love that your father and I have for the three of you? That will never change. It’ll never fade or go away. And we’re never sending you back.” He smiled slightly and joked, “Besides we threw away the receipt. No returns.”

Remy giggled and Janus knew he’d been successful in cheering him up. Remy sat up and hugged him tightly, tears still flowing freely, “I love you both. This is my home, my family. I don’t want to lose you.” “I know baby, I know. What does Stitch say?”, He hoped that a reference to Remy’s favorite movie would lighten the mood even more.

Remy sighed, “Ohana means family.” “And?”

“Family is never left behind or forgotten.”

Janus nodded and kissed his head, “And you’re our ohana. And we hope to yours. We’re here for as long as you want us.”, Remy smiled and Janus knew that even if it took some time, everything would be ok with him. He sat up. “Patton should be up here in a few minutes with cocoa and I’m sure he’ll want to talk to you. So I’ll sit here with you until he gets up here and then I’ll give you your privacy. Ok? Besides I need to talk to your older brother.”

Remy nodded, “Is Virgil ok?”

Janus sighed, “I don’t know. But I intend to find out.”. As if on cue, there was a knock on the door and Patton peaked his head in. He held a tray with four mugs of cocoa topped with whipped cream. Next to them sat a plate with brownies.

“Can I come in? I brought cocoa.” He smiled encouragingly. Remy nodded and sat up off of Janus’s chest. Patton came in, taking two of the mugs and some of the brownies. “The rest are for you and Virgil.”

“Where’s Emile?”

“In his room with a covered mug and a brownie watching Aladdin. He’ll be ok.”, Janus nodded and took the tray before leaving.

Janus stood outside of Virgil’s room, trying to figure out what to say. What did you say when your teenage son was pregnant? Most parents were worried about their sons getting someone pregnant, not their sons being pregnant. Then again, not everyone had a trans son. He sighed and knocked, “Virgil? Can I come in?”

Unlike Remy, who took his time answering, Virgil’s reply was almost immediate, “I don’t want to talk, Dad.”, Janus sighed. Goddammit. This is exactly what he was fearing. He couldn’t just leave his son alone right now. His pregnant son at that. Virgil was pregnant. He groaned.

“Baby bat, please. We need to talk about this.”

“I don’t want to talk.” “I have Pat’s hot chocolate and brownies.”

There was a pause. Then he spoke, “The door’s open.”, Janus opened the door slowly. Virgil sat in the middle of the bed, knees tucked against his chest. Tears ran down his face in inky black trails. Janus’ heart ached for him. He looked at Janus and sniffled, “Go on. Yell at me about what a horrible mistake I made.” His heart lept into his throat. Janus remembered having a similar conversation with his sister 18 years ago. How she was pregnant and her boyfriend ran off on her. Janus hadn’t known then how his life was going to change forever. And now his son was pregnant.

“I’m not here to yell at you V.”, He sat next to him, handing Virgil the mug of cocoa. He took a sip of his own, “How long have you known?” Virgil shrugged, “I only found out today. But I suspected it when Dad mentioned that one of the waitresses at the restaurant was pregnant. I’m about a month along.” Janus nodded, “Does Thomas know?”, he was met with a nod. “And what does he think?”, more memories of his sister rushed to the surface. His sister saying that her boyfriend had ran out of town when she found out that was pregnant. That he took the rent money and she’d been evicted. He was brought out of his memories by Virgil’s next words.

“He says he loves me still. And he supports me no matter what I choose.”, Well that was good. Janus didn’t know what he would have done if Thomas had abandoned Virgil. It would have been unpleasant that’s for sure. Now for the hardest question.

“You have options; you don’t have to keep the baby if you don’t want to. Do you have an idea of what you want to do?”, Virgil looked up at him and Janus once again was overcome with memories of his sister. Adelaide saying that she didn’t know what she was going to do but she was keeping her baby. He and Pat letting her move in. Recording home movies for the baby. Rushing her to the hospital while she screamed in pain in his backseat. The doctor saying that she lost too much blood. Holding Virgil in his arms.

“I want to keep the baby.”, there it was. The thing that Janus had known deep down that Virgil would say from the moment he found out about the pregnancy, “I know I have options and I know I’m young and this probably seems stupid but I want this baby. I just... You took a chance on me when mom died. You and Dad weren’t looking for a kid when I was born but you took me in anyway. You took a chance on me. And I’m taking a chance on this baby.”

Janus sighed, “You’re just like your mother you know that. Just as stubborn and just as loving. And you know what? She was just as determined to have you, even if it wasn’t the best time. And I’m going to tell you the same thing I told her.”, He hugged Virgil close, “I love you so much. And if you want this baby then your dad and I will support you no matter what ok? We’ll help you out. I promise.”

Virgil smiled at him, “Really?”

Janus nodded, “Really really. Now I think you should invite Thomas over tomorrow. I want to talk to him.”. Seeing the look on Virgil’s face he added, “I’ll go easy on him. I just want to know he’ll be a good dad for my grandchild. And you two need to tell his parents.”

Virgil nodded and there was a knock at the door, “Come in.”

It was Patton, “Hey. Emile and Remy are both asleep. How is everything?”

“Well Pat, we’re going to be grandfathers.”

Patton smiled and sat down next to them both, “I see. And everything is ok?” Virgil nodded, “Yeah. Everything will work itself out.”, And at that moment Janus knew it to be true.

A/N: Unlike some of my other works, this one is going to be a series of one-shots. I think I'll be able to handle that better than chapter fic. It'll also feel more like episodes of a sitcom. I really like the feel to this and I'm open to prompts.

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writingpuddle · 3 years

Text

The other night best friend and I (yes, that best friend) were riffing on trans Neil headcanons over the phone, but a realistic trans treatment of aftg gets dark real fast, so without further ado:

~The Mafia May Be Sexist (But It’s Not Transphobic!) AU ~

(tmmbsbintau, if you will)

Does this premise make sense? No, but if Nora can write about made up mafia sports, I can write a nonsense AU where transphobia doesn’t exist okay this is my party and ill be self-indulgent if i want to

We open with baby Neil, who was named after his maternal grandmother or smthg idk

Now lets say Neil is one of those “I always knew I was trans” kids

So even at a fairly young age he was like, nope this is wrong

For the most part his dad basically ignores him (what use is a girl to me???) but if he makes the mistake of getting in the way it’s the usual shit with knives and hot irons and basically Neil’s bog-standard Traumatic Childhood

His mom signs him up to play Exy to get him out of the house, and he loves it, because of course he does

Now tiny Neil may be terrified of his father

But remember transphobia isn’t real

So he when he’s about ten years old he tells his parents over dinner

His mom just puts her fork down and says that’s alright

But Nathan

Nathan

Nathan’s eyes start to glow

He has a son? Not a useless daughter?

He’s practically levitating with glee

And Neil, poor Neil, who has never had any positive reinforcement—from either parent, Mary, you’re not innocent in this—he soaks it up

Nathan puts both hands on his son’s—his son’s!—shoulders and dubs him Nathaniel

His son, his heir, his legacy

Mary takes one look at the possessive look in her husband’s eyes and thinks oh hell no

For the next few days Nathan absolutely showers Nathaniel with affection

He takes him to the hairdresser and buys him a whole new wardrobe, neglecting his mafia duties in order to dote upon his new son

It is possibly the happiest week of Nathaniel’s life

And then he wakes up in the night with his mother’s hand on his mouth and is given less than a minute to pack his things

Now he’s grown up in a criminal household; the notion of making a run for it isn’t exactly foreign to him

But it’s not until they’re in the car that Nathaniel realizes that his father is nowhere to be seen

Where’s dad? He asks

Shut up, his mother hisses, and slams the car into gear

From then on, he is never Nathaniel

His mother is 100% on board with his transition, but…not really anything beyond that

After all, people will be looking for a woman and a trans boy, which means Mary’s investment in Neil’s gender pretty much starts and ends with him passing as cis

She gets him all the medical treatments he needs (on the black market, since they’re on the run)—puberty blockers when he’s younger, testosterone when he’s older

But he’s never allowed to acknowledge being trans whatsoever

Not to his classmates, not to his teachers

He never gets the chance to have a queer community, or explore the nuances of his gender, because the only presentation they can afford for him to have is Masculine Cis Boy. The restriction is stifling. It’s suffocating.

Neil hates her for it

His life was, so briefly, perfect

He had his father’s love and approval for a day, a week, and he is both old enough to remember his father’s cruelty and young enough to believe that it could end

Nathan is incandescent

When he realizes what Mary has done he goes to the Moriyamas in a storm of fury

She stole my SON! He bellows

Now the Moriyama’s didn’t particularly care about Neil back when they thought he was a girl

Girls in the mafia are basically just for child-rearing, so he wasn’t a threat

So once they figure out what Nathan is talking about (this takes a sec, owing to Nathan having not previously gotten around to telling them about Nathaniel’s revelation), their first thought is that look, we might do the nepotism thing here in our family, but underlings don’t get to do the nepotism thing. Sorry, them’s the breaks

Obviously, Mary has to die—nobody’s disputing that, a woman who robbed her husband and stole his son? Only death will right that wrong—but Kengo tells Nathan that he’ll help find Nathaniel on the condition that he’s given to the Ravens upon capture

Nathan is utterly confident that his son—his son!—will perform admirably. He accepts the deal without a second thought

So they’re on the run for years and years, and Neil’s resentment towards his mother festers, but he never acts out too much, and he doesn’t contact his father

He almost does a couple times, but then he presses his hand to the iron scar on his shoulder and he can’t quite make himself go through with it

He’s sixteen when Nathan catches up with them in Seattle

There’s a shootout and Mary and Neil almost get away

But

Nathan arrives

Nathaniel! He shouts. My boy!

And Neil lurches to a stop

There is his father, walking towards him, his eyes still shining with the same fierce love and pride from when he was ten

Nathaniel, his father says. Hasn’t this gone on long enough?

Come home.

Mary is trying to drag Neil away, but he’s too fixated on his father

Can I? Neil asks. Can I really?

Of course, Nathan says. Everything is forgiven. I’ve even secured you a place on the Ravens. Didn’t you always love Exy? Come home with me, Nathaniel

Neil can barely believe it. His father is offering him everything he ever wanted. His mother has been keeping him from this, his whole life?

Why would they run?

And through this whole exchange Nathan has been getting closer, and Mary is pulling Neil back, and now he’s close enough to touch and the sound she makes is like something physical tears when she finally releases Neil and tries to flee

She isn’t fast enough

Nathan’s grin is as wide as the sun when his cleaver bites into Mary’s waist

Blood pours out

Neil screams

Mary clutches her side, staggering away, but it’s obvious she won’t make it far

Dad, no, Neil says. Don’t—

Shh, his father says. Don’t be afraid. She kept us apart all these years. She deserves to die.

And Neil—

Neil has hated his mother for most of his life

But he looks at the woman who has struggled so long to protect him—who has failed as often as she succeeded, but who fought anyway, everyday—and the man whose eyes are bright with glee at her pain

And he makes a choice

He only has a split second to see the betrayal in his father’s eyes before the pipe in his hand slams into his head and he pitches forward, unconscious

Neil does not wait to see if he survives

He grabs his mother and they run, her arm locked on his shoulder and her palm pressed to the wound on her side

Neil puts her in the passenger seat and jumps in, throwing the car in gear

You need a hospital, he says, frantic

No, she hisses, pinning a towel to her side. No hospitals

Guilt floods through him as he looks at her pale face

Sticky red handprints smear on everything she touches

I’m sorry, mom, he says, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—

Enough, she says. Drive

He drives

He drives, and drives, and he follows her instructions, and later he wouldn’t have been able to say if he actually thought she would survive; he believed it, because he had to, because he had never been without her; he knew better, because gut wounds are slow, but they are inexorable

He parks on the beach and there are tears pushing at his eyelids but he chokes them down

I’m sorry, he said, I never should have believed him. I’m sorry—

You never would have been enough for him, she says, and Neil flinches

Her hand finds his chin and she yanks him down to meet her eyes, her gaze fierce.

He never loved you, she says. He would have made you in his image, and when you failed he would have torn you apart. I would not—I would not watch him try to make my son a monster. Don’t—don’t waste it

Mom, what are you saying—

Promise me, she says

Promise you won’t go back to him

She is dying

Neil can’t refuse

He promises

She releases his face and her red fingerprints on his face burn like brands. He can feel them hours after the tears wash the blood away.

Her last few breaths are jagged as broken stones before she rattles to a stop, and Neil is alone

He burns her body and staggers out onto the road and he keeps moving, he keeps moving, because he knows if he stops he’ll shatter

His hesitation has cost him his mother’s life

But his action costs him his fathers love

In one blow, Neil broke the golden image Nathan had of his perfect son, and now all Nathan wants is to destroy him

He finds his way to Millport almost on instinct alone

He finds one of Mary’s contacts who can supply him with the hormones he needs to continue passing and squats in an empty house and speaks to none of his classmates

When the Exy team tryouts are announced, he goes, intending to only watch from a distance

Perhaps it is inevitable he’s sucked in

There is so little light in his life

Can he be forgiven for wanting one little spark?

The Foxes come for him in May, and Kevin doesn’t recognize him, because how would he? Even if they met as kids, Kevin never saw Neil post-transition

Wymack ends up telling him something about Kevin’s past and the truth about the Ravens, and Neil pales a little bit, remembering how his father had said he’d gotten Neil a place on their line-up and finally understanding why

And sometimes he looks at Kevin with blinding jealousy for the life Neil didn’t get to have, and sometimes he sees him nearly comatose with fear and drinking vodka like it’s water, and his stomach hurts thinking how cheerfully his father would have consigned him to the same fate

So canon proceeds and Neil still bitches Riko out on live TV, and Riko still manages to acquire Neil’s fingerprints

And would you believe that? The Foxes mouthy new rookie is [deadname], Nathan Wesninski’s brat?

Well, well, well

At the banquet Riko pokes and prods until Neil finally snaps, and as Dan drags the team away from the wreckage Jean grabs Neil’s arm and says, low and fast in French, You’ll meet with us later

Why the fuck would I do that? Neil demands

Because otherwise everyone will find out that the Butcher is your father

Neil can’t hide his flinch and Kevin’s eyes go wide

They flee the scene, but before they even reach Coach, Kevin is already rounding on Neil

Is it true? He croaks

Not now, Neil says

But Kevin reads confirmation in Neil’s deflection

I didn’t know [deadname] had a brother, he says

Now here is the thing

Names are obviously a touchy subject with a lot of trans people, and certainly with Neil in particular

But with everything that just happened, Neil is a bit preoccupied, and it’s been a long time since he’s associated himself with that name

Since before he stopped using it, truthfully

And so his response is out of his mouth before he can even think twice

“Who?”

Kevin nods seriously, because he is wise to the ways of mafia bosses, and it’s not exactly shocking that Nathan Wesninski had a mistress and a secret second child, especially considering his first child had been a girl

It’s several moments before Neil puts two and two together and realizes that he has inadvertently slipped through a perfect loophole

He’s failed his mother so many times, but at least this secret is still safe, and he clings to that

Neil’s gender doesn’t really affect his interpersonal relationships with the Foxes—he’s already changing out separately, so this isn’t even a whole other thing

It’s harder to hide his testosterone when he’s living in shared dorms, but he has everything in the safe and figures out the safest schedule to open it up when he’s sure Matt will be in class

Andrew finds out when they start hooking up

But remember transphobia isn’t real so it’s sort of more like Andrew goes to undo his pants and is like wait your dick is removeable? Okay.

And then he just gets on with it

So Binghamton and Baltimore happen as canon, and if Neil had ever harboured hopes that his father would forgive him and love him again, they’re broken for good when his father stalks in and sees him shivering and just grins

It is the smile of someone who has torn someone off a pedestal and is going to enjoy reducing them to dust

Nevermind that Nathan had been the one to put him on that pedestal in the first place

Stuart deus-ex-machinas us out of the maws of death and we end up back in that classic Baltimore scene with the Foxes, and they still claim him, and they still take him home

He tells them all about his mafia father and life on the run, and it doesn’t really click until later that he forgot to mention the trans thing

Not like he, you know, has to tell them, and being trans is hardly an issue in Exy since it’s co-ed, but it would probably be nice to see a real doctor instead of keep buying his hormones illegally

And moreover, he wants the Foxes to know him

So they hit the cabin in the mountains and everyone knows Neil doesn’t drink, but when Andrew pours him a shot, he takes it

Ooh, Nicky says, Is Neil about to start spilling his secrets?

Allison snorts. What secrets does he have left?

Uh, Neil says

Wait, Allison says. There’s more secrets????

Yeah, he says. Um, I’m trans

There’s a pause

Well, that’s no good, Allison said. We didn’t have a bet going on that

Everyone laughs, and Neil smiles, and he looks at the sunset and remembers his mother, and he remembers a life filled with hiding, and secrets, and loneliness

Bats swoop in the twilight beyond the cabin, and he turns towards the warmth and light inside, and he does not look back

#self indulgent trans au is self indulgent #my writing #aftg #andreil #trans neil #trans headcanons #this is actually a bit angsty be warned #i was so high on the transphobia doesnt exist part #that i forgot neils whole life is a goddamn tragedy for a seconde #tmmbsbintau

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lailoken · 3 years

Text

“Ash (Fraxinus excelsior).

In the nineteenth century it was believed that if ash trees failed to produce fruit — keys — disaster was foretold.

In Yorkshire:

Some people every summer examined the ash tree . . . to see whether or not they had produced any seed; for the barrenness of the ash was said to be a sure sign of public calamity. It was a tradition among aged and thoughtful men, that the ash trees of England produced no seed during the year in which Charles the First was beheaded. [Jackson, 1873: 14]

In East Anglia:

The failure of the Crop of Ash-keys portends a death in the Royal Family . . . The failure in question is certainly, in some seasons, very remarkable; many an old woman believes that, if she were the fortunate finder of a bunch, and could get introduced to the king, he would give her a great deal of money for it. [Forby, 1830: 406]

ROWAN Or mountain ash, an unrelated tree which has leaves similar to those of ash, was widely considered to provide protection. Occasionally ash itself was also believed to be protective.

Rowan and ash sticks were used to drive cattle . . . believed to be 'kindly' and both trees were believed to be endowed with properties that ensured no interference from harmful influences. [Larne, Co. Antrim, October 1993]

In rural areas 'even' ash leaves-those leaves which lack a terminal leaflet and therefore have an even number of leaflets-were used in love DIVINATION. In Dorset:

The ash leaf is frequently invoked by young girls as a matrimonial oracle in the following way: The girl who wishes to divine who her future lover or husband is to be plucks an even ash leaf, and holding it in her hand, says:

“The even ash leaf in my hand, The first I meet shall be my man.’

Then putting it into her glove, adds:

‘The even ash leaf in my glove, The first I meet shall be my love.'

And lastly, into her bosom, saying:

‘The even ash leaf in my bosom, The first I meet shall be my husband.'

Soon after which the future lover or husband will be sure to make his appearance. [Udal, 1922: 254]

According to a 52-year-old woman who described how she used ash leaves for divination during her childhood:

Start at the bottom leaflet on the left-hand side and say:

“An even ash is in my hand

The first I meet will be my man.

If he don't speak and I don't speak,

This even ash I will not keep.”

As each word is said, count a leaflet around the leaf until the rhyme is completed (this probably entails going round the leaf several times). When the rhyme is finished, continue by reciting the alphabet until the bottom right-hand leaflet is reached. The letter given to this leaflet gives the initial of your boyfriend. Two or three leaves may be used so that you get a greater range of letters. [Thorncombe, Dorset, June 1976]

In many parts of northern Britain ash was known as esh. In north Lincolnshire:

There is a widespread opinion that if a man takes a newly-cut 'esh-plant' not thicker than his thumb, he may lawfully beat his wife with it. [Britten and Holland, 1886: 170]

Burning the ashen faggot — a faggot made from young ash saplings — was a widespread Christmastide custom in Devon and Somerset during the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. According to a late nineteenth-century writer, it was:

an ancient ceremony transmitted to us from the Scandinavians who at their feast of Juul were accustomed to kindle huge bonfires in honour of Thor. The faggot is composed of ashen sticks, hooped round with bands of the same tree, nine in number. When placed on the fire, fun and jollity commence-master and servant are now all at equal footing. Sports begin-jumping in sacks, diving in the water for APPLES, and many other innocent games engage the attention of the rustics. Every time the bands crack by reason of the heat of the fire, all present are supposed to drink liberally of cider or egg-hot, a mixture of cider, eggs, etc. The reason why ash is selected in preference to any other timber is that tradition assigns it as the wood with which Our Lady kindled a fire in order to wash her new-born Son. [Poole, 1877: 6]

Ashen faggots are still burnt in a few West Country pubs, and miniature faggots are occasionally prepared for burning on domestic hearths.

On the evening of January sth ('old' Christmas Eve) at Curry Rivel, a Somerset village situated on the southern edge of Kings Sedgemoor, the wassailers go visiting' around the parish with their wassail song and the ashen faggot is ceremoniously burned at the King William IV public house. The faggot is made from young ash saplings and bound with bonds ('fonds,' 'fronds,' 'thongs,' or 'bonds') of withies (osiers); bramble has been used occasionally in the past. The number of bonds is variable but since the bursting of any one during the burning is a signal to ʻdrink up,' decency and country logic demands a 'reasonable few'. Either five or six are normally used. At the appropriate moment the faggot is placed on the fire, traditionally by the oldest customer-one villager can recall the fag- got being brought in a wheelbarrow as was 'right and proper'-and as each bond bursts there is much cheering and a general clamour for drink. The landlord, Mr John Cousins, prepares a bowl of hot punch for the occasion to augment the barrel of beer usually provided by the house Brewery. Until quite recently cider was consumed in large quantities; the 'brew' of cider and perry donated by the (Langs) Hambridge Brewery in 1957 is particularly remembered. [Willey, 1983: 40]

In the first half of the nineteenth century:

Some towns in Somerset held 'Ashen Faggot Balls'. The one in Taunton on January 2nd, 1826 was 'most respectably attended by the principal families of the town and neighbourhood'. It was still held twenty years later, but by then the event was losing its appeal. [Legg, 1986: 54]

In some parts of southern England ash twigs were carried by children on ASH WEDNESDAY.

In villages around Alton in Hampshire, and as far away as East Meon, near Petersfield, at Crowborough in Sussex, and doubtless in other places, children pick a black-budded twig of ash and put it in their pocket on this day. A child who does not remember to bring a piece of ash to school on Ash Wednesday can expect to have his feet trodden on by every child who possesses a twig, unless, that is, he or she is lucky enough to escape until midday. [Opie, 1959: 240]

I was born and lived as a child in Crowborough . . . On Ash Wednesday it was always the custom to take a piece of the [ash] tree around with you. The piece had to have a black bud, without it it was void. If you were unable to produce the piece when asked the rest of the children could stamp on your toes. I remember one day whan I was playing about with it in school and was told to take it to the front and leave it in the waste- paper basket-and all the way back to the seat had to dodge the stamps! Ever prudent I had another piece for play time! This all stopped at 12 mid-day. [Pershore, Worcester shire, October 1991]

[At Heston, Middlesex, in the 1930s] on Ash Wednesday we all took a twig of ash tree to school and produced it when challenged or risked a kick-and we had to get rid of it at 12 noon. We even risked the wrath of the teacher by rushing to an open window to throw out our twigs as soon as the mid-day dinner bell rang. [St Ervan, Cornwall, February 1992]

A widespread cure for HERNIA involved passing the patient through a split ash sapling, preferably one which had grown naturally from seed and had not previously been damaged by man. The tree was then tightly bound up and as it grew together so the patient would be healed. A full description provided in 1878 by the wife of a Sussex clergyman demonstrates how this cure, which required communal cooperation, was considered to be quite normal:

A child so afflicted must be passed nine times every morning on nine suc- cessive days at sunrise through a cleft in a sapling ash tree, which has been so far given up by the owner of it to the parents of the child as that there is an understanding that it shall not be cut down during the life of the infant that is passed through it. The sapling must be sound of heart, and the cleft must be made with an axe. The child, on being carried to the tree, must be attended by nine persons, each of whom must pass it through the cleft from west to east. On the ninth morning the solemn ceremony is concluded by binding the tree tightly with a cord, and it is supposed that as the cleft closes the health of the child will improve. In the neighbourhood of Petworth some cleft ashes may be seen, through which children have very recently been passed. I may add that only a few weeks since, a person who lately purchased an ash-tree standing in this parish, intended to cut it down, was told by the father of the child who had some time before passed through it, that the infirmity would be sure to return upon his son if it were felled. Whereupon the good man said, he knew such would be the case; and therefore he would not fell it for the world. [Latham, 1878: 40]

Similarly:

A remarkable instance of the extraordinary superstition which still prevails in the rural districts of Somerset has lately come to light at Athelney. It appears that a child was recently born in the neighbourhood with a physical ailment, and the neighbours persuaded the parents to resort to a very novel method of charming away the complaint. A sapling ash was split down the centre, and wedges were inserted so as to afford an opening sufficient for the child's body to pass through without touching either side of the tree. This having been done, the child was undressed, and, with its face held heavenward, it was drawn through the sapling in strict accord- ance with the superstition. Afterwards the child was dressed and simul- taneously the tree was bound up. The belief of those who took part in this strange ceremony is that if the tree grows the child will grow out of its bodily ills. The affair took place at the rising of the sun on a recent Sunday morning, in the presence of the child's parents, several of the neighbours, and the parish police-constable. [Bath and Wells Diocesan Magazine, 1886: 178]

An example ofan ash thus used can be seen in the Somerset Rural Life Museum at Glastonbury. A similar practice could be used to overcome IMPOTENCE.

In Wales the similar ritual was to split a young ash or HAZEL stem and hold it just fastened at the top. This made a symbolic vulva into which the impotent male introduced his recalcitrant organ. Binding up the tree again enabled it to heal, during which the impotence faded. [Richards, 1979: 13]

In Cheshire a cure for WARTS

was to steal a piece of bacon and push it under a piece of ash-bark. Excrescences would then appear on the tree; as they grew, the warts would van- ish. [Hole, 1937: 12]

In Wiltshire sufferers seeking a cure from NEURALGIA were advised:

Cut off a piece of each finger and toe nail and a piece off your hair. Get up on the next Sunday morning before sunrise and with a gimlet bore a hole in the first maiden ash you come across and put the nails and hair in; then plug the hole up. [Whitlock, 1976: 167]

In many areas 'shrew-ashes' were used to cure lameness in cattle and other illnesses. In a letter dated 8 January 1776, Gilbert White of Selborne, Hampshire, wrote:

A shrew-ash is an ash whose twigs or branches, when gently applied to the limbs of cattle, will immediately relieve the pains which a beast suffers from the running of a shrew-mouse over the part affected . . . Against this accident, to which they were continually liable, our provident fore- fathers always kept a shrew-ash at hand, which, once medicated, would maintain its virtue for ever. A shew-ash was made thus:- Into the body of the tree a deep hole was bored with an auger, and a poor devoted shrew- mouse was thrust in alive, and plugged in, no doubt, with several quaint incantations long since forgotten. [White, 1822, I: 344]

In the nineteenth century a particularly well-known shrew-ash in Richmond Park, Surrey. According to the park-keepers' tradition ʻgood Queen Bess had lurked under its shade to shoot deer as they were driven past’ [Ffennell, 1898: 333]. This tree was closely observed by Sir Richard Owen (1804-92), first director of the Natural History Museum in London, who lived near the tree, at Sheen Lodge, from grew 1852.

Either the year he came to live in the park or the year after . . . he first encountered a young mother with a sick child accompanied by 'an old dame', 'a shrew-mother', or, as he generally called her a 'witch-mother'. They were going straight for the tree; but when they saw him, they turned off in quite another direction till they supposed he was out of sight. He, however, struck by their sudden avoidance of him, watched them from a distance, saw them return to the tree, where they remained some little time, as if busily engaged with it; then they went away. He was too far off to hear anything said, but heard the sounds of voices in unison on other occasions. He heard afterwards from the keeper of Sheen Gate... that mothers with 'bewitched' infants, or with young children afficted with WHOOPING COUGH, decline, and other ailments, often came, some- times from long distances, to this tree. It was necessary that they should arrive before sunrise . . . Many children were said to be cured at the tree. The greatest secrecy was always observed when visiting. This was re- spected by Sir Richard Owen, who, whenever he saw a group advanc- ing towards it, moved away, and was always anxious that they should not be disturbed. He could not tell me in what year he last saw a group approach the tree to seek its aid. He could only say he had seen them often, and thought they continued to come for many years. [Ffennell, 1898: 334]

During a recent survey [of Richmond Park] the site of the old shrew ash was identified. This proved to be . . . the spot where an ancient ash still stood in 1987. A sucker from its roots was still alive, although the tree itself was passé. The storm of autumn brought the trunk down. A railing has now been erected around the remains, which are to be left in the ground, and a young ash is to be planted alongside the stump. Presumably it will eventually replace the old tree, but it means that the site at least will remain identifiable. [Kew, Surrey, February 1994]

There uses included curing EARACHE, RINGWORM, and SNAKE BITES.

The sap of a young ash sapling was used to cure earache. A sapling was cut and put into a fire so that when the stick started to burn the sap came out the end and was caught on a spoon. This could be put on cotton wool and put into the ear. [Daingean, Co. Offaly, January 1985]

Ringworm was more common in my childhood . . . a remedy resorted to was to burn ash twigs in a tin box or similar container and allow the smoke from the smouldering twigs to envelop the affected part—usually arms, neck or face. [Larne, Co. Antrim, October 1993]

Ash leaves are used to combat viper bites. When an animal has been bitten farmers boil ash leaves and give the animal the resulting liquid and place the boiled leaves as a poultice on the bite. Works on people too! [Dorchester, Dorset, February 1992]

Ash sticks were used as weapons.

The Joyces are tinkers . . . they are wary and row among themselves. They do have some fierce fights in which the women join in. When they have each others heads well cut with ash plants they settle down and are as friendly as ever. [IFCSS MSS 750: 242, Co. Longford]

Stories relating to Ireland's past tell of fair-day brawls where ash plants were used and blood flowed freely. [Ballymote, Co. Sligo, May 1994]”

—

The Oxford Dictionary of Plant-Lore

by Roy Vickery

#ash #Oxford Dictionary of Plant-lore #Roy Vickery #tree lore #plant lore #ash tree

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bellaireland1981 · 3 years

Text

New Beginnings: CH 7

Characters: Andy Barber x Single Mom! Briella James (Named Reader), Jacob Barber, Ava James

Summary: Briella James is a HS teacher and has Jacob in her class. Jacob meets Briella’s 5 year old daughter and they form a bond. Andy is interested in Briella but her ex (and Ava’s dad) is becoming a problem!

Warnings: Mostly fluff, some angst, jerk of an ex that harasses Briella, kissing… will update in future chapters.

Word Count: 3281

A/N: I do Not own Andy Barber or Jacob Barber, they are fictional characters. I do not give permission for anyone to repost my work or translate it to another site. Reblogs always welcome! This is my FIRST EVER attempt at writing for Andy…or any character, so be gentle! THANK YOU to my friends for supporting me and encouraging me! I’m my own worst critic so I love their feedback! @denisemarieangelina @fluffymisha97 @jamielea81

Previous Chapter

“Mommy! We watched Frozen and Frozen 2!” Ava exclaimed when you entered the house. “And we played games!”

“Sounds like you had a lot of fun!” You replied, hoping your voice didn’t give away your terror. “Ava, Monkey, can you go up and brush your teeth and get your pajamas on? I’ll be right up to read you a story.”

“I can read her a story,” Jacob said, seeming to sense something was off. “Come on, Ava, I’ll read you another one of your princess books if you want.”

“OK! Goodnight, Mommy! I love you.” Ave said bouncing over to give you a hug. Then tuned to hug Andy as well, “Goodnight, Andy! Love you!”

Your heart melted at her declaration. You looked up at Andy who seemingly melted at her words as well. He hugged her back.

“Goodnight, sweet Princess.” He said, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you too.”

“I’ll be up to tuck you in after your book.” You told her, “Love you, Monkey.”

“Come here, Sweetheart.” Andy said, pulling you into his embrace once the kids had gone upstairs. “Take a deep breath. It’s going to be OK. I promise you.”

“Why is he doing this, Andy?” You asked, “Five years… he’s left us alone. Not a word. Why now?”

“I don’t know, but we’re going to find out.” He assured me, “And I’m going to make him stop.”

Andy continued to hold you, rubbing circles on your back to soothe you. It was nice to have his strength when you felt on the verge of falling apart.

You heard your phone vibrate with notification alerts. You’d been good at ignoring it while you were on your date.

“Let me look at the messages, Sweetheart.” Andy said, “Go on up and tuck Ava in, and then we can sit down and figure this out.” He pulled back slightly, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on your forehead.

You quietly walked up the stairs and headed to your first to change out of your dress. You chose a pair of joggers and a tshirt. You scrubbed your face free of makeup and pulled your hair back, out of your face. Once finished you felt slightly better and started for Ava’s room. You could hear her and Jacob talking so you paused before going in.

“I wish your daddy could be my daddy, Jacob.” Ava said, “And you were my big brother. You’d be the best big brother.”

“Thanks, Ava.” Jacob said softly, “You’d be the best little sister. Wanna know something? I wish your mom could be my mom.”

Your eyes burned from tears at the sweet sentiments. You took a deep breath and blinked the tears away, needing to go say goodnight to your daughter.

“All ready to be tucked in?” You asked cheerfully, coming into the room.

“Ready!” Ava nodded, you could tell she was getting very sleepy. It was much later than she was used to staying up.

“Goodnight, Ava” Jacob said smiling, leaning over to give her a quick hug before he left the room.

You tucked her in and turned on her bedside lamp before turning off her big light.

“I love you, Monkey.” You whispered, standing by her door.

“Love you, Mommy.” She replied softly, already drifting off to sleep. You quietly stepped out and closed the door.

Jacob was leaning against the wall by the stairs, waiting for you, looking anxious.

“Is everything ok, Bri?” he asked, “Did something happen?”

“Everything is going to be ok” You reassured him, pulling him gently into a hug. His arms came around you, hugging you back tightly. “Thank you for taking such good care of Ava.”

“It’s not a problem.” He replied, “I had fun.”

You both headed down stairs to find Andy. You didn’t want to say too much to Jacob in case Andy didn’t want him to know what was happening, but you knew you’d have to tell him something. He knew something happened and it was clearly making him anxious.

Jacob went to the living room and started picking up the blankets and pillows off the floor, while you found Andy in the kitchen, sitting at the island.

“Hey” You said quietly, walking to the fridge to get a bottle of water. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Water is fine.” Andy said, “Ava all tucked in?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, “Jacob is worried, Andy. He knows something is wrong. He asked me if something happened. I said it was all ok, I didn’t know if you wanted to tell him anything or what you’d want him to know.”

“He’s always been good at picking up on stuff like that.” Andy smiled, gently, “I’ll talk to him. He’s going to need some kind of explanation because we’re not leaving you and Ava alone here tonight.”

“How bad were the texts?” You asked, unsure you wanted to know. Andy slid the phone over to you, as Jacob walked into the room.

“Hey, Jake.” Andy said, “Listen, Pal, we’re going to stay here tonight with Bri and Ava. There is someone who is harassing her and I need to make sure they’re safe.”

“Who is it?” he asked, “Someone you know, Bri?”

“Its my ex,” You replied, “Ava’s biological father.”

“Does Ava know anything about him?” He asked, curiously.

“No.” You answered, “She’s never asked and I’ve never volunteered information about him. He left before she was born.”

“He’s scum.” Jacob said, his voice sounding angry, “He doesn’t deserve you or Ava.”

“You’re sweet, Jacob.” You said, smiling, “You OK with staying here, and all of this?”

“Of course!” he replied, “Dad’s right, we need to make sure you’re safe.”

“There is a guest room next to Ava’s, and the couch isn’t too bad to sleep on either. I can grab extra pillows and some blankets.” you said.

“I’ll sleep on the couch.” Jacob said, “Can I watch some TV for a bit?”

“Of course you can!” You answered, “Do you want anything to drink?”

“I’m good.” He replied, “But thanks. Goodnight.” He came over to where you were standing and gave you a hug, then to his dad’s shock, hugged him too before heading to the living room.

“You ok?” You asked Andy, smiling, “You look a little shell-shocked.”

“My teenage son, who hasn’t hugged me in years, just hugged me.” He answered, “I’m more than ok.”

You laughed quietly, then taking a deep breath, unlocked your phone and opened up the text messages from your ex.

:You really think I’ll allow some other man to have what’s mine?

: You’re stupid to think he really wants you, Briella. You’re worthless.

: Just because I don’t want you or the brat doesn’t mean I’ll allow anyone else to have you.

: If you continue to go against me, you’ll regret it.

You felt as though you were going to be sick. You could feel bile rising up in your throat. You quickly sat down, knowing if you didn’t you’d collapse.

“Sweetheart,” Andy said, coming around to where you were sitting and pulling you up into his embrace, holding you against him for support. “Those last few messages are essentially threats. We’re going to go to the police station in the morning and report him. We need the paper trail. First thing Monday, we’re filing a restraining order to add to the other orders. In the meantime, I’m not leaving you alone. You and Ava are far too important to me to risk.”

“If I’m being completely honest,” You said, “I’m really glad you’re here. I feel safer with you.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Bri.” He promised, cupping your face with his hands and leaning down to kiss you.

Your arms were around his waist, hands splayed over his back. His hands moved from your face, to wrap his arms around you, one hand bracing your head, pulling you closer. The kiss deepened, his tongue once more licking over your lips, seeking entry into your mouth. You opened, allowing him to deepen the kiss, your tongues meeting. You moaned softly, your bodies pressed together. You didn’t know how long you stood there, locked together, but when you came up for air you were both breathing hard, lips swollen.

“You have no idea how badly I want to keep kissing you,” Andy said, his voice low and husky, “But if we do it’s not going to end with just kissing you and when I do finally get you, I don’t want it to have to be rushed, or to have to worry about one of our kids walking in on us.”

“As much as I’d like to keep kissing you too, I think you’re right.” You reluctantly agreed. “I’ll have to arrange a sleepover for Ava with her grandparents sometime.”

“Sometime soon.” Andy suggested, smiling at you.

“Definitely sometime soon.” You agreed, “In the meantime, I will show you to the guest room for the night.”

“Lead the way, Sweetheart.” He replied. “I’d suggest we could share a bed so I could hold you all night, but it would open up a lot of questions if Ava were to come in.”

“She’ll be full of questions in the morning anyway when she sees you and Jacob still here.” You reasoned, “But those questions will be easier to answer than the questions she’d have at finding you in bed with me.”

You grabbed some extra pillows and blankets from the linen closet and took them to Jacob in the living room. After saying goodnight to him, you led Andy to the guest room.

“There are extra towels in the bathroom if you want to shower or anything.” You said.

He reaches out and gently pulls you back into him, dropping a soft kiss on your lips.

“Get some sleep, Sweetheart,” He said, “We’ll come up with a game plan tomorrow.”

“I forgot to let my mom know about dinner. I’ll have to call her in the morning.” You said, “Maybe we should wait on that until everything with my ex is settled?”

“If you want to wait, we can.” He said, “But I don’t think it’ll hurt anything if we go ahead as planned.”

“Ok.” You said, “I’ll call my mom in the morning.”

“Goodnight, Bri.” He smiled, leaning in to kiss you again.

“Goodnight.” You replied.

You crossed the hall and entered your bedroom, quietly closing the door. You brush your teeth and strip down to just a tshirt and panties, and slip into bed. You laid there, trying to shut your brain off so you could relax and drift off to sleep. You thought about the texts from your ex and worried if he’d actually follow through on his threats. You started to think of all the worst case scenarios of what he could do. The more you thought about it, the more anxious you became.

After tossing and turning for over 30 minutes you gave up trying to fall asleep and picked up your phone from your night stand.

B: Are you still awake?

A: Yeah, everything ok?

B: I can’t sleep… I can’t shut my mind off.

A: Want company?

B: Yes, please.

Shortly after you send the last text, your door opens and Andy strolls in. He’d taken off his pants and button up shirt, leaving him in his boxers and a white undershirt. He smiles warmly at you as he steps closer to the bed.

You scoot over to the side, making room for him to slide in under the covers with you.

“Come here, sweetheart” He said quietly, laying on his back and opening his arms to you. You settled into his embrace, laying on your side, leg kicked over his and your head resting on your chest. The sound of his steady heartbeat instantly put you at ease, you were finally able to take a deep breath.

“Thank you” You whispered, in the dark.

“I have absolutely no problem holding you.” He replied, dropping a kiss to the top of your head, “Try to sleep. We’ll deal with it all in the morning, but I promise, I won’t let anything happen to either of you.”

Comforted by his words, and lulled by his heartbeat and breathing, you were finally able to drift off to sleep.

You woke up feeling well rested. You glanced at the clock on the bedside table, seeing that it was well past when Ava would have normally bounded in to wake you up. Andy stirred next to you, pulling you back into him, his eyes still closed.

“Good morning” You said, laughing quietly.

“Ten more minutes.” He mumbled, a faint smile on his lips, “I don’t want to let you go yet.”

“I’m pretty sure Ava is already up.” You told him, “She’s normally in here bouncing on me by now.”

He finally opened his eyes, his hand coming up to brush the hair out of your face.

“Good Morning, Beautiful.” He said, “Did you sleep well?”

“I did.” You said, “Probably the best I’ve slept in a long time. Did you sleep ok?”

“I slept amazingly well.” He replied, “I loved being able to hold you. Waking up to you was pretty great too.”

“I could really get used to sleeping in your arms and waking up to you.” You told him.

“That’s good because I fully plan on making this a regular thing sooner rather than later.” He confided. “Going back to Ava though, how do you want to handle the fact that Jake and I stayed?”

“You’ll get no objections from me, Counselor,” You teased him, “For now, if she asks, we’ll just say it got too late so we decided to have a sleepover.”

“That’ll work.” He said, “Once we get some breakfast, we can have Jake keep her occupied while we file the report with the police. Afterwards, we can come up with a plan. I don’t want you and Ava alone until we have this settled. I don’t trust your ex.”

“I feel really bad that you’re getting pulled into the mess that is becoming my life.” You said, “I promise it’s not normally like this. Honestly, until recently he was a non-issue.”

“I want to be in your life, Bri” Adny said, “And I know better than anyone that life is sometimes messy. I don’t just want to be here for the good and easy parts.”

“You’re an amazing man, Andy.” You told him, “Most men would have probably run for the hills already.”

“Good thing I’m not most men, then huh?” He said smiling and cupping your face and kissing you gently.

“Very good thing.” You agreed. “Come on, let’s go face the circus and my Monkey.”

“Why do you call her ‘Monkey’?” He asked laughing, while the two of you got up.

“She used to cling to me like a little monkey when she was really little and then when she got bigger she was always climbing on stuff. The name just sort of stuck.” You explained.

“It’s cute.” He replied, “But I think I’ll stick to Princess Ava.”

“She loves that you know” You informed him, “She’s all smiles whenever you call her that.”

“Good” He said, “I’m pretty sure she’s already got me wrapped around her finger.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re right.” You laughed.

You pulled on the joggers you’d worn last night while Andy quickly ran across the hall to pull on his pants. He didn’t bother with his button up shirt just yet. The two of you made your way downstairs. Ava was already perched on the couch with Jacob watching cartoons, clearly in her element and more than happy that he was still there.

“Morning, Monkey” You said, smiling, “Morning, Jacob. Are you guys hungry?”

“Morning, Mommy! Ava exclaimed, “Can we have pancakes?”

“Of course,” You agreed, “Jacob, would you like pancakes?”

“Yes, please.” He said, “And Good Morning.”

“Alright, pancakes coming up.” You said.

“Mommy?” Ava asked, you stopped and turned back towards her. “How come you had a sleepover without me?”

“It wasn’t a planned sleepover, Princess” Andy said, jumping in, “It was just really really late when your mommy and I finished talking and we thought it would be better just to sleep here. We wouldn’t have a sleepover without you!”

“Can we have a real sleepover?” She asked, accepting his answer.

“We can plan a real sleepover.” You and Andy both agree.f

“Next time, we can build blanket forts and camp out in the living room.” Jacob said. “But no parents allowed.”

“Yes!” Ava agreed, laughing, “Sorry Mommy, Sorry Andy!”

“It’s quite alright.” Andy said laughing, “Your Mommy and I are going to go make those pancakes.”

“Bri,” Jacob said, “Can you please not let my dad be in charge of the pancakes?”

“Hey!” Andy said, indignantly. “I can make pancakes.”

“I stand by my plea.” He said, smiling at his dad.

“I promise not to let him wreck the pancakes.” You reassured him, “I can probably teach him how to make them though if you’d like.”

“That works.” Jacob agreed.

“I seriously take offense to the accusation that I can’t handle pancakes.” Andy said, shaking his head playfully.

“Come on,” You said, leading him to the kitchen, “For Jacob’s sake, I’ll teach you the basics of breakfast.”

You managed to get breakfast on the table without incident. Andy wasn’t as helpless in the kitchen as Jacob made him out to be.

After breakfast, you sent Ava upstairs to get dressed and brush her hair. Andy and Jacob took over clean up duties, so you ran upstairs as well to shower.

You were just out of the shower, a towel wrapped around you as you ran a brush through your hair.

“Now there’s a sight.” Andy said coming into the bathroom, looking you over. You laughed, shaking your head.

“Did you want to grab a shower?” You ask him.

“I’ll wait until I get home and can change into clean clothes.” He said, “Although, if you were offering to shower with me…”

“Maybe another time.” You teased.

“Once you’re dressed and ready, we can all head over to my house so Jake and I can change.” He replied, “Did you have a chance to call your mom about dinner today?”

“I wasn’t sure if you still wanted to after last night.” You said, “But I can call her. I’m sure she already planned on it, knowing my mom.”

“Let’s do it.” He said, “I’d like to meet them.”

“Ok, once I’m dressed, I’ll call.” You agreed. Andy smiles, taking your hand and pulling you into him, before bringing his hands up to cup your face, leaning down and angling his mouth against yours. Your arms came up to wrap around his middle, while your tongues explored each other’s mouth. You weren’t sure how long you stayed wrapped in each other and kissing. Slowly, you both came up for air.

“This is the sweetest form of torture.” He chuckled, “It’s hard keeping my hands off of you.”

“I’m having the same problem.” You admitted.

“Soon, Sweetheart.” He promised, “In the meantime, we’ll focus on taking care of the problem with your ex and keeping you and Ava safe. Jake and I will grab clothes from the house and plan on staying again tonight.”

“I’m sure he’s all talk… I’m sure we’ll be fine. It’s a school and work night, I hate to be such a disruption to your normal routine and life.” You said.

“I’m not comfortable taking that chance.” He said, “You’re not a disruption to our lives, Bri, you and Ava make our lives better and I’m damn sure going to protect that and you.”

@nickysurfer28 @waywardodysseys @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss

#andy barber fanfiction #andy barber x oc #chris evans fanfiction #Chris Evans

51 notes · View notes

petersasteria · 4 years

Text

Sperm Donor - BFF!CEO!Tom Holland

Pairing: BFF!Tom x Reader (platonic), Pre-School Teacher!Haz x Reader

Requested? Nah.

This is inspired by a movie that I watched a month or so ago x

They're older in this one lmao

* * * *

Life is weird. It starts slow during your childhood and when you turn twenty, you get old really fast. Panic sets in and we all suddenly become aware that we haven't done anything significant or life-changing. That's the reason why people make weird and quick decisions like: dyeing their hair a crazy color or finally quitting the job they had since they were younger. Tom wasn't panicking, though. He felt like he's done everything and he's just relaxing while managing a company he inherited. You, on the other hand, were panicking. You're already twenty-seven and you haven't done the most basic shit in life.

You already traveled around, partied, made out with strangers, having one night stands and never seeing them again, dyed your hair, etc. But after your check up from the doctor, you realized that it was time for the next step; the more serious and mature part of life. Your best friend, Tom, was still stuck in the immature part of life and you didn't want that.

Both of you were really different. At this day and age, he still wanted to do all the things both of you did when you were eighteen. Meanwhile, you've been thinking about settling down. The only problem was, you weren't dating anyone. It was totally your choice to be single, but now you wanted that to change.

You invited Tom for lunch after your check up and he happily agreed. He hasn't seen you for a long time due to him being busy. He really missed you. You went straight to yours and Tom's favorite restaurant after the check up and ordered for the both of you while waiting for him. He was a little late, because he arrived when the food arrived.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, love." He leaned in a pressed a light kiss on your cheek before sitting across from you. He loosened his tie and smiled when he saw his favorite food. He glanced at you, "Thanks for ordering."

"No problem, Tom." You playfully rolled your eyes. You took a bite of your food and cleared your throat, "So, how've you been?"

Tom looked at you as he chewed his food and shrugged, "Busy as always, but I'll always make time for you, darling."

"What are your plans?" You asked.

"Plans? For what?" Tom furrowed his eyebrows. You took a sip of your drink and said, "You know, life plans. Are you planning on settling down soon or something? Are you going on dates?"

Tom scrunched his face and quickly shook his head, "Darling, you of all people should know that I don't go on dates. I prefer sleeping around with no strings attached."

"But surely you'd want to settle down, right? Like, get married and have kids?" You trailed off. Tom just looked at you and put down his utensils, "Alright, what's going on? What's with the questions?"

You pursed your lips and stayed quiet.

"Oh, you won't say anything? Then I won't stop staring at you." Tom challenged and Tom doesn't back down at any challenge. You just shrugged and ate your food. Tom gave you a sly smile and continued to eat his food too, his gaze not leaving you.

After a few minutes, you felt creeped out and groaned, "Fine! You win!"

Tom grinned in victory, "So tell me what's wrong."

"I want to settle down." You said sternly as you looked at Tom with a serious look on your face. Tom's jaw dropped in shock.

"Are you serious??" Tom asked.

You nodded.

He chuckled, "Y/N, darling, you're a teacher for kids and it surprisingly pays well, but aren't you sick of seeing kids everyday? Besides, if you settle down, I have no one to go to parties with!"

"But we're getting old, Tom!" You whined. "And kids are actually cute!"

"You despised kids when we were twenty." Tom pointed at you.

"That was seven years ago! People change, Tom." You sighed. "Why are you so against it, anyway?"

"Because you're my ride or die! You're basically my soulmate at this point." Tom said and you nodded.

"I don't see why that has to change."

"It will change, because you won't have time for me. Then when we finally hang out, you'll talk about your baby and shit." Tom frowned. "How can we attend that party in Prague next week, if you're settling down?"

"I mean, w-we can still go." You told him.

"How will you even settle down?? You're not dating anyone." Tom challenged again.

"Sperm donor." You told him boldly and he gasped. He was surprised, because he didn't exactly imagine you having babies that way. Heck, he didn't even imagine you having babies at all. He still thought that both of you wouldn't be settling down.

"Are you for real?" Tom whispered after a moment of silence.

"Yup." You breathed.

"Oh dear god, Y/N." Tom rubbed his face. "Are you out of your mind? Just get a boyfriend."

"No fucking way. I want kids now."

"Do you even have anyone in mind??"

"I originally thought it to be you-"

"No way! I hate kids." Tom glared.

"I know, that's why I changed my mind. I've decided that my sperm donor would be Harrison." You proudly claimed with a smile. Tom stared at you and laughed, "As in your colleague? Isn't that against rules or something?"

"There are no rules, Thomas." You rolled your eyes. "I'm doing this whether you like it or not."

Tom put his hands up in surrender, "I won't stop you. It's your body; your incredibly hot body. Are you sure you want to ruin that by having kids?"

"Tom." You glared.

"Alright, I'll stop. 'M sorry, darling." Tom snickered and continued to eat his food.

"Can you believe that she actually wants kids? It's so weird, Sam! You should've seen her." Tom said as he took a sip of his beer.

He was visiting Sam to confide in, because Sam was the first one to have a child. Sam looked at him and chuckled, "Kids aren't that bad."

"They're whiny and needy." Tom pouted.

"And so were you when you were a baby. All babies are like that." Sam said as he looked at his one year old son who was playing with building blocks on the living room floor.

"I don't like them. That's final." Tom huffed.

Sam raised an eyebrow at him, "Are you saying you don't like your nephew?"

"Okay, he's different. He's family and-"

"Yeah and your future kids will be family too!" Sam laughed.

"I just don't want kids, okay?! Why does everyone pressure someone to have kids anyway? I'll just be your son's undeniably rich and handsome uncle who's super cool and spoils him." Tom said.

Sam laughed so hard at his claim. Tom frowned as he looked at Sam. He meant every word he said. Sam wiped away the tears in his eyes and calmed down, "I laughed, because you thought you were handsome. Everyone knows I'm arguably the best looking Holland."

Tom snickered, "Calm down, Sammy boy. You're not mum."

"Touche."

"Tom! I'm so glad you could make it!" You smiled when you saw him through the crowd. Tom smiled and kissed your cheek, "You know for someone who's trying to get pregnant, you're not boring at all."

You playfully slapped his arm and pointed at the paper bag he was holding, "What's that?"

"A gift for you." Tom handed it to you. "It's weird how you're having a pregnancy party thing when you're not pregnant; not yet, at least."

You took the paper bag and put it on the gift table, "Well, it's not wrong to celebrate."

"That's true and we both no I love alcohol." Tom smiled and grabbed a bottle of beer.

"I'm surprised you're not an alcoholic."

"Same here, darling."

A few moments later, Tom was already drunk and he saw Harrison. He decided it would be best to formally meet the father of your soon to be child.

"Hey mate." Tom greeted with a big grin. Harrison looked at him and nodded.

"You don't talk much, do you?" Tom asked with a raised eyebrow.

Harrison chuckled, "I do. It's just that I can't believe this is happening."

"How'd she get you to do it?" Tom asked. "I'm curious, because if I'm being honest with you, even if she flashes her boobs at me, I'd still say no."

"Well, she and I really like kids. Then she brought up the idea and I thought it was cool. She then asked me if I wanted to do it. In my head, I said no, but the more I thought about it, the more I started to agree."

"And you agreed? Just like that?" Tom asked in surprise.

Harrison nodded, "Yeah. We even talked about the visitation arrangement and stuff and that she'd live with me when she's on maternity leave so I could help her around and stuff."

"Holy shit. You guys are prepared." Tom chuckled. "I'm actually impressed. Why don't you start dating and be an official family?" Tom joked.

"I would be lying if I told you that I haven't thought about it before." Harrison confessed. "But I thought she was dating you and I backed off for a while until I dated someone."

"Dated? As in like you're not with this person anymore?" Tom asked. Harrison just nodded. "Then you're more than welcome to date, Y/N! As her bestest friend in the whole wide world, you have my permission." Tom slurred.

"My ex and I kinda just broke up a week ago and it's still fresh and I don't want Y/N to think that she'd be a rebound." Harrison looked down.

"Oh." Tom said. "Well, thanks for not dating her, I guess. At least she wouldn't feel that she was a rebound.

"Yeah." Harrison smiled a small smile.

"Well, I'll go to the restroom, yeah? I'll talk to you later. As her best friend, I feel like I should get to know you more." Tom hiccuped as he stumbled away to go to the restroom in your apartment.

Tom finally made it to the bathroom and did his business. He flushed the toilet and washed his hands with soap and water thrice. No one knew why, but he's been doing that ever since he was old enough to go to the bathroom on his own. It kind of annoyed you, because whenever he was at your place, the hand soap you just bought is already half empty (or half full, depending on how you look at it). You had to get him his own hand soap whenever he was in your place. You even put a label on it.

After he was done washing his hands thrice with soap and water, he saw a little container with Harrison's name on it. He chuckled when he realized it was Harrison's... you know.

"So, these are his best swimmers." Tom drunkenly chuckled to himself. He clumsily took the container and opened it. "Did he fill it up or something?" Tom curiously asked as he took a peek. Due to being really drunk, he was unable to stand still and because of that, the container fell in the sink and Harrison's 'best swimmers' went down the drain.

Tom's eyes widened in horror and he panicked, "Holy shit! Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Oh my fucking god! Y/N's going to fucking kill me."

He paced back and forth in the bathroom until he came up with a plan. A stupid plan at that. He could've made up some shitty excuse that the container fell on its own, but he didn't. Instead, he cleaned the container and sighed to himself. He sat on the toilet and took out his phone to look at something to jerk off to. When he found something, he did his business.

Once Tom was done with everything (including his thing of washing his hands thrice), he finally exited the bathroom.

"Tom, there you are! I've been looking all over for you!" You smiled at him and dragged him to the living room. Everyone was gathered around and Tom started to feel like he was in a cult and you were the leader.

"Okay so, I'd like to say a few words." You started. "Thank you all so much for coming to this party! I appreciate all the gifts already. It's like a baby shower, but at the same time it isn't, y'know?"

Everyone chuckled except Tom. He was already kind of sober and he couldn't comprehend what just happened in the bathroom. You were saying something, but he couldn't understand it, because he wasn't focused. He finally snapped out of it when he heard Harrison's name.

"Thank you so much, Harrison. If it weren't for you, my dream wouldn't come true." You smiled as Harrison chuckled.

'Oh god. I'm so sorry, Harrison.' Tom thought.

"Lastly, I'd like to thank Tom." You looked at him with a bright smile. He couldn't help but return it. "Thank you for being supportive about this. You're the best. I love you." You added.

Tom chuckled nervously, "I love you too, darling. I want you to be happy and if having a baby makes you happy, then who am I to go against it?"

You grinned and pulled him in for a hug. Everyone around you clapped. Tom hugged back, but his thoughts were running wild.

'Oh my god. I'm so sorry, Y/N. I ruined it.' Tom thought.

The next day, he didn't go to work. He went back to Sam's place which was weird, because it was early in the morning. Sam was awake anyway, because he was cooking breakfast for his fiance and son.

As soon as Sam opened the door, Tom went straight in. "Um, sure. Come in and make yourself at home." Sam said sarcastically as he closed the door. He followed Tom to the kitchen and asked why he was there,

"I fucked up." Tom said.

"You always do, but what did you fuck up this time?" Sam asked as he fried the bacon.

"Y/N's pregnancy." Tom bit his lip.

"What do you mean by that?" Sam questioned as he glanced at his older brother for a second before turning back to the bacon.

"I, uh, fuck. Um, I don't know how to say it."

"Just spit it out, man!"

"I'm going to be the father of her baby." Tom spat.

Sam quickly turned off the stove and fully gave his attention to Tom, "What? How? Why? I thought that guy Harvey-"

"Harrison." Tom corrected.

"I thought that guy, Harrison, was the dad?" Sam asked in confusion and slight panic.

Tom groaned and rubbed his face and crossed his arms, "I may or may not have accidentally opened it and it fell in the sink and his sperm is most likely swimming through the pipes as we speak."

Sam's jaw dropped, "Holy fucking shit. Did you tell her?"

"Um, no? Was I supposed to?"

"YOU FUCKING IDIOT. Of fucking course you were supposed to tell her!" Sam gasped. "Sometimes I even wonder why you got the company."

Tom glared at him and Sam shrugged, "You need to tell Y/N or she'll murder you."

"She'll get mad." Tom whined.

"She'll get even more mad if she finds out after the baby comes out and it looks like you!!" Sam pointed out. "Harrison's fucking blonde, mate."

"How'd you know?" Tom asked.

"Y/N showed me his picture after you told me she was getting a sperm donor." Sam explained but shook his head. "Wait, we're getting off-track. She'll be fucking shocked and confused if the baby won't look like Harrison."

"Oh my god. I never thought of that!" Tom bit his nails in panic.

"You idiot!" Sam shrieked. He still couldn't believe it. The two brothers stood there in silence until Sam decided to break it.

"So, um, welcome to fatherhood?" Sam said but it ended up like a question. "You know, what if it doesn't work the first try?"

"That could happen?" Tom asked, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. Sam nodded, "Yeah. It's normal. She could ask Harrison again if it doesn't work and then you're back to your bachelor life! For now, it's time for the waiting game."

"Alright. Let the waiting game begin." Tom sighed. It was selfish of him, but he really hoped it wouldn't work.

"Tom!" You smiled through the phone.

"What? I'm kinda busy at the moment." Tom said as he typed away on his laptop and put you on speaker. "You're on speaker. Just tell me the thing you have to tell me."

"I'm pregnant!" You squealed.

"Oh shit!" Tom said loudly and put his head in his hands. His life was officially over.

"Tom?" You said. Tom's eyes widened in realization that he said it out loud, "I meant- oh shit! It actually worked the first time! That's- that's cool! Because you know, sometimes it doesn't work... the first time."

He quickly put you off speaker and pressed the phone to his ear. "So, what's your next move?"

"I'm telling the dad, of course! He'd be so thrilled!" You swooned.

"Y-Yeah! T-That's... yeah, you go do that. I'm really happy for you! It's all working out." Tom said, hoping that he masked his nervousness well. Thankfully, you were too happy to notice and he was glad.

"How-How will you tell him?" Tom asked.

"I'll buy him a mug that says 'best dad in the world!' or something." You giggled. "Both of us have been wanting this."

"Well, why aren't you dating?" Tom questioned. "I mean, he seems like a great guy. I approve of him. He's better than all of your exes."

Tom really meant that. He liked Harrison for you. He thought that both of you would be a great pair. He'd be lying if he said he didn't have romantic feelings for you before, but he realized that it was just strong infatuation. Nothing else. What both of you have was simply platonic.

"He's not ready to date." You explained. "But that's okay, because I'll be having his gorgeous baby! AAAAHHHHH I'M PREGNANT!!!!" You excitedly screamed.

Tom had to put his phone away from his ear so that you wouldn't break his eardrums. He was really happy that you were happy, but he couldn't help but feel scared when you find out that the baby was his.

He put the phone to his ear and said, "Well, good luck on telling him." He smiled, because you finally got what you wanted.

"Thanks, Tommy. Love you!"

"Love you too!" He hung up and quickly texted Sam about the news. Sam replied and texted: "Oh shit lmao good luck, daddy-o!"

Tom sighed deeply at his brother's response before drowning himself in work.

The whole time during your pregnancy, Tom found himself constantly checking on you. Despite the fact that you're carrying his baby, he still didn't like the idea of kids. It was a personal reason and he didn't know why. He was confused.

He remembered the phone call he got from you when you found out the gender of the baby. You were so happy and every time he thought about it, he smiled.

"I'm having a boy." You said happily.

Tom looked at you in shock for a few seconds until his face broke into a smile, "That's great! Wow. A boy."

A son. You're carrying his son and he doesn't know how to feel about it. As your best friend, you kept sending him pictures of the ultrasounds and you told him everything you were feeling during the pregnancy.

Tom did everything to support you, but in a subtle way, of course. You still thought that Harrison was the father of your baby and Tom didn't want to outshine that. He knew that Harrison would be a better father than him, but Tom wanted to be a father to his son too. It was then that he realized he wasn't opposed to the idea of having babies. He was just scared of having them and not being a good father.

But now, he has a son on the way and his son was in his best friend's womb. The person he loved and cared about was carrying his son. He thought it was amazing and for once in his life, he was genuinely happy and excited.

As much as Tom wanted to stay in London and check up on you and the baby, he had to go to New York for business. He doesn't know how long he'll be gone, but he knew it'd be awhile. When he gets back, his son would probably be walking already.

You, Tom and Harrison were at the airport and you were bidding him goodbye. Tom hugged you tight, but not too much, because he didn't want to hurt you.

"I'll miss you!" You cried.

"I'll miss you too! In fact, I already miss you." Tom said, chuckling. He pulled away and wiped your tears away. "Don't cry or the baby will look ugly."

"That's not a thing. You're just saying that." You lightly chuckled.

"Yeah so that you wouldn't cry and it worked." Tom smiled. He turned to Harrison and pulled him in for a hug as well, "Take care of my best friend, yeah?"

Tom was kind of scared to leave you, but he trusted Harrison.

Harrison surprisingly hugged back and said, "I will. You can trust me, mate. I'll call you when I don't know what to do."

Tom chuckled and pulled away, "Feel free to call anytime, then."

Tom didn't have time to say anything else, because his flight was being called. You frowned and said goodbye to him one last time. He waved at both of you and left.

𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑...

It's been five years since Tom left and you haven't seen him since. During those five years, you managed to do a lot of things. You gave birth, you started officially dating Harrison, you moved in with him, nailing motherhood, talking to Tom from time to time, etc.

Tom was doing well. He was really happy with all the photos you sent him. He would smile at the photos, but the fact that he was the father of your son was still at the back of his mind. It's been five years and he still hasn't told you. He didn't know what to do, so he called Sam. Only Sam knew his secret, anyway.

"Hey Sam!" Tom greeted with a smile through the screen. Sam smiled at him and waved back. Tom squinted and asked, "Is that Harry?"

"Yeah! Harry's back!" Sam grinned.

"Hey Tom! I missed you!" Harry shouted in glee. Harry has been traveling the world for photography and he decided it was time to go back and slow down, because he was already twenty-nine years old.

"I missed you too, man!" Tom grinned.

"So, Tom... why'd you call?" Sam asked as he fixed his hair and moved a bit so Harry could fit in the frame.

"First of all, I'm coming back home tomorrow." Tom said.

"That's great!"

"We could finally hang out again!"

"Yeah and that's not all." Tom gulped.

"What's up?" Sam asked.

"Um, I still haven't told Y/N." Tom bit his lip.

Sam's eyes widened, already knowing what he was talking about, "WHAT?? IT'S BEEN FIVE YEARS, THOMAS."

"Tell Y/N what? What'd I miss?" Harry asked in confusion.

Sam sighed, "Tom's the father of Y/N's baby and Y/N doesn't know that because she knows that the father this whole time was Harrison. I'm sure she's confused after the baby came out, because guess what, Harry!"

"What?"

"Harrison's fucking blonde! And I've seen her son... he fucking looks like you, Tom." Sam said and Tom winced because it was true. He saw the pictures after all.

"Oh my fucking god, Tom. Tell her." Harry said in shock. "If I were Y/N, I'd be pissed you didn't tell me before."

"Yeah, that's what I said five years ago." Sam rolled his eyes.

"Calm down, will you? I'll tell her when I get back. I'll tell both of them." Tom said, mentally preparing himself and his speech.

You and Harrison invited Tom for dinner when he got back and Tom was nervous. He hasn't seen both of year for five years and he just randomly tells you that you and him have a child together.

You opened the door and squealed when you saw him. You hugged him and let him in yours and Harrison lovely home. It was just right for raising a family and Tom mentally cringed when he remembered his speech that he prepared.

"I missed you, Tom!"

"I missed you too, darling." Tom smiled softly as he took a good look at you. "Oh my god. Please don't murder me, but are you pregnant, by any chance? You're glowing."

You giggled and nodded, "Surprise! I'm two months pregnant now and I'm engaged too. Harrison and I decided we wanted the little guy to have a sibling."

Tom nodded, "That's great!"

"Thank you!" You grinned as you led him to the dining area.

All three of you sat on the dining table and all three of you were happily eating. Or maybe just you and Harrison. Tom was just poking his food around.

"I have something to say." Tom finally said.

"Oh, okay." Harrison said.

"What's up?" You asked. "You look like you have a major problem."

"It's about your son." Tom said.

"Caiden? What about Caiden?" Harrison asked.

Tom took a deep breath and took a sip of water before clearing his throat. He looked at both of you, "Please don't be mad, but I've been keeping a secret from you for years now."

"What?" You were confused. Harrison was confused too.

"I'm Caiden's father." Tom said.

"What?" Harrison asked as he looked at you. You looked at Harrison and shrugged, "Thomas, what are you talking about?"

"That night. Your pregnancy shit party. My drunk self did something stupid and-"

"What did you do?" You asked. Tom couldn't read the look on your face.

"I took the container where Harrison's sperm was and I took a peek, because I was- I was curious if he filled the whole container up and-"

"Dude, that's fucking sick." Harrison looked at him in horror.

"I know, I know and I'm sorry!" Tom panicked. "And then I guess I couldn't stand straight because the container fell in the sink and Harrison's thing fell in the drain."

Harrison's jaw dropped and so did yours. Tom bit his lip and sighed before continuing, "And so I cleaned the container and- and I replaced his sperm with mine, thinking it would help."

All three of you sat in silence after that. It was some news. It wasn't good news and it wasn't bad news. It was just... news.

Harrison cleared his throat and said, "I thought Caiden didn't look like me, because of weird genetics or something science related. Because it happens, you know? I heard that there's a really really small percentage that a baby would look different from its parents. Like, being ginger or something like that. So I thought it was that, but now that you said it, it makes sense."

You didn't say anything, because it was hard to process and it was hard to think that he probably kept it for so long.

"Caiden even got your hand washing trait. He has his own hand soap in the bathroom too." Harrison added and pursed his lips.

"Wait. Really?" Tom asked.

Harrison nodded. He looked tensed and you didn't blame him. Harrison wiped his mouth with the table napkin and gave you both a tight-lipped smile, "I'll just, uh, I need- I need some air."

You nodded and Tom closed his eyes and let his head hang low. Harrison stood up from his seat and quickly left to go to the backyard. You looked at Tom and frowned, "I wish you could've told me that same night, y'know? Before I did anything."

"I know and I'm sorry. I'm really really sorry." Tom opened his eyes and looked at you. "You were just so happy and then you had that speech and- I didn't want to ruin that."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner." Tom said sadly.

"You know, Harrison was upset because Caiden didn't have ANYTHING that resembled him. But he convinced himself that it was okay and it was this science shit that he mentioned. He probably feels like shit right now and I'll just clear my head, okay? I'll talk to you; we'll talk to you." You sighed as you stood up. Tom did the same. He didn't feel welcome. If he were being honest, it didn't feel right for him to sit there after he told you both.

"Thank you for telling us, Thomas. If you'll excuse me, my fiance needs me." You said softly and gave him a small smile before going to the backyard.

Tom looked down and escorted himself out of your house.

Harrison was obviously upset. The son he thought was his turned out to be someone else's. He felt really dumb, but he realized that Caiden didn't have to be related to him by blood for him to treat Caiden like his own son. He didn't see why that had to change. He loved Caiden with all his heart from the second he found out you were pregnant until now. Caiden was still the same Caiden he knew and loved. The only difference was, he wasn't the biological father after all. It was Tom.

Harrison knew you were kind of upset that Tom told you years later, but Harrison knew you didn't regret anything. Harrison didn't regret anything either. He loved taking care of you especially now that you're carrying HIS child this time. Both of you were very sure of that, because you two actually did it.

You still haven't spoken to Tom and Harrison kind of figured out that both of you were stubborn. So, he took it upon himself to reach out to Tom. He asked for Tom to meet up with him and Tom agreed. What Tom didn't know was that Harrison was bringing Caiden with him.

Harrison asked Tom to meet up with him at the park. He asked Tom if they could go for a morning run and Tom said yes. On the other hand, he told you that he was taking Caiden to the park for him to play with other kids. Of course, you agreed.

Tom wasn't there yet when Harrison arrived and he let Caiden join the other kids at the playground. Three minutes later, Tom arrived and asked, "Are we here so that you could punch me in the face or something? Because I think I deserve that."

Harrison smiled and shook his head, "No. My love for Caiden will never change whether I'm his biological father or not. And even if the world turns upside down, Caiden will still know me as his father."

Tom nodded, "I understand and I'm not trying to take him away from you if that's what you're thinking."

"That's good to know, because I don't know what I'd do without him." Harrison smiled and offered Tom to sit next to him. Tom sat down and waited for Harrison's next words.

"I just want to know what your plans are, because he's yours." Harrison said.

Tom shook his head, "Caiden's yours more than he's mine. I'm just a sperm donor if you think about it. But I do want to be part of his life. Maybe when he grows up, he'll understand. I want to help both of you in raising him and I want to thank you both for raising him well. He wouldn't be who he is without both of you and I appreciate that."

"I guess I just want him to acknowledge me as his dad too? Is that wrong? Because I can back off right now and pretend we didn't have this conversation." Tom added.

"No, it's not wrong. You have every right to say that, because you're his real dad." Harrison assured.

"But I can't take care of kids. Heck, I can't even take care of my own nephew before. I've always been the bachelor or the playboy or whatever everyone calls me and I've grown to like it? Like, I genuinely love it and wouldn't change anything else in the world. Caiden's just the cherry on top of it. I hope you don't mind, but uh, since he's kind of my son too..." Tom trailed off and Harrison nodded for him to continue.

"I fixed some papers and signed them. All I need are yours and Y/N's signatures... I want Caiden to inherit my company." Tom said. "No one else will have that but him and I'll teach him the ropes when he's of age and- it would be really nice to have an heir and Caiden's my only heir. I hope you understand."

"I do." Harrison said. "As much as I want Caiden to acknowledge you as his dad, I don't want him to forget about me and to start comparing." He chuckled.

"I won't do that to you or Y/N. I'll follow anything you guys say. So how will-"

"Daddy! Daddy! I found a snail near the slide!" a tiny voice called. Harrison glanced at Tom and grinned before looking at the child. Tom looked at where Harrison was looking at and his jaw dropped. Caiden was a spitting image of him and it warmed his heart.

"Caiden, buddy, I want you to meet uncle Tom." Harrison pulled the four year old to sit on his lap and ran his fingers through the child's hair.

Tom looked at him and smiled and he teared up a bit, "Hey buddy."

"Hi! I like your shirt." Caiden gave him a toothy grin. Tom looked down at his shirt before looking at Caiden, "You can have it when you're older."

Caiden's eyes widened and looked at Harrison who chuckled, "What'll you say, Caiden?"

"Thank you!" Caiden giggled. "I'll play again. Bye!" With that, Caiden got off from Harrison's lap and went back to play with his new friends.

Tom couldn't believe what just happened. Harrison said, "He knows we don't look alike, by the way. He doesn't seem to mind, though. But I know we should tell him as early as now that you're his real dad."

"I'm not opposed with that idea." Tom admitted. The two of them watched Caiden as they changed the topic and talked about life.

𝐀 𝐅𝐄𝐖 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑...

You and Harrison finally told Caiden the truth. Tom was present, of course. He wanted to see how Caiden will react. Caiden didn't see anything bad about it, though. He loved it even more.

"So, uncle Tom is my real daddy?" Caiden asked one more time and all three of you nodded. Caiden grinned and said, "I have two daddies?"

"Well... yeah." You said with a shrug.

"That's cool!" Caiden giggled. He looked at Tom and pointed at Harrison as he did so, "I call my daddy already. What will I call you?"

"Anything you want." Tom said, not really bothered if he still calls him 'uncle Tom' or not.

"I'll call you papa." Caiden smiled and hugged him. Tom looked at you and Harrison in surprise and both of you just urged him to return the gesture because he wasn't sure.

Tom hugged back and it felt nice. He felt great. He then made a mental note to himself to hug his nieces and nephews.

From then on, all three of you agreed that Tom would have Caiden during Friday until Sunday and on some occasions when you and Harrison were busy. All three of you also agreed that there would be days when all four of you would go out to really bond.

You didn't really wish to have a family like this, but you did and if you were being honest, you wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world.

* * * *

this is the longest fic I've written here so far omg but i hope y'all liked it

𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @abrielleholland @poguesholland @superheroesaremytea @marshxx @ella-whyte

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @marvelousell @justasmisunderstoodasloki @rubberducky-jrr @petersholland @osterfieldnholland @miraclesoflove

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shots #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh

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sandwichrin · 3 years

Text

A Little into You (Junkyu x Reader) (Ch. 9)

Chapter 9 - A step further.

Word count: 3k words

Genre: Fanfiction, PG13, Comedy, Romance.

A/N: Hi! Here’s Chapter 9! Thank you so much for waiting, and I really hope you all love this one 😀🧡

Now, it had been three weeks since you last met any of the Treasure members since you all had that lunch at the Japanese Restaurant. What’s that? Did you read that right?

Yes, it’s been three weeks.

And by now, the group chat that you and the 5 members have, had already expanded after Yedam added in the rest of the group in there.

This was your first time being in a group chat with these many people. Aside from your office’s group chat of course.

So one day whilst at work, you received a text from the Treasure group you were in.

Chatroom:

Junkyu: Yeorobun~ Jihoon is asking if you all want to get some IKEA meatballs after today’s schedule!

Hyunsuk: Oh? But we’re finishing quite late today. Are you sure they’re still open late at night?

Junkyu: Oh. Right. @Jihoon Hey! Why did you recommend IKEA?? You know they don’t open after 11pm!

Jihoon: 😂😂😂 I knew they don’t.

Junkyu: ???? Then? Why’d you tell me to ask the group about it??

Jeongwoo: 😂😂 Junkyu-hyung…

Jihoon: I just like messing with you. Besides, you chatted the group with y/n in it so…. 😏

Y/n: ….are you guys okay….

You smiled to yourself reading the chat again. It was silly, yet, amusing. You sort of missed talking to your new friends to be honest.

“Y/n, Mr Bae is looking for you,” your colleague, Soomin said, making you stop looking at your phone.

“Oh? Oh, right. I’ll go to him now,” You said as you got up from your seat.

Soomin nodded and went back to her desk not far from yours.

Jihoon was grabbing himself a cup of water from the practice room’s water dispenser when he heard his best friend yell from behind him.

“YAH! PARK JIHOON! What’d you do that for???” Junkyu huffed, as he entered the door of the room.

Jihoon chuckled and drank his water before setting the cup down and facing his best friend.

“What? I didn’t do much?”

“Yahhhh, that was so embarrassing!” Junkyu exclaimed, as he ruffles his hair.

“Hm? What? Hey, I only asked you to ask the rest about IKEA and you were the one who chatted the wrong group,” Jihoon stated matter-of-factly.

“We need to change the group’s name! Y/n must think I’m dumb now,” Junkyu said, pouting.

“Sure, sure, we can change it later. We can write it as Treasure x Y/n. How’s that? Sounds like a collaboration, right?” Jihoon snickered as he pulls out his phone from his pocket.

“Whatever, as long as I don’t have to embarrass myself anymore,”

“Hmm?” Jihoon hummed. “Since when do you care about what y/n thinks of you, huh?”

“I-I don’t! I just don’t want to appear dumb, that’s all,” Junkyu stuttered slightly.

Jihoon grinned at him, “Sure, Junkyu.”

“Hey!” Hyunsuk’s voice appeared as he entered the practice room.

Both Jihoon and Junkyu turned to see who it was.

“You guys are early today. Your vocal training ended early?” Hyunsuk asked as he headed towards where Jihoon was, grabbing himself a cup of water from the water dispenser as well.

Both Jihoon and Junkyu nodded at his question.

Hyunsuk gulped down his drink, disposed the cup and walked to the middle of the room. There, he sat down and gestured the rest to sit with him.

“What are you both doing standing there? Come, sit! You should get proper leg rest before we start dancing later on,”

Junkyu and Jihoon went towards him and sat with him.

“So…what do you guys want for dinner tonight? Minus the IKEA idea of course,” Hyunsuk said.

Jihoon giggled when he saw Junkyu tense up from the word IKEA.

“No, noo! I didn’t mean it that way Junkyu,” Hyunsuk said, laughing a little. “Really though, where do you all want to order from for dinner?”

“I’m fine with whatever you guys are having,” Jihoon said.

“You guys want to gather in one dorm and just eat altogether there?” Hyunsuk asked, now scrolling his phone, searching for a suitable food menu for dinner.

“Sure, sounds okay with me,” Junkyu said. He tugged on the string of his pink treasure hoodie, realising that the strings were uneven.

“Ahh,” Jihoon stretched his arms out before laying down on the floor. “Hmm. Hey, Junkyu, do you want to invite y/n as well?”

Junkyu choked on his own saliva hearing Jihoon mention your name again. “Wh-what??”

Jihoon and Hyunsuk started laughing out loud.

“Hey, Jihoon, stop teasing Junkyu like that. He’ll hit us both later if you keep doing that to him,”

“Yeah! Why are you always mentioning her name here, huh? If you want to invite her so bad, why don’t you do it, huh?” Junkyu huffed as well.

Jihoon got up and sat back up properly. “Hey, don’t say that. I just might really invite her, you know,” he smirked at his two friends there.

“But y/n doesn’t know where we live? And I don’t think the rest are ready to reveal where we live to her too. I mean, we’ve only known her for what, a month or two?” Hyunsuk wondered aloud.

Jihoon shook his head. “Who says it has to be at our dorms?”

“Oh? Then, where?” Junkyu asked, extreme confusion portrayed on his face.

Jihoon smiled, showing his eye smile at his friends. “I’ll take care of it. Just find us some good food for takeout tonight,”

“I don’t think that’s necessary Mr Bae,” you said, shaking your head from the idea he mentioned before you.

“Oh come on, y/n! You’ve been working here for over a year! It’s only reasonable you get promoted to do something else,” he said.

You kept quiet. Truthfully, you didn’t think you deserved any promotion at all. A raise in your salary? Maybe yes to that, but a new post?

Your eyes were kept lowered, as you stare at your thighs as you stay seated opposite Mr Bae’s desk.

Mr Bae is the president of the company, and yes, he is your teacher’s son. This was the man who gladly took you in to work with him when his mother was worried what would become of you when you missed your college entrance exam.

“Y/n,”

Your eyes lifted to look at him. “Yes”

“My mother would have wanted this for you too, you know.”

“I…I don’t know, Mr Bae,”

“What’s stopping you? Tell me,”

You shifted uncomfortably in the big chair you’re sitting in. You picked your fingers as you began thinking whether you should voice your concerns to your boss.

“Y/n?”

You inhaled deeply before letting out a deep sigh.

“Alright, fine. You caught me. I am worried. I feel like I don’t deserve this because first, I am the youngest person here, and to be promoted into an important team of the company just makes it seem fishy, don’t you think so? Besides, what’s everyone gonna say when they find out that I’m given that post when in reality all I have is a high school certificate??”

Your president grinned at this. This was the first time you have ever said anything this much to him. You had always been quiet around the people in this company, and seeing you rant out your concerns somewhat eases him.

Mr Bae leaned back into his tall, leather office chair. “Hmm. That’s it? That was all you’re worried about?”

You shook your head in disbelief. How could your president see this as a small matter? You were anxious about this, and yet he was so calm about it.

“Mr Bae, you don’t understand—”

“Please, call me Joonyoung. Or Joon for short. You’re my mother’s friend, and to be frank, our age isn’t that far apart, no?”

Your eyes narrowed at this, “Correction; I was your mother’s student. And, you’re literally 8 years older than I am so—”

Joonyoung laughed at this, clearly amused by you. “Alright, that’s fine, y/n. I’d understand why you’d benchmark yourself. You are indeed, way younger than I am,”

“Yes, indeed,” you huffed.

“But I still think you should accept the promotion,”

You scoffed. “Look, I told you, I am already concerned abou—”

“Soomin recommended you to be in her team too, you know,” he interrupted you before you could nag at him about your reasonings again.

That made you stop. You straightened your posture in your seat.

“S-soomin-eonnie? The one who seats not far in front of me in the office?”

“Yeah. She’s been asking for you to be on her comms team couple of times now, actually. I just didn’t want to push you before this because I knew you would refuse, with your ‘I am only a high school graduate’ excuse,” he said, adding quote marks when he mentioned your excuse.

“But…why?” You asked, confused.

Surely, Soomin is the only person you’ve interacted most in the office, and she’s quite young too, around 6 years older than you. But your interactions with her were mostly work-based. You were in charge of designing brochures, pamphlets, slides, creating reading materials and such for her and her team.

Whereas for Soomin, she was the leader in her unit, the Comms Team; they call it. What her team does was, they would go out on trips to other companies and provide a lecture or meeting for staffs and brief them on how they can incorporate and learn English language for their staff and companies. Sounds easy but it’s a handful once you’ve experienced the pressure of meeting people all around the city.

“So..?” Joonyoung’s voice broke you from your string of thoughts.

“Will you join Soomin? She’s been talking about how helpful you were to her and she felt bad that you were stuck doing all the computer work in the office.” Joonyoung got up from his seat and decided to peek outside his office’s window.

“She said that she felt like you had more potential than just being a person who sits at her desk and doing all mini jobs for everyone else in the office,”

“H-hey! That’s not true! I have students too,” you added, not wanting to make it seem like your job was that pitiful.

Joonyoung turned to look at you now. “Please, y/n, your students are the 3 staff that will soon be leaving to be relocated into Karako W’s office,”

You pouted. You almost forgot about the merge your boss had secured almost a month ago.

“So, let’s just say yes, shall we?” he smiled at you.

You let out a sigh.

“Great! I’ll take that as a yes!” he said happily. “I’ll let my mother know about this, she’ll be happy for you,”

“Sure…”

“Oh come on y/n, cheer up! You’re getting a promotion and a raise! Anyone would be happy to be in your shoes!”

You groaned. “Anyone but me,”

“Hey, at least now in your new post, you get to visit other big companies and collaborate with them,” he smiled, still convincing you.

You blinked a few times. You wondered if you ever got a chance to visit YGE’s company as well?

You got back to your desk to see your phone buzzing non-stop. You hurried to sit down and looked at it closely.

4 new messages from Jihoon TRSR

“Huh? Jihoon-ssi?” you muttered to yourself.

Just as you were about to open the messages, your phone started buzzing again in your hands, but this time it was a heavy buzz since it was a call.

Panicked, you answered it without looking at the screen.

“Hello?” You answered, slightly whispering since you didn’t want to disrupt the quiet atmosphere in your office.

“Y/n! Quick! I need help!” Jihoon’s voice, rang in your ears, all panicked.

“What? Why? What’s wrong Jihoon?” you felt your forehead creasing, now that you heard his panicked voice. Did something bad happen to them?

“Y/n, please. You gotta help us. The management…Jaehyuk…”

“What, what?? What’s going on??” Your tone in your voice rose, now that you were anxious to know what happened. But Jihoon wouldn’t complete his sentences!

“Please, I’ll tell you all about it later. But you gotta help me, help us, please?” he pleaded through the phone.

You took a deep breath and exhaled. Your eyes dart around the office to see if anyone was watching you. None. Coast clear.

“Alright, Jihoon. What can I do for you?”

“Bingo!” Jihoon said happily, once he got off the phonecall with you.

The rest of the group looked at him and wondered what he was so happy about.

Jihoon walked to his spot in the choreography formation and did some light stretches since he took a short break to call you just now.

“Hey, Hoon, what are you so happy about, huh?” Hyunsuk said, as he noticed his friend’s beaming reflection from the room’s mirror.

“Nah, I’m just happy about tonight, that’s all,” Jihoon answered, his bright smile still plastered on his face.

“Ookay…”

“Speaking of which, have you decided what to buy for tonight’s dinner?” Jihoon asked Hyunsuk back.

“Oh, I asked the rest and they said they wanted pizza. That good for tonight?”

“Sounds great! And I’ve got the perfect place for us to eat too, tonight!”

Doyoung clapped his hands at this, “Wahhh hyung, both you and Hyunsuk are really treating us really well tonight, huh? What’s the special occasion?” he asked.

“Oh nothing, it’s just for all your hard work today,” Jihoon answered happily.

“Yayyyy! We’re having pizza tonight!” Junghwan cheered happily.

“Oh yeah, where are we going to have dinner tonight? Hyunsuk-hyung’s dorm?” Jaehyuk asked.

Jihoon winked at his dongsaengs. “It’s a surprise.”

(Y/n’s Apartment – Nighttime)

“Eonnie! Eonnie!” you called out.

Your sister’s breathing was ragged and heavy. Like she was suffocating badly.

You got up from your chair beside her bed and ran outside the room, hoping to bump into a doctor who wasn’t busy at the time.

You found one not far from the nurse’s counter, and you grabbed him by the arm.

“Doctor! Please, please, my sister—” you shook your head and gestured him to follow you.

When both you and the doctor arrived in your sister’s room, she was already shaking in her bed, her breathing more ragged now.

The doctor rushed in and checked your sister’s vitals and eyes.

“She’s having a seizure! Nurses, hurry!” he called out loudly.

Soon, you saw two to three nurses rush in to help the doctor.

You stood by the doorframe, holding on to it, as if you were going to fall if you ever let go.

You watched as they tried to tend to your sister and your tears wouldn’t stop flowing down your cheeks. You were sobbing on your own now, watching needles being poked into your sister’s delicate skin again.

You shook your head over and over again, sobbing.

Please don’t leave me, eonnie. Please.

You woke up from your sleep, panting.

You sat up in your bed slowly, trying to regain yourself.

It was a dream. It was only a dream.

You sniffled to yourself. You realised your cheeks were wet and you proceeded to wipe them on the sleeves of your shirt.

“Ah shucks. I can’t believe I cried in my sleep,” you mumbled to yourself.

Eeeeeekkk.

Your eyes widened. What was that? Did you hear wrongly? Or was it really a chair moving?

You gulped. You grabbed your phone on your nightstand and checked the time.

11.37 pm.

You frowned to yourself. Just how early did you fall asleep?

You kept quiet a little longer, just to see if there were any more noises.

A good whole minute passed by. No noise.

“Huh, I must be imagining things,” you assured yourself.

You were about to pull your covers over yourself again when you heard it again.

EEEEeeeeeekkkkk. Eeek.

That sounded like two chairs. Or specifically, the sound of the chair in your kitchen makes because you fairly remember how it sounds like ever since you removed the carpet underneath the chairs to be washed the other day.

Your heart raced. You slowly got up from your bed, slipped on your room slippers and slowly made your way towards the door.

You didn’t open your bedroom door or anything, since you didn’t have the courage to do so. But you pressed your ear against it, just in case you could hear anything.

“What are we doing here, hyung? Aren’t we trespassing?”

“Nah, we’re not. Believe me, this is legal,”

“But she’s not here. She’s probably asleep already,”

“Yeah, hyung, we should leave. This isn’t right,”

“Oh come on you all, she could be curled up in bed reading a book. Who the heck sleeps this early??”

You could your own breathing growing louder. Are there trespassers in your house??

Who should you call? Should you call the police?

Your head turned to look at your phone that you left on your nightstand. You decided to go over there to take it when suddenly you heard the doorknob getting turned.

This is crazy! You were in your pajamas and you didn’t have any weapon on you! Heck, you didn’t have your phone with you right now too!

You decided to just brace yourself and just throw in a hasty punch at whoever this trespasser is. The nerve! How dare they come into your home this time of the night?!

Just then, the door creaked open and you hurriedly pounced on the trespasser, making you both fall to the floor. Your eyes were shut as you swing your arms to punch the person but then you felt a hand grabbing your arm, making you freeze in your spot.

“Whoa! Easy there, cutie. What are you all feisty about?” a familiar voice spoke out.

Huh? That voice.

You opened your eyes to see….Jihoon laying on the floor beneath you, whereas his waist was trapped in between your thighs.

His hand was still holding on to your arm that was raised up earlier.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Jihoon?? What are you doing here??”

“Aaahhh! I think I just saw something I shouldn’t be seeing!” You heard another voice screaming not far from you.

You lift your head to see who it was, and there it was….the rest of the familiar faces you know…all looking at both you and Jihoon with shocked looks.

To be continued...

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