🦋

[luneariaa]

⋆..𐙚 ̊ ݁ ˖ can call me either CASS or ARIA !! ᛝ she/her/they ᛝ 18↑ years ᛝ INFP ᛝ part-time writer ᛝ multifandom // NOT SPOILER FREE 𖹭 .ᐟ

— ⋆☕︎ ˖ MHA × JJK × MCR ; USAMI, KIRARA, SHOKO, HIGURUMA, JAMES BOND, NOCTIS ENTHUSIAST 🪄.

MASTERLIST .

LATEST — comfort in the rain ; kento n , you're not staying behind ; kento n , you stare too much ; hiromi h .

✧ last updated : 19/09/25.

@luneariaa — all works are purely written by ME. reposting any of my fanfic works are STRICTLY PROHIBITED. reblogs are welcomed.

🍁 — no MINORS are allowed here. read everything at your own risk.

[ohstar]

paper animation made for helena - my chemical romance 🌟 with sound

[veiledbulletz]

『 ⌗ 02 — JAMES BOND , 007 FIRST LIGHT 』

𑣲 sunday, 02:00am. [begone period cramps 💔]

ᚑ      ᚑ the universe must've planned their own version of grudge against you.

because you needed a proper explanation as to why you're finally having your monthly period once you're awakened from your slumber, and the sun outside already decides to be so unforgiving and merciless through the gaps of the curtains.

the mere thought of going out to simply enjoy a stroll or anything akin to it already makes you feel both displeased and irritated at the same time.

you couldn't imagine the heat as one chooses to go out there and trying to enjoy their life underneath the sun.

like, no. you can't. even your mood seemed to be quite unstable and strange every so often within a span of minutes.

james spawned out of nowhere near the doorway sometime; you didn't even notice nor bothered as much, already sauntering towards your direction with his usual jacket already being taken off, leaving him in a plain white t-shirt— his signature smirk already on full display upon the mere sight of you.

though it falls short once he notices your current expression and the way you seemed to be clutching your stomach every so often, which made him actually realize what is going on.

slowly, he approaches you by sitting on the edge of your shared bed, a little more concerned than per usual as he gently places his hand over your arm, leaning forward just so he could look at you more.

"darling, are you alright?"

his simple question was instantly met with a shake of your head, proving his point further.

it didn't take long before he momentarily moves away from you— ensuring everything has been adjusted. the air conditioner, the curtains, and even goes out of his way to make you an oversized glass of your favorite drink, before returning back to where you were.

you didn't waste any more time to grab onto his hand afterwards, much to his surprise at the suddeness of it all; squeezing it with your own with any energy you have left, pouting with a look that clearly tells 'please don't leave me again', ignoring the drink for a moment there because you genuinely just needed his presence close to you.

with a rather fond sigh, james places the glass atop of the nightstand, positioned himself just as you needed him to be— so cozily near to you.

one of his hands secures its hold on you, yet not to the point of suffocation, while the other lifted your shirt slightly just so he could rub your stomach with the palm of his hand, attempting to ease the pain you're experiencing.

a low hum escaped from you, beginning to shut your eyes as you nuzzled your head into his chest comfortably. all of a sudden, nothing truly bothered you anymore like before.

an amused, yet adoring grin is plastered upon his charming features, continuing the tender motion while his gaze never once leave you, wanting nothing more but to at least, alleviate some of the cramps or whatever you needed him to do.

— ⌗ veiledbulletz, june '26. dividers ; feimingo

[veiledbulletz]

『 ⌗ 01 — JAMES BOND , 007 FIRST LIGHT 』

𑣲 saturday, 04:00am. [not proof-read i'm sleepy ash]

ᚑ      ᚑ you haven't slept properly for these past few days. you're pretty much aware that you missed most of the moonlit nights by forcing yourself to stay awake, instead of getting your deserved rest.

james noticed. of course he would. he always does whenever it comes to you. it's always, always so obvious enough even though you made some attempts to make up any sort of excuse, which obviously doesn't work on him.

he did consider of scolding you for it, telling you that you shouldn't sacrifice your very much needed slumber even for a job. or worse, whenever he is away on a mission and clearly missing from home, you would've do it again and again while being unbothered.

simply because he isn't there at home with you. no one else to reprimand your stubborn self.

but today is different. he got a week off, at least— that's what he's informed with, and he's determined to make you fix your horrible sleeping schedule which is a clearly obvious behaviour by now.

"sweetheart, come to bed."

"james, i can't, i—" you tried to refuse while your eyes are already in a swollen-ish state, shaking your head slightly but it didn't last when he ultimately, and swiftly lifts you into a bridal style to bed, earning a surprised squeal from you.

"i won't accept any refusal from you, love. you've been sitting there for hours."

"the bed is starting to get cold without you."

every words that you wanted to speak out as a reply dies down in your throat, beginning to feel guilty as james settles you properly next to him, pulling you closer to the natural warmth he seemed to provide as always.

he never once lets go of his hold around you, planting a kiss atop of your forehead and gently run his thumb along your features— whichever he could reach.

and when he stopped just near where your eyes are, he tenderly attempts to soothe the swollen spot around it; where at this point your eyes has shut on its own from his touch alone.

dear god, you're genuinely, utterly exhausted. he has every right to be mad and scold you for whenever he wants to, and he truly did.

but not for long, no. he couldn't stay annoyed at you no matter how much he wants to at times.

he fears he loves you a little too much. he couldn't even contain the small chuckle from escaping past his lips upon witnessing the sight of you, already falling into your needed slumber just within a few seconds.

with a final peck upon your cheeks, your forehead, and even your nose, he murmurs a simple 'rest well, darling' closely for your hearing only.

even when you failed to realize it as much due to your current state.

— ⌗ veiledbulletz, june '26. dividers ; feimingo

[stellarixe]

⬩➤ CONSTANT PRESENCE, UNKNOWINGLY 「 JAMES BOND 」

✦ james bond, who ends up to seemingly taking an interest in you, a normal office worker.

In a world where a number of MI6 agents had to take the frontline and deal with various, risky field duties, you chose to sit within the perfectly air-conditioned office that you've been assigned due to your chosen career. You're highly aware that you're not as flashy nor outstanding with your current skills if it ever got brought out to the field, genuinely believed that it's only deemed useful within the office only.

Most would've prefer to merely spare a brief glance towards your way, no longer than that unless necessary so.

It somehow makes the job easier to you. Less disruptions, giving you much more time to complete with whatever given tasks of the day. You wouldn't call yourself a loner either— it's just the nature of the job.

"Excuse me?"

The smooth, crisp voice belonged precisely to a male, along with a small tap upon the edge of your desk is enough to snap you out of your work-focused state.

"I'm sorry— yes?"

James sent you his signature smirk as if it's his second nature, albeit slightly smaller than per usual; instinctively leaning down just by a few inches toward your side so that his words reach for your hearing alone.

"Q told me to fetch you and the files to his lab."

"Oh-!" Upon hearing his spoken statement, your eyes widened a little as you arranged some of the needed files into one holdable place.

All while attempting your very best to calm your rapidly beating heart due to the close proximity he has shared with you right at this point. How unfair he is being, torturing you so easily like this. You would never understand as to why or how he has this type of power toward you.

How pathetically embarrassing.

But it's James Bond we're talking about. Any sensible lady would've fallen head over heels for him and his natural charm, it is nothing new.

Then why, one should explain to your unknowing self that his very own gaze never once leave your features— eventually deciding to stand back up all properly again not too long after, and it kept going from that day and onward.

He never really left you alone. No matter what he's doing or if he just returned from a sparring session or even a mission, he'd always show up, orbiting around your very own presence.

It got somewhat worse some weeks later, where you almost assumed that it might be some sort of a curse that the gods have placed upon your helpless state. One time where the stack of files you've been holding threatens to fall and spill all over the floor, thanks to James' quick reflexes, he manages to hold off the entirety of files from spilling over by holding the front of it.

And you. Oh God above… the state of your cheeks just from the mere contact is not helping at all either.

"Are you alright?"

He didn't have his usual charming grin nor a smirk, no. But rather, a serious, concerned look is etched upon his eyes, evidently so. You turned your head upwards to him, and managed a small nod with a relieved exhale.

"I'm alright… Thank you, James."

He would be lying if he says that it didn't make his heart feel a bit strange than usual— doing little skips of… happiness? Eased by the sole fact that you're doing great as always?

Whatever it is he's experiencing, it is definitely new, and it is not the same sensation that any other could ever possibly provide him with. He wanted— no, needed more of it. It feels as if he's in constant need of dopamine, and you are to blame for a part of it.

He wouldn't even want to complain about it, nonetheless.

With a slight clearance of his throat, he begins to help guiding you to the intended place where you truly need to be. "Don't mention it."

"Besides, you seemed to be carrying all of this quite often."

"One of these days, these files are gonna fly out of your hands if I'm not here." With you is what he's meant to say, but purposefully leaves it out.

"You don't have to—"

"I insist. Don't worry about it." His usual charming smirk returns soon after as he interrupts you in the middle of your words smoothly; one of his hands still somehow find its' way to brush against your hand with every chance he gets.

You didn't know why he keeps doing so. But you assumed that it's one of his gentlemanly ways to express it all so naturally like he always does.

But that's not the true reason in all actuality.

You wish there was an explanation as to why on Earth would he ever allow his hands to linger over yours for a minute too long; unflinching set of eyes seemed to zero in on you alone despite the room being full of people who you dared to state as much more interesting and easily, an eye-catcher.

Or why you would oftentimes catch him standing just near the doorframe of the office or simply 'passing by', when the real reason is so that he could, at least, catch a glimpse of you throughout the day. Even when he just returned from an assigned mission, he'd look for you whenever he's free as soon as he could.

It drives you insane because there's no way it's unintentional, right...?

But James Bond isn't making it all easier for you, your poor heart. You'd have to find it out someday for the sake of your restless thoughts.

© STELLARIXE | any translations, reposts and usage of my fics are strictly prohibited. reblogs are appreciated ♟️ .

[stellarixe]

⬩➤ UNINTENTIONALLY CAUGHT 「 JAMES BOND 」

✦ with you having witnessed something that can be considered as an 'unauthorized exchange' by accident, james bond eventually arrives at your given location and finds you somewhere safer nearby.

You weren't supposed to be in the office, especially around such a late hour. Most others have gone home, leaving your sole figure with several remaining paperworks and your very own computer to accompany you within the silence of the atmosphere.

You were not supposed to be witnessing something that can be considered as forbidden to the public eye.

When you headed towards the intended, unoccupied area to place the files that you've done working on, you accidentally saw one of the higher-ups from the company you're working at, whom you initially assumed has returned home instead of staying there so late— handing a confidential intel to a complete stranger.

At least, that's what you assumed since the other guy seemed to be wearing a rather strange outfit.

Which clearly shouldn't have happened at all, especially in the dead of night like this.

Gradually backing away from the said area, one of your legs accidentally stumbled upon a vase that's been placed down below for god-knows-how-long, and of course— it's enough to cause an unwanted sound, albeit something not too loud yet distracting enough, pausing mid conversation as two of the men tried to search for the source of sound.

Damn it!

You cussed under your breath as you immediately choose to run into the direction as to where your office supposed to be at. They hadn't see you yet, thankfully, at least you'd really hope that's the case.

Closing the door behind you as quiet and quick as you could; abruptly shutting the computer system, you then hid yourself underneath the desk afterwards, ensuring internally that you won't get caught in any way.

The mere thought genuinely terrifies you, undoubtedly already working on stabilizing and calm your rapid heartbeat. You believe you'll be fine if you hide down there as long as you need to.

Reaching for your phone from your pocket, you immediately chose to text James hurriedly in pure fear. Footsteps can be heard hitting against the marbled grounds throughout the hallways, where you started to assume that it's likely coming from one of the guys— or even worse, both people from earlier, trying to assure themselves that the two are truly alone.

Checking each and available spaces so that their plans does not leak anywhere, for the sake of their unlawful reputation.

When the noises start to get closer outside, just close enough to your current hiding place; only separated by the walls and the door, you push yourself further underneath the desk, putting your phone onto the ground and cover your mouth using one of your hands.

Please please don't get any closer…

Some few moments have passed for a bit later on, your eyes go wide ever so slightly once you heard the sound of glass shattering somewhere from a certain direction out there— sounds of someone getting their asses beaten is evident for your ears alone, leading you to instinctively cover your ears out of genuine trepidation.

Your body shakes slightly without even realizing it at first; nearly shrieked when someone crouches down to meet you face-to-face, shutting your eyes by instant.

"Hey, it's me." The familiar voice attempts to soothe you in a reassuring manner, gently placing his warm hands over your own, lowering them slowly.

"It's alright," he added further. "I tracked your location once I received your message as soon as I could."

Your eyes deliberately opened, ultimately landed upon his figure with a much more relieved expression crossing over your features. It didn't even take long before you allowed yourself to fall into his arms with such unafraid ease— holding you so protectively and securely against him without any ounce of hesitation present.

One of his hands reaches to caress the back of your head tenderly as you remained momentarily wordless, still processing whatever just happened previously while he gradually stands and brings you along with him to get out from the building safely, albeit still attentively so.

"You're safe with me." You merely nodded upon hearing his spoken words, simply following wherever he's leading you to.

Because you trust him, and James wouldn't hesitate to ensure your safety even if it meant it involves him in a way.

© STELLARIXE | any translations, reposts and usage of my fics are strictly prohibited. reblogs are appreciated ♟️ .

[horroribledeath]

Imagine you die and this is what you see

[prokrastinartiya]

[multi-fandom-imagine]

𝐌𝐲 𝐀𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥 || 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝 ||

A/n: How James met his wife~

James Bond first noticed you because you nearly made him miss a surveillance target.

He had been sitting at a café in Venice, watching a suspected arms broker across a crowded square while pretending to enjoy an espresso that had long since gone cold. The mission was straightforward, which usually meant something would go wrong eventually. What he hadn’t anticipated was an American tourist barreling into him while carrying a camera, three shopping bags, and enough enthusiasm to power an entire city.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry!”

Coffee splashed across the front of his suit, you stared at the damage in horror asJames stared at you.

Then, to his complete confusion, you pulled a crumpled twenty-euro note from your pocket and offered it to him.

“For emotional damages.”

It was one of the strangest apologies he’d ever received.

It would not be the last.

Over the next several days, you appeared with alarming frequency. James saw you taking photographs of pigeons. He saw you following a street cat through three separate neighborhoods because, according to you, the cat looked “like a distinguished gentleman.” He saw you somehow get invited into the home of an elderly Italian woman despite speaking almost no Italian whatsoever. By the end of that afternoon, the woman was feeding you homemade pasta and introducing you to her grandchildren while you smiled as though you’d known them for years.

The truly terrifying part was that none of it seemed unusual to you.

James initially suspected you were CIA.

Then he overheard you spending twenty minutes debating whether a souvenir would fit in your suitcase.

The CIA theory died immediately.

You were simply a tourist.An unbelievably friendly, hopelessly distracting tourist.

Unfortunately, you also had the worst timing imaginable.

One afternoon James was pursuing the very criminal he’d been sent to track. The man spotted him and broke into a run through the crowded Venetian streets. James followed immediately, weaving through tourists and market stalls as the gap between them slowly narrowed. Another minute and the chase would have been over.

Then the suspect collided directly with you.

Your gelato flew one direction.

The suspect stumbled another.

You windmilled your arms in surprise and accidentally shoved him.

It wasn’t a hard shove.

It wasn’t even intentional.

Unfortunately, the suspect happened to be standing beside a canal.

The man toppled backward, disappeared over the edge, and struck his head on a support beam during the fall.

The resulting silence was deafening.

You slowly stepped toward the water and peered over the edge. “He’s fine, right?”

James looked into the canal, turned to look at you then back into the canal. “No.”

"Oh poo."

The next few hours involved police officers, witness statements, and several apologies from you directed toward practically everyone in sight. When MI6 learned what had happened, M’s response was surprisingly simple.

“Please make sure the American doesn’t get arrested.”

James had spent years serving his country.

Never once had he imagined his duties would include supervising an accidental tourist homicide.

Yet that was exactly what happened.

The longer he spent around you, the more bewildering you became. You befriended bakers, fishermen, shop owners, and entire families. You joined a cooking class after accidentally wandering into the wrong building and somehow ended the afternoon with three new recipes and an invitation to a wedding. You could not walk past a dog without stopping. You photographed cats like they were celebrities. You treated every stranger like a potential friend. The photo's on your camera proved it, everyone loved you.

And somehow, despite himself, James began looking forward to seeing you.

It happened gradually.

He started wondering what ridiculous thing you’d do next.

He found himself listening when you talked.

He laughed more.

Smiled more.

Worried more.

The realization was deeply irritating.

Then one morning he watched you board a train and leave. The station felt strangely quiet afterward.

James informed himself that this was a good thing, he realized that his life could finally return to normal.

Then several days later he found himself staring at a particularly fat pigeon and wondering if you would have taken its photograph.

That was when he realized he might have a problem. The problem became considerably worse when you suddenly reappeared in London.

James had been enjoying a peaceful afternoon at a café when your voice rang out behind him.

“HI!”

He lowered his newspaper and nearly choked on his tea

You stood there smiling as though crossing paths in another country entirely was the most normal thing in the world.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

You looked confused. “In London?”

“Yes.”

“Oh!! I’m backpacking across Europe.” You said it like that explained everything.

“It does not explain everything.”

“It kind of does.”

Then you informed him that driving eight hours in Texas was normal and James spent the next ten minutes questioning whether Americans understood geography.

From that point onward, you seemed determined to insert yourself back into his life.

One afternoon you spotted the fattest bulldog James had ever seen.

You gasped so dramatically that half the street turned to look. “BYE!”

Before he could react, you abandoned him , chair scrapping entirely and sprinted toward the dog as you waved the man down. “WAIT! LET ME TAKE A PICTURE OF YOUR DOG!”

James spent the next twenty minutes standing beside a stranger while you conducted what could only be described as a professional photoshoot. The bulldog’s owner proudly displayed hundreds of photographs. You examined every single one.

James should have been annoyed.Instead, he found himself smiling.

The truly dangerous moment came months later.

The two of you were sitting beside the Thames when you casually mentioned that your trip was ending.

“I should probably head home soon.”

James frowned. “Home?”

You nodded. “I can’t travel forever. I don’t have unlimited money.”

The idea hit him much harder than expected.

You were leaving.

Not moving to another city.

Not boarding another train.

Leaving.

Returning to America.

Returning to your State.

Returning to a life where he wasn’t included.

You stood and smiled warmly, gaze softened as you held your hand out.“It was very nice meeting you, Mr. Bond.”

James felt panic unlike anything a gunfight had ever inspired. “You’re welcome to stay with me.”

The words left his mouth before he could stop them.

You stared.

He stared back.

For a long moment neither of you spoke.

Then your smile softened. “You don’t want me to leave.”

James hated how easily you’d figured it out, that was the worst part because you were right.

A year passed.

Somehow, somewhere between transatlantic flights and late-night phone calls, the two of you became inseparable.

Then came the day he finally flew home with you.

Your family lived in Texas, which James had already learned was approximately the size of several European countries combined. The moment your parents’ house came into view, your excitement became impossible to contain.

James had met world leaders.

Terrorists.

Royalty.

Assassins.

But for the first time in years, he felt nervous. You, meanwhile, looked delighted.

The front door burst open before you even reached it.

You threw your arms wide and announced at maximum volume, “COME MEET MY HANDSOME BRITISH BOYFRIEND!”

The house exploded into chaos.

Family members appeared from every direction. Dogs barked. Someone shouted. Someone else started crying. Your mother immediately declared James handsome while your father stared at him like he was attempting to solve a complicated puzzle.

James stood there surrounded by loud voices, warm smiles, and enough affection to make him slightly dizzy.

Then he looked at you.

You were laughing.

Happy.

Home.

And looking at him like you’d never doubted he’d be standing beside you.

Years earlier, he’d thought you were simply a tourist he’d never see again.

A strange American who chased pigeons and accidentally killed an arms dealer.

Instead, you’d become the person he called first.

The person he missed most.

The person he loved.

As you slipped your hand into his and pulled him deeper into the house to meet yet another relative, James realized something that would have horrified the younger version of himself.

He couldn’t imagine his life without you anymore.

And for the first time in a very long time, that thought didn’t frighten him at all. It felt like coming home.

[wearthegrudge-deactivated202601]

I love the way brothers (ignore twinkatron 5000 in the middle)

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Goodboy || James Bond ||

A/n: James is so adorable in this game.

The room still smelled faintly of expensive cologne, gunpowder lingering from earlier in the evening, and your perfume that soaked into the sheets. Rain tapped softly against the windows of the London flat while the city glowed gold beyond the curtains.

You were asleep beside him, tangled in silk sheets, your face half-buried into your pillow. One bare leg was thrown over James’s thigh, warm and soft, your breathing slow and deep. Completely unaware.

Which was unfortunate for him.

Because James Bond had just woken up to death staring him directly in the face.

Very large death.

Very furry death.

Atlas stood on the bed like some ancient guardian beast from mythology, towering over James with heavy paws planted beside his ribs, one paw digging into his side. The massive dog’s head hovered inches from Bond’s face, hot breath washing over his skin while thick drool dangled from his jaw.

James didn’t move, the dog didn’t move either. The only sound was the slow, low rumble vibrating in Atlas’s chest.

Bond had been shot at in Istanbul. Tortured in North Korea. Nearly blown apart in Venice.

None of those moments had prepared him for waking up naked with a military-trained attack dog contemplating murder above him.

Slowly, very slowly, James turned his head toward the nightstand where his watch rested.

Atlas’s eyes followed instantly, as if knowing what the man was trying to do.The dog lifted one enormous paw and smacked the watch clean off the table and it hit the floor with a loud clatter.

James blinked once.

Then Atlas placed that same paw directly over Bond’s wrist.

Possessive.

Warning, its claws digging into his wrist as the dog then lowered his giant head until his nose brushed the side of James’s neck, breathing heavily against his skin. James could practically hear the animal thinking.

Hurt my master and I’ll bury you in the garden.

For the first time in years, James Bond genuinely considered the possibility that this was how he died.

Not in an explosion.

Not in a firefight.

Not while saving the world.

No.

It's gonna wind up ending him being killed naked in bed by a jealous dog named Atlas.

His eyes flicked toward you desperately and of course you remained completely unconscious.

“Darling,” James said carefully, not moving anything except his mouth, “your dog appears to be assessing whether I’m edible.”

Atlas growled.

“Right. Fair enough.”

The dog’s nose grazed his throat again.

James froze so completely he could have passed for a corpse already.

Then your sleepy voice drifted through the room, a hum leaving your lips. “Hmmm...Atlas…”

Immediately the dog’s ears perked.

You didn’t even open your eyes. “Come here, baby…”

And just like that, the monstrous beast hopped off the bed with a happy huff.

The jingling of his collar echoed through the room as he trotted around the side of the bed, tail wagging.

James remained perfectly still for a full five seconds. Then he slowly sat up, staring at the dog in disbelief while Atlas shoved his massive head under your hand affectionately.

You cracked one eye open sleepily. Your hair was a mess, lips swollen from the night before, silk sheets barely covering your curvaceous body as you blinked at him innocently.

“What’s wrong?”

James stared at you in disbelief. “Your dog threatened my life.”

Atlas sneezed.

You frowned softly, still half asleep. “No he didn’t...he's a sweet heart.”

The dog immediately placed his chin on your stomach and stared directly at Bond.

James narrowed his eyes. “He absolutely did...he's absolutely isn't.”

Atlas gave one low warning grumble.

Bond pointed at him. “See? There it is again.”

You just laughed tiredly and pulled Atlas closer. “He’s protective.”

“Protective?” James repeated. “That animal looked at me like I was an intruder in his marriage.”

Atlas’s tail thumped proudly against the mattress.

James sighed deeply, rubbing a hand down his face. “Wonderful. I’m in a relationship with both of you now.” His back hit the matress.

[stellarixe]

𑣲⋆ LEGACY RIVALRY ⋆ 𖦏 ₊ ⊹

✦ agent! hiromi higuruma x fem! rival! reader.

✦ carrying your father's legacy after his unfortunate passing, you have been raised as one of MI6's best reliable asset and their ultimate go-to weapon despite your age. divided opinions arise— some with reverence, some conflicted, some even being highly respectful of your very own presence. and it changes once you feel quite threatened when a 'newcomer' gains his own title way quicker than you expected.

✦ james bond au-ish and reference implications ⋮ rivals to potential lovers ⋮ reader is quite egoistical + ass-ish at first ⋮ one bed trope usage ⋮ violence-ish at some parts [for the sake of the plot] ⋮ gun usage ⋮ reader being called a dog once [for the sake of the plot i promise] ⋮ cusses/swear words usage ⋮ plot going nowhere i fear, i hope it still makes sense ⋮ hiromi is a quite caring gentleman and can be ooc ⋮ venice and prague mentioned [did a quick research on it so it might not be accurate] ⋮ less-ish romance, more onto plot-focusing stuff ⋮ mentions of death ⋮ the fic kinda go sucky halfway thru i'm so sorry guys ⋮ grammatical errors may occur ⋮ 6k+ wc .

✦ collab event with the lovely @getorade ☆ ! thanks so so much for having me and i apologize for my late entry aaa ;; i hope you guys enjoy ★ (˶' ꒳ '˶) 💗💗💗💭 !!

PRECISELY AROUND eight pm sharp. the ominous roads in the city of prague are being persistently accompanied with the dimly lit streetlights left and right— casting a much more uninvited atmospheric tension within the still air.

a man, presumably around his late thirties cautiously checked his surroundings every so often, as if possessing a deep-seated fear being instilled from within for no particular reason. he swiftly lifts his finger to push onto one of the elevator buttons to head towards the premeditated floor, away from the outside starlit skies.

the said man, norman jayden is what he's called, occasionally allows his eyes to dart heavenwards onto the displayed floor number, clearly unable to stand properly still while such thoughts are still swirling inside the depths of his mind non-stop. how could he not— anything is possible to happen anytime soon without him expecting.

it took awhile for him to eventually arrive at his simple-designed office, locking the door securely afterwards and taking off his coat to hang it on one of the vacant chairs nearby.

that's when he pauses mid-action, sensing something that's definitely off-putting within the existing ponderous air— as if it's silently mocking each of his planned-out movements and even his wandering thoughts, haunting him due to his own past doings, questionable and downright atrocious.

"your office seriously needs more upgrade."

a voice unceremoniously cuts through the density of the present atmosphere, the corner of their lips tugging upwards albeit in a taunting fashion, settling not too far behind the said man. at his very own personal desk, the figure's silhouette is mostly being obscured by the gloominess of the area.

ah, so that's why jayden feels off— turning around with an almost indecipherable look, assessing the whole scene unfolding before him with the lack of words.

"hm. just to let you know—" a small sigh and the creak of the chair as you ultimately revealed a bit part of your face under the moonlit gleam, just so he can see your very own eyes looking directly at him. "— she doesn't seem so pleased to know that you've leaked and sell those classified data to our main target."

he scoffs, eyes momentarily leaving your form as he offhandedly grabs onto his gun that's previously being tucked on him someplace, cleaning it while gradually taking a seat somewhere nearby and facing your direction.

"i think you got the wrong man, pretty girl."

his tone has a clear indication that appears to be awfully dismissal over your own spoken statement, leaning his back against the seat further as his eyes, once again, returning to lock onto yours.

"being here this late. tsk tsk, how bold and romantic for someone like you."

you remained still for a moment there, moving your legs up onto the desk with little to no care.

"how about you return to your own, personal playground, and mingle yourself with the 'good' ones, yes?"

"like a good, loyal dog you are."

you gradually lowered your legs from the desk, leaning slightly forward with an accompanied grin forming upon your freshly glossed lips. "i fear i cannot do that yet."

norman appears to be having his very own silent contemplation running through his mind at this moment, and a part of you, obviously refusing to have it openly expressed upon your features, hated on how almost unreadable he seemed to be.

"how did he die?"

"aw, who?"

"your associate, i assume?"

"you know bloody well." he replies sharply and quicker than intended. how laughable.

"one could say that it's not much of a struggle. weak."

his jaw clenches in an infuriating manner, having the sudden urge to grab onto his gun back again and to simply aim it straight toward you.

"shoot me, and i'll leak your location right away."

"i dare you."

silence ensues momentarily as some sort of a follow-up atmosphere response, allowing it to soak into the current situation on hand before deciding as to what should one do next.

although it didn't last long, especially when you caught sight of him reaching for his own gun and attempting to speak out with whatever thoughts consumed him at this point— replacing it all with a singular, clean shot directly aimed toward his heart.

from your own hands. from your own gun instead of his own, causing him to slump into the chair further from the sheer impact, eyes half-opened along with its unexpressed words that didn't even manage to reach for your own hearing.

how unfortunate, is it not? but it needed to be done, despite the drastic action that previously caused it.

a low, yet conspicuous hum is evoked out of you as if to accompany your very own air of pure stillness— footsteps carrying their own cautious precision, contrasting with the overall atmosphere as you have one of the past records being held within your grasp at this moment, somehow managing to snag it around sometime earlier.

your task is complete for now. except, instead of returning back to the headquarters, you decided to take an utterly impulsive, last-minute decision which involves taking a few days of uninformed break untraced from radar by also throwing your phone into the nearby river uncaringly.

MI6 has quite the impressive payment for loyal agents like you.

── .✦

with a glass of drink being held within your sole grasp, you use your other free hand to read over some displayed article regarding to the fairly new, rising agent from your extra device, which also can be your main untracked one (because apparently, you just realized by the last minute that you have another).

the term of the 'said' rising agent isn't official yet however, in a sense.

and of course, even the assassination of the man from earlier has made it to one of the night's main headlines. they can't seem to trace the culprit— which clearly happens to be you, but they have no clue at all due to the cleanliness of it all.

you're never fond of leaving any sort of messy trail, especially when finishing up your own assigned tasks.

from another given perspective, metaphorically speaking, it must've been quite revolting to be a mere spectator of your own actions, even more so with something that can be considered to be borderline vile and questionable.

a small sip of your drink, as if to maintain your presently composed demeanor.

another, then another.

placing the glass down, you scroll the article back up to the one that said something about the rising agent of MI6. one could say that he seems to have this one appealing charm around him, or even the way he generally carries himself. imposing, despite the clear indifference being evident upon his features.

it almost amuses you, and you couldn't really tell why. perhaps, it's the fact that the agency still collects people like him. he either will last longer than intended or perhaps, something worse awaits for him.

ah, how terrible of you for even possessing such a negative thought. but you couldn't help yourself.

the job itself has a nature of its' own, not everyone seems to be able to handle it, after all. but you shall see how this goes.

even with the constant reminder that you are, also in fact, only here to carry your late father's legacy. you're practically being raised in the headquarters, shaping you into what you truly are by today.

or in another words, they will not hesitate to dispose whom fails to even reach to what they truly intended, or failure in mission itself. you are not going to be one of the disposable ones, no.

you are their golden successor, nevertheless.

hiromi higuruma. oh, i'm going to have so much fun with you.

but even with bearing such a respectable-worthy title, it still doesn't stop from those few parts of the agency to either take you lightly— even to a point of borderline condescension due to your attitude presumably. from the way you carry yourself, or even the much more evident fact that you are, indeed, working within the clear range of the usually male-dominated field.

you needed to work extra hard in order to match with each of them accordingly, refusing to back down despite the occasional distasteful remarks being thrown into your way.

there is, of course nothing much you can do with it, other than to merely prove yourself especially during sparring sessions, which is usually one of the highlights of your day, consisting of destroying the dignities of men in any possible way that you could (and of course, their precious jewels that carries their future child whatsoever).

"aww, what's the matter?"

"must be suck to lose to a lady."

you remembered, savored each of their pained expressions openly giving away after any session. even if you're playing dirty, who gives a bloody shit?

some of the other fellow rising agents and newcomers-alike has a look of pure awe, whispering among themselves regarding to the scene unfolding ahead of them. some appears to be genuinely vexed and dissatisfied in some way. probably because some of their egos got bruised so badly despite the fact that it's not them who received the current beatings.

meanwhile, the chief of the entire MI6 agency, preferably being referred to as M, stood somewhere nearby the glass windows that's overlooking the whole sparring session and any possible ordeal— a mixture of pure contentment and exasperation being written all over her features.

your methods can be quite... questionable, to say the least. but you get the job done as well, so she has the lack of words to say regarding to the matter.

you simply don't care as to whatever they think of you and such.

until sometime later, your very own gaze landed upon the two standing figures briefly by accident through the glass windows, before averting your eyes once again while walking away from the area, unfazed.

it's none other than that man you've seen from the article header before— hiromi higuruma. he looks quite decent; you noted instantly to yourself basing on the quick glance you spared from earlier.

his eyes seemed to be studying each of your movements prior to them happening in a somewhat attentive manner; attempting to assess you and the way the opponent handles you.

"she has been here the longest."

M stood not too far from where hiromi is, joining his line of sight. "if anything, try your best to get along with her."

it undeniably intrigues him in a way, even being nearly unsure himself as to what he actually should expect being in this agency as a whole, mind running through countless of thoughts and self-precaution plannings, just in case.

"noted, ma'am."

he couldn't really tell just how inaccessible you truly are as a person— from another perspective and even his own. for now.

some people did try, yet they oftentimes ended in absolute failure from their own doings.

── .✦

"oh, i heard her father used to be one of the best within this agency."

"what? are you serious?"

"why would i ever lie to you?" one of the table occupants, johan remarks relaxedly while leaning against his seat. "she's just like, finishing with whatever her father has left in the past."

"that must've been so awful.."

"i don't think she appreciates that." another newcomer, touya arrives at the said table, pulling one of the chairs to sit on it properly without much care.

some other people simply exist within their own given space around them, orbiting and relishing within the cozy atmosphere.

"but then again, i doubt that she cares much."

"that lady is like a spoiled brat, merely doing a job just like a good sheep she's designed to be."

johan rambles on and on to his other table companions, already failing to realize that you are now no longer seated upon your chosen table, but rather approaching toward their direction instead, expression practically can be considered as something close as discernible.

ever so indecipherable, carrying an air of a haunting, tacit hushness— uncaring of the lingering and passing glances of perplexity, as if predicting as to what might happen next or so.

before the ones around him could even properly react, you immediately grabbed onto johan's shirt collar with an uncomfortably firm grip, eyes never once leaving his form. the sheer audacity of him to endlessly belittle and smear some bullshit onto your name, so that you may appear as awful to the eyes of many (which you are, obviously not).

you're just merely doing any of your given tasks like any other sane person would normally do. except, with more free-will as for the ways you handle each of them at times.

but in all honesty, are any of the existing MI6 agents even sane to begin with? no one really cares to it as much, then why should you?

it should've been a known fact, especially about the agency's treatment and the cost toward one's mental health. even when they are not affected or so, anyone around them would pay the price no matter what.

that's just how it is.

"mind repeating what you've just said?"

"what the-?!" his eyes involuntarily widened from the sudden unforeseen act, clearly having very little time to react. "let go of me, you fuckin' creep!"

"no."

your reply is immediate, unfaltering gaze still locking onto his own. "repeat what you said, shithead."

and while all of it occurs within the cafe bar still, some people that are present around there silently witness the entire ordeal and seemed to be contemplating about it; some deciding to back away, not wanting anything to do with you nor the situation from escalating further.

before you could even land a single punch over his smug face, a strong hand manages to restrain your intended action, startling you slightly and catching you off guard with its' unexpected contact and interruption.

"stop."

"you're causing a scene."

it somehow manages to make you snap out into further realization, eventually releasing the man that you formerly had some clear issues with, even though it does very little to soothe your burning aggravation.

some that are present within the cafe bar still has their eyes on you; whispering among themselves and even wondering as to what might happen next, which is enough to prompt you to leave the place as soon as you possible could.

not out of embarassment, but rather, one of unconfessed irritation mixing together with frustration.

── .✦

"what is this? another charity case for you to handle, huh?"

the other person wordlessly places the properly packaged food just in front of you, settling himself across from you uninvited within a now different cafe bar due to your own refusal to resume your meal intake at the previous place.

who is this guy again? oh wait, your mind is finally clicking everything in place by now.

"oh, so you're hiromi higuruma." not a question, but an almost reluctant acknowlegement.

"you got that right."

he, hiromi, seemed to be adjusting his posture ever so slightly, perceptible enough to the ones whoever paid close attention to it, before he extends his hand toward your own as a way of a formal greeting.

you stared down at his hand for a solid few seconds, prior to choosing ignorance over accepting his formal gesture as your gaze fixed on him instead.

"did M send you?"

hiromi gradually lowers his hand in a silent understanding manner without any intentions of questioning you regarding to it. "i figured you would've guessed about it way earlier."

"i know. because i'm not an idiot."

"if you're only here to nag at me or pull some other bullshit, i suggest you should go home."

a momentary air of silence ensues, with him having a quite contemplative expression— you couldn't tell, and frankly, you aren't too bothered to care at this point.

"you should eat first."

"why."

"because i noticed you didn't manage to eat anything earlier."

you scoff upon hearing his statement, rolling your eyes. "why should i listen to you, rookie?"

"just because you have already received the new title, that doesn't mean you are my equal."

what is this guy on? is he trying to get on your side or be friends with you, or some other that M has ordered him with? seriously, that old woman can't keep her mouth shut sometimes.

you're seriously exhausted of having that woman's set of eyes drilling on the back of your head almost at all times.

it doesn't seem to affect him, much to your inner chagrin. you just want to be left alone, and this man is causing some trouble on your part.

hiromi allows himself to exhale some breath through his nose, his back pressing against the soft cushions of his own chosen seat while still partially fixating on you with his endless, natural dark set of eyes.

god, you despised it so much whenever you get those type of looks, especially when knowing that it's being redirected toward you. it irates you a little, admittedly speaking, like you're some miserable lady who actually needed assistance over some dumb inconvenience stuff.

"i know. i'm aware."

"can you actually leave me alone?"

"no."

his simple yet direct answer is surprisingly enough to send you into a state of acquiescence, much to your very own avoidable trepidation (or perhaps, you're just too tired to deal with any of this right now).

unfazed, uninterested, or even detached. you've been called by one of those words, or three of them all at once. you'd say it's like a normal tuesday for you.

he keeps studying you— from your general demeanor, through your perfectly curated facade, even the way you seemed to be glaring at him with every given chance.

you're afraid that you're not too fond of it.

and how unfortunate for your case, it does not stop there. that's just the beginning of everything, an entire unwanted experience.

or is that the mere truth, really?

M has requested for your presence for a supposedly upcoming mission detail, not knowing that this time around will be slightly different than usual.

"what do you mean??"

"i never asked for a partner!"

M sips on her freshly made hot tea delivered by her personal assistant not too long before; the scent alone is enough to keep one's senses awake and aware. just like the sunlight's gleam, desperately wanting to fill the gaps of each cottony clouds without even intending it to happen as much.

you can tell she's beginning to feel weary by your constant refusal and pettiness.

"you didn't ask, but you needed one specifically for this mission."

narrowing your eyes at her in pure disapproval, you clearly preferred to do most, if not all given missions on your own. it can be such a nuisance to ever have any other company with you, from your perspective at least.

upon hearing the smallest, yet evident sound of the door clicking shut, your head turned instantly towards the source of sound, unamused.

by the gods above and the existing spectators of this wonderful MI6 department, why do you even end up with this 'rising agent' again?

geez, M probably revels in your own suffering by pairing you with her possibly new 'favourite asset' in the near future, as much as you detest to admit such a thought out loud.

you may hold the mantle as your father's legacy, but that doesn't mean you're that far from being replaced just as easily.

the resonance of the sole pen tapping against the exorbitant, mahogany slab being placed at the center of the spacious office area; the momentary air of tensity relentlessly accompanies the situation that you all are in at the very moment.

hiromi positions himself not too far from you, evidently creating a respectable distance between the two of you.

"you and higuruma are going to book a flight to italy. track the intended main target and their associates."

"also, do get along—" M narrows her eyes at you. "— you two."

you huff, crossing your arms while shifting your gaze momentarily away elsewhere. "fantastic. i'm thrilled."

hiromi spares a brief glance upon hearing your sarcasm-laced remark, already having the urge to refrain himself from allowing the corner of his lips to tug upwards in an amused fashion.

it's either going to be the best mission experience, or the absolute opposite ever.

── .✦

a sea of unfamiliar, yet enthusiastic faces pass by like a blurriness from one's perspective as a result of an occasional glimpse; the myriads of breathtaking architectures alone have proven its' unspoken power that it has to simply captivate each visitor's attention— truly ahead of its' time despite the number of years have gone by.

your attention, however, is less on the said things, but rather stay glued upon the screen of your work laptop. thousands of data, simplified to perfection for your eyes to be able to read it as smoothly as possible.

could say it's one of your personal issues that you have. always focusing your ass on work instead of attempting to, at least, marvel at the view around you.

also, the fact that hiromi practically is in charge of the yacht that he chartered under another name— much to your dismay, but also somehow allows you to do your thing freely with less disruptions, already settling yourself just on the foredeck of the yacht.

so it's basically a win-win situation (that you initially have the lack of interest on participating). for the sake of the assigned mission.

truth to be told, it's been quite some time that you have a work company anyways, let alone with someone you can consider your rival. you barely spoke with him over anything mundane, unless it's something necessary or so.

oh, the sheer insanity of being capable to only utter only few words, not more than necessary.

whilst your very own attention remains elsewhere yet somewhat aimless, hiromi unknowingly takes every chance he could possibly get by sneaking every glance toward your direction— he ends up finding himself doing so, and he couldn't really tell as to why.

was it contemplation; wonderment about you as a person?

it's honestly messing with his thoughts at times.

he hates to admit that you're beginning to catch his focus way more often than he ever expected as of late. it's genuinely an odd occurrence to him, like you never really did anything much either, aside from existing and staring up at him either in utter irritation or even repulsion. one that he could not understand the real reason behind it yet.

how could he, even? you wouldn't even speak to him properly. and he's unsure as to when it will ever happen anyways.

despite all of the condescension and annoyance being directed at him for several reasons he couldn't even tell himself as to why, you personally never have any real feelings of disdain, held grudges nor hatred towards him. of course, none has a clue about it.

and one of the things that truly baffles you is how he still treats you with respect, as his equal. he never once views you as someone who's incapable and feeble.

perhaps, that is the real reason as to why it gets you to rethink your action with him sometimes, albeit in a very subtle manner. your soul has been secretly craving for this for years long now, you really have no idea since when exactly.

to be treated as an equal in a male-dominated field. to be seen as a person, not judged by gender and your abilities itself. not as someone who carries your father's legacy, but as you.

it admittedly affects a part of your view as a whole regarding to some of the people working within the agency, ending up missing out on so much more of your life surroundings and how some people can actually be considerate and be better than the ones present in your life.

the moment your gaze shifted away from the laptop screen, your eyes meet with his own attentive ones, unsure yourself if it's intentional from him or simply by accident.

any sort of an attempt of a sarcastic remark dies in your throat before you had the chance to allow it to slip out, effectively dismantling you effortlessly. this feels genuinely so bizarre— the unanticipated self-consciousness beginning to build up from within you.

what the hell is wrong with you?

with a minor movement consisting of a calm precision, you are the first to avert your eyes and stare out at the side views instead, where numerous amounts of lively and vibrant buildings are being openly visible for the visitors and locals alike to witness freely. lots of people can also be seen strolling along the stony sidewalks, either with their beloved ones, family members or even alone.

a sight where one may end up being utterly distracted. mind momentarily sets its' focus on something far more intriguing and makes you wonder in a way.

his very own set of wondrous, perfectly dark hues hasn't leave yours just yet, and unfortunately, you are very much hyper-aware regarding to it. you didn't do anything about it; you simply just let him be.

"are you hungry yet?"

"uhm, no..?" an invisible question mark appears at the top of your head, sparing him a side glance just for a few seconds. "why'd you ask?"

hiromi remains silent for a solid few minutes without attempting to do any explanation, before securely berthed the yacht momentarily just close enough to the pier, much to your now growing confusion. any questions you were about to ask him abruptly becomes unspoken once he beats you to it.

"wait here." and so you did. because what other chances you have other than to comply?

he returns to the yacht around a few minutes later, but this time, carrying several types of food. the appetizing aroma wafts through the air oh-so-pleasantly, enough to overwhelm your senses in the best ways possible.

did he really go out of his way to buy all this..? unbelievable distraction for a mission.

"what did you.."

"in case if you wanted to eat something." hiromi casually hands you some of the food he just bought, and one of them is apparently your favourite.

you sent him a deadpanned look. "did you stalk me or something?" all that while the hesitation in receiving the said food is almost evident.

it's either he happens to remember it from THAT exact day or somehow caught you repeatedly ordering the food despite the restaurant's offer of a wide selection of menus. or he somehow learns it from M, since her overall behavior sometimes causes a rising suspicion from you.

he appears to be a bit amused upon hearing your words, surprisingly. "why would i do that?"

"well, i mean, who knows." you roll your eyes at his mere attitude.

"but.."

you ultimately breathe out rather lowly, yet you're pretty sure he could still hear it. "thank you."

that's the first in a long time of your life to have ever express such grateful-laced words; feeling slightly cringed yourself for it, but it is what it is, you suppose. even his eyes seemed to widen a little, undoubtedly caught by genuine astonishment.

hiromi averts his gaze away from your form not too long after, muttering some sort of a reply under his breath as he heads back towards the previous area that he's in charge of.

"don't mention it."

what even drives him to do such an out-of-character thing? even he feels like he's not being himself at this moment, already expecting you to be up all on his ass and get annoyed at him. not this.

you're not supposed to be acting this way. the sheer internal realization of it all causes you to be unintentionally stuck within the depths of your own mind— staring at the view of his currently turned back in silence instead.

until your eyes trailed to the direction of the crowds of people. that's when you saw someone, exactly within the top target list, has been eyeing you two from afar. though, it didn't last long when he realizes that you've successfully spotted his presence, moving away as quickly as he could from there.

ah, gotcha.

"Q," you spoke lowly after tapping onto your comms. "i found the target. he's wearing an unfashionable washed-out jacket with some baggy khaki pants on."

"alright, got him locked on our radar now."

Q types away into the monitor while his eyes never once left the large screen. "i'll plan out the most effective route you two can take. be safe, in case he has any weapons within his hold."

a fleeting static sound audibly fills you and Q's hearing senses as a familiar voice begins to add their own input.

"he didn't have any weapons with him, it seems."

"we are planning to track him down as soon as we got off this yacht." hiromi states in a direct manner, steering the yacht toward the nearest pier properly.

"we'll update you if anything."

Q exhales in pure relief through the comms, nodding slightly to himself despite the wariness he's still experiencing regarding the whole situation.

"alright. i'll send you two any updates as soon as i'm able to."

── .✦

not long after the yacht has been docked at someplace secure at the nearest pier, you didn't waste any more time and chances to hunt the target once again. all without informing him beforehand, which leads to him experiencing mild frustration while trying to look for any sight of you.

but none, of course. you're that fast to be able to get out of anyone's sight under a minute or more.

undeniably speaking, it's still known to be one of your flaws whenever you got any chance to partner up with someone during a mission. you tend to forget the existence of someone else being in the same area as you, choosing to solve everything on your own.

because that's how you were trained to be. but then again, hiromi is still a human, and he's still doing his best to learn about you. partly from an order, most are personal choice of his.

── .✦

you've grown up somewhere you dared to consider as a stable and loving home, raised by your father alone.

he pours quite a meaningful affection in every action he does to you, even willing to go as far as he could in order to ensure your safety and well-fed, giving all of his undivided attention towards you while living within the safe mansion that he bought sometime before that— located just in the alps of switzerland.

all you've known is the genuine safety and warmth that only your father can provide to you. you never really know much about your mother but based on what your father has told you from time to time, is the fact that he genuinely loves her dearly despite 'everything that has happened'.

you didn't really have any friends or any trusted associates either while growing up, patently familiar with the lingering presence of your father's, the sole light that unmistakenly stands out within the silence of your own world, becoming one of the prominent stages that shapes you as a whole and where you supposedly forge some healthy relationships with another.

friends, one of the things you're seriously lacking on. no one could put up with you so far. not even M, who acted more as a superior who trains and gives you orders, rather than becoming as someone who one hundred percent willingly dedicates her life as your main caretaker after your father's unfortunate passing.

she probably feels indebted in a sense, that's why she does it.

but alas, you wouldn't have known nor understand better back then. you were merely a kid. someone who actually needed a proper guidance, not to be only some sort of an asset continuation.

despite the short period of time, hiromi never really has shown any sorts of a nonsensical disdain and overly negative opinions toward you. not openly, as far as you're aware. but he never once looked down on you or even criticized you in any way.

maybe that's what throws you off the most.

well, Q as well. he's your ultimate first friend. you'd deep fry anyone who messes with him.

but anyway, majority of them would've reacted quite the opposite— one that you have (sadly) expected from most of them. a few crazy ones dared to speak to you about why on earth would you choose a field work instead of sitting your ass within the comfort of the provided offices.

father's legacy yada yada. most probably view it as some sort of a rare privilege being passed down and you using it freely because nobody really cares as much.

hiromi could've leave you alone whenever he wants to. you didn't really want someone to put up with you, even though a part of it is from M's orders to him personally. you didn't bother to stop him or so, not knowing that inside his headspace, he never has the intention to abandon the mission or job just because of you.

such a pathetic, idiotic thing. perhaps, you are the real fool. all these walls you built up. utterly useless, because why on earth does someone managed to sneak into the cracks instead of pushing it away?

"why did you even— damn it. always doing things your way."

a low string of cusses spills heedlessly out of his lips, lifting you in a bridal style as you lose half-consciousness due to an unexpected ambush while you went to hunt the target from before. even Q wasn't expecting any of it to happen at all.

you could've sworn that he's alone and not properly armed. but it's all proven wrong once you make a turn to one of the corners, which leads to what happened to you right at this point.

a little part of hiromi's clothing got ripped into a makeshift bandage around the side of your head and right shoulder in order to stop the bleeding from worsening further, which makes you almost believe that you actually might succumb to your injuries anytime soon.

the grim reaper itself might've been debating whether to take you yet or no. exhaustion consumes your weary soul as a whole, you don't even want to deal with anything anymore.

those nights where you're dealing with each given missions alone; some nights are lucky (or unlucky) enough to even walk yourself to the hideout area, forcing yourself to clean your own injury instead of relying or calling anyone else.

it's always been you, you and you.

the agency wouldn't even bother to assist you; an easy disposal when being compared with any other agents. the mere thought angers you to no end, despite the fact that you're so much closer to death's door countless of times.

due to the current state you're in, you failed to remain properly conscious on the fact that hiromi has been carrying you in a bridal style to a safehouse nearby— all thanks to Q's help some time ago. hiromi told him about the situation you both are facing at the moment, and Q immediately booked a special VIP suite for a day or two. one can be sure that the two of you will be safe for now, at least.

his naturally, slightly calloused large hands have placed you upon the bed so tenderly and nicely. all too cautious enough as to not jostle the bed with any unnecessary movements due to your fresh injuries.

even with your previous treatment toward him before, he still treated you so well.

with deliberate care, he begins to clean each existing injuries that's been inflicted upon your form before replacing it with another cleaner bandage, one that you usually would've been able to handle just fine.

except this time, you find it utterly ridiculous to believe that you actually might die sometime soon than intended. in your subconscious, honestly, it feels a bit strange.

hiromi truly despised the mere idea of the possibility of you dying, or even an inch closer to the gates of your own demise itself. he hates to admit such a thing, but he couldn't bear the thought of you even— no, no. he quickly shakes his head to get rid any of the unwanted thoughts. it's not really the time to—

a tentative hand reached to held onto his arm when he was about to deal with his own injuries, though he got pretty lucky as it's not that worse when being compared to yours, stopping in his movements by instant while your hand gradually slips downwards little by little.

"are you hurt..?"

"no," one of his hands held onto yours without putting much thoughts behind his chosen actions. "i'm okay, don't worry. you should rest."

"why..."

"you should've just.. left me in the alleyway.." your voice grows quieter by the end of your sentence, eyes half-lidded due to extreme exhaustion; your internal system feels as if it's being crushed slightly, thanks to the present injuries and the amount of blood you've released unwillingly from the ambush. honestly, you wouldn't mind if he just leaves you there.

"no."

"why?"

his gaze momentarily lowers, taking notice on how you finally allowed him to at least hold your hand instead of pulling it away. and so he keeps doing it, secretly for the sake of his own reassurance as well.

"because i don't want to."

for once in your life, you could blame it all due to your current state that you're speechless because of him. but both of you knew better than that— genuinely taken aback by his simple response yet didn't want to refuse it any longer anymore.

with a wince slipping past your lips, you forced yourself to shift closer to where his lap is, wanting to rest your head just close to him for comfort. but it didn't last long as the reminders of your existing injury violently shooks your very own form, movements halted halfway. hiromi somehow gets the hint, despite it being out of character for someone like you.

surprisingly, instead of allowing you to rest upon his lap, he begins to lie next to you, carefully pulling you closer to his naturally provided warmth. one of his hands runs to move several locks of your hair away from your face; gingerly caressing the back of your head in order to soothe you somehow.

it genuinely feels so nice like this.. maybe this is what you've been secretly craving for all your life. instead of pushing him away, you're trying your best to learn on how to receive one.

because he's the only one who is willing to assist and accompany you through missions for this long, doing the things that no other person would even dare to do it for you.

you're such an awful, awful person.

"i'm sorry.."

"hm?"

"for how i've been acting to you."

he shushes you gently, shaking his head to himself even when you're unable to look at him as your eyes starts to shut on its' own. he answers each of your apologies and unspoken words through his sole actions, not letting go of you even once throughout the night— his own present injuries forgotten.

he could just deal with himself tomorrow. for now, he's not leaving you alone nor letting go of you. perhaps, hiromi higuruma himself has been viewing you as someone worth saving and is willing to go to any lengths in order to break the facade that you consistently have displayed.

it's alright, there's always time to restart anew. he has silently proven to you that not everyone is unpleasant to be closer with, especially within the agency itself.

hiromi never hated you. not even once. it didn't even take long for him to eventually fall into a needed slumber as well, simply letting sleep overtaking you two.

©STELLARIXE | any translations, reposts and usage of my fics are strictly prohibited. reblogs are appreciated ʚ𖦹ɞ .

[raepliica]

my very deep dmc4 thoughts

[fckmyylife]

clothes swap. credit @nausicaackerman.

[fushihearts]

objection! 𑣲 .✦ ݁˖ ۶ৎ

husband!higuruma x reader, girl dad higuruma, fluff | wc 1.3k

the living room is a mess. realistically, to call it a mess is an understatement in itself — it's complete disarray, with toys strewn across the floor, cushions from the sofa laying limp from being stepped on and a pile of scattered building blocks discarded at the far side of the room.

in the midst of the chaos sits your daughter, innocently blinking up at the tv screen, engrossed in the film she’s watching and seemingly indifferent to the clutter surrounding her. every few minutes, she absent-mindedly waves the toy hammer held tight in her grasp, eyes still fixed on the large screen in front of her as flickers of light dance across her features.

you smile to yourself, noting the fact that the hammer is still practically stuck to her hand as always.

-

it was a few months ago when she had rediscovered it amongst her mini tools, quickly pulling the mini hammer out of her wooden toolbox and sending a toy screwdriver flying out of it in the process.

she'd inspected it for a second, tongue stuck out in concentration, before looking up at her father, as though trying to gauge something. after a few more seconds of careful deliberation, the girl seemed to be pleased with her decision, a smile forming across her features.

"look papa, i'm a...judge!" she'd giggled at her own words, looking pleased with herself as you huffed out a surprised laugh. hiromi, on the other hand, said nothing, his expression unreadable except for the way his gaze softened the slightest bit, brows raised a fraction.

"where did you learn that from?" you had murmured, smiling softly and gently ruffling her hair as she'd pretended to bang the hammer against the carpeted floor, like some makeshift gavel.

she raises a small finger to point at hiromi, a huge beam across her face.

"we played.." she paused, as though trying to remember the word. "...court…papa taught me. he said that's what he does at work!"

you'd thrown your husband a teasing look of mock-exasperation at that — seriously, just how often did he think about work?

since that day, though, your daughter had been absolutely set on bringing the hammer everywhere, cheerfully explaining how she was "working" just like her father. you didn't really have the heart to tell her that a wooden hammer from a toy construction set wasn’t exactly the same as a judge’s gavel, so instead you simply opted for watching her show hiromi her impression of a judge excitedly as he softly smiled at her, gaze surprisingly gentle despite the exhaustion written all over his face.

-

you eye your daughter now sat on the living room floor among the disarray of scattered toys and plushies.

“hey sweetie, let’s tidy up. you can watch tv after, okay?”

your four year old doesn't reply, simply remaining fixated on the tv screen, not bothering to spare you even a glance in your direction — probably because she hasn’t even noticed your words to begin with, too engrossed in whatever she’s watching.

you try again, slightly firmer.

"hey…time to tidy up," you crouch down and start collecting some nearby blocks, hoping to set a good example and encourage her into joining you. she remains resolutely uninterested in your words, however — every time you glance up at her, hoping to see progress, you find that she's paying you absolutely no mind whatsoever.

you finally stand up once more, pressing a hand to your hips.

"come on, we need to tidy up or else i'll have to turn off the tv."

that gets her attention. she slowly looks up, eyes meeting yours, before quietly speaking under her breath, so quietly that you almost miss it.

".….nuh uh…objection."

you pause, momentarily stunned by her words and trying to fight off a tiny smile so as not to encourage her. despite your best efforts to maintain a neutral face, though, she immediately catches the way your expression falters. that only spurs her on to repeat it, eyes bright as she speaks with more confidence this time.

"objection!"

before you can think of an adequate response — if there even is an adequate response for your four year old treating tidy-up time like a debatable matter in court — you hear the jangle of keys followed by the front door clicking open. a tiny gasp escapes your daughter's mouth before she's pulled herself off the floor, running towards the source of the sound where your husband is stood, taking off his work shoes.

you follow her, watching fondly as she runs up to higuruma with an excited squeal. he flashes a tiny, barely perceptible smile as he places down his briefcase before squatting down to her level, letting her run into his arms. the second he’s holding her, she leans her body into his embrace, her face hidden behind his head as she peers up at you, as though trying to figure out whether you’ve forgotten about tidy-up time yet or not.

much to her dismay, you haven’t.

huffing out a laugh at the situation, you cross your arms, addressing your next words towards your husband who’s busy stroking your daughter’s hair gently.

“you’ll never guess what. she’s objecting to tidying up, hiro,” you murmur, throwing an accusatory glance his way, though your tone carries no real malice. “just how many pretend court cases have you done with her?”

“not that many, my love..”

big wide eyes glance between you and higuruma curiously, your daughter’s hands tightening a little on her father’s suit as she tries to gauge the upcoming verdict of your playful mock-feud.

“hiromi, no normal four year old child knows how to use the word “objection” in a sentence.”

he doesn’t respond to your words. it’s funny, really: the fact that he’s a lawyer and yet somehow you manage to render him speechless within a single sentence or two.

in actuality, he supposes he probably could reason his way out of these situations — the circumstances aren’t as clear-cut as you paint them out to be, after all — but what good would come of it? he’s perfectly content in avoiding the conflict of it all, enjoying the occasional moments of simplicity that seem to be integrated so sparingly into his busy schedule.

for that reason, he simply nods in silent agreement and removes his blazer before gently guiding your daughter to the living room to see the mess for himself.

you note now that everything about him looks…tired. from the slight slump of his shoulders to the taught line of his mouth to the dark marks under his eyes, he clearly looks worn down. and yet despite it all, he still seems to be able to reserve a soft kind of tenderness for your daughter as she stands by his side, chewing on her lip as she inspects the mess that she’ll inevitably have to tidy.

she slowly reaches out an arm and grabs onto his hand, causing him to immediately soften, letting her grasp tighten around his fingers before leading him to the heart of the mess. he doesn’t complain, simply allowing her to guide him as she pleases before he kneels down next to her to help as she begins reluctantly collecting toys to put away.

a small smile plays on his lips, and whilst there’s still an unspoken kind of deep weariness rooted beneath it, higuruma seems to be somewhat enjoying the change of pace.

higuruma continues to help your daughter collect toys to put back into their respective baskets, but not without overhearing her grumbling under her breath when she thinks nobody can hear.

“…i’m…within my rights…to not tidy up..”

well, maybe he’d have to hold back a little on the pretend court trials with her after all.

author’s notes: first time writing about higuruma i think yayayayayayy!! taglist (thank you!!!): @mayegasm @nonchalantfiend @mochiakun @rielovesphel @yujismissingfingers @megumigooner @vanillaascented @megumisrighttoe @catgvrl @dreamydaredevil @stqrgumi @mariisagb @renrenrenren17 @bowiesprettieststar2 @733164 @palanggaaa @megssleepygirl @rengoatku @hangenism @yujisdreamgirl @nonamedreams @auryyymarix @ivankinnieclatter @sugerfilled @silverstar111 @dreamyreadinglover + join!

divider creds @/dividers-are-us and @/cursed-carmine!

[rengoatku]

Hiromi and his very pregnant, very emotional wife

Hiromi knew how difficult it must be for you to be carrying a child — he had done his research the same night you shakily handed him the positive test, biting your lip in anticipation. That same night he had already fallen down a rabbit hole of pregnancy symptoms, prenatal care, mood swings, the whole nine yards. His approach to your pregnancy was similar to how he handled his court cases, dedication and education.

He was prepared for the nausea, the swelling, even the insane mood swings that were bound to smack him in the face.

What Hiromi wasn't prepared for? Being awoken every night because you suddenly craved the most outrageous combination of food.

The first couple of times it was tame, asking him to grab you some mochi from the kitchen at eleven, maybe even a request to make a fruit salad just before he got into bed. Then it got weirder, like the time you woke him up at one in the morning so he could make you ramen with strawberries on top, or when you asked for whipped cream and pickles at 3AM.

Now, for the third time this week, Hiromi felt your hands nudge his shoulder, squeezing ever so slightly. “Romi,” your voice was soft, almost inaudible through the thick night. Almost. “Romi, baby…”

He let out a tired groan, shifting slightly in his half-conscious state. “Can you run to the store to buy some honey? We ran out and I really want to have some with grapes.” He made another sleepy grumble, cracking an eye open to peer at the digital clock on the side table.

4:07AM.

A long groan left his lips, arm flopping dramatically over his face in an attempt to hide from your pleading eyes even in the dark. “Honey,” his voice came out hoarse, coated in exhaustion, “I’m tired.”

The second those words left his mouth Hiromi knew he fucked up.

Silence engulfed the room for what felt like an eternity, he swiftly sat up, searching the dark room for your face. As his eyes adjusted he found your own, wide and glassy with tears that threatened to spill.

“Oh…” You whispered, lips quivering as you held back your tears.

Hiromi felt his heart drop to his ass. “N-No, no, don't —” but he was too late. “You don't have to go,” your voice wavered as you turned away from him and settled under the covers again. “Im sorry, I’m being annoying.”

He felt his stomach clench at your words, “Honey —”

“I didn't mean to disturb you...” you trailed off, curling inwards underneath the blanket.

Then he heard it, the sound that every husband fears.

Your sniffling.

His eyes widened, fear taking over every nerve as his hands searched for yours amid the pillows and covers. “Hey, why are you crying?” You sniffled again, trying to wriggle away as he approached you.

You hiccuped, “You hate me.” Hiromi sighed, moving closer so he could wrap his arms around you, “I absolutely do not hate you.”

“But you sounded mad.”

He chucked at your words, one hand coming up to brush against your cheek, “I sounded asleep.”

You let out a small giggle at his words, wiping your eyes. “You know, Romi, pregnancy cravings are scientifically proven to be emotionally distressing.” He smiled at you, nose brushing against your temple, “Did you finally read all those articles I've been sending you?”

“Maybe…” you murmured before nuzzling closer into his chest. Hiromi leaned over, lips brushing your own. Even with tear-streaked cheeks and red eyes he still believed that you were the prettiest thing he had ever seen. Hiromi sighed again, “You are carrying my child — our child, you could wake me up at five in the morning and ask me to travel across Japan for deep-fried butter and I would still go for you.”

You smiled despite yourself, “Really?”

“Although, I would complain the entire time.”

You beamed up at him. He swears the room lit up because of how bright your eyes were. “Does that mean you'll get me the honey?” With one last sigh, Hiromi pushed himself out of bed. “Ice cream too?” You nodded enthusiastically, “Make sure it’s the big tub.”

He just rolled his eyes, leaning over to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Will you let me sleep once I’m home?”

“If you get a good flavour.”

[ndsoda]

my favorite lawyer ⚖️