Mobile links at /links
Please like/reblog my fics if you enjoy them!
Livi | 1994 | she/her
Just a little side blog for my fanfiction. I'll post headcanons here as well. Some fluff. Some nsfw. Some other things.
COMMISSION STATUS: OPEN
REQUESTS STATUS: CLOSED
that last ask reminded me of when i received a physical copy of the mastermind zine i wrote some fics for. i showed my mum and she was really impressed by it. she passed away a few months later but i'm glad she got to see some of my writing in physical form. :')
also a slightly cringe memory but i can look back at it in amusement now, but ages ago she stumbled upon my ao3 page and of all the fics she could have checked out, she chose pink candy LMAO iykyk
she was also a big champion of my novel. i told her that i'd tell her how i planned for the series to end if she got too sick, which i did during one of my last visits to the hospital. 2022/2023 was such a rough time for me
I just finished reading your portion in "Hand In Unlovable Hand: A TogaFuka fanzine" and omg. You are a gem! A national treasure! Like, oh my god it's such a beautiful project, 90 pages of pure bliss yet out of all of the fan art and other written segments, your portion was just as sensational and amazing and awesome as always! I really thought I read everywhere for Togafuka fics, from fanfic.net, wattpad, ao3, ficbook, pixiv, and such: but never, never in my wildest dream would I thought to find a MAGAZINE on archive! Aaah, sorry for gushing! Thank you for participating in such a project. It's beautiful.
Aww thank you!!! It was a lot of fun to do with everyone. I'd really like to do another tofu zine at some point. It'd probably have to be another digital one, which is great, though it'd also be neat to have a physical zine...
Chapters: 12/?
Fandom: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Dangan Ronpa Another Episode: Ultra Despair Girls, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Dangan Ronpa Series
Rating: Mature
Relationships: Fukawa Toko/Togami Byakuya, Kirigiri Kyoko/Naegi Makoto, Fukawa Toko & Naegi Komaru, Shingetsu Nagisa & Togami Byakuya
Characters: Togami Byakuya, Fukawa Toko, Kirigiri Kyoko, Naegi Makoto, Naegi Komaru, Asahina Aoi (Dangan Ronpa), Hagakure Yasuhiro, more to be added, Shingetsu Nagisa, Utsugi Kotoko, Daimon Masaru (Dangan Ronpa), Kemuri Jataro
Summary: When a project is set up to help rehabilitate the former Warriors of Hope, Togami finds himself the guardian of Nagisa Shingetsu. He also finds himself troubled with confusing feelings toward Fukawa...
Comments: Nearly at the end of part 1! I hope you all enjoy.
💖 Please like, reblog, leave kudos and/or comment on tumblr and AO3 💖
Fic under the cut!
***
Chapter 12: Silver and Green
For a moment, Byakuya thought Touko had let out a sob, but even in his stupor, with how her body stiffened afterwards, he quickly realised that she must have sneezed. Before he could do anything other than raise his eyebrows, Touko gripped his jacket in both hands and peeled her face off his chest, tilting her head back to reveal her grin.
This wasn't Touko Fukawa anymore.
“Oh, it's you, Darling! I almost didn’t recognise you under all that boozy stink. You smell like one of my old crime scenes," said Genocider Syo, her tongue dangling out of her mouth. She spoke with a more gravelly voice than Touko, but Byakuya had known that Syo was the one fronting before she uttered a single word. He didn’t even need to have heard her sneeze. Her smile was too wide. Her gaze was too intense.
When he wrinkled his nose and shifted a foot back, rather than detach her from himself, she moved with him.
“Every time I come out, I hope I’m wearing a ring, and I always get bummed when I’m not,” said Syo. “The only bum I’m interested in is yours. Your tight, juicy, delicious bum!”
“You’re revolting.”
Syo's smile almost disappeared entirely, its ghost lingering like smoke from a flame just burned out. She tilted her head to one side, staring at him even as his eye contact wavered. He had only spoken two words to her. Made one comment. Compared to what he had said to Syo in the past, this was rather tame. And it should have been simple to understand, yet in her silence, she seemed to mull over his statement as though it was a complex maths equation.
Without warning, she shoved him. Byakuya gasped as she maneuvered his back against the wall. This was different. This was new. As clingy as Syo was, she didn't tend to get physical. He should have fought back, but he didn't. He was curious to see what she would do next.
Keeping one hand on his chest, her other reached for her thigh.
“You’re so cute, Byakuya-sama,” said Syo, soon flourishing a pair of her infamous scissors like a fairy waving their wand. “Your corpse would be my magnum opus. I want to hang you up on my fridge door so badly... but this will do.”
She stabbed her scissors into his sleeve, missing his flesh and pinning him to the wall. He could have broken free. His jacket would have torn a bit, sure, but when faced with a serial killer, that ranked low on his list of concerns. Or, at least, it should have.
As Syo unsheathed more scissors and thrust them through his clothing and into the wall, Byakuya found himself feeling calm. This wasn’t what Syo’s victims would have felt like. Byakuya had mused about them more than once during his research into her killings. Syo's police file detailed her victims’ wounds but not their last living moments, and he had never asked Syo to describe them to him. Most of the time, he could hardly stand to be in the same room as Syo.
Still, Byakuya thought he knew what her victims would have done just before they died. What they would have felt as Syo murdered them. They would have screamed and cried and begged for their lives. Choked on their own snot and blood. But here, right now, Byakuya was silent and still. He felt more like Tanaka must have done in the movie he watched with Touko, when Kotoko hung him up with Christmas string lights.
Except unlike Kotoko, who mutilated Tanaka, Syo didn't maim Byakuya. None of Syo's scissors even penetrated his skin. Some got close, the cool metal pressed flush against him as Syo embedded her scissors into the wall behind Byakuya. With every addition, free movement by his limbs became more difficult. She trapped his arms. His legs. His torso. Scissors clustered either side of his neck like twin bouquets of silver roses. All he could see was her.
And still he remained calm.
“Wow, Byakuya-sama, you're either real drunk or real kinky,” remarked Syo. A pair of scissors were looped around her fingers. She dragged the tip up his neck, not drawing blood, and rested it below his ear. “Or...”
“Or what?”
Syo repositioned the scissors so they lay horizontal against the underside of his jaw.
“Or you want to die,” said Syo calmly.
Byakuya blinked, then smirked. “Incorrect.”
“What is it, then?”
“I know you won’t kill me.”
One of Syo’s eyes twitched. There wasn't even a remnant of a smile on her face anymore.
“What makes you so sure?” she asked.
“You would have killed me already. Besides, you and Fukawa promised me that you wouldn’t kill anyone again. First, it was while we were trapped in Hope’s Peak, then when you worked as an intern for Future Foundation.”
Syo burst out laughing. Her cackling bounced off the walls.
“Sorry, Darling. Hate to break the news to ya, but you’re hopelessly wrong. Gloomy may have told you that crap, but I didn’t.” She wiped her eyes with one hand, grinning. The hand she had by his neck didn’t move. “I did make an agreement with our sprout-headed boy wonder, though.”
Byakuya took a few seconds more than he normally would to figure out who she was referring to. “Naegi?”
“Aw, you sound so cute when you’re jealous! Jealous Byakuya-sama is a total turn on! Yep, that pipsqueak, but don’t worry, the name ‘Naegi’ makes me drier than beef jerky. You see, back at Hope’s Peak...”
A blur rammed into her side. Syo’s scissors clattered to the floor as she staggered. Byakuya widened his eyes. He tried to turn his head, but couldn’t.
“Well, look who we have here,” said Syo, straightening up. “Mega Milk Jugs.”
Standing opposite Syo, with a short distance between them, was Aoi.
“Is that really you?” asked Syo. “You look different. Your face looks thinner. Don’t tell me your tits are smaller now. I still want that bath with your milk.”
Byakuya strained his neck but before he could get a closer look at Aoi, she growled and lunged forward, tackling Syo to the ground. Both women grappled each other with bare hands while Byakuya wriggled, trying to free himself, but Syo’s scissors had him stuck firmly in place against the wall.
If Aoi had left them alone, Syo would have revealed whatever conversation she had with Makoto. Then, maybe, Syo would have said something lewd and laid a hand on his cheek, or licked his face before circling her tongue around his mouth. Byakuya scraped his teeth against his lips. Syo’s tongue could even have gone into his mouth. The thought elicited a spike of excitement in Byakuya’s groin, a fork of lightning in the alcohol-fueled cloud hanging over him. Or, Syo might have cupped him between his legs and giggled, and he would have flushed and scowled and tried not to buck into her hand.
What was a certainty was that she wouldn't have killed him.
Aoi rolled herself and Syo, positioning herself on top with Syo underneath her. Sitting on Syo’s lower stomach, Aoi grabbed hold of Syo’s wrists, restraining her arms. Syo writhed, and when that didn’t set her free, she spat upward. Her saliva projectile hit Aoi’s chest, leaving a small damp patch on her red hoodie.
“What the hell is your problem?” asked Aoi.
“My problem? You’re the one with the problem! Me and my darling were having a catch up sesh when you came barging in... though it was more of a light shove with all the weight you’ve lost. Is that why you’ve been on a diet and interrupted our special moment? Are you tryin’ to steal my man?”
“You were going to kill him. Togami is pinned to a wall with your scissors like all your victims.”
“But I wasn’t going to kill him. It’s like I told Eggy years ago.”
Annoyingly, Syo didn’t elaborate. She twitched and jerked her body, but Aoi remained firmly in place on top of her. The fight seemed to be over.
Breathing loudly, Syo shifted her gaze to one of Aoi’s arms. During their tussle, Aoi’s sleeve had hiked up. Byakuya couldn’t see what exactly Syo was peering at, but it made Aoi tense and lose concentration. Syo flung Aoi to the side, then grabbed scissors from her holster and pounced onto Aoi's fallen form. Though Aoi was conscious, she barely stirred as Syo straddled her and raised her scissors.
“Genocider!” Byakuya barked.
“Relax, I'm not going to kill her,” said Syo. “I'd never cheat on you, Darling. I'm just gonna make sure she doesn't interrupt us again.”
Whatever that entailed, Byakuya didn't find out. A door slammed open and Kyouko dashed out in violet pyjamas. Syo turned her head, but before she could react, Kyouko thrust a stun gun to Syo's temple. Without hesitation, Kyouko activated the device.
Byakuya heard a crackling sound, then watched Syo collapse forward. Normally, the shock would trigger an immediate switch in who was fronting, but neither Syo nor Touko rose. Her unconscious form lay motionlessly on top of Aoi.
He renewed his attempts to escape Syo's scissors.
“Togami-kun, stop. You'll hurt yourself,” said Kyouko sternly as he tried thrashing his body.
Aoi slid herself free from underneath Touko and stood up. Her brow creased.
“What are we going to do about Touko-chan?” she asked, tugging down her sleeves. “I really thought that she had a handle on Genocider.”
“Fukawa does,” snapped Byakuya. Aoi and Kyouko turned to him.
“She was about to kill you,” Aoi pointed out.
“No, she wasn’t.”
“What was she doing then? Re-enacting one of her murders with you?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
Aoi’s head flinched back. Before she could respond, Kyouko held up a hand.
“Asahina-san, don’t bother trying to rationalise with him. Naegi-kun told me that Togami-kun got carried away at the izakaya. He’s drunk.”
Makoto had wasted no time in gossiping about Byakuya, it seemed. Must have been the first thing he said to Kyouko when he came into the apartment building.
“Where’s Naegi? In your bed?” Byakuya sneered. He tried to twitch his head, but even that was difficult with all Syo’s cursed scissors.
The eye on the healthy side of Kyouko’s face squinted for a moment.
“Actually, Makoto texted me about you as you were leaving the ikazaya,” she said coolly. “He’s in his apartment right now, if you must know.”
So Makoto hadn’t even waited to be back home to tell her about Byakuya. Kyouko combed her gloved fingers through her hair and turned to Aoi.
“I will message Hagakure-kun and ask him to take care of Togami-kun tonight,” said Kyouko. “I think it would be best if he doesn’t spend the night alone. And we should move Fukawa-san to her apartment... would you be able to help with that? I will ask Komaru to watch over her afterwards.”
“Sure,” said Aoi with a nod.
“Thank you. Now, please excuse me... I need to return to my apartment. If we’re lucky, none of our wards woke up from all the noise. The walls here are a bit too thin for my liking.”
Byakuya squirmed again.
“I don’t need Hokkaido,” he said, as Kyouko started to walk away. He had seen enough of Yasuhiro’s annoying stupid face this evening to last him the rest of the year. “I don’t need anyone.”
She paused. Meanwhile, Aoi carefully picked up Touko, holding her in a princess carry. Because Touko’s door was already unlocked, Aoi didn’t have to fiddle with any keys and took her inside. That left Byakuya alone with Kyouko. Despite how she had been about to leave before, Kyouko stayed near him now, pulling out her phone and tapping on the screen. Acting like Byakuya wasn’t there anymore, or was no more significant than a scuff mark on the wall.
“You’re not better than me,” Byakuya told her.
“I never said I was, Togami-kun.”
“You think it, though. You and Nigiri.”
“If you want to know what I really think, Togami-kun, I think you should be quiet.”
Kyouko walked over and started yanking out Syo’s scissors.
“I also think you should allow yourself to be happy. It is very obvious to everyone that you have feelings for Fukawa-san. Everyone, that is, except you.”
“I fucking said I don’t need anyone.”
“You don’t need a lot of things. You didn’t need to have sex with Fukawa-san, but you still did.”
Byakuya gasped. It felt like his tongue had tied itself into a knot.
“You are your own worst enemy, you know,” Kyouko told him. “You believe you cannot harbour feelings for Fukawa-san, but the only thing stopping you is yourself. That’s why you disparage my relationship with Makoto so much, isn’t it? Because you want so badly what we have, but you won’t permit yourself to have it and that makes you angry. By doing all this, you hurt not only yourself, but Fukawa-san as well. She has the patience of a saint to put up with you.”
What Kyouko said was so preposterous that he couldn’t come up with a rebuttal. Kyouko was wrong. Byakuya didn’t have feelings for Touko. He couldn’t. He was incapable of that. Togamis didn’t experience love. But he had upset Touko. That part wasn’t wrong. She had cried into his chest and he had held her in his arms and he wanted to hold her again now. But she was all the way in her apartment while he was posted to a wall with metal scissors.
By the time Yasuhiro showed up, Kyouko had managed to remove half of them. He helped with the rest, then hoisted Byakuya over his shoulder.
“Dude, you had the key in your lock,” said Yasuhiro. “What happened?”
Byakuya didn’t answer, staring at Touko’s door. As Yasuhiro carried him up the stairs, Byakuya shut his eyes, feeling like a chunk of his insides had been taken out of him alongside Syo’s scissors.
***
The room that Byakuya woke up in blanketed him in darkness. He groaned and scrunched his face. His head pounded, and his mouth tasted like lead and sick. When he shifted his weight, the flat surface he was lying on creaked, indicative of a bed. Which made sense, because usually when Byakuya wanted to sleep, he would go to the bed in his bedroom.
But this time, he hadn’t gone to his bed on his own accord. Yasuhiro had brought him here. Memories of last night trickled through like the first few raindrops before a downpour. Alleyways. Mazes. Tables. Beer. Alleyways. Cars. Stairs. Touko. Touko’s eyes. Touko’s voice. Touko’s warmth. Touko. Genocider Syo. Touko...
He sat up slightly but flopped down and winced as pain pierced through his skull. When the sensation had ebbed away somewhat, he heaved his body up again. A gasp cracked in his throat as another pang tore through his head. Rather than lay back down, Byakuya forced himself to stay still, his weight propped up by wobbling arms as nausea trembled through him.
Once the queasiness became more tolerable again, he started inching toward the edge of the bed, stopping and starting, over and over. Eventually, his feet met the floor. He took a few steps forward before lurching, falling onto his hands and knees.
Breathing noisily through his mouth, Byakuya rose, swaying, his arms stretched out to aid in balance. If he could make it to a wall, he could lean against it for support. Navigating there in the dark wouldn’t be impossible, but not easy either. Byakuya moved slowly, shuffling his feet until he reached a wall. Then, slumping against it, he worked his way around the perimeter of his room. When he reached the door, he fumbled around for the light switch and flicked it on.
His surroundings illuminated, the muted colours of his bedroom now lurid. The intensity scorched his eyes. Almost made him keel over and throw up. He groped at the door and managed to open it, then escaped into the next room.
Unlike his bedroom, the hallway was already lit up without him needing to toggle any switches. To withstand the brightness, Byakuya squinted and kept his gaze downward. Somehow, he had to cross through the rest of his apartment and go down a floor. What he would do after that, he wasn’t sure, but he knew he wanted to see Touko. Needed to see her.
Byakuya started to shamble down the hallway, only to stop after a couple of steps. A crackling sound was coming from the direction of his kitchen. Was Nagisa back? Was it Touko? He followed the noise and stopped in the doorway, staring at the pink-haired woman standing at his stove.
“Good morning, Toto-chi,” she said, turning to face him. She had an apron on that didn’t belong to him. He knew for a fact that he didn’t own a black one that said ‘baking is whisky business’ on the front. “Pancakes are nearly ready.”
“What... are you doing here?” he asked.
He had not expected to find Hiroko Hagakure in his kitchen, yet there she was. Cooking pancakes on his stove.
“I’m making us a late breakfast, of course.” She swished a spatula and smiled. “Sit at the table, and I’ll bring you some yummy pancakes to chow down on.”
Byakuya didn’t move at first, trying to process what was happening, then after a few moments, he lumbered away, going where Hiroko told him to. He wasn’t sitting alone for long when Hiroko entered the dining area with a tray. She placed a plate of pancakes in front of him before setting one down for herself.
“What toppings do you prefer on your pancakes? Jam? Lemon? I brought a variety, just in case,” said Hiroko, putting the tray onto the centre of the table. Various jars and condiments were on it.
“Is Fukawa okay?” he asked.
Hiroko sat down and raised her eyebrows. “Fufu-chi? Mm, she’s fine. She’s made of strong stuff, ‘right?”
“Is she hurt? Is she upset?”
“You can go ask her once you’ve finished your breakfast,” said Hiroko as she spread strawberry jam across her pancake. “It’s past noon, so she’ll be about.”
Byakuya’s eyes widened. He hadn’t realised he’d slept in for that long. But then, he had drunk enough alcohol that he allowed Syo to pin him to a wall with her scissors. His face twisted into a grimace. Even though he had been on his way to find Touko, he didn’t know what to say to her. Or anyone. Would Touko even want to see him?
“I don’t want any pancakes,” he said.
“But they’re delicious! Have one bite. Please.”
He did not. She pouted and twirled her spoon before feeding herself more pancake.
“You’re that worried about Fufu-chi, huh? You must really care about her,” said Hiroko.
“She’s...” Byakuya hesitated. Touko’s teary-eyed face flashed in his mind.
‘What am I to you, Byakuya-sama? A friend? A girlfriend? Am I just a way for you to work out your stress?’
They talked about books together. They ate lunch together. They watched movies and he kissed her and they had sex on her bed, and whenever he masturbated, he imagined her face and holding her hand and yelped her name as he ejaculated.
“She's what, Toto-chi?” asked Hiroko.
Months ago, Yasuhiro told Byakuya that he didn’t need to define his relationship with Touko, yet that had ended up hurting her in the end. And him, too. Byakuya didn’t know what they were. He felt like he didn’t know anything anymore. Cringing, he rested his elbows onto the table and cradled his head in his hands. The room was too bright. His eyes were burning. His throat was burning.
When he didn’t answer, Hiroko said, “Let's try a different angle. When you're with Fufu-chi, how do you feel?”
“Frustrated. Disgusted.”
“Oh? But you choose to hang out with her.”
“Because I don't want to feel like that around her.” Byakuya lowered one hand and traced circles on the table with his index finger. “It’s inconvenient. We work together and have the same social circles. And I don't hate her company. She's... interesting...”
“What makes her interesting?”
Byakuya shrugged, continuing to look downward. “Before, she used to just blabber about her feelings toward me, but now we can have intellectual conversations about various different subjects. We actually have several interests in common, and her passion for them is something to behold. I don’t care for romance novels, but her writing ability is phenomenal and her enthusiasm is almost infectious.”
Hiroko didn’t interject, so he continued, even as his face grew warmer. This was his first time saying much of this out loud. It was embarrassing, but at the same time, he felt relief like he’d finally removed a stone from his shoe.
“And she’s... authentic. I despise people who act fake, and she’s not like that. She stays true to herself. I also admire how she strives to better herself. She went from being in my shadow to helping save the world. Saving me. I used to think she was weak, but she has proved me wrong over and over again. She’s... strong.”
“All that disgusts you?”
“When I’m around Fukawa, I often experience nausea,” he explained. “At first, I thought it was because she’s so typically lovey-dovey, but I’ve also been feeling uncouth urges toward her.”
“Urges, eh?” Hiroko sounded almost amused. “You mean you want to have sex with her?”
He winced. This wasn’t a conversation that Byakuya wanted to be having with anyone, ever, but if Hiroko could provide him with a solution, then so be it. At this point, he was desperate for anything that could help him with the disturbing thoughts and feelings that had been plaguing his mind.
“It’s not just that. I constantly think about hugging her, and kissing her, and just... being with her. But I have a theory,” he said. “Years ago, I was stressed and got drunk and kissed her at a party, and now that I’m stressed again, these memories are resurfacing and making me want to kiss her. When I’m kissing Fukawa or having sex with her, I feel... good. Less stressed. My body unconsciously knows doing these things with her will make me feel better despite how degenerate the acts are.”
When a few seconds had passed without Hiroko replying, Byakuya forced himself to look up. She was gazing at him with an unreadable expression.
“I see.” Hiroko put down her fork. “Well, how about I help you deal with these urges? I know just the thing.”
“What?”
“Let’s have sex. Me and you.”
Byakuya gaped at Hiroko. She stared back at him without even a shred of amusement. Then, when he fully registered what she said, he almost recoiled enough to overbalance his chair.
“W-What?” he spluttered, his face setting aflame.
“You said you’ve been feeling stressed and it’s making you want to kiss and have sex and whatever. You can do it with me to satiate those urges. I won’t tell anyone. It’ll be our secret. I’m an attractive lady and you’re pretty cute too, ‘right?”
Hiroko grinned and winked at him. A sharp shiver of disgust wracked through his body.
“Absolutely not,” he said, feeling sick at the thought.
“Ah, I see. It’s because I’m your best friend’s mother, isn't it? I can hook you up with someone else. Someone you don’t already know. I have a lot of hot friends, and some of them have real cuties around your age.”
“I don’t want to have sex with you, or anyone else.”
“Just with Fufu-chi, ‘right?”
Byakuya tensed. Across the table, Hiroko’s face softened.
“Oh, Toto-chi, I’m so sorry. Your parents... They really failed you, didn’t they, hun?”
Hiroko’s words twisted inside of him. His stomach tightened.
“No, they didn't,” he said. His hands trembled. He clenched them, but they still trembled. “You need to leave, right now. All of this is totally inappropriate.”
“Whoa, Toto-chi. I didn't actually intend to do anything with you,” said Hiroko. “I just wanted to make you realise what you’re going through has nothing to do with stress or suppressed memories or whatever theory you’re scrambling for... It's to do with your heart. You like Fufu-chi and that’s okay. I'm sorry you were made to grow up thinking there's anything wrong with that.”
Byakuya didn’t know what was more ridiculous, what she said or the fact it was Hiroko of all people telling him all this. The shaking in his hands started to spread to the rest of his body like an infection.
“I am not going to be lectured about parenting by the mother of Yasuhiro Hagakure,” he sneered.
“My pumpkin is fine!” The first real look of annoyance washed across Hiroko’s face. “I mean, sure, he has a teeny problem with handling money, but he's happy. That's all that matters to me, and it's a shame that didn't matter to your folks.”
“I SAID GET OUT!”
He stood up and punched the table. Cutlery and crockery rattled. She glanced at his fist, then met his gaze.
“Can I at least finish my pancakes first?” Hiroko asked.
Byakuya glared. Without another word, she took her plate and left. He heard the apartment door open then shut. Once again, he found himself alone. Good. If he had been forced to listen to another second of Hiroko’s nonsense, he thought he might have exploded. The nerve of that woman. She had no idea what she was talking about. If Byakuya had been failed by his parents, by the conglomerate, he would never have been chosen as his father's heir. Instead, he would have been like the others. Nobodies. Dead.
“Nobody knows you, huh...? Ain’t that kinda lonely?”
Yasuhiro was stupid just like his mother. Togamis didn't feel lonely, because they didn't need friends or girlfriends or families. Those were just opportunities for people to stab him in the back.
“You want so badly what we have, but you won’t permit yourself to have it.”
Kyouko was stupid too. And Makoto. And everyone. How dare they act like they knew him better than he did. They weren't there during all his tutoring, all his training. All those times people tried to get close to him so they could take advantage of his status. They weren’t there when he defeated his half-siblings. They weren’t there while he shook his father’s hand when he saw him in person for the first time. Not even Touko was there. Apart from Byakuya, only one other person was still alive from back then.
And Byakuya had their phone number. He pulled out his phone from his trouser pocket. It had been some months since Byakuya last spoke to Aloysius. There was every chance that he wouldn’t answer, now that Aloysius no longer worked for Byakuya. Growing up, all those times that Aloysius had tended to Byakuya were when the conglomerate was paying him to take care of him.
But other than Touko, only Aloysius could come close to understanding him. There was no one else, dead or alive. And so Byakuya tried calling. His phone rang for a couple of seconds, then connected.
“Good afternoon, Togami-sama,” Aloysius said. “Is everything all right?”
“No,” said Byakuya, and he explained everything that had happened, starting from Komaru’s plan to rehabilitate the former Warriors of Hope. He talked about rebuilding the school, and his run-ins with Touko. When he mentioned what transpired while they watched the movie, he cringed but powered through his intimate time with Touko.
Then there was his first term of teaching, where the days had bled into one another. Those lunches with Touko. Her smiles. All the times he almost kissed her. Aloysius listened without interruption, and by the time Byakuya had finished, his throat was raw and he felt empty inside.
“Togami-sama,” said Aloysius, finally, “why did you not tell me any of this until now?”
“You're not under my employment anymore. You're retired. You don’t need to concern yourself with me. I just... I didn’t know who else to talk to.”
Aloysius had every right to tell Byakuya that this wasn’t his problem anymore. To hang up and leave Byakuya to rot in his apartment.
“That does not mean I do not care about you, or that I no longer hold any interest in being involved in your life still. I apologise, as I know it’s unprofessional, but during our time together, I’ve come to see you almost as if you were my own kin. The only reason I have not initiated contact over the past months is because I did not want to impose in case you didn’t want me around anymore. I know how you like your independence, and I feared I would be overstepping.” Aloysius paused. “Do you require my services again? I can be with you in a few hours.”
“I don’t know,” said Byakuya flatly. There were a lot of things he didn’t know, apparently. “Pennyworth, you understand what it means to be a Togami as much as I do. The Togami name lives through me now. It is on my shoulders to carry on its legacy. If I was to go against what it stood for... what sort of person would I be? Who or what would I be if I am not a Togami?”
“Togami-sama, from the day you were born, you have grown up on a battlefield. You’ve never known anything else. This is a new world, one that you have never known. One where you don’t need to be constantly on guard, or be perfect. You are right that you are the last remaining Togami. It is down to you to define what being a Togami means. I can help you with almost anything, but I cannot do that for you, I’m afraid.”
Byakuya frowned, staring into space. His fingers lightly drummed the table.
“Do you want me to come over?” asked Aloysius.
“... Stop by tomorrow,” said Byakuya. “Today... there is someone else I need to go see.”
literally cried reading your newest chapter because i've been in such a similar situation to touko before </3 i love your writing a lot, i'm not really a fanfiction person at all, your fics are literally the only ones i ever read
awww ; w ; thank you!!! that means a lot to me to hear that. togami and fukawa are both such complicated and messy characters aha, i love them. though they do have stuff to work through as we can see
Hello just asking out of curiosity bc while reading some of your older togofuka fic i noticed byakuya asked for kołacz and i was wondering why exactly this? Like why some polish food and why exactly in polish? Honestly its just curiosity bc as a polish person myself i dont see much polish representation 😋 btw just saying that i love your fics
i headcanon that togami's mother's maiden name was polanski (a polish surname) based on togami's polaris p polanski 'persona', so he's half polish on his mother's side. this is pure headcanon, of course. so it's a little nod to that.
but also i am half polish (and half english)! i have dual citizenship. my penname is actually my polish grandmother's name with an extra a on the end.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
“Naegi-chi’s a great guy. I hate to admit it, but I’m jealous of him,” Yasuhiro carried on. “He’s good-looking, with a cute girlfriend and lots of friends... but what I think I’m jealous most of is how he’s just that bit more optimistic than the average person. Even if everything’s crap, he keeps on going. Even when someone’s a jerk to him, he gives them another chance. I could hate him for all that, but I don’t. And I don’t think you hate him either.”
“I’m not jealous of Naegi,” Byakuya said, as that was what Yasuhiro seemed to be getting at. “You don’t know me. Nobody knows me.”
“Nobody knows you, huh...? Ain’t that kinda lonely?”
Chapters: 11/?
Fandom: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Dangan Ronpa Another Episode: Ultra Despair Girls, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Dangan Ronpa Series
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Fukawa Toko/Togami Byakuya, Kirigiri Kyoko/Naegi Makoto, Fukawa Toko & Naegi Komaru, Shingetsu Nagisa & Togami Byakuya
Summary: When a project is set up to help rehabilitate the former Warriors of Hope, Togami finds himself the guardian of Nagisa Shingetsu. He also finds himself troubled with confusing feelings toward Fukawa...
Comments: Chapter 11! This was a tricky one to write.
💖 Please like, reblog, leave kudos and/or comment on tumblr and AO3 💖
Fic under the cut!
***
Enough light bled into the garden for Byakuya to see that his beer bottle was almost empty. He raised it and shook it from side-to-side. Loud bass pumped out from the building adjoining the garden, drowning the sound of anything that would have been sloshing about. As he squinted at the bottle's silhouette, he thought to himself how the neck resembled a torso, and the bottle's body a long, straight skirt. His fingers absent-mindedly stroked the bottle's neck. How fragile it was. Yet, if he was to smash it, the shards would bite into him like fox's teeth, creating a bloody mess.
A door opened. Music blasted louder. Footsteps. Byakuya continued sitting on a deckchair and peering up at the beer bottle.
“Togami-kun, you must come inside. It is not healthy for you to be out in the cold. Your blood may clot, and your body will become more susceptible to viruses!” barked a noisy, grating voice.
Was it cold? Byakuya was wearing a jacket, so maybe it was cold outside.
“Can you hear me, Togami-kun?”
There were no stars in the sky. Just a black abyss.
“Go away,” said Byakuya.
The intruder did not go away. “I insist you come back into the house. It's not just for your health. Tonight is a celebration of our hard work during the school term just gone. As... debauched as this party may be, and as reclusive as you are... this gathering is for all of us. You included.”
Byakuya held no interest in celebrating with his cohort. Having to acknowledge their existence on a daily basis was annoying enough. He jiggled his almost empty bottle and wished he had more beer.
“This isn't like the parties I read about in my research. There has been no cake, or even a game of musical statues,” said the intruder. “It's just... all drink! It is highly disappointing that Hagakure-kun brought all that alcohol. He is the only one of age who can legally drink it!”
That hadn't stopped most of the party’s attendants from doing so. Byakuya licked his lips. He had been one of the first to arrive at the venue, and rather than bore himself conversing with the others, he had allowed Yasuhiro to press a bottle into his hands before withdrawing to a corner.
By now, most of the invited guests were here. Shortly before Byakuya went out to the garden, Touko had shown up with a few others.
Touko...
... was utterly repulsive.
Byakuya pulled a face and stood up. He still didn't want to socialise with anyone, but he did want more beer. The ground wobbled beneath him like he was walking on loose concrete slabs, and his body tensed as two hands swooped in to steady him.
“I don't need your help, Isi ewu,” Byakuya sneered.
“It's Ishimaru.”
Despite Byakuya's objection, Kiyotaka Ishimaru guided Byakuya across the garden and into the house, where Leon's party was taking place. Punk music vibrated through the building. As loud as it was, though, Byakuya could still hear ping-pong balls clacking and plopping in the kitchen. Some of his classmates laughed and cheered in there too, but he didn’t go join them. Kiyotaka marched him to the living room before dumping him on the couch.
Already sitting there was Kyouko, with Makoto next to her. Byakuya found himself on Makoto's other side wedged between him and Touko, who smiled and fidgeted with a bottle of beer.
“It’s very cold outside.” Kiyotaka rubbed his hands together, opting to stay on his feet. “Be sure to wrap up warmly when the party ends! At the rate Kuwata-kun and Hagakure-kun’s bet is going, you will also need to walk home in groups to keep safe. Some of you are not fit to be traveling alone after drinking so much. It was a reckless thing to do, but there's nothing that can be done about it now.”
Earlier, Byakuya had overheard Yasuhiro and Leon talk about a bet they had going on, about who could make the most people drunk by the end of the night. Byakuya tilted his head back, frowning.
“Don’t you ever get sick of kidding yourself that you hold any authority?” Byakuya asked the ceiling.
“Excuse me?” said Kiyotaka, confused. “You mumbled, so I fear I misheard you. Please repeat what - ”
Byakuya’s chin snapped forward. “That’s what I’m... fucking talking about. You go around acting like you’re better than everyone, giving commands when no one gives a shit.” He raised the arm closest to Makoto and pointed in Kiyotaka’s direction, while his other arm fell across Touko’s shoulders. “It’s... just a fucking illusion... you don’t have power over anyone. What was it Kuwana... Kuwata said earlier? Something about how you should stop lying to yourself and acting like you’re a god or some shit when you’re no different to everyone else. Acting superior doesn’t mean shit when you’re empty inside. Why don’t you drop the act for once in your goddamn life and see what you’re fighting against?”
The bottle that had been in Byakuya's possession had disappeared at some point. He must have dropped it somewhere between vacating the deckchair and sitting on the couch with Touko. And Kyouko and Makoto, but he didn’t have his arm around either of their shoulders. They looked at him as if he had grown two heads. Not like Touko, who grinned and shuffled her beer bottle and looked at him like he was the only person in the room.
Kiyotaka was not looking at anyone at the moment.
“Perhaps I could afford to mingle, with moderation, with you all for a night,” said Kiyotaka slowly. His brow furrowed before he nodded and punched the air. “Yes, I will prove to you, Kuwata-kun and everyone else that I know how to have fun. I shall prove I am not constipated!”
With a determined expression on his face, Kiyotaka marched out of the living room. Byakuya stared after him, then at the doorway to the kitchen once Kiyotaka had disappeared through it. He only stirred when Touko spoke up.
“Togami-kun...” She rubbed up against him and pressed her knees together. “You’re f-freezing. I... could warm you up if you want...”
Byakuya didn’t feel cold. Or anything, in fact. He just wanted to go back to the corner and drink, but his beer bottle was gone and Touko was with him instead. She always seemed to be there. He shifted, moving his arm off her shoulders and slipping his hand beneath her armpit.
A wide smile split across her face. Touko had such an ugly smile. Lips like rotten peaches.
“Hey, Nagato.” Byakuya turned to Makoto. “Get me another drink.”
“I think you’ve maybe had enough, Togami-kun,” said Makoto.
“I didn’t ask for your opinion. And I’m fine,” Byakuya snarled before turning back to Touko. “Hey, Fukuoka... How does yours taste? Good? Bad?”
“Good?” Touko glanced at the bottle. “I-It’s a bit bitter... but I think I’m getting used to it.”
Byakuya’s eyes homed in on the bit of liquid glistening on her top lip. “Can I taste it?”
“Y-Yes! Here, have as much as - ”
He batted away the bottle. His fingers curled into her blouse. She gasped, then groaned. Her fingers laced through his hair. And that was all Byakuya could remember.
***
On the last day of the summer term, Yasuhiro brought Makoto and Byakuya to an izakaya after work. The city boasted thousands of these establishments, but Byakuya hadn’t been to a single one. Not recently, or ever. Back when the conglomerate’s employees were all still alive, he had heard about them visiting izakayas in the evenings, but Byakuya had been too young to go to any. Even if he had been old enough, he didn’t think he would have wanted to join them. He had many productive things to do, instead of chatting to workers outside business hours and eating food that his chefs could prepare at a higher quality.
Neon signs gleamed through the alleyway that the three men walked down. The passageway was so crowded that with every step, someone’s elbow brushed past Byakuya. One person walked into him, and he flinched, for a moment expecting more people to avalanche onto him like debris in a collapsing Future Foundation faculty.
But that didn't happen. He clenched his jaw and carried on snaking through the crowd.
Most of the people streaming through were wearing suits, with only a few in casual attire. Yasuhiro stopped by a door to one of the izakayas and beckoned to the other two. Past the white walled exterior and red lantern hanging by the doorway lay a confined area, containing a crowded bar and plenty of tables. Shouting and laughter rumbled through the building. Each stool and chair seemed occupied, but a server led them deeper into the izakaya until they reached a single vacant table.
“Thanks!” Yasuhiro beamed and sat down. “Three sakes, please! We'll order plates when you come back, ‘right?”
After the server left, Yasuhiro picked up a laminated menu. Byakuya did the same. Each item was listed in Japanese with an English translation immediately below, and what Byakuya suspected were the most popular options had an accompanying photo as well. While Byakuya scanned through the text for something to order, Yasuhiro rambled to them, though Byakuya struggled to hear most of what Yasuhiro said despite how Yasuhiro was yelling every word.
“You have got to try the kushiyaki. I don't know how the guy does it, but each bite is so good that I could carve the ocean in half with just my voice screaming how great it tastes. Trust me, I've been to a lot of these places, and this is one of the best, ‘right?”
Byakuya didn’t look up from the menu. “I don’t doubt that you frequent these sorts of places.”
“You have to shout, Togami-chi! I can’t hear you.”
Instead, Byakuya tightened his lips and glared at Yasuhiro.
“That’s just how these places are, Togami-chi! Everyone drinks and shouts and has a great time!”
Byakuya could see why this sort of place appealed to Yasuhiro. Noisy. Full of cheap food and drink. When the server returned, the three seated at the table accepted their sake. The server also gave small plates of vegetable tofu nimono and boiled soybeans, and then the group placed their main orders. Not wanting to raise his voice, Byakuya pointed out his choices on the menu: a chicken meatball skewer with green onion and a pint of lager. Makoto shouted his order, as did Yasuhiro.
“It’s been too long since the three of us have hung out!” Yasuhiro remarked. He took a swig of sake. “At least we have the rest of summer now! But then we’re back to the grind, huh?”
And all they had to do was that for the rest of their lives. Byakuya drank.
“When we go back, we’ve gotta make more time for each other!” Yasuhiro added. “Lately, I’ve been having lunch by myself most of the time. I miss you guys!”
“Sorry, sorry!” That was Makoto. He rubbed the back of his neck and laughed with an apologetic smile. “Being headmaster comes with so many meetings.”
“Kirigiri-chi’s been busy too. Then Komaru-chi has been hanging out with her classmates, And Asahina-chi...” Yasuhiro trailed off. His grin weakened, and he didn’t shout his next sentence. “She’s dealing with her own stuff.” He raised his voice again, the corners of his lips perking up. “And of course, Togami-chi is always working, except when he’s having lunch with Fukawa-chi!”
Both Makoto and Yasuhiro turned to Byakuya, staring at him, as though waiting for him to respond. Only, Byakuya wasn’t interested in trying to be heard over all the ruckus. Just hearing his own thoughts was proving troublesome. Besides, what did they expect him to say? Did they want him to confirm what Yasuhiro said was true? If Yasuhiro already knew, then Byakuya didn’t see why he needed to affirm his statement.
The corners of the other two guys’ mouths drooped slightly.
“So, Naegi-chi... How’s the couple’s life treating ya?” said Yasuhiro, looking at Makoto now. “When are you going to pop the question to Kirigiri-chi?”
Byakuya didn’t know what question Yasuhiro was referring to, but Makoto seemed to realise straight away. Makoto jerked his head back and waved his hands.
“W-We’ve only been dating for a few months, Hagakure-kun!”
“But you’ve been acting like a married couple since forever, ‘right? And if there’s one thing I learned from the world almost ending, it’s that life’s too short to drag things out needlessly. You don’t know what the next day will bring. It’s like that philosophical quote says... ‘Let's make the most of the night like we're gonna die young.’”
Makoto cringed back into his chair as Yasuhiro barked out more obnoxious laughter. Byakuya’s nose wrinkled. Everything was too loud. Too bright. There was too much shouting and laughing. When the server brought over their next round of drinks, Byakuya grabbed his lager. He was more than happy to let those two scream a conversation with each other while he ate some starters and drank his alcohol.
Had Yasuhiro not arrived at Byakuya’s door earlier to collect him for this night out, Byakuya would have still been at home. Nagisa wouldn’t have been, off having a sleepover with his friends at Kyouko’s place. Kyouko must have coordinated with Makoto and Yasuhiro so this outing could take place. Byakuya had nothing to do with that. If they had forgotten him somehow, he wouldn’t have said anything. Would have stayed in his apartment.
He traced his finger around the rim of his glass tankard.
“So, Togami-chi!” Yasuhiro popped a boiled soybean into his own mouth before speaking again. “What sort of things do you talk about with Fukawa-chi on your little get togethers? Or do you sit in silence?”
“We talk.” Byakuya picked up chopsticks and helped himself to some sashimi, dipping it in a pot of soy sauce. “We eat and talk.”
“Togami-chi, what did I say before? You have to talk louder! In a place like this, people shout out their thoughts and feelings without a care in the world. No one’s listening to us! You can say whatever you want!”
More alcohol and small plates arrived at their table. Yasuhiro’s gaze didn’t relent.
“Well, Togami-chi?”
“I’m not shouting.”
Even though Byakuya didn’t raise his voice, Yasuhiro seemed to read his lips well enough to understand what Byakuya said. “But Togami-chi, in here you can - ”
“I said I don’t want to!”
Yasuhiro flinched. The rest of the izakaya continued bubbling with noise. Byakuya downed his tankard and grabbed another.
“Fukawa and I eat lunch somewhere quiet and talk about literature.” He also looked at her hands and lips and tried not to throw up. “Are you happy now?”
“Sorry! I won’t pry again!” Yasuhiro babbled.
Makoto’s eyes flickered. “Are you okay, Togami-kun?”
“I’m perfectly fine. Everything is perfectly fine,” snapped Byakuya. With the hand not gripping his tankard, he massaged his temple. “It’s just this place that is so odious. I could have been at home right now doing anything else. Instead I’m here with you... dunces.”
Byakuya didn’t have any schoolwork to mark anymore, or emails to reply to or lesson plans to memorise. Not for the next month or so. But he could have worked on his writing, though now that the school term had ended, he couldn’t meet with Touko on the roof like they had been doing. Perhaps they could meet somewhere else. Could even finish that movie too. Or he could have done the other things he had been doing as of late, like flicking through webpages on his laptop or lying awake in bed.
But no. He was in a cramped room that stank of booze and sweat, surrounded by strangers shouting nonstop. Packed in tight, like a corpse in rubble. Why was this room so small, anyway? Was there even enough air in there for everyone to breathe? How long until they all suffocated? Was the exit clear?
“Don’t be like that, Togami-kun,” said Makoto.
“Be like what? Myself?”
“This isn’t yourself. At least, not the yourself you are now.”
The server set down their skewers and more alcohol. Byakuya clicked his tongue.
"We’ve been worried about you,” said Makoto.
“If my quality of teaching isn’t up to standard, tell me.”
“You’re fine with that. You have a reputation of being a strict but knowledgeable teacher.” Makoto gave a smile. “Seriously, your intellect is incredible.”
“So what’s the problem, then?” snapped Byakuya. Makoto frowned.
“That’s what I want to know! Whenever I’ve seen you at work, lately you’ve been sort of... listless. And it feels like you’re avoiding all of us.”
“Almost all of us,” Yasuhiro chimed in. Byakuya glared at Makoto.
“I said I’m fine. What, do you want me to frolic through the school corridors with a stupid grin on my face?” he asked.
“I’m just concerned about you, as a friend,” said Makoto.
“Should I break into song at the start of every day? Should I kiss your feet, or does everyone else do it enough already?”
Makoto soared to his feet and slammed a hand against the table. The plates rattled. “You’re being ridiculous now!”
Byakuya’s lips twisted into a sardonic smile as he regarded Makoto, who trembled faintly. Yasuhiro yelped and cowered in his chair.
“Guys, let’s calm down, ‘right?” said Yasuhiro. “We’re all friends.”
“You’re the one who claimed this was a place where people could unleash their thoughts and feelings without a second thought,” Byakuya pointed out. “Is that not what we’re doing? I’m giving my own thoughts and feelings. Naegi expects everyone to fall into place and do what he says.”
“That’s rich, coming from you.”
“I used to be rich. That ended with my family’s deaths.”
“We all lost family, Togami-kun. Not just you. I’m trying to make a difference for everyone. I want to make sure what happened before never happens again. I thought that was what you were trying to do as well by helping me.”
“It’s getting a teeny bit too heavy in here. Let’s all enjoy our food, ‘right?” piped up Yasuhiro. “Togami-chi, how is your skewer? Naegi-chi, what about your curry? Is that chicken or a pork cutlet on top?”
Makoto remained standing for a couple more seconds before slowly lowering into his chair. “It’s pork.”
Laughter and shouting continued to boom though the izakaya, but none came from Byakuya’s table. They ate and drank in near silence. Even Yasuhiro didn’t say much, his eyes flicking between the other two. Byakuya refused to so much as glance in Makoto’s direction. He drained his tankard and helped himself to another. Then another.
The first time Byakuya first tasted beer, the inside of his mouth had tingled unpleasantly, almost burning and leaving with a bitter aftertaste. Now, as he downed it, its warmth engulfed him.
“I think you might need to slow down your drinking,” remarked Yasuhiro. “You’ve gotta pace yourself.”
“What he needs is counselling,” said Makoto, picking at his curry.
“I'm completely sorbet,” said Byakuya.
Yasuhiro and Makoto looked at each other and quirked their brows, for some reason.
“Whatever you say, Togami-chi,” said Yasuhiro. He got out his phone, checked the screen and gasped dramatically. “Wow! Is it that time already? We should finish up and get going soon, ‘right?”
Byakuya wasn’t aware of a time they had agreed to leave at. Nor did the occupants at the other tables seem to be in any hurry to leave, clinking their glasses together and bellowing at the top of their lungs. As soon as they finished their meals, Yasuhiro and Makoto rose, with the former going over to Byakuya and dragging him off his chair.
“I can walk,” grumbled Byakuya as he tried to find his footing.
“I've been telling you. If you want to be heard in here, you've got to shout,” said Yasuhiro.
Rather than shout and make a fool of himself, Byakuya allowed Yasuhiro to assist him to the door while Makoto paid. The alleyway was still streaming with people, but now there were also bodies slumped against walls or sprawled across the ground. As they passed one, Makoto slowed, but he was forced to catch up to the other two to keep from being separated.
“There were people unconscious back there,” said Makoto as they left the alleyway.
“Ah. That's normal,” said Yasuhiro.
The high street they stepped out onto was a lot less congested, with Byakuya able to move without anyone bumping into him. On one side of them, cars sped past in both directions. Keeping to the pavement, they headed to the lot where Makoto parked his car, then he drove them home.
Streetlights and illuminated signs swam through the darkness outside. Byakuya sat in the back with Yasuhiro. The radio droned techno but as annoying as it was, Byakuya didn't complain or comment on it. Or say anything. No one did. He looked at his hand and wiggled his fingers.
Outside the apartment building, Byakuya opened the car door. As he got out, he tripped, but he managed to stop himself from falling over completely with a few stumbles. All he needed to do now was enter the building, ascend to his floor and unlock his apartment door. But then Yasuhiro wrapped an arm around him.
“You go on ahead, Naegi-chi,” said Yasuhiro, flapping his free hand.
Makoto hesitated. “Are you sure? I don't mind helping him to his apartment with you. He's pretty heavy.”
Byakuya leered at him. “Fork you.”
Yasuhiro stiffened. A few seconds passed before Makoto responded.
“If you need anything, let me know,” he said, before walking on ahead.
Once Makoto was inside the building, Yasuhiro said, “That wasn't nice, Togami-chi.”
“Fack you too,” said Byakuya, squirming. Yasuhiro continued holding onto him with unexpected strength.
“It’s been forever since I’ve seen you this drunk. C’mon, let's go inside,” said Yasuhiro.
He dragged Byakuya over to the apartment building. The automatic lights in the lobby were already switched on from when Makoto passed through not too long ago. They shambled toward the stairwell together.
“You remember me being this drunk before?” asked Byakuya as they started to climb. “Are you referring to that party years ago?”
“Yeah! You got completely wasted, like you are now. You were hiding away from everyone, then you were insulting everyone... well, almost everyone...”
Byakuya’s brow furrowed. “What about me and Fukawa?”
“Huh? Don’t you remember?”
“Mostly. I sat with her on a sofa. My memory is blurry after that.”
“Probably ‘cause you were so drunk.”
“What was I like with Fukawa?”
Yasuhiro didn’t answer right away. “Ah, well... Togami-chi, you were really drunk.”
“Tell me!”
“Eek!” Yasuhiro twitched, as if Byakuya had sunk his teeth into his arm. “Okay! You made out with her, ‘right?”
Byakuya had suspected as much, but at least now he finally had it confirmed to him. In hindsight, he could have asked Yasuhiro about it months ago, but there had never been a good time. There was always work, or something else going on.
“I see,” said Byakuya, quieter.
“Then you went upstairs with her, and made out with her more in a closet until Fukawa-chi went home with the other girls in our class. I didn’t actually see you kissing her, but I heard about it from some of the others later. We made a pact to never talk about it to anyone, ever. For your reputation... and so you didn’t tear our heads off.”
They reached the floor below theirs. As they continued up the stairs, Byakuya swayed slightly and Yasuhiro tightened his hold on him. Byakuya’s eyes fluttered. This felt familiar. Was this what happened when he went upstairs with Touko all those years ago? Had they also held each other, wobbling as they clambered up?
“You were pretty harsh on Naegi-chi, y’know,” said Yasuhiro. “But even when you said those mean things to him, he drove you home and offered to help you to your apartment. And I bet tomorrow, he’s going to say good morning to you and ask if you slept well.”
Byakuya snorted humourlessly. Yasuhiro wasn’t wrong. Makoto was a pushover.
“Naegi-chi’s a great guy. I hate to admit it, but I’m jealous of him,” Yasuhiro carried on. “He’s good-looking, with a cute girlfriend and lots of friends... but what I think I’m jealous most of is how he’s just that bit more optimistic than the average person. Even if everything’s crap, he keeps on going. Even when someone’s a jerk to him, he gives them another chance. I could hate him for all that, but I don’t. And I don’t think you hate him either.”
“I’m not jealous of Naegi,” Byakuya said, as that was what Yasuhiro seemed to be getting at. “You don’t know me. Nobody knows me.”
“Nobody knows you, huh...? Ain’t that kinda lonely?”
When Byakuya opened his mouth to retort, no words came out. They emerged onto the floor with both their apartments, and Yasuhiro led Byakuya to his door.
“Think you can unlock it by yourself?” asked Yasuhiro.
Byakuya got out his key. “Yes.”
Admittedly, he did miss the lock, prodding his key next to it. Yasuhiro aligned it for him, then clapped Byakuya on the back.
“Cool. Let’s catch up in the morning, ‘right? Take care, Togami-chi.”
Then Yasuhiro walked over to his own apartment, unlocked the door and went inside. Byakuya should have entered his own home, but instead he pressed a fist against the door and stood motionless.
Of all the moronic things that Yasuhiro had ever uttered, the idea that Byakuya was jealous of Makoto was perhaps the worst. Not only was it stupid and wrong, but offensive. Makoto was painfully average in almost all aspects. He liked mainstream manga, listened to popular music and was happy existing this way. Had Byakuya been ordinary like Makoto, Byakuya wouldn't be alive.
Byakuya had to be top of his classes. He had to keep everyone at an arm's length. He couldn't care about having friends, let alone romantic partners, or indulging in activities that wouldn't improve some skill related to the conglomerate. There had been no room for weakness. No room for bonds or emotions or regrets. All this had been in the name of the Togami Empire.
A tremor shook through Byakuya, then he threw back his head and laughed. And laughed and laughed and laughed because the conglomerate was dead apart from him. When he quietened, his body continued trembling. He raised a hand and looked at it as he wiggled his fingers. Without a beer, it felt empty. He felt empty. Being Togami felt empty. But there was one person who made him feel not empty. Who saw him not as Togami, but Byakuya. Byakuya-sama.
The floor heaved beneath him as he headed to the stairwell. Even when he paused to lean against the wall, his surroundings continued rolling and tilting. He gritted his teeth and pressed on, tripping at the bottom of the stairs and crashing to his knees. A hiss of pain escaped him, but he stood up and hobbled over to Touko's door and knocked.
No one answered right away. Byakuya could have walked off. Retreated to his apartment, flopped into bed, and waited for the next day of the rest of his life. But he stayed, and then the door opened.
There she stood. Touko wore a short-sleeved, V-neck purple nightdress. It had a slit down one side, exposing some of her thigh as she shifted her weight between feet.
“B-Byakuya-sama?” she said, squinting and adjusting her glasses.
He placed a hand onto her shoulder. Felt her body tense up. Her eyes were the colour of lavender.
“Fukawa...”
Byakuya licked his teeth then swallowed. His fingers stroked her shoulder gently. There were so many things he could say to her. She disgusted him. He couldn’t resist her. She was a nuisance. He wanted to be with her. She was intelligent. She was interesting. She was strong. He was intoxicated by her.
He said, “You’re beautiful.”
Her eyes widened. Her breathing hitched. The space between them shrunk as he lowered his head and leaned in. His eyelashes fluttered. He barely breathed.
Then he felt a hand press against his chest, fingers digging in like fox’s teeth.
“I can’t do this, Byakuya-sama,” said Touko, her voice cracking.
Byakuya froze.
“I’ve been trying s-so hard to be your friend, t-telling myself that I’m happy with things being as they are, only for you to go and do things like this.” Her shoulders hunched and shuddered. “You have lunch with me. You visit a museum with me. You talk about literature and your life with me. But you kiss me and have sex with me and you say it’s because you need an outlet for your stress, and I go along with it because I’m still hopelessly in love with you.”
As Byakuya stared back at her, his chest clenched as though her fingers weren't gripping his shirt, but had torn past his ribcage and seized his heart.
“And n-now... you come here, smelling of beer, wanting to... what? Kiss me again? Have sex with me again? Is it because you’re stressed, again? Do you know how much you’re tearing me up inside? I love you. I love you so much my heart wants to burst whenever I even think about you. But I can’t do this anymore. Thinking you're going to kiss me every time you lean in. Agonising every time you look at my hand. W-Wondering if we’re hanging out as friends, or if we’re on a date. I’ll go insane. Just... What am I to you, Byakuya-sama? A friend? A girlfriend? Am I just a way for you to work out your stress?”
Her face wobbled, then she burst into tears. His tongue stuck to the top of his mouth. This wasn't what he had expected to happen. Or what he expected her to say. He didn't know what to tell her. He didn’t know much of anything at the moment. But he did know she made him feel like he wasn’t empty. Slowly, he curled an arm around her, and she burrowed her face into his chest.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
‘Her lips curved into a smile that made his chest clench. It took Byakuya some good few seconds to realise he wasn’t breathing, then he had to remind himself to inhale, exhale and repeat. Memories of her lips locked against his bled in, of how wet and warm they had been. How they had vibrated against him as she moaned and tangled his hair between her fingers.
He could have kissed her right now. No one would see. No one would know.
But he would know.’
Chapters: 10/?
Fandom: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Dangan Ronpa Another Episode: Ultra Despair Girls, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Dangan Ronpa Series
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Fukawa Toko/Togami Byakuya, Kirigiri Kyoko/Naegi Makoto, Fukawa Toko & Naegi Komaru, Shingetsu Nagisa & Togami Byakuya
Characters: Togami Byakuya, Fukawa Toko, Kirigiri Kyoko, Naegi Makoto, Naegi Komaru, Asahina Aoi (Dangan Ronpa), Hagakure Yasuhiro, more to be added, Shingetsu Nagisa, Utsugi Kotoko, Daimon Masaru (Dangan Ronpa), Kemuri Jataro
Summary: When a project is set up to help rehabilitate the former Warriors of Hope, Togami finds himself the guardian of Nagisa Shingetsu. He also finds himself troubled with confusing feelings toward Fukawa...
Comments: Chapter 10! This was a bit tricky to write, and it came out a lot longer than I intended haha.
💖 Please like, reblog, leave kudos and/or comment on tumblr and AO3 💖
Fic under the cut!
***
Chapter 10: A Life I Never Chose
When Byakuya was a child - younger than Nagisa, his meals would sometimes be tampered with by his staff. Not all the time, but enough that he would regularly sift through his food for shards of glass and check for odd smells and discolouring. Though, even when he did find poison present, his mother would still insist he finish the meal more often than not. It was due to this training of his body that Byakuya developed some immunity to most poisons. This was also why during Sakura Oogami’s murder trial, he hadn’t been concerned about any traces being present when he drank protein from a bottle that had previously contained poison. The conglomerate had prepared him well for future assassination attempts. Not only for the poisons in food, but for the poisons in emotional bonds too.
On the morning of Byakuya’s second day at teaching, he served rice, soup, grilled salmon and fermented soy beans for breakfast. Nagisa still only grabbed himself a handful of cereal, but this time, he looked at the food, said it looked good but he wasn’t that hungry, then he bid Byakuya a pleasant morning before leaving. While Nagisa didn’t taste any of what Byakuya had made, it was a start. Better than the last couple of days, at least, when Nagisa had treated Byakuya like some mould on the wall.
Upon arrival at the main school building, Byakuya stopped by the teachers’ office. The sharp stink of cheap coffee and cologne stung his nose as soon as he walked in. Several of his coworkers were hunched over desks, scarfing down breakfast as they worked. Egg sandwiches. Onigiri. Pork buns. Byakuya’s lips pursed in disgust as he observed their greasy fingers groping their phones and laptop keyboards. Had they no shame? They had the previous evening to get all their work done in time for today.
He walked over to a desk tucked away in a far corner and pulled his laptop out of his briefcase. By the time Makoto called out for everyone's attention, Byakuya had finished checking his emails and was rereading his lesson plans.
“We’re off to a great start,” Makoto announced, sweeping his smile across the room as he slowly turned his head to look around at everyone. “Let’s keep it up. These first few weeks are going to set a precedent for the rest of the year.”
Like Makoto’s pep talk the previous day, this one was short, and Byakuya was soon making his way over to his homeroom. He had four lessons to teach before lunch. Two maths classes. One physics. One art. Then, it would be lunchtime, followed by a free period to catch up on any outstanding work... or visit the library.
Touko hadn't told him when exactly he would be able to read her I-Novel. All she said was that it needed to be ‘perfect’. Either way, there was no harm in checking up on her. Should her I-Novel not be ready yet, there were other topics they could discuss. They needed to arrange a time to finish the movie they had been watching together. Byakuya also wanted another book recommendation from her, now that he had completed ‘Confessions’. Maybe one by the same author.
But first, he had students to teach. When he strode into his homeroom, half the class were already there, all falling quiet at the sight of him.
“Are we starting already, Togami-sensei?” asked Rantaro Amami, a green-haired boy wearing a loosened tie.
“You still have five more minutes,” replied Byakuya.
Only two students were absent when attendance was taken, with the door opening about a minute afterwards. In came the missing pupils: the girl who had called him a ‘degenerate male’ the day before, and the short girl with a red bob who had complained about only wanting to learn magic.
“Why are you late?” asked Byakuya.
“Tenko was waiting at Yumeno-san’s door for her to get ready so they could go to class together,” said the taller girl, speaking in third person.
“Nyeh... It’s too early.” Himiko Yumeno yawned and rubbed her eyes. “My MP’s still not fully restored.”
Her talk of ‘MP’ reminded Byakuya of Nagisa and his talk of ‘EXP’.
“When Tenko arrived outside of Yumeno-san’s room and knocked and got no answer, Tenko thought Yumeno-san was in danger. Tenko thought she’d have to unleash her Super Aikido Punch to bust down the door and find out what was wrong,” said Tenko Chabashira, punching her palm.
“Nyeh... she was so noisy. I couldn’t go back to sleep,” said Himiko.
Byakuya didn’t know what sort of Aikido that Tenko practised, but it seemed more violent than the one he was vaguely familiar with.
“Perhaps, then, you should go to bed earlier,” Byakuya told Himiko coldly. “You should also think about how this school can only take in a certain number of students each year, and how many children were rejected during admissions while you want to waste your time, your classmates’ time and my time.”
Tenko bristled. “Hey! Yumeno-san is small and cute, so she needs all the sleep she can get to stay that way.”
The ‘small and cute’ Himiko yawned again and picked her nose.
“You are on your first warning for being late. Both of you. If you are late again this month, I will give you detention.” Byakuya pointed toward their desks. “Sit. I will write in the register that you were late.”
When he was their age, he had never been late for a single lesson. His face remained stoic as the girls whined and shuffled over to their seats. The looks that the other students exchanged didn’t go unnoticed by him, but they could think he was being too mean and strict all they liked. He wouldn’t allow them to disrespect him, their classmates or the teenagers who couldn’t enroll this year.
After homeroom, Byakuya departed for his other lessons. Mechanics: learning about units and basic formulae for constant acceleration. Statistics: going over different averages. Physics: converting various units of measurements. For Byakuya’s fourth class, he entered one of the artrooms, where he was reunited with his homeroom students. As soon as he walked in, they hushed, staring at him.
Unlike the other classrooms with their rows of spaced out desks, in here there were several tables pushed together, forming clusters that students sat around in groups. No one was sitting alone, so Byakuya decided that he didn't need to bother with a seating plan for now. A couple of art easels stood at the back of the room, and some prints of famous paintings hung on the walls. Byakuya knew the artist of each one.
“We will be drawing self-portraits today,” he said. “Feel free to use any of the utensils in the pots on your desk, or grab paints from the cupboards at the back of the room. Just make sure you set down newspaper first so you don’t make a mess of the tables, for goodness sake.”
“Aren’t you going to give us any guidance first?” piped up a serious voice. It belonged to a girl whose dark hair was styled into twintails tied up by red scrunchies. “This is our first art lesson.”
“I’m interested to see what you’re capable of creating right now,” replied Byakuya. “I will be drawing a self-portrait as well. You have forty minutes, starting now.”
The students stirred, some grabbing pencils, others rising so they could potter around the cupboards housing paints. As for Byakuya, he needed only a piece of paper and a pencil, then he got started on his own artwork. Being proficient at art wasn't a necessity for running the conglomerate, but Aloysius had persuaded Byakuya's mother to invest time into improving her son’s drawing ability. Byakuya recalled Aloysius talking about how creating art could reduce stress, enhance fine motor skills and make someone more observant. Not only that, but Byakuya had taken art classes in high school, and he was always at the top of his class in every subject.
Toward the end of the lesson, everyone showed off their self-portraits. Some were manga-style, others cartoonish and a few were attempts at realism. Not all of them were bad, but when his class saw Byakuya’s piece, all their eyes goggled and their mouths fell agape.
“It looks so realistic,” gushed the blonde pianist, Kaede Akamatsu.
“Yes, but at the same time, it’s not totally faithful to real life,” chimed in a blue-haired girl with glasses. “It has a slight Takeshi Obata vibe to it. I like it.”
“No way you did that just now. I bet you commissioned a professional to draw this some time before the lesson,” said Kaito Momota, the student with a goatee who wanted to become an astronaut one day.
Byakuya clicked his tongue. “I’m not so insecure that I would feel the need to lie about something so inconsequential to show up a group of teenagers. In my lessons, I will teach you perspective, anatomy, shading, colour... and anything else you need to know to create high-quality art. When I’m finished with you all, you will have under your belts the skills required to become elite artists.”
“What if we don’t want to be an artist?” asked a pale guy with short stature and purple eyes. “What if we want to become an evil supreme leader who’s able to force others to create art for us instead?”
“Or just type a prompt into a computer?” chimed in a blonde girl with waist-length hair and a half-buttoned up blouse.
“‘Evil supreme leader’? What are you, twelve?” Byakuya scoffed. “And prompting a computer to produce images? Seriously? That’s not art. That’s like saying you’re a chef because you play cooking video games. Art encourages self-expression, improves focus and provides you with skills you can use elsewhere. Now, make sure to hand in your art to me as you leave...”
Byakuya stood by the door as they departed from the room in single file, handing their art to him as they passed by. When they were all gone, Byakuya left too. He went to the cafeteria, but when he saw that Touko wasn’t there yet, he headed to the library, where he found her at the main desk. She looked up before he reached her and beamed. A flutter jittered in his chest that Byakuya imagined was a butterfly that he crushed in his hand. They were just going to talk. That was all.
“Byakuya-sama!” Touko called out, seemingly oblivious to how she made a nearby female student jump with her sudden volume. “How lovely it is to see you. Shall we go to the cafeteria t-together?”
“Yes, that’s why I came here. So, how are you doing with your I-Novel? Is any of it ready for me to read yet?”
The corners of Touko’s lips dipped slightly. “I tidied up a couple of pages last night, but...”
“Then I shall read a couple of pages after lunch, if that is okay with you.”
“Oh! O-Of course,” she said, her gaze flickering. Her smile shrunk for a moment, only for her to push it out wider and make eye contact. “I w-would be honoured...”
They exited the library together. The cafeteria had become slightly busier since Byakuya was there a few minutes ago, mostly with students, but there were teachers present too. At one table sat Makoto, Yasuhiro and Komaru. After Byakuya and Touko grabbed themselves their lunches, they joined the other three. Byakuya had spotted the trio on his initial visit, but judging by how little they had eaten so far, they hadn’t arrived there too long before him. Or, if they had, they had been too preoccupied with chatting amongst themselves to eat much yet.
“I never knew Komaru-chi and I had so much in common,” said Yasuhiro.
Touko glared. “W-What, are you a cradle-snatcher as well as a conman now?”
“No! Not like that!” Yasuhiro yelped, fumbling with his fork and almost dropping it into his curry udon. “I mean, we were both held back a few grades due to powers beyond our control.”
“Komaru was held hostage in Towa City against her will. You chose to try to blackmail the daughter of the Kuzuryuu Clan’s leader,” said Byakuya.
“Potato, potata, Togami-chi. We both also like manga, and we’re spiritual, ‘right? Komaru-chi can sense ghosts, like me.”
“I’m going to be working on improving my penmanship right away,” said Komaru. “Thanks, Hagakure-san. I never knew bad handwriting attracted evil ghosts.”
“No problem! And consider that bit of advice free this time, ‘right?”
Byakuya made a mental note to never leave the two of them in the same room together. He started his curry udon, and it was about five minutes later when Kyouko joined them.
“I take it Asahina has other plans, again,” remarked Byakuya. Like last time, Aoi was nowhere to be seen.
Makoto rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess so.”
“You don’t think we’ve offended her, do you?” asked Komaru.
“What? You mean by rehabilitating those responsible for her brother’s demise?” said Touko.
“Asahina-san said she fully supported our idea.” Komaru cocked her head to one side, frowning. “I’m going to stop by her place when she finishes work and talk to her. Don’t worry, Detective Komaru is on the case.”
She smiled and tapped herself on her nose with her fork, leaving behind a brown spot of curry udon.
“So far, Asahina has only missed two lunches with us,” said Byakuya. It wasn’t like they hadn’t seen her at all lately, either. Aoi was in the teachers’ office this morning, wearing a bright red tracksuit. “Are you sure you’re not reading too deeply into this?”
Komaru shook her head. “It’s not just that. A week ago, I invited her to swim with me, and she said she had other plans. The week before, I asked if she wanted to check out a new dessert place with me, and she said she had a stomach ache. Asahina-san never gets stomach ache!”
Admittedly, that did sound out of character for Aoi, who Byakuya knew to like swimming, socialising and donuts. But what Touko had said was correct as well: the former Warriors of Hope had caused Aoi’s brother's death. It was one thing for Aoi to give her blessings to Komaru’s plan and another to be comfortable with it, let alone happy.
After lunch, Byakuya and Touko headed back to the library. They sat behind the front desk, and Touko pulled out a ring binder from underneath it. She slid out a sheet of paper from the first plastic wallet in her folder and set it neatly in front of herself. Printed text lined the sheet, which she proceeded to read aloud in a hushed voice.
“‘Growing up, my mothers would tell me that the doctors mistook me for a baby. That the doctors threw away a viable newborn and gave them the afterbirth - me, instead. The importance of a placenta is overlooked by many. It is a fetus’ kidneys, lungs, liver and immune system. Though, if you don’t want the baby in the first place, such as was the case with my mothers, that doesn’t matter. Afterbirths aside, there actually should - ‘”
“Um, excuse me, how do I take out a book?” asked a young girl. Touko stopped talking and sighed.
“There are instructions as you go through the self-checkout.”
The girl ambled away. As Byakuya watched her go, he noted that there were several students milling about. He assumed that at least one class had come here for their fifth period.
“Anyway,” said Touko. “Where was I? Ah, yes. ‘Afterbirths aside, there actually should have been two babies. You see, my father impregnated two different women around the same time, and - ”
“Yo, Togami-chi! Fukawa-chi!”
Byakuya cringed as Yasuhiro pranced over, waving his arm. Touko’s head jerked back like she had been shot.
“What do you want?” Touko asked, seething. “We just saw you in the cafeteria.”
“I have a free period before I’m down to teach my computer lesson. I saw you both come here so thought I’d join you guys,” explained Yasuhiro, smiling and apparently not noticing that Touko was glaring at him. “So, whatcha reading? It’s nothing too creepy, is it?”
Touko covered her sheet of paper with both hands. The grin on Yasuhiro’s face remained steadfast. Her brow puckered as she bared her teeth, but before she could snap out a retort, another voice piped up.
“Do you know where the section about graphic design is?” asked a boy. She rolled back her head and groaned.
“You can look it up on one of the many kiosks throughout the library, or go to the nonfiction area and search through the arts section for it.”
The boy didn’t move. “Can you help me? Please?”
Byakuya held back a sigh.
“You should go help him,” he told Touko before standing up. “I’ll come by here tomorrow and we can pick up where we left off then. I’m distracting you from your work, and I need to get ready for my next lesson anyway.”
Technically, Byakuya was already prepared, but he supposed he could reread his lesson plan. They weren’t getting anywhere like this, and he didn’t care to have Yasuhiro hanging around them while they went through Touko’s I-Novel.
Touko deflated. “Okay, Byakuya-sama. I’ll see you later, then...”
Yasuhiro accompanied Byakuya out of the library, leaving Touko to help the student with his request. As they headed in the direction of the teachers’ office, Yasuhiro nudged Byakuya’s shoulder with his own.
“Sorry, Togami-chi. I didn’t mean to disrupt you back there. I was trying to help you out, honest.”
Byakuya’s face scrunched in annoyance. They had been perfectly fine before Yasuhiro showed up. He walked faster, forcing Yasuhiro to quicken his pace to catch up.
Waiting until tomorrow was no big deal. Thinking about it, doing so actually benefitted Byakuya, because it gave him the chance to rethink the time and place of their next meeting. During his free period in the library opened them up for all sorts of bothersome intrusions, but after work, he was supposed to be looking after Nagisa. And Touko had Jataro...
He could think about it more later. After he finished work.
His last class was Japanese literature. The school was fortunate to employ someone as versatile as Byakuya, able to masterfully teach a range of subjects. For this lesson, they went over an abridged history of their country’s literature, with their homework being to research the Nara period in more detail in preparation for their next lesson with him.
Then, Byakuya checked in on his homeroom, and then he returned home to prepare dinner for himself and Nagisa, and all he had to do was this for the rest of his life.
***
On the morning of Byakuya’s third day at teaching, he opted for a more Western breakfast. Eggs, bacon, sausages, hash browns and toast. Nagisa helped himself to some toast, then they walked to school together. Once there, Nagisa branched off toward his homeroom while Byakuya stopped by the teachers’ office.
Many of his co-workers were in the midst of their breakfasts, chewing and typing as Makoto delivered his latest speech.
“Welcome to day three, everyone,” said Makoto, his sunny voice ringing across the room. “There’s a saying about the number three. It goes, ‘three years on a stone.’ It refers to how even a cold stone will warm up if you sit on it for three years. So if we keep up the good work, our perseverance will pay off.”
Heads nodded around the room. A few people clapped. Byakuya could have rolled his eyes and scoffed, but he restrained himself to pressing his lips together tightly. If the others found Makoto’s little motivational speeches encouraging, so be it. Perhaps they might start taking more pride in their work, instead of eating to-go breakfasts and doing last-minute work at their desks.
When Byakuya walked into his homeroom a little later, he noted that all of his students were present and already seated. They must have taken what he said about respecting others’ time to heart. Good. Byakuya gave a small smile.
“What’s with the scary look on your face?” asked a pale guy with dark hair. Shuichi Saihara was his name.
“He looks pretty perverted if you ask me,” said the wannabe supreme leader, Kokichi Ouma.
Byakuya was no longer smiling. The girl who had spoken about prompting a computer to produce art the previous day, Miu Iruma, snorted with laughter.
“It’s always the guys with somethin’ up their ass that are the dirtiest. Being the gorgeous girl genius I am, I’m gonna be getting A’s in all my classes, so the only ‘F’s you’re gonna see me ever have in class are my twin girls, Togami-sensei,” she said, gesturing to her chest.
“That’s completely vile. Behave yourselves, all of you. This is not an appropriate way to talk to anyone,” said Byakuya with a glare.
“But it can’t be worse than what you’ve heard before. I mean, you used to hang out with Genocider Syo all the time back in the killing game television show, right?” said Tsumugi Shirogane matter-of-factly as she adjusted her glasses. Her blue hair shimmered slightly when she nodded her head. “I remember in the uncut version of episode six, you arrived to breakfast with Genocider Syo and she announced to everyone that she was wearing red lingerie. You ran out of the cafeteria with terrifying speed soon after that. My friends and I had a heated debate on what she meant and your reaction.”
Horror wrung tightly in Byakuya’s chest. His hands trembled. He widened his eyes for no more than a moment before furrowing his brow.
“Genocider was making a crude joke to try to get a rise out of me,” he said, his heart pounding. “I will take attendance today, and if any of you say anything other than ‘present’, I will give you detention.”
That shut them up. Byakuya managed to keep a straight face for the rest of homeroom despite how his stomach had hardened after what Tsumugi said. Why had Genocider Syo felt the need to announce her lingerie to everyone that morning? Why hadn’t Touko changed out of them? He remembered how before they went to breakfast together, Syo had skipped up to him and babbled about finding ‘new evidence’ and wanting him to tell her about it. If Tsumugi’s peers had interpreted that incident to mean he was sexual with Touko, what did that say of his friends? None of them ever outright said anything, but had they considered it? Assumed it?
Byakuya didn’t want to dwell on that now. While he would have preferred to be by himself for a while to cool off and recompose himself properly, he had an English class to teach. Still, that wasn’t so bad. It gave him something else to focus on, and these students didn’t make disturbing comments to him. He followed the lesson plans like a script for a play, not having to think about anything else. English, mathematics, chemistry and history, and then it was lunchtime.
As soon as he entered Touko’s sight, she jumped up.
“I’m ready to go to lunch with you!” she announced.
“Actually, I had food leftover from breakfast, so I brought some for my lunch and thought we could share it while we talked,” he told her.
“Huh?” Touko’s eyebrows shot toward her hairline. “Share?”
“Let’s go somewhere quiet where we won’t be disturbed. I think the roof will suffice. What do you say?”
Despite the prevalence of high school students hanging out on roofs in anime, the ones at Hope’s Peak were behind locked access doors. However, with Byakuya and Touko being members of staff, both had authority to go up there. Touko’s eyebrows lowered. She nodded, blushing.
“I’d love to go there with you, Byakuya-sama.”
They stopped by the teachers’ office to collect his lunch from the fridge. The walk to the stairwell leading to the roof totaled approximately two minutes. At the top, Byakuya unlocked the door with his keycard, and the pair stepped out into sunlight. There wasn’t much in the way for them to sit on. No benches. No table and chair. Which was expected, as hardly anyone went up here. Only maintenance workers, really. Steel railings bordered the perimeter of the roof, with vertical gaps narrow enough to prevent anyone from slipping through but wide enough to look into.
As they walked further in, Byakuya was granted a view of the school grounds. He could see the main courtyard, with a fountain in the centre and a dozen or so students littered about, eating outside rather than in the cafeteria. Beyond that was fencing, then beyond that was the city with its hodgepodge of buildings. Some towering, others stout. Some old, most of them relatively new.
“We’ll have to either stand or sit on the floor,” remarked Touko, looking around. “If you want to sit on my jacket so you don’t get your trousers dirty, t-that’s fine with me.”
It was a tempting offer. Byakuya hadn’t considered where they’d sit.
“I can dust myself off,” he said, kneeling down by the railings. The floor wasn’t too dirty. Touko followed suit, adjusting her skirt as she settled next to him. “But thanks, anyway.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, smiling.
His heart stuttered. He looked away and reminded himself that it was okay his body had reacted that way. Homeroom had agitated him earlier. Stressed him. This was all part of learning how to endure the weird warmth Touko ignited in his chest, and to help him stop associating being stressed with wanting to kiss her.
“Would you rather eat or read to me first?” he asked.
“Oh, um... I’ll read to you first, please.”
Touko opened her binder, took out the first sheet of paper and straightened it out. As she started to read aloud, her voice wavered like the wind trembling over them. Byakuya ate as he listened. While he had heard the first few paragraphs the day before, with no students or Yasuhiro present to interrupt them this time, Touko could now speak without her flow being broken.
Since yesterday, she had edited some more, which she also narrated to him.
“‘I make friends with insects and with the rot in my bedroom's floorboards. Their discoloured streaks and smears resemble faces. Usually screaming, always silent, much like me. One day, the floor may collapse beneath me and pull me to my demise, and the insects will feast on my corpse. I often think that would be the kindest thing anyone had ever done for me.’”
A strong breeze lapped against them. Touko shivered and shifted toward Byakuya. Though he noticed, he didn’t move away, chewing on cold bacon.
“T-That’s all I’ve edited so far,” she said, before taking a deep breath. “So... what do you think?”
Byakuya finished chewing and swallowed. Touko didn’t avert her gaze from him. She might not even have been breathing as she waited for his verdict.
“I would like to hear more of it, whenever it’s ready,” he said. “It’s interesting. You’re interesting.”
The last two words slipped out of his mouth. He felt his cheeks burn. Which was absurd, because he had only called her interesting. Multiple things interested him. True crime. Certain movies. Certain books. Her. Yet she gasped and straightened up, shaking and looking like she was about to cry.
“T-Thank you!” Touko sniffled. “I was so scared that you would tear me apart. It means so much to me that you liked what I wrote. And... And I think you’re interesting too, Byakuya-sama.”
Touko’s shoulders twitched as she almost choked on a sob. Byakuya remained silent, partly to allow her to recollect herself but also because he didn’t know what to say. She was crying, which suggested she was sad, but she was also smiling and her crying sounded sort of like laughing. He didn’t know whether he should have comforted her or not. But then, he didn’t know how to comfort someone. A pat on the head? A soothing phrase? A hug? That was what he had seen others do.
“What about your childhood?” said Touko, calming down enough to talk again. “I’m sure you have a lot of stories to share about that...”
Byakuya hesitated, thinking.
“Fine. I’ll tell you.” It was a fair trade. Quid pro quo. He passed her the fork. “It’s your turn to eat.”
She took the utensil from him and helped herself to a hash brown. In hindsight, he should have reheated the food in the teachers’ office’s microwave, but she didn’t complain. His lips twisted in thought as he tried to decide where to start from. There was when he became the only heir to the conglomerate, but there was also his birth, and his conception, as well as generations of family history. He thought back to what she had said about her upbringing and used that as a starting point.
“My creation was intended,” he said slowly. “The conglomerate assembled a list of high-quality women to produce a potential heir with my father, and I was the youngest. In the Togami Family’s history, the youngest had never won the heir selection competition, yet I did.”
Whenever Byakuya spoke about his life growing up, it always related to his journey to becoming the future head of the conglomerate. Even now, as he went on to tell Touko about his accomplishments, such as learning to play a multitude of instruments and speak twenty-eight languages fluently, those things had all gone toward bettering him for when he took over his family business. Every aspect of his life had contributed to sculpting him into being the ideal successor.
“Let’s see, what else...” He stroked his chin. “My mansion was kept clean by maids. All my meals were prepared by professional chefs. Until high school, I was tutored by Pennyworth alongside top-tier teachers handpicked by the conglomerate.”
“Did you have any friends, Byakuya-sama?” asked Touko. Byakuya took the fork she had been using.
“No.” He fed himself some bacon. “I was taught not to indulge in emotional bonds or friendships. Anyone could be an enemy trying to kidnap or kill me. My half-siblings. My peers. My employees. I’ve told you about the girl with the explosive chocolate and the guy who wanted me to give his father a job. Those were just two of many.”
And then, before the earthquake room in the museum knocked them off balance, Touko had told Byakuya that she understood how it felt to never be able to trust anyone else.
“I remember when Enoshima trapped us in Hope’s Peak, you told everyone you didn’t want to join us for meals anymore fairly early on. You said someone might poison the food ahead of time.” Touko borrowed the fork to eat a bit of egg. “Something clicked into place in me at that moment. While the others were struggling to understand your way of thinking, I... I understood you. And I thought you could understand me. That’s why I told you about Genocider Syo. You’re different to everyone I have ever met. You’re special.”
Her lips curved into a smile that made his chest clench. It took Byakuya some good few seconds to realise he wasn’t breathing, then he had to remind himself to inhale, exhale and repeat. Memories of her lips locked against his bled in, of how wet and warm they had been. How they had vibrated against him as she moaned and tangled his hair between her fingers.
He could have kissed her right now. No one would see. No one would know.
But he would know.
“I look forward to hearing more of your I-Novel,” he said stiffly. “Not only do you tell it with exceptional prose, but the contents of it has me intrigued to hear more, too.”
The more time they spent together, the better he could train himself to resist and unlearn these compulsions toward her. He could conquer these feelings of disgust and desires that made him want to drown himself and kiss her and other dirty things. But he wasn't lying about wanting to hear more of her I-Novel. Strange sensations aside, he enjoyed her company. She was clever. She was interesting.
“I can work on more for you. And... I would like to hear more about you,” said Touko. “Perhaps you could write something similar about yourself? Then we can read to each other. Only if you want to, of course!”
“I’m a very busy man, Fukawa,” he replied. Her smile sagged. He didn’t have any food in his mouth, but he still swallowed before adding, “I’ll see what I can do.”
Touko’s smile returned at full strength. Byakuya stiffened. His heart palpitated. His fingers twitched against his lap. Between the two of them, they had finished his lunch, the plastic container by their feet. He wanted to throw his meal back up. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to hold her hand and tear off his skin.
“Byakuya-sama? Are you...?”
“I'm fine,” he blurted. “Let me just check my schedule for tomorrow.”
Feeling her gaze burning into him, he got out his phone, checked the screen and widened his eyes.
“I’m due to teach in eight minutes.”
An hour and a half. They had somehow been up here for almost an hour and a half.
“I need to get going. Let’s meet at the library and come here again tomorrow,” he said, standing up. “We’ll pick up where we left off.”
“Okay! And... And I’ll bring lunch for both of us, this time,” she said, rising as well. “If that’s acceptable.”
“Then it’s agreed. So... I’ll be seeing you around.”
“R-Right.”
They both stood facing each other. Byakuya balled and unballed his fists. Then, he turned on his heel and walked away briskly, hoping the warmth on his face would cool off before he reached his next class.
Finally, he was almost done with this day. After the sixth period, he would need to stop by his homeroom, then go home to prepare dinner for himself and Nagisa. And then he needed to mark classwork, and go over his lesson plans, and write something for Touko, and all he had to do was that for the rest of his life.
***
By the ninth day, Byakuya had written a couple of paragraphs to share with Touko. Of course, his piece wasn’t as eloquent as what Touko could write. But that was to be expected. Byakuya had done some creative writing at school and earned top grades, but his writings lacked the magnetism that Touko’s works carried. He could accurately describe a rock that he found on the ground, while Touko could convince someone that it was more valuable than a diamond. Compared to her, his prose was hollow and dull.
Still, he had told her that he would write something, and he intended to keep his promise.
For breakfast, he ate omelettes with Nagisa, and later he listened to Makoto's newest pep talk before heading off to do homeroom. For the next four lessons, Byakuya recited what he had prepared the day before, then at the start of lunchtime, he dismissed his class and went to the library.
“Good afternoon, Byakuya-sama,” said Touko, already on her feet. She had her binder wedged between her side and arm, and in her hands she held two bento boxes.
They set off together. Byakuya said, “I have written something for you today.”
Touko’s head jerked up excitedly. “Ah! I c-can’t wait to hear it.”
After their first visit to the roof, Byakuya had brought up two deck chairs from a storage room, leaving them leaned against the rooftop enclosure when not in use. He dragged them out and unfolded them when they arrived, sitting on one while Touko sat in the other. With her binder resting shut on her lap, she opened one of the bento boxes. Today, she had prepared what looked like a colourful salad, sashimi, strawberries and onigiri shaped like hearts.
Byakuya accepted the bento. Touko unveiled hers. She had the same.
“It’s peaceful up here,” she remarked, plucking up an onigiri with her chopsticks.
He gave a hum of agreement. Other than the occasional shout drifting up, he could hear only the breeze and themselves. Chewing on some sashimi, he glanced at Touko. Their eyes met and she smiled. His stomach jolted and he averted his gaze.
Once he had finished his bento, he took out a piece of paper from his jacket.
“I’ve been working on this on and off this week, whenever I’ve had a spare moment,” he said.
With his workdays being as hectic as they were, he only really had a chance to get much writing done after dinnertime. At that time, Nagisa and Byakuya would retreat to their own rooms, with Byakuya either at his desk or sitting on his bed with his laptop. Then later, when Byakuya turned off the lights, he would lie awake, his thoughts racing until he drifted to sleep.
Touko watched him intently as he began to read aloud to her.
“‘With every challenge my father set us, our number whittled down until fifteen remained. Each competitor was then kidnapped in the middle of the night and taken to a remote island, forced to complete a scavenger hunt. The winner would become the conglomerate’s rightful heir. The others would become nameless. Nobodies.’”
Until now, when Byakuya had spoken of the competition to other people, he hadn’t gone into much detail. He had competed against his siblings in a battle and in the end, only he remained standing. That had been the gist.
“To be a nobody is considered a fate equal to death. That is why they started murdering each other. Some were burned alive. Others stabbed, or bludgeoned, or even poisoned. I stumbled upon one of my half-siblings in a pool of her own blood, half-dead with an eye gouged out and an arm and a hand hacked off. Ultimately, I was victorious, all without killing a single person.”
But was that true? By defeating his half-siblings, had he not sentenced them to death? Or even, a fate worse than death: he stripped them of their identity.
“S-So... when you entered Enoshima's killing game, you had already experienced something similar.” Touko bit her lip and fidgeted her chopsticks. “Was it... hard?”
“No, it wasn't. I completed every task with ease.”
She shook her head. “I mean, what happened to your siblings. Were you sad? Or...?”
He blinked. No one had ever asked him about that before. In fact, he had never even thought about it to himself. Not at the time, and not more than half a decade later.
“I couldn't be sad. I couldn't be scared, or regret or feel anything,” he said. “To do so would ensure my demise.”
“It must have taken a great deal of strength to make yourself not feel anything,” remarked Touko. She quirked half a smile. “Meanwhile, I struggle to keep my emotions inside. I experience them so intensely, t-they sort of just... gush out of me. It's quite pathetic, right?”
Byakuya's younger self would have agreed with Touko. But since then, he had learned better. He had seen Aoi willing to sacrifice herself and the others due to her feelings toward Sakura. He heard Makoto's impassioned speeches that stirred all those that heard them. He had seen hope triumph over worldwide despair. And Touko...
“It is due to your emotions that not only have you survived for so long, but that I am still alive. Your devotion to me led you to Towa City, where you saved me. They don't make you weak, but give you strength,” he said.
Touko clasped her hands together and smiled. “W-Well, you make me want to be strong, and be the best version of myself. Rather than me wishing for someone to be my knight and save me, I... I want to be strong enough to be depended on. Don’t get me w-wrong, our other friends inspire me too... especially Komaru... but you’re different. You’re special. I...”
Her head leaned toward Byakuya. Nausea heaved through him. If he stayed as he was, she would have most likely closed the gap between them. Pressed her lips onto his own. Her damp, rosy lips. And he could have kissed her back and held her hand like Togamis didn’t do.
But he was a Togami. The conglomerate had been massacred, but so long as he lived, it would continue on through him.
“Fukawa, it’s your turn to read your excerpt to me,” he said.
She paused, blinked, then receded.
“Yes, Byakuya-sama,” she said, before opening her binder.
As Byakuya listened to Touko, he tried to focus on her voice and not on his heart drumming furiously in his chest. His lips tingled even after he wetted them with his tongue. But this was fine. He had survived worse. All he had to do was this for the rest of his life.
***
Around the twentieth day after the school term started, Byakuya prepared himself a bowl of cereal for breakfast before going to work. Sitting in a corner of the room, he waited for Makoto to give one of his speeches.
“Hello, everyone!” Makoto called out across the teachers’ office, smiling and waving. “It’s a brand new day. Let’s all strive to do our best. I’m proud of all of you. Keep it up, seriously.”
Byakuya taught three lessons and spent his fourth period going over the plans for his last two classes. He had gone through them the previous night, but not as thoroughly as he could have. Whenever he had attempted to refamiliarise himself with the lesson plans, his gaze would often end up drifting away from his laptop. Before trying to concentrate again, he had needed to either pace or check his phone, and even that didn’t always work the first time. It must have been because he had so much on his mind lately. That was what was creating the fog in his brain.
Still, he could power through it. Coffee helped, too.
At lunchtime, he headed to the library, and he and Touko made their way to the roof. In her bentos today, there was fried chicken, rice, shredded cabbage and peppers.
A pleasant breeze passed over the pair. He had almost finished eating when he noticed Touko watching him.
“Is something wrong?” he asked. She cringed.
“It’s nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”
“You were staring at me.”
Touko looked down at the bento box, rolling her chopsticks between her fingers. “Seeing you eat my food... just m-makes me happy.”
“I’ve been eating your lunches for several weeks now already. Surely the novelty has worn off.”
“Nope,” she said, shaking her head. “You see... i-it’s because each time you eat some, it s-shows me that you still trust me. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be eating my food.”
Byakuya tensed. His mother had ingrained into him from a young age the importance of checking his food in case it had been compromised. Yet here he was, accepting Touko’s meals without a second thought. He forced himself to chew and swallow. The inside of his mouth tasted of rot.
“After what we have all been through, I have acquired a level of trust for who I see as friends,” he said. “That includes you. Now, make sure you eat as well.”
It was true that he had come to trust his friends. He had trusted Makoto with his plan to rehabilitate the former Remnants of Despair, for one. Then, with Touko, he had entrusted her and Komaru with protecting Towa City. Over time, Touko had shown herself to be a very capable, dependable person. Which was almost funny, because she had an alter who spoke about wanting to murder him, yet that no longer concerned him. When Touko promised she wouldn’t allow Syo to kill again, she had kept that vow. And when he found out the conglomerate’s fate, when he lost his riches and influence and meant nothing to the world, she still followed him. Stayed at his side.
Touko had said that Byakuya was different to anyone that she had ever met, and he thought the same of her. Whereas love was a weakness in anyone else, she was capable of using hers to make her stronger. And no one else made him feel as warm as she did. Made him feel so ill, so excited, made him look forward to their lunchtimes together but at the same time want to throw himself off the roof whenever she smiled at him.
As they continued eating, he couldn’t shake off the itching in his skin.
All he had to do was this for the rest of his life.
***
Two months after the first school term started, Byakuya stopped by a convenience store, buying himself a hot ham and cheese sandwich and a coffee. He managed to eat it all before arriving at work, finishing his beverage at a desk in the teachers’ office while Makoto did his usual morning announcement.
“In a bit over a month, we’ll finally break for summer,” said Makoto. “I think I speak for everyone when I say we’re all looking forward to getting some vitamin sea at the beach.”
A couple of staff members laughed. Byakuya didn’t look up from his lesson plan.
Since the school year commenced, his homeroom had barely changed. The noticeboard at the back of the room had flyers pinned to it now, but the room was floored with the same wooden paneling. And the same cream walls penned them in, day after day after day. When Korekiyo Shinguji took attendance, he read all the names in the same order.
No one lesson was exactly the same as they progressed through the syllabuses with all their various sub-topics. Still, Byakuya taught his classes with ease. All he had to do was follow the teaching plans, which he either ran through the night before, prior to Makoto’s morning announcement or during his free periods. Easy. Even if he had to stay up late to fit in preparing lesson plans, marking classwork and homework, working on his writing for Touko and looking after Nagisa. He could more than manage all this.
Easy. Simple. All he had to do was that for the rest of his life.
***
A week later, Byakuya ate oatmeal and sipped coffee at a desk in the teachers’ office. Makoto’s voice droned in the background, but Byakuya tuned him out, preoccupied with reading through lesson plans. When everyone else stirred, Byakuya rose with them, and he was almost out the door when Yasuhiro grabbed his upper arm.
“Yo, Togami-chi! I was wondering if you and Fukawa-chi want to join us for lunch today? We’ve barely seen either of you lately.”
“We all work together and live in the same building,” Byakuya pointed out.
“That’s true...” Yasuhiro scratched the top of his head. “Everyone has just been so busy. Asahina-chi, you, Fukawa-chi, Komaru... I was thinking, when we break up for summer, you, me and Naegi-chi should go out drinking and catch up.”
Byakuya considered his options. Yasuhiro probably wouldn’t let him go until he gave him some kind of compromise. “We can go out for an evening at the end of term, maybe.”
Jerking his arm away from Yasuhiro’s hold, he strode briskly toward his homeroom. Yasuhiro called after him, but he didn’t follow Byakuya.
***
At the beginning of July, despite the air conditioning, almost every desk in the teachers’ office had a desk fan humming. Byakuya rubbed his eyes before continuing to scan through his first lesson’s teaching plan. Within a few bullet points, the words wobbled on his screen. He massaged his eyes again. Perhaps he needed more coffee.
Then Makoto said, “This is hell
***
Then Makoto said, “This is hello to everyone and a big thank you for all your hard work. The school couldn’t run without you.”
And all Byakuya had to do was this for the rest of his life.
***
Byakuya woke up.
Byakuya went to work.
Byakuya had lunch with Touko.
Byakuya went home.
Byakuya slept.
All Byakuya had to do was this for the rest of his life.
***
Byakuya woke up.
Went to work.
Had lunch with Touko.
Went home.
Slept.
***
Wake.
Work.
Touko.
Home.
Sleep.
***
Work.
Touko.
Home.
***
Touko.
***
Touko.
***
Touko.
***
“Byakuya-sama, are you all right?” asked Touko.
“Hm?”
He was on the roof with Touko, two parasols set up to cast shade over their chairs. His bento box was open on his lap. The contents had been disturbed by his chopsticks, stirred around more than eaten.
“You looked like you were zoning out,” she said, frowning. “Are you feeling okay? D-Do you need some water? Somewhere to lie down?”
“I’m fine,” he said. He imitated a smile.and popped a potsticker into his mouth.
All Byakuya had to do was this for the rest of his life.
***
For the rest of his life.
***
For the rest of his life.
***
For the rest of his life.
***
Fukawa.
***
Fukawa.
***
Fukawa...
***
“Fukawa!”
Byakuya arched his back and gasped. His toes curled. His bed creaked. Pulsations tore through him, hot and fast and overwhelming. He continued to jerk his hand against himself, trembling until the throbbing in his lower body trickled off and he finally became still, feeling warm and sticky and gross.
Lifting his hand, he grimaced at his dirtied palm. All he had to do was this for the rest of his life.
I think fanfic as your primary writing and reading background really sets you up to fail because there’s so many inherent crutches to fanfic. You don’t have to make characters enjoyable because the work’s already been done, you don’t have to describe appearances or locations or motivations because the work’s already been done, conflicts come pre-established and relationship dynamics have already been laid out. And none of this is a knock on fanfic, I am not saying fanfic is bad. But if that’s all you’ve written and largely all you’ve read then I think it’s gonna be a rough transition to original fiction, and I think you need to take some time first to familiarize yourself original works again.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
'“He likes the parts of me that I want him to see, and the same goes both ways. He’s always actin’ tough and mysterious, and all masculine and stuff, which is fun and all... but there’s only one person who’s seen all of me, and it ain’t him, or even my dad or my therapist. It’s you. You get me and I get you.”
Her hand receded from Dean’s hair, and she rested her palm against his chest. He wondered if she could feel his heart hammering away.
“But...” he started, only for Sirena to clench him harder and make him cut himself off with a gasp.
“Do you ever feel lonely, even when you’re never alone?” she asked, her voice wavering partway through.
Dean swallowed. “Yes. All the time.”'
Fandom: The Venture Bros. (Cartoon)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Sirena Ong/Dean Venture
Characters: Sirena Ong, Dean Venture
Additional Tags: Mentioned Hank/Sirena, Mentioned Brock & Rusty & Hank & Jared, Takes place during The Forecast Manufacturer, Character Study
Summary: A prelude to that one scene at the end of The Forecast Manufacturer.
Comments: I recently finished binging The Venture Bros and thoroughly enjoyed it! It's such a shame that Season 8 was cancelled. I read an interview where the creators talked about Sirena and what she did with Dean, and I thought it would be interesting to write a fic showing what might have happened between them and why. This isn't to justify what transpired. Just to explain and give possible context. I think they're both traumatised and messed up individuals. Which I am a sucker for, haha.
💖 Please like, reblog, leave kudos and/or comment on tumblr and AO3 💖
💓 It would mean a lot to me! 💓
***
Dean liked Sirena. Which was good, because she was dating his brother and they were enrolled in the same science class at college. Botany. In fact, they were the only two students taking the class.
Sitting on the other side of the classroom to her would have been weird and rude, so Dean always chose to seat himself next to Sirena, barely within elbow-brushing distance. Not because he thought she smelled bad or anything - despite having gills on her neck and a father that was part-whale, she didn’t smell like the sea or fish or whatever. Whales were mammals, not fishes, Dean knew that, but they were in close proximity and whales didn’t have gills yet Sirena did. She carried an aroma of mandarin orange with notes of lavender and... ginger? Whatever it was, it smelled nice. Nor was her skin covered in spikes or fire or anything that Dean could be allergic to.
Simply, Dean had no reason to sit any closer. It didn’t even occur to him. The two were near enough to share notes and chat, which was all that mattered. They talked about classwork and homework, and they also ranted about their fathers, the futures that said fathers intended for them and how they had grown to detest the world of supervillains and super-science.
Sirena and Dean had a lot in common. Yes, she swore liberally and knew profanity that his learning bed never taught him, and yes, she was the daughter of a Level Ten villain. But they both wanted to be normal people with normal lives and most importantly of all, they both loved Hank. Except Sirena loved Hank in a girlfriend-boyfriend way, while Dean loved Hank in a twin brother way. Even if Hank sometimes - okay, often drove him mad.
But apparently him and Sirena had that in common too, sort of.
“I swear, I almost maced him,” said Sirena as they entered Dean’s dormitory together. She shed off her coat, which Dean took from her and hung up on a hook. Some snow sprinkled off her outerwear onto the floor. “Thanks, Dean. So anyways, it’s getting dark and I’m standin’ there, my finger burnin’ on the trigger hotter than the worst diarrhea I've ever had, when Hank pulls back his hood and says he got me flowers.”
The graphic simile made Dean’s nose wrinkle a bit. She was definitely Hank’s girlfriend.
“That’s just typical Hank for you,” he said lightly, shutting the door. “He probably got the idea from Dermott or one of Brock’s magazines. Or a grown-up movie.”
“Grown-up movie, right.” Something about what he said had Sirena smiling slightly, but it didn’t last long. She soon pulled a face. “That’s the thing with boys. Instead of listening to us about what we actually like, they circlejerk each other with their own dumb ideas. They think they know how girls think better than us girls know ourselves.”
Dean could glean what she meant by ‘circlejerk’, despite being unfamiliar with the term. He dragged the chair by Jared’s desk over to his own so he would be able to sit with her while they worked on today’s classwork together.
“Not all guys think that way,” Dean said, a bit defensively. Her eyes flashed wider, but he was already explaining himself before he could take in her reaction. “Hank means well, I promise. Yeah, he can be a little eccentric and come up with some truly ridiculous ideas, but he doesn’t mean any harm. It’s just how his brain works.”
Sirena’s face relaxed. “Oh yeah. Right. Sorry, sorry. I know not all guys are like that. Hank’s a good guy. And so are you. You’re a real gentleman.”
“Um, thanks, Sirena,” said Dean, his face warming at the compliment. When she grinned again, wider this time, his heart skipped. He busied his eyes and hands with his satchel, which Hank and Brock referred to as a ‘big purse’. “Shall we get started on today’s assignment?”
“Sure. Not like there’s much else to do with a freaking blizzard going on outside,” Sirena said with a shrug. She sat on the other chair by his desk, reached into her bag and took out her textbooks.
All classes that day had been cancelled due to a sudden snowstorm. Originally, Dean had planned to stay in his dormitory alone to do his college work, but then Sirena texted him, asking if he was up for a study session. Because she hadn’t checked her phone that morning, or last night, she hadn’t read the group message from the college about how classes weren’t on until she had already arrived at campus.
And Dean had accepted her request, because she was his friend and Hank’s girlfriend. They had done plenty of study sessions together... just in the library instead of his room. But the library was closed too, so his room it was. As they worked through Professor Von Helping’s worksheets, Dean felt his heart rate steady and his face cool off. He didn’t mean to get flustered by Sirena. During their first lesson together, she had pecked him on the cheek after he convinced the Monarch to leave their class alone, and his trousers had tented up. Fortunately, Sirena seemed to have left the room without noticing this, but it had played on his mind for weeks afterwards. Even now, sometimes.
Dean had feared that things would become awkward between them, like she would watch footage of him later that day or read his mind with Aquaman-esque telepathy powers and find out what his no-nos did when she kissed him. Or Dr. Orpheus would appear to Sirena in a dream and announce it to her. However, the next time they met up again for class, Sirena acted like her normal self. Warm, bubbly, nice. And that helped Dean act like his normal self.
Hank was lucky to have a girlfriend like Sirena. Hank was lucky in many ways. He could date whoever he wanted, even a supervillain’s daughter. Making friends came so easily to Hank, while Dean felt like an alien around most other people. Hank could go out and get any job he desired, so long as he had the appropriate qualifications. Though, sometimes even that didn’t matter, as he had a knack for blagging his way into getting what he wanted. The guy could prance around in public wearing a Batman mask without a care in the world. All the while Dean had to go to college so his father could try to sculpt him into another version of himself. Almost like he was his father’s clone, instead of his own person.
“Okay, shoot. Name a difference between eukaryotes and prokaryotes,” said Sirena. Dean stirred slightly.
“Well, eukaryotes in plants have chloroplasts, for one.”
“That was probably too easy, huh? ‘Specially for a genius like yourself.” Sirena’s eyes flitted to the window. “It’s getting real intense out there. I can’t see a thing.”
Dean followed her gaze. From where he sat, the window looked like it was full of static. He squinted, trying to make out the scenery outside, but he could barely see anything. Not even when he got up and almost pressed his nose against the glass.
“You’re right,” he said. “Wow...”
“It’s gonna be a bitch walkin’ home in that tonight,” Sirena said. His head jerked back.
“You can’t walk home in that,” replied Dean incredulously, turning to her. “It’s not safe. You won’t be able to see beyond a few inches ahead of yourself. You could walk into a lamp post, or fall down a rabbit hole, or step on a landmine, or ... or anything!”
Dean threw out his arms. Meanwhile, Sirena folded hers over her chest, looking unimpressed.
“I’m not an idiot, Dean. I think I can avoid steppin’ on landmines.”
“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to suggest that about you at all. You’re plenty smart. But eyesight is eyesight. It has got nothing to do with intelligence. Not that I think your eyesight is bad. Your eyes are good. They look great. They remind me of a clear noon sky... Urgh.” He cringed and slapped himself on the forehead. “You know what I mean. It’ll be hard to see anything, for you, me, and anyone unless they have super-vision. I’m rambling. I’m sorry.”
“You need to stop apologisin’, Dean.” But she was smiling. “It’s okay. I understand what you’re tryin’ to say.”
“S- Okay.” Dean breathed. “I’ll try.”
“Suppose the blizzard doesn’t let up, though. Where am I supposed to go if it’s too dangerous to go outside?”
He frowned and scratched his chin in thought.
“You could stay here. Jared won’t be back any time soon, so you could have his bed.” But then, recalling a certain mutation of Jared’s, Dean added quickly, “On second thought, my bed’s cleaner, so you should take mine and I’ll sleep in his.”
It would be mortifying if Sirena went into Jared’s bed and there was web residue in the sheets. Not only that, but those two were exes. Hank would kill Dean if he let that happen, much like he would kill Dean if something bad happened to Sirena on her way home. Hank really cared about Sirena. Was head over heels for her. Even faced off against Wide Wale and his cronies to try to win her hand. And as neither twin had any clones to fall back on, Dean saw no reason to risk Hank’s wrath.
Yes, the right thing to do was let Sirena sleep in his bed while Dean braved Jared’s.
“You’d really let me stay here?” asked Sirena. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”
“Of course. You’re family now,” said Dean. Which was true. She was dating Hank, after all. “And Jared’s not due back until at least tomorrow evening, assuming the storm’s done by then. He’s off auditioning to be in some stage show."
“Family,” Sirena repeated thoughtfully, like she was tasting the word for the first time and it tasted like something nice, like ice cream. She smiled. “Yeah. I guess we are, huh?”
They continued through the worksheets together. Professor Von Helping hadn’t set them a lot to do. Between the two of them, they breezed through the answers, but the off-topic conversations that sprung up between them slowed their pace. Books. Movies. Their lives. Dean wasn’t used to this. Talking to someone who understood his situation, who didn’t treat him like the esteemed heir to VenTech Industries or someone to kidnap to get to his father.
By the time they finished the last question on the final worksheet, the sky, snowy though it still was, had darkened considerably. Sirena threw down her pen.
“Argh, my brain feels like it’s ready to burst.” She leaned back in her chair and stretched out her limbs. “Do you mind if I have a quick shower? I need to submerge myself in water every six hours or so. It’s a mutant thing.”
Dean pointed across the room. “We have an ensuite bathroom. Help yourself. And don’t worry about Jared barging in. Even if he did come back early, I hooked a tie on the outside door handle when we first came in so no one would disrupt our study session.”
“Really? That was very thoughtful of you.” She sounded genuine. Looked genuine too. “Thanks, Dean.”
Sirena disappeared into the bathroom. Now alone, Dean lay down on his bed and sighed, staring up the ceiling. His ears pricked at the sound of water coming on in the other room. She was probably getting into the stall right now. Was probably naked too. As soon as he thought that, Dean wanted to smack himself in the face. All Sirena was doing was showering, and most pressingly of all, she was Hank’s girlfriend. There was no way that she saw Dean as anything but a friend. And Dean held no romantic or sexual interest in her either. Not because she wasn’t pretty, or funny, or smart... because she was all those things. But because... because...
The realisation that he had an erection broke his train of thought.
“Crap,” Dean muttered, sitting up with a jolt. He snatched up a pillow and shoved it onto his lap.
Whenever this happened to him, he had four ways to get rid of his problem. One, he could jerk his hand against his member. Wait, was that where the word circlejerk came from? Gross. Anyway, not an option with Sirena in the other room. She could have come out at any moment. Two, a cold shower to induce vasoconstriction. Also not an option with Sirena in the shower. Three, think of something disgusting, like his father sleeping naked on the kitchen table or Jared’s bedsheets.
Dean scrunched his eyes shut. He had seen his father sleeping naked on the kitchen table enough times to have a clear mental image of that. But to his displeasure, nothing happened. Maybe he was desensitised. That was worrying. Whatever, Dean could deal with that another time. One more option remained, then: wait for it to go away on its own. So long as he forced himself not to think, he would be fine. So long as he wasn’t stimulated, he would be fine. So long as Sirena didn’t come back into the room just yet, he would be fine.
The bathroom door opened. Instinctively, Dean looked toward the source of the noise.
Good news: she had a towel on. Bad news: it was wrapped around her hair, leaving the rest of her body exposed.
He screamed.
“What happened to your clothes?” he asked in a higher pitch than usual, covering his eyes with both hands. It was too late to unsee what he had seen, though. Her naked body was burned into his eyelids. Into his brain. All her curves, her sea of smooth skin... No, bad Dean. He couldn’t think that about his brother’s girlfriend.
“I was going to ask if you had anything fresh I could borrow,” she said, like that made any sense.
“Yes, b-but why are you naked?”
“Because I just had a shower?” she said, in the same way one might say that grass was green.
“I mean why are you naked in front of me!”
“It doesn’t matter, does it? We’re practically family, like you said, and you’re... you know.”
Dean did not know. “What? What am I?”
There was a long pause.
“You know,” said Sirena. “You’re only attracted to... those belonging to the same sex as you.”
“What?” Dean took a few moments to process what she said. He lowered his hands, saw that she was still naked, and covered his eyes again quickly. “You think I’m gay?”
“Well, aren’t you?”
“No. I mean, I think I might be bisexual though I’ve never told anyone about that, but... why do you think I’m gay?”
“Hank. He’s mentioned to me how ‘gay’ you are a couple of times, and how you’re always at some fruity little clubs or off having gay butt sex with Jared. And that’s fine with me, just so you know. I love the gays.”
Dean huffed. “Okay. First off, I am not doing... that thing with Jared, or anyone. He looks like he’s in his thirties.”
“I know, right?” Sirena interjected. “That’s partly why I dated him. My father freaked the fuck out.”
“And I’m not going to any clubs, let alone ones like... that. Not that there’s anything bad about them. I would just rather stay at home. Anyway, Hank calls me gay to make fun of me, like when he says I’m girly, or like when my father and even Brock say I’m sensitive and not like other boys. It’s just another word in Hank’s ‘Making fun of Dean’ vocabulary.”
When Sirena didn’t respond after a few seconds, Dean dropped his hands from his face. Sirena was still naked, but he barely gave that much thought this time, his eyes fixing on her face. Her brow was furrowed, and she was biting her lip as she stared into space. A wave of remorse rushed through Dean that made him want to cut out his own tongue. He jumped to his feet, the pillow on his lap tumbling to the floor.
“Hank isn’t homophobic. I didn’t mean it like that. Please don’t break up with him,” said Dean in a panicked tone. Hank would definitely kill him now. “Or at least don’t tell him I said all that. Wait, no. Forget that last thing I said. Hank’s a good guy, really. We have gay friends.” Or was ‘gay acquaintances’ more accurate? Whatever. “Hank just says stuff without thinking sometimes. Don’t break up with Hank, please.”
“It’s fine, Dean,” said Sirena, with a thin grin that didn’t reach her unfocused gaze. She shivered slightly and hugged herself.
He gulped as he observed how her breasts seemed to spill over her arms. Bad Dean. Bad, bad, bad Dean. The girl was freezing and he was being a sinner, looking at her chest like this.
“You must be cold. Whales are cold-blooded, and you’re um... nude.” Dean looked around, then grabbed a blanket off his bed and passed it to her. “Here, take this for now. I’ll go find you something of mine to wear, if you give me a second...”
“You’re so sweet, Dean,” said Sirena as he went over to his set of drawers and rummaged through his clothes. “And so authentic. Any girl... guy... whoever would be lucky to have you as a boyfriend.”
Dean almost laughed. “Thanks, but I’ve not had a good record with dating. The first girl I had a crush on probably hates me still, there was one who grew extra arms who I’ve never seen since but I think we might have kissed, or that might have been a dream, and there were these twins who now that I think about it were going to rape me...”
Finding a suitable sweatshirt and sweatpants, Dean turned toward Sirena to give them to her. Only, before he could, Sirena closed the gap between them. She planted a hand onto his cheek then kissed him on the mouth. He dropped the clothes.
At first, he thought this was like when she pecked him on the cheek as a thank you and show of appreciation. But that kiss had been fleeting, like the brush of wings by a butterfly, and it hadn’t been on his mouth. That was definitely Sirena’s teeth nibbling his lips, and then her tongue pushing against them. Dean’s mouth opened like they were automatic doors. Almost instantly, her tongue was inside him, probing him, tracing over the ridges in his mouth, dragging over his gums and teeth and caressing his own tongue.
On paper, it sounded gross, but in reality it felt great. Amazing. Each flicker of her tongue lit up nerves in his body he didn’t know possible. As Dean’s surprise gradually melted away, he reciprocated. She tossed away the towel on her head and hooked her fingers around one of his hands. He let her place it onto her hip. His other hand hovered uselessly until he decided to rest it against her upper back.
A low purr rumbled in her throat. Dean’s legs wobbled and almost gave way as she pressed against him, her naked breasts against his shirt. Though she didn’t push into him hard, Dean found himself falling backward until he was sitting on the edge of his bed. Sirena came down with him, settling on his lap with her lips still knitted with his own. The hand she had on his cheek slithered to his hair, while her other trailed down his chest, down to his...
His head sprung back as she grabbed him through his trousers. “Hello!”
“... Hi...?” replied Sirena, part-confused, part-amused. She tilted her head to one side.
“Y-Your hand, it’s...”
Sirena smirked and squeezed him again. Dean shuddered and groaned.
“So, how long has your little friend been wanting to say hello to me?” she asked.
“It’s not little,” blurted Dean.
“Oh?”
She shuffled back just enough so that she could remain on his lap while she fiddled with his trousers. He was still trying to comprehend what was happening and what she was doing when she pulled out his member. Cool air greeted it, but the chill didn’t last long. His heart stuttered as her fingers brushed along his length, warming him very quickly.
“I know it’s ugly,” he said, his face on fire. “Everyone’s always making fun of me for being uncircumcised."
“I think it’s cute. I think you’re cute.”
Dean blinked. Sirena thought he was cute? Did she really say that to him? Her fluttery fingers curled around his length, and he gasped and shuddered as she began pumping him. He bit his lip and clutched the bedsheet either side of him with both hands, feeling like he was about to explode. No one had ever touched him like this before. Was this what Hank felt like when Sirena did this with him?
Hank...
“Um, S-Sirena, Hank - ”
“You’re right, Dean. It’s not little,” said Sirena. “The other guys I’ve been with have all been bigger than you - but I mean like, their whole actual bodies. You’re packing more down there than any of them, holy shit.”
“T-That’s good, right?” Then Dean remembered what he had been about to say to her. “Hey, um, Sirena, this feels really nice and all, but isn’t Hank your boyf-”
Sirena pushed her lips against his mouth, cutting him off. Her tongue burrowed into him again, facing no resistance as she licked the inside of his mouth and stroked his tongue like before. All the while, her hand remained on his length, slowly, almost lazily tugging on him. Was Sirena bored? Had she done this enough times to not need to think about it? Or did she know how hot and shivery touching him this way would make him feel? Was she more focused on the kissing than his nethers? Kissing him?
When Sirena’s head drew back, a bridge of saliva collapsed between their lips. Panting, she leaned in again, this time to powder his neck in light kisses. Somehow, this was no less intense than when her warm, wet tongue had been in his mouth. He trembled, his mind spinning as she simultaneously kissed him and massaged his member.
“Ya know, your foreskin’s actually adorable. It’s like your glans is playing peekaboo,” she mumbled.
Dean’s face somehow flushed hotter. He wanted to ask her why all this was happening, but his tongue felt too big for his mouth at the moment. Even thinking was hard, let alone constructing a cohesive sentence. She swiped her thumb over the head of his length, and he let out an unceremonious noise of pleasure. Whenever he touched himself down there, it had never felt this electrifying.
Then again, those times, it had been his own hand, not that of an attractive woman seated on his lap. A naked, attractive woman who his brother was dating.
“God, Dean, you’re makin’ me so fuckin’ wet,” said Sirena. Dean didn’t know what that meant.
She shifted. Her lips grazed his ear and he cringed. Memories of the Quymn sisters lit up in his brain. One of them had licked his ear when they pinned him down. But without him needing to say the sensation nauseated him, Sirena returned to kissing his neck. Shallow breaths left his mouth. The twins and Sirena were nothing alike. Those two girls were creepy and made him feel like his blood had turned to acid, or that he wished it would turn to acid so he would die instead of continuing to feel their horrid hands and mouths.
With Sirena, he didn’t want that. Dean wanted to feel Sirena’s lips, hands and even other parts of her too. The thought had his whole body shaking with desire. But Hank... Hank...
“S-Sirena,” Dean managed to get out.
“I’m used to guys chasin’ after me,” she said. “You’ve seen me. I’m smokin’ hot. But you’re the first guy who I’ve ever, like, pursued first. You don’t know how crazy you’ve been makin’ me feel, Dean. You’ve got no idea.”
“What about Hank?”
She froze. One hand in his hair, and one hand on his dick.
“What are we doing?” Dean asked quietly. “You’re dating Hank. He’s my brother. He’s confident, virile, gregarious, and he loves you, Sirena. And I’m just... Dean. I just... I don’t understand why this is happening.”
Dean didn’t know what to expect now. His words floated around them like dust particles. Maybe he would just wake up in his bed with damp sweatpants and none of this would have ever happened. Because it didn’t make sense.
Sirena straightened up. Her dark hair was disheveled. Her face was flushed. Her lips were pursed and her eyes were sad.
“Hank loves me bein’ a supervillain’s daughter and me bein’ a sexy chick and givin’ him attention. Gawd, you should see all the messages he sends me all the time, and all the surprise visits and crap. I get no breathin’ space, and you know who else is just as,” she sneered the next word, “protective as him? My freakin’ dad. Gross.”
“That’s... That’s not true about Hank.” Dean shook his head. “He thinks you’re cool. Super cool. He loves you, seriously.”
“He likes the parts of me that I want him to see, and the same goes both ways. He’s always actin’ tough and mysterious, and all masculine and stuff, which is fun and all... but there’s only one person who’s seen all of me, and it ain’t him, or even my dad or my therapist. It’s you. You get me and I get you.”
Her hand receded from Dean’s hair, and she rested her palm against his chest. He wondered if she could feel his heart hammering away.
“But...” he started, only for Sirena to clench his length and make him cut himself off with a gasp.
“Do you ever feel lonely, even when you’re never alone?” she asked, her voice wavering partway through.
Dean swallowed. “Yes. All the time.”
Sirena’s lips drew into the shape of a smile. When she leaned in, Dean did too. She pressed her mouth against his. Her tongue licked the grove between his lips, and he opened his mouth so their tongues could reunite in a clumsy embrace. Very soon, her body was flush against him, her hands messing his hair while his roamed across her naked back. Though Sirena was no longer stroking his genitalia, that didn’t mean she wasn’t stimulating him down there anymore. As they kissed, she grinded her crotch against his. With each jerk of her hips, it became more and more hard for him to keep his mouth latched to hers, as their bodies jostled, as they tasted each other’s moans.
It was Sirena who broke the kiss, to say, “I want to have sex with you so bad.”
The back of his neck tingled with a chill. Dean knew he should have shut her down. He should have shut this down a lot earlier than now, even. But he was tired of knowing things and thinking things and being the responsible one. That was how it always was. While Dean was meant to be the thinker, the voice of reason, the stick in the mud, Hank got to do and be whatever he wanted.
So Dean said, “I do too.”
Their mouths crashed together again, desperate and hungry. As the two groaned and tumbled further onto the bed, their hands groped whatever flesh they came into contact with. Dean let Sirena tug off his shirt, his trousers and underwear. He let her feel up his chest while he rolled her hard nipples against his palms, and then he let her guide him onto his back. His lips ached at the absence of hers, his mouth a rotting cavity without her delicious breath and tongue. But then, as she grabbed the base of his length and hitched up her hips, he found himself with plenty else to distract him.
“G-Gosh!” he said as her tight warmth engulfed his length. Sirena paused.
“Did you just say ‘gosh’?”
“... No.”
She rocked her hips against him slowly, her hands resting on his lower stomach for support. His back arched. He groaned.
“You did, and that’s okay. I want you to be yourself, Dean,” said Sirena. “Don’t censor yourself, please, because I’m sure not fucking going to either.”
Sirena lifted her hips. Not enough for his length to pop out entirely, but so she could drop down again. Her first several motions were much like this, all equally unhurried, allowing both of them to savour the sensations. Beneath her, Dean whimpered and quivered and curled his toes. The hug of her inner muscles felt impossibly tight and impossibly warm. His lashes fluttered. It was a shame he couldn’t kiss her right now. He had liked kissing her very much.
“So this is your first time doing this, huh?” she asked breathily as she sheathed himself fully inside of her.
“That I remember.”
She gyrated her hips and made herself rise and fall like an ocean tide. He groaned and shivered.
“Your family’s real fucked up, Dean.”
“Ah, they’re all right.” His gaze flickered between her face, with her half-lidded eyes and pouting lips, to her heaving breasts. There was something almost hypnotic about watching her chest and its gentle lurches.
“You can hold them, ya know,” she said, as if reading his mind.
“R-Really?”
Sirena sighed. “Yes, silly.”
She reached down, taking hold of his wrists, and positioned his hands onto her breasts. They were big, and kind of heavy, and soft apart from her nipples that poked into his palms. Other than when he had fondled them a little earlier, he had never touched breasts like this before. He didn’t know what to do apart from rub her nipples against his palms and squeeze, but that seemed to be enough, with Sirena gasping and twitching her hips and clenching his length harder with her inner muscles in response.
Her slow movements quickened, with her shimmying developing into bounces, as she huffed and mewled and made sounds that filled Dean’s head, leaving no room for any other thought. The bed creaked rhythmically underneath them. To help steady her, Dean slipped a hand to her waist. He kept his other on her breast, petting and squeezing. One time, she slammed down on him, and he accidentally pinched her nipple. She shrieked and he let go immediately.
“Sorry!” he yelped.
“D-Dean, what... d-did I tell you before?” Sirena snatched up his wrist and fixed his hand back onto her breast. “Don’t... apologise. D-Do that again...”
His eyebrows shot up and he wondered if he had heard her right. She didn’t move. Crap, she was waiting for him to do something. He gulped and pinched her nipple, albeit not as hard as last time. Even so, Sirena threw back her head and sighed. Her muscles pulsed around his length and he moaned too, then her hips resumed bobbing up and down. Not as fast as before, though, so his fingers could knead her breast without losing hold of her.
It was a good thing that Sirena seemed to have a lot of experience with doing this, because Dean thought he would have been clueless otherwise. On occasions, his father and Brock had spoken about the act of intercourse. The former usually focused on how it felt for him, while Brock talked about being the suave and dominant one. They hadn’t prepared him for it being like this. Here, Sirena took the lead, and her pleasure was his pleasure.
“Sit up,” she said.
Dean took a few moments to realise she had spoken, then a few more to understand what she said. He shuffled his elbows back, manoeuvring himself to be slouched against the headboard. While he wasn’t sitting up that much, Sirena seemed satisfied. She shifted, shoving her breasts against his face, then using a hand to reposition one so her nipple was pressing into his lips.
As inexperienced as Dean was, he could figure out what she wanted him to do. Dean sucked on her nipple, which was apparently correct because Sirena moaned. She clutched his shoulder for balance with one hand. He could feel her other fumbling somewhere between her legs, near her opening which was filled with him, while her hips pounded against him, up and down, up and down, like a piston.
“Ah, um... Sirena...” Dean’s vision was swimming in snow-white. With every movement, his crotch coiled ever tighter. He knew what was coming. Him. Any moment now. “I’m... gonna... f-fuck, S-Sirena...!”
“N-Not yet, Dean!” It felt like the hand she had between her legs was rubbing against some other part of her nearby. “J-Just wait... Just... I’m nearly...”
Sirena cried out, her body convulsing and inner muscles chewing on him relentlessly. Dean didn’t think she was having a seizure, but that would have explained the wetness flooding out from around where he was penetrating her. Urine. But her movements weren’t that of a fit, and it wasn’t pee. It wasn’t his ejaculate either. It was... hers? His eyes widened, and it took only a few more rubs from her pulsating muscles to snap the tension knotting in his groin. He moaned and trembled as he unloaded into her heat, his whole body hot and cold at the same time.
Even after their bodies stopped twitching and the rest of the bedroom faded back in, his length stayed embedded in her.
“That was... wow,” said Dean. “I know this was just my first time, but that was incredible.”
“And I know I’ve done this before, like, a lot, with other people but... yeah. Wow.” Sirena paused. “That’s the best sex I’ve ever had. No jokes.”
She moved but only so her hickey-marked breast was no longer in his face, replacing its presence with a moist kiss on his lips. Their arms wrapped around each other, embracing the other tightly while their tongues writhed together.
Honestly, Dean could have continued to make out with her all day and all night. And he had planned to, had there not been a knock on the door. He jumped.
“J-Jared!” Dean spluttered as Sirena kissed up his neck. Jared wasn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow. “Don’t you see the tie?”
Sirena rolled her eyes and pressed a kiss next to Dean’s ear before murmuring, “Eh, who fucking cares if he sees us? Let him come in. Let him see us together and know what he’s missing out on.”
Then she kissed Dean on the mouth and their lips locked once more, their limbs entwined as the dormitory door opened.
i am still working on dr4 regeneration! i have two fics i'm alternating working on and i *think* i've nearly finished that one's chapter so after that it's back to the tofu long fic >:)
sometimes people on here talk about "accountability" in a way that shows they think that the person they've decided is in the wrong can't actually do anything to redeem themselves other than like. suicide.
while there is weight to this, at the same time, it's still worth people who have done someone wrong trying to take some kind of accountability without expecting forgiveness or going 'oh so you want me to die then?'
for example, saying sorry to someone for sending them anon hate years ago and gloating to them anonymously about how you're talking badly about them to others behind their back, or calling them a bitch, or talking poorly about someone you have pretended to be a friend to at mutual friends because you don't like that person's headcanons or some other petty reason. all while being nice to that person's face and acting like their friend. though it might be easier never taking accountability ig and continuing life thinking they got away with it.
