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Shido frowned. “You drugged me.”
“Mm-hm.” Akechi disappeared into the bathroom, but Shido could still hear him. “But let’s not put all the blame on me. I just switched our drinks. You’re the one that spiked it.”
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A phantom of the gunshot ricocheted in the bag, and Ren’s hands flew up to his forehead. He could feel dried blood on his forehead and a pit where the bullet had burrowed into his skull. Somewhere deep in his brain laid that bullet, nestled among the whorls like a swaddled infant. He’d failed to sway Sae, and Akechi had shot him. Despite all the efforts of the Phantom Thieves he had still died in that interrogation room.
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Ren survives the assassination attempt, only for his problems to become much worse.
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She knows the kid is Shido's. Maybe there's too much of a resemblance in the nose or cheekbones. Maybe Shido averts his gaze instead of denying the connection. And that's when she starts to hate the kid.
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A series of normal tweets about Shido taking in Akechi after his mother's death.
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“It’s just an interesting choice,” Akechi said. Still pleasant, but something cooled his tone. “Did you know certain types of flowers are overrepresented in hanahaki infections? The most common flowers are roses, but carnations are also frequent.”
“You think I have hanahaki?”
Akechi barked out an unrefined laugh. He must have found Shido’s question genuinely funny, and something about that delight made Shido bristle.
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Written for Shiake Week 2024.
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“Be a good boy, do as I say, and maybe I won’t have to kill you.”
The threat meant nothing, because what Akechi really wanted was for Shido to put a bullet in his head and free him from this perverse torture. He’d at least been a guard dog before the election, back when threats to Shido’s power lurked around every corner. But now he was nothing more than a pampered, coddled lap dog.
Akechi hated it.
“Then do it,” he said. “Go ahead and do it already.”
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Written for Shiake Week 2024
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Instead the principal and Legislator Shido had successfully preyed on Akechi’s fears over his future, and he’d caved like a coward. All for a man that, as Akechi understood it, had seen him walking through Shibuya and felt an inextricable connection between them both. A connection that had compelled him to claim Akechi for himself. Akechi had found the idea absurd then, just as he found the idea absurd now. Shido had talked as though they were connected by blood.
An impossibility.
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Written for Day 6 of BottomGoro Week, because I decided a couple days ago I wanted to write some short smut.
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Sharp teeth sank into the junction of Akechi’s neck and shoulder, and his voice ricocheted off the bedroom’s high ceiling as he let loose ever protest that had been straining against his chest. He smelled like a gourmet chocolate—cacao and cinnamon and chili. He writhed against Shido and clawed at the blankets beneath them both, but Shido kept him pinned to the mattress. Even the most obstinate omegas were nothing more than thralls in service to their instincts, and the brat was no exception.
No matter how much he claimed otherwise.
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“I have a question first,” Shido said, and he gestured to Akechi. To her heeled boots at the entryway and leather purse on the counter and false lashes fluttering over her eyes. “What’s with the get-up?”
Akechi frowned and glanced away from Shido. “You saw my profile, didn’t you?” she asked. “You already know.”
Shido didn’t answer right away, and the light reflected off his glasses, rendering his gaze unreadable. The silence was miserable, and Akechi wanted to force her way into Shido’s skull to see what the man was thinking. She wanted to know what emotions were rolling around in that perverse mind—if Shido was digusted. Or, worse, if he was resigned.
But then Shido replied, slowly and cautiously, “You look like your mother.”
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Shido turned away from Akechi, but he knew his father wasn’t relenting. Shido went to the wheelchair nestled by the dresser and guided it over to the bed. “Get up,” he said. “You can do it yourself, or I’ll pick you up.”
“Really missing the old you right now,” Akechi grumbled, but he finally relented. He told himself that he really needed another round of the painkillers the doctor had prescribed him, and he suspected that Shido would refuse to bring them to Akechi until he got into the wheelchair.
He also didn’t want to suffer the indignity of Shido picking him up.
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Akechi has to adjust to his changed body and relationship with Shido after the cruise ship is destroyed.
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“I didn’t know you smoked,” Shido remarked. He sauntered over to the bed to pick up the cigarette left abandoned on the blanket.
Adrenaline left Akechi’s heart pounding in his chest, but he kept his face schooled into the epitome of indifference. “Very rarely,” Akechi said, and it was technically true.
Shido hummed a response. “If only your fans knew,” he said. He looked at the cigarette, as though he could divine Akechi’s transgression from the tobacco contained within.
“It’s the strangest thing,” Shido said. “I lost my cigarettes yesterday. I figured I knocked them off my desk, but I couldn’t find them anywhere in my office.” He looked over at Akechi with a look of curiosity. Akechi knew immediately that Shido was feigning the mild expression, that agitation was lurking beneath the mask.
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He turned to leave but stopped as Shido spoke again. “One last thing, Akechi-kun.” Akechi didn’t turn around, but he heard the groan of the chair, only to be followed by Shido’s steady footsteps. “I may have had to bend the truth to get Sato-san to invite me along with you.”
Akechi glanced over his shoulder. “What did you say?” he asked, and he got the sinking impression that he didn’t actually want to know what Shido told Sato. He could see himself in the reflection of Shido’s glasses. Two small Akechis, surrounded by orange, as though they were trapped in a burning building.
Shido reached for Akechi, and he let his fingers brush through Akechi’s silken hair. The assumed familiarity of the touch made Akechi startle. He flinched away from Shido.
The look Shido gave Akechi was patronizing. Entitled. “Sato is under the impression that we’re romantically involved,” Shido said. “I told him that I would introduce him to you, but also I just so happened to be uncomfortable leaving my young little lover alone with him.”
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Masayoshi loved his father above all else.
In fact, it might have been more accurate to say that Masayoshi loved his father and his father only. Everyone else he shared the world with were bland and uninteresting. Nuisances, really.
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When Goro came back to himself he was surrounded by pooling blood, red rendered black in the study’s dim light. He looked down at his hands. The pocket knife was wet with more of that blood, and he dropped it in a panic. The handle was carved into the roaring face of a lion. Blood seeped into the details, outlining the lion in black.
Goro’s hands trembled as a sense of horror filled him. He couldn’t articulate this terror that pressed up against his lungs until he could hardly breathe.
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Goro Shido, son of cabinet minister Masayoshi Shido, is the perfect son. He's intelligent, dutiful, and he keeps the nightmares whirling through his head to himself.
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The scar ran between Akechi’s shoulder blades with sharp, jagged edges that reminded him of a lightning bolt. The shadow responsible had been a nightmare to take down, and Akechi had left that woman’s Palace feeling like butchered meat. Appropriate, given that the Palace had manifested as a slaughterhouse, with the shadow parading around while wearing a boar’s head and a blood-soaked apron.
The wound had only been the first of Akechi’s problems though, because while Shido might have delighted in hearing the gruesome details about Akechi’s conquests, that enthusiasm apparently did not extend to seeing scars dragged across Akechi’s freckled skin.
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Shido wants to try some new kinks in the bedroom, but negotiates none of it. Akechi takes it horribly.
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Threats of blackmail and violence only did so much to force Akechi into subservience. He was obstinate by nature, much in the same way that Shido was.
But.
Well.
Shido seemed to enjoy the challenge.
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Shido found Akechi most adorable when she was humiliated. Some girls were so unsightly when embarrassed, faces flushed with a garish red that covered their entire faces. But Akechi was different. Her blushes were always a lovely pink that accentuated the light dusting of freckles she’d inherited from her mother.
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No matter how much Akechi loved Ren—and how he’d adored him just as much as he’d despised him—he loved the fantasy of Shido rendered broken and ruined that much more. Those dreams of dragging his father into an inescapable misery had pulled Akechi through his hardest nights, long before Ren ever existed in his life.
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Akechi attends a meeting with Shido in the aftermath of Ren's death. He's unprepared for Shido's new expectations of him.
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"He was only the Boy. He’d had a name once—in the previous life of his small apartment and long office hours—but that was before he’d met William. Leaving that life, and the person he’d once been meant also abandoning his name. Steep conditions for most, but the Boy had done it so eagerly. That name had been like ill-fitting shackles. It had kept him imprisoned in a life gray with an apathetic misery."
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Alternatively, a chubby femboy spends a morning with his daddy.
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Shido is rough with his playthings, and Akechi is no exception.
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“Plus, you can’t be my wife,” Shido added. “Marriage is something adults do. You’re too little for that.” He paused then as a yawn left him. “Worry about growing up before you decide to be anyone’s wife.” And then his eyes slipped shut as he let himself be pulled back into his slumber.
He didn’t catch the thoughtful look on Goro’s face.
(Written for Shiake Week.)