#seriously need to move on from this game for my own sanity

[valkyurii]

it’s funny how things have gone full circle with malenia. she was so hated when the game first came out, but then people grew to like her. then the dlc came out and now people hate her again lmao

[nanamineedstherapy]

Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage

F!Non-Sorceres Reader X Gojo Satoru X Nanami Kento

Summary: You should be overjoyed that Gojo Satoru & Nanami Kento are your husbands. But you feel your skin crawl as you become the third wheel in your own marriage.

Trigger Warnings: Workplace harassment, pregnancy complications, verbal abuse, grief, and loss. Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Redemption Arc, Workplace Dynamics, Gamer Culture, Mystery Identity, Mild Violence, Pregnancy Complications, Emotional Hurt, Disassociation, Depression.

A/N: Before you start reading— 1. Man, after finalizing this chapter, I was the Ben Affleck meme outside, chain-smoking my sanity away. 2. Minors, DNI. It’s not spicy, but seriously, don’t ruin your innocence here. 3. Our reader is tough as nails, but damn, even I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy. 4. I’ve sprinkled some links, a playlist, and a meme to lighten the vibe, but customize the vibe however you need. 5. Fair warning: the ending’s gonna hurt. If you’re not in the headspace for that, skip the parts marked with { }. Take care of yourself, okay? Let’s get wrecked together.

Previous Chapter 5 - Something Soft, Something Sharp (Tumblr/Ao3)

Chapter 6 (alt ending 1.2) - Veiled Realities

The gaming convention hall pulsed with energy—screens flashing with gameplay demos from various companies, creative souls showcasing their cosplays, excited chatter bouncing off the high ceilings, and the occasional triumphant shout from someone winning a round. You kept your barely see-through-only for you-hood low, blending seamlessly with the crowd as you moved toward your company’s booth. The email from your employee still sat in your inbox, her words playing on a loop in your mind:

“I wanted to bring to your attention a concerning issue that has been occurring within our team. Certain male employees have been engaging in inappropriate behavior towards their female colleagues, making comments that suggest women do not belong in the gaming industry.

Despite providing multiple rounds of workplace etiquette training, these individuals continue to make such remarks, often doing so after the training sessions have concluded. While we have attempted to address the situation discreetly, the behavior has persisted and is becoming increasingly problematic.

I felt it was important to make you aware of this issue, even if no immediate action is taken, as you are committed to fostering an inclusive and respectful work environment.”

You weren’t about to let it slide.

Your gaze landed on your company’s booth, where a small group had gathered. Two men—mid-forties, loud with unwarranted confidence—were smirking as they leaned toward a younger woman who stood stiffly, her arms crossed.

“Come on,” one of them said, his voice dripping with condescension. “You can’t even finish a round without dying. How are you going to tell us what to do?”

“Yeah,” the other chimed in, his laugh grating. “We're not sexist or anything, but gaming’s just not your thing. Stick to HR or something.”

You gritted your teeth, the instinct to step in bubbling beneath the surface. But you held back, watching as the woman squared her shoulders and prepared to fire back. Before she could, you pulled out your phone. With a few quick taps, an email was swiftly dispatched to the CHRO, with the COO, CSO, CMO, and the event coordinator all included in the loop for informational purposes.

The response from the CHRO came immediately: "We’ll start the off-boarding right away."

Within minutes, the two men’s phones buzzed simultaneously. They frowned, pulling them out, only for their faces to pale.

“What the—”

“Fucking hell!”

They stared at their screens, then at each other, and finally back at the woman they’d been harassing. “It’s you—”

Before they could finish, your voice cut through, calm. “You have five minutes to vacate the premises, or security will escort you if needed.”

The woman blinked at you, her surprise quickly replaced by a smirk as the men stammered and shuffled off grumbling to gather their things. You turned away before she could say anything, your hood still obscuring your face.

Then a loud voice rang out. “No, no, NO! Game broken! Is not me! Me loyal fan!”

Heads turned, including yours, to a really tall man with bright white hair and pale skin standing at the demo station, gesturing wildly at the screen. His coat hung loosely around his shoulders, and he wore dark sunglasses indoors. With his striking appearance, he could easily model for Giorgio Armani.

“Mechanics! Broken! No strong! Me? Strongest!” he declared, his English so fractured and accented that it took you a moment to piece together what he was trying to say.

One of your employees—a nervous-looking junior—stammered, “Uh… sir, maybe you just need more practice?”

The man looked personally offended. “Me beat curse! Me GOAT!” He paused, frowned, and then switched to rapid Japanese, clearly too frustrated to stick with English.

The junior blinked, helplessly lost. “Uh… what?”

The woman who had been dealing with the earlier bullying snorted. “Looks like you’ve got competition, Steve,” she muttered, glaring at her now ex-coworker as they left before turning to the man. “Sir, maybe try again? Second round’s free.”

“Free?” His face lit up like a Christmas town. “Yay! Free! Strongest WIN!”

“Stop embarrassing yourself,” came a calm, deep voice from behind him.

You tilted your neck to see another man—a tall figure, though not quite as towering as his counterpart—impeccably dressed in black. Neatly styled blond hair framed his face. With his striking looks, he would make a perfect brand ambassador for Tom Ford or Bironi; he resembled a male Victoria's Secret model. Beneath his green-tinted glasses, his eyes flicked to the white-haired chaos generator with the resigned air of a pet parent.

The white-haired man turned to glare at him. “No embarrassing! Winning!”

“Winning,” the blond deadpanned, glancing at the screen where the white-haired one’s character had just been obliterated.

He pouted, muttering something in Japanese that sounded suspiciously like an insult, and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

The blond man sighed heavily and said something in Japanese. “Sore wa gēmudesu. Kojin-tekina fukushūde wa arimasen.” (“It’s a game. Not a personal vendetta.”)

The white-haired one said something that the blond pointedly ignored. “Sō, fukushūda! Noroi o uchiyabutta. Subete o uchiyabutta, daga kono bakageta... Mekanikku dake wa!” (“Yes, it is vendetta! I beat curses; I beat everything, but this stupid... mechanics!”)

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but find the men’s voices incredibly attractive, even though they were completely different from each other—or was it the fact that they were speaking Japanese? Anyone with half a brain cell knew how undeniably masculine the language sounded.

“Anata to issho ni kurubekide wa nakatta to wakatte imashita.” The blond said, his tone clipped as he hovered by a different station, playing an older game in your company’s lineup—one that hadn’t done well financially but had won multiple awards and had a loyal following. (“I knew I shouldn’t have come with you.”)

You weren’t usually one to ogle men, but damn, the blond one’s biceps looked very chewable. Underneath his overcoat, you could imagine them flexing as he moved his fingers on the keyboard.

You immediately cringed at your own thoughts and made a mental note to stop spending so much time with your unhinged employees.

The white-haired one ignored him. “More round!” he yelled at the junior, who sighed and let him.

The man launched into another round, biting his lower lip in concentration like a child. Was that lip gloss?!

He was really close to perfecting the strike when the in-game AI learned his moves and took him down. He looked like he was about to cry, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at how adorable he was.

The blond’s gaze shifted to you, his eyes narrowing slightly in recognition—or perhaps suspicion. “You’re enjoying yourself?” he asked, his English perfect, despite the accent.

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

The white-haired one suddenly perked up, finally noticing you. His eyes widened, and he jabbed a finger in your direction. “You! Pretty hoodie lady! Play?”

Caught off guard, you blinked, face still obscured by the hood. “Play what?”

“Game!” He gestured wildly at the screen. “Strongest win! You lose!”

The blond groaned softly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Gojo, stop harassing strangers.”

“Me no harass! Me... invite!” The Gojo declared, beaming at you.

Against your better judgment, you stepped closer, curiosity outweighing caution.

The woman from earlier smirked, stepping up to the console. “Oh, this is going to be good.”

“Think you better?” He grinned, clearly convinced he was about to crush you, then pointed at the blond. “Nanamin, see me!”

“Don’t call me that!” The blond spat at him, making you think—was ‘Nanamin’ a derogatory word in their language?

The blond furrowed his brow, his gaze flicking over you. Something about the way you carried yourself seemed… off. Not in a bad way, but something didn’t fit in his mind.

You slid into the seat across from Gojo, the monitors facing the opposite way. “Alright, fine. Let’s see what the ‘strongest’ has got.”

The first round was a blur of offensive movements and insults—Gojo threw out broken English mixed with Japanese, your focus entirely on the screen.

To your dismay, he was… good. Annoyingly good. You’d come up with the idea and then tested this game for over 5,000 hours. You were basically omniscient in it—knew every trick and exploit, but Gojo’s reflexes and instincts were ridiculous.

So you cheated.

Subtly, of course.

A quick input enabled God Mode, giving you just enough of an edge to win the round.

Within minutes, Gojo’s smug grin crumbled as you utterly demolished him in-game, your hands moving with muscle memory.

The blond, who had been watching silently, let out a low chuckle. “Looks like you’ve met your match, Gojo.”

Gojo froze, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the screen. “You cheat!”

You grinned, leaning back. “No, I’m just better,” you said smoothly, your voice calm. Inside, you panicked a little; he couldn’t have possibly known; your screen wasn’t facing him.

“Yes! CHEAT! Me see!” He tapped his temple. “Muttsu no me! Me see!” Then he made a gesture that encompassed the whole planet with his long, troll-like arms. (“Six eyes.”)

You smirked, but before you could respond, the blond interjected. “Gojo, you’re imagining things.”

“Sōzō janai yo! Kanojo wa hontōni zuru o shita nda! Anata mo mitadesho. Eigo de itte!” Gojo gestured wildly at Nanami, who barely glanced at him. (“I’m NOT imagining! She literally just cheated! You saw it too. Say it in English!”)

“You’re hallucinating,” the blond said flatly.

“I am NOT!”

“Yes, you are. You’re tired. No more video games; go sit down over there.” The blond had seen you cheat, but he wasn’t letting the opportunity to embarrass Gojo pass.

Gojo sputtered, clearly betrayed, while you fought to keep a straight face.

“Impossible!” Gojo huffed at you, but there was no malice in his tone, only a kind of begrudging admiration. “You… strong.”

You shrugged, pulling your hood up just enough to smile. “Told you.”

Gojo’s throat made a strangled sound that suspiciously resembled a mewl; he seemed like a nerd. “Me ahh Gojo Satoru. He Nanami Kento.” He pointed at the blond without looking away from you.

Nanami’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary, his expression unreadable.

“So, Gojo and Nanami are your names? I believe Japan has a different naming convention, right?” You asked, steering the conversation away to avoid revealing your own name. Surrounded by a crowd, you felt uneasy about receiving random CVs and taking selfies with men whose hands seemed to wander a bit too freely.

Nanami was caught off guard by your knowledge. “You are correct. No, those are our surnames. He doesn’t know much English.”

He continued eyeing you with a poker face. “I don’t suppose you’d tell us your name?”

You scrambled to respond, giving them your gamer tag, which sounded surprisingly like a real name.

Gojo laughed, while Nanami’s gaze remained fixed on you. “Pardon my English, but I meant your real name.” He looked a bit smug as if saying, I-didn’t-stutter.

Damn! They were too perceptive. “Maybe next time,” you said, already rising to your feet, turning on your heel, and slipping into the crowd before they could press further.

You could feel their eyes on you, with Nanami’s gaze lingering the longest, as if he were piecing together a puzzle.

Later, after you walked out of the convention hall and made your way toward the food stalls, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. You’d come to check on your team and ended up with a story you’d never forget.

Unbeknownst to you, Gojo was still at the booth, raving about the “mysterious hoodie lady” who was, in his words, “gaming goddess.” Nanami simply shook his head, filing away the memory of your smile for reasons he didn’t fully understand.

Nanami commented, “We never got her name.”

Gojo, beaming, muttered, “Me find her. Strongest reserves rematch.”

Nanami rubbed his temple. “It’s ‘deserves.’”

Gojo waved him off. “Ya ya that!”

//

Hours later, you stepped outside to go home.

The alley was dimly lit, the faint glow of a flickering streetlamp casting long shadows against the brick walls. You tugged your hood tighter, the weight of the day settling heavily on your shoulders as you made your way through. Just as you reached the halfway point, angry voices broke the quiet, followed by the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps closing in.

“You think you can fire us just like that?” One of the men sneered, his face twisted with rage as he stepped into view. His friend loomed beside him, cracking his knuckles with an air of smugness.

You stopped, turning slowly to face them. Your pulse quickened, but you kept your tone cold. “I don’t think,” you replied, as you shifted into a defensive stance. “I know.”

The first man lunged, and you dodged, pivoting on your heel to avoid his clumsy attack. Your brain kicked into overdrive, calculating angles and weaknesses as you landed a solid kick to his shin, your heels digging in. He stumbled, cursing, but his friend was already charging at you.

You ducked, your fists up, but you weren’t trained for this. They were bigger, stronger, and clearly fueled by rage. Damn it, you thought bitterly, wishing you’d waited for Megumi—or at least brought your security detail in regular clothes.

“HEY!”

The voice boomed down the alley, startling everyone. You froze mid-dodge, turning toward the source of the voice.

Gojo stood at the entrance, his white hair glowing faintly under the streetlamp. His grin feral, hands shoved casually into his pockets. “What this? Fight? Without me?” His English was awful, the words garbled but unmistakably confident.

Behind him, Nanami appeared with the air of someone ready to ruin someone’s day. His eyes locked on the men, his expression grim. “Let’s divide and conquer.”

What followed was a masterclass in contrasts, a scene you’d replay in your mind for days.

Gojo’s opponent barely had time to process the incoming whirlwind before Gojo sidestepped his first punch with an exaggerated lean, one hand cupping his chin as if bored. “Loser shit,” he said.

The man swung again, and Gojo ducked low, popping up behind him like a magician revealing his latest trick. “Try harder! Or you go home?” His English faltered, and he switched to Japanese mid-sentence, gesturing at the alley’s exit.

Frustrated, the man lunged, but Gojo pivoted effortlessly, his movements mocking. “Ah-ah!” he teased, flicking the man’s forehead with enough force to send him faltering back. He could have actually flicked him through the wall, but he was trying to impress you, not terrify you. Then, with a theatrical spin, he delivered a sharp kick to the back of the man’s knees, sending him crashing to the ground.

“Strongest wins!” Gojo declared triumphantly as the man groaned in pain.

Meanwhile, Nanami was a study in calm brutality. His opponent came at him swinging, fists wild and uncoordinated. Nanami stepped to the side, his movements smooth, allowing the man’s momentum to carry him forward.

The attacker stumbled, and Nanami seized the opportunity. A precise jab to the spine sent the man gasping, doubling over in pain. Without missing a beat, Nanami delivered a swift knee to the stomach, his face utterly impassive as his opponent crumpled to the ground.

“Pathetic,” he muttered, adjusting his collar with indifference.

Within moments, both men were on the ground, groaning and defeated as the security—who’d arrived mid-fight—dragged them away.

Gojo glanced over at Nanami. “Why so serious, Nanamin?!”

Nanami shot him a flat look. That was the only phrase Gojo knew properly.

Gojo turned to you, his grin impossibly wide. “Hoodie lady! You okay?”

You adjusted your hood, making sure your face stayed hidden, though a faint smile tugged at your lips. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

Nanami stepped closer, his gaze lingering on you with quiet intensity. “You shouldn’t be out here alone,” he said, his tone edged with concern.

“I can handle myself,” you replied, though your voice softened.

“Clearly,” Nanami said, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you pulled it out to see a notification from your ride. “Well, thanks again for saving me.”

You turned to leave, but Gojo moved faster than you could anticipate, stepping into your space with a speed that made your heart skip. He leaned in, his face far too close as he tilted his head, his eyes still obscured by the ridiculous sunglasses. “Name,” he demanded, his tone expectant.

“Gojo,” Nanami barked, grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking him back. “Control yourself.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, still obscured by your barely see-through hood.

Well, they did save you, and no one was around right now, but they could be stalkers. So you only told them your nickname, essentially half your first name.

Gojo repeated it, his accent thick as he rolled the syllables around in his mouth like a taste he wanted to savor. Nanami echoed it under his breath, committing it to memory with far more subtlety. You had never loved your name more.

Gojo clapped his hands together, his grin as bright as the streetlamp above. “Okaaay, now us food! You come us!”

You blinked at him, bewildered.

Nanami immediately choked, “My apologies, my colleague means, would you like to join us for dinner?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Maybe next time. My grumpy ride is here.”

Before they could argue, you slipped past them as the soft hum of a sleek black Maserati cut through the alley’s quiet. The car glided to a stop, the sharp lines of its body catching the faint light from the streetlamp. The door opened smoothly, revealing a young Japanese man with sea urchin spiky black hair and a scowl sharp enough to rival Nanami’s deadliest glare.

He stepped out, his tailored suit pristine despite the late hour. His deep blue eyes swept over the scene, narrowing slightly as they landed on Gojo and Nanami. There was no mistaking the barely contained irritation in his expression as he glared daggers at the two men.

You smiled faintly as you approached and side-hugged him; his gaze softened, though the crease in his brow remained.

“You’re late,” he muttered, holding the door open for you. His English and accent perfectly matched yours, so Gojo deduced he definitely hadn’t lived in Japan much.

“You’re crabby,” you replied, sliding into the passenger seat.

“I wouldn’t be if you didn’t insist on wandering into alleys like this,” he said, his tone exasperated but tinged with familiarity. He cast one last glance at Gojo and Nanami, his lips curling slightly in what could only be described as a warning.

“Wait... you sent the security?” You asked, tone surprised.

“Yes.” He clipped, tone not revealing much. You’d later learn that the men who’d tried to hit you disappeared under mysterious circumstances after tonight. When you asked Megumi, he’d just glare at you and mutter about not having time to look into freeloaders.

Gojo tilted his head, his six eyes narrowing as he watched the interaction with growing curiosity. Nanami too had his gaze locked on the Maserati as the young man slipped back into the driver’s seat. The way his hand lingered on the steering wheel, his face scanning you for injuries. His head tilted slightly toward you as you spoke, suggesting something closer than casual acquaintance.

Nanami thought of looking you or the young man up on LinkedIn only to realize he never actually saw your face or knew the man’s name.

As the car pulled away, the faint glow of the interior lights illuminated your face behind the dark-tinted windows for just a moment. Gojo’s grin widened as he caught a glimpse of your smile, and Nanami’s eyes narrowed as he committed the fleeting image to memory for some reason he still didn’t understand.

Gojo’s eyes remained fixed on you as the guy driving whisked you away, scolding you for not waiting for him.

Nanami was also watching your retreating car in the distance. His thoughts lingered on the brief glimpse of your smile—the only part of you they’d truly seen. “Boyfriend?” He asked.

Gojo smirked, “You are awfully curious today, Nanamin.” Switching back to Japanese.

“Just answer the question.”

“I’m actually not sure. But the boy is a Zen'in; interestingly enough, the one’s father I killed before Suguru ran away.”

Gojo’s smile widened as you removed the hood from your face a few meters away. He had never been more grateful for his six eyes.

Good. He had a face now.

He clapped Nanami on the back. “Hoodie lady is full of surprises.”

Nanami’s expression remained unreadable. “You don’t even know her full name.”

Gojo’s grin only widened. “I’ll find her.”

Little did you know you had just met your future husbands.

//

After ensuring a safe distance between you and the men he’d encountered, your best friend turned to you, his expression serious. “Stay away from those two; they are sorcerers.”

"But aren't you?"

He immediately cut you off, "I only share the bloodline nothing else. You know what sorcerers did to my father. Besides, I think it was one of them."

You understood the weight of Megumi’s words, but you also knew why his father had been killed. It wasn’t because sorcerers were inherently dangerous, but because he had been too much of a thrill-seeker. “You do realize I’m not your child, right? I’m older than you.”

“Well, that’s too damn bad, Grandma.”

“Heyy!”

He chuckled to himself, but the laughter quickly faded as he asked, “What did they want with you anyway?” He was trying hard not to let you know he was probing.

“Nothing. They just wanted to know my name, and I kept dodging it with pseudonyms. Then they asked me to dinner, and I told them next time. But you don’t have to worry about it. I don’t think I’d ever see them again.” You said this absentmindedly, focused on ordering takeout on your phone before you arrived home.

“Good. Keep it that way. Don’t entertain them again.”

“Italian?” you asked, trying to shift the conversation.

“Get that Spinach and Broccoli Alfredo from that small place. Put it on my card.” He liked the dish, but it wasn’t his go-to for special occasions; it was yours.

“Aww, what’s the occasion?”

“You almost getting beaten up.”

You scowled at him.

“Relax. I’m just making sure you’re okay, or my father will resurrect himself and beat my ass.” He laughed, but there was an edge to his humor.

You thought of the men for a few days, their faces lingering in your mind, but you quickly moved on with your hectic life. You were determined not to let Megumi down. He didn’t have many friends besides you that he’d hang out with, let alone have around with his mom, and with his dad gone, he’d never recover from the betrayal if something happened to you.

But when had you ever listened to Megumi?

Today, you wished you had.

--

After they’d left you alone, the days bled together in a haze of exhaustion and dread. You busied yourself with the mundane tasks of preparing for the twins, folding impossibly tiny clothes, and arranging bottles on the counter like talismans against the pain threatening to consume you. Sukuna had been true to his word, filling the gaps with his presence and resources, but even his towering strength couldn’t shield you from the memories.

Each kick, each flutter, was a visceral reminder of the life growing inside you—a life you were determined to protect. Yet, every movement felt like a betrayal, a reminder of the faces you couldn’t erase. Gojo’s sharp grin, dulled now by sorrow. Nanami’s stoicism, cracking under the weight of his regret. They haunted you, their voices whispering in the silence of your nights, their hands ghosting over your skin in dreams that turned to nightmares.

One evening, Sukuna returned, his silhouette framed by the doorway. He carried bags of groceries, the muscles in his arms flexing as he set them down with more care than you thought him capable of. His usual smirk was absent, replaced by something foreign: concern.

“You’re wearing yourself thin,” he said, his voice rough but quiet. His crimson eyes swept over you, lingering on the trembling in your hands as you folded a onesie.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, though the lie sat heavy in your chest.

“Princess,” he said again, softer now, and the nickname cracked something inside you. “You’re not fine.”

Your hands froze mid-fold, the fabric slipping from your fingers. The room seemed to tilt, the walls closing in. “I don’t know how to do this,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

Sukuna crossed the room in three strides, his arms encircling you. His touch was firm, grounding, and you let yourself lean into him. “You’re doing it,” he murmured against your hair. “And you’re not alone.”

But the words couldn’t reach the hollow ache inside you.

//

The next day, the soft knock at the door was more polite than usual, almost hesitant. Sukuna didn’t wait for you to answer—he never did; he never even knocked—but this time, he lingered in the doorway, his hulking frame lit by the warm glow of the sunlight filtering in through the window. His expression was unreadable, though the faintest flicker of something nervous passed through his crimson eyes.

In his hands, he held a large box, haphazardly wrapped in crinkled newspaper and secured with what looked like electrical tape.

“What is that?” You asked, narrowing your eyes.

He grunted, stepping inside and setting the box down on the coffee table with a thud. “It’s for them,” he said, jerking his chin toward your stomach.

You blinked, thrown off by the unexpected gesture. “You got them… a gift?”

He shot you a glare, defensive already. “Don’t make it weird. It’s not a big deal.”

Your curiosity got the better of you, and you shuffled over to the box, careful to lower yourself onto the couch. Sukuna watched, his arms crossed over his chest, as you peeled back the layers of tape and newspaper.

Inside was chaos.

A mishmash of items tumbled out—two tiny leather jackets, complete with spikes on the shoulders; a set of Blobfish plushies; and what could only be described as baby-sized combat boots, polished to a mirror shine.

Your jaw dropped. “Sukuna… what the hell is this?”

He shrugged, his smirk returning, though it was softer than usual. “Gear. For when they’re old enough to not embarrass me.”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up, loud and uncontrollable. It startled even you, breaking through the thick fog of grief and exhaustion that had clung to you for days. “Spiked leather jackets? Combat boots? What are they, tiny bikers?”

“They’re going to be strong,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact as he dropped onto the armchair across from you. “Might as well dress the part.”

You shook your head, still laughing as you held up one of the jackets. It was absurdly small, the spikes dulled for safety. “This is so extra.”

“You’re welcome,” he shot back, though the faint twitch of his lips betrayed his satisfaction at your reaction.

You set the jacket down, your laughter fading into a softer smile. “You didn’t have to do this.”

Sukuna leaned back, his gaze locking onto yours with a rare intensity. “I know,” he said simply.

For a moment, the room was quiet, the air between you charged with something unspoken. He broke the silence first, waving a hand toward the mess of items on the table. “I’m not saying they’ll ever use this crap. Just… figured it might make you laugh.”

Your chest tightened, the ache of loss mingling with something warmer, something unfamiliar. “It did,” you admitted, your voice softer now.

“Good.” He stood abruptly, brushing imaginary dust off his pants. “I’ll pick up something more normal next time. Maybe. Only if you drink enough water.”

You laughed again, shaking your head. “Please don’t. This is perfect.”

Sukuna’s smirk widened as he swaggered toward the door. Just before he left, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder, and said, “I’m not going anywhere, Princess.”

In a moment that could only be described as peak Sukuna, he turned to make his grand exit, only for his nose to collide with the door frame with a resounding thud.

“Stupid... who put this here?” He grumbled, rubbing his nose furiously as if it were the door’s fault for existing. You couldn’t help but burst into laughter, the sound echoing in the room like a cackling hyena.

“Maybe it’s a sign you should start ducking!” You teased, and he shot you a look that was half annoyed, half amused, like a cat that had just been splashed with water, but it was warm.

“I’ll just buy a bigger door!” He retorted, throwing his hands up in exaggerated exasperation.

With that, he turned to leave again, but not before bumping his head against the door frame once more, muttering, “This door is clearly out to get me.” You couldn’t help but laugh even harder.

And then he was gone, leaving you surrounded by the absurdity he’d brought with him. You looked down at the tiny jackets and boots, your hand resting on your stomach as the twins stirred softly. Maybe your laughing did calm them.

//

Same night, your bedroom was cold, the soft glow of a nightlight casting shadows that seemed to shift with your every movement. You slept in the center of the room, one hand resting on your swollen belly. The twins kicked softly, their presence grounding and tormenting you in equal measure.

The guilt was a living thing, coiled tight around your chest. Sukuna had done everything—more than you could have asked for—but the lie you’d spun had fangs. Each day, it bit deeper, carving wounds you couldn’t heal.

You woke screaming, clutching your stomach as panic clawed at your throat. Sukuna was there in an instant, his hands steady on your shoulders, his voice sharp and commanding. “What is it?”

“They’re going to take them,” your voice raw and broken. “They’ll find a way.”

“No one’s taking anything,” his crimson eyes blazing with an intensity that should have comforted you. But the storm inside you raged on.

“You don’t know them,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “They’ll stop at nothing.”

Sukuna cupped your face, his touch surprisingly gentle in his large hands. “They won’t get near you. Not while I’m here.”

But his words were like whispers against a hurricane. You turned away, your gaze falling to the crib, its bars a reminder of the prison you’d built around your heart.

“I’ll protect you,” you murmured to the twins, your hands trembling as you traced the curve of your stomach. “Even if it kills me.”

The room seemed to hold its breath, the silence heavy and oppressive.

“I won’t let you die.” Sukuna whispered. You turned to look at him only to be kissed by him on your temple. It wasn’t anything passionate; it was as if he was sealing a promise.

//

The next morning, you shuffled into the living room, your back aching from another restless night. The twins had been unusually active, their cursed energy—or at least what you deduced was cursed energy—pressing against your insides like waves crashing against fragile glass. You’d woken up drenched in sweat, the faint outline of one of their hands or feet briefly visible under your skin before retreating into the shadows of your body. It was horrifying and beautiful, and you hated that you didn’t know how to feel about it.

Sukuna was already in the living room, sitting on the floor, a cup of coffee in his hand. He glanced up as you entered, his crimson eyes scanning you like he could read every thought you were trying to suppress.

“You look worse than usual,” he said, his voice cutting but not cruel.

“Thanks,” you muttered, dropping onto the couch with a wince.

He didn’t respond right away, just set his cup down, straightened and stretched, his maroon hoodie riding up, revealing markings on his stomach. He watched you with an expression you couldn’t quite place. Despite being on the floor, he was somehow on eye level with you.

After a moment, he stood and disappeared into the kitchen. You didn’t have the energy to ask what he was doing.

When he returned, he was holding a glass of water and a small bowl filled with neatly peeled and cut fruit. He handed them to you without a word, his hand lingering for a moment as you took the bowl.

“Eat,” he said simply, sitting back down on the floor in front of you.

You stared at the fruit. “You didn’t have to—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, his tone firm. “Just eat.”

You did, the sweet and sourness of the fruits grounding you. Sukuna watched, his gaze flicking between your face and your stomach.

After a while, he spoke again, his voice softer. “You hate looking at yourself, don’t you?”

Your breath caught; you definitely had a type. Type that kept seeing through your lies!

You didn’t answer, but the way you looked away was answer enough.

Sukuna shifted closer, resting his forearms on his knees. “Can I?”

You frowned, unsure. “Why?”

“Just trust me, Princess,” he said, his smirk faint but not unkind.

Reluctantly, you let him. His hands moved to your baby balloon, his touch firm but careful, soothing you as he pressed his palms against the curve.

“Feel that?” he murmured as one of the twins shifted beneath his hand, the movement almost shy.

You nodded, your throat tight.

“They’re strong,” he said, his voice steady. “They know you’re protecting them.”

Another flutter beneath your skin, this one softer, more deliberate. Sukuna’s hands didn’t move, his warmth radiating through you like a shield against the chill that had settled in your bones.

“You’re not broken,” he said after a moment, his tone uncharacteristically gentle. “And you’re not alone in this.”

“You sure are comfortable touching them now.” You teased.

He snorted. “And here I thought I was helping you feel better.”

You laughed and closed your eyes as the twins settled, their energy calming under the weight of his words. The war inside you felt a little less unbearable.

//

A few days later, the apartment was warm, sunlight streaming through the half-open blinds and landing in soft streaks across the living room floor. You sat on the couch, one hand absently resting on your stomach while the other scrolled through your phone. You weren’t looking at anything in particular, just trying to distract yourself from the relentless ache in your lower back and the twins’ ongoing UFC match in your uterus.

Sukuna walked in, carrying a bag of groceries like it was filled with feathers as usual. His broad shoulders filled the doorway as he kicked it shut behind him. He looked at you, then at the untouched snack bowl on the coffee table, then back at you.

“You didn’t eat the strawberries I cut,” he said flatly, setting the bag down.

“I wasn’t hungry,” you replied without looking up.

“You’re always hungry,” he shot back, folding his arms.

You finally glanced up at him, raising a brow. “Maybe I’m evolving.”

He snorted, dropping onto the armchair across from you. “Yeah, into a cranky gargoyle. What’s up with you today?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, your tone too breezy.

His eyes narrowed, sharp and calculating. “Bullshit.”

You sighed, setting your phone down. “I’m fine, Sukuna. Can’t a woman just sit in peace without being interrogated?”

“Not when that woman’s got two cursed powerhouses doing cartwheels inside her,” he replied, his smirk faint but pointed.

You rolled your eyes, leaning back against the couch. “I’m just tired, okay?”

He stared at you for a long moment, his crimson eyes flicking to your stomach, then back to your face.

“You’re not tired,” he said finally, his voice quieter. “You feel weird. About your body.”

Your head snapped up, your mouth opening to protest, but he cut you off with a raised hand.

“Don’t even try to deny it,” he said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “You’re confident, sure. You’re also human. You’re carrying their demon spawns, and it’s messing with your head. I’d feel weird too.”

You blinked, thrown off by the bluntness of his words. “That’s… not exactly how I’d put it.”

“Whatever,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “Point is, you’re not as slick as you think you are, Princess.”

You stared at him, unsure whether to laugh or be offended. “And what, you’re here to be my body image coach now?”

“Very perceptive of you,” he said, standing abruptly. He grabbed the bag of groceries and pulled out a tub of chocolate ice cream and a loaf of bread. Even your cravings weren’t original from your husbands.

“What are you doing?” you asked, watching in bemusement as he started slathering jam on a slice of bread.

“Making you a snack,” he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Pickle and peanut butter sandwich. Ice cream chaser. Don’t knock it till you try it.”

“That’s disgusting,” you said, wrinkling your nose.

“Yeah, well, so’s the idea of that white-haired one being someone’s dad, but here we are,” he quipped, tossing the sandwich onto a plate and handing it to you.

You stared at the monstrosity, then at him. “This is your solution to my body issues? Weird snacks?”

“No,” he said, sitting back down and gesturing at you with a flourish. “My solution is this: you’re hot, you’re badass, and if anyone says otherwise, I’ll break their spine. But you’re also you, which means you’re allowed to feel weird about turning into a walking incubator for two special-grade cursed-energy gremlins. Doesn’t mean you’re less of anything.”

You blinked. “That’s… oddly sweet.”

“I aim to please,” he grumbled, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV. “Now eat the sandwich before I change my mind.”

You laughed, taking a tentative bite of the pickle-peanut butter monstrosity. It was terrible, but for some reason, it made you feel a little better.

//

The next day, the air was crisp, the kind of weather that made the leaves crunch underfoot and the sunlight feel softer. Sukuna strolled beside you, a reusable shopping bag slung over his shoulder like a fashion statement, his other hand steadying you as you waddled along the cobblestone path of the farmer’s market, your face obscured by a large mask. The twins had been kicking non-stop since breakfast, and your back felt like it was holding the weight of the world.

“I don’t know why you dragged me here,” you muttered, squinting at a stall of overpriced honey jars.

“Because you’ve been sulking for days,” Sukuna replied, smirking. “And I’m tired of watching you fold tiny clothes and cry about it.”

Before you could retort, he veered off toward a stall selling baby onesies, grabbing one with a print of a cartoon goat that read Mommy’s Little Terror. He held it up, raising a brow. “This fits their vibe.”

You snorted despite yourself. “They’re not even born yet, and you’re assigning them a vibe?”

“Yeah,” he said, tossing it into the bag. “And this.” He grabbed another onesie, this one pink and emblazoned with Future World Domination Leader.

You laughed, leaning on his arm for support as the twins shifted again. Sukuna noticed immediately, crouching slightly to meet your eyes. “Tired?”

“A little,” you admitted, though your body screamed a lot.

Without a word, he scooped you up effortlessly, one arm under your knees and the other supporting your back. “What are you—put me down!”

“Shut up, Princess,” he said, grinning as heads turned to stare at the giant man carrying a visibly and heavily—maybe too heavily—pregnant woman like she weighed nothing. “You’ll thank me later.”

An older woman at a nearby stall clasped her hands together, her face lighting up. “Oh, isn’t he just wonderful? So attentive!”

Sukuna didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, I’m pretty great,” he said, flashing her a cocky grin. “My wife’s a champ, though. Carrying our twins and still managing to look this bewitching.”

You groaned, burying your face in his shoulder. “Stoppp.”

He ignored you, turning his attention to the woman. “I’m so proud of her. She’s going to be an amazing birthgiver.”

The woman beamed, clearly swooning. “You’re both so lucky!”

“Yeah,” Sukuna said, his voice softening just enough for only you to hear. “I am.”

//

Later that week, Sukuna insisted on taking you grocery shopping. You protested, but he ignored you as usual, guiding you through the aisles with a hand on your lower back.

“Pickles?” he asked, holding up a jar with a raised brow.

You nodded, reaching for it, but he pulled it back. “What’s the magic word?”

“Are you serious?”

“Deadly.”

“Fine,” you huffed. “Please.”

He handed it over with a smug grin. “See? Was that so hard?”

At the checkout, the cashier—a young woman with doe eyes—couldn’t stop glancing at Sukuna, her cheeks pink as she scanned the items.

“These pickles,” she started, clearly searching for a conversation starter. “A craving?”

Sukuna nodded solemnly. “Yeah. She’s eating for three, and I’m eating for stress.”

You choked on a laugh, swatting his arm. “Don’t listen to him.”

The cashier giggled nervously, her eyes lingering on Sukuna a moment too long. He didn’t even notice, too busy helping you into your coat and carrying all the bags in one hand like they weighed air.

Outside, you leaned against him, your feet aching. “You didn’t have to do all of that.”

He smirked, draping an arm around your shoulders. “Sure I did. It’s my job to keep you entertained.”

//

A couple of days later, at the park, Sukuna insisted on renting a swan paddle boat “for the twins.” The boat was comically small for his frame, his knees practically up to his chest as he paddled with exaggerated effort and heavy breaths.

“Why are we doing this?” you asked, trying not to laugh.

“Because I like suffering,” he said, glaring at the water like it had personally offended him.

He was doing it for you, to make you laugh as much as possible.

Then when you finally broke into giggles, he grinned, satisfied.

//

That night, when you struggled to sleep, Sukuna sat by your bed, massaging pain-relieving oils into your swollen ankles with surprising care. His hands were rough but gentle, his expression focused.

“You don’t have to do this,” you murmured, your voice thick with exhaustion.

He glanced up, his crimson eyes softer than you’d ever seen. “I know,” he said simply, his hands never faltering.

You fell asleep to the sound of his low, rumbling voice, humming an off-key lullaby he’d probably made up on the spot. His humming seemed to soothe the twins into no-cartwheeling sleep, which helped you relax for the night.

Sukuna never thought he could be perfect, but in those moments, he was everything you needed.

//

The next day, the yoga studio smelled faintly of lavender and freshly cleaned mats. Sukuna walked in beside you, his presence as imposing as ever. His crimson eyes swept over the room, narrowing slightly at the women who turned to gawk. He helped you settle onto your mat with the kind of careful attention that seemed absurd coming from someone like him, crouching to adjust the pillow beneath your knees before straightening to his full, towering height.

The murmurs started immediately. Low at first, barely audible, but growing louder with every second. You could feel the weight of their stares pressing against your skin, even through the mask you wore to keep a low profile.

Sukuna noticed too. His gaze darkened, his smirk vanishing as his eyes darted across the room. “What’s their problem?” he muttered under his breath.

You tried to ignore it, focusing on your breathing as the instructor began leading the class through stretches. But the whispers didn’t stop.

“She’s the one,” someone hissed, loud enough to reach your ears.

“Carrying twins,” another added, voice dripping with disdain.

You clenched your fists, your nails biting into your palms. Sukuna’s head snapped toward the source of the voices, his expression hardening.

And then, of course, Karen appeared.

She strode across the room, her leggings pulled so high they might as well have been a second ribcage. Her smirk was cruel as she stopped in front of you.

The room went quiet. She loomed over you—as you were sitting on the floor—her arms crossed, her expression smug. “What’s it like being the talk of the internet? The woman who couldn’t keep her men in line?”

You felt Sukuna tense beside you, his hand twitching at his side. You placed a hand on his arm, silently telling him to hold back. “I’m here to practice yoga, not entertain you.”

Karen’s smirk widened, her gaze flicking over you like you were something stuck to the bottom of her shoe. “Practice yoga? That’s rich. You mean parading around with your ‘fake husband’ after your other two clowns beat people up? Gave people permanent injuries?”

Then she turned to Sukuna and continued, “Oh, I knew for a fact you were a chum who got stuck with her. I was right, and you lied.”

You kept your grip on Sukuna’s arm firm. You spoke calmly but firm. “Watch your mouth! First of all, don’t bring Sukuna into this. Second, I was the one holding them back. I didn’t incite it. I kept my employees alive that day.”

Karen’s gaze swept over you, landing on your stomach, clearly not ready to back off. “Honestly, it’s impressive,” she continued, her tone dripping with mockery. “First, you marry two men, and then you end up with him?”

Sukuna’s growl was low and guttural, his towering frame eclipsing hers. “Watch it.”

“Karen,” you yelled, “you don’t know anything about my life. You don’t know what I’ve been through, what I’ve survived.”

“Survived?” Karen scoffed. “You mean you survived your ‘unnatural ways’ coming out in front of the entire world? Or is it surviving the fact that no one takes you seriously anymore?”

“Sukuna,” you said, your voice lowering. “Let’s just go.”

Your stomach was churning, the weight of her words sinking in like lead. Sukuna’s hand rested lightly on you, grounding you, but even his presence couldn’t shield you from the growing stares around the room.

Karen stepped closer, looming over you, invading your personal space. It felt as though she might resort to physical violence with you at any moment. Her voice dropped, but the venom in her tone remained unmistakable. “People are calling you a sex addict, you know. Can’t say I blame them. Married to two men, pregnant with God knows who’s kids, and now cozying up to him?” She sneered. “You’re not just a scandal—you’re a disgrace. You can’t live without dick can you! What now? You’ll add him to your harem too, you whore! If I were in your place, I would have killed myself!”

The words hit like daggers, each one twisting deeper. Your breath caught, but before you could respond, Sukuna moved.

It happened in an instant.

You gasped, “Ryo!”

The slap cracked through the studio like a thunderclap, silencing the room. Karen stumbled, clutching her cheek, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief.

Sukuna loomed over her, his towering frame casting a shadow that swallowed her whole. His voice was low, a growl that rumbled through the silence. “Say one more word, and I’ll make sure you never speak again.”

Karen’s confidence crumbled instantly, her wide-eyed shock betraying the venom she’d spewed moments ago. She glanced around the room, searching for someone—anyone—to come to her defense, but the silence was deafening. The other mothers avoided her gaze, their expressions a mix of discomfort and quiet satisfaction.

Her husband wasn’t there, of course. He’d finally had enough of her tirades, her endless need to dominate every room she walked into. The divorce papers had already been filed, and his absence spoke louder than any words ever could. Karen, with her toxic cocktail of insecurity and unchecked cruelty, had been left with nothing but her bitterness.

She didn’t belong here. She wasn’t pregnant and had no intention of ever being so. For years, she’d come to these classes not to bond or prepare for motherhood but to belittle and bully anyone she deemed weaker. She was a relic of high school, clinging to the power she once wielded over others, desperate to make someone else feel smaller to distract from her own failures.

Today, you had been her target. Her divorce had clearly left her hellbent on tearing someone else down, and she might’ve succeeded—she might’ve even turned to violence—if Sukuna hadn’t intervened. You were glad Sukuna didn’t see gender while serving people their karma.

Your heart pounded, but you forced yourself to stand—or try to. A sharp cramp shot through your side, stealing your breath. You stumbled, clutching your stomach as the twins shifted violently.

Sukuna caught you before you could fall, his hands steadying you as he glared at Karen.

His growl cut through the silence. “We’re leaving,” he said, his voice cold and final.

He didn’t move at first, his glare fixed on Karen like a wolf deciding whether the hunt was worth it, like debating whether she deserved another hit.

Finally, he relented, his muscles relaxing as he focused on you. “I’ll get you a private instructor,” he added, his tone softening as he looked at you.

The twins stirred. Pain shot through your abdomen, and you gasped, clutching at Sukuna’s shirt.

“Hang on,” he muttered, his voice softening as he carried you out of the studio.

Behind you, Karen stood frozen, her face pale and her cheek still burning red. No one moved to comfort her. No one even looked at her. The only sound in the room was the quiet creak of the door as it closed behind you.

//

Once in the car, you buried your face in his chest, your breathing erratic. He held you close, his large hand stroking your hair awkwardly but gently.

“Don’t listen to them,” he said, his voice firm but uncharacteristically tender. “Only you know the truth. Only you know what you went through and how you survived.”

//

The ride home was quiet. Sukuna carried you inside, settling you on the couch with the kind of gentleness that made your chest ache.

But the silence stretched on, and the weight of Karen’s words pressed down on you like a vice. The twins shifted again, their energy erratic, feeding off your turmoil.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Sukuna crouched in front of you, his large hands resting on your knees. “Don’t,” he said firmly. “Don’t apologize for insecure humans.”

You nodded, but the hollow ache in your chest didn’t ease.

As the hours passed, you found yourself staring out the window, the city lights blurring as tears filled your eyes.

Sukuna stayed close, his presence steady but silent. When the tears finally came, hot and unrelenting, he pulled you into his arms, holding you as you cried.

And though he didn’t say it, his arms were a fortress around you as the world outside kept spinning, cruel and unforgiving. He silently vowed that no one would ever hurt you again.

//

Days after that, the silence that pressed down on your chest and made it hard to breathe. You sat curled up on the couch, an old photo clutched tightly in your hands. It was worn at the edges, the glossy finish dulled from countless times you’d held it. In it, Gojo was grinning, his arm slung lazily over Nanami’s shoulders. You were in the middle, laughing at something you couldn’t remember now, your face lit with a happiness that felt like it belonged to someone else. The pain it brought was sharp, raw, an open wound that refused to heal no matter how much time passed.

Maybe you didn’t love them anymore—not in the way you once had. That love had been replaced by something darker, heavier. But the ache of what they’d done to you, the way they’d left you to drown in your own loneliness while they found comfort in each other… it consumed you.

You didn’t hear Sukuna until he was standing in the doorway, his broad frame silhouetted against the dim light of the hallway.

“Why do you keep doing this to yourself?” he asked, his voice softer than usual but still carrying that edge of exasperation.

You startled, quickly tucking the photo under your thigh. “I’m not doing anything.”

His crimson eyes narrowed, and he crossed the room in two strides, crouching down in front of you. “Don’t lie to me, Princess. You’re terrible at it.”

You looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “I just… I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t have left.”

The words tasted bitter on your tongue, but they were out before you could stop them. Sukuna’s expression shifted to something unreadable.

“You’re joking,” he said, his voice flat.

“I’m not,” you whispered, your hands trembling in your lap. “I mean, they didn’t care about me, not really, but… I still left, and so much happened. People got hurt.”

“You kept the people alive!” Sukuna said, his tone sharper now. He leaned closer, his crimson eyes boring into yours. “You walked away because they didn’t deserve you.”

You shook your head, the tears falling faster now. “What if I made a mistake? What if I should’ve tried harder? Maybe none of this would have happened.”

“Stop,” Sukuna snapped, his voice cutting through your spiral. He grabbed your chin gently but firmly, forcing you to look at him. “Do you really think that despite one of them having the gift of six eyes, if he still couldn’t see the life growing inside you, they wouldn’t have taken you for granted through the pregnancy as well?! They’re the ones who fucked up. Not you. They had you—you—and they chose to ignore you. That’s on them, not you.”

The conviction in his voice made your chest tighten, but the doubt still lingered. “But—”

“No,” he interrupted, his thumb brushing against your jaw in a soft gesture. “No ‘but.’ You didn’t leave because you stopped loving them. You left because they stopped showing you they loved you.”

His words cracked something in you, like an old vase you never saw but always sensed the presence of in your heart’s home.

You let out a shaky breath, the photo slipping from your lap and landing face-up on the couch. Sukuna glanced at it, his jaw tightening for a moment before he reached for it. He studied it silently, his thumb brushing over your smiling face.

“They didn’t deserve this version of you,” he said, his voice low. “And they sure as hell don’t deserve the you now.”

The warmth in his words, the unguarded softness, made your heart ache in a different way. He handed the photo back to you, his hand lingering over yours for a moment.

“I’m not saying it’ll stop hurting,” he admitted, his crimson eyes meeting yours. “But don’t waste your time wondering if you should’ve stayed. You didn’t leave for no reason. Remember the past version of yourself in that exact moment when everything was crumbling around you. What you felt. Don’t put yourself through that.”

You nodded, the weight in your chest easing just slightly. Sukuna stood, offering you his hand. “Come on,” he said, his smirk returning faintly. “You’ve been crying for hours. Let me make you something to eat before you wither away. Besides, you deserve better. Better than them. Better than what they gave you.”

Then smugly added, “Someone as amazing as me.”

Despite yourself, you laughed softly, taking his hand.

//

The first signs came like whispers in the dark—a sharp, fleeting twinge low in your abdomen, a dull ache spreading like ripples in water. You brushed it off as stress, convincing yourself it was nothing.

But Sukuna noticed. He always noticed.

His crimson eyes tracked your every move, narrowing at the way you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, your hand lingering on your belly a beat too long.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you lied, forcing a smile.

His gaze hardened, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “You’re a terrible liar, Princess.”

That evening, as you struggled to stand after dinner, a sharp gasp escaped your lips. Sukuna was at your side in an instant, his large hand steadying you.

“That’s it,” he said, his voice brooking no argument. “We’re going to the hospital.”

You tried to protest, but the look in his eyes silenced you.

// Music

{The hospital was cold, sterile as usual. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, casting harsh shadows on the linoleum floors. The smell of antiseptic clung to everything, making your stomach churn.

You sat on the examination table, the thin paper gown sticking uncomfortably to your skin. The room felt too bright, too exposed. Sukuna sat beside you, his broad frame dwarfing the small plastic chair. His expression was unreadable, but his hand rested on his knee, the tension in his fingers betraying his calm façade. The fake husband playing the role perfectly.

The doctor entered, her face carefully neutral, but you caught the hesitation in her movements.

“Let’s take a look,” she said, her tone professional but soft.

The ultrasound gel was cold against your skin, and the room silent except for the faint hum of the machine. You stared at the monitor, waiting for the familiar sound of their heartbeats.

But the silence stretched on.

The doctor’s brow furrowed, her hand pausing over the probe.

“What is it?” Sukuna’s voice was tense.

The doctor hesitated, her hand hovering over the ultrasound machine as though the pause could soften the blow. Her eyes flicked to you, then back to the screen, her expression unreadable.

“I’m… not detecting a heartbeat.”

The words knocked the air from your lungs.

“No,” the denial spilling out before you could think. Your voice trembled, barely audible. “No, that’s not right. They were moving. Just yesterday. I felt them. I was craving pickles, and I had really bad back pain too; they were moving so much.”

The doctor’s face was heavy with sympathy as she set the probe down. “I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head, the room tilting around you. Your hand flew to your stomach, pressing against the curve as if your touch could summon them back, as if you could will them to respond. “They can’t be gone,” you choked out, your voice breaking.

The doctor took a breath, her voice steady but clinical, as if detachment could lessen the cruelty of what she had to say. “It’s an extraordinarily rare case—heteropaternal superfecundation combined with double fertilization. Their development was… incompatible with life.”

The medical jargon felt cruel, meaningless. Just noise.

Sukuna’s hand found yours, his grip firm, grounding, but it only highlighted how far away you felt. It made it real. His jaw was clenched, his crimson eyes darker than you’d ever seen, but he said nothing. He couldn’t.

Your head spun, the walls closing in, the fluorescent lights glaring like they were trying to expose every raw nerve. The doctor’s voice faded, a dull hum drowned out by the pounding of your own heartbeat.

“They were mine,” you whispered.

Sukuna leaned closer, his hand steady against your back.

The doctor excused herself quietly, the door clicking shut behind her. The silence that followed pressed against your chest like a weight you couldn’t lift.

You sat frozen, your hand still pressed to your stomach, waiting for something—anything. A kick, a flutter, some proof that they were still there.

But there was nothing.

You curled into yourself, clutching your stomach as though you could shield what was already gone.

“They were mine,” you repeated, the words a broken mantra. “They were mine.”

Sukuna’s grip was almost bruising. His other arm wrapped around you, pulling you against his chest.

He didn’t speak, didn’t try to fill the silence with empty reassurances. He just held you, his breath steady against your hair as your world fell apart.

After months of crying, your tears had finally run out. You couldn’t will them now, not that you wanted to.

You were done.

The dissociation came slowly, creeping in like a shadow. You faded into hollow silence, your body still in his arms. You stared at the floor, your eyes unfocused, your mind retreating into a void where the suffering couldn’t reach you.

Sukuna’s voice broke through the fog, low and firm. “Stay with me, Princess.”

But you couldn’t. Not anymore.

The hollowness swallowed you whole, leaving nothing but the ghost of what could have been.

But Sukuna stayed, his presence a steady anchor in the storm, an anchor you couldn’t see.

//

The procedure to remove them was a nightmare. The machines beeped; the cold metal of the instruments glinted, their sharp edges catching your eye and filling your chest with dread.

Sukuna stood by your side. His hand wrapped around yours like a hazy lifeline, anchoring you to a reality you didn’t care about.

His crimson eyes never left your face, his expression unreadable but tense, his jaw set as though he could will the universe to reverse itself by sheer force.

The procedure began, the doctor’s voice a muted hum in the background. Pressure built in your abdomen, the sensation alien and invasive, like something being torn away from the core of your existence. You bit your lip hard enough to draw blood, the metallic taste grounding you.

But you didn’t scream no matter how much it hurt. You couldn’t bring yourself to care whether you made it or if the universe would be kind enough to end it all through a freak incident of medical malpractice.

Sukuna didn’t flinch, didn’t move, his grip tightening as if to remind you he was there. The machines continued their cold, unfeeling symphony, and the minutes stretched into an eternity.

//

When it was over, there was only silence. The absence of their presence, a void that swallowed everything else.

The doctor murmured something to Sukuna, her words slipping past you like water over stone. You sat up shakily, the hospital gown sticking to your damp skin, your breath coming in short, shallow bursts. But mind wasn’t there.

“I want to see them,” you whispered. “Please.”

Sukuna was in front of you in an instant, his broad chest blocking your view as he pulled you into his arms. His grip was firm but careful, cradling you as though you might shatter as the doctors moved discreetly behind him.

“No,” he said, his voice low but resolute. “You don’t want to see them, Princess. Trust me.”

You clutched at his shirt with trembling hands. “They were mine,” you choked out, your words muffled against him.

“They still are,” he murmured, his tone softer than you’d ever heard. His hand stroked your back in slow, grounding motions, his presence steady even as his own turmoil blared beneath.

The sight of them would haunt him forever.

He’d seen them as the doctors worked quickly, their small, fragile forms laid out in a shallow steel tray. The boy’s limbs were long, spindly, his jawline so sharp it was almost serrated. His translucent skin revealed a web of delicate veins, branching like cracks in glass. The girl’s features were softer, her tiny hands fused into curling nubs, her face serene despite the unnatural bulge beneath her closed eyelids. Their hair split down the middle—one half blond, the other stark white—a cruel mirror of their fathers.

They were chimeric, a grotesque fusion of too much DNA, as the doctors explained to him later, alone. “Incompatible with life,” they had said clinically, as though that phrase could encompass the enormity of the loss.

They told him there was no recorded case of such a thing ever happening.

Sukuna stayed silent through it all, his hand flexing at his side as if he wanted to destroy the room, the machines, the universe itself. But when he returned to you, he was calm again, his rage buried beneath layers of quiet resolve.

The hospital was a blur after that, like you were seeing through water. Sukuna dealt with the hospital staff in his usual manner—efficient, cold, terrifying. He had the remains cremated, sparing you the finality of their lifeless forms. You barely noticed when he disappeared to speak with the staff, his voice low and clipped, or when he returned, his presence looming beside you like a shield you didn’t ask for.

When you asked about the remains, your voice hollow and detached, he didn’t sugarcoat it. “It’s already done,” he said simply, his tone leaving no room for questions.

You nodded, not because you agreed, but because you didn’t care enough to argue.

“Let’s go home,” he said, his voice steady as he helped you to your feet.

You clung to him as he carried you out of the hospital, but your expressions remained unreadable. The hollow ache in your chest felt endless, but Sukuna didn’t let go, his presence a fragile shield against the unbearable weight of what you’d lost.

//

The days after were an endless cycle of nothingness. Sukuna filled the void with his relentless presence, taking over everything he already used to manage. He cooked meals you barely touched, cleaned the apartment with medical precision, scheduled your appointments, and arranged therapy without asking.

“You need this,” he said when you stared blankly at the brochure he placed in front of you. His tone firm, final.

You went because it was easier than refusing. The therapist spoke gently, her words carefully chosen, but they washed over you like white noise. You answered her questions in monotone, offering just enough to keep the sessions moving. He drove you to and back from your appointments and waited for you in between.

“It’ll take time,” she said once after your session, her voice warm with reassurance. Sukuna nodded. You didn’t respond.}

//

At home, you spent hours by the window, staring at the sea. The waves rolled in and out, unchanging, as if mocking the chaos that had become your life. Sukuna hovered in the background, his movements quiet. He never pushed, never demanded anything from you.

Sometimes he’d sit nearby, reading or scrolling through his phone, his presence grounding in its consistency. Other times, he’d leave you entirely alone, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway as he gave you space you didn’t know how to fill.

When nightmares came, they weren’t violent anymore. They strangled you silently. You’d wake in a cold sweat, your chest heavy with an ache that felt like it would never leave. Sukuna was always there, sitting at the edge of your bed, his hand resting on your shoulder or his voice a low murmur in the dark. Had he stopped sleeping? You were too dissociated to argue.

“It’s okay,” he’d say, though you didn’t believe him.

One night, you woke to find him standing in the doorway, his silhouette stark against the faint light from the hall. He didn’t notice you watching as he muttered under his breath, his voice low and dangerous.

“If they ever come near you again, I’ll kill them.”

You didn’t ask who he meant. You didn’t want to know.

No matter what Sukuna did—his soft gestures, his quiet presence, his unwavering care—you remained numb.

He brought you flowers once, bright and vibrant, placing them on the table with a small, awkward shrug. You glanced at them briefly before returning to your spot by the window.

He cooked your favorite meal, setting the plate in front of you with a forced smirk. “Eat, Princess,” he said, but when you pushed the food around with your fork and left the table without a word, he didn’t stop you.

Even when he tried to make you laugh—muttering sarcastic comments about the people outside, rolling his eyes dramatically when the news played something ridiculous—it barely registered.

The world felt distant, like you were watching it through frosted glass.

Sukuna’s presence was the only constant, but even that felt like something happening to someone else.

And though you didn’t react, didn’t acknowledge the weight of his efforts, he stayed. Silent, steady, unyielding.

//

One night when the pain got too much, you walked to his room and cried in his chest. After months.

He held you the way he always did, but it was stronger this time, as if trying to anchor you in a storm that wouldn’t pass. He didn’t fill the void with empty reassurances, nor did he push you to speak.

The next day, things went back to you staring at nothing.

--

Japan

Gojo sat slouched, manspreading on the couch, his T-shirt messy like his hair, eyes uncovered, hands dangling between his knees, a photo clutched so tightly the edges were crumpled. The room was dim, lit only by the gray haze of a city that never quite slept. His six eyes scanned the image for the hundredth time, even though he knew every detail by heart—the grainy black-and-white outline of two unmistakable shapes, curled together like yin and yang. He’d gotten it from the hospital you visited before leaving.

He let out a hollow laugh, the sound breaking the oppressive silence. “Twins. Our twins.” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard.

Nanami stood by the window, staring out at the endless city lights. His sweater covered with alcohol stains, his sleeves rolled up to reveal veins that looked ready to burst.

Gojo tilted his head back, his eyes burning as he stared at the ceiling. “Do you think she—” He stopped, his voice failing him. He tried again. “Do you think she hates us?”

Nanami’s face was as if it had been carved from stone, but his eyes betrayed the storm beneath. “She doesn’t hate us,” he spoke lowly. “She… doesn’t trust us. There’s a difference.” It sounded more like he was trying to convince himself.

Gojo’s laugh was sharper this time, almost cruel. “Trust? Trust died the night we left her alone in this goddamn drawing room. Remember that? Her silently crying, begging us to tell her we cared, and we…” His voice faltered, and he shook his head. “We crawled into bed together like cowards.”

Nanami’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching, shattering the glass he’d forgotten he was holding. But before Gojo could look up, his own RCT healed him. He stared at the disappeared wound like he wanted it back. “I remember, but I don’t think that was the final straw. I think it was the same weekend.”

Gojo stayed silent for a long time at that and then asked, “do you think they’ll look like her?” His voice softened, and he stared down at the photo, his thumb brushing over the image. “Her smile…”

Nanami’s gaze dropped to the floor. “I hope they don’t look like us.”

Gojo’s head snapped up, his six eyes narrowing. “Why the hell would you say that?”

Nanami’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Because we ruin everything we touch.”

Gojo leaned back, letting the photo fall to the coffee table. His hands ran through his hair, tugging hard enough to sting. “They’re better off without us.”

Nanami walked over and sat across from him, the weight of the moment pressing down on both of them. “Everything hurts.”

Gojo’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile before falling flat. “Hurt? Nanami, this… this is beyond hurt. This is…” He gestured vaguely, words failing him. “I’m empty. She’s gone, and I…”

Nanami reached for the photo, his fingers brushing against the image. “At least we have this,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with something raw. “Something to know it was real.”

He paused for what felt like an eternity and then added, “She’ll protect them.”

Gojo’s six eyes dimmed, their usual brilliance dulled by exhaustion. “Yeah. She’ll protect them. From us.”

Nanami’s grip on the photo tightened. “From the world we brought her into.”

The two men sat in silence, the photo lying between them like a ghost of what could have been. The air was thick with grief, regret, and a despair so deep it felt like drowning. Neither spoke again that night.

A/N: Okay, y’all, save the rage essays for after the next chapter—then hit me with your 14-page death threats. This pain was necessary for the redemption arc, but I promise groveling starts in the new year. Pain first, comfort later—like a good skincare routine. Drop your theories, death threats (creative ones pls), or tell me if Gojo should be banned from gaming conventions forever. Your comments = my serotonin boost, so don’t hold back. Did this chapter ruin your day, your week, or your will to exist? Let me know. 😘"

Chapter 7 (alt ending 1.3) - Sapphire Echoes (Tumblr/Ao3)

All Works Masterlist

Tag-list = @lady-of-blossoms @stargirl-mayaa @dark-agate @tqd4455 @roscpctals99 @sxlfcxst @se-phi-roth @austisticfreak @helloxkittylo @itoshi-r @kodzukensworld @revolvinggeto @luringfantasy

If I missed to tag anyone, please remind me.

[dalekowrites]

Hi Nat!! Hope you're good👍

Honestly, just dropping by to say that take a rest. We don't mind if the update is late or whatever, health comes first :>

Hi anon, thank you ♥️ I really appreciate your kind words!

I know health comes first, and I’m genuinely grateful for how understanding people can be. That said... for my own peace of mind, I tend to stick to deadlines like my life depends on it 😅 (yeah I know, therapy might be a good idea lol).

I still have an ask I need to answer here (I haven’t forgotten!), but unfortunately (and here comes the personal scream into the void) this week I’m at a multi-day conference that’s eating most of my time and mental bandwidth.

(…seriously, I'm just going to rant here. Whoever's reading this: feel free to scroll past!)

Outside of that delightful distraction, my PhD is trying to kill me. Lovingly. Slowly. With footnotes. I really am grateful for the opportunity, but I’ve never felt this level of mind-body exhaustion—not even when was working three jobs while studying. Back then I thought I was tired. Haha. Ha. I swear that this is a whole new level of “what if I just lay on the floor for a while like forever and never get up.”

Here’s a non-exhaustive list of the hell I need to wade through before September:

Read 40+ academic papers (this is fine!)

Hunt down and read more obscure ones that don’t even want to be found (this is not fine.)

Read seventy-two books printed in the 1600s (no, that’s not a typo. Yes, I'm crying.)

Close-read a 1500s book that has never been analyzed (read: line-by-line analysis, interpretative work, historical contextualization, comparing to obscure sources, basically pulling apart every sentence until it screams—or I scream. Bonus if crying)

...actually they're 20ish books before October, but let's tackle the first one before thinking about the rest of them or I'll eff myself ✨

Write and deliver two conference talks

Write an academic paper (or two! or three! because what is sanity anyway)

Respond to a call for papers and write that contribution as well

Contact three organizations (US, UK, and the third one is... somewhere? I haven’t had time to check)

Contact a professor I’ve never spoken to (yet. yes this is a threat) and politely beg him to co-supervise my research

Try not to implode from the sheer number of things I’m forgetting to list because I’m too afraid to look at my four overlapping to-do lists :))

Also:

I have a long summer school in July, which eats a massive chunk of my working time

My room has structural issues, so I need to: empty it completely, disassemble the furniture, move everything out, have the flooring removed, fix the structural problems, get it refloored, move everything back in, reassemble it all, and reorganize it — in 37°C heat with 65%+ humidity and no AC. I live in hell a sauna now.

I’m trying to enter a poetry competition and have less than two weeks to actually, you know, work on it and organize the poems

I’m actively working on After Dark, The In-Between, and the newsletter side stories, obviously!

And because my health is playing its usual game of “what if I were as uncooperative as possible,” I also have five different doctors’ appointments, exams, and visits crammed into the next 75 days.

So. Yeah. Argh. Sob. Sigh.

But your message genuinely made me smile, and I really needed that! So thank you again for taking the time ♥️

[dark-is-d3ad]

Moving AU, part 3, anyone? Haven't got a tv and a ps5 like Ghost, but I do have some lights now (gosh my own headcanon made me want them so bad, why do I do this to myself).

Part 1, part 2, part 2.5 - context.

• A few days later it really starts getting on Ghost's nerves. Even with help from Gaz and Roach, a lot of their stuff isn't sorted yet, and they're both tired of it already. He's used to order, his home was always organised, and this is nowhere near it, and it won't be for foreseeable future. So, he does the only sane thing every adult person should do in this situation: holes up on the sofa and goes on a gaming binge.

• Ghost's sofa is black (of course), huge, and it's just a sofa. No plead, no pillows. A comfy one, yes, but to Soap it looks kinda empty. Well, given that its owner only has one chair to his name, Johnny knows better than to expect something else. Yet, he kind of wants to sneak in a couple of pillows, and is very surprised when Ghost protects his space with ferocity of a wild cat. No funny colours on his sofa of doom, not even a smidge. Johnny's slightly upset, but he's not giving up on the plan.

• He starts by fucking around. Then sits down to play Diablo with Ghost in the evening. Brings a plead and a nice mustard-coloured pillow in a little while, just to make himself comfy for the time being, OK? It's fucking cold. And then he conveniently forgets them there. Several days of shenanigans after, Ghost concedes.

"Pillow allowance," he says, so seriously it cracks Soap up. "No more than two, no patterns." No patterns it is. Johnny still counts it as a win.

• Soap's go-to sorting method is "make em piles". He's got a clean laundry pile, a dirty laundry pile, a kitchen pile, a random stuff pile, and he keeps throwing things around when he goes through the rest of the stuff they have to sort. With all due respect, that annoys Ghost to an extreme degree, because there's piles everywhere, but it doesn't look like they're getting smaller. If anything, they started to consume the little space they had.

• The "dirty dishes" pile is one of them, and Ghost finally takes care of it. They both dislike washing dishes, but someone's gotta do it. And it apparently annoys him more than Johhny, so Ghost gets to get rid of it. He feels so much better when it's all done, dried, and put away.

• They've split the wardrobe, and Soap's side is still partly in the pile state. It's also how Ghost learns that Soap doesn't really iron his clothes unless it's like a shirt he's going to wear on a wedding today, and he has to. At this point he's really starting to question his own sanity. Why does it bother him what Soap does (or doesn't) with his clothes? He really needs to chill out, he decides.

• Johnny's really doing just fine, because none of what Ghost does really bothers him, and he's in his lane, somehow managing to hop around his newly made piles while still on crutches, and he does it so effortlessly. It's Ghost who keeps stumbling on them and cursing all the time.

• Somehow there's not much space for Ghost's gun collection. Ok, he's got a place to work on them, but he doesn't want to store them away. After a while, they decide that one of the bedroom walls can be sacrificed so he can hang them up nicely.

"Are we sleeping in the armoury now?" Soap asks.

"You've got your toys,I've got mine."

Fair.

• Johnny's art room is one of the spaces that actually came together from the get go. All of his things had fit, and it's got a nice space to it, enough to put an easel out, and maybe set up a composition. And the light is good. There's a shelf in there almost bursting from the art supplies he had accumulated over the years. The best way to describe it would be "organised chaos." Somehow, while in other spaces the chaos really gets to Ghost, he enjoys it in the art room. He's been spending more and more time in there.

• Johnny has a little really soft futon with loads of pillows in the corner, just next to his desk (it's not for naps, OK? It's for a performance series where the artist explores their understanding of comfort, and if they happen to start to snore, it's a part of it). So, Ghost is now also an artist of sorts. He's been doing these performance pieces quite alright, working on it tirelessly almost every afternoon, and Johnny really doesn't mind it for two big reasons. First: he gets to draw relaxed Ghost, sometimes even maskless. Second: it's nice to join him there, too. It's a perfect cuddling space.

• What Ghost loves about the futon corner is that it is freaking ultimate safety. Even his sofa wasn't ever as good as this. He can actually sleep there without nightmares. The fact that Johnny's around doing his thing, the quiet rustling of pencil on paper, music low on the background - it knocks him out better than any sleeping aids he had ever tried. He usually comes there with a book, but never goes through more than 10 pages at most.

• After their kitchen finally got sorted, they found a quick understanding. If one cooks, the other does the dishes. Soap basically takes over dinners, Ghost does breakfasts, and they usually have a snack in the midday rather than a proper lunch. Also, Johnny shows him a couple of tricks to level up his cooking game, so now breakfasts are getting fancier. Ghost's secretly very proud of himself. And Soap doesn't miss a chance to praise him when it turns out good which honestly helps way more than he's ready to admit.

• Ghost basically stole a couple of finished paintings and hung them up in the living room. Soap tries to argue that they aren't his best ones, and they aren't good enough, and he could probably find a multitude of reasons why they should take them down.

"But I like them," Ghost says simply. And it's hard to argue with that. Besides, after a couple of days, Johnny gets used to it, and deems them "not too bad". It's a tie now, and a bloody good comeback for the pillow intrusion.

• He lets Johnny help him take care of the guns. It's a nice chill evening, they work on them together, Soap's humming a little silly tune under his breath. Ghost says they really have to take them out on a shooting range when his shoulder is better, shoot some plates or something. Johnny's thrilled about it.

• A few days later, Ghost finally declares war on the rest of the piles, and goes through them in one go, not stopping until they're gone for good. There's very little random stuff left after that, and they just put it all in a box and make a very responsible adult decision to put it away and go through it sometime later. Both know that it will probably never happen, but do they care? Not really.

~~~

"You know what's weird, Johnny?"

"What?"

"You know how if you're left with extra parts in a Lego set that means you've messed up a step somewhere?"

"Yeah, and?"

"We've got some screws, and that one is definitely from that chair. It's supposed to go in first."

"Oh, hell no, Si, we're not doing it again."

~~~

• They are even hosting a little housewarming party. Ghost never had one, so he's way too anxious, although it's just the close circle - their team + Laswell and her wife.

P.S. there will probably be one more part with the party, some neighbour action, a little more of outside stuff, but that's where I'm wrapping it up. After all, the move is done, piles are almost gone, and I'm close to being a functional human being again.

[elfcollector]

I know you loved being asked about your characters, so who are your DA characters who aren't on the OC page? Aside from Solene.

oh i love you anon. more than there are words for. im just gonna do the da ones for the sake of my sanity

ok so i am gonna take about solene briefly anyway even tho u said aside from solene. very orlesian, loves and adores orlais, thinks fereldan is smelly but is more loyal to the wardens than much else so when they need someone to go take over fereldan's wardens and she's put forward, she accepts the invite. came from a very poor family and watched her father abuse her mother and knew she had nothing to look forward to except marrying a man who'd do the same to her — so when the magic came and she was spirited away to be safe, clothed and fed well, freed of the responsibility of ever marrying, and given extensive chances to study, she loved it. she was a perfect fit for the circle, and had a genuinely positive experience. she doesn't agree intellectually with caging people based on an accident of their birth, but she's got no personal beef and basically considers it a necessary evil. it isn't until she becomes close friends with anders that she begins rethinking that stance. comes to really love fereldan, and the fact that she surreptitiously marries nate is only 30% of why. very pretty, feminine, loves fashion and is always wearing at least a little makeup. oh, also, she knows clarel and has beef with her lmao

the warden that precedes solene, who dies and necessitates an orlesian warden — his name is emmett cousland. he's sort of spoiled; used to getting what he wants, to being the envy of everyone, etc. irresponsible, hedonistic...bit of a bastard. but after becoming the warden he falls for and just adores morrigan more than there are words for, and she combined with his other friends inspires him to actually take his responsibilities to others as a noble seriously and care about more than his own fun. it's this growth that inspires him to sacrifice himself; he performed the dark ritual with morrigan but, the next day, realizes that if morrigan has this old god baby...he knows morrigan. he knows she'll take such good care of the kid. he knows she'll be a wonderful mom, he's sure of that long before morrigan is. but he doesn't want his child to deal with that suffering, and...morrigan worked so hard to free herself from flemeth. but this is just another errand flemeth sent her on, another way flemeth was using her, and he doesn't want that for his love. so he sacrificed himself to ensure that his child could have a normal life and that morrigan could finally be free of flemeth and being used by flemeth. i don't think morrigan ever fully forgives him. i have literally never played his game he purely exists in my head to faciliate to solene but i do love him and do WANT to play thru origins as him eventually, there's just. so many games in the world

i've got a rogue hawke named petra! power hunger trickster, rivalmances sebastian. i never got very far on her game, but she experiences suuuuch intense magic envy...she never felt like she could connect to her father, who she WORSHIPS, because she lacked magic...it caused a lot of resentment

let's see who else...i have two vashoth inkies. one of them is named tanen, but she also goes by tanny; she's very sweet and shy and feminine and sweet, but also strong enough in herself that she doesn't care about outside validation terribly much. josiemancer, they make me cry. her little sister became an abomination, a few years prior to the game, and tanen had to kill her — it haunts her badly, but she does what she can to survive and smile and move one. the epitome of "strength in softness." super feminine, loves tying ribbons to her horns

the other is named sataara, and i never got very far in her game, though i do adore her. she's an escaped saarebas, and was one between the ages of nine and twenty - three, which was fully horrible in the ways you'd expect — the other side of that horrible trauma, though, is that she knows that she's already experienced the worst life has to offer. everything else is just making the most of her life! she's impulsive and joyous and generally pretty content. i never settled on a romance for her...i was bopping between sera or cullen, i think. sera's self-explanatory, but i also think there's something fun and horrible abt the obvious angst inherent in dating cullen as a mage thats exemplified with a qunari, given that cullen has trauma with them, too. sataara vc i escaped the qun because they thought my magic was awful and fell in love with a blond man with magic problems. goddammit

[betterthan777]

=> Beginning of The End [Pt.2]

>[Pt.1]

Dirk is gracious enough to let you sit across the room, at the vanity instead of on the bed with twisted sheets and discarded clothing. He’s even gracious enough to get you a bottle of water from your mini-fridge, something he has no trouble finding despite its location beneath a desk that was currently covered with various draped shirts and jackets. He’d been in your room before, at some point.

Or, and this was the worse option, he’d been looking over your memory archives.

The cold water feels like heaven down your throat and you hold it on your tongue while you wait for him to speak.

You recognized the attire. It’s the same suit that the upper echelon of Skaianet wore, especially when they were deciding on important or pertinent matters that required Admin permissions. Was Dirk an Admin of Skaianet? It’d hardly surprise you if he were. The only thing that really bothers you about Dirk is the fact that you’ve been so alone since you got here, and here he was– living it up on the Skaianet compound, dressed sharply and existing in the lap of luxury while you fought tooth and nail to drag Las Vegas from the brink of extinction.

You try not to get retroactively angry at the injustice of it all while you sip your water and wait for Dirk to start talking. He takes his sweet time, examining your various collectables as he lopes around the room before coming to a stop at the display case with your final remaining Flourite Octet. He moves his free hand without hesitation to unlock and open the display case. You instinctively flinch and half-raise to your feet before the coldness of his snap-headed glare seats you right back down.

It feels like every part of you is raw and being ground with salt as he opens the case, retrieves the octet, and begins to turn it about while examining it. 

“Didn’t you have more of these?”

“Yes.” 

“What happened to them?”

You shrug. He doesn’t like that answer and he continues to stare at you until you cede a longer one. 

“Some bitch stole them, I detonated them. I didn’t want them getting sold or traded around. My guards eventually found her, stumped and screaming, and brought her to my office so I could personally watch her bleed out on my carpet."

You pause, stomach twisting at your own actions. Have you really gotten so comfortable as to forget your ruthlessness? You roll the memory around on your tongue before adding in a final-

"For taking things from me.”

Dirk just gives a single upward nod, continuing to hold the octet by its two ends and twist it around like he was puzzling out its secrets. There’s a very deep and intense want to sacrifice the last thing you had of your previous life, to detonate the final octet and watch as Dirk’s flesh peels back and his bones shatter. He was touching your shit. The older versions of yourself would have done it already.

The current version of yourself is too afraid to.

“...seriously, why the FUCK are you here?” You snap.

He doesn’t like that. His hand closes around the octet and he turns to face you, his movements stiff and robotic and undeniably pissed off. He takes several steps to narrow the space between the two of you before he comes to a stop roughly four or five feet ahead of you. He was tall, well over 6-ft. You wonder if he’s always been so tall or if Skaianet had augmented him. You don’t have time to chase that rabbit before he starts speaking again.

“We have a mission for you.”

‘We’ being who? You don’t ask, you just nod.

“We’ve located another entity using your memory and genetic signature with origins in this Universe. She is armed and dangerous. We need her eradicated.”

That was… a lot of information in so few words. You sit there, stunned, blinking, trying to understand the implications of this. You’d been told that there were universal sanity checks, that only one person per memory signature could have consciousness at a time. It made sense to you before, the rules of The Game were so convoluted and crazy that you hadn’t for a second considered the fact that Skaianet was making something arbitrary up. Of fucking course there could be multiple versions of you roaming around. You briefly wonder how many Dirks there are before his voice interrupts your thoughts and you jolt back to your body.

“If you refuse, we will terminate your archive.”

You palpably feel your heart skip a beat.

“...meaning….?”

Dirk closes the space between the both of you faster than your eyes can register, flash stepping in and gripping the arms of your chair with such intensity that you hear the laminated wood creak under his fingers. His face is so close to yours that you feel the heat of your own breath swirling back at you in the final exhale before you hold it. He doesn’t scare you. Death doesn’t scare you. Still, your body reacts, and still, you hold your breath.

Despite his words, the following delivery of them is cold and calm to the point of discomfort.

“If you don’t destroy her, you’re done. We won’t revive you. Every fragment of what makes you you will be deleted, shredded, and purged from Skaianet’s systems. It’ll be like you never made it out of the game. We will fucking erase you, do you understand?” 

He sounds more like he’s explaining to a child why they’re in time-out than threatening to kill you. 

You swallow against the fake, pungent taste of grating minty toothpaste clinging to the back of your tongue before your face splits in a smile and you can’t help but laugh. Dirk doesn’t like that. He doesn’t do anything about it, though, he stays right where he was to keep you pinned in the chair. You fold your legs, intentionally brushing your shin against the inside of his knee in a flirtatious gesture you’re both intimately aware of being a farce. 

“Fuck, really? Haven’t I done enough for Skaianet already? I mean, who keeps the supply of guns and materials coming your way?” You grin, sharp-toothed. You can see yourself in the reflection of Dirk’s shades. You have an extremely punchable face and it fills you with a sense of pride, especially given the circumstances.

There’s another long pause. You feel your voice itching at the back of your throat, feel the muscles in your grin spasm slightly as you think too much about how to hold it in place. Dirk just looms, silently, so close you can’t breathe and bears his weight down on the arms of the chair you were now glued into. You know he wants you to speak first, to walk back what you said, and you silently refuse.

After what feels like minutes, he finally speaks.

“We’re aware of your loyalty to us.”

It’s said flatly, without much intonation in any direction. What the fuck did that mean? So he has been looking through your memory archives. He knew, then, that you were amassing your own army. That you were withholding strategic resources from Skaianet not just to bolster L8dy’s Country, like you were allowed to be doing, but to work on conjuring a brutal force strong enough to keep Skaianet away. Getting together soldiers to prep for a war you weren’t even sure you wanted to start.

“...then why are you doing this to me?” You ask in a feign of innocence that feels far more convincing to you than it does to Dirk.

He stands, tugs his suit jacket back into place by its lapels, and takes a half-step backwards. 

“We will be sending you the multiversal coordinates of her exact location. You will set out immediately upon receiving said information, or we will launch an orbital strike on Lady’s Country and glass it along with everyone inside, including you. Do you understand or do I need to dumb it down for you?”

The grin doesn’t falter but you feel the cold chill of his words fill you like ice water, brackish as it crashes up against your bones and shrivels your organs. You dying was something you’d always kind of assumed was going to happen, hell you were sort of counting on it. Either Skaianet was going to dump you and leave you for dead or you were going to get killed by one of the many, various deities lurking about the multiverse. 

Skaianet wasn’t just threatening you, though.

There were almost a million people living in L8dy’s Country per your last census, families and children being some of the newest additions. You’d spent the past few years fixing the infrastructure, you’d brought back the hydro and electric grids, you’d started up water purification plants. You’d made L8dy’s Country an oasis, and while the Casino and the Blackmarket were the heart and spine of the entire operation, L8dy’s Country was doing something that Skaianet hadn’t been able to without you– it was giving people hope. 

How long have they been capable of orbital strikes? How long had they been waiting to drop this line of intimidation, to force your hand and get you to ask how high when they told you to jump? How fucking long had they known about your plans for L8dy’s Country, and was this always their goal? To let you build it up, let you grow, let you come to care about the people living there before they threatened to kill everyone? It was dirty. It was underhanded.

It was brilliant.

You’d willfully created your own weakness and served it to them on a silver platter.

The corners of your grin twitch and strain as you fight the well of tears rising in your eyes. The facade was falling, you were unable to hold the mask and Dirk’s attack had landed exactly where he’d wanted it to. He moves away from you, dress shoes that have probably only been worn on this singular occasion letting out crisp clacks as the hard soles move off of your area rugs and onto the marble floor.

“We expect total compliance by the time we send our correspondence. If we do not detect you leaving this Universe within 24 hours of receiving our orders, we will issue the kill command. Choose your next actions carefully, Vriska. Lady’s Country depends on it.”

----

>[Pt. 3]

[goldenepaulettesaviationpilot]

The Mental Game of Pilot Training: How I Stayed Resilient When I Almost Gave Up

By Capt. Awdhesh Singh Tomar Pilot | Instructor | Author — Mastering the Airline Pilot Interview Director, Golden Epaulettes Aviation

“I didn’t just earn my CPL. I survived it.”

And I should know. Because I almost gave up. Not once. Not twice. Many times.

The Breaking Point

I still remember the evening I seriously considered quitting.

I was alone, broke, and emotionally drained. I had just failed an exam — one more failure added to a pile that was getting harder to explain to my family. My phone buzzed with WhatsApp updates of friends posting photos of their airline cadet selections, while I sat with a pile of books and mounting self-doubt.

I questioned everything.

“Am I even good enough for this?” “What if this never works out?” “Is it too late to just take a normal job?”

What I didn’t realize back then was: These thoughts weren’t a sign of weakness. They were a part of every serious pilot’s journey.

But almost no one talks about this.

The Real Struggles Aspiring Pilots Face (But No One Discusses)

Here’s what you’re likely to face in your journey things you won’t find in most aviation blogs or brochures:

Mental Burnout from endless theory classes, inconsistent results, and long waiting periods between flying slots.

Financial Anxiety, especially if your family has stretched everything for your fees. Every hour of flying feels like a debt meter ticking.

Comparison Trauma watching cadet pilots from airline-sponsored programs fast-tracked while you hustle through each stage, feeling behind.

Relative’s Isolation, when none of your college friends understand your path, and relatives keep asking, “Beta, job kab lagegi?” Trust me this breaks heart 1000 times a day,

These don’t get listed in the DGCA syllabus. But they’re just as critical to pass through.

How I Built Mental Resilience (And How You Can Too)

I didn’t learn this in a cockpit. I learned it in my room at 2 a.m., staring at my multiple failures deciding whether to open the book again or close it for good.

Here’s what helped me rebuild:

1. Own the Emotional Pain

Don’t suppress it. Write it down. Talk about it. Feel it. It’s valid. It means you care.

2. Routine Creates Sanity

I built a structure: Wake at 6 AM. Study 2 hours before class. Daily review before sleep. Not for marks for momentum.

3. Peer Positivity Pods

Find 2–3 people who are also hustling. No negativity, no comparison. Only daily support and check-ins.

4. Physical Discipline

Exercise. Walk. Meditate. Your brain is oxygen-hungry in aviation; move your body, and your mind follows.

5. Create a Flight Plan for the Mind

Just like we plan a VOR-to-VOR leg, make a resilience checklist:

What’s your goal this month?

What failure are you ready to risk?

Who’s your alternate airport (mentor/support)?

Final Words to Every Aspiring Pilot Reading This

If you’re reading this and you’re in that dark tunnel, wondering if you’ll ever make it out — you’re not alone.

I sat where you sit. I doubted as you doubt. And I promise — you’re closer than you think.

Keep going. You don’t need perfect grades or perfect finances. You need one thing: refusal to quit.

And one day, when you wear those epaulettes, your pain will turn into power — or someone else who’s just behind you.

#PilotTraining #AspiringPilots #NeverGiveUp #PilotLife #AviationStruggles #MentalResilience #CadetPilotJourney #FlyWithCourage #PilotMotivation #FromFailuresToFlight #GoldenEpaulettesAviation #CPLJourney #AviationDreams #StudentPilotSupport #AviationMindset #PilotBurnout #YouAreNotAlone #KeepFlying #FlightThroughFailure #CaptainMindset

[lindsaywesker]

Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day (green tea.) Welcome to the weekend!

Wow! Here we are again: Friday! Where did that week go? No, seriously, where did that week go?

As it happens, I need a new blue towelling robe but the John Lewis website tells me they’re ‘out of stock’. I can’t wait too long. I may have to go elsewhere? It must be towelling and it must be good quality so, if you’ve got any bright suggestions, let me know!

First of all, many thanks to everyone that got involved with Throwback Thursday on my page. Yesterday’s word was TEARS and the responses were, as you would expect, really emotional! If you get time, read some of the stories. I dare you not to be moved. When you reach a certain age, grandparents die, then parents die, then friends start to die. It’s the inevitable procession of tears. I guess the solution is to ensure you have those tears of sadness balanced with tears of joy. For your own sanity, live some life and have some laughs!

Many thanks to everyone that listened to Mi-Drive yesterday! I had a ball, of course. Thanks for all the love and kind words. I’m covering for Ronnie again next Thursday.

So, how’s your football team doing? Mine’s not doing too bad. Three games, three wins, 13 goals scored, seven different scorers. Losing Rice and Lanzini was a blow but we have good, new players coming in. However, as all Hammers fans will know, fortune’s always hiding! I’ve been having Premier League withdrawal symptoms since June 7th. Mad, innit? We footie fans are addicted to this drug, even though it sometimes hurts real bad. If you date or are married to a football nut, it’s a nightmare, I know!

Last week, I talked about the fact that rich, high-profile criminals seem to always find a way of evading the law. One week later, nothing has changed, nothing has happened. These same rich, high-profile criminals are still leading normal lives, smiling, and acting as if we are all making fuss over nothing. If I committed similar crimes, I would be rotting in a prison cell already!

Really hope you can join me tomorrow at 1.00 p.m. for ‘The A-Z Of Mi-Soul Music’: The Letter P (Pt. 1). As it was a four-hour show last week, executive producer Donna Green’s show will be The Letter P (Pt. 2). Once she gets back from Croatia, she can come into the studio and take her rightful place.

Once I’ve finished my show tomorrow, The Trouble and I will head down to Hove to spend 24 hours with Lady Wesker. Looking forward to seeing her! Hope the weather is nice but, whatever the weather, I will walk down to the seafront and breath some sea air, though I won’t be putting my toes in that dirty water. Last time I did, it almost killed me!

Have a fabulous and funky Friday! I love you all. You’re probably thinking, “You don’t even know me!” but, if people can hate for no reason, why can’t I love?

[theshelbyclan]

Welcome to the chaos, little one

Summary: Giving birth is never easy, especially when it’s a Shelby x Solomons baby…

A/N I’m so slow with requests but a while back the lovely @fandom-puff​requested: Omg sorry to be a pain but I’m a sucker for Shelby chaos 😭😭😭 can I request something linked to A Very Shelby Christmas where the labour of baby Solomons is just as chaotic? But it could also be sweet like the bros finally accepting Alfie bc they all care about YN so much and can’t stand to hear her in pain, all while YN is screaming that she’ll cut off more of Alfie’s dick than his rabbi would even dare to if he ever tried to bed her again 😭😭😭 omg the chaos 👉👈 ily 💓💓 Here we go! This is part 2 to the story A Very Shelby Christmas

Words: 1638

***

“Not now, Y/N,” Arthur groaned. Ada rolled her eyes, remembering keenly when her brother had spoken those iconic words before. “It’s not like I can help it, Arthur,” you spit. 

Polly grabbed you by your arm as you doubled over again, “Alright, sweetheart, it’s time. Come with me…” “Not yet, Aunt Pol,” you panted, “It’s too early.” “The baby doesn’t have it’s own pocket watch yet,” Ada commented matter-of-factly, as she took your other arm. “Fuck!” you called out again as another contraction set in, “Fuck, fuck, fuckity-fuck!” “Nice.” “Oh, piss off John, you want to try this?” “Not really…” “Tommy!” you turned to the one family member who hadn’t said a word yet, “Get him.” “And who would that be, eh?” he replied in a low voice. “Thomas…” Aunt Polly warned softly. He raised his eyebrows, “Finn? You want Finn at the birth?” “WHY WOULD I WANT MY FUCKING BABY BROTHER HERE?!” Tommy waved a vague hand, “General comfort?” Now Aunt Polly’s eyes flashed with anger, “Thomas! Go get her husband, right now!” Tommy sighed deeply, still trying to ignore the fact that his little sister was now Mrs. Solomons, and said, “Come on boys, let’s get them all together and wet this baby’s head! Leave the women to it.” And you groaned, “Thank you…” Once Alfie would be here, everything would be easier.

*** “Solomons!” “No need to shout, mate, I’m right here, ain’t I?”

Slowly Tommy lit a cigarette and started smoking it, “It concerns my sister.” “You mean the glorious creature that made me the luckiest man on earth by marrying me? My wife? Mrs. Alfie Solomons?” A small twinkle appeared in Alfie’s eyes as he saw Tommy’s jaw tense up just a little at his words. “Yes.” “How is the old lady doing?” Alfie asked conversationally. “In pain,” Tommy replied, “She’s in labour, more to the point.” “You fucking what?” “She’s with her aunt Alfie, she’ll be fine.” Alfie blinked a few times, “Tommy I swear to God if you’re playing some fucking game with me I will shoot you between the eyes right here and now. You’re telling me my wife is in labour and you’re standing there casually smoking a cigarette, waiting for some fucking woman to tell you it’s done?” “Yes,” he nodded, “Well, I was about to go the Garrison. Thought we might bury the hatchet and you could join us.” “Have you lost your fucking mind…” Alfie said slowly, while rubbing his chin. Tommy cleared is throat and with a slight hint of uncertainty in his voice said, “It’s tradition.” “Well, if you’ll pardon my French, fuck your fucking heathen traditions, I’m going to my fucking wife and you are fucking coming with me. And bring your fucking family while you’re at it!”

*** “Why are we here?” John leaned in to Arthur slightly while asking the question in a hushed voice. “Alfie insisted.” “Why?” Arthur raised his voice, “Ask Tommy, alright? I don’t bloody know! I’m guessing it’s another Jewish thing…” On the other side of the door, you were most definitely in labour now. The pain was worse than anything you’d experienced before and you were seriously questioning your sanity at this point. “Aunt Pol?” Ada asked carefully after about an hour. Polly moved over from your side down to your legs and said, “What is it?” “Something’s wrong.” “THOMAS!” Polly bellowed as soon as she had taken a look, “Get me some more towels.”

“What’s happening?” A panicked Alfie asked from the hallway. But Polly pushed him aside and started ordering Finn to boil more water. “Woman!” he demanded, “You fucking tell me.” “She’s bleeding,” she answered quickly, “and I can’t see why.” “What can we do, Pol,” Arthur asked, wild-eyed. “Get a doctor. One we can trust.” Arthur dragged John with him, even before Polly had finished her sentence. “What about Sabini’s men?” John asked, “We were supposed to deal with them tonight. What if they come here?” “Shoot them,” Tommy said simply, as he lit another cigarette in a nervous manner. Inside the room, you were now screaming your head off. Of course you had realised giving birth would be painful, but not like this. The sight of Ada going slightly pale didn’t help either and panic had started mixing in with the general anxiety of the process, so your screams got louder and louder. “Pol…” Ada called out again, “What do I do?” In that moment, Alfie pushed passed her and fell down by your side, “I’m here,” he said softly. “I can see that,” you panted between shouts, “but why? You’re not supposed to be here.” “Out,” Aunt Polly said strictly, “This is no place for men.” And then Tommy walked in as well, averting his eyes and grabbing your hand at the same time. “What?” he said when Polly send him a death-glare, “If Alfie gets to stay, so can I!” “Fucking children…” “Alright, sweetheart,” Polly focused on you again, “This baby needs to come now.” Your eyes grew wide, “What’s wrong?” “Nothing,” Alfie replied for her, “You’ll be fine. You’re doing brilliant, babes.” “How the fuck would you know!” you shouted out. He shrugged, “Educated guess?” “Had a lot of experience with this, eh?” Tommy grumbled sarcastically. “This,” Ada pointed at the both of them, “This is why men shouldn’t be in here.” “I’m not fucking going anywhere, especially if my wife is in danger.” Tommy just shook his head in reply. “Danger?” you asked suddenly, “What does he mean in danger?” “No danger, love,” Ada soothed you, “if you just push.” And so you pushed, with every bit of strength you had in you. But then a gunshot sounded outside, followed rapidly by another two. Everyone looked up. “John,” Tommy clarified with a single word. “You’re being awfully cavalier about baby brother John getting shot there, Tommy…” Alfie commented. Tommy looked at Alfie with a frown that spoke volumes, “John just shot Sabini’s men. I told him to.” “Oh, good. Saves me the bloody trip.” “I can see some hair!” Ada called out suddenly. “What colour?” Alfie replied at once. And John stuck his head around the corner of the door, “Took care of them.” “We heard,” Aunt Polly grumbled. He hopped from one foot onto the other uncertainly, “Anything else I can do?” “Yeah, you can fuck off mate!” “Alright, I’ll stay, since you asked so nicely.” “John, just get the fuck out!” your sister shouted. The birth was chaos enough as it was and now all these boys were only adding to it instead of helping. And on top of it all, Finn stumbled in practically falling over his own feet with a bucket of water, splashing Aunt Polly in the process. This was more like a madhouse than a family occasion. But John pointed at Alfie indignantly, “He gets to stay!” “Push, Y/N,” Polly urged again, and so you did. “Nice one,” John laughed at Finn, “you literally had one job, mate.” “Mrs. Gray?” Alfie asked carefully, “Sorry to interrupt you there, alright, but I just wanted to quickly check, because you mentioned the hair, yeah? What colour? Because I’m sure I’ll love my son all the same if he’s blond, but I might just need to mentally prepare myself…” And then you finally burst out in anger, “Can you all just shut the fuck up for a second! I’m actually trying to have a fucking baby here!!” “Right, sorry about that love,” Alfie moved closer to you and grabbed your hand again, “Please continue. You’re doing brilliantly, even if he is blond…” Tommy chuckled lightly in the background, which made you even more angry somehow, “Alfie, I swear to God or Adonai or whatever you want to call him, do nottouch me again because remember how you said you couldn’t remember your circumcision?”

“Yes,” Alfie mumbled in mortal fear.

“You will remember when I do it. Remember how you told me of your rabbi doing it when boys are eight days old, because then it heals faster?”

“Yes...” he gulped.

“I’ll make it slow sweetheart. Really fucking slow.”  

“Right,” he said with big eyes, “What exactly would you have me do then except for just standing here like some great big bloody useless piece of shit?”  

“Shut up!”  

“Noted.” *** You weren’t sure what had happened exactly in that last hour. Apparently you’d lost a lot of blood and things had gotten hazy very quickly. Ada and Aunt Polly had stopped talking altogether and they had managed to save you, despite the bickering men in the background. You did remember that Alfie and Arthur had gotten into a fight at one point, but apparently they managed to resolve it quickly when the doctor arrived and they took turns in beating him up because he was no longer needed. Anger really does bring people together.

Of course, none of that really mattered now, because you were now holding a perfect baby right there, in your arms. Finn just stared at the baby, completely in awe. “Not blond…” John sounded a little disappointed. Arthur grinned, “But bloody perfect.” “Gorgeous, just like the mother,” Polly hugged you carefully. “Shelby good looks.” Tommy nodded slowly, with a sense of pride in his voice. “Any names yet?” Ada asked, “I bet you’ve picked them out ages ago, haven’t you?” “I have,” you smiled, “but couldn’t say them out loud yet, so we didn’t really discuss it. It’s bad luck.”

Uncharacteristically, Alfie hadn’t said a word yet.

“Mr. Solomons?” you said, gazing up from your one love to the other, “I believe you have a daughter.” And finally he smiled, deeply and incredibly in love as he held her tight with both hands. And in the most tender way possible he looked at you, grinned and said, “Fucking hell!”

***

Masterlist

[canonical-transformation]

Prologue & Chapter 1 — Mystery of the Emblem [FE17 let's play]

(spoiler: the Emblem was Marth)

Meet my OC! Her name is A'lear. The apostrophe isn't abbreviating anything, it's just really important to put lots of apostrophes and uncommon letters in an original character's name. She is a dragon, like Corrin from Fates!

Also A'lear's mother is Queen Lumera, the universally loved Divine Dragon Queen! And that means she is a princess, just like Corrin from Fates. A dragon princess, wow!

(the Fates comparisons end here. A'lear is better than Corrin because Corrin had that "reconciling two conflicting heritages" angst where she had to fight her own siblings for drama. My OC A'lear will not have any of that "nature vs nurture" angst, because this will be a story about FOUND FAMILY.)

A'lear's hair is red and blue as a homage to the two most important characters in Fire Emblem history: Enemy Phase and Player Phase.

This is my second playthrough of FE17. I'm picking Maddening this time around, and the game insists I pick fixed unit growths for my own sanity. (That means no random dice rolls on level-up, but instead slowly ticking counters that give stat points out at steady intervals.)

We have Switch Online (for my wife's foray into Splatoon) so I will absolutely be making use of the online features — the shiny yellow and purple tiles which give free loot and XP, and more importantly, earlier and more convenient access to the Tower of Trials, which will let me grind for A supports and silver ingots and Ancient Well loot more easily when I'm feeling stuck.

I don't have the DLC but will consider it after this run.

-----------------------

Our story begins with a semi-prophetic dream sequence, in which Robin and a mysterious blue-haired stranger defeat an evil Fell Dragon sorcerer together and profess their undying, eternal, totally platonic love for one another. Then she wakes up from a deep slumber, with amnesia.

But who was the stranger? (It was Marth, protagonist of the original Fire Emblem. This is not a spoiler. He's on the box art and all the trailers. He was also a playable character in 2017's Fire Emblem Warriors, and one of twenty-four non-Fox characters in 2001's Super Smash Bros Melee. Also we'll get his name halfway through chapter 1.) Who could it be?

Functionally, the Prologue is a tutorial for the basic controls. On turn 1, you learn how to move A'lear-and-Marth. On turn 2, you attack the Fell Dragon Sombron with a sword, and he attacks you back with horrifying dark magic. Then he does it again, and A'lear is down to 10/50HP versus Sombron's 36/60HP. The situation is dire!

But hope is not lost! Each time A'lear and Sombron took a swing at one another, A'lear's Engage Meter went up by 1. Now it's full, which means... they can do the fusion dance and...

(Emblem...)

... Engage!

Wow, very Cool(TM). Take that, 13th century Italian city state aesthetic, what have you got for drip? Eyepatches?

With their powers combined, A'lear and Marth unleash a devastating ultimate attack, stabbing Sombron nine times at stunning speed for exactly 36 damage. He dies, and Marth tells A'lear that he'll always be by her side, so long as she remembers him.

Anyway, did I mention the amnesia? A'lear awakes with amnesia and is greeted by her fan club, the twins Framme and Clanne (*). Shortly afterwards, we meet Vander, 32nd Steward of the Dragon, who has pretty good facial hair, and takes his job a lot more seriously than his successors.

(* I do literally mean fan club. Their support chain is about the Divine Dragon Fan Club, of which they're both founders and presidents.)

In Chapter 1, A'lear and her three guardians are on their way to meet the Queen of Elyos when they encounter some of the Corrupted, who are zombies I guess. A'lear and Vander must fight them. (The twins tried to play hero and now need rescuing.)

Vander is what some call a "Jagen": a grizzled old warrior (often a paladin) who starts with way better stats than the rest of the team, but who gets next to no EXP from kills for half the game. Functionally, this means that every time Vander defeats an enemy—which they're pretty good at—he's wasted EXP other characters could have been using to level up.

This results in a totally immersive gameplay experience:

A'lear: "Vander, hand me your vulnerary."

Vander: "Of course, Divine One. It is my sworn duty to protect your life. With my own, if necessary."

A'lear: "Oh. That won't be necessary. Now, take position in the trees. No, those trees."

Vander: "Those trees? In the distance? Nowhere near the enemy?"

Alear: "Yes."

But reinforcements keep coming, and by the end of turn 2 Framme and Clanne are about to be torn to shreds. In a cutscene A'lear suddenly remembers the voice from her dreams, and then she utters the invocation to summon Marth, Emblem of Beginnings.

A'lear and Marth then proceed to fight a single Corrupted axe fighter together, with such perfect synchronisation that they're basically mirror images of one another. Because of this, the monster is able to simultaneously block their every attack together. I kind of feel embarrassed for them. (Supposedly Alear gets Dex+1 from fighting alongside Marth? This is what Dex+1 looks like.)

Alear and Marth demolish the remaining monsters, levelling up their Bond a bit in the process. This requires having Vander lure some of the remaining monsters from the south.

Vander: "As you commanded, Divine One, I holstered my axe and let them all stab me a little bit as I rejoined you."

A'lear: "Thank you."

Vander: "Dare I ask where you learned such battlefield tactics?"

A'lear: "I don't know, I have amnesia."

A'lear takes down the last enemy with another ninefold nonuple stab combo. But then a dragon shows up out of nowhere! Oh no! Is it a potential ally? Or... a NEW STORM!?!?!?!?

[imthefemalemonster]

Daemon x Viserys story please....The type where Daemon gets all dominant on his brother and fucks him so good that Viserys forgets about Alicent. That way, Alicent can be with Rhaenyra and their kids may or may not be mentioned in the background. I mean, seriously...Daemon x Viserys smut please.

There it is ~ Sorry for the time it took

___

⸻Brotherhood

Daemon Targaryen x Viserys Targaryen (Smut)

⸻ Summary: Tied up to his own bed, Viserys leaves himself at the mercy of his younger brother and his depraved mind.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Unspecified Timeline, Smut, Shameless Smut, PWP, Plot What Plot? - Porn Without Plot, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Binds, Gag, Dirty Talk, Orgasm, Orgasm Denial, Mention of Rhaenicent, Dom!Daemon, Sub!Viserys

⸻ Read on Ao3

Notes: Requested by two anons on Tumblr, had to make Daemon fuck Viserys for their sanity! - Hope you like it. ♡

Tumblr for requests/ideas: @imthefemalemonster

Some HotD smut prompts I used for inspiration: here

⸻ Words: 1625

At nightfall Alicent left the room. She had let her husband know she was out for the night. Viserys never really minded her going out so late, he knew she was joining Rhaenyra, probably to spend some time hidden somewhere or flying away with her lover’s dragon. They almost never exchanged on this, Alicent would visit Rhaenyra, Daemon would visit Viserys. All four of them agreed with this.

Once his wife had left, Viserys sat on the bed, slowly undressing and lying down. The fire crackled shyly as the coldness of the chamber ran on his skin. The door slammed open, sending shivers down Viserys’ spine. Apathetic noises of boots hitting the hard floor, a leather figure appearing in the feeble light, sword resting at his side.

“Eager are we?”

Daemon smiled, the curves of his lips intensified by the light. He approached the bed, one hand on his sword’s handle, thumb rubbing needily rubbing the top of it. Daemon stopped a few feet away from the bed, not moving.

“Is this another of your weird games?”, sighed Viserys.

“What game, brother?”, laughed Daemon, “I’m simply enjoying the view of my King, naked on his bed, half-hard, waiting for his little brother to fuck him rough.”

Words went directly to Viserys ears, thighs, cock. Slightly shifting on the bed, the man raised his hand to the headboard, fingers knocking on it impatiently, pulling a deep laugh out of Daemon.

“You like it when it hurts don’t you?”, cooed the younger Prince, reaching for the cloth next to the bed, he tied Viserys’ wrists to the hardwood, spreading his arms open.

Both pain and arousal coursed through the King’s veins, apprehension eating him alive. It was not the first time, not the first night. Daemon would come almost every night after Alicent left. It had begun with kisses, bodies rubbing. Viserys was initiated to hand jobs, blow jobs, to his brother's depraved domination. Night after nights he would be left ruined, fucked to the bone, bruised, denied of pleasure.

“You look so pretty all tied up for me.”, rasped Daemon, his nails slowly scratching his brother’s wrist.

Stepping back, he undid his clothes, fabric falling to the floor as he moved on the bed, between his brother’s wanting thighs. Spreading his legs in response, Viserys felt digits harshly gripping his legs, lifting them up. Unconcerned by his brother’s small whines at his rough movements, Daemon rested on his knees, thighs against his King’s, cock angry and hard against the sensitive, hot skin.

“What a pretty sinful sight”, breathed Daemon, leaning in to press his fingers on his older brother’s mouth, his other hand still digging into the soft skin, chest moving shakily with arousing need, “The King naked, cock untouched, legs spread apart on instinct, happily craving his rogue of a younger brother’s dick buried inside him”, Viserys part his dry lips, welcoming Daemon’s cold fingers, fucking his mouth open without any restraint, “I like when nothing is denied to me, especially if they come crawling at my feet like needy whores.”, he continued, fingers moving in and out with lustful noises, “Make them wet brother, or maybe you want it to hurt when I fuck you open with those?”

Wet or not, Daemon size would always be painful to take entirely. Viserys would rather have both his mouth and ass fucked, multiplying the pleasure, than refusing his brother dirty desires. He enjoyed the sight, the absolute delight in his degenerated brother eyes’ when he was obeying like a not so innocent maiden. Moving his hips against Daemon, he felt the tip of the man erection rub against his entrance, slowly and painfully lifting his lower body so it could reach his balls and own cock, moaning around the digits still harshly fucking into his mouth, saliva coating his lips and chin.

Taking his fingers out without warning, Daemon leaned in, hips moving in rhythm, welcoming his brother’s needy rubs, precum wetting his entrance. Biting the lower lips, the younger Prince sucked on it with obscene noises, echoing in the room accompanied by the skins slamming erratically onto each other. Forcing inside, Daemon licked aggressively, dominating Viserys’ tongue with his own. Breaking the kiss, breathing heavily, he reached for a small piece of clothes, he spit inside his brother’s mouth, just before covering it.

“Keep that in, don’t swallow”, he purred, “Want to make sure I am inside you everywhere.”

Daemon smiled, taking a second to appreciate his meal. Viserys tied up by the wrist, eyes helpless and with the gag on his mouth. Looking like the perfect little submissive whore Daemon loved him to be.

“I think I like you better like this. I will push you to the edge, until the gag isn’t enough to muffle your pitiful pleas and moans.”

Fingers wet, the man hungrily reached for the King’s dry hole, circling it, before pushing in with much nonchalance, making the older man whimper at the intrusion. He started to move as soon as he was in, surprised and delighted at the slight resistance despite so many nights of intense sexual intercourses. Feeling the tight walls clenching around him made Daemon groan in obscene pleasure, not caring about being heard in the whole castle. Pushing a second finger in, he set a harsh pace, staring into his big brother’s half closed eyes, choking on the gag. Instinctively in need and arousal, Viserys had started moving on the finger, fucking himself deep with Daemon long digits.

“Pushing back against my fingers already? How pathetic.”, laughed the Rogue Prince.

Entering a third finger, Daemon felt his brother’s hole twist, clench around him as he was mercilessly fucking inside, bestial groans and muffled moans filling the room. Spreading his fingers the best he could, scissoring deep, hitting that one spot that would send Viserys eyes rolling into his head.

“That’s not even my cock yet, sweet brother.”, he taunted, leaning in to lick the older man’s oversensitive nipples, biting harshly, tongue circling the reddened skin.

The barrier between pain and pleasure had been long broken, there was no telling the difference between them as Viserys both cried out and moaned in the gag. Three fingers were enough for his sight to go white, but he needed his brother’s cock now. He was close, dangerously close, untouched. Daemon felt the King’s body tense as his wrists movements became more violent and erratic.

“Don’t you dare cumming, you whore.”, he grunted, “If you do, I’m not fucking that sweet and abused ass. I’ll leave you to cum in your pathetic hands.”

Viserys shakily nodded, his brother guttural and dominant voice heating up his entire body, blood buzzing in his ears as he continuously pushed on the fingers. He left out a sob as he felt the emptiness inside him when Daemon roughly took his fingers out. Raising them to his mouth, he sucked on them with depraved passion.

“Tastes delicious”, murmured Daemon, a smirk forming on his lips as he savored his fingers, “Wonder what it does with cum inside it.”

Aligning with the older man’s entrance, the younger Prince buried himself in, in a single harsh push.

“F-fuck! Fucking hells”, he yelled, starting to move as soon as he was in, caring very little about his brother’s pleas and sobs, “Still so tight, ass made for my cock isn’t it?”

Feeling his body teared apart, hole full, Viserys moaned loudly against the gag, saliva coating it, choking on his breath as he felt Daemon move. Taking his cock out in a painfully slow movement, biting his lips as he fed himself of Viserys' need and arousal, Daemon slammed back in, obscene slap of skins sounding like bliss to his ears. Setting a fast and ruthless pace, nails digging in the sensitive thighs, he moved his hips in absolute despair, fucking in and out, feeling his brother’s hotness and wall tense around his length, hardly taking him whole.

“It’s so good not to hear you annoying little voice”, groaned Daemon, cock lustfully fucking inside, hitting deeper with each thrusts, “Your stupid orders, your council of cunts, rambling about their idiotic concerns. No exiles, no remonstrance. Only that tight hole taking my cock so good like it was meant for it, just you bending over for it to reach d-deeper…!”

Daemon leaned in, pace erratic and irregular, breathing heavily against the gag, hands grabbing Viserys’ waist as he forced him down his shaft, chasing his own release.

“Reminder, sweet brother”, he murmured, “Don’t cum. Be a good boy, a good little King for your people. Let that needy and neglected cock bounce on that belly.”, his thrusts had slowed, not fast and harsh anymore but painful and deep, “You’ll cum once I leave this room and you can only think about my cock filling you up, each time you move, you walk, you sit, for days.”

With a few slams, Daemon groaned, semen spilling deep inside his brother's sensitive, hot hole as he gave a few more thrusts to empty himself fully. A moaning mess against the gag coated with saliva, Viserys was shaking, vision going black, cock hurting from being neglected and untouched, on the verge of cumming, desperately holding on to the last pieces of sanity to not disobey his younger brother. Daemon moved back after a few seconds, imprinting his length deep inside his King, making sure he would feel it for hours, days, until next time. Stepping back, sitting, catching his breath, admiring the mess of cum, sweat and moans his brother was, Daemon smirked. Sinfully, painfully, he pressed a finger against Viserys’ cock, making him move up, rub against it, sob in need.

“Cumming is a reward you haven’t been good enough to receive.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

hi yes im still alive

DON’T MIND ME, I’M JUST--

HAVING A MOMENT TO PROCESS ALL THE LORE AND STORY CHAPTER 6 JUST DROPPED ON US, I CAN BARELY WRITE

AHHHHHHH, I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS 😭 kjdbbaufbiafafvoaybo LEMME PUT ON MY THINKING CAP AND THROW SOME STUFF OUT ASDYUBUASDLI;AGVUOQIB;VI You’ll understand why I used Leona’s face here even though it’s Idia and Ortho’s chapter after you read my thoughts--

***Chapter 6 (and other main story) spoilers below the cut!***

Okay, just to keep it simple, I’ll try to keep things in chronological order!

First is a bullet point list of my thoughts on chapter 6 so far, then all my questions and theories (mostly a biggish theory on Ace) are at the end of the post.

Expectation: Idia cowering in his room, Vil and Rook busting down his door using Epel as a battering ram, dead Ortho theory confirmed

Reality: SWAT TEAM RAID ON NRC, DORM LEADERS (sans Kalim) AND JAMIL GET KIDNAPPED

Admittedly, I’m disappointed to see that the injury Grim inflicted to MC was basically just a cat scratch and nothing more. I thought it would be a lot more impactful if MC had to deal with juggling the realization that Grim has betrayed their friendship and trust while also on the verge of death (or at least while being severely injured)... And given how MC reacted to the attack at the end of chapter 5, I would think whatever struck them was much more substantial than just a cat scratch. I’m going to go out on a limb here and say either the script got scrubbed by Disney, or the intent was that MC was still woozy from VDC / OB Vil, MC felt so betrayed that it shook them emotionally, or that MC was just that weak by default that they can’t defend themselves against cat claws.

Hey, Ramshackle’s finally getting renovated! Proceeds to immediately get destroyed again--

I feel like????????? They tried to retroactively explain why Neige won to try and mitigate the uproar over how VDC ended. There’s some dialogue between the VDC group about how they didn’t perform at their peak because of having just walked out of dealing with OB Vil, and how Neige’s fans were going to vote for him anyway because they resonated with his background. Honestly, I think they should have moved on from that sore spot instead of bringing it up again, even if how chapter 5 ended didn’t personally bother me.

BOOM, HERE COME THE TWST TERMINATORS--

NOT GONNA LIE, THOSE STYX GUYS LOOK HOT SO COOL

AAAAAAND IT’S KIDNAPPING MONTAGE TIME, KIDS

JOABSFHUPAUABDBADB CALM DOWN, RIDDLE??????? YOU’RE GOING TO COMMIT ARSON IN BROAD DAYLIGHT--

Okay, I know this chapter’s focused on Ignihyde and Grim, but the standout part to me (so far) has been the scene where Leona’s being kidnapped. Historically, Leona has not been a character that I like (excluding that one time I had to pretend to like him for a game). I feel like he’s one massive missed opportunity (he didn’t show up much in chapter 2, he’s pretty similar backstory-wise to his Disney counterpart compared to the other Dorm Leaders, he didn’t seem to learn anything or become a better person even a LITTLE after chapter 2, etc.). I’m not a fan of his lazy and arrogant attitude either (even if it is justified by his backstory). But here? THIS IS THE LEONA I ACTUALLY LIKE AND WANT TO SEE MORE OF. 

LIKE????? I CAN’T DESCRIBE TO YOU HOW MUCH I LIKE THIS SCENE???? Yeah, we have Leona fighting STYX at first, but as soon as he realizes who they are, he wises up and surrenders because he knows better than to resist arrest. AND NOT ONLY THAT, but he uses King’s Roar in a smart way--to turn the falling greenhouse glass panes into sand so they don’t hurt anyone nearby (namely him and Ruggie).

And after he turns himself in????? LEONA TELLS RUGGIE TO TAKE CARE OF SAVANACLAW FOR HIM!!! THIS is what a real leader would do. He looks after himself and his people, but he knows when to surrender, AND he leaves his “kingdom” (the dorm) in good hands while he’s away. THIS is the Leona I want to see.

AJBDUASHPFBUABFIABIYFBIPFAAFIAF I ALSO REALLY LIKE HIS SASS WHEN HE JUST THROWS HIS HANDS UP AND ASDBIASBIABAIODDAYOFAIPPADAIDB SAYS “I’ll go with you, but be careful while escorting me, okay? Despite my looks, I'm a precious prince. I’ll get sick/dizzy if you drive recklessly.” SARCASTIC SASSY SMARTASS??????? IF YOU HAD MORE LINES LIKE THIS, I’D LIKE YOU MORE

I love how Azul’s still talking about capitalism/how he can profit from Idia (apparently the Shrouds are like the TWST equivalent of Google??????) as he’s being escorted away by the agents?????? IF I WERE HIM, I’D BE PISSED OFF THAT THEY INTERRUPTED MY BOARD GAME????? At least let the man finish first--

Damn, everyone’s being tasered???????? And apparently all the STYX agents are equipped with anti-magic plates? I guess Bind the Heart can just eat shit then--

Lilia’s ringtone is cute, period.

CROWLEY CALLED STYX TO CAPTURE GRIM???? GRIM IS OFFICIALLY A SCP THAT NEEDS TO BE CONTAINED????

WAIT WHAT CROWLEY’S BEING KIDNAPPED TOO??????? Oh well, the school is probably safer in Trein’s hands anyway--

askhlbfbilhidbabbidasb RIDDLE WAKES UP POST KIDNAPPING AND HE’S USING LEONA AS A LAP PILLOW?????!

How does it feel to be held in a room against your will, Jamil? Yeah, don’t like a taste of your own medicine, do you?

OH HI IDIA, NICE YZMA MAD SCIENTIST GETUP YOU GOT THERE

Wait, what????? THAT’S IT?????? SERIOUSLY???????

MAN.

I have so many questions??????? Specifically about STYX and what they do, and how the Shrouds are tied into all of it.

So they say STYX is a specialized unit called in to quell serious Overblot cases. And if Crowley called them to deal with Grim... well, bad times ahead for Grim. STYX has also been studying Overblot for a long time, which is why (I think?) they captured Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, and Vil. 

There’s been some allusions made between Grim and Stitch in a lot of fan art and fan theories I’ve seen, since their struggles have some parallels: that being them struggling to decide if they are “good” or “bad”. I don’t know if this was intentional on the part of the TWST writing team, but regardless, it’s a really good concept that plays into the themes of TWST itself. There’s no good, there’s no evil, no black and white--most of the characters we see may be BASED on villains, but that doesn’t MAKE them villains. They are good, and bad, in their own ways--and now Grim is dealing with that crisis as he fights to keep his sanity and avoid completely succumbing to Overblot.

Though Idia seems to be involved with STYX’s research, it doesn’t sound like he personally gave the order to retrieve those test subjects (or at the very least, he’s not happy about roughing up the test subjects), it sounds like the orders came from other people in the organization. His parents, perhaps?

They mention briefly that Idia’s parents are asking him to “come home”, so it must be for something urgent. Are they worried about his safety? But Idia’s lines at the end of chapter 5 lead me to think he is estranged from his family, since he straight up rejected a job offer linked to them (Olympus Corp is owned by the Jupiter family, and the Shrouds are a branch family of Jupier), and says something like “I’m not welcome anywhere”. Has Idia done something to disgrace him from the rest of the family? Or is it more of a self imposed/self inflicted statement, given that he always says he’s “cursed” and acts like he’s guilty of something that deserves scorn?

Why is Idia participating in STYX research, even if it means experimenting on his fellow students (and fellow board game enthusiast Azul)? People are speculating that he wants to use blots to fully revive Ortho (if dead Ortho theory is true), or that Idia actually has heroic intentions (he wants to know more about blots to prevent OBing from happening?), but at this point??? Literally anything could happen?!

In future parts, I’m guessing Pomefiore, MC, and Adeuce will team up to break Jamil and the Dorm Leaders (except Malleus, Malleus got left out again www) out? And HOPEFULLY we get to see Rook’s Unique Magic or at least more screen time, since I feel like he got so little in chapter 5... Another thing I’d like to see is Ace and/or Epel getting their Unique Magic, or at least starting to develop it. It’s really mostly Ace I want more details for.

A theory I’ve been holding onto for a long time is that Deuce getting his UM will spur Ace on to become jealous (since he has always seen Deuce as an idiot/”lesser” than him), and that will cause a rift in the friendship, or for Ace to throw himself into a dangerous situation to prove himself (he has done it before with Riddle)... and has his ass rescued again. This would make Ace even angrier, since he feels like everyone is treating him like a little kid or rubbing it in that he isn’t “as good” as they are. I don’t know where it would go from there (I’m sure TWST would get creative), but ultimately it would culminate in Ace making amends with everyone and rushing in to save them from either Grim or Idia OB.

I don’t think Ace would discover his UM in a similar manner as Deuce (Deuce had to embrace his own stubbornness and straightforwardness, but as the term “Unique” Magic implies, the way a magic develops and manifests is “unique” to the user). While Deuce has to learn to accept his own way of thinking, I believe Ace is already sure of his own way of thinking and has totally accepted it. I think what Ace has to deal with instead is coming to terms with his fickleness. We’ve seen him time and time again treating his loved ones kind of callously, from constantly bullying MC, Grim, and Deuce to ghosting his own girlfriend and flaking on people when they are counting on him to do a task.

The issue with Ace isn’t that he isn’t aware, it’s that he is aware and he seems to think this behavior is totally okay. He demonstrates little to no remorse in what he does and says, and he doesn’t seem to care about the consequences either (how many times does he get punished by Riddle, yet he keeps doing the same dumb things over and over?). Ace appears to operate under the mindset of always being in the right, or (if he’s in the wrong), he won’t really acknowledge it, or he will wave it off as “no big deal”--and I think that’s his greatest weakness.

In the scenario I described earlier, I mentioned that Ace’s jealousy will cause a wedge between him and his friends, and I think this will play into him realizing the error of his ways. When he has finally driven away all of the people that supported him, what will he have left? Nothing. Then maybe Ace suddenly finds himself relating to Idia, or to Grim, who have Overblotted and are in a similar emotional state as he is. Confused and lonely... and that energizes him to pitch in again, even if all he has is wind magic up his sleeve. Everyone could be shocked that Ace has returned, and in that moment, he could finally realize his true potential and unlock his Unique Magic!

(Maybe that’s too specific, but that’s a scenario that I’ve had playing in my head for a long time!)

... Buuuuut given that Ace has gotten little to no spotlight so far in chapter 6, I’m not sure if they’ll lean into him developing his UM yet (unless they pull a chapter 5 and really start addressing Ace in the latter half of the chapter like they did with Deuce). Seeing as chapter 6 is dealing with a lot of heavy topics (death, Grim lore, Overblot lore), I’m thinking maybe the TWST team will push off Ace’s UM development to chapter 7???? The only way I can see it happening in chapter 6 is if the chapter is SUPER long, or if the writing is REALLY good or really bad. 

Anyway, I’m keeping my fingers crossed!!! I’m so excited for the rest of chapter 6... I hope that we don’t have to wait too long for it!

[peachycheol]

| reliable |

© banner credit: thank you to the love of my life @suhdreams​ for making this banner for me 🥺💘 ➸ summary: when people say ‘not all men’, they’re actually right. kim mingyu, your best friend, would never disappoint you. especially not in the bedroom.  ➸ genre: pwp 😌 ➸ pairing: best friend!mingyu x reader  ➸ warning: dirty talk, slight dumbification, heavy petting, unprotected sex (pls use protection irl), cream pie, oral (fem. receiving), cum eating, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, yn is really horny? ➸ w.c: 3.2k ➸ tags: you can all thank @risquewonu​ for this <333  

➸ author’s note: ahh, i’m sorry this took me so long! i didn’t mean to write this much, but what the smuth wants, the smuth gets. also, i want to thank you all for 100 followers! i’ll make a separate post to properly thank you all, but i am!!! baffled!!! i really appreciate the support ;u; love you guys! 

If there are two things in this world that you are absolutely certain of, they are: 1) Men ain’t shit, and 2) with the exception of Kim Mingyu. Knowing this information doesn’t really benefit you in any way. You still go out on Tinder dates that leave you high and dry 15 minutes after taking you home. And Kim Mingyu is still your very platonic best friend, who seems to be reliable in every single way except perhaps in the one way you need most desperately. 

But for all you know, he could be just like every other male in bed. He couldn’t be unbelievably handsome, the most thoughtful, caring person you know, and a sex god; it just wouldn’t be fair! No, it is much easier to convince yourself that Mingyu’s perfection only extended to being a best friend, if only for your peace of mind. Otherwise, you’d have to live with the possibility that the only person who can give you sweet release is the only one you’re technically not supposed to fuck. 

For reasons that seem to become annoyingly hazy every time you lie down next to him on his bed, just as you are at this moment. 

The two of you often end nights out like this, scrolling through one another’s TikTok’s until the wee hours of the morning, laughing loudly until his neighbors threaten to file a noise complaint. As someone who has claimed him as your best friend for three years, you know you’re supposed to be used to the smell of the musky cologne that clings onto his sheets and the feeling of his warm body as he leans closer to show you his For You Page. But lately, it seems harder and harder to fight off the warmth that pulses straight to your core whenever he does anything as simple as laugh, making you shiver when his breath tickles the side of your neck. 

God, you just really need to get laid properly. You lick your dry lips and try to remind yourself that you have no idea if Mingyu would even be able to satisfy you. Though you do have to admit you couldn’t imagine any situation where the boy isn’t overly generous and eager to please-- No! Just watch the damn TikToks! 

“Hey, you good?” Mingyu suddenly asks, nudging your side. “Why aren’t you laughing? ‘His package needs to come in the fe-mail’! That one’s gold!”

You let out a snort. Leave it to Mingyu to bring you back to reality with one line. Even when you don’t say a word, he knows exactly what you need in a moment, which in this case is a reminder that he’s your very dorky friend. “Shut up, that’s so stupid,” you say, but you can’t help but laugh along with him when it replays.

“Aha, you laughed though.” Satisfied with your response he scrolls down to a video of a girl smiling suggestively into the camera. She points to the caption that says ‘If all the boys that made me cum were in my room with me right now, I would…’ Suddenly, the camera pans and she looks at the screen tiredly. The caption now read as ‘Be alone. Men are trash’.

At this, you bust out with a howl of laughter, clutching at your stomach. It was kind of sad, but it was good to know you weren’t alone in this world. All the while, Mingyu stares at you with an eyebrow raised. Once you calm down, you meet his amused gaze. “What are you looking at?”

“You thought it was that funny, huh? It’s not even that accurate,” he says teasingly. 

You roll your eyes. “Um, yeah it is. I’ve never met a man who could make me cum, and clearly many other people can relate. This video has 1.4k likes!”

Mingyu quickly puts his phone down and pouts. “Nu uh! Not all guys are that incompetent!” 

“Men are such babies,” you sigh. “They are that incompetent! You know how many dates I went to last semester, right? Not one of them made me cum!”

“Okay, I told you before you even went on those dates that those guys weren’t worth your time.” Mingyu waves his hand dismissively. “For your information, I have made sure that all the ladies that I’ve taken to the bedroom had at least one orgasm. At least!”

“Mingyu, sweetie,” you coo, patting his cheek as if to comfort him. “They were all faking it, because they didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”  Right? They all had to have faked it. You try to tell yourself this, try to reign in the last bit of sanity you have before your mind wanders off to anywhere inappropriate.

Your best friend now props himself up so that you could properly see the smirk plastered across his annoyingly chiseled features. “You’re so sure, huh? I bet I could make you cum multiple times. Easily.” 

Your mouth falls open in shock. It isn’t uncommon for the two of you to taunt each other like this, but you have also never been in such a vulnerable mood. It’s the type of mood that has your heart racing impossibly fast, the type of mood that has your panties pathetically damp from just one sentence. You blink, trying to regain as much composure as you can. You know it’s too late, though; your imagination is already flashing through scenes of your deepest desires, all being fulfilled by the man in front of you. But Mingyu is only joking, so you do what you can to continue playing along and pretend like you don’t want him to just fuck you into the mattress until you were drooling into his sheets. 

“I-I seriously doubt that!” you say, but there is no conviction in your voice. Clearing your throat, you try adding, “Dude, I’ve literally seen you fall down a flight of stairs when you were sober. And we were going up. Kinda hard to imagine that you’ll know how to fuck me to an orgasm when you can’t even walk right.” 

Now you’re just lying through your teeth, but you want to hold off the inevitable moment that Mingyu discovers your apparent arousal for as long as possible. The last thing you need right now is for him to laugh in your face.

Mingyu chuckles, then suddenly shifts so that his arms are placed on either side of your head, trapping you underneath him. To his surprise, you do nothing to push him off like you usually do at this point. Still, he doesn’t plan on being the first to back off, so he continues his little game, intent on winning. “See, this is why you can’t find a guy who can satisfy you. You clearly don’t know what to look for.” He leans down until the tip of his nose grazes yours. For good measure, he drops his voice an octave and says, “You’ll be the one who can’t walk right when I’m done with you.” 

Perplexingly, his shameless flirting doesn’t make you move as he predicted. Nor does it make you look annoyed. Instead, you look up at him with eyes that are unmistakably glazed over with something he didn’t quite expect to see: pure lust. It immediately sends a rush of blood down to his cock. He blinks. Oh. So this is where the night is going. He only falters for a moment, but he soon flashes a breathtaking smile down at you, his eyes glinting mischievously. 

 It isn’t like he’s never thought about it before; he had just assumed that once you started calling him your best friend, you were also lowkey telling him that sex was off the table. And it wasn’t like he minded, because he definitely liked being by your side knowing it was fully okay to be himself since you were obligated to love him regardless. Plus there was just something about you that made him want to take care of you and if being your best friend was the only way he could do it, then that had been fine by him. But now that he knows that he can take care of you in another way, in the way that he sometimes found himself yearning for on lonely nights, he is all too eager to break free of the unspoken boundaries between the two of you. 

“And what am I looking for?” you whisper. 

“It seems like you’re looking for me, baby,” he responds softly, before pressing a kiss where your jaw meets your neck. He slowly drags his lips down the side of your neck, and revels in how it already has you pressing your legs together. “Damn, you weren’t kidding when you said those guys didn’t make you cum, huh? Is that why you’re already so fucking worked up? You want to cum that badly?”

You nod wordlessly, not quite ready for Mingyu to hear the desperate whine that would surely leave your lips as he continues pressing wet kisses along your skin. You opt to simply thread your fingers in his hair and tug hard enough to show your impatience. It seems to trigger something in him; all in an instant, your best friend’s soft lips clash against your own, his tongue easily sliding into your mouth, all the while while his hand reaches down to grab one of your thighs. He squeezes it teasingly before pushing it outwards, which causes the mini skirt you’re wearing to bunch up around your waist, revealing your panties and how they cling to your pussy like a second skin. 

“M-mingyu!” you squeak into his lips when you feel his fingers tentatively rub small circles into the wet spot. He nips at your lip harshly as he starts to rub more deliberately, the flimsy fabric of your underwear creating a delicious friction against your clit. “H-hah! Yes, o-oh my god!” 

“Fuck, you’re already so wet for me, baby girl,” he chuckles, but he knows he isn’t one to talk while his cock is half hard just from hearing the way you moan his name. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you. You’re not leaving this room until your little pussy cums nice and hard on my cock.” 

“Ngh!-- yes p-please! Please, Mingyu,” you beg mindlessly. Your eyebrows are scrunched together in concentration. Despite your best friend’s promises, you are still hesitant to hold out any hope for anything more than what you’re accustomed to, so you try to take as much as you can while it lasts. However, in your lustful daze, you had forgotten that if Kim Mingyu is anything, he is a man of his word. 

 You let out a high-pitched moan when his fingers suddenly grind harsh circles into your clit, more surprised than anything else that he even knew where to find it. “But first,” he says, licking his lips, “you’re going to be a good girl and cum just like this. Right into your filthy little panties. Can you do that for me, baby?” 

He takes your drawn out whine as a response, and continues to rub relentlessly over your hardened clit until your legs begin to shake. That’s when he shoves the soaked material of your underwear to the side and pinches the bud. Hard. 

He rolls your clit between the pads of his fingertips over and over, sending jolts of electric pleasure all the way to your toes. It causes them to curl, all the while you feel the heat simmering in your lower abdomen finally coil tighter and tighter. “Fuckfuckfuck,” you chant, the words coming out slurred like you’re a teenager who’s gotten drunk from one sip of champagne. “M-mingyu-- mmh! I t-think I’m going to--!” 

A loud cry leaves your lips the moment the coil snaps, and you nearly tear up from how much better it feels to finally cum on someone else’s fingers, especially Mingyu’s long, thick digits.  He soothingly slides them through your drenched folds, mesmerized by how much wetness now covered his hand. “That’s it, baby,” he encourages. Once your body slumps back into the mattress, he brings his fingers up to see how they glisten in the light. “We’ve barely even started and look at what the mess you’ve already made. You must have been waiting so long for me to fuck you, huh?” 

Not even your post-orgasm buzz can keep you from getting irked by Mingyu’s cockiness, which is why you reach your own hand down to squeeze his cock through his jeans. “Seems like I’m not the only one who’s been waiting for this,” you say with a sly grin of your own. He watches you, jaw clenched, as you swiftly pop the button of his pants open and slip your fingers past the waistband of his underwear to take hold of his fully hardened member. 

It feels warm and heavy in your palm, which can barely wrap around the girth. You bite your lip, your pussy greedily clenching around nothing at the thought of how good it would stretch you out.

“I should have known you’d be a fucking tease,” Mingyu rasps. His hips buck into your hand involuntarily, and his smile returns when he notices how the movement makes you whimper in anticipation. 

There is a beat of silence when you and Mingyu meet eyes before the both of you begin undressing each other as fast as you can, haphazardly tugging off both your shirts, his pants, and your pesky undergarments. Once he’s tossed aside your soiled panties, he immediately presses your thighs apart to get a full view of your sopping cunt. “So pretty,” he mumbles to himself, spreading the lips apart with his fingers. His member throbs at the sight, the tip leaking precum when he sees how your pussy clenches in anticipation. “I bet it’s going to look even prettier when it’s taking my fat cock, don’t you think?”

The two of you watch in awe as Mingyu starts to sink into your entrance, a garbled moan leaving your lips when the tip alone already has you feeling so full. “Mingyu, h-how is-- ooh!-- your d-dick soo-- f-fucking big? A-Ah!” It takes a good while for you to finish your sentence as each of Mingyu’s shallow thrusts leave you gasping for air. By the time he bottoms out, the both of you are panting hard, both engrossed by how snugly his cock fits in your walls. 

“Shit, if I had known you’d be this tight, I would have fucked you sooner,” Mingyu groans. He slowly drags his member out of you, letting you feel every inch of him before he surges forward into a feverish pace that already has his bed frame creaking loudly. He is definitely getting a noise complaint from his grumpy neighbors tonight. But seeing you underneath him like this, lips parted and legs spread, definitely makes it difficult to care about anything other than the desire to hear more of your needy cries. “Does it feel good, baby girl? Do you like how my cock fills your little pussy?”

“It fuh--!--ngh, feels s-soo good,” Having already came once, your sensitivity is on overload, and each rough thrust of Mingyu’s hips, each crude slap of his skin against yours, is enough to drive you closer and closer to delirium. “Mmh-- please, Mingyu! F-fuck me so deep!”

“Anything for my little cockslut.” He moves quickly to kneel between your legs, hooking his arms underneath your knees to keep them open as he continues to pound into you. The new position instantly makes you keen loudly, eyes rolling to the back of your head when you feel his member brush against your cervix. 

“Fuuuuck,” you sob and clutch at the sheets. His grip on your legs tightens and he angles his hips so that he hits that spot every time, rendering you completely incoherent. You want to beg him to fuck you like this forever, to tell him you’d do anything to feel his cock fuck you open every night, but you can only babble, unable to comprehend anything that isn’t the insatiable thirst burning within you.

“Damn baby, did I fuck you stupid?” Seeing you so drunk on his cock, he wonders how anyone could ever fuck you without wanting to see you cum over and over again. His hair falls over his eyes as he fucks up into you with renewed vigor, his hot skin covered in a light sheen of sweat. He grits his teeth when he feels how tightly your walls grip onto him.“Shit-- you must want me to make you cum again, baby girl. Your little pussy just keeps sucking me in.”

“H-hah, y-yes! Yes, please god, Mingyu, I want to c-cum again. P-please let me cum,” you beg, practically writhing as you pathetically attempt to meet his thrusts. Without any hesitation, Mingyu brings down his thumb and presses it into your swollen clit, causing your body to seize up suddenly. “A-Aah Mingyu! I’m--!” The intensity of your orgasm has your back arching off the mattress, head thrown back in a silent scream. Wave after wave of pleasure continuously washes over you, seemingly unending, unlike any orgasm you ever thought possible. 

“That’s right baby girl, get my cock nice and wet,” Mingyu growls. He fucks you through your release as he sloppily chases his own, not too far behind with how your walls are pulsing around him. He makes sure his cock is deep inside you and stills his hips when fills you with his hot cum. “Fuck, this pussy was fucking made for me.”

Just as you think you’ve finally come down from your high, he pulls out of you and he shifts to lower himself to place his mouth on your spent pussy. “M-mingyu!” 

You squirm and half-heartedly try to shove his head away, far too sensitive to have his tongue licking into your leaking entrance, but Mingyu is persistent. He pushes your legs to your chest to keep you from squeezing them close, and hums when he tastes the hot mixture of your and his own cum on his lips. The way he slurps and sucks at your folds is absolutely sinful as he eats you out like you’re the most delectable treat. It almost hurts to feel so much ecstasy at once, but it still leaves you mewling for more, unable to get enough of the boy.

Your third orgasm ripples over you when he suddenly scrapes his teeth over your abused clit, and you feel a tear slide down your cheek as you weakly shake against his mouth. 

Mingyu is smiling when he pulls away, looking slightly ridiculous with how his lips still glisten with cum. You tiredly slump back into his pillows, eyes already drooping close. “What is it?”

“I told you I could do it~” he says proudly. He goes to grab some tissues from the bedside table so that he could start cleaning you up, giggling all the while. It really is unfair how he could look so cute moments after railing you into another dimension. 

You groan. You’re never going to hear the end of this.

[black-coffee-and-sugar]

Fair warning: it's a long post. Let's examine some of the reasons that Kara has cited why she didn't tell Lena the super secret:

1. She wanted to protect her

Now, this one has some legs on it as Kara specifically mentions it in S3 during a conversation with James and Mon-El. And there's definitely some truth to it. But it's also bullshit. Lena was in constant danger and put herself at risk to save/protect Kara who didn't actually need it. In fact, the first time Lena's mentioned (not shown just mentioned) it's in regards to the venture explosion - something that happened because Lex was trying to kill her. People have been trying to kill, kidnap, manipulate, threaten Lena since minute one. Knowing Kara = SG would not have severely worsened any of that. In fact, it might've helped ease Lena's anxieties and resulted in her taking less risks with her life. In fact, I'm surprised Lena didn't think that Kara's association with her was putting Kara at risk (a far more likely thing).

The 100th episode addresses this to some degree in one of the AUs. Lena tells Kara that she wouldn't have had to risk her life dealing with Sam/Reign alone if she'd known the truth and she's absolutely right. And sure, Lena could've told SG and the DEO when she pieced Reign = Sam together but ask yourself, why would she? What assurance did she have that the DEO would not have treated her BEST FRIEND like a hostile instead of someone in need of help? The DEO is guilty of this and they have a history of locking up aliens indefinitely and on occassion straight up murder. After Reign nearly killed their biggest asset (i.e. SG) why in the hell would Lena trust them with helping Sam? She wouldn't nor should she have. She didn't know that she could go to SG because remember, Lena doesn't think of her the same way she does of Kara. SG is not her best friend. She doesn't have a personal, humanized relationship with her (at least not that she knows of). And obviously she's not going to tell Kara the human reporter with the DEO agent sister about it either. And the kryptonite? SG lost her shit over it even though she's been working with the DEO who stockpiled the stuff until SM left with it (a dumbass move that would've bit them so hard in the ass with the WK situation if it weren't for Lena's kryptonite!). Plus, Kara didn't have an issue with Oliver having a kryptonite arrow, J'onn having a sword. But Lena? How dare she!

So yea no. I get that "I kept my secret to protect you" is a popular thing in the hero world but in the case of Kara and Lena, it doesn't make sense and it did make situations unnecessarily harder.

2. She didn't trust Lena

This is mentioned by Kara to William in a deleted scene from S5 but I think it's worth exploring. I'm not sure to what extent Kara means with this but it could be referring to the moments as SG where she did display a distrust of Lena's intentions and she used Lena's personal relationships against her (i.e. asking James to break into Lena's lab). I mentioned the S3 shitshow with the kryptonite which is where a lot of this started but there's also other scenes in that same season where SG pretty much calls into question the so-called trust she has in Lena despite claiming otherwise. The switch was so abrupt the minute she learned Lena not only had but knew how to make kryptonite. Did anyone ever consider why Lena would bother learning how to make kryptonite? I'd hazard a guess that it was something she was looking into even before Sam/Reign. I think she happened to find Lex's stock and she decided to learn how it works and why it affects the Supers like it does. That would explain how Lena seems to be the ONLY ONE able to make an anti-kryptonite suit and other viable forms of the rock (i.e. Harun el). But no, SG and others immediately jump to the worst conclusions and associate the endeavour with Lena's last name, something SG KNOWS Lena is sensitive about it. And then the harun el. SG was suddenly fine with Lena making it when it was to split Sam from Reign and save Argo from extinction. But when it was used for something else that Lena didn't clue her in on (and what do you know, Alex, Brainy and James didn't either and they KNEW what Lena was doing with it) she got back on her high horse and the distrust became front and centre. You can't trust Lena as Kara and then immediately distrust her as SG and expect her to be accepting of this dichotomy. I'm surprised the woman managed to retain her sanity.

And still, this reasoning doesn't quite hit the mark in comparison to every other insistence of Kara believing in Lena (from day one she even told Clark that she believed Lena after meeting her for the first time). But the contrasting opinions and actions must have given Lena pause. I don't blame her to call into question which version of the truth was real and choosing to believe the worst. It's what SG and the SFs have been doing to her.

3. She was wary of Lena

This isn't an explicitly given reason but I do think it's how the secret keeping started in S2. Frankly, I don't even blame Kara for not showing her full deck in the beginning because she (and even us as an audience) didn't know much about Lena beyond wanting to do good and not be like her family. So no, Kara not telling Lena in the beginning actually makes sense to me (though she told Nia in a split second but that's neither here nor there). For me, I started to seriously take Lena at her word after the Medusa episode. That would've been the perfect opportunity for her to show the true "xenophobic" colours some parts of the fandom accuse her of having and she didn't do it. I don't think she even got so much as a thank you for it. People praise SM for getting Lex arrested but ultimately it was Lena's testimony that got him thrown behind bars. Same thing with Lillian! And yes, the daxamite invasion was facilitated by Lena unwittingly working with Rhea but she fixed it with the lead dispersal bomb, a device she allowed SG the privilege of using or not. So Kara and the SFs being cautious about Lena really should've evaporated halfway through S2 (and it did for Kara at least). In fact, the daxamite invasion may not have happened if Lena knew exactly who Rhea was and her relation to Mon-El because they would've warned Lena about it. Lena did want Kara's advice on Rhea and she would've waited for it if she knew what was going on (i.e. Alex being held hostage) and hell, might've been able to fix it in typical Lena ex machina fashion.

4. She didn't want to lose her

This is probably as close to the truth as we've gotten and it's actually part of her confession in 5x01 (something her outburst in 5x19 tries to undo). But the thing is, Kara KNEW this was a possibility and yet, continued walking towards the deadly cliff with her eyes wide open. The probability of losing Lena got higher and higher as time went on and it was always inevitable. There was always this spotlight placed on Kara telling Lena or Lena finding out on her own but there was always a HUGE chance that Lillian would've told her. Or Lex, which is exactly what happened. And Kara knew that they knew and yet she did nothing about it. The minute kara found out Lillian knew she should've taken action, what guarantee did she have that Lillian wouldn't have gotten bored of waiting for Lena to piece it together? How can they just leave Lillian with dangerous knowledge like that is beyond me. When Alex in particular has made such a big deal about people knowing, didn't want Kara telling Lena, only allowed Kara to tell Lucy to save J'onn and yet, letting Lillian amble about with this info is okay??? Nothing was stopping her from telling Lena or it slipping during one their chess games and definitely nothing stopping Lex from dropping that bomb.

The 100th episode AUs showed us that each time it was Kara telling the truth, no matter how hurt and upset Lena rightfully was, she was ultimately fine with it. And Kara ends up losing her to death, not because Lena walked away. How this wasn't the takeaway message for Kara after that adventure, idk. It was Kara's hesitatancy in telling Lena that allowed Lex to weaponize this secret and twist it into something it never was. And yes, Kara doesn't owe a damn soul her secret and has rarely ever been given the chance to tell anyone on her own terms (James - told by SM, Alex, J'onn, Brainy, Mon-El, the Legion - always knew, Lex & Lillian, Lord & Cat - found out somehow). She only ever got to tell Winn, Lucy and Nia and I'm sorry but none of those people have ever proven themselves trustworthy at the time of the reveal the way Lena has.

So while Kara is every right to keep her secrets, she was wrong to insert herself in Lena's life if she never had any intention of telling her and let's be honest, it really didn't seem like Kara had any timeline on that front.

5. She was selfish

Similar to the above and also mentioned during the confession but this is even deeper. Lena was something of an outlet for Kara, a way to feel completely normal, something she hasn't been able to experience with anyone, even Mon-El. Can you imagine being a cub reporter who knows powerful CEO Lena Luthor and having said CEO choose to spend time with you? Choose to let you interview her when she's wary of the press (remember her interactions with Clark in 2x01 and her family history)? Choose to treat your problems as important and valid and human? I don't blame Kara at all for being selfish with Lena, for wanting to keep Lena all to herself like that. But to not share the other aspects of herself was seriously wrong too and resulted in this imbalance in their relationship. To Lena, it looks like she was giving all of herself when Kara was not. It looks like she put all her trust and vulnerabilities out there when Kara didn't. It looks like Kara was using her (which let's be real, she kinda did a few times in S2 with the fight club and bs article to get info on Lillian and then ofc the CatCo-Edge problem she visited Lena for after ignoring her and proceeding to continue the rejection after Lena said she'd look into it).

You think post-reveal Lena didn't think back to all those moments and have those kinda thoughts? Even called into question what might've been the real reason James dated her and Kara was so insistent on befriending her? Were there perhaps times were she figured it out and can't remember and what's why she chose not to see it? Why do we think she still showed up game night in 4x22 instead of confronting Kara? Because these thoughts amongst others must've been swarming her mind and the only way to keep the upper hand is to continue playing dumb. So yes, Kara made the conscious decision to be selfish with Lena because of the unexpected connection they forged and I get it totally. But Lena has never been selfish and she's always made hard efforts to be a damn good friend (and she was idc what others might think on that) and open herself up to Kara despite how difficult and frankly foreign that is for her.

So are Kara's reasons valid? To a point, I would say yes but their validity waned over the seasons to the point where the secret keeping didn't even make sense anymore.

So was Lena's anger valid? Yes! 100% it was and honestly, I'm surprised she managed to keep it together for so long. I couldn't. But her anger doesn't justify her actions (mind control, manipulating Kara, threatening Russell, holding J'onn's bro captive, putting Hope inside Eve) and how she went out of her way to hurt Kara back. However, I get why she did it though it's worth pointing out that this is the only instances of a betrayal in her life where Lena has gone this far. Bitch straight up spiralled where previously she would cut ties and move the fuck on with life. But with Kara, that doesn't even seem to manifest itself to Lena as an option. Will the show ever address the obvious WHY for this and for Kara being so so terrified of losing Lena (like honestly I have never seen Kara look more distressed).

Maybe, maybe not but regardless I'm not buying this platonic friends nonsense because no one is that devastated over a friendship. Many of us (myself included) have experienced falling outs with very close friends and breakups. Which one do you think the Kara/Lena rift in S5 felt like? It was full on heartbreak, loving someone in complete torment and not being able to stop despite wanting to because even though it's painful, the alternative is infinitely worse.

MB and KM's acting choices aside, these idiot showrunners have brought us to this point with their own narrative and the only logical next step is to make them canon.

Lol okay I'm done.

[bokukawas]

Drunken Mess

pairing; Kuroo Tetsuro  x Reader

warnings; alcohol, suggestive in the end, some grabbing from some random stranger

a/n; ok guys, enjoy, this took me forever to write and idk, i just hope someone here likes it ♥

summary; when you have a shitty day and then your boyfriend presses all the wrong buttons upon his return , you just need a little alcohol to keep your sanity… and maybe have a drink too much

word count; 6k, I actually planned to keep this short. WELL HUH jokes on me, right? 

The only thing that got you through the day was the thought, that when you came home later, your boyfriend would be back from his training camp with his team. Because, seriously, today had sucked. You had to take a double shift at work, because a colleague had called in sick and all the customers had just been annoying and rude. You had expected working in retail to suck, but compared to the reality your imagination was a fucking dream come true. Retail was the worst. The absolute fucking worst. And no one could truly understand it if they haven’t worked in retail at least once in their life.

By the time you could clock out, you were nearly crying from frustration. You were so eager to see Kuroo and leave your work; you nearly ran the whole way home.

When you finally arrived home, you could already see light seep out from under the door, which meant he actually was home already. Your heart made an involuntarily somersault as you pushed the door open and yelled “I’m home!” with a huge smile plastered on your face. You had missed him terribly. Yet instead of your boyfriends loving arms around you, you just found the mess he somehow managed to produce in less than a day. Your smile slipped just as fast as it had appeared. “Kuroo, what the actual fuck!?” No answer to that.

You could see him, lying on the couch, one leg slung over the back of it, controller in one hand, a piece of pizza in the other, headset on his head, while he cackled. He didn’t even seem to hear you. And damn it stung. You waited the whole day with dinner so you could eat together with your boyfriend. And not only that, you had cleaned the whole house before he returned, so you could just relax together once he was back, hell, you even dumped your friends who wanted to go out and have a girls night, and this was how it turns out?

With watering eyes, you inspected the spectacular mess in front of you. Eyes flicking from the kitchen, where he obviously already made ramen before he ordered pizza, to the living room where the whole content of his sports bag seems to just have been dumped on the floor. Then to the bathroom, where the door was open and showed the still wet tiles and a towel carelessly thrown in the middle of it, fog still clinging to the mirror, because he once again had not opened the goddamn window.

In that moment all you could feel inside of you, was burning anger and huge disappointment. It was not the first time you had asked him to just please be a little bit more considerate of you. Why didn’t he fucking get it? The damn flat didn’t magically clean itself; it was all you who did it. The mess he made in literally only a few hours felt like a punch in the face.

Clenching your fist, you angrily throw your bag into the mess he already made, which seemed to finally get his attention. Head popping up from the couch, he pulled down his headset a bit and looks over to you: “Oh hey kitten, didn’t hear you come home.”

“Yeah never mind”, you spit, “continue your thing there, I’m gonna be gone soon anyways.”

You slip out of your sneakers, phone already in your hand to call one of your friends.

“S’ something wrong, kitten?” Kuroo sets down his headset, mustering you with concern in his eyes. Obviously something was wrong, but his brain still felt foggy with exhaustion from all the training he had pushed himself and his team through this week.

The answer came in the slamming of the bedroom door, where you had disappeared.

He sighs and briefly puts his headset back on to give his friends a heads up: “Guys, I’ll be back later, seems like somethings wrong with Y/N”, then he left the game and stood up, slowly walking to your shared bedroom, before he tentatively knocks on the door.

“Y/n, what’s wrong? Did something happen at work? Are you alright?” Upon not getting an answer, he pushed down the latch, only to find that you had locked the door. He silently swears. It had to be bad when you actually locked him out. “C’mon hun, don’t be like that. Talk to me.” Door rattling followed, which you blatantly ignore.

You were sitting on the bed, which was, of fucking course, not made any more and stripped out of your work clothes, throwing them carelessly on the floor. The damage was already done, what bad could your few clothes be then, right?

It was then, that Miwa finally picked up. “Oh hey, Y/n, whats up? I thought you were having some quality time with Kuroo?” You could hear loud voices talking in the back; she must have gone outside to answer your call.

“Yeah you know what? I thought so, too. Plan has changed, though. Where are you? Mind if I join you? I need a drink.”

“Are you alright, Y/n? You sound a little upset?”

“Miwa, for god’s sake, just tell me where you are so I can join you. I’m going to explode if I stay here any minute longer.”

You could hear Miwa sigh into the phone. “That bad, huh? We’re at our usual place.”

“Good, I’ll be there in twenty.” You hang up and throw your phone into the pillow and start rummaging through your closet, finding one of the dresses you like very much, but never actually wear, because it is actually very short. Well, fuck it, you think to yourself and put it on, together with your new high heels. Quickly freshening up your smudged make-up, you grab your keys and your clutch and brace yourself for your escape. Because that was exactly what you were doing: escaping from this whole mess.

Then, you unlock the door and push it open, marching straight for the door, which was, of course, blocked by your boyfriend, who was leaning against it and now eyeing you from head to toe. He probably had heard you talk to Miwa and taken his position at the door right away. He did not comment on your outfit though, having the good sense to know he was walking on very thin ice.

“Going somewhere?”

“I’m going out with my friends. At least I would like to, but someone is standing in the way. Do you mind?” You look up at him and give him one of your perfect angelic smiles as you try to squeeze through. Even though you were wearing your heels, your boyfriend was a goddamn giant and he somehow managed to still be taller, which was mildly frustrating at the moment.

He does not budge; not even an inch.

“Are we not going to talk about what is going on? Because something clearly is going on.”

“I’d actually rather go right now.”

Kuroo could basically feel the passive aggressive energy radiating from you, but still, he didn’t budge. He didn’t even have the chance to talk to you yet, what could he possibly have done to upset you so much that you could not even stand to be in the same room as him? It was a mystery to him.

“Y/n, please.” He reaches out a hand to brush a thumb against your cheek, because he knows how much you always enjoy these little affectionate gestures, but he stops right in his tracks, when he found you staring at him with barely withhold anger. He was surprised that you did not swat at his still outstretched hand.

“Move Kuroo, I mean it.” And when you try to squeeze through this time, he lets you.

You were rarely in such a bad mood and he knew when he needed to let you cool off, first. As you walk by him, he catches your wrist in the last second, holding you still for a moment. “At least send me a text when you get there, alright?” he whispers while brushing his thumb once over your veins and then lifting your hand up to press a soft kiss against the palm of it.

The urge to just turn around and press your head into your boyfriends’ chest right then was overwhelming, but you were still so mad that you stubbornly continued on your way, leaving Kuroo standing there, watching you go.

When he turns around to go back into the flat, he feels like a train hit him as he takes in the mess he made. “Oh fuck.” He groans as he ruffles his spiky hair, because how could he be so stupid. Of course you would be mad if you came home to such a mess. The worst part was, that he didn’t even contain his chaos in one room, no, he seriously fucked up the whole flat, which by second thought, you had probably cleaned just hours before. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Your foul mood suddenly made sense to him. Groaning again, he closes the door behind him and goes to the kitchen. He better gets rid of this whole mess before you come home later. But first, he wants to apologize. Fishing out his phone out of his joggers, he opens the chat with you and freezes all over again. There it was, black on white. Dinner later, Tetsu? We can order from your fav restaurant if you like ♥

Oh sweet fucking hell, he was the biggest douche in the whole wide world. How could he forget that you two wanted to eat together? “Ah shit.”

He types out a quick message to you. Y/n I’m so sorry. I’m the biggest idiot in the world. You can punch me later if you still feel like it. I sure as hell deserve it. Pls text me when you get there safely. I love you.

Kuroo really wants to kick his own ass in that moment. You were always so good to him, going out of your way to make the time you got to spend together as pleasurable as possible, taking time where you actually had none to spare and just simply spoiling him in any way possible and this was how he treated you? He didn’t even kiss you when you got home, which was funny, because it was one of the only thoughts in his head, besides volleyball this whole past week. The feeling of your soft lips against his.

He was not surprised that he didn’t get a message back, but he still unmuted his phone, just in case you called him when you had enough and wanted to go home.

Then he starts cleaning up his mess.

You on the other hand nearly arrived at the bar where you and your friends usually met up once a month to keep in touch. You already regretted wearing your new heels. As you turned the next corner, you could already spot the bar and with it, a whole lot of people standing outside at high tables. Your friends amongst one of them.

“Hey ladies”, you call out as you get closer. “Long time no see.”

Fighting a smile to your face, you found your place right next to Miwa, who gently nudges you in the side.

“Stop that grimace and tell us what happened.”

Alisa, who was standing in front of you, just reaches over the table, takes your hand in hers and squeezes it softly.

“Actually, I think I’d rather have a drink first”, you moan.

One drink followed the next and your friends realized later, that they probably should have stopped you after your 5th cocktail or so. Which they didn’t, because you spilled your heart out to them, nearly crying a few times, which was rare to see, because usually you managed to keep your cool in front of others, even your own friends. Moreover, the drink in your hand seemed to be the only thing holding you together. They were a little taken aback, too, because you usually were a very good drinker, and could handle alcohol very well; but by the time you went inside to dance and just bumped into stranger after stranger while trying to walk a straight line, they figured you probably had not eaten anything before coming here.

Miwa squinched up her face. “She’s gonna feel even worse tomorrow. We should probably get her home.”

Alisa just nods, before sprinting in your direction as she witnessed you tumbling into a group of men, of which one luckily caught you in his arms, before you hit the floor, but then couldn’t keep his hands to himself. You just laughed, not realizing what was going on and not feeling the hand, currently sneaking up your leg. Everything looked dizzy and swayed and you felt a little funny in the head. Vaguely you realize that Alisa was arguing with the man who stopped your fall and then her face popped up in front of you, asking you were your phone was.

You look at her irritated, not quite understanding what she wanted.

“C’mon y/n, where is your goddamn phone.”

“My clutch?”

Miwa suddenly popped up next to you, steadying you and gently guiding you to an abandoned empty chair. “Sit.”

Alisa rummaged through your clutch, only to find your purse and your house keys…but no phone.

“Your phone is not in here y/n. Are you sure it was in your clutch?” she looks at you questioningly, with her big green eyes, which were all you could focus on. She always looks so pretty.

„Focus y/n!“

You thought back to when you left the flat… “I think I …left it on the bed”, you mumble, eyes suddenly growing very heavy. Leaning heavily against Miwa, your head lolls against her shoulder. You inhale deeply. Miwa always managed to smell so good; you wonder how she does it. The girls just shared a concerned look. You couldn’t even sit upright on that damn chair, how were they supposed to get you home.

“We need to call Kuroo”, Miwa states, while brushing some strands of hair out of your face. You didn’t seem to notice.

“That was my plan. But I don’t have his number… do you?” Miwas face was answer enough. That’s when Saeko popped up next to them. “Hey girls, I made it after all.” She grinned happily at all of you. “What’s wrong with this one here, though?” She nudges you in the side, which was rewarded with a lazy grunt from you and a silent curse from Miwa as you tipped dangerously to the side.

“Is she drunk!? I don’t think I’ve ever seen her drunk. What happened?” Saeko seemed mildly concerned, which leads to Miwa and Alisa freaking out a little. Saeko usually doesn’t show concern, so it must be just as bad as they imagined.

“Do you have Kuroos number?” Alisa asked her without answering her question in return, not letting her eyes stray from your face, as you looked ghostly white at the moment and started mumbling random things under your breath.

“No? But you have? Right?”

They both shake their heads. Saeko sighs and mumbles something under her breath, which rather sounded, like ‘I should’ve just gone straight home’, before facing Alisa.

“Call your brother then. He must have his number.”

“Oh my god, Saeko you are a genius.”

“Thanks, I know.”

With another concerned look your way, Alisa left your side to go outside and call her brother. She just hoped he would pick up, since it was already the middle of the night.

Meanwhile Kuroo was sitting on the couch, worriedly glancing at the clock all few seconds and constantly brushing his fingers through his hair. No wonder you hadn’t texted him back, he had found your phone lying on his pillow as he had made the bed again. This meant, you were out, with no phone and no means to contact him if something was wrong. He didn’t like that one bit. The worst part was that he couldn’t even blame someone for it, besides himself. This was his fault and he knew it all too well. Scratching at his scalp, he tried to calm down a bit. He knew you could take care of yourself; your small figure belied the strength you actually had, but still. There was always a chance that something happened. So when his phone started ringing he answered it in seconds, without even looking who was calling first. It just had to be you, right?

“Y/n?” he nearly yelped in the phone.

“No, this is Lev.”

Kuroo nearly lost it then, breathing heavily and punching the pillow right next to him, he thought he was going to combust any second.

“What is it Lev? It’s the middle of the night!”

“Yeah, I know, I was sleeping until my sister called me.” Now that he mentioned it, Kuroo could hear the slight strain in Levs voice, as if he had just gotten up.

“It’s about y/n, though. They are worried and would like you to come and pick her up. Apparently she didn’t have her phone with her and got stupidly drunk.” He paused. “…did you have a fight? Are you alright?”

Kuroo swallowed.

“Just tell me where they are, please.” And so Lev does.

“Tell your sister I’ll be there soon… and thank you, Lev. Sorry that you got involved in this.”

“Yeah, yeah. G’night.” with that, he just hung up on Kuroo, probably eager to get into bed again. Kuroo couldn’t even blame him for that, he was tired, too, but he swore he wouldn’t go to bed before you got home safely.

He gets up, just grabs his wallet, keys and his sweater and was out the door in seconds, running all the way to the bar. Never before had it been so bad, that your friends were concerned about you. You had always gotten home on your own, or were sober enough to just give him a call, or get a taxi. Your alcohol tolerance was quite high, too, but alas, you hadn’t eaten today. That was probably the problem.

Alisa spotted him from afar and just starts waving. She was impressed at how fast he was, it hadn’t even been 10 minutes since the call. When she saw him up close though, she realized that he was sweating and breathing hard. He must have run the whole way here.

“Jeez, Kuroo you look like you might pass out any second.”

“Thanks, it’s nice to see you, too Alisa. Now, where is she?”

He didn’t even look Alisa in the face, his eyes scanning the crowd around them, searching for your face.

“Inside. C’mon.”

He follows her tall blonde form through the masses, until she stops in front of a chair. An empty chair. He could barely hear her curse under her breath.

Kuroos head snaps up, when he could hear a commotion start on the dance floor.

There you were, the hands of some random stranger draped across you, while you danced as if you didn’t even notice. Which of course, you didn’t. Not really. You just enjoyed the lights and the music and silently swayed to the rhythm of it, being a little surprised that the world suddenly didn’t seem so shaky anymore. Your back felt warm, too, which was at the same time pleasant and very unpleasant at once. Something somehow felt wrong, but you couldn’t pinpoint what it was. You were just happy that you somehow managed to get yourself drunken enough, to stop thinking about how little your boyfriend seemed to care about you.

Kuroos eyes wander to the two females next to you, desperately trying to pry the hands off that damn stranger of your dancing form, but they were both so small compared to the guy, it was useless.

He lost it the moment said stranger seemed to thrust his hips into your back. Miwa and Saeko spotted him just the second he lunged at the person, shoving him away.

“Get your filthy hands off of my girlfriend!”

The guy of course didn’t like being handled that way and was in Kuroos face the very next instance. “What’s your problem man? It didn’t seem to me that she didn’t like it.”

Miwa winced. She had seen Kuroo lose his cool once before, and it hadn’t ended very well for the other dude. He had him up by his collar at once, sneering in his face “she’s so drunk she probably doesn’t even remember her own name and you want to tell me she liked it?” He shook the stranger, muscles flexing under his T-Shirt.  “Get the fuck out of my eyes.”

With that, he shoves him so hard that the guy loses his balance and falls face down onto the dance floor.

Your world had become very wobbly again, as soon as the somewhat steadying hands had left your hips. Tumbling to the side, you were caught in strong arms again. Your boyfriend’s arms.

“C’mon kitten, we’re going.”

“Wha-? Kuroo?” Were you hallucinating now? “No I don’t want to go. I want to dance.” You wind your way out of his arms, only to stagger once again.

Kuroo exhales once again and tries to pull himself together, looking at your friends who all watch you with deep worry in their eyes. “How much exactly did she drink?”

Alisa nervously twirls her hair around her finger, not wanting to look him in the eyes. Your boyfriend could be scary, especially if he was worried about you. “Don’t know… I kinda lost count after her 5th cocktail or so… she might have had some drinks on the dance floor, too.”

Kuroo breathes in deeply, watching you as you tried to dance, which was actually just staggering from one side to the other, trying not to fall on your face. He was low key impressed that you had not already broken your ankles in those heels. Trying to remain calm and reminding himself that in fact, this was his fault and he couldn’t get angry with anybody else, he sighs again, starts fumbling in his pocket to get his wallet out and pushes some money in Alisas hand.

“Here, for her drinks. I’m pretty sure she didn’t pay for them herself, did she? Well, never mind. We are going now. Thanks for reaching out to me.”

And with that, he appears next to you again, draping his sweater around your hips to keep your very short dress from flashing anyone, before crouching down and just throwing you over his shoulder.

“Hey, what the hell!? KUROO! Put me down, I don’t want to go!” you slur, as he starts to push his way through the crowd.

“Good thing I’m not asking then.”

Your friends watch as your boyfriend singlehandedly maneuvers you two outside, sighing in unison as you leave the club.

“Wow. That was intense”, Saeko deadpans.

Miwa nods. “He was so calm, though? The last time I saw someone touch y/n with Kuroo around, the guy had a broken nose afterwards. I was a little scared for a second there.”

“He must have been really worried. Lev told me he seemed really agitated, which is rare for him. He’s usually very composed.”

They sigh in unison again. “We better call her tomorrow and ask if she’s alright”, Miwa states, to which the others all nod. Saeko starts grinning a moment later. “I’m pretty sure Kuroo is gonna take good care of her now, so let’s not worry. The night is still young.” She throws her arms around the waists of her friends and pulls them all in direction of the dance floor.

 Meanwhile your world shakes violently with every step your boyfriend makes and your hair was jumping in tact with it. His shoulder blade pressed very uncomfortably into your stomach. You could feel the warmth radiating from his hand at the back of your knee, where he gripped you softly to keep you steady.

You hadn’t spoken to him since he had thrown you over his shoulder and just marched out of the bar. In fact, you felt a little ashamed. It had been years since you had gotten so drunk you could barely stand. It was a mystery to you, how he even knew where you were.

Another step, another bounce, another uncomfortable press against your roaring stomach. You clutch your hands into the hem of Kuroos shirt, trying to steady yourself a bit, inhaling his familiar smell and focusing on that, instead of the turmoil in your stomach and your head.

Kuroo of course feels you clench fistfuls of his shirt and slows down a bit, throwing a glance over his shoulder. “Kitten, you alright there?”

The fresh air had sobered you up quite a bit and you were fully aware of the gentle grip your boyfriend had on you, same as the every so often brush of his thumb across your thigh.

Since you didn’t answer, he just presses a quick kiss to your leg and then continues on his way, a little more slowly, but still persistent. You groan, as the nauseous feeling in your stomach got overwhelming. Not only that, but you could also feel your feet burning and hurting. Those heels were really not the best choice for tonight.

“Y/n?” he stops once more and tries to look over his shoulder again.

“First of all Kuroo, I’m still mad at you, secondly I feel like I might puke any minute if your shoulder is gonna press in my stomach again and last of all, my feet hurt.”

It occurred to you that you were whining, but how could you not? Today has been hell and now everything hurts and you couldn’t even just press your head into your boyfriends’ chest because you were supposed to be mad at him.

“Hold on a sec, hun.”

“I mean it Tetsu, I’m gonna puke.”

Kuroo smiles at that, not because it was fun to him that you had so much to drink that you felt like puking, but because you used his first name…which in conclusion meant you weren’t in fact as mad as you tried to be.

He could already see his target at the end of the street, so he just ignored you and walks on a few minutes longer.

“Ok, I’m going to put you down now, be ready.”

He slowly lets you slide down on his front, so that you were now standing in front of him. His hands were on your hips, steadying you slightly in case you still needed it. You wince as your feet hit the ground, your heels pressing against every sore spot on them. Kuroo could tell you were avoiding looking in his face, even though he stood right in front of you.

Sighing, he puts his slender index finger under your chin and lifts your head up, so you had no choice but to look at him. “I’m sorry Y/n, I was a total dick earlier and I didn’t even realize it. But for now, can we ignore that so that I can take care of you properly? Please?”

Damn it, it wasn’t fair. As you look into his catlike, earnest eyes, so full of love and concern for you, you could already feel your anger melt away. “You’re the worst, Tetsu.” Your words significance was betrayed by the fact that you leaned your head against his shoulder the exact same instance and inhaled deeply. He chuckles deeply at that and presses a soft kiss against your neck, holding you a little while longer.

“Sit down here for a bit kitten, I will be right back.” He guides you to a bench right in front of the 24/7 he had aimed for, noticing you were still very unsteady on your feet and actually limping now. After you sat down, he squats down in front of you and takes your foot in his hands. “Let me see.” He slowly peels off your shoes and inhales sharply through his teeth. “Damn hun, you really butchered your feet.” You decided you didn’t even want to see it and just wriggled your toes at the new found freedom.

“Yeah, I’ll be right back”, and with that he rushes into the store behind you.

After a few minutes, you feel something cold against your cheek. “Here, drink.”

You take the bottle of water out of his hands, suddenly feeling very thirsty and drink a few mouthfuls, as he squats down in front of you again, inspecting your feet once more, before applying patches at the worst spots. When he was finished, he just looks up at your exhausted form in front of him, bracing his hands on your knees, his thumbs already drawing gentle patterns across your skin. It seemed cold to you suddenly and you shiver, which leads to Kuroo taking off the sweater he had put around your waist and pulling it over your head.

“C’mon, let’s get you home.” He grabs your shoes, and turns around, squatting again in front of you, his back muscles flexing under the shirt as he motions for you to get on. With a sigh you did exactly that. No way in hell would you walk the next 10 minutes home on your own two feet. You put your arms around his neck and try a weak little jump to get on his back, which was rewarded with an amused chuckle by your boyfriend. Luckily, he caught your legs just fine and adjusted you on his back with a little wiggle, so that he now could give you a proper piggyback ride home.

“Y/n?” he asks as you got closer and closer to your home, already walking up the stairs to your shared flat.

“Hm?”

“I love you.”                            

Ah damn that bastard really knew how to play you. Even though you could feel your insides warm up at that, you thought he could feel bad a little more, so you didn’t comment on it, as he puts the key in the locker and opens the door.

The moment he switched the light on, though, you couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Ah fuck Tetsu, I love you, too. Asshole.” That made him laugh in return. It seems like he had cleaned the whole flat after you rushed out to drink yourself stupid.

“I realized why you were so mad the moment I turned around to go back in here”, he confesses and slowly lets you down from his back. “And as I said before, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I was a total douchebag.” He comes to stand in front of you and puts your face into his hands. “Can you forgive this asshole?”

You punch his chest in return. “Stop being cute!”

“Can you forgive me? Pleaseee?”

He actually pouts as he squishes your cheeks, already knowing he had won. You tried to fight the smile that wanted to spread on your face at the ridiculous show of your huge boyfriend pouting in front of you, but you fail miserably.

“Just kiss me already, idiot.”

So he did, his one hand sliding from your cheek to your neck, as his lips press against yours in a feather light touch. Your own hand finds its way into his hair at once, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss, as the other steadies you against his hips. He sighs contentedly in the kiss, brushing his lips against yours as he mumbles “I missed you so much”, before kissing you again, this time a little more hungrily. Your lips move eagerly against each other and after a little while, you feel his tongue grace against your lips, which makes you shudder. Your knees started feeling dangerously wobbly again. Luckily, he had already pulled you flush against him and now lifted you up by putting his hands under your ass to carry you to the bedroom, where he gently lays you down on the bed, before slowly climbing on top of you.

You smile fondly at his expression as he kisses you repeatedly, every kiss getting a little rougher than the last one, moving your lips in time with his and then there was his tongue, finally in your mouth. He could still taste the alcohol on your lips.

When he finally breaks away from you, you were both panting. Your hands were gripping his shirt greedily and you were already pulling him down on you again, wanting more. God his kisses gave you life.

“I’m not sure we should go there today, kitten, as much as I’d like to. You’re still very much drunk, and I’d like you to feel and remember all of what I plan to do to you.”

He smirks and plants another kiss on your lips, teeth grazing teasingly against them as he did so, then snorting at the bewildered and somewhat outraged look you gave him when he pulled away. You were clawing at his biceps the moment he starts to get up from you, trying to pull him down again and groaning when you realized you were going to lose against his strength.

“Tetsuro”, you moaned in a last attempt to get him back to you, which made him freeze on the spot. “Wow you’re mean, kitten, but still no.”

And with that, he simply helps you get out of his sweater and your dress, always swatting your grabbing hands away, before he manhandles you into the bathroom to get you ready for bed.

You were getting pissed at him again, because first, he got you hot and bothered and then he didn’t want to do something about it. How rude. That would get him payback, you swore to yourself.

Still, not even your naked form had him thinking twice about his choice, he simply wrangles one of his tees over your head and pulls you flush against him in your shared bed, having a death grip on you, so you couldn’t even move around, as much as you tried.

“Sleep now kitten, and then maybe tomorrow I’ll give you what you want so desperately right now.”

He runs a hand down your side teasingly and you could feel his smile against your forehead at the way your body quivers against him.

“On second thought, I think I’m not able to forgive you yet, you are actually the worst”, you mumble against his chest. He only acknowledges this with another kiss against your forehead. Still, somehow your boyfriend had made the right call, because it only took you seconds to fall asleep in his warm embrace. 

He watches your sleeping form on his chest fondly, pressing little kisses to your face from time to time and thinking to himself, that he deserves a price for self-control, because he seriously had not wanted to restrain himself at all.

Groaning, he presses another kiss to your face as he sleepily mumbles, “I love you, Y/n.” before squishing you even more against his chest. This was what he had longed for all week after all, he thought to himself, as he tried to ignore the bulge in his pants. This was going to be an extremely long and very torturous night for him… he just hopes he would fall asleep just as fast as you did. Morning could not come fast enough…

[residentevildash-moved]

why dont you wanna play re2make?

short answer: it simply doesnt appeal to me

long answer: going under cut LOL

[warning its really long and i start to sound mean near the end i think]

re2make lands in a specific & unfortunate spot where i cant enjoy it at face value as a res evil game, and i cant enjoy it in a dismissive "woah look how crazy this is lol" way, either. it just irks me a lot. ill try to explain

my first res evil game was the re1 remake, which was very faithful to the orig re1, in terms of gameplay and style. i LOVED this. then i went to play the next game in the series, and went for the re2 remake, since i (naive, new to this cruel world) figured it was a remake like the re1 remake, in terms of style & stuff, and. um! well. it isnt! right? its different, since it was made in 2019, and REmake was in......2002? i want to say? hold on. . . yeah 2002. so of course they werent going for the same style of remake. they were making it to appeal to modern game audiences, so it was less of a 1:1 and more of a re-imagining. and it doesnt try to say otherwise, it knows that its a re-telling/re-imagining, i was just not expecting that (again, naive, unaware of the hell that is capcom games)

right, so, i played maybe 5 minutes of re2r, and was like "i dont like this, im just going to play the original re2" and did that. i loved re2 a lot. i mean. <3 <3 <3 . so, as someone who's now attached to the orig re2, i have my perceptions of each of the characters and everything all living in the delicate ecosystem of my brain; near and dear 2 me etc. re2make is a whole different animal, and if it interacts with said ecosystem, all the little bugs are going to explode and blood disaster forever. this brings us to the section of my answer where i explain my beef with re2 remake leon

[id: "My beef with re2make Leon" in all caps]

i just dont like him. i dont like what they did with his character, i dont like how he looks, and i hate how fans talk about him, which he is unfortunately getting blamed for since seeing him reminds me of the vile shit that ive seen (whoever made the naked sexy whatever leon mod(?) is going to hell and im smashing them with hammers). ok. taking a step back. what actually wrong with him?

the simple answer is "hes just not leon." leon, in re2, is kind of a bitch, a guy who got blackout drunk (bc he was upset abt a breakup) the night before driving into raccoon city to be like 8 hours late for the first day of his job. which turned out to be zombies. which he fought while hungover the entire time. while being ridiculous & stupid. re2make 'leon' (i need the ' ' for my own sanity) is just some regular guy who doesnt have any of that going on. he has a lukewarm, generic personality and could be named matthew and it wouldnt make a difference. design wise, re2make 'leon' was also made to look friendly(?), or whatever the fuck, and his haircut is more generic, while re2 leon looks kind of mean (on purpose) and has the iconic curtain bangs. theyre just different characters, so it irks me that the re2r guy is considered to be leon. i know its subjective, but this is all just my opinion anyways. i do appreciate his existence though, because hes fodder for horny people, dbd players, and annoying people who call anything that moves a twink. its like this

so thanks 2 him for that

i also dont like what they did to claire, sinc she looks like debbie ryan and her dialogue is less cool. shes just lamer and more .. i dont know. generic Girl. claire is a badass and re2r claire is kind of nothing, but not as nothing as 'leon.' i just feel bad for what capcom did to her

you may have seen my other response to an ask abt wtrc, where i said i was ok with it being different from the source, so i just wanted to add that its different with re2r because 1. it takes itself seriously, 2. its a videogame so thats many hours of psychological torment as opposed to 1-2 hours 3. avan jogia as leon

i hope this answers your question? i guess the true answer is that i cannot play it because it will make me mad. i think its a fine game for other people to like, like, its a generic whatever """resident evil""" experience, but i just really dislike its entire angle. heres my fav image ive made abt this

and some bonus re2 pics/concept art if you made it to the end thanks for reading