#( comparison is killing me slowly // answers )

[scftsunshine]

muse tags

[alltheirdamn]

Killing Me Softly | (Joel x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 7 The Past

Summary: Memories of the past suspended in time. Rating: 18+ Word Count: 6k Warnings: *THIS CONTAINS SERIES SPOILERS* Pre-Outbreak AU, mentions of past trauma, mentions of loss and grief, mild violence, language, mentions of alcohol, yearning, angst A/N: Dare I say, this is my favorite chapter yet. If you haven't connected the pieces by now, then this will answer every question you've had. There were so many signs along the way, and I encourage you to go back and find each and every one. I know this doesn't soothe the heartbreak of the cliffhanger but please know this chapter is IMPORTANT. And we can all agree that Joel is the STANDARD. * I want to thank @loonmartell for helping me navigate this idea and creating a beautiful story that is slowly coming to fruition. You are truly a mastermind, and I give you all my thanks and love*

Masterlist | Ko-fi

~Three and a half years ago~

Joel paced the waiting room, consumed with guilt and anger. He shouldn’t have let you leave that night. Bennett had called you asking to meet for dinner under the guise of wanting to give back the things he still had been holding onto. Joel should have gone with you, should have told you to stay, should have broken Bennett’s jaw. Joel couldn’t have forced you to stay; he knew you needed closure. After the downfall of your relationship with Bennett, you deserved answers.

Whatever happened between leaving his house and the accident would remain a mystery, and Joel was ready to track Bennett down to find out the truth, but right now, all that mattered was you. 

Your mom rounded the corner, followed by the doctor, both of their faces grim. Joel’s knees threatened to buckle under him, the worst possible scenarios running through his head. 

“How is she? Is she alright?” He asked, the words jumbled together and confused.

The doctor raised a hand to slow Joel’s frenzy, and your mom’s eyes stared at the floor.

“She’s awake,” the doctor started. “But there were some… complications. We just finished taking her for some tests, and we’ve determined she’s sustained a form of retrograde amnesia.”

“She can’t remember the crash?” Joel questioned. He swiped his sweaty palms over the denim of his jeans, anxiety bubbling in his chest.

“After analyzing her CT scans and running some cognitive tests, it looks like she’s lost a large chunk of her memory,” the doctor explained.

“How large are we talkin’, doc? A few months?”

Your mom stepped forward, placing a hand on Joel’s shoulder. 

“She asked for Bennett when she woke up,” she whispered. 

“What the hell does that mean?” Joel snapped. 

“She has no recollection of the last two years,” the doctor said.

Joel staggered back, dragging a hand down his face. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t fucking happening.

“You’re tellin’ me she has no memory of me?” Joel shouted. 

“Joel, calm down,” your mom hushed, her eyes darting around the crowded waiting room. 

“Calm down?” He echoed. “Jesus, she doesn’t fuckin’ remember me! I need to see her. I need to—I need to tell her.”

The doctor stepped forward, a frown creasing his face.

“It’s imperative that we don’t disrupt her current condition. Any interference with her memory may cause more complications with the amnesia. If we force these forgotten memories on her, it’ll cause too much stress on her brain and ultimately lead to permanent damage. If we want her to regain her memory, we need to wait.”

“How long?” Joel pleaded. “How long do I need to wait?”

“We don’t know,” the doctor sighed. “With amnesia this serious, it could take weeks or even years. There’s no way to determine the timeline right now.”

Joel’s anger flared up, and he slammed his fist into the wall beside him. The pain radiating up his knuckles and hand was nothing in comparison to the pain splintering inside his chest. He was losing you, and you didn’t even realize it.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Miller,” the doctor said. “I know this isn’t easy, but it’s what’s best for her and her recovery right now.”

“But she doesn’t—.” Joel couldn’t get the words out. 

He crumpled to the ground with his head in his hands—two years' worth of memories together gone in a matter of seconds. You didn’t remember him. You didn’t know Joel loved you; you didn’t remember that you loved him. 

“Joel, sweetie,” your mom cautioned, crouching beside Joel. “You said she was with Bennett before the crash, right?”

Joel lifted his head and glared at your mom through teary eyes. He didn’t want to be reminded that Bennett had returned; he didn’t want to fathom the idea of him being in your life again.

“Don’t tell me you’re seriously thinkin’ about tellin’ him all this,” Joel said. “Y’know what he’s like with her. I can’t let her go and watch her be with him.”

“We need to contact him at least and tell him. If she thinks they’re still together…we must maintain that memory. We have to try. If it’s something Bennett wants and is willing to do, then we have to. I know you want to tell her everything, but her brain is so fragile right now. It’ll scare her, and I can’t risk losing my daughter entirely. Joel, I need you to understand what's best for her.”

“And y’all seriously think Bennett is what’s best for her?” Joel laughed bitterly.

“Of course we don’t, honey. The thought of Bennett comin’ back around kills me, but what if there’s a chance her memory will return sooner than we think? She won’t have to keep him in her life forever, but only until everything comes back to her.”

“And what if it doesn’t? Y’expect me to watch the woman of my dreams love another man? What if one day they get married? Or have kids? I’m supposed to pretend like none of this ever happened?” 

Christ, the thought of that made Joel sick. He didn’t want to see you continue the rest of your life with a man who didn’t treat you right. He couldn’t do this… He couldn’t stomach this plan. 

“Joel, listen to me,” your mom hissed, grabbing him by the collar. “We need to play the long game, okay? I’m not giving up hope on my daughter, and I know you won’t either. You love her, don’t you?”

Joel nodded helplessly, mouthing the word ‘yes.’

“Then wait for her. It won’t be easy for any of us, but we all need to want this. I’ll talk to my husband and the girls about this, and we’ll work through all the details. Lying isn’t easy, but it might be what ends up saving her memory.”

That night, Bennett showed up at the hospital. 

Joel wasn’t in his right mind when Bennett walked into the waiting room. The moment he saw his smug grin and floppy blonde hair, Joel lost it. 

“Motherfucker!” Joel yelled, sending his fist straight into Bennett’s jaw. 

Bennett reeled over, staggering back into a waiting room chair, while your dad pulled Joel away. A murmur of voices among the other bystanders dragged Joel from his vengeful haze, and he stared at Bennett unamused. He wanted to see him suffer the way he had been suffering. 

Bennett worked his jaw back and forth, glaring at Joel as he sat beside your mom. 

“This is the thanks I get for agreeing to meet with you guys?” Bennett huffed. 

“It’s your fault she’s in that fuckin’ bed,” Joel snapped. 

His body still thrummed with unbridled rage, his hands shaking at his sides. Stella, Beth, and your parents were all gathered around the waiting room, taking their respective spots in one of the chairs. Joel couldn’t sit. He didn’t want to be any part of this. 

“Joel,” your dad snapped. “Cool it.”

Joel folded his arms over his chest, staring daggers at Bennett as he made himself comfortable in his chair. Your mom leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. 

“Bennett, we need to know what happened before the accident,” she pleaded. “Joel said she was with you, so what happened?”

Bennett shrugged, stretching his legs out and crossing his arms. 

“I asked her to come back,” he said plainly, as if it were that simple. Joel seethed, his body twitching as he tried not to hit Bennett again. 

“Why?” Beth interjected. “You don’t even fucking like my sister. Why would you do that?”

“I do like your sister,” Bennett argued. “I told her I had made a mistake and that I wanted to try to make things work.”

Beth rolled her eyes, a scowl forming on her face. 

“You waited almost two years to make that discovery?” She cackled. “What actually happened?”

Bennett lifted a hand to his jaw, massaging the reddening skin as he quirked a brow at Joel. He was playing with fire; Joel just needed one more reason, and he’d kill Bennett on the spot.

“I told her to meet me for dinner to talk,” Bennett explained. “I still had a few of her stupid books she left behind, so I figured it was a good opportunity to meet with her. I tried to explain my side of things and why I wanted to give us another shot. She just laughed at me. She took her little books and left the restaurant without hearing any more of what I had to say.”

Joel felt a strange sense of pride knowing you had laughed in Bennett’s face, but given the circumstances, it quickly faded. A bitterness flooded his tongue at the thought of you returning to the life you had with Bennett, especially when he spoke of you with such disdain. 

“Why does any of that even matter?” Bennett questioned, looking between your parents.

Your mom cleared her throat and spoke up.

“The accident she was in caused some damage to her brain,” she began. “The doctors determined she has a form of amnesia. She doesn’t remember anything from the last two years.”

Bennett’s eyes grew wide, and he slid Joel a knowing look. 

“She thinks she’s still with me,” Bennett concluded. 

Your mom gave a solemn nod, running a hand through her hair. Joel could see the stress written all over her face, and he could see the pain in her eyes as she realized what was about to happen. 

“The doctors think it’s best not to overwhelm her with the memories she’s lost. We don’t want to do this, but it may be best if she resumes the life she thinks is still intact, which means introducing you back into her life. Is that something you’re open to, Bennett?”

Bennett didn’t say a word for several minutes. All he did was stare at his hands in silent contemplation. Beth and Stella sat unmoving, and Joel caught Stella sneaking glances ever so often. Finally, Bennett turned to Joel and studied him before speaking.

“And you’re in agreement with this?” He asked.

Joel gave a single nod, though he was reluctant to do so.

“I’m willin’ to wait for her. She needs time to regain those memories, and I don’t wanna cause any stress on her if she thinks she’s still with you. Trust me, I ain’t happy ‘bout it, but I love her.”

“And if she doesn’t get those memories back?” Bennett pressed.

“Then you better make her the happiest girl in the world and never fuck things up again,” Joel frowned. “I swear I’ll hunt you down if y’ever hurt her. I love her with my whole fuckin’ heart, and I’d do anythin’ to make sure she’s happy.”

“I love her, too, you know.”

Joel had a hard time believing Bennett, but there was a seriousness in Bennett’s eyes that made Joel’s heart ache. He was giving up the one good thing in his life to someone who didn’t deserve your love. Joel was a patient man, but that didn’t stop his heart from breaking. Who knew if you’d ever remember him again? He would have to live his life knowing you may never come back and that he’d have to carry that pain with him every single day. Hope was a fickle thing, one he would rather forego if he could just tell you the truth, but this was his only option. Joel would have to give you up. And he would do it because he loved you beyond all measure. 

Your parents took Bennett to meet with the doctors to discuss your current condition and the future it would entail. Joel stayed behind with Beth and Stella, the three of them blanketed by an insurmountable pain that couldn’t be healed. 

“What if we never see you again?” Stella asked, her eyes full of tears. 

Joel sat beside her, pulling her into his arms and letting her head rest on his shoulder. She was only fifteen, but Joel knew she was aware of the gravity of the situation. Even though she was older than Sarah, he always viewed Stella like another daughter; he had watched her grow up the last two years, and Joel adored her just as much as he did for his daughter. 

“Y’gotta stay strong for me, Stell,” Joel sighed, squeezing her shoulder. “She's gonna get those memories back one day, and I’ll be right there when she does. None of y’all will ever lose me. I swear that to you.”

Stella sniffled back tears, curling into Joel’s embrace. He glanced at Beth beside him, giving her a sad smile.

“I’m trustin’ you to look out for her, okay?” He said. “She needs you more than anyone. I know you ain’t happy ‘bout all of this, and I sure as hell ain’t either, but it’s gonna be okay.”

“I don’t agree with any of this,” she grumbled. “I hate him, Joel. I hate all of this.”

“I hate it, too, Beth,” Joel said. “But I love her more, and I’m willin’ to wait for her.”

Beth exhaled, slumping back into the chair. Joel could tell she wanted to say more, but she held her tongue. Joel knew Beth’s anger ran deep for Bennett, and he hoped she’d learn to give you grace through all this. It wasn’t your fault this decision was being made. It was what they all thought was best. 

Your mom returned an hour later to gather the girls and usher them home for the rest of the night. Joel’s head was throbbing from all of the stress, and he was on edge, knowing his time with you was running out. 

“Is she asleep?” Joel asked.

“The doctors gave her a heavy sedative to help her get through the night,” your mom explained. “In the morning, they’ll run a few more tests and figure out when it’ll be okay to discharge her.”

“Can I see her?” He pleaded. “Just so I can say goodbye?” 

The words tasted like ash on his tongue. Goodbye was a word he never wanted to associate with you. He wanted the good nights and good mornings but never a goodbye.

“Of course, sweetie,” your mom said, tears slipping down her face. 

Joel realized he wasn’t just saying goodbye to you but to your family as well. A family that had welcomed him in so quickly, a family he had spent holidays with and visited in the summer, he was losing an entire group of people he loved so dearly. 

Joel thought he was strong enough to see you, but as he opened the hospital door, he realized how wrong he was. Your face was littered with cuts and bruises, your right eye swollen shut, and your hair matted down with dried blood. It took every ounce of his energy not to collapse at the sight of you lying there, and he moved on unsteady legs to your bedside. 

He barely managed to say your name as the syllables broke out in a choked sob. He took your hand, his thumb smoothing lines over your balmy skin. Tears fell onto your fingers as he lifted your hand to his mouth, crying softly as he pressed a kiss against it.

“Oh, baby,” he cried. “I love you so fuckin’ much. I’m so fuckin’ sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so—.”

Joel wept over your body for what felt like an eternity. He let his head hit the bed, your hand pressed against his wet cheek, inhaling the lingering scent of your perfume. Every memory with you flooded his mind: mornings spent together drinking coffee, lazy afternoons laying on the couch while you read your favorite books, weekends at the soccer fields with Sarah. 

Joel’s life had flipped upside down in the span of just a few hours, and you’d never know the decision he had to make for the sake of your health. He wasn’t the praying type, but if there were a God up there, he’d spend every night on his knees begging for you to come home to him. 

“I love you, baby,” Joel whispered. “Even if you never remember it, I’ll carry you with me forever.”

Joel leaned up to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering a second too long. He never wanted to leave this room because everything would be gone once he did. All he’d have left were the memories and an undying hope you’d wake up one day remembering his face. 

Joel spent the next two days gathering your things from his house. He piled your books into a box, along with the miscellaneous items you had littered his home with. He clung to your shirts and held them to his chest, wishing it was you in his arms. Scattered on the fridge were Polaroid pictures you had taken of Joel throughout the two years, and he slipped them away for when he was ready to relive the memories—not yet, but one day. 

Sarah came home from school and saw the boxes next to the front door, giving Joel a weary look.

“What’s happening?” She asked.

Joel crouched in front of her, taking her head in his hands. He managed to say your name without faltering and explained everything to his daughter in the simplest way he could.

“She doesn’t remember me?” Sarah murmured, her eyes welling with tears. 

Joel hadn’t realized the heartbreak Sarah would be facing, too.

“No, sweetheart,” Joel shook his head. “But one day she will, I promise. You’ll be my tough girl and help Daddy through this, alright? We’re gonna wait for her ‘cause she’s gonna come back. I promise she’ll be back one day, and she’ll be right there on the sidelines again cheerin’ you on.”

“I’m gonna miss her,” Sarah cried, crashing into Joel’s chest and wrapping him into a hug.

“I’m gonna miss her too, sweetheart.”

~ Two years ago ~

Joel’s phone rang well past midnight. Through tired eyes, he searched for it on his nightstand and prayed it was you, but an unknown number lit up the screen, and Joel’s heart stopped.

“Hello?” He answered, his voice roughened from sleep.

“I can’t do it.”

It was Bennett’s voice, frantic and shaky. Joel shot up in bed, his heart pounding out of his chest.

“What do y’mean you ‘can’t do it’?” Joel questioned.

“I—I can’t do it, man. We’re supposed to get married tomorrow, and I can’t fucking do it. She’s making me crazy. You know she says your name in her sleep? She still can’t remember shit, yet all she does is say your name when she’s sleeping. I’m losing my mind.” He was rambling through words so quickly Joel could barely keep up.

“Y’can’t just leave her like this,” Joel said. “Do y’know how much you’re gonna hurt her? You waited ‘til now to decide you didn’t wanna go through with the weddin’? Y’know how fuckin’ stupid you are?”

Bennett exhaled loudly through the receiver, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“I’m never going to make her happy, and she won’t make me happy. I’m not doing this.”

Joel scrubbed a hand over his face and stared up at the ceiling fan, turning above the bed.

“Alright, listen,” Joel started. “You get your shit together, and you leave. Find some job in another state and never come back. She doesn’t deserve this, and she definitely doesn’t deserve the heartbreak you’re ‘bout to give her. So, you take your ass and get the fuck out of town. And I swear, if you ever come back or even try to contact her again, I will kill you. Do y’understand me? I will fuckin’ kill you.”

“You’re threatening a future lawyer?” Bennett laughed. 

“I don’t give a damn what you are, Bennett. I’ll take a gun to your head the next time I see you and not even think twice ‘bout pullin’ the trigger,” Joel threatened, speaking through clenched teeth.

“She’ll never forgive you for it,” Bennett countered. “And don’t even think about coming back into her life, either. She’s better off without either one of us. God help the next guy who tries to get with her. She’s a fucking wreck.”

Joel seethed, the room going red. How dare Bennett talk about you like this? Joel should have never left you. He should have fought harder. He should have killed Bennett before he could have ever had the chance to come back. 

“I suggest you pack your shit quick, or I’ll find you ‘fore the night is over,” Joel growled. “Get the fuck out of town, you fuckin’ piece of shit.”

Joel slammed his phone shut and slumped against the headboard. Bennett would be out of your life, but at what cost? He knew this would destroy you. God, he couldn’t even fathom the heartbreak you’d face in the morning when you arrived for the wedding. Joel didn’t even let himself imagine what you’d look like, dressed in a beautiful white wedding gown. Bennett didn’t deserve you; he never did. But Joel didn’t deserve you either. You were too good for either of them. 

~ Three months ago ~ 

“Dad, I need to tell you something,” Sarah announced, walking through the front door.

She had just finished her first day of school, and Joel had gotten off work early to be home in time to hear all about it. 

The last two years had been a blur of endless work days and long nights spent drinking in the dark. He was drowning himself away in bottles of whiskey, trying to forget you and the pain that still lingered. He had considered going to you so many times to spill the truth and beg you to come back into his life. But he knew better than that. He knew you deserved a normal life without the reminder of the past. 

Joel looked up from the stove where he was cooking dinner. Sarah's face was etched with concern, and her lips trembled as she tried to speak.

“Sweetheart, what is it?” Joel panicked. 

He dropped the spatula on the counter and rushed to Sarah’s side, holding her firm by the shoulders.

“My—my teacher,” she muttered. “It’s her.”

Joel felt the world tilt on its axle, his body swaying at Sarah’s words. 

“Tell me y’didn’t say anythin’ to her,” Joel begged. 

“No, I—I didn’t. I swear. I don’t even know what I would say,” Sarah rambled. 

“Okay, alright. It’s okay. It’s okay,” Joel exhaled. He needed to sit down. 

Pulling out one of the dining chairs, Joel collapsed entirely, burying his head in his hands. Sarah rubbed a hand over his back, gently attempting to soothe him.

“Maybe this is your chance, Dad,” Sarah suggested. “It’s been enough time now. Maybe she’ll be able to handle the truth about everything.”

Joel loved Sarah’s optimism and her bright outlook on everything. Whenever Joel was ready to give up hope, Sarah was right there to guide him back. She was right, it was an opportunity to start over again, but he didn’t want to fuck it up. He wouldn’t lose you twice. 

“I’ll think ‘bout it, okay?” Joel sighed. “Let me finish cookin’ dinner, and y’can tell me all ‘bout your day.”

Joel sat across from Sarah, his food untouched the entire time she talked. He had no appetite. All he wanted to do was ask her about you: what you looked like, what your voice sounded like, what books you would teach the class. He knew poetry was your favorite. You would stay up late reading together in bed. You would always chime in with little factoids or comments about the book, and Joel would always sit there listening to every word. Shakespeare was your favorite, and Joel loved watching your face scrunch with concentration as you tried to explain the meaning behind each play. When he packed up your things three and a half years ago, he secretly kept your copy of Romeo and Juliet. Sometimes, when he was drunk enough, Joel would flip through the pages just to trace over your scribbled words and annotations, just to relive a moment kept in secret between the two of you. 

Now, his daughter would experience your passion for teaching firsthand. He was a proud son of a bitch, knowing you were following your dreams. 

“Dad,” Sarah’s voice cut through Joel’s wandering thoughts.

He glanced up from his full plate and shook his head.

“Sorry, sweetheart. What did you say?”

“I was saying there’s a father-daughter dance in a couple of weeks,” she repeated. “Maybe she’ll be there. You could see her again.”

“Yeah, maybe. I gotta see if I can get ‘round work to be there.”

Joel was all too familiar with Sarah's look of disappointment; he had seen it far too often these last couple of years. His role as a father had been lacking for a while now; he was lost in the haze of losing you, so much so that he was losing himself. Unfortunately, Sarah had been the one suffering the most because of it. 

“I’ll make it work, sweetheart,” Joel decided. “I promise.”

After Sarah went to bed, Joel sat on the couch, nursing a short glass of whiskey. He stared at the liquid as he swirled it around, the amber color shimmering under the dim light of the lamp beside him. His phone lay open on his thigh, Beth’s number sitting there waiting to be dialed. Joel had barely spoken to your sister since he last saw her at the hospital, but he knew she would be his first call. 

Dialing her number, Joel took a long sip of his drink and waited.

“Joel?” Beth exhaled, her voice groggy from sleep.

“Hey, yeah.” Joel cleared his throat. “It’s me. I, um, I have some news.”

“Did she…” Beth’s voice trailed off.

“No, no. Not yet, at least. Um, Sarah’s first day of school was today, and I found out she’s her teacher. Funny how that happens, right?” 

“Wait, my sister? Actually?” Beth sounded shocked.

“Yup,” Joel sighed. “Sarah thinks I should try and talk to her, Whatdaya think?”

Beth remained silent, and Joel cleared the contents of his glass as he waited.

“I don’t know if telling her everything right away is smart,” she said. “I mean, I haven’t talked to her a lot in the past couple of years, so maybe I’m wrong.”

“Y’all haven’t talked?” Joel questioned.

“She and I haven’t spoken since the whole wedding ordeal,” she confessed. 

“Wait, why?”

Joel sat up, one hand clutching the phone, the other smoothing over the curls sticking up on the crown of his head. He never thought you and Beth would ever be on bad terms.

“I warned her about Bennett. I tried to talk her into leaving so many times, but she was so stubborn. I don’t know what he said or did to her to make her stay, but she was always at his defense. I hated seeing her with him, Joel. It should have always been you.”

“I know, Beth. I know.”

“Have you considered maybe completely starting over?” Beth asked.

“Like in what way? Datin’?”

“Yeah. Maybe introduce yourself and see where things go. She might not regain her memory, but you’d have new memories together. She deserves to be loved the right way, and you’re the one who can give her that. Take things slow and test the water. You never know.”

Joel considered the idea for a moment. It could work, but what if it didn’t? What if he completely fucked up his second chance with you? He would have to live the rest of his life knowing he lost you twice.

“You’re suggestin’ I lie to her?” Joel scoffed.

“No,” Beth argued, her voice stern. “I’m suggesting you work your charm like you did the first time and see where it goes. She loved you once before, Joel. I think she could love you again.”

Beth’s words were enough of a push for Joel actually to consider that this might work. He knew you. He knew what you liked and didn’t like; he knew every tiny piece of you so that it wouldn’t be hard to sweep you off your feet again. The only problem he had with the plan was lying. If you ever found out the truth, it would crush you. And that terrified him. He didn’t want to break your heart; Bennett had done a good enough job of it, and Joel would never be like him. He would be better. He would prove himself. 

“Do y’think your family would agree to this?” Joel asked.

“None of us ever gave up hope, Joel,” Beth sighed. “This could be a chance for all of us to get her back—to get the old version of her back. We miss her a lot.”

“I miss her, too.”

“Go get your girl, Joel. She’s waiting for you.”

Joel spent that night wide awake in bed. The idea he could have you back in his life again set his body alight with a mixture of anxiety and fear. Beth could be right; you could love him again. There was that hope that maybe he could rewrite the past and start anew, but there was also that terrible fear you could slip away from him…permanently. You never regained your memories, and there was a good chance you never would, but not taking this risk would condemn Joel to a life full of grief. He knew grief well; he had walked side by side with it for the last three and a half years. If he could just hold you for one moment and hear you say his name one more time, that would be enough.

When Joel awoke the following day, he had made up his mind; he would keep fighting for you. 

He called Maria before school began and explained it all to her. Joel knew Maria had taken the news of your accident the hardest; you and her had always been close. She was like a mother to you here in Austin. Learning how to navigate around your memory loss had been tricky for her, but Joel knew she had done right by you. 

It was no surprise when Maria squealed with excitement over the phone, meticulously creating a master plan to bring you both together again. She promised to talk you into chaperoning the father-daughter dance and vowed to continue pushing you his way. Joel had to remind Maria that he was the one in control here; he needed to be the one to make everything work. Knowing everyone was on his side and willing to help ease his mind. 

He was going to get you back. 

~ Two Months Ago ~

Joel was running late. He had forgotten entirely about the father-daughter dance, and now he was speeding through yellow lights to make it home. He promised Sarah he’d go, but if he was being honest, the thought of seeing you again made him overwhelmingly nervous. What would he say to you? What would you think of him? What if he ruined his second chance?

Bolting through the garage, Joel called out for Sarah in a rush. She came barreling down the stairs in a blur of lavender and Joel had to stop his racing thoughts to admire his daughter.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Joel smiled. “Y’look beautiful.”

“You’re late,” she frowned. “We need to go now.”

She tugged his hand back toward the garage and into the truck. While Joel grappled with the reality that he was going to see you again, Sarah was buzzing with excitement. She saw you every day at school, but this was different. She wasn’t just seeing you… she was going to see you and Joel together in the same room since before the accident. Sarah never got to say a proper goodbye when everything happened, and Joel knew it was hard for Sarah to maintain a semblance of composure every time she sat at her school desk. The memories of you two together were embedded so deep it was hard for Sarah to ignore. Before the school year, Sarah would try to talk about you with Joel from time to time, trying to cling to the nostalgia of the past. Joel knew the suffering wasn’t just his alone; Sarah lost you that day, too. 

Joel’s hands were shaking as he put the truck in park, his eyes unsteady as he tried to focus on the school's entrance. You were somewhere inside that gymnasium; he could feel it. It was like a silent call, a tug on an invisible string, an asteroid coming into orbit. You were the pull on his gravity, just beckoning him closer. 

“Dad, c’mon!” Sarah begged, unlocking the door.

She was already skipping down the parking lot before Joel could put his keys in his back pocket. He urged her to return so they could walk inside together—maybe because he needed the moral support. He had everyone on his side for this plan, but if he fucked it up, it wouldn’t just be his loss. It would be everyone’s. 

The gymnasium was covered in twinkling lights, and the basketball court transformed into a dance floor for the evening. Joel’s eyes bounced around the room, searching for you within the crowd. Through the crowd of moving bodies, he couldn’t find you. Maybe you weren’t here; maybe it was too late. 

Joel refused to be defeated this quickly and decided to remain focused on Sarah. At the end of the day, this dance was for her. He watched as she mingled with her friends, fawning over each other's dresses and gossiping about the latest drama. Joel remained on the outer edge of the dance floor, his palms damp from sweat and his pulse racing. 

The music shifted to a slow song, and Sarah quickly found Joel and pulled him onto the dancefloor. Seeing her excitement alleviated the bundle of anxiety pulsating inside his chest. He watched as her dress floated around her with every turn, the dimples on her face appearing as he continued twirling her around. The music was slowly drifting to a close, and Joel ushered Sarah in for one last spin. He couldn’t contain the smile on his face as he watched her happiness radiate into the space around him. He maneuvered himself around her twirling body and glanced up toward the side of the gym.

Everything around him ceased to exist at that moment. Amidst the blurring bodies and the chaos of voices, the world stood still. There you were, standing quietly in the shadows, your body bathed in flickering lights, like a lighthouse in the distance of a stormy sea. Joel silently pleaded for you to look at him, even for a second.

As if you heard his thoughts, your eyes met his for a fleeting moment, and it’s as if you saw him. The room melted away, and it was just you and him for the briefest moment in time. Joel swore you looked at him as if you remembered…as if you had searched the room just to find him. The erratic beating of his heart slowed, his body recognizing the strange comfort of your presence even at a distance. Every cell, every atom, every piece of himself cried out to you. 

You saw him.

And he smiled.

[achelouise]

Lies, mysteries, and tricks

Fandom: Honkai Starail

Pairing: Sunday/Gen!reader, MENTIONED Gallagher/reader

Warnings: Spoilers for 2.1 and written before 2.2! Very toxic, from both sides, I think? Maybe OOC Sunday.

Summary: You learn about Robin's death, and rush to console Sunday. He isn't the thing you should be worrying about, though.

A/N: It's been a while! Came back to write this, because I couldn't stop thinking about this idea. It's rushed, and it's not really well-written, and it's short. Please forgive me~ (I am obsessed with Gallagher rn, so if anyone has any ideas I would love to hear and write about them :D (I still don't know how to properly use tumblr btw))

“Sunday? Are you in there?”

No answer. You drum your fingers against your sides nervously.

“Sunday, can we talk? Please?”

Still no answer. Your heart beats widely in your chest.

You ignore your thunderous heart as you slowly push the doors of the mansion open. The creaking doors echo and bounce along the empty halls, revealing a giant room, devoid of any light. A luxurious bed, dorned with lights and gems and painted with beautiful colors, is tucked away at the very side of the room. Sunday’s bedroom.

The factions had established that, other than the man himself, Sunday’s blood-related family, along with his spouse, would have access to it. Sunday himself had no permission to grant access to anyone, so you are surprised when the bellhop simply glanced at you and let you in without protest.

You could only guess it was because you two were close friends, and they were used to seeing you enter the Pavilion as children. Still, to enter his bedroom must be a breach in security…

But he wasn’t in any other room you could find. Time was slipping, lives were being lost, and you needed to find him. Fast.

You’re not exactly in the know. Most things you know, only Gallagher has told you. But you know full well that Sunday needs support.

“Sunday, please. I know I haven’t visited in… a while. I know what happened, and I’m sorry. Let’s work this out together. Don’t run away. Please?”

Only your echoes answer.

You were rambling to yourself at this point, desperation climbing further and further up to your chest. You have seen what Sunday does when he loses those he loves- and you want to help him. You don’t ever want to see him like that again. Never again.

You glance at the papers scattered on his desk. Maybe they have some information on where he went. He likes to rant in diaries.

You close your eyes, and pray to whatever Aeon you follow.

Forgive my sins for ever trespassing privacy to this extent. 

You don’t exactly have a clear mind when you start to rummage through the papers that endured wear and tear. You start to read some.

How could she do this?

It’s fine. It’s fine. Itsfineitsfineitsfineitsfineitsfine

Robin. Dear Aeons, Robin. 

When I find the traitor I will make them pay in blo o d 

Please don’t leave me please

Please please please please pleasepleas  e 

Your stomach drops. Poor Sunday.

Something else catches your eye, though. A soft reflection of a photo, pinned at the corner of the widespread desk. You lean over to take a good look at it.

You bite your lip so hard it nearly breaks skin. But even that dulls in comparison to the piles and piles of photos- all of them just you and Gallagher.

There are a wide range of those photos; from you two sitting across each other in the Dreamjolt Hostelry, to your hands linked together, faces flushed and smiles bright. All of them, with Gallagher’s face crossed out with glaring, red circles.

How dare he HOW DARE HE HOW DARE HE

HE DID IT  HE KILLED HER   HE TOOK THEM   I WILL MAKE HIM PAY

The words are jagged and rough, as if he had barely managed to carve it out with his bare hands. It is a gigantic contrast to the sweet and elegant cursives he writes in his letters to you. It almost made you believe it wasn’t even Sunday who wrote this.

But you’re not stupid. You swallow the bile down your throat as your stomach churns with heightened fear and uncertainty. Sunday is a clever man, which makes him infinitely more dangerous.

Admittedly, he is far more unhinged than the public understands. You’ve never had a problem with it- only crazy can recognize crazy, and that was probably how he uncovered the plan of that gambler.

This doesn’t work in your favor, though. You don’t want to know what it means when he directs this insanity towards you.

You turn to leave.

“Ah, you found me.”

A hand shoots out to grip your arm, and you have no time to react. Shock, as quick as it comes, is slow to settle down. You try to scream.

“Oh Triple-Faced Soul, please seal this traitor's tongue and palms with a hot iron, so that the traitor will not be able to fabricate lies and make false vows.”

No.

Your whole body goes cold. You feel it- the soft waves of Harmony pulsing in your head, trapping your tongue and seeing through your eyes. You had seen its effect- seen how it slaughters and breaks those who disobey. But to receive this kind of treatment yourself…

You finally process the dangerous situation you’re in, and wrench free from his grasp. You regain your stance as you stumble backwards, a question on the tip of your tongue. “Why?”

Sunday looks… off. His clothes are askew, his eyebags more apparent without the illusion of Harmony, and a smile, out of place and out of his mind. He chuckles, far too gentle, so much so that it sends shivers down your spine.

“You know how this goes, don’t you?” he coos, berating and condescending. “Answer my questions truthfully, or suffer the rejection of the Harmony.”

“Why would I ever lie to you?” you ask, “What is there even to ask?”

His eye twitches. His voice drops an octave, laced with poison and jealousy. “You know perfectly well what I mean.”

He breathes in, regaining his footing as the questions begin. “Are you interested in Gallagher? Is he interested in you?”

You think of him. A few hours ago, he insisted he came along to find Sunday with you. You’re starting to regret that decision. “Yes- and, I… I think so.”

Sunday tsks. “Do you know what he is? What it is?”

You cross your arms. “No. He is not human, but I am not exactly a young damsel in distress myself.”

“Do you not understand? That that man is nothing but a memetic entity, with thousands of truths woven together as a lie? Do you not know that the man you hold hands with killed Robin in cold blood? Why would you want to be with a foul beast like him?”

You are taken aback at the venom in Sunday’s tone. He isn’t even hiding it anymore. His breathing is ragged, and his eyes are blown wide.

“I… didn’t.” you admit, far too overwhelmed by his genuine frustration to confirm the validity in his claims.

Sunday suddenly withdrawals, as if sensing he has taken you off guard. He draws himself to his full height, casting a shadow with the light outside in the halls. The pulses in your head die out, as if they were never there.

“You are being tricked, dearest. He is not the man you think he is. He is a monster, a murderer, that serves under a shameful stain. Join me, in the pursuit of the Watchmaker. We can make all of them pay in blood.”

He rants, and you feel your heart sink. He is unstable because of this recent loss, but he has clearly not lost his mind. There is still rhyme and reason to what he does.

“My past? Hah, let’s not get into that just yet. I’ll tell you- someday.”

You glance down at the hand he offers you. His gaze is tender, but far too fragile. His lips are quivering, a silent plea.

You want to reject him. You want to scream at him, punch him, and run away, as far as possible. Gallagher had promised he would explain himself one day, and you had not mentally prepared yourself to know.

But given the unstable state he was in, it is unwise to simply respond with violence.

You reach out for his hand- only for a blade, dark and violet laced with gold, piercing from his stomach. Blue liquid pours from his gut, and this time, you truly do scream.

You don’t hear anything. The withdrawal of the blade is defeated by the look of despair and shock in Sunday’s eyes. He reaches for your hand, in a blind desperation- only to dissipate at the softest graze into a sea of bubbles.

Your heart thunders in your ribcage. A silent dread washes over you, and you hear your breaths grow shorter.

A lighter goes out.

Strong, warm arms envelop you. 

A voice, low and gruff, tells you that it’s going to be okay. The voice hovers over your ear, gentle and sweet, almost fabricated to ghost over your ear in a way you can’t refuse. You don’t respond, though, as you feel a sharp cut to your neck, and you’re out like a light.

[witchofhimring]

Disloyalty (Loyalty sequel) preview

After being killed by Alys Rivers in her first life, Y/n Tyrell is taken to the night Aemond Targaryen married another. In her first life she was a pawn first for Joan Tyrell. Now with a heart full of hate Y/n will strive to be the opposite of what she once was, loyal. She will take revenge for her slain son, and the girl she once was.

Pairings:

Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell Reader

Aemond Targaryen x Ellyn Baratheon

Alys x Aemond Targaryen

Jaecerion Targaryen (OC) x Reader

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, trauma, mentions of child morality emotional turmoil, death, unrequited love?, humiliation by Ellyn Baratheon, marital abuse,marital consummation, misogamy(internalized as well as external), brief depictions of smut, morally ambiguous reader, ptsd

Extra long spoiler as a treat😘

'Y/n, Princess Ellyn has summoned you.' Pulled out of your thoughts, you saw one of Ellyn's handmaidens standing by the door. Oh, right. You were in Ellyn's service at this time. In all honesty it was a bit funny. Once she had terrorized you so, now the hatred had melted that fear. Besides, there were those you now hated more. Despite that you remembered the interaction clearly. Being imprisoned for months on end gave one time to reminisce. You had poured over every detail and thought of ways you could avenge yourself. And to your savage delight you could. She would dismiss Cerilla and have you alone tend to her. And on a table near by were nails filers. Sharp pieces of metal to style nails, or slice through skin.

In that moment a thought occurred to you. Had the handmaiden, who had now departed, seen the smile that curled upon your face she might have thought twice. G etting up you decided that yes, you would be more than happy to help. Slowly you made the walk to Ellyn's chambers. Last time you had walked slowly out of nerves. Now you did so in order for the time to be right. Your hands shook with excitement. Oh, she would regret summoning you. Whatever accusation she hurled would pale in comparison to what was about to happen. She wanted to ruin your reputation, you would destroy hers.

You enter Ellyn's bathing chambers one had to walk through her bedroom. Six ladies sat sewing or talking in low voices. Good. They would hear the scream. A few looked up and you, one or two gave greetings. No one seemed to notice you looked unnaturally gleeful. A maid opened the door and you stepped into the moist, heavily perfumed room. It was like stepping back in time, because you were. Everything was just as it was last time. Ellyn in a bath, Cerilla fussing over her hair and a maid. Cerilla gave you a nasty look. She was standing right over the water and you imagined giving Cerilla a shove, holding her underneath the waves as she struggled for breath. You would deal with Cerilla later. 'You. Get the herbs.' It was strange to see Ellyn so healthy. Jaecerion had not gotten to her yet. 'You never should have been so cruel to me.' You thought.

Nothing was said as you placed the herbs in warm water. You could feel Ellyn's cold blue eyes on you. Luxuriously she stretched out and eyed you imperiously. She had no idea what was about to happen. 'I think this suits you.' You wanted to say something. Ellyn no longer scared you as she once had. But for your plan to work everything had to go as it did last time. 'The Princess is speaking to you.' Yipped Cerilla the little lap dog. 'If the Princess whishes me to answer she may say so herself.' You heard the water splash as Ellyn got up and in a moment was out of the tub. Her nails dug into your skin just as they had last time. Back then it had hurt, but since then you had faced far worse. There were no tears in your eyes. Because you were no longer that little girl. You had always been prideful, but back then had buckled under Ellyn.

'I am the Princess, you are my lady in waiting! You are nothing compared to me.' When her grip tightened you cried out. Louder than last time so they would all heart. 'I will keep you by my side if only to further vex you. Every night I will have you wait as my husband loves me. And when I have his son you may be here to assist. Then maybe I'll send you to the Silent Sister to release you from your torment.' Cerilla and the maid left, the door slamming shut. This was so easy you wanted to laugh. Last time she had laughed, you remembered. Not this time.

'How do you know it will be a boy.' You had leaned in very closely. The whisper could only be heard by you two. A hot ugly flush crept up her cheeks. 'No laughter?' You thought. Suddenly you were thrown back against the table. Behind you could hear the clattering of nail files. 'I am simply curious, no brothers...I mean. And I have heard some men put away...deficient wives. Perhaps you, not I, will be sent to the Silent Sisters.' Ellyn's hands closed about your throat. Her thin nails scratched at the skin. 'You bitch! I will have you flayed alive!' She hissed. Suddenly Ellyn jerked back, because in your hand was the nail file. It sparkled n the sunlight. Pale, unmoving, Ellyn stood here frozen. Then she sneered. 'I am a princess. You can not harm me.' 'Oh, your right. You seized her by the arm. An insidious smile curled on your lips, shocking the princess. And then in front of Ellyn you cried out 'Please don't hurt me!' all the while smiling. You forced the nail file between thin fingers, the sharp edge pointed right towards you. 'But you can harm me'. That was when Ellyn, with horror, realized what you were about to do. But it was too late. Pointing the razor towards flesh, you stabbed.

Note: I decided you provide you guys with an extra juicy piece today! I am so so so excited and have already started on book 2. The first chapter will be up in a few months because I really want to take my time with part 2. The problem I found were continuity errors that I will need to go back and fix. The first six chapters will be written and edited before released so that I will not be rushing through. Any major edits I do will be explained. In the mean time feel free to ask any questions. You guys have honestly been amazing and made writing a true joy. Words can not describe how thankful I am. I know when you guys comment I write thing like "glad you like it" and sorry if that comes off as repetitive. It is a bit difficult to respond because I get kind of flustered with all the lovely comments you guys give me💕. I want you guys to know that I am actually very grateful.

From now to when the first chapter of book 2 comes out I will be working on editing other stories and putting out one shots. See you guys soon!

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[yearningaces]

Oh Nyx. So small, so cute, so fragile. One flick of the wrist and he just might break.

So precious, so breakable.

And he almost revels in this idea, curled up in your arms, just a wee thing. Brown and white ears and fluffy tail twitching occasionally in his sleep. His back legs more akin to fur covered paws kicking in his slunber just lightly.

His little nose twinges slightly as his movements increase in his sleep, eyes squeezing shut, heart racing

And he's startled awake. Sitting straight up in the dark cold room of his family's burrow. Relaxation comes slowly when he can only see so far in the dark, but his ears are perked up and he hears his family he'd come to visit with his partner... Speaking of partners, why can't he hear his lovely human-

Nyx feels his heart drop as he turns to find you wide awake, watching him with dilated eyes that can see far more in this dark. He can see the light reflecting off of your eyes just enough to know you're there. You can see him entirely. He didn't even hear you and you're almost on top of him. The bunny boy has to steady his breathing and force himself to relax, his sweet human is a predator, but a nice predator... To him at least.

"Are you alright?" Your voice seems to break your silent trance as you lean closer, sitting up and easily dwarfing him in size.

Nyx easily hops onto your lap, ears tucked back against his head as his arms try to wrap around you with... Some success. "Yeah, yes. Dreamt a fox was chasing me." Hardly a predator in comparison to the one he'd fallen into the arms of just now.

You can so easily lift him up, and just hold him in your arms, cradled to your chest with care as you lay back. "A fox, hm?" Your tone seems contemplative to the bunny boy. He can only imagine what you'll say next but certainly isn't expecting- "Pesky vermin. I've chased some of them away from my trash before. They won't get close to you."

Nyx feels a twinge of something creeping up his spine. You so easily mention chasing away the sort of predator that would haunt a creature like him. And you say it as if it's nothing. There's no question of if you'd do so again. Just a silent vow that he'll be safe. And something easy enough for you to swear that you seem so relaxed about it, stroking his back, soothing his nerves how you do best.

By being the scariest predator he's ever met, and loving him.

"You mean it?" His voice is uncharacteristically quiet in the dark, trying not to wake his family, wondering just how he woke you originally, especially without even realizing it.

Nyx can feel your grip tighten just slightly, though he can see your muscles are still relaxed in your arm, he's left amazed by how strong the grasp is. No doubt if you used your full strength he'd be carried away with more than one splintered rib. But you're careful, you're gentle. Not by nature, but by choice. And somehow that's far more chilling.

Because when you don't want to be gentle, when something has him nervous and seeking your comfort? You're gentle demeanor fades just enough to remind him that he's so very lucky his human loves him, and he is very lucky to have such a predators affections.

Your voice is a low grumble as you respond to his question, a sound that sets the alarms in his head on high alert. "Killing any animal is easy, especially if it gets close enough on its own. I just need one good shot at it, and I'll have free meat to store in the freezer, maybe a nice fur to craft with as well."

Right. Carnivore. "Why keep the pelt?" Nyx questions softly, trying to find a more soothing conversation to sleep to. The answer is...

"I like fur. Humans don't have any, it's also why I like petting your ears all the time. They're so soft, you're so precious, I could just eat you up. But then you wouldn't be here to be all affectionate and talk with me. So I'll keep eating whatever I hunt or buy, and keep a few pelts to either craft with or sell."

Your answer seems so casual to you. To Nyx he's feeling multiple things, but above it all pride. His partner, his lovely mate is such a capable predator and keeps him so safe.

After a moment he snuggles closer, nuzzling into your warmth with a content sigh, feeling safer already. With his face pressed into your collarbone he can easily press a few small kisses across the exposed skin. His own delight grows once Nyx feels you lean down to press your lips against his forehead so sweetly.

Nyx settles into your bigger form, relaxing against the softness and firmness as you cover yourself and him up with the blanket once more to settle back to sleep. Not releasing him all the while. Good. He prefers it this way.

So in a way, he relishes in how scary his human is. How strong you are, compared to him and his kind. He loves feeling your gentle grasp- knowing you're choosing to be gentle because you love him. And also that if you didn't care his poor little self would be in so much danger.

It really proves that you love him so much, and that he trust you sooo much

So hold him a little closer, maybe even a little tighter? He won't break, he knows you won't break him.

Even if it would be just so easy

[ataraxiaspainting]

Heyy!! I don’t know if you still do Chrollo fics , but if you’re doing recommendations/commissions , can you make something like where the readers like “do you think you’ll kill for me one day?” and he’s like “yes. of course I will my darling” ?? It’s based off a sound I heard somewhere .. I think the song is called “I want it all” by Lana del ray. Thank you!! 🫶

damn he really would say that huh?

Bad Habit.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader.

Synopsis: “Where there is carnage, there is beauty.”

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, general anxiety and uneasiness, references to disturbing works of art (Saturn Devouring His Son, The Nightmare, Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivan), manipulation, and talks of violence.

Word Count: 900.

*~*~*~*

There are as many things people can see as beautiful as there are shades of light shining through a prism.

Spectrums are quite common along with comparison and placement. It varies greatly from person to person, their preferences and their life experiences and their joys, and their fears.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, yes, but the eye of the beholder is also the window to their soul, to their psychological responses and traumas and memories of a past that would rather either be forgotten or worshiped. Every soul is different, and there is beauty in that. So, why do you find the heart and soul of Chrollo Lucilfer, whom many would call beautiful if they never knew him for what he truly is, so, so simply lovely? It does not have to do with his mannerisms or his confidence or his knowledge of virtually everything in this world, you concluded one day, after receiving yet another call from him, with him, as always, asking general questions like if you miss him and such. It is because he is the only thing I can cling to that will stay here, with me.

You cling onto him like a lost puppy, yearning for any sort of affection they can get no matter the cost. You did that when he first transported you from one place to another with hardly regarding any words from you on the matter. You do that now, in this art museum, full of unfamiliar faces and unfamiliar artwork and unfamiliar architecture. You missed home, back then. You still do now, and Chrollo still does not care one bit.

His hand is like a cuff, his arm like a chain, as he walks with you from one room to the next. But, still, it is the only thing that keeps you from falling apart.

So, like a sort of dance, you two move in sync. It is up to Chrollo as to if or when you will stop. It is never up to you, after all.

Does Chrollo enhance the horrific allure of these paintings, or does he once again bring all the attention to himself?

*~*~*~*

“Mythology often comes from our own woes.” He says, pointing upward, slowly, to Cronos’s eyes, which are bloodshot and large and dark. “A popular theory was that Goya was representing an oppressive government through Kronos, and the son that was prophesized to kill him as an adult represented the people who had started to revolt. But others don’t see it that way, oddly enough.”

You don’t respond, you simply look at the beheaded infant, which looks so soft and so rotten at the same time, with blood and deskinned chewed flesh running down his neck. He fits into his father’s hands perfectly, like he was made to be eaten.

*~*~*~*

“While most incubi are written and drawn as physically attractive creatures, this one in particular looks more akin to a gargoyle than that of a man.” He hums, and you can feel his hand wrap more tightly around yours. Not so much in a strangling, hurtful way, but rather just in a sort of reminderful way. “Maybe Fuseli was trying to make sure that the point of what the incubus really is is sent across to the viewers?”

With not a single word coming out of your mouth, a sure sign that you are zoning out his words, he squeezes a bit tighter to get your attention back where he wants it to be.

“What do you think, beloved?”

Once again, instead of answering, you choose to remain silent and focus your attention on other things. So, you look around. To the floor. To your high heels. Everything else, anything else. Only silence remains for a few more moments, but when the silence is not enjoyed any longer with another increase in his grip, you decide to answer before you get yourself into trouble.

“...I… I think that maybe it deals with sleep paralysis.”

Chrollo widens his eyes and smirks, and from those actions alone you know you have created a believable lie and concept that is sure to be amusing to him.

You’re forgiven.

*~*~*~*

“Historians say that the son’s death was the point of no return for Ivan.” A cradling of the arms and a Cat’s Cradle are the same; they both trap those within them.

Eyes are still eyes, whether they are real or not. Ivan the Terrible’s show a thousand tragedies and a thousand other faces his destiny could have worn, if he pushed the other one aside, if he had the strength to.

“Just like how Ivan was his son’s undoing, his son was also his.”

*~*~*~*

“...Would you ever kill for me?”

Violence is often not the only path Chrollo can choose to take. His words can be another, albeit that road will be much longer, and less smooth.

Who knows what he will choose when the hour of the heist comes to fruition when the art can finally be grasped and never let go of?

Which path do you prefer?

Which path does he prefer?

Do you prefer to be threatened with sweet honey that sticks to your skin or is so hot that it burns it?

“Of course, my dear.”

What you find grotesque, like the way the topic of violence is spoken so naturally from you and him, Chrollo always seems to find beautiful, like the way your moving lips are so lush.

…

Paintings are often just a reflection of how the world is, after all.

[sailing-through-hawkins]

dance with me

✧ written for 'hole' ✧ word count: 404 ✧ rated: T ✧ cw: none ✧ tags: masquerade ball, slightly other!steve ✧ @steddiemicrofic o(〃＾▽＾〃)o✧

Sneaking into the mansion was far easier than it should have been, especially for a once-in-a-lifetime kind of ball that most nobles would kill to be invited to.

Unease creeps up Eddie's spine, but he shoves it back down and continues surveying the desserts. Truly, the only good part of these inane pastimes will always be the food.

"Excuse me."

Eddie stiffens, only for a moment, and slowly turns around to find a man smiling at him. The smile is nearly hidden by his deep blue mask, golden embellishments concentrated on the left side, where even golden feathers swoop out into his lustrous brown hair.

With a cough, Eddie gives a polite, but shallow, bow. "Good evening," he greets, and hopes the man will feel satisfied enough to leave him alone.

Alas, fortune is not in his favour.

"And a good day as well," the man bows in return, far deeper than Eddie had, and straightens up with another glowing smile. His eyes are barely visible through the holes of his mask, but somehow, Eddie feels as though they're staring right through his skin. "I am Stephen, of the House Buckley. Might I ask your name, stranger?"

"You might ask, but expect no answer, Stephen of House Buckley," Eddie smiles at him spitefully, spinning around to continue picking out a dessert.

The man behind him laughs, and before Eddie knows it, his hand is caught in a cold grasp and he's whirled around to face Stephen once more, almost nose-to-nose. "You're funny," Stephen grins at him as the unease crawls back up Eddie's spine. "Won't you come dance with me?"

He can barely breathe, the smell of shadows and smoke drifting off Stephen like a plague. "My apologies, sire," Eddie breathes out, unable to look away from the bright shine in the man's dark eyes. The ballroom itself, with all its candlelight, seems so dim in comparison. "I'm afraid I'm no good at dancing."

"That's alright," Stephen murmurs, one of his gloved hands coming up to chase the creeping tingles sparking up Eddie's back. The other delicately lifts Eddie's hand in the space between their breaths, Stephen's lips ghosting over the skin as he stares up at him with an affectionate smirk. "I can be good enough for the both of us."

"Well then," Eddie stammers out as Stephen pulls him in even closer. "You'll have to lead."

Stephen smiles again, and Eddie dances.

[cat3ch1sm]

⚰️~ hello, everyone! welcome back to another post. i finally finished my masterlist, so now it will be updated as i write and upload new works. see my pinned post to find the masterlist <33 anyway, here are some nsfw jjk headcanons. ive done these before, with death note and hxh, and they can be found in the masterlist! i will probably do this for all the fandoms i write for lmao 💚 enjoy, ily <33

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ nsfw ahead, fem!reader, eating out

𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐞𝐚𝐭 😺? 𝐟𝐭. 𝐣𝐮𝐣𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐤𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞! 𝐟𝐭. (aged up!) 𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐢, 𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐚, 𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐢, 𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢, 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢

𝐲𝐮𝐣𝐢 𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐢

some people are weird about eating 😺, but not itadori. he’ll do whatever you want to make you feel good. he might not really know what he’s doing at first, but a nudge in the right direction and he’s got it- just tell him where it feels best when he runs his tongue over your sex and itadori will never forget. he’s really eager with it, too, kinda like a puppy tbh with his tongue flicking up and down your clit. (a/n-bitch what the fuck kinda comparison is that stop😭😭) itadori asks constantly “does this feel good?” “does that feel good?” and he’ll just keep going like that even when he’s obviously doing well and you can’t even get a word out to answer him. he’s really good at making you finish, not too fast and not too slow, and he’ll swallow whatever comes out of you.

𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐢

nobara, believe it or not, is a tiny bit shy about being eaten out or eating someone else out. still, she’s not selfish, so nobara will definitely eat you out if you really want her to. she might start out a bit tentative. she isn’t really the “does this feel good?” type like itadori, but she does pay attention to your body language, like where she kisses you that makes your breath hitch or where she licks that makes your moans louder. when nobara gets the hang of it, though, she kinda gets cocky, but not in a genuinely mean way. she’s more like a soft dominant type, like “that feel good, huh, baby?” or “you like when i do this, don’t you?” AGH i wish this girl was real im literally so weak for her.

𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐢 𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨

suspiciously enough, he’s very good at it (what girl taught u this nigga?🤨) the only thing is he can be a tiny bit timid, so he’s a little slow to make you cum. as a result, though, megumi’s great at edging, however unintentionally. he can stall an orgasm for just long enough that it feels twice as amazing when you finally come. he is also big on foreplay, and makes you wait until he actually puts his mouth on you. expect lots of light thigh kisses and breathplay before megumi actually eats you out. he also likes to use his fingers on you simultaneously, except he goes agonizingly slowly on purpose just to listen to your needy whimpers. he’s honesty just as cocky as someone like gojo would be doing this, just in a much quieter way, but you can see it in his eyes.

𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢

he eats your 😺 mainly for his own pleasure. because of this, he likes to prolong the time before you come as much as possible- toge’s very big on edging. obviously he can’t dirty talk, but his actions speak for themselves. he kisses you a lot, both during and after eating you out as praise. when you grind your hips into his tongue, toge squeezes your thighs to let you know you’re doing a good job. he also does not care about wiping his mouth off after you cum in his mouth before kissing you- he loves hearing the tiny whimpers you emit when you taste yourself on his lips.

𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢 𝐳𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧

i kinda hc that maki is wlw anyway (please don’t kill me), so she’s not new to eating 😺. at the same time, though, that means not every girl likes the same things, so she’s very attentive to how your body reacts and asks every now and then if what she’s doing feels good. maki is big on edging and overstimulation- she won’t let you come for the longest time and make you beg for it and then immediately after make you come until you physically can’t anymore. also soft dom energy- “you’re doing so well, pretty girl” or “come on, beautiful, i know you can come just one more time for me, okay?” although maki does overstimulate you, she isn’t mean about it, and will definitely periodically make sure she isn’t doing too much. she’s also the type who lets out these low, barely audible moans when she’s eating you out- that’s how much she enjoys making you feel good.

[monstersandmaw]

Stark trying so hard to be Big Mean but only coming up with Big Soft is killing me.

Also I have a question that you're free not to answer but how long of a time span is there between Big Red's story and this one? And how long do not-yautjas live? Asking for no particular reason...

Hehe, Big Scawy Stark thinks he's So Mean and So Angy, but he's really just So Protecc (also of himself) and that comes across as So Snappy haha. Sometimes the Biggest Softies have the toughest outer shells though. It's how they stay Big Soft inside, after all.

I'm imagining it's set before Big Red's story. I think I said in that story that contact had been known between them for about five years at that point(?), so maybe it's about two or three years before Big Red's crew arrived on Earth? It's all a bit hand-wavy though 😅

Not-yaujta can live for a really long time, but they also mature a lot more slowly than humans do, so a not-yautja wouldn't be considered a full adult until they're about fifty Earth years old. Elder is probably around five or six hundred years old. Runt and Alchemist are probably around sixty, with Cannon and Stark around 100, give or take.

Again, I did not intend for this to take on such a big life of its own when I started it. I was just gonna write some reverse harem smutty scenes with some 'legally distinct, definitely-not-yautja' aliens and be done with it, but the darned thing sprouted enormous great plot legs and ran off with me still on board, with the bit firmly lodged between its teeth, so to speak... 😅. It was actually inspired by this very old drabbly prompt thing I wrote ages ago with some character names the same but slightly different natures/personalities. It also (very briefly) features a female not-yautja captain called Boxer. Maybe she can get her own story and reinvention in a future story too...

Reader's POV is up going shortly, and it's finally got a smutty Runt scene :). Elder's POV is after that...

(Catch up on the series here (free to access) on Patreon)

Here's the very quick comparison doodle I shared on the Patreon Discord for height refs and colours, btw:

[mykingdomforapen]

spinning silk | writer's commentary

Hello! It has been a long journey but my Link Click fic, spinning silk, has come to a finish. It has been a joy to write and to share with you, and I really hope that you enjoyed the journey. I am so excited for you to read it now in its completion!

I thought it would be fun/interesting to include a writer's commentary about the story, as I've included elements that I'm excited about and would love to talk about the thoughts behind them, the history, foreshadowing, et cetera.

I will try to shy away from explaining too much in case we wanna preserve some level of the Author is Dead skskks . Happy to answer questions on a separate post or DMs though if there is interest! If you are interested in this commentary, please join me! If not, no worries and merrily we roll along.

Spoilers ahead!

The Epigraph

It's easy to miss the epigraph in this story, which is at the beginning of chapter 1 and is very brief. I don't know if anyone here is Chinese-literate, or if you popped it into a Translation app. If you have, you would have realised that the epigraph actually spoils the ending of the story!

A reminder of the epigraph:

君埋泉下泥销骨 我寄人间雪满头。 -Bai Juyi For his friend, Yuan Zhen

Bai Juyi and Yuan Zhen were famous Chinese poets from the Tang Dynasty, and good friends. Bai Juyi would have written this after Yuan Zhen died. The poem's translation is thus:

Your bones are buried under the spring mud; I remain in the mortal world with my hair white as snow.

In the context of this poem, white as snow can indicate someone growing old as they sit at the grave of their friend, therefore their hair turning all white. It can, depending on the translation, indicate someone who sat through the winter until snow layered upon their head , by the time spring comes. Or, in the context of Link Click, Lu Guang's white white hair. Which interpretation should it be? 🙂

Also fun fact I accidentally miscredited the poem for the longest time to Li Bai, another famous Tang Dynasty poet. Oops!

Silk

Ah, this story is built on silk. I think it is fairly famous, the 'red thread of fate' from East Asian/Chinese culture, the concept that you are somehow tied to your soulmate by a long, connecting red thread. I wanted to use the concept of thread as fate, but expand it beyond just about soulmates and relationships. That was the motivation behind depending on silk imagery for Liu Xiao's plan, to play on a well-established concept in Chinese mythology and add my own twist to it. Especially since Liu Xiao was the one in S2 to make the comparison, of people having a thousand parallel fates/threads.

As I was musing on an idea for this fic, that was when I happened to visit an exhibit that included the life cycle of a silk worm. My mother then told me how when she was little, she used to raise silk worms as pets. That got me to muse on the process of making silk--how you have to boil the cocoon and then unravel it slowly until it is a single, long thread. You have to be so careful with it because if it breaks it's kind of pointless, and how magnificent it is that such a cocoon could be so uninterrupted, singular, continuous.

Which brings me to the climax with Lu Guang, when he is trapped in a literal and figurative cocoon of silk. So as Liu Xiao had said (or at least, I think he said it...I forget lol)--when you make silk by boiling the cocoons, you kill the silkworm inside. Silkworms leave the cocoons by chewing a hole through it, which essentially renders the silk unusable because it's all chewed and broken, but now the silkworm is a moth and flies free. The thread of silk, the cocoon, must be ripped and ruined, only then can a silkworm emerge with wings, transformed. Only then can it live.

(Fun fact: one of the first things I knew I wanted from this story was the scene of Cheng Xiaoshi using his threads of fate to sew up all the ripped seams of time. That was, in many ways, the impetus of this story's idea--the image of him so selflessly giving up his own future and life to the act of something as gentle as mending)

Wen Xi

I loved writing chapter 2, honestly. Not only because I get to write about a dive, which is the charm and heart of Link Click, and not only because I get to write about my culture and province (Cantonese represent!) but also because in my eyes, the Wen Xi dive functions similarly to how I interpret the earthquake arc functions for canon.

There was a moment where I almost had a scene where CXS actually interacted with Wen Xi in person. He would have run into her at one point, and of course he can't act like he knows her because she doesn't realize he was the one who did the job for him, but he would have had a moment with her. She was sitting on the curb, struggling with some of the mangosteens she bought. He remembers how she doesn't like getting her hands sticky and wet and how Song Liming used to open them for her when they were kids, so he would have asked her if she needed help and gave her that little bit of kindness. This was ultimately scarpered so that he and Qiao Ling could have that more plot-driven moment of worrying over Lu Guang.

Other Deleted Scenes/changed scenes

Not so much a scene as it is a theme that I wish I could have expounded on more but ultimately couldn't figure it out. Which is to say, I wish I could have played around with Liu Xiao more. Liu Xiao, Lu Guang, and Li Tianchen are the trio who are manipulating fate and the future. They are also three characters who are, in their own way and for their own reasons, trying to use the control of time to answer for a painful trauma that they cannot bear to face full-on. For Liu Xiao, that flashback scene of Liu Min would have played a bigger role in the story. I wish I could have completed this, but at the same time, in my head in order for him to confront it is to own up to it, and find healing from it. He did not want to do that in the playground of my imagination. So I left him be.

Actually, Liu Xiao was supposed to be a little more villainous in this story! He would have been a bit more purposeful about Cheng Xiaoshi, knowing that CXS' abilities are causing the 'knot' in the silk and then intending for CXS to die alone/far from Lu Guang so that Lu Guang would not repeat the cycle. Ultimately I preferred Liu Xiao to be a bit more morally gray. He struck me as someone who didn't have a personal grudge against CXS at the end of the day. All he wants is his own peace of mind.

There was also going to be a moment, although I ended up scrapping it early on, where the photograph of Cheng Xiaoshi and his mother would have played a bit more of a role in the story. There would have been a moment where, upon discovering what Lu Guang was doing with the silks and realizing how much damage it was causing not only to him but to the world, Cheng Xiaoshi would have felt like he was the cause of all of Lu Guang's misery and now also the misery of the concept of time and space, since Lu Guang was essentially destroying the world because of him. In a moment of being in a pretty terrible head space, Cheng Xiaoshi would have half considered diving back into that photo as his mom and straight up Terminator his childhood self to save everyone the trouble. Qiao Ling would have strongly talked him out of it. Ultimately I felt that was, well, a bit dark, and not really fitting to the rest of the story.

Speaking of the photograph's purpose, the opening scene used to be a wee bit different, where Cheng Xiaoshi would actually give Qiao Ling the photo of his mother and ask her to hide it from him. He would never explain why, but Qiao Ling would have a guess as to what the reason was. I changed it because I wanted the story to have a bookend. It begins with Qiao Ling holding Cheng Xiaoshi as he slept to keep him warm. As does it ends.

Culture(???)

I'll be honest, I'm borne of expats, so I'm not the one to break down the traditions and culture of the characters. At the same time, I definitely was raised in Chinese culture and spent formative periods of my life in China, so there are a lot of things I take for granted and not think to explain when in fact it is not actually a universal experience.

But anyway! This is a section to explain my caveat. I am Cantonese. Link Click very likely takes place in a northern city. China's food culture is EXTREMELY diverse, so the food that I have eaten in China, because I spend all my time in a specific province, is probably food that Cheng Xiaoshi, Lu Guang, and Qiao Ling seldomly eat! But I couldn't help myself, so I wrote about my favorite foods. Because I write fic for ME.

That also goes for the daily living aspect as well. For all I know, Cantonese doctor visits, city walking, food delivery, groceries, etc. are the same as Northerners. For all I know, it could be wildly different! I have no idea. I do reckon though that our trio live in a quieter, smaller city than what I'm used to. I mean, look at their neighborhood.

Not regarding shanghuo, though. Shanghuo is everywhere in China.

Anyway, a quick rundown of things:

black sesame porridge: A very Cantonese sweet porridge. Technically considered dessert, but also lauded to be full of nutrition. Technically considered 'soup' but I write fic for me.

Also, black sesame soymilk. Soymilk is great.

Sun Wukong- LG compares himself, or wished to compare himself, to Sun Wukong escorting Tang Sanzang to the west. This is in reference to our beloved Monkey King in The Journey to the West! He is an iconic literary figure dating back to idk I think the 1400s or something and his story is quite long and mythical but long story short his mission was to escort a monk westward, towards South Asia, to collect some important scripts. He had to protect Tan Sanzang from all sorts of demons and devils along the way.

Pixiu- Lu Guang makes a passing comment in his point of view about putting a Pixiu at his doorstep and hoping it pays off Cheng Xiaoshi's debt. Pixiu is a little guy (arguably dragon, probably not) that likes to gobble up gold. If you put a little Pixiu statue in your area, the idea is that he will bring wealth to you. He's got a whole story about him where he ate up all the gold of the heavenly palace and the Jade Empress was so mad she sewed up his butthole so he would have eternal constipation, or something like that. Don't correct me if that's wrong because that's how the story was told to me and I delight in it LOL. I love him. He's my favorite idiot.

Clay pot rice -Also a very Cantonese dish. Frankly, the rest of China is missing out if it is only contained in the Canton province. Rice that is cooked with meats in a clay pot which makes the rice v ery aromatic and deliciously crispy around the sides. Qiao Ling was NOT going to take that out for takeout, that girl was 100% just gonna treat herself in a restaurant and CXS was gonna have to deal with scraps and leftovers.

Zhinü- I'm realizing that Lu Guang makes a lot of references in his internal monologue LOL. This is in reference to the Weaver Girl and Cowherd folktale, one of China's Four Great Folktales (which include Lady Meng Jiang, Legend of White Snake which is my personal favorite, and the Butterfly Lovers). It's a very classic Chinese story about a celestial weaver girl, Zhinü, who is the daughter of I think the Jade Emperor who is like the heavenly king of gods, and her lover the mortal cowherd. Long story short, her father was unhappy that she fell in love with a mortal and so separated her from her husband and children with the Milky Way. One day a year, the birds take pity on the lovers and form a bridge across the galaxy so that they can reunite. Between her and Lu Guang's weaving--or rather, spinning silk--I couldn't pass up the opportunity to make a reference.

yangmei wine - Liu Xiao is drinking some Yangmei wine. Yangmei is a type of fruit in China and I am pretty sure I actually made him drink a different wine than what I'm imagining. What I intended for him to drink is a wine that is made of a particular fruit that isn't strictly speaking edible, or at least not eaten for enjoyment. It's usually always only used for making wine, and you let the little plums (so t ospeak) soak in the alcohol until it is a bright red. Very sweet. Very strong.

Sanmao- At one point Lu Guang compares Cheng Xiaoshi to Sanmao because Cheng Xiaoshi had a small sliver of hope for his parents snatched right from underneath his nose. Sanmao is an iconic Chinese character from a long-running comic that began in the 1930s. He is a poor orphan boy during the era before and during WWII, who is just trying to survive extreme poverty. He is often mistreated by passerbys and is very lonely, often looking longingly at other kids who have food to eat and have parents. Every time someone treats him with kindness and he has just a little bit of hope that he can have a family or some good fortune, some awful circumstance happens, usually tied to tense socioeconomic injustice or war.

One of the less traumatic panels of the comic lol:

Jiuzhaigou- Cheng Xiaoshi mentions wishing that he could go there one day, and then at the end Qiao Ling and Lu Guang say that they will go together. Jiuzhaigou is in the Sichuan province, it is a nature realm that is very beautiful. There are natural deposits that make the lakes ultramarine blue and crystal clear. It's so beautiful! A photographer's dream.

Tangyuan- sweet and sticky rice dumplings that can be filled with sweet filling such as peanuts, black sesame paste, sweet egg, or more! They are often eaten during holidays, both during Winter Solstice and the 15th day after Lunar New Year. Indeed they are symbolizing family togetherness, although less because of stickiness and more because of a pun in their name. But maybe stickiness has something to do with it? Winter Solstice foods in different regions of China are also somewhat sticky, even if they don't typically eat tangyuan. I just know what I'm told lol.

Doraemon-A popular Japanese manga/anime from the 50s or 60s that is immensely beloved by the Chinese to this day. He is a robotic cat from the future with a fourth dimensional pocket full of futuristic gadgets that he uses to help Nobita, a fourth grader in the 50s, with his every day problems. He's wonderful. Also, he has a time machine which is tucked in Nobita's homework desk. Fitting....

Yixiu- Another popular Japanese anime, I believe from the 80s, that was also quite popular in China. It's about Ikkyu-san, a little monk/prince whose profound wisdom solved all sorts of grown-up's shenanigans.

Jiejie- A reader had asked the significance of Cheng Xiaoshi calling Qiao Ling this in the penultimate so I figured I'd bring it up here as well. 'Jie' is an indicator of older sister, or a bit of a respectful but also affectionate term for a young woman. Just like how Lu Guang calls Qiao Ling 'Qiao Ling jie' in the show. When he does it, it's friendly but also not actually meaning that he sees her as a sister sister because it's attached to her whole name. Cheng Xiaoshi in this story, not necessarily canon, refers to her as Ling jie every now and then. To me, this is him hearkening to childhood terms, as that is what his parents would refer to her as when he was growing up.

Take this with a grain of salt because I am a diaspora and not originally from the culture. Qiao Ling referring to Cheng Xiaoshi as 'didi' (little brother) in the show, and in the end Cheng Xiaoshi calling Qiao Ling 'jiejie' (big sister) in this fic are not rare, so to speak, or inappropriate, but you don't typically refer to someone who isn't related to you as your 'didi' or 'jiejie' unless they are blood related to you. You can call your sibling this, or your cousins this, but uuuuusually not someone who is like a sibling to you--singularly, yes, like Ling jie, but not typically Jiejie. Them calling each other this means that they truly see each other as their sibling. Also, those terms are a little bit childlike, so to speak. There are more 'grown-up' ways to refer to your little brother or big sister. In Cheng Xiaoshi's case, someone his age will probably refer to a sister as 'a jie' or 'jia jie'--at least, in Cantonese this is the case. 'Jiejie' is a little kid's way of calling their sibling. Like, up until I was about 7 years old I would have referred to my sister this way. To call someone 'jiejie' now, particularly to their face, I feel is a very vulnerable address. It's like if you as an adult who usually calls their mother 'Mom', in a time of deep distress or sadness and in need of comfort, revert to calling her 'mama' or 'mommy'. Like, you're both probably in tears to get to this point. At least, that is my experience with addresses, and therefore Cheng Xiaoshi's lol. Any fellow sinos out there can correct me but that was my intention for that part of the story. Cheng Xiaoshi is vulnerable, and he is seeking comfort from his big sister.

Mama's nursery rhyme- The story of the little rabbits and their Mama Rabbit is a very well known children's story in China. The story wasrecounted as close to memory as I can, so the only other thing I can say about it is that this is how the song goes.

Well, that's all I can think of right now! If there are any questions or you're curious about something, feel free to send me a message! Otherwise, I hope I didn't resuscitate the author too much.

[skkfujoshi]

Comparison is killing me slowly

The sound of a phone ringing broke Dazai out of his spiral about well…

Everything.

“Dazai is that-“Atsushi began

Dazai lifted his hand and stood up.

“Which direction?” “The warehouse close by I think.” “Stay here.We still have a train to catch.Watch for it,yeah?”he said casually,walking away

It only took a short time for Dazai to find the source of  the sound.It wasn’t a phone.Instead it was a small earbud.

A standard issue Port Mafia communication device lying limply on the floor.Dazai picked it up,tilting his head.

He put it into his ear and waited for the ringing to stop.When it did,it was Chuuya’s voice that came from the other side.

“Hey, Dazai…” “Chuuya?” “You’re probably wondering why I’m talking to you right now.It’s simple.I prepared a surprise for you on that train.” “What kind of surprise?”Dazai teased but he didn’t get a…response that fit “You’ll love it.One of your favorite recruits,Q.He wanted  to play with the weretiger and I didn’t feel like denying him.” “What!?Are you-“ “And you’re probably screaming right now,asking if I’m insane,right?The answer,Osamu,is no.Though…Your protégé might be headed there in a couple moments or so .”

Pre recorded…

Chuuya was bluffing,he had to be.Sure he was the boss now,but surely,surely, he wouldn’t be dumb or cruel enough to-

He heard Atsushi scream and ran.

That sort of thing didn’t seem like something Chuuya would do.Take the enemy out quick and easy…That was the Chuuya way.

This skewed a lot closer to…He shouldn’t think it but there really was no other way to describe that move.It reeked of Mori.

Dazai shouldn’t have been surprised…They were father and son.Of course there’d be…similarities.

He should’ve seen this coming.

It’s not like Chuuya was playing him…He was Mori’s son,his blood might not have ran Port Mafia black at birth,but for all intents and purposes it might as well have.

The potential to be cold,precise and efficient must’ve always been there for Chuuya.He just needed a push.

Dazai was just too dumb to see it.Unwittingly and unknowingly to both of them,he stopped Chuuya from succumbing to his nurture.And then he left.

“See?Told you leaving him was a bad idea.Now you have a monster on your hands”his thoughts taunted

Maybe he had Chuuya pinned wrong from the start…Maybe that was the issue.

He had assumed Chuuya’s lack of enjoyment in killing was a sign of distaste,but…That might’ve not been it at all.Maybe it stemmed from a more practical concern.Time and resources.

After all,wasn’t it resources that caused the Port Mafia to start hunting Atsushi down in the first place?A matter of practicality at least as far as Chuuya seemed to see it.

And Chuuya was always angry and more importantly…spiteful.He could recite insults thrown at him months back as if he heard them yesterday.He remembered slights very well.

And Dazai had slighted him hard.

Chuuya was also very adaptable .

After he learned that crying over people you killed was something frowned upon,Dazai never saw him do it again.

Once Dazai left,he found another skinny brunette to give him company.

Once everyone started playing dirty in this war,he simply followed suit.

It was one of the few things they had in common.In the mafia,you simply couldn’t afford to be stubborn.You’d be snuffed out.

He supposed Chuuya simply extended that to the rest of his life.Easier and more practical to swim with the current than against it.And if his morals were stopping him from doing so,those would be promptly rid of.

That was the best case scenario…But it didn’t quite work.

Because it wasn’t like Chuuya didn’t have an out.He was officially fired!The door was swung wide fucking open with a neon sigh saying “Get the fuck out,you idiot!” in all but literal means.

And yet,Chuuya still sat on that throne,no regrets or doubts at all it seemed.

Dazai supposed that also tracked.Chuuya had been powerless for a while,had no control over his life since age 7.A craving for-

“Dazai?” “Darn it,Doppo…I was just about to figure something out.” “And what monumentally important thing is that?” “How to commit the perfect double suicide of course!And now you ruined it.”

Kunikida sighed.

“Sorry for interrupting your very important business ,Osamu,but I wanted to ask you something.” “Hmm?” “Have you negotiated the agreement with the boss of the Port Mafia yet?You know,like the president asked you to?” “Oh.No.” “You little-“ “Before you get all yelly though,I did tell our ‘guest’ about it before I sent her back.She said she’d tell her boss.”

He turned to look at Kunikida then,his colleague staring Dazai down with suspicion.

Dazai chuckled.

“You haven’t looked at me like that since our first case.Should I be worried?” “It just seems awfully roundabout for you,that’s all.” “When you become an ex mafia member feel free to criticize.” “What?” “Oh yeah,I was in the  Port mafia once.Did I not mention that?”

Kunikida merely blinked,buried his face in his hands and sat down.

“Of course you were.” “You are taking this…Surprisingly well.Are you sure you’re not in shock or something.” “Dazai…No offense but I always had a feeling you were a criminal.” “Huh?Is it something about my face?” “Your everything is more like it.” “My eyelashes then?” “For fucks sake…Just…I’m just not gonna engage with this right now.”

Dazai chuckled,patting Kunikida’s shoulder.

“It’s for the best,you won’t win anyway.” “Ugh…Can I ask you something?” “I’m willing to give us another shot if you are.”Dazai said brightly  “I’d rather die and no,you’re not doing it with me.” “Darn…” “Did you know him?”

Dazai blinked.Kunikida looked up at him,a tad annoyed.

“The current boss.Did you two know one another?”

Of all the things Kunikida had to ask…

“Kinda.Worked together often that’s all.” “Let me guess.Short jokes?” “Constantly.How’d you guess?” “Yosano mentioned he was…”

Kunikida cleared his throat.

“Vertically challenged,for lack of a better word.”

Dazai burst into laughter.

Then they heard a knock on the front door.Looking embarrassed about his previous statement,Kunikida stood up and went to open it.

“Sorry,we’re not taking clients during this-“ “Luckily I’m not a client,detective.I’m the boss of the Port Mafia.”

Dazai bolted out of his seat and peaked past the paravane separating the office and seating area.In person?Why the hell would Chuuya even bother with that?Oh right…To torture him.

“We thought you were going to discuss this with our president over the phone.”Kunikida said,tone nothing short of scolding  “I wasn’t exactly in the position to give him my number,so unfortunately this was the only way.” “Actually,I gave him your phone number this morning.”Dazai corrected,walking over to the two

Kunikida was blinking at Dazai in an obvious gesture of “Please butt out before you screw something up”which Dazai,as usual,did not abide by.Instead,he locked eyes with Chuuya who,surprisingly,wasn’t giving him that disdainful,saccharine smile which Dazai hated so much. 

This one he was far more familiar with.Relaxed,but despite that toothier than average.He could just barely see one of his former partner’s canines peaking out.Chuuya smiled like that after he won fights.

Well,somebody sure was smug about their little train surprise.

“Dazai-san,how nice to see you again,it’s been too long.”he said,voice warm

Shame said warmth didn’t reach his eyes.In fact it seemed that Chuuya’s gaze flicked to Kunikida as soon as the sentence left his mouth.He was probably hoping that Dazai hadn’t told Kunikida about his past.

Ha!Joke’s on him.

Dazai took Chuuya’s extended hand and kissed it,earning the redhead’s attention again.

“Nice to see you again as well,Nakahara-san.And in your natural hair colour too,how lovely.”

Chuuya only gave him that tight,saccharine,frigid smile in response .Dazai hummed.If this was how he got it,maybe he could learn to like it after all.

“Chuuya Nakahara ?”Kunikida asked,shock suppressed but very audible still

Chuuya took his hand out of Dazai’s,rubbing it against his side aggressively as he turned towards Kunikida again. 

“Yes.The gravity manipulator,son of the previous boss of the Port Mafia,yadda yadda…Sure you heard of me.”

“Yes,I’ve heard.Doppo Kunikida.”Kunikida said offering his hand.

The two shook hands,Kunikida looking him up and down.

“You two seem close.” “Nah.We just worked together often that’s all.Dazai’s just like this with all his coworkers,but…I’m sure you know that.”

Kunikida cleared his throat,implying,quite heavily to Dazai that they were gonna have a chat about this topic at a more appropriate time.Dazai might’ve dreaded that more than the prospect of a painful death.

He hated it the first time he had to discuss his past with Kunikida and he hated it even more now.

“You mind if we search you?”Kunikida asked

-

Chuuya shook his head.

“Not at all.In fact…You mind if I do it myself?Might be faster.” “As far as I’m concerned,go on.” “Great.You don’t mind either,do you Dazai-san?”Chuuya said turning to him

Oh,Dazai minded.Dazai minded so much and was glaring so hard that if looks could kill Chuuya would’ve been dead.It made Chuuya a little giddy to be honest.

He might not have been able to see his reaction to finding out about Q,but this was just as good if not better.Getting under Dazai’s skin after so long of Dazai getting under his was honestly better than any wine he’d ever tasted.

He batted his eyelashes at Dazai,daring him to say no and then try to come up with an explanation.

“Doesn’t bother me at all.” “Great.”

Chuuya let his coat slip to the floor,keeping eye contact with Dazai as it fell.He noticed,out of the corner of his eye that Kunikida’s face was bright red and his eyes went wide.

Good.The more he unsettles Dazai’s boyfriend the better.

He locked eyes with Dazai again and tossed his braid over his shoulder,undoing his vest in short order.

Dazai swallowed,lips pressed tightly and if Chuuya wasn’t mistaken a slight tint to his cheeks.Chuuya shrugged the vest off,picking the items off the floor and shoving them into the brunette’s crossed arms.

He turned his back to Kunikida and he made a low sound in the back of his throat as Mori’s scalpel from Chuuya’s knife garter.

“Why is this here?” “I always carry that around.More of a habit,really.” “Right…”Kunikida said,clearly unconvinced 

 He walked over to Dazai who looked downright furious(well,even more so,Chuuya supposed) as Kunikida dropped the scalpel on top of the other things.

“Anything else?”

Chuuya didn’t hesitate before offering his right leg,stabilizing his left one with ‘Tainted’. 

-

“Might have to check my legs.Just to be safe.”

Kunikida sighed,resigned and ran his hand over Chuuya’s leg.

Dazai wasn’t mad or jealous or anything.If anything it was more pity for Kunikida.The poor guy had no chance and wasn’t Chuuya’s type at all.

So no,he wasn’t upset.

Not at all.

Finally,Kunikida finished and Chuuya gave him a small smile in response before politely asking where the president was.Kunikida begrudgingly sent him on his merry way,before turning to Dazai who was busy dropping all of Chuuya’s things on the floor.

“Your ex is certainly…Interesting.” “I told you before.We never dated.” “Certainly didn’t stop you from undressing him with your eyes.”

Dazai scoffed.

“You jealous?” “In your dreams.We’ll talk about your issues later.As for now…”

Kunikida tilted his head in the direction of Fukuzawa’s office.

“Go do what you do best.” “You’re letting me eavesdrop?”Dazai asked excitedly 

His partner rolled his eyes.

“He’s still the boss of the mafia.I don’t trust him as far as Kenji can throw him.” “Consider it done then.”

Boss ChuuyaAU Masterpost

Previous fic part <— Next fic part —>

Overall AU info post

[imagineanime2022]

Cursed Siblings *Part 2*

Ryomen Sukuna X Reader!Sibling

Word Count: 1214

Requested: @imperatrizpirata @bronze-metal

Request: Hello, I really liked it, reader, being Sukuna's sister (sukuna as always very affectionate lol) If you don't mind I would like a part 2.

*Part 1*

In the weeks that followed Junpei was put under scrutiny but he never faltered not with you there, they forced endless tests and had even attempted to kill him on his first arrival, the principle of Jujutsu Tech had attempted to have Junpei enrolled with the other students but it seemed that even his word was not enough and if they would not act in trust you would make them act in fear.

It was yet another meeting this time with all who had a say in Junpei’s future, they were all as stone faced as they had been every other time and you could tell that nothing had changed. It was easy to take control for yourself with just one word, ‘activate’. The change in pressure in the room was felt by all of them, you could tell by the sweat rolling down their brows or slight shift in their seats, Gojo who had been standing next to both of you felt it too and one glance told him all that he needed to know, his hands moving out of his pocket prepared for a fight should it be needed. “No need to worry six eyes, I'm in no mood for a fight today.” You informed him “I just thought it important to remind them of the power that I am allowing them to wield.” “You think you hold any power here?” One of them asked. “Are you stupid enough to believe that I don’t?” You asked, increasing the pressure in the room, the only person unaffected at this point was the six eyes user himself. “What… Do… You… Want?” Another finally asked. “They’ve already stated what I want. I won’t repeat it so you can have the satisfaction of me asking.” You answered. “You want to enrol in Jujutsu Tech?” He asked as you let up on the show of power with a deadly smirk. “Junpei wants to enrol in Jujutsu Tech.” You corrected them as you lifted his hand to point back at yourself “I want to be with my brother, a king needs his advisor after all and when it’s all said and done you don’t want to piss off the more rational of the cursed siblings.”

That was the day they decided that Junpei would enrol in Jujutsu Tech despite the security risk that posed. Junpei had spent the better half his first day getting the tour from Yuji with Gojo not far behind, he met Yuji’s friends who were quick to accept him as part of their group forgetting about you looming over his shoulder, that is until you make yourself known. The training started the next day, you knew that Junpei had a strong Shikigami under his belt but he needed more self defence and fighting skill in general, you watched the first few matches from the side slowly moving around the field as the second year Maki came at him. On the third loss you appeared in his view holding your hand out to him, you helped him to sit up as you crouched in front of him “How are you doing?” You asked. “I can’t do this.” He mumbled “Yes you can.” You answered softly “she’s a seasoned fighter, you won’t beat her but you can defend yourself just listen to me.”

Yuji sat on the stairs with Megumi, Nobara, Inumaki and Panda. “He's never going to get it.” Nobara said as she sipped on her drink “Maki is too good.” “You think?” Yuji asked. “Maybe we should help him.” “Help him? No thanks.” Nobara muttered as her eyes shifted over to the fight again. “He doesn’t need your help.” Sukuna’s voice reverated through Yuji. “What are you talking about?” He asked. “They taught me everything that I know and they will teach him, he’ll be on your level in no time.” Sukuna answered and as if to prove the point Junpei successfully blocked an attack with an excited smile on his face as he moved away from Maki to create space. “Your sibling is teaching him how to fight?” Yuji asked. “Why wouldn’t they?” Sukuna asked, he knew that Yuji was going to make a comparison to himself. “You’ve never helped me.” Yuji answered. “I don’t like you kid.” Sukuna muttered “They chose him, they want him to succeed and they’ve always loved a challenge.” Yuji didn’t say anything further in response as he watched Junpei improve over the session. Sukuna didn’t like many people let alone compliment them, he’d often cursed Gojo but never had he complimented anyone’s strength not the way that he did yours, Junpei was 10x better than he was when he started and it seemed that everyone had noticed that.

Later that evening Junpei was sleeping when Sukuna reached out to you, it was easy for you to slip into his domain given that there was no actual barrier but you still groaned as you were submerged ankle deep in something. “What is it with you and the fluid?” You asked. “Do you even know what this is?” “Does it matter?” Sukuna asked from his place on his throne. “It does when it’s soaking into my socks.” You complained as you took steps towards him. “Then wear better shoes. No one else complains.” Sukuna argued and you rolled your eyes. “That’s because they’re too busy pleading for their lives.” You answered “they don’t have time to worry about wet socks, not to mention they probably think they’re the ones who wet them given the fact that most people who see you lose bladder control.” “There are other ways you could have said that.” Sukuna mumbled as he stood, appearing in front of you moments later. “What is your plan?” “What?” You asked. “With the meat suit.” He added. “Junpei?” You asked. “You’ve got a body perfectly made for you, I’ve got to mould one.” “Are you sure that’s what you're doing?” He asked “with that one?” “Bodies can be changed but minds, it takes far more to break them, Junpei doesn’t need to be broken by the end of our time together, he will have given into my way of thinking or given me his body entirely.” You explained. “And if he doesn’t.” Sukuna asked. “Ryo, you hold the one thing that’s he’s been clinging to in the palm of your hand, you’ll break him for me won’t you?” You teased as you skipped forward to meet him at the base of the skull pile. “I suppose I can do that.” He smirked as you bowed your head to him. “Thank you little brother.” You said softly, Sukuna had gotten taller than you long before he had been sealed and so it was a natural behaviour for him to lift his hand and flick your forehead before saying. “You owe me.” “You haven’t done anything yet, you’ll only get something if I actually need your help.” You responded. “Well then I hope this kid is strong enough to give me a job to do.” Sukuna smirked and you rolled your eyes before making your way back to Junpei. Your eyes moved over him as you thought about your next move, you hoped that you didn’t have to do anything drastic after all you were starting to like this one.

*Part 3*

Request Here!!

[wolveria]

On Frozen Wings - Ch 1

Pairing: Crosshair x Hunter

Rating: 18+ only, Explicit

After Hunter nearly lost everything, his family is slowly piecing itself back together. Omega is safe, Echo might stick around for a while, and Crosshair... Well. Crosshair never makes things easy, but sometimes, he does make them simple. Crosshair wants him. Unfortunately, Hunter has no idea what to do with this information.

AO3

Hunter wasn’t sure how it was quieter with more people on the ship, but somehow, it was.

The tension on the Remora was a far cry from what it’d been on their way to Barton IV. That flight had been filled with a crackling thickness that forced a subdued atmosphere and silent ride.

This was different. Something had changed on the planet, and it wasn’t just that Hunter and Crosshair were on speaking terms again, though that was a small miracle itself. And to think, it had only taken Hunter nearly being eaten by an ice wyrm to make that happen.

Considering how their fights usually went, this one went rather smoothly. No black eyes, no broken bones. No one had even thrown a punch. Hungry beasts were tame in comparison.

Maybe that explained the strange space between them now. Strange, because it was peaceful. Deceptively so. Hunter once again found himself focused on Crosshair wherever he was in the ship, tracking him by scent, sound, and that unique bioelectric signature that belonged only to him.

But he wasn’t going to follow Crosshair like a lost pup, or the shadow Crosshair accused him of being. He wasn’t.

He just… happened to find himself in the same part of the ship as Crosshair. That’s all. Hunter wasn’t thinking about the questions left unanswered. When had Crosshair’s chip actually been removed, why had he killed an Imperial officer, and what had really happened back on that ice planet.

Hunter had watched him place the helmets one by one, arranging them on the crate like a memorial. Something… significant had happened there, and the way Crosshair held one particular helmet wrapped in old bindings filled Hunter’s chest with both a dull ache and a sharp, cold sting.

Hunter refused to think about how he’d never seen Crosshair so tender and careful before. These were strangers to Hunter, but not to Crosshair. He’d lived a whole other life, away from them.

Away from Hunter.

No, he definitely wasn’t thinking about that. He was not thinking about it so hard that he failed to notice Crosshair right in front of him in the corridor, a brow raised at Hunter’s errant wandering.

Or, perhaps, not so errant.

“Following me again, Hunter?”

Hunter scowled, but it was out of embarrassment rather than annoyance as he glanced away from where Crosshair stood conveniently in his path.

“No.”

The brows rose even higher.

“Really.”

“Yeah. Really.”

The silence begged for something to fill it, and Hunter did with a grumbled, “Was just… walking the ship.”

“Uh-huh.”

Hunter’s gaze snapped to his, but Crosshair’s expression was one of vague amusement. There was no resentment or anger. Hunter could admit it was a nice change.

Hunter relaxed, giving a half shrug and a little smile to acknowledge his answer was, perhaps, ridiculous.

“Our ship’s not meant to hold so many people. Guess I wanted to stretch my legs while I had the chance.”

“Didn’t get enough of that with the wyrm trying to bite you on the ass?”

A chuckle startled out of him. He’d missed Crosshair’s sharp tongue and scathing wit, especially when it was used for amicable teasing rather than ripping him to shreds. Oh, how Crosshair excelled at targeting all of Hunter’s weak points.

“That? That was nothing compared to some of the creatures we’ve come across,” Hunter said. “Last one almost swallowed the Marauder whole.”

Crosshair rolled his eyes, his own posture relaxed as he leaned one shoulder against the corridor wall.

“How did you ever survive without me?”

Hunter’s humor faded. Not very well, he could admit to himself.

Crosshair’s amusement also vanished, studying Hunter’s face with closer scrutiny than he was used to. None of the others looked at him that way, or when they tried, like Wrecker had been the last few months, Hunter simply skirted around the observation and pretended everything was fine.

It hadn’t been, for a long time. Only within the past day, the past few hours, did Hunter realize his hope hadn’t been completely extinguished.

“Come on.”

Hunter blinked out of his daze, but Crosshair didn’t wait for him, slipping down the hallway until he disappeared from view. And like a second shadow, Hunter followed.

They ended up in the cargo hold, mostly empty due to Echo being between missions for Rex. There were a handful of crates around, and one was growing a collection of armor as Crosshair was in the middle of stripping off pieces.

Hunter stared, dumbfounded. Clearly, he’d missed a very crucial part of their conversation.

Crosshair looked over his shoulder and gave an amused huff at whatever face he was making. Hunter certainly couldn’t guess.

“How long’s it been since you’ve properly sparred with someone?”

Oh. Sparring.

“Well…”

He tried to think. They hadn’t had much downtime to begin with, but after Omega had been taken and Hunter had focused everything into finding her, he’d had too much time on his hands during their stints in hyperspace. Too much time to think about all the mistakes he’d made and the ways he’d failed. A distraction had been sorely needed, and sparring would have been perfect.

But since it had been only him and Wrecker, and they hadn’t been able to spar with Wrecker for years because of his enhanced strength, something they’d learned after he’d accidentally broken Tech’s collarbone…

So, not since Kamino. Not since… they’d left Crosshair.

“A long time.”

Crosshair hummed, the tone of it not indicating his thoughts one way or another.

“Here’s your chance,” Crosshair said. “Sounds better than pacing the ship, doesn’t it? Especially if we’re just going to keep running into each other.”

Hunter could hear the amused tint of the words, the way Crosshair’s mouth curved even if he couldn’t see it, and it was the kind of teasing that used to drive Hunter mad. He didn’t realize how much he’d missed it until he no longer had it.

Crosshair bent down to slip off his boots, and he chose that moment to look back at Hunter and catch him staring. Now that he’d been staring at anything in particular, he was just—

“Are you going to strip, or do I need to do it for you?”

Hunter looked away, grinding his teeth together.

Little shit.

Sparring did sound like a good way to get rid of this odd tension he couldn’t identify. It wasn’t a bad sort of tension, not the kind he felt after seeing Crosshair again after so long. That shock had been a punch to the gut, especially after the bone-deep relief of having Omega again.

To have her back, and on the heels of that, Crosshair dropping back into their lives had been like a plunge out of hyperspace with a broken hyperdrive.

Reconciling with Crosshair had been what they needed, and everything should be fine now, right? So why did his gut tighten whenever they were in the same room?

Yeah, maybe this was what he needed. A distraction and a way to work off excess energy.

Hunter hadn’t taken off his chest plate since the ice planet, and he did so now, along with his one remaining pauldron. It was hard to imagine all that was left of his old armor was his cuirass, helmet, and greaves. Even his bandana hadn’t survived the blood and violence he and Wrecker had waged for any scrape of information they could find.

His mind had wandered again—he didn’t even notice that Crosshair had moved closer, only a few feet away and stripped down to his blacks. His arms were crossed, but there was a lightness to his face, bordering on mischief.

“How many layers are you wearing?”

Hunter glanced down at himself. He’d gotten past the green vest, and the tan undervest, which left the brown long-sleeved shirt and his bicep pads—

“It’s protection,” Hunter muttered.

“There’s something else that does a better job of that,” Crosshair said, his eyes bright with silent laughter. “You may have heard of it.”

“Katarn-class armor isn’t exactly for sale at the local market.”

“So, you decided to go without? That’s much better.”

Hunter purposefully glared as he stripped the rest of his outfit. It was a good thing they were going to spar soon, Hunter would happily throw the first punch. Though with the amused tilt to Crosshair’s mouth, he wondered if that was the point.

Hunter pulled off his gloves and gauntlets next, making a show of the exposed armor under the maroon bindings. Crosshair rolled his eyes.

“Well, thank the Maker, your arms have protection.”

Little shit, Hunter repeated as he fought down his own smile.

The running commentary didn’t stop when Hunter removed his gun belt, and Crosshair said, “Didn’t realize you like to live so dangerously, Hunter. That thigh-strap is awfully close to your—”

“Are you going to do this the whole time?”

Crosshair released a sharp breath that wasn’t quite laughter but was close enough to fill Hunter’s chest with warmth. He still scowled at the boots he pulled off his feet, though.

“Not if you’d hurry up,” Crosshair purred. “We’ll pick up the reg before you’re even halfway done.”

Hunter let out a soft growl and turned away. His hands kept fumbling with Crosshair staring at him like that, lips slanted in unending delight at Hunter’s discomfort, but his eyes too narrow and watchful, as if each revealed layer required new scrutiny. Hunter fidgeted like a bug under glass.

He hesitated before pulling off his pants. The armor plating was attached to them, so he couldn’t leave them on. Traditionally, they always sparred in their body gloves, it was fairer and prevented any serious injuries besides what they could cause with their own bodies.

He sighed. It wasn’t anything Crosshair hadn’t glimpsed in the communal shower or even in their old barracks. It was fine. It wasn’t strange.

Hunter kept telling himself that as he shucked off his pants and pulled off the last layer of his upper body. What he wore underneath was… a very truncated version of a black body suit. The upper portion only covered his chest and his shoulders, leaving his arms and hands bare.

The bottom half was even more lacking, only covering his groin and upper thighs. It kept him from overheating with all the additional layers, but that wasn’t much of a reassurance when he felt Crosshair’s sharp eyes taking him in from head to foot.

“What?” Hunter folded his arms across his chest—not because he was trying to shield himself from that piercing stare. Definitely not.

“Nothing,” Crosshair said in a way that meant he had many thoughts he could share, none of them he would.

“Right.” Hunter rolled his shoulder, trying to shake off the new tension that had crept up on him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been such a bundle of raw nerves, but it had probably involved Crosshair. It always did. “Any rules?”

“No killing each other.”

“Thought that went without saying.”

Crosshair’s small but toothy smile reminded him of a predator whose hunger had been piqued.

“Just want to be thorough. Other than that, no boundaries.”

Against anyone else that might be good news, Hunter was deadly in close quarters, but Crosshair fought dirty. Suddenly, his bare skin felt a lot more exposed.

“Sounds good to me,” Hunter said, and he hoped none of his trepidation showed. Hunter might be more prone to biting under stress due to his enhancements, but Crosshair was more than happy to dig his teeth into body parts that got too close to his mouth.

Yeah. Hunter was probably coming out of this bloody.

They moved apart nearly at the same moment, their postures slipping into old fighting stances, comfortable in their familiarity. Too many of their battles these days involved blasters or short, brutal fights that relied on aggression rather than finesse.

Hunter was eager for this, he realized, but at the same time… he held back, hesitant, as they circled each other. The last time he’d fought Crosshair, he’d been trying to kill Hunter, cut him open with his own vibroblade. It wasn’t something he could forget, even if he’d forgiven Crosshair.

And he had. His resentment and bitterness had been buried in the snow of Barton IV. But that didn’t mean he knew where they stood now. The hope felt fragile, and he was afraid to break it with a wrong move or misspoken word.

If Crosshair was feeling any hesitation, he neglected to show it. He rolled his eyes and drew Hunter’s attention to the wide space between them.

“I thought we were sparring, not dancing.”

“Come over here, then.”

Crosshair’s lips twitched upward.

“You first.”

It was an invitation if Hunter was ever going to get one. Crosshair was okay with this, really okay with this, even if it got violent. Which… Hunter wasn’t actually interested in. Not that he ever was, but when it was Crosshair trying to force him into submission, all fists and teeth and lanky limbs, it lit a blaze in Hunter that made him more animal than human—

Air exploded from his lungs as Crosshair’s shoulder hit him hard in the gut, dragging them both to the ground. Apparently, the sniper got tired of waiting.

Hunter was quick, flipping Crosshair over his head and scrambling for him, less than graceful on the metal slats instead of their usual padded mats. He might have been hesitant before, but he wasn’t now, driving Crosshair back to the floor with a combination of thrown weight and gravity.

It was a messy, tangled struggle after that. Nearly all their sparring matches devolved into a contest of who could pin the other fastest. Hunter usually won if he didn’t allow Crosshair to grab him from behind. His height and longer limbs gave him the advantage when Hunter couldn’t reach him, though a jab to the ribs and a hook around his ankle almost always got them back on even ground.

Hunter should have won this round too, but there was an intensity to Crosshair that caught him by surprise, and when the sniper pinned him flat on his back, he stayed there. Mostly because he didn’t want to move and lose sight of Crosshair’s peculiar expression.

It was focused, as it usually was, but layered with a dark intensity that made Hunter’s mouth run dry. Crosshair straddled his hips, his fingers curled around Hunter’s wrists, holding them above his head.

Something about this felt… familiar. Back in their cadet days, sparring matches tended to be most often between them, as Tech wasn’t interested and Wrecker was getting too big for them to do it safely.

Not that anything Crosshair and Hunter did could be labeled safe. Their matches would quickly escalate to black eyes, bruises, and bite marks. Until one day it had escalated to something else.

Nothing happened. Nothing ever happened. They had just been going through the unpredictable swings of hormones during adolescence, a fact they only knew because Tech gave them almost daily updates on his own bodily changes, and Wrecker would enthusiastically contribute with his own.

Nothing had happened, except two sweaty cadets accidentally brushing their aching erections against each other. And then doing it again. Neither of them speaking about these accidental touches, and if they both hurried off to the showers separately afterwards, that didn’t need to be mentioned, either.

So Crosshair leaning forward and rubbing his hard length against Hunter’s equally stiff erection was a shock to his gut, equally familiar and not. They were no longer naïve cadets, and this was no accident.

“Crosshair,” he choked out.

“Yes?”

Crosshair purred around the word, but his eyes were watchful, nearly to the point of wariness, waiting for Hunter to speak. But he had no idea what the hell he wanted to say, frozen like the proverbial nuna trapped under the nexu.

“I…” Hunter finally stumbled out. “What… are you doing?”

Crosshair’s eyes narrowed.

“I thought it was obvious.”

A comment like that might ordinarily earn Crosshair a glare and sharp retort, but Hunter struggled to find where all his air went.

“We…” He swallowed to get his dry throat some relief. “We can’t…”

Hunter’s appeal for Crosshair to see reason might have been more effective if he didn’t groan when the sniper rolled his hips and rubbed their clothed erections together.

“We can, Hunter.” His eyes blazed, staring straight through him and leaving all his old yearnings exposed. “We can.”

But will you? was the unspoken question Crosshair didn’t voice. Hunter didn’t have an answer to that, either. He was still reeling from the idea that Crosshair even wanted him in this way.

And then Crosshair leaned down, so close that Hunter thought he might kiss him, and he held his breath, frozen. Hunter could—and had—faced down battalions of battle droids without flinching, but the sight of Crosshair’s lips hovering over his might be enough to earn his surrender.

At the last moment, Crosshair changed course, his lips tracing over the dark lines of Hunter’s tattooed jaw until his breath warmed his ear.

“Say yes.”

Hunter closed his eyes. He wanted to, stars, he wanted to. Every inch of his body ached with the need to say yes, but he couldn’t. They’d just gotten Crosshair back. He couldn’t do anything to risk that, wouldn’t do anything that might eventually make him leave.

There had been reasons why Hunter hadn’t given in to temptation when they were cadets or troopers. He could have, oh he could have, so easily with Crosshair. Or possibly with regs who had reminded him of Crosshair, but he hadn’t.

The reasons were different now. He didn’t have to worry about pissing off some Kaminoans with their frigid ideas of “appropriate interpersonal conduct,” and he was no longer a sergeant. No longer a soldier. He wasn’t even their leader anymore, not really.

But he couldn’t… they couldn’t…

The noise that came out of him when Crosshair pressed his mouth to Hunter’s neck was embarrassing, startled and needy.

“Say yes,” Crosshair growled against his skin. Hunter’s ability to think, let alone speak, was shot to hell when he sucked on the spot just under his jawline.

Hunter kept his mouth firmly shut as he tried to find the words to explain why this was a kriffing bad idea, but then Crosshair released his wrists and instead dug his fingertips against Hunter’s chest. He used the leverage to grind down harder, and Hunter could practically see stars.

He knew it then. He wouldn’t say no. He couldn’t deny Crosshair anything, not really. And he wouldn’t deny him this, not when it took all of Hunter’s strength not to flip them over and rut against Crosshair like an animal in heat.

So he kept his hands firmly at his sides, and even that was dangerous with them so close to Crosshair’s long, coltish legs.

Hunter tilted his head further to the side, a show of surrender. It was the best he could offer when a part of him still insisted this was the wrong decision, that neither of them were thinking clearly and Crosshair would regret his actions later. Wasn’t that how they got here to begin with?

But that was only a small part of Hunter. The rest of him relished how Crosshair purred in victory and sucked one last spot on his neck before he sat up. His pupils were blown, and his lips were slightly swollen from the rough treatment to Hunter’s neck.

They looked damned delicious, but before Hunter could consider what would happen if he kissed him, Crosshair shifted upright on his knees. He separated his body glove and tugged the lower half down just enough to free his cock.

He was longer than Hunter but not as thick, and he was already leaking copious amounts of precum. Hunter’s mouth watered at the sight, the scent of Crosshair’s arousal even more potent now, and it was a miracle he could keep his hands to himself and simply watch.

Crosshair pulled down the waistband of Hunter’s suit and pulled out his length. He stared at it with a devouring expression that reminded Hunter of what sometimes happens when he gets too close to Crosshair’s teeth.

And then he’s not thinking anything at all as Crosshair wrapped his long fingers around their shafts and thrust forward. The noise that Hunter made sounded almost painful, a ragged groan and gasp, and he failed to keep his hands frozen at his sides, instead gripping onto Crosshair’s calves as if to steady himself. Or keep him firmly on the ground before he floated off into space.

Crosshair kept going, setting a pace that was neither gentle nor slow. Hunter would have thought he’d been more teasing, drag it out just to watch Hunter squirm, but something in his movements were almost desperate. Frantic.

It was all Hunter could do to brace himself, pleasure zipping up and down his spine at a speed that would leave him ruined. Crosshair’s warm hands, the calluses against his skin, the shock of friction between their lengths.

Yeah, he was ruined.

The buildup was quick after that. Too much time apart, years of unanswered yearning and buried desires, Hunter wasn’t going to last long. His bandana came loose, and Crosshair tugged it off, twisting his fingers in the freed locks of his hair, and pulled.

It was nearly enough to hurt, dancing the line between pleasure and pain until they melded, and Hunter arched his back. He gripped Crosshair’s legs and thrust up once, twice, and spilled over Crosshair’s skilled fingers. Fingers that shook when holding a weapon but were steady now as he carried Hunter through his trembling orgasm.

Something gave way inside him, a dam burst after a lifetime of holding back. The grief of losing Crosshair, the piercing ache of rejection and betrayal, the agony of trying to keep Crosshair at a safe distance upon his return, none of it remained intact. The relief shuddered through him, a soft hitch like a sob in his throat.

Hunter didn’t feel the tears until they trickled into his hairline. He wasn’t… crying… or maybe he was? He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried, possibly when he was a cadet. But something within him had cracked, and the released pressure made him feel boneless, warm, and wonderfully brittle.

It was good. Hunter knew that much. The tension was gone, his senses thrummed in a way that was almost overstimulation, and Crosshair—

—was looking at him with a wide-eyed expression of horror.

Hunter blinked stupidly. Not understanding when Crosshair pulled away, hastily rearranging his body glove to cover himself—and things certainly weren’t clearer when the sniper grabbed his gear and practically fled the room.

Hunter stared at the doorway, half-expecting Crosshair to come back. And wasn’t that a painfully familiar feeling?

He dropped his head, the back of it thudding against the floor, and reluctantly, he put away his softening cock. Hunter grimaced at the stickiness that coated the upper half of his suit, and then he stared at the ceiling, listening to the hum of the ship, waiting for Crosshair’s soft footfalls to return.

They didn’t. Hunter’s heart sank in his chest.

What had he done?

Next Chapter

[lemonzestywrites]

seven sentence sunday

tagged by @devirnis and @snowviolettwhite thank you both!! i super appreciate it

ive been slowly making my way through ch. 4 and im pretty much almost done with everything besides the plot i still need to write. but im committed to trying to get this out in the next two weeks if it kills me

but have a little snippet in the meantime

“Tell me?” Eddie asks quietly, words at first bordering between a statement or a question but then quickly settling on the latter. It’s two words. A simple request, really. A question that Buck knows he doesn’t have to answer. He knows Eddie would never make him do anything. But there’s something more than that. Another layer to this that Buck can’t ignore in the slightest. Something in the gentleness of Eddie’s tone. In the prodding that beckons truth but does not demand it. The words are permission. Tell me what you want, too. It’s… It’s hard to want things out of this too. Different in comparison to the way Eddie wants, Buck knows this. Eddie is exploring. Searching and learning. This is all new for him. He’s trying to put definitions and emotions to these things that have been limited to nothing but simple fantasy for so long. And Buck- Buck is here to guide him. That’s what he’s here for. To show him what this is supposed to look like and what a safe and healthy dynamic looks like so he knows. Nothing more; nothing less. To make this messier by adding what he wants; it’s…it’s just too much. So yeah, he has no problem shoving his own needs aside for this. He’s more than happy to do that, too. But even Buck can’t deny that the temptation isn’t there- especially now. The door is half-shut. Fuck, it’d be so easy to push it aside, too, to divert another direction and keep talking Eddie through his orgasm until Buck is listening to him fall apart even miles away. But Buck has a really hard time not being able to give Eddie what he wants. And if this is what Eddie wants- Buck takes a breath. And for a moment, a fraction of time, he indulges.

tagging - @aroeddiediaz @goforkinard @hippolotamus @eddiebabygirldiaz @kitteneddiediaz @wildlife4life

[cheesycatz]

WORMTON AU MASTERPOST

"Spamton G. Spamton is just a normal spam program making ends meet by tricking darkners into buying his garbage. At least, that's what he tells a blue addison he accidentally wins over, as well as their friends. He won't fall for their genuine words and pure compassion, though. A salesman and a manipulator are one and the same, and neither can trick the other.

…right?"

AKA: Spamton, but he represents a computer worm as a darkner. He's some sort of 15 foot long fluffy parasitic alien centipede worm creature, and the Sweepstakes worm represents what his species's parasitic hatchlings look like after they slowly consume and kill their host from the inside out. Spamton is the last of his species left after they were exterminated (representing a computer worm being downloaded onto a computer and eventually fought off). He wears a disguise to hide his worm status so that he may interact with the general public without being reported and killed by an antivirus. He doesn't meet the addisons until after the extermination of his species. Hope he doesn't form any emotional attachment that would be severed if they found out what he really was, haha

This AU exists mostly in the form or art and text posts, but I am currently working on a fanfic about Wormton and the addisons, which will start being posted to ao3 once I finish the entire rough draft.

Links below to all: lore, art, question answers, marketable plushies, and fic updates ⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️

Lore (art included)

Initial lore post

- The basics. Describes the general characteristics, infection process and behavior of malworms (darkner version computer worms). Also describes the extinction of Spamton's species, his origins, and the setup for his interactions with the addisons.

More malworm biology

- More information on malworm culture/biology and Spamton's specific species (the BIGSHOT malworm). Woah, say that 10 times fast...uh, also more information on the extinction of Spamton's species.

Size comparison and more biology

- A sketch dump showing a size comparison between the addisons and masked/unmasked Spamton. Also features some general sketches of BIGSHOT malworms and some more information on their biology.

Spamton before he met the addisons

- A sketch page + text on some scenes from Spamton's life from before he met the addisons.

General info/designs of malworm genera

- Not much Spamton here. It's just a look at what the other types of malworms might look like.

Art (sometimes a smidgen of lore)

Disguised Wormton Reference Sheet

True Wormton Reference Sheet

Too Many Legs (Comic based on the fic)

Spamton and the addisons (pre-reveal)

Annoying Mouse Room™ Infinite Food Hack

The Worm Nest

How Wormton's costume works

Pros of not having a spine

Late night worm posting

What a Wormton NEO would look like

Wholesome Wormton Content

Hatchling Spamton my beloved

Malworm Hoodie Design

Q&A

My asks are open, so feel free to ask me any questions about my AU or art in general (within reason, obviously)! I like drawing responses when applicable, so feel free to give me a wormton drawing request and I might consider it.

Asks from Instagram about lore

Plushies

Can malworm/wormton fanart be made? (Yes pretty please I would love fanart)

Maximum lifespan of malworms?

I have so many of these things god help me

My Worm Collection

Spamton Plush Wormton Outfit

16 ft long Life-Size Wormton Plush

Fic Updates

The Making Of: Life-Size Wormton Plush

Sometimes I post art and some thoughts about the Wormton AU fic I am working on. I won't be publicly posting it until I finish the rough draft of the entire story. I'm doing my best, but I'm also dealing with life's responsibilities and making other art. I have no idea for a release date yet, but I don't plan on giving up.

Once the entire story has reached a first-draft state, I will finish each chapter one by one and post them as I do. As previously mentioned, chapters will be released on ao3 once finished. As of 08/02/24, it is: 142k words long

86k words update

100k words update

111k words update

120k words update

132k words update

142k words update

Thank you for enjoying my silly little AU, I love reading your tags

[thedustyleaves]

2, 8, and 19! Let’s get positive!

2. 5 favourites of your own work?

I really like this one because it's a redraw of an old piece, so I get to see my improvement in comparison to that. I love the movement of it and how intense it feels; you can imagine what's going to happen next c:

This is one of my new favourite pieces! I had so much fun chatting with my friend while drawing it, sharing WIPs with them, and just getting excited about drawing. I included a bunch of details and knick-knacks I wouldn't normally do because I get really motivated when I create together with someone else!

I like this one simply because I put so much effort into it, hah! I love the level of detail I've added to it, while still directing the viewer's gaze to the main characters, so it doesn't feel overwhelming. I also love the colours I ended up with. It was such a struggle to colour, so I was so happy when it all came together, hah!

This pirate piece is one I will always hold dear because, to me, it's the first big illustration I did, that made me realise that I can actually draw the images I have in my head; I just need to believe in myself and trust the process. Once I learned that and broke the process into steps I understand, I slowly started tackling bigger and more complicated ideas c:

I just really love the mood in this one and the composition! I also love the story I put in there. I imagine that they just finished cleaning up after fight with a hunter and they're celebrating the kill. Now someone has stepped into their den (you, the viewer) and they're figuring out what to do with you.

8. What do you like most about your own work? Already answered!

19. Favourite character(s) to draw? My own, hah! They make me really happy 🥰