#(lying) (i know exactly how ill react. not well.)

[spearheadrampancy]

hi guys guess who just found out they actually might not have been referred to the nhs gender clinic five years ago. the gender clinic whose pre-2020 waiting times were 2 years and whose waiting times are now above 5 for first appointment plus another year or two for the second appointment where hormones can first be prescribed.

[thelaughtercafe]

Inevitable*

Tea Type: Black Coffee with a Shot of Espresso

Potential Triggers: Yandere Nagito, non-con for tickling and cuddling/forced kissing, manipulation of Reader's tickle kink against them, Reader has a pre-established Ultimate if that bothers you.

Pairing: Yandere! Nagito/F! Reader

Length: 1.3k+

Summary: Nagito had been kind and there for you, all throughout your school years. The last thing you expected was him to lock you away. He'd been persistent, but not broken you. Until now. If only his luck wasn't so powerful.

You were an angel. There was no other way to describe you. Not to Nagito. You'd been kind to him when he didn't deserve it, always fussing over him in school whenever you'd feel his upset. You were the Ultimate Empath- and he considered you the only person who truly understood him in the world. 

So when the world fell to despair, through the actions of he and his friends? Well, he couldn't just…not protect his own personal hope. Right?

And yet…you'd done nothing but make him spiral into despair all the more. You were scared of him. Of what he felt and made you feel. It caused guilt and resentment build up in him all at once and his illnesses, on top of being an Ultimate Despair now certainly didn't help his self control any. He missed your smile. He'd do anything to see you beam at him again, to bestow the gift of your beautiful hope upon him. 

It was then that his luck finally struck. 

He had been having a cuddling session with you- not your favorite part of the day but his by a wide margin. You were still chained to his bed by your leg of course- he had to keep you safe. But it was soothing to feel your skin and cloth against his own. 

It was when your breath hitched unnaturally that it piqued his interest. He had been absentmindedly stroking your stomach and humming when he noticed. Your shirt had ridden up a little. He paused a moment and then continued to hum, even as his mind spun. 

'What could have caused you to react in such a way, my hope? I have to know.'

He allowed his fingers to flutter lower, like he believed they did and this time you jolted in his arms and let out a high pitched squeak. He couldn't help his smirk as he leaned down to purr into your ear, your body now tense as a spring, not breathing. 

"Ah I see now. You wouldn't happen to be ticklish, now would you love?"

"W-What me? No way! You're imagining things Nagi- l-let's just go back to cuddling okay? I was finally starting to fall asleep!"

You had turned to pout at him and Nagito could admit, you had always been a gifted performer. But he knew you better than anyone else- and he was going to take full advantage of this exciting discovery, no matter what. May as well use your lying as an excuse to punish you.  Maybe it would lead you into the depths of despair? He hoped so, because then he could be the one to inspire you to ascend to the echelons of hope and you would finally treasure him as he did you. 

"It's not nice to lie to your boyfriend, you know that?"

He was quiet a moment and then you felt air on your ear, intentionally this time which made you squirm and press your lips together in denial, now firmly turned away from him. 

Now it was his turn to pout. 

"Aww no fair! I haven't seen your smile in so long. You're going to show it to me."

His voice lowered, in that dangerous way that always gave you chills but you shook your head anyway, burrowing your face further into the soft bed as butterflies went wild in your stomach. 

You never would've imagined this whole situation. Less than a year ago you were perfectly content at Hope's Peak Academy. Or at least you think it was less than a year. Nagito didn't exactly keep you updated on the time or date. He'd always been kind to you, and you were close with him and the others. But for this to happen…it brought you despair as you'd never known. And you couldn't fathom it bringing you hope. No matter how much Nagito claimed otherwise. 

Truthfully, you'd always had a crush on Nagito. He was so attentive and kind; always looking out for his friends without a second thought. Not to mention, he was smart and you'd always found intelligence a sexy trait. But…things were changed now. He was still the boy you knew- but he was more sadistic than you ever fathomed he could be. His intelligence was now used to keep you hidden here. He was even prone to threats of telling the others where you were, if you struggled too much. He never got violent- but his punishments were of a different sort. Touch when you didn't want it. Your mandatory "cuddle sessions" were lengthened- and if you screamed or cursed at him- he'd shut you up with a hard kiss to the lips more than once. Eyes half-lidded and cruel as he stroked your face. 

"There's no point in raising your voice. You belong with me. You'll come to see it in time. I know you feel it too."

Perhaps the most frightening thing of all, was that some part of you knew he was right. You'd liked him back in high school, and still found him physically attractive even now. How much longer could you keep up the facade of hatred? The silent treatment? He was all you had left in the wake of the Tragedy, after all. Plus…now he was doing this ? You’d done so well at hiding your kink. No-one knew of it. You damned his luck to the darkest pit of Hell as he forced you up to face him with a pull of your shoulder, moving quickly to straddle your waist. 

Perceptive grey eyes bore into your expression as he analyzed the blush on your face, the hitch of your breath, and then he smirked. 

“Ha, I knew it. You like this.”

“N-No I-”

He cuts you off by sealing your lips together and, for perhaps the first time you kiss back. You think inwardly it’s because this is better than him finding out your tickle kink- but even you doubt the reasoning. 

He pulled back to grin cheerily at you, chuckling in a carefree manner. 

"Now, what did I just say about lying?  Naughty brat. You'll have to be punished for that."

He gave an exaggerated sigh, shrugging as if the situation was out of his hands. 

"And I was so nice, giving you a second chance too…oh well. Can't be helped."

Your eyes widened and you opened your mouth to protest but then his fingers were spidering up your sides to scribble at your ribs. 

You burst into laughter instead, trying to squirm and weakly shove him off. 

"Noohohoho!! Nagito! Not this plhehehehehease! It's too soon!" 

His answering laughter was light and melodic as he moved to squeeze at your sides. 

"Aw but you're so cute like this!"

He leaned down, lips meeting your neck before he whispered in your ear, oversensitivity making even that tickle as you flinched and tried to pull away. 

"Don't worry. I won't do anything "below the belt", so to speak, until you consent. I'm not a complete monster. This is definitely my new favorite punishment method though. Besides, there's plenty of spots to explore, even without going there."

You felt his lips upturn into a smirk, as he nibbled experimentally at your neck. 

"...If you get excited because of it? That's just a bonus. It'll make your true feelings for me all the stronger. After all, I'm the one making you feel this way."

Nagito finally pulled back, leaving you gasping and trembling. He smirked at you, the dominant glare in his eyes making you feel weak in the knees. You were running out of fight and he could tell in the way he sneered down at you. He knew he held all the power. 

"It also makes you a liar though. All that bluster and loud denial. I knew it was an act. Good thing I know just how to punish you for it now, huh? Let's see where you're most ticklish, shall we my hope? We have a long night ahead of us."

Well…at least you're at the hands of Nagito. It could be worse. He'd told you of the despair your shared friends and classmates had created. Of what he'd done. 

You were to be nothing but a toy for your old friends' whims until you eventually broke, just as he wanted. You could only resist for so long. 

Perhaps it had been inevitable. 

You were an angel. There was no other way to describe you. Not to Nagito. You'd been kind to him when he didn't deserve it, always fussing over him in school whenever you'd feel his upset. You were the Ultimate Empath- and he considered you the only person who truly understood him in the world. 

So when the world fell to despair, through the actions of he and his friends? Well, he couldn't just…not protect his own personal hope. Right?

And yet…you'd done nothing but make him spiral into despair all the more. You were scared of him. Of what he felt and made you feel. It caused guilt and resentment build up in him all at once and his illnesses, on top of being an Ultimate Despair now certainly didn't help his self control any. He missed your smile. He'd do anything to see you beam at him again, to bestow the gift of your beautiful hope upon him. 

It was then that his luck finally struck. 

He had been having a cuddling session with you- not your favorite part of the day but his by a wide margin. You were still chained to his bed by your leg of course- he had to keep you safe. But it was soothing to feel your skin and cloth against his own. 

It was when your breath hitched unnaturally that it piqued his interest. He had been absentmindedly stroking your stomach and humming when he noticed. Your shirt had ridden up a little. He paused a moment and then continued to hum, even as his mind spun. 

'What could have caused you to react in such a way, my hope? I have to know.'

He allowed his fingers to flutter lower, like he believed they did and this time you jolted in his arms and let out a high pitched squeak. He couldn't help his smirk as he leaned down to purr into your ear, your body now tense as a spring, not breathing. 

"Ah I see now. You wouldn't happen to be ticklish, now would you love?"

"W-What me? No way! You're imagining things Nagi- l-let's just go back to cuddling okay? I was finally starting to fall asleep!"

You had turned to pout at him and Nagito could admit, you had always been a gifted performer. But he knew you better than anyone else- and he was going to take full advantage of this exciting discovery, no matter what. May as well use your lying as an excuse to punish you.  Maybe it would lead you into the depths of despair? He hoped so, because then he could be the one to inspire you to ascend to the echelons of hope and you would finally treasure him as he did you. 

"It's not nice to lie to your boyfriend, you know that?"

He was quiet a moment and then you felt air on your ear, intentionally this time which made you squirm and press your lips together in denial, now firmly turned away from him. 

Now it was his turn to pout. 

"Aww no fair! I haven't seen your smile in so long. You're going to show it to me."

His voice lowered, in that dangerous way that always gave you chills but you shook your head anyway, burrowing your face further into the soft bed as butterflies went wild in your stomach. 

You never would've imagined this whole situation. Less than a year ago you were perfectly content at Hope's Peak Academy. Or at least you think it was less than a year. Nagito didn't exactly keep you updated on the time or date. He'd always been kind to you, and you were close with him and the others. But for this to happen…it brought you despair as you'd never known. And you couldn't fathom it bringing you hope. No matter how much Nagito claimed otherwise. 

Truthfully, you'd always had a crush on Nagito. He was so attentive and kind; always looking out for his friends without a second thought. Not to mention, he was smart and you'd always found intelligence a sexy trait. But…things were changed now. He was still the boy you knew- but he was more sadistic than you ever fathomed he could be. His intelligence was now used to keep you hidden here. He was even prone to threats of telling the others where you were, if you struggled too much. He never got violent- but his punishments were of a different sort. Touch when you didn't want it. Your mandatory "cuddle sessions" were lengthened- and if you screamed or cursed at him- he'd shut you up with a hard kiss to the lips more than once. Eyes half-lidded and cruel as he stroked your face. 

"There's no point in raising your voice. You belong with me. You'll come to see it in time. I know you feel it too."

Perhaps the most frightening thing of all, was that some part of you knew he was right. You'd liked him back in high school, and still found him physically attractive even now. How much longer could you keep up the facade of hatred? The silent treatment? He was all you had left in the wake of the Tragedy, after all. Plus…now he was doing this ? You’d done so well at hiding your kink. No-one knew of it. You damned his luck to the darkest pit of Hell as he forced you up to face him with a pull of your shoulder, moving quickly to straddle your waist. 

Perceptive grey eyes bore into your expression as he analyzed the blush on your face, the hitch of your breath, and then he smirked. 

“Ha, I knew it. You like this.”

“N-No I-”

He cuts you off by sealing your lips together and, for perhaps the first time you kiss back. You think inwardly it’s because this is better than him finding out your tickle kink- but even you doubt the reasoning. 

He pulled back to grin cheerily at you, chuckling in a carefree manner. 

"Now, what did I just say about lying?  Naughty brat. You'll have to be punished for that."

He gave an exaggerated sigh, shrugging as if the situation was out of his hands. 

"And I was so nice, giving you a second chance too…oh well. Can't be helped."

Your eyes widened and you opened your mouth to protest but then his fingers were spidering up your sides to scribble at your ribs. 

You burst into laughter instead, trying to squirm and weakly shove him off. 

"Noohohoho!! Nagito! Not this plhehehehehease! It's too soon!" 

His answering laughter was light and melodic as he moved to squeeze at your sides. 

"Aw but you're so cute like this!"

He leaned down, lips meeting your neck before he whispered in your ear, oversensitivity making even that tickle as you flinched and tried to pull away. 

"Don't worry. I won't do anything "below the belt", so to speak, until you consent. I'm not a complete monster. This is definitely my new favorite punishment method though. Besides, there's plenty of spots to explore, even without going there."

You felt his lips upturn into a smirk, as he nibbled experimentally at your neck. 

"...If you get excited because of it? That's just a bonus. It'll make your true feelings for me all the stronger. After all, I'm the one making you feel this way."

Nagito finally pulled back, leaving you gasping and trembling. He smirked at you, the dominant glare in his eyes making you feel weak in the knees. You were running out of fight and he could tell in the way he sneered down at you. He knew he held all the power. 

"It also makes you a liar though. All that bluster and loud denial. I knew it was an act. Good thing I know just how to punish you for it now, huh? Let's see where you're most ticklish, shall we my hope? We have a long night ahead of us."

Well…at least you're at the hands of Nagito. It could be worse. He'd told you of the despair your shared friends and classmates had created. Of what he'd done. 

You were to be nothing but a toy for your old friends' whims until you eventually broke, just as he wanted. You could only resist for so long. 

Perhaps it had been inevitable. 

[millylotus]

Another Void & Gold Post!

I'm going to cure Elaine & Doug of this weird Joker bullshit if it kills me & I'm making it a whole thing about why they're so difficult to cure

---

Duke has been trying for years to both find & cure his parents, but for some reason nothing can fix them. All the other victims have made some recovery but they just wont.

His mom is doing the worst, she barely responds to outside stimuli, the only noise she makes are giggles & laughs. He can't even look her in the eyes anymore, they've gone so dull, lost that luster that Duke remembers her for.

His dad is a bit better, he reacts to more aggressive stimuli, always asking for help for his wife, begging for someone to look for his son. Asking for his sister & her family, sometimes even his long dead parents. His desperation & pain make it so hard for Duke to sit there & listen to him speak.

Duke just wants his parents back, but nothing seems to be working. He was almost going to resign himself to this being all they could be when some new information came up.

Bruce had been looking into the "why" & he stumbled upon it. There was something inherently different about Elaine's very being, she was human yes but a different kind then what would be normal on this Earth. Doug by close association with her had taken on a few of those traits.

So the theory of Elaine not being from this dimension was brought up as very feasible. There where of course some difficulties across the board.

Duke getting desperate to find some kind of information about his mother before she came to Gotham. And the only person who could have possibly known her is Gnomon, her ex [husband?] & Duke's bio dad.

So Duke's sitting in the visitation room of a meta-human prison staring down Gnomon, who looks like he doesn't give much of fuck.

---

G: So you've finally come to visit, finally come to ask about me? D: Yeah no, I just wanted to ask about mom, not exactly here for your sob story. G *sighs*: Yes of course, Elaine must have kept some things from you. Especially considering how ill equipt you where when fighting me. Did she not want to talk about her past with you, even now that you know about me? D: More like she couldn't. G *eyebrow raise* D *deep breath*: Mom & Dad have been thoroughly Jokerized for a couple years now. Everyone else has made a proper recovery but they haven't. The doctors have come to the conclusion that something is fundamentally different about mom. We think it's dimensional. And you're the only person who knew her before she showed up in Gotham, so you'd know the best. *tense silence* G *mumbling*: Well you're not wrong. G: Elaine & I aren't, under a technicality, from this world. D: So you can guess what's wrong with them? G: Not with any accuracy, not unless & I see it up close. D *groan*: You aren't even set up for parole yet, & I'm not letting you out. G: Child it was never about anyone letting me out. It was always about when you & Elaine would muster up the courage to come talk to me. I can leave whenever I want. And if what you say is true, then you're Mother & Douglas are on a bit of time crunch at the moment. *D glares at G, who is smirking* D: I don't like this. G: I'm not about to hurt you Duke, I've done all I wanted on the getting your attention front. D: How do I know you're not lying G *serious*: Elaine was my first friend & love, you are my son, and you both deeply care for Douglas. Any harm I may cause to either of you three or anyone else you care for, for that matter, would only grant me your ire. And I do not want that. D *sighs*: I'll see what I can do.

---

So science, not my strong suit, but a small passion of mine. Still not going to go in amazingly thought out depth of it

Gnomon is able to pinpoint the reason Elaine & Doug are taking so long is because the Joker venom used on them had traces of Nth metal

An off shoot of Elaine & Gnomon's previous home dimension of The Sphere/The Collective, so their immune systems where having a hard time differentiating between the invading Nth metal & Elaine's own energy

As is it has been a long while since Elaine had rejuvenated any of her powers

The simple fix was to reintroduce Elaine's energy still within The Collective

A whole adventure to The Sphere happens as a sort of Father-Son bonding trip for Gnomon & Duke. Something that I'll probably have fun hashing out later in another post. But in the end they get back, synthesis the cure & get it to Elaine & Doug!

Elaine snaps out of it first, quickly followed by Doug, a tearful reunion between child & parents ensues

Jay's there by his family, also getting hugs & tears

Bruce explains some of what's been going on

Gnomon's off in hall being a bit awkward

And that's how Elaine & Doug are healed! Hip-hip hooray :D!

[csprslvt]

you and i, and her pt.10

Chapter 9

Summary: You come to kidnapped Ellie's rescue. Feeling conflicted with the task of murdering people you once saw every day. Your attempt to move on from Abby was a fight but your love for Ellie grows every day as Ellie is realizing how possessive she can really be.

Warnings: Violence, murder, self-hate, Ellie is a little toxic, Ellie wants you to herself and will do anything to get it. Past toxic relationship, please be aware of the changes made for plot :) See notes for some announcements at the end of the chapter!

Now, you were in a real sticky situation. The WLF knew you, you were Abby Anderson’s girl. Always together, always hanging off her arm. You had to get to Ellie and make sure no one recognized you. And so there you were, sneaking up behind people that were once your colleagues and suffocating them until they turned blue, passing by as if you had never known each other. The fact that the WLF thought you were dead also helped. They didn't know to be afraid.

First you had betrayed Ellie, now here you stood on top of a glass skylight killing every last one of the guards to creep your way into the room Ellie was being held hostage in.

All for her ,who you were sure wouldn't want you when she found out your past.

You made your way into the building, still unnoticed by some miracle. You really wished you had something to cover your face just to be more discreet. It was strange, you were less worried about dying and more concerned about how awful it would be if someone else exposed you to Ellie. However the thought of lying to her again filled you with immense pain and guilt. You could hear faint talking when coming closer to a door,

“ Y’Know that smuggler we killed out in Jackson?”

“Yeah?”

“This girl was there.”

Ellie was there.

“What?”

“They're coming after us.”

You silently walked into the room, crouching behind a table. The men were too into their conversation to notice you when you got closer to them, a pistol in your hand.

“Thats why Nick was fucked up like that”

Ellie had noticed you walked in but controlled herself to show no reaction, she struggles against the restraints. 

Oh whatever Nick was a cunt anyways

“We gotta get her to Isaac, and we gotta tell him exactly what's going on” “Yea, well I just got off the radio with Isaac. And we got a new mandate”

Fucking Isaac, you never liked Isaac either. You never liked anyone but Abby. Maybe you never really belonged with them in the first place.

One of the men held up a gun, you acted on impulse and stood up from under the table, shooting them both without hesitation. They didn't have time to react, their bodies simply falling to the floor with a heavy bang sounding. The scent of gun power and metallic blood engorged your nose. 

There wasn't much time until others came to see what was going on despite wiping most of them out. Ellie looked up at you,

“Y/n” She breathed out, “You came for me.”

“Course I did.” You told her as if it was the simplest thing in the world. Quickly, you unbound her and ran to find cover when you heard a voice speak

“Shots fired!” 

The glass shattered,you were being ambushed by WLF soldiers but all you could think was 

“Please don't recognize me, please don't say my name”

“Ill cover you, you go around” You demanded, Ellie listened and moved around to the doorway shooting two soldiers in the way. Running out of the room, adrenaline coursed inside your nervous system so many things were at risk but there was only one thing you cared about.

“Lets go!”

“How many guys did you see?” Ellie asked you

“Enough but I took care of most if not all of them.” Ellie gave a surprised look, “No time to explain let's just go” You muttered in response. 

There were a few stragglers, some infected in the rooms around you but when you killed them you felt absolutely nothing. Remorse had faded away years ago and you were left with one goal; to protect Ellie. Maybe that would clear your conscience of all your sins. Outside, the grass was tall and easy to hide in. This was useful considering the gun shots had alarmed WLF from the distance to come and clear whatever threat there was.

Ellie was just as much a ruthless killer as you were, if not more. It was strange how loving she could be versus how cold blooded she was under the threat of danger. It made sense but you still wondered how that switch flipped so easily. Making it through the thick grass you stole some supplies. Abby would be pissed, but she was the one to blame for letting you drift away so easily. 

More soldiers had come and at this point they were more of an annoyance than a threat to you. Eliminating them was child's play. Once safe in an apartment covered with growing earth you paused. Ellie looked at you,

“You came for me” the emotion in her eyes was telling, had she thought you'd abandon her?

“I was never going to leave you there Els” She came closer, holding your face in her rough hands and you placed your own on top of hers. Holding them there.

“Wherever you go, I go.” You said firmly, “And if that means almost getting killed to save you, it's worth it” 

Ellie didn't know what to say, what she really wanted to do was reach over to kiss you, she was so close to you. She was so willing to step a little closer and close the distance between your lips. She decided that she wanted you, and would do anything to have you be hers. But you pulled away and Ellie hid the disappointment in her eyes.

Still though you held her hands, walking away from this mess. Walking away from Abby entirely. 

The next stop, according to Ellie, was a TV station she had heard her captors talking about. The city line was visible from a distance, so you headed towards it. Occasionally stopping to raid for supplies in motels and shops. You walked fast though wanting to leave as soon as possible. Being in Seattle felt exposing, it brought back memories of the one person you wanted to forget. Loving Abby went against all logic. It was the one thing you struggled the most to shake. You wanted to hate her more, to regret all the time you'd spent in her arms but that was hard. She was still your first love. You could never regret those moments with her, the touches and stolen kisses. The look in her eyes when you woke up next to her in the morning, the way she smelt of pine after you showered together and the way she spoke when you were alone. You could never regret any of that.

You traveled uphill, with shimmer dead it was taxing. A long journey made even longer. Yet the entire time, Ellie grasped onto your hand the same way she did downtown. Every now and then, she would rub circles into your knuckles. Simply wanting to be closer to you.

“What do we do when this is over?” You suddenly spoke up. You were sure letting Ellie kill Abby would be impossible. But it was nice to fantasize about what your life could be with Ellie.

“I always wanted a farm.”

“A farm?”

“Yes, with sheep, a garden maybe an art studio”

“You like to draw?” 

At this question, Ellie grinned

“I love to draw.”

“I bet you are very talented Ellie”

You noticed that Ellie blushed at every small compliment you gave her, a lovely pink rising on her cheeks, showing off her freckles and bright green eyes. She was stunning, why haven't you ever paid attention to her small reactions before? Perhaps you were too entangled with Abby. But you didn't want to think of that right now.

“Thank you… I'll show you my journal sometime there are tons of doodles”

Ellie paused,

“What about you? What's your dream?” “I'd like to be happy.”

Your requests were very simple, but you didn't believe you deserved to be happy at all.

“Are you not now?”

“Its difficult considering where we are, but I'd like to be content, to feel again.”

“To feel again?”

“To love again.”

Ellie’s hands shook a bit, your answer distressed her a little.

“Have you not loved in a long time?” “Not in a way that felt freeing, only in a way that held me down somewhere I didn't truly belong. I want to feel what it's like to love without conditions, to be supported in my choices, to be my own person.” The love you shared with Abby was your very first and it was intense. It was obsessive and took over your life.

“Did your ex not do that?”

“Honestly it's very complicated i'm not sure how I feel about her myself”

Ellies chest tightened. That wasn't what she wanted to hear, she wanted to know that you moved on. She didn't ask anything else after that. She wanted you so badly and the fact that someone from the past could be in her way drove her a little crazy. She knew you, she deserved you, she would treat you with love and kindness. Why didn't you want her the same way? It hurt worse that you were so kind. If you were an asshole she would lose feelings. It was strange, she felt possessive and you weren't hers. She knew she had no right to feel this way, but it pained her deeply to consider the possibility that you might love another.It was an intense pain to not be loved back. She wondered why she was so different when it was you. It was like she yearned for someone she couldn't have. But some way or another, she would have you all to herself.  She would eliminate anyone in her way to your heart. And you would fall into her arms right? That's what she wanted.

She missed shimmer suddenly, not because of the walk but without her she couldn't ride with your arms around her waist, your scent engulfing her and your breath on her neck. Feeling you against her calmed her, it took her mind off of murder and onto something productive; being with you. She wanted you by her side regardless. The fact that her revenge plan didn't scare you away was a miracle within itself.

She could only hope you would want her at the end of this.

You wondered the same thing.

Notes: I found my charger! So happy to be having my laptop back, feedback is much appreciated, and I would love your thoughts on how the story should turn out! Thanks for reading! xoxoxo

[ever-fics]

Rock you like a Hurricane Part 2 - Cheer

Rock you like a hurricane part 2: time periods flip between (1980-1985) (and the year of the previous chapter.)

For Y/N the year 1980 was ... late elementary early middle school.

Y/n remembers it well... It was the last time y/n ever felt ... safe truly safe, last time Y/n could actually trust anyone, last day of calm before the storm.

"I just think you look like her a little..."

"Like my doll?"

"Yeah."

"Aren't I the younger one shouldn't I be asking you to dress up as something."

"That doesn't always have to be how it works... Just dress up as the doll I look like the other doll the friend one but you."

"Only for you but I get to choose both our costumes next year."

________

There never was a next year...

There was barely a next week...

________

"Where is it Suzie?"

"You probably left it in the car again by accident."

"Your older you ... have your own toys why cant I have one thing thats mine? People call me Suzie's Sister .... Like I don't have a name of my own we have the same last name, the same room I ask for this one thing to be mine."

"Well maybe you should keep a better eye on things be more responsible... Thats what Mom says anyway."

"I was responsible I ... You took it stop lying! I ask to have only one thing of my own!"

"Yeah well we are sisters we share."

"Yeah Well I wish I was an only child.... That you didn't always lecture me on how I can be better to measure up to you! I wish I had a sister that didn't steal my toys! Have fun at your meaningless party. I hope betraying me and stealing the doll you asked me to dress up as makes you happy." *The conversation replays in Y/Ns memory.*

__________________________

The story's Present

Michael for his own part doesn't usually do this but it isn't hard to find the university housing Y/N is living in. It didn't take long to find her dorm by asking around. 6th on the left Peabody Building.

Michael is hesitant to knock knowing exactly how Y/N would react.

"Okay... uh Hi... look if your with the frat house that egged my car....save it. Also If this is about me reviewing a thesis or a project for you ...  Its my day off so It'll cost extra."

"Y/ N N .... Oh is this another one of your shady homework deals ... Ill pretend I didn't see anything but when your done can you do the ... thing you do with the computers to make them go faster?"

"Whos?" Micheal asks referring to person who just spoke.

"Roxanne ... The R.A. Look I will check out the computers later ... Just tell the others to stop trying to get free music Win.amp  and those other sites sometimes attract viruses ,hackers, which would be why it slows down in the first place." Y/N sighs

"And What about installing the security cams you promised?" Roxanne counters.

"You covering it? Or is the school..? Because I'm not paying for it. For quality pre assembled cameras its expensive... going down to radio shack to get parts to build it from scratch is... more expensive." Y/N explains.

"Fine look ill talk to the school just do whatever hack trick you do for the computers..." Roxanne requested..

Before gesturing an awkward call me at Micheal while walking away."

"Is uh ...?"

"She always like that pretty much its gotten a-lot better though...She used to front this punk band and They weren't quiet. Anyway what was it you wanted?" Y/N questioned.

"Oh.. Yeah.. you still think Im a frat…Its me Micheal... as in Afton as in please don't tell me you went to Hurricane High ...Micheal from the arcade the other day..." Micheal explained

"Oh! Yeah Micheal who ditched the conversation." Y/N deadpanned

"I -I didn't ditch I.." Micheal panics

"Relax, Im joking..." Y/N chuckles

"The electrical outlet blew at the end." Micheal explained.

"You look ... different." Micheal added.

"Thats... really how you want to start this conversation?"

Y/N raised an eyebrow

"No, I didn't mean it in a bad way ..." Micheal explains.

"Look Afton, Why are you even here? Its not like we were super close when we were younger." Y/N asks.

"Do you remember the classes we had together in 84-85” Micheal wonders.

"Barely why?" Y/N questioned

"I was an ass to you before. I learned that the hard way... With what happened to Evan. You were one of the only people who still talked to me after that. I know you gave the notes to everyone but writing things back and forth kept me. It kept me from being stuck. Anyway uh... I owe you. So if you want me to look for information on Suzzie I can." Micheal offered

"Can we stop?"

"Stop what?"

"The secrets Afton... Your Father was the main suspect... and I know she's dead but...  Not exactly. She doesn't always feel gone she...never really felt gone Nobody believed me back then but... Now... Something tells me you know exactly what I mean. I'm not imagining things." Y\N explains slightly annoyed.

"I...I know. I'm sorry. I don't know where my Dad hid the bodies... He sort of hated me after everything. I just know he... He killed her... And that when I work night shift weird stuff happens. Weird as in the spring suits move on thier own weird.. Arcade machine will stop us from talking because an unknown message thinks I'm hurting you weird." Micheal explains.

"I... She actually is there then... It was never just me or wishful thinking... She doesn't talk to me. I... I was so mean. I can't even blame her." Y/N looks away wiping the small tear dripping down her cheek.

"Hey... Shhh... It's okay." Micheal whispers trying to see if she was ok with a hug. She nods and he just holds her as he explains.*"I don't think that's why she doesn't come to you.. I think she just doesn't want to hurt you. I have to agree...having Utah's superstar upset? Absurd."

__________________________

Classes of 84-85

Considering the incident with Evan a little more than a year prior.

Uniforms the same Color red that stained his own hands, his own clothing, the color the flashed in front of him whenever he tried to sleep a deep dark red...

It grabbed his attention but what further grabbed his attention was Y/N ... At this point only the assistant cheer captain of Hurricane high.

"Stop gawking its weird dude..." *Of the other students around told him*

"I wasn't." *Micheal panics*

"You weren't? That might actually be weirder...

But hey the skull-crusher and the cheerleader totally sounds like you have a shot there ,killer." the student he is talking to just laughs at his own remarks.*

"Can you screw off?"*Micheal snaps.*

"Like the unhinged deathrobots your Dad makes?....sure." *The other student snarks.*

Micheal just walks away agitated and Isolated deciding to stay in the gymnasium simply because Rock you like a hurricane was playing.

What he didn't expect further was Rock You like a hurricane to be made into a cheerleader number.

...

"Y\NN!  Stop doodling and try attending to your duty  as assistant cheer captain." *The cheer captain whined

"I was actually... taking notes .Unless you'd like me to attempt acrobatics in the middle of taking notes where our team can improve."*Y/N explains.*

"Dont backtalk me. The only reason you are allowed to have any power in this squad is because the Cheer coach pity's you and I let you on because I used to be friends with your older sister.  You somehow ended up a disappointment... Even when we expected nothing from you to start. For the record this is why I liked Suzie better. " *The cheer captain sneered.*

Y/Ns face just dropped before it turned  smirk

"Guess the feelings Mutual because I liked Suzie better than you too. Especially because by your own logic if she were alive she would have had your position I still would've been co-captain and you... well we know what you would've been.. Hey coach can I please have  somebody with actual authority read over my notes

Thanks." *Y/N hands the coach the notebook before cheer practice ended. Though most of the squad was clapping by that point. Especially considering the how the coach approved of her notes.

The next time Micheal spots her is when shes leaving the cheer locker room. Her uniform had been ripped

"Y/NN? You changed your name?"  *Micheal notes*

"Yep." *Is all she says.*

"Are you okay?" *Micheal asks.*

"When has it ever mattered to you before Afton?"*Y/N glares..*

" Just because I don't ask doesn't mean I think it doesn't matter" Micheal pointed out

"Look Its nothing..."*Y/N sighs.*

"Nothing doesn't destroy uniforms..."*Micheal countered.*

"Shit." *Y/N tries to stuff the uniform back in her backpack. And hide it so no one else would know.*

"Look whatever she did it isn't the first time people have used me as target practice..." *Y/N thinks out-loud.*

"They shouldn't..." *Micheal noted.*

".... I know. Look um... I have to run because I'm going to have to fix my uniform but your in my psych class." *Y/N excuses herself.*

"I noticed that too... I mean .... Its First day of the semester. So kinda hard not to hear who's name gets called." *Micheal... tries to play it cool.*

"Sure." *Y/N waves beginning to walk away.*

______

"If you actually want to help me with my sister... I could use the help. Truth is you don't really have to ask forgiveness. You and I are... more alike then we like to admit. Anyway....Im sorry too." *Y/N explains.*

"Why?"

"Because I... I... used to be nervous around you. I worried maybe you covered for your Dad but uh.... In all honesty you didn't have much of a choice. Thank you for being honest with me."  *Y/N admits*

"Used to? As in past tense." *Micheal smirked.*

"Shut up!" *Y/N laughs.*

[fiendfriend]

Thoughts on Kafka’s Metamorphosis (ballet) but if you're looking for something eloquent and well thought out, y'ain't gonna find it in here!

I finally decided to track down the royal ballet’s production of the metamorphosis after spending some time with a friend, mutually hating on that one atrocious Goodreads review of the novel itself. You know the one. Being generally ill and having had it impact my ability to work/”be productive” as well as my relationship with my family and to a certain extent my friends, I care quite a bit about the original text. I bought a copy from Border's in the 8th grade, read the majority of it sitting cross-legged on the floor of the aisle, and begged my dad to “loan me” the $12 to get it. No one really talked to me about this book and probed deeper into my investment in it until I was in a high school remedial English class. (It was jokingly called the burnout convention by students. Our teacher did not enjoy this in the slightest.) I think that was the first time I had a conversation like that with anyone beyond surface-level close reading that they teach you how to do throughout most middle to high school English classes. The kind that people get mad at on the internet. “Sometimes the curtains are just blue!” You know. I liked those activities and thought they were really fun, and wanted to learn how to do them at a more complex (?) level for all of the things I liked. Which, if I talk to you a lot, is probably pretty obvious. 

Anyway. The ballet. I wasn't sure what to expect. I’d only seen still images and avoided the trailers and official clips because I wanted to be surprised, but I knew it was going to be visceral, mostly because I don't think it’s possible for the metamorphosis not to be? But I don't really know how to interact with ballet aside from just sitting back and allowing it to happen. No idea where to start with breaking down any of the resulting interpretations or feelings afterward. 

The set is split equally into two rooms – Gregor’s bedroom, and the main room of the Samsa apartment. Everything is bright white and gradually becomes dirtied by a dark oil or grease that gradually gets spread around by Gregor himself while he writhes and contorts around alone in his room. 

I think what most surprised me, out of everything, was the I guess obfuscation of dialogue. Dialogue isn't exactly a thing in most (all?) ballet, so as far as I know with a half-assed Google search, this is an unconventional decision. My knowledge is limited. I’ve seen The Nutcracker like once, and half of Swan Lake. 

Grete, Mr. and Mrs. Samsa, the housecleaner, and the bearded men all speak at one point or another, but it’s completely unintelligible thanks to the backing score. Could be gibberish and I wouldn't know a thing! I enjoy this aspect quite a bit. Gregor Samsa is the protagonist here, and when your family is reacting to your existence with anger, disgust, and fear, I don't think the exact words matter at all. When your father is screaming and throwing apples at you, or the housecleaner is loudly and angrily shouting at you over a mess you cannot in any possible way clean yourself, the message is pretty clear. I keep thinking about it. I’ve been there, where I know for a fact somebody is angry at me in the other room, and they’re shouting or slamming things around, but I can't make out what they’re saying. It’s terrifying. It makes you feel like shit. The muffling of clear dialogue perfectly captures the fear and shame that come with anger and resentment. Grete at first continues to be warm toward Gregor, but she too comes to resent him when he becomes inconvenient. She goes from lying by his closed door and playing music to screaming at him within the span of twenty or so minutes. It’s easier for her to love him when he remains unseen in his room. Her quick turnaround seems to coincide with the three dark figures who appear in Gregor’s room at night. This is an aspect unique to the ballet. After some thought, I think these figures can be representative of the last affectionate tie Gregor had with other humans being in the process of severing. I’m taking the three dark figures to be Gregor’s “chaos”, opposite of the “order” represented by the three bearded men. They mark Gregor as being one of them with additional grease, as excreted by Gregor’s insect body. The room becomes gradually filthier as Gregor is neglected and negativity toward him builds up within the family.

Obviously, the section in which the bearded men appear is condensed quite a bit compared to the novel. The “order” of the bearded men and the main room of the Samsa apartment and the “chaos” of Gregor’s bedroom and Gregor himself meet within the span of one song, more or less, while the family dances with the bearded men. Gregor quickly escapes his room and spreads the dark oil/grease coating his body to the bright white of the kitchen, setting off the outburst from his father. In the novella, the apple becomes lodged in his back. He is still their family. There is no reason why he should not be included, save for the revulsion and resentment of others. He can’t be included, because the only way for his family to enjoy the order of the bearded men is through Gregor’s absence. 

I’m not familiar with dance as an art form at all. I fully trust that these professionally trained dancers are aware of the limitations of their bodies. Still, watching Edward Watson contort and writhe is painful at times. His body becomes foreign and upsetting and alien, easily invoking the mental image of a bug stuck on its back by splaying his fingers and toes and twisting his limbs, and it’s perfect. I found myself wincing in sympathy at any particular awkward movement that I know I’d hurt myself attempting. Fittingly, while he hurts to look at, and is covered in the dark grease of his perceived lack of humanity, his eyes are always perfectly visible and perfectly human. I’m so grateful that this was filmed the way it was. I really don’t think I would have come away with the same level of… whatever I feel about it if I hadn’t been able to see his eyes. 

There’s much more that’s stuck with me that I can’t exactly detangle this soon after watching, or only after watching it once. I may sit down and spend some more time with it in a little while, maybe a few days. There’s a lot I haven't touched on at all, like the score being filled with things like alarm clocks and train whistles and the way it seamlessly flows from beautiful to minimalistic to terrifying. Until I sort all that out, here are some photos of the production. First row of three by Alastair Muir, second row of three by Tristram Kenton.

[kusundei]

goddd oh my god chat im just so. UGH. goodness. seeing his messages as soon as i woke up just made me so. IN LOVE. i fall in love with you more each day im being so genuine every once in a while i just. tweak about you randomly. like FALLING TO MY KNEES KIND OF TWEAK. i do feel a little empty rn because im remembering the play is over and i wontbe able to see you like this and im always doomed at home but god… GODDD. its okay. i just. love you. so. MUCH. yesterday was sooo nice. i feelsorta bad especially at the frozen yogurt place just cuz i went a bit nonverbal but more of thag just comes down to me beint more introverted around people idk very well and also cuz i didnt know what to say. aside drom that i was also jhst like ., dead tired. and i couldnt really get myself to really PRETEND to be full of energy . ijst wanted to lay my head on your shoulder. hold your hand. just exist. with you. i feel so like bittersweet right now but im trying to focus on positives so i dont freak out too much. its sunday.. and surprisingly i want it to be monday so i can see you .

i justtt. GODDD. yoy are so cute and goddd i loved thag lipstick sorry. like. that gave me a real excuse to just kiss you everywhere and i knew it was the right time (obviously. but im still cautious often.) its just sooo. . i LOVEEE YOUUUU. your face. you r so gorgeous to me. every inch of you i loveeee i donttCAREEANTNOREEEE. i kept tweaking a little during every show mostly cuz i kept passing byspmeone who. smells exactly like jd. and im realizing w that snell and how i felt smelling it again jdut how in love i am with you. like i said smell is like some weird cognitive thing i have where i can tell how i feel ab someone depending on how i react. smelling jds smell again felt so. disgusting. it invoked that fear in me again. that anxiety i always felt around her knowing she was lying and how i was always jjst worried all the time and she was just. not there. the fear i felt knowing i had to provide everything or else she’d be evil. or something. just that anxiety i felt ALWAYS. i realize it too smelling ayden. his smell makes me sick. sav stole his fucking perfume thjnf and she sprays it on herself sometimes and it makes me so. disgusted. his smell is disgusting to me. jds smell is disgusting to me. but then im sitting here with this hoodje again smelling it and i jusr . idk. i feel better. its like laced with memories everytime i smell it i just remember you. how lovely you r and it just makes me feel so. happy.

alonf wirh that just the things i do with you. the things you do with me its just . you make me feel better. truth be told i dont like when people touch my back pr my waist gery much because of just . feneral association and i never told jd that her doing it too made me ill. it didnt for a WHILE but after everything that happened with the note i felt so. disgustinf all the time with her. you. you however. you r replacing those horrible memories i have with her. that thing you do wirh your thumb when you hold my hand. thats something id do. something jd would do to indicate to each other when we werent feeling good because she struggled to communicate it wirh me and i felt like a burden doing so. id always get to anxious when she’d do it and feeling you do it i got nervous again but . no its so. comforting. like how its supposed to be. when you ask me if im okay. its so. ? so bare minimum and so sinple but i cant explain how much better it makes me feel even if im not eebn tweakint. and ive never TRULY been tweaking when u ask it just makes me feel like. i can be honest with you. you wont lash me for hurting. for feeling things like jd did. you wouldnt condemn me and make me feel like i was burdening you for just. existing. with you. and i jsut want to exist with you. i want to be with you even if you are hurting because thats still you and i want to believe wholeheartedly you’d do the same with me because thats how i feel. i feel like j can and god. i hope thats true.

i just feel so much better around you. genuinely. i feel like i dont have to pretend to be someone else . pretend to be happy pretend to be okay. have to force myself to talk pr force myself to do anything around you. i know i tweak ab holding ur hand and kissing you but thats more of me just being cautious and also that it makes me so nervous., but. a good kind of nervous. i always feel nervous around you. its that weird anticipation feeling but its never anything negative. havinf been by myself this past year and being with you (not actually but goddd. i wish.) now makes me realize jist how genuinely unhappy i was with jd. how much i hurt with her. but also just how much we were truly hurting each other even if she didnt mean it and i didnt mean to either . just. i spent so much time thinking about it and let alone just the fact i didnt have panic attacks antmore aftee we broke up make it so so. clear to me. and now with you im realizinf maybe im not. broken. maybe ive just lived with so much fear for so so long .? every relationship ive ever had has left me. hurting more than i was before. broke me a little more everytime. but ive always given it my all. and this time? i want to give you more than just my all. jts so weird. you just make me realize that how i feel with you is how i shouldve felt all along. to feel whole with you and nothing else. to just be and not feel burdening. you emphasize it so heavily to me and i just wish wish WISH. i could do it for you. hell even now when it comes to my hashtag best (toxic) empath ways you make me realize i dont have to be that way. hell, every single one of my relationships enabled that in me. you tell me i dont have to worry about you. make it cleae to me its not my problem and it comforta me a bit and of course, its nlt gonna completely go away but it makes me feel less. overwhelmed. with everyone else i had to take care of them. it was my obligation. they needed me to. with you i just. truly want to but im leveling myself out to a plane where i know i can handle it and also take care of myself. you make me want to take care of myself .

god forbid i start rambling ab something else but. back to that froyo place.? i truly was still not hungry and was feeling a little ill but i kind of knew cognitively that it was me not eating and making me feel a little more ill. its just with jd she sort of. enabled me. not really enabling but i felt so. judged with her.? especially in terms of eating because she’d bring up her ed all the time and of course, console in me, but it made me feel. so gross. ab eating. felt like i cpuldnt cuz she couldnt and it was that weird competitive feelinf id get again. with you im noticing im doing it slightly but thats also mainly out of my control and i worry ab you not eating but ik you cant exactly control it either. in a wonderful silly less cringy universe id ask you to eat with me. so i wouldnt feel fhat way and i coulf feel a little more comforted but of course thats evil on both of us. when it comes down to me its just like ., of course im not rly trying to restrict i just. find myself doing it. and as horrible as it sounds i might just always be that way but those times i do eat with you i dont feel? ashamed? i feel like i can eat without feeling disgustinf and judged and evil and god i want to eaat. seriously. im just still working on it. and you make me feel better ab it. even if we havent done alot in regards to eating like that i just notice how i feel ab it and irs nothing negative and that. means sososo much to me.

[stiltonbasket]

Hi hi~ 💖

I hope you're still taking prompts for the art thief au! I just wanna ask how did NMJ join in on the Lan Family's... side job? And how did he react about it?

A couple of months after their first anniversary, Nie Mingjue receives a text message from his boyfriend (though boyfriend is hardly the right word, since Mingjue already considers them engaged) canceling their next shopping date in town.

I’m sick, the message reads. Can we reschedule it for next week, A-Jue?

Nie Mingjue’s stomach sinks. He hits the call button next to Xichen’s contact, counting down the seconds as he waits for an answer; but Lan Xichen does not reply, save for another text message explaining that he was running a fever, and didn’t feel well enough to talk.

Wangji is with me, Lan Xichen says. You don’t have to worry, sweetheart.

But Nie Mingjue does worry, because Xichen was fine yesterday afternoon. They had lunch together at Mingjue’s apartment, after which Lan Xichen kissed him goodbye and drove back to work without any sign of illness, so what could have gone wrong in the last thirty-two hours?

“I wish Huaisang were here,” Mingjue grumbles to himself. His brother left the house earlier that evening, muttering something about a sale going on at the local night market; and though Nie Huaisang spends hours wasting his time and money there every month, his absence tonight means that Nie Mingjue will be moping in his tiny kitchen until dawn, with nothing to do but await Huaisang’s safe return and worry about Xichen, lying ill in bed halfway across the city with no one to look after him but Wangji.

That isn’t exactly fair, Nie Mingjue knows, because Lan Wangji is a decent caretaker. He can cook and clean better than most young men his age, and he bullied Huaisang into taking a first-aid class with him last year: so Lan Xichen is in good hands, and Nie Mingjue’s interference would be neither welcome nor wanted.

But as the hours tick by, Nie Mingjue finds himself growing restless. He wonders if Lan Xichen has enough to eat, if Wangji might end up falling ill as well, and then he begins tormenting himself in earnest. Xichen could be sick with anything from a common cold to the kind of deadly food poisoning Mingjue reads about in the news every other week, and he already knows that A-Huan is sick enough to require looking after. Wangji lives thirty kilometers west of Xichen’s neighborhood, close to his university, and Xichen would never have called his didi over so late if he could manage on his own.

At around eleven o’clock, he calls Huaisang.

The call goes straight to voicemail. His brother’s phone has been turned off.

Suddenly, Nie Mingjue can bear it no longer. For some reason, he is terrified for them both—and though finding Huaisang in the night market this late would be practically impossible, Mingjue can go to Xichen.

He rifles through his kitchen cupboards, throwing instant meals and groceries into a tote bag before opening the freezer. Huaisang boiled a pot of hangover soup two days ago, and the leftovers should be good for sickness if Xichen has something worse than a cold.

Food packed, Mingjue grabs an electric blanket—he doesn’t know if A-Huan owns an electric blanket, if he ever thought of buying one after that time he got stranded during a snowstorm and almost came down with hypothermia—and hurries out into the night before climbing into his car and backing out of the driveway towards the main road.

“Please be all right, A-Huan,” Nie Mingjue murmurs, fighting the impulse to call him again. His fiancé retires at nine o’clock precisely, even without sickness thrown into his routine, but with it...

You have reached Lan Xichen’s voicemail, says his phone, after Nie Mingjue gives in and presses the fast-dial button next to Lan Xichen’s name. Please leave your name and number, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. If this is a professional call, contact my office at Tianyun Law by phone or email to set up an appointment.

Nie Mingjue hangs up and hits Wangji’s contact icon.

The mobile customer you have tried to reach is currently unavailable, the speaker drones; unsurprisingly, Wangji never recorded a message for his voicemail inbox. Leave a message at the tone, or hang up and try again.

Mingjue’s blood runs cold. Even if they were both asleep, surely at least Wangji should have left his phone on?

As he approaches Xichen’s apartment complex, a flash of blue light sparks in his rearview mirror. Nie Mingjue freezes at the closest stop sign, trying not to panic at the sight of at least ten police cars crawling all over the neighborhood; he passed one at the last intersection, and three at the one before that, and now the neighborhood itself seems to be under surveillance.

But the police pay no attention to Nie Mingjue as he passes by, and five minutes later, he lets himself into the gated complex and hurries up the stairs to Lan Xichen’s third-floor apartment. Xichen gave him a set of spare keys, which Nie Mingjue never anticipated he might have to use without his A-Huan’s permission; but now, here he is, sliding them into the doorknob and letting himself in without a sound.

Inside, the apartment is pitch-black. Nie Mingjue frowns, groping for the light switch: but before he can find it, someone crashes into the little foyer and shines a floodlight into his face.

He cries out in alarm, throwing up his arms to shield his eyes from the glare. But then the floodlight dims, and the ceiling lights come on, revealing a slight figure dressed from head to toe in black.

Nie Mingjue drops his bag.

“Huaisang?” he says hoarsely. His brother is pale and wide-eyed, looking strangely shaken at the sight of him; and then, almost immediately, Nie Mingjue remembers that Huaisang said he was going to be at the night market, not here with Lan Xichen.

At that moment, something breaks in Lan Xichen’s kitchen. Nie Mingjue picks up his bag and pushes past his brother, so terrified of what he might find that he can scarcely breathe: but the sight that greets him in the kitchen is completely bizarre, as if it were something out of a film, instead of real life.

Lan Xichen is sitting at the kitchen island with Wangji beside him, in the same way they usually do when Nie Mingjue eats with them. Wangji is in front of Xichen and slightly to his right, holding a steel bowl filled with wads of bloodstained cloth, and Lan Xichen’s attention is fixed on a gaping wound in the jade-white flesh of his own side.

“What’s going on here?” Nie Mingjue croaks, watching as his boyfriend threads a long, curved needle and draws it through his skin, tying a double knot beside the gash before cutting the piece of suture thread and holding out his hand for another one. “A-Huan, what have you done to yourself?”

He looks on in horror as Lan Xichen finishes stitching up the wound (deftly, easily, as if he had done it a hundred times before) and bandages it, all without a sound of pain or a word to Nie Mingjue. But the job is done before Mingjue can count to fifty, and then the two of them are facing each other: one bewildered, in Nie Mingjue’s case, and the other resigned.

“Have you eaten?” Nie Mingjue asks numbly. He can think of nothing else to say—in fact, he can hardly think at all with Lan Xichen looking at him in mingled agony and shame, as if he had done something wrong here. He hadn’t, of course he hadn’t, because his A-Huan is a lawyer with five bitter enemies for every year he’s been practicing, and no matter what Xichen got tangled up in this time, he couldn’t possibly have shot himself—

“No, I didn’t,” Lan Xichen sighs. “It was either a policewoman or a security guard, I think.”

“What--”

“It was the security guard,” Huaisang mutters, folding his arms across his chest. “The policewoman missed. The security tend to be better marksmen than the cops, in our experience.”

Nie Mingjue closes his eyes.

“Will somebody tell me what’s going on here? Xichen?”

Lan Xichen nods shakily and pulls on a tattered shirt, as if the thin cotton might  offer him some form of protection from the conversation ahead. Lan Wangji gets rid of the bloody gauze and the suturing kit, losing his thuggish black clothes on the way, and Huaisang vanishes up the stairs before coming back in a pair of jeans and a soft white sweater.

“We’ll eat first,” Nie Mingjue says gruffly, suddenly desperate to postpone this bizarre confession for as long as he can. “You look dead on your feet, and I don’t want anyone passing out before I’ve heard everything. All right?”

All three of them nod, each one looking guiltier than the next. Nie Mingjue can hardly stand to meet their eyes, so he boils the frozen hangover soup and steams a pot of rice to go with it, scooping the richest portion into Lan Xichen’s bowl before carrying the dinner tray to the table.

“Hurry up and eat,” he orders. “Don’t say a word before those bowls are empty.”

They eat without speaking, silent but for the clicking of their chopsticks; and then, after the last spoonfuls of rice and soup disappear, Nie Mingjue pads off to the living room with Xichen and Huaisang trailing behind him. Lan Wangji brings up the rear, looking like a ghost in his bloodstained clothes, and goes straight to Nie Mingjue’s favorite armchair: leaving him and Xichen without the option to sit close to each other, unless they share the worn loveseat tucked against the back wall.

That is out of the question for obvious reasons, so Huaisang claims the loveseat for himself, and Mingjue and Xichen end up in a pair of easy chairs on opposite sides of the room.

“Well, I’m listening,” Nie Mingjue says at last. “Now talk.”

[ryangosking]

Perfect Gentleman

Summary: You've had feelings for Steve for a while now, but he's so polite that you've no idea how he feels about you. One night you get drunk and turn up at his apartment, throwing yourself at him. Steve reacts how you'd expect....or does he?

Warnings: 18+ for sexual content. Size kink, of course. Steve has a huge dick 😂

A/N: So I discovered this in an old notebook and decided to revive it. Set around Captain America: The Winter Soldier time, reader works for Tony Stark. Brief mentions of Tony and Natasha. No tag list, hope you enjoy!

Bucky masterlist

You tip-toe gingerly into the kitchen, squinting at the sun streaming through the blinds, your stomach churning. Steve has his back to you, rinsing his breakfast dishes at the sink. He's wearing a t-shirt and jogging pants, the hair at the nape of his neck looks damp with sweat and you guess he's already been for his run. You hadn't heard anything, passed out and dead to the world in Steve's bed.

"Morning." He says, over his shoulder.

"Morning" You answer quietly, tugging self consciously at your dress. It was new, you had bought it especially for your friend's birthday party, and had been so excited to wear it for the first time. But that was before - before you got drunk and made the ill advised decision to turn up at Steve's apartment in the middle of the night. Now you felt like burning the damn thing.

"There's juice in the fridge, cereal in the cupboard." Steve says gruffly, turning his attention back to the sink.

"Oh, thanks." You grab a glass and pour some juice. You don't have much of a hangover (by rights you should be feeling a lot worse) but still, gulp the sweet liquid like you're dying of thirst. The sugar instantly perks you up, making you brave.

"Been for a run?" You ask lightly, perching at the breakfast bar.

Steve's shoulders tense. "The gym."

"Well done." You chuckle.

"Yeah well, I had to vent my frustration somehow." He mutters.

You clear your throat, deciding to pull off the band aid. "Thank-you for last night. Letting me stay here, giving up your bed. "

"No problem." He sighs, throwing the dishcloth to one side, finally facing you.

"And um..." You feel yourself flush under his penetrating gaze. "I'm sorry about trying to...that was inappropriate. You were a perfect gentleman."

"You were drunk." he states, flatly.

"I know, I'm sorry. It just all got to me I guess, pressure at work, the argument I had with Tony, I shouldn't have.....I mean thank-you for not taking advantage of me. You were a gentleman, like I said." You realise that you're babbling now, so stop.

"I almost wasn't." He murmurs, biting his lower lip.

"What?" You ask, lost.

"A gentleman, I almost wasn't one. The way you were kissing me, pushing up on me....if you had been sober it might have gone another way." Steve says softly, blue eyes blazing into yours.

"Oh." You stare at him, stunned, your fuzzy head trying to make sense of what he was saying. "I'm sober now." You blurt, and it feels almost involuntary.

Steve's jaw tenses. "What are you saying?"

"I'm not drunk anymore." You say slowly, slipping from your stool and taking a step towards him. Your tummy is fizzing and it's not just the booze from the night before.

"You mean that you still want..." He swallows. "THIS to happen?"

With a trembling hand you reach up and touch his face. "You must know how I feel about you Steve? I was drunk last night but I meant everything I said."

In a quick move he grabs the back of your neck and kisses you, hard. You gasp with surprise, before holding his arm to steady yourself and kissing him back, pressing yourself into his huge frame.

He groans softly into your mouth as the kiss deepens and he backs you against the counter. One hand in your hair, the other on the curve of your waist.

Steve breaks away, his breathing heavy. "What do you want?" He asks, eyes searching yours.

"I thought that was obvious." You chuckle, running your hands over his back.

"I mean, how far do you want this to go?"

"As far as the bedroom?" You say, tentatively.

"Yeah." he murmurs, kissing you again, rougher and hotter.

You stretch up to run your fingers through his hair and can't help but giggle.

"What?" Steve mumbles.

"You're too tall, Rogers."

He laughs and picks you up, placing you on the counter. "How about now?" He asks, wedging himself in between your knees.

"Perfect." You breath, sliding your mouth over his.

You stay like that for a while, kisses growing harder, more urgent, until your legs are up around his waist and you feel his heavy cock twitch against your thigh.

You pull away slightly, to take a breath.

"You're a great kisser."

He chuckles, leaning his forehead on yours. "Don't sound so surprised."

"I'm not, it's just...it's hot." You swallow, feeling the familiar needy ache in your cunt.

"Tell me about it." He sighs. "I'm about to bust out of these pants."

"Really?" You smirk, reaching between your bodies to touch him, placing your hand on his stiff cock. Gosh, even bigger than you thought.

"Fuck." Steve curses, burying his face in the soft warmth of your neck. "I need you."

"Where do you want me, Captain?" You tease, attempting to hide your nervousness.

"My bed." he says gruffly. "I want you in my bed."

X - X - X

In the bedroom he undresses you, his large strong hands making quick work of your dress, and presses hot kisses onto your skin. It feels dreamy and unreal, like you're still tipsy, but you've never been more awake and sober in your life. You can't help wondering what Natasha will make of all this, her knowing smirk when you tell her.

Your pussy throbs at the sight of him naked, with lust and apprehension. His cock is beautiful, like the rest of him, and huge - stiff against his abdomen and leaking at the tip. You're hardly a blushing virgin but you've also never been with anybody so ... substantial.

Steve sits next to you on the bed and as if reading your mind murmurs, "I'm going to have to play with you a little first, honey." His hand moving in-between your soft thighs. "I don't want to hurt you."

You gasp as his thick fingers explore your damp folds, easily finding your aching clit with his thumb. He gently lays you back on the bed and kisses your neck as your body relaxes and opens up for him, your slippery cunt grasping as he finger-fucks you.

"Is this ok?" he asks, moving his mouth to your breast.

You whimper and arch your back in reply, the heat building at your core as he curls his fingers, hitting that sweet spot buried deep inside you. His tongue on your nipple knocks you over the edge, and you moan his name as your orgasm washes over you, squeezing his hand between your thighs.

You watch, dazed, as Steve kneels and reaches in his bedside cabinet for a condom, rolling it over his rigid member. Even now, sated and soaking, you gulp at the thought of having him inside you. Still, you want more.

"You ready for me?" He asks lowly.

You nod, and he kisses you softly, running his tongue over your bottom lip.

"Good girl. Here, it might be easier like this."

Steve leans back and pulls you on top of him, his hands firm on your waist. You grip his shoulders for balance and kiss him again, there's so much that you want to say - how you've been in love with him for months, how you never dreamed he felt the same, how none of this feels real.

"Are you ok?" He asks, anxiously, brows knitted together.

"Yes, Captain." You murmur, gripping his cock at the base and slowly lowering yourself onto him.

He inhales sharply as he penetrates your warm wetness, inch by inch.

"You feel incredible." He groans, dropping his head onto your shoulder.

You move your hips experimentally and oh, the delicious burn of him moving inside you, your thighs trembling with the effort of holding you up. He grabs your hair and kisses you lustily as he thrusts up into you and you're so full of him you see stars.

He tries his best to be gentle, he really does. It doesn't exactly hurt, well not in any way you've experienced before. You mewl as he pummels you, his cock stretching and filling your needy pussy over and over, by contrast holding you in his hands so gently as if he's scared you'll break.

"You're so good honey," He growls, stroking your face. "So good for me."

Your second orgasm comes easily, the strength of the contractions making you moan and shake, clinging to Steve as if you're drowning. He comes straight after, pulsating deep inside you, as he groans and curses hotly in your ear.

"Are you ok?" He asks again, when you finally move off him.

"I'm more than ok." You sigh, exhausted, lying next to him.

He pulls you to him, spooning you, his face nestled into your shoulder. "I'm still a gentleman you know." He murmurs.

"I know." You chuckle, drowsily. "The perfect gentleman."

[cinnamonest]

How do you think Albedo would react if he found out creator!darling had some sort of fwb relationship with someone in monstat when he went through their journal.

I like to think it doesn't happen on the initial night he reads poor creator's journal. That night, he was just looking for answers -- things about him, desperate to have a reason, a justification to his anger. So he stuck to the earlier parts, the parts that detailed her life with him before abandoning him.

Of course, after a few days or weeks settled into their... new lifestyle, he remembers the journal, now tucked away somewhere with other belongings... and gets a bit curious again. Ends up the same way he was then, sitting on the floor late at night, carefully tracing over each and every word. Perhaps some would find such a thing boring, but for him, every word she's written is precious, he runs his fingers over the slightest of indents where the pen pressed to paper.

To say stumbling upon her records of the affair makes him upset would be an understatement. He feels physically ill, nauseous, finds his hands gripping the sides of the book so harshly his hands tremble. It's made so much worse because it's progressive -- it's not just a blatant entry that says "Oh I fucked this guy," no, it's dread that starts slowly in his stomach as he first reads an entry about having met someone -- that alone isn't a lot. She writes about meeting plenty of people, and although each one makes him grind his teeth a little bit, it doesn't start to get under his skin until he sees the same name twice. It's like walking around in the dark, knowing something is chasing you and will jump out at you any moment, a slow and inevitable progression as the name comes up again and again, more and more in a positive way with each entry. He knows where it's headed, it becomes obvious how it's progressing, slowly unfolding events that he knows he can't do anything about, what's going to happen, and eventually he finally comes across that one final entry.

He's glad it's not too descriptive. If you had detailed the acts, he doesn't think he'd be able to handle it. Part of him wants to just slam the thing shut and never look at it again, but the other part feels a compulsion to take in every word. It goes from a nauseous feeling, dread and hurt, to just pure anger. Blood boiling. At this other guy, at you. At this point, he's already reached the mental stage where he no longer blames himself for anything that happened -- it's an arrogance, a narcissism that would surprise most, but you always saw it, deep down, that even when he would apologize and be so meek, you could tell he never truly believed it. He can never be wrong. Can never accept blame for anything. That's why everything that happened was your fault -- now, including this.

At the same time, he's too proud to directly come to you about it. Some mix of pride and bitterness. But that doesn't stop you from immediately knowing something is wrong, because oh boy does he glare. He gets unusually cold, even quieter than normal. You have to initiate every exchange, he won't even look at you unless you speak first, and even then he just glares with narrowed eyes, gives you one-word responses. He's always had a kinda immature, bitter stubbornness where he wants you to know he's mad, but won't tell you why, leaves you guessing and shrinking back under the intense negative atmosphere be created with silence and narrowed eyes. And you know you're falling for it, doing exactly what he wants, but you cave and you ask what the hell his damage is -- well, the "you" before might have, but you now use a much less inflammatory choice of words.

And even then, the utter petulant brat won't even tell you, just shrugs and says nothing. It's eyeroll-worthy.

After a day or so, he finally brings it up, indirectly. Asks you that hey, you know, you never did tell him about your travels... How about it? Fill him in. You entertain the request, but, of course, don't say anything about the relationship, you're not stupid.

Nonetheless, you immediately know what's up when he asks is that all? Not that he's disappointed -- he knew you wouldn't tell him immediately. Asking was just to see the look on your face, your eyes widening and sheepish shame on your features. So pretty.

Of course he *does* get frustrated if you can't provide him with a location as to where that person may be now. Unless you're lying to him... But even when he implements some pain, you still insist you don't know. Sigh. You really make him go above and beyond for you. He'll have to figure it out on his own. He's still very cold and bitter and pouty for several days, it's honestly childish. You might make the mistake of calling it such to his face, if you are feeling... particularly masochistic that day.

He's not emotionally ready for it so soon, but within a few days he'll ask, and if that doesn't work, force, for you to tell him what you two did together. Can't have there being anything you did with this other person that you haven't done with him.

He doesn't believe you at first when you say nothing, really. You insist over and over again, you didn't do anything special, it was just normal sex! He has trouble believing that, but only after a lot of prodding and specifics do you make your mistake, blurting out that it shouldn't be hard to believe -- not everyone is a fucking degenerate like you!

That, as you can imagine, goes over especially poorly...

[eskelstits]

Okay okay so hear me out:

Jaskier has been acting odd lately, though the bard was either too shy or too stubborn to acknowledge it. At the very least, he was stubborn fool for thinking Geralt, of all people, wouldn’t take notice. Jaskier had suddenly become adamant about more generous rations for his Witcher, started to insist on larger dinners at taverns, and was always quick to suggest another round of food and drink— only to insist that Geralt finish it. The witcher pretended not to notice the way Jaskier watched intently while he ate and hid his wry amusement when the bard hurriedly looked away upon being caught. Geralt had so far played along with these antics in feigned ignorance, admittedly feeling a small thrill as his body started to bulk and strain against his armor. And now that he was paying closer attention, he found himself fond of just how delicate his bard looked by comparison. Armed with his suspicions of what Jaskier is up to, Geralt decides to satisfy his curiosity by embracing the bard’s antics and seeing just how much he can him squirm.

I was thinking some stuffing and size kink ~ with increasingly daring taunts thrown from both sides of the table bc let’s be real neither of the boys would give in easily.

THANK YOU i definitely had fun with this prompt

[ masterpost - ao3 ]

"Are you ill?" Geralt asked the question hunched over the plate of eggs and bacon he was enjoying for his breakfast.

More accurately, Jaskier's breakfast. Geralt had already finished his own serving, but then Jaskier had deftly stacked his own half-full plate on top of Geralt's empty one. To be fair, as it turned out, that particular tavern did tend to dish out surprisingly hearty portions, and Geralt had to remind himself that Jaskier was not a witcher, and therefore did not have the appetite of one. It was not the only occasion on which Jaskier had passed off a good fraction of his food to Geralt, however.

In fact, it seemed to be happening more and more frequently lately. He would demand seconds, larger portions, extra bread or more ale, only to immediately claim that he was full and offer it up to Geralt. After a tough life of fighting for survival, Geralt was a rather opportunistic eater, and so he always took advantage of Jaskier's leftovers. It was … strange, but Geralt could not say he exactly minded it. He did like going to bed warm and satiated rather than starving, tossing and turning and kept awake by his growling stomach. The only thing that really puzzled Geralt was the staring. Jaskier would look at him like Geralt was the most fascinating thing on the Continent whenever they sat down together to eat, but as Geralt had recently discovered, Jaskier would always quickly look away the moment Geralt met his eye.

Jaskier gaped and sputtered for a moment, eyes wide and hand settled over his chest as though Geralt had just viciously insulted him.

"Ill? Geralt, you wound me. I will have you know that I'm positively glowing with good health," Jaskier huffed.

Geralt grunted. Eyes narrowed, he examined Jaskier for just a brief moment longer, then bowed his head again to continue eating. Out of the edge of his vision, he could see Jaskier watching him.

Geralt had been willing to ignore the odd behavior up until his trousers started feeling tight. He still was not quite upset. It was not an overly drastic change, just a slight layer of padding over top of his muscles, making him look more like he did after he had been settled for a while over the winters he spent at Kaer Morhen, but there was a definite difference. Jaskier seemed to be noticing, too. Though he had not said anything about it, he still stared, and whenever he and Geralt fell into bed together, the bard's hands smoothed all over him, wordlessly worshiping Geralt's fuller frame.

Geralt enjoyed it, too. He had always been broader than Jaskier, but putting on a bit of weight had only highlighted that contrast. The day before, Geralt had caught a glimpse of his reflection looming behind Jaskier's in the mirror as the bard stood there checking over his own outfit for the evening's performance, and he had looked almost … delicate in comparison to Geralt. The sight had ignited something deep and primal and exciting in his core, and he wanted to chase that thrill.

No, he was far from upset. He was curious, though. While he had pieced together what was happening, there was still one more question: Was Jaskier doing it on purpose? Geralt supposed he could simply ask, but the thought of setting himself up for vulnerability like that was horrific. He had to find some other way to weasel out the truth. He had to beat Jaskier at his own game.

"Do I look different to you?" Geralt dared to ask that evening while they waited for the barmaid to come back with their dinner order. Jaskier looked anxious for just a brief second, but then he relaxed again and hummed inquisitively as he scanned Geralt's face.

"Is that a new doublet? Oh! Have you trimmed your beard?" Jaskier said.

Geralt hummed. By trade, Jaskier was a performer, but Geralt knew him well enough to be able to tell when he was lying -- or 'acting,' as Jaskier often corrected him. Two could play that game. Feigning ignorance, Geralt nodded and falsely agreed that he had gone to a barber, and he watched Jaskier decompress with relief. When the barmaid returned and set a full plate down in front of each of them, Geralt cleared his throat to get her attention.

"I want another," he said, pointing to his own plate.

"Ah … Another leg of chicken?" The barmaid looked a bit confused, like she was hesitant to believe that Geralt had been referring to the entire meal.

"No. Another plate," Geralt insisted. A brief pause, and he tacked on, "Please."

The barmaid blinked, but she chose not to argue. Rather, she nodded and scurried back to the kitchen. When Geralt looked back towards Jaskier, the bard was staring. Again.

"... Hungry, are you?" Jaskier questioned.

"Very."

Geralt held Jaskier's gaze for a moment longer and watched as just a hint of color began creeping over the bard's cheeks. Without another word, Geralt began to eat. He tore into the half chicken and the hearty portion of roast vegetables he had in front of him, and each time he glanced up, he found Jaskier trying and ultimately failing to be subtle about the fact that he was watching Geralt like a hawk. Geralt thought that he would have wanted to shy away before he managed to get his questions answered, but that was not the case. In reality, he actually liked the attention, those enraptured eyes fixed on him making him feel alight with a strange mixture of pleasure and shame. The barmaid came back with the rest of the food Geralt had requested, and she set it down quickly almost as though afraid of getting bitten if she ventured too close. Geralt grunted his thanks around a full mouth. Jaskier had been uncharacteristically silent the entire time, all the way up until Geralt finally broke for air and a drink of ale.

“Are you … sure you’re going to be able to finish all of that?” Jaskier sounded both tentative and almost laughably eager.

“Yes,” Geralt answered.

He met Jaskier’s eye again, his gaze dark and smoldering. The bard’s throat bobbed enticingly when he swallowed, and Geralt only barely held back a smirk. Whether or not Jaskier had been feeding Geralt up on purpose, it was obvious that he enjoyed the show, and it was always fun for Geralt to try and get him flustered.

“Ah, yes, well … I suppose you have had quite a healthy appetite lately,” Jaskier said. He spoke hesitantly, testing his luck. Geralt pushed right back.

“Someone has to eat all your leftovers.”

“Mm, yes. You are rather good for that.”

Geralt made it about halfway through his second plate before Jaskier was getting restless again. The bard still had some food remaining on his own plate, and judging from the way he kept glancing between it and Geralt and tapping his fingers anxiously against the table, he was hoping to see the witcher finish it off for him.

“Going to eat that?” Geralt spoke around a mouthful of chicken.

He had inched past satisfied a few bites ago, but he could keep going comfortably enough, and he so desperately wanted to see how Jaskier was going to react to his more deliberate goading. Geralt watched while Jaskier blushed and tried his best to act as though he had not been hoping to hear that exact question. It had been painfully obvious. Their many years together had given Geralt the ability to be able to read Jaskier like an open book. Sometimes, it was useful, likely saving Jaskier from some fights when Geralt was able to pick up on the body language that meant foolish determination or rising anger, but other times, like in that moment, it was simply amusing.

“Come now, love, you can’t possibly still be hungry,” Jaskier teased. Somewhat unexpectedly, it sent a jolt down Geralt’s spine. The witcher made a noise somewhat like a little growl, and his pupils widened. Jaskier did a much poorer job of veiling his own smirk. Perfect. Geralt was baiting him, and he was falling for it so easily. “I know you’ve been eating a great deal lately, but honestly … you’re getting greedy.”

Geralt’s heart fluttered nearly as quickly as a human’s as Jaskier scraped the rest of his food onto Geralt’s plate. By then, Jaskier seemed to have accepted that it was useless to hide his interest. He sat with his elbows braced against the table and his jaw cradled in his palms, alluring blue eyes fixed unwaveringly on Geralt. Near the end of his meal, Geralt was at last starting to struggle, the fact that his armor clung to him a bit more than he would have preferred only keeping it pinned in the forefront of his mind just how full he was. Jaskier’s reddened cheeks had only grown more vivid, the color even dusting the tips of his ears. Geralt rarely saw the bard so silent, so unwaveringly focused, usually only when he was in the middle of a fit of intense writing inspiration, and while Geralt felt scrutinized, he was actually enjoying it. Feeling bold, he grunted around his last mouthful and then reclined back in his chair, hoping to give Jaskier a glimpse of his distended belly where it strained against his clothes. Judging from the look on the bard’s face, it had worked.

“Are you finally satisfied, then?” Jaskier asked, and something about his tone of voice had something hot and exciting churning in the pit of Geralt’s stomach. He sounded almost condescending, but in the most deliciously arousing way possible.

“Mhm.” It was little more than a grunt.

Jaskier evidently had very little regard for how sluggish Geralt was looking. Lithe fingers curled around Geralt’s wrist and tugged insistently, and although Geralt easily could have kept himself planted in place if he had truly wanted to, he allowed Jaskier to haul him up onto his feet and lead him upstairs. Such a short trip normally would never have affected him, but with a full stomach weighing him down, Geralt found himself panting softly by the time he and Jaskier had reached their room. Distracted by the unfamiliar feeling of his trousers digging into his skin so tightly that it was almost painful, Geralt had little time to react before he was suddenly backed up against the closed door and drawn into a heated kiss.

“Jask --” Geralt breathed, cut off abruptly by yet another kiss.

Clearly, he had guessed right. Jaskier did enjoy that display, even more than Geralt had been anticipating. Soon, Geralt gave up on speaking, and he yielded to the kiss, lips parting for a teasing swipe of Jaskier’s tongue through his mouth. There was a pleasant warmth against Geralt’s middle that he soon recognized as Jaskier’s hands, kneading gently through stiff leather.

“Look at you,” Jaskier murmured. Geralt bit back a dry remark about how it was difficult to do that with the bard plastered up against him. “You’re getting so big.”

A thrill ran through Geralt at that. He curled his hands around Jaskier’s slender hips and squeezed, drawing him in closer, and Jaskier gasped against his lips. In truth, Geralt did not look too terribly different than he usually did, but there had been a little tone of hopefulness in Jaskier’s voice, a subtle but unmistakable hint that he wanted more. The next few seconds seemed to blur together, but somehow, Geralt had ended up spread out on the bed, staring up into Jaskier’s darkened eyes where he had perched himself on Geralt’s hips. Jaskier’s usually agile fingers trembled with anticipation as he worked Geralt out of his armor, putting him on blatant display. Where he had once been all sharp angles and overly defined muscles, he had accumulated a small layer of padding, and most noticeable of all at the moment was the rounded curve of his belly, warm and full and demanding Jaskier’s complete attention. His hands smoothed over it, rubbing and exploring, interspersed with little appreciative pats and scratches.

“Knew you were doing it on purpose,” Geralt said. Much to his amusement, Jaskier actually looked shocked. “Weren’t very subtle about it.”

“Yes, well --” Jaskier paused, seeming to be struggling to decide on what to say. Eventually, he just huffed, then decided to deflect and taunted, “Are you sure you aren’t just a glutton?”

Geralt smirked. Without any warning, he rolled over, pinning Jaskier beneath him. He heard Jaskier’s pulse flutter. A heated fantasy sped through Geralt’s mind, thoughts of how easily he could subdue Jaskier, how much stronger and bigger Geralt was, how much deep trust it took for Jaskier to lay himself out so vulnerable for a witcher, a predator. Jaskier’s arms snaked around him, and his hands splayed out over Geralt’s shoulder blades. Geralt laid heavier against him and growled in his ear just to feel Jaskier squirm. Jaskier would be unable to get away even if he wanted to with Geralt’s full weight holding him down. Oddly, that was a deeply pleasurable thought, and Geralt had very quickly decided that he would take no issue with it if Jaskier wanted to keep feeding him, making him broader and heavier still, only further exaggerating that contrast between the two of them. If the way Geralt could feel Jaskier’s hardening cock digging into his thigh was any indication, they were in agreement on that.

“Going to get me something good for breakfast tomorrow?” Geralt purred into Jaskier’s ear.

Jaskier groaned, hooked his legs around Geralt’s waist to grind their hips together, and moved one hand to tangle into the witcher’s hair. His opposite hand snuck downwards, and he pinched at the slight, growing plushness at Geralt’s hip.

“Certainly. You’re just wasting away.”

Geralt’s mouth was far too busy then for any proper response.

[twiceasfrustrating]

Period Pains

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: F/M

Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!

Relationship: Lucifer/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Main Character/Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Leviathan/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Leviathan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Main Character/Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Asmodeus/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Beelzebub/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Beelzebub (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Belphegor/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Belphegor (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader

Characters: Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Leviathan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Beelzebub (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Belphegor (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)

Additional Tags: Periods, fluff, Lucifer chill I'm just bleeding

Summary: Having your period in the Devildom is a whole new set of issues. Thank goodness you have seven loving boyfriends to help you through it.

As requested:

"I would like to see how the brothers react to MC on her period, who will freak out will will go buy the pads( do female demons have periods and if they do would it be pads and tampons still so some weird devildoom stuff) I know beel would share chocolates with you. I think that would help readers Connect more."

Word Count: 1647

Mother Nature was a cruel mistress and she reminded you of that fact often; usually, about once a month, sometimes twice if you were unlucky. She was a force to be reckoned with and you hated her for it, especially in the Devildom where apparently they were ill-prepared for having a human female who bled once a month. Apparently, demonesses bled anywhere from rarely to absolutely never depending on what kind of demon they were, so there weren't even the supplies you were used to having to help you out. Everything you needed had to be shipped in from the human realm, which, thankfully, they let you skip the paperwork on for once (well, less skip and more let you do it after the fact rather than waiting for approval).

Thankfully, despite the fact that menstruation was apparently a rarity in the Devildom, it wasn't entirely new information to anyone. Turns out a lot of people that bled over the centuries would gladly make deals with demons to either make it stop or take away the symptoms (and you didn't fault them one bit).

Day 0:

You sat up very abruptly in the middle of class when you felt the first leak. Now was not the time for this to happen!

With a hurried expression, you dug what looked to be a makeup bag out of your backpack and silently excused yourself from the lecture to use the restroom. To any onlooker it wouldn't mean much for you to grab that bag before leaving, but to Beel and Asmo (who has the class with you) it was an action they knew well.

They looked at each other with a glint of worry in their eyes knowing exactly what was happening to you. Without making a scene of it, Asmo took out his phone and sent a message to all the brothers, informing them that their sweet human was going to need them for the week.

Day 1:

You were on day two of your monthly nightmare, uncomfortably lying on your side when you heard your door so rudely burst open. You would throw a pillow at whoever it was that burst in if it didn't hurt so much to move.

"Delivery!" Mammon shouted as his footsteps grew nearer.

Of course Mammon was the one who wouldn't bother waiting for an answer before coming in. You don't know why you acted like it would be anyone else.

"Unless it is a potion that can shrivel up my uterus into disuse and save me from this hell, I don't want it." Because, seriously, fuck periods.

"Ain't none of that," he started, "but it's got whatever ya asked for."

You shot out your hand without looking at him, "Pills."

He reaches into the box and pulls out the bottle of medication, giving it a confused look before handing it to you, "Ya think these are better than our potions?"

You pop the lid and seal off of the fresh bottle and slip a pill into your mouth, "I don't trust whatever you think you can make. Besides, these things have worked my entire life. I am not taking any chances." You screwed the lid back on and sat up.

You stretched your tired muscles and sighed before looking at Mammon with a smile, "Thanks."

"Ya, well, of course the only person you can count on is THE Great Mammon." The smile that he tried to hide made you laugh.

"Yes, Great Mammon. You are the pinnacle of a gentleman." You stood up and felt how gravity shifted things inside of you that you definitely did not want to shift, "Now please get out so I can get ready for class."

Day 2:

You knocked at the door and waited for permission to enter, the smell of flowers hitting you as soon as the door was open. Asmo was lying on his bed, clearly having already started his business without you as his face was covered in a green paste. As soon as you came in though, he was at attention and making his way over to you.

"Darling~" He gave you air kisses to the sides of your face, refraining from a hug that would put an uncomfortable amount of pressure on you or touching you with his lips (as that would ruin his mask).

As he did so, however, he would place his hands against your face and guide you to turn it so he could examine what was happening to your skin. It took him no time at all to pout over the state you were in, "Your hormones are really doing a number on you."

You rolled your eyes at him, "Thanks. That really makes me feel good about myself."

"You are still gorgeous." He beams at you and you wanted to melt. Even if his powers didn't work on you, they certainly felt like they did.

However, you cleared your throat instead, "I see you got started without me."

"It's a new product." He huffed, "I had to make sure it worked before you got here. Now sit down so we can get you started."

Day 3:

The pile of snacks in front of you was disgusting in quantity, but you found yourself drooling. Everything from salty chips, to sweet candies, to spicy goodies was sitting in front of you, calling your name. Leave it to Beel to completely and utterly spoil you in the food department. You didn't even need to mention the cravings since he would always have exactly what you needed on standby. The best part? It was the only time you got first dibs on anything you wanted.

You pointed to the box of chocolate in front of him and he picked it up for you. There was a brief moment where it looked as if he wasn't going to hand it over before he opened the lid and took out a single piece of chocolate, holding it out to you between his fingers. You knew exactly what he was thinking as you opened your mouth and wrapped your lips around the yummy treat.

"Mmmm!" You squealed as it melted in your mouth. It was such a delicate piece and it melted softly against your tongue. Beel could only smile as he went to grab another piece and repeat the gesture again.

Sometimes the way you were spoiled almost made all the bleeding worth it. Sometimes, but rarely.

Day 4:

There was a lot of screaming and crying. You were uncomfortable and it made you cranky at even the smallest things. You tried to hold it in, but you would never be able to hide just how quickly your tone changed into annoyance. Absolutely none of the brothers were safe, especially the ones that wanted to baby you. You weren't injured or in need. You were just bleeding! Babying you was condescending. You Lucifer meant well when he offered to take your cooking shift, but you were already in the kitchen and getting to work. You had planned this meal. You were going to make it and it was going to be delicious. Poor Levi was caught in the middle of it.

"For the last time, Lucifer, I am fine." You say, peeling a strange purple potato with dark splotches.

"I am not doubting you," he says, "but allow me to take your shift so that you may rest."

"I don't need to rest." You were past the worst of your days, so standing and moving around wasn't a nightmare, "Now get out so I can make dinner."

Levi knew where this was going, but he decided to stay out of it. He knew that, in the end, you would win the argument and all Lucifer would have for his troubles was a pissed-off girlfriend. When he saw Lucifer try to take the pot of water you were carrying from you, he turned around and counted to 30 so as to not watch the carnage that was about to occur.

"I am not doing this right now, Lucifer." You say low in your throat, "Let me do my job and get out. If you want to harass me do it later when I'm not busy."

"You need to rest." He insisted. You knew he was just worried about you and doing his usual 'Lucifer knows best for everyone' shtick, but he obviously didn't know how a period worked or that it didn't mean you were unable to do things for yourself.

"I swear to-" You breathed in deep before speaking again, "I am staying here with Levi, and if you do not get out you will not see me again until the week after my little issue is over. After all, I am going to need all the rest I can get." And with that, you would put your hands back on the pot and wait for him to let it go.

There was one, two, three beats before he finally gave in, a look of displeasure spreading across his face. Yeah, you had learned how to deal with his babying by now.

Day 5:

Satan and Belphie were the best pillows. You could rest your head on Satan's lap and listen to him quietly turn pages or ask him to read to you (and he would even be kind enough to read genres he didn't necessarily care for because it was for you). Meanwhile, Belphie would allow you to cling to him in the way the brothers had grown accustomed to (you were a cuddler, after all). It was the most relaxing way to spend your time with any of them. Thank goodness for these two just wanting moments of silence. You were at the end of your cycle, but you were completely and utterly exhausted. All you needed right now was to be with them in this brief, peaceful moment.

[forever-rogue]

Hii! From Prompt List 1 can u do number 3,51 and 243 w javier peña please ✨

Also i love ur writings so much ⭐

3. "Am I supposed to be scared of you?"

51. "Go on them, tell me. Tell me you don't love me."

243. "Oh my God, you're in love with her!"

Enjoy!

Javier Peña x Fem!Reader ; warnings: language

Javier Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Tell me," there was nothing but venom lacing your voice as you stared at Javier. Your face was slick with tears as you tried to keep your lips from trembling. You wanted to break down, gods knew you did, but you weren't about to give him the satisfaction. You would do that as soon as he walked out of your apartment for what would be the last time, "go on then, tell me. Tell me you don't love me."

"Don't do this cariño," the bastard had the audacity to try and call you by your pet name, "you know this is the way. The only way."

"You're such a damn liar," you hissed at him. You should have seen this coming. You should have known. 

You shouldn't have fallen in love with Javier Peña.

"We always knew what we were doing was wrong," it was a meek insistence, hollow and empty and neither of you quite believed it, "it was never supposed to go this far."

"This far? This far?" you wanted to scream, to grab his shoulders and shake him, to knock some sort of sense into him, but instead you just stared at him, eyes glossy with unshed tears, "did you think we would fuck and that’s it? I told you it was never going to be just that. And you never seemed to have a problem with that."

"You need to stop," this time it was more firm and his nostrils flared as he tried to control the hit of rage that had seemed into his bones, "we both knew what this was from the start. It was just sex."

"You're here, in my apartment, lying to my face," you sniffled as you dabbed at your eyes and wished you would wake up to find this was a horrible dream. You wished you'd wake up, wrapped in his arms while he slept soundly, like you had so many other times. You wished, you wished, you wished. But that didn't change the reality of the situation, nor the gravitas of it, "if you can look in my eyes and tell me you don't love me - never loved me - do it. If you can do it, I'll let this go."

"You're being ridiculous," he huffed and rolled his eyes ever so slightly as his hands went to his hips. 

"I'm being ridiculous?" your voice rose up about two octaves as you realized just how hysterical you did sound. But it didn't matter - once Javier had made up his mind, he was a stubborn piece of work. But you refused to let this go, "I'm not the grown man that won't even admit his own feelings. That runs every time something comes up. That shuts out everyone and everything anytime it gets real."

"Maybe you're just thinking too much into this!" and there it was - the fiery temper that he was famous for. It wasn't shocking because it had suddenly jumped out; it was shocking because he'd never raised his voice at you, "maybe you just want to make something out of nothing! It was never anything - it was just sex. Why can't you just accept that?"

"Am I supposed to be scared of you?" you raised your voice and yelled back with just as much as anger and spite as he spit at you, "you're a liar and a coward. You can't even look at me - if you don't love me fucking tell me!"

"I'm not doing this right now," he huffed as stepped over the threshold, shoulders rising and falling in rapid movements as tired to control his anger, "I'm done - whatever we had, its over now."

"Javier," you tried to reach for his hand, but he was quick to pull out of your grasp, causing you to sigh heavily, "don't walk away - not like this."

"There's nothing left to say," he insisted quietly, staring at the floor, rather than daring to look in your eyes, "I'll see you at work and that's that. Everything else is done. Obviously you cannot handle this."

"You're just going to walk away," you were incredulous as a few tears of grief and anger rolled down your cheeks, "fuck you, Javier. I hate you." 

You slammed the door shut before he could say anything else. Tears were heavily pouring down your cheeks and spilling onto the cool slide as you sank to the floor. Small ugly little sobs racked your body as you gave up and in to your pathetic inner, upset self. You loved him, you really, really did. You knew that. 

You knew he loved you too. You knew he was scared. Damn scared. And it was okay - if he would have opened up to you.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“You look like shit,” Steve barely looked up from his coffee and morning review of documents as Javier stormed in, practically slamming himself down in his chair. He groaned and flipped Steve the middle finger before reaching for his cigarettes, effortlessly lighting it up and leaning back, “what happened to you?”

Javier closed his eyes but remained silent, a vain attempt at letting his mind wander too far. He hadn’t slept the night before, mind and thoughts racing over and over with snippets of his conversation with you. Your words had stuck in his mind all night: coward, coward, coward. And you had been right. 

He was a coward; pathetic and scared all because he didn’t want to risk getting hurt. Or hurting you. And in the end he had managed to do both. It was never supposed to go this far, it was never supposed to be anything more than sex, but the lines had become so blurred and so fast, and before he knew - he was in love.

And that terrified the shit out of him. 

So he reacted how he tended to do; to push you away. To isolate himself. It was supposed to be easy, supposed to work. All it had down was leave him with regret eating him up alive. He should have admitted you were right, he should have confessed. If there was anyone worth taking a chance on - it was you. He’d known it was you from the first time you’d had sex it was just...different. Different from every other experience he’d had. And gods, how he’d slowly fallen for all the little things you did, all your little quirks. 

Your smile, that laugh, those eyes that seemed to convey a million emotions at once. Your steadfast stubbornness, the fact that you always called him on his bullshit, how you never backed down from confrontation, how you gave so much to others and asked for so little. How you’d chide him for getting even a papercut, and how you’d love him, even when he didn’t ask you to. How you;d take him in your arms, wordlessly, and give him everything he needed and then some, how you’d chase away his fears and pain. How - 

Everything. 

He was in deep, and when it came down to the wire, he’d run. Like a liar and a coward. 

His eyes snapped open and landed on the desk, the spot you normally occupied and found it empty. A scowl tugged on his features as his brows knitted together, “where is she?”

“Hmm?” Steve looked back up and followed Javi’s line of sight before he shrugged lightly, “I talked to her this morning, said she wasn’t feeling good.”

“Bullshit,” he hissed under his breath, just enough for Steve to hear, “did she say when she’s coming back?”

“I dunno, Javi,” Steve sighed heavily, “she’s a grown woman, if she’s not feeling well, she’s not feeling well. She’ll be back when she’s better. Calm down.”

“Steve-”

“Oh god - you’re in love with her. Aren’t you?” the smirk tugging on his features was undeniable as Javier rolled his eyes but refused to look over, “I knew it - everyone knew it.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” his mouth went dry as he looked at his partner and felt like slamming his head against the wall. Of course. It’s so obvious.

“I mean...it’s just...everyone’s known, Javi,” Steve couldn’t help but laugh at the surprised look on his face, “it’s so obvious. You’re different because of her - for her. You might be the last person to know. Shit...you haven’t told her, have you?”

Javier made a small sound in his throat but otherwise remained silent as he stared at your desk. Not feeling well my ass, he thought to himself before running a hand over his tired face. 

But you didn’t come back the next day. Or the day after that. Or the day after that. Or - 

Shit. He had really messed up. 

You were all he could think about, plaguing his waking and sleeping hours as he tried to figure out what to do. His mind was on you as he sat in the office and smoked cigarette after cigarette and glossed over paperwork. You were in his every thought as he and Steve chased after some of Escobar’s men; so much that he almost slipped up and let them get away. 

By Friday afternoon, he couldn’t handle it any longer. This was ridiculous and he was going to put an end to it all, one way or another.

Javier almost jumped out of his seat, grabbing his leather jacket and half empty pack of cigarettes without a word as he stormed out of the office. Steve barely looked up in time to catch him, his question dying on his tongue as he watched his partner storm out. He didn’t have to ask to know exactly what was going on.

Finally, he thought to himself shaking his head, finally. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Open the door," Javier's voice was commanding but it still managed to shake as he rapped his knuckles against the peeling paint of your door, "cariño, I know you're in there…"

And you were. You were curled up on the couch in your pajamas, an empty bottle of wine on the table as an old, cheesy romance movie played in the background. The lights were off and you were tired, but you still couldn't manage to find sleep. 

You'd avoided going into the office for the last couple of days, feigning illness and earning a scoff from the ambassador, but nothing else was said. In the time you'd been in Colombia, you'd never so much as used a single sick day, so they didn't question you. But of course your partners did. Well, one of them. The other had known exactly what was going and it had been eating him up inside, even if he wasn't ready to admit it.

But his little heart to heart with Steve had inspired him - practically shoved him in the right direction. You'd been on his mind rent free since he'd left. Hell - for much longer than that.

"Go away," you managed to croak out before burrowing further into your pillow, feeling a fresh wave of tears spill down your cheeks at his presence. Knowing you almost had him but didn't was heartbreaking, "you made it clear we have nothing, Javier.”

“Open the damn door,” there was a tone in his voice that you hadn’t heard before - was that...desperation? Javier paused and sighed heavily, “please. I-I...fuck, I fucked up.”

“If you’re going to play some sort of cruel joke, save your breath,” you huffed, “like you said, we are nothing. We’ll be work partners and that’s it.”

There was a beat of silence and a part of you thought he left, you were almost relieved at the thought. But before you knew it, you heard the keys jingling in the lock and the door opened; you cursed yourself for giving him a spare set. Either way, he probably could have figured out how to get in anyways. He just couldn’t let it go.

“Cariño,” he came and swiftly made his way over to you, frowning when he saw you all curled up and the discarded mess around you, "I-"

"Go away, Javi," it was a pathetic plea as you glanced up at him. His heart felt it was going to shatter and break at the sight of your red, glossy eyes as you sniffled at him, "haven't you done enough? Or should I be apologizing for having feelings and being honest about them?"

"I should be begging you for forgiveness," he dropped to his knees beside you, a hand tentatively reaching out to you, as he tried to see if you would pull away. Despite wanting to, instead wishing you could yell and scream, you stay rooted in position as he gently pushed your hair out of your hair. He brushed his thumb gently over your cheek as your eyes fluttered closed at the familiar touch, "I am so sorry."

"Sorry for what?" your brow furrowed at his words, "you made yourself very clear."

"I fucked up - you're right. I am a liar and a coward," he confessed as your eyes snapped back open to meet his. They were gentle, softened in the corners with the crinkles that you adored so much, "I realized I had feelings and I panicked. I shut you out and hurt you."

"My head hurts, Javier," you sighed slightly, "just get to the point."

"I love you," he admitted and suddenly it felt your heart had dropped into your stomach as you stared at him. He was sure you must have heard the wild beating of his heart as he tried to anticipate your reaction, "I-I'm in love with you."

"If this is your idea of a joke," you moved his hand away and sat up, trying to prepare yourself for any possibility, "its even more fucked up than just breaking my heart. I knew what this started this and I should have stopped it when I started to catch feelings but I-"

But Javier didn't let you say anything further. Instead, he cut you off by crashing his lips onto yours and kissing you deeply - slowly and with meaning. It was an easy dance, one you'd done hundreds of times before. But this time just felt...different.

His arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you close, and yours wound around his neck. Effortless and easy, just like everything with him was. It was anything frenzied or hurried, but slow and gentle as he tried to convey his every thought and feeling through his touch. He thought his heart might burst when he felt your smile whilst his lips, as you carded a hand through his dark locks.

Only when you were both breathless and drunk off of each other did you pull apart. He stared at you, his gaze soft as you grabbed his face and delicately cradled it before pressing another kiss to his lips.

"I hope this means what I think it means or I'm going to have to murder you," you whispered against his lips, as his own tugged into a smile, "because I am in love you and I don't know if I can ever change that."

"It means I'm an idiot," he admitted, "a cowardly fool that ran when things got real - although they were always real. Its obvious, isn't it? I just never realized."

"That's because you gave a thick skull, Peña," you gently tapped a knuckle against the side of his head, "and you need to learn to be more open - with me anyway. You don't have to be afraid, Javi. Not with me; I'm not going anywhere, you know that. I know you - the real you - and nothing about you scares me or whatever you think it is. I love you and that means every little bit of you."

"I…" he paused for a moment, inhaling and exhaling slowly as your words washed over him. His heart had never felt warmer or more light as he realized the immense weight your words held. He closed his eyes and nodded, gently pressing his forehead against yours, "I love you. Fully and completely cariño. Even if I am an idiot."

"My idiot," you promised softly, "just talk to me next time, okay? Don't run and hide - stay with me. It'll be okay, you will always have me."

"Fuck," he whispered as he pulled you into his arms and wrapped you up in the tightest hug possible, "I'm sorry - so sorry. I love you."

"I love you, Javier," you whispered, "stay with me?"

"Always."

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[knchins]

Kuroshiro - Chapter Five

Summary: Hayami and Suguru were teenagers in love until the day came when he decided to turn his back on the sorcery world and become a curse user, which left his best friend Satoru to pick up the pieces.

Pairing: Geto x Fem OC x Gojo

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: Major manga spoilers, mentions of PTSD, mentions of insecurity, blindfold usage, biting, unsafe sex, some light spanking, begging, dirty talk, light degradation, vaginal sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, cream pies....yes its yet another smut chapter lol

☙ Prev. ● Masterlist ● Next ❧

Chapter Five - Staying Young

“Two spicy eel rolls please,” Haya said to the waiter as she glanced over the menu, “and two milk teas as well.” She handed the menu back to the young man after he gave them a small nod and left.

“I know this place doesn’t have the novelty of a conveyor belt, but the sushi is much better in my opinion.” She said to Miyu who was distractedly looking at the iPhone Haya had purchased for her months prior. “It’s quieter too.”

Miyu nodded, enjoying the more relaxed atmosphere than that of the place that Itadori loved to go to. She was thankful that her mother seemed to understand her a little better than the boy she was hopelessly enamored with.

Briefly, Haya’s mind went to Gojo, wondering why she sensed him nearby. They were currently not on speaking terms again. Not only did she believe that she was too quick to forgive him for lying about Itadori, but he had also gone behind her back in trying to play matchmaker with his student and her daughter.

Gojo had attempted to distract her while Yuuji and Miyu went out together without her knowledge. When she realized what he was up to, Haya was furious. Her mother-hen mode activated as she refused to let Miyu go. It had taken her two days to calm down and finally agree after much moping from Miyu.

She wanted to say that Miyu was too young to date, but she had been that age when she first started dating Suguru. Though she didn’t think that Itadori had any ill intentions, he was still a teenage boy that was under the influence of once womanizer Gojo Satoru.

Currently, they were out shopping for a new outfit for Miyu to wear on her date with Yuuji, though Haya was still uneasy about it. She still didn’t think it was a good idea for Aruna and Sukuna to be together, not only that but Yuuji had a target on his back again. She worried about something happening to either of them while they were out by themselves. It didn’t matter how strong either of them had become, they were still children.

“Are you really okay with me going out with Yuuji?” Miyu said quietly, worried that her mother would go on another tirade at the question. It wasn’t as if Haya had been particularly upset with her, but she still perceived any anger as being directed at herself. Haya told her it was a trauma response, that she used to struggle with it too when she was a kid. Though she hadn’t divulged to the teen what her trauma had been exactly.

Haya refrained from letting out the big sigh that was now stuck inside of her. “Yes,” She said, forcing a smile. “I’m sorry I overreacted the other day. I just didn’t like that Gojo went behind my back with something like that. He knew how I’d react but did it anyway. I know you hadn’t planned any of it, Itadori confessed that he had blindsided you and apologized to me. I wasn’t mad that you were going out on a date.”

That was only mostly true. Anger probably wasn’t the right word to describe the feeling Haya had felt when she found out that Miyu wanted to take Yuuji. It was more like sorrow. While she hadn’t been her mother for very long, it still was somewhat sad to see signs of her growing up already. If she wasn’t careful, Haya might get baby fever again. Not that anything ever came of it. The only person she’d ever feel comfortable procreating with was also Japan’s biggest asshole.

She was almost certain that Miyu would be the only child she’d ever have. She didn’t necessarily want a child out of wedlock and getting Gojo to propose would have taken a miracle. Though she fully admitted that she didn’t even deserve a proposal. Especially not after the Shibuya incident.

Miyu had a small smile on her face, pleased by her mother’s answer. “But you’re still not talking to Gojo-sensei?” She asked, feeling a little guilty still that she played some part in them being broken up again. Though Fushiguro had assured her that this happened all the time and that they’d be back together soon.

“No, I’m sick of him lying to me or trying to hide things behind my back.” She said.”I actually have a date tonight with someone else.” The date was with an old fling, no one particularly interesting. But if it would make Gojo jealous then that’s all she really cared about. “

Miyu’s smile turned into a frown. “I don’t understand, mom…Don’t you love him? Did you just stop because you broke up?”

Haya looked as if Miyu’s words slapped her in the face. Sushi nearly fell from her chopsticks as she had been bringing it up to her mouth to eat. She cleared her throat awkwardly and set her food down, “Of course, I-” She cut herself off. Did she love him? That seemed like such a silly question, of course, she should love him.

She sighed and sat back in her seat. “I love Satoru very much.” She conceded, “but sometimes the person you love and the person you’re meant to be with aren’t one and the same.” She looked somberly down at her half-eaten meal. Tears welled in the back of her eyes but she swallowed thickly to will them down. She had never cried in front of Miyu before and didn’t plan on starting now.

Her answer only left Miyu even more confused. She only had a rudimentary idea of how romantic relationships worked, and something as complex as what went on between her mother and Gojo was well beyond her limited knowledge. It wasn’t as if she’d ever had much interest in boys before Yuuji and her previous parents hadn’t been great role models for what love was.

Come to think of it, her current parent wasn’t a great role model for that either.

“I guess I just don’t understand.” She admitted before taking another bite. “This sushi is very good, I wish it was a little spicier though.”

Haya let out a sigh of relief at the subject change, “Of course, I forget how much you love spicy food. Maybe next time we can ask for more wasabi.” Miyu smiled back at her and nodded.

They finished their meal in silence, Haya thinking over what she had told Miyu. Why she was still hung up on Suguru even after his death, she didn’t know. Perhaps she was still obsessed with the idea of how great they could have been together if he had never left her. He’d never come back to the sorcerers’ side. He’d never repent for betraying them. He was gone and he was never coming back.

Perhaps it was the lack of proper burial that had her still hanging on so tightly. The worry that his soul wasn’t at rest. That he had morphed into some new curse out there, lurking and hurting innocent people. He should have been cremated. It didn’t matter to her what atrocities he had committed, he was still her first love.

They walked to a nearby department store. “Did you want a dress or a skirt and blouse?” Haya asked, looking over the new arrivals section. “Oh this is cute,” She pulled out a long dress with an extremely high slit on both sides. “It would show off those great legs of yours.”

Miyu wasn’t convinced. Her self-esteem had improved somewhat since arriving in Japan, but she still didn’t think she was very attractive or that her body was something boys would look at. “I don’t know, maybe something a little less…mature?”

“You’re right.” Haya said, grabbing one in her size, “I’ll just wear it to my date tonight.” She had a cheeky grin on her face as Miyu let out a light laugh, shaking her head.

The teen’s eyes wandered to a two-tiered floral chiffon skirt. She went over to it, feeling the fabric as she looked it over. “What about this?”

“Adorable.” Haya said with a smile, “and look, here’s a top that would look cute with it.” She pointed to a nearby loose-fitted white tank top with lace trim.

Miyu looked it over, grabbing on in her size and comparing the two side by side. “With those white ankle boots, you got me?” She asked, picturing the outfit in her head. Yua said she’d curl my hair for me…”

“I think we have our outfit,” Haya said with a proud grin. “Would you like to try it on first?”

She nodded and went into the dressing room as Haya moved to the intimates section to look through the underwear in case there was anything that caught her eye. She saw a pair of pink cotton ones that nearly matched the ones she wore on her first night with Gojo. A small smile graced her face at the memory. She had caught a bad cold from running through the rain to get to his dorm, hers had been on the other side with the other girl dorms. The pathway between the two wasn’t totally covered from the raging storm overhead.

Gojo had teased her at first, but he had also brought her soup and tissues to help her feel better. She could have asked for anything and he would have gotten it for her. Though when she really thought of it, hadn’t he always been like that? While she very rarely used the credit card he had given her, he still never asked for it back any time they broke up.

Something in her heart stirred as she thought about their countless arguments and apologies. The idea that it was her fault he couldn’t be happy ran rampant as she tried to quell tears that yearned to fall once more. Going on that date tonight would just be another mistake, she decided. She wasn’t setting a good example for Miyu either which made her feel even worse.

She put the dress back on the rack and grabbed a pair of the pink underwear in her size. She paid for it before Miyu could come back and see what she had gotten, not knowing how she was going to explain why she was getting them.

A few moments later, Miyu came out after having tried on both articles of clothing. She seemed happy if not nervous. “They fit great,” She said, “I think I will go with this.” She set the clothes on the counter to be rung up as she gave her mom a confused look, “What about the dress you were going to get?”

Haya smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I decided not to go on that date tonight. I’d worry about you the entire time so I’d rather be at the school where I can be available if you need me.”

Miyu nodded, wondering what the real reason was as to why she chose not to go. “Is this about Gojo-sensei?” She asked, knowing her mother wasn’t quite telling the truth.

“Yes and no.” She said, trying to shrug off the question. “I do still think we would benefit from some time apart. But making him think I’ve moved on is probably not a good idea. As you said, feelings don’t just stop because two people break up.”

It was Miyu’s turn to smile now. “Okay, mom. I guess we should be getting back so I have time to get ready.”

Haya nodded and paid for her new clothes. “Alright…do I need to have the sex talk with you?”

“Mom!”

While Miyu got ready for her date, Hayami decided to put the fear of the gods into Itadori. While she allowed Miyu to opt-out of some sex ed, she wasn’t about to let him go without talking to him first. She knocked on his door, “Itadori, open up. I need to have a talk with you.”

Yuuji opened the door, a worried look on his face as he scratched the back of his head, “oh, sensei…is this about training next week?” Gojo was going to be leaving for an assignment soon and she’d be taking over for him while he was gone.

“No, this is about my daughter.” She clarified. “Can I come in?”

He stepped to the side, suddenly feeling panicked. He hoped she wasn’t about to tell him that the date was off. He had planned the best he could with the help of Gojo and Fushiguro (though Megumi wasn’t very helpful, he was still a somewhat okay sounding board).

Once inside Haya let out a frustrated sigh, she wasn’t upset with him she just didn’t expect Miyu to be dating this soon. It was safe to say she wasn’t prepared for how to handle a teenager in the dating scene. Her biggest fear was that history would repeat itself. Miyu would fall deeply in love with Itadori only for him to be killed. She was praying that tonight would be a disaster and she’d stay as far away from the boy as possible.

“What are your intentions with my daughter?” She asked, “I’ll know if you’re lying so don’t even bother trying.”

Yuuji swallowed thickly, “I really like Miyu.” He said softly, his mouth going dry. “I just want to see her happy. Her smile is so pretty but she rarely shows it. I want to change that.”

Haya was warmed by that answer, more so than she thought she’d be. He truly did seem genuine and she knew that he wasn’t typically one to be dishonest. “If you have sex with her, I’ll castrate you.” She said rather bluntly. “Touch her in any way and you’ll be back in the morgue with Shoko.”

His face was beet red as he felt like he was going to faint at her directness. “I-I’m not!” He stammered, trying to find his words. “I don’t plan on doing that…I mean I do plan on it one day but uh…not right now, not with Miyu. Not that I wouldn’t like to with her but um we’re both kinda young and she’d have to want to and-”

She held up her hand to cease his rambling. “Good answer.” She said, reaching up to pat him on the head in a teasing manner. “She doesn’t like loud, crowded places. The quieter the better. She shuts down when she gets overwhelmed and when that happens just get her away from everyone else so she can decompress. Maybe even bring her back here. If she starts to really panic then call me and I’ll talk her through it.”

Her eyes closed as she took a deep breath, “and if you get into any danger, run. Don’t try to save anyone. Run and call me or Gojo. We’ll come to take care of it, okay?”

He blinked, unsure what kind of danger they might be in. “You mean like curses?”

“Yes, curses, curse users, anyone trying to bring you harm. Don’t engage. I don’t want either of you to get hurt, okay?” She said firmly and he nodded to show his understanding.

A smile spread across Yuuji’s face and he nodded, realizing that she was just being so aggressive because she was worried. “You’re a really good mom, sensei.”

It was Haya’s turn to turn red as she cleared her throat. No one had ever told her that before and to hear it made her heart swell with joy. Still, she didn’t want Itadori to know that words could have such an effect on her. “Thank you, Yuuji. Be careful and have fun.”

“We will don’t worry!” He said, waving as she started to leave. “But I have another question if that’s okay.”

She paused and looked back at him, “What is it?”

“Do you think it’s okay for Sukuna and Aruna to…you know, be close to one another?” He asked tentatively. Sukuna always had something to say in his head about Aruna or Miyu, none of it good. It was usually something sleazy or sexual. It seemed the king of curses had quite the imagination.

“No,” Haya answered honestly, “but if being with you makes Miyu happy, then I suppose it’s alright.” She started to walk again. “Bring her back by midnight!”

Yuuji nodded and closed the door after she walked out, his nerves for how the date was going to go started to rise again. What if Miyu decided she didn’t like him? Or what if she got mad again about him pretending to be dead? What if she wanted to do something that Haya-sensei just told him that they couldn’t do. He let out a groan before going into his attached bathroom to shower and get ready.

Haya went back to her room, taking the long way to avoid passing by Gojo’s. Speaking to Yuuji just made her more sure that she had been wrong to get so upset with him. While she could oftentimes admit to herself that she was mistaken, admitting that to someone else was a totally different story. She hated apologizing even more than Gojo did.

She decided she’d apologize without words, using the pair of underwear she had bought while out with Miyu. He always did love to see her in lingerie and while plain pink cotton underwear wasn't sexy to most, she had a feeling the nostalgia would make him happy and hopefully horny.

Once in her room, she took out her phone and sent him a text, asking him to come by her room at eight o’clock so they could talk about what happened. A few moments later she received a reply from Gojo stating that he’d be there. Afterward, she canceled her date with the other guy, not wanting to simply ghost him. He responded by asking if they could simply reschedule but she firmly told him no.

She was out of his league anyway.

On the other side of campus, Gojo had been working out in the school gym. He was honestly surprised to receive the text from his now-ex-girlfriend. While Haya could be quite predictable at times, there were other instances when he really had no idea what she was going to do. That seemed to be happening more and more since she brought Miyu back from America.

He thought she was overprotective of the teen and that she should just let Miyu live her life and make mistakes just as they had when they were her age. It was clear Haya wanted better for Miyu than for herself, and sometimes Gojo wondered just how far she’d go to make sure that happened. She had her father breathing down her neck about Itadori. If he were to find out his granddaughter was a vessel too? He was sure it would simply break her.

Regardless of their different views on parenting, he was glad to see that she had come around sooner rather than later. Normally she remained distant until after he came back from an away mission. That just seemed to be how it worked out. He was leaving in a couple of days to handle things in another part of Japan. Haya knew because Yaga had asked her to step in as a teacher.

He finished his reps at the weight bench before getting up and going into the showers to wash up. Maybe if he was extra lucky she’d be wearing something sexy when he came over. He knew he’d be pushing his luck he if instigated sex, but his balls were going blue just from the short time they’d been apart. He thanked the gods that they had compatible sex drives, other women he had dated had a hard time keeping up.

Once he had washed off, he put on a clean set of clothes and went back to his room to find some work to do before his meetup with Hayami later that night.

At eight o’clock sharp, Gojo knocked on the door to Haya’s dorm. He could smell the scent of food from inside, figuring she had gotten take out for them to share. He was thankful that he had decided not to eat, his stomach rumbling at the aroma wafting into the hallway.

The door opened and his jaw dropped at the sight of his sometimes lover dressed in nothing but an oversized white button-up shirt (that he was sure had been his at some point) and no pants on. He couldn’t see her underwear this time since she wasn’t soaked to the bone with rainwater.

He stepped in and immediately slammed the door behind him, being more forceful than he meant to. He felt a pang of guilt when he saw her jump but relieved it by pulling her into him for a desperately passionate kiss.

Haya obediently opened her mouth for his roving tongue, the two fighting for dominance even though they both knew he’d win. He picked her up and practically tossed her onto the bed, seeing a flash of pink panties underneath the white top. “Satoru, wait,” Haya panted, out of breath from the kiss still. “We’re supposed to talk first.”

“I forgive you.” He said bluntly before kissing her again, ripping the shirt open and sending flat pearl buttons scattering across the room. Haya made a muffled sound of protest as his tongue swept into her mouth once more. Her weak attempts to push him away began to stop as she placed her hands on his shoulders.

The kissing continued until Gojo sat up, having at some point pushed her down onto her back and took off his blindfold. He looked down at his blushing first love, seeing her erect nipples peaking on her heaving chest. He finally got a better look at the underwear she had been wearing and while it wasn’t exactly the same it was a damn near match.

He took off his shirt in one fluid motion, tossing it to the ground unceremoniously. Suddenly he realized he didn’t take his shoes off at the door and kicked them off as well. Haya laid still, curiously watching him. She could see the gears turning in his head, trying to figure out what he should do next.

His bright blue eyes pinned her down once more before he grabbed the blindfold from beside her and gently wrapped it around her eyes. Haya did a sharp inhale, taking in his fragrant scent that wafted around her. He tied the fabric around the back of her head, causing her to smile lightly.

“It’s been a while since we’ve done this.” She teased, having been blindfolded before by Gojo whenever he was feeling particularly frisky. He merely chuckled in response as he stood up briefly to take off his pants. As he did so, Haya sat up to take off the remnants of the shirt he had definitely ruined.

She felt herself getting roughly pushed back onto the bed, his lips capturing hers briefly before making their way down her neck and shoulder. His hands wandered up and down her sides before settling on her breasts, squeezing and massaging them in his large hands. Haya’s full focus was on every touch, every peck of his lips or nip of his teeth, The sensations making her wetter by the second as she rubbed her thighs together for some kind of relief.

“Desperate?” He asked into her ear, his warm breath tickling the delicate hairs around it. She merely whined in response, tugging at his boxers instead of verbally agreeing. He let out another low laugh that sent tingles down her spine as she grabbed his cock to shut him up.

Gojo let out a groan, rutting into her fist as he bit down on her breast roughly in payback. Haya let out a sharp hiss, her grip on him tightening slightly. She could feel him throbbing in her palm. “You got it up quickly.” She taunted and he pulled away from her abruptly.

“Don’t make me tie you up to, brat.” He said, spanking her outer thigh playfully. Haya merely chuckled in response as she fumbled around to find his chest, running her fingers along the contour of his abs.

His tongue flicked at her nipples, earning tiny whimpers of protest as she held onto his shoulders lightly. His mouth moved down more as his fingers hooked around the elastic band of her underwear and took them off in a swift motion as Haya lifted her hips.

He spread her legs before latching on to the inside her thigh, biting again and sucking roughly to create a purple flowering bruise on the delicate skin. Haya let out a small moan of pain at his sharp teeth as she attempted to close her legs, only to be held open by his strong grip. He repeated his marking process on the other thigh, this one a little lower so if she were to wear shorts it would be visible. Haya attempted to protest but was immediately shut up by his lips on her swollen clit.

Gojo pulled away and she whimpered a quiet beg for him to touch her. “Bad girls don’t get warm-ups.” He said in a teasing tone as she heard him reaching for a condom in her bedside drawer.

“It’s a safe day.” She muttered, feeling her face heat up with embarrassment. Gojo blinked in surprise. She must be really feeling sorry if she was allowing him to forgo a condom. He closed the drawer again, not wanting her to change her mind. It wasn’t like he enjoyed wearing them, he’d rather fuck her without one every time. She hated the way birth control made her feel, the emotional highs and lows it gave her, so she decided to not take any after years of trying to find one that worked.

Besides, Gojo thought to himself, he’d need an heir one day anyway. And who better to carry that child than the person he loved? Not that he’d ever tell her any of that.

He took off his boxers before flipping her over onto her stomach. Haya obediently lifted her hips up so that she was on her knees while her upper torso remained on the mattress. Gojo pumped his hard cock a few times, spreading the pre-cum along his shaft for additional lubrication. Though if he knew his girlfriend (were they dating again?) then she would be drenched enough to not need it.

He rubbed his tip along her slit, causing her to whine at him for teasing her more. He raised his hand before smacking her ass playfully before slowly inserting himself into her. They both moaned together as Haya’s walls clamped down around him. He muttered a praise at how tight she was, earning himself another clench as he pushed in to the hilt, resting there for a moment as he reveled in how warm and soft she was on the inside.

Haya wiggled her hips in an attempt to get him to move. He smacked her ass once more and she let out a small cry. “‘Toru,” She said, sounding breathless already. The lack of sight was causing her to feel more sensitive than usual, her sole concentration on him stretching her out and filling her up.

“What is it, princess?” He asked, giving a shallow thrust before stopping again. “You want my cock that badly?”

“Yes,” She admitted, growing more and more frustrated by the second. “I’m not your personal cock warmer.” Though she tried to sound demanding, her voice came out in a pathetic tone.

Gojo was smirking, the didn’t bother to disguise the smugness from his voice. “I think you are by the way you’re whining for me to fuck you.” He gave another thrust and she moaned weakly, pushing back against him as much as she could. “I’ll move if you say it.”

Haya clenched her teeth, knowing what he meant. “I’m your cock warmer.” She muttered, not wanting to say it any louder in fear someone may hear her even though that was highly unlikely.

“Hm? What was that? I didn’t hear you.” He said, pretending to start to pull out.

“I’m Gojo’s cock warmer, now please just-” He snapped his hips against her roughly and she moaned loudly instead of finishing her plea. He started to move at a fast and relentless rhythm just like she wanted.

Haya had forgotten her rising anger and annoyance with him immediately. The position allowed for his cock to rub that perfectly placed spot inside of her and the pace had her fingers curling around the blanket beneath her in ecstasy. She was whimpering as his blunt hails dug into the flesh of her hips.

Gojo titled his head back, eyes closed as he reveled in how amazing sex could feel. He briefly wondered how mad she’d be if he came inside her, only to realize that he didn’t really care about the consequences if he did.

Gojo leaned over and bit down on her neck, leaving another hickey as he rammed into her as hard as he could. The tension that had been growing inside Haya finally snapped and she came with a rush of endorphins and a cry of his name. Her muscles spasmed, limbs shaking as she saw bright white stars cloud the darkness of her vision.

He held up her hips, not stopping until he felt her stop twitching. He pulled out and flipped her over onto her back before re-inserting himself into her once more. He increased his pace as her nails dug into his back and shoulders, the bloody marks healing almost instantly, leaving only red dots behind to show that there had been anything there in the first place. He was littered in them as she desperately tried to find some relief for the sheer amount of stimulation she was still receiving.

Her thoughts when numb, nothing coherent passing as all she could think about was his dick inside her, moving at that insane pace that only he seemed to be able to achieve. Gojo took one of her legs and raised it so that her ankle was on his shoulder, hitting a new depth and angle as he did so.

“F-Fuck,” Haya managed to say, the only thing that made sense besides the other cacophony of sounds that had been coming from her mouth. He loved how he could render her into this state so easily. Then again, he could do that with practically any woman he slept with.

It just felt so much better when it was with her.

It wasn’t long before she came for a second time, this one weaker than the previous one as she whimpered. The blindfold began to dampen with her tears as she didn’t think she could handle any more stimuli. Gojo could tell she was breaking and quickly allowed himself to come to his end, pressing himself in as far as he could as he released into her.

Haya was on cloud nine, unable to perceive that he’d cum inside her until he pulled out and she felt the rush of liquid pour out of her. She made a disgusted face at the sensation as Gojo lifted up the blindfold to give her a warm smile and a tired kiss.

He laid down next to her, too worn out from both his workout earlier and fucking her to bother cleaning them both up. At least not right away. Suddenly he heard Haya gasp and he nearly jumped up to look at her.

“We forgot the food!” She said in a shocked voice and all he could do was laugh.

Interlude Five coming Sunday (4/3) Miyu and Yua get ready for Miyu's date. Miyu decides to play matchmaker.

[regenderate-fic]

All the Quiet Nights You Bear: Chapter 24

Fandom: Doctor Who Rating: General Ship: Thirteenth Doctor/Rose Tyler, Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan, Yasmin Khan/Rose Tyler, Thirteenth Doctor/Rose Tyler/Yasmin Khan, Past Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Characters: Thirteenth Doctor, Yasmin Khan, Rose Tyler, Najia Khan, Hakim Khan, Sonya Khan, Dan Lewis, Jack Harkness, Ryan Sinclair Series: And We’re Not Out of the Tunnel Word Count (Chapter): 1,741 Other Tags: Fluff and Angst, Angst, Emotional, Disabled Character, Chronic Illness, Bad Wolf Rose, COVID-19, Self-Quarantine, Domestic, Autistic Characters, Polyamory, OT3, Slow Burn, Disability Read on AO3 / Read in order

Summary: Rose Tyler-Noble jumps out of her parallel universe, leaving her husband and family behind in the hopes that being back in the right universe will improve her well-being.

Yasmin Khan is out for lunch with the Doctor when she sees a blonde woman sitting on the sidewalk, crying.

The Doctor, Yaz, and Rose travel back to Sheffield to see Yaz’s family, but they have to leave the TARDIS so it can reset, and when they come back, it’s gone. The police have confiscated it, and they want to see proof of ownership before they give it back. And the Doctor left her psychic paper on board. And they’ve landed in March of 2020, just before everything shuts down.

Stranded in Sheffield, they have no choice but to get a flat and quarantine together. Which, when you have three emotionally volatile people who care for each other more than they’re willing to admit, can be complicated.

(Sequel to And Still I Will Live Here, but hopefully readable out of context. Updating on Saturdays and Wednesdays.)

NOTES: posting early because the friends in my computer are all collectively lying to me about their birthdays being soon so i post early. so. congratulations everyone. it worked. happy birthday to esther and rowan and katniss and rowan's partner and rowan's metamour.

The Doctor’s room is a mess. Impressively so, for a room she’s only occupied for the last five days. Rose finds herself hoping that at least some of it is from the room’s previous occupant, but it’s not looking likely. For one thing, the boxes piled next to the door unquestionably belong to packages the Doctor has ordered. For another, the clothes all over the floor primarily consist of identical blue sweats, some of which still have the tags on. There’s rubbish all over, including a good few empty packets of custard creams. And on the bed, along with a half-eaten pack of custard creams, a number of household tools, and a laptop and a Switch, is the Doctor, sprawled out in her sweats, unmoving.

Rose steps forward carefully, ignoring the ache in her knees as she tries to navigate what feels like an obstacle course, still holding the Doctor’s chicken nuggets and tea. She sits gingerly on the edge of the bed.

The Doctor doesn’t react.

“You all right?” Rose asks.

“Do I look all right?” retorts the Doctor’s muffled voice. And then, after a pause— “Don’t answer that. It’s rhetorical.”

“We’re worried about you,” Rose says. “Me and Yaz.”

Yaz is still hovering in the doorway. Rose gestures for her to come closer, and she does. “We brought you food,” she offers.

“Don’t need food,” the Doctor says.

Yaz doesn’t skip a beat. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Rose is surprised by the sternness in her tone. “You need food, Doctor. I know how cranky you get when you don’t eat. You might be a space alien, but you still need to take care of yourself.”

The Doctor shifts, slowly lifting her head. Her face is stained with tears. “Fine, then.” She pushes herself into a sitting position, taking the plate and mug from Rose. She sits cross-legged, facing the wall, still not looking at Rose or Yaz.

Yaz sits at the very end of the bed, unable or unwilling or afraid to get any closer. Rose has no such qualms: Yaz has been doing a complicated dance of not knowing where she stands with the Doctor, but Rose knew exactly where she stood, back in the day, and even though things are different now, she still has the confidence to move onto the bed and sit by the Doctor, facing the opposite direction. It gives the Doctor the option of whether or not to look her in the eye: the Doctor, of course, does not take the opportunity. She just shoves an entire chicken nugget in her mouth, chewing with intense lethargy and staring down at her plate.

Rose follows the Doctor’s lead in not making eye contact. Instead, she looks at the plain white wall, her eyes finding every imperfection as she tries to think what to say.

The Doctor beats her to it.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

Rose and Yaz hold their silence, not willing to scare the Doctor off just when she’s actually started to talk. When she speaks again, her every word is slow, labored.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. Either of you. I just—“ She cuts off. “It’s hard to explain.”

“Try,” Yaz says. Her voice is soft, gentle. Encouraging.

The Doctor nods. “I— it’s very difficult for me, being with humans. Being attached.” She gives Rose half a glance. “Like I told you. Remember?”

Imagine that happening to someone you—

“Yeah.” 

The Doctor sighs. “It’s gotten harder.”

“It’s been a long time,” Rose murmurs. “You’re older.”

“I’ve lost more people.” The Doctor shoves another chicken nugget into her mouth. If Rose weren’t so worried about her, it would be quite impressive, the amount of chicken nugget she can fit in her mouth. “Done more things. Learned more about myself.” Her eyes are fixed directly on the closed curtain in front of her. “Some things I wish I hadn’t.”

“Like what happened on Gallifrey?” Yaz asks, so, so gently.

The Doctor lets out a rough breath. “Gallifrey.” It comes out a growl.

“Don’t tell us if you’re not ready,” Yaz says. “You’re in no condition for it right now. No matter how much I want to know.”

“Suppose you’re right.” The Doctor takes a swig of her tea. She barely flinches, even though Rose can still see boiling hot steam curling up from its surface. “I want to tell you,” she says once she’s swallowed. “I need to. I just don’t know how.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Yaz says, moving a little closer to the Doctor on the bed. “Together, right?”

“I don’t think you want to be with me.” The Doctor’s voice breaks, every word coming out slowly. “You won’t. Not when I tell you everything.”

Something snaps in Rose. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she says, her words sharp.  “Doctor, I tore apart time and space for you. I did something that changed me, irreparably, for the rest of my life.” Her voice is getting louder. She makes no effort to stop it. “I did that because I loved you. I loved you then, and I loved John, who came from you, and I’ll love the you you are now too, if you give me half a chance.” She’s crying now, to her dismay, hot tears rolling down her face. “You’re absolutely stupid if you think anything you have to say could change that.”

The Doctor narrows her eyes, still not looking at Rose. “You don’t know what I’ve discovered.”

“Then tell us,” Yaz interrupts, forceful. “Let us decide what we think of you. And until then, don’t assume we’ll hate you.”

“What happened to ‘don’t tell us if you’re not ready’?” the Doctor mutters.

Rose rests a hand on the Doctor’s forearm. “We can take it slow, okay? You don’t have to say everything at once.”

The Doctor nods. She takes a deep breath, and it turns into a sob, the tears glistening on her cheeks. Without thinking, Rose leans towards her and gathers her into a hug, and it’s a testament to how tired the Doctor must be that she doesn’t protest. She just sinks into it, her face hidden in Rose’s neck. A moment later, Yaz is there too, moving to sit next to the Doctor on her other side, resting a hand on her back. She makes eye contact with Rose over the back of the Doctor’s head, and Rose gives her a small smile. Yaz returns it with wide, scared eyes.

It’s a long time before anything changes. The Doctor keeps her face buried in Rose’s neck and shoulder, her body shaking, her tears wet against Rose’s mostly-bare skin. Yaz stays close, leaning into the Doctor, her hand rubbing slow circles on the Doctor’s back, and Rose closes her eyes, breathing in the strange sensation of holding the Doctor, this strange new Doctor, while she cries.

And then the sobs turn into sniffles, and the Doctor lifts her head, just a little. “Sorry,” she says.

“What are you sorry for?” Rose asks.

“This,” the Doctor says into Rose’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean to cry on you. I don’t— I’m not usually like this.”

“Everyone needs to cry sometimes,” Rose says. “Better with company, yeah?”

There’s a long pause. Finally, the Doctor says, “I do— want you around. Both of you.”

“Funny way of showing it,” Rose teases. “Isolating yourself, not telling us anything.”

“It’s hard!” the Doctor protests. “Especially when I don’t get why you would want me around.”

“Oi, you’re brilliant,” Yaz says. “Not just because of the time travel, promise. You’re kind, and you’re funny, and you always help people when you can, and you always explain things when people don’t understand, and you keep going, even when it’s hard. Why wouldn’t we want you around?”

The Doctor lifts her head all the way at that, pushing herself back so she can look at both Rose and Yaz.

“What if that’s all a lie?” she asks, tremulous. “What if that’s not who I really am?”

“Why wouldn���t it be?” Yaz challenges. “If you would just explain, maybe we could help.”

“It’s too much for words,” the Doctor says. “I’m sorry. I really, really want to explain, even though I’m scared. We’ve got to do things when we’re scared, haven’t we? I’ve been running from this one for too long. Cowardly of me, really, especially given how much I talk about overcoming fear.” She takes a deep breath. “I haven’t overcome it. And I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Rose says again. “The important thing is working on it, right? Doing better?”

“Suppose so.” The Doctor presses her mouth into a line. “All right, then. Doing better. Got to do better.” And then the line breaks, her eyes wide with fear. “What if I can’t?”

“Try,” Yaz says. “We’ve all just got to try. You know that.”

“I’m worried it won’t be enough,” the Doctor says quickly, almost to herself. “And if it’s not enough, you’ll never want to talk to me again, and I’ll miss you both so much again, and it’s risky, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, life’s risky.” Rose gives the Doctor’s arm a gentle squeeze. “You know that.”

The Doctor nods. She sniffles. “Suppose I’m just tired of taking the risk.” All her normal energy is gone from her body, leaving her empty and clearly exhausted. “I’ve lived too long, maybe.”

There’s a long silence. Rose keeps her hand steady on the Doctor’s arm, and Yaz mirrors the gesture on the Doctor’s other side. Finally, Yaz says, “Doctor, would it be easier for you to show us?”

The Doctor frowns. “Show you?”

“You know,” Yaz says, tapping her temple with her free hand. “With your telepathy.”

“Oh.” The Doctor’s eyebrows draw together. “Maybe. Suppose I could try it. Establish a telepathic link. Show you what happened. Easy enough. With your permission, of course.”

“You have mine,” Yaz says, without a moment’s hesitation.

“And mine,” Rose adds.

“Right.” The Doctor puts her plate and mug on the nightstand and sits straight up, holding her hands up, parallel to each other. “I’ll need you both in front of me. Close together as possible, probably. All three of us.”

Rose readjusts her position so that she’s sitting cross-legged, facing the Doctor, their knees touching. Yaz does the same, her body close enough that Rose can feel the heat coming off it.

“Ready?” the Doctor asks.

Rose closes her eyes and nods.

The Doctor’s hand brushes against her temple, warm, gentle.

“Contact.”

[sunfoxfic]

Hey, so feel free to ignore this if you’d like, but I just wanted to hear your take on the whole Alya situation in the cafeteria scene, because how people are reacting to it have me. Really anxious. People are allowed to have their opinions of course, but I’ve seen a lot of people get really aggressive and call these kids (mostly Alya and Nino, to be frank) all sorts of things (post in the Nino tag calling him a “f*cker” (they were blocked on sight, but still, eugh), a handful of “b*tch” towards Alya along with the “c*nt” I saw someone call her on Instagram, and maybe it’s silly to get genuinely stressed by people insulting fictional characters, but I think it’s mostly that they’re children, and they’re children who simply don’t have the information necessary to get exactly what’s going down. It just makes me feel disturbed when I read it, if that makes sense. Sorry for the rambling, and if you do respond, thank you and have a good day!

I mostly stay off Instagram for this reason, but I have heard whispers of the salt and seen good-faith criticism about it and here's where I'm at:

I don't think Alya was wrong.

I think Alya was poorly written.

Not in general! I love Alya's character, and I love Alya, but in this episode, I do agree that she took a really weird role. Even if she couldn't know for certain that Lila was always lying, she should have been able to realize, "Oh, Marinette didn't like Lila from the moment they met, and... Oh yeah! Lila was doing an interview with me about how she met Ladybug! And... she says that she's Ladybug's best friend.... but I'm Ladybug's best friend so why would she say that....?"

Alya should have known logically that Marinette's disdain of Lila isn't based on bad vibes alone, and so the fact that Alya overstated the whole jealousy thing comes off as really, really out of place.

Now, I was talking about this on a Discord server, and in comparison to Nino, I think she's the only poorly written character, and I think Nino's character proves that she could have been well written.

Nino says, when they're at the table with Marinette, something to the tune of, "If Adrien didn't want to be a model, he would have told me, his best friend." Which makes sense. In Rocketear, Nino said to Adrien's face that he thinks Chat Noir is annoying. Was he being honest? Probably not. He was more than likely being emotional and dramatic. But he said it, when Adrien already wasn't in a good place, self-esteem-wise.

So Adrien is pulling away from Nino, because he thinks that Nino thinks he's annoying. Nino doesn't know that he said something ill of Adrien to his face. He doesn't know that maybe Adrien wouldn't say something like that. (And as we saw in Wishmaker, Adrien doesn't want to be a model forever -- he doesn't know what he wants to do.)

Of course Nino isn't going to be able to defend what Adrien actually wants, and the logic he uses to defend what he thinks Adrien wants is sound. Adrien's always stuffed in his room, so it would be an amazing opportunity to travel the world! He clearly has Adrien's interests in mind.

How does that relate to Alya, then?

Well, she could have been given just as solid of a reason to believe that Adrien would want to go as Nino has.

Normally I do not complain about Miraculous not doing enough. They are limited on budget, episode number, and time, and I know this, and the fact is that given what they have, they probably do more with it than most other people would be able to.

But I really think they could have spared an episode this season for some bonding (or not bonding) between Adrien and Alya, where Alya is led to believe that Adrien would want to go.

So much of Adrien's arc this season has been about isolation from everyone around him -- in Mega Leech, Gabriel. In Sentibubbler, Ladybug. In Queen Banana, Chloé. In Rocketear, Nino.

If they'd taken an episode -- they could nixed Simpleman, honestly -- and established that Adrien feels isolated from Alya, and given Alya reason to believe that Adrien wants to go away, they could have used that as justification for why Alya is telling Marinette to leave Adrien alone.

When criticizing characters, especially characters of color, it's important to look at the characters not as people but as props. Don't get me wrong, sometimes you need to look at them as people, but if you look at them solely as people then you'll sometimes reach the conclusion that they're bad people, when often you have to ask why a specific type of character is chosen to perform bad actions. They could have written Alya as doing something else, taking her own risks. They could have placed another character there. They could have had Alya slyly affirming her, just a simple nod, or telling her straight up to use her Miraculous, that no one will listen to anyone but Ladybug. They didn't. Why didn't they? Why did they choose her to take the role of bad guy?

I'm not saying the writers specifically wanted to make Alya evil, because I don't. I have no reason to believe that this is a mistake that Marinette will not forgive. On an in-universe level, should Marinette forgive it? I dunno, but I don't think it would be great if they wrote Marinette into holding a grudge, because enough people already do that against Black women (and Black people in general). But I am saying that the writers have been insensitive to the role they've given Alya in the past, and I see no reason why they won't continue doing that going forward.

Or, to put it in other words:

If there was a TV show where one character was known to be a terrible person, fans would not like that character. But if that character was also Black, or otherwise non-white, the question would be why that character is written as a terrible person.

Salters are already interpreting things in bad faith, but even with bad faith assumptions (i.e. Alya is a terrible friend who should support Marinette always and she's a bad person for not doing so), you can question why Alya specifically is being written as a terrible friend. (Again, I don't agree that she's being written as a terrible friend overall, but she was written to make a mistake, and I do wonder why they assigned that mistake to her when there were other options.)

But, good faith interpretation, is Alya in the wrong? Yes. Is she a bad person? No. Assuming that she and Marinette never had a conversation about Lila to clear the air, and Alya never had the chance to put 2 and 2 together, and she still thinks the other lies that Lila told are too far-fetched to have been made up, she just didn't know the full context, which means that she can learn and grow and apologize and things can go back to normal.

It's a sticky situation, anon, so just know that even if the salters are "correct," they exist within an echo chamber of negativity that should not pull you down, and even if she was in the wrong for what she did -- which, again, holding against her feels really weird because she's a female Black fictional character who is assigned a role by mostly white dudes -- making one mistake is far far from irredeemable, and as we saw at the beginning of the episode and in the dodgeball game, she does so much for Marinette.

For more reading about Alya's character and racism in the writing of it, I suggest this post.