#He initially told himself that it was only a job and that he doesn't like any of the people but found himself bonding with the other worker

[sunderwight]

TSCTIR-inspired SVSSS AU.

Shen Yuan was just a regular (ehhh kind of) nerd when the invasions began, monsters and dungeons started showing up, and people started "awakening" as RPG-style superheroes with special abilities, enhanced strength/speed/etc, and ranked classifications.

Shen Yuan's older brother awakens as S-classes. His younger sister awakens as an S-class. Shen Yuan?

F-class.

Of course, chronically ill Shen Yuan told himself he wasn't really expecting any different. But there have been people who have awakened as higher classes despite their own lifelong health problems or disabilities, and in many cases awakening cured them, and so he'd hoped...

Well. It doesn't matter what he'd hoped.

The worst part isn't even that he's not some badass dungeon-delver himself (even though he is wildly curious about all the strange monsters and beasts and demons that have been turning up), the worst part is that his siblings have all but left him in the dust. They aren't just busy, he can tell that they've increasingly been avoiding him, until virtually the only time they speak to him is when they catch him trying to go into a dungeon again and then yell at him about it.

(Of course, his siblings have been increasingly aware of the danger SY is in whenever he's in proximity to them, but no one ever accused the Shen family of having strong communication skills...)

Nonetheless, if there is some possible way for Shen Yuan to increase his rank, he won't find it staying at home. And there are too many mysteries to investigate to just keep himself out of it, even if that would be more sensible. So, Shen Yuan arranges to be on various low-level dungeon teams. Often among the more questionable, misguided ones being attempted by the newly-awakened or by people who are just desperate to try and get some kind of windfall. Dungeons are dangerous, but a lucky item drop can still make someone more money in a minute than they could otherwise earn in a year. It's through these jobs that Shen Yuan meets fellow F-class Shang Qinghua, whose motives for entering the dungeons are definitely more financial than academic.

This is also how Shen Yuan ends up in the wrong place at the wrong time, in a dungeon that has suddenly gone from low-level to a high-level boss, fleeing for his life. Just when it seems like he's about to become mincemeat, his older brother (Shen Jiu) shows up and takes on the dungeon boss. But it's too much for a lone S-class, even one as determined and vicious as SJ, and Shen Yuan can only watch in horror as his brother is killed by the terrifyingly powerful and weirdly beautiful Heavenly Demon Boss.

But the reason SY survived the initial assault, when no one else did, is thanks to his hidden ability. Which temporarily grants him the powers of anyone he has a bond with who has just died, x2. Previously, he had his bacon saved by Shang Qinghua's traumatic death, and when Shen Jiu dies, SY gains enough power to actually take down this mysterious Heavenly Demon boss.

It's a hollow victory. His brother is dead. His friend is dead. Even the boss monster seems inexplicably tragic to him somehow.

And why did SJ show up anyway? Between his siblings, Shen Yuan thought that his brother had grown the most distant from him, that he even hated him now! Why couldn't he have just... stayed away...?

Despite the traumatic horror of these events, killing the boss monster grants Shen Yuan a boon. It isn't a "raise people from the dead" boon, but it does permit time travel! In fact it seems kind of emphatic on that point, like something has gone really horribly wrong with reality and the world is struggling to hold itself together now somehow. Though that could also just be because Shen Yuan's world is struggling to hold itself together...?

Regardless, this new entity called "the system" refuses to let Shen Yuan go back to a point in time before he awakened, or before the dungeons appeared. But he can go back to a point before his brother died, which is definitely good enough. Accept, accept! Who has time to read the terms & conditions? Whatever it is he'll deal with it! Just send him as far back in time as he can go!

As such, Shen Yuan's memories are sent back five years in time. Along with him go a bunch of weird new unlocked abilities, and the system menu, which demands he fulfill certain tasks and complete certain quests as a stipulation of the time travel boon. Succeed, and he gets more rewards to help him keep himself and his loved ones alive. Fail, and he'll be rebooted back to the bad ending, except to the moment before the Heavenly Demon boss died but without any of his power boosts.

So maybe Shen Yuan should have read the fine print.

Though, even if he had, he still would have made the same choice.

Back five years in the past, he's got some thinking to do. Five years is a decent chunk of time. His siblings have both awoken, and begun distancing themselves from him, but their positions are still pretty different. Shen Jiu and his childhood friend Yue Qi had a falling-out over something (they wouldn't say what) at this point in time. Shen Jiu signed on with the Qiu Collective, one of the initial rich adventuring guilds that hired people to go into dungeons. But the Qiu Collective was corrupt even by the standards of a lot of dungeon-oriented corporations, and though Shen Yuan was never made privy to the details, he knew they mistreated Shen Jiu badly and that there were a lot of investigations. The collective ultimately went under when their office was destroyed by a rogue rampaging monster, after an undiscovered dungeon opened nearby. Dungeons that open but aren't found are especially dangerous, as the threat levels will steadily increase without anyone to clear them out, until the result is a dungeon break -- monsters escaping the dungeon and emerging in the normal world, causing havoc and Godzilla-style rampages.

According to the official reports, that was what caused the destruction of the Qiu Collective's head office and the death of their CEO.

Yue Qi, on the other hand, joined the Cang Qiong guild, which had fared a little better over the five year span. Yue Qi eventually even took over the guild, and after the Qiu Collective went under, Shen Jiu made up with him enough to join him there. Shen Yuan had hoped they would reconcile and maybe even answer some of his calls, but things remained strained between all of them even afterwards.

Shen Ying, his little sister, was sheltered and trained by their older brother until she was old enough to join Cang Qiong as well, but despite being S-rank, her youth and inexperience kept her more on the sidelines. Shen Yuan had thought they might bond over being kept out of the loop, but his last conversation with his sister had made it clear that as far as she was concerned, he was still world's away from her level.

(Read: Shen Ying told him he should keep away from dangerous things, was clumsy about it, and unwittingly fed some of Shen Yuan's worst insecurities.)

On top of that, though, was another consideration:

Luo Binghe.

Among the guilds that could rival Cang Qiong five years hence, the biggest one was Demon Path. Luo Binghe would start out as a member of Cang Qiong guild, recruited shortly after awakening. Shen Yuan had thought he was pretty cool, actually, but there was some bad blood between Luo Binghe and Shen Jiu, and it got bad enough that when Luo Binghe made his solo break he got Shen Jiu embroiled in some kind of legal investigation (something about the wrongful death of another guild member) on his way out. Demon Realm and Cang Qiong remained thoroughly at odds afterwards, and things only got worse when Demon Realm surpassed Cang Qiong's count of S-rank members, and conducted a successful merger with Huan Hua guild. That is, until Luo Binghe just mysteriously vanished altogether from the public eye.

Though Luo Binghe of course wasn't the dungeon boss that actually killed Shen Jiu, he had certainly been trying to destroy him before Shen Yuan reset the timeline.

But going five years back in time... Luo Binghe had been a prodigy, the youngest to become a guild leader. Five years hence, he'd be around twenty years old.

Which means that right now, thanks to the rewind, he is fourteen or fifteen years old and hasn't even awakened yet.

It would be possible to take him out of the equation altogether.

Then, there's Liu Qingge. An S-rank who died in a dungeon under suspicious circumstances, which provided the crux of the investigation into Shen Jiu. He and Shen Jiu had also never gotten along, although once again no one had confided the details to him. Shen Yuan refused to believe that his brother had actually murdered Liu Qingge, though. If Shen Jiu was going to murder someone he'd be a lot less obvious about it.

But it would probably be better if Liu Qingge didn't die at all.

Lastly, there's the matter of Shang Qinghua.

According to Shen Yuan's mental math, Shang Qinghua won't have awoken his abilities yet either. Five years into the future, extensive research and several regrettable moves on the part of various governments and guilds would reveal that even though it was supposedly impossible to increase someone's rank after awakening, how a person awoke their abilities could have a great deal of impact on their rank.

Shang Qinghua was a textbook example of a bad awakening. His skills were mostly oriented towards stealth and item drop bonuses, but his awakening had been violent, prompted by a shady center that promised people an avenue to adventure and riches only to use mortal terror to trigger the awakening process. Being in extreme danger would work fine for those with combat skills, but wasn't so good for everyone else. A lot of people had their awakening stunted by such early methods, which were not only a bad way to go about it but also traumatic to boot.

Shen Yuan has a suspicion that someone like Shang Qinghua would actually be incredibly valuable for stealth missions and item farming, if only he'd awoken at full potential. Instead, he'd struggled to make anything of his abilities due to his lack of durability or access to the kind of high-level items that would compensate for it.

Gathering all this foresight, Shen Yuan sets about altering the future to protect his siblings.

Step one: find Luo Binghe.

Shen Yuan's initial thought was to just kind of, nudge Luo Binghe towards something different from Cang Qiong altogether. Maybe if he started out with Huan Hua guild, he could contain all his trouble there. But when he finds him, Binghe is in a bad situation. The kid's living in foster care with abusive caretakers, his adoptive mother has recently died, and he's waiting tables and picking up trash instead of going to school. His clothes are threadbare, he's too skinny, and he looks like he's been beaten.

Between a rocky introduction and an attack from a Moon Python Rhinoceros thanks to a nearby dungeon break, Shen Yuan manages to convince Luo Binghe to hire him as his agent (fee = 0% of all Binghe's dungeon earnings plus 0% from contracts), and determinedly takes over. The System seems to wildly approve of it.

Creepy. And suspicious.

But Binghe is actually a total sweetheart, as it happens, to the point where Shen Yuan can't imagine what inspired the enmity between him and Shen Jiu. This kid truly is a diamond in the rough. He just needed a little help and some actual guidance, that's all!

With Binghe on the road to a less antagonistic fate, the next most chronologically urgent item on the list is Shang Qinghua. Shen Yuan has a new ability that lets him awaken people to their full potential, and his chosen guinea pig is his own formerly deceased bro. Somehow, awakening Shang Qinghua's abilities ends up involving a near-miss with rescuing him from debt collectors, and running into (and rescuing) the S-class Mobei Jun, who had joined Demon Realm as Luo Binghe's subordinate back in the original timeline.

It's actually quite fortuitous, though, because Shang Qinghua's treasure-hunter and stealth abilities are best suited to him being accompanied by a high-ranking hunter who can pick up the physical slack. Shen Yuan had been thinking that at least awakening Shang Qinghua as a D-rank would make him durable enough to handle some dungeons without turning to sketchy organizations for back-up, but with Mobei Jun, the ice prince can ferry the man right to the most valuable loot!

Shen Yuan's on a roll!

He discovers that some of his new abilities have utility as beast-taming skills, and tackles several dungeons successfully with the help of Luo Binghe, Shang Qinghua, and Mobei Jun. They even manage to rescue A-class Sha Hualing from a sticky situation, and Shen Yuan learns that his abilities can, in fact, help other awakened level up their own rank (previously believed impossible). With enough of his influence, Sha Hualing could become S-rank one day.

But of course, it can't be too easy.

When Shen Yuan moves to intervene with the dungeon break that wiped out the Qiu Collective, and seemed to start all the controversies against his brother, he instead finds that there is no dungeon at all. Yet, clearly some kind of attack on the building is underway.

He finds out why when he comes across his brother in a fugue state, murdering his way through his own guild.

Turns out, most S-ranks creep people out. Most average people can barely tolerate being around them even before they awaken. But afterwards? Their oppressive auras and sheer strength tend to trigger everyone's flight-or-fight reflex. Shen Yuan never noticed, because he's grown up surrounded by S-ranks his whole life. Even upon watching Shen Jiu kill the Qiu members, Shen Yuan's chief source of upset is that they were apparently treating his brother so badly that they inspired a murder spree from someone ordinarily much more calculating and clever than that.

Apparently, Shen Yuan should have been taking the opportunity to move against them a lot sooner, rather than just mitigating the whole supposed dungeon-break disaster and then investigating after. His own fault. He thought that keeping his distance would help his siblings, but clearly, letting them hoard their secrets and do whatever they think is best isn't the way to go either.

Does he even know what's really happening with his sister? Or to Yue Qi over at Cang Qiong? At this point in time, his friend had stopped contacting him altogether for several months in a row. When he came back, he was definitely more subdued and even more distant than he had been before. And that's the same guild that Shen Jiu and Shen Ying will eventually join as well, presumably with its own skeletons packed into the closet.

Shen Yuan's going to have to adjust a lot of his plans, it seems.

But first -- he's got a murder spree to help cover up, and an older brother to take home and, uh. Calm down. Or something?

Damn. Maybe Shen Jiu did kill Liu Qingge on purpose. He's going to have to thoroughly figure that situation out too, if he wants to handle it right...

[pastel-peach-writes]

Hello!! I love your Korra X readers so I’m just gonna ask if you could do a Korra x Fem!reader (or GN up to you!) with the cliche plot of Reader being injured and not telling anyone until later? Hope you are doing well!!

YURR lets go. I initially wrote this as a fem!reader, but I didn't even use the reader's pronouns in this so, gender neutral reader it is!

Kiss It Better | Korra x Beifong!Reader

╰┈➤ PLOT: With your girlfriend saving the world all the time, you take it as your job to not worry her with your own problems. If you needed help with something, you'd figure it out or get someone else's help. What happens when your "selflessness" nearly costs you an arm?

╰┈➤ WARNING: Injured!Reader, Suggestive Mentions, Cursing, Not Proofread, Beifong!Reader

⍣ ೋ Enjoy!⍣ ೋ

It was a simple fracture. You were training with Bolin and a cluster of Earth hit you too hard in the arm. Bolin apologized and even offered to take you to the infirmary, but you rejected him.

One, you were a Beifong; you don't get hurt. Two, if you go to the infirmary, chances are you'll get a cast or some sort of sling. That'll worry your girlfriend, the Avatar, and with all the duties she had to attend to, your fractured arm was the least of her worries.

"Oh, fuck," you hissed, leaning back into your plush sofa. Typically, the plush cushions and fuzzy fabric would comfort you. The cushions would allow your muscles to relax and for your body to find comfort in the warm snuggles of your girlfriend's blanket. But now, the cushions only make your body hurt worse.

There was no support in the cushions. The plushiness was too plushy and the warm comfort typically found within the blanket was annoying.

"I'm home!" Korra announced. The woman kicked off her boots, put up her short hair, and plopped beside you on the couch.

You groaned, holding your bicep.

Korra tilted her head, raising a brow. "Hey, you okay? Was I too loud or something?"

Time slowed as you forced a laugh out of your chest. If you laughed too hard, your arm would ache. If you didn't laugh enough, Korra would assume something was wrong.

Nothing was wrong. At least, to her knowledge.

"Oh, sorry!" you smiled at her, "I was actually practicing this new joke Mako taught me. I was supposed to make this sound, but I guess I haven't mastered it yet."

"Oh... haha," Korra forced out of her. "No more taking joke suggestions from Mako. He doesn't have a funny bone in his body." The Avatar nestled her head on your chest. She hummed, snuggling into the warmth of your body.

"Right," you chewed on your lip. "I don't know what I was thinking."

-

"One, hit! Two, hit! Three--!"

"Okay!" you howled. You and Bolin have been training for three hours straight now. Something must've inspired Bolin because he's been sending over disks, boulders, and other forms of Earth toward you like there was no tomorrow. While he was losing pounds by sweating alone, your arm was screaming at you.

"Please stop moving me!" "I'm hurt!" "Why do you hate us?!"

You wished you could listen to your body. You really did. But you read somewhere that certain fractures can heal on their own with the proper rest and care.

You thought you could take it easy in training today, but obviously, Bolin had other plans.

"Oh," Bolin smiled, peeling himself away from his boxed stance. "Did I go too far? Sorry. Opal said something last night about guys working out and how she loved watching me train sometimes, so I wanted to work extra hard this practice so I wouldn't feel bad for showing off."

Your chest heaved up and down as the boy spoke. The fire in your arm was excruciating and it was spreading to your shoulders.

You trudged along the training center, going to a lousy bench where your water bottle and workout towel lay. "No, no," you told Bolin, "it's okay. I just need a break. That's all."

Lowering yourself onto the bench, your muscles and all the meat on your body felt like falling off the bone like you were a tenderly cooked piece of chicken. Your thighs ached and shook, like after an endless night with Korra. You took your towel and slung it over your good arm. You carefully opened your water bottle to take a sip.

Bolin followed after, mindlessly yapping about Opal and how pretty she was. Once he sat himself next to you and drank from his water, his eyes bulged out of his head, and water sprayed from his mouth.,

You whipped your head toward him, perplexed. "Oh, my Spirits! What was that?"

"What happened to your arm?" the boy exclaimed. He pointed at the swollen and bruised skin. Your rotator cuff was a deep purple with blue specs. He couldn't see it, but the bruising gave a pulsing sensation.

You scoffed and went for another sip of water. "Nothing. Just bumped into a pole."

"What kind of pole hit you like that?" he exclaimed again, now out of his seat. His green eyes were now filled with fear; his body trembled with worry.

You tried to shrug, but since your hurt arm was alarmingly tough and sore, only your good arm moved. "I don't know," you mumbled. "It was a while ago, I think. I can't really remember."

"Well, you have to at least let a nurse or someone qualified check you out! This looks bad, Beifong. No pole could've done this."

"Bolin," you rose to your feet. "I'm fine. Don't make me say it again." You didn't let Bolin get another word in as you gathered your things. "And Bolin, don't mention this to anyone."

-

Bolin can't keep a secret and honestly, it's your fault for telling him to keep one. You're his friend and Bolin doesn't believe in keeping his friends in danger. You need medical attention, even if you are too stubborn to admit it.

Immediately after practice, he ran to Mako who ran to Asami who told Korra.

When she first heard the news, Korra had mixed emotions. She was vexed because she didn't notice your pain and you didn't tell her, yet worried about the extremity of your injury. Could your arm fall off? What if the injury was actually worse underneath?

The Krew discussed your injury and how to intervene in your careless ways of living. There was a plan where they tricked you into going to the hospital, another where they took you out to dinner and would finesse you into spilling your guts, and then there's the plan they actually went through; the plan that made the most sense.

Korra was to go home with a smile on her face, cuddle and kiss on you for a while, and then ease into the conversation of training and injuries.

Mako thought the subtle conversation topic would force you to talk about your injury without actually forcing you.

Well, it's been two fucking hours of medical talk and Korra wasn't getting anywhere.

The two of you were cuddling on your bed, legs entangled with each other and her arms around your waist. She had her head on your good arm and from the corner of her eye, she could see the black and blue bruising that was growing to your neck.

Your pajamas acted as a pathetic way to hide it.

Korra was done playing the nice game. She had Asami in her head telling her to play the nice game and to ease into it. (She also had Mako claiming that Korra was unable to play the "nice-and-ease-into-it" game, but what Mako doesn't know won't kill him).

"Bolin told me," Korra spoke, her eyes fixated on the wall in front of you two.

You hummed, keeping your eyes closed. The ache and burn on your arm weren't as bad anymore. You also read somewhere that heat would inflame the injury more so after a quick lukewarm shower, you iced. You iced and replaced the ice for hours until Korra came home.

You were missing that ice right about now.

"Told you what?"

"That you have a disgusting bruise on your shoulder." Okay, so Bolin didn't describe it as disgusting, but what you don't know won't kill you either.

You snickered. "I ran into a pole, okay? It's not the big of a deal."

"Then why are you lying to me?" Korra pulled herself off of your chest. With delicate fingers, the Avater peeled the soft fabric off your shoulders.

The subtle movement of the fabric made you wince and the natural instinct was to push Korra away, so, you did. You pushed on her stomach to move her away from you. "Korra, don't."

"Oh, what are you gonna do?" she scoffed. Korra sat on her knees, shoulders squared to you and arms crossed over her chest. "Threaten me? You saw how that worked out with Bolin, nice move by the way." Korra's words were stern and leaning towards the angry side of things. Her nose scrunched while her nostrils flared. She was also gripping her arms so hard, her grip made marks.

"I didn't threaten him," you claimed.

"So, what would you call it? Being a bad friend? Telling him to keep your health a secret knowing damn well it's on the line?"

"My health is not on the line!" You've sat up from the bed now. Your bad arm rested on a mound of pillows and your good arm held it for support. "It's a tiny injury, sprain if you wanna go that far."

"That's rich," Korra scoffed. She shook her head, getting off the bed. "You can barely talk to me without the corner of your mouthing ticking from the pain. I can barely put my hands on your shirt and you can barely sit on the couch without groaning in pain."

You suddenly found interest in the ceiling. You took note of the texture and the color. You would find any new fact you could about this ceiling if it meant you could avoid Korra's burning gaze and her rising anger.

This is why you didn't want to tell her in the first place. She's worried about everyone else and for once, you wanted to be someone she doesn't have to worry about. But now she's here, yelling at you because she cares. Because you didn't tell her.

"I didn't want you to worry about me too," you mumbled. Your gaze dropped to the comforter. "You have so much on your plate, I wanted to ease the load. You shouldn't be stressed about me, you're the Avatar. You have more people to worry about."

Watching you struggle to look her in the eye, Korra sat herself on the bed. She put a soft hand on the mound of your knee, using her thumb to soothe the skin. "Hey," she spoke. "I am your girlfriend first and the Avatar second. I will always worry about you. You deserved to be worried about and cared for."

You swallowed thickly. The back of your throat scratched like you had a cold yet your mouth was eager to say something back. Your brain couldn't think of any words to say.

"Your struggles and problems aren't inferior to me. I want you to come to me with your troubles, not because I'm the Avatar, but because I'm your girlfriend. It's my job to care for you, to heal you when you're sick, and to pick you up when you're down. Master of the Elements or not, that's my job and it's yours too," she sighed. "So, please, for the first time, tell me what's wrong and what I can do to help you."

The moment your eyes locked with hers, a flood broke through you. You wept as you told her what was wrong with your arm and how long you've tried to sustain this injury, four days.

Korra could kick herself over and over again for not noticing how much pain you were in, but you were a good pretender. In some way, she had Bolin and Opal to thank. Without Bolin's sudden desire to train extra hard, you wouldn't be forced to stop pretending.

But instead of wallowing in self-pity and throwing a really weird party for the couple in her head, she comforted you. She pulled you to her chest and held you as tightly as she could without hurting you further.

The two of you stayed like that, you in her arms, for a while. You didn't take notice of the time spent in the position. You two focused on each other's breathing and warmth.

And finally, for the first time in a long time, you let Korra take care of you.

WC: 2,071

[ozzgin]

May I ask, what are each of the yokai harems love languages?

Featuring the six demons and their ways of showing love! Content: gender neutral reader, fluff

[Main Story] | [Character Guide] | [More Headcanons]

Murasaki will mostly show his love through acts of service. He may seem standoffish and cold, but he will always take care of you. If you get sick, he’ll huff and puff about humans being weak and pathetic, all while spoon feeding you some intricate soup he carefully cooked for hours to make sure you get back on your feet; then he'll adjust your pillow with a frustrated sigh, and occasionally check that you’re properly tucked in (with a frown).

In return, I think he’d greatly appreciate words of affirmation. He’d never show it, but he will absolutely blush to himself hours later because you brought up how helpful or smart he is. W-well, obviously. Who else is going to look after you as well as him? Hmph.

Kiritsubo is all about physical touch. He loves feeling your warmth and hearing your heartbeat, to the point you sometimes have to physically remove him off of you. Forget asking for a jacket if it’s cold, he’ll just attach himself to you.

Besides returning his affections, he will absolutely adore the occasional praise. Watch him power up in real time just because you told him he’s doing a good job. He’ll turn to you in the middle of the fight just to ask, “did you really mean it?”, and then continue slaying his foes with a goofy smile on his face. You really did mean it, huh.

Suma enjoys hanging out with you. In fact, it's the highlight of his day. There's nothing better than returning from his training and seeing your little human face. Even better if you happened to join him for a quick practice. Additionally, he's a very touchy demon, but he is painfully aware of the colossal difference in strength and size. Just one brief moment of him getting too comfortable, and you may end up with a broken bone. Sorry, he was really looking forward to that hug.

Unlike the other yokai, Suma doesn't care much for praise. On the other hand, he'll be extremely grateful if you're the one initiating intimacy. This way he doesn't have to worry about accidentally hurting you, and - something he'd never openly admit - he finds your struggles quite endearing. Having to stand on your toes to reach for a mere hug, holding his finger with your entire hand...precious.

Yuugiri has two ways of showing he cares: physical touch and words of affirmation. He's painfully observant and thus particularly skilled at saying the right thing. If you're having a bad day, he will immediately know the cause of your troubles. Within moments, he'll have you on his lap, stroking your hair and soothing you with compliments. "Of course I'm right, (Y/N). No one knows you better than me."

When it comes to himself - you guessed it - Yuugiri will never say no to some praise. Normally he's rather indifferent to sweet words, finding them plain and boring. Anyone else complimenting his looks in ample detail, and he'll grimace in irritation. But it's enough for you to casually remark his kimono has a nice pattern, and he'll be twirling his hair like a maiden all day long. "My, you think so? Maybe I should wear this style more often, huh?"

Sekiya does his best to be useful: bringing you a cup of tea after a long day of exorcising spirits, or massaging your shoulders to release some tension. You sometimes have to remind the anxious demon that he doesn't need to be a servant to earn your affections. Ideally, there would be a lot of physical touch involved, but he often hesitates, clouded by the fear of annoying you too much.

Therefore, any kind of intimate gesture is enough to get his tail wagging. Pair it up with a little praise, and he'll be dizzy with delight. Sekiya loves being acknowledged by you. He'd probably risk his life in a heartbeat just for a headpat from his one and only Master. The poor yokai worships the ground you walk on.

Sakaki loves spending quality time with you, especially if it’s away from everyone else. Whether you’re painting together, or taking a quiet stroll through some graveyard, know he will be having a blast - despite his gloomy expression. Additionally, he enjoys bringing you little gifts that remind him of you. Although his tokens of adoration can be a little…unconventional. Last time it was a polished rodent skull he found in the forest, because it reminded him of your fragile, yet eternal bond.

One quick way to soften him up is by praising his art and poetry; he will immediately crumble into theatrical confessions, declaring that no one else truly understands him like you do. You're his forever muse, his reason to await the next coming day.

[eashgirl]

If anyone remembers that one episode from season nine where Peri got Mrs crocker for a godchild(slight spoilers for a new wish and Peri's relationship with Dev)

She was depressed because she felt like Crocker didn't love her back,and she tried to use wish after wish to quell that emptiness,leaving Peri so exhausted because no matter how many wishes he tried to grant she never seemed to get happy

It got so bad from what I remember they tried all ways to get her to break the rules just so Peri would be free from her,she only truly lost him when she reconciled with Crocker who admitted he did indeed love her

I can't help but compare this to Peri's new godkid in ANW, Dev tried to do something similar,all he ever wanted was to have his dad's love which he never got because Dale literally cares more about money and his literal boots more than him,hence similarly no matter how many wishes he kept asking for hardly any of them were able to geniunely make him happy beyond the surface level, I'd argue the only times he was truly happy was when he and Hazel were friends but that's for another post.

Peri did try his best to adhere to the rules and to grant his wishes,but this in turn just made Dev get even more frustrated because in all fairness he doesn't really NEED a fairy to give him little things like a cupcake or something like a game he's rich he can get an AU pair to bring him that anytime,and the more riskier wishes that can be deemed as more fun is against the rules. Heck I'd even argue that initially Dev may not have seen Peri as anything besides an AU Pair but with magic given that he only really used him to make wishes. Dale probably just told him to ask the au pairs anything he wanted as a means of neglecting his own parental responsibilities. That and Peri wanting to do his absolute best at his first job to impress his parents and stick by the rules along with Dev's frustration and lashing out is the core reason why it fell apart so quickly.

This difference in opinion led to all of this, they're both at fault and both have legitimate reasons for it,Peri had the excuse that this really is his first job he's just doing what he was taught at the academy just grant the kid's wishes and make them happy,he probably did not anticipate the need for severe emotional understanding when it comes to troubled kids(honestly who decided to give a newbie a kid that needed way more help from a seasoned fairy godparent though? I blame whoever made that decision)he did care about Dev in the end but by that time it was too late.

With Dev it's he's a hurt kid and he lashes out at others which I'm not trying to justify it's still wrong,and people can get hurt because of that but given his circumstances I really understand him, he's not used to allowing people in and builds walls around himself even the slightest gesture is enough to make him to increase his guard even more like when he thought a single argument with Hazel meant their friendship was over and tried to go back to being his old self until Hazel pointed that out to him,the sunglasses being a literal metaphor for it,he takes them off a lot during his friendship arc with Hazel and starts putting them on all the time near the end during his downward spiral. He acts the persona of a bully as a means of gaining control of his situation,when it's obvious that is not how he truly is lost and founders day being a prime example,he was genuinely getting better until he found out about project H,and I can understand his reaction his dad who's always absent,hardly ever pays any attention to him literally won't look him in the eye unless it concerns bussiness,cares more about his son's friend then he cares about his own son,did Hazel deserve to get yelled at though?no she didn't, it's still not her fault.

Then immediately after Hazel leaves Peri comes back and tries a feeble attempt to cheer him up by persuading him to make a wish,which really wasn't the right call to make in that specific moment which further aggravates Dev into telling him to leave before having a mental breakdown.

And later in best of luck he ends up getting in a vulnerable position when Peri declares he's quitting,and Irep ends up being a bad influence,he gets manipulated and tries to take over fairy world as a desperate means of getting Dale to finally, finally pay some attention to him which he does initially until he immediately shifts his focus to Irep instead. Literally leaving Dev in the dust on the ground. Alone again.

(I really want to make this post a bit more detailed but I'm six days away from an exam so I can't find the time,any grammar mistakes is because of how rushed this one was might edit it later)

Cosmo phrases it best what he wanted was something no fairy could ever give him,he wanted a parent's love and that is something no amount of wealth or magic is ever going to amount to,which is ultimately the final straw in making Dev abandon everything and accept the consequences without any persistence.

Peri couldn't really relate to or understand Dev because he always had the love or his parents even when he was anxious of messing up they were always supportive and loving, I don't think it's a coincidence that the panel always shows the three of them hugging infront of Dev and Hazel the latter trying to talk to him after everything that transpired. A physical metaphor of what he doesn't have and has to see Infront of his eyes all the time. Again I don't really blame anybody(except maybe Dale but if I'm blaming Dale I'm also blaming Vicky),Peri is a rookie he just graduated so it's unrealistic to expect him to be the best right away, I actually think he might need to ask Wanda and Cosmo for advice in season two how they dealt with certain kids and how he can improve himself.

Because neither Dev or Peri were perfect they were horrible to eachother,but that doesn't mean they can't be better.

It's clearly setting up an overarching story, I actually have faith in the new writers they didn't throw in that scene of Peri saying he cared about Dev and leaving it ambiguous whether or not Dev actually still remembers because of that one theory for nothing.

My reason for bringing in Mrs Crocker is to point out that the only way Dev can really quell his own emptiness is by attaining the love he always wanted, I think by off chance he does indeed remember everything- which I believe is the better option to retain his charecter development-,he may have finally come to understand that no matter what he does his dad would never care about him the same way he cares about his Business and himself,maybe this will lead to him forming better connections with other people, reconciling his friendship with Hazel and befriending Winn and Jasmine and maybe even getting Peri back as his fairy.

Another reason slightly crack that inspired me to make this post is this

This is Peri's eventual state/reaction every time he gets a godchild, boy's been bad at this from the very beginning it's that and simultaneously always gets a hard case on his first try

[linkspooky]

GREAT TEACHER, GOJO

For my final commentary on chapter 236, I thought I'd talk about this panel the starter of a million flame wars on twitter dot com. The big controversy is Nanami stating that Gojo fought only for himself without mentioning his students which a lot of people thought was a last minute reversal on Gojo's character, or character regression.

I'm not going to call anyone stupid, or say if you have good teacher Gojo headcanons you're wrong. However, I'd like to point out that Gojo's always been more complicated than most shonen mentors. He's not Kakashi, and he's not Aizawa, and I'd argue the fact that he's not the standard "I'd die to protect my students" mentor we see in shonen manga is what makes him interesting.

The Springtime of Youth

Jujutsu Kaisen is a shonen jump manga that is very aware of the other manga that are running in the same magazine and uses that awareness to play with audience expectations.

To put it simply if you don't want to use words like Deconstruction - if you're reading Jujutsu Kaisen then things are probably not going to go the way you expect them. It's not Naruto, it's not My Hero Academia, it's a little bit like Bleach except characters actually die.

If you expect things to go one way in Jujutsu Kaisen, then you're going to be thrown a curveball. To name some examples briefly before diving into Gojo.

Yuji Itadori is a normal boy protagonist suddenly dragged into the world of the supernatural.

However, everything goes wrong from there. Jujutsu Sorcerers are not heroes. Yuji is told that much from the beginning by Megumi within the first thirteen chapters. The world of Jujutsu Sorcery is not a good place to be, Yuji is initially excited to be a sorcerer and to be a part of this world and then learns that lesson fast. I mean, imagine if Deku was accepted to UA, and then he immediately learned that students at the school die on the regular and all the adults are either terrible selfish people, or if they're not they die too like Nanami because being selfless means sticking your neck out for someone else.

Yuji's not really special in the narrative. He's just a kid who swallowed a finger. He doesn't have a secret technique. We're hundreds of chapters in and he's still just punching people. If he's cornered in a fight he doesn't unlock a secret technique either, he just loses.

Yuji has a superpowered evil side, like the nine tailed fox, or Hollow Ichigo except it's not really his super powered evil side. It's an evil parasite attached to his soul with a will of its ownt hat will manipualte him. Hollow Ichigo and the Kyuubi can escape temporarily and there's usually no consequence. Sukuna escapes twice, the first time he nearly kills Megumi, the second time he kills thousands.

Yuji is kind of like a main character who is not a main character.

If you still believe he's the main character, then you can agree he's punished for thinking he's the main character and therefore things are going to be easy, because nothing is ever easy in Jujutsu Kaisen.

Megumi is a riff on the chosen one. He's supposed to be the Gojo Satoru of his generation, born with the strongest technique that ca even surpass the limitless and he's nowhere near the level he's supposed to be. This is because Megumi has been continually failed by every adult figure all his life, starting with his father who sold him, then Gojo the man who SAVED* him techically but with a big asterisk that he needed to become his student and do jobs for Jujutsu High School otherwise Gojo would just let the Zen'in take him or let them starve I guess. Megumi has no adult figures to rely on, and has been given very little freedom about who or what he wants to be in his life, and therefore he's a very passive, repressed individual who's riddled with insecurities. Megumi doesn't want to be the strongest like Gojo, or like many hero / rival characters in shonen manga. Megumi doesn't even know what he wants to be, because he's never been given any choice in life.

If you don't think Megumi's a deconstruction of any sort of character type, look at those posts on twitter that are like "Look at the black haired depressed shonen boys" and then look at Megumi, he's never actually like any of these boys because he's much deeper and probably closer to being the main character than Yuji is.

Then we get to Gojo who is very unlike all the other mentors in shonen manga.

If Yuji and Megumi are both riffs on a main character, a hero in a world so cynical he's not allowed to play hero and actively punished for it, and a chosen one who doesn't want to be the chosen one then you have Gojo as the mentor who's nothing like the classic mentor.

The problem with mentor characters in fiction is that number one they die a lot (spoiler warning Obi Wan Kenobi dies in Star Wars just so you know) and number two they're not usually the most complex character in the cast.

What is the mentor there for?

To Mentor (duh.)

What this means is they are usually a fully formed adult who can teach a lesson to the main character, who in shonen manga is typically a teenager.

I say they're usually less interesting because stories are about characters changing, or characters learning lessons. A teacher presumably already has learned his lesson. They are usually at the end of their journey and not the beginning, that's why they can offer wisdom to the main characters. They're not usually their own separate characters because of this - a narrative doesn't have time to waste on a character that's not going to change.

Jung had a term for this character, it's called the Wise Old Man.

In Jungian analytical psychology, senex is the specific term used in association with this archetype. Examples of the senex archetype in a positive form include the wise old man or wizard. In the individuation process, the archetype of the Wise old man was late to emerge, and seen as an indication of the Self. 'If an individual has wrestled seriously enough and long enough with the anima (or animus) problem...the unconscious again changes its dominant character and appears in a new symbolic form...as a masculine initiator and guardian, a wise old man, a spirit of nature, and so forth'.

The role of the wise man archetype is to help other people along with their ego development, because usually they are already fully developed individuals.

Obi Wan is the most typical of typical mentors, and he dies in Star Wars because after he finishes teaching Luke he has nothing to do. This is Luke's Hero's Journey. Obi Wan's already happened offscreen, he's at the end of his journey there's no room for change or growth in him because his story purpose is to exist to advise Luke and to do that he needs to be a fully grown adult figure.

The subversion to this when the mentor has their own agenda (Gandalf), or the mentor is as flawed as the main characters themselves and so therefore he has something to learn.

Gojo is kind of a combination of both, like Gandalf he is the mysterious but seemingly all powerful wizard (er... or rather sorcerer) with his own agenda, and he's also practically the fourth member of the main cast who are otherwise all teenagers. In fact, Gojo spells out his agenda in the same panels that everyone uses to constantly assert that Gojo is a good teacher who only wants to protect his students.

He wants to make the Jujutsu World a better place (good) which is why he is raising students so he can turn them into his political allies to make a regime change (hidden agenda).

It's a means justifies the end type scenario. In Gojo's mind the means (raising kids as tools in support of his political agenda) justifies the ends (a better jujutsu world for those children). His motivation is still the same. This is what I think people most often get confused about with Gojo's character. I think he is one hundred percent genuine about wanting a better world.

"I have a dream, I want to reset this crappy Jujutsu World" is his motivation, but not his means. He uses his students as a means to achieve that end. Even if it's purportedly for their sake, he's still using them. I don't even think this is subtext it's text, both Megumi and Yuji call themselves cogs.

"But senpai, what's your function...?"

You could say in this case that the ends don't justify the means. Is Gojo really protecting these kid's youth, if Yuji and Megumi are going around calling themselves cog and acting like they don't matter in the grand scheme of things? In fact the narrative is inviting you to question if Gojo's ends justify his means.

Gojo's ideals can be one hundred percent real, but he can also pick faulty ways of choosing those ideals that fail to live up to them. In fact most people fall short of ideals, that's why they're called ideals. Gojo is taking these kids in because they have strong potential as sorcerers and he wants to recruit them, that's his hidden agenda. It's confirmed in databooks in Yuji and Yuta's case, and even if you don't trust databooks as canon then look at how he treats Megumi.

Megumi is explicitly Gojo's student, not his son. He only intervened in Megumi's situation on the caveat that Megumi work for him. Presumably, if Megumi didn't want to be a sorcerer and just wanted to be a normal kid, Gojo would have either let the Zen'in have him or do nothing. The option of just calling child services and getting someone to foster Megumi until he was older didn't even seem to cross Gojo's mind. There's the help he gives (Food money, rent, protection from the Zen'in) and then the hidden agenda (Don't work for the Zen'in who are my political rivals, you're my student now).

Yet at the same time Gojo is shown going to find Megumi after Geto's defection, probably because of the words he said to Yaga "You can only save those who want to be saved," when he realized it was too late for Geto. Was he intervening earlier for Megumi because he learned from being too late with Geto? Did he think Megumi needed guidance, or did he think Megumi needed protection in his youth so the Jujutsu World wouldn't corrupt him like it did Geto, or did he think he just needed to make it so Megumi was strong so he wouldn't fall behind him because Geto fell so far behind him once Gojo became the strongest. There's ambiguity there, because the hidden agenda is you know... Hidden. That's what I mean with Gojo though, you can look at him from multiple angles, he's not just (I love my students I'd die for them) because that character would only have one purpose in the narrative and that'd be being the perfect mentor who teaches them all the right lessons.

Gojo's not like other mentors, and in fact he's a commentary on the mentors that everyone is always comparing him to and expecting him to be like.

Literally everyone who reads Naruto has the exact same response, "I hate how the manga never talks about how it's a bad thing to send these child soldiers into war, and nobody breaks the cycle."

There are a lot of people unhappy about the same thing in My Hero Academia, "Why does nobody talk about how wrong it is that the adults make these high school students fight on the battlefield."

Well there you go. That's Gojo. His dream is to make it so Jujutsu Society is a place where teenagers can survive until adulthood. His method of doing so is to... raise those teenagers to be stronger than the previous generation, but you know still letting them be child soldiers on the battlefield just stronger ones. He does this because if he's working within the system the his two choices are raise a group of people who can age out and replace the old regime, or just kill everyone at the top.

Everyone complains about how no one talks about the child soldiers in Naruto or My Hero Academia, but here you go, we have a manga that is centered around how messed up it is to send high school students to continually fight these curses before they even turn eighteen. Gojo's sending these kids out there still even if he wants to change things, and it's supposed to be a little messed up and also a contradiction to what his ideals are supposed to be.

Because in My Hero Academia you have characters like Aizawa and Kakashi who are "I will die for my students" but then they just send those teens out to fight in a war, and seem totally fine with that. It's a hole in the writing, but this time it's done on purpose, to ask why these adults are always comfortable sending teenagers out to fight for them?

Jujutsu Kaisen provides two answers, number one the system is inherently corrupt and it sees the youth as cogs because the system is rooted in traditions that keep the elderly in power. Number two, in Gojo's case at least this is exactly what it was like for him growing up as a child. Gojo is just repeating with his students what was done to him, subconsciously.

The reason Nanami said this, and then repeated it in this most recent chapter is Gojo was born to be a Jujutsu Sorcerer. Being a Jujutsu Sorcerer is a highly deadly occupation for everyone else, except for Gojo. Not only that but because he's so good at it, and he's so lauded for it he's built his entire identity around it. Nanami's not just saying that Gojo is selfish, he's also saying that Gojo thinks being a sorcerer is a good thing. It is the end all, be all of Gojo's existence.

He doesn't want to make it so sorcerers don't have to fight, or make it so all cursed energy is gone for the world like Yuki Tsukumo, his dream is actually kind of limited in scope he doesn't want the school days of his students to be destroyed by the outside world the way it was for him and Geto.

Gojo looks at the symptoms and not the cause. Geto defected, Haibara died, Yaga wasn't really able to do much for his students in both scenarios. Gojo deduced it was because the elders and regressive policies were holding people back in favor of keeping the regime in charge (correct) and that because of that the sorcerers in Gojo's high school years just weren't strong enough to keep up (this is just what Gojo thinks).

His words to Megumi are encouraging him to be strong so he won't get left behind, which as I speculated above might imply Gojo thinks that part of what went wrong with Geto was that he simply wasn't strong enough to keep up with Gojo or stay on his level. If not then he still encourages Megumi to get strong before everything else, he's not taking care of these kids emotional needs, he's pushing them to get stronger because in Gojo's mind that's the be all end all solution to every problem.

"Nanami's line was not saying that Gojo doesn't care about children, it's saying that "You live for Jujutsu." It is the lens through which Gojo sees everything, and so therefore he doesn't think of breaking kids out of the Jujutsu World, just making it a place that's slightly more safe for them. Gojo's ego is so strong that he only ever sees things from his point of view, being a sorcerer was fun for him, his high school days were the happiest time in his life before they got ruined by outside forces.

He's trying to protect those days for his children, but he's not arguing against the existence of an institution like Jujutsu High in the first place. He's not saying the teenagers should never be sent out on missions, he's saying we need to make the teens stronger. If they're stronger than they won't die (that's probably true but they'll be even safer if they don't have to go on missions in the first place).

Now we have a reason! Why do Aizawa and Kakashi send out child soldiers into the battlefield if their goal is to protect their students? Because it's a shonen manga and the main characters are all teenagers.

Why does Gojo send out teenagers to fight for him if he wants to protect them, well I just explained it.

In fact, the entire purpose of Nanami in the story is to give us a character who explicitly treats children like they are children and not miniature adults. Who acknowledges that this is emotionally hard for children to deal with and they shouldn't have to do that.

Nanami's lines of "I'm an adult you're a child" and "Being a child is not a bad thing." would not have the weight they carry if they weren't so different from the way that every other adult in the story (including Gojo) treats children.

Nanami and Gojo have the same goal of making being a Jujutsu Sorcerer easier for children, but Nanami practices what he preaches. He tells Yuji to stand back and that he doesn't need to fight if he sees an enemy that's too strong, to let the adult on scene handle things first.

When he sees that Yuji is disturbed by the idea of killing former humans that Mahito had changed with his technique, he consoles him. He knows that Yuji is a sensitive kid and tries to spare him as much of that grief as possible. When he leaves Yuji behind he tells him explicitly that he's the adult in this situation, he shouldn't be forcing a child to help carry that burden if it's not necessary.

He also explicitly tells Yuji that being strong or jumping into life threatening situations =/= as growing up. Nanami is a character aware that the problem isn't that the children are not strong enough, but that too much responsibility is being thrown on these children. That there is a difference between what children and adults are emotionally capable of. Gojo doesn't see that difference because he reached enlightenment as seventeen. He even explicitly chose Nanami because Gojo knew he wasn't good at that stuff.

Nanami was not saying that Gojo doesn't care about children, Nanami was saying Gojo lives to be a sorcerer, Gojo who loves sorcery doesn't understand why being a sorcerer is too much of an emotional burden on a child. He just doesn't. He literally says his students are flowers.

Now, here's the kicker. Nanami dies.

Nanami wanted Yuji to not take on too much responsibility, and he died leaving Yuji with more responsibility than he could ever carry. Nanami failed in his goal, despite the fact he is the most responsible and well-meaning adult in the story who treats children like they're children.

The reason he dies is because this is what happens to people like Nanami in Jujutsu Society. The whole of society is built to condition people into being cogs and Nanami who's just one person can't overcome it on his own. I can write a whole meta on how Nanami's way of dealing with children is way better than Gojo's and yet they do essentially the same thing, throw way too much responsibility onto Yuji even though he's just a kid. They're both too ingrained in the system to make any sweeping changes, and that's why the child soldiers keep on child soldiering.

Gojo as a Character

The second reason as eluded above that Gojo is not meant to be read as a perfect teacher, or even a good one really is because he's the fourth main character of the cast. If you are a main character, then you need a flaw, and an arc where you either improve upon that flaw or you succumb to it in tragic fashion.

Gojo's not the perfect adult mentor, because he's kind of in the same place as the kids themselves. I think there's a reason we never learn anything about Gojo's backstory, we know nothing about his parents, the Gojo clan, because those details aren't as relevant. The most important thing about Gojo is the three years he spent at high school, because that was the only time he felt like a person, and also because he is trapped there mentally.

There's a reason that Gojo's dying dream is him imagining everyone reset to seventeen years old, because that was where the clock stopped for him in his youth, and that was where all of his regrets as an adult come from. His motivation to help teenagers today only comes from his own youth being ruined, and the adults in his life failing to protect him.

It's very likely that Gojo who lives for Jujutsu probably would never have realized the problems in his current society, if his youth wasn't ruined by those same adults he's now fighting against.

The reason most mentor figures in fiction are not main characters is because as adults they don't really need to grow up anymore. The obvious solution is that you just need your mentor character to just fail to be an adult in some glaring way.

To show how Gojo falls short as an adult, especially in regards to these children and how he treats them is to drag him down from all powerful, all knowing wizard, and make him struggle with the rest of the main cast. Gojo is not a positive adult figure in these kids lives despite having the best of intentions, because he's not really an adult.

I guess if you were already the best and strongest person in the world at seventeen, smarter and more capable than all the adults around you, you wouldn't really feel the need to grow up. Coupled with the fact that you are alienated from other people and do not relate to them on a personal level that's not going to help with your identity formation.

I mean I constantly compare Gojo to Superman, but to be fair to Gojo instead of bullying him like I usually do Clark Kent was raised by parents who raised a boy not a superman, and who constantly tell him that he's just a normal person, his powers don't make him great, it's his heart.

Nanami says that Gojo only fights for himself that ""You don't wield Jujutsu to protect something, you use it solely to for your own sake. What a weirdo" it's likely Gojo only fights for himself because he's never ben told that's he's more than just the six-eyes and more than just the limitless.

The best way to make a mentor a part of the cast, is to make them through some way or another have failed to grow up properly in their youth and therefore they need to do it while the story is taking place. We know how Gojo failed, his springtime of youth ended early, it ended the day he couldn't stop Geto from leaving, the day he can be the strongest sorcerer ever and still fail because sorcerer society is too corrupt for one person to handle alone. We also know he didn't really grow up past this point, because he still thinks the solution is to make people be stronger. Why does he not do anything about Geto for 11 years? In story terms he's basically suspended in time unable to grow past Geto. Kenjaku literally uses the trauma from his youth and the memories that seeing Geto alive would provoke in Gojo again, to trap him because he knew it would make him freeze up. Gojo is frozen in the past, he failed to grow up in story terms and must now grow up while the main story itself is taking place along with the children he's trying to raise.

This is how you make a mentor interesting. You have to make them flawed in some way that makes it worth having them onscreen, because a perfect mentor only serves one purpose to teach a main character and then he's gone.

Dazai Osamu from Bungo Stray Dogs is a character that's almost as massively popular as Gojo. Similiarly, he is a teenage genius who found trouble relating to other people who is now as an adult attempting to mentor two children.

However, Dazai's faults as a mentor are made much more explicit.

Dazai suddenly punched Akutagawa in the face, preventing him from finishing his sentence. Akutagawa flew back onto the ground, his head bouncing off the stone flooring with a thud. "Perhaps I made it look like I wanted to hear excuses. Sorry for the misudnerstanding," Dazai said while rubbing his knuckles. "Urg..." Akutagawa moaned. He'd hit his head so hard that he couldn't even stagger to his feet. "Give me your gun," Dazai ordered one of his men. The subordinate was hesitant but nonetheless handed over his weapon. Next, Dazai removed the magaine from the automatic pistol, took out all but three bullets, then put the magazine back in. He immediately pointed the gun at Akutagawa, who was still on the ground. "I have this friend who's supporting several orphans all on his own, you see," he continued his weapon still drawn and aimed at the boy. "AKutagawa I'm sure Odasaku would've been patient enough to give you the guidance you needed had he been the one who'd found you on the brink of starvation right in the slums. That would have been the 'right' thing to do. But 'righteousness' doesn't take very kindly to me. And there's only one thing people like me do to useless subordinates." Dazai mercilessly pulled the trigger the moment he finished his sentence.

(Don't worry, Akutagawa lived). Dazai is a character who had a troublesome youth he never grew up from. He was too smart for the world as a kid, and because of that joined up with the mafia because he wanted to feel like he was more connected to life and other people by getting closer to death (weird dazai logic I know) and was the best of the best at it, but it only drove him further away from people. He makes one friend, and loses that friend similiar to Gojo. Just like Gojo too, that friend is the one who gives him his purpose as an adult that drives him to mentor young people.

"Odasaku.. What should I do?" "Be on the side that saves people," Odasaku replied, "If both sides are the same, then choose to become a good person. Save the weak, protect the orphaned. You might not see a great difference between right and wrong, but... saving others is something just a bit more wonderful."

Is this not what Nanami said just in different words. Odasaku tells Dazai point blank, I know you're selfish, I know that you don't really have any concept of good or evil but you can choose to save others anyway.

Isn't this what Gojo does?

He is selfish. He doesn't really consider the morality or his actions or get hung up on the idea of protecting the weak like Nanami or Geto do, but he still does go out of his way to live for the ideal of saving children.

Both Gojo and Dazai are characters who are struggling with this ideal of saving the children, because while their ideals are good they themselves as people are morally gray. Adding onto that, they're also children and a good deal of their backstory is devoted to showing why they never really grew out of the mindset that they held as children.

The story doesn't call them horrible monsters for it, it's just saying that they need to grow up or face the consequences of not growing up.

"I have one regret," I said. "I never got to say good-bye to my friend. He was always there for me as 'just a friend.' He was bored of this world and always waited for death to come for him." "That man was in search of a place to die just like me?" "No, not exactly," I answered. "I thought you were similiar to Dazai at first, rushing into battle and wishing for death without even considering the value of your own life. But he's different. He's sharp-witted with a mind like a steel trap. And he's just a child - a sobbing child abandoned in the darkness of a world far emptier of the world we're seeing." He was too smart for his own good. THat was why he was always alone. The reason why ANgo and I were able to be by his side was that we understood the solitude that surrounded him, and we never stepped inside it no matter how close we stood. But in that moment, I kind of regretted not stepping in and invading a little.

Does that sound like the narrative is condemning Dazai for being who he is? No, it's Dazai's best friend offering empathy and understanding for how lonely it must be, and how if Dazai made real connections with people then he could have a chance of growing up like everyone else. That's what the narrative challenges Dazai to do while empathizing with why it's harder for him to and why he's still trapped in his youth, because to take care of children you need to be an adult yourself. Otherwise if you're a child, and I'm a child, then nobody's driving the plane.

Rupert Giles from Buffy the Vampire Slayer is another mentor who faces the same moral dilemna that Gojo does. In fact his entire character revolves around the fact he knows deep down he's sending a kid to her early grave.

Buffy is the Chosen One TM. One girl in all the world is chosen to fight the vampires. Much like sorcerer society, there is an entire bureaucracy dedicated to identifying the chosen slayer and then raising her up and guiding her as a weapon to be used against the threat of vampires and demons.

The watchers are all adults. The slayer is a teenage girl. The slayer slays. The watchers watch. Just like in Jujutsu Kaisen, there is a necessity for the Slayer to exist, because the alternative is just letting vampires eat people. Yet even if the slayer needs to exist, at the end of the day a bunch of adult men are sending a teenage girl to fight for them.

All Slayers die young. All of them without an exception. No matter how good of a mentor is, no matter how much he cares about her, Buffy is going to die one day, and Giles is going to watch. Because that's what the watcher does, they watch. Sending her on missions means Buffy's in danger, not sending her means innocent people are in danger.

It's a scenario that's pretty much like Gojo's, and the narrative of Buffy makes it explicit that Giles really can't be a father figure to bufy in this scenario. A father would have to choose to put their child above the world and keep them safe, not send them out straight into danger.

It is a choice that Giles makes over and over again. He is always her watcher and never her father. There's a season 3 episode where Giles literally drugs Buffy as a part of a test to prove she is "worthy" of being a slayer. A test that deliberately puts her in harms way that he complies with - because the system told him to. A choice to be her watcher and act according to what the council of watchers wanted and not what Buffy wanted. A choice that shatters the illusion that Buffy had of him, showing her that Giles is only there to teach her to be a Slayer, not to take her to the iceapades or buy ice cream with her.

In this scenario Gojo is very much like Giles as no matter how much he may personally like these kids, he is not their father, and there is only so much he can do for them when he's still feeding them into the same system. Giles loves Buffy, Giles wants to protect Buffy, Giles is a part of the system that exploits Buffy. Giles is an adult asking Buffy to risk her life to save the world.

Gojo goes out of his way to recruit Megumi, Yuji, and Yuta among others. Gojo still doesn't let them be anything other than sorcerers, and as sorcerers they're still guaranteed to one day die and probably die young. Gojo wants to revolutionize the system he is, but he still sends out his students to do missions as part of that system. He's not letting them escape it, he's just making them be stronger sorcerers.

Not only is Gojo not a father figure to Megumi, he is exploiting him more or less. The option of Megumi not being a sorcerer isn't on the table. No matter how well-intentioned he may be, or how good his ideals are he's still an adult telling a child to make a sacrifice for the world.

So, there are two character conflicts with two different mentors that both reflect Gojo. Gojo cannot grow up because he's still trapped in the tragedy of his youth. He himself is not an adult, for various reasons (lack of connection to other people, trauma in his youth) he's egocentric like a child but there are children in his life who need him to be.

Gojo also cannot be a proper adult, because he is part of a system that exploits children. We see what the system does to proper adults like Nanami, he shows us just how much well-intentioned adults struggle to help kids under sorcerer society so how about Gojo who thinks being a sorcerer is really fun. A proper adult would never send kids on those missions, they'd find some way to shield them but Gojo cannot do that. Because sorcerers are short staffed and innocent people will die if he doesn't. Because Gojo isn't the sorcer-king of Jujtusu Society and is working within it to affect change. There are reasons, but still Gojo is failing to live up to his desire to protect children because he's not doing what a responsible adult should do in this situation.

Gojo's failures are two-fold, and yet it's because of those failures that he was a main character who got as much special plot attention as he did. If Gojo was a perfect teacher he wouldn't be a character. After all, we relate to the struggles of other human beings we see onscreen in television and in movies so why would we care about a perfect character?

Gojo has a lot more to say about teachers in shonen manga, and also about childhood vs. adulthood as a bad teacher struggling to be a good one, then a teacher who's already perfect. Nanami said those lines because he wanted us to understand the audience that this is who Gojo is, he is a selfish and egotistical person who nonetheless was trying to do good things.

[magicalregression]

General Hazbin Hotel hcs

Hello fellow agere hazbin enjoyers. I come with hcs for the main 6. Pls enjoy

🛡 ~ Charlie ~ 🛡

She's a little. Regresses to like 6-7 y/o and is so sweet and innocent.

Still wants to help everyone, and spends her time drawing posters to attract people to the hotel.

Her main cg is Vaggie for obvious reasons, though she will also gravitate towards Angel if he's around.

Eepy baby. Once all of her energy is gone, pick her up and she falls right to sleep.

⚔ ~ Vaggie ~ ⚔

She's a caregiver. Vaggie also will babysit the other littles in the hotel if needed, though she has an obvious preference for Charlie.

Is kinda hard on the littles when need be, can be very strict. This is especially true for bed/nap time, mealtimes, and baths. No stinky, overtired littles on Vaggie's watch.

This just popped into my head but cuddles where she uses her wings as like a blanket thing or just lets the little snuggle into it yes yes

Tends to clean up after playtime. She wants to be madder, but could never be truly angry with her babies.

🕷 ~ Angel Dust ~ 🕷

Angel is both a little and a babysitter. When he regresses, it's at a similar age to Charlie, maybe a bit older to around 7-8.

His energy levels highly fluctuate depending on his emotions before regressing. If he had been in a stressful situation or recently come back from work, he's very tired and kinda just wants to be alone with whatever he's entertained himself with. If he's not in a high emotion environment, he's full of energy!

Likes playing tag and hide and seek with the others. Sometimes forgets that he's much bigger than everyone, though, and may accidentally cause some booboos.

As a babysitter, he takes his job very seriously. Might not be as strict about meals or naps (definitely lets them just have as many sweets as they want), but will take tea parties and games very seriously.

📻 ~ Alastor ~ 📻

I know a lot of people like little Al but for personal reasons, he is a caregiver lol. He has too soothing a voice and mannerisms with Nifty for me to not harp on it.

Takes his little out to Overlord meetings or to visit Auntie Rosie. When they go see Rosie, she always has a new outfit for them, whether a onesie or full outfit, there's always something. At the Overlord meetings, he'll let them sit in his lap or between him and Rosie. The others don't mind bc I say so.

Alastor doesn't like touch he doesn't initiate, and you are no exception. That being said, if they find a way to pull on or play with his ears, the most he'll do is let out a long sigh before letting them continue.

Calls them a little Overlord. "Come now, little Overlord, it's time for bed." and "Little Overlord, what have I told you about sneaking up on others?" and the like.

I have the most thoughts about him but will keep this short for everyone's sakes

🧹 ~ Nifty ~ 🧹

A little. She has the biggest fluctuation though and will be either 2 or like 7, no in betweens.

Always has energy. She's bouncing off the walls. Because of this, Angel is the last person asked to take care of her because he'll give her candy and then she gets even worse. He's also a little cautious because of the one time he made her cry, but Nifty just kinda drifts over to him anyways.

Husk usually gets stuck looking after the lil bugger. It'll start as Alastor's problem, then he conveniently disappears and Vaggie gives her to "kitty" (it's not that they don't love her, they do, she's just a lot lol). I imagine little Nif and Husk have a similar dynamic to Boo and Sully in Monsters Inc.

The only way to get her to sleep is with radio static. The white noise calms her down. Bonus points if you give her a fluffy plush to hold as well.

🐱 ~ Husk ~ 🐱

Husk doesn't really like children, even of the regressing variety. It's not that he hates them, he'd just prefer to not have to interact with them as much as he can. The most he'll do is babysit, but even then he's a little clueless.

Tends to get stuck with Angel the most, but he prefers Nifty just because he's been around her the most over the years.

Has the bar stocked up with different juices and milk and other drinks for kids. Also has a wide variety of sippy cups with different themes for different littles. Charlie likes the ducky one, Angel has one with crabs on it, and Nifty's are all plain. Everyone uses the space themed ones, though, so he has the most of those.

He has a little nook under the bar that someone could use as a little hiding space as well. If the littles are playing hide and seek and someone goes down there, Husk is the last to snitch.

If you wanna see specific scenarios or hcs about certain characters, feel free to send in an ask!!

[bonny-kookoo]

Bonny we love everything you do! If you are up to, what about IT girl has a date and jk open a live coincidently on the same day and time so she cannot go

(Ps: Her date is an asshole and jk knows it)

You guys have really made me wanna write this... Warnings for Jungkook's internal dirty thoughts haha

First part: here

There's no fucking way he will let you go on a date with someone like sangwook. Absolutely not.

You're way too nice to say no to the guy, and he himself knows that the staff member has a certain way with words, knows how to get his way. But Jungkook has also heard the horror stories of the guy getting girls drunk until they're barely conscious, just so he can have his way with them- and he won't just sit here and let that happen to you of all people.

Not if he can do anything about it.

Jungkook and you had honestly had a great time when you eventually came over to eat the re-heated instant noodles together. He learned some stuff about you, about your interest, about who you are apart from just your job. You share a lot more interests with him than initially thought, both of you having a love for gaming and good food. And he especially enjoyed how natural you were, treating him like a normal person, not like the idol he is.

Maybe that's why he just can't let you go now.

He'd heard of the date from Sangwook himself- he'd been chatting with another female staff about you, and how he'll 'find out' if you're 'as innocent' as you apparently act. It made Jungkook feel like throwing up, a guy like that potentially filling you up with alcohol just to eat you like prey- he can't let that happen.

You've told him how you seek love, romance, excitement and something almost childish.

Exactly what he wants, too.

So he goes live, the only way he knows he will keep you there, well aware that you take your job (hopefully) too seriously to go on a date instead. He doesn't know how close you are with him yet- maybe it's a lost cause, maybe Sangwook had been the reason you'd been so hesitant with jungkook in the first place-

But he has to try.

"Hm, hello." He greets the fans, but more so you who he hopes is watching on the other side. "Its quite sudden, isn't it?" He chuckles, holding onto the iced wine in the glass mug in front of him. "Looks like a date? Ah, yes it does, doesn't it?" He grins, acting all shy.

And there it is. An angry smiley- several, even.

It makes him chuckle as he reads the comments and imagines you fuming in your home, but he can take the heat coming his way if he at least prevents that horrible date from happening. Have you already started to get ready? He wonders what you might look like all dolled up. In a short dress maybe, one that hugs your curves just right, with simple delicate straps holding it up over your shoulders. He knows you need no fancy designer shit.

He'd rip it off of you either way.

"Army.." he hums, referring to the fans, but hoping that you get the message most of all. "If you go on dates, late- you be careful, right?" He says, taking a sip of his iced wine, before setting the mug down, and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. There's another round of emojis flooding in, and he can't help but laugh.

He continues this game for almost an hour, making sure that your date was not happening, before he ends the live.

And not even half an hour later, you're in his apartment, fuming, angry, upset. But you're there, and not with him, so Jungkook can't help but be satisfied.

Especially at the sight of you in a strapless denim-dress. Short, but long enough to cover you comfortably. The fabric stretches a bit over your curves, tits looking so good but a little uncomfortable. He would just have to pull down a little, just a tiny bit, and they'd spill out, he's sure of it. He can't see bra straps.

Are you not wearing one? Interesting.

You're pushing him lightly. "You asshole!" You yell at him. "You knew I had a date! You knew it!" You complain, and he nods, a simple smile on his face, and it only angers you more. "Stop laughing!" You demand, but he just raises his hands as if to show you he's no threat, but you just reach out to push him again-

But instead he pulls your wrists towards him, wraps his arms around you, completely catching you off guard as he holds you close, trying hard to ignore your body's warmth against his.

"I'm glad you didn't go." He says, and it sounds surprisingly serious. "I was worried you might." He tells you, and you hate how good he looks, how good he smells.

"Cause you wouldn't have someone to play around with?" You mumble still angry, and he chuckles.

"I'm not playing with you." He denies, swaying you both from side to side a little. "I really am not." He says as if to make sure his point gets to you.

"And yet you still ruined my date.." you complain.

"Sangwook isn't worth your time." He shakes his head.

"Oh but you are?" You scoff. He chuckles. Again.

"I mean, you're here, are you not?" He states.

You are. And you're not sure why you're here, why you didn't at least change, why you don't want to leave just yet.

"To tell you to stop trying to ruin my love life." You snap back in defense, and he laughs.

"Then stop trying to ruin mine." He says back, making you freeze in his arms before you both detach a little. "I thought we were good? Why did you agree to that date?" He wonders, and you shrug, crossing your arms.

"He asked... nicely, you know?" You say, looking at the floor.

"And you couldn't say no." He sighs. "Because you're too nice yourself." He scolds softly.

"I just.. wanted to, you know, talk to someone. Be social. Spend my evening with something else than animal crossing and icecream.." you try and justify yourself, and Jungkook suddenly opens his arms wide, shaking his head before he hits his chest.

"Am I not right here?" He complains. "Am I just an illusion or something?"

"..no?" You wonder, and he tilts his head in irritation for a moment.

"Then why am I not an option for you?" He asks, a little agitated. "I thought we were fine last time you were here. We had a really good time, talked, fuck I thought we were going somewhere!" He complains.

"I'm just.. scared." You say, and he runs a hand over his face.

"I know." He nods. "Lets just- okay. Do you want to try this?" He asks, motioning between you and him. "Yes or no."

"I don't know-" you start, but he shakes his head.

"Not an answer, try again." He tells you, crossing his arms.

"Jungkook what if we get caught-" You start again, but he denies it again.

"Yes or no. It's pretty easy." He says.

"What's your answer?" You ask, and he throws his head back in agony. "Okay, yeah- yes? But-"

"Good, great, fuck!" He barks out to no one, before he holds your face in his palms. "Just trust me. Please." He begs, eyes sparkling in both the light of the candle on his kitchen table, and the neon colored laser points traveling all around his walls from his moodlight.

"What do you want from me?" You ask, and he smiles.

"Your love." He answers, before he shrugs playfully. "And maybe the occasional fuck on the couch if I'm in the mood-" he starts, and you hit his chest at that, though you laugh.

"So you really do just want to screw me!" You whine, crossing your arms- unaware of how you're pushing up your cleavage.

"No, baby." He shakes his head, tongue running over his lip piercing. "I don't only want to fuck you." He answers.

"Though I won't say no if you're ever offering."

[bitchlessdino]

dino hoshi threesome

i've never seen this pairing (i think) and i think it could be fun to see them try to one-up each other

maybe roommate au, if you feel like it - but i'm ok with anything !

Pairing: chan x fem!reader x soonyoung

Genre: smut, slight crack

Word count: 3.7

tags: roommates au, hook up!chan, hookup!soonyoung, soonchan banter, daddy kink, pet names (princess), degradation, praise kink, face sitting, unproetcted sex, blow jobs, fingering, double vaginal penetration, brief anal play, clit slaping, brief choking

Summary: Two hookups from two different nights are now your roommates and they don’t want the other one knowing to not make anymore weird than it needs to be. Eventually the true comes out when they’re both asking for seconds.

author note: enjoy, bee being fucked up again

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @wonuhour @camisun93 @emmmui @toruriri @jeonride @novalpha

You have as much casual sex as the next person and never consider it a problem in how you lived your life. Not until recently anyway.

Turns out your hook-up from January 20th was not only friends with the one from January 23rd, but they’re roommates. But not just roommates, no, they’re your new roommates.

You remember sitting there surprised meeting them at their apartment. Their familiar attractive faces stare back at you like both had just seen a ghost, but invite you in for the roommate interview anyway. You keep your composure, ignoring the fact you’ve seen look how their naked bodies and dicks looked before you’ve ever stepped foot in their residence, and answer relevant questions as promptly as possible. Playing up as a good roommate was always the plan, but now you just had to do without thinking about–wait no. Place and time.

January 23rd, you remember his name now is Chan, excuses himself to the restroom leaving you with January 20, Soonyoung. There’s a moment of silence before you exchange awkward smiles, tension stilling the room until breathing doesn’t even get to be an option. Most of the topics have been covered and seems you’ve done it well enough, but the thought weighs on your mind whether that mattered given your history.

You break down the facade, facing him with an earnest expression. “Look if this is gonna be weird—“

“We both think you’re the best candidate out of the applicants we have.”

You blink back at him, the wind knocked out of your lungs. “Really?”

He has a genuine smile on his face, nodding back at you with almost a look of gratitude. He noticeably leans over more comfortably, a weight lifted off his shoulders. “Yeah, I get we’ve hooked up, but he doesn't have to know, and we really, really need to stay on this lease. Rental is absolutely brutal right now, please. We can just live together like nothing happened.”

You’re not sure how you got this lucky, but something in you told you to hold back from revealing you slept with Chan too, so you kept that to yourself. Instead, you quickly made arrangements with him there and set sound ground rules on the contract. You seal the process with a few initials, a few signatures, and finally a handshake. His hand was flushed, firm, and reliable, shocking you with a flash memory of the night you met Soonyoung, and pull away the second it feel like you lingered too long.

“Thanks, Soonyoung.”

He puts the hand he shook with in his pocket, smiling in a friendly manner before pulling Chan towards the center of the room after the younger man had finished up whatever he needed in the restroom. “Chan can explain some things to you while you’re still here. I’d help but I was already cutting close with another appointment I have. See you tomorrow, roomie!”

Soonyoung could not get out of this place fast enough. Now you’re alone with yet another man you whom you’ve had a brief history with. Unlike Soonyoung, Chan doesn't showcase the same feelings already offering to show you around the amenities included as if he was a realtor you met the first time today. Maybe that’ll make things easier.

He tours you in the kitchen first, mentioning something about “plenty of pantry space” because they “mostly eat out anyway,” besides the weekly homemade dinners, which he mentions would be fun with an extra person to help again. You could only be so lucky not to be stuck with dealing with cooking all on your own.

Chan must’ve seen your burdened expression and he quickly comes to defense by saying they’d do the heavy lifting the first few dinners for whoever moves in. after that would be a more even distributed effort. You express your gratitude with a smile. “You guys sound really accommodating. That was one of the issues I had with my previous living arrangement and things like cleaning. They were so hard to get through.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have thought that since it was clean the last time I was there.”

You shoot your eyes open, rather flustered at how easily he brought it up while arousal churned your stomach at the memory. You cross your arms scoffing, attempting to play it off nonchalantly, “Well, no thanks to them. I’m good at keeping things tidy.”

“Makes you a pretty ideal person to live with then.”

“I hope so.” You shrug.

“So…you’re moving in?” There’s a hopeful gleam in his eyes as a smile turns up at a corner mischievously.

You nod. “Soonyoung convinced me.”

“Good. That’s great. You were our first choice.” 

“So, you don’t think it’ll be weird with, you know?”

“As long as we keep it between us. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Plus, it’ll be nice to get to know you with clothes on.”

You best not let that last comment get to you. You ignore how it makes you feel in the pit of your stomach, how it felt like to have him stretch you open, and god, were you needing these days to be stretched open.You letting out an airy chuckle before ignoring the words with clenched legs as he’s showing you off the rest of the apartment. He mentions some things like the shower needs a few seconds to get hot, the balcony being teh best place to get a breather, and the last roommate had something going on before deciding to leave, soon concluding your tour.

He walks you towards the entry way, leaving between you a healthy distance. The ceiling lamp aboves you flickers, cascading the side of his faces with shadows ever so aethetically. He is picture perfect and it makes you want to capture his face and hang it up on a wall for all of eternity. “I guess, I’ll see you tomorrow right?”

“Yeah, be by with some of my stuff.”

“Alright, let me have your phone.” You give it to him, briefly brushing against his hand, and he starts typing in his number before a text tone went off in his pocket and handing you back your phone. “Text me when you come by, and I’ll help you bring your stuff in.”

“I appreciate that.”

“I appreciate you being so prompt with a response.” 

There’s that devastatingly charming smile that lured you into bed months ago. He steps forward cautiously as if accessing the situation. Your breath hitches the closer he closes in and you take notice of how his eyes roam over your body, mentally undressing you.

“Maybe after I help with you other things as well,” he implies suggestively.

“Maybe,” you entertain, despite your better judgment of knowing how bad of an idea it’d be.

And in the nick of time, Soonyoung is home, opening the door, forcing you to leave and come back the next day with heavy thoughts in your mind.

The weeks go on more unorthodox than you predicted. While settling in, you indulge in a bit of roommate bonding: group dinners, laughing at Soonyoung’s outbursts, listening to Chan ramble about random topics before he loses his train of thought, and all while avoiding sexually charged situations. Most of those objectives go smoothly, with the exception of the last bit, making you teh text-book definition of blue-balled.

Most of those cases involved mainly Chan, who somehow knew how to turn any situation alone into moments of temptation. He exhibited several light touches, intimate whispers, and purposeful body contact (exhibit a: feeling how his obvious bulge digs into your back as he reaches for something on the top shelf). You know it’s all on purpose and yet there isn’t an atom in your very being to get you to stop it.

Other cases were Soonyoung, who does them seemingly unintentionally, getting himself into blush-inducing situations that could only get him in more trouble than prepared for. This included the classic “doing laundry with you and tripping, toppling on top of each other over folding fitted sheets”. The innocent glint in his eyes shifts completely, warranting a momentary look of visceral lustn, until he’s rolling away like a loose hot dog before he rejects succumbing to such thoughts.

So far, things have yet to escalate despite the incidents, that is until Chan mixed up Soonyoung’s work schedule.

“Hey, any problem with me coming in?”

 “Oh, no. By all means.”

You hold your legs to your knees underneath your blanket and set your book aside near your lamp light. Chan smiles at your inviting demeanor as his weight dips into the bed near your feet. Deceiving you with innocuous warmth in his eyes.“Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Nothing important. What’s up?”

“Just wondering how you like it so far. Hopefully, we’ve made you feel welcome. At least in my case.”

“I think both of you have done a good job of doing that.”

“That’s good to hear, but you know,” he scoots closer, “you can tell us–me–anything. We’re accommodating remember?”

His body reels in your direction, radiating a radioactive heat.

You swallow a moan about to errupt. “Of course.”

“Then tell me, what’s getting you all worked up right now?”

You blink at him, lightly scoffing at such an assumption. “What? Nothing. What makes you think that?”

His grin. His cocky, condescending grin. Goodness, gracious. “The tremble in your voice, like you were caught doing something you shouldn’t have.”

“You saw me, Chan. I was reading.”

You immediately try to hide the book he reaches out for, only to have it pried from your grasp. “Twisted games? Wonder what kind of games those are.”

You snatch away before he can look over at the synopsis, and one way or another, he buries his bare palms in the mattress on either side of you, locking you in his grasp. The air is charged in that familair way. Your eyes staring back at each other with shallow breaths, and lewd highs, before the collision of your lips. He climbs on top of you, legs cradling your sides as his fingers run through the back of your head. 

His name comes on in soft, needy whispers, to which you feel the permanent cocky smile against your lips. “I bet you’ve been waiting for me to do that, huh?”

“Just shut up and kiss me again,” you answer impatiently before pulling right back where he needed to be. 

Chan makes himself familiar on your body like he’s never left, moving one hand up your shirt and the other down your pants. His digits find precisely what he expects: your heat sopping between his pads, practically begging to be touched. “You’re soaked, princess.” He runs himself over your folds then through your slick slit, a thin film of aroused viscosity coating him. “Should Daddy make you feel good like last time again?”

That’s when the unexpected occurs: a knock at your bedroom door. “Hey, can we talk?”

Chan's eyes shoot open like saucers, no sign of his once cool demeanor. “Soonyoung,” he whispers aggressively, “I thought he was working!”

“It’s Wednesday!”

“Shit.”

“Covers now.”

He opens the flap of your blanket before crawling inside and laying between your legs, letting you catch that small smile on his face before he disappears from sight. You fluff Chan’s figure out like he’s a pillow and pile on the blankets and pillows in attempt to camouflage. “S-sure, Soonyoung!”

The outsider enters unsuspectingly, only noticing how much you’ve bundled yourself without thinking much of it. “Oh, you look cozy.”

“Was gonna turn in soon, ha. What’s up, Soon-y-young?”As you ask that, you can feel Chan’s fingers in and out of you, the pressure of his thumb over your clit burning your core enticingly.

Soonyoung makes himself come to the edge of your bed, practicing his breathing to get out the words he’s held in that only gets truer the longer you share the same space. “I wanted to be honest with you.”

“Mmh?”

Now Chan is shoving himself knuckles deep, curling his digits in a method, and has your toes flexed. You clench around him, holding back gasps, all while keeping tight-lipped smile.

“I was really careful about letting things escalate, but I don’t think I shouldn’t bottle my feelings up anymore.”

You’re forcing out these inappropriate thoughts. Forcing out the sensation of Chan practically ruining you in the middle of Soonyoung’s heartfelt speech. You’re overwhelmed with guilt but at this point, guilt and thrill became all the same.

“I know I said we should keep it a secret but, I think we should tell Chan.” The devil himself halts all movement, his ears now on high alert. “Because I think I like you and I want to make us a thing—“

“Like hell, you will!”

Chan rises from the depth of the pillow mountain and stares back at his roommate with much sustenance. The older man jumps at the abrupt appearance of his other roommate, taken aback being an understatement of what he’s feeling at the moment. “Chan?”

“You can turn yourself around and try again in 500 business days.”

“How are you—why are you—WHAT IS THAT DOING THERE?”

Soonyoung refers to the hand down your pants with an accusatory finger darted in its direction. Chan snorts, “Why this,” he shoves himself inside you at a jarring pace, causing your fingers to dig in the sheets, “I’m fulfilling my princess's filthy wishes. Plus I was here first.”

Soonyoung scoffs. “I got her months ago, kid. Keep up.”

“So did I. This isn’t new for me, as you can tell by how much of a mess she is for me.”

“Oh really? I met her in January.”

“Oh yeah, when? Because so did I.”

“20th.”

“Fuck.”

“Ha-ha, bitch! I win!”

“Oh yeah, who’s the one with the busy fingers?”

You can only take up so much more of the childish banter until you’re interrupting them with a guttural moan. “Please stop…and fuck me already.”

“What? Who? Both of us?” If Soonyoung was a game character, he’d have an exclamation point popping out of his head now.

“Are you seriously asking to have both of us?” Chan interjects. By his facial expression, you could’ve confused him for being offended, but Chan doesn’t stop the terror of his fingers, only thrusting in faster, your pussy squelching from the vicious ooze. “Needy little princess wants to be stuffed with two cocks, hmm?”

Soonyoung may have been late to the party but the appetizer was absolutely to die for. You’re soaking through your shorts, sweat now noticeably pilling from the forehead, and Soonyoung can’t believe he didn’t realize it earlier. In any other situation, he’d be offended. But when you respond to Chan with a “Yes, daddy,” and he realizes he’s not so easily intimidated. 

Your pants now abandoned to the side of the room left space for Chan’s face while you’re seated against it, and he can’t help but get lost between your legs like a found treasure. His moans vibrate through your core, his fingers are drenched, and your arousal seeping from your cunt stream down his face and neck, soaking through your sheets.

Your legs are shaking, overwhelmed to the point of pulling away, only to have Chan pull you back against his mouth through sheer force. His jaw is restless in his venture, and his tongue, like a joystick, moves with purpose, ebbing every one of your precious whines and whimpers. You cry out when the muscle circles around your clit, his chin splitting between your folds and prods at your moisture. 

You double over in anguish, breaking away from the salty-sweet taste of Soonyoung’s cock before he pushes it back inside your mouth, gripping you by the strands of your hair. “Who told you to stop taking my cock?”

Your tongue covers his base, running along the veins of his shaft as you bobbed, getting louder as he thrusts inside you. Your eyes stare back at him wide and submissive, batting your lashes when you feel him hit the back of your throat, meanwhile your hands or wet in a mix of saliva and precum, wet noises and gagging becoming as melodious as real music. “Mmh, get my dick wet just like that while Chan gets your pussy wet and juicy to put our cocks in? Hmm? Take our cocks like our perfect slutty roommate?”

You nod, trembling as Chan clutches you firmly, hands against your ass as he moves so that you rub against his mouth. Soonyoung revels in your body language. From the clench of your hips to the sway of your breasts, he’s simply in awe at your perfection. His hands your breasts,  feeling them spill out between his fingers before squeezing your hardened peaks between his fingerprints, pinching at their sensitivity, and you clench your abdomen at the sensation.

In that second, you release yourself in Chan, your cum traveling in hot streams as they flood his gums. His tongue laps every bit. Taken by your scent, he buries his nose until it feels like he’s envisioning stars in an empty sky, heart pulsing a million times a minute. When you finish, he parts from your folds, his lips separating in glistening translucent strands before climbing out from under you to replace Soonyoung’s cock with himself, pushing your load back inside you.

“Hey!”

The heat of his tongue flusters you, having you gush and melt around him, feeling his hand slip down you wait as his hand finds your ass before squeezing. Chan parts from your lips in chuckles, those clear ribbons stretching from your mouth to his, he caresses your head before speaking to his long-time roommate. “She needed to taste that. Show him, princess.”

He shoves you Soonyoung’s way and soon the other man understands exactly what the younger man meant. Like Ambrosia, your cum is addictive on your tongue, sweet and rich, he feels as if you embodied everything sex and he couldn’t have enough. On the other hand, Chan props you on all fours, your round ass pointed in his direction,  and he finds the rest of your arousal from behind. His tongue tickles your puckered rim, wetting it as his fingers tether to your clit and rubbing it against his fingertips

He kisses flushed skin, fingers gliding over your slit, aggressively devouring you with teeth and all. “Daddy loves this cunt of yours princess…mmh…Both your holes are so perfect,” He spanks your plush flesh, sighing feeling you jump underneath him. “Soonyoung get underneath her.”

The spell of sex is so strong when Soonyoung mindlessly obeys. His hands glide over your sides, peppering kisses all over your face before pulling your hips towards him. Those kisses help in hushing your screams when Chan pulls out his cock, the head rubbing against your moisture before it fills you inch by inch. You clench around him, burying your face in Sonyoung’s shoulder as you get stretched open.

Chan grins, landing strokes loud enough to sound off in another room, pounding you deep without remorse. “So tight…but you can take me, baby. I know you can.”

“Such a good girl,” Soonyoung encouragingly coos in your ear, pebbling your skin all over in goosebumps. “Whose pussy is that, hmm?”

Your breath hitches, seizing at every slap of skin, both from Chan's lap and palm. Your nails dig into Soonyoung’s shoulder, your lips grazing his neck. “It’s your pussy, it’s both your fucking pussy—shit…”

You press your waist against Soonyoung, waves of arousal contracting shorter the faster Chan pitches his tent inside you. Without clear warning, Soonyoung finds his place in your walls, right between you and Chan. Your jaw falls, bellowing out an obnoxiously loud laughter of disbelief until it melts into aggressive pleads, screaming, “yes, yes” and “just like that, fuck me,” until their mismatched rhythm gradually evens out.

Chan pulls you against his chest, having you pound against him and simultaneously bouncing away on Soonyoung. You reunite with Chan’s kiss as he’s slapping at your clit like a sadist teh stinging bringing buckles knees as you asked for more. His smile, unbearably beautiful yet evil, burns your skin like a gas stove. Your chest rapidly rises and falls, feeling your eyes flutter the back of your skull as another wave of arousal hits.

Your eyes dart to Soonyoung, drinking in his shapely body that glistens in sweat you’d lick off in heat or snow before meeting his dizzy gaze framed in sweat-dampened hair. You moan down at him, calling his name as his hands roam up your body. “You look fucking breathtaking…” he says stealing the words right from your mouth. “You’re gonna cum for us, baby?”

You whine, fingers curling up in frustration as you high keep going in going with no break, amplified by being crushed against Chan’s toned chest and abdomen until your breathing comes out in a staccato rhythm. 

“Do it, just for us. We want you to cum around our cocks like the good slutty girl we know you are.” Soonyoung eggs.

“S-soon…”

Chan's hand clamps over your neck, lips fanning hot breath on your ear as puts pressure on your neck. You gasp for life, groans in the depth of your throat erupting followed by the pool of lust in your stomach. “Do it, princess. Daddy wants to see you make a mess…”

“Daddy, I don’t know–ah–overstimulated–”

“That’s no excuse, princess. Cum. Cum like a princess is meant to.”

Emotions are heightened by their thrusts, filling your orifices with not only themself but pure saturated euphoria. You contract, swallowing your moans and salvia, thighs rubbing helplessly as you let the wave reach its peak and dissipate, having been followed up by the rush of being filled to the brim with their sweet release. You ram down on Soonyoung’s length to trap the load, by the weakness in your legs causes you to fall against him, meeting his lips serendipitously in a tender, relieving kiss.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” he says in a hushed voice. 

“We,” Chan takes a moment to catch his breath, “We’re doing this again. All of us.”

You softly smile before pulling Chan down in the pile, cuddling harmoniously until it dawns on all of you the desperately needed shower. Then, you’re all over each other again. And again. And again. This is going to be one hell of a living arrangement.

Part of my 3K Follower StayCation!!!

[the-ghost-of-asselus-cancri]

warming up to you

fandom: obey me: shall we date

characters: mephistopheles x mc

initially, hearing the ever present rumors being whispered among the students of rad about the lilith's long lost descendant, mephistopheles didn't believe them in the slightest - not that he doubted your relation to lilith, mind you, it was your irresistible charm and determination (more like stupidity and the incredible ability to attract trouble, he remarked), which even the seven lords of hell couldn't resist, willingly entering a pact with you. you were a mysterious puzzle with no plausible solution, so simple at first glance, yet so hard to understand at the same time, and it angered him greatly that he couldn't solve you, only making wild assumptions from all the hearsay, and that had to come to an end.

mephisto frowns in frustration, absentmindedly scribbling away a new article on autopilot, fully consumed by his thoughts: it was his job after all, as a head member of the newspaper club, to gather information one way or the other, and you were just in his reach, besides, he told himself, an interview with such a famous person definetly would be an interesting read. he wasn't a dedicated fan of yours by any means, and this strange and weird desire to know you better came from something akin to a scientific interest in the new species, only that, nothing else, despite the fact that he thought the human race was no match for demons or angels, for that matter. too lost in his endless pondering, he knocked over the ink well, spilling the black puddle on the almost perfect draft for the new article by pure accident, breaking the pen in two with his fingers from the sudden surge of exasperation, tsking in annoyance.

your existence would be the death of him.

***

since the moment he begrudgingly started to hang out with you more, usually accompanied by one of the brothers, angels or royals, mephistopheles slowly started to realize why all of them adored you so much: the way your laughter was so contagious, the way your eyes shined brightly, when you were animatedly talking about your inteserts or were just very excited, the way you were always so kind, passionate and understanding - it all combined and so much more made him fall for you so hard before he could fully comprehend what even happened at this point.

it doesn't feel like in all of those romance books satan kept pestering him about, no, it's more like the fall from the celestial realm, his lungs numb and hurting, making it unbearable to breathe, his torn, tethered, charred wings slowly burning away, and then the following deafening, fatal landing. you were his glowing sun, your shining light blinding him, setting his heart and what was left of his tarnished soul ablaze, and he would rather burn in your scorching flames than to turn his back on you.

inspite of his true desire, the demon desperately tried to bury this newly formed, disgusting, hideous affection deep down inside, masking it as passive aggression and disdain, yet it never drew you away nor did you respond to such unnecessary, ill-mannered behavior with a few rude remarks of your own - you just sighed in defeat, giving him space and continued to treat him like a dear friend of yours.

he wants to hate you, to resent all that you stand for, but he's so lost, so helpless when his direct actions or words make you genuinely upset, his first instinct to apologize and calm you down, which he tries to resist so hard it physically pains him, yet to no avail, whispering quietly an honest "sorry" and awkwardly hugging you, his hands clumsily intertwined behind your back. it sickens him to touch you, to be this close to you, however his heartbeat quickens as he firmly grips your school uniform like a life line, and closes his eyes in contempt, trying to regain his forever abandoned composure and failing in the end.

your presence became somewhat of a constant in mephisto's life, whether he was doing his homework or other school related stuff in his office or eating lunch in hell's kitchen (a habit for yours he shamelessly stole) you were often there, next to him, almost always present, a subtle, gentle reminder of change, no longer a pestering little human, no, you were so much more than he gave you credit for in the first year.

the gentle bump on the shoulder, his cold gloved hand in yours, the accidental touches here and there that you both shared were doing ridiculous, peculiar things to him, a slight blush on his cheeks as he quickly backed away, interrupting (un)comfortable silence with a fake cough. a smile found its way upon his face as you occasionally became his desk mate in your shared classes, stealing a few glances during the lesson like a school girl with a crush, hoping that you stayed true to your oblivious nature and wouldn't notice.

the walls mephistopheles so diligently built up over centuries were pathetically crumbling before your very feet, thick layers of cold, hard, unbreakable ice slowly, but surely sizzling away, as he continued to grow fond of you, cherishing every single second of your stay in the devildom.

no matter how hard he tried to deny it, his resistence was futile.

***

"i want to enter a pact with you" mephistopheles was taken aback by your bold proclamation, thinking it was a sick joke at first, a foolish prank that you were trying to pull, but then he noticed the serious look that you had on your face.

he wanted to say no, he wanted to laugh in your face, mocking you for even thinking about having such intimate connection with him, yet all he says, devotion evident in his voice, is "as you wish, (_)"

[bird-inacage]

Only Friends: How Mew criticises Ray VS How Sand criticises Ray

Something I've really noticed since Episode 4 is the increasing distinction between how Mew and Sand school Ray. The scenes in Episode 6 and Episode 7 provide a perfect point of comparison. Both Mew and Sand use the phrase 'love yourself' towards Ray but the tone and delivery is completely different.

Unsurprisingly, what Ray desperately needs in his life is a mother figure. Someone who can be firm and stern when necessary but still caring at the same time. Sand's approach feels better suited to Ray in this respect.

Sand starts by acknowledging that Ray's hurting but it doesn't excuse his behaviour and it isn't going to stop Sand from calling it out. He makes sure to explain why it's problematic, why it's hurtful, why it's dangerous. Sand's words are driven by concern. He's even worried about the guilt Ray would have to shoulder if he did hurt anyone else.

Whereas in the scene with Mew, he makes immediate assumptions (I still maintain that Ray was not high here, he looked pretty darn sober throughout the bathroom scene to me), but that's where Mew's mind goes. His question "why don't you love yourself at all?" implies that Ray doesn't have any self-respect to take care of himself, and so what he's saying sounds driven by disappointment. Mew's tone also carries an air of exasperation, 'I've told you again and again'. @thatgirl4815 does a great job of commenting on Mew's attitude towards Ray in Episode 6 (here).

After Sand has said what he needs to say, he still doesn't want Ray to feel too bad. Sand's little pat on Ray's knee is an attempt to soften the blow, paired with a slightly helpless feeling of, 'I just want what's best for you'.

Now let's observe how Ray reacts when schooled.

Ray may not always implement the stern talking to he's getting, but you can tell that when with Sand, Ray is listening. He doesn't try to deflect, retort or dodge. He usually looks guilty. Guilt suggests remorse. Which means you realise what you've done is wrong. Whereas Ray's initial reaction to Mew is slight shock. This is the biggest indication to me that Ray wasn't getting high here. When he finally responds to Mew, it's brushed off with a laugh - 'yeah, yeah, I'm fine, it's nothing, no matter' - it doesn't seem like any of what Mew's said has really sunk in, just that Ray doesn't want him to dwell on this point any further.

How Mew delivers his pep talk feels authoritative, 'I told you to quit using drugs' (and you didn't listen). Your mistake is not taking my advice. On the other hand, Sand never once says anything along the lines of, 'I told you so, I warned you, I tried to stop you'. It's not about Ray following his orders, it's Sand providing Ray with the context to hopefully avoid making reckless decisions for himself in future.

Mew seems to have accepted Ray's inability to change, and his criticisms are merely a matter of routine at this point. Whereas Sand seems genuinely driven to encourage Ray to do better for both the sake of himself and others around him.

[serawritesthings]

AMBIVALENT MINDS

Pairing | Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Fem! Reader Summary | There was no doubt an air of mystery surrounded Simon, and while you hadn't seen him in years, his sudden appearance rendered you shocked, to say the least. It doesn't come without complications, though, resurfacing feelings that should have been laid to rest. Tags | sexual content 18+ minors dni, smut, angst-heavy, description of violence, very sad :D Word Count | 12k A/N | Hello once again lovelies! I have recently been working in this fic about Ghost, where I had an idea that I thought was very fitting for him. I'm so used to writing for Arthur, so I'm a bit nervous, but I thought I would challenge myself for this one! I really hope you like it, and if you do, don't hesitate to let me know. I would much appreciate it! ♡ Also, I'm still head-deep in my Arthur Morgan phase, so the next fic will probably be of him. Enjoy!

Stoic had always felt like a suitable word to describe the ghost that haunted your mind. Lacing every corner of your thoughts, he strayed, forever walking the memories of your past–unwanted and unwilling, unidentified, and under no sense of obligation to you or anyone else.

His presence had become a looming shadow, casting a heavy gloom over what you so profoundly wished to forget. No matter how hard you tried to escape those clutches, he held on too tightly, etching his essence into the fabric of your consciousness as the echoes of his footsteps reverberated through the corridors of your mind, a constant reminder of what you wished could be undone.

But it left you more unsatisfied than initially prepared for, finding the distance between you to be nauseating, like the miles only made the hurt seem to grow closer until it was seeping into your very bones. Although reality had a funny way of keeping up with you, clouding the past in its grasp, so now, it only felt like someone else’s experience and not your own–oddly comforting and discomforting all at the same time.

Simon always seemed to have that effect on you, and it was always the most challenging part for you throughout the years you spent together. One day, you would find the rough exterior grow gentle as it warmed the harsh edges with the soft look in his consistently monotone eyes; the other day, sharp and cold orbs cut through you like a splicer–like you were a stranger.

It was hurtful and increasingly confusing, making you wonder if you had been in a one-sided relationship all this time. He kept many parts of himself a secret from you, heavily guarded behind thorny walls, as even the slightest inquiry made him shut you out completely. The struggle you went through to gain his trust was like tiptoeing through a glass field, every step bordering on agony.

He never told you where he lived, only ever sleeping at your apartment even though it was too cramped. And, as it came to his private life, he didn’t speak a word but almost knew yours entirely from the number of questions he asked and your willingness to keep talking the moment you got started.

Funny that his nickname spoke so well with his aura, for that was exactly how you had perceived him now that you had a clear look at him that wasn’t shrouded with love and admiration. In reality, you didn’t know who he was under all those layers and cautious ways, your conversations made up of carefully guarded expressions and chosen words, the depth of emotions often hidden behind a veil of protection.

Somehow, he had felt, well, real? More real than the faked chivalry you were so used to when you were brought up, parents having more wealth than you deemed necessary amidst their strive towards perfection. Compared to their stale kindness and expectations, Simon was a welcomed change, as exciting as he was human.

For a younger you, he was fascinating and shrouded in a prolonged mystery you begged him to tell you. But he never did, always preaching about the unsafety of his life and no less job, that you were better left unknowing–for your sake. So curious and unbelievably stupid you were at the time, not realizing the danger that surrounded Simon and how it could affect you.

You understood him, though, and you did for a long time, but for obvious reasons, it grew exhausting to harbor a love for a man like that. You were young and naïve, only surpassing your early twenties that were spent on edge with an older man you weren’t sure could love anyone, no less himself.

In the shadow of your own accord, the best years of your life passed away, and through long days of studying for your medical degree and battling the struggles of barely seeing him–wondering where he was most of the time–you set your sight on other things, naturally.

For this reason, you always reminded yourself that he couldn’t be loved because he didn’t want to. The thought bruised you because for the longest time, you couldn’t imagine being without him. Thank God that time heals wounds, for the thought grew dim; despite his looming presence, you couldn’t shake from your mind, even though you tried your damnedest.

“I wonder where you went just now, missus.” The warm tone of Gretel filled your ears comfortingly as it cut through the obnoxious clicking of the pen you tormented anxiously. Stopping abruptly, you glanced at the woman writing in a patience journal, focused but somehow acutely aware of your absent-mindedness.

“Oh, sorry.” You spoke quietly, the luminescent light flickering above you as you straightened your back, getting ready to continue your work. “Just stuck in my thoughts…” You trailed off with a sigh, avoiding her questioning gaze as she peered at you over the bundle of paper.

Although a sharp and hardworking lady, Gretel had a knack for seeing straight through you. It was a shame since you always prided yourself on your ability to stay undecipherable, a thing you learned after the heavy supervision you had been under when you were younger.

You could almost swear she was psychic, for she always had this look in her eyes, like every thought that passed through your mind was the most obvious thing in the world, and you felt just as ashamed every time you thought something filthy in her presence.

“Hmm, I know that look, dear. Why don’t you finish up and go home? Rest your mind for a while. Lord knows we have a lot of work to get done tomorrow now that the doctors have been slacking off lately,” she hummed unamused at the last statement, turning back to the endless words loitering the pages, glasses hanging low on her nose.

“Oh, you sure?” In all actuality, you weren’t interested in going home anymore. It felt too empty these days, the eeriness seeping into every corner of the house. Here, you at least had people around you every minute of the day, patient or college, and burying your head in work seemed more of an appealing way to deal with your emotions than staring endlessly into the white tapestry of your wall without a single second of sleep.

“Course I am.” Wishing you away with her hands, you glanced uncomfortably at the snow falling outside the window, hoping to stay in the hospital's warmth. But alas, you knew better than to question her, so you finished your work in silence, the loud drag of your chair notifying Gretel you were on your way.

“Any plans tonight?” She sent a mischievous look your way, expectantly. “A special someone, maybe?”

“No.” You only let out a breathy laugh, giving her a look that spoke too much of your answer. “No, I uh, I’m going to bed.” Cringing at yourself, you shut your eyes when your back was towards the inquiring woman, chastising your inability to make up a lie instead of telling her the sad truth.

“I don’t believe that, a fine woman like you staying home on a Friday night?” She put down the papers and put all her attention on you. “Blasphemy, if I’ve ever heard it.”

The corners of your mouth lifted slightly, appreciating her attempts to lift your mood. It was depressing, though; you could admit that. Earlier, you had heard both the younger and older coworkers gossip about the nightly adventures that awaited as the clock turned 5, feeling like shrinking into the floor at the lack of excitement in your life compared to theirs.

“What about that mystery man that came through here some time ago every time you got off work?” Her words made you stop in your tracks, the now remaining cold, stale coffee you were forcing down your throat spilling down the corners of your mouth, staining your shirt.

“Oh, dear, let me help you.” As the woman rushed towards you, your mind grew numb at the thought of the man you had tried so hard to push toward the back of your mind. Truthfully, you hadn’t thought about him for quite a while, but Gretel’s words forced you to face the cold eyes that stared back at you in your mind, ultimately ruining your every attempt.

“Sorry, I just-” Her reprimanding voice cut your apology short.

“No need to apologize,” she shushed you, grabbing the cup from your hands before you dropped it, smiling heartily in comfort as your cheeks flushed a bright red.

You gladly left the building after your mishap, and although with a large coffee stain under your jacket to showcase your bad luck, it felt relieving to be outside in the fresh air instead of your work’s stale smell of disinfectant and latex. More so, to avoid another possibility of embarrassing yourself somehow.

Gretel hadn’t pestered you more about your apparent surprise when she brought up Simon, but you could feel her eyes scrutinizing you when you weren’t looking. You pondered if she would be disappointed if you let her know you were mere strangers to each other, bordering on a heavy dislike from the abrupt end you faced.

When you grew tired of trying, you presented him with an ultimatum that took weeks for you to muster up the courage in order to speak of it. It felt more like he was the one to break things off with you than the other way around, which wasn’t exactly what you had in mind. He didn’t even get angry as the tears of distress from his lack of emotions ran down your cheeks when you questioned him, wondering why he stayed.

The look on his face wasn’t giving away an ounce of hurt, only remaining detached like he always did, like your talk was a major inconvenience. Your distraught voice didn’t affect him as you begged him to listen and realize, it took so much away from you always to be mindful of him.

“You never let me in, Simon. I feel like I’m tiptoeing around you all the time, like the smallest thing I say will set you off.” Whenever you spoke of this, it felt like he dissociated. You might as well be talking to a wall the way he seemed to bounce every word back at you, eyes observing you under the dim light of your kitchen where he leaned against the counter.

There had been something strangely different about him this time, though, as he came to you in the middle of the night, disturbing you, who had just managed to fall asleep after an increasingly tricky work day. It wasn’t that you disliked him coming to you, but he never told you why after being gone for so long, which troubled you.

“I don’t even know you! You never tell me anything, and you know almost all there is to know about me.” You gazed at him questioningly, only gaining a blank look back. Crossing his arms, he gazed out the small window of your kitchen as the rain made its way down the glass.

When you stepped into your apartment after your long walk from work, the memory hit you tenfold: everything looked remarkably the same as that day–the last day you saw him. If you focused hard enough, you could almost see him still standing there, watching you indescribably as you poured your heart out to him, begging him to stop shielding himself from you.

Now that you looked back at it, you almost felt embarrassed for how you behaved compared to his composed self, but you couldn’t hold back your frustration anymore. The pain and defeat you felt had boiled over, making you wonder if he had viewed you as childish for the words that poured out of you uncontrollably.

Taking your stained shirt off, you changed into something more comfortable before burying your head in the sheets, wanting to melt into the fabric so you could resume the ignorance of your past the following day.

It didn’t work, though, as you could almost feel the comforting rumble of his voice under your head like the sheets had magically turned into his chest, the steady beating of his heart pulsing heavily against your cheek. The fold in the linen grew into the familiar, scarred skin under your palms, your fingers tracing the ruined tissue that stretched far as the coldness of him heavily contrasted with your warmth.

The low chatter of your ancient TV grew distant as sleep started to pull you into its embrace. In the last remains of wakefulness, you could feel his coarse fingers caress your cheek before pulling some strands that covered it behind your ear–lingering on the soft curves as it hurled you closer to dreamless slumber.

“Stay quiet.”

Your eyes opened wide at the sudden breath that hit your ear; not a figment of your imagination, but someone whispering the words harshly against you. Your first instinct was to scream, but you found a broad, gloved hand already covering your mouth, muting the sound successfully against the otherwise quiet apartment–despite the low buzz of the TV in the background.

A heavy weight had you trapped underneath it, and you trashed wildly against the hold. Your movements grew limited, though, and as you moved, you found yourself pressed even firmer against the mattress, the voice you could recognize anywhere rumbling dangerously at you when you didn’t listen.

“I said quiet.” It felt like water as cold as ice washed over you when the familiar voice reached you, rendering you quiet and unmoving in pure shock.

You didn’t get much time to ponder over your current predicament, hearing quiet yet rustling footsteps step slowly on the creaking floor panels of your apartment. The hair on your arms rose when you realized others who were unwelcome walked outside the room, the creeping footsteps only growing closer to your bedroom door.

As they did, the hand covering your mouth slowly released its grip, but not before pushing a finger against your lips. You obeyed, feeling him pull you closer so you were pulled taut against him, having no choice but to follow his lead as he stepped away from the bed. Every movement was cautious and quiet as your back was pushed up against the wall beside the door, your whole frame covered by a broad back that towered before you.

It was Simon, no doubt. You were sure of it as you gazed up at the man, the broadness of his shoulders, the tall height, and the gruff voice that had called you out earlier. From what you could see from his back, he was dressed differently; a mask seemed to cover the whole of his head down to his neck, pulled into a sweater of the same color as a thick vest could be seen from underneath it.

In a hasty motion, you felt his hand graze the skin of your stomach as he pulled what appeared to be a gun that was strapped against his body from the waistline of his jeans.

Your breath hitched at the sight, the clicking noise as he loaded the metal slowly cutting through the quiet room, backing up even more so you were pushed tighter against the wall. The footsteps had ceased now, and for a while, you pondered if they had ever been there in the first place, wondering if this was reality or just a depraved dream your exhausted mind had conjured up in lack of excitement.

But then, you saw the door handler move slightly out of the corner of your eyes. Craning your head towards it in fear, your view was obscured though as Simon moved to shield you even further, lifting the gun as the door creaked open, the soft light of your hallway lamp illuminating the room, a giant shadow now apparent on the walls from the figure outside.

The door remained open, and the seconds ticked slowly like ages passed; your trembling hands made their way to Simons’s sides, grabbing his waist as you tried to keep your breathing quiet, heartbeat picking up as he placed a gloved hand on yours for a second to then wrap around the handle again.

What transpired next could only be likened to a horrible nightmare: the muted sounds of a suppressed gun going off, a body falling like a ragdoll down on the floor of your bedroom, dark blood seeping into the fabric of your rug from the man now laying there, completely and utterly lifeless.

Left staring at Simons’s back when he rushed towards the figure, he checked the man’s pulse in a quick motion. You couldn’t form a single sound, neither could you think straight as shock flooded you at the sight, eyes growing wide when you started to register what transpired.

Still remaining pressed against the wall in disbelief, you heard the low rumble of Simons’s voice speak into his intercom, eyes staring at you briefly through the holes in his mask before raising up, putting it back in his pocket while stalking toward you in big strides.

Grabbing your shoulders, he pushed you gently but hastily out the door, pushing your head to look forward as your gaze was transfixed on the dead man, finding it increasingly absurd to see that sight in the bedroom you had just slept in.

In your haze, you had found yourself being led into the kitchen, lifted up with strong arms on the counter as he grasped your cheeks in his gloved hands, finding your eyes unfocused and clouded.

“Hey, you okay?” His voice rumbled low in his chest as his eyes sought yours, patting your cheek gently to gain your attention. You craned your neck slightly to look up at him, eyes covered with black paint under the mask, seeming so familiar yet different from the man you knew.

“Simon?” Your voice was quiet, confusion lacing the edges as tears started to brim the corners of your eyes at the overwhelming emotions that hit you after the apparent shock that rendered you frozen.

“You’re alright,” he told you; as he swept his thumb over your cheek, a tear fell, bringing your head to his chest as his arms wrapped around you, gripping his waist in distress. Shushing you, he let you lean against him for a while as you sobbed, terrified of what had just transpired and what he had done.

You could still see the emotionless eyes staring back at you in your mind, the thought of them still lying in the next room shooting pangs of anxiety through you. Just like that, he had fallen to the floor, and through your tears, you started to feel the confusion fill you and the shock at what Simon had done.

He had killed a man. Also, he was dressed like a madman, wearing a mask and a vest, with a gun strapped into his jeans. He had been prepared to kill, and that thought hit you like a train as you felt your tears freeze, the arms around you caging you in until you started to push on his chest frantically, begging him to step away.

“What did you do!?” Distressed, you hit Simon’s chest in protest, feeling claustrophobic at having him standing so close after what he had just done. He didn’t budge, though, grabbing your arms tightly as he bent down to look you in the eyes.

“Stop that.” Sternly, he tried to get you to stop moving, but you didn’t listen. Still, uneasiness lingering in your thoughts.

“You killed him!” He hushed you with a dangerous look in his eyes, pulling your hands to your back so he could grip your wrists with one hand, stepping closer so he was pushed against you with the other hand gripping your chin forcefully.

“Listen!” He hissed loudly, making you stop your trashing when he did. “I need to get you out of here, got it?” You only stared at him frightfully as he spoke. “You need to stay quiet and keep close to me. Can you do that?”

When Simon didn’t get an answer, he closed his eyes for a second before opening them again, the fabric of his glove pulling your wild hair behind your ear.

“If you don’t do as I say, you’ll face the same fate as the man in your bedroom, understand?” You nodded slowly, and as he released your wrists in caution, he gave you a nod back when he realized you were listening to him.

“No matter what, you stay behind me. Got it?” His voice grew monotone as he took hasty strides towards your window, checking the empty street outside your apartment for a second before lowering the blinds. The kitchen grew shrouded in darkness, only the moon shining through the blinds. Taking a deep breath, you wiped your tears as you tried to gather yourself.

This wasn’t how you planned for your night to go. Just like any other Friday night, you were prepared to sleep the night away, not being witness to a murder, no less by your ex. He had been secretive through the years you spent together, and sure, you had made up various insane scenarios about his background. There had been crazier assumptions than Simon being a murderer, but that didn’t make the thought any easier.

Thinking about it made you shiver, wondering who he was beneath this facade he kept up and if this had been the case when you’d known him. Had he been hiding this from you all this time? You couldn’t help but feel betrayed, even if it was only you assuming. But then, he probably knew you would have one or two things to say about his, well, occupation.

Your first instinct was to keep your distance, but you realized you had no choice but to follow his lead if you wanted to escape this chaotic mess. Somewhere along your distressed mind and trembling hands that were a blend of his actions and being told you might have been killed tonight, his presence made the situation less grim, the usual safety he carried around him soothing your stress.

It wasn’t unusual, for he had always prioritized your safety–almost bordering on possessive. It had been a significant problem for you, seeing as it reminded you of your parents, whom you left when you turned 18, not wanting to be under that kind of supervision anymore. Countless memories of gruesome fights flashed before you, remembering the mood swings that turned Simon into a completely different person, words chilling and inexcusable action plenty.

Although many times horrible, his eyes had always been set straight on you, and despite them being sharp and calculated, you could almost feel the warmth radiate from them when they fell upon you. A hand on the small of your back, a large frame shielding you from others’ curious eyes and his sight, ever-so-watchful on you.

He was a man of actions, not words, and always picked you up when needed, walked you home, and even stayed in your apartment every chance possible, deeming it wasn’t a safe neighborhood. You had Simon to thank for the reinforced locks on your doors and windows, as well as the taser and pepper spray still in your purse to this day.

Cautiously, you trailed behind him as you moved through the hallway, the light above you flickering as you felt his hand planting itself on the small of your back as he reached around you. Pressing you closer to him, he took measured steps that echoed through the walls, not a single sound from the apartments surrounding you.

There was obviously something he wasn’t telling you, and there were so many questions you wanted to ask. Who was that man creeping through your apartment, and why, for all reasons, did Simon manage to be there at the right time? It felt too surreal to hold legitimacy, but somehow, you were thankful he was.

Simon’s gaze, once penetrating, had been soft when it met your wide ones a few minutes ago. It had always been rare to find him vulnerable, rarely getting a glimpse of the man behind the stoic eyes, but it reminded you of why you fell for him in the first place. The rare glimpses of love he showed were enough to fuel your own at the time, running on the tiny specks of affirmation that he might, in fact, love you like you did him.

But there was a twinge of something else, a draft of loneliness clouding them that you had never seen before. It shot a pang of sadness through you, although unwillingly, you couldn’t help but wonder if he had someone else to lean on when you left him, or had you been the only one?

Blinking the reminiscent thoughts away, you refused to direct your thoughts toward the pity that always laced your feelings regarding Simon. There hadn’t been anything you could do to help him anymore when you left him, and you had to put yourself first for once and realize that what you had was growing increasingly more destructive with time.

You were glad you cut it off before it got any worse, wondering many times how it would have panned out if you hadn’t left. And more so, he hadn’t given you a single reason to stay when you left, only gazing into the air like you weren’t there–not begging you to stay like you desperately wanted.

“Where are you taking me?” A worried curiosity started to take hold of you, and amidst your cautious eyes and careful steps down the stairway in the apartment building, the thought of who the now-dead man actually was and if there were more around swirled in your mind.

You only got a miffed head turn in response, glaring at you through the black paint as he raised a finger to his clothed lips. Getting his notion, you kept quiet behind him, sock-clad feet following his every step on the dirty, laminated floor. You didn’t see a single person on the way down, and it felt eerie despite it being in the middle of the night with everyone asleep.

As you descended on what you now realized was the entry floor, you suddenly felt yourself pulled roughly against the corner of a wall, face right before Simon’s chest. You heard voices coming from the opening of the building, sirens audible in the background as the sound of traffic lessened when someone closed the door–voices growing nearer by the second.

You gasped out loud at suddenly being trashed around, but when you saw the broad arms of Simon encase your head with his body pressed up against yours, you relaxed. Craning your head hastily to gaze up at him, you already found his eyes staring intensely at you, although faltering when he met yours in what you might have interpreted as shyness.

Your gaze flickered, unsure where to look now that he was so close to you. You opted to plant your eye on his chest, the folds and curves of the sweatshirt following his ample muscles that were hiding under the fabric, bulging when his m muscles flexed.

A deep, red blush grew on your cheeks, and you chastised yourself for being so obvious, wondering if he took notice. Redirecting your gawking, you tried looking towards the side but found his large arms blocking your view as he leaned down further to shield you from, well, you weren’t so sure.

After some time, you heard the hurried voices pass as the footsteps grew distant. As you looked up at Simon, relieved, you found him already stalking towards the entry door, grabbing your upper arm when you stumbled to drag you behind him.

It was freezing outside, the chilly air seeping into the thin cotton of your pajamas as you cringed when your feet stepped on the snowy sidewalk, now wholly wet. You didn’t have time to ponder it, though, being directed towards a black car poorly parked a few meters away, like the driver had been in a hurry.

The street was empty, aside from a few other cars littered around the streets, heavy with the snowfall that had been falling a few hours ago. It wasn’t a neighborhood with a good reputation, and often you read about the crime and dealings held in the dark alleyways and corners of the city. You didn’t have too many options, though, the already low pay from your nurse job being even lower since you just got out of school.

The seat underneath you was cold when Simon pushed you through the door, slamming it so hard that the sound echoed in the quiet street. Running quickly to the driver’s side, he wasted no time in starting the engine, tires screeching as he belted through the tightly built buildings into the highway.

His eyes were strained, staring firmly ahead, ignoring all laws of speeding when he drove faster–not that there were any other cars around. Confusion clouded your face as you stared at him staying taut against his seat, glancing worriedly in the rearview mirror every other second.

“What’s going on, Simon?” You asked him, voice audibly stressed, gripping the seat tightly and craning your head to look behind you. There was no answer, as expected, and it only managed to fuel your anxiety as you watched his jaw tighten under the taut mask caressing his jawline. It didn’t deter you from continuing to demand an answer to why you were in this chaotic mess in the first place and what his part was in it.

The engine’s rhythmic hymn provided a backdrop to your growing unease, prodding him to speak. “Simon!” You pleaded, but he remained silent, navigating the empty streets with a determination that intrigued and frightened you–the unanswered question hanging heavy in the air, thick and stifling.

Simon’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, and you were shot with a sharp, almost challenging look. “There’s people after you,” he snapped, voice cutting through the air. “But I can’t lay it all out for you now, so just do as I say.”

“What?!” You gripped the seat to turn around, seeing the road behind you devoid of any other cars. “You can’t be serious!”

His gaze, shielded and focused, hid the more profound truth–that the dangerous shadows tailing you were a consequence of his own actions, a perilous side of his life that had unexpectedly spilled into yours when he basked in the euphoria of being loved by you. The bonds you once shared had been like an anchor but now grew into a chain, its links forged in the crucible of his regrets.

You were left staring ahead while damning his stubbornness to not speak through the rest of the ride. The long way allowed you to think about the last hour and how absurd it was, especially seeing Simon again, which you had thought would never be the case some time ago.

Somewhere, deep in the crooks and nooks of your heart, it soared at seeing him again, prodding heavily at the memories you kept at bay, memories that hurt too much to consider many times. You examined his body that too many others bulged in pride and confidence, but to you, hunching slightly in exhaustion, fingers flexing nervously against the wheel.

He had grown much taller and broader since you last saw him, with an air of maturity surrounding him that you hadn’t noticed before. Admittedly, you were both grown adults now, more so since he was older than you, and it felt quite different to be near him. You were unsure if you had romanticized the few good parts of your relationship that weren’t shrouded in misunderstandings and miscommunication or if you actually missed the first and only man you had ever loved.

The air in the vehicle grew tight as time passed, but at least it was warm as he had put the heat on blast when taking notice of your shivering frame. The strain of emotions from the moments leading up to now seemed to get a hold of you, and in a tired haze, you felt your lids droop heavily as you tried to keep your focus on the road.

After some time, though, your head fell heavily against the door, neck craning uncomfortably as your body succumbed to the heavy load of the day. It felt like seconds had passed when you woke up from your deep slumber, head fitted into warm sheets covering your body in heaps as small orange lights shone through the blinds.

As you blinked slightly, you still felt the heaviness of sleep hanging over you, bare feet rubbing against the bedding as you snuggled closer into the warmth and familiar scent that surrounded you, once more falling into a dreamless slumber without wondering where the hard, plastic side of the door against your cheek went.

It wasn’t until the evening sun settled high in the sky that you awoke again, this time wide awake. Only, it wasn’t your bed; instead, dark, blue sheets covered your frame, shielding you against the coldness of the apartment–only now noticing a black jacket twice the size of your body wrapped around you.

–

Slightly dazy and confused, you rubbed your eyes that complained at having to remain open, sitting up straight. So, last night hadn’t been a dream? Smiling lightly, you realized your night had been much more action-filled than your colleagues if that counted for something.

“Hello?” Your voice broke through the silence, quiet and cautious, yet sure Simon had to be nearby. When the silence stretched on, you cast the blanket aside to recognize the familiar chill wound around your legs that weren’t shielded by the jacket.

Grimacing, you pulled the sides of the jacket closer to you, wondering if the heat was off. There was no mistake that it wasn’t yours, the wooden floor under your feet creaking audibly as you stepped over some planks that were missing, observing the small cracks that stretched on the walls and bedroom door that had been wholly wrung off its hinges, now leaning against the wall.

Walking into the small hallway, you stepped over the various objects loitering the floor, bending down to examine what appeared to be some old paperwork among the dirty shirts that couldn’t have been cleaned for a while.

Scrunching your nose, you grabbed the fabric to put it on the old plastic chair that missed one leg, wondering where you had ended up. You heard the slight thud of something falling towards the floor as you did. Gazing down in confusion, the appearance of a small portrait caught your eyes, not having been there a second ago.

Raising your brows, you bent down again, picking up the shiny paper as you observed the familiar smiling face. You remembered the day vividly, the memory making the corners of your mouth chirp up lightly as it flashed before your eyes.

You had rarely gone out with Simon, being told by him that it was too dangerous for you to be seen with him. Despite your disagreement about it, you often spend long days in bed, the smell of homemade breakfast wafting under your nose and the feeling of starved hands moving desperately, heatedly, now filling your mind.

You were buried in your bed sheets; face blushed with hair spreading wildly around you like a halo as you gave Simon a toothy smile, begging him not to take the picture through endless giggles as his hand tickled you playfully. He had just made love to you, tender in his own way, and told you he wanted to show you how beautiful you looked to him at that moment.

You placed the marred picture back into the heavy combat jacket you had laid on the chair just now, curious of the torn edges and suspiciously red substance covering it in some places. Had he kept that picture all these years?

“Simon?” Walking further into the apartment, you grew worried, wondering where Simon was. That’s when you heard the low rumble of his voice, talking in a hushed manner.

Tiptoeing faster, you caught sight of his large frame leaning against the kitchen sink, gazing at you monotonously when you entered as his mouth worded undecipherable words before ending the call, pulling the phone back into his front pocket.

As you placed the puzzle pieces together, you realized you were in his apartment. That explains it, you thought to yourself as your gaze wandered around the room, taking in the dire state of it. You couldn’t help but be surprised, never imagining that Simon lived in such a pigsty. It wasn’t that it was untidy; it was more like someone hadn’t been here for ages and ignored the dire need for renovations, looking like it would fall apart at any moment.

Your wide-open eyes met his calculating ones, and as you opened your mouth to speak, he cleared his throat before you could. “Sleep well?” He raised his brow as the question hung in the air, eyes caressing your form as he took you in.

“I, uh…” you trailed off, scrunching your forehead as you tried to find the right words, completely and utterly overwhelmed at where you found yourself. “Yeah, I think so.”

You got a nod back, still staring intensely into each other’s eyes as you wondered where to start the questions that burned in your mind. “You,” you stuttered. “You’re here.” Your fumbled words grew into more of a statement than a question, confusion lacing your expression.

Simon only gave you a look in response, and had you been looking close enough, you would see the corners of his mouth chirp up slightly, unwillingly, of course.

“What are you doing here?” you blurted out. “No, what am I doing here?” Shaking your head to clear it, you dragged a hand through your wildly tousled hair before trying again, glancing at him in irritation. “What’s going on?”

He straightened up from his leaning position but didn’t step closer, still rendering you shying slightly away from his intimidating posture as he towered over you, fingers gripping the fabric of his jacket slightly–nervously fidgeting your feet on the cold planks.

He nodded towards one of the old chairs surrounding a smaller table, beckoning you to sit down. Cautiously, you shuffled into the small kitchen, sitting tentatively on the chair as you hoped it wouldn’t break under your weight. Simon, though, stayed in his place, watching you indescribably before leaning his hands on the end of the table.

He glanced sideways like he was giving something a heavy thought before directing his gaze toward you again. “You’re in trouble,” he said. “The man I killed yesterday, he had been sent out to kill you.”

You froze in your seat as you felt shivers of utter fear running over your back as your heart began to race, its erratic beats echoing in your ears. The silence enveloped the room was broken by the ominous sounds of your breath, each inhaling a reluctant acknowledgment of the palpable reality you had dreaded.

Kill you? Why in the world would someone want to kill you? The fear grew into a hand that tightened its grip around your chest, making it harder for you to draw breath. Noticing your struggle, Simon’s hand flexed slightly as if he wanted to reach you amidst the panic but decided against it. Instead, he draped the mask he had been wearing over his head, revealing the piercing gaze accompanied by the blonde tufts of hair, messy from wearing the balaclava as the remains of sweat wetted the roots of his hair.

“Hey, it’s alright. He won’t get the chance now.” You weren’t sure if his words had been meant to provide you with comfort, but seeing him without his mask made you feel slightly safer.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” You only got a grunt in response as he straightened up, turning away from you to look out the window. “Who was he?” You asked, trying to crane your neck to get more glimpses of his face that he had shielded from you until now.

There was something different about them, but you couldn’t pinpoint what it was. They seemed tired, though; the bags underneath them were hard not to notice, heavy and swollen as the whites of his eyes were shielded under a light redness.

“Kessler.” He let on, words short. Noticing your silence, he sighed. “Victor Kessler”

“But why was he in my apartment?”

Rubbing his eyes, you saw the muscles tense in irritation. “He did… something he shouldn’t, so he got expelled from the task force,” he said. “We’ve been keeping a close eye on him every since, but revenge isn’t a fool's game–not for him, it seems.” He felt your gaze on him, sighing again when he realized you weren’t satisfied by the answer.

“Look, I don’t know. Revenge maybe? He was going to use you to get to me; knowing you being dead would give him the reaction he wanted. Either way, you don’t have to worry about him now.”

“Why would…” As his words sunk in after you started to speak, you stuttered, caught off guard. “Why would he use me of all people?” To say you were baffled was an understatement. What you had with Simon was a story from years ago, a thing of the past, which meant there was no reason for you to be the target of their malice.

You felt his eyes on you, but as you looked back, they returned to gaze out into the dark street lightened by the snow and the flickering streetlamp. There were many things you didn’t know of, many things he hadn’t told you–mostly because of secrecy and his stubbornness, but also from the humiliation he would face if he did.

He never thought about how strange it would be for you to wake up and suddenly see him in your apartment after all these years, but Simon didn’t think as he belted towards your building complex in sheer panic when he got the notion just in time.

Without your knowledge, he had been watching you ever since you decided to leave, dead set on never letting you out of his sight. It wasn’t for some sick, deluded reason as many may think, but more of a worry about how he had involved you into his life that he knew couldn’t be escaped, how your safety was compromised when he was too weak to leave.

“It doesn’t matter.” His response was short and conceit, brushing off your inquiries. You pondered over his words that fell reluctantly from his mouth, growing dizzy from all the questions that surged within you at the information.

“You’re a soldier?” He smiled slightly at your conversation change, unbeknownst to you, as his back faced your questioning glances. “Special force operator.”

“Oh,” you mouthed silently, like his words resonated with you. The Simon you had known for most of your life was a soldier? The thought was strange, but it connected some dots for you and the mystery that had always followed him. Special force operator?

“What’s that?”

“We handle things regular troops can’t touch, take missions that others don’t dare.”

“What, like superheroes?” You managed to get something that was supposed to be like a laugh but intertwined with a scoff.

“No, it’s not about playing superhero, love. It’s about being the one who gets things done when the stakes are their highest.” He felt your gaze burning on his back, closing his eyes as the word fell out against his will, like a habit.

He had sometimes called you that when you were together, the endearing term slipping out occasionally. You chastised yourself when you felt the familiar yet strange fluttering in your stomach when hearing it leave, cautiously raising from the chair like Simon was a provoked animal, even though he remained utterly still where he stood, not minding you.

You glanced shyly as you approached him, still not used to being in his presence after such a long time. “So, that’s why you always were so secretive, huh?” The fabric of your jackets touched slightly, the feeling making him glance down at you in a concealed startle at suddenly having you so close. He looked away as you glanced up at him, refusing to let him get away with a grunt as an answer this time.

“You could’ve gotten hurt if I didn’t.” He looked indecisive when your cold fingers lightly placed their way on his hand that rested on the window sill, dark eyes avoiding yours. The skin under your palm was freezing now that his gloves had been removed, the scarred tissue you knew so well contrasting heavily against your unspoiled ones, pads rough and rugged.

Worming your nimble fingers through the backside of his hand, you observed the difference quietly, leaning your head on his big arm tentatively. The muscle tensed under you, his body growing taut under your touch as he had always done, mostly when he came back from what you, at the time, didn’t know the cause of, bruised and apprehensive.

You relaxed slightly when he didn’t pull away, glancing into the street silently. You should still have been terrified to the bone, but safety had always been a given when Simon was near you, and now you understood why you had felt that way. It made you somewhat sad to realize he didn’t speak to you about who he was, but somewhere, you understood why he hadn’t, why he still didn’t tell you the entirety of the situation.

What rendered you speechless was that he had been keeping track of you for this long since he was aware you were in danger. While you had been trying to forget him and move on with your life, he kept tabs on you, ensuring you would be safe.

“You should have told me.” He shook his head immediately, stepping away from your touch, shivering as he still felt the lingering drag of your fingers on his hand.

“I’m glad I didn’t.” You scrunched your brows at his response, stepping toward him but not getting any closer as he grabbed your upper arms in warning. “You’ve only seen me now because you’re in danger, alright? I’ll let you be once you’re safe. I’m unsure if Kessler has any other connections, but I have people who will look it up before you leave. I also had someone go through your apartment and make sure to remo-”

“I don’t want you to leave, Simon.” You interrupted him mid-sentence, words leaving you before you could think them through. It was dangerous for him to be here since he raised feelings inside you that had been buried a long time ago and were best kept locked away; you couldn’t help it, though, for the good moments you remembered were so devastatingly wonderful–making your now boring life pale in its memory.

He stilled at your words, a profound conflict littering his blue eyes as he gazed into your guilty ones. Raising your hand, you placed it on his cheek, running it tentatively over his skin. You thought he would pull away, so you were surprised to see his eyes fluttering shut at the contact, almost leaning into your touch.

The air surrounding you grew taut, with an underlying tension from the warmth spreading low in your belly. Swallowing nervously, you couldn’t help but step closer to him, bringing your arms around his waist to place your palms against the broadness of his back, breathing in his scent as you pushed your cheek flat against his chest.

You shouldn’t, but there was a pull you had no choice but to follow, wondering if it would feel the same as before. You felt his arms wound around you, your lips trembling at the familiar feeling you remembered always used to leave you breathless with devotion.

Simon pulled you tighter towards him, thinking of how he had remembered you feeling against him on the cold, unsure nights, only a gun strapped to his back and a picture of you in the pocket closest to his heart.

Sometimes, when he was sure he was taking his last breaths, he would grab the piece of printed paper, dust it off from the ashes of war as his blood-soaked fingers swiped over the picture, coloring you in a tint of red as he remembered how you had looked the day it was taken. It’s what kept him going when he didn't feel like pushing on.

He wasn’t afraid of dying, neither was he of going to hell, for every day that had passed without you in it, only a picture as proof, already brought him into the scorching fire as the devil himself tortured Simon by only being able to watch you from a distance, all because of his own choices.

It was his fault, of course, that he had chosen this path, but when he met you, it was too late. No longer could he hide from the life he had chosen, having to sacrifice you so he could keep you safe. If that wasn’t torture in itself, he wasn’t sure what was.

The warmth that enveloped him ran like fire up his veins, all sense of logic falling out the window as he basked in your touch, suddenly grabbing your waist and hoisting you around his, stalking in significant strides towards the counter. You buried your head in the crook of his neck, feeling the coarse stubble rubbing against your cheek as you wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling his hands wander their way under his jacket that covered you, finding sanction around your waist as he sighed at the feeling of your nose trailing up his neck.

Bending his head down towards yours, his lips desperately sought yours, all restraint gone as the chains holding him back fell towards the floor in a loud clank, pushing your body taut against his.

Fueled by his affection, you bask in the tenderness of his touch and desperation in his movements as you push all sense of logic to the back of your mind, longing to feel what you had always felt with Simon, the feelings that had been simmering in the back of your mind.

You shivered as his calloused hands crept under your shirt, caressing the soft skin that had remained untouched ever since he left, battled-bruised hands seeking sanction in the curves of your body that filled his wanton dreams, dreams that always depicted you.

“Simon.” you gasped in a quiet voice, hands running up to rest in the tufts of his hair, arching your back when his fingers traveled down to your backside, palms fitting wholly against you as he pushed you tighter toward his front with a quick drag.

A grunt left him when your legs tightened against him, feeling your crotch pressed against him, the euphoric feeling bordering on nostalgia. The room that remained as cold as it had been before wasn’t anything you pondered over when his hands unzipped your jacket, leaving it still wrapped around your arms, but the shirt of your pajamas was now visible.

“Tell me to stop.” His lips attached themselves to the crevice of your neck, bringing the supple flesh into his mouth as he groaned against you, fingers running their way up your shirt to lightly skim over the thin fabric covering your bare chest.

“Stop, Simon.” You said, voice monotone as you heeded his command needlessly, not paying attention to what you were saying as his thumb slowly caressed the side of your breast, begging him to touch you as your legs automatically widened to let him step further into your embrace.

He didn’t stop, though, not being able to restrain himself any longer as he saw how deliciously your nipple strained against your shirt, mouth-watering as they seemed to almost beg for him to wrap his lips around them. Doing just that, he heard the sound of your moan vibrating through the quiet room as you felt the unusual feeling of his tongue swiping over it through the fabric, gasping as you felt him grind his middle against yours slowly.

“Push me away. I mean it.” Weak hands found his shoulder pushing against the muscles that hid under the fabric of his jacket as he growled out the words, not budging him one bit as he continued his assault on your breast, covering the other with his palm as he crouched down slightly to make up for the height difference.

Grunting in frustration at his body not following his mind, he lifted you up once more after detaching his lips from you, carrying your heated body towards the manky, old bedroom. You unzipped his heavy winter jacket the short way you could, worming your hands around him like a snake, disapproving of the bulletproof vest strapped to him under the sweater. Instead, you grabbed his cheeks between your hands, placing your lips on his once more, feeling him pushing you up against the wall in the hallway.

Putting you down on your feet, he roughly removed the jacket from your arms, then gently helped you pull the fabric of the shirt to reveal your upper body, feeling his hands grab your bottom to carry you into the bedroom, carefully minding your head as he laid you down on the hard mattress, standing up to examine you as your chest heaved out its breath, gazing tenderly at Simon.

That did it, no doubt. The sight almost made his knees buckle; he grabbed ahold of the small wardrobe placed by the foot of the bed as he removed his jacket, lifting your back up slightly to put it behind you, your desperate lips finding their place on his neck as he bent down, stubborn legs wounding their way around his hips as you dragged him towards you like a siren.

He couldn’t help but follow, comfortably fitting his front against yours, the thin fabric of your pajama pants letting him feel you better as he strained against his jeans, the material stretched tight under his massive desire for you. Your breath hitched as he moved languidly, placing his forearm under your neck as you stared up at him through hazy eyes, a deep blush falling from your cheeks to your chest.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he swore into the otherwise quiet room at the sight. As your eyes met, you could see the sharp eyes crease as he scrunched his eyes tight, dragging his hand that wasn’t under your head down the curves of your sides, memorizing every crevice like this was the last time he could feel it.

The room grew shrouded in the released tension, now thick with a burning want as the large man hovering over you pushed your smaller frame against his ruined mattress, shame not having the chance to fill him yet from the state of the room he was devouring you in.

You paid no mind either, letting out a cry when you felt his hand creep down between your bodies, feeling the warmth of your crotch under his thick fingers as he parted two of them, dragging their way on the side of your lips, never really touching you where you mostly wanted him to.

“I can’t do this to you.” His voice was rough, blending a deep want and a heavy twinge of regret like he was doing something completely unlawful. You stroked his temple with your nimble fingers, wiping the sweat dripping down his forehead away, caressing the skin lovingly.

“Do what, Simon?” He didn’t give you an answer as you asked him breathlessly, but you knew what he meant, feeling like this was too hasty, too quick. But you couldn’t stay away from him, and all the hurt and uncertainty he had let you face entirely on your own, it felt too good to have him near you–for him to want you.

The slow drag of his crotch against yours growing more forceful, you were brought from your thoughts, breath hitching as the large imprint of him rubbed over the material of your pants, feeling every slide grow muted as a warm shiver traveled down your back, a sting of pleasure shooting sharply up your body all the way to your fingertips.

It was numbing, the way he chased after your lips while trying to pull himself away from you, arm pulling you closer yet head pulling away from you. The internal battle he faced was visible, but your warm and caressing hand lulled him closer to you, soothing the harsh thoughts that filled his mind, the worrying that stretched the lines deep on his face.

At the same time, he panted, dragging your trousers down your thighs, refusing to pull away from you, so when he realized there was no other way, you heard the fabric tear amidst the loud ringing in your eyes from excitement.

Your eyes shot open, but before you could speak, you felt Simon’s thumb push its way into your mouth, muting your sound of protest as he buried his head in your chest. Your hands threaded through his hair as you scratched the roots in pleasure when his other hands rubbed you over your underwear, wetness seeping through the material so his fingers could glide over you more easily.

It was mind-numbing, the sparks of pleasure you felt as his calloused fingers finally met skin, dragging slowly between your folds as your panties were pushed aside.

“Oh, god!” A strangled attempt at speaking left you, mouth agape as you arched up against him, feeling a thick finger slowly wind its way into the gummy walls, clenching down on the intrusion. The feeling left you quickly, though, and as a whine of disappointment left you, you felt his finger caress your clit in soft circles, making your hips move in motion with his hand.

Swallowing your noises, Simon’s tongue wormed its way into your welcoming mouth, lips massaging yours as he grabbed your cheek with one hand gently. Running your hands under the fabric of his sweater, you grabbed the vest underneath it in discontent, trying to show him you wanted it off, unable to do it yourself as his heavy weight rendered you moveless underneath him.

His eyes, now a swirling pool of black in the dark room, gazed dangerously into yours, grabbing the end of his sweater and pushing it over his head, refusing to detach from you. As the skin of his upper body was revealed, your hands ran over every piece of skin you could find to then push against the straps, the vest detaching from its hold, Simon throwing it beside the bed in a hurry, grabbing your thighs to push the plump flesh up beside you, gazing heatedly at your puffy lips that peaked through your panties, red and tender from his fingers.

Closing his eyes, he tried to gather his clouded brain, vision unfocused as he could only make out the blissful expression on your face. Wiping his forehead, he kissed the soft skin of your thighs, feeling them stay planted firmly where he pushed them as he let go.

His hands lowered to drag down the zip of his pants, his hardness straining painfully against the fabric. As the material loosened, a sigh of relief left him. Still, then pleasure so sharp ran through him when he felt your nimble hands slowly caress the bulge in his briefs, beckoning him to retake his place in the crevice of your neck, almost biting into your skin as your hand wormed its way into his briefs.

God had imprinted your every touch into his mind, only dragging them out when nights had turned too cold or lonely. Like some depraved animal, he had imagined your hands gliding over him in the confines of this bed when he was on leave, other times imagining your fingers wrapping their way around his shaft as he found to sleep in the corner of some building, teammates only meters away as he fell into a helpless dream of you and your soft touch.

To feel you touch him like that again must have been some type of depraved joke from the devil himself, finding pleasure in the torture of knowing he would never be able to feel this again. The slow drag of your fingers down the trail of hair that led to his crotch, slowly palming the scorching shaft that pulsed against your touch, the small leak of precum making the feeling all too much for Simon to contain himself.

“Fuckin’ hell, are you trying to kill me?” He panted out, grabbing your wrist when it became too much. Instead of a noise of disappointment, the beautiful sound of your laugh clung in his ears, and when he looked up, he found you giving him a toothy smile, a blissed-out expression covering your face.

“Oh, Simon,” you said, staring warmly at him as you took in the heaving of his chest as he planted his arms beside you, covering your whole frame with his large body. Looking down, you parted your legs even more, the anticipation being too much for you to handle, wishing he would dampen the warmth spreading in the low of your stomach.

Suddenly you felt his mouth against your begging wetness, tongue laying flat against your lips as he massaged and licked striped to your red clit, mumbling incoherent words against you that only vibrated euphorically against your sensitive parts.

As you trashed underneath him, his hands wound their way under your legs, pushing your hips down to the mattress as you felt his tongue worm its way into your tightly clenched whole to then once more tease your clit with his tongue, staring up at your face as the paint around his eyes dripped with the sweat down the folds of your legs, almost eating you whole as he lapped at you.

Hitting his head lightly, you begged for him to end his torture with pleading, tear-filled eyes from the overstimulation. You felt him everywhere as he buried his face nose-deep into your heat, hands burning every part of your skin that they caressed frantically, like starved for the feeling of you underneath them.

Pushing the ball of your palm into his bulging, scar-littered shoulder when he didn’t listen, you hit him once more when you regained more power, and he pushed himself hastily above you, almost manhandling you as he removed your panties off your legs and throwing them behind him.

“Come here,” he tells you, and it isn’t until he’s buried deep inside you that your facade breaks, tears gliding languidly down your cheeks in a quiet sob as he thrusts slow and deep, pushing down your thighs until they are burning from the stretch against the mattress–spread wide for only him. Simon hummed at the thought.

Hugging his head close to you, you can feel the warmth of his breath fanning over your neck as the sounds of him thrusting against you echo in the room, hefty and bulky, as you feel him bullying his way into you.

You knew this was it, and for that reason, you held him tighter, trying to imprint his touch into your head–wishing to prolong this moment so it would never stop, pleading with whoever would listen to make him stay. Your pleading only turned into mindless babbling as the force of his hips pushed you further up the bed, breasts bouncing with every motion.

Hearing the words stumble from you like he remembered they always did, he cooed at you, feeling your walls fluttering around his cock as he swore. “I know love, I know.” Breathlessly, he pushed himself up on his hands, grabbing the headboard as he continued to pound into you, watching you cry out with wet cheeks.

Closing his eyes in pain, he felt his heart cramp when what he was doing passed through his mind, knowing this wasn’t fair to you. But he couldn’t stop himself from having you, for you rendered him weak in the knees every time, not sure you knew of the power you held over him.

“Simon, please,” you begged with a trembling voice, staring into his dark eyes as his breath heaved with strain, begging him not to leave you again. He kept his gaze locked with yours, face contorting in agony when he realized your face would haunt him forever, damning him for his ways. He would stay away and leave you alone–he just needed to feel you for one last time, just once more.

To avoid the hurt that started to spread in his loins at the thought, he suddenly pulled you up by your forearms as he laid on his back, pulling you into his strong embrace as he splayed you over his chest, legs on either side of his waist.

A whine left you when he entered you once again, rutting up into you with strong legs planted firmly on the mattress, feeling you glide up his body with every thrust as your head buried its way into his neck. What left you now wasn’t even moans, mouth open wide in a noiseless scream as his hips slapped loudly against yours.

Grabbing the back of your hair, he pushed your head up so you started into his eyes, trying to tell you the three words he couldn’t speak. You gave no indication of noticing, eyes flickering in both pain and lust, arms on either side of his head as he kept pushing into you.

“Stay,” you managed to get out amidst his assault on you, gripping his shoulder tightly as the coil in your stomach started to tighten almost painfully. He remained quiet as he shook his head, bringing your face closer so he could press his lips against yours.

His chapped lips fitted like a puzzle piece against yours, and your hand lifted to caress the fading scars littering the skin on his face. He hit every sweet spot inside of you, pubic bone creating heavenly friction against your sensitive nub as it rubbed together when his movements grew faster. You found it hard to breathe as he swallowed your attempts, and with one hand on your waist and the other pushing your lips against his, you felt lightheaded as you moaned out against his mouth.

Starting to hit the mattress beside you in panic, he only pushed you tighter against his robot-like motions; the feeling was entirely overwhelming as the warmth that had begun spreading low in your stomach now traveled its way throughout your whole body. Your legs lay limp on the mattress, his muscular legs moving to shove you back on the mattress, now gripping the headboard again so he could push into you with more force.

When his hand found your clit, you saw white streaks of sharp light before your eyes, arching your back of the sheets as a noiseless scream left you, wet tears gathering in the corners of your eyes as you saw his eyes set intensely on you from above, your head shaking from side to side from the pleasure as you felt Simon piston in and out of you.

You didn’t want him to stop, knowing that when he did, you would never see him again. You were sure of it, felt it in how he held you and looked at you. So, when you felt the foil snap, you could only cry out as your ears started to ring, pulsating heavily around him as the cramps of your orgasm filled you with a scorching pleasure.

Every thrust of his prolongs your pleasure, still shooting through you as you fall backward, limp under Simon’s still forceful thrusts.

“That’s it, love.” Panting above you, he fell into your arms, rutting heavily against you as he wound his arms around your waist, finding strength in his muscular legs to keep his hips going, grunting audibly against your neck as you kept clenching around him. “Give it to me. Only me,” he mumbled against your wet skin, delirious from being in your embrace he so had missed.

“Only you, Simon. It will always,” you hiccuped. “Always be you.” The sobbing, blissed-out words coming from you were the final straw, his thrusts growing harder but slowing down as he bit into the skin of your neck, knuckles turning white from gripping your waist as his face contorted.

The pleasure kept roaming through him as he kept on moving inside you, prolonging the feeling as his cum rimmed around where his cock entered you, dribbling down you in heaps as it kept coming, stuffing you to the brim.

Spent, you feel the heavy weight of Simon relaxing against you, staying inside you as he tries to regain his breath–not wanting to part from you. A shaking hand found your trembling ones, intertwining them as he caressed the back of it with his thumb, reveling in how your hand caressed the skin of his back, shivers running down it as he basked in the afterglow of being one with you.

Your already heavy eyelids tried to keep open, refusing to let him slip out of your fingers, but your body had grown spent as it strained against the sleep wounding its way through you.

“Simon,” you mumbled, voice almost inaudible as he brought your hand to rest with his beside your head, humming at you, the vibrating of his chest lulling you closer to sleep. As it surrounded you forcefully, you could only let the last teardrop fall from your eyes, knowing he was seeping out of your grasp like dust.

–

The cold was seeping through you the moment you woke up, shivers wrecking through you as the bleak walls stared back at you–the blanket wrapped around you doing nothing to protect you from the chill. In a daze, you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes tiredly, trying to regain focus as you coddled the blanket closer to your body.

That’s when the horror spread through you, head trashing wildly as you gazed around you while taking in your surroundings. A familiar, worn-down apartment stared back at you, the night dark outside as you gasped, fearing being left alone in his eerie apartment.

“Simon!” You yelled out, voice trembling as you stepped onto the wooden planks of the floor, shielding yourself with the blanket as you bolted through the hallway into the kitchen, finding it empty as you trashed open the door to the bathroom.

Your heart picked up its pace, feeling like someone had shot you right through the chest when you realized you were by yourself–completely and utterly alone, and he had left you just like you knew he would.

“Simon!” You belted out once again, leaning towards the wall in distress as the cries grew soundless as the power of it traveled up your throat, feeling it constrict until the wails filled the empty space, sobs leaving you as you grabbed your heart in agony.

By some sort of hope, you had wished he would stay even though you knew it was inevitable, but as you took notice, that wasn’t the case. Once again, the warmth of his hands had left you, forcing you to come to terms with living the bleak years of your life without him in your life, disappearing–never to return to your embrace again.

As you stood there, sobbing with cheeks red with tears, you damned yourself for loving him in the first place, for letting him step into your life once more when you were finally moving forward with your life. Unable to take the pain, you slide down the wall, glancing up at the walls as the ghost of him starts to loom over you, his shadow growing more fierce–more apparent–as you cover your head, unwilling to face reality any longer.

[riewritten]

𝐎𝐈𝐋 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒 · CHAPTER FOUR · AO3

˚ · .─ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: YOU, a college student in Frankfurt, start receiving emails that embarked the dim of normalcy you worked so hard to build on your own; starting from a message claiming you as the light amidst the hell of Kinderheim, who came just in time to bring a paradise of doomsday and grime, something that pleased the monster inside him. Initially, you thought of reporting the email as spam until another ding came: the monster, so pleased and full, is aiming to return the favor—something to flesh out the paradise you had granted him back at Kinderheim.

˚ · .─ 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎: JOHAN/Fem!reader | 5.8k words

˚ · .─ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: explicit language, canon-typical violence, stalking, manipulation, obsessive tendencies, paranoia, abduction, threats of sexual assault, among many things that might arise.

SYNOPSIS: The next events that transpired in your subconscious after that dinner were neither a hyperbole of your repressed childhood grievances nor a personification of your deeply rooted fears. It is an actual recollection, a flashback surging almost all at once, once forgotten but surfaced by a trigger you are to unveil at this very moment.

Grimmer had kept your father alive in his thoughts; too alive, perhaps, that he’s acting the same way your father would had he been made aware of your position as of the moment. 

And just like your father did, Johan piqued his curiosity as well, almost the same way even. The only stark difference is that your father was fascinated with Johan as a tool; Grimmer, on the other hand, deems him in utter pity.

And fear.

Grimmer is running, sweat dripping from his head, to his polo, and to the edges of his sleeve. Panting and panting, reaching his hand for someone who could help you the way you deserve. Oh, you poor, poor girl, Grimmer whispers to himself as he runs while clutching the letter you've given him dear in his hands. His musings are cut off when he sees Tenma, the very person he could ask for help. He met Tenma in Prague, and with numerous talks he came to know that Tenma has a similar agenda in mind: Kinderheim 511. Albeit, with different people to find. Grimmer told him of his upbringing, about your father, and it doesn't take long for Tenma to immediately rearrange his priorities. Because apparently, this cowardly bastard of a father who led such a young boy into burning Kinderheim, had left a daughter behind.

—that very daughter being the perilous boy's dearest friend. It doesn’t take much for them to finally conclude; you are in danger.

“I'm so sorry, I was too late. Lunge and I weren't able to get her.” Grimmer hands over the letter you had delivered via mail.

Tenma takes his time reading it, slowly but surely his hold on the thin paper tightens ‘til it almost crumples.  

“We have to find her. We could still find her.” He frantically flips the paper to see the letter's delivery date. “Yesterday, huh? Then that means she's still not far away from here, right?! We should go to the post office and—” It is not until the two realize they're still in public, a sidewalk no less, that they halt from talking further.

They let the grim silence pave the way for now, at least until they could have a private space with Inspector Lunge. While waiting for their turn to pass the road, Grimmer and Tenma overhear a couple of old people talking.

“News has it that Germany has been announced to be undergoing an economic crisis.”

“And the rampant cases of money laundering still aren't solved,” the other man huffs his cigarette. “Oh man, the future restaurant I've been planning through all my retirement money is now hopeless. How can an old man like me find a job? My youngest child is still in college, for god's sake.”

“My wife's sick. Almost every hospital we went to had their rates higher than before. At this point we might as well consider her dead.”

The latter pats his back and sighs, “I'm so sorry about that, pal.”

Not long after, the old man whose wife is sick starts crying. His sobs are in sync with the pedestrian stop light turning green. The two old men cross the pedestrian holding onto each other, with Grimmer and Tenma silently watching upon them.

It doesn't take long for Tenma to start again, “Many believed that this is because of the attempted assassination of Hans Schuwald, the infamous ‘Vampire of Bayern’ known to be holding the European economy under his fingers.”

“Ah, is that so?” Grimmer chuckles, “I'm sorry, I didn't know much about it. You brought me here not long ago.”

“Exactly, the attempted assassination happened half a year ago, and the money laundering schemes have been ongoing for five years or so. It's not surprising that Germany is like this right now, whether Schuwald's assassination took place or not.”

“The assassination attempt, was the perpetrator caught?”

“No,” Tenma grimly replies, “but I know exactly who had done it.”

With Tenma's face, it doesn't take Grimmer's astuteness to figure out the answer. “Are you saying it's Johan as well…?” Tenma could only nod. “But he's so young! What're you saying next, that Johan is the person behind the large-scale money laundering scheme as well? Come on!”

“You've been having doubts until now, aren't you?” Tenma’s brows furrowed. “I told you, the only way to ensure the safety of this girl is by not having mercy on the monster who endangers her!”

Grimmer seems to be surprised himself. Was that him speaking earlier, or was it a projection of your father's emotions? “I was just asking, Tenma.”

“I know because I was there! At Schuwald's assassination attempt!” he snaps. 

Grimmer is surprised to see the usually stoic doctor like that. “I was holding my sniper, trembling but nonetheless readying myself to shoot, and Johan looked up at me with a smirk as if I was exactly in the place he wanted me to be! Only then did I realize that I am once again getting cornered to take the blame of killing Schuwald, if I weren't successful in saving him from that mess!”

Grimmer's rationale snaps back with Tenma's remark. A while ago it was too clouded and riddled by both worry in your situation and pity over the tragic predicament subjected upon you and Johan—basically what your father would've felt had he been the one hearing this. At least Tenma's voice woke him up; your father is finally not too alive in his thoughts anymore. The abomination Tenma is talking about is none but Kinderheim 511's pride. Their subjects, although generally programmed to be perfect soldiers, have their own characterization—a role if one might say—that if collated together, would fit the archetype of a great army. And now, Grimmer is slowly realizing that Johan was specifically crafted to be the commander, the leader. It doesn't make it better that Kinderheim is the very place that taught him to do so. 

“And do you want to know more about how dangerous Johan could be? Even to those people he would've been connected with emotionally?” 

Grimmer wants Tenma to expound, but at the same time his own worry for your situation stops him in cold sweat.

The urge to interrupt this blonde agent before he’s even done talking is as overwhelming as your memories. Indeed, he had excused himself last night quite coldly… but he had also suddenly showed up, unannounced, at 5:00 am. It was him you had last seen yesterday, and it's him to interrupt the vivid dream. As disoriented as you are, you're clearly not in the mood to accommodate an unexpected visitor.

You want to see Anna. You genuinely need to see Anna. 

How nice it'd feel to have her gentle hands brushing your hair; the lovely croons of her voice as she lures you to sleep; going to school together and meeting halfway at dismissal; stopping by at some market for groceries or perhaps drinking coffee together; the domestic bliss of her preparing your breakfast and you washing the dishes; everything.

Oh dear god, if he’s even listening, how you badly wish to see Anna again. 

When was the last time you even prayed this hard?

“Dear god, if I grow as big as Daddy and his workmates, would I finally be of use? Would I finally be able to help my dearest Johan?” Your prayers day and night were particularly stronger this moment with Johan clinging for dear life.

“T-thats why… I am always so scared whenever y-you come here…”

Tears blurred your vision further, “Is it because you're scared the monster would take me away?” Johan's tiny face flinched as though he felt the terror in that hypothetical setting, “Flower fields suit you more…”

“No, I don’t! I am a bad useless girl who couldn't even help you! Bad girls don't deserve a good life!”

“Y-you have to get away from here,” your little friend, for the first time in your sight, begged and called your name, “run away and never look back… Don't let the monster get you…”

“I will never leave you alone. You and the person you mustn't forget are still yet to meet, no? And I have to stay here so you won't forget her, right?!” Johan still wasn't coming back to you, so you tried uttering more—perhaps futile and ideal—reasons to stay. “T-then we will defeat the monsters! And I’ll stay beside you even after you reunite with the one you mustn't forget!”

“That… doesn't matter…” This time, Johan's face hollowed. “It wouldn't matter anyway… These monsters are making me forget Anna… and if you go, they will make me forget you too…” the thought of it drained the blood in your face. “But then again, you see… wouldn't that be nice? Nothing else would matter by then. The weight of your existence would no more burden me. The weight of Anna's existence wouldn't matter anymore. After all, death is the only constant thing… it's way more powerful than memories… than loved ones… than flowers when prairies get burnt by fires…”

“Still here, pretty?”

The nickname the agent suddenly drops is so off-putting you're immediately cut off your musings. Perhaps you're flustered—irked, rather—because much to your uncomfortability, this blonde agent has been more interactive and pressing after the events last night—it's as though he suddenly wants to be close with you. In such instances, you could even mistake his voice as Anna's, but instead of being endeared it just repulses you. And speaking of Anna, did she know of your identity this whole time? It couldn't be a coincidence, could it? The person your childhood friend Johan mustn't forget was named Anna!

“Were you able to catch on what I was saying? Would you mind repeating it for me?” 

Perhaps the off-putting nickname served its purpose, though. Your irk subsides and you end up averting your gaze away in guilt, “S-sorry. I was spacing out.”

“Why so?”

“Can't you just continue?”

“Maybe after you tell me why you were spacing out?” the blonde agent quips. “It is my job to ensure the welfare of my clients.”

“Which you haven't done before, and I honestly prefer that. Didn't you tell me we should be wary of being close to each other?”

The agent seems unfazed with you addressing the elephant in the room. His gaze is filled with mirth, even. “Were you not the one who broke the rule first?” He stands up from his chair, walks towards you, and then crouches down until his face is of the same level as yours. His smile is as serene as ever, but a tinge of it bothered you. “When you asked me to eat dinner with you last night, wasn't that crossing a boundary we had established when we first met?”

“But you agreed so. The usual agent I know would decline to safely keep that boundary. You sound like I'm the only one at fault here.”

His smile widens quite a bit, “Do you feel like I'm blaming you?”

“Yes.”

No, you don't feel like he's blaming you; his knowing smile made you realize he's aware of it, too. It was rather you being guilty of showing him that specific vulnerability. You struggle keeping eye contact with him, yet you persist nonetheless—or so you try.

“My apologies, then. It's just that your case started piquing my interest last night,” he replies, albeit in defeat, after being silent for a while.

“I said something while sleeping, didn't I?”

“I don't know. You tell me.”

Oh god. What a headache. “Can we pretend last night never happened?”

“Would that include our deal?”

“Deal…?” 

“I’ll tell you my name if you manage to finish the last step today, no?” you could almost see him pout—so unlikely of his character—until you realize that it's just him being sarcastic. “Has your curiosity subsided that quickly? How unfortunate. It made me quite happy.”

The sarcasm was successful in flustering you. Nonetheless you remain composed, “Why?”

“Because my client is interested in me the same way I am with her.” 

You are silenced, then. Unable to hold it further. Eyes all over the place except his face. What a shift in the mood. As much as you're trying to keep the deal of not exceeding boundaries and shoo this visitor away, your mind is seeking comfort from someone, desperately so. Neither Anna nor Frieda's here and the only person you're with as of late is this agent. The longer it takes, the more you get fidgety at the thought of not knowing more about him. How despicable, you thought to yourself. When you say you need comfort, what exactly do you need? A fleeting crush? A physical intimacy of some sort that could fool you into thinking you're not really alone? Or do you just want to have one constant in your fleeting existence? Would a dependent, toxic attachment—projected by the desire to detach coinciding with your desperation to stay—help you? And now, tragically so, with your memories flashing intrusively, you could finally—hold on, wait.

This particular agent, one way or another, must be related to Anna. What other reason must be there for having almost identical faces?

Oh no.

“Johan! Stay with me, Johan!” you cried loudly, raw, in utter pain not for you but for the person you hold dearest. Your small stature was holding his limping one in your arms. Suddenly the room these damned-in-the-head Kinderheim supervisors put you two seemed wider—an abyss, if one might say. The large mirror, which they said they would be watching you two, swirled in your vision alongside your tears.

“Whenever you come here, I—” he cut himself off with a shaggy exhale, “—I always get scared whenever you come here.” he weakly whispered. Why? You couldn't even ask it out loud. Was the feeling not mutual? Did he actually disdain you?

“B-because… so many monsters lurk around, and—hah—”

“Monsters?” 

He nodded, then his eyes strayed away from you. It went somewhere—someplace beyond the confines of this terrifying room, a place no one but him could see. “My other half was taken by a monster… the monster brought her to the west. W-we managed to escape… but the monster…” he shuddered as if this is the first time he had registered how scary it all was—much that it confused you because he sounded like it happened long, long ago, “...the monster found us again. They separated us again. They brought me to the East.”

And your fickle little mind didn't understand any of it. You realized you couldn't actually do anything about it. This is something adults could manage. One thing about sessions with Daddy's workmates is the reiteration of how useless you are because you're a kid, of how utterly futile it is to be hopeful in this huge, huge world because you are nothing but a speck of dust—a stupid one at that—because you have nothing but your tiny, little, naivety.

Oh no.

“I—uh… I wouldn't be able to accomplish it today. Forget the deal we had last night. W-we could pretend it never happened,” you feign exhaustion, trying your hardest not to stammer and collapse in front of him. You are realizing a lot of things all at once. “Sorry for crossing the boundaries we have talked about. Let me make up for it.”

“Is that what you really want?”

“I wouldn't suggest it otherwise.”

“You see, people often say the opposite of what they want.”

“What do you mean by that—” you almost called him Johan again. You reluctantly add after gulping, “—sir?”

“You're having doubts about your plan, aren't you?”

You raise your senses up, adrenaline surging deep within as if you're suddenly in danger. “N-no! I told you I was just procrastinating—”

“You just realized the name Johan isn't something you disdain.”

“What does that have to do with this?!”

“It does a lot, you see,” the agent adds. “You say you want to run away from the monster and yet you're talking about how badly you want to be with him in your sleep.”

“I—” the color in your lips dry cold, “I said that?”

“Indeed,” the agent nods as he steps closer; you stand up from your chair and step back, “while I was ushering you to the couch, you said something to that effect.”

At this point, you try to utter anything—anything that would stop you from breaking down and crying, “A-and you know about it? You know something about Johan?”

The question answered itself upon realizing; seeing the younger version of Anna in your dreams, her male version at that, wasn't because she was the amalgamation of comfort and softness amidst all these terror happening inside your head. You've always been so intrigued—no, you were not intrigued, you were just trying to put it that way. You've always felt something uncanny was up with Anna, let alone with this agent; you just deliberately ignored it thinking they mean well not only because Anna is someone you favored immediately, but also because you never trusted yourself. All this time, the lessons Daddy and his workmates are grilled in your head even if you're still yet to remember them.

Your eyes widened, hands started to tremble, and eventually the terror got too bad you couldn't even support Johan's little weight anymore. Still, Johan had something left to say. “But, before I die… could y-you—could you please—” the fresh injection wound on his forearm throbbed in pain, and thus he hissed first before continuing, “—please call me by my name.”

“Johan,” you cried. “Your name is Johan!”

“My name…” your little friend's eyes were now hollow, as if he's reliving a memory only he knew. You weren’t even sure if he could still see you, let alone if he knew where he was, and if you could even bring him back. “Call me by my name.” You did what you could, then—the measly, trivial, nonsensical things you could. “Johan.”

“My name—”

“Johan!”

“J-Johan…?”

You feel his hands, soft as ever, cup your cheeks and softly says, “Oh dear… look at that face.” You slowly turn your gaze to his eyes and it is, indeed, the last needed confirmation. 

Hollow. Empty. In a place only he could see. 

“Seems like you finally remember me now, huh?”

Two days before Johan had shown you the fireworks up close;

Daddy saw you crying in your room after dinner while hugging the storybook Johan had liked the most—the one with a paper mache of matchsticks and flames as its cover. Aside from the grief, your mind was also occupied with the horrific flashbacks of your best friend full of freshly inflicted injection shots, utterly lethargic, unusually talkative, and debilitated with sorrow for the first time since you two had met each other. That night, Daddy cradled you to sleep; he reminded you of the things you could do for your dearest friend which includes his proposition: help Johan show you the fireworks up close. Daddy said it was Johan's utmost wish.

You didn't even know if it was true, but with your grief-riddled mind and desperation to be with Johan again and give him the things he truly deserves, you agreed.

“I went to Kinderheim today. Would you like to know what happened after Johan and you were separated?”

“What did he say? Please! Please tell me!”

“He begged them. He begged them to not let him forget Anna. Then, he begged to see you after. Even if he were to die, he would like to see you again.”

Oh, how it filled you with bittersweet warmth. Johan just said that it wouldn't matter anymore. He sounded so defeated, so tired, so ready and willing to die, and yet he still managed to beg them thereafter. At the same time, you were filled with anger with the monsters in Kinderheim, with the monsters who took him away from the one he mustn't forget. You vehemently hoped Johan could be strong enough at least until you see each other again. And maybe, just maybe, you two would be able to defeat the monster tormenting him along the way.

More than that, you felt Daddy to be a bit more likable than usual. Was it because he pitied his useless little child? It felt foreign but nonetheless warm. You wondered why your father had never introduced you to such pleasant feelings.

Nevermind, not like you have the capacity to think about it anyway. The important thing is not only did you finally know the name of the person Johan mustn't forget (Anna is such a wonderful name!) but you also are part of his wishes. How warm. How utterly warm it is to be loved. Daddy tucked you in bed and, instead of coldly leaving you as per usual, he read you the storybook you were clinging to for dear life—the one with a paper mache of matchsticks and flames as its cover.

When you wake up, your hands are tied together on your back. You're seated on the floor, legs sore, and have nowhere else to lean on besides the cold white wall.

The last thing you remembered was Johan's remark, ‘Oh look at that face. Seems like you finally remember me now,’ then, you fainted at the overwhelming dread. A buff man squats down to your level and reaches his hand for a shake. He introduces himself as Roberto. A man behind him, however, heaves a laugh, “You bastard. How could she shake your hand when you tied her up like that!” 

Roberto chuckles while scratching his head. “My bad, my bad. I’m jus’ joking, jus’ tryin' to lighten up the room.”

Another man squats to your level, “How about you? What's your name?” You keep your head down the floor, ignoring the rapid heartbeat ringing in your ears out of trepidation. You've got the urge to spit at them out of spite, but they're holding guns. There are approximately six men inside this room that could overpower you if need be. 

Due to your lack of an answer, the man then tries to touch your cheek only for Roberto to slap it away. “He said you're not allowed to do that, boy.”

“But doesn't it thrill you more to touch a girl when it's forbidden? Look at how pliant she is. Look at her gaze down like that. She surely knows her place, no?”

“Ah,” Roberto let out an exasperated sigh then stood up, a silent ‘what happens next ain't my business now.’ implied. Indeed, Johan sounded serious with that command but not that Roberto cares much about you to strictly implement that. “I warned you.”

The stranger holds onto your chin to tilt your head up. “Oh, isn't she a pliant lass?” but his smile is immediately replaced with a frown upon seeing you glare. “Come on, how about a smile on those pretty lips of yer’s—”

You spit on his face. The last thing expected of a ‘pliant girl.’ The man avenged his dirtied cheek out of impulse by slapping you hard; you fell to the floor.

Roberto shakes his head, looks at his watch, and nonchalantly walks away. He's got more important things to do than guarding some trivial girl so early in the morning. His fleeting irk, however, lies at Johan's reaction once he sees the bruise on your cheek due to these men who don't know any better. 

Your mind, hazy with the slap, is further blanked out after a series of punches. They said something along the lines of ‘feisty bitch,’ ‘presenting yourself meek when you're no different from whores covered with spit’ and other insults that could make even a grown man cry. And yet you couldn't mind it much due to your dissociation. “The only reason we're not killing you yet is because he could have your body at his disposal to relax himself. The moment he fucks you ‘til it’s out of his system? Oh, you'll be so dead to us.”

Is this how these deranged men see your relationship with Johan?

“Would he even know if we were to lay our hands on this girl before he arrives?”

“Don't even try unless you want your head shot!” the other man barks. “Let him have his way first. We'll pass her one by one next.”

You see, even if they were to undress you this instant you wouldn't be able to scream because of how utterly hollow you feel. Defeated. Eyes devoid of light. Just waiting for the doom to arrive.

“What an interesting proposal.” 

The familiar voice is more than enough to rattle everyone inside the room. No one even senses his arrival. The wicked smiles flush into something akin to guilt and horror, as if a grim reaper came to judge them of their sins. You almost flinch at how eerily benign his voice is, but his face, much emptier than yours, answers the question of what's about to transpire in this room.

“J-Johan—Sir, that's not what we—”

“Would you mind repeating what you just said?”

Everyone, including you, looks at him in horror. Is this somehow part of his deranged eccentricities? Does he plan to have all these men demonstrate what they mean when they say ‘passing your body around one by one after Johan's done with you?’

However, the men are too scared to speak. All their bravado lost, compared to how they talked about the things they've said mere seconds ago. Johan, on the other hand, seems to be losing his patience with their silence. 

“Would anyone like to repeat what he just said?” However, instead of looking around the room for answers, Johan instead looks at you; his expression perilously unreadable. 

No one dares to follow.

“It's okay, it's okay,” Johan assures the now trembling henchmen, “I quite like a good show, I must admit.” Johan’s eyes glisten at his own statement—an excitement if you squint—indicating that he knows exactly what he's talking about. It fills your gut with absolute dread. Johan's gaze turns to the man who insulted you and asks, “What was it? You'd like to pass and share her body around for everyone's pleasure, you say?”

Roberto shakes his head in dismay. He turns around the wall in disgust. Indeed he had seen much during his prime, but it certainly doesn’t entail liking it.

But seems like Johan isn’t taking it. “Why, Roberto?” he quips. “Not gonna watch?”

There’s a subtle undertone in his tease that sends shivers down Roberto’s spine—one Johan usually uses to reprimand him for his inadequacies.

“S-sorry,” Roberto’s voice comes off weakly at first, until he sighs, “too young for my tastes.” 

The man shakily standing beside Roberto interjects, “S-sir, we were just—”

“Now,” Johan claps his hands together with much eagerness, ”anyone who’d like to do the same… how about you raise your hand now, hm? It’s only a once in a lifetime opportunity, after all…”

Their expression softens and one of them even lets out a sigh. Turns out he's not that angry over it, huh. The person stained by your spit is the first to raise his hand. Then the one who tried to stop him earlier in fear of angering Johan raises his hand next. The other one at the corner of the room meekly follows not long after.

“Good, good. No one else?” Much to your confusion, Johan's eyes didn't leave you. Instead, he subtly takes his time noting your bruises, one on your lip, two on your swollen cheeks, and a black eye forming on your right. Typical. No doubt they’ve been too rough with you for his and your liking.

And so you counted it yourself; one, two, three, four, excluding Roberto and the other man who seems too scared of Johan—almost everyone in the room undoubtedly wants to take their turn with you. It makes you want to throw up. How did the softest friend you know grow up like this, willing to stand back and watch as each of these men do what they will, like deranged animals in heat? If Johan, your dearest childhood friend, really grew up to be someone this unhinged, this—this—sick, then he—

Bang. Bang

You let out a high-pitched gasp. Your ears are ringing— 

Bang. Bang.

You hear the thud of a heavy body slam against the floor. It’s—

Bang. Bang

Something wet splatters on your cheek.

You don’t need to move your eye to notice the crimson color of it. You don’t want to see it.

Johan honestly must've known better, though, because as much as these men fear him, they still are rotten to their core; they are mercenaries drawn to violence as much as he is even in a different manner. He’s usually amused hearing human beings’ downright tendency to depravity—it’s an innate nature he could never use against anyone. Just like how he had loved listening to his war veteran neighbor’s stories while his foster parents were out back in the day. The pain human beings inflict upon each other to assert dominance. It amused him to no end.

This is the only instance he had felt an actual disgust—a normal emotional response—to depravity. How interesting.

The last man who had raised his hand starts crying apologies to Johan on his knees (how utterly despicable it is that they're apologizing to him, not to you).

Bang. Bang. 

One for the aim and one for a sure death. And that's it. His hands are not shaking, eyes devoid of glint—just how many people have gone under the mercy of his bullets? You could only ask yourself.

Out of five mercenaries trying to insult you before his arrival, Johan was able to establish a point with the only man left alive because he didn't dare raise his hand at the earlier question. He is visibly shaking, looking at the corpses of his then comrades.

 And, as if there's no greater concern at hand, Roberto just rolls his eyes and whispers to himself, “Great. Another mess to clean up.” Oh, the more important things he would've attended to if not for Johan's strict temper today.

“A mess indeed,” Johan kneels to you, opens up a bottle of water, and lifts it to your mouth. You were forced to gulp down a bit of it, but you swat his hand away with your face, trembling. The water spills to the ground. Johan, as much as he lacks patience with others, is far from being perturbed this time around. Instead, he gets a white handkerchief out of his pocket and gently wipes the blood off your cheeks, “Would you like me to get you another? I know how thirsty you are right now.”

“Don't touch me,” you hiss at him.

Johan smiles amusingly. If he'd be perfectly honest, he had wanted to play a bit more with the arrangement you two had. You lowering your guard at him gave him the satisfaction he never once thought he'd have. It was so lovely watching you sleep, talk to him with ease, and every other benefit given to him after you foolishly trusted his version of Anna—something he wouldn't call fake because he is Anna, and Anna is him.

With the looming silence between you two, Roberto and the trembling mercenary take it as a signal to excuse themselves, thankfully so, for Johan asked something very personal.

“Do you remember everything now?”

You do not answer, not letting him control the emotional narrative the same way he does with your physical situation right now. However, you mustn't take this man lightly for you are yet to know the things he's responsible for—let alone how much control he holds over you and every element in your surroundings. 

After five minutes or so, he adds, “Apologies, I suppose that's a bit of a heavy topic to start off, no? Let's start with a small talk, then.” He sits properly, facing your tied up figure, his head level with yours. “How about we talk about the Inspector and his perpetually smiling friend?” you try your best to not let the flinch on your face show. “I wonder, have you ever told them about the lovely mother cat and her kittens that used to live below our apartment complex?” 

Your eyes widen. Your hands that are tied to your back start shaking in fear. Nevermind the fact that he just called your apartment ours. That is no small talk but rather a perilous warning. The floor may be dusty white, but this is an eggshell if Johan's around. One tiny step and everything would crumble. Their lives, as dear as they are to you, could turn into dust with a snap of his fingers. 

“Have you told them what happened to the mother cat? To the kittens? You seemed to hold Mr. Grimmer in a much nicer regard than the Inspector. Were you close enough? Were you able to open up your grievances about the death of those cats, regarding their survival as nothing but fleeting fortuities?”

“I…” you start, gulping down the urge to throw up then and there, “I don't…”

“Hm?” Johan's head tilts. Benign, curious, just as if he's talking to a friend. “Come again? I couldn't hear you.”

“I haven't… remembered all of it… yet…” you bite your lips, swallowing your pride, trying your hardest not to cry. You hate being overpowered like this. You feel like you're in a session with Daddy and his colleagues again. “I haven't remembered everything yet. My recollections are staggered; it cuts itself midway, and sometimes it doesn't even make sense.”

The room is silent for a while.

Johan's the one to cut it off. “No worries, no worries,” much to your distaste, he touches the corner of your eyes with his fingers. You don’t even know when you started crying. “That's not something to cry for. I'm not like them. I'm not gonna punish you for failing to answer a measly question.” 

His touch is light; one could wonder if it really took place. It's almost comforting too, or so he presents, because his remark just punched you in the gut. It means he knows everything. He knows every single detail about you, about what you went through, perhaps even those you're still yet to remember. After wiping your tears away, he suggests, “Then, don't you think I could help? Where do we start…”

What he said next didn't help you ground yourself at all—it didn't help you internalize that you're not in some session with the Kinderheim crew.

“Shall we start talking about the storybook you've always brought to me? The one that has a paper mache of matchsticks and flames as its cover?”

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SPECIAL MENTION TO @suusoh who helped me with this painstakingly long chapter. this has 7k words during the first draft and it's dragging so much I couldn't even bring myself to publish it but she saved my ass. ily kween mother. check her out!! my fave work of hers is this one KJSKSJKSJ 

i tried making the POV consistent by narrating through your (reader's) lenses but i realized this story would go nowhere if we were only to rely on your usual absentminded ass (much to johan's benefit). no worries tho. character development coming right up next chap! also, we're almost done folks :D thanks for sticking through and being patient despite my slow updates!

get this ugly mf away from me

[roeyliteratiforever]

So if your looking at things from Jess' pov his mom just kicked him out to live with his uncle he barely knows, he has a lady he's just meeting for the first time talking to him about how she knows what he's going through and to him it feels condescending even if it wasn't meant that way by Lorelai. He doesn't want to be in Stars Hollow initially so he starts acting out to test how quickly he could get sent back such as stealing garden noms...etc, then he meets a girl who shares the same interests as him and the only person in town so far that doesn't automatically treat him like a preconceived opinion about him and she makes him feel comfortable so he proceed to impress his crush with writing notes in her book margins (that says I want you to know me) and pulls pranks that would make her laugh to then learn she has a boyfriend and learn that he is beloved by her mother that loathes him.

Dean does all the "perfect boyfriend things" while being a possessive, explosive, and an emotionally abusive control freak. Jess only wants to then spend more time with her, but the whole town already thinks he is trouble because of the reputation he set for himself.

He gets into a car accident with Rory and people then act like he's the spawn of Satan. He becomes so anxious and feels so bad after the accident that he leaves town because he doesn't want to cause Rory any harm or get harm from the weirdo townies. When she comes for him in New York he gets this burst of hope in him which is why he decides to move back for the possibility of being with Rory.

After Rory kissed him the first time he was so gone for her and in that moment that was all he wanted. He genuinely thought she was going to break up with Dean and choose to be with him, but when she didn't and left instead (my boy who already has deep abandonment wounds) is hurt because she didn't outright choose him and left. He then was alone without the one person in that town that he wanted to be around and so he met Shane who didn't want anything serious so it was a perfect way to try to mask his pain with her. He mysteriously gets a car, and people are going nuts thinking he stole it, and he's thinking I can't even get a second job without people thinking I'm a criminal, and I can't get a second job without people accusing me of being a drug dealer or a stripper.

Once him and Rory get together he is so happy he doesn't want to mess it up with her and he gets nervous because he wants everything to go right. She's the one he's been waiting for and now he has her. Then her ex boyfriend starts stalking and harassing him in secret and he feels like he can't do anything about it, and can't even tell his girlfriend about it because he thinks she won't believe her if he told her, so he bottles it up. When he gets attacked by the swan and she thought he got in a fight with Dean and didn't believe him it really hurt him. (I don't blame Rory for this she had no way of knowing and Dean was being manipulative with his "nice guy" and shitty behaviors but it still hurt Jess none the less.) After that he begins to put up his walls again.

When he realizes he's been messing up after not calling he then starts trying to do better and set dates and plans to be with her. All he wants to do is make her happy at this point. Then he gets the news that he's not graduating and in that moment it feels like everything everyone had always said about him came true, he felt like a failure and knowing that he wasn't going to be able to keep his promise to Rory that he would take her to prom crushed him. He wanted so badly to be there for her and do all the boyfriend things and he was so afraid of telling her he wasn't graduating and so upset he couldn't keep his promise to her. His smart girlfriend was getting into an ivy league school and he wasn't even going to graduate highschool and the thought of telling her that was horrible to him.

He could feel he was losing her and he thought once he told her that it would be over, and ended up messing things up with her anyways. He felt like he was doing her a favor by leaving because he figured she would want him gone. He didn't think she would want him to stay, even though that's all she wanted. He was battling his demons alone and was used to everyone shipping him off when he messed up that he thought he was doing her a favor by leaving after he messed up so bad.

His father that left him as a baby showed up in his life for the first time and he didn't know how to handle that. Once Luke kicked him out he ran to his dad that left him because crashing on his couch or floor was better than staying with his neglectful deadbeat mother.

He finds out his uncle was hiding his car from him and felt double betrayed he was already feeling abandoned yet again after Luke kicked him out to then find out he took something he worked so hard to get from him he was more betrayed. He comes back to Stars Hollow to get his car and everyone still wants him gone. Luke tells Jess to stay away from Rory so he proceeds trying to avoid her while he is there and he knows how badly he messed up with her and he wants to talk to her but when he sees her at the firelight festival he wants to explain to her but she is still so mad and all he could get out was that he loves her. He just wanted her to know he then leaves because he doesn't expect her to say anything he just wanted her to know. Jess is deeply hurting at this point inside and his pain is at it's peak. He just keeps digging a deeper whole and doesn't know how to fix it at this point.

Luke convinces Jess to go to his neglectful mother's wedding and goes to a bachelor party where he is assaulted by his stepdad to be at a bar and he naturally goes into defense mode. He was so used to his other abusive step dad's that he was constantly in defense mode and fought back. He goes to his mother's wedding anyways and walks her down the isle despite everything his mom put him through. Luke gives him the self help book that he had been reading, and Jess reads it and tries to better himself as well, meanwhile Lorelai scoffs to Luke about it. (I love Lorelai but that was extremely uncalled for by her and it just makes me think no matter what he does or how better he becomes he will always resent him, and it just makes no sense that she has this one sided grudge with a kid that was deeply in pain.) He makes up with Luke and thanks him for everything he did for him, and then he goes to try to apologize and tell Rory how he feels, but then he sees Dean there and he is thrown off and he just wants to make things right so in the spur of the moment he asks her to leave with him because he just wants to fix what they had. (He wasn't thinking rationally, but he meant it when he said she could count on him now and so he went out and turned his life around and made something for himself and came back to show her how much she could count him now even if it meant as a friend. He would still be there for her and he showed her that he could be the person she always knew he was. He still didn't expect anything from her he just wanted to show her his book, and let her know he couldn't have done it without her.)

He was so badly traumatized while him and Rory were together and it couldn't have possibly worked out at that time. He was battling so much pain internally, and everyone in that town was against him and actively hating him 😭 and I just feel for what he was going through, and I'm just so proud of who he turned out to be. I'm not sure what this rant was anymore but I'm just thinking about Jess' perspective and his pain right now. He was in so much pain while him and Rory were together and he didn't know how to properly express that or tell her that, and I just want to hug him and I'm so proud of him for how far he came and how much he overcame his pain and trauma and ugh I just feel so much right now. (Also I had a lot of coffee today and my autistic/ADHD brain is just going with thoughts right now.)

[cinnamon-girl-writes]

clingy!higuruma headcanons

by @cinnamon-girl-writes

higuruma x reader, fluff, see also: higuruma with a clingy s/o

i know this isn't related to the request but i need to let y'all know because it's been floating around in my brain for weeks now. 

hiromi is extremely inept when it comes to technology. he types on the computer with one finger and doesn't even have a cell phone

he owns a sparkly pink flip phone, it's true he told me himself

jk he owns an iphone 6 with the same generic black case he's had since he bought it

anyways back on topic, if he's the one that's clingy, oh boy

this man works a 9-5 job but he's texting you every hour of the day

his texts are sweet and domestic: 'what are you having for lunch?' 'what are you wearing today?' most of them at least..... [1 image attached]

on my last higuruma headcanons post i said he's an excellent cook and that's still true btw

if you have an office job, best believe he's bringing you homemade meals during your lunch break whenerv he can

speaking of lunch breaks, he tries to schedule his to be at the same time as yours so he can visit you or vice versa

his office is basically tailored to you at this point: pictures of you framed and hung up on the walls, your favorite foods heavily stocked in his desk drawers, your coziest blanket folded neatly in the corner (a gift from him for your birthday last year)

if you can't take lunch breaks together for whatever reason due to your job, Hiromi will pack your lunches ahead of time at the beginning of the week like he's so obsessed with you (in his housewife era)

even if you went shopping for yourself, he always carries in the groceries for you

obsessed with giving jewelry as gifts, espacially for important days like anniversaries

in his eyes, it's a token to how much he loves you and your devotion to him (and he loves to take it off also)

a copper chain necklace with a diamond pendant for your 4th anniversary, a silver bracelet with his initials inscribed on the inside for only you to see

luckily this man has a high paying job or he'd be broke asf

of course, his favorite part of the day is coming home to you. (he's the little spoon btw)

he takes dinners with you as an opportunity to cook you new dishes and experiment a little himself

if you're not japanese, he'd try to learn dishes from your culture to make (!!!!!!!!)

bonus points when he surprises you with them after you've had a long hard day

he's an expert cook but i can just imagine him severely fucking up biscuits and gravy or something (cue "I THOUGHT IT WAS SUPPOSED TO LOOK LIKE THAT????")

[prismatoxic]

i know we're all chilaios-pilled here but penny for your thoughts on kabumisu? theres just something so charming bout them, you cannot tell me kabru wasnt feeling the dokis when mithrun threw that punch to calm him down, they're so funny and sweet, what made them click for you?

as soon as kabru and mithrun were alone, i started thinking they'd probably be a good ship, but kabru being able to get mithrun to eat and sleep and take care of himself in ways pattadol and the others couldn't just... got to me. it's not even that pattadol isn't trying so much as it's kabru having a totally different approach that happened to work better.

and like, kabru doesn't think about it. it's not a burden to him, and he goes above and beyond to do it right. it's such a good demonstration of who he is--that for all the 5D chess he's playing, for all the manipulation he's capable of, he's kind. helping mithrun becomes his job very suddenly and he adapts to it as best he can... and mithrun's party notices the difference in how it affects him.

i also really loved kabru trying to pare down mithrun's backstory for the purpose of being able to share it with others as a cautionary tale... he focused on the wrong things at times, but he really was trying to do something functional, and then you have this:

he's not trying to minimize mithrun's story so much as he's trying to make it something they can use to further their mutual goal of making people understand the dangers of dungeons. the real story, the full depth of it, is something kabru is willing to know, and continue asking about. he's trying to fill in the gaps where mithrun's self-preservation no longer exists, and this approach is included in that.

but the real deal-closer for me i think was their final two scenes together. when kabru convinces mithrun to try and live again, and mithrun actually listened to him... and when mithrun told kabru that he finally figured out what his final desire was, that it had never been revenge. that once all was said and done, he realized the only thing he wanted was for the demon to finish what it had started. and i love that kabru was the one there to witness mithrun laughing and smiling for the first time in so long after senshi inadvertently comforted him...

mithrun feels comfortable with kabru, in a way he doesn't fully know how to articulate anymore. he's lost his sense of boundaries, but even so, we can see that kabru means something to him. and kabru cares about mithrun--wants to see him live again, no matter what. after his initial impassioned speech, while he remains determined, it takes on a friendlier tone because he's no longer trying to convince mithrun of something; he's just trying to encourage him, and hold him to his promises.

i dunno man. they're fucking amazing. one of these days i'll finish the post-canon oneshot i started about them

[heirtotheempire]

As I read through the Ascendency trilogy, it is becoming more and more clear that the Chiss Ascendency is as hateful as the Empire. And it's odd how few people call that out. I think it is because Zahn does a fantastic job at hiding it through Chiss POV, but even then, the Chiss are still incredibly xenophobic and controlling. Yes, this includes Thrawn, he isn't the saint that so many people like to paint him as and frankly could be argued as worse.

I keep thinking about Ar'alani admitting she never saw non-Chiss as people. She is brilliant and kind, but only to other Chiss. We view her in a purely positive light because the POVs in these books are primarily Chiss, who agree with her. Of course her mindset is normal amongst Chiss, of course it isn't questioned, of course Ar'alani herself never questions it despite her experience off-world. It takes a direct and pretty personal interaction for her to think twice, and even then it is difficult for her to accept the humanity of a non-Chiss. They are lesser in her eyes. They are lesser in the eyes of most, if not all, of the Chiss.

It is fascinating, it really is. It's an interesting look into a xenophobic society without the initial hate from the reader. Because xenophobia is born out of misunderstanding and perpetuated systems of ignorance. If a similar situation was told but through the eyes of Imperial officers, fewer people would be willing to see the nuances. Because Empire=Bad and anyone associating with it is also Bad, right?

But, propaganda and cycles of ignorance are also to blame. Not every Imperial Officer was born hating aliens. Hell, even TARKIN started out incredibly sympathetic to alien species according to the canon novel by James Luceno. But his family taught him otherwise, just as the Chiss Ascendency teaches its own children see other species as lesser.

This mentality from the Ascendency is also seen in Thrawn: Treason with how Eli Vanto is treated simply for being human. The majority of officers hate his existence, insist he must prove himself (despite being at a lower rank than he was at when with the Empire), and are distrustful of him. Very similar to how Ronan treats Thrawn in the same novel.

This isn't, like, a call to love Chiss characters any less, but it's a bit odd to imply that Thrawn, or any other Chiss, would be against the Empire for the same reasons the Rebellion is. The Ascendency doesn't like the Empire because it could encroach on their rule, their space- not because it's xenophobic and oppresses too many people to count. The two systems are remarkably similar, which may be part of why Thrawn was inclined to help the Empire. It is familiar, and a system Thrawn himself has never opposed, even without taking Legends into account.

(SIDE NOTE: PLEASE DO NOT BRING UP SPOILERS FOR GREATER GOOD OR LESSER EVIL ON THIS POST. I AM STILL READING THOSE BOOKS AND WOULD LIKE TO ENJOY THEM SPOILER-FREE)