#RIGHT after arte got murdered . like HELLO .

[mtsodie]

my beautiful wife and husband

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

ROOM FOR RENT

PAIRING: logan howlett x female reader

RATING: explicit (18+) | WORD COUNT: 5.3k

SUMMARY: logan finds a new roommate.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i have logan howlett brain rot and i’m not sorry. big smooch to everyone who let me yell about this to them including @eupheme @pedgito @wannab-urs @chaotic-mystery @kedsandtubesocks @undrthelights and @murder-wife 💕

WARNINGS: post deadpool & wolverine, variant!logan howlett, able bodied reader, reader being picked up (enhanced strength babyyyy), roommates to lovers trope, meddlesome pet cat, a splash of canon typical violence - mentions of blood and knife wounds, wade wilson/deadpool appearances, mild angst, explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact) - dirty talk, pain kink, biting, pet names, praise kink, oral sex - m & f receiving, a little dacryphilia during a blowjob, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v, begging, size kink. if i’ve missed any, please let me know!

LINKS: masterlists | support for palestine

If Logan has to wake up to Wade's constant yapping for the rest of his life, he's going to go insane. Every morning he's jolted awake by Wade singing in the kitchen. When he notices Logan is awake, the singing stops and the one-sided conversation begins and doesn't end until Logan finally gets up from the couch and leaves the apartment with nothing but the clothes on his back.

Today, with some money in his pocket from a few odd jobs he's picked up, he finds solace in a quiet coffee shop. Sat beside a bulletin board, he scans the postings.

Art show, art show, yard sale, job opening, roommate wanted, art show--

Roommate wanted? Logan tears the paper from the pin.

Room for rent in 2 bedroom/1 bathroom apartment. One cat. Laundry on site.

He folds the ad up and stuffs the paper in the pocket of his jacket before gathering his empty coffee cup and tossing it in the trash on the way out the door, an uncharacteristic spring in his step.

Your phone rings with a number you don't recognize. You consider sending it to voicemail, already exhausted from fielding similar calls about your room for rent, but ultimately decide to answer.

"Hello?"

A man clears his throat on the other end of the line before responding with, "This the number for the rental?"

"Yep," you reply. "Were you interested in seeing it or have any questions?"

"How much is it?"

"Your half would be $950.”

"And it's a whole bedroom?"

"As opposed to a half bedroom?" You laugh at your joke but the man remains quiet and you wince. "I mean, yes. It's a whole bedroom."

"I'd like to come see it, if you've got the time."

"Sure, how's this Friday sound?" You suggest. "What's your full name?"

"Why do you need to know that?" The man's tone grows defensive and alarm bells ring in your head.

"Well, I'd like to make sure you're not, like, a wanted criminal or something," you tell him with an awkward laugh. He's quiet and for a moment you think that he may have hung up on you. "Hello?"

"Yeah, 'm still here," he sighs. "Name's Logan Howlett."

"Logan Howlett," you repeat. You give him your name in return, though he doesn't do much but grunt in acknowledgment. "Alright, well, do you have something to write down the address?"

"Just tell me, I'll remember."

After listing off the address, he ends the call with a rough goodbye. You get to work on your personal research, entering his name into a search engine.

No results.

You refresh the page, thinking that must be an error, but the same message appears.

No results.

You try spelling his name differently.

No results.

You set the phone down, anxiety starting to creep up your spine. It's hard to believe that there's absolutely nothing online about this man, who now has your full address, name, and phone number.

A sharp meow shakes you from your thoughts and you find that your cat has taken up residence on your lap, staring at you intently as his tail flicks back and forth. You run your hand over his head, scratching beneath his chin.

"You'll protect me, right?" You ask.

He leaps from your lap and struts away, fluffy tail disappearing down the hall that leads to your bedroom. You sigh.

Hopefully you haven’t just done something stupid.

Logan's attempt to leave the apartment unnoticed does not go as planned. Althea is sitting on the couch, a re-run of a talk show playing loudly, when he tries to make a run for it. He's distracted, watching her too carefully that he doesn't realize Wade has just returned from god-knows-where.

"Whatcha doin', twinkle toes?" Wade asks, startling Logan, who slams into the kitchen table with a curse.

"Fucking hell," Logan curses, rubbing his hip. "When did you get in here?"

Wade shrugs. "Sometime around the start of your 007 impression."

"My what?"

"Nevermind," Wade sighs. "You look snazzy. Got a hot date?"

"No," Logan grunts.

"A cold date, then?"

Logan pinches his nose. "No."

"Well, care to share, sugar plum? What's got you sneaking around like the Black Widow?"

"The who?"

"May she rest in peace," Wade says, tone suddenly somber.

"He's tryin' to move out," Althea chimes in. Wade's mouth drops open in shock.

"You're abandoning us?!" he exclaims. "After all we've been through?"

"Let the man do what he wants," Althea says. "Damn co-dependent freak."

"Harsh," - Wade places a hand over his chest, -"you know I have daddy issues. And mommy issues. And abandonment issues. And--"

"Enough," Logan snaps. "Yes, alright? I'm looking for a new place. I can't sleep on that couch forever."

"Is it because it smells like old people?" Wade whispers, pointing an accusatory finger to Althea, who flips him off.

"Look, this is your universe. Your timeline. Mine is gone and it's time I start making this whole thing less temporary."

Wade tilts his head and places a hand on Logan's shoulder. "My little Wolvie, all grown up," he says, wiping at a fake tear. Logan shoves his hand away, storming past him for the door.

"Remember to smile! Give 'em the ol' razzle dazzle!" Wade shouts as he slams the door behind him.

You pace your small living room and check the stove clock for the hundredth time in the past five minutes. Logan is due to see the apartment and your nerves have gone from a simmer to a full blown boil waiting for the mysterious man with no digital footprint to show up. Your cat is lounging on the windowsill, blissfully unaware of your inner panic.

Three sharp knocks at the door cause your pulse to skyrocket. You take a deep breath before crossing the short distance to the door, pulling it open with a smile.

"Hi! You must be--“

Your greeting dies on your tongue as you take in the man crowding your hallway. He's wearing a leather jacket over a white tank top that stretches tightly across a broad chest and jeans that highlight thick thighs. His dark hair is cut shorter on the sides than on the top of his head, the ends fanning out in a manner that reminds you of a cat's ears and he's sporting an impressively thick beard.

"'m Logan," he says in the same deep voice you heard over the phone, holding a hand out towards you. You slip your palm against his much larger one and you're surprised by how warm his touch is.

"H-hi," you stutter, shaking his hand. You clear your throat. "Sorry, hi. Uh, come on in."

You move aside to let him through the doorway, not missing the fact that his shoulders practically brush the frame as he steps inside. Your apartment opens up directly into the living room and kitchen with a small dining area set in between and you gesture around.

"Well, this is most of it, to be honest. I know it's not much but--"

"It's quiet," Logan interrupts. "Ain't used to quiet."

"Where, uh," -- you twist the hem of your shirt -- "where are you coming from? Exactly?"

"Kind of a long story. Right now I sleep on a couch in a shitty one bedroom apartment shared by an asshole who doesn't shut the fuck up and a blind cocaine addict."

"Oh," you reply, nodding despite your lack of understanding. "Yeah, it's just me here. Well, and Dumpling."

"Dumpling?"

As if summoned by his name, your cat appears, making a swift beeline for the newcomer. He twists around Logan's legs, butting his head against his shins. You bend down, scooping him up in your arms.

"This is Dumpling. He's cute, but he'll knock over any plants so I wouldn't recommend you take up indoor gardening if you decide to live here." Logan eyes Dumpling warily before holding a hand out. Dumpling sniffs his fingers daintily and rubs head against his palm. "I think he likes you."

Logan huffs, the sound close to a laugh, and it makes you smile. He looks up at you and for a moment you forget that you're complete strangers who have just met. He feels inexplicably familiar, his presence comforting, and you're surprised by it.

"Let's look at the bedroom," you finally say, breaking the moment. You turn, heading for the hall and he follows behind you, steps surprisingly light for such a large man. You take him to the last door at the end of the hall and enter the empty room. "This is it. It's kind of small, but all the rooms in New York are pretty much shoe boxes. It's got a closet and access to the fire escape, though.”

"Better than the couch," he says, looking around the room. "You said $950?"

"Plus half of the utilities," you add. He nods.

"Look, I'll be honest. I'm...between jobs right now." He sighs. "And my schedule can be...unpredictable."

"Oh," you mumble. You think about it for a moment. Renting the apartment to Logan would be a risk but...you can't help but notice that exhaustion in his eyes, how it's clear he's trying to get back on his feet in one way or another. "That's okay. We can work something out."

He raises an eyebrow at you. "Really? You sure about that?"

Were you?

"Yeah," you reply. "I'm sure."

Having a roommate is...an adjustment.

Logan is great. He does his dishes in a timely manner, doesn't leave any clothes on the bathroom floor, and even cleans Dumpling's litter box from time to time.

But he drives you insane and it has nothing to do with his qualities as a roommate and everything to do with how unbearably attractive he is. He could be doing the most mundane activity and suddenly you're more turned on than a faucet on full blast. On top of it all, he's surprisingly sweet for such a gruff man.

Currently, you're watching him pour himself a glass of whiskey. You know he's probably preparing to take the drink to his room so that he can have a cigar on the fire escape, but you find yourself wanting his company.

"Logan?" you ask. He looks at you over his shoulder.

"Yeah, bub?"

"Would you...want to watch a movie? With me?"

He turns to fully face you, leaning against the counter and taking a sip of his drink, dark eyes on you over the rim of the glass. You swallow nervously, prepared to retract your offer and hide out in your room for the rest of eternity, but he puts you out of your misery.

"Sure." He comes over to the couch, taking a seat that's a respectable distance away. "What are we watching?"

"Have you seen The Greatest Showman?"

A musical. He's sitting through a goddamn musical.

"You kinda look like that guy," you say from beside him. Logan tilts his head.

"I don't see it."

"It's the bone structure."

"I'm bigger than him." You mumble something under your breath that he doesn't quite catch, though he thinks it sounded suspiciously like yeah, you are. "You say somethin'?"

"Huh?" You shake your head. "No, nope. Didn't say anything."

Logan relaxes against the back of the couch, settling in. You're curled up against the armrest, a blanket covering your legs and your arms wrapped around a throw pillow. You look relaxed, at ease, a stark contrast to how you had been when he first moved in. You spent more of your time hidden in your room and he's happy to see you're getting more comfortable around him.

It's also torture. You're like a drug that he can't get enough of, a high that doesn't last long enough. He clings desperately to every smile you grace him with and falls asleep with the sound of your voice echoing in his head. He wakes up looking forward to seeing you, even if it's just in passing before you head out for your very normal job as part of your very normal life.

That's what gives him pause. You're not like him, not built for violence, and he would never drag you into that life. He thinks about Vanessa and Wade and the wedge that was driven between them they're working to repair and he can't bear the thought of having you just to lose you.

Logan's so lost in his own thoughts he doesn't realize that the movie has ended and you haven't moved. Your head is angled in a way that has to be uncomfortable, your mouth dropped open as you breathe slowly and deeply. He grabs the remote from the coffee table and turns the TV off, plunging the room into darkness as he stands and quietly approaches you.

He slides one arm beneath your knees and using the other to support your back, lifts you from the couch. You settle your head against his chest but otherwise your sleep remains undisturbed as he carries you down the hall into your room.

It's not the first time he's been in your personal space. One time he woke up to Dumpling clawing at his chest and he marched the animal back to your room for the night, barging in on you while you had been up reading. He remembers the queen sized bed in a wooden frame and a dresser with a drawer that won't shut take up most of the space, the plain white of your walls replaced by a soft blue. You've installed what he first thought were regular shelves but later learned are meant for Dumpling to use for late night acrobatics that he can sometimes hear from his room.

Logan sets you gently on your bed and pulls the quilt up to your shoulders. Before he can think better of it, he reaches a hand toward your face, tracing his thumb over the high point of your cheek. You turn towards the sensation, chasing his touch, and his chest grows tight. He sighs, stepping back and turning for the door.

Dumpling sits in the doorway, flicking his tail. Logan steps around him into the hallway, the cat's gaze following him.

"Shut up," he whispers.

Dumpling meows in return.

You're disoriented when you wake the next morning. The last thing you remember is being on the couch with Logan and watching The Greatest Showman, but somehow you've ended up in your room. You turn over in bed to find Dumpling on your other pillow, curled in a ball.

"Morning, Dumpy," you murmur, scratching his head. "How'd we end up here?"

Dumpling blinks unhelpfully at you before uncurling from his spot and hopping from the bed, leaving through your open door. It's then that you notice that you can hear grunting noises coming from the living room.

You get up to investigate and stop dead in your tracks, mouth dropping open when you find the source of the noise is a shirtless Logan doing push ups on the living room floor. The broad muscles of his back ripple with each movement, each push accompanied by a small grunt that makes your thighs clench together, imagining him making that noise when--

Logan stops, jumping to his feet and you shake your head free of the salacious image it began to create. He turns, giving you an uninhibited view of his thick chest that's covered in dark hair that trails down over defined abs before disappearing beneath the elastic of his sweatpants. You have to say something, anything, but your brain is full of static, unable to operate when he's standing there looking like that.

"Morning," he says.

"Good morning!" you reply, voice pitched higher than usual. You walk past him in a way you hope is casual, heading for the kitchen and prepping the coffee machine. "You got any plans today?"

"Got a friend who needs my help with something. Don't know when I'll be back." His voice is much closer than you expected and you turn from the counter to find him right behind you, a scant few inches of space between your bodies.

"Oh?" you whisper, keeping your gaze firmly on his face. "Is everything okay?"

"It will be."

He drifts impossibly closer, chest nearly brushing yours. Your heart pounds in your chest, a frantic rhythm that's become familiar ever since Logan entered your life. Reaching above your head, he grabs two mugs in one large hand, setting them on the counter behind you before taking a step back and turning to head for his room without another glance in your direction.

You sag against the counter, a wave of lust addled adrenaline crashing over you and leaving you breathless. The last thing you need to be doing is getting involved with your roommate, no matter how tempting he may be.

Dumpling jumps up on the counter beside the coffee pot and stares at you, likely waiting for food, but it feels more like judgment in his green eyes.

"Shut up," you whisper to him.

Dumpling meows, batting you with a paw.

You're sitting on the couch when there's an unexpected knock at your door. Logan is still gone, helping a friend and you're not expecting anyone, so you’re not sure who it could be. You check the peephole before opening the door and see the distorted image of a man in a red suit and mask supporting the weight of your roommate against his side.

"What the fuck?" you ask as you open the door in a panicked rush. The masked man waves his fingers at you.

"Hi there! I've got a very," -- he grunts, adjusting his grip on Logan -- "heavy delivery."

Logan's eyes are closed, head flopped back on the masked man's shoulder. Blood stains his t-shirt in spots that look suspiciously like knife wounds and you gasp.

"What happened to him?!" you shout. "Oh my god, he needs to go to the hospital--"

"He just needs a little power nap," the man says. "I'm Wade, by the way. You mind if I just--"

Wade drags Logan through the apartment, depositing him on your couch with a huff, wiping his hands together. He looks around and you're shocked when the eyes of the mask seem to move, as if mimicking his facial expressions.

"This is a nice place," he says. Dumpling meows and Wade gasps. "You have a cat?! I wish I could pet you, sweet kitty, but Dogpool would put me in the dog house. Ha! Get it?"

"I'm confused," you manage to say. "My roommate is bleeding out on my couch after being dropped off by some wanna-be Avenger--"

"Ouch!"

"And you're saying he doesn't need to go to the emergency room?"

"Nope." Wade lifts Logan's shirt. "See? Good as new."

Despite the blood and tears on his shirt, there's no wounds on Logan's body. He shifts, lifting an arm to smack Wade's hand away as he groans, eyes fluttering open. He glares at the man.

"Get out," he growls.

"Now, now, that's not being a very good host, Logi. What, were you raised by wolves?" Wade replies. Logan roars, a ferocious sound that's more animal than man. His hand curls into a fist and sharp metal blades extend from between his knuckles. "Okay, okay, I'm leaving, no need for the murder mittens." Wade looks at you. "You should come to Sunday dinner!"

"Wilson!" Logan shouts. Wade finally heeds the man's warnings, rushing for the door without another word, shutting it behind him. Logan sags against the couch, blades retracting into his hand. He tilts his head back, closing his eyes.

You stand there in shock, trying to make sense of everything you just witnessed. Logan should be halfway to dead by now, but he doesn't even have a scratch on him. He has claws. How does he have claws?

"Can hear you thinking," Logan says, eyes still shut. "Just say it."

"Say what?" you ask. He lifts his head.

"Tell me to get out, scream, whatever it is."

You sit down on the couch, facing him. "Why would I do that?"

"Because that's what you should be doing."

His hand rests on his thigh and you reach for it, lifting it to eye level for a closer look at his knuckles. You trace your thumb over the smooth skin, up over his strong forearm. He watches you, face almost pained.

"I'm not scared of you," you whisper. "You wouldn't hurt me."

"But I could," he bites back.

"You won't." You're certain of that. You set his hand back on his thigh and stand from the couch, intending to grab him a glass of water from the kitchen, but he stops you with a hand around your wrist. His grip is loose enough that you could break free, but you don't.

Logan looks up at you with an unreadable expression, something close to fear mixed with a conflicting emotion that you think -- or hope -- might be desire. He tugs your wrist, bringing you to stand between his legs.

"How can you be so sure?" he asks.

You place your hand on his cheek, the coarse hair of his beard scratching at your palm. His eyelids flutter and his lips part on a sharp inhale.

"You're a good man, Logan Howlett," you murmur. He closes his eyes tightly and takes a deep breath.

His next movements are quick -- a hand on the back of your thigh, dragging you onto his lap, the other wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you close, his lips capturing yours in a savage kiss. You melt into him, meeting his urgency with your own desperation, tongues tangling together and fighting for dominance.

You pull back to trail kisses across his jaw until you reach his neck, sinking your teeth into the tan skin, just over his hammering pulse. Logan groans, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, pulling you tightly against him as his hips buck into yours.

"Fuck," Logan says, voice a deep rumble that you feel to your marrow. "Do that again."

"Do what?" you tease.

"Bite me," he demands. "Make it hurt."

You obey, biting down into his shoulder with greater effort, sinking your teeth in deep until he hisses from the pain of it and you let go, lifting your head to look at the mark you've left behind. It fades quickly, disappearing without a trace.

"Jesus," he says, pulling you in for another kiss, slow and deep, as his hands find the hem of your shirt. "Let me see you."

You allow him to lift your shirt up and over your head, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. His touch makes you shiver despite the heat of his hands as he traces the curve of your waist up to your chest, his thumbs finding your nipples and teasing them with slow circles. You drop your head back with a moan and he takes the opportunity to kiss your neck, your collarbone, moving down until his lips wrap around one taut bud.

"Logan," you whine, digging your fingers into his hair and holding tight. He hums, the sensation making your eyes roll.

"Thought about this," he murmurs, switching to your other breast. "Every time you'd wear those goddamn tight shirts of yours."

"Really?"

"Mhm."

"Wanna know what I thought about?" You tug his hair, pulling his head away from your chest. "Sucking your cock."

He raises his eyebrow at you and you take the opportunity to slide from his lap, settling on your knees between his spread thighs. You work his belt loose, followed by the fly of his jeans. He reaches past the waistband to free his cock and your mouth waters at the sight. You could tell he was big while you were on his lap, but he's even more glorious than you imagined. Thick, long, with prominent veins and a slight upward curve that you know will hit all the right places.

You take him in your hand, appreciating the weight of him in your palm as you hold him steady. With your eyes locked on his face, you open your mouth and stick out your tongue to lick from the top of your fingers to the flushed head. He groans, his hand curling into a fist that he presses to his forehead.

"Fuck," Logan hisses. You do it again, this time swirling your tongue around the tip before taking him into your mouth, moving down his length slowly. "God, look at you. Mouth stuffed so full you're drooling, huh?"

He's right. Spit gathers at the corners of your lips and runs down your chin as you use your mouth to pleasure him. The sounds he makes above you are downright filthy, deep moans and filthy praise that have you moving faster, taking him deeper, working to get as much of him in your mouth as you manage without gagging. He cups your cheek with one large palm, thumb tracing your stretched lips.

"Keep going, sweetheart. You can take a little more, can't you? That's it," he says. Tears burn your cheeks with the effort to obey, your throat tightening around the head of his cock. "Fuck, that's a good girl."

You breathe deeply through your nose, maintaining a steady pace and using your hand in tandem with your mouth for what you can't easily take. Logan's hips begin to flex beneath you, his words trailing off into guttural growls. His cock twitches in your grasp and he moans your name before his release floods your mouth and you swallow it down.

You pull off of him with a slick pop, gasping for breath. Before you can say anything, Logan is hauling you to your feet as he stands from the couch, lifting you up with one strong arm beneath your ass and urging your legs around his waist.

"What are you doing?" you ask.

"Just getting started."

Logan kicks the door open to your room, startling Dumpling from his perch. The cat races out the door, disappearing into the living area as the door clicks shut. He sets you down on your bed and quickly rids himself of his boots and rest of his clothing before returning his attention to you.

You're lying there in your little sleep shorts that drive him nuts. The fabric barely covers your ass and there's been more than one occasion where he's shuffled into the kitchen in the mornings to see you in them, all the blood in his body rushing south at the sight. He joins you on the bed, on his knees between your spread thighs, and extends a single claw. Your eyes widen, but you don't pull away. In fact, you start squirming, hips flexing minutely against the mattress.

"Scared yet?" he asks.

"I wouldn't say that.”

He carefully slips the blade beneath the hem of your shorts, inching it up until it peeks out above the elastic waistband before twisting his wrist and slicing through the fabric like it's nothing. Claw retracted, he removes your ruined shorts and takes a moment to appreciate the vision you make, legs spread wide and your dripping pussy on display.

"You're a mess," he says, smoothing his hands over the soft skin of your legs. He lifts one of your knees, pressing a kiss to the inside of it before resting it on his shoulder. "Gonna clean you up."

Logan dips his head to your center, dragging his tongue through your soaked sex, groaning when the taste of you blooms across his tongue. Your fingers curl against his scalp, a sharp point of pleasure-pain as he explores your body. He swirls his tongue over your clit, experimenting with broad circles and sharp flicks until you're writhing beneath him.

"Logan," you cry, hips bucking against his face. He dips his tongue into your cunt, nose brushing your clit as he does, and he hums in satisfaction as your thighs tense around his head.

He looks up at you and drinks in the picture you make, gorgeous skin glistening with sweat and your back arched from the bed, chest heaving with desperate breaths. He wants this exact moment burned into his memory, certain it could chase away the dark shadows that linger there.

Logan presses two fingers to your hole, sliding them in with little resistance. You're so warm and tight, squeezing his fingers beautifully, calling out his name as he curls them when he drags them from your body.

"I'm going to come," you gasp. "Oh, fuck, just like that!"

You pulse around his fingers and he slows his movements to work you through it until you collapse against the mattress with a deep sigh. He carefully removes his hand and sits up on his knees.

"Guess I made more of a mess," Logan says. Your eyes squeeze shut with a breathless giggle.

"I'll forgive you," you reply. You reach your arms up for him and he moves to hover over you to accept your embrace. "God, Logan," you murmur, tilting your chin up to kiss him.

In this position, he's able to drag his cock through the slick mess between your thighs and you shiver beneath him, gasping into his mouth. He does it again, more purposeful this time and it drags a moan from you both.

"Please," you murmur.

"Please what, sweetheart? Tell me what you want," he replies. "What you need."

"Need you to fuck me."

Logan reaches between your bodies and positions the thick head of his cock at your entrance, pushing forward. The stretch of him is unreal, almost too much even with how wet you are for him.

"Relax," he says, holding himself steady above you. "You can take it."

You nod and he pushes forward another inch, letting you adjust, and repeating the process until the coarse hair at the base of his cock tickles your sensitive skin. You've never been so full, no other experience compares to this. No other man compares to Logan, in any way.

He starts moving slowly, dragging his hips back until you're nearly empty before plunging back inside. Each thrust puts stars in your vision, makes the knot of want and need coil tighter in your lower belly, until you're moaning his name and begging him to move faster, harder, deeper.

Logan obeys, thrusting into you with enough force that your head board collides with the wall. He sits back on heels, dragging you up with him until you're sitting in his lap and he's able to thrust up into you.

"Feel so fucking good," he says, lips against your neck. "Need you to come for me, baby."

You nod, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and holding him close, meeting each of his thrusts with a rock of your hips that drags your clit against him, your nerves buzzing with the friction and fullness. While the orgasm he wrenched from you with his mouth felt like a wildfire, this one builds and builds, a wave cresting until it finally crashes and you cry out his name.

Logan leans forward to drop you back onto the bed, reaching a hand up to grip your headboard as he continues to roll his hips into yours, chasing his own release. His thrusts begin to grow more desperate until he presses in deep and you're flooded with warmth as he growls, long and low. The sound of splintering wood breaks through your post-orgasmic haze and you tilt your head back to find that his claws have extended through your headboard, splitting the wood and embedding into the drywall.

"I can fix that," Logan says breathlessly, tugging his hand free, claws retracting. You grin at him.

"Later," you reply, pulling him in for a kiss.

You've got better things to do right now.

Thank you so much for reading! For more of my writing, check out my masterlists!

[mmani-e]

Hello! After all this effort, behold:

DANGANRONPA DEMIX, THH EDITION!

Dr Demix 2

Finally got the talentswap designs I have for the THH characters one and done with! You can click through the read more section for some fun design insights. I'm intending on uploading a doc containing short lore bits about them eventually.

Kyoko Kirigiri - Ultimate Affluent Progeny

So Kyoko's design was both kinda simple, kinda not, wanted to give her a very fine and regal kinda attitude to her but not arrogant as that's very much Byakuya's thing. Her story is that she loves her dad more than the family business and her grandpa so she abandons detective work and just uses her brain to help her dad out.

Makoto Naegi - Ultimate Novelist

Makoto is a wonderful guy, just great all around. He loves writing children's books and happy stories. This is his main coping mechanism so he doesn't have to process any negative emotions he gets, the rest he can't process… well they go into a murderous psychopath alter.

Aoi Asahina - Ultimate Lucky Student

Shoujo protagonist Aoi. Cute, headstrong, affective, competitive, these are all the traits that make her fight for her friends and clash with Kyoko (and more often than not Byakuya) in the killing game, even when all hope seems lost… she pushes through, unafraid to let tears spill from her eyes for all those lost, but pushing all the same.

Byakuya Togami - Ultimate Detective

This one, I wanna go into more lore territory, cause I kinda memed around his last desc I gave him so here goes:

"A disgraced heir of the Togami household, Byakuya lost the competition that would've secured his riches. Disdainful and bitter, he sought out to get to the bottom of why he lost, uncovering a rabbit hole in the process. By the end, he proved his sibling a cheater, but it didn't matter because by the end as he found the sweet satisfaction of uncovering secrets and crushing liars and cheaters under the weight of their hubris far more satisfying than any inheritance."

Sayaka Maizono - Ultimate Spirit Medium

So Sayaka isn't a clairvoyant at all like Yasuhiro, in fact her entire skillset is completely different, first of all she is like an actual psychic, and I based her design off of the japanese Itako, quite loosely. Very interesting group, look it up, also she'll never use these powers in the killing game because I dunno how to even approach these rituals or what they look like or how to write them while remaining respectful, so she won't do it in a killing game for the express reason of her not having the right tools available and not wanting to disrespect her traditions.

Leon Kuwata - Ultimate Swimmer

I really wanna draw him again, all these characters again tbh, and I wanna show off the patterns on his wetsuit. It's a whole coral reef under there, that anemone and clownfish bit is only one part of a whole reef stretching his midline.

Sakura Ogami - Ultimate Programmer

Sakura has installed chips into her body to help optimize her body processes and also cause why not. As for the muscles, she's an Assembly programmer, the programs she's made can run on calculators she loves it.

Chihiro Fujisaki - Ultimate Martial Artist

Chihiro's design here with the two belts is an explicit nod to his preferred martial art - Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, so unlike Sakura in canon who'd be easy to imagine cracking someone's skull in half with a chop, Chihiro's approach is more crawling onto someone and bringing them down to the floor with grappling like an angry halfling monk. As for the belts themselves, on his head is his final junior belt, while around his waist is his current belt, he's not a black belt yet because he's still too young for it.

Celestia Ludenberg - Ultimate Baseball Star

Celestia actually isn't a legend in this AU, Taeko is. Celestia hates that and wants to start a baseball career going international, whatever the hell that means is up to her own definition, but she wants to be remembered forever as Celestia, not Taeko. Also extra sentence, but this is the SINGLE hardest design I've ever had to deal with here, I think in the future I'll be drawing all her little accessories and I have an alt costume for her I have in mind.

Hifumi Yamada - Ultimate Pop Star

So I changed Hifumi's story as I originally outlined in the OG post with him. He was friends with Aoi all his life, pretty much his only friend at all, and ever since he was little he had an obsession with writing songs, because he was obsessed with stuff like anime openings and was content to just keep the songs to himself. It wasn't till Aoi convinced him to share some of his songs that he started his journey to success, but bc he's not traditionally attractive, his first hits were literally just… his voice being played over other more attractive singers and it wasn't until very very recently that he even performed a song of his for the first time.

Toko Fukawa - Ultimate Fanfic Writer

So while Hifumi was clearly a Doujinshi but due to weird translation, ended up as fanfic creator, Touko is straight up a FF then Wattpad then AO3 girl, who would get obsessed with this really shitty, tripe manga that she didn't even like reading. It did however have super hot dudes in it, so she wrote good stories of those characters when she got frustrated with the actual authorial content - which was always.

Yasuhiro Hagakure - Ultimate Gambler

Quite LITERALLY the never stop gambling meme personified into a guy. He can lose 3 mil on slot machines but always comes out fine because it means if he keeps gambling he'll eventually run into his 1/3 and win giga millions, what he needs to pay off his debts. It isn't just with luck though either because his personality and lack of intelligence or understanding of most the rules of the games he plays means he'll never react the way he should when getting a good hand in poker or a bad draw in blackjack, so he wins those games almost always through just… stupidity.

Mukuro Ikusaba - Ultimate Biker

She's number 16 in her gang, and is easily the most loyal enforcer and taskman of the gang. She does anything she's told, to a grim and disciplined degree not typical for hooligan bike gangers, she doesn't really desire a seat as top dog of the gang though, after all she's got school to worry about, and her sister.

Mondo Owada - Ultimate Warlord

So his relationship and Kiyotaka's is gonna be interesting, because I don't want him to be exactly like Mukuro at all, who was just sort of an all-obsessed Yandere. It's more like he's always chafing under Taka, who is less than friendly with him in this AU, really the main way he even lets Taka boss him around is because he pays incredibly well and helps keep his gang members from devolving back into the unstructured, chaotic criminal life, the same that took his brother years ago.

Oh and yeah, he still looks like Guile, as he should.

Sparkling Justice - Ultimate Killer Killer

Yeah it's a reference to Killer Killer, sue me I love the manga. He has Hajirahara's ahoge, and I thought it'd be cute to also give him a mask just like the other Makoto from a Kodaka game series (Raincode.) Also, while Genocide jack stuffs all her scissors in her skirt, Makoto keeps a truth gun with "truth bullets" as his main weapon, the gun he stores inside the big book in the chibi of just Makoto, and the bullets kept on his person as the red buttons all over his body, which he pulls out when he needs to reload.

"Kiyotaka Ishimaru" - Ultimate Fashionista

Unlike Mukuro and Junko, Mondo absolutely cannot hide the fact that he acts nothing like Kiyotaka, though this is surprisingly fine to everyone else, because unlike Junko who plastered herself onto literally everything, Mondo always obfuscated himself from the public spotlight, at most showing only his suits while he hid his face behind something conveniently placed. Which played primarily to his vision of an ultimate fashionista, who was above everyone and catered to the rich and powerful.

Junko Enoshima - Ultimate Moral Compass

This was a fun one, I decided to let her have her red hair because I believe it to be the "natural" look of her hair, while attaching little clips of dyed hair to her buns as a replacement to keep her shape sorta and keep the strawberry blonde somwehere on her. Understand that while she is the "moral compass" she is still pretty deranged, and the only reason she focuses so much on keeping everyone on their best behavior is because it's endlessly entertaining to her to make her fellow moral committee members upset when she blatantly makes a mockery of the rules while still keeping kids on their best behavior to make a point.

Kiyotaka Ishimaru - Ultimate Fashionista and Tyrant, the Iron Hand of Despair

Taka's design I wanted to sort of focus on this sort of, holier-than-thou idea, where I wanted to make him look a lot fancier and upper-class than Junko does in his standard highschool fit compared to him. I wanted him to have an upper-crust sort of look

If you're reading this after reading this all, thanks! You're a wonderful person :) Signing off...

Mani

[heytherelysia]

hello, i really enjoyed your work so far & i saw that your reqs are open! i was wondering if you could do ayato aishi x gn reader who is anxious and dependent? reader is almost like a sheep, following the crowd and attaching themself to their friends. thank you and i hope you have a lovely day/night 🤍

ayato aishi x anxious + dependent reader

you guys don't know how happy i get when i see requests 😭 good crumbs anon! as much as i like an independent reader who knows how to stand up for themselves, there's a special spark in a reader who is very reliant on others and in any way fragile. you guys have a lovely day too!

gn reader, not proofread, alludes to kidnapping, pretty tame for the most part.

you never shared a glanced at each other, not even once, but he was hooked on you when you accidentally spilled your drink on one of the delinquents.

"oh no... i'm sorry i'm sorry! i- ...please forgive me."

it was distressing. you didn't mean to be such a klutz, especially in front of a crowd of people, and now you got into such a mess with one of the delinquents.

the way he looks at you with annoyance, not even bothering to say a word. you know he's mad, rightfully so.

"i'm sorry... i'll buy you another uniform if you want..."

"don't bother. how do i know you won't dirty the uniform when you can't even hold your drink correctly and look where ya going? now move outta the way."

your friends help you stand up as the delinquents pass you by. by the time you look up, you no longer see the crowd of eyes that was practically shooting daggers at you. they continue their mindless conversations before your accident. although embarrassing yourself made a stain in your reputation, it's refreshing that an ocean of eyes is no longer staring right through you. you'll worry about the gossips regarding your clumsiness later.

much to your dismay, gray eyes were observing you the entire time. there was no spark in their eyes since the moment of their birth, they had no soul, they had no purpose, but to be a functioning citizen, when they are just flesh and meat without a sense of mind.

but you helped them. you helped them gain the spark in their eyes, you helped them become their own person, and you helped them find their purpose in life. you've done it all without ever acknowledging them.

ayato snaps out of it when your friends start to escort you away from the scene, rubbing your back and shoulders.

the apologies emitted from your mouth, your hands you were playing with in pure anxiety, your shivering body. he wants it all, he wants all that you can ever give him.

your sheepish personality does not benefit you, but it gives all the pros to ayato. he loved it when your breathing went stiff when he went up to you to say hi.

you've always needed company. wherever there is a crowd, you'll squeeze yourself in, just as long as they don't look at you like you have murdered a family of seven.

but ayato was an unusual company.

at first, it seems like he was just walking past the hall until his feet stops by the bench you're sitting on.

ayato aishi, he is commonly praised for his mother's victory in court when she was accused of murder and the disappearance of five girls. even so, he is still an average student, he hasn't done anything extravagant himself, unless we're talking about his effort to learn everything about you.

"hi."

he's... straight to the point. you try to at least look at him, but you are quick to look away when you see that his face is barely an inch away from you.

"...oh! uh... hi!" you're looking at everything but his face, he just won't stop staring.

he loves it when you're anxious, trembling, jittery and all. but he wishes that you could look at him again more thoroughly, like he is an art piece at a museum.

the next thing you know, he is walking away as he looks at you with half-lidded eyes and a smirk. oddly enough, you maintain eye contact with him until he eventually disappears down the hall.

he never talked to you again after the interaction but something always feels like it's watching you.

one thing that he does not like about you is that you surround yourself with familiar faces and rely on your closest companions. it makes it difficult for him to stalk you without alarming anyone. and with the other, it's rather a jealousy thing of his. one day, when he gets you all to himself, you will depend your very existence to him. rest assured, he'll take care of you, cook you delicious food, and shower you with praise. none of your friends are able to give you what he can, he is special, as he likes to think.

(bonus!) "ayato's darling shrine"

portrait — a photo of my darling watching the sunset. they look a thousand times more beautiful.

broken earphones — my darling threw this away on their way home. i wish we can listen to music together with these headphones.

gel pen — darling's favorite pen. they were upset when they lost it, i almost wanted to give it back to them.

crumpled paper — scrapped essay for their research. they forgot to throw it in the trash out of stress. their handwriting is cute, should i write them letters one day?

...

i loved writing this °՞(ᗒᗣᗕ)՞°

[hadassah4ever]

lukas matsson x f!reader smut

warnings: decent age gap, reader has no survival instincts for plot convenience, no protection, and the fact that i haven’t written smut in such a long time, i feel like it’s not the best, but 👍👍

word count: 1,430

minors dni pls

The night was frankly, very boring.

Strolling around and seeing the art pieces that made you realize that you might’ve flushed $50,000 down the drain, but at least you got some good complimentary cocktails and horderves.

“You look bored out of your mind.” A man whispered in your ear from behind, almost making you look like a cat jumping away from a cucumber.

“I don’t like this bullshit… ‘cum on a canvas and call it a painting’ stuff either, it’s emotionle—“

“Technically it’s eliciting emotions from you by making you hate it. But maybe that’s just the art school in me.” You shrugged, turning to see a tall, blonde haired blue eyed man.

“Arts school? On daddy’s dime, huh?” He teased. “I wish.” You softly chuckled, shaking your head.

“Hm. Not a rich girl?” He asked. “I would’ve thought you were. Normally poor people don’t throw $50,000 into the trash like that.” He joked. “I have passion! I’m a starving artist!” You replied, softly chuckling and playfully rolled your eyes, not too offended at his teasing. “How’d you get in here? No offence, but I thought that looking at usele— very… meaningful, modern art was a rich person thing?” He asked, seeming genuinely more curious than insulting or gatekeepy, like most of the people here.

“They invited a student with a referral from their professor. And I was referred by my professor.” You answered. “What an insult.” He joked, you tried to shake your head and jokingly roll your eyes to dodge all of the tiny comments that made you slowly realize more and more you should’ve gone to business school, like your cousin.

“You just hate my future profession, don’t you?” You teased back. “Well, it’s the job that makes parents slowly nod and say ‘ahhh…’, so.” He shrugged, a smug smile on his face like he knew you were gonna laugh. “Ugh, I hate how true that is. I just wanna get out of here as soon as possible. It’s not boring, just terrifying.”

“You could get out of here with me.” He quickly replied, realizing he sounded way too eager. “I don’t even know your name.” You replied, coyly smiling. “Is that the only thing stopping you?” He asked. You shrugged. “I’m Lukas Matsson.” He spoke. “Now, do you wanna leave?” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes playfully and chuckle at that. He was cornier than he let on.

“You intrigue me. Sure.” You don’t think he’d have the gall to murder you or something after being so chatty in the decency crowded gallery, so what did you really have to lose?

You knew something was up when he rubbed your knee in the car. And the way he kept glancing at your tits. And giving you “fuck me” eyes.

“You’re alright with coming to my apartment right? No pressure.” He spoke, not seeming to just be covering his bases, but actually not putting too much pressure on you. “Sure, what else do I have to lose?” You joked, he softly smirked and told the driver his address.

You should’ve been aware about the fact that he could’ve been rich, but he dressed so casually, and not just the “hello fellow peasants, I am like you” kind of casual the way most rich people dress, but he was in a really nice part of town.

——

“Down for some random wine that people give me?” He asked, going into his wine cabinet, using his fingers to browse through several wines that would probably be a month's worth of rent for you, at the very least. “Gonna wine and dine me before taking me to pound town?” You joked, and as you silently cursed yourself for saying “pound town”, he chuckled.

“No, I’m just gonna wine you.” He answered, catching you off guard but still enjoying the banter. “So pound town is a non negotiable?” You joked. “Nah, we can negotiate that.” You didn’t know if he really cared this much about your consent or if he was just not trying to catch a case, maybe both, but you’d take it anyways. So far, he cared more about your consent than any person you’ve been with beforehand. Maybe you’d need to sign an NDA.

“I mean, if it’s a good journey to pound town, then I agree, but if I’m just gonna be a vessel, no thanks.” You teased, he softly laughed, picking out a bottle of wine and standing up. “I’ll make sure it’s enjoyable then.”

“Then I’m definitely aboard.” You softly chuckled, glancing at the ground and then glancing back up, Mattsson standing right in front of you, immediately leaning forward and kissing you, placing the bottle of wine on the marble counter with a soft clink.

His hands squeezed your ass, his semi-hard cock grazing against you, his hand found his way to your clit, rubbing it in somewhat rough circles, before stopping and his hand diving into your underwear, his slim fingers opening up your folds and feeling around for your slick, satisfied he grumbled a quiet, “So fuckin’ wet for me.”

“Could we move to the sofa?” You softly asked, snapping him out of his own head. “Huh? Oh yeah.” He answered, both of you scrambled to his couch, as you laid down, he placed his head between your thighs, his hands held your hips before his fingers dipped underneath the fabric of your panties, pulling them off your legs.

“You don’t seem like the guy who’s ready to eat a girl out at a moment's notice.” You flirtatiously teased, he paused for a second before breaking the brief silence with, “Not just any girl.” A similarly teasing smile but a slight, genuine look in his eyes.

That really shut you up, as you leaned back down, his mouth softly sucking your clit, his tongue and lips working together, his fingers moved around as he tried to find your entrance, quickly finding it, they dove in. You tried to resist the urge to clamp your thighs around his head, his beard softly scratching you as he ate you out, throwing your head back and moaning, you shut your eyes hard.

He was too damn good at this.

Within a few minutes he had you softly moaning about how you were about to cum, his mouth worked harder and his fingers thrusted in and out of you quicker, having you unravel faster than you ever have, he still worked his mouth and fingers even when your thighs squeezed the sides of his face, having you shaking.

He quickly pulled his head away from your core, the imprint of his cock ready to burst out from his boxer briefs. He slid them off quickly and you were a bit wary, his size was definitely gonna teeter on uncomfortable, and it was probably gonna stretch you a bit, little veins running up it, the pink tip leaking already. He opened your knees up once again and lined himself up with your entrance, “Tell me if it’s uncomfortable, ‘kay?” He spoke, after you nodded he slowly eased himself inside of you and to your surprise and delight, his size actually worked well fully inside of you.

“It’s good?” He asked, trying to suppress a groan. “Amazing.” You answered, he nodded and started to thrust inside of you, his cock curving upwards and hitting the deep, pleasurable bits inside you, he grunted and moved his fingers to your clit again, his hand resting on your pelvis as his thumb worked in circles, getting into the rhythm of it, he was eventually pounding into you, now using both of his hands to keep himself steady.

It was like a haze surrounded you, gripping onto his couch cushions and arching your back warned him of your impending orgasm, he noticed your inability to just sit still and take his cock, his hands pushed your hips down and continued to nail into you relentlessly, without any further notice, you constricted and finished around him, your breathing became shaky and every limb in your body felt like it was vibrating as he pulled out and came on your stomach, an impressive amount of warm cum hitting just underneath your belly button. His face looked like he just met god and his breathing became shaky as yours started to even out.

“Jesus.” He spoke under his breath. “Hardly anyone has been able to take me like that.” He muttered.

“Might have to pay for your tuition.” He added, in a tone you didn’t know whether or not it was a joke.

Maybe it wasn’t.

——

a/n: lukas definitely has feelings for the reader and i’d be willing to maybe add onto this if enough people want that.

[stsgooo]

What Once Was.

✩࿐ summary: you had numerous problems, but resting at number one was geto suguru.

warning(s): lovers to enemies to lovers(?), self-indulgent on a nuclear level, reader is kinda obsessed with geto, unrequited requited love, cult leader geto things, semi-jealous fem!gojo, SMUT MDNI. wc; 13.8k

pairing(s): fem!geto/fem!reader, (slight, slight, slight) fem!gojo/fem!reader.

a/n: hello hello everyone!! first of all, i'd like to apologize for my month long absence from writing. i got covid and then i lost, like, all motivation for writing. but im back now so yipppeee! secondly, happy new year!! (23 days later) happy for this to be my first fic of 2024. anyway, i always see wacuoms art on here and twitter and fem!geto makes my brain go brrr SO i drummed up this silly thing based on that specific art piece. you should definitely check out their art bc it’s so beautiful and just AH!!

m.list ao3

ADMITTEDLY, YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH HER HAD NEVER BEEN… RIGHT, TO SAY THE LEAST.

Even in highschool, you’d clung to her like she was a life raft in the middle of the ocean, the only thing keeping you from floating away, the only thing keeping you from drowning. Neither of you had really acknowledged it back then. Much too focused on fighting curses and just fooling around to truly place any type of label on things. It was peaceful then. Both of you are untouched by the horrors that would come.

Then she had rushed off with Gojo on that Star Plasma Vessel mission, beaming and promising she’d be back before you knew it. Only to return with a bloodied chest and sunken eyes as she proclaimed the girl was dead.

Then she hadn’t returned from that mission. She killed 112 people, vanishing into thin air. Leaving Gojo (and you) to clean up the pieces of her sudden and brutal departure.

Back then, you’d only held contempt for her.

From the moment Yaga had pulled you aside during training with a fourth year, looking you in the eyes, and uttered read this, you felt rage. You felt a never ending, unsettled rage that sparked deep within your gut and dared to set aflame those around you.

Five days after departure. 112 dead. Village left in ruins. Home empty, but residuals indicate murder.

Geto Suguru. Sentenced to death.

Finality of her fate for the rest of time was printed on a piece of paper and passed around jujutsu society like wildfire. Always to be a defector. Always to be a murderer. Long forgotten was the girl who used to curl up against you, uttering her worries into your back. The girl who would shyly offer her help whenever you were particularly stumped. Gone was the girl who had offered something different and true to you. Now, a murderer.

A murderer. The girl who had always said death needed to be justified, that things needed reason, was the very same that killed 112 people and promised to kill more. A murderer.

You never quite got used to people associating everything horrible with her. The updates you’d hear as your school life came to an end. Whispers of her wrong doings just never matched with the face and person you had known.

It messed you up for a long time. Her betrayal. Your relationships slowly dwindled away as you fell reclusive. Faces that you used to greet daily, grew further away. Your graduation was met with little fanfare. In fact, you’d only received a voicemail from Shoko informing you that it was over and done while you were on a mission. You drowned all the negativity and the hatred down with work. Quickly assuming your role as a “powerful sorcerer”. A joke, in your books. You’d never been as powerful as the others. Never as useful.

Her defection made you feel selfish.

There was an extreme amount of anger and frustration that you took out on others when it was all pinned on her. Burned some bridges between you and few. Most notably, you and Gojo. Both of you had been pent up with the rage of the betrayal and things had been said. It was almost easy to leave her one and only. To take a job at Kyoto and completely leave Tokyo behind like a nasty stain on your favorite sweater.

What was once home and family, was nothing more than a horrible reminder of what once was.

Time moved on. Life took you different places and you met new people. You matured more and you worked towards trying to appear more stable.

But she always lingered in the back of your mind.

Gojo, when the both of you were still on speaking terms, had brazenly described her as a breath of fresh air. The last bit of blue spring. A beautiful luminous skyline that kept you captivated. Words all so flippant and nonchalant as if it were fact that couldn’t be contested or questioned.

You agreed.

But, at the same time, you’d seen her in a different light.

She’d always been the setting sun. Something that would go away, no matter how much you begged for its light to hold out a little longer. Something that would display the most beautiful things, showcase art that no other could obtain, then so ruthlessly take it away. No matter how much you reached out for it, it’d never been within your grasp. When you thought of sunsets, you thought of her.

When you saw certain hair ties displayed in shops, you thought of her.

When you lay alone in the middle of the bed, you thought of her— butting her way in, her long legs tangling with your own as she claimed you hogged all of it to keep her close.

When you saw, you thought of her. You saw a lot. You thought a lot.

Shamefully, you thought of her a lot, even after eight years.

At 24, you’re supposed to be better.

Everyone seemed to figure it all out. How to avoid the topic of her. How to move on so quickly. How to avoid talking about the sorcerer from their class, their school, their group that snapped and went on a spree. How to avoid giving updates when the higher-ups are a little desperate for someone to go out and find her, to finally put a stop to her.

Everyone but you.

Your avoidance, your loophole from thinking about her, was to simply diminish her to her. Nothing else. Nothing less, nothing more. Just her. No name. No face. Nothing.

She’d left you. She never said goodbye to you. She told Shoko and Gojo goodbye. Went out and found them. But not you. She didn’t want to see you. She didn’t feel the same as you did. All of the things you reminded yourself to keep you sane, from thinking about her with rose tinted glasses.

It was easier that way. You’d been doing good at it too. No longer your friend. No longer the girl you might’ve felt more for. No longer the strongest. No longer a sorcerer. Just her.

Well, until you received this mission.

The higher-ups had called you to Tokyo and you instantly knew it wouldn’t be anything good. Finding yourself in the middle of a dimly lit room, they offered not any ‘hi’s, ‘hello’s, or ‘good morning’s. They’d opened with, Gojo Satoru is no longer in the country and we have something of great importance to be dealt with.

Promising. Not at all threatening, right?

No way.

If they couldn’t even have Gojo Satoru present in the country for this, it was definitely something they didn’t want her finding out about. Something that she’d definitely hunt you down and kill you over if it was something insanely extreme.

Despite your inner reassurances, you knew it was something you wouldn’t like either.

Still, you couldn’t outright say no. You weren’t as strong, you weren’t as brilliant, or as cunning, or important as Gojo. You were just… you. A girl from a far off village who was lucky to be born like this, to be found when she had. To see what you could see. You’d always been plain.

You were in no place to decline.

What exactly do you want done? You had asked with trepidation, sensing something heavy in the air.

What they said next hadn’t ever crossed your mind.

One of Geto Suguru’s members has been seen scoping out the area where a Special Grade curse has been reported. We’re under the impression that she’ll be going to the area within the next two days to claim it. We’d like for you to take this chance and execute her.

The moment the name left the old man’s mouth, three years of your youth burst through your mind like a raid. Blissful times. Happier times. Before everything. When she used to tuck your hair behind your ear. When her eyes would be bright and jovial as you explained something childish to her. When she would utter your name against your skin and press the most delicate of kisses against you. When Suguru—

Your world crumbled the instant the name filled your mind.

You’d broken your streak. Of not saying her name.

It’s probably why you didn’t hesitate to agree. As her name repeated in your mind— Suguru. Suguru. Suguru. Suguru. All the wonderful and beautiful things that accompanied a name as sweet as hers. Ignoring the fact that you, when the moment came and the day called for it, would never be able to harm her. Much less execute her. You agreed.

They appeared relieved. As they thanked you for your time, for your cooperation. They promised you that you would be doing the world a service.

You were not so convinced as you bowed, then took your leave. Instead, you couldn’t help the burst of unnerving giddiness that waved over you.

It wasn’t long after you got home that you received an email including files upon files of information you’d have to stuff in your mind before going to the location. Long droning essays on the curse residing in the area, the area itself, and the type of person that had been nervously traipsing around a specific building taking notes. It didn’t really interest you, nor did you really take any of it seriously. A single photo of the person staking out the area appeared to be a young man, red cheeks, and wide eyes. He looked no older than 20.

It was well into the night, your fourth cup of some bottle of alcohol that's been sitting on your shelf for years, when you opened a file and saw her.

The first thing that caught your eye was the photo at the top. The picture was shitty. Grainy and taken from a distance, as if the photographer was in the midst of a large crowd, barely tall enough to get something decent. But it was enough to make your body lock up and your eyes to take in every detail of her endlessly.

She was older, much like you, her hair much longer, now adorned in a half bun with a single bang sculpting the right side of her face— much like how it would rest in your teen years. It appeared that she still had her gauges in, possibly a larger size than the last you saw of her. New piercings appeared to adorn her face, just above her eyebrow and on her bottom lip, a single ring on the right. She was just so… her. If it weren’t for the large robes that seemed to swallow her whole, making her appear small and approachable, you would’ve convinced yourself it was still your Suguru.

You read over the information gathered about her carefully. With much more attention than you had given to the special grade and skittish curse user before her. The file was filled to the brim with things she’d been up to for the past eight years—there were gaps here and there about what she’d been doing exactly, but you got the jist that none of it was necessarily good.

Almost immediately after her defection, she’d taken over the Star Religious Group. Something that brought you pause. You’d heard that name uttered here and there when you were younger. Especially from Suguru herself. As she got that hollow look in her eyes, staring distantly, she’d told you that the applause was neverending. When you asked who, she said them. The group. It made you wonder what could possibly possess her to take over the group and create it into— well, more of a cult. The information about it was far and few. Mostly detailed information about it was Suguru’s punishment for those she believed weren’t exactly useful, they most likely ended up dead and disfigured.

It appeared that most of her followers were either men hoping for some type of attention from her, women who were the same and willing to do more, or those who truly believed in whatever deranged thing she was passing around. There was a quite a list of men that had crossed some figurative line and detailed torture they endured because of their crimes in Suguru’s eyes— you didn’t let it sway you as you, wholeheartedly, believed they probably deserved it.

Another section detailed that she had a subgroup called “The Family”.

You were ashamed to acknowledge the heavy feeling in your chest. As you read about the members that were known— a man from Africa, a woman from Hokkaido, a blonde man of unknown origins— two girls. It seemed that this was something that caught the attention of not only you, but the higher-ups too. There wasn’t much information, but they seemed desperate to find some weakness with the woman. These two seemed to be it.

13 years-old, have not attended any schools, unknown birth origins, unknown curse technique. It seemed that Suguru had done good in keeping them secret, despite them being semi-known within the people that mattered.

Your heart beats erratically against your chest, your tongue darting out to moisten your lips. It’d been so long since you saw her. Not even a glimpse at a picture. You wished… Hell fucking no. You’re not doing this again. You’re not falling down this rabbit hole again.

Still, your heart ached. She had time for this family. She could tell Shoko and Gojo goodbye. But she never sought you—

You closed the tab instantly once the thought entered your mind. Downed the rest of your cup and pressed your fingers against your eyes, drawing in a shaky breath. All that time since you saw her. The amount of time since you stuffered all those pictures into the back of your attic, telling yourself you were done. The higher-ups ruin it for a botched execution.

It was in that moment, that you promised to exorcize the curse before she could ever get there.

An easy in and out. A fool proof plan that you drummed up drunk off your ass, and trying not to think about the teenaged you who would scoff at you now. You imagined her, happier and awestruck by a girl with a dazzling smile and heart of gold, standing over you and asking how you could possibly end up like this. When you and that girl of gold had promised an eternity of fighting curses together. She would be disappointed. As you were.

You decided, for the teenage versions of yourselves, you wouldn’t kill her. No, it couldn’t be you. Instead, you’d give her a sign. You’d kill that curse and it’d be a clear cut you’re being watched. She’d take the hint.

There had been a reason Suguru, red faced and teary eyed, had banned you from making plans in high school.

You arrived at the abandoned complex at 7PM.

After a long day of traveling, you were almost emotional to see it. But you knew what it meant as you stepped through the door. Another exhaustive fight that would leave you passed out on the train and the higher-ups giving you a lashing for failing so badly.

Your steps were light as you judged the area. It seemed abandoned and you didn’t see or feel any disturbances. Everything seemed in order. You whistled softly as you walked through the halls, searching each moldy and deteriorated room with the interest of a grandfather. It didn’t appear that there was any curse lingering. You were almost convinced you had the wrong address when you felt it.

It was something you didn’t acknowledge at first. Just as you approached the last step of the 12th floor. You felt this weight lift off your shoulders and you sighed contentedly. In an instant, everything felt okay. Like you weren’t about to have a quarter life crisis once this was done and over with. You pushed some of your hair back and just let your eyes droop as if a soothing lullaby was egging you into slumber. Bliss.

A beat.

Bliss, you realized with a shudder, was the last thing you should be feeling.

You felt a tug behind you. Last second, you whirled around to meet the eyes of the curse.

It was plump and red, an array of eyes staring at you alone. It almost resembled a strawberry as it floated feet in front of you. But its touch was not delicate or sweet, landing a hard ruthless blow in your gut that sent you flying back. Straight through an opposite wall and into one of the many abandoned apartments.

For a moment, all you could do was stare up at the ceiling with your ears ringing and head aching. You asked yourself, what the fuck am I doing? You should’ve told them to fuck off. Told them that you were not going to get yourself mixed up with whatever fucked ass shit Suguru was doing. You were done. You should’ve been more assertive.

But you were a coward.

You cursed to yourself as you dragged a languid hand up to your face. Pulling back to stare at the blood coating your fingers with a heavy sigh. You pushed yourself into a sitting position, swaying in your spot as your head grew dizzy. It didn’t take you long for you to realize your RCT wasn’t working. In fact, you had little to no cursed energy at the moment. An odd sensation of emptiness filled you with anxiety and you were suddenly reminded of what you read right before you saw her picture last night.

Along with the feelings of bliss, this curse can drain cursed energy from the user. Proceed with caution.

Maybe their true plan was to kill you all along. Who would even care?

Shoko could be semi-shocked, maybe. You hadn’t talked to her in years and the shock would primarily be rooted in the ‘wow, I haven’t heard from her in years. That’s awfully sad.’ way. In the best case scenario, she could show off your liver to an awfully curious student who wanted to know what alcoholism does to the body.

Nanami, possibly the only person that you kept contact with (which was only texts on holidays and whenever you had a question about locations), would say it was a shame and move on as if it was a bad game of football he lost a bet on.

Utahime would only cry because death is sad. And she would prattle on about how she knew you and could have possibly done something, if only she had known the job they were sending you on. In true Utahime fashion.

And Gojo.

Well, Satoru would probably roll her eyes and say something along the lines of— Go figure she’d die because of her own ignorance. Then make a poorly timed joke about your demise that would only get protests out of some faux respect for you.

It wasn’t nice. Or entirely comforting. Nor did you bring tears to your eyes. It was just your reality. Something you had accepted the moment you’d walked away from those you’d known.

It was just reality.

The strawberry-like curse was about to break through, with you accepting your death wholeheartedly, the hole in the wall when a loud roar vibrated off the walls to the right of the corridor. Both you and the curse had no time to process anything when a flash of something pounced by. The strawberry-like curse was suddenly out of your view with a loud screech. You could hear it fight against something, making feeble noises as they seemed to struggle against one another, but you couldn’t see anything except for the sudden pink mist filling the air. A last ditch effort at defending itself. But the thing that attacked it didn’t seem to care as it continued to growl.

You dared to inch closer to the hole and peek out.

Over the strawberry-like curse, tearing it to shreds, was a cat-like curse. Big. Much bigger than the other curse and definitely bigger than you. Huge talons coated in purple goop, pointed black ears, pure white coat, with purple and black swirls all around its torso. It looked vicious and you were suddenly worried that this was the true curse Suguru was after. Much better than a horny strawberry curse. Much more powerful too.

“Shame, I really was going to use that.”

It’s been eight years, four months, 16 days, and 30 hours since you last heard her voice. The last you had heard of her was a week before Yaga told you of her defection. She’d shown up at your door, black hair loose from its usual prim and proper updo, she asked if she could come in. You accepted without hesitation. She laid with you silently before she asked a question you thought about often: Do you ever see yourself being something other than a sorcerer? Back then, you hadn’t thought about it before you told her no. You told her that you were happy to continue doing this— it was what you loved. She stared at you long and hard that night. Then uttered that you were right.

The next day, Haibara Yu was killed.

Bitterly, you realized it hadn’t changed at all. Still sweet, still thick like honey, a trap for you to stumble and get stuck in. To cherish until the moment you perished.

You felt sick to your stomach as you refused to look over at her. You hadn’t heard her approach. Didn’t even sense anything, but that definitely had to do with the curse’s mist. She managed to sneak inside and now she was only feet away from you. You could feel her gaze. You had always been able to tell when she was looking, when she was prying open your head and trying to take a peek. It always made you feel hot all over, a tightness in your abdomen and a burn against your cheeks.

Now, it makes you queasy. Makes you sweat and shiver, goosebumps littering your skin.

“You know, people usually say thank you after you save their life.” She continued on as if this wasn’t hard. As if it wasn’t you and it wasn’t her standing in this abandoned building while a curse— her curse— devoured another. “But I suppose you were never one for manners.”

Is your lack of manners all natural or do you have to work extra hard to be like this? Suguru used to tease you after you were particularly difficult on a mission. Bumping hips with you, hand brushing against yours, eyes half crescents as she smiled. Her. Her. Beautiful.

She had been everything.

She’d been the one you sought out when you were much too jumbled for anything or anyone else. Been the first you opened up to, spilling all your secrets and worries into her ear. Been the first to hear it all and to touch you delicately, to embrace you so tenderly that you believed you were everything horrible.

She had been love.

But that was before she became a mass murderer. Before she promised a world without non-sorcerers. Before she had left you in the dust without so much as a glance. Before everything. That was your reality now.

You clenched your jaw, head tilted down as you weighed your options.

The cat curse was in the way of the exit, still devouring the other in a ruthless onset of hunger. You wouldn’t be able to get through it without your cursed energy, which you could only just start to feel slowly returning. She was blocking the hallway that led to the fire escape. Probably a deliberate choice and she probably wanted to attack you with these lack of escape routes she’d given.

The only option was the window behind you.

To jump and free fall from the 12th floor, then book it, hoping to get away fast enough. Your only hope was that you landed and didn’t break anything.

Your foot shifted, getting prepared to book it, when she spoke again and, effectively, stopped you.

“I wasn’t going to come today, but one of my people said they saw you, and…. Well, I’ll admit, I was a tad curious.”

Your ears rang.

She had come… specifically for you? She wasn’t even going to get this shit, but you had been there, and she came?

A part of you dared to grow hopeful. A part of you that you’ve tried to push down and ignore for almost a decade. A part of you that was insane and thought insane things. Dreamt of things that could never be. It was the side that was absolutely obsessed with her. The side that just wanted to consume her whole and for you both to become one. One side that would something wish you were a curse that she could swallow and summon at will. Your mind was soaring with wild things. Crazy things.

You tried to focus on something else. Like the fact that she regarded this as a purely curious endeavor. Curiosity was an interesting choice of word. You could be curious about anything. Like the sun and the moon. Or a bug. This situation felt more like a bug. Like she was holding a magnifying glass and watching your movements, adding pressure to you, seeing what you could handle. Next, she’d hold out the glass to the sun and scorch you alive.

In your state, you’d probably thank her.

You could see her shift in the corner of your eye, she drew closer to you, and you could just barely make out the end of her robes.

“Are you not even going to look at me?” She dared to sound sad. To sound a little teasing.

You were convinced that if you looked at her, you’d be blinded. That you could never possibly look away again. That you’d plead and beg for things she’d never give you.

She sighed something heavy, “You’re angry.”

Angry? You wanted to say, instead clenching your hands at your sides, I’m downright murderous.

You’re angry you’re even here.

You’re angry that the higher-ups believed you could do this.

You’re angry that Gojo didn’t dare to even try.

You’re angry that you can pick out her soft fruity perfume as it fills the air.

You’re angry that your heart still beats wildly at her mere presence.

You’re so fucking angry that she can stand there and talk to you like it was nothing. That it hadn’t been eight years. That you hadn’t been forced to suffer alone without her.

Yeah, you’re angry.

Your eyes snapped away as the cat curse purred, making its way back down the hallway. You took a step back from the hole, fearful it’s pounce on you next. However, it kept walking, until it was by her side. You watched as it rubbed its face against her side, purring and mewling softly as she delicately ran her fingers through its fur. Her hands were bigger than you remember. Her long fingers carded through the fur gently, black painted nails a stark contrast to the white of the beast.

“I’m not going to fight you….” Yet, remained unspoken. It appeared to be completely up to you on whether or not you two would end up in a brawl. “I’m just here for a chat.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.” You spoke before you could think, before you could stop yourself.

She seemed to pause. Her hand froze momentarily in the fur, before it shakily began once more. “I knew you were angry.”

That only pissed you off more.

“Angry? Of course I’m angry! Here you are, after eight years, just popping in like it’s fucking nothing. Like this isn’t the cruelest thing you’ve ever done.” You retorted, your hands clenched tight at your sides as you deliberately stared at her tabi clad sandal covered feet. You couldn’t look her in the eye. You couldn’t see her face. It’d be over. You couldn’t.

She faltered once against, then seemed to take her chances, taking a step towards you. “I wanted to see you.”

Eight years too late. You thought.

You scoffed, jaw clenched, “Yeah, right, you didn’t want to see me eight years ago, why would you want to see me now?”

“Eight years ago—?”

“You went to everyone that mattered and said goodbye. You explained yourself to them and then you vanished. But there wasn’t a goddamn word for me?” You felt pent up anger and sadness from over the years conjured up once more. Nights you had spent curled up alone in bed after her defection, staring into the darkness, while the endless string of thoughts about your value and worth replayed in your head. It crushed you. The reality of it all. “Me? It told me exactly what I meant to you.”

“I wasn’t—”

“I cared about you much more than you ever cared about me. It was always you and Gojo, I just butt my way in.” You continued in an overflow of thoughts that you never dared to speak aloud. You figured, if this was the last time you saw each other, then you’d lay it all out. “I just wanted you to say something, but it made me open my eyes when you didn’t say a word. I learned my lesson.”

A beat.

“Really?” Her tone is flat, almost sarcastic as she regards you. “And what was that lesson?”

“Don’t assume your place in someone’s life.”

There was a prolonged silence between you both and you thought that she just might walk away. But you were pleasantly surprised when she chuckled. A deep and low sound that echoed off the walls and converged back on you. Goosebumps formed on your arms and there was a distinct shiver down your back.

“You don’t change, do you?” Her voice is thick with amusement and something oddly unidentifiable mixed in there.

You’re unable to answer. Had you really remained the same after all these years?

Suddenly, you’re broken from your thoughts as warm and soft hands slip to either side of your face, pulling your head upwards and you finally make eye contact with her for the first time.

The light brown warm and welcoming, an old home that called to you now as you stared at her with wide eyes. The bags that had tainted her under eye those years ago were non-existent now. Instead, wrinkles at the corner of her eyes adorned her features. You were half tempted to reach out and trace them, take them into your memory.

A sickness fills your gut as you take her in completely.

The blurry picture some informant took didn’t do her justice. It didn’t capture the warmth of her eyes, or the spread of her lips, the charming nature of it all. She looks better, healthier, than she had when you last saw her. Cheeks are full when they used to be sunken, fingers and arms no longer boney as they once were, she filled her clothes now, surely. Your eyes take in the new piercings that litter her face now. Two on her bottom lip, three on both of the upper lobes of her eyes. Her hair was longer and appeared to be silk like, still tied up in a half up bun, it was almost too familiar. The only thing that was different was the sharp smirk on her lips and her clothes.

Heavy robes, almost that of a monk, that seemed to swallow her large frame whole. The only place that seemed to be strained was her upper breasts, cleavage peeking from the fabric. Something that would surely bring shame to other monks, but pleasure to you.

Your little mass murdering ex.

“Ah,” Suguru breathed, eyes brightening considerably when you seemed to completely take her in, “Long time no see.”

You wanted to keel over right there. To fall to the ground and have your soul float upwards into oblivion. You might just die happy.

“....Suguru…” Your hand shakily wraps around her wrist, clutching onto her tightly.

Her eyes are almost manic, staring down at you as her fingers gently stroke against your cheek. “You think I didn’t see you because I didn’t care about you? You’re an idiot.” Her words are slow and deliberate, a tone that you would use on a petulant child. The tips of her nails dug into your cheeks as she squeezed them together, jerking your forward. You’re so close that you feel her hot breath fan across your skin. So close you could smell the faint scent of the mints she’d pop whenever she’d absorb a curse. It was dangerous to be so close, to be so vulnerable and under her touch. But you couldn’t pull away now, not waiting all this time just to see her. “I did everything I did because I do care about you.”

Your mind draws blank as your hold on her slackens, “You do…?” You whisper, words jumbled by the press of your cheeks.

Her eyes bounce from your own to your puckered lips, something dark residing deep within her soft hued irises. “You calling me a liar?” She loomed over you now, your back straining to keep her in your line of sight.

“I don’t know you anymore, Suguru— it’s been eight years. You’ve killed people, innocent people.” You attempt to keep your voice concise and level. To be the voice of reason in this mind numbing situation. But you can tell by her expression that you didn’t help.

She looks unimpressed, maybe even disgusted, by your words. “Innocent? They’re all as innocent as the serpent tempting Eve.” She drew you even closer, your breasts pressing against her own, the soft flesh smashed between the both of you. Her manic expression only grows more feral as she stares down at you. “They all have blood on their hands and they’re allowed to walk around without knowing what they’ve done. The amount of sorcerers that’ll die just for them to remain ignorant. Never having to know the kids, the people, that their emotions have killed. Those monkeys—”

In an instant, you were glaring up at her, “I didn’t come here to talk about your insane fucking ideals, Suguru! Now, either talk like a normal sane person, or this is done.”

She faltered.

She had the gall to look caught off guard, before masking her expression with a kind grin. She pulled away from you, her nails leaving deep red crescents in your skin. It almost burned, but your heart beating against your ears (and between your legs), distracted you from the gentle pain.

Suguru tucked her hands into her sleeves, her eyes closing as she bowed respectfully. “I apologize. I can get rather carried away with my thoughts.” The sudden shift in tone and the air was almost whiplash. It was crazy to see how easily she could go from crazed excited rage to this respectable monk offering her sincere apologies. It made your head spin. “I don’t mean to anger you.”

You eyed her for a long moment. Watched the way she kept her position. She didn’t falter or twitch. Just remained bowed.

“Why are we here?”

“I assumed you were sent here to execute me.”

With the nail hit on the head, you tensed.

This only dragged a scoff from her, a twinge of bitter amusement there. “Rather foolish on their part— thinking you of all people would kill me.”

It felt like a jab on your abilities. It was definitely a jab on your abilities.

“I could.” You childishly retort.

Suguru’s pierced brow raises, a twinkle in her eye that you could identify from your teenage years, “You could? Really?” She repeated, and it sounded terribly incredulous. “You’ve just had your cursed technique— which you could barely do anything with the last time we saw each other, by the way— leached away by a curse. You’re horribly banged up. I don’t think you could throw a straight punch even if you wanted.”

“I could kill you, if I really wanted— but I don’t do shit just because someone says so.”

There’s a long moment of silence before Suguru laughed.

She laughed and laughed. She laughed loudly. Hard enough that her head was thrown back, eyes closed. Her chest heaved as her arms wrapped around her midriff. The sound was wheezy and sharp, would’ve been mocking if it weren’t for the familiarity of it.

A sound that you hadn’t realized you missed until this very moment.

It was a heavy realization. Just how much you missed Suguru.

The tiniest of things that you had taken for granted as a child. Her laughs, her smiles, the little twitch in her hands whenever she wanted to do something, but hesitated. It made you think about all the things you had missed that year. The frowns and the distance in her eyes— the amount of times you had asked what’s wrong and let her slip by with a simple nothing too important. There were many things you should’ve done in order to hold onto and cherish those little things you once loved dearly.

You resisted the overwhelming urge to cry as you clenched your jaw, swallowing down any of the tears. You wouldn’t do this. Not here. Not in front of her.

“You really haven’t changed,” Suguru said breathlessly, calming down from her laughing fit to address you once again. “It warms my heart— to see you untouched by time.”

Untouched.

Untouched.

Untouched?

You were, arguably, one of the most touched people by the slut of time. You had suffered and agonized every day for years. To say you were unchanged, untouched, it was almost like her spitting in your face.

“Then you don’t know me.” You flatly reply.

Her amused expression falters. “Hm?”

“These have been the worst eight years of my life. The amount of shit I’ve been through to even be talking to you now— it’s been insufferable. I have changed. A lot. I have changed in ways that I didn’t even know were possible and it’s been the worst experience.” There was a spark of rage in you as you reached out and pushed her back. She didn’t move to stop you, but she didn’t even stumble at your ‘attack’. She just stared and stared. “Just because you couldn’t, what— stop being angry? News flash, Suguru, we’re all pissed off at the world, but we can’t do anything about it!”

“You could,” Suguru said quietly after a moment’s pause, “Any of us could do something about it. There’s just no opportunity from that place. They restrict you, put you in a box.”

If anyone hadn’t changed, it was Suguru. Who appeared and sounded like she was just as self assured as she was eight years ago.

Instead of arguing over something you know neither of you would budge on, you turned towards the stairs.

Your swift exit would be the best option. There was nothing to be said, nothing to be passed between the both of you that would change the fact that Suguru was sentenced to death— and you were left behind. The realization made you sigh softly through your nose, dragging your feet as you walked away. She made no move to stop you, not even asking what you were doing, it seemed you both agreed—

“I didn’t seek you out because I knew you couldn’t handle it.”

Her words made you pause once again.

You faltered in your step and your eyes were unwavering as they peeked at her from over your shoulder. Her head was held high, face unmoved, but her eyes… her eyes carried something heavier.

“Huh..?” You uttered.

Suguru took a deep breath, “I knew that if I told you goodbye, you would’ve done something stupid, like try to convince me to come back or say that it was a mistake. O-Or you would’ve thought that you could’ve done something to stop me.” I still thought that. I still believe that. I still imagine myself finding you and dragging your stubborn ass back. “I didn’t say goodbye because I thought…. Well, I thought it was a mercy.”

“A mercy?” You frown heavily at her, “A mercy from what?”

“From heartbreak.”

There was a moment of silence between you two that you dragged on for three minutes.

A mercy from heartbreak.

It almost made you laugh. How absurd the notion was— that her not speaking a word to you somehow spared you from any pain. That you wouldn’t feel the effects of her sudden disappearance just because she didn’t speak to you. It was an optimistic view on it. It was too hopeful. It was selfish.

So you just sharply laughed.

The sound was so sudden that you were almost tempted to jump. As Suguru does, blinking at you to stare at you with vague curiosity. You hadn't expected it yourself. It wasn’t a planned action, nor did you have any opportunity to stop yourself. It just happened. As abruptly and sudden as this situation.

Suguru’s thin brow raised, “What’s so funny?”

“You,” Was the immediate reply as you recovered, taking deep breaths, “Just…. A mercy. You’ve always been so interesting, Suguru. Your concept of sparing me from all those nasty feelings is so..”

“So what?” Suguru’s voice is flat as she regards you, seemingly unamused by this sudden shift in mood from you.

You shoot her a look, “Naive.”

“Naive?”

“Terribly. The fact that you genuinely believe I would’ve rather not heard from you at all to save myself the heartbreak is naive, Suguru.”

Her nose scrunched. “I was sparing you—“

You scoffed, “Sparing me? What am I, some-some damsel in need of saving?”

“A conversation wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“All I wanted was you to say goodbye.”

“You would’ve been devastated—“

“I was devastated when you didn’t even see me!” You reached out and slapped her shoulder. She remained unmoved. Not surprising given her wide stature and statue-like physique. “Do you know what it was like, waiting for you to stumble around and tell me anything? To hear from Gojo or Shoko that you saw them but I wasn’t even worth it? I waited weeks— months for anything. I would’ve taken a card saying anything. Hell, you could’ve been like, surprise! I killed those people. See you never xoxo! And I would’ve taken it. I would’ve sucked it up and swallowed my pride. But you didn’t say a word, Suguru. Not a single thing. That’s what devastated me.”

Suguru blinked slowly, staring at you from over nose as she seemed to blankly contemplate her next words. “A conversation wouldn’t have changed my decision.” She repeated, except it was more firm.

You take in a shaky breath, “I know that.”

“No, you don’t. I can see that you don’t.” Suddenly, Suguru’s hand raised, hesitating, before tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “I honestly didn’t haven’t anything right to say to you. Anything that came to mind, it just… it wasn’t right. I wanted it to be right with you.”

You tried to ignore the erratic beat of your heart and the heat rising to your cheeks as you stared up at her. “I would’ve taken anything.”

“You deserved more than some empty words I would’ve given. you then.”

A part of you truly did wonder what she could have told you then to comfort you. A part of you knew that you probably would’ve tried to convince her to come with you. To try and make amends with a system she despised. Or maybe it would’ve been carnage and your rage would’ve gotten in the way. Maybe it was best that you two hadn’t talked then.

Still, that teen in you had wished desperately for her one last time.

“My conversation with Satoru… she told me to stay away from you,” Suguru continued when you didn’t speak, “She said that one of us would probably do something incredibly dumb.”

Your eyebrows shot upwards, “Like what?”

Suguru rolled her shoulder, a distant look in her eyes, “I don’t know. Something dumb.”

“We were never the smartest together.”

“I suppose.”

The conversation waned and you suddenly noticed that Suguru’s curse was gone along with the strawberry. Probably both fell away into the recesses of whatever deep dark pit they were all nestled in. Waiting to be coaxed out, waiting to obey and impress their master by any means necessary.

It almost reminded you of high school.

Your desperate attempts at catching her eye. Gaining attention from the angelic girl that sat two seats over. Pathetic battles you placed yourself smack dab in the middle to show off and impress her with your silly fighting style. You were so painfully obvious and embarrassing back then. As if you were one of her curses, bound and promised to serve her. Fight for her, live for her, breathe for her. A loyal dog. Gojo had called you that once.

Shamefully, you acknowledged that same sense of loyalty lingered in the air now.

Why else would you drag yourself to this place? Killing a curse before she could get it just to send a message? Why would you want to warn the psycho killer that inhabited the body of your first…something eight years after she completely abandoned you?

Loyalty and need.

Suguru, larger than life, had you even after all these years.

Eight years wasn’t nearly enough time to lay her memory to rest.

“I’m not going to fight you,” Suguru spoke once the silence dragged on for almost too long. Her hands were tucked into her large sleeves, a peaceful expression on her face with something prowling in the darkness of her eyes. “You can return and tell them I caught you off guard while you were attacking the curse. That I got the upper hand. It’s the easiest way to explain why we’ll depart largely unscathed.”

You tried to ignore the way her eyes trailed up and down your body, taking in the wounds scattering your skin. Instead, paying more attention to her words. Which were more kind than you expected.

“I’m sure they’ll ask you questions. Just act dumb, you were always good at that when we were in trouble.” Then she turned towards the stairs.

She was walking away from you again.

Her back turned. Long black tresses swaying across her back. Shoulders tight and straight. Respectable.

She was walking away from you again.

Suguru! You had called out softly that day. Much younger and much dumber than you were now. Her back had faced you then. You thought nothing of it. Despite how much you longed to stare at her face, you hadn’t doubted you’d see it again. I didn’t even hear you leave. Will I see you later?

Suguru had released something soft then, peeking over her shoulder at you, Later.

She had walked away from you.

She never came back.

She was walking away from you.

There was no coming back.

You just needed a moment longer. Just a little more time to drag out the various things you’d imagined in the eight years she’d been absent. To satisfy some sick twisted part of you that longed, that yearned, that held onto her memories so dearly. The delusional part of you that believed things could be the same in some distant universe.

She was walking away.

She’s not going to come back. She wasn’t even giving the illusion that you both would see each other again.

She was walking away.

What are you going to do? You can’t let her go. Not after you’d gotten a taste of the girls you once were. Not that you’d felt her and—

She’s walking away!!!

“They know about those kids.”

You’re not entirely sure why you said that specifically. Probably something to do with the fact that was the original warning you wanted to convey with this whole thing. It just kinda came out. There was no putting it back in.

However, watching Suguru’s back stiffen, rigid and almost unnatural, as she paused in her steps, you realized you wanted to put it back in.

“Excuse me?” Her voice was different. Flat and unwelcoming, hard and unforgiving. She moved her head to regard you with the words you’d just spoken. They were darker than before. Guarded.

You keep your expression carefully open, trying to convey that you weren’t threatening her, “There’s moles in your congregation. They’re watching you and your family. They’re trying to find your weakness and they’ve started to set their eyes on those girls.” You pushed out in one breath.

Suguru pauses for a long moment, jaw tweaking and lips pressed thinly, “And I assume you saw what they had?” Her tone was still cold, still stiff.

You nod, “Yes. It’s very small, very limited. But they have some type of knowledge.”

Suguru faced away once again, her arms at her side and hands clenching. “Goddammit.” She hissed under her breath.

“I just wanted to give you that, uh, warning, so…” You cleared your throat, awkwardly swaying your arm. “Be careful.”

Suguru didn’t look amused or entirely receptive to your words. She suddenly turned around and glared at you. “How much do they know?” She sounded a bit frantic under the firmness of her tone.

“Just that they’re young. That you’ve had them around for a while. But they don’t know their technique or really anything about them.”

“It’s still too much. They know too much.”

“I’m sorry.” You uttered, as if you were the one that had caused all of this.

Suguru raised an eyebrow, “For what?”

There were a lot of things. Many things that you felt responsible for. Primarily—

“I’m sorry I wasn’t enough to stop it.”

Suguru’s complexion paled and she looked unbearably uncomfortable. “Stop what?”

“I never…There must’ve been something I could’ve done for you.”

Her expression grew firm and she released a heavy sigh. “I already told you, there isn’t anything that could’ve—”

“Deterred you from your path, I know. But—” Suguru let out an unbearable noise as if you were causing her great pain. Your own expression tightened up woefully. “But I still wished you were there. That-That you stayed and I could help.”

“You realize that I would’ve been miserable, right?”

“Was I really that bad at helping you?”

“No, I just…. No, you were the only thing keeping there until….”

Until it wasn’t enough. It lingered in the air and, for once, you realized that your apology was warranted. That your teenage self had tried to push down the despair with smiles and jokes. By lingering in her space, doing everything with her. Try to drag her from the recess of her mind.

It wasn’t helpful. Not when it really mattered. Not when it should’ve.

You weren’t there when she was hurt. You weren’t there when she was spiraling. And you were basically nonexistent.

“You and Satoru— you’ve always had your complexes. Whether you realize it or not.” Suguru continues on, eyes unwavering on your face. You’re suddenly hyper aware of the space and distance between you. Large and apparent. An obvious fissure separating you both from one another. “You wanted to save me. You still do. But you can’t.”

"Is it so bad that I just wanted you next to me?" You asked desperately, subconsciously inching forward.

"No, but it's bad that you still do." Suguru said honestly, a terrible thing flashing across her expression that was so vulnerable and so raw. It reminded you of days kinder and younger than you both now.

You scoff in reply, shaking your head and ignoring the flare of heat that covers your cheeks.

"You are loyal to a fault." She continues, eyeing you tenderly as she seemingly accepts her twisted perception in your life. "But it's misplaced. You have to accept that. I'm not coming back."

Your chest aches and your hands clench at your sides, nails creating crescents in your palms as you close your eyes. "Suguru—"

Suddenly, your hands are captured in a large embrace. Long fingers wrapped around your considerably smaller ones. Warm and tender, they had always been warmer than your hands. As if she were the sun and your the cold, desolate moon. Her fingers gently pried the unbearable grip you had on yourself and instead caressed her soft tips against the crescents marring the butt of your palms now.

You dared to drag your eyes upwards once again and meet her eyes. Her gaze is soft, unrelenting, and unbearably kind. Honey glazed eyes staring into your endless pits. Much too bright for the criminal. Something stares back at you. A pleading glint in there that you recognize from a days long passed. A call for the piece of you still holding on to a memory of her.

How am I, a lowly idiot, supposed to accept that you, an angelic figure, left me behind? When you look at me like that? You think, heart aching as you clasp onto her hands.

There's something twitching on your face and you're mortified to find it's a smile.

Suguru lets out a guttural sound, almost as if she'd been punched. "I can't do this." She utters between you both, but it's more directed to herself. Her eyes frantically skimming over your every feature. She seemingly absorbed something she found in your eyes. She spoke louder, "This is driving me crazy."

You blink lazily, "Huh?"

You have to tilt your head upwards to keep your gaze on her wavering face, crumbled and desperate. Her grip on your hands tightens as her tongue darts out to wet her plump lips. "I came here as a last send off to you."

Foolishly, you realize, you came for the same, "Me too."

"Would it be so wrong to..." You're suddenly jerked forward, pressed against her as the hunger in her eyes grows. One hand slides from your own and presses against your cheek, warm and welcoming. "Would it be bad for one last time?"

"No." Is your immediate answer.

"No, no, it wouldn't." She mutters, leaning forward, "I'm terribly greedy."

"You deserve to be."

Suguru lets out a breathless sound as both your lips meet.

It makes so much sense for Suguru to kiss the way she does— eager, but tender, excited. but careful. The soft press doesn't even attempt to hide how much she truly wanted this.

A feeling blossoms throughout your body as you capture her lips into your memory once again. Fuller and more experienced than those years ago, she moves gently as if to take this in carefully. Both of you slipping into one another as if two puzzle pieces newly found and a perfect match.

Suguru's kisses were much like her personality— rumbunctious, sweet, and calm. She kisses like she was breathing life into you. Like she was the representation of everything beautiful and good. All of it makes you snake your arms around her shoulders, around her neck, and pull her closer. Please, please, don't go away now. Don't leave me like this. You silently pleaded.

She obliged, her own hands snaking down your waist and resting over your tender flesh, fingers digging into your sides. Pressing you closer against her own body.

Suguru's lips are wet, and plump, and sweet, and you might just die right there. You were close enough that you could smell the sweet perfume clinging to her clothes much like you were.

Pressed against her, her fingers grabbing at you, lips warm and parting with wet clicks, heavy breaths in between. Her eyes watch you from heavy lids, a slight red hue brushed over her cheeks and bridge of her nose. It was like a desperate pull to continue, to not part until it was absolutely necessary.

There's something terribly serious and hungry in Suguru's gaze that makes your heart beat erratically and a ball in your gut tighten. Her lips twitched upwards. Then, she was pressing a wet kiss against your neck, pulling back only the slightest to speak,

"You're so beautiful." Another kiss, then nip.

You straighten, eyes falling closed as you release a small noise. A tingling wave of pleasure shot down your spine and into that needy place between your legs. An aching feeling filled with desperation making you reach out and twist your hands into her silk hair. Tugging as she needily licked and nipped at the pulse beating against her tongue.

You tried to remain calm. Tried focusing on the hot metal that was wrapped around her bottom lip. The way it had softly clicked against your teeth as she hungrily chased after your lips. Or the way they pressed against your skin now, smooth and a stark contrast to the mess that was Suguru's movements.

She trailed her lips from your collarbone, up, up, and up to your jaw where she nips it, running a soothing kiss against it once she was done. The noises that left you were embarrassing, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care much as she moved back to bring her lips against your own. Soft and tender. Speaking more than she could possibly convey with words.

Suddenly, you push forward, absorbing Suguru's shocked whimper with your erratic and feverish lips. The woman was clearly caught off guard by your sudden eagerness, but gave no complaint as you pushed her towards the floor. You possessively grab onto her thigh, the fabric of her robes pooling at the junction of her thigh and revealing the skin under it. Soft and warm, you squeeze and bring it to wrap around your waist as you lean over her. Her hands pressed against your cheeks and opened her mouth to allow you to desperately lap at the warmth. Frantic hands moving to gently open up her robes and expose her to you and you alone.

Your fingers reached between the heavy pooled fabric, basking in the way Suguru gasps against your lips at your touch. You lower and lower and—

The fabric is like silk.

Your eyes open, pulling away with a loud smack, you stare dumbfounded at the sight under you.

Suguru, whether specifically for this or just a daily occurrence (something that made you dizzy, wore a pink-ish purple set. Elaborate bra that was sheer, see through and proudly displaying her large breasts to you adorning two distinctly new piercings on each nipple. Lower, she wore stockings and a garter, wrapped around her middle thigh that was almost swallowed whole by the fat. The stockings made your brain fuzzy as you ran the tip of your finger against it. Electricity shooting all over your body as you dragged and dragged.

Her panties made your brain short circuit completely.

They were completely see through. They left nothing to the imagination as slick seemed to collect into the fabric, vaguely making out the way her clit jumped and pulsed with her pants. You resisted the urge to cry as you spotted the Christina piercing resting just above her hood. Glittering along with her cunt, it presented itself like a beautiful jewel for a king— or, more appropriately a queen.

Awestruck, you reached out and ran your finger over her lips, listening to her whimper and watching as she clenched around nothing.

“You’re more gorgeous than I remember.” You mutter, tilting your head as you stroke her once again.

Suguru lets out a breathless laugh, eyebrows furrowed, “You callin’ me ugly, princess?” She whispered, sounding equally as teasing as she was drunk on whatever chemicals were running through her body now.

You snap your eyes to her, tense as you pause in your menstruation, “No, you’ve always been beautiful to me, Suguru— I-I just… You’re so…” Gorgeous? Amazing? Breathtaking? Show-stopping? There were too many words you could use to describe her now. Too many things running through your tiny mind in that moment to truly grasp one.

Suguru’s lips were upturned, “So…?”

You were much too distracted to care about continuing your previous statement. “I want to… Fuck—“ You jerked forward, feeling lightheaded as you licked your lips. “I really, really want to touch you.”

“What are you waiting for?”

You didn’t wait for much more before you were kissing her swollen lips again. Your arm stretched to pushed past her panties and to greedily press against her.

Eagerness overtakes you as you run your pointer and middle finger through her lips, grazing her hole, then bringing the slick back to her clit to roll a lazy circle over it— Suguru gasps softly. Lips parted and face scrunched as you press. You watch in awe as she closes her eyes, tilting her head back as your movements grow precise and smooth.

You were convinced you were touching a piece of heaven. Her cunt was as soft and delicate as the rest of her. The wetness collected their almost made it silk-like. A gentle place that you tainted by brushing her hole and grinding the butt of your palm against her aching clit.

"God, just—" Suguru growled, jaw clenched as you tease her hole again with shaking fingers. "I swear, if you don't just put them in m— ngh!"

Your two fingers pushed in and Suguru grinds against your palm as she moans. A prominent blush now dusting her cheeks. Almost like she was embarrassed.

"You're so sensitive," you say, breathless, "are you embarrassed, Suguru?"

Suguru manages to conjure up an annoyed look, that make you grin in response. So you're a bit mean, that wasn't anything new. But it felt so refreshing in this setting. The fact that she was under you now and looking so... so her. It made you dizzy and reminiscent.

"You know you're unfairly gorgeous." You start to gently thrust your fingers, listening to the squelch and feeling her tighten around you with a pant. "Even your pussy is gorgeous."

Suguru lets out something akin to a laugh, but is quickly masked by the breathless sigh she releases. "Are you going to talk all night or fuck me?"

You try to keep your head on straight as you smirk down at her. "I just want to take my time."

Suguru huffs, but continues to roll her hips to meet with your hand. It's almost too much. The way she squeezes around you and sucks you closer. The way she whimpers and moans, yet tries to keep that serious mask over her face. It all drives you insane. You wanted nothing more than to watch her come undone under you.

Much to both of your disappointment, you pull away from her.

"Don't tease me— c'mon." Suguru paws at your shirt (now rumpled and unbuttoned), whiny and desperate as she stares up at you. "We've waited so long."

Your heart almost shatters, swallowing a thick lump that forms in your throat— you didn't want to think about any of that. Any of the bad things that happened between now and then.

With a hazy mind, you tug Suguru's panties off, throwing them in an unknown direction. Your hands rest against her open thighs, basking in the way she drips onto the robes below her, glittering under the soft light leaking from the window down the hall.

"Well," Suguru starts, a grin on her lips, "go on."

Like all those years ago, you don't hesitate to obey her command.

You lean down and place a kiss just above the hood of her clit. Closing your eyes as she lets out a gentle noise, her fingers finding home in your hair and clenching. Then, you lick a stripe from her hole up to her clit, wrapping your lips around the enlarged bud.

"Oh!" Her tone falters into what sounds like a mewl.

You suck and nip, coarse tongue swirling against the aching twitching bundle of nerves. Slipping two fingers into your hole, you try to focus on the way she writhes and presses your head closer.

A hoarse moan bounces off the wall as Suguru's wall clench more erratically against your fingers. Closer and closer. You curl them upwards—

"I've missed you. I've missed you so damn bad." The curse user babbles, drunk off the feeling coursing throughout her body from that spot of plushy flesh your petting. Chasing after the nearing edge that made her tingle and whimper. "Never want to leave you— never want to miss you again."

You draw in a breath as you reach down and start to finger yourself as you pick up the pace with Suguru.

You ignore the buildup in your eyes, the undeniable build up of pent up emotions almost taking over. You clench your eyes closed, trying to not think of it all. Of how badly you had missed her— missed this. Your mind repeating the lonely nights where you had only ever wanted her beside you. The days that you wished it was instead you running amuck, leaving death in your wake, and her in Tokyo. Enjoying a cushy job with people who actually love her.

Maybe that was more tolerable than the truth.

Your mind was filled with her. Your senses, all of it— Suguru. Suguru. Suguru. It wasn't possible to think or feel anything that wasn't her.

Please, please, please, Suguru pleads from her place. Sobbing as she tugs your hair, grinding against your mouth.

Her thighs are glistening with her own juices and your spit. Covering your own face and skin as well as you desperately swirl your tongue against her as if it was singlehandedly keeping you alive. You lick a firm stripe across Suguru one more, making her cry out and arch her back. You feel yourself grow closer as she babbles on about how good you are and how much she's missed you.

"You're all I think about," she gasps and cries, "all I ever needed."

As you clenched around yourself, you moan around her. Suguru sharply gasps, then, suddenly, her walls are pulsing around your fingers and her clit is spasming against your tongue. You watch from your place as her face scrunches up with pure bliss, lips parted to release the prettiest sounds you've ever heard, faint blush dusting across her entire body.

Your close behind with your own earth shattering, white noise inducing orgasm. Your grip on her unrelenting and surely to leave some type of mark to remind her of you later.

When you slowly come down, you realize that Suguru has pulled you down to lay on top of her robe with her. Staring at you hazily, swollen glistening lips, and that beautiful glow on her face.

"You're crying," Suguru whispers, reaching up to brush away the salty tears with the pads of her thumbs. "Was it too much?"

You're not entirely sure exactly what it was. An assortment of things. Things that made your chest ache and the love you felt almost unbearable. How were you meant to tell someone you had just ate out, that was laying next to you, wiping away your tears, that you missed them? You missed her, but she wasn't even really gone yet.

"I don't...I don't want to lose you again, Suguru." You admitted in a breathless whisper, eyes unwavering as you stared at her sad expression— both of you knowing what would happen. "Please."

"I can't come back." She stated, shaking her head. "Not after everything. No one would want me back."

"I want you back— we want you back."

"Not the people that matter."

You couldn't deny the horrible pang that spread throughout your chest and into your bottomless stomach. Not the people that mattered. Not you. Never you. You weren't enough—

"Hey," Suguru's hold on your face was firm and she brought you back from your mind. "Even if I wanted to come back, the higher-ups wouldn't ever joke about it. I'd be executed. Like you're supposed to be doing."

You sniffle, "Whatever, who cares what they think, anyway?"

There was a prolonged silence as you both just laid with one another. Staring at the crumbling ceiling above you with contemplative frustration. She was right, the higher-ups wouldn't even think about it before ordering her execution to proceed. Then you'd have the guilt of her death weighing you down.

Maybe she was better off far away from you. Far away from the world she hated so badly. Happier in her own world, with the family she created. Two little girls and three randoms that somehow found their way in her inner circle. You wished you couldn't be jealous. Detest them for so easily staying in her life. But you were selfish. You were mean.

There was a reason Suguru left you behind, this you were sure of.

"I would've told you that I loved you."

You're broken from your thoughts when Suguru speaks. You snap your attention to her and find that she's got her attention solely on the ceiling above. A distant look in her eyes and a careful blankness to it all that makes you pause.

"Huh?" You hum back.

She moves her head to look at you, honestly and tenderly. "If I saw you when I left, I would've told you that I loved you. That's why I couldn't keep you around. I couldn't confine you to a cage, constantly looking over your shoulder because of me."

You sniffle, nodding. Much like you not begging for her to come back with you, she wouldn't beg for you to leave with her. "I understand."

Suguru stares for a moment longer before she's suddenly shoving your shoulder, sitting up. "You're disgusting, by the way. Fucking me on the floor of a nasty abandoned apartment building like some feral animal." She looked irritated, but you could hear the teasing in her tone and the slight twitch of her lips.

You push yourself to sit up, watching as she grabs her panties from a nearby pile, disgust on her features. "You weren't exactly complaining, if I recall correctly." You conjure up the energy to tease back.

Suguru's face screws up, then she throws her panties at you, grumbling as you snort in return. "Eight years and you act like a hormonal teen at the sight of me."

"I have my weaknesses."

"I'm a weakness?"

Suguru was joking but your face set and you nodded. "My one and only."

Her expression faltered. Suddenly somber as she extended a hand to you, pulling you up easily. "Not good to reveal your hand to the enemy, L/n." She uttered.

You raise an eyebrow, pressed against her front. "You're the enemy?"

Suguru snorted softly, pressing a kiss against your cheek. "Always have been. Now, let me get dressed." She shooed you off her robes.

You watch her with dying words on your lips. Instead, you just chose to cherish the moment for as long as you can.

"I heard you've had an interesting few weeks."

It was barely a day after you got home and submitted your report that you were confronted in your office in Kyoto.

She appeared in a flash, as she always had. A blur of white and black, an overwhelming stench of some cologne that she was either gifted or pulled off a shelf. Expensive. As always.

You jump. Eyes wide as you're met with her for the first time in three years. It almost makes you dizzy. Almost makes you mournful for what once was.

It's been years since you last saw Gojo Satoru. She was different, but you could pick apart exactly was the same. Taller, an array of piercings on both ears, hair stuck up in a mess of white tendrils defying gravity as the bandages wrapped around her eyes. Yet she still had that arrogant posture. That hip pop that always accompanied her. Arrogant.

But there were pieces of things familiar. A part of her was still that 17-year-old, standing in the doorway of your dorm, begging for answers about her best friend's defection. You could tell she was still in there. Part of her reaching out, childishly crying, pleading for something long gone by. You always knew she lingered.

You drag your eyes from her towards the pile of documents waiting for your attention on the desk. Something that you were just about to get to until the woman rudely interrupted.

"It's rude to burst into someone's office without calling first." You respond flatly.

Gojo didn't crack a smile, only kept her stance in the middle of the room, "I assume you didn't kill her. Obviously, she would've fought back. You'd be dead." She rambled to herself.

You huff, rubbing your forehead as you fall back into your chair, "Thanks."

"I thought you would've called me if you were ever assigned something like that. But I suppose you've never been the smartest."

"Like I have your number saved anymore?"

"Again, not the smartest."

You clench your jaw, her arrogant tone grating against the wrong gears within you. Gojo had always been too blunt, too blasé for your taste. Even as teens she had watched you from an upturned nose, scornful eyes scrutinizing your every move. It took you a long time before you ever went around her, let along considered her a friend. Her attitude and general disregard for most people was offputting.

You suppose that's something that happens when everyone treats you like a God.

Gojo falls into the chair across from you, long lanky leg crossed over the other, elbow rested on the back. If it weren't for the painfully straight line of her lips, you would've assumed she was at ease. But you knew better.

"I don't understand why they picked you of all people for executing her." The snark in her voice wasn't welcomed.

You draw in a deep breath, you just needed a bit of patience, "I'm sure you would've jumped at the opportunity if you were here."

"Mm, not really." Gojo tilts her head back and you can tell she's scrutinizing you from over her nose. "But, by the sound of things, you were the one jumping at the chance."

You tense and your fingers drum away on your desk top. An assortment of thoughts flush through your mind. Primarily, the things that you and Suguru had done before parting ways.

Hey! Suguru had called as you walked down the stairs, fingers found home around your arm and, effectively, made you stop to turn back. If you're ever in a bind and need me— or you realize what I did— there will always be a home for you with me. With my family.

You had faltered, eyes wide, before clearing your throat and offering a nod. I'll be sure to remember that. You had turned away and took a few more steps before looking back up at her with a small smile. You're not my enemy, Suguru. That's something I always knew.

You didn't linger on the shock that had overtook her face. Instead, leaving while you still could.

"You said in your report that you didn't see her nor did you sense any signs that she had ever been there." Gojo continues on, oblivious to the inner battle you're facing.

You lean back in your chair, sighing in vague annoyance. "Yes, I did."

"You're a liar."

The lack of hesitation and bluntness of the statement catches you off guard. Your eyes widen and you stiffen, staring at her blank disposition with confusion. Gojo was so unlike herself in this moment. So serious. So final.

It brought you great unease.

Gojo leans forward in her seat, grabbing a mini calendar from your desk to fiddle with it. "Want to know how I know?" You can't see her eyes but you can tell she looks to you for a genuine answer. You only stare back silently in return. "Her residuals are everywhere in that place. They're all twisted with your residuals. Like you were mingling."

You frown, that could easily be explained away, "Well—"

"You're covered in her." And this time, you knew that she was staring right at you.

You stare back blankly this time. Unable to find something smart or notable that could possibly explain what her Six Eyes are seeing. It was pointless. A futile thing that would only make her more frustrated than she seemingly already was.

So, you offered her the only thing you were sure of, your silence.

Gojo clenches her jaw, hunching over in her seat. "What are you doing?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"How long have you been seeing her? Was this just a perfect chance for you both to explain away any residuals?" She sounded heated, tense and unnatural.

You always wished she would be her annoying regular self.

"Gojo, I don't know who you think you are, but it's been three years—"

"You're the one who cut us all off!" Gojo stood, pointing a long and accusatory finger at you. You only recall the few times she's ever been truly angry. A ball of rage that's been contained for much too long. Snapping into two pieces that overflowed with a rage of someone much younger. "You're the one who-who pulled away and then got angry because I was around! Then you up and vanished without a word to anyone. Fucked off to Kyoto, like what the hell even is this shit?"

You watch as she gestures wildly around the office with disgust and a loud scoff. A bitter part of you was almost happy to see the anger rolling off of her in waves. Another part of you couldn't imagine Gojo Satoru being this upset over you of all people. This had to be something else. She was mad—

Geto Suguru.

"I called Nanami—"

Gojo whirled around on you, "Not me! You didn't call me! You just left without a word and then I had to hear from Nanami about it like it was nothing."

"I didn't think you'd even want to talk to me with how things were left, Gojo! Can you blame me for just wanting to get away from that place?"

"Yes, I can! I most definitely can!"

You scoff, shaking your head as a familiar anger washed over you. "God, you're such a child."

"And, what, you've been running around behind the higher-ups backs, seeing Suguru all these years? Is that why you ran off? Because you thought I'd see her all over you and tell on you like some kid? Is that it? Is that why you left?"

Her incessant questions were driving you crazy. Alongside the misplaced anger, you were bound to throw something back at her. It was deserved. It was warranted.

"Satoru, you are so insufferable! I rushed off because I hated that school. I hated that I had to walk around and see Suguru but not actually see her! Not to mention you were the world's biggest bitch for a year after that! You acted like I was the goddamn bane of your existence and you wouldn't leave me alone!" You stood and matched her level. There was surely someone that could hear you two duking it out now. Laying things out for one another and, hopefully, leave each other for more years to come. "And, no, I hadn't seen Suguru for eight years before she showed up at that goddamn apartment complex! I was living a peaceful and non-annoying life until three days ago!"

There was a pause between you both.

You taking deep breaths as Gojo stands in the middle of your office awkwardly, stiffly. She almost looked like one of the students after you tried to deal out a punishment for whatever foolish thing they've done. The thought alone made you take a deep breath, pinching the bridge of your nose.

You're not entirely sure what to say to her now. Without the awkward air only growing—

"You were my friend. And you left."

You were all too aware how young Gojo suddenly sounded. Tender and all too sad to be a 24 year old woman standing before you.

A friend?

"You had Shoko." You easily countered.

"I wanted you."

The revelation made you shut up. Standing awkwardly behind your desk and staring at her with a scrunched face. Wanted you? She wanted you? There's no way that she truly meant it. It was just nostalgia making her speak. Making her lose sight of what actually happened in those years.

"I-I wanted you like a friend, by the way. None of that— um, not like gay or anything!" She suddenly stuttered and sounded terribly like herself compared to herself. "I just... you were... my friend. And... I didn't— I don't have many of those."

Her words were stilted and awkward again. Something that made you tilt your head at her. She didn't look away from you as you processed the words. You were her friend. One of her only friends. Then you left. Right after she lost her one and only best friend.

Suguru's defection made you cruel and selfish.

You press your lips together, "Well, I'm sorry I didn't tell you anything."

"Right," Gojo nods, crossing her arms over her chest. "A little late."

Your chest tightened. "I suppose so."

She stands there for a beat longer before a grin broke across her lips. "Well, you could make it up to me." Her tone was much too light and eager to be genuine or true. But you weren't about to ruin it by asking.

You hesitate in asking, "What?"

"Come get crepes with me!" She said, not allowing you to answer as she grabbed your hand. "Shoko ditched me for Utahime."

"Oh, so I'm backup?"

"No— Well, a bit. But this will be a great bonding moment." She turned her head towards you, dimples prominent. "You in?"

You stared for a long moment. Wondering what could possibly run through Gojo Satoru's mind. How she could so quickly change her emotions. To be so vehemently angry one moment and happy the next. But that had always been her. A ball of rage that could fight back at any moment and then resolve it with her smile and pretty eyes—

"C'mon, just one crepe, some talking, then you can ditch me again." She said it teasingly, but you could tell there was a hint of sadness. Desperation.

You snort softly. "Okay, Satoru."

Her cheeks dusted pink and she pulled you out the room. "Missed you calling me that!"

"Satoru? It's your name."

"Yeah, but Gojo makes it sound like you hate me."

"Well..."

"Hey!"

You and Satoru do not mention Geto Suguru that entire night. Or the night after that. Or the night after that.

It was probably for the best.

[cordeliawhohung]

Liquid Smooth [2]

main masterlist | series masterlist

bodyguard!Gaz x fem!model!Reader

he's just doing his job

warnings: break in, cursing, mentions of guns (in a video game), fluff, slight mutual pining? gaz is a fucking gentleman and i'm sobbing. lots of inaccuracies of sorts i'm sure. half awake while editing, apologize for any mistakes.

wc: 3k

Living in a gated community made you feel pretentious, but with someone of your popularity, it was the only place that made you feel safe. With top notch security, and state of the art surveillance, you never once doubted not only your safety, but your privacy. Still, every house for sale was too big and with too many amenities. Big pools, private theaters, and large game rooms were only fun when you had someone to share them with.

And as every tabloid, social media platform, and on occasion your own manager, liked to remind you; you were utterly alone.

Which was the whole idea, wasn't it? If you came home to your large, empty house feeling completely lonely, then the gated community did its job right. You were alone, and that was good.

Until you weren't.

It happened in the dead of night. An ear aching siren sounded sometime shortly after three in the morning, and though the source of the siren was on the bottom floor of the house, you could hear it clear as day from your room on the second floor. It stirred you out of your sleep, and the moment you realized the siren was from your security system, you felt your stomach plummet through the floor.

You sat straight up in bed like the undead rising from their grave, and your hand flew to the nightstand where your phone buzzed. The app that your alarm was connected to was so kindly informing you that there was a potential intruder in your home, as if the intermittent woops of the alarm wasn't informing enough. Though, the system had already contacted the police on your behalf at least.

But that still left you with one problem. You were no longer alone. Suddenly the distance from the entrance of your home to your room felt much too close. Terrified someone would come waltzing in, you hopped out of bed and ran as quietly as you could to lock the small turn lock on your doorknob. The siren still wailed, and you noticed your heart beat with a terrible thunder in your chest.

You were alone, and you really, really, didn't want to be.

Before you knew it, your fingers were tapping away on your phone and you had it pressed against your ear while you listened to the ring as it attempted to connect you. Each ring felt longer than the last, and it wasn't until you stepped away from the door that you realized your knees were shaking.

"Hello?" It was Kyle's voice, and you had never been so happy to hear it in your entire life. There was a certain tone to it that felt like gravel that told you your phone call had just woken him up.

"Hey," you greeted, struggling to get the word out.

Hey? There was an intruder in your home and that was the only word you managed to choke out? Not a help me? But you didn't even have the mental capacity to chastise yourself with everything going on.

"What's that sound? Everything alright?" he asked. You hadn't even answered him and you could already hear some sort of shuffling on his side of the line.

"Oh, well, uhm, the alarm at my house got tripped, so that's like the siren or... yeah, but the police are on their way. I'm sorry, I just, I don't know, I got scared? I think and I just- did I mention the police are already coming?" you said, stumbling over the words.

There was a slight pause on Kyle's side of the call, as if he was contemplating something, before the shuffling on his end continued. Though, you noticed whatever sounds that bled through the speaker seemed quicker.

"Are you safe?" he asked, his voice more alert.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm in, uh, my room and I've, you know, locked the door," you said. Your eyes still glanced around the room, as if you weren't sure that the burglar, murderer, whoever they were, hadn't snuck into the room unnoticed.

"Stay put," Kyle ordered, "and stay on the phone with me, yeah? I'll be there in ten. Cops better beat me there."

Just like he had instructed, you stayed on the line with him. There wasn't much talking to be done, as you were terrified to make any noise lest you led someone undesirable straight to your bedroom door. Every now and then, Kyle would check in and ask how you were doing, to which you'd mumble something or hum just to confirm you weren't keeled over on the floor.

"Almost there, love. You're gonna be alright," he assured you.

The cops did show up before him, but only by a few minutes. You heard the siren finally silence, and the house fell into quietness. Kyle spoke with the officers on scene for a few minutes, but their conversation was much too muffled for you to hear. Either way, the adrenaline was still pooled in your system, and you had to keep wiping the sweat off of the palm of your hands.

"Where's your room?" he asked, voice cutting clearly through the speaker on your phone.

"Up the stairs. Third door on the right," you told him.

"Which stairs?" Kyle asked after a pause.

A laugh left you, and you weren't sure if it was because of his question or your nerves. "Right, uhm, the one on the left."

Not even a minute passed before there was a soft knock on your door. Hanging up the call, you fumbled with the lock on your door before swinging it open. Kyle stood in the hallway as he shoved his phone into the pocket of his sweatpants. Worry was etched deeply into his face as his eyes did a quick look over you as if worried you still might have gotten hurt.

He couldn't even get a single word out before a slight grunt left him. Your arms wrapped around his torso in a tight hug, and you buried the side of your face into his chest. He smelled warm, like something spiced and woody. That warmth only extended further as his arms enveloped you, returning your hug.

"It's alright, I got you," he muttered quietly while resting his chin on the top of your head.

After a quick inspection of your home, it was determined that the only real damage done was to the large window in your living room. The beautiful floor to ceiling glass that you liked to gaze out of in the mornings laid in a shattered mess on the floor. Someone had grabbed a rock from your garden and threw it in what was most likely an attempt to enter your home to rob you. While you didn't think anything was missing, you couldn't be sure until you did inventory. Otherwise, the intruder most likely left as soon as the alarm sounded, damaging nothing more than a window and your sleep.

"Fucking hell," you muttered.

You stood a good few feet away from the broken window, taking care not to step on any of the glass shards. A soft breeze drifted through the living room, cooling your exposed skin. Some cops mulled around as they messed with your security system and gathered any bits of evidence they could. It was a huge relief to realize things were fine, yet you still felt a little gutted. There was something dehumanizing about having your home broken into.

"Sorry you had to go through all this tonight," Kyle said as he stood next to you. "I'm glad things weren't worse."

"Me too," you agreed before you let out a strained chuckle. "To think all this commotion over a broken window. Seems a little silly."

"Well, it's a big window," he teased.

His comment got another chuckle out of you, but this time it was more real, more comfortable. You glanced up at him, but his eyes were focused on something outside. Assessing anything that the cops might have missed, no doubt.

"Do you feel safe staying here?" he suddenly asked. "I imagine it'll take them awhile to clean everything up. Might not have a window for a bit."

You bit the bottom of your lip as you glanced back to the empty void that laid just beyond your house. The shape of your garden was vague and dark in the dim moonlight, and you couldn't even make out the pool to the left. The gated community was mostly cut off from the public, which meant it wasn't like someone would come strolling by and see that you were down a window. Still...

"I'll probably get a hotel or something," you said as you waved your hand like it was no big deal.

"Seriously?" Kyle challenged.

"What, it's not like I'm a stranger to hotels with all the traveling I do for work," you brushed off.

"No, I understand that, but love, it's nearing four in the morning." He paused for a moment to wet his lips before turning his full attention to you. "Could stay at my place, if you'd like."

That was... not what you were expecting out of his mouth. For a moment, you wanted to fight him on it. Staying over at his place was certainly crossing a boundary of some sort. He was your bodyguard, you hired him. But really, he had a point. By the time you fully settled into the hotel, if they would even take you at such an odd hour, you'd be lucky if it was only six in the morning. You'd be wasting time and energy for nothing.

But still...

"Are you sure?" you said, uncertain. "I don't want to intrude, or anything. And don't offer because you feel bad for me or anything, either."

"Hey..." Kyle said while softly reaching his hand to rest on your shoulder. His touch was so warm. Everything about him was warm, from his voice to his scent. You felt your throat grow tight as that familiar feeling of endearment flooded your system. "I'm offering because you've had a shit night, and it's my job to take care of you."

Something told you to resist. It wasn't a bad idea, and you knew it was more realistic than trying to get a hotel. Yet there was something gnawing at you, telling you it wasn't a good idea. It wasn't that you couldn't trust him, but maybe you couldn't trust yourself. Not with the way you found yourself feeling about him after your wardrobe malfunction a few weeks back.

And yet, half an hour later, you found yourself in Kyle's bed. Alone, of course, because he had been nothing but a gentleman to you. Insisted that you slept in his room rather than take the couch, and you quickly found out that arguing with him was futile when it came to how he treated you. He even changed the bedding for you, and though you wouldn't admit it, you were a little bummed about that; not being able to breathe in the scent of him as you fell asleep.

God, you needed to get a grip.

Between the crazy events of that night, and the fact that you were in Kyle's bed, you couldn't sleep. You laid on your back, staring at the vague and darkened features of his bedroom. It was so clean, and not just clean but neat. He was a very organized man. Perhaps he had his military experience to thank for that.

With your restlessness eventually getting the best of you, you slowly slipped out of bed where you wrapped a blanket around your shoulders. With quiet steps, you cracked the door open before slinking off towards the living room where you surprisingly found Kyle awake.

Dull and quiet sounds of gunshots sounded from the TV, which had the volume turned so low it was nearly muted. A controller sat in his hands where he pressed various buttons. You watched him from the hallway for a moment as you took sight of his furrowed brows. Eventually, he let out a quiet sigh before mumbling, "fuckin' pixel peek."

"I thought you'd be asleep," you spoke up softly, making yourself known.

Kyle didn't seem at all surprised to see you standing in the hallway, and he greeted you with a tired smile. The yellow glow of the standing lamp bathed him in a golden light. Fuck, he could have been a model.

"I imagined you'd have a hard time falling asleep after everything. Figured I'd stay awake. Just in case," he explained.

Ignoring the way your heart fluttered at his words, you laughed instead at how predictable you were. Or maybe he was just good at reading people. Either way, he scooted over some on the couch before patting the spot next to him.

"Here. You've earned yourself front row seats to watch me get my ass kicked in this game."

You should have turned around and marched your happy ass back down the hallway and into bed, but you gave into his request (and your secret desire to be closer to him) and took the spot next to him. The TV showed what appeared to be a character selection of sorts. Multiple characters laid out in perfect squares across the screen where he danced the cursor back and forth between a few.

"Pick one," he said, leaning back into the couch.

"Your character?" you asked.

"They're called operators, actually."

You rolled your eyes. "Uhm, Jackal."

As you suggested, Kyle selected the operator, who seemed to be a man with a weird looking half helmet. You thought his chin strap made him look dorky, but judging by his icon, he seemed awfully confident in himself.

"What game is this?" you asked as he equipped his load out.

"Siege," he answered. "Straight shit at it, but it gives me something to do."

You hummed as you watched him load into the game. It was a first person shooter, and judging by all the military tactical stuff, it was certainly army related. Which seemed awfully fitting, actually.

As he waited to load in, Kyle let out a soft yawn before reaching his hands above his head in a stretch. You were about to poke fun at him for being tired, but your words quickly got caught in your throat as you caught sight of the way his shirt pulled up. The toned skin of his stomach peeked in a thin line, and you found your eyes wandering to places they shouldn't.

"What's the goal of the game?" you asked instead. He finally loaded in, and he lowered his arms, saving you from having to look at the eye catching sight of his body.

"Well, we're attacking, so our goal is to go in and diffuse the bomb that the defenders placed somewhere in this house and-"

Kyle was cut off mid sentence when several shots sounded and his operator flopped over on the ground with an over exaggerated groan. He laughed but it quickly turned into a groan as he rested the controller in his lap and rubbed his face with his hands.

"Suppose that's what I get for playing Jackal," he muttered.

"I hope you're a better soldier in real life than you are in this game," you teased.

"No, see, that's not fair," Kyle defended with a grin. "Most terrorists don't spawn peek, and I never magically spawn ten meters away from the target."

You giggled as you settled further into the couch. Your legs were curled up against your side, and you found yourself sinking low enough so that your head rested against the arm rest. You looked akin to a cat. For a couch only one person used, it sure was a comfortable one.

For the rest of the round, the two of you were stuck watching his teammates attempt to locate this bomb. Though you didn't ask for it, Kyle gave you a play by play of everything going on, which you didn't mind at all. Honestly, there was something comforting about his voice and the softness to it. Maybe you were just getting too attached.

"In real life, we'd never take an approach like this," he explained. "In a situation like this, I'd honestly take it from the roofs. Death from above, type thing. And- ouch. Glad I don't have to watch out for Kapkan traps in real life. Now we're in overtime. What operator should I...?"

Kyle's sleepy rambling fell silent as he turned to look at you. Wrapped up in the blanket he gave you, your head rested comfortably against the arm rest as you slouched to the side, eyes closed. Your soft and even breaths caused your shoulders to rise and fall, and a small smile appeared on his lips as he watched you for a short moment.

Disregarding his game, Kyle carefully stood from the couch, not wanting to wake you, and turned his console and TV off. Just in case you woke up, he kept the lamp on, but dimmed it before sitting back on his side of the couch. Even though you were fast asleep, he still refused to sleep in a bed while you were on the couch.

A heavy sigh left him as he propped the side of his head on his hand, glancing at your sleeping form one more time before his own eyes fluttered shut. You took up two thirds of the couch, but that was alright with him. He'd slept on worse. And your comfort was his priority, anyway.

It was his job, after all.

"Sweet dreams, love."

[pluckyredhead]

The Lost Titans in Canon: Rose and Eddie

Hello, friends! Are you ready to get your heart broken?

Rose and Eddie both joined the Titans during the 2006 One Year Later gap (when every DC book jumped one year ahead after Infinite Crisis) and first appeared on the team in #34 of the 2003 Teen Titans series. They're already buddies, at least enough to...hang out in the kitchen together, not facing each other and throwing oranges on the floor? This art is baffling:

What mind-bogglingly prudish teenager instituted that swear jar, let alone decided that "damn" was enough to qualify?

We later learn that Rose vouched for Eddie to get him on the team, apparently two seconds after having met him. Rose herself was on the team because Dick asked Tim to give her a chance.

Eddie is already protective of Rose, like when Cassie, uh...punches Rose hard enough to give her a nosebleed for the crime of being annoying.

Guys, you should...you should probably quit this team. I know it's just your first issue, but yikes.

Their second issue features a drunk Rose climbing into Tim's bed and trying to seduce him, and then Cassie showing up and everyone attacking everyone else, and then Marvin hitting on Cassie (I'm glad you're dead, Marvin), and it's pretty much just trash all around.

But it also features this moment:

Eddie has never recovered and NEITHER HAVE I.

Rose then confesses that she's afraid that the Titans will kick her off the team, since Tim doesn't really want her or Eddie around, just his real friends. (I could write a thesis on how Rose is afraid of being kicked out so she deliberately tries to provoke them into kicking her out, but this isn't the time.)

She hides it better, but Rose has never recovered from this, either.

Then Eddie gets hurt and Rose pulls they "Stay with me!" trope:

It has only been two issues! They're obsessed with each other!

But Rose warns him off:

Eddie continues to be ride or die for Rose, defending her when she's accused (falsely) of being a traitor to the team, and protecting her when his own dystopian future self shows up and tries to kill her. Also, Jaime joins the team and Eddie is wildly jealous of how much Rose seems to like him:

Rose 100% knows Eddie's right there and is doing this to make him jealous, btw. This is extremely explicit in the issue. She doesn't actually care about Jaime one way or the other (and Jaime tells her very clearly that he has a girlfriend).

Meet Rose Wilson! She has absolutely no idea how to cope with liking a sweet boy who is nice to her, so she spends an entire issue trying to make him jealous and making fun of him in a way that's genuinely mean! Oh, honey, no.

Between Rose blowing hot and cold, Tim and Cassie being just incredibly nasty to Eddie all the time for no reason, and the trauma of, you know, having sold his soul to the devil and being functionally orphaned and all, Eddie makes a very bad decision. He invites a bunch of civilian teens to Titans Tower, where they promptly run amuck. The Titans are furious, and Eddie is left feeling completely friendless and about an inch from being kicked off the team completely.

That's when he's approached by the Terror Titans, a team of teenage edgelords led by the Clock King, who DC was trying to make into a cool scary villain by having him *checks notes* fuck teenage girls and constantly murder people on-page as gorily as possible. This whole storyline is trying so, so hard to be cool and edgy but it's just incredibly tiresome.

Anyway Eddie recognizes that actually all these people suck, and refuses to join them and betray the Titans. So they kidnap him and Clock King proceeds to torture him.

Meanwhile, the Terror Titans attack Titans Tower. The only people there are Wendy and Marvin, who are non-combatants, and Rose. Rose defeats every member of the Terror Titans, gets Wendy and Marvin to safety, and then, beat to hell, walks back into Titans Tower to fight the Terror Titans again. Why?

THEY'VE GOT EDDIE.

Rose drags herself back into the Tower, hurt and bleeding, to beat Eddie's location out of the Terror Titans. It's such a good gender reversal of this trope, where the damsel in distress is an eldritch horror and the grizzled warrior coming to his rescue is a teenage girl. The execution of every single bit of this story is absolutely awful and unreadably stupid, but the idea in there is so good! Theoretically!

The Terror Titans manage to escape Rose's wrath, but Rose follows them to where Eddie is being kept: an underground cage fighting ring for captured teenage metas. The Teen Titans also realize what's happening and show up to rescue Eddie as well.

Rose saves Cassie's life and defeats Clock King, but Cassie is still like "Rose is crazy and dangerous and shouldn't be on the team" and Tim's like "Hm maybe you're right"...and Rose overhears.

Meanwhile, Eddie learns that Rose went apeshit when he was kidnapped, and is thrilled because maybe this means he has a chance! He shows up with flowers...

...and Rose is already gone. She's quit the team.

Rose is gone for about ten issues (she temporarily joins the Terror Titans, which is as unbearably stupid as you might imagine), and during that time, Eddie loses his powers and becomes just a regular guy. And then Rose makes her glorious return:

AND EDDIE LITERALLY SWOONS.

But Rose is not okay. She's becoming addicted to huffing adrenaline to enhance her precognitive abilities [insert eyeroll here]. Eddie, of course, is the one who notices:

I love that first panel in the last row. They've moved past the point where Rose can pretend she doesn't care about Eddie and Eddie can't tell the difference. The intimacy of that line (and that touch) - he knows her, and he's telling her so. UGH MY HEART.

Rose gets into another fight with Cassie, and it convinces her that she doesn't belong on the Titans. And, she argues, neither does Eddie, who has no powers and no training.

AND THEN THIS PAGE HAPPENS AND I HAVE NEVER RECOVERED:

Rose leaves. Eddie stays. And in the very next storyline, he dies. YOU SHOULD HAVE GONE WITH HER, EDDIE!

I'm not going to recount Eddie's death because I've done that already, but during this time, Rose had a backup solo feature in the Teen Titans book, and it included her hallucinating conversations with various characters. The last hallucination is of Eddie:

The next page is his last line: "...but that doesn't mean you'll never get another chance someday..." She doesn't know he's already dead. I WEEP. I WEEP ETERNALLY.

And that's pretty much the end of the canon Rose/Eddie story. Rose returned to the Titans in the next issue, but there's no scene of her learning or acknowledging Eddie's death - iirc she never mentions him again, which honestly I feel like is pretty in character. Her grief is private.

The comics Rose and Eddie appear in together are objectively awful. But somehow there's still a really compelling and heartbreaking little almost-romance in there, and now that Eddie's back in canon, I'd love to see someone at DC remember this couple, because they are so, so good together. (And imo much more interesting that Jason and Rose, who are functionally the same person and work better as two halves of the Eddie Bloomberg Defense Squad.)

Anyway if you also think they're neat, I wrote a sequel to The Lost Titans about them! You should read it: Five Couches Eddie (Tried to) Crash on After He Was Rescued from Hell (and One Time He Went Home).

[holly-opal]

Please more mr puzzles x Reader ! 

Yes sir

You always enjoyed television, ever since you were a young child, you would dream of acting in movies. So far though, you have been rejected by multiple studios for "not being good enough ". You grew depressed for a while, and you lost the motivation to do art. One day, as you were walking in an alley way, you got taken by someone with long ass arms and took you inside a studio. You panicked. Great, the Italian Mafia caught up with you and now you're going to get your ass whooped for stealing their spaghetti. To your surprise (and relief) that it was actually someone else. A tall man with a TV for a head. He extended his hand for you to shake, a very polite gesture.

"Hello, my good friend! My name is Mr. Puzzles, pleasure to meet you! And your name is?" His voice was very loud and bombastic, his energetic was through the roof, his hand was shaking super fast, which made you very dizzy. You managed to utter out your name, and he smiled widely. He practically dragged you onto a set. The kind you'd find on TV sitcoms. He set you on the stage and sat on a director chair, he snapped his fingers and the spotlight was on you now. He was waiting expectantly, his legs crossed and a hand on his... TV chin. You were confused, and asked him what he wanted.

"Act! Dance! Sing! Just impress me!" He said with a giant smile on his face. You were pretty nervous. You have to make a great impression, you didn't wanna get murdered after all. So you take a deep breath, and start sing. Your voice was so delicate and breathtaking, it was fantastic and mesmerizing to any ears nearby. Mr. Puzzles stopped smiling. He wasn't angry or anything, he was just... Shocked. In all his years of watching television, he had never heard a voice so beautiful. And he started to observe your looks now, and my god, you looked like an angel to him. You were the most gorgeous being he had ever seen, and he watched all the movies with Margot Robbie in them! Once you were finished, you noticed that he wasn't smiling anymore and was just staring at you. You grew more anxious by the minute and laughed nervously, not knowing what to do. Mr. Puzzles had no words, he started stuttering and muttering nonsense, he couldn't take your voice out of his head! He got up and started clapping and cheering, you could see tears in his eyes. He ran up and hugged you, you were shocked but hugged him back. "Thank you! You are just the right person for me! You were stunning! Absolutely stunning! Be here tomorrow at 10 in the morning, with your gorgeous voice and even more gorgeous face, this show will be fantastic!" He said with enthusiasm. You blushed from his complements and smiled, you left in a good mood. You were now going to be a star!

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

The Copollogism Essays - Part 2: The Assassination Scene

Part 1 (The Tent) ~ Part 2 (The Assassination) ~ Part 3 (Lester's Reaction) ~ Part 4 (Leo's Questions/Seeing Commodus Again) ~ Part 5 (The Arena) ~ Part 6 (The Waystation) ~ Part 7 (The Yacht) ~ Part 8 (The Final Moment)

Analysis: Part 1 (Apollo and Commodus as Individuals) ~ Part 2 (Toxic Relationship?) ~ Part 3 (Codependent - Or Is It?) ~ Part 4 (Other Thoughts)

Oh ho ho ho. Here it is. The One You Have Been Waiting For.

A little personal background–

This was the scene that I remembered that made me pick the Trials of Apollo books back up last year.

It was this scene that brought me back into the fandom.

Everyone say thank you to this scene because it is a masterpiece and I sure damn well hope I do it justice.

Anyway. Let us begin~

I KNOW WHAT YOU are thinking. But, Apollo! You are divine! You cannot commit murder. Any death you cause is the will of the gods and entirely beyond reproach. It would be an honor if you killed me! I like the way you think, good reader. It’s true I had laid waste to whole cities with my fiery arrows. I had inflicted countless plagues upon humanity. Once Artemis and I slew a family of twelve because their mama said something bad about our mama. The nerve!  None of that did I consider murder.

None of that, none of the deaths Apollo has caused, did he consider murder.

But Commodus’s he does.

This has always stuck out to me, even when I first read the books. 

The praetorian prefect Laetus had pulled me aside only an hour ago: We failed at lunch. This is our last chance. We can take him, but only with your help. Marcia, Commodus’s mistress, had wept as she tugged at my arm. He will kill us all. He will destroy Rome. You know what must be done!  They were right. I’d seen the list of names—the enemies real or imagined whom Commodus intended to execute tomorrow. Marcia and Laetus were at the top of the list, followed by senators, noblemen, and several priests in the temple of Apollo Sosianus. 

Something that was pointed out by @amiti-art was how Apollo’s priests were set to be killed. This is baffling for a couple reasons: 1) Apollo is well known to deliver terrible punishments onto those who even treat his priests with disrespect (Agamemnon in The Iliad got a nice plague for his disrespect); and 2) Why would Commodus do this? Why would he specifically kill Apollo’s priests?

I suggested it could be a way to “get his attention” so to speak. Because remember, in Part 1, we know Apollo left after Marcus has died. And now, Commodus is deep into his paranoia and lashing out at everyone and everything he perceives as a threat.

Perhaps something triggered him to think the priests were some sort of threat, or maybe he’s so far in his delusions that he thinks he can have everything be “fixed” if he draws Apollo back to him. As we saw in Part 1, Commodus looked to Apollo first at the news of Marcus’s death— maybe even now, he’s trying to rebuild that bridge because everything’s falling apart.

If so…he did not think it through 😬 I mean… *eyes the plague Agamemnon got; Clytemnestra being killed by her own son for murdering Cassandra* yeah…things don’t end well for those who mess with the people in Apollo’s cult.

I pushed open the bronze doors of the emperor’s chambers. From the shadows, Commodus bellowed, “GO AWAY!”  A bronze pitcher sailed past my head, slamming into the wall with such force it cracked the mosaic tiles. “Hello to you, too,” I said. “I never did like that fresco.”

*wheeze from alder* I get the feeling there was very casual banter in their relationship lol

Commodus knelt on the floor, clinging to the side of a sofa for support. In the opulence of the bedchamber with its silk curtains, gilded furniture, and colorfully frescoed walls, the emperor looked out of place—like a beggar pulled from some Suburra alley. His eyes were wild. His beard glistened with spittle. Vomit and blood spattered his plain white tunic, which wasn’t surprising considering his mistress and prefect had poisoned his wine at lunch.

This whole paragraph really gives you a glimpse into Commodus’s mindset, even if we don’t see his thoughts. He is quite literally at his wit’s end. His mistress and prefect have just tried to assassinate him. Everyone is against him. He is completely alone; no father, no lover.

Except Narcissus.

But if you could look past that, Commodus hadn’t changed much since he was eighteen, lounging in his campaign tent in the Danubian Forest. He was thirty-one now, but the years had barely touched him. To the horror of Rome’s fashionistas, he had grown his hair out long and had a shaggy beard to resemble his idol, Hercules. Otherwise he was the picture of manly Roman perfection. One might almost have thought he was an immortal god, as he so often claimed to be.

Not very important but short-haired teenaged Commodus canon 👍

Sike, this can be important because it is INTERESTING that Commodus deviates from the traditional Roman culture here. He grows his hair out, as well as a beard. Roman men didn’t typically do that.

But you know who does?

Greek men. Such as Heracles (which is why Commodus does so.)

I find this VERRRYYY interesting, especially paired with his relationship with Apollo. Because if you look at Commodus…he’s not very Roman, no? I’d say he’s more Greek-flavored than Roman.

Because here’s the deal: Besides the longer hair, Commodus (historically, at least) also liked to sing and dance. That was 100% accepted for men to do in Greece, but in Rome?

Rome had a very convoluted attitude towards singing and dancing. It was essentially “oh the upper class OBVIOUSLY can get SUPERB teachers for it, but if they're TOO GOOD AT IT they are NO BETTER THAN A WOMAN OR A SLAVE!!!!”

The kicker here is that the Greeks were typically slaves within Rome. They were regularly hired by the Roman elite to perform music and dances.

(Interesting how Apollo is their god, too.)

Out of all the Romans, out of the Roman elite…Apollo falls in love with the most Greek one he can find.

What’s even better is that Commodus continues the trend of ‘Apollo’s lovers are related to his domains’ because of music and dance.

That is what they bonded over. You bet Apollo made Commodus feel better over what he liked doing when the society he lived in looked down on it.

My poor, precious heart 🥲

“They tried to kill me,” he snarled. “I know it was them! I won’t die. I’ll show them all!”  My heart ached to see him this way. Only yesterday, I’d been so hopeful. We’d practiced fighting techniques all afternoon. Strong and confident, he’d wrestled me to the ground and would have broken my neck if I’d been a regular mortal. After he let me up, we’d spent the rest of the day laughing and talking as we used to in the old days. Not that he knew my true identity, but still… disguised as Narcissus, I was sure I could restore the emperor’s good humor, eventually rekindle the embers of the glorious young man I’d once known. And yet this morning, he’d woken up more bloodthirsty and manic than ever.

Ouch. Owie. This hurts.

Time to discuss Apollo’s disguise now.

Narcissus, now, was a real person. But it appears in the RRverse, Narcissus was Apollo the whole time. And Apollo’s goal here was to, and I quote; “restore the emperor’s good humor [and] eventually rekindle the embers of the glorious young man I’d once known.”

Apollo initially disguised himself because he wanted to stop Commodus from going down his bloody, awful path. Apollo had been keeping such a close watch on what was happening that he knew things were getting bad enough to warrant his interference, with the hope of steering his former lover away from a dark fate.

*insert ‘I can fix him!’ meme here* ah, Apollo. If only you could RIP

Also wow, Commous wrestled Apollo— Apollo, who beat Ares in a wrestling match— to the ground? And would have broken his neck if he were mortal?

I’m guessing Apollo was holding back here, considering…well, considering the ending of this scene heh. But I doubt Apollo was a slouch even holding back, so Commodus is probably very good at hand-to-hand combat. Sheer brute force is exactly his style.

I approached cautiously, as if he were a wounded animal. “You won’t die from the poison. You’re much too strong for that.”  “Exactly!” He pulled himself up on the couch, his knuckles white with effort. “I’ll feel better tomorrow, as soon as I behead those traitors!”  “Perhaps it would be better to rest for a few days,” I suggested. “Take some time to recuperate and reflect.”  “REFLECT?” He winced from the pain. “I don’t need to reflect, Narcissus. I will kill them and hire new advisors. You, perhaps? You want the job?”

It’s really telling how much Commodus trusts Apollo— that is to say, Narcissus— here.

It’s also telling how Apollo— his lover— is using his father’s words to get him to stop.

Marcus Aurelius’s advice is coming out of Apollo’s mouth, but Commodus has no idea; he does not know it’s Apollo telling him this.

Not until it’s too late, that is. When it’s revealed once and for all that he has no intention of stopping.

But it does make you wonder what Commodus would have done if he had known it was Apollo. Would the combined might of his father’s advice and his lover be enough to prevent him from killing more innocent people?

Or would it have only made things worse?

I did not know whether to laugh or cry. While Commodus concentrated on his beloved games, he turned the powers of state over to prefects and cronies… all of whom tended to have a very short life expectancy. “I’m just a personal trainer,” I said. “Who cares? I will make you a nobleman! You will rule Commodiana!” I flinched at the name. Outside the palace, no one accepted the emperor’s rechristening of Rome. The citizens refused to call themselves Commodians. The legions were furious that they were now known as Commodianae. Commodus’s crazy proclamations had been the final straw for his long-suffering advisors.  “Please, Caesar,” I implored him. “A rest from the executions and the games. Time to heal. Time to consider the consequences.” He bared his teeth, his lips specked with blood. “Don’t you start too! You sound like my father. I’m done thinking about consequences!”

Apollo is once again putting on his Marcus Aurelius hat.

But once again…Commodus does not listen. He’s done listening to wise counsel. He’s done doing what other people have told him to do.

He’s emperor, after all.

Nobody can stop him. He’s blessed, after all. Who would even try?

My spirits collapsed. I knew what would happen in the coming days. Commodus would survive the poisoning. He would order a ruthless purge of his enemies. The city would be decorated with heads on pikes. Crucifixions would line the Via Appia. My priests would die. Half the senate would perish. Rome itself, the bastion of the Olympian gods, would be shaken to its core. And Commodus would still be assassinated…just a few weeks or months later, in some other fashion. I inclined my head in submission.  “Of course, Caesar. May I draw you a bath?”

Read no further if you wish for a happy ending 😢

Commodus grunted assent. “I should get out of these filthy clothes.”  As I often did for him after our workout sessions, I filled his great marble bath with steaming rose-scented water. I helped him out of his soiled tunic and eased him into the tub. For a moment, he relaxed and closed his eyes. I recalled how he looked sleeping beside me when we were teens. I remembered his easy laugh as we raced through the woods, and the way his face scrunched up adorably when I bounced grapes off his nose.

Their relationship was more carefree in nature. It was more teenager-esque, with Apollo even saying “when we were teens”, despite the fact he is merely a teen in body.

Even so…

I sponged away the spittle and blood from his beard. I gently washed his face. Then I closed my hands around his neck. “I’m sorry.”  I pushed his head underwater and began to squeeze. 

Apollo begins with gentleness. With cleaning him off. He doesn’t immediately kill him— perhaps to give both of them one last moment of peace.

But then that gentleness turns to murder.

Commodus was strong. Even in his weakened state, he thrashed and fought. I had to channel my godly might to keep him submerged, and in doing so, I must have revealed my true nature to him. He went still, his blue eyes wide with surprise and betrayal. He could not speak, but he mouthed the words: You. Blessed. Me.

Apollo is forced to reveal himself in all his glory— and in that moment, they are both aware of his betrayal. Commodus is floored by what he sees— by who he sees.

This isn’t merely his trainer who he has grown to trust.

This is his lover who he has loved for decades.

The lover who blessed and reassured him that everything would be fine.

But it’s not.

Apollo’s the one with the hands around his throat, and all Commodus can do is throw his promise back in his face: You. Blessed. Me.

*and this is the moment everyone knew: they started bawling*

Tissues, anyone?

The accusation forced a sob from my throat. The day his father died, I had promised Commodus: You will always have my blessings. Now I was ending his reign. I was interfering in mortal affairs—not just to save lives, or to save Rome, but because I could not stand to see my beautiful Commodus die by anyone else’s hands.

And even at the end, we can still see the toxicity that permeates their relationship.

Commodus took Apollo’s love and support for granted. He thought he could do anything he wished because he had the love and blessing of a god.

Apollo loved Commodus so much that he couldn’t stand the thought of someone else killing him. He could have kept his own hands clean of the kill, but he did not.

Because he wouldn’t be able to bear it to allow someone else to do the deed.

His last breath bubbled through the whiskers of his beard. I hunched over him, crying, my hands around his throat, until the bathwater cooled.

Even after Commodus is dead and gone, Apollo stays sitting there. Crying. He is utterly distraught by what he has done, and will continue to torment himself over it.

Perhaps even for eternity.

Britomartis was wrong. I didn’t fear water. I simply couldn’t look at the surface of any pool without imagining Commodus’s face, stung with betrayal, staring up at me.

That, my friends, is how you write an ending. That is how you write a tragic, doomed romance.

This is the deepest romance in all of Rick’s books. And we’ve only gotten through the flashback scenes.

We— and Rick— are merely getting warmed up.

[leantailean]

Ain't no way you're paying victim. You called Zuko a supremacist colonizer when his whole arc was about rejecting the Fire Nation's nationality and colonialism. You defended Aang prioritizing his culture over Katara's trauma. You can't get mad at Zuko for brushing off Aang using his culture to project his self-righteousness and not at Aang for dictating Katara's grief by implying culture is the only right way. In no way was that user being racist.

(Especially because Aang has made fun of cultural Water Tribe food and touched Water Tribe artifacts like they were toys)

YOU started the confrontation with her, then got mad that she rightfully replied (twice). You're butthurt because you were proven wrong. Grow up.

Hello anon, may I draw your attention to the fact that my interaction with the person you obviously mean here was limited to one post in which I disagreed with her opinion and dared to express my point of view, in which I was so polite, that I even apologized for the fact that the post turned out to be long and praised her art (yes, I bought that, mistaking this AI for real watercolours. Only after the last post did I look more closely and noticed all these countless artefacts, sixth fingers and meaningless shadows lying on the wrong sides of the form). I wrote my opinion and forgot about it because, you know, I have a life. But it seems that my post really hurt you and this person much and you felt so insulted and offended that you have not been able to calm down for several months: that person wrote gigantic (but rather meaningless) “responses” a few months later, you all bombarded my mailbox with anonymous hatred, and took ridiculous attempts to slander my art.

And, anon, can I ask: do you even read what you are responding to? I didn't call Zuko a supremacist colonizer; I called him the great-grandson of a colonizer (which is literally who he is in the story). And yes, Zuko's role in history is worse than it could have been for a conventional great-grandson of a supremacist colonizer, because Zuko personally took part in his great-grandfather's war, attacking the Southern Water Tribe, threatening the elderly and children, and using physical force against them

burning down the Kyoshi village and trying to capture the avatar, the world's last hope, even after he began to realize that this was not right (that scene from the book one where he turned away from the fire nation banner).

Just because Zuko repented and self-improved doesn't suddenly erase these facts from his story. I think that remorse and deep pain for his actions will haunt Zuko throughout his life because he truly became a good person, unlike you, who are just ready to pretend that none of this ever happened and are not worth remembering.

Aang is a genocide survivor. His beliefs are hard-won experience. Because he knows what it's like to lose your culture, your people and find the passed away parent (their direct parallel with the Katara). His philosophy of forgiveness is not something he was taught in school, nor is he the affluent 21st century suburban boy as he's so carefully portrayed by you. This is his experience. And he shares this experience with his friend, who is also a genocide survivor. He and Katara share this experience and Aang has every right to tell her his opinion. It is Katara's choice to agree or not, and she makes her choice, but Aang had every right to express his opinion.

And I wonder, anon, what can you say about Sokka? He is just as much a victim in this situation as Katara. Sokka is not a pacifist or an air nomad. Kya was also Sokka's mother. And he is also against Katara committing a murder. This is not the first time I have seen how, while attacking Aang, haters pass by Sokka in deathly silence, and past Zuko who also agreed with Aang in the end.

I will not specifically address your point about Aang being a racist for not liking traditional Katara’s food or for putting a hat on without knowing what kind of hat it was. I don't believe you are stupid enough to actually make such arguments seriously, it must be trolling. It’s clear that you have nothing to complain about Aang at all, because these arguments look desperate. 

It's impressive how much the opinion of a stranger on the Internet can hurt you. Are you so offended that someone dared to respond to your baseless accusations against fictional cartoon characters? Or maybe you're so offended by the fact that I can criticize a character and keep liking him (Zuko is literally one of my three favorite characters, along with Toph and Aang). If you look at my blog, you'll get a pretty clear impression of how much I love Zuko and what a giant amount of time and effort I spend on art dedicated to him. Because I see all of Zuko's flaws and still continue to love him—unlike you, who only love the emasculated "ideal" version of him. As very well said here, your treatment of Zuko is very similar to how Ozai treated Azula: "be absolutely perfect, otherwise you're a good for nothing waste of space". This is very noticeable from the posts of the person you are defending here.

So yes, the advice to grow up is very good, but you should turn it on yourself, who, for some reason, writes your complaints anonymously, like a coward, or on those people whom you are defending. This is the Internet, and if you're not ready that not everyone agrees with your opinion and that someone can actually respond to your takes, maybe you should just get offline.

(I see that you want to start a drama, but you are in the wrong place. Any anonymous letters like this one will be deleted.😎)

[the-fiction-witch]

Y/n!

Media The Artful Dodgert

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Flirty

Requested : I absolutely love your Jack Dawkins fic, I've just added your Newt fic to my library. You are an absolutely amazing writer.This is also a request for the jack Dawkins fic, as in could you write one where jack is reunited with someone who he knew back in London?? I just think it would be cute and you can do anything you want from there, anything you want haha Thank you for writing xxxx

I sighed finishing up with the ward rolling my sleeves up heading towards the stairwell, 

"Jack. Patient. Room four," Hetty said having come chasing after me, 

"What about them?"

"She's refusing to let Dr Sneed see her." 

I sighed, great last thing I need some little whiner, "Will she let me see her?"

"She says yes." 

"Alright," I sighed heading back down and quickly went to room four, "Hello Miss, Dr Dawkins, I heard you refused Dr Sneeds treatment?" I asked taking her paperwork to see what I was actually dealing with, it wasn't much just a mild head injury nothing worth keeping her in over. 

"He's a snivelling, Pompous Git" her voice said from the bed,  

I admit I chuckled a little, "Well we agree on something." 

"What was your name again?"

"Dawkins. Dr Jack Dawkins." I told her setting her paperwork back and actually looking at her, but- I had a heart attack. 

She sat with her long tight curls against the headboard of the bed, a bandage for her wound around her head, her skin slightly red where she clearly had not yet gotten use to the sun here, a long violet dress been repaired and fixed a hundred times. 

I- I felt like I was in a dream, I could barely beleive my own eyes, I- I was utterly convinced I'd never see her again. 

Y/n. She was a London street girl a year or two older then me, abandoned by her family and forced to make her own way, Much as I was. She didn't run with Fagin, the boys and I. She more made her own way but still we crossed paths. We were pickpockets and petty theives breaching only death it if became nessesary. She... Was The Violet Widow. Known though out London. She'd walk the streets as a evening girl but a man who paid her never got to finish, He would be taken home, stripped, tied, and riden until she had reached her desires then she would kill him, steal his clothes, money, watch and sell what she wouldn't keep or give to us boys. She kept herself nicely I must say, and she even married a few older wealther men taking their name for a few weeks before butching them too taking all that remained and being left as a widow. She lived just down the road from us, and any clothes she thought would she'd pass along, even if she couldn't always feed herself she always tried to feed us too. 

We of course were freindly and we'd both gotten each other out of jams more times then I dare to think. 

And Admittedtly I had spent more nights then I care to remember as a bored excited teenage boy, knoitted with the sheets of her bed, and with her. But she never minded, and she never charged me, and never let any of the other boys near her. 

Last I had heard she had been arrested on her most recent husbands murder charge, but that was only a week or two before I was locked up myself. 

I had greived for her, beloived her hung for her crimes or... atleast locked away somewhere I would never see her. 

Never in my life would I have pictured her, Here in port victoria let alone, here infront of me.

I was... thrilled to see her alive! But also... suspcious. 

"Hi, Dodger." 

Immediately I shut the door, locked it tight, pulled the windows shut and the blinds drawn leaving us in complete darkness and secrecy. Standing catching my breath at the foot of her bed my hands on my waist, 

"Y/n!?"

"Hi,"

"The bloody hell are you doing here?"

"Got into a fight with a card cheat," She sighed adjusting her bandage, 

"No- I don't mean the hospital, I mean Australia!" 

"On my travels..."

"Travels?" I glared, "I'm getting pretty fucking concerned right now, first Fagin shows up like the bloody ghost of Christmas past, and now you! What Oliver bloody twist gonna show up next week!" 

"He what?" She glared,

"What?"

"Fagin! Is here!"

"Yeah. showed up a few weeks back." 

"What the hell is he doing here?" 

"Got himself arrested, sent down here."

"You believe that do you?"

"What choice have I got?" I sighed, "So what are you doing down here?"

"Traveling, making my way around," She shrugged,

"And you want me to believe that do you?"

"Why would I Iie? I didn't know you were here, or Fagin, and yes I'd be pretty damn surprised Oliver Twist showed up too. It's a weird ass coincidence." She explained, 

"Alright," I sighed I did want to see her, I was happy even if I was concerned by this coincidence I couldn't be angry at her, "How's your head?" I asked sitting on her bed a moment to check her over

"Never had any complaints," She giggled 

"I'm serious."

"I thought you'd remember."

"Y/n."

"I feel fine Jack" she smiled, "Are you alright?"

I softened a little all these little jokes reminding me that it is still y/n. "As I can be,"

"Made quite the life for yourself down here. I take it... Dodger's gone?"

"Very much so. They hang escaped convicts here so... Dodger is dead. For all intensive purposes." I told her as I got up to finish her paperwork

"Understandable," she nodded "Dr Dawkins," She playfully smiled, 

"You still just Y/n?" I smiled, 

"Ohh god no uhhhhh... Y/n, Smith, Liswick, Warden, Petrecove, uhhh I'm sure there's a Llyod in there somewhere, I loose track" She said, "But just Y/n."

I smirked a little, "Humm... Still the Violet Widow I take it?"

"I see why you became a doctor, quiet the skills of deduction." she smiled,

"Yeah well I hope you're not here planning to add Dawkins to that lineup,"

"Why? Would it be so bad for... old friends to rekindle old flames now that they're all grown up," She smirked, 

"Don't even think about it." I warn her, "The issue there is I know what you do. and I know what you'll do to me on our wedding night."

"True." She smiled "You're letting me go then?"

"Yep, just keep it clean, and stay out of trouble" I told her, 

"I uhhh Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"I only ask because it is you Jack, but do you think you could slip a girl a few coins before you send me away? just for an apple and a place to rest my head tonight," 

"You don't have anywhere to go? Or any money?"

"No."

"How'd you get here then?"

"Spent my last few coins on the boat trip here, figured I'd get a job or earn money my usual way, I haven't even all that lucky yet," 

I felt awful, nowing the girl who use to gived me soup and clothes kept me happy and better off then I ever could have been without her, now had to ask me for money just to rest her head, but... I don't get paid, meerly food and accomodation, What little I had was for me and I'd worked my ass numb at the card table to get it, But... I can't say not to her "I... I think I can."

"I'd pay you back," she said, 

"Yeah, how?"

she stopped short a moment expecting me to say no and she clearly did not actually having an answer, "How I always used to?"

"Yeah?" I smirked a little 

"mhm" she nodded moving her dress and opening her legs 

"...Deal" I smirked crawling into bed with her "I've missed you" I smirked pulling her into a kiss feeling the intensity of our time apart 

"I missed you too Jack," She smirked 

[slythering-snake-boys]

Old Friends (Sebastian Sallow x Reader/MC x Ominis Gaunt)

Characters: Sebastian Sallow x Reader/MC x Ominis Gaunt

Words: 4059

Warnings: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, can be read as platonic or romantic, spoilers for the game, mentions of death, somewhat of an AU because of certain major events not matching what happens canonically

A/N:

Without spoiling too much, I love adding this character, especially since it didn't seem fair to only have one of them

Solomon is alive

Halloween was fast approaching and the entirety of Hogwarts was excited for this year's festivities. And despite everything that had happened during your fifth-year, you were somewhat excited as well. After all, the wizarding world was currently safer, including all your friends. Though it all came with a price.

As you got ready to go downstairs to the Great Hall, you looked into the mirror one more time. There were bags under your eyes even now. No matter how much you slept, it didn't help. With a sigh, you looked through your trunk by the bed, getting a beautification potion that you'd managed to brew specifically for such cases.

The effects were immediate, the bags disappearing and more colour filling your cheeks and the rest of your face, making you appear livelier. The downside was that the potion didn't help your eyes change - they still looked quite distant and held a pretty faraway look in them. But who could blame you, really? You'd fought Ranrok, watched Sebastian almost murder his uncle and witnessed the death of your mentor, Professor Fig. You weren't too sure the nightmares would ever go away.

As you applied just a little bit of lipstick and looked over your dress one more time, you thought about what you might possibly see this year and what you'd do afterwards, in the future. The excited chatter and giggling from outside the girls' dorm room made your train of thought derail. With a sigh, you straightened up and left, going downstairs and leaving the common room.

"Took you a while, MC." You looked up as the entrance to your House's common room closed behind you, seeing Sebastian and Ominis. They were both dressed nicely, but more leisurely. "But I can see why." You laughed at Sebastian's words, seeing a teasing smirk grace his face. Which promptly left and turned into a pout because of Ominis elbowing him in the sides. You couldn't help laughing at the two of them playfully bickering, relieved to see their friendship was still intact and, hopefully, stronger than ever.

You were glad that you'd managed to stop Sebastian in that tomb. Otherwise, who knows what might've happened. Right now, Sebastian had pretty much given up on the Dark Arts, finding his new chance of curing Anne in you. It had taken a lot of persuasion and arguments, but in the end, you and Ominis managed to get him to stop pursuing that dark path.

"Keep your hands to yourself at least for tonight, Sebastian." Ominis sighed before turning towards you with a smile. "Hello, darling. I'm sure you look beautiful, if the girls fawning over you as they were leaving was of any indication." You felt yourself flush a little at his words, seeing Sebastian smirk. You jokingly glared at him before coming closer to the two Slytherin boys.

"You two look really nice this evening. And my, oh my, Sallow. Is that...cologne? Old Eau de Confringo not attracting the ladies anymore?" He pouted and glared at you playfully while Ominis snickered.

"You're never gonna let this go, are you?"

"Nope. After witnessing 7 people describe one of the scents in Amortentia as Confringo, for lack of a better word, during Professor Sharp's lesson a few weeks ago... You can't really blame me, can you?" The brunette huffed and crossed his arms, the blush on his face highlighting his scattered freckles like little stars.

"Well, as much as I'd like to take the day off and make more fun of Sebastian and his fangirls, I'd like for the three of us to go and enjoy some Pumpkin Pasties and Butterbeer. After all, you two have been badgering me about this for the past month, so we better not be wasting time. I still have to write my paper on Felix Felicis for Tuesday." Ominis explained as he got up, his wand already glowing as he looked in your direction. Sebastian got up as well and you linked your arms with his then with Ominis'.

"Don't worry, Ominis. You'll be a lot more relaxed after tonight and you can write your paper tomorrow, after a good sleep. I have to get some information for Professor Shah's class, but I'll do it tomorrow night since it's going to be clear. Tonight is all about relaxing and enjoying ourselves." Sebastian grinned and nodded at your words, flexing his arm enough for you to feel it and look up at him with a smile.

"Exactly. I don't want to hear about homework for tonight, thank you very much. That can wait. For now, though, Butterbeer is in order." He commented, already mentally drooling at the thought of all the treats commissioned by Hogwarts from Honeydukes and the Three Broomsticks. It was the same every year, but there was always a new product, as some sort of a thank you for most of the clients being Hogwarts students.

With those words, the three of you walked towards the Great Hall, talking and laughing along the way. And the party was in full swing, with friends and classmates laughing and mingling. The scent of different Honeydukes sweets and Butterbeer permeated the air and made your stomachs grumble. With practised ease, Sebastian moved his arm around your shoulders while Ominis' hand barely touched your lower back as they both led you to the refreshments table.

The next few hours were spent socialising, laughing, drinking and stuffing yourselves full. You were almost never without any of the two Slytherins, especially since Sebastian had told Ominis about some of the other students ogling you and seeming ready to come and ask you either to a dance or on a date. Some bolder ones had tried, but the look in the two boys' eyes, with or without your knowledge, made anyone turn tail and walk away. It wasn't that they were jealous, no. They just...hated the idea of you being asked out just because of your status as the 'Hero of Hogwarts', as they had agreed in the Undercroft. Yeah, that was it, no other reasons, surely.

"Everyone, if I may have your attention, please!" You all turned towards the podium, seeing Professor Weasley, who smiled at the crowd of students having a good time. "As you may be aware, Headmaster Black is currently engaged in other business with the Ministry until next week. As a result, I will be the one to make some special announcements tonight. Let's start with the first one: the Ghosts of Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, who have graciously accepted our suggestion of dancing for us tonight. Let's give them a warm welcome!"

Everyone started clapping as the aforementioned ghosts glided inside the Great Hall through the walls and open doors, some passing above the students, others through, making them shiver. Everyone made room for the ghostly residents of the castle and Hogsmeade as they danced in sync, echoing laughter intertwining with the music played by both the enchanted instruments and the musicians' portraits, whose residents had been invited to accompany them. You all watched the ghosts dancing, the two boys flanking you from either side.

Ominis froze and turned his head around a little, his wand able to somewhat sense the commotion, curious before feeling a smile overtake his face. When the dance was over, everyone applauded. You and Sebastian talked about it before you saw him flinch and yelp comically. You looked at him with a chuckle as he looked back, his jaw becoming slack. You turned as well, seeing Anne. She still appeared a little pale but you were more overjoyed to see her than anything. Sebastian, you and Ominis all hugged her, happy to see her back at Hogwarts.

"What are you doing here?" Sebastian asked her, beyond curious.

"Professor Weasley invited me. Told me there was a special occasion tonight and that I shouldn't miss it. Uncle Solomon is just over there, talking with her." You all looked where she was pointing, seeing the older man as he greeted several of your teachers. Sebastian scoffed a little but didn't say anything else, not when he felt you squeeze one of his hands reassuringly.

His relationship with Solomon hadn't improved much, especially after he almost cast the Killing Curse on their uncle. Still, with a bit of coaxing and many, many promises and reassurances from you and Ominis and plenty of begging from Anne, Sebastian was allowed to visit Anne and Feldcroft again. Though he wasn't allowed to bring anything he thought might cure Anne - not without proper research, official clearance by a professor or a doctor, and certainly not without him present.

Sebastian had protested immediately and promptly left the house, taking his frustration out on the training dummies outside. You all left him to vent, but he knew he couldn't win. And with you and Ominis coming out after a while to discuss with him, he finally relented. And as much as he would've tried to sneak past his uncle, you and Ominis had put your faith in him and told him so. Which made the brunette feel guilty and actually respect his promise.

"Did she tell you anything else about this special occasion?" You asked the girl, effectively ending the awkward moment the four of you had found yourselves in. Anne shook her head.

"Nothing. I tried to ask her and even Uncle Solomon, but he didn't know anything either. But I'm glad to be back here nonetheless." You both smiled at each other and hugged before the boys did the same. She asked you all questions about classes and your adventures, and you all told her different anecdotes, making her laugh so hard until her cheeks had gained a rosy, healthy colour.

"Is it me or does it seem a bit more crowded this year? Or is my wand not doing its job properly?" Ominis asked with furrowed brows. You and the twins looked around, noticing how many ghosts were actually gliding and dancing around and above you.

"There are a lot more ghosts here, that's certain..." Sebastian mumbled, his height offering him an advantage as he looked over most of the heads of those around him, noticing that there were indeed more ghosts than usual.

"What's going on?" You asked as you looked around and then at Sebastian.

"I'm not entirely sure..." He whispered, looking above almost everyone else's heads curiously.

"Attention, everyone!" Professor Weasley's voice once again made everyone turn towards the podium. Seeing that everyone's attention was on her, she smiled and continued talking with a smile. "Given that tonight is Halloween and there are so many of us gathered here, I'd like to announce another special event that will be taking place shortly. You may have noticed how many otherworldly guests are here tonight. There is a good reason for that." Her eyes almost seemed to lock on your group of four and she smiled wider, almost motherly. "They have been able, in their own unique way and thanks to the latter's strong bond to Hogwarts, to help us call forth some of our former and beloved teachers who have left us too early. Mainly, Professor Fig and Mr and Mrs Sallow."

At the sound of those words, the three of you froze and felt everyone's eyes on you, whispers starting to raise in numbers. The sound of quiet voices from behind you made you all turn in that direction. At first, you couldn't see anything, though soon you heard Sebastian gasp, watching as his eyes filled with tears and his chin and lower lip trembled. Your hand involuntarily squeezed his hand and you felt him squeeze back.

The students and other ghosts moved to the sides of the Great Hall, enough to make way for the three special guests. You felt tears well up in your eyes at the sight of the transparent figure of your former mentor who was smiling, nodding and greetings those he passed by. When his eyes locked onto yours, his smile widened and you felt the tears finally slide down your cheeks as you smiled back. He stopped in front of you, looking down at you proudly with a big smile on his face.

"It's good to see you again, my young friend."

"H-Hello, Professor Fig. It's great to see you again, sir." You sniffled, unable to stop yourself from crying and wanting to hug him, despite knowing you'd go right through him. Seemingly uncaring of such trivial things, he came forward and hugged you, making you shiver at the cold feeling passing through you. But you tried to give him a hug without going through him, happy to know that he was still somehow there.

You looked to the side, seeing Anne and Sebastian crying as their parents talked with them with smiles on their faces. The twins were both red in the face from all the crying and your heart ached because of how clearly they missed their parents. But you were glad to know that they managed to see them again, even if it was after quite a while.

"Mr Gaunt! My boy, you've grown taller than me!" Professor Fig leaned back, looking at Ominis with a wide smile. Ominis smiled and bowed his head, coming to sit by you as one of his arms went around your waist, half embracing you.

"I have? That's good to know. Sebastian always tells me I'm shorter than him." You chuckled, your voice sounding watery, but you leaned into Ominis' side.

"Don't worry, this will be our secret." Professor Fig winked, making you smile.

"Mom, Dad, these two troublemakers are MC and Ominis, my best friends here." You, Ominis and Professor Fig turned around, watching the Sallow twins come to stand by you, presenting the translucent figures of their parents.

"Hello, Mr and Mrs Sallow. A pleasure to meet you." Ominis bowed politely and you nodded and smiled, watching them.

"Likewise. It's good to finally meet the two of you. Thank you for taking care of Sebastian and Anne all those years." Their praise made the two of you flush, but you smiled nonetheless. You knew that they had most probably been watching over their two children, despite not being alive for so many years already.

"By the way, who are you calling troublemakers, Sebastian? Last time I checked, you were the detention master here, not me and MC." Sebastian flushed and pouted.

"Surely your parents already know about your...reputation here, Sebastian?" His parents nodded and Sebastian pouted even more, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away with an obvious blush. Anne giggled and patted his back.

You spent the rest of the night talking with most of the invited ghosts, including Jackdaw, who was thrilled to see you doing well and still alive, especially knowing that you'd survived what had brought his early demise. Even Professor Fig and the older Sallows talked with others, students and ghosts alike, though your eyes were almost always going to them for fear that they'd disappear. You and Ominis stayed close to Sebastian and Anne, understanding that they were suffering even more since they'd lost their parents and were finally meeting them again after around 10 years.

"So... You're only here for tonight, professor?" You asked Professor Fig as you looked up at him before glancing towards Mr and Mrs Sallow as they were back next to Sebastian and Anne. He nodded, smile dimming a little.

"Until 4 AM, I'm afraid." You visibly deflated. Twenty more minutes. And from what you'd understood, their ghosts had to leave. Probably forever. This had been a special, unique opportunity. You didn't know if something like this could ever happen again.

"The witching hour, huh?" He nodded at your almost silent words, looking at you with a sad, pitiful smile.

"Sadly, yes... I could become another one of Hogwarts' ghosts, but..."

"No, no, sir... You've chosen...because of Miriam, right? And Mr Osric." Your mentor nodded. You smiled, happy to know that he could now meet those dear to him again. "I'm glad to know that you have been reunited again. I know how much you missed her..." Professor Fig smiled and nodded.

"I can see that Mr Sallow and Mr Gaunt are both keeping a close eye on you." You felt like blushing, but schooled your emotions and only smiled before glancing at the two young men in question. They were both on either side of Anne, talking with the Sallows.

"Sebastian and I have been on many adventures together... And Ominis has tagged along quite often, more out of worry for us than anything. But he's had his share of fun with us, especially when we were saving captured beasts."

"They both care a great deal about you and I can see that you care about them as well."

"They are some of my closest friends here. Along with Poppy, Natty and Amit... We've all had our share of...dangerous adventures. But we've only come out stronger in the end." Professor Fig smiled proudly.

"I know that your fight isn't over. If what the Keepers have told us is true...it will never be truly over. But I feel relieved knowing that you aren't facing everything alone. And I am very proud of you for how brave you are. For how far you've come. And for how much you're staying true to yourself. I know you'll do great things. But please, remember to also take care of yourself. Let others take care of the world and recover. Physically, mentally and emotionally." He was as caring as always, trying to take care of you and offer you advice even from beyond the grave.

"Thank you, Professor Fig... I will." You nodded. You could almost hear the minutes ticking by. He will leave soon, you thought. I won't see him again.

The thoughts made you tear up and a lump started forming in your throat. A hand on your shoulder made you tense before looking back, seeing Sebastian, Anne and Ominis, along with Mr and Mrs Sallow. The twins were both smiling, though their noses and cheeks were a little red and their eyes red-rimmed and filled with unshed tears. Ominis came to your other side and took your hand in his, with Sebastian and Anne on your other side as he held onto your other hand while also holding onto Anne's. The twins' parents stood next to your former mentor, looking at you all.

"We are very proud of you. All of you." Mrs Sallow said, looking at each one of you four. You heard Anne sniffle. Sebastian straightened up, breathing in deeply to keep himself from crting even more.

"I'm glad that you're all watching over one another and I know you'll be there for each other no matter what." Mr Sallow followed. You squeezed the boys' hands, feeling them squeeze back.

"And we will always watch over you, rest assured. You'll never be truly alone." Professor Fig smiled at all of you. You all smiled and nodded in response.

Mrs Sallow came a little closer, har hand trying to brush both of their cheeks. The tips of her fingers went through and Anne had obviously felt the coldness. The knowledge that they couldn't feel each other's touch, whether a hug or a pat on the back, made Sebastian swallow thickly.

"Sebastian... Anne... Oh, you two have grown so much... I'm so proud of you for how we'll you're doing..." Mrs Sallow whispered, visibly getting emotional. "We love you two very much. Never forget it." Mr Sallow only seemed to pull her closer as he smiled at his two children.

"You'll be okay. Both of you. We have faith in you." He added. Anne sniffled and hugged Sebastian's side tightly as he nodded, tears brimming his eyeline.

"We love you, too. Please, w-watch over us." He said with a slight stutter, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from bawling out like his twin sister.

"Everyone!" Professor Weasley's voice pierced through the air. "It is almost time for our guests to return. I would like to thank them once again for gracing us with their presence and for their help in allowing us to see those we've lost once more. As a final thought for those who will be leaving us... For being in our lives... For making us better versions of ourselves... For offering us advice and helping us grow up... For believing in us. Thank you." Everyone clapped, the sound echoing while a few of those in the audience cheered loudly.

Professor Fig and the Sallows all smiled at the four of you before you saw their translucent figures gradually disappear until they became as small as a pale blue match flame. They lingered for a few more seconds before the blue wisps turned even smaller and started floating away, along with the other ghosts who weren't Hogwarts residents.

It was quiet between the four of you as you stood there, stuck to the same spot almost in a daze.

"Anyone else in need of some fresh air?" Ominis asked tentatively, to which you all agreed quietly and walked out of the Great Hall, feeling a few people staring at your figures. Once outside, you sat down on the nearest benches, staring at the barely cloudy sky, watching the stars glinting on the inky sky. The air was cold enough that you could see your breath every time you exhaled.

"Are you two okay?" You asked Anne and Sebastian quietly. Sebastian was staring at the sky with a blank look on his face while Anne was wiping her nose with a handkerchief.

"I wish we had more time..." Sebastian whispered, feeling tears well up in his eyes again. You got up and came over to him, hugging him tightly as he embraced you back, soon hearing him sniffle as the top of your dress soaked up his tears.

"I know... I wish for the same thing. But it's okay. Now...we know that they're there, watching us. And we got to see them. To talk to them. I..." You licked your lips as you took a shuddering breath so you wouldn't start crying again, your fingers going through his now unruly locks while Ominis scooted closer, rubbing his best friend's back comfortingly. "I'm glad we were able to do this. It feels like a part of me is back." Anne sniffled once more before breathing in and out to clear her head. She stared at the sky for a moment before smiling and nodding.

"You're right... I never thought I'd ever see them again and now... Now I feel as if we got some sort of...closure." You nodded and kissed the top of Sebastian's head. You felt his arms tighten around you and bury his face more into your chest, seeking more of your comfort and warmth.

"Seb? Are you alright?" He had stopped crying and was only taking deep breaths. Instead of answering, he leaned back a bit, his eyes, nose and cheeks evidently red from all the crying. But he nodded, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

"I'll be fine." He answered simply. "Thank you for being there for us, you two." Anne beamed at you and nodded while Ominis and you only smiled back.

"What about you, MC? How are you feeling after all this?" Anne asked you. You sighed before smiling.

"I actually feel...good. I managed to tell Professor Fig a lot of the things I didn't get to. I feel more at peace with the situation. And I'm glad he and Miriam are together once again." Anne and Ominis nodded thoughtfully, though the smiles on their faces indicated that they were relieved you were feeling better. True to your words, you seemed to be carrying yourself better now. As if you felt lighter, like a burden had been taken off your shoulders.

Sebastian embraced you once more, though he didn't start crying again. Anne came closer and put her arms around her twin brother, having him put an arm around her in response. And you pulled Ominis closer, hugging him as well. Merlin knows you all needed the comfort.

"We're going to be alright." You all nodded, squeezing the other a little tighter.

[thefiery-phoenix]

Hello. How are you? I hope I'm not bothering you. I'm so sorry your old blog is gone. But I believe you can start over. I wish you the best of luck on your new blog. Can I make a request if requests are open? You shared it once. I wonder if you can do it like part 2? Can you share more for yandere husbands Pollux Black, Cygnus Black, Orion Black, Alphard Black and Severus Snape ? Please

Don't worry you're not bothering me dear, and thank you for the kind wishes for my new blog, I really appreciate the love and support I've received from all of you during those difficult times. I was pretty dejected when my blog got deleted for no reason but it's okay, I'll start over, a fresh start and sure, let's get into this

I'll have to write only for Pollux and Cygnus unfortunately, you've requested for too many characters 😭 Please request for not more than 2 or 3 characters at least for a scenario next time, it gets overwhelming to write for more. I sincerely apologize 😔

Pollux Black: Pollux might love you and be obsessed with you but if you dare to act up in front of him he's not going to appreciate it. As much as he cares for you he's really not above using the Cruciatus curse on you when you misbehave with him and demand for silly things like your freedom and wanting to see your friends and family. He's your family now, you're supposed to be content staying with him, he's already providing everything for you despite your constant tantrums and protests which he's willingly and patiently tolerating, and yet you say you don't want to be with him?

As soon as those words come out of your mouth, you'll be wishing you'd never said that in the first place judging by the dark look that's now plastered across his face. After he's done with torturing you for a while, he'll lock you in a room and ignore you till you apologize to him by literally begging him to pay attention to you, which is what he wants. You better hope and pray to whatever God you believe in because this deranged lunatic will hunt down every friend, family member and person you've come in contact with at least once in your lifetime and murder them right in front of you

If it's a random stranger who bumped into you on some random day, even better as he'll taunt you for having the blood of them on your hands and gaslight you by saying how all this is your fault because you refused to love him and reciprocate his feelings back. This is why I called him a deranged lunatic. When you finally do apologize, his personality will change drastically, like going from a zero to 360 in just a matter of seconds. He'll gently kiss your hands and tell you that you've been a good little darling for him as he patches you up, this bipolar MF 😒 All in all, just be good and you won't have a hard time dealing with this lunatic and try not to make him jealous by mentioning other people in front of him, things will get messy

Cygnus Black: Cygnus is quite fond of books and if you're a writer, lady luck just graced you with good fortune, however of course, as usual there will be consequences since well, is a Black after all. Cygnus will allow you to pursue whatever interests and hobbies you have after he's taken you because he knows you'll be lonely staying cooped up indoors all day long without magic. If you're fond of art, he'll get you the best art supplies galleons and knuts can buy from a reputed store. If you're fond of reading books he'll gladly join you when you're reading as he slowly wraps a protective arm around your waist and pulls you in closer to him while the two of you read. He won't really mind it if you decide to lay down on his lap, he'll be thrilled that you're finally trusting him after so long as he secretly basks in his moment of victory and gently runs his fingers through your hair

This man is territorial and possessive, you can't do anything without taking his permission first and unfortunately that rule applies to you wanting to get your books published for everyone else to read. You decided to ask him about this one day during dinner. He noticed there was something on your mind and you were unusually quiet, at first he thought of using Occlumency on you to find out what you were thinking about, however he decided to be generous and gave you the chance to explain yourself. He'll most definitely use his Occlumency skills on you later though, you know, just as a precautionary measure to make sure you aren't thinking about anything silly like trying to get away from him

"You're quiet today...quiet than usual, I can tell there's something on your mind" he said in a nonchalant voice as he sipped his Earl Grey tea and surveyed you with a calculating look in his eyes, silently trying to draw an answer from you. You slightly fidgeted with the hem of your robes and spoke "I was wondering if I could publish a few of my works to the public..." You were greeted with silence in return as you mentally winced at yourself for coming up with this idea in the first place. You could tell he didn't appreciate the question you've just asked him judging by the way he was starting at you with an unreadable expression on his face

He got up from his chair and strode towards you as he lifted your chin with his finger. "Dear, why would you want insignificant pathetic vermin to tell you how good your work is when you already have me? Is my presence for you not enough?" You were struggling to think of saying something that wouldn't anger him as he continued to speak. "Your writing is one of a kind my love, the others... they're like mere flies who have no experience when it comes to writing, they don't know how creative and beautiful your mind is when you imagine something and put those very thoughts on a parchment. And yet some of them dare criticize you, your work is reserved for me and ONLY me, they don't know you like I do.... the sooner you get rid of this silly notion of yours, the better" as you nodded your head silently and kept eating your dinner

Sure enough he kept a close eye on you whenever you wrote something to make sure your writing didn't go public. Part of him was worried that you'd include some secret message in your writing and then he'd lose you, no.... he couldn't lose you.... he won't lose you, you're his and he'll make sure people pay dearly if they dared to take you away from him

[gnashingwailing]

@fireflywritesgt ok i read your tag on ch21 and i took that as a personal challenge (and then while I was writing this you dropped ch22 and THEN 23 and murdered me. but i'm back now. so)

HELLO Ok fuck yeah hold on everybody take my hand. We’re theorizing about this chapter 🙏 spoilers thru ch23 below

Re: the tag: dare I hope the next story will be set in a similar time/place… i MUST ADMIT despite the significant broader cultural stigma of such a thing. I have often contemplated. Harry and Joe helping with providing socialized miniature healthcare 😭 (maybe to wherever Lorraine lives[?] or knows of?) and when I heard mention of a Tiny Town Hospital… one must wonder how this compares to a Giant Hospital, or to the barber surgeon dens that Joe has presumably had some frostbitten toes cut off at.

OTHER THINGS I’M SPECULATING ABOUT: “certainly, bandits were a problem a borrower occasionally had to face” 🤔 damn that's rough. I do love the sense that there are few overarching cultural norms, whether it's around marriage or language or so on. Everybody is kinda doing their own thing (including robbing each other oof).

I am also VEEEERRY curious about the implications of WHATEVER the tinies that are working in Tiny Town are doing. What kind of mechanized thing could be profitable from a lot of little guys pressing buttons? Or is it maybe not something physical they’re producing? Is it instead a research project? Some attempt at “civilizing” the tiny society for giant colonialism reasons? There’s got to be some kind of output here that is valuable to some kind of giant, but I’m still mystified at what it will be. “Joe wanted to ask him about the four armed giants who stood outside of Tiny Town” YEAH MAN ME TOO‼️ <- secretly delighted this is still coming up because I want to know what it means QUITE BADLY

Joe lamenting that there don't seem to be any libraries, or restaurants, or speakeasies, or any mark of ... art or entertainment? In Tiny Town? I REALLY HOPE Joe and Harry get over themselves and kiss soon so they can TALK ABOUT HOW FUCKING WEIRD THIS PLACE IS???? It made me INSAAANE THAT JOE JUST BRUSHED OFF TALKING ABOUT IT AT ALL 😭 JOE TO HAVE THOSE THINGS. PEOPLE HAVE TO WORK AT THEM. ARE ALL THE PEOPLE IN TINY TOWN JUST WORKING ON PUSHING BUTTONS??? JOE PLS

“Expecting handouts from the bloody giants…” sooo fascinating to hear him voice this, since this whole project is a handout in the absolute best case scenario (given that scraps are worthless to giants), although likely closer to a prison, as Professor Hill called it. Still patiently waiting for his smart and cool wife to explain things to me <3

I hope Joe will deign to really talk about what happened to him… GURL go process it with ur beautiful best friend!! Let him hold you and comfort you and tell you you’re literally so smart and correct and everything you’re saying about ditching the buttons part entirely is literally so beautiful and true!!! Go rock his world with your insights king!!!

Also lmfao Joe is definitely not Irish bcuz his Irish Goodbyes need some SERIOUS work. King of just literally running off when he’s not feeling a conversation anymore.

Me 🤝Joe <- autistically just leaving

He does this so often and it makes me cackle every time. Wait hold on those great meme posts make me want to make a JUST WALK OUT! One.

Absolutely loving the tension of it all… the reveal that Joe was doing watchmaking when he was TWELVE, meaning (if I'm keeping track of time correctly) he got snatched right after he was ABANDONED BY HIS ONLY FAMILY IN THE WORLD, was so artfully done. I had to stop in my tracks and think at the “he’d known O’Grady longer in his life than he hadn’t” and do math and be like “oh fuck.” Maybe this was teased prior and I didn’t pick up on it, but it hit HARD. For some reason I hadn’t assumed he was a kid — but why wouldn’t he be? If little kids are already doing things like crawling into discarded beer bottles. Fuck, Warren, heartbreaking stuff. Bravo. Of course Joe would be as dedicated to going and seeing him as he was Harry in the hospital. He cares so deeply about everyone, but especially his friends. It’s too bad O’Grady is no longer in a place to reciprocate the love Joe gives !!! But of course Joe still would not be ready to throw away the boot knife O’Grady made for him… “a decision that would forever change Joe’s life” btw I can hear ur evil hehe from here. :)

Also btw THIS little detail is one of those things that makes rereading your story so delightful: “They invade our end of the city, take our jobs, show up at our bar… did we invite them? No.” O’Grady was practically ranting. “And when we politely tell them to leave, what do they do?” O’Grady pointed to his bandaged head. “Watch out for them once you get here. They’re not good Irishmen like you and me, Joe.” juxtaposed with the actual breaking news we heard from the radio ? "“AN IRISHMAN AND AN ITALIAN ARE IN THE HOSPITAL AFTER A MASS BRAWL OUTSIDE A BAR ENDED IN A CRACKED SKULL AND A STABBING. NEITHER OF ‘EM HAVE BEEN IDENTIFIED YET.”" a fucking STABBING = "politely tell them to leave"? What kinds of things has Joe's friend gotten used to excusing?

And of course I love the moments of solidarity within the tragedy of the newly realized (or at least newly stoked) xenophobia between borrowers. Joe being reminded of how his parents spoke, and how his brother shooed him off, in the gestures of a stranger… you really do a great job of evoking the ways we are all connected to each other. His family is gone, but he still sees them everywhere he looks. [pacing my enclosure and being sooo normal about how Joe has purposefully isolated for a decade and yet cannot help but see the beauty and humanity of his fellow man whether tiny or giant bcuz despite thinking he’s wired wrong, he’s actually wired like all of us who have felt that way for our unusual proclivities. He’s wired for connection with his fellow man. And he’s so wired for it u can feel how much it hurts his heart. Haha I’m sooooo .] The older guy was trying to warn him off crossing a white line into the “Irish ward”, too, right? The gesture was a kindness. And speaking of, does that mean the little tunnel somebody dug is to the Irish district? Or was I turned around and it was the Italian one? Either way — who would be trying to get in here, and why? Maybe it’s just a desperate person, but O’Grady talking about how bad it’d be if they saw Joe, and the need for an ID, makes me think it’s not someplace you can sneak into and integrate with. Just makes me curious as to whether it’ll come up again!!

THIS is also something I'm wondering about -- could the 'output' of Tiny Town maybe be researching, like... ethnonationalism? In the wake of WWI? Those drawn lines separating different 'wards'... do we think Tinies came up with this shit on their own? I doubt it, if someone like Dawson who is immediately assigning people nationalities that we know from Calloway's nobody "normal" in borrower society knows/cares about. HMMMmmmmMMMMM. I'm still reaaaaally curious how much Hill knows about this place and what hand, if any, he had in it. ONCE AGAIN, boys get kissing so you can also get TALKING. I think Harry would have much to say about how pointless it is to hate individuals from other nationalities after everything he saw during the war. Or so I assume, given he had no bad reaction to Joe being Italian.

AND WELL THIS IS LESS THEORYCRAFTING AND MORE “ME WANTING TO WRITE MORE FANFIC ABOUT THEM” BUT I WAS SOOO DELIGHTED THE CHAPTER DIDN’T END WITH HIM LEAVING TINY TOWN AND WE INSTEAD GOT DRESS REHEARSAL 2 OF HARRY AND JOE GETTING SO FUCKING DOWN BAD FOR EACH OTHER AT THE WINDOW & IN THE BEDROOM. YIPPEEEEE <- this was written before ch22 lol pictures taken moments before disaster

“Joe fidgeted for a moment as he fought with himself over whether or not to say what he really wanted to say.” … did you say what you really wanted to, there, pal? 🤨

I'm sooooo glad Joe's books are making more and more appearances... much like Harry I'm endlessly delighted by his culture. I wanna know what shaped his romantic fantasies!!

""Yeah, the ending on this one isn't great. They're cowards. Could've at least said they loved each other." Joe said.

He closed the book and snuggled into the crook of Harry's neck." <- Lmao @ these two guys so allergic to talking about their feelings shit-talking the romance book protagonists while they're literally cuddling in bed and not acknowledging it

Did he own these books when he was a kid? I imagine so, but on the other hand? HEY HOLY SHIT I REALIZED AFTER CH23 SOMETHING I SUSPECTED BUT COULDN'T CONFIRM: if homophobia isn't something borrowers have. Is one of these romance novels Joe owns going to be between two men? Harry is going to get his fuckin world rocked. Him and Georgie stole books from the library before, but I doubt they found any gay romance stuff (still impossible for baby-gay-Gnash to find that almost 100 years later in their rural libraries, lol.) Would this be Harry's first exposure to something like that? Wahhh... hurry up and open up to each other again you need to talk culture ASAP...

I'm also very curious if borrowers would have more taboo novels of their own, particularly giant/tiny stuff. And would Joe have come across any of it? I imagine it'd be extremely difficult to sell things like that without a beating, but maybe in bigger night markets -- and Joe said he's been in lots of very big cities... if his third novel is some really salacious g/t writing that would do numbers here on tumblr dot com I'm going to lose my god damn mind.

[questionableratatouille00]

𝓨𝓸𝓾’𝓿𝓮 𝓒𝓪𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓐 𝓢𝓽𝓻𝓪𝔂

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: On a now-weekly trip to Mr. Blackwood’s front porch, you make some discoveries.

Warnings: language, looking into someone’s windows, mentions of axe murdering.

[📞 Series Masterlist 📞]

𝘼𝙘𝙦𝙪𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚

You’d been moved in for about a week. You’d managed to unpack most of the house, somehow. The neighbors—well, the neighbor, hadn’t stopped by to say hello or anything. And you didn’t really expect them to. Based on what Mike said, Mr. Blackwood was probably old, so expecting him to walk all the way to your house just to say hi or whatever was pretty unreasonable. 

And so, just so that you make it known that you’re not an asshole or an axe murderer, you baked a few different kinds of cookies. It was a win-win: your neighbor got a variety of options in case they didn’t like a particular kind and you got a bunch of cookies out of it. 

You dangerously balanced the plate of cookies in your lap as you started the fourwheeler. 

Driving down the gravel road, you were impressed with your skills with the fourwheeler. You reached the point where the gravel road turned into a paved one, and you drove slowly down it before getting back onto a gravel road to get to Mr. Blackwood’s house. 

You parked the fourwheeler, walking up to the front door with the cookies in your hands. 

Knocking on the door, you tried to push down the budding anxiety that began to sit in your stomach. 

And yet—there was no answer. 

You knocked again. 

No answer. 

You frowned. “Mr. Blackwood?” Calling his name didn’t change a thing. Still no response. 

“I’m—I’m your neighbor. I uh, brought cookies.” You checked the driveway. No car. Dammit, he’s not even here, you realized. 

You set the cookies down by the door before walking down the two steps off the porch. 

And so you left.

Parking the fourwheeler once again, you stepped onto Mr. Blackwood’s porch. To your absolute surprise—the plate was empty, a small note in place of the cookies. 

The words ‘thank you’ were messily scrawled out on a tiny notecard. 

You couldn’t help the beam that snuck onto your face. 

You listened to the birds chirp as a small breeze blew through the air. As you turned around to walk down the porch, plate in hand, you swore you saw a shift in the curtains by the window. A quick glimpse of a man was all you could catch—a young man. Not what Mike implied. 

Your brows furrowed slightly, but you said nothing. It wasn’t your business, anyway, right? Your weird neighbor isn’t an old guy. So what? 

That day began a new routine for you. Every week, you made some kind of food or baked good and left it at Mr. Blackwood’s—was that even his name?—door. And the day after, you’d come back to find the plate with a small thank you note on it. Sometimes they’d have more words than just that—the occasional ‘tasty’ or ‘delicious’ was your own special treat. 

And for the next month, in between settling in and art projects, you became friends—if you could call it that—with your neighbor. 

You stood at his door, a note in your hands. Setting it down on the plate of hot rolls, you grinned.

Hope you enjoy! —Neighbor (Y/n) 

You even added a little smiley face, and then put down your age. 

And then you went home. 

The old landline sat on the counter. It was an awkward place for one to be, but it wasn’t like you intended to ever use it, so it didn’t matter. You couldn’t even be sure it still worked. It didn’t seem like a big deal. 

Later that week, you went to pick up the plate. And there was a note, as usual. 

My name is James. I’m 28. 

James. His name is James. And he is definitely not an old man. 

You felt your mouth crack into a grin. 

“It’s nice to meet you, James.” You hummed against the door, though you knew nobody was listening.

And then you heard a knock come from the door. The inside of the door. 

At your feet, through a small crack at the bottom of the old and faded white door, a notecard slipped out.

In blue ink, there were five words scribbled down: nice to meet you too. 

You smiled at that too. 

Updates are gonna be a lot slower for this series. My bad 🤷

Graphics by @saradika-graphics