#corpse au even if you don't

[phantomtwitch]

Sooo I wrote a Part 2 for the Everyone Knows AU part of angstfest. (Anything to avoid editing my IB fic right now, apparently)

Part One of this fic is here if you missed it!

Danny sits in the passenger seat of Jazz’s car, leaning his head against the window as his Mom drives them in silence, her hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. His Dad and sister are back at FentonWorks, since his parents insisted it would be best if Danny and his Mom went alone, and it’s been hours since he’s seen any real signs of civilization. The further they travel from home the worse he feels, some nagging sense of discomfort and uneasiness that won’t relent, even as he knows this is to help him. 

For over a year and a half, he’s been experiencing fainting spells and blackouts every time there’s a ghost attack. He’s lucky his friends have managed to keep it hidden from his peers at school, since he knows Dash’s bullying would only increase if he knew Danny was so terrified of the ghosts that he fainted every time one appeared. They tried to keep it from his parents, too, with his sister Jazz’s help, even as Danny couldn’t understand why. But every time he thought about telling them in the past, his jaw would lock up and the words would die before he could utter even a single syllable. 

Yet now they know. He remembers waking up in the lab, not sure how he made it there, his parents sobbing as Jazz hovered in the corner, arms crossed over her chest as she watched the three of them warily. They said something to him, explained something even as they lectured Jazz, too, about keeping this a secret, but the words slipped from his fingers within minutes, and whatever confession they made was lost to him. But he can remember the fear in their eyes, the way they trembled and shook, and the odd sense that they were afraid of him rather than for him. He can remember asking if he should go to a doctor and the way they paled, adamantly refusing to bring him to anyone for weeks. It’s only now that they’ve finally agreed to bring him to see some specialist way out in Wisconsin. 

It used to be that whenever this happened, something would push back in his own subconscious eventually, reassuring him that it was fine, that he was fine, that there was nothing to worry about. It would smother him like a comforter in the middle of a snowstorm, warm and inviting and soft even as it felt entirely too heavy and like he really ought to be outside helping to dig out from the blizzard instead of hiding inside beneath his covers, but he still let it, the embrace too kind and safe for him to push back against. But this time he could not forget, not when his parents flinched every time he entered a room, not when they seemed so afraid even after so many weeks. Danny wishes he knew what he did wrong, what they fear about him, why they seem to almost hate him at times. It hurts, the ache so intense that there are moments when he swears something within him is fracturing and slowly crumbling to pieces, and he hopes this specialist can help repair whatever’s been broken. 

When they finally arrive, though, it’s not at a doctor’s office but a massive mansion. “Are you sure we’re in the right place?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow. 

“I’m sure,” she insists as she unbuckles her seatbelt while Danny steps out of the car. Despite the bright colors and decor, something in him uncurls in his gut like a snake, rearing back and ready to strike, and Danny shivers as he fights back against the odd sensation. 

The man who greets them is tall with silver hair pulled back into an elegant ponytail tied with a red silk ribbon that probably costs more than Danny’s entire wardrobe. He’s wearing a dark black suit and red tie, and the way he smiles reminds Danny of a crocodile or a shark. It’s as if he’s slime given form and Danny shudders.

“Hello, Vlad,” says Mom. 

“My dearest Maddie,” he says, kissing his mother on both cheeks. “How lovely to see you after so long. And what a pleasure to meet you, young Daniel. I’ve heard quite a bit about you.” He offers him his hand and Danny shakes it, barely resisting the urge to pull away immediately since the man’s grip is too hot, like fire burns beneath his fingertips. A small, absurd part of him wonders if he’s the devil, if his parents are planning to make some terrible deal (or admit to having done so long ago given his issues), but he pushes his fears down. 

“Thanks, I guess, but I don’t know anything about you,” replies Danny, and the man flinches briefly before recovering. “My Mom said you could help me with my fainting spells and blackouts, though.”

“Ah, yes. Your ‘fainting spells,’” he says bemusedly, as if in quotes, and that defensive, roiling in his gut returns, more pronounced than before. 

“Vlad,” says Mom sternly. “Please. Can you help him?”

“That depends entirely on what you mean by help, but I’ll see what I can do,” he says with a small smirk, and Danny bristles even as his Mom seems satisfied with the response. “Follow me.” 

The two of them walk through the massive mansion. It’s decked out in Packers paraphernalia, which seems completely at odds with the perfectly poised man in front of him. “You’re a cheesehead?” says Danny. 

“Indeed. I’ve tried to buy the Packers several times, too, but to no avail,” he says, teeth gritted, and Danny suspects the man isn’t told ‘no’ very often. He worries what that means for him and his potential treatment. 

“What kind of specialist are you?” he asks. 

“I am technically a business owner, but I’ve done extensive research into unique types of ecto entities,” he says, watching Danny out of the corner of his eye. “Entities like yourself.”

“I’m not–I’m human,” he objects, and he can feel that buzzing, that comfortable embrace pulling on him, and he tries to resist it but finds himself unwilling to do so for long, and by the time he’s aware once more he’s standing on the stairs to a basement lab, unable to remember what Vlad’s specialty is, what else they talked about or how they even made it here. 

“What did you say you specialized in?” he asks, and Vlad pauses on the stairs in front of them, turning to him with a frown. 

“See?” says Mom. “I told you already, Vlad, he can’t remember for more than a minute or two.”

“Remember what?” asks Danny irritably. 

“That I’m a specialist who can help you with your blackouts and medical issues,” says Vlad, and Danny frowns. That’s frustratingly non-specific, even as it’s almost certainly, technically true. 

“So like a neurologist?” he presses. 

“Something like that,” he says, and Danny scowls as he follows him the rest of the way into the lab, not sure why they won’t tell him the truth, not sure why he can’t remember if they already did. 

The lab itself is incredibly high-tech. There’s no repurposed household items like there are in his parents’ lab, and everything is carefully organized, labeled, and tucked away. In one corner sits a massive portal, and Danny’s eyes widen as he takes in the green swirling within it, recognizing it for what it is. “You’re an ecto scientist?” he says, turning to the man as he puts on a lab coat. 

“Indeed, though I specialize in many other areas, too,” he says. “Maddie, dear, why don’t you have a seat over there while I examine young Daniel?” 

His Mom pauses, eyeing Vlad warily for a moment before finally relenting and taking a seat at one of the empty lab benches. “And you, child, come here,” he insists, beckoning to him like Danny’s an obedient puppy, and Danny glares as he takes a seat on the bed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I need to do a quick scan. Please lay back.”

“What kind of scan?” He won’t simply do what this man asks, not without knowing more first. Not when even his Mom looks nervous. 

“Think of it like an MRI or x-ray. I promise, it’s harmless,” he says, flashing his teeth in a way that’s meant to be reassuring but is far too predatory, and Danny shivers as he looks at his Mom. She gives a small smile that’s not half as reassuring as he hoped even as she nods for him to do as Vlad says, and Danny sighs as he lays down on the bed, letting his hands rest on his stomach, his fingers twisting around in his shirt as he ignores the pounding of his heart and the sweat on his palms. 

‘I’ll be fine,’ he thinks stubbornly to himself, and he feels that odd sense of warmth, of a hug from something within his chest and relaxes as Vlad wheels over some strange scanner. It moves slowly over him, hovering for a long time near where his heart and lungs are before progressing, and then Vlad sits down at a computer for a few minutes as he reviews the results, humming thoughtfully as Danny’s Mom walks over and peers over his shoulder. 

“Is that . . .?” she asks, pointing to something on the screen. 

“Yes. But see this? There’s disconnection here,” he says, pointing to it and moving his finger, and Danny angles his head to try and see what they’re looking at but he can’t, the screen angled away from him too much. He starts to sit up when his Mom looks at him and shakes her head, and with a sigh he lays back down, drumming his fingers on his stomach impatiently. Clearly they’ve found something, and he feels like he has a right to know what. “The pathways didn’t form properly, and if they aren’t repaired, he’s not going to survive for much longer. You can already see the damage to his internal organs.” 

Danny swallows, his blood running cold. He’s going to die? He didn’t–he can’t be–

“Can you fix it?” she asks, interrupting his thoughts. 

“I think so, but it may be a bit traumatic,” Vlad says, “and with the disconnection having lasted so long, I’m not certain how cooperative he’ll be when it comes to the required treatment. Still, the memory issues are more severe than they ought to be even in this case. I have my suspicions about the cause, but I’ll need to provoke him to confirm it.”

“What?” Danny’s heart is beating rapidly and he’s sitting up now, staring at them with wide eyes, unable to hold back his terror even as he can begin to feel that tug at him, that warmth, but he won’t give into it this time. He can’t. He needs to know. 

“I would explain it, child, but you won’t remember,” sighs Vlad as he stands up. “Do you trust your mother?”

“I–what?” he sputters. Aside from it sounding like he’s probably dying, Danny’s still not sure what’s happening here, even as Vlad and his mom do seem to understand, and he desperately wants them to explain it to him, to tell him the truth, for someone to be honest with him just once.

“I would prefer your consent, of course, but you literally cannot give it due to your condition,” he explains, which makes absolutely no sense to Danny. “I’m asking if you trust your mother so she can at least grant it on your behalf.”

His mouth opens automatically to say that of course he trusts her, but then he pauses, the words dying on his tongue. Does he trust her? She’s brought him here with little to no explanation, and like with his sister and his friends, Danny knows nothing about why or what’s happening to him besides the blackouts. They all claim they’ve told him about it before–even this Vlad guy seems to suggest as much–but he hates that he can’t remember, hates that he has nothing to fall back on to confirm that they all have his best interest at heart beyond his own gut feeling. And his instincts right now are diametrically opposed, screaming at each other to reassure Vlad that he trusts her even as another part insists that he can’t, that he shouldn’t, that she’ll hurt him and he needs to be kept safe and he can feel that part forcibly pushing down on his ability to say yes, to let them know they can do the treatment, that they need to move forward and–

Danny blinks, struggling to remember what he was thinking about, what question he was supposed to answer. “I–sorry–can you . . . what did you say?” he whispers, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment, and Vlad tilts his head to the side. 

“Interesting,” he hums. “But it does provide more proof for what I suspect is occurring. Maddie, dear, do I have your permission?”

“But he–”

“I’m not sure he can,” interrupts Vlad as Danny stares at them cluelessly, not sure what they’re talking about again. He’s lost some more time, he’s sure, but he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t think he fainted or fully blacked out, yet the last thing he can remember is laying down on the table before Vlad prepared to start the scan, and he shivers, rubbing his arms. 

She turns to look at him, and then walks over, putting a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be okay, hon,” she says and then she gives him a hug, squeezing him tightly, but he can feel her trembling even as she tries to reassure him. “I promise, okay?”

“I–okay,” he manages, the word choking its way past, and then she walks back to Vlad. 

“Maddie, my dear, you’ll need to stay here, please,” he insists, and Mom nods as Vlad comes over with something Danny recognizes. It’s a portable ghost shield, although the design is different from the one his parents use, and Vlad presses a finger against a sensor, activating around them as Danny’s heart beats faster now and the thing in his gut rears back, ready to strike as Vlad’s eyes flash impossibly red and a set of black rings appear around his waist, and–

Danny’s body drops to the table as Phantom emerges, hissing and shrieking at the intruder and ghost before him, tackling him with his claws as his brain screams at him to protect, protect, protect! The ghost puts up a shield, eyeing him lazily as he speaks, his words full of fire and ash even as they sound human, too, smothered beneath the surface of the water. “Enough, child,” he insists, using human words, but he can see the ripples in his aura, the subtle shifts that indicate his intentions, and he pauses with his claws outstretched, ectoblast building between the black tips. “So you are sentient enough, at least, to understand. Can you speak?” 

He hisses, echoes and static and chirps as his aura flares in response, letting him know that he sees the threat but that he’s unafraid, that he will protect Danny and his mother from the ghost in front of him. There are no real words, not in the way there is with human speech simply because there doesn’t need to be, his intentions and meaning clear enough for any ghost to understand. 

“Ah. I thought not, based on what we saw in the scans,” he muses. Black rings appear around his waist and he shifts, the dark haired ghost with bluish skin and fire in his hands and eyes vanishing beneath a human facade. “I promise I intend no harm.”

The words mean less to Phantom now than they would’ve if Vlad spoke them before transforming. Vlad’s aura is muted this way, his intentions less clear even as Phantom can taste the ash on his tongue as the man speaks, the echo of Vlad’s otherness apparent to him, and Phantom floats forward, tilting his head around as he puts a clawed hand on Vlad’s chest to better feel the pulsing of his core beneath his flesh. 

“Vlad, are you–” begins Mom, her words sounding distant and submerged beneath waves. It’s always so hard for him to hear and understand the humans that speak to him, even as he tries since he doesn’t want to hurt them. He needs to protect them. He needs to keep them safe. 

“I’m quite fine,” he insists, even as Phantom hisses a warning at him. “Are you done posturing? I’m here to help you, Daniel. Or do you prefer Phantom?”  Phantom’s aura flares, spiking and sending a mixture of signals. “You are not helping him.” His claws extend, pushing intangibly through his skin, grasping his core, but Vlad remains calm despite the clear threat. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. You are disconnected from yourself this way. You leave behind your body each time, and eventually, no matter how much your friends and family intervene, you will not be able to return to it.”

He turns his head more, floating upside down, his tail spiraling behind him as he considers the words. Vlad’s core is too tightly grasped between his fingers for him to hide his intentions, and there’s truth there, at least as far as Vlad sees it, and Phantom sends a questioning chirp. “You are meant to be a single entity,” he says. “But your core is not fully connected to your biological systems. It’s created a barrier between you and Daniel, an artificial wall that should not exist, and it’s harming both of you.”

Phantom hisses reflexively, showing his sharp teeth as he lets one of his claws dig into Vlad’s core, and the man winces but otherwise hides his distress at the intrusion. “You can’t keep denying it and hiding the truth from your human half. I know you’re trying to protect him. I know you’re trying to help. But it’s hurting him. He’s confused and upset and scared. You’re leaving his body behind whenever you respond to the intruders in your haunt, as you’ve done here. You risk him being discovered, being captured by the GIW or other ghost hunters who, unlike your parents, would not be willing to try to help you. They would experiment on him, dissect him, and ultimately destroy both of you.” 

“And it’s hurting him physically, too,” says Vlad. “My scans are showing damage to his internal organs and structures. If this continues for much longer, your human half will not survive. It cannot.”

He relaxes his hand, the words coming out in a whisper of echoes and static, of uneasiness and fear. 

Vlad responds quietly in kind, sending an oddly comforting response from a man whose core burns with impossible anger and resentment at the world. “I know you’re worried about how he’ll manage knowing the truth of who he is. But you cannot hide it from him forever, not without destroying him and yourself. Please, child. Allow me to help you be whole again,” he says. 

He withdraws his hand, sending out a questioning burst of noise, of inquiry. Because he doesn’t want Danny to die. He doesn’t want to die. 

“The integration was prevented due to the interference of your family and friends,” he explains, and his Mom flinches. “Our transformation is not meant to have artificial triggers. The use of the AED to resuscitate you, to fill your core with electricity so it can artificially force the ectoplasm within your body to bring you back, has prevented it from fully bonding to your own systems and sending the spark from within itself to revive your human half upon your transformation. You must re-enter Daniel and trigger the change yourself. You must use the energy from your own core, your own essence.”

A soft, pleading whine. 

“You can,” insists Vlad. “More than that, you must.”

He moves from the man, floating over to himself, to his other half, to the part that he misses and aches for every time he leaves to take care of the ghostly threats that intrude on his haunt. Reaching out, Phantom places his hand on Danny’s chest, feeling the absence of breath, the missing life that should be there, and the gentle hum of a fragment of his own core pulsing within, that keeps him whole and alive despite the loss of his spirit even if humans can’t sense it. 

And with a terrified shiver, he pushes himself inside, letting him flow into the body, to not merely overshadow and reattach but become one again as he tries to seek the spark from within his core, tries to connect his spirit and body in full. He’s not sure he can, not without the external boost, and he can feel himself holding back, his worry over how Danny will handle the truth about knowing what he is, knowing that his parents almost certainly hate him and fear him, that his friends will never accept him–

“--focus,” says Vlad, and then he feels someone gripping Danny’s hand and he opens Danny’s eyes, expecting the half-ghost, but it’s not Vlad. 

It’s his Mom.

“Please, son,” she whispers, tears burning in her eyes. “Please.” 

And he mumbles something in response, his aura flickering as he speaks in a language she can’t understand, and he feels her grip Danny’s hand–their hand, his hand–more tightly, trying to reassure him, to let him know he’s okay, he’s safe, that they love him and care about him as he–

–Danny blinks, gasping as he sits up, clutching at his chest. It hurts, like ice and lightning and fire pouring through his veins and he wants to scream even as it feels right, as a bright light passes over him and he shifts, feeling oddly weightless and absent for a moment before they pass over him again and he shifts once more, back to being heavy and human and present. It’s painful and terrifying yet oh so right, and somehow, that makes it worse. 

And he sits for a moment, hand still clutching his chest even as his mother hasn’t let go of his other hand, as his world crashes around him, as he remembers who they are, who he is, what he is. As his memories he’s kept from himself in an effort to protect his human half crash back, slamming into him impossibly hard, moments spent in ghost fights and then burrowing himself inside his own helpless corpse as his friends were forced to endure the burden of caring for him and protecting him, and Danny lets out a keening wail that’s neither human nor ghostly in its sound but some odd blend of the two. 

“I’m a monster,” he whispers, sobbing as his shoulders shake, and his Mom shifts, moving to hold him tightly to herself. 

“Oh, hon,” she says, but no words follow, no gentle affirmations that she loves him, no denials about him being the horrifying creature he knows they’ve seen him as, that they’ve hunted and shot at and threatened to experiment on and–

“It’ll be okay,” she says, interrupting his spiraling thoughts as she strokes his hair. “We’ll figure it out, Danny. I promise.”

Maybe someday he’ll believe her.

[dootznbootz]

Odypen definitely and equivalently adore each other BUT I weirdly can't see them as the type to actually say "I Love you".

They still definitely vocalize their love for each other but it's more so in "My Joy", and "Extraordinary Woman", "Strange Woman/Man", etc. And very cheesy lines (both say some cheesy shit in the Odyssey, and he definitely does in the Iliad as well. "Joy like a drowning sailor seeing land" bit???)

I could see "I adore you" but even then, that's probably during very specific moments but the actual "I love you"??? I just typed it just now for fic shit and... It weirdly just didn't feel right and I don't know why. 😅

Idk maybe it's kind of because I see them as over the top in ways, they love wordplay and riddles and I think they'd almost think "...That's not good enough >:( " about it??? I don't know???😂

[storfulsten]

that feel when you watch too many old letsplays and compilations and get too dang focused on cool voices and dynamics and vibes of random actual letsplayers and stuff so you think up aus of aus within aus of your dumb fnf au to project upon ha

fnf letsplayer au bullshit brainworms wooh

[flecks-of-stardust]

someone find me a draw the squad meme with 5 people and i’ll draw the dreamless inserts /hj

[queenendless]

❤️‍🩹Tough Love (Adult!SatoSugu x Adult!Fem!Reader)❤️‍🩹

A/N: This is a paid commission I wrote, requested by @anime-lover1234

Content warning: JJK AU with lots of angst, hurt/comfort, short injured teacher/sorcerer reader with lots of boo boos, overprotective!upset!SatoSugu hubbies yall.

Haibara alive in this AU, Nanako and Mimiko are first years here with Yuji Megumi and Nobara and they're your students too. Plus Gojo can heal others in this AU.

AND NEARLY 7K LONG SO THERE!

*Please DON'T plagarize, translate, or repost my FANFIC content. Reblog, like and follow instead.

You wanted to impress them.

You wanted to prove your worth in battle.

But things went far off the deep end.

It all began that one sunset evening.

As a Grade 1 Jujutsu Sorcerer, you were a perfect match for the Grade 1 curse spirit lurking in the forest near an abandoned school rumored to be haunted after closing down due to allegations of murderous cover ups.

As you pulled down the Curtain, the cool winds blew at your hair, swaying along with your black attire, as the sun was setting for you exorcized the curse at last.

You were turning, ready to return to Haibara-kun who was waiting by the car parked out front, when you felt a stir in the air.

You sensed it further deep in the thicket.

Another cursed spirit.

Small … but on the highest level.

Curiosity and cockiness came in, seeping into your being, compulsively drawn towards your next – spontaneous – assignment.

It was a tall skinny humanoid one, blood painting its skin, eating one of the few mangled teen corpses strewn about the splattered wrecked tents of the makeshift campsite.

"Forgive me. I couldn't save you all." You muttered, cursed energy pulsing through your legs. “I'll avenge you by exorcizing that curse.”

Then you chanted quietly.

“Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure."

With the barrier now placed; this one designed to keep curses in, you moved in.

With its eyes slowly turning to spot you bouncing off the branches, a swift blur dashing through the air, you warped right behind it, readying a blow right to its head.

But going toe to toe with a special grade cursed spirit on your own … you know it's not the same as it was before. But you were willing to take this golden opportunity.

Your fist blazing with cursed energy, ready to strike, even as —

The spike in its cursed energy went through the roof in that split second.

The atmosphere now pricked with that rotten flesh smog coming off its figure.

One that sprouted up to 10 ft tall.

Your cursed punch missed its mark.

Its sharpened hand going right into your side.

It was all a trap.

And you fell for it.

Hook line and sinker.

Your banshee cry startled the birds as you warped out of its grip, blood spraying out from the forced movement, skidding back on shaky limbs, its toxic touch seeping into your gash wound.

Flashes of white exploded in your mind.

The screams of your two mighty husband sorcerers were blowing out your eardrums.

Your vision was spotty but you felt the shift in its cursed presence spring forward through the air, barely dodging its swipe but feeling the tips of its claws scrape your stomach.

Deciding to draw it away, you became the injured bait, running for your life, warping out of its grab, ready to slam a kick down from above —

The sight of Satoru and Suguru bleeding and crumpled before you took its place. A twinge of fear stabbed your nerves — you were socked hard from the side, paralyzing your cranium, warping in your dazed state right before slamming into a tree.

Covering your ears in futility at the intrusive fake voices invading your eardrums, you squeezed your eyes over your unwillingness to see their gutted crimson painted selves.

"Don't leave us here!"

Toru.

"How could you leave us behind!?"

Sugu.

"It's not real. They're not here. They can hold their own. Even against bastards like you." You growled under your breath, keeping your eyes shut. "Don't see. Don't hear. Just feel."

Sniffing the air as cursed energy heightened your nostrils, you followed its putrid stench and nothing else. Trusting your sense of smell by amplifying it to near max — your limit.

Yet the debilitating toxins were slowing you down. You were getting lightheaded as blood trailed down your side and leg from that open wound. The punches and kicks you managed to land on it were barely making a dent on this creep.

This curse was sapping you of your strength, your swiftness, and your stability at an alarming rate. All you could do was dodge and weave. But didn't stop the onslaught of punches, kicks and slashes littering your body.

Those normal – now dead – teens were just fodder to it.

Now that you; a sorcerer, was in its domain, you became its toy. It would kill you. But first, it would take its time and play with you, prolonging its enjoyment as long as possible, wearing you down until you broke …

Down at the nearby rural town, outside a combini, a bespectacled man just stepped out, throwing away the wrappings of his just finished sandwich, turning to where the foul energies were resonating, seeing the barrier among the thicket of trees …

Curled into the ground, gashes, bruises and blood painted your now immobile body, keeping your head to the ground when you suddenly sensed a trusting presence slipping inside the veil, looming above you, followed by the anguished roars of the special grade collapsing.

"Don't let it hit you … its toxins can make you hallucinate … and can mimic voices." You rasped out the warnings, coughing out blood in the process, when his folded work jacket was pressed into your hands then against your crimson dripping side.

"Understood. Keep pressure on that wound. You've lost enough blood already." You choked out a sob of relief at that low rumbling voice.

Kento Nanami.

A fellow Grade 1 sorcerer. A dependable comrade and a close friend. One of incredible proficiency. Extremely precise aim. Evades with clever maneuvers. Reinforced body with cursed energy.

Tying his spotted tie around his fist, he went into Overtime. With his now stained clothed blunted sword in hand, Nanami struck in as many weak spots as he could create on that titan.

The red and black sparks of Black Flash streaking right off him to chop off its enormous arm.

His words were ringing in your ears as he revealed his hand intentionally to raise his power levels.

Slashing weak points in the surrounding pine trees, he follows it off with diving in to cleave off its legs by the knee.

Bringing it face down to ground level just to cleave its head in two horizontally.

Releasing both his binding vows to enact that single blow, Nanami's extension technique Collapse activated, causing those pine trees to come tumbling down to bury it for good measure.

Scooping you up at breakneck speed, you two got clear of the fallen debris, slipped through the decaying barrier.

Neither of you sensed it any more.

Nanami's eyes bore great disappointment down upon you from on high. "And here I thought you were better than to emulate those two's recklessness."

You felt your pride crack, your ego bruise, and your shame boosted over Nanami-san's disapproval when you felt yourself blacking out and your form became limp too quick for his liking.

Nanami's exasperated, panicking face getting all up in yours, his shouting going mute in your ringing ears, occurred before it all went dark.

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍���❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

Hastily calling Nitta-san to send the proper authorities to handle post cleanup in those woods, Nanami kept pressure on your wound in your stead as he situated you two carefully in the backseat as Haibara stepped on it; his wary eyes peeking in the rearview mirror now and then just so he wouldn't crash the car.

Watching in dismay as the only signs of you still alive was your little shifts of discomfort paired with frail mumbling, calling out for your loves, as fear worked its way to the front of your mind.

Hurriedly calling Shoko immediately after to meet them at the foothills of Mount Mushiro where the screeching halts of the car's tires skidded to an almost collision at the first torii gate.

The backseat was tainted red as Nanami tossed his stained business jacket aside then undid the buttons of your uniform jacket then tugged up your undershirt enough to show your biggest wound, allowing Shoko to lean over and work.

“What a way to spend my night." She huffed, concentrating as pure white light emanated off her hands and over your wound.

"She's lost a lot of blood already on top of fractured broken bones. And hallucinogenic, auditory ailments are still in effect even when curse has been exorcized." Nanami added, brooding from the added severity of the situation.

"What the hell, L/n?” Shoko heaved heavily, shedding sweat. "That curse's toxins are still in her system. It's making it difficult to fully heal her.” She was able to seal up your side wound though. “That will have to do for now. We need to move her."

"I'll join you all once I park the car." Haibara informed them, quickly leaning over from the driver's seat to kiss Nanami.

Nanami's tender gaze came Haibara's way before he got out of the car, carrying you, carefully treading up the steps, Shoko shutting the car door and hurrying behind him, with Haibara driving off and Nanami's bloody business jacket left discarded on the back seat.

Shoko spent the late night hours repairing your damaged self, collapsing over the metal surgical table from the overtime stress, panting from her energy spent. Blood pumped into a vein on your arm via the cannula connected to the drip. And your shallow breathing toppled with a cold sweat only made her push herself further as she squeezed your hand to keep you as grounded as possible and you continued murmuring the guys names in raspy, pleading whispers.

A harried Nanami patted Shoko's forehead with a clean spare rag lying on a counter while Haibara gave her a water bottle to hydrate.

Coming in and out of consciousness, tugged between horrish illusions and bleak reality, your once weakened pulse grew stronger as Shoko's RCT filled you, pushing the toxins out of your system.

So when you finally awoke, faded scars and bruises dotted your skin, front and back, leaving you groaning weakly as you clutched your pounding head. You felt like a truck had run you over.

"About time you woke up. Those fear toxins should be leaving your system now. But it did make healing you quite taxing for me. We can continue your checkup in the afternoon when we've both rested. But I could really use a drink right now.” Shoko apathetically griped as she carefully pulled the IV out of your arm just to place a cotton ball sticking to a bandage over the small leaking prick.

“Sorry about that, Shoko.” Feeling her gloved hand holding your still sore one, you barely squeezed back. "I failed to exorcize that special grade … I'm sorry I made you all overwork because of my screw-up." Your guilt stricken face struck their hearts.

"Nitta-san made sure the bodies were collected … what was left of them. Just count yourself fortunate that the curse was just dragging it out when I arrived. Never underestimate them." Nanami chastised you at the end, his goggles currently off, sternness laced in his eyes.

"Please … don't tell the guys. It's bad enough I couldn't exorcize it by myself. If they find out, they'll never let me live this down. Satoru especially." You weakly pleaded, struggling to sit up but able to get up on your bum as Haibara pulled you up.

"They'll find out sooner or later. And there'll be hell to pay if you choose to omit it from them. I will not partake in that sort of nonsense." Nanami griped, dreading the world flipped on its axis once your husbands found out.

"They'll never want to leave my side after this! They're already dealing with workloads of missions as is! Adding this to their pillars of stressful shit … I just need to be right as rain ASAP."

"No such thing as stress free in our line of work." Shoko bluntly stated.

"Gojo-san and Geto-san would be heartbroken if you kept this from them." Haibara frowned, personally wounded.

"They'd be even more wrecked that this happened and they weren't there to stop it …" Anxious guilt raked your bones.

A hand plopped into your hair, brushing it gingerly. “Your foolish pride as a sorcerer better be worth it if you're prepared for what will come of this endeavor." Nanami's foreboding didn't stop you from embracing him around his waist, pressing your face in his stomach, humming as Haibara gently hugged you from behind, and Shoko smiled nonetheless at the cute scene, especially at Nanami's sternness lessening and patting your head some more.

Still too out of it to walk on your own, you were pushed out in a wheelchair by Haibara, straight back to the dorms, stating he would stay in the room beside yours in case you needed any aid for the night, needing to head out in the morning alongside Nanami.

Carrying your ruined uniform clothes in the recyclable bag Shoko kept them in, you set them aside as you limped about to change into familiar comfier PJs you kept on hand in your old dorm room closet whenever you had to crash at the school grounds.

Pulling your phone out of the zip lock bag it was kept in thanks to Shoko too, you had seen it was still on.

They had been messaging you all night. Notifications of your group chat popping up on your lock screen.

But you just … felt too ashamed and embarrassed to reply back.

So you turned it off.

Without them smushing you between them tonight, there was no comforting warmth keeping you safe and sound.

And the aftermath of those horrific illusions and their copycats speaking during and post battle still lingered in your memory. Tittering between life and death, you were trapped within your worst nightmare yet.

Their disapproving glares.

Their cold voices.

Turning their backs on you as they walked into the foggy embrace of bloodshed against your voiceless cries and your wavering hand fruitlessly reached out into nothingness.

So going back to sleep was the last thing you wanted.

But even so, being in your old single dorm bed, your quiet sobs swarmed the room, your pent up agony painting your pillow in tears, stewing internally over wanting to suffer your follies alone versus wishing more than anything to have Toru and Sugu embracing you to chase all those bad dreams and fears away like they have always done.

Your phone stayed isolated on the small wooden bedside table, plugged in and charging. In silence.

Meanwhile, in a hotel, nestled in the Saitama prefecture that lies above Tokyo…

"Well, the twins are sleeping. Their mission definitely exhausted them both." Suguru softly informed, returning to his partner's side after checking on the girls in the room across from theirs.

A pouty Satoru groaned miserably, splayed out like a moody pancake across the bed, puppy eyes trained on his phone. "Suguru~! She's not answering me~!”

Now splayed out beside him on their shared hotel bed, Suguru ruffled Satoru's poofy hair. "Perhaps she's sleeping."

"She always answers me though! She didn't even send me a cute kitty gif~! The injustice!" Satoru cried, shoving his phone screen right in his best friend's face.

Suguru pushed Satoru's phone aside, pulled out his own from his sweatpants and sent a heart your way. And yet, it was not even read on your end. His forehead creased with worry. "No response for me either … I do hope nothing bad has happened.”

Satoru slung an arm around Suguru's neck, pulling himself snug against him, frowning vividly. "I miss her."

Suguru plopped his cheek atop Satoru's noggin. "So do I. The sooner we finish here with our own cases, the sooner we can have her in our arms again. Until then," Suguru brushed aside Satoru's snowy bangs to smooch his velvety forehead, tenderly grinning. "We'll just have to keep each other company~"

Now that piqued Satoru's intrigue, cheekily giggling as he rolled them over so the raven head could straddle him. “Nothing wrong with that~”

Suguru quickly turned the side table lamp off before engaging in a long, sensual make out with his smirking mate, whisking the night away.

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

Your new strategy going forward?

Keep your phone off.

Give off the illusion of still being out in the field, doing assignments far off in the distance.

Stay locked up in your old room except for Shoko's treatments and bathroom breaks.

Until you were all patched up; no visually alarming marks blemishing your skin, you wouldn't let any aside from those that already knew find out.

Not your students.

NOT your men.

By the time you had awoken, Haibara had already left as informed. His sticky note he left on your bedside table with morning greetings and hopes to see you soon followed by a scribbled smiley face did turn your frown upside down.

But it meant you were the only one left in the dorm as your throbbing self painstakingly grabbed some long sleeved apparel outta the closet and changed before putting on some slippers. It was fall now, slowly transitioning to winter, so it was the perfect cover up to be snugly dressed.

You had just gotten outside when you noticed the trio heading to the torii gate exit.

Yuji sniffing the air was what alerted you; skidding to a halt as he was literally across from you on the other side of the long stone pathway, turning to eye you with an unpleasant awkwardness. Running over, his nose dove in closer to get a deep long whiff of you to your jitteriness.

He was your best student in terms of enhancing his senses to their peak with cursed energy. And one you cherished like your own pride and joy. Your pure son.

“L/n-sensei … you're injured. And you look restless. Did something happen?” His eyes became glassy saucers.

Your game plan was on the rocks now. Super human senses at work!

“Hey! The sooner we finish our mission from that blindfolded madman, the sooner I can get to shopping! So move it! No offense, sensei!” Nobara snapped out loud, waiting by the gate, curious what was occurring but impatient to wrap things up for her own reasons.

“Cone on Itadori! We're burning daylight!” Megumi coaxed.

“Alright alright, I'm coming!” Yuji's voice then softened for just you two to hear. “Sensei, whatever’s going on, just … take it easy, okay?”

Your heart swelled at his considerate caring nature like the precious boy he is, smiling thankfully. “I will. Thanks.”

“Welcome back.” That genuine smile of relief and joy of Yuji's almost made you tear up; your swelling up heart touched by his words, doing your best to smile through the soreness as you waved at the boy, saluting back to you, joining his friends, and heading off.

You started uncomfortably limping on your way the moment you students were out of eyesight. Shoko met you halfway, presenting a new wheelchair for you to make traversing more easier. “Sorry but Nanami-kun wanted me to remind you to work on your report about last night. We can head to the faculty office first. Besides, you look ready to topple over.”

You internally groaned at the stingy procedures, expected to recount your near death experience down to the last detail; literally occurring just last night, sending a grateful look her way. “What would I do without you, Shoko?”

“Let's just say I'm better off with you in my life … and I know I'm not the only one.” Apathy gave way to relieving passion in her gaze that you looked away to brush your wet eyes. And you both left it at that as she wheeled you the rest of the way.

Flash forward to some time later …

“I can't believe you going gung ho back there cost me my chance to hit up that sale at my new favorite boutique, you boneheaded idiot!” Nobara bit out.

“Okay okay, I get it! Go easy on my shoulder, Kugisaki!” Yuji yelped in pain at how much she was fussing as she and Megumi helped him walk since he took the brunt of the hits in their latest mission.

“Always ready to put yourself on the line for us … we can handle ourselves, you know, doofus.” Megumi was less harsh, making sure not to hit his shin against Yuji's stabbed one; wrapped in the torn sleeve of Yuji's uniform to stop the bleeding.

Yuji noticed the tender gaze his spiky haired friend gave him, smiling in recognition, chuckling sheepishly. “Protective instincts, I guess.”

“Serves you right, idiot.” Though Nobara and Megumi spoke such mocking words, they were softly spoken, still irked but also grateful they're all still standing.

The moment the trio splurged through the morgue door, spotting your bare back littered with bumps and wide slash marks had them faltering as their short beloved teacher and practically mother figure was in this state.

“WHAT THE HELL?!”

Their unified exclaims startled Shoko enough to press too hard on a red welt on your forearm, causing your excruciating shout.

You slapped your palms over your mouth, mortified at legit blowing your cover out loud.

Due to the fact that Shoko at the moment got a sudden phone call while examining you.

From THEM.

“Shoko, what was that?” Suguru demanded.

“Sounds like a wounded animal!” Satoru exclaimed.

“Takes one to know one. I have work to get back to. Bye bye~” Shoko's false perky jab reverts back to her usual demeanor after hanging up on them. “I would say stay hidden until everything settles down but I'd be lying. I know 25 mins away means those two lunatics will floor it by the end of the day. I wish you the best of luck, my dear.” Her sympathetic pat on your shoulder did not calm down those anxious belly butterflies.

“I knew you were hurt but … OKASAN WHO DID THIS TO YOU!?” Yuji's own wounds were forgotten as he scrambled over to you, blubbering out waterfalls, throwing off everyone by legit calling you mom out loud but too overwhelmed to notice right away.

You pulled your shirt back down, flushed in shame. “Special grade got the upper hand on me. Nanami-san saved me. Sorry to have you three see me like this. So please … keep this between us? Please?” You literally prayed for it.

“For my favorite sensei, my lips are sealed.” Nobara assured.

“Geto-sensei may be less hysterical … Gojo-sensei not so much … but those two together … oh God.” Megumi paled up at the reality.

“The calm …” Nobara ominously started.

“Before the shit storm.” Megumi drearily ended.

“Uh, while I'm not a big fan of keeping things from Gojo-sensei, if it's what you want, then I'll do it.” Yuji, skeptical but willing to make you happy, blushed pink as you embraced him loosely due to you still not being at full strength yet.

“Thank you.” You weeped.

Megumi, Nobara and even Shoko joined in on that hug.

Meanwhile, back in Saitama, again, nestled outdoors in front of a patisserie.

“That was suss as hell.” Gojo lowly rumbled, sitting under the umbrella covered table on one end, stuffing his last – now smooshed – Maneki Usagi Manju from his hands straight to his mouth.

“We know that shout all too well …” Geto's eyes teemed with cynicism, sitting across from him, sipping Sayama tea in one hand, his phone in the other.

Their mentality synced, restlessness in their bones, their six senses flaring up with red alerts.

Something did happen to you.

Something big.

Something bad.

With their cases long since finished; not surprising, their leisure time was spent sightseeing, tasting the treats the places they visited had to offer. Meaning more sweets for Gojo to savor. However, his gut along with Geto's twisted at the thought of you in trouble.

“Girls, gather your things. We're heading back now.” Geto firmly spoke while speed dialing Ijichi-san to come pick them up.

The twins, sitting at the table beside theirs, stopped taking selfies of themselves with their cutely decorated drinks at his announcement. “Yes, Papa~!”

Throughout the ride back to the school; Ijichi-san fidgeting and sweating bullets at his seniors stewing in silence, panicked thoughts raced through the duo's minds.

The one constant that kept coming up?

Whatever was going on with you …

They were getting to the bottom of it.

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

The sky changed from blue and calm to orange and warm.

Getting healed by Shoko before being ushered out to continue healing you, the trio crashed in the common room slash longue when the sight of Nanako and Mimiko waving and smiling as they entered with bags of gifts and snacks to share and give had the trio beaming at the twins safe return.

However, the sight of their teachers coming round the corner into view, radiating such potent agitated auras, sent the trio's hearts racing in dread.

It spelled the first sign of doom.

Gojo zipped up right to them, a wide ass smile on his face, waving with bags of souvenirs on the other arm, cheerfully greeting them all.

“Oh my precious students~! Your esteemed adoring sensei has returned! And I come bearing gifts for you all! As thanks for a job well done! But on the condition that you answer me truthfully! Do you happen to know what our dear Y/n has been up to as of late~?”

“Nope.” Megumi kept a straight face.

“Nada.” Nobara is the same.

“We know nothing.” Yuji as well.

Their calm blunt responses had Geto narrow his eyes at their stoic behavior, the twins shuffling to him in nervousness at the tense situation, and Gojo's fake smile fell, becoming so straight faced. “Hmm … okay then. Hold these, please and thanks.”

Dropping their bagged gifts into their arms, Gojo warping away was the second sign.

Appearing again before them, with a squirming distressed you in his arms, was the final nail in the coffin.

Gojo hastily set you down, firmly grabbed your sweater sleeve covered hand, and tugged that sleeve up to your shoulder. Even with the blindfold on, you could picture his Six Eyes shrinking to dots at the colorful splotches and littering your once unblemished skin.

“What the hell?” Gojo's shaky raw voice had you gulping.

“How did … when did … Y/n explain yourself!” Geto's perturbed face turned to aggravation.

Keeping your head ducked, you could picture their eyes bearing those same cold, disappointing glazes those curse's nightmares forced you to bear. Your state of panic got triggered!

You wince in pain, trying in vain to tug your hand free of Gojo's iron hold. Warping into the morgue, literally sweeping you off your feet, greeting Shoko, then warping out of the morgue all meant your recovery got cut short.

"Hey! Where do you think you're going!?" Gojo jested, pulling your back against his front, caging you in his hold, knowing to restrain himself on the pressure, gritting his canines at seeing those same colorful marks on the back of your neck. “You better start talking.”

"You mustn't strain yourself any more, either! You can barely walk as is!" Geto irritatedly griped, wrapping his arms around your other one, leaving you wobbling, therefore needing either of them as counterbalance.

"I'll be fine! I'll get better! I'm innocent!" You babbled desperately, wiggling like a worm, to your utter dismay and their annoyance.

Geto narrowed his eyes, downtrodden. "Have you no shame, Y/n? And you three knew about this, didn't you?!” His eyes flared up with scorn as his face whipped to the trio, having all three flinch back at the irritated sight.

“And after all the trouble I went through to get you all gifts!” Gojo dramatically complained.

“Unnecessary to be honest.” Megumi dryly rebuttal.

“My tastes far exceed yours, anyway.” Nobara throwing shade.

“I'll take them all, thank you very much! I felt like telling you Gojo-sensei, I swear! But L/n-sensei was in pain and I just wanted to help her!” Yuji blabbed.

“Softie.” Mimiko and Nanako teased smugly.

“Yuji~!” Gojo weeped.

“I told them to keep quiet. Shoko and Haibara too. Nanami wanted no part in it. It was all my fault!”

Your pleas only riled them up more. Their eyes returned to you, burning intensely, straight into your soul as they cushioned you between their built bodies just like a mating press.

You gasped as Geto's hand slid under your top, his calloused touch sending anxious tingles through you, feeling that tender scar left on your side, lips trembling and eyes wavering. “Honestly believing you could pull the wool over our eyes, dearest? Ridiculous.” Geto belittled.

Gojo scoffed, suddenly frightening as he towered behind you, alarming everyone besides Geto as he pulled down his blindfold to stare down at you now with those glaring Six Eyes. "Screw that. This isn't panning out well for you, darling. Not at all.”

Your weak whines of protest made the teens cringe with pity. Your short self was literally trapped between giants. The atmosphere was so thick with tension that trying to cut it with a knife would mean getting obliterated. GoGe might as well be a bomb.

But to see tears swell up in your e/c eyes and trail down your cheeks, glistening from the guilt, embarrassment and pain, everyone in that room froze in paling realization.

You were the actual bomb.

And you just got set off.

"DON'T HATE ME!"

Your heartbroken scream had the strongest duo become the weakest. Their grips laxing, their tunnel vision eroding, their resolve dusting, as you pulled away freely, tugging your sleeve back down to cover the damage, sat down on the couch to your buckling knees relief, and cried in your tarnished hands, becoming a mess for them all to see.

"L/n-sensei no!!! Please don't cry!!!" Yuji went into a panicked frenzy, squatting down before you, frazzled as you bowed your head against his jacketed shoulder, rubbing your shoulders in an attempt to soothe you, sweating bullets at the sight of his once mighty teachers now becoming statues at this turn of events. "None of us hate you! It's okay! Everything's gonna be okay! R–Right guys?!”

"You two are the scum of the Earth, you are! Harassing an injured emotional woman!" Nobara yelled abhorrently in their stunned paled faces, pulling out tissues from her small flowered package she kept in her belt pack along with her cursed tools to offer you. “Here sensei. Take these.”

"I won't blame her if she files for divorce." Megumi gripes under his breath, sitting down beside you, timidly rubbing your back in comforting circles. "L/n-sensei, you need to calm down and rest."

“Geto-sama, do something about this! Mama is a wreck now!” Nanako was willing to put her foot down at this insolence.

“This is depressing.” Mimiko patted your head from behind the couch.

Your desperate need to melt into a puddle and just die from utter disgrace was dashed when you felt Gojo approaching.

His serious blazing eyes spoke for themselves to let him handle you himself, but those kids hesitated letting this slide when the gentle shushing of their usually obnoxious teacher threw them for a loop. Sitting down in the free space on your other side, gently brushing your hair, he leaned in to your ear to confess —

"I'm sorry." You stiffened at his words as they rumbled against your ear. While you were partly miffed and scared due to his attitude, his gentleness returning made you drawn to him all over again, recollecting how much you did miss him — miss them both actually cause OF COURSE YOU DO!!!

Weaving his hand through your hair, he carefully pulled your head to rest against his chest instead, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, a shaky vulnerability leaking into his voice. “I'm so sorry.” You dare set down your hands to see his eyes as glittery blue glass. "I shouldn't have snapped like that. I hate seeing you cry like this.” His wandering hand had his fingertips weave through yours to squeeze your hand benignly. “Especially when you're all banged up. I just …”

“I'm deeply sorry as well.” The moment Suguru sat down in Megumi's spot, the kids had already stood back and watched with anticipation as his arms gently hugged your waist from behind, kissing your blotchy cheek, regret radiating on his face. “We both shouldn't have approached you so harshly. We were out of line. We just …”

They were both at a loss for words.

Taking a chance, a risk, a leap of faith, you decide to tell them the truth, rather preferring for them to hear it from you than read it from a document.

“The other night … a special grade curse popped up just when I finished my case … I wanted to prove myself … I thought I could take it on … but Nanami saved me in the end. I was … ashamed … anxious … afraid. It showed me … illusions … nightmares … of you both suffering and abandoning me … and I panicked when you both got upset earlier … I just – !”

“You haven't properly rested at all.” Geto delicately gripped your chin and turned your face to see the dark circles under your now red eyes. “Beloved, you of all people should know that keeping your troubles bottled up inside does no one any good! Least of all hiding your pain from us when we can help!”

“You can't always be there for me … I can't keep weighing you down … but I can't hold my own when it really counts … I'm never gonna be at your level … even as a Grade 1 … by myself … I'm not good enough.” Your eyes squeezed shut, deep seated in this emotional turmoil.

“Yes you are!” The sharp conviction Satoru had made your eyes snap back open. It got your attention attentively. “We still think of them … Kuroi … Amanai … what we could have done differently or better … had we not failed them. If anything happened to you … and if we weren't there to stop it … and it already has … then what the hell’s the point in being the strongest when we can't protect those that matter to us the most?!” You shook as his tears hit your nose, rubbing his wet nose against yours with those beautiful blue eyes now red with compassion looking into yours, for even his watery smile is breathtaking. “You've never been weak. Not to any of us. You kept us together through all the shit thrown our way since that day. I don't need Six Eyes to tell me this truth … that you are the most beautiful, genuine, strongest soul I know you are inside and out.”

“You're the very reason I gathered the courage to reach out to everyone when my resolve wavered … when I lost my way … it's difficult to wear a heartfelt smile in this world …” Sugu's voice slipped for a moment, his almond eyes twinkling as his wet cheek nuzzled yours, pressing a timid kiss to the corner of your lips, another breathtaking smile amiss the waterfalls. “But you brought back my smile. You helped me find a better way … I'm no longer alone. So you don't get to be either. Not anymore.”

Unified, their cracked voices caved.

“We can't lose you too.”

You breathed in their natural scents, submerged in their warmth, coveted in their supportive treasuring embrace, their crying faces resting against either side of your neck, just to be as close to you as possible without hurting you more so than that curse and themselves already have.

In this moment of vulnerability, the strongest duo put down their guards just to show you how immensely you've always mattered to them. Your pain, your sadness, your doubts … they're theirs too.

Your hand that was still being held by Satoru weaved down to rub against Suguru's knuckles, drawing him in to lay his hand atop both yours. “I feel the same way.”

“But damn Y/n, you scared us shitless." Gojo sighed exasperated, now chewing and suckling hungrily on your red cheek just to hear your raspy squeals for their amusement.

"Immensely." Geto hummed conspiratory like, chewing and tugging on your other cheek for good measure, your squeaking making them smirk.

“I'm sorry!” You garbled out, mewling.

Suguru popped off your cheek, pecking it several times apologetically. “We're sorry too. We're just relieved that you're alive.”

Satoru popped off your cheek as well, smooching the welt left in his wake. “Still injured though, but I'll finish healing you myself.”

Catharsis finally came as your waterworks were one of relief. “I missed you both so much~!!!”

"Yosh, yosh~” Satoru doting on you, petting your head like the cutie you will always be in their eyes. “We missed our cutie patootie too~” Now that got you to smile at last, shedding tears of joy, as your chortled laughs made them smile as well.

The kids left you three a while ago when the mushiness kicked in. The twins giggled as Megumi summoned his wolf Shinigami for them to ride on so they could stop pestering him, right before he buried his bashfully blushing face in the crook of Yuji's neck who carried him and Nobara with ease from her own pestering, heading off to do whatever.

Now drained from the mental and emotional trip you went through, all you wanted now was sleep.

And to be honest?

So did the guys.

Your old dorm bed would make do just this once. For old times sake. Warping you three there was easier on an already wiped Gojo, anyway.

Their uniforms, boots, and socks along with your slippers littered the floor.

The AC hummed in the background.

And the drawls of moonlight slipped through the curtains.

Tepid flustered gasps left your parted lips as Satoru sensually trailed his smooth sly hand across every inch of your backside under your top, healing you from that point as you relaxed.

You smothered your face in Satoru's snug black tee covered pecs as he ran his fingers through your hair, languidly brushing it to further soothe you, pecking your forehead. “It wasn't the same without you.”

Suguru carefully splayed on top of you from behind, warmth seeping through his snug white tee and into your cloth covered back, heatedly breathing down your flushed nape as his veiny giant hand caressed your bare tummy underneath your top as well as stroking your thighs with his other hand. “Having you to cuddle again, all snug in between us, truly feels like heaven.”

“No angel to sleep with … oh how did we cope without you~?" Satoru ranted quietly as he could for your sleepy sake.

Suguru gave him a sly smirk. “Satoru~”

Satoru chuckled, ruffling Suguru's loosely free hair, before resting that hand on Suguru's lower back. “Okay, it wasn't bad at all. Even so… can I please just keep us in this moment and never let each other go ever again?” Satoru gently begged.

“As long as I can get some shut eye. And new uniform garbs.” Your cheek nuzzled his chest, consenting in a yawn.

“Deal.” With Six Eyes now switched off, Satoru became heavy-eyed at the sight of his two favorite people in bed with him. Back together again.

“No more bad thoughts for us tonight.” Suguru languorously rumbled in your ear.

“Plus those nightmares will get a kick in the balls if they come back.” Satoru grumbled drowsily.

“If it's a curse, sure. Dreams, not so much.” You mumbled softly.

Satoru could feel your body start to reach the end of its recovery from his healing touch, trailing his hand from your back to cover your hand that rested on the front of his shirt where his heart lay.

Suguru's own hand traversed, resting atop Satoru's, all three splayed on his chest in the same exact spot.

You sagged as you felt the weight of all that battle damage lift right off you, for all the pain got replaced with fuzzy tingling warmth.

Shivering with delight, you felt those two curling in on you from both sides, their legs tangling with yours, as you all smushed in the middle, with Suguru's face against your shoulder and Satoru's in your hair.

“Toru … Sugu … I love you guys.”

Satoru breathed in your scent, smiling drowsily. “We love you too … so damn much.”

"Truly. We'd be lost forever if we never knew you.” Suguru mused languidly.

A tiny smile formed as you succumbed to your long awaited dreamland. “I … feel … the same.”

And the kiddies, poking their heads through the crack in the slide doorway, eyed you snug between those two in just their tees and boxers, your entangled limbed cocoon, the bed comforter halfway touching the floor, as gentle snores and breathing made up your guys personal symphony.

Taking some snapshots for potential blackmail material; basically on Nobara and Megumi's part, they left you three to rest.

Of course, knowing you three, you'll stay in bed all day tomorrow. Whether to sleep, talk, cuddle, make out, do the devil's tango — nah it's all of the above! Meaning no classes.

The weekend is free.

To unwind and reflect.

Your old room feels more homely now that they're there with you.

That night, you’re gifted with cathartic, stress relieving dreams where those two awaited you with smothering embraces and enriching laughter.

Through their tough, imposing, and fierce exteriors …

There lay the true blessings that are their empathy, passion and humanity.

Your chaotically lovestruck sorcerers.

And you, their heaven sent wife, will feel their love till the very end.

And even beyond.

For Infinity.

[gremlingottoosilly]

What if Reader we're a streamer? How would König react? 🐱

It depends!

If you're a 2020-era Valoran/LoL e-girl monster energy sponsored corpse husband streamer, our poor man is in for a ride. I kinda want to explore the AU with Konig and his loser-of-a-son Paul because I don't think that normal Konig even has time to engage with streaming. But you came to visit for a few days one time, with your big ass cat ear headphones, with your fishnets and a choker and you left more energy drink cans behind that he thought humanly possible - and he fucking knows that his son isn't good enough for you. Hell, Konig might not be good for you. You're doing streaming just as a way to fight boredom during lockdown - you kinda stuck with Paul because your lease ended just before the quarantine and you obviously couldn't find another place to live in such a short notice...so it already laids a strain on your relationships. Konig's son is a fucking incel(like father like son LMAO), and he has a nasty habit of being bitter over having such a pretty and amazing girl like you. Now, Konig isn't a pervert. He isn't lusting over his son's college girlfriend. You just...well, you could be modest at least a little bit and not wear the short skirts around the house, right? Your relationships are going to get even more awkward because Konig has a very nasty habit of kinda wandering into the room you stream from, wearing nothing but sweatpants and your chat is going crazy( you don't understand what's wrong until you see his figure in your camera view and your audience demands hunk boyfriend reveal. Konig doesn't really understand streaming at all and still conflicted whether you're doing porn or you are talking to yourself for hours each day, but he loves to support you. By that I mean giving you money, not energy drink and ramen - he forbid you from ever drinking it again, unfortunately

[tossawary]

In the live-action "One Piece" adaptation, there's a brief confrontation in which Cabaji says that Zoro chased him and his brother through the jungles of Goa Kingdom or something. Which made me think IMMEDIATELY about an AU in which Zoro and Luffy meet early, when Luffy is around 15 or so and Zoro is around 17, sometime shortly after Ace has set out on his own adventure and Luffy is on his own.

So, like, imagine Zoro being this 17yo bounty hunter who thinks he's hot shit, people are starting to call him "THE Demon of East Blue". He gets one Cabaji brother but the other escapes, leaving Zoro injured and alone in the jungle (similar to the side wound that Zoro gets at Orange Town in the manga). It's getting dark, he has a corpse to drag back to a Marine base somewhere back in Goa Kingdom, and there are beasts here. He thinks he can see a tiger, stalking him in the bush.

And then some 15yo in a straw hat and shorts bounces out of the trees going, "WHOOOOOAAAAA, you're SO cool! I was watching your fight! You're amazing! You should join my pirate crew!" Like... what? (If there was a tiger, the tiger has fucking RUN FOR IT. It doesn't want to be EATEN.)

So, Luffy drags Zoro back to Dadan's place for medical aid ("YOU BROUGHT A BOUNTY HUNTER INTO MY HOUSE?!" Dadan yells, while her guys patch up this kid anyway) and politely introduces Zoro to Makino ("I'm not going to be your first mate, don't introduce me that way," Zoro says for the tenth time already). And Zoro ends up being convinced to stick around Dawn Island and Foosha Village to train for a month (and also to heal, but that's less persuasive), with Luffy following him around like a starry-eyed puppy the entire time, unless he's dragging Zoro off to fight beasts and each other in the jungle. Kicking the shit out of each other is a sign of FRIENDSHIP.

Seeing Luffy's burgeoning fighting skills is enough to make Zoro go, "Maybe this kid is alright," and hearing Luffy talk about dreams is the beginning of Zoro's doom. But he's not going to sign up until Luffy is more impressive! If Luffy wants him for his crew, he has to come find Zoro when he sets out on his own adventure. And Luffy agrees this is reasonable even if he's going to miss his new best friend sooooo badly.

Now, I'm a Zolu fan (ace-spectrum Luffy), so I like to imagine Zoro and Luffy having a really dorky teenage romance between future monsters here. If only because when Luffy and Nami bust into Captain Morgan's Marine Base, Luffy can go (after 2 years of having Makino keep track of Zoro in the newspapers), "Oh, my boyfriend is here!!! 😃 I wonder how much stronger he's gotten? I need to impress him so that he'll join my pirate crew!!!" And Nami and Koby can be like, "What the FUCK are you talking about?! The PIRATE HUNTER?! The demon who kills pirates?!" Luffy: "Yeah! ❤️"

Even better if Luffy has already gone to a couple different islands (with or without Koby), loudly going, "I'm going to be King of the Pirates! And also, HAS ANYONE SEEN MY BOYFRIEND?! He has green hair and three swords and he gets lost really easily!" Or maybe Luffy was just shouting this on Alvida's ship and around the town under Morgan's control? It doesn't really matter. It just has to be loud enough that Garp finally catches wind of this situation.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU pt 56

part 1 | part 55 | ao3

March

"Steve, honey," Claudia calls from the living room, where he can hear her shuffling around to get her things ready for work — the rustle of a jacket, the clink of keys against her thermos. "Do you need anything before you go?"

"I'm fine, Ma!" Steve answers.

And he is. He is fine. It’s been three weeks, and Steve is fine! He has a date tonight with a girl he doesn’t care about, and he's gonna cheer on Lucas at the championship game, and the other day at work he got a fifty cent per hour raise. And sure, his nightmares are worse than ever and his head aches all the time, and he’s had some weirdly persistent sinus infection or some shit going on, but he only teared up once this week while jerking off to thoughts of Eddie, so.

All in all, not bad.

He shoves a plain bagel in his mouth and rushes to leave the house; passes Claudia on the way out, who's now rapping her knuckles impatiently against Dustin’s door and asking, “Dusty, what’s going on in there? You’re gonna be late!" to which Dustin replies with a panicked shriek: “DON’T COME IN, I’M NAKED!”

Jesus Christ. "Deafen my other ear, why don't you?" Steve mutters under his breath.

He throws Ma a parting wave and heads out to pick up Robin so he can take her to school before his shift starts. She looks nicer than usual, and she won’t stop reapplying her mascara, and by the time Object of My Desire starts playing on the radio Steve is practically begging her to just suck it up and end this will-they-won’t-they thing with Vickie because it’s been months of obvious flirting and Robin still won’t make a move.

“I listen to you, and now look at me!” he argues, as if the handful of pointless dates he’s used to distract himself from Eddie are anything to look at. “Boom. Back in business.“

“Mm,” she objects, a little ‘you’re so full of shit’ frown on her face. “Not the same thing.”

Don’t say it, you bitch, don’t even—

“You ask out a girl and she says no…”

Oh, thank fuck. Steve sags in relief and licks the corner of his mouth as he listens to her rant, grateful that she’s just working the small town homophobia angle and very graciously not pointing out how half-hearted and sad his attempts to move on with his life have been. It’s a small mercy he repays by rambling about girls and boobies and girls who definitely like boobies until she scowls so hard at him that she smudges her mascara and has to apply another coat.

—

Dustin calls the store some time around lunch. Asks if Steve wants to sub in for Lucas at tonight’s Hellfire campaign, which, first of all, fuck you — he’s been helping Lucas practice for months now, he’s not about to miss this game — and secondly:

“What, to hang out with you and Eddie the Freak Munson?” he asks, idly playing with a slinky. “Uh, yeah. I’ll pass.”

"Dude."

"What?"

"You can’t just call him names because you’re pissed at him! That’s not cool!”

Steve rolls his eyes and tugs the slinky so hard it flops off the counter’s edge.

“Look,” Dustin says, his voice dipping into that low and slow and trustworthy thing that makes Steve want to snap the kid’s non-existent collarbones. “I know you won’t tell me what happened, but whatever it was, he’s sorry, okay? He’s really, really sorry. And he asks me about you, like, every day; if I didn’t know any better I’d swear he was in love with you or something.” Steve chokes on his own spit, and Dustin just keeps going; steps right over Steve’s corpse to continue his impassioned plea. “Besides, friends forgive each other! Right, Steve?”

Goddammit. Steve really regrets saying those exact words in that exact order the last time Lucas and Dustin had a fight. “Man, you can’t just use my own brotherly advice against me.”

“I can, and I will.” Wow. What a little shit. “Seriously, dude, come on! How many times do I have to pass on his apology messages before you just talk to him?”

How many times? How many times?

Steve doesn’t know.

He just knows he’s not ready; knows that as soon as he talks to Eddie, it’ll make it all real. It’ll be over for good. Whatever words they exchange next will get etched into the headstone of the thing they briefly had. He opens his mouth to say something, to try and make sense of the vortex in his head, but all he gets for the effort is a fresh migraine coming on.

He’s saved from answering by the doorbell’s chime. “I got some customers,” he says over Dustin's squawk of protest. “Gotta call you back, bye.”

—

part 57

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[ghouljams]

Salt In An Old Wound Tags: hurt/comfort, Ghost x F!oc/reader, explicit mentions of Ghost's backstory, panic attacks, body horror, buried alive, fae au Summary: Ghost's wrapped you up so tightly you don't know where you start and he ends. Your feelings are his, and unfortunately his feelings are your as well.

You're somewhere small and dark. Somewhere you have to breathe shallowly to avoid the onset of claustrophobia. A body presses against your back, crawling, swarming, wiggling with life that isn't its own. A coffin and a corpse. You jolt away from the body, slamming yourself against the wooden wall of the coffin. Your breath comes quicker. Your body, your everything hurts. Moving is a new trauma. You broken bones and overworked muscles screaming at you for even the shallow breaths you try to maintain. Why do your ribs hurt like someone tried to pull them from your chest? 

You don't know what to do. You don't know where you are, what country you're in or how you got here. The smell of rot squirms in your nose, or maybe that's a maggot. You gag, try not to vomit. You think that might be the only thing that could make this worse, laying in your own sick. You wiggle your arm up to your chest to try and get some leverage, doing your best to avoid the rotting corpse behind you. You bang your fist against the coffin wall with all your strength. It feels pointless, your fist barely makes an indent, not enough wind up.

Your gloved hand clenches, trying to keep the panicked bile from rising in your throat, trying to tamp down the rage. The body behind you shifts, wraps an arm around you and pulls you closer into the wriggling mass of larvae. You scream and thrash against its grip, push against its hold with all your might as broken sobs force their way out of your chest. 

You hit the floor and scramble away from the bed, panic grips your chest, you scrub at your arms to try and get rid of the squirming feeling. Your shirt sticks to you, uncomfortably damp with sweat as you cry. Simon stares down at you from the bed, chest heaving and sweat sticking his hair to his forehead. His eyes are wide, mirroring your panic.

Blood pounds in your ears, your vision hazy and disfigured from the tears pouring down your cheeks. You tug at your shirt, Simon's shirt, your skin so itchy it feels raw. Your heart feels like it's about to pop out of your chest, and you can't piece a thought together besides a desperate clawing need to escape. You pull at your tethers, you need help, you need someone to help you.

Simon presses his hands against his face, his eyes glowing with fury in the dim light. Smoke and shadow swirl around him in aggravated spikes of sharp movement. His mask collects in awful darkness around his fingers, his teeth shining dangerously under the darkness. You curl in on yourself, trying to take breaths around the sobs that wrack your body. You can still feel the bone clenched in your hand, the teeth and rotted flesh digging into your palm, the dirt under your nails. Simon is still frozen on the bed, eyes fixed on you but unseeing, unfeeling. He trembles just on the edge of something.

It's him. It's him. He's the one laying with corpses. He's the one feeding you piecemeal panic through your hooks. Each tether between you looping back and doubling the feelings that grip you and won’t let go. You don’t know where you start and Simon ends. It’s your memory, it’s his memory, it’s Roba strapping you down and trying to wrench your skull open, it’s snakes and fire and hooks in your ribs that don’t leave you. There are hooks in you now and you can feel every single one of them as they light up a terrible bloody red.

He’s scaring you. Ghost is scaring you. The way he hunches his shoulders and stares through your soul like a wild animal, saliva dripping from between his teeth, rabid with panic and rage. You press your feet against the floor, pushing yourself further against the wall and away from open air. Open is bad. Wall is good. Safe. Small and safe. Ghost's smoke weighs down the air in the room, cloying at your lungs as you draw in desperate breaths. He moves and you feel all of your muscles freeze, waiting for the inevitable pounce of the predator in your bed. His hand shakes as he grips his chest, mirroring your own pulling, but it’s not your chest that pulls tight under his fingers.

Ghost says a name, his lips moving around consonants and vowels that don’t make their way to you. You hear a noise like the quiet before a storm, the last hiss of air before the sirens start, the dead silence the predicts a tornado. A man grabs the back of Simon's neck, and presses his hand hard against his forehead until he goes boneless. Simon's hands fall from his face as he leans heavily against the man holding onto him. Safe. Safe, Safe, Safe. It hums through your tethers like plucked strings. He shifts his grip to hold Simon's head against his shoulder, turns his own head to speak to him in a low tone you only hear the buzzing after effects of. 

He turns his attention to you, and you don't know whether to push yourself further into your corner or hold your arms out to him. You want safe. You want these feelings, these memories, out. The man crouches in front of you in between blinks, his eyes sympathetic, understanding, pitying. His mouth twists into something akin to a smile, it’s comforting. He’s not mad at you. You don’t- you don’t know why that’s important. It’s Simon’s, you think.

You reach for him, he’s sturdy where you grip his shirt. Everything about him seems made to draw you in, to make you want to sit in his lap and be praised. The tears are still coming, still dripping off your jaw. You can still smell the burnt flesh of your family, feel the scars across your skin being cut open again and again. The memories still echo in you, unsure where to go when your connection to Simon is quiet.

"You're not mine sweetheart," he tells you in a low rasping tone, "not sure what I'm allowed to do with you."

"Make it stop," you whisper, the sobs have stopped but your body still shakes like it's been thrown in a blender. 

"Dammit," he whispers, and reaches towards you. You close your eyes and feel him tap your forehead.

It’s strange how dreamlessly you sleep. So still and quiet. The gentle drip of water into a shallow pool is a constant lull to keep you deep under whatever spell is being woven over you. You feel wrung out, emotionally drained in a way you’ve never experienced before. But. It’s lonely here. You’re not used to being lonely anymore. You curl up in the darkness, let yourself float with the drip, drip, drip of water. Smoke wraps around your mind, soothes you, sections off the parts that aren’t yours and pulls them like thorns from you.

You squeeze your eyes shut tight against the morning sun that streams through your bedroom window. 

“The fuck are you still doin’ here?” Simon grumbles not at you, you feel his arm reach for you, fingers hesitant as they trace over your cheek. It’s enough reason to open your eyes, only to shut them again when Simon rubs some of the sleep from one. You get a glimpse of the bearded man from last night sitting between you and your husband, fully dressed and unbothered by the both of you.

“Keepin’ you two separated,” Price says, flipping the page on one of your manuscripts, “least until you woke up.”

“No shoes on the bed,” You mumble. Price glances down at where you’re cuddling closer against his side. He’s got that nice cool feeling Simon has, and a similar smokey scent. You like it.

“She serious?” He asks Simon.

"Always," Simon hums, thumb rubbing your cheek with open affection. There’s a rustle from the blankets moving, a quiet huff from Price, and then Simon’s lips against your forehead. Wiping away the last of the magic that was worked on you. It’s pleasant, like shaking off a weighted blanket you feel like you’re able to move more freely. If you wanted to. You’re not inclined to do much in the mornings, you leave that chore to Simon.

Simon sighs watching you tug the blankets up, burrowing down to get more comfortable. Something small and needy in the back of his brain scratches at him. He can still see your panicked face in his mind, he needs you safe. Small and safe. He hesitates a moment before moving your head to rest on Price’s lap. That’s about as safe as he can think to make you without locking you up somewhere.

“Just a dream Ghost,” Price reminds him, hardly bothered by the intrusion to his space.

“She shouldn’t have to see that,” Simon shakes his head, drips some extra sleep over your brain as he pushes your hair back.

Price glances down at you, the way you glow with Simon’s affection, “Seems fine to me.”

He sets the manuscript down and grabs Simon’s chin, keeping him close, keeping him teetering over his lap. He squints, searching his gaze for any lingering noise, any anxiety still clinging to Simon. Simon lets him, keeps still for his captain even as his thumb rubs against his cheek. Soothing affection, gone as quick as it came. 

“I like ‘er.” Price relents finally, letting Simon go to settle back against the pillows.

“Figured you would,” Simon sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. He needs a shave, and a shower. He can still feel smoke clinging to his skin, shadows shared between him and Price to ground him.

“She’s pretty.”

“And mine,” Simon glares, catching the tail end of Price’s smile.

[pileofmush]

you don't know what i deserve .·:*¨ ¨*:·..·:*¨ ¨*:·..·:*¨ ¨*:·.

ft. okkotsu yuuta

it’s 1 a.m. on the fifteenth of February and there’s a corpse on your kitchen floor. still fresh: odorless and warm to the touch. you're on your own—just you and the dead body.

info : ̗̀➛ tags: gn!reader, neighbor au, strangers to lovers, yuuta & reader are a little strange, happy ending // cw: death, light angst, vulgar language, canon-typical violence...but pretty mild imo

thoughts : ̗̀➛ helllooo. back on my bullshit. let's call this a very belated birthday present to my beloved <3 // read this on ao3

wc : ̗̀➛ 5.1k

The human body contains a shit ton of blood. 

Which is not something you think about often, but now you are forced to confront this fact in real-time. People… have a lot of blood.

And it stains. No matter how many times you wash your hands. There are still flakes of blood wedged underneath your fingernails. Part of you thinks it'll never go away.

...And then there's Sailor Moon.

“I am the pretty guardian who fights for love and justice! I am Sailor Moon! And now, in the name of the moon, I’ll punish you!”  

Cue trumpets and flashy poses; the makings of a battle. Your comfort anime blares in the background of a morbid scene, the flickering TV casting a soft glow on a sight that will inevitably haunt your nightmares. 

Because it's 1 a.m. on the fifteenth of February and there’s a corpse on your kitchen floor. Still fresh: odorless and warm to the touch. You pace in your tiny living room, unsure of what to do, of how to proceed. The pretty Sailor Guardians won’t save you now. You’re on your own. Just you and the dead body.

How romantic.

The chill from outside has swept into your apartment thanks to that annoying fucking prick who left your window open. Honestly, people these days have no decency. The least he could’ve done was close your shutters after tumbling through your bedroom window like a deranged acrobat. Now you’re, like, moderately cold. 

“What a fucking mess,” you sigh.

Blood seeps into the earthy Persian rug that you got for half-price at a flea market a few months ago. It’s dark; puddling, like... like a knocked-over glass of chocolate milk, spilled all over the kitchen table. Or, maybe chocolate syrup would be more apt. It doesn’t matter, though. You can always get a new rug. You know, if you make it out of this situation of yours intact and not in a dingy prison cell for homicide.

Hmm. You might be sorta kinda screwed. 

The police, of course, are out of the question. No matter your side of the story, it wouldn’t hold up in trial. No, no, no. A foreigner murdering a Japanese citizen? Even if it was in self-defense, it wouldn’t matter. Forget prison—you’ll probably be hanged.

So, you could run… But you probably wouldn’t get far. Or, you could do what every naive murderer in the movie about karmic retribution does and try your darnedest to get away with it.

“Option two it is!” you quit pacing and announce to the room. Thankfully, the body doesn’t respond.

A weak knock at the door sounds off—a gunshot. Your heart stalls, your head snapping to the entrance of the apartment. Who the hell is at your door? The person at the door knocks a second time, a little bit more insistently, and you start to sweat. “Hello, is everything alright? I—I heard a scream.”

You step up to the peephole and squint. A mild-looking man shuffles his feet outside your door. It’s your next-door neighbor, bathed in the ugly yellow lighting of your apartment complex. He smiles like he knows that you can see him. 

This… isn’t ideal. You could choose to not answer him, but that probably wouldn’t work. What if he called the police? You take a breath. “Everything’s fine,” you call out.

The man’s smile freezes in place, somehow more eerie than a frown; his hands burrow deeper into his pockets. “Oh!” he says. “Are… Are you sure?”

You turn away from the peephole, a little unnerved. “Yeah, why?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to intrude, but I heard a lot more than a single scream.”

A slow, dreadful feeling starts to seep into your gut. “Pardon?” 

There’s a pause. You swallow.

“These walls are thin.” 

Fuck. He knows. Oh God, he knows. 

No—that’s impossible. You were the only one to scream. Yasuhiro… He didn’t get the chance to. So this is just a concerned neighbor checking in on you. Nothing more, nothing less. You can prove it, prove that you’re okay.

You open the door a smidge so that you can peek through, then step outside and shut the door behind you. Your neighbor, what’s his name again? Okkotsu, right? Okkotsu’s brows lift at the sight of you, then relax. He’s wearing a plain white tee and a pair of grey sweats that should probably be criminal in Japan. His eyes flicker up and down your frame. You suppress a shiver.

“Just a horror movie,” you broach, offering him a polite smile. “I’m an easy fright.”

Okkotsu pulls a hand out of his pocket to awkwardly rub the back of his neck. His gentle smile has dimmed. “I’m not sure I believe you,” he says in an apologetic tone.

You both notice the tremor that runs through your body. Nosy fucking neighbors and their lack of sense when it comes to minding their own business. You stare mulishly at the floor. His shoes are simple. Black; scuffed. His left foot taps once against the floor. Whatever. You don't have to answer to him. Gathering up your resolve, you start to speak. “Listen, Okkotsu-san,” you say but are cut off quickly.

“Is that blood?” 

That makes you freeze, eyes glued to the floor. A cold set of fingers dips under your chin and gently lifts it. Your gaze meets his: two pools of an endless, starless night. It flickers to a spot beside your ear knowingly and you reach for it. 

He’s right. Blood sticks to your fingers, not yet dry. Lurking in the crevice behind your ear. You missed a spot.

“Well spotted.” It’s fruitless to lie now. You know it, he knows it. Now it’s a matter of who’ll crack first. 

“Are you… Are you injured?”

Physically? No. Psychiatrically? Well, you just murdered a man, so.

“I’m unharmed.” 

Okkotsu blinks owlishly. “Is that so?” He murmurs curiously, tilting your head to the side to observe the blood staining your skin. 

You readjust your head and mimic him, blinking slowly. “Okkotsu—”

“Yuuta,” he interrupts. 

You blink again. For such a mild, polite-seeming boy, he really is quite rude. And confusing. And terrifying. And you kinda sort of want him to die. “Okkotsu-san” you repeat. “I think it’s best if you leave.”

Okkotsu Yuuta’s smile returns, and it’s dangerously innocuous. He breathes your name out like a question. Starless eyes wander to your front door, then go back to studying your own. “Can I come inside?” he asks, quietly. 

Everything stills, even your heart. You’re not quite certain you’re alive, when you ask, dubiously, “The apartment?” 

Okkotsu just smiles.

You let Okkotsu come inside.

Which is absolutely fucking insane, but you have a feeling that your neighbor’s worse off than you are, and that’s truly saying something. 

You hear him lock the door behind you before you start. Silently, you lead him past your living room, past Tsukino Usagi flying down the sidewalk on the way to school—the start of another episode, then—past your browning house plant hanging from the ceiling, into your quaint kitchen. 

It’s nothing special. A small green stove with two bunsen burners on top. A sink; limited counter space. A couple of peeling cabinets. Tied in together with a white backsplash, shifting colors with each flicker of the TV. To the side, a small table sits, with two mismatched chairs tucked into it. 

Oh, and there’s the dead body, too. Practically dribbling blood, painting your discounted rug muddy red and the surrounding blue tile purple. 

Okkotsu lets out a soft sigh. “What a mess.”

You consider him from the corner of your eye. “That’s what I said,” you frown.

He shrugs, still looking at poor, dead, Yasuhiro. “Well, it’s true, isn’t it?” 

Yeaaaah. It’s true.  

A giggle escapes you, the reality of the situation finally hitting you. “Fuck,” you whisper in between the giggles. “I’m fucked.” It’s true. Utterly and thoroughly—no condom used. 

“Not yet,” you barely hear him say over the fracturing of your composure. This is impossible. You killed a man tonight, then showed a stranger the corpse. You’re an idiot. You’re a freak. You can’t hide a dead body. You really might as well bend over and get it over with. Fuck.

Hands gripping your knees, you struggle to catch your breath. When did you lose it? Ah, who cares? Dead. You’re dead. The noose is looped around your hollowed throat, tightening by the second. Perhaps there’ll be two corpses on your kitchen floor by the time the sun is up. Perhaps you should’ve just let him kill—

“Breathe with me,” Okkotsu mutters, right in front of you, long hands gingerly clutching your shoulders. Which is strange. You had no idea he got so close. His thumbs swipe up and down, around and around, and you are flummoxed. But Okkotsu is patient, his chest compressing and expanding with each measured breath, and you are compelled to follow him. Slowly, you come down from your panicked high. You let out a shaky breath, eyes sliding back to the imposing guest in your apartment. The other imposing guest in your apartment.

The body in front of you lays eerily still, impervious to your mini breakdown. It’s not purple, or rotting, or excreting out the last remaining fluids left in its underwhelming husk. It’s just—laying there. Laying, not lying, because it is no longer a breathing thing that rests; now an object to be placed. Dehumanized, in every way. Then again, what is dehumanization if not just another word for murder? What is murder, if not just the taking away of a person’s autonomy? Dead bodies can’t rest. It will never lie again. 

The dead body lays.

And you wonder for how much longer you’ll keep your own autonomy.

When do the dead start to attract flies? Realistically, you know it can range from a day to a few days for a decomposing body to become…obscene, depending on the environmental conditions. It hasn’t even been a few hours. You doubt flies will start buzzing around any time soon. If you move to crouch down and touch it, it’ll probably still be warm.  

The swipe of a thumb over your shoulder brings your awareness back to your neighbor. 

“Why are you helping me?” You ask, wiping the tears that have beaded up in the corners of your eyes. Your breathing is steadier now, but you’re still trembling. That damn window is still open. 

The hands on your shoulders release, and you look up to gauge his thoughts. He’s frowning. His eyes cloud, then sharpen: lightning against a black sky. “You need to get rid of the body, don’t you?” It’s a rhetorical question, but you nod anyway. 

“Then we’ll figure it out. Don’t worry. I bet we’ll be done before dawn.”

He makes to walk away but you stay rooted to your spot, trying to figure out why this strange, strange neighbor of yours who makes friends with stray cats and tends to the apartment garden is willing to become an accomplice of murder for you. 

“Okkotsu, are… Are you in love with me or something?” 

Your neighbor stops, then snorts, and it sends a shiver down your spine. He turns back to face you. A soft pout lies on his lips as he skillfully evades your question with a request of his own. “Hey, if you’re gonna ask me something like that, why don’t you use my name next time?”  

You don’t ask again.

You have far bigger problems than interrogating Okkotsu Yuuta, so you push it aside and stalk toward the body. Okkotsu joins you, and the two of you peer at the deceased man before you. It’s… Still. The blood has stopped its puddling; a thin line stretches the column of its throat. His throat was slit neatly, gracefully, like an act of love. It wasn’t one, but, maybe you gave Yasuhiro what he wanted, in a terrible, twisted way. How magnanimous of you. 

Yasuhiro wasn’t an attractive man. Limp brown hair framing a slightly uglier-than-average face. At least he had the decency to close his eyes before his last, dying breath. They were blood-shot and wiry, the last time you saw them open. Bouncing haphazardly in its sockets like they couldn’t discern which corner of the room you stood in.  

Okkotsu perks up at the sound of your harrumph. “What?” he questions you, and you slide your eyes over to him. Okkotsu Yuuta is distinctly pale, a trait that you’ve always noticed and have always sort of admired on him. It suits the subdued, yet haunted look he’s got going on. Black lashes feather the whites of his eyes, as well as the endless void of his irises. Yeah, he’s almost doll-like, in that gentle, haunting way of his. 

“You’re creepier than the corpse,” you tell him instead and turn away, just barely hiding your smile. The laugh that rings out from him sounds like nails grating on a chalkboard. 

Just kidding. It actually sounds kind of sweet.

Okkotsu follows you to the bathroom, where you’ve grabbed pretty much all of your cleaning supplies. You stuff them in a bucket and he hauls it out of your arms, the two of you shuffling back to the kitchen. 

“So how should we go about this?” You muse, staring at the body. The movies you’ve seen are the only reference you have for the disposal of dead bodies, but those usually end with the killer getting caught, so you’re not so sure about mimicking their methods. 

“I’m not sure,” Okkotsu says, tilting his head in thought. “Severing his limbs without the proper tools would be difficult. I guess we could carry him and bury him somewhere unassuming—unless you have a car that we could use?” A quick glance at you confirms that you don’t. He rubs his chin, nodding to himself. “Right. A garden cart will do, then. We should check to see if he has any identifiers on him, first, though. Oh, and we can’t forget about the teeth. Do you have any pliers?” He turns to you casually, eyes widening at the sight of your awe. 

Thin black brows furrow in confusion. “What?” He asks.

You blink. “Have you…ever…?” Your voice dies in your throat.

Thankfully, he gets it. “Oh. No! No, I’ve never murdered a person,” he denies, dipping his head and tugging the neckline of his plain white tee. A curious look crosses his face. “But I could,” he tacks on cautiously.

You hug your arms and give a half-assed shrug. You can almost feel the weight of a kitchen knife in your dominant hand; the quick, fluid motion of ending a life. 

“Anyone could,” you acquiesce, dismissing the conversation. Okkotsu hums mournfully in return. 

According to his ID, Yasuhiro Souta is a twenty-seven-year-old male who lives in Chiba. What he was doing tumbling through your window in the middle of the night is anyone’s guess. Well, he did tell you, sort of shakily before he made to lunge at you, that you were supposedly his Valentine for the night. How sweet!

Snip. You met him for the first time a little over two months ago. He dropped his wallet on the train, so you picked it up and handed it to him in a silly attempt to be a decent person. It resulted in the man refusing to let go of your hand for a solid five minutes. Yes, yes, what an adorable meet-cute! Snip. When you managed to pry your clammy hands out of his vice-like grip, it was your stop, and, oh, how fortuitous, it was Yasuhiro’s as well! He followed you off the train into a random coffee shop, and it was only when you got the help of the employees that he backed off, the doorbell chiming as the glass door swung behind his back. Snip.

You thought that was the end of it, and proceeded about your day, running errands for a few hours until you retreated home. It shook you up for a little, yes, but it was nothing too crazy. You doubted you’d ever see him again. 

Snip.

You slice Yasuhiro’s ID with your scissors until it’s a pile of ashes. 

Okkotsu’s on his knees, holding a pair of pliers to the light. Wedged between the metal lies a crooked tooth. He hums to himself, plopping the tooth in a ziplock bag. He wears a pair of green garden gloves he grabbed from his apartment; you’re wearing a matching set. The rubber’s a little too big for you, but you’re making it work.

It's as Okkotsu calmly adjusts the head in his lap, preparing to yank another tooth that you stare at your strange partner, wondering how in the hell you got yourself into this situation. It’s been happening every so often: your acceptance of reality swinging in the opposite direction like the pendulum on a grandfather clock. 

You shouldn’t have killed him.

You don’t care for Yasuhiro Souta’s life. You don’t care for the man who intended to assault you. But there’s not a chance in hell that this won’t get traced back to you. 

You're fucked.

Why did it have to be like this? Why do bad things happen to good people?

That’s the way the cookie crumbles, darling.

And you crumble—crumbled—are crumbling when you turn to your neighbor. “Okkotsu-san,” you say, picking at your dirty nails.

“Yuuta,” the man insists. What a freak. He's a freak, and he's good, and you don't deserve it.

You take a deep breath, mulling over your doomed fate. It doesn’t have to be his, too. “You should get out of here. While you still can.”

There's an awkward pause. The strange man pulls out another tooth and plops it in the baggy. “There,” he says warmly, then draws to his full height. “Do you have a coffee maker?” You ball your fists around the plastic handle in your hands. Calm, calm, stay calm. “Did you hear what I just said?” You ask. 

“Oh, I did,” Okkotsu hums. “I chose to ignore it.”

Your hands begin to shake as you repeat his words. “Ch—Chose to—” 

Okkotsu says your name pityingly. “I thought we already had this conversation," he questions with pinched brows. “Why are we—”

“We?!” You interrupt, incensed. We. It's as if the curtains have been drawn open, allowing the rays of the illuminating, scorching sun to trickle through. It blinds you, and you have the urge to pull your eyes out and shove them down his throat. “You thought we? Who are you? You don’t know a damn thing about me!”

“I think I know a few things about you,” Okkotsu smiles sweetly, gesturing to the dead body in your apartment.

“Do you, now?” You laugh and toss your hands up to the ceiling. “Great! I have an idea!" You glare, the metal edge of your scissors catching the light. "If you know what I’m capable of, then you should get the hell out." 

A pause. You pant, more worked up than have been all night and it's fucking ridiculous and you hate it. You want to choke—you want him to choke. On your blood-soaked fingers, preferably. He'd probably lick them clean. 

Unaware of your depraved thoughts, Okkotsu’s lips pull into a frown. He sighs, running a ghostly hand through his hair.

“I’m not scared of you,” he tells you, quietly.

You hold your breath. “Maybe you should be.”

Your insufferable neighbor takes a step forward, that stupid frown still on his stupid doll face. “What’s your plan?” He prompts. “Do you intend to confess? To go to prison?” You shake your head slowly and he softens. “You don’t deserve that,” he says, like he really means it.

Why did you let this man into your house? Why is he offering you hope? It’s too much. The scissors slide out of all your fingers save for one; your limbs sag with a weariness that’s settled deep in your bones. 

“You don’t know what I deserve.”

Okkotsu stops and considers you. Your chest heaves, your heart pounds, and you want out. You want out, and he can get out, and you don’t know… You don’t know why…

“If you want me to judge you, I won’t,” says Okkotsu. 

You shake your head at his dismissal, your eyes squeezed shut. “I can’t judge you,” he continues, and there goes his cold, calloused hand again, gingerly tilting your chin upwards. The pair of scissors in your clutches drops fruitlessly to the floor. When you look up, there’s something like pleading in his endless, starless eyes. “Trust me,” he begs. 

You shouldn’t. You know it with every fiber of your being that you should not trust Okkotsu Yuuta. The man who blinks like an owl and stares at you like you’re a mouse he can’t wait to swallow whole. Who blushes pink whenever you hold the elevator door for him. Who has cold fingers that cradle you so gingerly—who touches you like he knows you—who doesn’t cringe at the sight of dead bodies but gives a damn about a bit of blood staining the outside of your ear. 

You shouldn’t. Trust him. But you—you feel as if he’s reached inside your chest and plucked out your pulsing, blackened heart. 

“Do you love me?” You ask Okkotsu Yuuta again, heart throbbing in his hand.

His eyes don’t stray from yours. “Ask me again with my name,” he says quietly. 

…You don’t know if you want to. 

Releasing a breath, you push past him, snatch the ziplock bag from the floor, and stride towards the stove. “I’ll make coffee,” you say, already fiddling with the grinder.

Okkotsu lets you depart with a sigh.

“So what do you like to do when you’re not helping random people bury bodies?” You ask Okkotsu a couple of hours later. You stumble over a root in the dark, and Okkotsu’s quick to grab you by the waist and steady you. You continue, a bag full of your keys, water, pepper spray, freshly-bleached gloves, a burner phone that Okkotsu already had, for some reason, and two sets of clean clothes swinging against your back. You fidget with the shovel in your hands mindlessly, trying to get it to spin. A garden cart with a tarp draped over it creaks along the grass floor. The two of you have walked for who knows how long, but, according to him, you’re getting close. 

The man beside you hums, surprisingly chipper for the nefarious activities afoot. “When I’m not busy, I like to garden and crochet. I also like making food for my friends from time to time,” he says in a simple, humble manner. The last part doesn’t surprise you. He’s brought you helpings of food on the most random occasions, showing up at your doorstep with self-proclaimed “leftovers” and shoving full plates into your arms with a velvety smile. That does beg the question, though…

“Have you considered us friends this whole time?” You squint at him in the dark, only the moonlight carving out the contours of his subtle, delicate features. You’re kind of surprised. You two made decent neighbors but only ever talked in short bursts outside your rooms. Your conversations rarely ever broke past polite mumblings about the weather.  

Okkotsu pouts. “You mean, we’re not friends yet?” He asks, before breaking into a twinkling laugh. 

“Shut up,” you bite, but you laugh too, lightly shoving at his arm. Okkotsu, bless him, pretends to stumble. It takes you a moment to suppress the heat burning the tips of your ears, but you do get it under control, eventually. “I meant… Before?”

His expression smoothens out before he gives a soft shake of his head. “No, not quite. But, I wanted us to be."  

It’s quiet for a moment, nothing but the rustling under your feet and the ever-present, cacophonous sounds of nature. You spot a nest of sleeping birds tucked in between the branches of a tree and smile.

“Well,” you try to keep your cool, eyes sweeping over the forest's shadows, “Better late than never.”

It strikes you halfway to the burial grounds that Yasuhiro didn’t bring his phone with him to your apartment in his depraved, intoxicated state. He crawled up a tree, through your cracked-open bedroom window—conveniently avoiding cameras. So, once you’re done with this, you very may well be free.

It’s a terrifying notion, freedom.

“What about you?” Okkotsu asks you, something like ten minutes later. “What do you like to do for fun? Besides watch Sailor Moon, I mean.”

You bite your lip to keep from grinning. “Well,” you wonder aloud. “This is pretty fun, wouldn’t you say?” 

Okkotsu lets out a little breath before he softly admits his agreement. 

It rained earlier today, you forgot. The ground crumbles like clay when you swing the shovel into the ground. You and Okkotsu take turns making a grave, taking water breaks in between. There is hope alive in you, you realize, as the two of you work in tandem.

Yasuhiro Souta is lowered into the ground with all the dignity a dead man could possess. He lays atop a tarp and your old Persian rug. A stream rushes somewhere nearby, bubbling like blood, and you pray that the body will make good fertilizer. When your hand shakes, Yuuta grabs it. 

You bury your clothes on the way back, a mile out. The sun peaks over the horizon.

When you return to your room with Yuuta in tow, your emotions overwhelm you: you are terrified and gleeful and sorry for all you’ve done. 

It is mournfully quiet as you mop the purple tiles blue, bleach burning your nostrils and freshly scrubbed gloves. Yuuta’s left to clean the garden cart in the gardens. He returns shortly, though, offers you a small smile, and helps you scrub every inch of your apartment. 

You scrub, and scrub. 

And scrub.

“You’re beautiful,” Yuuta says to you when you’re in the middle of wiping your brow. You’re sitting cross-legged on your rugless kitchen floor, where a dead body once lay. Sweat clings to your skin in uncomfortable places and you reek of bleach. “Shut the fuck up and scrub, Yuuta,” you command. 

Yuuta’s serene smile is unparalleled to anything you’ve ever seen before.

You could probably fall in love with him, you contemplate as you watch your neighbor make fluffy pancakes in the comforts of his own kitchen. If you haven’t fallen in love with him, already, that is. You doubt you’ll ever have a connection with someone as profound as the bond you share with the soft-spoken man who helped you bury a dead body. 

Love, you marvel, in the span of a few hours.

It’s disquieting. 

After multiple showers, and after Yuuta’s stuffed you with more pancakes than you can chew, the pair of you are lounging on his tatami mat, a much-needed change in scenery. You have like, three hours before you need to go to work, which, Yuuta agrees, is crucial to maintaining a veneer of normalcy. Which means this impromptu nightmare date will have to come to an end—as all good things do.

“I should probably get to bed,” you say after a lull in conversation.

Yuuta nods, reasonably. “That makes sense, yeah.” 

“Got work in the morning and all that,” you continue in a nonchalant tone.

“Make sure your window’s locked.”

Fine. “Walk me out, will you?” You request. Okkotsu Yuuta, ever the gentleman, agrees, even though the front door is only a handful of feet away. He pushes himself off his knees and stands at full height, though his starless eyes are, as always, trained on you. You would probably find Yuuta’s full attention a little unsettling if you had not just slit a man’s throat that night. 

You avoid his gaze all the same—stopping at his doorstep with your hands twisting at your sides. Yuuta stops beside you and waits patiently for you to string your words together. 

You clear your throat. “Hey, um—”

“Hi,” Yuuta interrupts, and you smile, filled with the courage to go on. 

“So, the thing is… Well, I probably wouldn’t have made it anywhere far without you. I acted quite amateur back there, you’d think this was my first dead body I was trying to hide, or something, ha. Um, so yeah, thank you—from the most sincere and vulnerable depths of my heart. I guess I’ll see you around? Okay, bye.”

A hand wraps around your wrist before you can run home with your tail tucked between your legs. Yuuta murmurs your name in a soft, dulcet tone, and you’re not certain you’re prepared to hear whatever he has to say. You turn to face him anyway, because, well, you owe him that much.

“Yes?” 

“Don’t you have something to ask me?” He chides.

The pit in your stomach swoops. “Not that I recall,” you lie with a straight face.

“Try again,” Yuuta smiles sweetly, like a haunted little doll.

“It’s been a long day, you know—” 

“Cold, I’m afraid.”

“My brain isn’t functioning at its peak—” 

“Hmm, getting colder!”

“I don’t think I can.”

A pause. You avert your gaze and allow yourself to get analyzed by Yuuta’s doleful, starless eyes. “Hey,” he calls your name, asks you to look at him. 

You look at him.  

“Good," he hums.

You roll your eyes, loop an arm around his long neck, and drag him to you. 

Okkotsu Yuuta tastes like the earth. From dust to dust, you are at the end and beginning when you capture his lips between yours. He responds quickly, hands digging firmly into your waist as he knocks you into his door frame, and you quickly learn what it means to be savored. You intended the kiss to be a quick, rash, thing, but he slows you down, melds into you languidly like you have all the time in the world. When he sucks on your bottom lip, you both moan, breaking apart for air. Yuuta slips his hands underneath your shirt, and for once, his cold hands burn, lighting the fire for something you’re not certain you’ll be able to finish. 

“Go ahead and ask me already, love,” Yuuta murmurs into your ear. And, well, fuck. You melt. “Yuuta,” you whisper as he nips at your neck. “You love me, yes?” 

At that, he bites down at the hollow of your neck. You gasp, then sigh when he instantly cools the wound with his tongue. “Obviously,” he replies, quite simply, thumb swiping delicately at your stomach. 

“Great,” you gasp, and Yuuta looks at you and beams. 

And, there goes your heart again, pulsing in his cold, calloused hands. Cradle it gently, Yuuta, won’t you?

fin. if u made it this far, ily

[azulsluver]

I just binge read your bully au for twst and OMG! What if MC ends up cracking, going numb to protect themselves. They still do as told, but they have sky eyes, no emotion. Who would keep pushing to see them fully break, or who would just dump them like trash!?! Hell, who would enjoy them losing the fight in them!

tw: yandere, bully!characters, blood mention, unhealthy relationships/behavior, victim blaming.

Disclaimer, you don’t actually want this n stay safe from people like this!

Continue tormenting for fun:

Leona

Doesn't take you seriously. That's it? You're giving up already, gosh you really can't do anything by yourself...Leona is less than disappointed, in fact he knew good things would come to an end. But you still serve some purpose to him, Leona can't find himself to throw away his favorite toy, some things are just meant worth keeping. Even when broken and used.

Sebek

I don't think he'd catch on very quick, how you follow his instructions yet when the heel of his boot hits your back you make no sound of pain. Sebek should've known humans were too weak to handle his training, being pushed a little really got you that gone? This will only give Sebek the advantage to harm you further, he likes taking his frustration out on you without you screaming.

Lilia

You lasted longer than the others, and he'll applause you for that. Lilia doesn't necessarily hate this new you, embracing it but continues to see just exactly how far you can go. You're only in a shell, and he's not dumb, Lilia will stare longingly into your hollowed orbs, there is still a hint of you. Hiding away from him, Lilia is only fueled to either have you brain dead or back.

Rook

You're absolutely divine, he'll say as he wipes the trickling blood on your lips. You can't fool Rook with those dead-beat eyes, in fact this new look is beautiful. Rook craves for more of this expression you possess, he's seen you smile and cry, he wants to unravel more until you actually break. Rook has done some research on how the human mind can shut down when pushed into pressure, the thought of your alive yet corpse like body not instructing as told, he knows you're still in there.

Jamil

Jamil is conflicted with himself, you're alive but not yourself. A part of him enjoys the fact you won't refuse his affections. But did he really want this? Don't get this the wrong way, Jamil still prefers to beat you into submission, a sick part of him loves you so much yet he can't reciprocate his feelings to you. Understanding that this new you, will help ease his overwhelming emotions, he doesn't need to pretend anymore. Your clouded eyes are what he loves best.

Vil

Recents posts of him explain that Vil absolutely needs you just to take his anger out on. He’s in love with you no doubt, but embarrassment shames him from normally communicating with you. So even if you were emotionless he’d find some use, because he can’t get rid of you no matter how badly beaten your skin is. It’s you, and he’ll have no other person.

Epel

Didn’t know how to react at first. Epel kicks you a couple of times to see how you’d react. I think he because you aren’t responding to any of his criticisms does he ponder. He’s smitten with you, creating a fake narrative on his behavior that what he’s doing is ok, when he’s well aware it isn’t. Keeps you around because your nice to relieve stress from, doesn’t mind if you aren’t screaming and crying.

Toss them away (but he'll start thinking about you then wants you back eventually):

Jade

What a shame...he knew it was a bad idea to share with Floyd. You broke so easily, so fast, just when things were getting good. What good of an experiment if they give the same reaction, you aren't screaming as much as he expected. And the worse part is you listen to exactly what he asks for, there is no hesitation or breaking down to crying, you really are willing to cut off your hand? How boring.

Floyd

Frustrated, acts as if he didn't expected this to happen. Floyd is throwing a huge tantrum once he finds out you don't kick or scream at him. He misses the terror in your eyes when he asks you a question of such, now you're giving him a blank look! Not safe to say, if Azul or Jade wasn't there, you would've been dead for good, Floyd can't handle the fact his shrimpy is lame now. Out of pure anger, he would let his feelings get the best of him.

Kalim

At first he wouldn't notice your change of behavior. But that spark in you is gone now, Kalim doesn't want broken things. You were fun to play with, because he usually got high off the power he held over you, his stress toy won't even give him a proper bark. I mean you do bark, just not with enough enthusiasm. Like a fussing child, Kalim would have you thrown out, until he starts to miss having you beside his feet....

Cater

Makes the saddest noise when he notices how little you react to his touches. Slaps your cheeks a couple of times to make sure. Dramatically mourns over your past self before rudely telling you how you weren’t gonna last long with him either way. It’s been a nice ride with you he says, leaving with a kiss on the forehead. It’s cruel but depressing, because on his end he’s up at night staring at the photos of your more lively self. He misses those terrified eyes..

Enjoys the new MC and somewhat stops:

Riddle

The fire within you finally died, no more to fuel to feed. Just burnt ashes laying pitifully on the floor, grimy and unusual. Riddle is relived, he had proved a point to himself. All of his hard work to make you into the perfect person, docile and understanding. Riddle now has no reason to push you, you're at your fullest degree. You do as told, and no one gets hurt, physically and emotionally. (he's just like his mom frfr)

Ace

At a sense of peace. Once Ace understands that you are no longer you but a fragment he's thrilled. His mean names slowly die down, much more softer and cheesy when talking to you. If you're still there, disgusted or not he'd lay his head on your shoulder and mumble to you how much of a coward he was to confess. But all went well, the paranoia of you rejecting him gone. I mean what else can a lifeless you do?

Deuce

Has no other reason to bully you. You’re doing things just as he wanted and he couldn’t be happier. Like Ace he was paranoid of your rejection. But you don’t stray away from his rough hands massaging your cheek, kisses that bruise your lips. It’s heaven for him, he wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

Malleus

He didn’t think you’d break so fast. Malleus barely lays a hand on you yet his words cut deep. Perhaps you finally learned your place, all that hard work and learning how to court a single-minded human like you payed off. You won’t have to face the wrath of his verbal abuse because he’s nothing but sweet to you. You look lovely no matter how bad it gets.

Ruggie

Ruggie didn’t go extreme measures to hurt you that bad. Maybe he got to you before the others could take advantage of your newfound persona. Like he always do, Ruggie takes care of things. By things he means you. Sure you’re practically not yourself anymore but it’s still you in some shape and form. His words won’t mean nothing to damage you, so now you’ll be taken under his care. Best person to be with in this situation.

Idia

Shitty attitude stopped so quick. Was leaning more to tossing you away but Idia gets attached quickly. He would never admit but you’re his favorite pastime everything, he can’t ditch you. So eventually all of his bullying stop because there is nothing to get a reaction from. Much more calmer and talkative around you. It’s nice knowing you aren’t actively judging him as he talks, no cover ups to be douche.

Jack

Once the numbers of people targeting you goes down does he step in. Jack is worried, genuinely. I think reader being emotionless snaps something inside of him, does he claim to protect you fully and run away from everyone else. His guilt that you turned out this way eats him, but he downs it out by telling himself you brought too much attention now he must clean the mess up.

Silver

There is a good case scenario if Malleus wasn’t so attached to you and Sebek left you alone!! Lilia can see how devastated Silver is once he finds out your condition. You’re almost lifeless, Lilia let’s Silver care for you because he finally found the guts to ask. Silver tends to your needs, all those years of standing from afar and watching you get hurt somewhat paid off. You’re dependent on him and he doesn’t wanna admit how good it feels.

Trey

Settles down like some retired man. He’s happy you found peace and stop causing trouble. You’ll be in his full care now, sure he’ll have his usual sadistic tendencies but it’s much more tame and softer. He doesn’t mind however if you come back to him all bruised and sore, he will feed and clothe you back to health. Over and over again. At least he stops his bullying behavior for a while.

[dxrksong]

Jason 13 au memes part two

Bruce: *slams a door on accident*

Batfam: you slam door on Brood? YOU SLAM DOOR ON BROOD LIKE GROUNDINGS???! OH!! OH JAIL FOR FATHER!!! JAIL FOR FATHER FOR 1000 YEARS!!!!

Jason 13, calling Danny on speed dial: JAIL FOR FATHER!!!!

-----------

Kitty:

Jason:

Kitty: YOU DIDN'T TELL ME YOU WERE BUILT LIKE A BRICK HOUSE!!!!!

Jason: to be fair, I forgot???

Kitty: speaking of which, hows that going out for you?

Jason: it's been....emotional.....not to mention the whord of shades trying to mother hen me 24/7

Kitty: I've been meaning to ask you about those.

Jason: I thought you wanted to talk about our relationship?

Kitty: we have communication rings, we can do that later. I'm more worried about the tall intimidating city spirit behind you.

Jason: oh that's just Gotham

Kitty:

Gotham: *tall black lady that can kick your ass* ;)

Kitty, sweating:

Jason: don't worry, she's nice. She's just a litte over protective of her kids.

Kitty: there's MORE of you????

----------

Kitty:

The batfam:

Kitty, surrounded by baby ghost cores like stray kittens: I don't know what's worse. How much they look like you or the inane urge to just adopt them all, oh nooooooooooo!!

Jason: now you know how it feels old man.

Bruce: *confused in bat*

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

Kitty:

Catwoman:

Kitty: crimes?

CatWoman: hell yes, kitten!

[LATER]

Jason: WHO THE FUCK DYED MY SUIT PINK?!?!?!

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

Kitty: you know considering my name it's a little odd that you're the one being all cat like.

Jason, laying his head on her lap while she cards through his hair: shut uuup, it's not like I can ask anyone else for attention like this. It'd be weeeeiiiird.

Kitty: *sighs* better hope you didn't leave your comm on.

Jason:

Kitty: Johnny.

Jason: I can't remember if I turned it off or not

Dick: you know little wing, if you wanted attention you could've just asked-

Jason: SHIT!!!!!!

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

Spectra: so are you still dating him or..?

Kitty: you know? We died basically around the same time and we were introduced to each other first before anyone else, so we kinda just stuck together. And really everyone had kinda just started calling us boyfriend and girlfriend, and we just didn't think otherwise to correct them.

Ember: wait, so you two HAVEN'T been dating??

Kitty: it was never official, if anything it was an ongoing bet to see how long it would last before people started to notice. We're more like.....siblings but not quite. Or emotional support ghosts for each other.

Spectra: that....actually makes a lot of sense. You two are hardly seen without the other and you haven't exactly been dead for long, so it would make sense you're still settling down from the trauma of dying.

Kitty: did you just psychoanalise me?!

Spectra: You basically gave it to me on a silver platter!! It's a force of habit!!!

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

Jason: hey squishy

Blob ghost in Johnny 13's bike: ?

Jason: think you can get this blob ghost out of my corpse-

Squishy: *Rev's backwards out of the bat cave*

Jason: ouch! Not even my own pet will help a zombie out.

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

Danny: so how you feelin Jason?

Jason, sarcastically: oh just great, I've only had ONE murderous breakdown this week due to Zom!

Danny: Zom????

Jason: the blob ghost possessing me.

Danny: You named it????!

Jason: WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO?!?! IT'S A FREAKING BLOB GHOST, IT'S NOT LIKE IT HAD A NAME BEFORE!!!!!

Danny:

Jason:

Danny: I'm telling frostbite-

Jason: Don't you DARE!

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

Dick: Hey, Jason? Can you come over? I need your help.

Jason, muffled by a humming noise: sorry, I don't think that'll be possible at the moment?

Dick: what do you mean by that Jay, and what is that sound?

Jason, swallowed into the shadows and getting fussed over by the shades: would you believe me if I said I got readopted by shades?

Dick: U Wot?

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

Batman: Jason, what's this about shades adopting you??

Jason: look I didn't ask for it, it just happened.

Bruce: and are they....good? Parents?

Jason: well they like putting me in shadow jail alot.

Batman: Shadow jail?????

Jason: not to mention the constant babying-

Bruce: WHAT?!?!

Jason: ?! Jeez Bruce!! Wha-

Bruce: YOU LET THEM BABY YOU?!?!?!

Jason:

Bruce: I HAVENT BEEN ABLE TO DO THAT SINCE THE FIGHTING STARTED!!!!

Jason: .....are-are you JEALOUS?!

Bruce:

Bruce >:'(

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

Dick: ok, so to recap! *pulls out a projector and a Google slide document*

Dick: Jason got reanimated by something going awry and messing with reality, accidentally reviving Jason. *click* He gets scooped up by Talia and revives him fully. *click* this leaves him with powers and uncontrollable emotional problems *click* apparently he can talk to ghosts and they are often friendly to him back. *click* so much so, according to Jason himself, he has been adopted by the entirety of the ghost population in Gotham *click* including the SPIRIT of Gotham herself.

*it's a vague drawing of what Gotham looks like*

Dick: any questions?

Tim: yeah, uh. Who's that?

Danny: hi! :D

Dick: no clue, next question!

Danny: I'm phantom! I used to beat Jason up when he used to go by Johnny 13!

Batfam:

Cass: does the Lazarus pit taste like lemonade?

Dick: no, it tastes more like sprite.

Duke: wait-how do you-

Dick: NEXT QUESTION!

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

Jason, 'living on his own':

The Shades: :)

Squishy: :)

Gotham sometimes: :)

Kitty: :P

Danny: >:)

The various bird and/or bat: :)

Damien: :

Ember: lmao I'm the older one now! >:D

Spectra: (usually only when Kitty shows up)

Skulker: (target practice training) >:)

Technus: (built Johnny's bike believe it or not) >:)

The box ghost: (this man has dad energy, change my mind) >:)c

The lunch lady: (every growing ghost needs proper calories!) :)

Jason: ...............I need a bigger house....

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

Batman steps into the batcave to see green fire everywhere, Jason in his ghost form, and Damien trying to stab him with a sword.

Damien: it was Todd's idea!

Jason: Damien, you fucking snitch!

Batman: language!

Damien: yeah Hood, watch your fucking language!

Batman: DAMIEN!

(Reference to this)

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

Jason: remind me why you're here again?

Danny: what? Like I can't visit my favorite Rouge?

Jason: I thought that was plasmius?

Danny: he's my arch nemesis, not a rouge! He doesn't count!

Jason: if you say so. But why am I your favorite, and I'm pretty sure I no longer qualify to be one of your rouges?

Danny: dude you're the only one I can have a serious conversation about! Vlad's a fruitloop!!

Jason: yeah but at least he knows what he's taking about half the time.

Danny: psh. 'Half the time'

Danny:

Danny: you can still turn into Johnny, right?

Jason: I mean if I concentrate real hard I guess? But it'll take a lot of energy.

Danny: wanna convince Vlad he's going insane?

Jason: only if I can record it.

Danny: DEAL!

[qierxing]

yandere Corpse bride AU, where you're a undead person who died in their wedding attire and swore to be reunited with their spouse.

When Trey accidentally summons you after practicing his wedding vows to his fiance, he nearly faints when you stagger to your feet, covered in dirt and silk white tatters that barely cover flesh and bones. You happily accept the polished silver ring and trap him in a tight hug. It's much too late for him to get a word in while you babble about plans on whether the wedding venue should be decorated in white lilies or red roses. But he's too kind, and he can't find it in himself to squash the sparkling hope that lights your gaunt eyes, and so–

–he keeps quiet. His groomsman, an eccentric cat like gentleman who has a fondness of unsolvable riddles and mischief, merely grins widely when he hears Trey's conflicted explanation.

"The poor dear probably means no harm," he laughs and shrugs. "And if you help them, then they might be able to pass on."

Trey sincerely hopes so. From your overall look, it's clear that you've been dead for a good while, and although you refuse to talk about it, the gaping hole in your chest most likely meant that your death was not caused by natural means.

He comes to learn that you had planned to elope with your fiance, but somewhere along the way, you had perished waiting for them. Robbed of the meager gold coins you took to keep you and partner afloat, you were resigned to waiting for the day they would come back to your waiting arms.

He didn't plan on this. He thought it was just pity that kept him by your side, gently adjusting your limbs when they became askew from rot or making sure to fix your tattered wedding wear back to its original luster, with the help of an old teacher. No, it was not pity when he showed you how he baked cakes, watching with a soft smile as you admired wholeheartedly his frosting skills. It was not pity he felt when he let himself listen to you play elegant piano pieces, haunting melodies echoing off stone walls.

Somewhere, along the way, you had become endearing.

He doesn't think about the fiance who wonders where he must be, whose curiosity leads them to follow Trey to his meeting place with you. They are horrified, but most of all, outraged. How dare you take away their future partner? And that is indeed what they shout when they confront you when you're alone, shrieking about how you were a monster and taking someone else's husband away. Needless to say, you run from them in confusion and fear.

Is that really what you are? Just a heartless monster? The more you ponder upon it, the more you realize their words ring true as you try to search your memory of Trey agreeing to marry you. Anything that would have confirmed that he loved you. But it all comes up blank. There are no watery tears when you weep; but your ribs crack under the weight of your stuttering breaths, your lifeless body barely able to maintain your lively emotions.

And so, you decide to let go. Perhaps you can bear to love Trey, but you can't bear being the reason he couldn't love. When Trey comes to see you again, you quietly slip off the silver ring, still shiny and new, and hand it back to him. His face pales, worried confusion lacing his questions on if you changed your mind because of something he said? Were you mad at him for not staying longer with you the other day? You can only smile as he rambles on, and it's only when you clasp both his hands gently, he finally, finally, looks you in the eyes.

You apologize for everything: not asking him whether he wanted to even marry you, forcing him to spend time with you, making him acquiesce to your stubborn demands. It's a miracle you don't break down midway through.

There's a comforting pull when you laugh with tears in your eyes at Trey's horrified face. It's so soothing, there's barely any resistance, as pieces of you start flickering away, flesh finally rendering itself to dust, silk fluttering into petals that float away on the wind.

If you're lucky, you'll pass on before Trey grabs you in desperation, attempting to bring back dust and particles in hopes of making you stay. You can finally be free of your mortal coil and sorrows–even if you leave behind a man who spirals into madness and insanity. Cursed to roam the earth until he could find a way to join you in the afterlife and beyond.

–but if not, beware.

Death is not torture, it is repreive. Being forced to endure your flesh falling apart at the seams, while in the arms of someone who cannot see sense, is more agonizing than being able to accept your life and move on.

Yes, beware the man who has learned to love so fiercely, he's willing to defy nature's laws and whatever god is out there so you can remain his lovely spouse, for the rest of eternity.

[luceafarul-de-dimineata]

Hi, I apologize if I'm being annoying but I love your shipping au and I was thinking of something and wanted to tell you

What if once the shipp that is most trending is MC x the worst possible noble of that country. Like, people notice mc has a lot of chemistry with glasya or bimet and instead of a king there is now a whole thread talking about how mc should stay with the noble instead of the king? I think it would be really funny

Oh, I love this. Mc that has terrible taste in men is so real.

*Glasylabolas posts a photo of him kissing Mc*

Glasylabolas: Task failed succesfully

Foras: I'm glad you like the dead so much because there's no way you're going to keep on living after this

Barbatos: I'm preparing the candles

Glasylabolas: It's fineeeeee I made it so only people that follow me can see it. His majesty Leviathan doesn't follow anyone.

Dantalian: BROOOOOOOO THIS IS SO COOOOOOL

Glasylabolas: I know, right? The child of Solomon is my significant other now. Everyone else can go cry about it.

Dantalian: You'll be sharing with your bestie, right

Dantalian: 🥹👉👈

Glasylabolas: Of course

Dantalian: Yepeeeee

Glasylabolas: Tell Ronové to check his dms

Dantalian: He's busy. We're in the middle of a battle

Glasylabolas: I don't care, I want to see if he has time in his scheduel for our threesome

Dantalian: wait... I thought I was your bestie!

Glasylabolas: I have many besties, Dantalian

Glasylabolas: Most of them from Abaddon. You people trully understand me

Dantalian: It's fine. Wanting to fuck corpses is tame. Just yesterday someone died from getting fucked by a horse.

Glasylabolas: Crazy

Dantalian: Can I have more pics with you and Mc? I want to make an edit

Glasylabolas: Absolutely, just send it to me directly

Dantalian: sure sure

*Glasylabolas posted 10 more photos*

Dantalian: wiat ill doiy when i grt homt

Glasylabolas: Are you having a stroke?

Dantalian: m typng wjth m feert

Glasylabolas: Pop off

5 hours later

*Dantalian posted an edit*

Dantalian: It's done!

Glasylabolas: This is great! Though why is the song "Be my bad boy"

Dantalian: Because you're the bad boy and Mc is the badass dom

Glasylabolas: They haven't dommed yet

Dantalian: yet

Gamigin: WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS??????

Paimon: It's not even photoshopped... Glasy, how could you?!

Eligos: Nooooooo out of all the bad decisions, Mc made the worst one

Amon: I think I just lost my appatite for the next century

Dantalian: Come on, guys, it's not that bad!

Amon: @Gamigin are there any free beds in Paradise Lost? I think I need emergency medical attention

Gamigin: I'll send Buer over

Amon: Thx

Eligos: This is fucking outragous

Paimon: My main question is how Glasy is still alive

Foras: @Glasylabolas I think you should brace yourself

Gamigin: What happened?

Barbatos: Hi guys!!!! So, his handsome majesty Leviathan took care of everything. His last words were "This is hot"

Gamigin: Is he dead?

Paimon: Good

Dantalian: He was a good devil.

Dantalian:

Dantalian: Stay strong, brothers

Foras: He's not dead, just unconcious

Paimon: Bumeeeer

*This forum has been terminated at the request of his majesty Leviathan*

[chuluoyi]

UNHOLY MATRIMONY — 05

✩°｡ ⋆ sinner's punishment

- fushiguro megumi x oc/reader - oc/reader's character name is hara sena, pronouns still refer to “you” and i won’t mention it often—just for the sake of aesthetic rather than repeatedly writing "y/n"

in another life, in which fate is still screwing his life over, Fushiguro Megumi finds himself in an arranged marriage―with you.

genre/warnings: arranged marriage au, heavy angst, minor character death, description of panic attack, mentions of blood, hurt/comfort

notes: if i may be so bold, this is my favorite chapter so far. but please pay attention to the warnings and read with discretion

✩°｡ ⋆ unholy matrimony (masterlist) | chapter four : going downhill <- previous ✩ next -> chapter six : a longer dream

In hindsight, the first person you could’ve called shouldn't be your husband. You could’ve called the police, or informed the jujutsu headquarters that traces of a curse user were found in your mother’s humble cottage.

But you were on the verge of having a panic attack, and the first person you could hold onto was Megumi. He promised to come to you as soon as he finished his mission. And for the next agonizing four days, he was there with you.

And on the fifth day, when Itadori Yuji, who was in charge of this investigation, came to your doorstep to deliver the grim news, you felt yourself shaking, overwhelmed with the beginnings of hysteria.

"N-no..." Your breathing was getting harder and out of control. "T-there must be... a m-mistake..."

"I'm sorry, Sena-san," Yuji drooped his head apologetically and gritted his teeth, seemingly pained that he must be the one to tell you this. "We found the corpse at the west area of the river bank. And we've identified her as your mother."

It started with choked sobs, and then an almost inhuman scream erupted from your throat and you started weeping so intensely that you nearly crumpled, saved only by Megumi's strong grip that kept you from collapsing entirely.

You grabbed a hold of his shirt so tightly that your knuckles turned pale, almost ripping it, looking at him through your torrents of tears. "I-it's not true... r-right? I-it's just a nightmare! Please w-wake me u-up..."

"Sena." Megumi's deep voice resonated, reflecting his own struggle in processing this devastating news. He looked at Yuji, who was close to tears himself, and then at you, before pulling you into his arms tightly.

"N-no!" you wailed, thrashing against his hold. "Megumi! No! My mom―my mother! S-she can't b-be―"

Your mother, who used to brush your hair and pat your back to get you to sleep when you were little. Your mother, who stood against your father because he would marry you off to some bastard who could make your life hell and got shut away. And your mother―who cried in relief on your wedding day, realizing that you would be in good hands with Megumi.

The reality of her death suddenly hit your conscience, sinking in with profound gravity. You began to wheeze, your screams and sobs merging into a cacophony of anguish. You nearly passed out in Megumi's arms as your ability to stand forsaking you entirely, but he still refused to let you go. He continued to hold you, pressing you tightly against his chest, even as you sank to the floor and pounded his chest in agonizing despair.

"Cry it out," he whispered. "Don't hold back. Just cry. It’s alright."

How did it come to this? Who in the world would murder your kind, loving mother? Why did it have to be her? What had she done so wrong that she deserved this?

Or was this karma? A divine punishment? For trapping the unaware Megumi into this marriage?

You couldn't think straight, the sheer pain of it all numbed your very being and you wanted to die too along with her. Even when you knew you were using him, you couldn't help but hang on Megumi's strong grip as you cried your heart out.

The first days after the news broke were excruciating for Megumi as well.

He felt his chest ache whenever he saw you sobbing and crying in pain nonstop. It was a new form of torment, seeing you like that. He wanted to somehow alleviate your pain, albeit a bit. Or do anything to help you at all.

The preparations for the funeral mostly fell to him as you barely functioned. You were even more inconsolable after you saw the sight of blood on the white blanket that covered your mother in the autopsy room―you insisted on seeing her one last time, but you completely broke down afterwards and didn't dare to lift that piece of blanket. You feared the sight to remain in your nightmares.

And Megumi understood that. If he were in your position, it would destroy him too. Even though he had forgotten how his mother was like, he figured that should he lose Tsumiki this way, he could very well go feral altogether.

There weren't many that attended the funeral, and by the last day, your crying had subsided, replaced by this eerie silence and blank stare. You were dressed in all black and barely said a thing or two to the mourners. The only time your eyes glinted with something other than voidness was when your father had the audacity to come and pay his respect before the altar.

Cold fury. Megumi never saw you like that. You surged with so much hatred that when your father asked if you were okay you just turned your head away and refused to give him an answer.

"Please... look after my daughter," your father, the Hara clan head, said to Megumi outside the funeral house as the last of the mourners of the final day. He had looked so concerned and Megumi didn't have the heart to turn him away. He just nodded and bid his farewell curtly.

He would. Of course he would. What sort of husband would he be if he didn't?

When he got back, he found you staring at the altar in total stillness.

"My mother..." You croaked out, strained and barely audible. It was the first time he heard you saying something today other than many hollow “thank you” you muttered to each attendee. "She said... she'd rather take her own life rather than seeing me be married to Naoya."

Megumi's jaw tightened. Your voice radiated so much pain that it made his chest constrict and his desire to embrace you intensify. He approached you cautiously, aware of the anguish you were going through.

He turned to face you. "She was a great woman."

"She―was," you were quick to force the word out. You still looked so utterly heartbroken, but it seemed like you no longer had tears to spare. "I'm... going to find whoever did this," you muttered next, voice lacing with steel. "I won't let them free. I can't―this is the least I could do for her."

He nodded. Of course, he would extend his help too. All evidence pointed to this being the work of a curse user, which meant it wouldn't be long before you could find them.

It was easier said than done. Coming to terms didn't mean you would be able to go back to the way things were. A part of you was permanently shredded, and it would never be the same anymore. Megumi realized it firsthand when one night, a little over a week after the funeral, he heard quiet whimpers from your bedroom.

Truthfully, he also felt a sense of emptiness as well. Even though he didn’t know his mother-in-law that well, he remembered seeing her soft smile for him during the wedding, and of course the fact that she had sent many boxes of oranges just for you. He knew for a fact that she loved and cherished you so much.

And so, he tapped lightly on your door. Because the urge just got too much, and seeing you in grief made something in him want to rush to your side just to make sure that you were okay.

“Can I come in?”

Meanwhile inside, you had dampened your pillows with tears due to the dream of your happy childhood that just woke you up. Megumi's voice startled you as you tried to compose yourself.

You had noticed it. He had become even more considerate for you as of late, perhaps driven by sheer pity or sympathy. You didn’t care which—the fact that he did at all warmed your heart in a way you wouldn’t find the correct word to describe with, and you were grateful for his unflappable presence.

You wiped away your tears, and replied. “Yes.”

Megumi entered your room then, in his black sweater and visibly weary eyes. Despite his exhaustion, his concern for you was evident as his gaze met yours. “Are you alright?”

“…I’m fine. Sorry if I woke you.”

“No, I was getting the water,” he explained. “Do you have trouble sleeping?”

“Oh no... Not really.”

He hummed. “Want some company?”

You blinked. You would have never expected that Megumi would willingly offer you his presence just because he heard you sniffle to yourself at the dead of the night.

It was tempting—to continuously take advantage of his kindness. You knew it wasn’t right. You swore you knew.

But tonight…

Fushiguro Megumi is still your husband. By name and law it might be, but he did all his husbandly duties perfectly regardless. He was there to defend you, and hold you when you lost the only thing that mattered in your life.

And so as any wife would, you took up the offer of being in his presence. “Yeah.”

Megumi closed the door to your bedroom and studied you intently, his dark eyes narrowing. "Have you eaten tonight? I'm sorry I missed dinner. My mission ran late."

You found comfort in that simple question. "I didn't have the appetite. Anyway, it's okay."

His brow furrowed at your answer. "You can't go without eating anything. You'll get hungry and miserable."

To your surprise, Megumi left your room and then returned promptly, holding a box of cheesecake from a popular bakery in his hand.

"When did you get that?"

"On the way after finishing my job," he replied curtly, offering the treat. "Here. Eat now."

You were slightly taken aback as the pretty cheesecake was now in your hands. "It's midnight. I'm going to build up calories," you whined but clamped your mouth shut when he threw you a withering look. With a sigh, you pierced the fork through the fluffy cake and took a bite.

It was tasty, and you shyly indulged in another bite as Megumi smirked, as if silently conveying an "I told you so."

"No longer feeling as miserable, are we?" he asked with a hint of laughter.

You just hummed in response, avoiding eye contact. He chuckled. "Good then. I'm glad you like it."

It occurred to you that Megumi actually didn't like sweet things. He always took his coffee black, and he rarely ate the pastries you'd bring back. So he must have bought this with you in mind.

A warm feeling enveloped you, realizing that someone still cared about you enough to consider your feelings and bring you comfort.

"Thank you, Megumi," you mumbled, looking down at the half-eaten cake. The loss of your mother still stung you and in the darkest corner of your heart, you barely managed to find the will to continue living. But Megumi's presence made it better, a hundred times over. And most of all, you feel safe with him.

"Don't mention it." He breathed a sigh of relief.

It wouldn’t have been easy, and he knew it was going to take time. Healing was a process, and he was willing to be there every step of the way.

“Your eyes are red,” he pointed out. “Do you want me to get you a cool compress?”

You responded while still chewing the cheesecake. “Mmm, no. That’s okay.”

“Don’t be stubborn. Last time you didn’t listen to me, you almost tripped if I didn’t catch you.”

“That’s purely by accident! And hey, did you remember when we—”

That night, you and Megumi sat together on your bed, reminiscing about various things before eventually basking in comfortable silence. You didn't know when you started getting sleepy, but you did and the next thing you knew, in the morning, the first sight that greeted you was Megumi's sleeping face.

He was here the entire night. And you realized that with him here, you were no longer overcome with the urge to weep as much.

What is this feeling? Why couldn't you take your eyes off him?

Megumi is fairly attractive. He looked grumpy and unfriendly by default, but even then he was still handsome. And now that he was defenseless like this, he looked soft. It was the sight only you, his wife, got to see. No one else could come close to see him like this as you did.

Because you are his wife, and he is your husband.

In this very marriage that you instigated.

Your chest twinged as a wave of guilt washed over you. How could you forget that? You were a sinner. All of this pain and suffering—you had brought it upon yourself, and your mother had paid the price.

A fresh wave of tears welled up in your eyes. Your sweet mother. She was the reason of this whole sham marriage. Now that the reason no longer existed, there was truly no need for either you or Megumi to continue on this path.

It felt even worse because you were falling for your husband. You might have deceived yourself until now, but this was an undeniable moment of truth. You weren't exactly sure when it had started, but you had willingly let Megumi capture your heart and have it. He was blunt but reliable and treated you well. Truth be told, you were genuinely enjoying this new life too.

But this has to stop. You couldn't fool over him forever. For his sake, you had to let him go.

Today was Sunday, so neither of you had to work. You had gone to the kitchen to ponder how you should bring the topic up when he stumbled in, still looking half-asleep.

"Ah, I fell asleep in your room," he remarked, yawning. The sight tugged your heartstrings because he looked so unguarded. You wanted to smother him, hug him, kiss him even―

No. This fantasy ends here.

"Megumi," you began, your tone carrying an edge that instantly put him on alert. "We need to talk."

He visibly frowned. "Yes?"

And nothing would've prepared him for the words coming out of you next.

"I think we should get a divorce."

✩°｡ ⋆ next -> chapter six : a longer dream

🏷️ taglist

@moonmalice @hellothere9597 @qtnfer @firstplaidpeachnickel @waddlingwanderer @chilichopsticks @satorus-slut @dcvilxswish @lees-chaotic-brain @tojirin @bluebreadenthusiast @pandabooster @cole-silas @becsmarvel @giuli-in-earth @fuckimgenderfluid @haitanisrarity @kimura-uzuri @bicchaan

[yanderes-galore]

I have a request. Could I please request a Yandere Princess Cadence for The Yandere MLP Virus AU?

Hm... sure! Doing this with Cadance could be cool! (She's a fav of mine) Using @koipaper 's idea for how the virus started (Hope I tagged the right person 😭) Not fully proofread!

Yandere Virus! Princess Cadance Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Yandere virus, Blood, Violence, Death, Murder, Body horror, DARK THEMES, Forced relationship attempted.

Poor Cadance has no clue what Twilight has done.

The princess knew of the younger princess's crush, but didn't know the extent.

She had no idea Twilight tried to cast a love spell on you... only to do it wrong and curse you.

Upon being sent a letter of distress, Cadance left Shining Armor and Flurry Heart to check things out in Ponyville.

She worries for Twilight... especially if this really is some sort of emergency.

Cadance has no idea what awaits her.

When she arrives at Twilight's castle everything's a mess.

There's no sign of the princess... and Ponyville itself looks in disarray.

The Alicorn is careful, wandering the streets carefully.

She even cringes back when she sees blood in the streets.

What happened...?

Going further into Ponyville she's met with broken architecture and blood.

Perhaps even a corpse or two.

Soon she even sees the results of the virus.

Emancipated ponies... bloody wounds... all staggering about with smiles and bloodshot/dilated eyes.

It's by this point Cadance knows she has to escape.

But then a pony comes rushing away from a horde, fear on their face.

Cadance charges her magic and steps in, pacifying the infected while standing in front of the pony.

By the time it's all done the alicorn turns to the pony.

Said pony is you... injured and bleeding... shock written all over your face.

"P-Princess Cadance...!" You manage to gasp out. "You shouldn't be here!"

The alicorn is confused as you sob.

"P-Please... leave me be...! Save yourself!"

There's then movement behind the alicorn, she turns around to see a familiar purple alicorn staring her down.

The older princess freezes.

"Twilight...?"

The purple alicorn says nothing, looking maybe the worst out of all the infected.

Then her gaze stares at the other alicorn.

"Why do you have them?"

Cadance glances at you now standing behind her, you're shaking on your legs.

"Twilight... what happened...?"

There's shambling silhouettes that walk closer, Cadance recognizes them as Twilight's friends.

They're all infected....

"Give them back..." The purple alicorn rasps, stepping forward.

"Don't take what isn't yours...!"

It's then Cadance uses her magic to carry you, running off with you.

You're too weak to be able to warn her anymore... you're so tired...

Cadance flies and runs for her life, infected ponies following close behind.

She'll save you... you'll be protected...

She just needs to get out of her.

By the end of the escape attempt Cadance has a few wounds... but nothing bad.

By the time she manages to lose the other ponies she focuses on your wounds.

You're too tired to fight anymore... you're happy to be out of Ponyville...

But you fear for what happens next.

Cadance is oblivious to the curse you have, carefully taking you back to her castle to tend to your weak body.

You're kept in your own room while Cadance explains to Shining Armor what happened.

You may be bandaged... but you still cry.

Not from pain... but at the fact you realize you've caused all this.

Unless anything is done about it... you'll cause it all to happen again.

You fear corrupting Cadance... so you plan to leave once rested.

But as she checks up on you... you can see her gaze shift.

You fear it's already too late...

The Mane Six are long gone in their insanity... the rest of Ponyville might be too...

Your next goal is to escape the Crystal Empire... you have a theory on how to help yourself...

You need either Zecora... or Queen Chrysalis.

So, without thanking Princess Cadance... you leave.

Said Princess then freaks out when she sees you gone.

After all... the virus has settled in...

She won't stop searching for you...

Not until she has you... like every other infected pony you've encountered.

You're in danger without her.