#cw elderly violence

[acewizardinspace]

We see the attack on the jedi temple in ep 3, the Kenobi show and from Grogu, and they all show how horrific it was, but none of those have shown us the elderly.

It is only logical that during the war most of the people in the temple were those too old or sick to fight, yet, in all of these scenes we are only shown what appears to be mid-life adults.

But I just can't stop thinking about the elderly jedi.

The jedi who haven't picked up their lightsabers in 10 years, let alone actually turned it on, standing up to protect their homes. The jedi who gave themselves one final mission, to save as many of their people's children as they can. The jedi who fought in their hover chairs, who didn't even try to evacuate, who tried to stall the onslaught for just a little while longer.

I get really emotional thinking about the elderly jedi who are typically forgotten in these discussions.

[blueparadis]

╰┈➤ ULTRAVIOLENCE ✦ SUGURU GETO.

⟣ ──┈ · · · + synopsis ➢ On Christmas evening of 2009 Geto Suguru receives an unexpected gift, a cure to his loneliness, and a curse to his mission of creating his "new world".

⟣ ──┈ · · · + cw ➣ fem!reader, cult leader!geto suguru, canon divergent, profanity, prostitution, yandere!getou suguru, possessive behavior,smut, f1ngering, hand job, mutual masturbation, nipple stimulation, mutual pining, heavy angst, angst and tragedy, canon-typical violence; 4,7k word count + this this for @nagumoan's collab: 'dance with the dead'

| blog navigation + koct’23 masterlist. + cross-posted to ao3.|

30th of September, 2007.

The warmth and the humidity in the air have been settling on Geto’s skin for a while. The shrill cry of cicadas has been ringing in his ears. Even now, he can hear it amidst the sound of running water, washing dishes, and the table fan. 

“Otou-san will be home soon, Sugu. You don’t have to wait for him to come back. Nowadays, he works till late at night.” The elderly woman puts the poached egg in the ramen bowl and places it in front of her son. Suguru stares at the food with plain slate eyes. “Your father thinks he can help you with your higher studies.” —his mother wipes her frail, slightly wrinkled hands in her apron before dragging the chair and sitting in front of her son, face to face— “But actually, he just misses having you around the house since you moved in the dorms last month. Is the food there okay? Are you eating well?”

Suguru does not speak. He gulps remembering the taste of curses. He has been doing his job like a robot all this summer— exorcise, absorb, digest. exorcise, absorb, digest, exorcise, absorb, digest, absorb, digest— “How is Satoru?” his mother asks pulling him back into reality. Her smile was so soft smile that Suguru thought it could make lilies bloom. He just listens to his mother like he usually does whenever he visits her. His eyes fall onto the ramen bowl again, there are hot fumes emerging from it. They must smell delicious like he remembers. But unfortunately, it failed to thrum the strings of Geto Suguru’s heart. 

“Okaa-san, it’s okay. I’m not that hungry. I can wait for Otou-san to come home.” he remarks, smiling at his mother letting the food get cold. He has done this so many times, engaging his mother in talk so that she does not notice how hard it is for him to chew, swallow & eat without experiencing the taste and smell of it. All he can feel on his tongue is the rotten taste of curses, the aroma of dying corpses of his fellow jujutsu sorcerers. Maybe this is why he is losing weight so fast, not because of the heat. The more he tried to cling onto the mundanity of humans the farther it slipped away from him; like sand spilling through the gaps of his fingers.

“But why aren’t you in your school dress, my dear?” His mother asks, noticing him in normal black trousers and shirt.

“Oh! It got too much dirt.” He responds, looking at the clock in the kitchen. 

This time will be the last time he sees his mother’s smile, hears her voice, sees her cook food for him, and the last time he welcomes his father to home.

3rd of February, 2008

“Oka-san. Otou-san. I’m turning 18 today.”  Suguru jocked down to sit in front of his parents' graveyard. He places a few incense sticks with the fragrance of chrysanthemum, two bowls full of ramen, and some sake in front of the graveyard. He looks at the poached eggs, and the lump in his throat bobs once. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come on your funeral day.”

“Neeh—Oka-san, are you listening?” His eyes perk up. “Is it bad that I don’t regret any of this?” There is a pause before he stands up again. He finishes his last bit of cigarette and burns the butt with his cursed energy. “But you know what? I’m now less angry and more guilty. Guilty of so many things—”

“Geto-sama, we don’t have much time. They will tail us soon if we are here any longer than this.” Manami speaks with worry carefully buried under her commanding tone. His phone vibrates. He checks the caller ID. Shui Kong it read. A salacious curve appears at one corner of his lip. Disbanding the star religious group was a piece of cake for him. And, now with the help of Shui Kong, he will get an endless influx of money and curses in no time yet it would not be enough to defeat ‘the strongest’; he thinks. nope, that’s wrong, deep down, he knows that.

“Yeah, you are right. Nanako and Mimiko will get scared if they wake up and find none of us.” Geto smiles before turning on his feet to walk. As he starts to walk Manami waits till he goes ahead of her, at least eight feet from her and then she follows Geto Suguru. Geto's shadow does not even touch Manami’s, never does, she makes sure of that. She does not belong to his shadow, nor as his comrade but perhaps a part of the ‘family’ that Geto-sama keeps talking about. 

“I won’t be here next year,” Suguru murmurs to himself before stepping out of the graveyard. He never looked back that day not while walking, not while getting in the car, and not even through the mirror. He did not feel the need to look back.

24th of December 2009

Geto Suguru skims through the thick crowd in the front lounge of one of the most expensive brothels in the city like the bow of a ship through the waves. There are men on couches, beautiful women over them, and the blended aroma of strong cologne and burning tobacco fills the air. Not only that, the tingling music mixed with waves of laughter of women and men makes Geto slaver at the thought of killing them all. He could do it now. He has both, power and confidence. But he is not here to create a massacre.

“Getou-sama,” a familiar low hum reaches his ears making him turn his head. At first, he thought he was just imagining it then he felt a tug in his baggy pants. He lowers his eyes to the ground.

“Ahhhhh! Nanako—Suguru takes her in his arms and clears his throat before speaking making it tart at every stretch of his words— “Didn’t I tell you to wait for me at the car? It's not safe for you here.” Not only it is unsafe but also inappropriate. A girl of her age should not witness the path that could also been her if he had not saved Nanako and her twin sister two years ago. Geto strolls back towards his car. “Negi, make sure she does not follow me. ” He instructs this young lad who drove Geto today keeping a sleeping Nanako inside the car. 

“Well, she wouldn't have been here if she didn't fight with her sister,” Negi responds before bowing down. Geto watches the car go inside the parking area and then he vanishes into the thick crowd like a pebble in the wind of lust, power, money, and scandal. He earns a few curious stares and with such enormously handsome features and elegantly electrifying personality who would miss? It dawns on his mind that he killed the Yakuza who owned this brothel a week ago. The crowd is bearable, well, penetrable at least. Walking amongst non-sorcerers makes him nauseous at times but now he has reached the point where a part of him is willing to abolish this useless crowd in a snap. But he does not need to, not now. Now is not the time, nor the place. 

Geto Suguru should have been at his new home with his new family spending this fine Christmas evening drinking. In all honesty, he did not even have to cut through this lustrous mob if Shui Kong kept his word, that is, delivering the money in the proper place and time. The only reason why he came in person to collect the money was because Shui Kong was the one who helped him to get a grasp on the star religious group. Not only that, he kept giving Geto information about such groups, and with his cursed manipulation technique he gobbled them up in no time. It was a walk in the park for him.

There was a steady flow of curses and money. Even certain small yakuza gangs, the smart ones but with lower manpower, started to send favors to appease him. He is like a god of the underworld now. But some dumb power-hungry yakuza men refused to retort to such steps and hence, they fell prey to his curses. He is going to eventually kill all these foxes but not now. He needs them now, he needs them to dilute his presence and make himself untraceable in the hands of jujutsu sorcerers. Killing the lions has already been a huge loss. 

“There you are, Mr.Kong.” Geto remarked walking into the room. He does not take a sit rather stands against the door almost covering the entrance. 

“Forgive me—” Shui starts with a brilliant smile that has cracked more deals than existed. He is not a pawn but a rook. “I would have gone to your place but I am needed to resolve an issue here.”

Geto chuckles. “Maybe it's your need that brought you here.” He quipped as Shui kept two briefcases on the bed. 

Shui Kong gives him an assertive look before smiling. He lights up a cigarette and says, “ Would have been a happier man if that were the case but— ” There is a ridge between Geto’s eyebrows as he refuses to finish his thoughts. Blowing a puff into the air he turns his head to the other side of the room, towards another door, and yells from the bottom of his lungs. “Princess, I don't have all day.” Geto’s eyebrows do not let go of the tension. His arms are now crossed tightly across his chest, lower lip gleaming since he swiped his tongue across it. He just needs to see this princess, just for once. 

“You see, someone asked for her, a fox from a rival gang.” Kong starts to explain. The cigarette in between his index and middle finger keeps sizzling in scarlet red. “he is saying he is gonna pay full for her— you know — but she was attacked while working —”

Geto’s dark eyes are now stuck on the doorknob. It starts to rotate. He registers Shui’s words who is scrolling through his phone to call them. The click of the doorknob makes Geto release the breath he was holding back, slowly. Before the slightest part between the door and the frame, Geto’s lips part exclaiming, “Shhhhhhh!” with a hiss at the end. 

You unlock the door and wait for an opening to interrupt their conversation.

Shui Kong looks at Geto and then he follows those dark drunk eyes of Geto Suguru that took him to the other side of the room. There you stood, in a translucent white dress covering you from head to toe. There is a rose around your neck and rose leaves on the hem of your full-sleeved dress but beneath the dress, anyone could easily see the bandages around certain parts of your body — scattered and ripped. Your nipples are visible too. They are perked. Geto maintains his stance, hands inside his pocket and standing by supporting his shoulder against the door frame. Only his lips move, growling and raging underneath. “So, there are still those who don't obey me,” His eyes drink in your appearance so shamelessly; utterly shamelessly. 

You rake away your eyes from this man of Six feet and some inches, clamping your palms around your upper arms. Geto walks inside the room. “There will be no exchange of anything from here, Shui Kong-san.” He does not take any of the suitcases just your cell phone from the dressing table.

“Passcode?”

You exchange glances with Shui Kong before opening your mouth. He nods. You answer him, “4444.” Geto's eyes flash onto you checking if you are mocking him or not. You are not. He unlocks your phone checks the search history. 

“There’s a lot of porn here.” 

You rub your upper arms slowly and say, “It’s not like my clients are interested in my pleasure— or my well-being.” 

“You need to check her phone to tell? Can't you tell just by looking at her?” That earns Shui Kong a momentary glare. 

“Yet you are willing to sell her,” Geto prompts sarcastically with a smile plastered on his face. There is an edge in his voice. Shui does not protest. He knows what he is doing. “You can stay with me,” He offers, without thinking about the consequences of it. “Of course, you’ll keep working, then.” It takes you a moment to decipher his words but it is not something unexpected. 

“Oh, I don’t mind, whatever you want.” You say quickly. “I can follow orders.” Embarrassment seeps into your skin as you realize how rushed those words were that came out of your mouth. Scanning him through the corner of your eye, you find him smirking still checking your phone.

“Get her things in the car. She will be staying with me from now on.” Geto remarks slipping the phone in his pocket before leaving.

Shui Kong sits on the bed, soft and pink with a thud. “Do you realize what you are doing, Y/N?” 

“You heard him.” You say getting out of those high heels and changing into flats. Even though you are bruised you managed to get your trolley. It is a good thing that you wore a long coat to cover yourself up. People are already staring, what would they have done if you turned up in such scantily dressed attire? Your Madame has already been summoned. Getting out of the building you look around and find Geto Suguru talking to your Madame. Shui Kong is also there. The moment you open the door of the car you spot a kid sleeping on the back seat. This must be Nanako. You adjust the kid's head on your lap. She's gonna get her neck sprained if she sleeps like that. Through the window, you see Geto still talking to your Madame, as he keeps jerking his leg impatiently and occasionally scratching his forehead with his thumb.

“We can't afford to do that — her regulars — they will complain. ” she tartly remarks. 

“Well, give them a discount. You know how the system works, so figure something out with Shui Kong-san.” 

“Have it your way then. She was a jinx anyways ” She remarks letting all the disappointment out. It piques Geto’s interest because when he saw you, you were not looking at him, you were looking behind him. A feeble curse not visible to normal people but visible to people with enough cursed energy to become a sorcerer or an exorcist. He specifically customized this curse after digesting it to pick up ‘talents’ like you who are considered as ‘freaks’ by those idiots. Just like Nanako and Mimiko.

“What do you mean?” He tries to sound curious hiding his disgust underneath the question because he has seen all the gore behind the glory of it all. 

“People say that she is a witch. She kills men and takes their money. She’s got a black cat, a big one. Can talk to birds. I’ve seen her—” Suddenly the street lights, the honking of the cars, and the sound of footsteps of passersby became loud. Geto could not hear her properly anymore. Damn filthy monkeys.

“Excuse me, I’ve got to make a call.” One more minute of her blabbering nonsense he would have killed her. Geto calls Manami stepping aside in the dark shade of the alley. He talks for about five minutes before looking your way. You do not look away, rather give him a warm smile and bow your head to appreciate his kind gesture. He immediately turns around. You think he did not see you or maybe looking at someone else or somewhere else but all he could do is stumble on his words while talking to Manami. It’s distracting. You’re distracting. 

Geto Suguru walks towards the car and you fold Nanako’s legs a little to make space for him but he disappoints you thoroughly. He sits beside the driver, the barrier is up so you can not see his face. Disappointment and hurt sedimenting at the bottom of your heart you arch your head and close your eyes. It feels like, after a long time, you have closed your eyes and not for the pretense of pleasure.

January, 2010.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Geto drawls lazily as he sits on the sofa, still in his kasaya freshly finishing after seeing his visitors. He was out of town for almost a week and hence today's session was longer than usual. He needs a bath, a nice warm bath, not some scum to show up at his doorstep begging for you.

There are a bunch of men standing behind the older man, who seems to be the leader of the group; all armed, and Geto sits alone at the opposite. At times like these, he feels a little closer to the god. A middle-aged man, speaks keeping his gun on the center table, perhaps to assert dominance Geto thinks too but it makes him nothing but widen his smile. “You have something that belongs to me. And I have something that would interest you more so why don't we—”

Splotches of blood fall on his gun, warmth settling on his cheeks too like drops of oil. He turns his head to find that one of his men is sliced into two. Geto clears his throat gaining his attention again. “What a mess you have made, Toshiro-san. ” He gets up from his seat and before leaving he remarks huskily, “Please clean this up before you leave, Toshiro-san” The man, dumbfounded by what just happened, nods in agreement watching the man disappear into the inner quarters.

The dawn dies, painting the blue sky with its blood-red, agony welcoming the full moon and her bevy of stars. At night, Geto Suguru is not a monk anymore. He is much more than that — a father figure to two homeless orphans, an idol to a few who believe in his dream of creating a ‘new world’ and a savior to you.

It has been almost a month since Geto Suguru brought you to his home. At the dawn of the 25th of December 2009, when you woke up, Manami was there to help you with the chores and show you around. You have spotted Negi a few times while roaming and exploring the house, but there was no sign of that man, your so-called ‘savior’. When you asked Manami, she was rather cold while answering, “Geto-sama will be home around New Year's.”

It was not hard to pinpoint her jealousy for you. “Whore”, “Slut”, “Homebreaker”, “Witch” — the list continues. Her jealousy is just the tip of ice-berg. Maybe she had to sacrifice something greater when Geto took her in, something more important than freedom. Apart from her cold demeanor, everything was just fine; it was more than you could ask for. The wounds and bruises have started to fade. They are barely pinnable now. Nanako has a twin sister, Mimiko. They have warmed up to you more quickly than you imagined and a part of you was grateful to them since Manami became humbler in her gestures.

This fine morning, you noticed a new pair of shoes near the doormat. You knew it had to be his, Geto Suguru. He is home. Today might be the first time you get to talk to him, pay off his debts, or maybe keep working while staying here just like he said or whatever he decides to do with you. It was odd that he did not suspect you at all, or maybe he told someone to do a background check. He seems like the kind of person who would hold such powers. You have heard about him even if they reached out to you in the form of rustling rumors.

“Are you comfortable here?” 

Losing your balance you topple on your feet and eventually fall on the ground. Nanako and Mimiko peeks by his legs. They are not even at his knee length, so small, so fragile and so full of life. They laugh and so do you. Geto Suguru is unimpressed. He crouches down pulling the girls in front of him. “Go and play in my room but don’t fight, alright?” The shift in his demeanor amazes you. He has changed. He is nothing like you have been warned about. 

As soon as the twins leave, giggles and voices filling the corridor Geto’s eyes shift on you. You are still on the ground, legs half-folded. He extends his hand towards you to help you get up but you flinch away, sliding against the wall. In the middle of this long corridor, Geto Suguru is on his knees before you watching as if something fell from the sky, a boon, an angel. 

His lips extended from ear to ear, flashing his teeth. “What's up with this coy act of yours?” He wets his bottom lip.“Too timid for a whore. I know you can see things.” Your eyebrows grew closer as you got up and formed a response in your head.

“It's hard to break years of habit,” you speak, “Sir.” you quip, seeing him still on his knees. Why isn’t he standing up? Does he need a hand?

“Not gonna complain that I called you a ‘whore’ ?” He taunts, standing up and facing you.

“Too timid for that sir,” you say keeping up the eye contact. But that does not last long. Geto’s dark globules follow your behind. You notice too that there is a shadow on the wall of the corridor of a lady. He sighs heavily exclaiming, “Manami. You can come out now,” 

Timidly she walks out of the room exclaiming in a firm tone after clearing her throat, “Getou-sama, your bath has been prepared.” 

“Have you prepared my clothes too?” He narrows the gulf in between the two of you and grabs a few strands of your hair smelling it, letting his lips graze over a little, and checking your reactions as Manami answers.

“No. Not yet. I’ll do it right—“Actually, prepare two sets of clothes.” Geto interrupts. The way your chest heaves, up and down, frantically tempts him to tease you more. “Hers too. She will be joining me.” 

Geto was kind not to ask you to strip in front of him. It was not like you would not be used to that; you had practiced enough still you thought his eyes would alone eat you away if you were to undress in front of him. Curling up your braided hair in a bun and securing it with a clip you enter the bathroom. He is already in the bathtub, head arched, eyes closed, chest heaving up and down. You walk slowly trying not to make any sound. “You know, of all the curses I’ve swallowed—” you gasp loudly palming your face. 

“Can you not do that, please? Every time i feel like my heart is gonna jump out of my chest.” So many words in one sentence; a question; a request; a demand; a plea. Suguru blinks: once, twice, and thrice. “Yours have a very distinct sweet smell.” His words slurred, inaudible at the end. This is the first time he has seen you speak so much and that too, only to him but that is not what warms his heart. ‘Sir.’ you did not add sir. He hated the honorifics with you. “And . . . I’m not a curse.” You mutter before dipping yourself in the bathtub sitting against the wall of the bathtub facing him.

You notice the huge X-shaped scar over his chest. “How did you get that?” you ask playing with the water not meeting his eye. His toes touch the side of your hips, hands resting on the white of the bathtub but when he does not answer you look up to him and see his hands near your ankles. There is a brief eye contact of realization about what’s he up to and in the next blink you are close to him.

“Do you wanna feel it?” He asks touching his forehead against yours.

“The pain?” You say, running his hands over his chest careful enough not to touch his nipple. “Or just the scar.” 

“How did you get this?” He rubs the mark of one of your wounds on your arm. “And this?” he asks, a little concerned by the number and place of the wounds you have all over the body. They have faded but not totally. The agony on his face is clear but you remind yourself it is not because of you. It must be because he is reminded of how he got his scar. 

“Mostly clients.” You answer noticing his hands trailing up to your breasts. Your mouth parts, eager moan willing to escape. “But some men like them. Some men don’t. So, they pay to heal them in a way like they were never there,”

“What kind do you think I’m?” Suguru asks but you fail to answer since his hands have started to massage your breasts, nice and slow. Your moans have started to weigh more, the bottom and lower lip parting with each other more. Your vision turns black as his mouth latches on the column of your neck but that is not where it is needed now. Your taut nipples need desperate attention. Moving closer to him, your palm is over his cock. He is hard, leaking even. A gran escapes from his mouth, edgy and elongated. One of his fingers dips inside your vagina. Woah. You’re wet, so very wet. Even under the water, he can feel your arousal, even smell it. You buck your hips a bit giving him an invitation. The sloshing sound of water feels more embarrassing than your moans. He does not take it but when you start to pump his cock in long, deep, and fast strokes he leans towards you taking one of your nipples in his mouth. You should have known how strong he is when he dragged you closer to himself because the way he is sucking and biting you think you will cum soon. He starts to rub your clit in rough, rigorous movements as his mouth works on your nipples. For a moment your hands feel lithe; your hands pause working his cock.

“You smell so good,” He murmurs unlatching his mouth and licking up to your collarbone from the base of your cleavage. You twist and tilt your head as his lips explore your neck while pushing his fingers up and down inside your vagina, nudging your sweet spot. Your hands start to pump his cock again, harder and faster this time, reverting him the favor with the same intensity and emotion. You feel him smirk against your skin before he bites your earlobes making you jolt. Another arm that rested on the valley of your waist tugs you closer, again; you think he is going to pull you onto his lap, fuck you deep, nice, and full. “Fuck” he mutters feeling his cock tense up. The sloshing of water now gets mixed with your loud moans mixed with his low grunts. Geto looks at your face, your eyes meeting his and occasionally landing on his lips and one of your hands gripping too hard on the whites of the bathtub. Both of your hands pick up the pace, matching the intensity and the ragged breathing. Eyes rolling white, jaw clenching hard, head arching back as the wave of orgasm approaches both of you.

“You’re close,” you huff and pant in between feeling his warm ejaculated fluid onto your hand.

“So are you,” he murmurs cumming as you keep pumping his cock till it stops. Geto pulls his fingers out of your messy aching cunt and shamelessly puts them in his mouth, licking and sucking it to the base of his fingers. You watch him as if he is the man to take your first time. The loneliness, the affection, the desire— all hit Suguru in a flash like a downpour as he notices you looking. He gets out of the bathtub and steps into the shower zone. When you hear the water running, you step out of the bathtub too but do not join him in the shower instead grab your phone with a towel that was in the pocket of his previous attire. Typing a number, you hit the send button and immediately delete it from the history.

The message read: [“I’m in.”]

note: special thanks to my dearest fumi aka dom ( @akiniku ) for constantly listening to my ideas, talking me through them, and beta-reading this when I finished it. I finished writing this today and it was so rushed by Dom talked me through it and gave me the course I needed. hope you enjoyed reading it. thank you for making it this far. i do want to continue this but will see if i can manage time to write after october.

also tagging @orchid3a @semisgroupie

[nonetoon]

✨ Big Comic Recommendation List! ✨

I’ve been wanting to compile some of my favorite comics into one big list in no particular order for a while. Again, I just want to reiterate that I’m in no way any sort of comic critic and all of these are just books that I personally enjoy, and if they seem up your alley I hope you’ll enjoy them too!

I also want to state that these are definitely more adult oriented books and not for kids. A lot of these stories have pretty graphic violence and tackle more adult topics like sexual or physical assault, so I’ll also be putting content warnings for where it applies.

1. Afternoon at McBurger’s by Ana Galvañ

Afternoon at McBurger’s takes place in a bright, colorful future where a group of young girls finally have the opportunity to participate in the Once Party provided by McBurger’s, a fast food restaurant. The Once Party offers a fantastical opportunity for anyone who turns eleven years old: the chance to visit themselves in the future!

The limited color palette of pink, teal, and yellow make for a very nice aesthetic that lends itself to the strange, futuristic world you get just a glimpse into. For such a short story there is a lot to keep track of that makes rereading fun and I felt like I discovered something new every time I went through it again.

CW: physical abuse

2. No One Else by R. Kikuo Johnson

Another short one but is definitely one of the more impactful. No One Else is about a woman (a nurse and full time caretaker for her elderly father) and her brother (a musician who has a much more strained relationship with their father) trying to process the sudden, accidental death of their father while also looking after her son. A very honest, holds-no-punches look at family, abuse, and neglect as each character struggles to cope with this sudden situation they find themselves in.

The artwork is beautifully done and the use of blues with a splash of orange makes for a great visual impact. I’m a big fan of character driven stories, and this book provides an interesting and messy glimpse into these characters lives. Very down to earth, very honest, and nicely tied together.

CW: physical abuse

3. Birds of Maine by Michael DeForge

A fun and meandering story about a society of birds that migrated to the moon to form their own world, away from human involvement. Birds of Maine follows both a group of young birds trying to find their place in this giant, complex world as well as gives glimpses of the many different facets of bird society and how they function.

This comic gives a very funny, matter-of-fact look into the absurd world of birds! It’s overall a great read if you like world building, and it’s presented with beautiful line work, bright pops of color, and abstract shapes that make up the bustling world and characters. The story overall feels like a stroll: it generally follows along a specific story with certain characters, but isn’t afraid to wander off to other points of interest.

4. Coyote Doggirl by Lisa Hanawalt

Set in the wild west, Coyote Doggirl follows said character as she tries to escape a group of bandits after she kills their leader’s brother. Along the way she meets new allies and has to decide to confront the past she is trying desperately to get away from or keep on running. It’s a funny yet honest book set in the beauty of the desert.

The story and characters in Coyote Doggirl are both hilarious and crude, which makes the more serious and genuine moments even more impactful. The loose style of the watercolors throughout this comic perfectly match the beautiful colors of the desert landscape. This comic also has probably one of my favorite endings (which I’m not going to spoil here).

CW: nudity, sexual assault, graphic violence

5. Eight-Lane Runaways by Henry McCausland

Eight-Lane Runaways follows a group of runners participating in a marathon through a fantastical and lively world. Each have their own motivations and desires for entering the race, and we get to see how each resolves as the race goes on.

The quirky and oddball characters and their ever-changing, winding landscape go perfectly hand-in-hand. It’s always amusing when clearly bizarre fantasy worlds, characters, and events are treated very plainly within the story. The characters are simple but fun to follow along with, from a character who is a frog, to a character who follows the instructions of a magical coat, to a character simply looking for two missing cats. Along with the beautifully done artwork and sprawling pages of landscapes, it feels as though you are only getting the smallest look into this big, wild world you want to learn more about.

6. The Book Tour by Andi Watson

The Book Tour follows a rather unlucky new author as, not only is his debut book not selling well, but a string of murders is following his exact tour route, leaving all signs pointing at him as the culprit.

It’s a very dry but still incredibly entertaining and suspenseful story. It’s hilarious, quaint, and baffling to watch the poor man get hit with bad luck after bad luck, only for him to be very proper, if not completely lost, about the whole ordeal. There are also many moving parts and details going on in the background that make for a great murder mystery story, definitely deserving of a reread to connect all the pieces that might have been missed on the first read through (I know I definitely did).

7. Heaven No Hell by Michael DeForge

A collection of 17 amazing short stories looking at a variety of characters and concepts. Everything from a woman pretending to be a surgeon, a karaoke party, a family killed in a car crash, and the creation of a hypothetical child.

My favorite stories of the bunch are “One Of My Students Is A Murderer… But Which?”, “Surprise Party”, “Album”, “Road Trip”, and “Soap Opera.” All of the stories in this comic are perfectly bite-sized looks into a variety of interesting visuals and concepts that keep you engaged from segment to segment.

CW: mild nudity

8. Flavor Girls by Loïc Locatelli-Kournwsky and Angel De Santiago

In Flavor Girls, a mysterious alien ship appears in Earth’s orbit, and its passengers cause death and destruction for life on earth. Luckily, a group of women dubbed “Flavor Girls” by their fans are gifted magical, fruit themed powers that aid them in fighting off the alien army. The newest, unexpected member of the group, however, is having trouble catching up.

By far one of the most visually stunning comics I have ever read. Very, very reminiscent of Sailor Moon in its characters, aesthetic, and story. This comic has some of my favorite character designs, the alien designs in particular are extremely fun to look at. Unlike the other comics on this list, it is not a complete story but at least it gives you something to look forward to!

CW: mild graphic violence

9. Beautiful Darkness by Fabien Vehlmann and Kerascoët

Last but absolutely not least, Beautiful Darkness is a surprisingly horrifying and violent story about cute and fun looking fairy-like characters trying to survive out in the woods. The less you know going in to this comic, the better.

The incredible beauty and meticulous detail of the environment in this comic lends itself well as a stark contrast to the horrific deaths littered throughout this story. It is bizarre watching how unfeeling and unbothered these cutesy fairytale creatures are with their friends dropping around them like flies, but it’s impossible to look away. Seeing how all of it shapes and warps the genuinely kind main character, Aurora, and the darker implications going on in the background make this a must read. By far one of the best openings to any comic I have ever read.

CW: gore, body horror

(That’s all I have for now! Hope to recommend more in the future ✌️)

[embossross]

From His Mind to Hers

chapter 13 >> Chapter 14>> masterlist

✣ Pairing: Hanma x AFAB fem!Reader

✣ Warning: 18+, minors DNI; unhealthy relationships & dark content

✣ Chapter CW: Processing trauma from abuse and sexual violence (rape aftermath), unhealthy coping mechanisms, revenge porn, slut shaming/misogyny, suicidal ideation (sort of – threats)

✣ Story CWs: patient/doctor relationships; smut (oral, ptv, pta, etc.), degradation, stalking, torture (not of y/n), murder, dubcon & abuse in c13, discussions of trauma and abuse, drug use, and more

✣ Synopsis: Forced into therapy, Hanma expects to waste his time and yours, but you’re not about to let the chance of a high-profile and higher paying patient slip through your grasp. The fact that you’re both attracted to each other doesn’t hurt either.

✣ Word Count: 5.5k+

The janitor deserves a raise.

The floors gleam, pearlescent and buffed to a shine that threatens to serve your reflection back to you. Where you sit, elbows to knees, staring at the floor, you notice every shoe scuff and dropped luggage tag. Fleeting messes that the janitor is quick to erase from existence. A few sweeps of the mop and everything returns to its former state, beautiful and shining.

“Flight NH451 to Okinawa is now boarding,” a crystalline voice announces first in Japanese, then English, then Mandarin.

No one else has time to study the floors. Compared to the bustle of Tokyo-Narita, Haneda Airport is calmer, but all airports in your experience share an atmosphere of restrained anxiety. For many people, it’s the one time they must completely surrender any pretenses of control over their lives and accept that they are subject to the whims of weather, technical failure, fate.

You know a thing or two about that.

Fussy babies burp and cry while their older siblings fare little better. The line for the Hong Kong Express baggage check stretches around the corner, creeping forward at a pace that promises a missed flight for whichever fool arrives with only two hours to make it to their terminal. A group of college-aged girls kneel on the floor, bags spread out as they shuffle the contents around, trying to find the magic formula that will sneak them below the weight limit. Hunched like they’re already exhausted from standing for so long, an elderly couple waits in mute silence, in a place beyond words. Nearly everyone else stares at their phones, willing the minutes to pass. It’s a fair difference from the energy you’d find over in arrivals, where half the passengers are haggard from a long day of international travel and the other half sprint, energized, into the arms of waiting loved ones. It churns your stomach to think about all those people, crying through tears of joy.

It may appear like the line isn’t moving, but it’s like the Argonaut. From where you’ve sat to the side watching for the last four hours, you know an assemblage of new faces will gradually replace these, the line somehow never shorter but its components entirely new.

In all this time, not one person has taken note of the woman rooted to one spot, the perpetual observer of the thousands of people who all have better places to be.

The promise of invisibility is what drew you to the airport this morning. Amid the minutiae and petty concerns of the mob, you may as well be furniture. Surrendering to that invisibility evokes a blissful relief.

It is your natural habitat.

As a child, you mastered the art of being there and not there at the same time. You remember miserable days spent locked in your room whenever you caught so much as a sniffle. Your mother would banish you to the narrow three tatami mat room, terrified that your germs might spread and infect her.

At first, every minute would tick by with the weight of eternity. Staring at the ceiling, phlegm draining back through your sinuses and stomach in a pounding knot, you would count each tile one by one. The trick was to stretch the count as long as possible, to sit and savor each number in your mind’s eye, because you knew when you finished it would be back to one again. No windows opened to the views outside, no toys to distract you. The most the little room offered was its thin walls through which you could hear your mother move about the house, her loud laugh down the receiver of the phone, the hum of the TV. All while you shook from fever, unattended.

Time would pass so slowly in that room. Gradually, impossibly, it would slow even further as your stomach grumbled, your throat spasmed from thirst. Your mother never thought to leave you any food or water to survive those long days in that room.

The thirstier you grew, the less you could ward off the realities of the body, thoughts fixating on each ache and pain, until finally, you learned to stop your thoughts altogether. To be there and not there at once.

Then, time would resume in a sprint, a long blink and night would fall. Once the sounds of your mother’s untroubled life ceased, you would make your move. On sock-covered feet, you would slip from your prison and edge your way to the kitchen, praying for invisibility, for no one to spot your midnight heist.  You never dared fetch a glass, mimicking a thief’s caution as you leaned into the sink, mouth closing around the tap, where you would turn it onto a trickle and let the life-giving water permeate your cracked lips. In those moments, you would be there, brilliantly, blindingly there in spirit, but your body remained locked away in that room.

The tricks you learned in those days in that house have served you well over the years. Invisibility sometimes feels like a curse, resigning you forever to the periphery of life, but it also greets you like an old friend when you are most in need of protection.

How traumatizing then to search for it last night and find that old friend missing. When you needed it most, the old detachment abandoned you.

Hyper-present, you suffered every moment of Hanma’s pain and perversion. Countless times, you reached for your invisibility, hoping to slip out of yourself like a specter and leave your body to Hanma’s cruel hands, but you were only left twice as terrified to find yourself trapped inside yourself. Your mind, body, and soul were devastatingly one as you experienced the certainty that Hanma would shoot you dead as he brutalized you, as he held you with the gentleness of a lover, as he…

Your phone vibrates in your pocket. You know it’s him. It must be. His smell still lingers on the fine hairs of your nostrils, singeing them with the stench of bourbon that bled from his pores. In the blue-black dark, you could barely make out his features as he threatened you – a masked intruder hovering above you – but fuck if you couldn’t smell him, stinking up your once safe, sterilized bedroom.

Just thinking about it makes you want to…

With trembling fingers, you hunt through your purse until you find a wad of tissues to wipe the sweat that beads across your brow. It is swelteringly hot in Departures, a mix of the unseasonably warm weather and the heat of hundreds of bodies thronging together, their every exhale warming the room.

Searching through the mass of bodies, you find the janitor still at work, fix on the friendly lines of his face. He gives no indication that he notices the heat, the throngs of people, or anything else but his work. The janitor mops the floors, contented. Like you, he has no designs to go anywhere else.

The line moves several meters forward while you watch the janitor. Eventually, he lifts his head and notices you for the first time. The muscles in your face ache as you summon a smile. The result must be obscene or hostile because he hurriedly returns to mopping, a few half-hearted brushes just for show before he scurries away entirely.

Now, you are alone again.

You put your head between your legs and try to breathe like they suggest people having panic attacks do in the movies. The position does help chase back your rising gorge and settles your rolling stomach. It does nothing for your thoughts.

You remember when Hanma’s long fingers found your clit, how he exploited his knowledge of your body to rub you to a forced little orgasm, like he wouldn’t be content until you were made an active participant in your indignity, his forever accomplice, the Stavrogin to his Fedka.

A thundering accompanies a plane taking off from the tarmac, loud enough to chase away the memories. You watch the massive passenger plane soar north until it becomes a speck on the horizon. It will never cease to amaze you how for the hundreds of people aboard that plane, each knows exactly where they are going and why. Their destination is well and truly decided. Too late to change their minds or second-guess.

Whenever you try to think of where you will go next – because surely you can’t live in the airport departures lounge, surely someone, anyone, will eventually realize the ghost of a woman has made a home there, will recognize that you’ve overstayed your welcome, will chase you out, right? – your brain throws up nothing but roadblocks. You imagine returning to your cold, hostile apartment, and the contents of your stomach dance in protest. Your apartment is no longer a safe space.

Your phone vibrates again, and this time, you don’t have the strength to ignore it. Fished from your pocket, you stare at the characters in Shuji’s name, tracing them one by one. Your finger hovers over the button to answer.

What he did last night – did to you – is unforgivable. You may not know what happened to Haitani, but it doesn’t matter. You did not deserve that.

And that should be that. A definitive break with Hanma is the only logical next step. Everything you built together is decimated, just so much sawdust stamped beneath his paranoid feet.

But where does that leave you? You know there will be no returning to your old life? The apartment will never be safe again now that Hanma’s been inside, not since you invited him inside. It will never be clean after what happened.

And maybe you won’t be either. Something inside you is fundamentally changed. Because even now, some part of you wants to go to him. Perhaps want is the wrong word. Without the old survival tools that carried you through the years, you feel cast adrift, weaker than when Hanma found you.

Eventually, Hanma will escalate from ignored phone calls and, vulnerable as you are, will you be able to say no to his face? Worse, will you lean into him, longing for his protection from the demons he himself unleashed on your life?

You don’t take his call, but you don’t leave the airport either. Nothing can change so long as you stay here, but then again, nothing can hurt you either.

Stuck, your return to staring at the floors.

--

You choose to take the elevator up to your apartment, spending the better part of the ride convincing yourself that no demons will await you, so all five senses revolt when you find the hallway outside your door laden with cardboard boxes. They’re not taped up like a delivery would be, and besides, you pick your mail up from the mailroom downstairs. Peeking into one box, you see it’s filled with your old textbooks from university, the ones that should be neatly shelved and collecting dust in your bedroom.

Inside, pornographic moaning greets you. Stopped in your tracks, you almost miss the changes: the photographs in the entry hall have been removed, your shoes are missing from the alcove. There is no mess, just gaps where your life should be.

While taking an itemized inventory of what’s missing appeals to you, the lewd sounds coming from the living room force you forward. On the TV, a naked woman rides a man. She carries on like it’s the best damn dick of her life, touching her own body like something sacred as she cries out.

The woman is you, of course you can see that much, but your brain struggles to play catch up and process this baffling, foreign view of yourself. It’s almost harder to comprehend how wanton you appear in the video rather than that such a video exists in the first place.

“I think we can agree there’s no need for a scene.”

Emerging from the bedroom, Takashi’s doesn’t spare the screen a second glance. It would only take one to confirm that the woman in the video is you, and that the man is decidedly not him.

Between self-indulgent rounds of sex with Hanma, you often wondered how you would feel if Takashi discovered your affair. Secretly, you longed for guilt. A great tsunami of devotion to Takashi and the concept of monogamy would rise within you, the tears would fall, and seconds later, apologies would follow. You hoped for a scene out of the soap operas, something normal.

The reality is less fraught as you are too stunned to summon up any response at all. If only Takashi would turn the video off. Then, maybe your brain would work again. There is no room for coherent thought around the wet, slapping sounds intermixed with moans coming from the TV.

“I knew you were sleeping with patients for months now. It never bothered me too much. So, when I saw the videos, I didn’t understand at first why I was so repulsed by it. But then, I put it together. I had figured some fat, rich fuck at work offered you enough money, and I could hardly blame you for that. If a client offered me money to fuck, I’d do it, too. But watching the videos, I realized, you weren’t just fucking this yakuza creep for money, were you? You liked it.”

There is a forcefield around Takashi that repels your gaze. You can test its parameters by starting at the juts of his knees and slowly climbing upward. It’s around his neck, the first bit of exposed skin, that the forcefield kicks into effect, and you find you cannot bring your gaze higher than the hollow of his throat, and even that takes a supreme effort. You turn back to the video playing out on screen.

“So you’re leaving me, then?” you say because it must be said if things are to continue from here.

“Things are busy at work. I don’t see why my life should be disrupted when I’ve done nothing wrong. I’m sure you’ll take responsibility as the offending party and move out without a fuss.”

“That would be sensible,” you agree.

Heady with the realization that this is actually happening – you are truly breaking up with your boyfriend – you force yourself to look at him, one last look to imprint forever in your mind. Immediately, you wish you hadn’t.

Takashi looks past you to the video on screen, where the you of only a few weeks back is loudly and visibly announcing how much she likes every stroke of dick before erupting into a shaking orgasm. Lips curled as if tasting something foul, Takashi regards the woman in the video like something subhuman. You try to watch the video through his eyes, but you can’t break free from the chains of your own perspective, a fuzzy migraine cresting in your temples at the sight of Hanma’s body, memories of this pleasurable tryst weeks ago mixing with last night’s events until you feel like the edges of your brain are collapsing inward.

There is no point to torturing yourself with the video or further conversation. Ignoring the shame in your gut, you follow numbly a step behind Takashi as he finishes packing your things. Most of your meager belongings are already stacked in the hall, but still, there is something stunning about how quickly your life is packed up out of sight. After living together for eight years, you would have left such an indelible mark that only industrial strength tools could strip your essence from the walls of this place. There are a couple overlooked items: the vase of artificial flowers Shuji gifted you, a box of tissues if you care to be petty, the spoons with scalloped edges, but, functionally, your life is stripped, relegated to boxes, and pushed aside within a measly half hour.

All the while, the video plays on. When it finishes, autoplay kicks in and offers up a second to continue your humiliation. The second is slightly preferrable as you make less of a spectacle of your delirious pleasure in it, yet worse because it shows Shuji more clearly, the dragon tattoo on his back flexing as he pounds into your prone body, face crinkling in animal pleasure. You can’t stand to look at him.

These videos…the only explanation for their existence is Shuji. They’re an abomination, something that shouldn’t exist and can’t be allowed to continue to exist. The gall of their existence builds in you until you discover enough anger to break the silence that’s drawn tight between you and Takashi.

“Takashi, if I go quietly, will you please delete these videos?”

“Sure,” he agrees simply, but at their mention, Takashi then looks back to the sex tape on screen, and that same revulsion morphs the contours of his face into something unfamiliar. “I suspected it for months, and then after reading your diary, I knew it for certain, and still…seeing it? When I watched the first one, I debated if it was even real. It had to be some kind of tasteless hoax. Because that’s not you in these. You’re like a stranger. I mean, look at it,” he says, gesturing to the screen. “That’s not you. And that guy…How does touching that criminal freak not disgust you? It’s like watching a pig take a mud bath. Disgusting.”

The shelf where you once stored your medical magazines is barren. Naked. There isn’t much dust though. You had spent a few hours cleaning last Sunday. That’s good, you think, one good thing. Everything Takashi says about you is true. Your lack of fear or righteous hatred of Hanma signals a great moral failing on your part. You are a failure, Monstrous.

Spinning out in self-loathing, you stand mutely for a solid minute before your brain hooks onto a single detail and everything clicks firmly into place.

“Wait, you read my therapy diary?”

“Don’t go crying about privacy now. I could tell you were running around on me and wanted to know,” Takashi snaps.

The finer details of what you recorded in that diary escape you, but you know you frequently wrote about your conversations, encoding but not entirely skipping over references to his business. It was stupid, of course, but the diary was intended for your eyes only, an exercise in self-reflection. The same Takashi who told you he was coming into an unexpected windfall of money at work. The same Takashi who had ripped your bedroom apart, supposedly looking for signs of your infidelity. The same Takashi who had demanded details about your patients. If that same Takashi had read your diary months ago he would have known about the HKJ deal, about Haitani soliciting you, about far too much.

“You weren’t reading my diary because you were jealous. You were paid to spy on me, weren’t you?”

And you know just who paid him as well. Based of your three interactions, you should have predicted that Haitani is not a man who accepts defeat easily. He is like a river. When he can’t force his way through an obstacle, he finds a way around.

“I did what you should have done in the first place,” Takashi sneers.

It is not defensiveness, at least not as far as you can tell, that spurs Takashi to confess. In his mind, you’ve already been reduced to something subhuman, a creature undeserving of consideration let alone sympathy, someone he could justify the worst abuses against, so convinced of his own righteousness. But whatever grievance Takashi may imagine against you, nothing can compare to what Takashi cost you. If he hadn’t betrayed you to Ran, then last night…Hanma…

You think you could gouge Takashi’s eyes out and he still wouldn’t understand the hurt he caused you. Minutes prior, you felt completely extinguished, like your flames had been put out forever, but now a pilot light flickers and it’s enough to bring forth an inferno, a heat you didn’t dare hope you would ever feel again.

“How dare you! You want to lecture me about getting into bed with the yakuza when you’re climbing into the bank with one! What if you had gotten someone hurt or killed? Did you even think about what would happen to me? You’re a slimy, despicable, cowardly –”

Shouting over you as you continue to levy every imaginable invective against him, Takashi spits, “Like you’re some paragon of virtue. Were you thinking about your patients when you started screwing them? Or did you not give a fuck who you hurt? Last time I checked, they don’t let yakuza whores keep their licenses. Speaking of which, you should know I’ve already sent these videos to the Japanese Psychological Association. You can look forward to a call from the ethics board.”

The bomb drop has the desired effect. It collapses the floor beneath your feet, gobbles up the words in your mouth, and implodes the tiny sliver of security that you still clung to. A life gone in a moment.

You are going to lose your license.

No job.

No home.

No friends.

No boyfriend.

No security.

Nothing.

The last box of your things and the vase of flowers are shoved into your hands. They feel weightless in your arms. On autopilot, you accept them and Takashi’s pushing hands on your back as he shepherds you towards the door.

This is the last time you will see this apartment that you called home for so long: the warped wood that’s risen under the heat of the window, the lightbulb in the kitchen that flicks if your run the dishwasher at the same time, the dent no bigger than a thumbprint, or more accurately, a door handle in the wall from where the front door slammed into it with too much force.

You want to press pause, to slow down the moment. You would take a final photo if you could, breathe in the smell of this place and bottle it for a future date. Anything to linger for one second longer before you are cast out into the unforgiving cold.

Takashi does not take mercy on you.

“You should be thankful you don’t have a family to shame,” he hisses.

And then the door slams shut. With you on one side and your life on the other.

Everything you once were is gone forever.

On second look, there are fewer than a dozen boxes stacked in the hall. Such a small life. You thoughtlessly heft a small, light-seeming box onto the bundle already in your arms. Dazedly, you stumble past the rest, leaving them behind with no plan for when or who will come to collect them, and even less of an idea of where you’ll send them.

There is no hurry. Nowhere to go. Yet, you too quickly find yourself pressing through the revolving doors that lead out onto the street and the blinding midday sun, which fittingly leeches the color from the world, so that everything’s cast in long shadows. On instinct, you raise a hand to shield your eyes, dropping the little you own to shatter on the sidewalk. A pitiful relief wells in you as you drop to your knees to retrieve your belongings; it is something to do.

Since Takashi cratered the foundations on which your entire existence rested, the normally persistent voice in your head – the one that would caution you against calling a taxi when a subway ticket cost less than 200 yen or would push you to stay that extra hour in university, the one that essentially kept you alive – has been traitorously silent, and so you know that you ought to figure out a place to stay for the night, to calculate how long your savings will last, and brainstorm a strategy to fight the ethics board, but you can’t keep any one thought in your head long enough to develop something concrete. Each stirring of a thought drips through the cracks between your fingers, like trying to collect water in the cup of your palm. You can’t make a plan. What you can do is kneel on the dirty sidewalk and clean up your mess.

First, you right the little box you scooped up from the hallway. Peeking inside, you see it’s mostly filled with socks and underwear. The second box that Takashi forced into your hands is less useful. Inside are shattered picture frames, the photos inside detailing the lives you shared or, at least, lived in parallel. You can’t tell if they cracked in the fall or if Takashi ritualistically broke each as a parting gift. Even less useful somehow is the vase of fake flowers Hanma gave you, now lying scattered, a collection of jagged ceramic shards.

You herd the broken pieces into a little pile, careful as you do to avoid slicing your fingertips against the sharp edges. As you delicately lift one piece, you feel out something small and round affixed to the inside. With an emotion milder than curiosity, you peel the coin-like anomaly off. Holding it to the light, you puzzle at what looks like a microchip.

And then, all you can do is laugh, as your memory offers up an old spy movie where you saw a device just like this, hidden in a flower vase. It’s a bug.

Of course, he bugged your apartment. Even a gesture as simple as gifting you flowers in apology is warped, twisted into something malicious with Hanma. He’s been laying the foundation for your downfall for months now. Just waiting to crumble you to dust in his hands.

A familiar car pulls up to the curb where you sit, laughing maniacally to yourself. You laugh harder when you spot it. Perfect fucking timing.

The window rolls down, and for one terrible second, you lock eyes with Shuji. Terrible, venomous eyes, the gaze of a viper, hidden away behind glass lenses as if without that layer of protection, he might penetrate you to your core. No, not a viper, a basilisk.

The way he’s dressed, hair perfectly coiffed and in the tailored suit that is his work uniform, offends your sensibilities. From his height advantage, he peers down at you like a scientist watching a bug through a microscope. You feel as small as a mite.

“You can spend the night at my place,” Hanma says, without so much as a greeting because he need not dignify you with niceties. A person needn’t spare a termite a hello before stepping on it.

A plane flies overhead, so low it tricks the eye for a moment, makes you think it’ll crash into the skyscrapers dotting the cityscape. You follow it with your eyes until it’s long out of sight, retracing the chemtrail it leaves in its wake. You almost forget Hanma is here, watching.

Pressed through a sigh, Hanma says your name. His voice, toneless and impossibly deep strikes you like a whip, a thousand times worse than seeing him. It is the charge you need to act.

Bursting to your feet, you leave all but your box of underwear and march determinedly in the other direction. Adrenaline courses through your veins, a jittery but appreciated focuser, and for the first time, you are able to think outside your fugue state. You will find a hotel for the night, something cheap that pays by the hour. If you walk for five minutes, you’re sure to find something.

Anything is better than Hanma’s offer.

“Get in the car.”

You ignore Hanma’s first call and his second, pretending his voice doesn’t make your hands shake so hard you fear you’ll drop the box. The Bentley keeps pace with you to the right. At the first intersection, a redlight stops the Bentley dead.

“For fuck’s sake!”

The curse is a warning before Hanma charges out of the car, arms extended as if to grab you and drag you into the cavern of his Bentley. The dark interior beckons ominously, hinting at a cacophony of horrors. To go into that car is to die.

His fingers don’t so much as graze yours before you start to scream.

Hoarse, guttural screams that turn the necks of every passerby in the area emerge from your bruised throat, a scream that must be tearing your throat apart, but you can’t feel the pain through the adrenaline rush. Heads pop out of nearby shops to see who is making such a ruckus and why. Amid the animal shrieks, the occasional curse takes place, a well-timed “motherfucker” or “waste of space.” To anyone watching, you appear unhinged. A lifetime of pain and rage unleash in one concentrated exhale of agony. If you could bottle the force behind your bellows, they would blow a hole through Hanma’s brain and vaporize what’s left. You scream in his face like you hope to erase him from existence like he did you.

Time holds no meaning now, and you think you might black out or suffer a psychotic break that blacks over just what you say or do in those precious moments of freedom. Whether Hanma is appalled by your behavior, if it makes him want to hurt, fuck, or kill you is irrelevant. Blissfully blank, you become the beast Takashi thinks you are and growl and rage and bare your teeth.

Stunned into stillness by the spectacle, Hanma’s gaze darts between you and the spectators who could intervene, but as no one steps forward to help the crazy woman having a breakdown, Hanma loses his patience.

He slaps a hand over your mouth, muffling your hysterical shrieking. His body is so much larger than yours, something you once craved, but now it crowds and bullies you toward the parked door, where the wide-open passenger door signals your doom. You go silent. You transfer every bit of energy from your throat to your body. Biting and bucking, you fight him with every ounce of strength you possess.

No amount of thrashing could overpower Hanma at full-strength, but he treats you gently with none of last night’s brutality. Kid gloves try to handle you with care as if he would never think to harm you, no not you, his precious, beloved pet. How could you even think such a thing? Unwilling to hurt you, Hanma grapples against your flailing arms for a full minute before backing off, hands tugging at his hair in frustration. He is panting though not half so hard as you are.

“Would you fucking stop!” Hanma snaps. “You should be grateful for what I did. You should –”

Whatever lovely suggestion would have topped off that sentence, you don’t wait to hear, lashing out with a closed fist before he can finish.

You aim for his cheek, but Hanma sees the blow coming, so your fist glances off his neck.

The next punch is somehow more pitiful. Powered by your righteous indignation, you throw your full-body weight behind it, but Hanma bats you aside, so that your shoulder collides into his chest and the punch dies out against the air. Hanma folds the leftover arm behind your body and pins you to his chest, so that all the bucking in the world won’t be enough to break free. He is a titanium wall of muscle and violence, and he has you in his grasp. You think you might vomit.

All the energy in your body evaporates, and you slump into his embrace.

“Finally,” Hanma mutters but without frustration. There is a hint of satisfaction there. A hint of humor at your suffering.

“Let me go,” you whisper.

“Will you behave like a good girl if I do?”

“Let me go.”

Hanma sighs, “Oh, Doc, come on. All this carrying on over limp-dick Takashi? He’s not worth it.”

“Didn’t you hear? While you were eavesdropping, didn’t you hear?” you chuckle a little, a sound strange enough that Hanma eases up on his grip, enough so that he can peer down at your face. You are both equally surprised to discover that you are crying, little matte tears slipping down your cheeks. “I didn’t just lose my boyfriend and my apartment. Oh no! I’m also going to lose my fucking license!”

“What? Why would you lose your license?” Hanma visibly startles, and on any other day, you might have enjoyed one-upping him, but not today. And never again.

“Is this what you wanted from the beginning? To lay me completely low? Did you think that when I was broke and starving, I’d have no choice but to rely on your limited generosity? To let you play with me until you get bored? Because I have nothing left to give, Hanma. I’m not even a human being anymore. I’m nothing.”

“Listen, Doc, relax. This is a panic attack. I’ll take care of Takashi and whatever he did. I’ll make it go away. You just come home with me, and I’ll take care of you and –”

“I may be nothing, but I’d rather be nothing than be with you,” you spit in his face.

His hands slacken for a moment, and you use that moment of weakness to break free.

Once more, Hanma’s hand reaches out as if to grab you, but you turn to him and with every bit of solemnity in your soul, so that the words read with all the gravity of a blood oath, you swear, “If you force me to go anywhere with you, I swear I will find a way to kill myself.”

The fingers on Hanma’s hand flex. The veins pop and strain like his body is rebelling against him, urging him to clutch, grab, cage. But then that hand falls to his side, stills.

This time, when you walk away, he doesn’t follow.

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

~*~

1. Tw noncon Can someone write a fic of wen Ning getting gangraped by Jin disciples in front of wen qing as revenge for what the other wens did?

~*~

2. Can you recommend any fics with Wen Ning as a POV character?

In My Defence, I Have None (For Never Leaving Well Enough Alone) by SemiLocalCryptid (T, 73k, wangxian, Time Travel Fix-It, Established Relationship, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, POV NHS, but only for the first chapter, POV Alternating, between Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi for the rest, WWX may have no sense of self preservation but he does have a husband, No one touches LWJ's husband, NHS has no more fucks to give and will save his brother just watch him, WN is very confused about needing to breathe again, but is ultimately happy about it, BAMF WN, WN needs a hug, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, WQ is a queen and everyone should fear her, Fluff, Inventor WWX, Gratuitous amounts of Wangxian fluff, WIP) wen ning is a pov character here

The Moon Reflected Upon Two Springs by Rubberduckieassassin (M, 2k, Post-Canon, Fierce Corpse wn, WN-centric, Farmer WN, WN Needs a Hug, Gūsū Lán Juniors Dynamics, Good Kid LSZ, Good Kid LJY, Wen Remnants Mentioned, Burial Mounds Settlement Days Mentioned, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Five Stages of Grief, Melancholy, Building A Home, Family Feels, W>N is learning how to 'live' again)

waiting (when the colors come) by frostferox (G, 2k, WN/WWX/LWJ, Modern, realizing polyam might be an option, Domesticity, Friendship)

Granny Knows Best by The_Snarkivist (T, 5k, OYZZ/WN, JL/LSZ, Getting Together, Fluff, Accidental Elderly Acquisition, WN Centric, Let Wen Ning Be Happy Agenda, Happy Ending, fast burn, Granny does know best, POV WN, Post-Canon)

Fierce Friends by TumblingTroublesomeTumbleweeds (G, 32k, NMJ & WN; SL & WN, NMJ & SL & WN, NMJ/LXC, SL/XXC, JC/WN, Friendship, Give Wēn Níng Friends, Cinnamon Roll WN, Rabbits, NMJ’s body does NOT cooperate, WN Centric, Everyone loves WN, Dysfunctional Family, Found Family, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Graphic Depictions of Pining, heart eyes motherfucker, WIP) it switches though

This Time With Confidence. by INSPIRETOWRITE (T, 129k, LWJ/WWX/WN, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Angst, Time Travel Fix-It, Action/Adventure, Polyamory, Developing Relationship, LWJ has feelings, Cute, Blood and Gore, Cultivation Sect Politics, Demonic Cultivation, Pining, WN-centric, Rabbits, POV Multiple, Action, War, Battle, Eventual Happy Ending, Developing Friendships, WN is a cinnamon roll, Bad-ass WN, WWX has feelings, They don't know they have the same feeling until later, Cultivation Discussion Conferences, POV WN, Slow Burn, WIP)

~*~

3. Hello! Could I ask, for the next ITMF for fics where wwx experiences qi deviation of some kind? Thank you very much!

Twelve Moons and a Fortnight by stiltonbasket (M, 290k, WangXian, Humor, Slow Burn, Post-Canon Fix-It, Long-Distance Relationship, Epistolary, Love Letters, Family Feels, a-qing lives, teenage romance, Adoption, Romantic Comedy, Happy Ending, Weddings, Case Fic, Parenthood, Politics)

Confrontation by LtLJ (G, 21k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, discussion of a canon suicide attempt, breaks from canon during the timeskip, BAMF WWX, BAMF Everybody, Canon-Typical Violence, JC &WWX Reconciliation, BAMF NHS, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, YLLZ WWX, Complicated Relationships, canon-typical curses, Canon-Typical Behavior) It is part 4 of a series so it makes more sense to start with the first one which is Brotherhood

~*~

4. CW: Trauma

Good day! I saw "Life as a house" by Terri Botta from the previous ITMF. I gave it a shot and read it, it is well written and I enjoyed the process of how they recover from their trauma, the reconciliation, and everything. For the next ITMF, do you guys know any fic that is close to this fic? Similar in terms of their journey to heal from their past/trauma, from seeing psychiatrist, discussing mental health, or about therapy. @httpskaixx

总有一天; a place to hide (can’t find one near) by yiqie (E, 76k, WangXian, Modern AU, Pianist, Getting Together, Mental Health Issues, Suicide Attempt, Suicidal Thoughts, Depression, Hospitals, Overdosing, Eventual Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Additional Warnings In Author's Note)

Many happy returns. by orange_crushed (E, 25k, WangXian, Modern AU, Mistaken Identity, Misunderstandings, Grief/Mourning, Loss of Parent(s), Implied/Referenced Suicide, Past Suicide of a Parent, References to Depression, Anxiety, Therapy, References to Anti-Depressant Medications, Escort Service, Loneliness, Everybody’s Abandonment Issues, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Moving In Together, Oral Sex, Penetrative Sex, Hopeful Ending, Recovery, References to Escorting/Sex Work but No Actual Escorting/Sex Work)

~*~

5. Want recommendations for slow burn angsty stories of wangxian

Concord by Deastar (T, 41k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Gūsū Lán Sect Rules, Depression, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending)

~*~

6. Hi! ITMF wangxian cuddle porn or just lwj being so comforting for wwx and vice versa. It would be amazing if that was incorporated in longer fics though anything would be welcomed. Something for reference is “A Cyborg's Three Laws” by FairyGardenCorgis and “try a little tenderness” by ilip13. Thank you so much!

Just Ask Me To Stay by mrcformoso (M, 20k, WangXian, Modern AU, Former JZ/WWX, Minor NieLan, Minor XuanLi, No Powers, Dancer WWX, Musician LWJ, Roommates, Best Friends, Friends to Lovers, Break Up, Post-Break Up, Recovery, WWX Has Self-Esteem Issues, Fluff, Light Angst, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Oral Sex, Domestic Fluff, LWJ Has a Big Dick, WWX Has a Breeding Kink, Size Queen WWX, Belly Bulge, Porn With Plot, WWX Has Friends, LWJ Has Friends, Hurt/Comfort, A lot of comfort, Romantic Comedy, Cuter story than the summary makes it out to be, Feel-good) modern!AU cuddly lwx cheering post-breakup wwx

The Art of Communication by mrcformoso (G, 4k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Meet-Cute, Engineering Student WWX, Music Student LWJ, Swimmer WWX, Martial Artist LWJ, POV Outsider, POV WWX, POV LWJ, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Communication Issues, But Wanxian Makes it Work, LWJ has limited words, WWX has too many words, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Love Languages, Requited Love) ModernAU! Soft Wangxian where they make their communication issues work

~*~

7. Hello again! I want to ask for a itmf about powerhouse wwx, inspired from this post

More detailed: The Scene with the water ghouls, wwx proposes to jump in the water (bc hes just that strong) in combination with lwjs thoughts and competency kink? Please? I hope that was understandable, English isn‘t my first language, sorry. @desperation-is-my-middle-name

Truth Will Out (when caught on video) - End_OTW_Racism! by KizuKatana (E, 108k, wangxian, WN & WWX & WQ, graphic depictions of violence, modern cultivation, canon divergence, YZY abuses WWX , caught on camera, partial core removal, WWX kicked out of Jiang sect, livestreamer WWX, meet ugly, dual cultivation, smut, no war, WIP)

My chain hits my chest/When I’m bangin’ on the radio by x_los (T, 2k, wangxian, modern w/ magic, case fic, competence kink, YLLZ WWX)

Howling by MimiSpearmint (E, 40k, wangxian, LSZ & WWX, Modern with Magic, Mortal Instruments Fusion, Horror, Eldritch, Domestic Fluff, Single Parent WWX, Witchcraft, Northern Ireland, fluffy but I cannot emphasise how much horror there will be, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Case Fic, Getting Together, shifter lwj, yllz wwx, Intercrural Sex, Hand Jobs, Angst with a Happy Ending, playing fast and loose with canon, off-screen beloved character death, Switch wangxian, a bit of a degradation kink, anti-STI sex talismans, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Cameos by various characters)

hills and rivers by LtLJ (T, 56k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Family Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, the family that hunts demons together stays together, and doesn’t murder each other, Case Fic, BAMF WWX, Mojo’s post)

~*~

8. itmf some good ol' damsel in distress lwj @jawla-mukhi

silk threads and precious metal by Sevidri (M, 4k, WangXian, Canon-Typical Violence, Sunshot Campaign, Whump, Blood and Injury, WWX' Canonical Vengeful Streak, LWJ Makes A Beautiful Damsel in Distress, Non-Consensual Ribbon Touching, Protective wwx, Hurt LWJ)

Vagabond by xantissa (E, 65k, wangxian, Slow Burn, Mystery, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Frottage, Case Fic, murders, Supernatural, Angst, Fluff, those two are so in love it hurts, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, badass LXC, Canon-Typical Violence, topLWJ, Bottom LWJ)

~*~

9. Itmf time travel fics where Wei Wuxian is caught in a time loop reliving the Sunshot Campaign and ensuing Burial Mounds years over and over until he can save everyone? Thank you!

Karma by English is my death (Lena013) (T, 2k, JGY/XY/WWX, wangxian, LXC/JGY, XY/XXC, Time Loop, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Misfortune Fellows, JGY & WWX Friendship, JGY & XY Friendship, WWX & XY Friendship, (but they all hate each other), White-Haired WWX, But temporarily, XY is a Brat, XY Is A Little Shit, POV JGY, YLLZ WWX, Drama, Drabble, Humor, Immortal WWX, Immortal XY, Immortal JGY, These are cut pieces from their eternity together, By this point they had become insane)

~*~

10. Hi! I was hoping you could help me bc I was on Twitter & saw someone else mention that they wanted to read it but I was hoping that you had any fics where YLLZ!WWX time travels to the future? (Possibly ends up shtupping himself along the way.) I can’t remember if there are any besides ‘a tide between two seas’ but I know that’s more multi-verse travel! @arisuamichan

不忘 | Don’t Forget by dragongirlG (E, 50k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Reincarnation, Fix-It of Sorts, Identity Porn, Social Media, Devotion, Reunions, Feelings, Family, Angst with a Happy Ending, Light Bondage, Names, References to Canon, Modern Era, Artist WWX, Sexual Content, Pining, POV Multiple, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note)

忘不了你的爱 (can’t forget your love) by PorcupineGirl (G, 25k, WangXian, Time Travel, Modern with Magic, Modern Cultivators AU, Canon Divergence, Time Traveler WWX, discussion of canonical character deaths, a whole lot of handwaving, conveniently localized fires, Discussion of Canonical Suicide Attempt, mostly happy but slightly bittersweet ending) first fic in a series

so when you go wherever it is you will go, take the moon with you by comforting_monachopsis (T, 115k, WWX & WWX, WWX & WN, WWX & WQ, wangxian, JYL & WWX & JC, past WWX/SS, past WWX/XY, Thirteen Years of WWX's Death, Canon Divergence, Literary References & Allusions, Time Travel, Dimension Travel, Private Investigators, Private Investigator WWX, Professor LWJ, Trauma, Serial Killers, Strangers to Lovers, BAMF WWX, Hurt WWX, WWX Needs Therapy, Modern Era, WIP)

atlas in his sleepin’ by anatheme (E, 48k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Reincarnation, Family Reunions, Dimension Travel, temporary transmigration, Transmigrator!LWJ, Angst with a happy ending)

drop me down to the dream below by AroPeterWam (E, 44k, wangxian, WWX & XY, Time Travel, Comfort/Angst, basically there is reincarnation and because of that WWX lives in both timelines, changes had to be made to fit this story, JC comes to terms with his emotions, Angst with a Happy Ending, Reincarnation, POV Alternating, ooc because different lives, fluff, Canon Divergence, Memory Related, explicit for like that one scene, Adopted WWX, sick WWX, Dimension Travel, Noncultivator WWX, JC & WWX Reconciliation, XY Deserves Better, time swap, WIP)

Horseshoes and Hand Grenades by Phantomhill (T, WWX & Juniors, JL/LJY, OYZZ/A-QIng, wangxian, College/University AU, Modern, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Minor Original Character(s), Background Relationships, Murder, Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Character Death, the juniors are doing their best, NHS has plans, not a reincarnation fic, JYL lives, JZX lives, WIP)

worm moon by serein (E, 103k, JC/WWX/LWJ, Post-Canon, Mystery, Angst, Humor, Grief/Mourning, PTSD, Identity Issues, Demonic Cultivation, eventual polyamory, Cults, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied past cannibalism, Switching, Canon-Typical Violence, Doppelganger, POV Alternating, Character Study, Explicit Sexual Content, Reverse Golden Core Reveal, mild horror elements)

So Call Me a Pessimist, but I Don’t Believe in It by Anonymous (Not Rated, 127k, WIP, WangXian, Food Issues, Family Feels, WWX is a music teacher, WN and WWX are Best Friends from the future, They use memes to talk covertly, Transmigrator WWX, transmigration au, Slow Burn) This is the opposite but I think OP will LOVE it

refrain; a musical phrase repeating in a song or instrumental piece Series by Cerusee, Mikkeneko (T/G, 51k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Sort Of, Memory Loss, Canon-typical dismemberment, Post-Series, but also mid-series ya feel, Changing Tenses, Protective LWJ, Everybody Lives, Confused WWX, Crack Treated Seriously) This is… also the opposite? Sorta? In which everyone from the future gets pulled back except for him

~*~

11. itmf hostage!LWJ, with WWX going berserk, kinda

silk threads and precious metal by Sevidri (M, 4k, WangXian, Canon-Typical Violence, Sunshot Campaign, Whump, Blood and Injury, WWX' Canonical Vengeful Streak, LWJ Makes A Beautiful Damsel in Distress, Non-Consensual Ribbon Touching, Protective wwx, Hurt LWJ) (link in #8)

the field meets the wood by astronicht (T, 7k, WangXian, BAMF WWX, slight whump, Ritualistic Self Harm, Canon Era, Tang Dynasty style, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, salt economics, Post-Canon, [Podfic] the field meets the wood by semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona), [podfic] the field meets the wood by jellyfishfire)

~*~

12. I'm holding out serious hope for some pride and prejudice au wangxian. I don't care about setting or time period, I just want that delicious Lizzy/Darcy dynamic with LWJ being a classist dick to WWX and instead of just trying harder and harder WWX's like fuck that asshole and then then oh no, LWJ falls in love and WWX wants none of it. (I mean, I'd love a subplot where LWJ tries to talk JZX out of marrying JYL, too, but not strictly necessary). Any pics out there remotely like this? @moku-youbi

In Wanting by thaliagrayce (T, 39k, wangxian, Enemies to Lovers, Inspired by Pride and Prejudice, Miscommunication, No Sunshot Campaign, we are ignoring all of the canon political drama to substitute our own, non-graphic depictions of torture, cw: offscreen XY)

Clans and Cultivation by ChalionKat (G, 81k, WIP, WangXian, XuanLi, ChengQing, SongXiao, Regency, Pride and Prejudice Fusion)

~*~

13. Hi! 🤗 It's me, again. 😅

For the next ITMF, lately I'm looking for fics where WWX gets pregnant of LWJ. I'd prefer not abo fics, but if there is some good, it's ok too. I love Canon Divergence fics, Cloud Recesses arc, only the bad people dies and happy endings.

Thank you so much! ❤️😊 @wangxiansgirl

Unexpected Lullaby by SilverStark (T, 30k, WangXian, Minor Original Character(s), Unplanned Pregnancy, Post-Canon, Mpreg, Non-ABO, Fluff, Established Relationship, Reconciliation, Family, Dual Cultivation Baby)

🧡 Many Lan babies Series by LuckyMoonly (Varied, 396k, WIP, WangXian, Story collection, Mpreg, Pregnant WWX only, Family Fluff, Found Family, Kid fics)

Impermanence, Transience, Permanence by Best Bepsy (BepsyGray) (E, 39k, wangxian, canon divergence, unplanned pregnancy, mpreg, gore, sunshot campaign, assumed miscarriage, medical procedures, childbirth, golden core reveal)

Until The End by abCEE (M, 365k, wangxian, canon divergence, communication, established relationship, sunshot campaign, mpreg, canon typical violence, WWX has new golden core, canonical character death, happy ending, fix-it of sorts)

🧡 Like Rabbits by Setari (T, 41k, WangXian, Kid fic, Canon rewrite, Mpreg, Miscarriage scare, Crack treated seriously, Hopeful ending)

And they can always check the pregnancy comps! A/B/O is always tagged, so it can be avoided!

🧡 Accidents Will Happen by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 45k WangXian, Post Canon, Mpreg, Fluff, Light angst) I'm absolutely obsessed with

~*~

14. Hello! 👋 I just find this blog and I saw that we can ask fics. This is for In the mood for.

My favorites fics are the ones where Wwx comes back in time and fix everything, get together with Lwj soon and saves everyone. I love longer fics. Thanks ☺️

~*~

15. For itmf I was wondering if anyone had some recs for ChengXian mpreg with WWX as the carrier. @dragonfairies

~*~

16. Hello! For my ITMF I'm looking for a fic where wwx flinches/gets scared from the Zidian (either held my jc or yzy) and people find out about his ptsd with the whip? Just want some justice and comfort for our bb boi @mrcformoso

🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 686k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement) So none that I can think of exactly, but this one has some tasty, tasty justice

~*~

17. Hey, Im looking to read a fic or 2 where WWX wasnt in control of himself during his “k ll everyone faze” after the Wens are k lled and/or when his eyes turn red. So I guess like a burial mounds possession type deal? And if WWX is like seeing it all from inside, watching as all this tragedy unfolds at what he interprets as his own hand, for spice. May I have a fic rec or as many as you can find, please? @0call-me-rin0

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[aveegrex]

LAW'S MOM

Or why Law decides to finally move out

genre: comedy, romance, smut (in further chapters) pairing: Monkey D. Luffy x fem! (milf!) Rosinante word count: 2,4k cw: physical violence, smoking, swearing, age gap, referenced drug use, referenced badtripping

you can also read this on ao3, but here's an extract:

“Please don’t fuck my boyfriend’s mom!” Sanji cried, throwing his head back against the wall.

They were standing in the backyard of the restaurant, Sanji having his smoking break and Luffy having his “what Sanji didn’t eat for lunch” break, both observing an elderly man sunbathing between the trashcans and a mighty oak tree.

“Why not?”

“Why no- God, Luffy, she’s… She’s my boyfriend’s mom!”

“She’s hot! And she wants it!”

Sanji squatted, eyes glued to the sky. Dramatic as ever. “It’s-” his mouth stayed ajar. Luffy felt as if he was x-raying into his head, seeing all the little cogs exhausting their power. “It’s gonna complicate everything?”

“But why?” that was confusing. “I’m me, you’re you, Law’s a douche-”

“Law’s my boyfriend”

“-a douchebag, and she’s-“

“His mom? Forty-five? A very nice woma- STOP PICKING YOUR NOSE!”

“she’s hot. And she wants it”

Sanji sighed in frustration. Shaking his head, he turned away, and immediately faced Luffy again. The elderly man was now ass up and wearing a very trustworthy thong. “How do you even know that? She’s making cookies every day and listens to ABBA on repeat, I mean. Rosi-san probably ever has sex, um, never?”

Luffy pulled his finger out of his nose and swiped the booger off. “You’re just too gay to sense it, man. And ABBA is mad slutty. Also,” Luffy raised his head and met Sanji’s pleading eyes. “She blushed when I told her she has hot tits”

“You did WHAT?”

Luffy sucked the last pieces of meat off the chicken bone and threw it all the way over to the trashcan. The bone missed, landing dangerously close to the tanning guy. “What? She does, I didn’t lie”.

The backdoor creaked open and a man with braids was glaring at Luffy, hands crossed on his chest. “Sanji, time’s up, I need you on vegetables”

“Fuck, ok” Sanji hurriedly stomped his cigarette out and paced to the door, looking back at Luffy. “Don’t fuck her! She’s a nice woman!”

MDNI, reblogs and comments are welcome, do a good deed and flirt with a local milf

© 2024 AVEEGREX, all rights reserved. reposting and copying my works without my consent is forbidden.

[macherkissed]

The Macherkissed Masterlist

Any Content warnings/triggers will be marked next to the work. If I miss any, just tell me and I'll make sure to correct it.

Scenarios/Headcanons;

How they react to seeing you depressed for the first time (Michael Myers, Poly!Ghostface) [CW: GN!Reader, Depression]

Befriending A Splicer Headcanons [CW: GN!Reader, Weapons Mention]

How they react to you telling them you're pregnant (Betelgeuse, Gomez & Morticia Addams, Yautja) [CW: AFAB!Reader, Pregnancy, One line mention of abortion, Smut Mention, Polyamory, Exophilia]

How they react to your new tattoo (Jason Voorhees, Tiffany Valentine, Norman Bates) [CW: GN!Reader, Tattooed Reader, Needles mention, Slight Smut mention]

Comforting you when your elderly pet is passing (Hellboy, NBC Will Graham, Venom & Eddie Brock) [CW: GN!Reader, mentions of losing a pet, possible triggering subject]

NSFW Headcanons (Mark Hoffman) [CW: GN!Reader, Smut, Fluff, Kink]

How they act with a noise sensitive SO (Betelgeuse, Hellboy, Venom, Yautja) [CW: GN!Reader, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Exophilia]

How they react to a Shy S/O (Chucky & Tiffany, Gomez & Morticia, Alice Liddell, Nemesis) [CW: GN!Reader, Smut, Polyamory, Mentions of violence, mild-to-moderate dom/sub, mentions of sadism, Exophilia]

How they react to you going into labour (Gomez & Morticia Addams) [CW: AFAB!Reader, GN!Reader, Pregnancy, labour, pain and slight childbirth typical gore]

How he reacts to your body tremors (Jason Voorhees) [CW: GN!Reader, Disabled!Reader, Medication mention, Fluff]

Oneshots;

The Reward of Patience (Betelgeuse) [CW: AFAB!Reader, Smut, Pegging]

Wrapped Up in Pretty Ribbons (Billy Lenz) [CW: Fem!Reader, Smut, Non-Con Voyeurism, Slight Somnophilia, Choking]

Those Sweet Lips (Poly!Ghostface) [CW: Fem!Reader, Smut, Threesome, Polyamory, Oral Sex, Some M/M Action]

Recompense (Hannibal Lector) [CW: Fem!Reader, Smut, Oral Sex, Boss/Employee Relationship]

Closest of Encounters (Psycho Goreman) [CW: Fem!Reader, Mature, Kissing, Suggestive, Exophilia]

No Gods or Kings, Only Fontaine (Frank Fontaine) [CW: GN!Reader, Smut, Oral Sex, Slight D/S]

A Moment Alone (Jack Wynand) [CW: GN!Reader, Smut, Ambiguous Penetration, Unprotected Sex, No Aftercare]

Alphabets

Thel Vadam X ADHD!Reader SFW Alphabet [CW: Fem!Reader, ADHD, Fluff, Exophilia, Marriage mention]

[thosefuzzywordfeelings]

La Seduction Vengeance // Part Two.

CW: mentions of violence, manipulation

The rope was tight. Enough. Coarse, tied securely around the trunk of a blossom tree outside the house, I observed my setup. If my amateur calculations were correct, the breezeblock suspended from the tree should fall directly onto the bonnet of Mr Thompson's car. It was midnight, people on my street known for getting early nights. That was the lucky thing in my situation, the residents of Blossom Close either over the age of 80 or so inundated with money that they'd be visiting their multiple holiday homes as soon as the sun burned the streets warmer. My dad and I were the youngest on the street, keeping everyone feeling youthful and hopeful with the sitcom-like happiness that used to radiate from our home.

Now, Mr Thompson wasn't a terribly behaved man, he just had some what he called 'old-fashioned' ideals about the way the world was changing. And it was those outlandish opinions shared a little too loudly to those on our street that made me choose him for this particular mission. I needed to get that SUV down this road, and I needed to speak to that officer. Double checking that none of the houses lights had switched on - elderly folk up using the bathroom at witching hour - and when I was sure it was clear I pulled out the shiny engraved switchblade my dad had bought me for my 18th. "Every young woman should have one of these. In case of emergencies, you know?"

I'd consider this an emergency, Dad. Slicing the thick rope in one swift cut, the breezeblock came tumbling down onto the grey metal, the alarm instantly blaring to alert the street. I ran away to my house, three doors down - thankfully - and ran through my screen door. Sweat formed on my brow as I peered through my living room curtains, making sure to keep all my lights off. As I heard commotion and angry yells from Mr Thompson; I knew that was my cue. Wrapping a large hoodie around my frame and pulling it over my head, I pulled an eye mask over my head too, letting it nestle on the rim of my forehead as I slipped on some slippers. Heading out into the cold, dark night once again, I found Darcy coming out to our side of the road.

"Looks like Jerry's in a bit of trouble there." Darcy spoke with a slight giggle. She didn't like him either, not many of the residents of this street did. Looking down the pavement at Mr Thompsons arms flailing about angrily as residents began to gather at the chaos, the all too familiar silhouette of the black SUV came swinging around the corner of the street. Bingo. Clunky black DM's hit the concrete as the young man stepped out of the car, sucking back a disgusting cloud of flavoured smoke from a vape I could see was electric green from down the street. He came towards Mr Thompson and his beautifully wrecked car (you're welcome) before looking around at the other residents. His eyes landed on mine for a moment before drifting back to Mr Thompson.

"He might just be the dishiest officer we've had around here, you know. Your age too." Darcy mumbled as she folded her arms, trying to hug herself away from the chill of the night. I knew what she was trying to do, trying to hook me up with the not entirely unattractive sheriff, but she had no idea of my ulterior motive. I chuckled lightly in her direction, keeping my eyes on the officer. Shit. He was walking towards me. If I end up in a jail cell I'm screw-

"Good evening ladies, or should I say mornin'?" The young man spoke with a sideways smile. Darcy and I smiled in response, her bony elbow nudging mine subtly. I nudged her back. "You lovely ladies see what happened to Gerry's car?"

"No, sir. I was sleeping. Woke up to the alarm blaring." I replied innocently, pointing to the eye mask atop my head. His eyes flickered up to it, studying it for a moment.

"Sleep is for the week?" He read the lettering on it aloud, chuckling to himself as he turned towards Darcy. "What about you, Ms Brook? Know you ain't too fond of the man. Got some weightlifting trophies we don't know about?"

I fought the urge to roll my eyes at his ridiculous attempt at humour, my eyes looking over his uniform and his features. He had beauty marks dotted over his skin, ironic considering his cocky personality was so ugly. But the way his kevlar hugged his frame, his cap rested almost over two big chocolate eyes was getting a little intense. He didn't seem that attractive when he was perring out of the SUV window, but I suppose that's a distance away. Doubt flooded my mind that this young man could have possibly killed my father, but I needed to get answers nonetheless.

"Well here's a card with my details on. You know, incase something comes to ya." He said, shoving a little piece of cardboard into just my hand, Darcy peering over my shoulder at the writing. Gator Tillman. Tillman sounded familiar, but i couldn't think where from. I nodded up at Gator, tucking the card into my dressing gown pocket. He walked away, taking one more quick glance over my shoulder at me before patting Mr Thompson on the shoulder; seeming to have made amends with the old crony about fixing his car. Hm. I needed to speak to him more, I thought to myself, as I bid goodnight to Darcy and headed back into my house to sleep. And plan.

Like some kind of crazed, grieving magician I'd been working on my next trick for just a few days. The middle of the night worked best, as it seemed Gator was on call a lot more nightly as of late. I'd decided to make this one a little personal, meticulously planning out a break in. Of my own home. I'd wait until the street was silent, all the elderly folks resting peacefully in their beds - bar Gerry Thompson who I could practically still hear grumbling about his car even still - and I'd smash my front door window in. My dad had left some money in piggybanks in the basement and it was a little window, easy to fix. In he'd come, like a knight in shining camouflage and then I'd out him. Or whatever, I hadn't actually thought of the crux of the trap yet. The onyx sky rolled around quickly, as I bound multiple tea-towels around my fist and headed through my back door and around the porch towards the front. Punching straight through the glass, I unlocked the door and snuck in; making sure to use a pair of my dad's old shoes to tread in the glass. I did the same to my back door, punching out the glass towards the patio so the 'attacker' could escape.

Unwrapping the tea-towels and putting them back in the kitchen drawer, I was relieved that my fist was unharmed. The next part was to wreck my beautiful kitchen, making sure the drawers were emptied and the knife block was menacingly strewn onto the floor as it looked like someone had ransacked the place. Grabbing duct tape from the drawer, I wrapped it around my wrists, pulling it and securing it tightly with my teeth. Some feat. I threw the duct tape underneath the sink. Holding two strips in between the fingers of one hand and my mobile phone in the other, I headed upstairs to my dad's bedroom, sitting in the corner opposite the dresser and tying one of the duct tape strips haphazardly around my ankles. Calling 911, I took some quick breaths in succession before they picked up. Just as an unfamiliar male voice answered, my tied feet kicked the dresser and let everything crash from its top. I screamed for help as the person the phone confirmed someone was on their way. As I covered my own mouth with the final strip of duct tape, I muffled some fake screams through it as the call handler tried to reassure me. Rolling my eyes I took the final step, adrenaline running through my veins at my intricate plan; drawing my head back hard against the wall and slumping down with my eyes.

I came round to a deep voice and a firm hand pinching my shoulder. "Ma'am? Can you hear me?" Groaning and mumbling, I blinked my eyes open to see two officers knelt beside me, holding pieces of duct tape from my body and bottled water. "Is he gone?" I mumbled, mentally noting that I should absolutely write a speech for my upcoming Oscar. "Is who gone? We found signs of forced entry, you're looking at getting two new doors replaced. No perp though." One of the young officers spoke softly. Neither of them were Gator. My entire plan had been to get Gator into a corner, like a little rat. A rat who, no matter how intelligent he may have seemed, had no idea that the person holding the cheese had backed him up into that corner on purpose.

With an inspection of my head and more numbers to call if I was 'alarmed', the officers headed back to their station as I packed a bag to stay at Darcy's for the rest of the night. The officers warned that the 'perp' may come back with my broken doors, so they'd asked my sweet, oblivious neighbour if I could crash at her place. She was kind, as always. Opening the door in her fluffy robe and matching slippers, her smile as warm as the heating that rushed out of the door of her home. "Come on dear, tea is ready for you. Lord knows you must be shaking like a willow in a storm." Her soft voice carried me into her home, as I settled on her floral-patterned couch. We drank tea, as I allowed my mouth to ramble about the horrors of what - I had orchestrated - had happened that evening. I felt awful lying to Darcy's face but the rigid ache in form of flashbacks and memories of my father pushed the lies right out of my mouth.

She gave me a kiss on the head as I stood in the doorway of her spare room. I felt my eyelids tingle with a sadness I hadn't allowed myself to process yet. "You'll be alright darlin'." Darcy's words were gentle, but her actions bore a heavy weight that I think she knew I needed. Then they came, what felt like gallons of tears washing over my cheeks as Darcy wrapped her arms around my shoulders, pulling me against her chest. "Double squeeze." She whispered softly, her arms tensing around my shoulders twice. I pulled away instantly with a worried look on my face between sobs. "How do you know - about - about double squeeze?" I said weakly, my voice wavering with sadness. Darcy's face broke into a sympathetic smile. "I've known you since you were this big, darlin' -" She whispered, holding her index and thumb finger paralell to each other, "Saw you grow up. Saw how your father loved you. Saw how you loved him. He always told me how clever you were, how you were going to take on the world. I still see it. In your eyes, you're still that clever little girl, that clever big man raised you to be. He said to me one day," Darcy spoke with such passion, her elderly voice hinting with her own grief for my father as she grasped my hands tightly, "He said, if I'm ever not here, remind her. Remind her of her bravery and dont forget the double squeeze." I let out a sad chuckle as I kept the flow of sadness streaming down my face as her words clung to my skin like the double squeeze. My father would always hug me, tightly, sometimes so tight that my lungs felt like they could burst. He'd let go with a chuckle, kissing the top of my head as he'd wrap his arms around me tighter, squeezing twice as he mumbled 'double squeeze' into the top of my head. What I'd give to feel that from him again. Darcy's arms were thick, soft and plush and the squeeze felt too kind. I needed the air knocked out of me. With a sad smile, I hugged her and thanked her for her kindness tonight as I shut the door behind me and settled into the squeaky metal bed frame. I hugged one of her downy cushions tightly, letting a few more tears hit the pillow. "Take on the world." "Clever little girl." Darcy's words echoed around my head as I tossed and turned, staring up at the mottled ceiling. I needed to get to that smarmy officer. Pretty boy. Dangerous for an active murderer to wear such a sweet smile. I needed to come up with something better.

[chuuyrr]

okay okay idea!

so, gojo reader, right?

gojo reader who has a clash with the volcano headed curse like from the anime! gojo reader who shows off her skills to her lover (for this ask i’d say dazai and chuuya ofc!) once more with her infinite void technique, aka, domain expansion.

for this cross over i’d assume that domain expansion is something only she, and those in contact with the “gods” can use. feel free to tweak this idea however you see fit though!!

limitless

bungou stray dogs x gojo! reader

masterlist of infinity

╰➤ CW(s): major spoilers for jujutsu kaisen (gojo satoru's infinite void is used by gojo! reader, but not as a domain expansion, and gojo's fight against jogo is referenced), mentions of blood and violence, and jealous! dazai

╰➤ PAIRING(s): dazai x reader, chuuya x reader (separately)

hello, anon!! thank you so much for the idea. not gonna lie, i've been waiting for someone to request gojo! reader use infinite void so i could write about it. im also terribly sorry for the long wait, i struggled polishing it!! enjoy reading ♡

before you read: instead of a curse (since curses and cursed techniques aren't present in my bungou stray dogs x reader), i'm making the volcano head curse "jogo" as someone who's just like lovecraft in a sense. basically not a curse nor human.

nakahara chuuya !

chuuya arrived unexpectedly with his motorcycle after you had just finished work. chuuya coming to pick you up was unusual given the distance between yokohama and tokyo, as well as both of your jobs. in any case, you were delighted to be picked up by your boyfriend, especially after a long day of irritating the higher-ups.

nothing beats riding a motorcycle with chuuya beneath a moonlit sky, alone together as you two passed through a forest.

"you good?"

chuuya caught a glimpse of you as he drove you and him, noticing how your body was slumped against his back, arms wrapped around his waist, and face pressed against the back of his shoulder.

"yeah, it's just that the higher-ups were a pain in the ass earlier," you grumbled, "they all kept blabbering about self-righteousness shit during the meeting, it's really annoying."

"so you deal with that kind of stuff everyday huh?" chuuya asked with sympathy, "my poor baby."

"yup," you nodded, "and i know what you're thinking. why the hell am i staying at heiwa then? when i can like, i don't know, get a different job maybe—" just as you were about to finish your sentence, you noticed something approaching you and your boyfriend at blinding speed even with your six eyes covered.

you suddenly tightened your grip on chuuuya's waist. chuuya would have jumped if he wasn't driving the motorcycle right now, but before he could question you, you and him teleported away from the motorcycle.

chuuya looked at you and you two were now meters from the grounds right now with wide eyes. not because he is afraid of heights or anything since his ability is literally gravity manipulation, but it was because you had him by the waist.

"[name], what was that for?!" chuuya exclaimed, a little perplexed by how your arm was still wrapped around his waist before his eyes fell to see his motorcycle above go straight into the railings on the side of the road, "my bike!"

the motorcycle, which had no riders, had exploded from a fiery shot of magma from a distance, leaving chuuya's mouth agape.

you pointed casually at the motorcycle that had just been blown to smithereens, "that's why."

"y-you saw that coming?" chuuya sweat dropped, looking at you with wide eyes.

you nodded and drew half of your blindfold upward to look at the volcano-headed creature that had formed itself beneath you and chuuya with a single crystalline blue eye, "six eyes, remember babe?" you asked calmly.

"what is that thing?" chuuya narrowed his eyes.

it had a humanoid shape and a short elderly-like man physique due to its hunchback posture. the top of its head resembled a mountain, specifically a volcano like mount fuji. the creature had gray skin, but the top of his head was brown where the volcanic opening was. he also had a single cycloptic eye, two brown corks on the sides of his head that appeared to be plugging his ears, and a mouthful of disgusting black teeth.

he wore an all-black ensemble that included a loose shirt with quarter-length sleeves, matching pants and shoes, a green spotted cape, and a white scarf.

"i honestly have no idea." you shrugged as you lowered yourself and chuuya down about a meter away from the volcano-headed creature who was grinning darkly at you, finally letting go of your boyfriend's waist before taking a protective step in front of him.

"who are you, huh?!" chuuya scowled at the volcano-headed creature, the red glow of his ability activating surrounded his body, "do you even know who we are, shithead?"

"i'm after gojo [name], human." he answered gruffly, earning a surprised look from chuuya.

"human?" chuuya was surprised, but he had his doubts in the first place. indeed, he was anything but human.

"aww, so you're pursuing after me?~ how cute! i'm gonna have to decline though since you're not my type." you exclaimed enthusiastically, clasping both of your hands together with a smile, "this is nakahara chuuya-kun! my devilishly handsome boyfriend."

the volcano-headed creature scowled angrily at you before a swarm of insects flew out of the opening of his volcano on top of his head. "ember insects!"

with that, a swarm of insects with large stingers lunged at you at breakneck speed, catching chuuya off guard as a loud noise emitted upon impact before detonating into a flaming explosion, the ground beneath cracking from the force.

as smoke erupted, the volcano-headed humanoid creature laughed maniacally, "and they said you were the strongest ability user alive?" he exclaimed, his shoulders shaking with laughter, "hah! you can't fool me!"

"oh, but i'm not fooling you at all." you stated.

the volcano-headed creature's cycloptic eye widened as the smoke from the explosion cleared, revealing you calmly standing there with your hands shoved inside the pockets of your black miniskirt, still in one piece together with your boyfriend.

"you've got some nerve to doubt my girlfriend." chuuya smirked. god did he love seeing your infinity in action. chuuya wasn't going to lie, but he had a heart attack when the insects swarmed you two only to discover they had impacted your infinity.

the volcano-headed creature took a step back, his mouth agape in surprise, before scoffing. he then attacked in all directions with the same blinding speed as you and chuuya maneuvered through his attacks.

chuuya couldn't help but notice that the volcano-headed creature seemed to be more interested in you than in him. he not only knew who you were, but he was determined to kill you for whatever reason. it was useless, just as the volcano-headed creature fired highly concentrated flames left and right, and even from above. you used your limitless' infinity to render his attacks useless.

"this cannot be! i hit you! i should have hit the two of you!" exclaimed the volcano-headed creature, irritated that you and chuuya were unharmed despite his barrage of attacks.

"you didn't touch me; you touched the infinity that exists between you and me," you explained, sighing deeply as you waved off the smoke produced by the collision of his flames and your infinity. "and for your information, infinity exists everywhere," you said to the perplexed creature.

you began to reverse a compressed ball of infinity that glowed dangerously red by lifting your index finger in the air. "limitless: reversal red."

the divergence of your limitless' infinity produced an extremely powerful repulsive force, repelling the volcano-headed creature so powerfully that he was sent flying towards the forest beyond the road, destroying hundreds of trees and causing the ground to crack and form a massive crater. the volcano-headed creature was eventually sent flying to a lake deep within the forest, and you followed him, bringing chuuya with you.

you and chuuya were now standing on top of the body of water, which baffled him slightly. you watched your boyfriend lift and lower his foot. he wasn't sinking, he thought, but he also didn't feel light because he wasn't using his gravity manipulation ability at all.

chuuya exclaimed, blinking profusely as he stared at you, "we're literally standing on water."

"it's cool, right?" you asked, tipping the side of your head as you smiled at chuuya.

"this reminds me of my ability as well, but i can only make it appear as if i'm walking on water," chuuya said, nodding.

"my infinity is the same. in fact, the two of us are stepping on infinity. it just looks like we're standing on water, and that's actually the case while we were in mid-air earlier," you explained before your smile faded into a smirk, "you wouldn't mind if i showed you something even cooler, right?"

"what?" chuuya raised a brow at you. you can do something greater than your infinity, amplified blue, reversal red, and hollowed purple?

"oi, mount fuji-san!" you turned to face the volcano-headed creature, which had now recovered from your attack, "you good? you took quite the blow!"

"you dare insult me, gojo [name]?" a nerve snapped from the volcano-headed creature, his cycloptic eye deepening into an angry glare, especially when you burst out laughing.

your mocking words rolled off your tongue, "you'll be fine. after all, you're weak."

"DON'T UNDERESTIMATE ME YOU STUPID BRAT!" the volcano-headed creature was enraged. the brown corks covering his ears flew away as flames erupted from them, as did the volcano on top of his head, "I'M GOING TO ENJOY SWALLOWING UP THAT SMUG FACE OF YOURS!"

a large number of highly concentrated flames had flooded the entire area, practically burning the trees and heating the water beneath your and chuuya's feet.

chuuya scoffed at you, "you just had to make him angry, [name]."

chuuya's response made you laugh as lava and rocks engulfed the entire area, completely drying up the water. everything was now practically on fire. chuuya felt as if he was in hell with you and that literal hot-headed creature because the temperature in the atmosphere was so high. he even had to take a step closer to you to avoid a burst of magma.

"THERE WON'T EVEN BE ASHES LEFT OF YOU, GOJO [NAME]!"

even when your enemy promised you death, you remained unbothered. that isn't the first threat you've received, after all. when you first met, your boyfriend literally threatened you because you ambushed and stole from port mafia. you held your ground as chuuya stood beside you until you reached for and took hold of your blindfold.

you smirked and drew it down to your neck, aligning your hand across your chest, curving your middle finger over your index finger.

"limitless: infinite void."

you had brought your target along with chuuya inside a domain, particularly the limitless itself, as the words rolled off your tongue. chuuya stared in awe as his and your surroundings had transformed into a vast void.

it was both beautiful and terrifying, especially when they turned their attention to the volcano-headed creature who happened to be your target. he was frozen in place, and it appeared as if he had seen and heard things, which he had.

"what is this, [name]? where are we?" chuuya asked, swallowing hard as he eyed his surroundings.

"this is the inner world of limitless. it's something i have access to due to my connection with sugawara michizane," you explained, sauntering towards the volcano-headed creature, the heels of your boots clicking in the process as you left chuuya's side, "and right now, every actions he takes are forced upon him infinitely."

"infinitely?" chuuya asked in confirmation.

"ironic, isn't it?" you asked monotonously, tipping your head to the side as you stared at the frozen volcano-headed creature with a dark glaze over your glowing blue eyes, "when granted everything, you can't do anything."

chuuya was then taken aback by a sinister smile on your face and he couldn't seem to adore your crystalline blue six eyes especially after what happened next.

you twisted the head you were clutching tightly only to yank it upwards with such effortless yet brute force with your bare hand, ruthlessly decapitating the volcano-headed creature with its neck completely twisted as the entire body fell.

chuuya was so shocked that it took him a moment to realize he was no longer in the limitless but had returned to reality. he watched your sinister smile fade as you slowly pulled your blindfold back on your eyes, but not until you gazed at the decapitated head on the ground into which you had dug the heel of your thigh-high boot.

your boyfriend was not going to lie to you. that was fucking terrifying. sure, you were hot when you were all scary and angry, but there was something about you that made chuuya doubt it was you for a second, and all he could say was "holy shit."

"[name]?" chuuya sauntered towards you, carefully approaching you, "you there?"

"whoops, sorry," you laughed as you looked up at chuuya before snapping back to reality and kicking the decapitated head that was still alive. "got lost in the moment for a second there."

"that was in the moment?!" chuuya cried out in disbelief, "but you.. that was.." he fumbled over his words, struggling to construct a sentence.

"i get carried away sometimes." you scratched the back of your neck while sticking out your tongue at him.

"i mean, i guess i get carried away too sometimes, but you were... how do i put this.." chuuya admitted, breathing out as he stared at you with wide eyes that were both scared and filled with admiration.

"you think i'm hot?" at chuuya's remark, your lips curved into a devious smile as you winked and placed a hand on your hip, watching a blush spread across his cheekbones.

"w-what kind of question is that?!" chuuya screamed, turning away from you and folding his arms across his chest, only to grumble a quiet response.

"of course i do.. idiot."

despite being a little spooked out earlier, chuuya definitely fell harder and was most definitely turned on.

dazai osamu ! (with kunikida third-wheeling)

your boyfriend was leaning against your shoulder while you sat comfortably in the backseat with him, and perhaps kunikida was scowling at dazai because why the hell was he showing pda in the middle of work. in any case, you and dazai ignored kunikida's reprimand and continued to stay put.

since the said assignment had something to do with another whole humans and supernatural entities experiment type of shit, dazai and kunikida were assigned to conduct an investigation with you being sent to help and gather information for heiwa.

while kunikida continued to converse with dazai, who was responding with funny yet joking banters to irritate him, you noticed something approaching you, dazai, and kunikida at blinding speed.

even if dazai slumped over you and made full physical contact with you, your six eyes were an ability he couldn't nullify with his touch. you gently pushed dazai away from you and leaned towards the driver's seat, your voice dead serious, unable to dismiss the now looming danger you saw from outside the vehicle.

"stop the car."

with that, kunikida, almost in a panic, stepped on the brakes, nearly recoiling from the impact if it weren't for the seatbelt on him; meanwhile, dazai's face planted onto the seat in front of him due to his lack of a seatbelt.

dazai groaned and stroked his face before looking at you and kunikida, "ugh.. what was that about?"

"why did you ask me to stop the car?" kunikida furrowed his brows and adjusted his glasses, which had almost fallen off.

"get out of the car, now." you demanded, immediately busting the door open.

kunikida and dazai were quick to follow. you immediately took hold of their arms and tackled them away from the vehicle as soon as the three of you stepped outside. a fiery explosion erupted from afar, completely incinerating the car. kunikida held a terrified look, while dazai's eyes widened with interest and surprise.

after the three of you got back on your feet, dazai blinked at you as you calmly shoved your hands into the pockets of your black mini skirt.

"i'm holder of the six eyes, remember, darling?" your lips curved into a half-smirk, "the six eyes allows me to see things even kilometers away, it not only gives me great processing power, but also vast perception."

"six eyes? that's right.. your six eyes aren't an ability. it works even if dazai is touching you," kunikida explained as he dusted his clothes.

"very good, kunikida-kun!" you exclaimed, clasping both of your hands together and pressing them against your cheek, "now, you and dazai be a dear and stay back right now, yeah?"

kunikida and dazai were bewildered, but did as they were told. a humanoid being had appeared from above to attack you, but before it could, you had immediately slid back, dodging the hit but causing a crater in the ground. before they yelled your name, a mound of the wall behind you rose and fired another shot of magma and flames at you, similar to the one from earlier.

the humanoid being chuckled darkly, "well that was easier than i expected."

"what is that thing?" kunikida's eyes widened.

"looks like our investigation decided to come after us, or in this case, after my belladonna," dazai sighed, shaking his head, "that thing isn't an ability user, and it doesn't look human either."

it was humanoid in shape, with a short elderly-like man physique due to its hunchback posture. the top of its head was shaped like a mountain, specifically a volcano like mount fuji. the thing had gray skin, but the top of his head faded into a brown color where the volcanic opening was. he also had a single cycloptic eye, two brown corks on the sides of his head that appeared to be plugging his ears, and disgusting black teeth.

lastly, he wore an all-black outfit consisting of a loose shirt with quarter-length sleeves, matching pants and shoes, a green spotted cape over that, and a white scarf.

you stood on top of the burnt up ground, your hands shoved in the pockets of your black miniskirt, "who are you calling easy?" you quipped, tilting your head at the thing that had just attacked you.

"did i wound your pride?" the volcano-headed creature asked you mockingly.

a grin made its way to your lips as you took out both of your hands and popped them, "nope, i'm starting to find this fun actually."

"ember insects!"

at that instant, the volcano-headed humanoid creature released insects that swarmed you in an instant, resulting in another fiery explosion followed by a loud noise.

kunikida and dazai stood back and watched as he attacked you aimlessly with fire-based attacks from all directions, fracturing the ground solely with his immense power. it's no surprise you told them to back off.

dazai wasn't concerned while kunikida was sweating bullets, wondering if you were still alive when the thing lit your head in flames, fearfully watching your body stagger in a spin.

okay, maybe dazai was concerned because your entire head was flames and didn't appear to be blocked by your infinity. but you couldn't possibly be dead. right? right?!

"hehehe, that was the gojo [name]? the limitless ability user everyone feared?" kunikida and dazai turned towards the volcano-headed humanoid creature that was now sauntering towards them and grinning maniacally.

"again with this!" you said as the smoke from the curse's attacks dissipated, just as dazai and kunikida prepared to bite back a response.

with you sighing deeply, the three of them turned around to face you, waving off leftover smoke. the volcano-headed humanoid creature didn't appear to be happy as kunikida sighed in relief and dazai proudly grinned at you. as he came to a halt on his tracks, his cycloptic eye shrank with visible rage.

"is this a joke?" the creature scowled, disbelievingly staring at you, "you should have been dead! i touched you! i killed you myself!"

"no, you didn't touch me." you exclaimed, shrugging your shoulders before bringing your thumb and index finger incredibly close with a small gap in between, "you touched the infinity between us."

"what the hell are you talking about?!" he huffed, heavily breathing out his growing rage.

your face was bright and happy as you leaned forward and outstretched your hand towards him, "i'll show you then! come on, come on!"

kunikida looked at you, puzzled, but dazai couldn't help but dramatically gasp as you insisted on touching hands with this.. with this vile creature that didn't even look human!

"oi, what are you doing belladonna?!" dazai began, only getting his head smacked by kunikida, "ow!"

"don't interrupt gojo and whatever that thing is!" kunikida reprimanded him, scoffing.

"but just look at [name]-chan, kunikida-kun!" dazai huffed, stomping his feet while pointing at you, "she's clearly flirting with him! i may have done so in the past, but i don't anymore!"

"and that's what you get for flirting with women in the past!" kunikida grabbed him by the collar, violently shaking him to get dazai to take a grip.

while kunikida and dazai were arguing, the volcano-headed humanoid creature had finally agreed. he extended his hand towards yours, intending to touch it, but it abruptly came to a halt, much to his surprise. there was that unseen force between your hand and his that shrunk his cycloptic eye.

"see?" you giggled at his reaction before speaking in a deep yet enticing voice that made kunikida stop shaking dazai's head in your direction, "we could even shake hands like this you know?~"

kunikida watched his colleague turn ghostly pale, a betrayed and surprised expression on his face, "[NAME]-CHAN?!"

you ignored dazai's reactions and continued to press your hands against the volcano-headed creature, particularly your fingers.

you had deactivated your infinity just as he was distracted by the shocking revelation of your limitless ability, and with that, you intertwined your hands with him, but tightly. you then jabbed your freehand at him, causing the volcano-headed creature to cough up purple blood.

you attacked him with your free hand while holding his other, smirking, "there's still more!" you then let go of him while he was in mid-air. you thrusted your leg and kicked him, making sure the heel of your thigh-high boots dug into him before launching him into a crater you'd created from your frenzied attacks on him.

kunikida and dazai were taken aback. they'd seen you fight before, especially given how much you enjoyed hand-to-hand combat, but dazai was mostly turned on. when you were fighting chuuya in the past, you weren't all that aggressive on him. it was such a sight that he forgot he was supposed to be jealous in the first place, but that wasn't all you could do.

"infinity exists everywhere," you began, calmly stepping towards the volcano-headed humanoid creature that was attempting to rise after being brutally pummeled by your bare hands and kick alone, "and my limitless ability makes that concept a reality."

with a smirk on your face, dazai watched breathlessly as you took hold of your blindfold and pulled it down to your neck. you peered down at the volcano-headed creature, your beautiful crystalline blue eyes revealed, and mockingly laughed, "not only are you too dumb to not understand that, but you're weak."

"DON'T UNDERESTIMATE ME YOU BRAT!!"

just as the volcano-headed creature got back up and was now burning in a red haze of fury literally speaking, you flitted your eyes up towards kunikida, and then towards dazai, who you winked at, catching him off guard and turning his cheekbones pink.

as you teleported in front of dazai and kunikida, you brought your hand close to your chest with your middle finger curved over your index finger, making sure to keep a good distance away from your lover so that he could not nullify your ability.

you had activated the arsenal of your limitless ability before the volcano-headed creature could lash out all his rage at you, your boyfriend, and kunikida, and just as he was about a good meter away from you.

"limitless: infinite void."

you had brought your target along with kunikida and dazai you remained a good distance with you inside a domain, particularly inside the limitless itself, as the words rolled off your tongue. kunikida and dazai gazed in awe as their surroundings had transformed into a vast void. it was both beautiful and terrifying, especially when they turned their attention to the volcano-headed creature who happened to be your target. they were taken aback. it appeared as if the volcano-headed creature had seen and heard things.

"where are we?" dazai inquired, taking a deep breath and continuing to scan his surroundings with kunikida.

this was something truly terrifyingly beautiful. he'd never seen anything like your ability before. it was dark but peaceful.

"we're inside the limitless," you explained, sauntering towards the volcano-headed creature, your boots clicking in the process, "perception communication. the actions he is taking are infinitely forced upon him."

"what does that exactly mean, gojo?" kunikida pushed his glasses further to his nose.

"it means [name]-chan's target will be able to see and feel everything while not being able to see or feel anything at the same time," dazai deduced perfectly with wide eyes and a smile across his face, "and they can't do anything but die slowly."

"just what kind of ability do you possess, gojo?" kunikida's face darkened as you placed your hand on top of the volcano-headed creature, grasping the mountain-like shape on his head.

"something only i, or perhaps anyone in contact with gods like sugawara michizane, can use," you explained, prompting kunikida and dazai to look at you almost worriedly as your voice abruptly became emotionless. "and right now, you are standing before the presence of his descendant."

you tightened your grip on the vile creature's head, causing a horrible shiver ran down dazai and kunikida's spine before their stomach dropped.

as the following event occurred, the ominous aura you were emitting worsened. you had violently twisted the head only to yank it upwards with such effortless yet brute force using your bare hand, ruthlessly decapitating the volcano-headed creature with its neck completely twisted as the entire body fell, smiling sinisterly throughout it all.

as it's now decapitated head rolled across the ground, you grabbed your blindfold once more, pulling it tighter and covering your eyes, breaking down the domain. you then stepped on the head, stomping your heel against it, and stared at it with a single uncovered frightening eccentric blue eye, your blindfold only covering half of it with the way you were holding it.

the more dazai thought about seeing you in this light, the more he realized you are exactly like him. you're like a coin with two sides, and what they saw earlier was your cold-blooded side.

you may have had control over this ability, the but it caused you to have a different vibe for a brief moment. it reminded dazai of chuuya when he was using corruption and wasn't himself. while chuuya was attacking in a frenzy of instinct with no intention of stopping, you simply stopped being human. you become incredibly aggressive in a frighteningly alluring way, displaying no emotion. to be more specific, frighteningly beautiful and dangerously strong.

when you fully covered your eyes with your blindfold, all of that seemed to fade away in an instant. you then thrust your leg forward, skillfully kicking the decapitated head in the air like a soccer ball.

"would you guys like to play soccer while we interrogate him?" you joked, giggling as you looked down at the decapitated head yelling at you to stop kicking him around like a ball.

"sometimes i forget how scary gojo can be..." kunikida sighed and shook his head before turning to face his colleague, "oi, dazai. are you even listening to me?!"

"you truly deserve the name belladonna. a beautiful lady, but a deadly poison at the same time!" dazai exclaimed dramatically, exaggerating by placing a hand to his chest only to run and kneel before you with his other free hand reaching for you, completely ignoring kunikida, "ahh~ i've just fallen for you even more my dear!"

"stop flirting in front of me, you stupid brats!" yelled the decapitated volcano head, "you two disgust me and stop kicking me!"

"you're just jealous that i'm her boyfriend and all you got was being able to hold hands with her!" dazai retorted, causing you and kunikida to sweat as he stood up and wrapped his arms around you tightly.

"oh, so you were jealous?~" you had a smug look on your face as you stopped tugging on dazai's hair and instead took hold of it to pull him close to your face.

"maybe just a little." dazai grumbled and pressed his cheek against yours.

"are you two done flirting with each other?!" kunikida exclaimed, glaring at you and dazai before stomping, "you two do realize our car burned down and we still have to question that.. that thing you're stepping on!"

"let's just give up on our assignment then!" dazai suggested cheerfully, radiating rainbows and sunshine.

"i agree with osamu, kunikida-kun!" you nodded, giving kunikida a peace sign while wrapping your arm around dazai's shoulder.

with that, you and dazai both got smacked on the head, and you ended up grumbling about it because dazai nullified your infinity due to his physical contact with you.

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!"

[thatesqcrush]

These Violent Delights Have Violent Ends, Ch.2

Mafia!Barba x f! reader

AN: A prequel - how it all began.

WC: 2.7K

CW: language, violence (physical assault, gun violence, attempted rape)

one year earlier

“Your big bad wolf was here earlier. And he sat in your section. Took his order to-go when he learned you weren’t in.”

You paused from where you were marrying the ketchups. You knew exactly who your colleague Allie meant and your heart began to quicken.

A man so handsome, that it bordered on obscene. He was older than you with salt and pepper hair and green eyes that made your eyes burn. He was always in three piece suits and carried a black shiny briefcase.

The diner you worked at was a low-key, come-as-you-are spot with burgers, ice cream, endless coffee and donuts. You wore a classic waitress uniform: a pink checkered dress, a white apron, a white collar, and short sleeves with peaked white trim. Your skirt was short, but not dangerously so.

It was late, you had picked up a double shift as you needed the extra funds. Bills came every 30 days like clockwork.

This particular gentleman came in a few times per week. He always ordered the same thing - a carafe of coffee and a varied pastry. He would stay for an hour or two, furiously writing in a yellow legal pad and constantly checking his two phones. From what you were able to glean from brief moments of interaction, you knew he was a prosecutor.

He always sat in your section. And always left a generous tip.

You turned to your Allie. “Yeah, well I switched shifts so Flor could go to her kid’s recital. How would he know?”

“Watch him come back.”

“So you’re saying he’s a stalker?”

“Girl, if my stalker looked like that, I would gladly let him murder me in more ways than one,” Allie teased.

You gave her a pointed look and then took a deep breath before walking over to grab a coffee pot to re-fill customers cups.

The rest of the shift was slow, which you weren’t accustomed to. You weren’t surprised, given the cold, wet weather outside. It was the perfect weather for staying inside, in bed, and under a thick blanket watching movies or reading. There were two remaining customers, an elderly couple, and they weren’t even in your section. You leaned back against the wall by the service window and watched people passing by outside. You heard a rumble of thunder followed by a flash of light, indicating a passing storm was soon to appear. You sighed and turned your attention back to the elderly couple. They were adorable and sweet, you thought to yourself as they held hands across the table.

You were single and while not desperate, your battery operated boyfriend was taking a beating. Your last romantic relationship was with someone who was a big, dull dud.

On more than occasion, you played with Mr. Prosecutor in your fantasies. You wondered what it would be like to kiss those soft lips, feel his strong arms around you, to run your hands through his salt and pepper hair.

After the elderly couple had left, some thirty minutes later, you decided to wipe down the tables. You leaned over to grab the tip the elderly couple left when you heard the jingle of the bell above the door ring.

You turned around to greet the person when you realized it was him. His eyes met yours. His gaze was intense, almost hungry and a muscle flexed in his jaw. He wore a grey peacoat over a thin pinstriped suit. With his beard, he really did appear as if he were a big bad wolf.

He didn’t say anything but just gave a small nod. You felt yourself flush, a heat creeping up to your face.

You heard Allie’s bright, cheerful voice, greeting him and bringing him a menu. “Y/N will be right with you.”

You brought the dishrag back up to the counter watching Allie come back with a knowing smile on her face. Your eyes darted back and inwardly groaned at him rolling up his sleeves, showing off well defined forearms. His shirt fit him well, with suspenders that you wanted to snap back. He had a smidge of tummy that you wanted to sink your teeth into.

“Go get him Little Red Riding Hood,” your coworker, Allie teased before thrusting your checkpad into your chest.

You walked over, feeling your heart thudding loudly in your chest. You felt as if you were walking through molasses but also walking too fast if that were even possible.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had butterflies like this.

“You’re here late,” you remarked. Mr. Big bad wolf looked up at you, a cocky smile on his face. His green eyes disarmed you.

“I’d say the same applies to you,” he replied.

“Covering for someone,” you found yourself explaining. “Not my usual shift. As you know.”

A thick brow arched in response. The corners of his lips twitched, threatening to smile.

“Um, so your usual? Coffee and…?”

“What do you recommend?”

You were taken aback by the question, not expecting it. “We have a banana cream and a cherry pie that are good…”

“What would you personally order?”

“Me? Oh, easy. The coconut macadamia nut cake. It’s heaven.”

“I’ll take a slice of that then, angel.”

You blushed once more, squeaking a ‘coming right up,’ before spinning on the balls of your feet.

You made your way to the pie carousel to grab the pie and then walked back to the kitchen to properly slice it.

You caught your reflection in the napkin holder and cringed. Inside your apron was your lipstick and you grabbed the tube quickly to fix your lips.

Allie came through the swinging door and cheered at the sight of you applying lipstick. “Yes Red, go get him!”

You rolled your eyes. “Nothing is going to happen. But some friendly flirting doesn’t hurt.” You grabbed the pie and made your way back out.

—

You placed the slice of cake down - a generous slice if you will, along with the coffee. “You’ve come here enough times that we haven’t been properly introduced.” You stuck your hand out and gave your name.

“Rafael Barba.”

When his hand met yours, you could have sworn something electric went through the both of you. You gave him a smile. “Nice to meet you Rafael.”

“Pleasure is all mine,” Rafael replied, eyes crinkling as he smiled.

You blushed again. “Okay, I’m going to get back to work.” You gave him a smile and an awkward wave before dashing back to behind the counter.

Other people began to arrive and before you knew it, it had become busy again. You were distracted - every time you’d take an order, you’d surreptitiously gaze at Rafael.

Eventually Rafael approached the cashier and settled his bill, leaving another generous tip for you. You noticed that this time he had left his business card. You pocketed it into your apron with a smile and finished your shift.

—

You walked to the subway, your feet aching. It was late, the streets were empty save a person here and there. There was a shortcut down through an alley that would connect you to the subway more quickly.

Someone grabbed you from behind and you screamed. A gloved hand covered your mouth and you felt the cold steel blade of a knife against the curve of your jaw. You struggled, trying to break free and you felt the blade start to press your skin.

Tears streamed down your face. Another person emerged from the shadows. “Well, well, well, what do we have here? She’s cute.” Your eyes darted to the knife in that person's hand.

The man holding you shoved you towards his partner.

“We’ll have our fun.”

You tried to break free again, this time stepping on your assailant's foot hard.

The man let out a yelp and then knocked you to the ground.

“You stupid bitch.”

Your knees scraped against the gravel and you let out a cry. You felt a kick to your ribs and you cried again. You tried to stand up to run, but you were grabbed again and slammed against the brick wall - hard.

Your head pounded and you felt warm wetness drip down the side of your face.

You braced yourself for the next blow or worse, but it never came.

From somewhere far away, you realized someone else had joined the soirée. There was scuffling and cursing. There was the sound of fists hitting flesh, followed by the awful crunch of bones breaking which was then followed by two gun shots.

Then it all fell quiet.

As your world faded to black, the last thing you heard was, “Amaro, I need something taken care of. No witnesses.”

—

When you came to, you realized you weren’t in your apartment. Instead you were in an apartment that appeared as something out of Architectural Digest.

The apartment was enormous. It was freakishly spotless too. There was a coffered ceiling and an informal living room, adorned with a fireplace. The apartment was a gorgeous blend of refined and eclectic old-world charm. The walls were chic, painted black and matching leather Italian chairs. It gave off a moody vibe.

You were laying propped on a brown leather sofa. You looked down and realized you were no longer in your waitress uniform, but an oversized, faded Harvard t-shirt. Your wrist and ribs were taped. You reached for your temple and felt something akin to stitches. Your body ached everywhere and you were thirsty.

“Where am I?” you wondered out loud.

Your lobo emerged, concern etched on his face. “Oh good, you’re up,” he replied softly.

“Rafael?” You looked at him confusedly. “What happened? Where am I? Where are my clothes? Who stitched me up?” As you continued your questioning, panic in your voice increased.

“Shh,” Rafael rushed, sitting by your side. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

He looked at you earnestly. Your eyes searched his, your gut telling you he was speaking the truth.

“You were attacked by two men. They tried to rape you. But it stopped.”

You looked at his face more intently. A black eye was forming, there was a cut on his lip. And when you looked at his hands, the knuckles were scraped and bruised.

“I heard a gun,” you replied softly. “That was you, wasn’t it?”

Rafael’s face turned stony. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

You worried your lip, chewing it. You tried to sit up and you winced. Rafael helped you sit up more, covering you up with your blanket that came off a bit. You looked at your bare legs and frowned.

“Did you change my clothes?”

Rafael shook his head. “I have a nurse and doctor on call and they had to in order to treat you.”

“Why didn’t you just take me to the hospital?”

“The hospital didn’t need to know. I have more than capable staff. Besides, they were hear within 10 minutes whereas in the hospital, it would have taken longer and there would have been too many questions.”

“Why do I have the feeling you’re more than just a lawyer?”

Rafael chuckled quietly, his voice dropping a bit. “Something like that.”

“Where’s my stuff? I need my phone.”

“Right there on the chair. Your phone is on the side table, charging. Are you hungry?”

You nodded. “Actually, I am. More thirsty than anything.”

“Lucia is my chief of staff, and she’s already working with the chef to whip up some food.”

You blinked. ‘Who is this guy?’

“I need to use the facilities.”

Rafael nodded. “Let me help you up.” You took his hands and allowed him to help you. You felt another spark as you grabbed his hands and wondered again if he felt it too. ‘He had to, right? Why else am I here? The man murdered two men for me.’

Rafael directed you to the bathroom. Once inside you gave yourself a onceover. Your face was scraped up and bruised. You gingerly touched the stitches along your temple. You looked down at your bruised ribs and knees which were covered in road rash. You felt your eyes well up and you willed yourself to not cry at this moment, but the tears came anyway.

Once finished, you wandered down the hall, following the sound of voices. You rapped gently on the open French doors, and poked your head in. Rafael was drinking a lowball of something and an older woman was also drinking something. Delicious smells permeated the air and your stomach rumbled loudly.

Rafael looked at you. “Everything okay?”

“I was just um- hoping for some pants?”

The older woman clapped her hands together. “Don’t you worry. I’ll have something for you shortly. Meanwhile, sit. Food is almost done.”

You took a seat at the table and looked around. This masculine Madrid kitchen featured custom black lacquered cabinetry throughout, antique Windsor chairs surrounded a table set with china and fine linen napkins.

“I am sure you have questions,” Rafael replied.

You nodded. “I do, but I just want to say thank you right now. For saving me. For ki— handling those other men.”

–

By the time you changed and ate, it was near dawn. “Look, I am super grateful for everything, but I think I need to get back home. My cat needs to be fed and…”

Rafael shook his head. “You are in no condition to be out and about. You need to rest. How about I send someone to get some stuff for you and take care of your… pussy.” He smirked.

You gasped slightly at the double entendre. “No, no, I have imposed enough. You saved my life, committed murder on my behalf…”

“I… expedited their passing.”

“Who are you? I mean really, who are you!” You asked, panicking once more.

Rafael squared his shoulders. “I’m the Assistant District Attorney for Manhattan.”

Your eyes narrowed. “I have a feeling you’re more than that. You killed two people! The government frowns on that. And it's against the law.”

Rafael let out a deep breath. “I’m underboss to a specialized organization within the DA’s office.”

“So you’re a mobster?”

Rafael laughed darkly. “Something like that.”

“Are you keeping me here to later kill me? So I don’t go screaming to the cops?”

Rafael laughed again. “The cops aren’t going to do shit. The DA’s office runs Manhattan.” Rafael walked over to you.

“I wouldn’t dream of hurting you cariño.” He traced your face with a finger. His eyes are unfathomably dark with hunger and lust. “So I’ll give you this choice - you can leave and you’ll never hear or see me again, or, stay a few days, rest and be taken care of for a change.”

You felt equal parts afraid and enticed. You wanted to leave, you wanted to stay.

You whimpered, and Rafael growled, crushing his lips against yours. Your head was spinning as he furiously sucked your bottom lip into his mouth before exploring your parted lips with his tongue.

I-I-I’m—I don’t—” Your thoughts were a mess. His hungry hands and mouth felt like they were going to devour you whole. He pulled back after a moment, disappointment clearly etched on his handsome face. You were panting, your eyes wide and lips swollen from Rafael’s kiss. You wanted him to stop touching you, but part of you felt like you might actually die if he stopped.

He sucked on your pulse point, eliciting a high pitched mewl from your throat. He palmed your breast through the soft material of the shirt you wore, rolling your nipple between his fingers.

You felt a sinful gush of wetness between your thighs.

“I’ll tell you what, how about you just stay the night? You are in no condition to be out and about. The doctor said you were concussed. Get some rest, think on it and you can decide tomorrow.”

“How do I know you’ll keep your end of the bargain?” you asked, your arms crossed.

“Because,” Rafael began, his voice dangerous and low, “as much as the universe wants us together, if you want to leave, I’ll keep my promise. I always keep my promise.” He grabbed your smaller hands in his.

You had yet to respond. Yes, you had a crush on the older man. But did you want this?

“Tell me you don’t want me.” He demanded, forcing you to whimper. “Tell me how bad I am. Tell me how you didn’t want this to happen. Didn’t want a bad man like me to take you and make you mine.”

Tags: @mgarner1227 @beccabarba @madpanda75 @itsjustmyfantasyroom @alwaysachorusgirl @melk917 @plaidbooks @witches-unruly-heart @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @detectivebarba @detective-giggles @writefasttalkevenfaster @youreverycolor @mrsrafaelbarba @tintinxtintin @dreamlover31 @zoeykaytesmom @adarafaelbarba @qvid-pro-qvo @sass-and-suspenders @greeneyedblondie44 @bananas-pajamas @i-justreally-like-cats-okay @bisexual-dreamer02 @berniesilvas @rachelxwarren @neely1177 @ottosuricato @whoamelinda @its-just-me-chey @emandems10 @amelia-song-pond @garturbo @jazzyjoi @whatisthislife28 @mommakat32 @a-brignac @blueberryt @pieceofshittytitty @chasingeverybreakingwave

[maracujatangerine]

77. Safety

CW: institutionalised slavery, dehumanisation, box boy universe, pet whump

White planes sped up on the tarmac outside the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, faster and faster until they rose up into the cerulean sky.

Brutus ignored them. If one of the pilots would lose control his Master might die, but that was a threat that was beyond his control. Focus on the threat that you can affect.

Instead, he let his dark eyes sweep over the crowd inside the airport. Walking half a step behind his Master’s left shoulder, Brutus saw passers-by swerve to avoid crossing their path, idle glances snagging on his collar in curiosity or apprehension.

This was normal, the way that young, bespectacled father pulled his small daughter aside, the way the two elderly ladies in hijabs took a few steps back, the wave of attention rippling through the crowd as they passed. This was, in a way, what his Master had paid the WRU for.

What Brutus was looking for was something out of the ordinary, someone moving with unexpected purpose, someone running or throwing or standing still in just the wrong way. The state of hypervigilance felt almost like meditation, a singular focus that absorbed all thought.

This time, it was not needed. No threat appeared. After an uneventful taxi ride through bustling streets they arrived at a double suite on the fifteenth floor. After taking a quick shower, the pet’s Master told the guard dog to stay.

“I won’t be needing you tonight.” Wayland Jones said, as he walked out the door.

Brutus did his exercise routine, sit-ups and push-ups and stretches. He also had a shower, in the second, smaller bathroom.

With his still damp hair curling around his face, Brutus sat down at the ebony desk and disassembled and cleaned his handgun with smooth, well-practiced precision.

A guard dog should be like a gun, his handler’s voice echoed in his mind, collected, calm, unmoving as long as the safety is on, but capable of tremendous violence if your owner releases the catch.

Reassembling the weapon, Brutus laid it to the side. He did feel twinges of concern at his Master being out and about alone, but Wayland Jones had ordered him to stay. Master knows best. Brutus tried to reassure himself.

The guard dog straightened out the room and drank some water in the bathroom to make his rumbling stomach quiet down. Then, finally, he turned off the lights and sat down in front of the large windows.

The night in the foreign city was filled with neon coloured signs for shops, restaurants and nightclubs. Dark shapes of trees swayed in the breeze. Windows in the buildings around left binary messages of alternating warm yellow or deep dark rectangles. Cars, motorbikes and buses crawled back and forth with their red and white lamps painting streaks of light.

Work was over. There was nothing more to be done. Brutus sat in the quiet, cool and dark hotel room and enjoyed the view.

*

This post is a part of the 2023 BBU Community Days organised by @bbu-on-the-side. This is my entry for day 13: Safety.

*

Tag List Part 1: @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @whumpzone @wh-wh-whu @neuro-whump @carnagecardinal @cowboy-anon @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @bloodsweatandpotato @pinkraindropsfell @whumptywhumpdump @theydy-cringeworthy @whump-in-progress @whumpsy-daisy @nicolepascaline @whumpcreations @briars7 @shiningstarofwinter @whumppsychology @alex-ember @miss-kitty-whumptastic @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @youtube-fandoms-bands @goblinchildindabog @mazeish @distinctlywhumpthing @inpainandsuffering @canniboylism @icannotweave @incoherent-introspection @kim-poce @broken-typewriter @the-monarch-whumperfly @whumpers-inc @grizzlie70 @lil-whumper @writingbackwards @sunflower1000 @wingedwhump @thecitythatdoesntsleep @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @onlybadendings @rabass @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning

[the8thsphynx]

FELLOW YURI LOVER HELLO <3 I love your art and I wanted to pick your brain for any Lunatic theories or headcanons ya got, if you're up for it! I've always had this thought and wanted to ask other Tiger & Bunny fans about it, but how do you think the Petrov family was doing after Legend's death? How do you think Yuri got through law school to become a judge while taking care of his mom??

Ohhhhhh Anon we are sharing a braincell right now. Buckle up.

Yuri gifs sprinkled throughout to help make my points

(CW for the theories ahead, dealing with themes of trauma, domestic violence, child abuse, and alcoholism)

First off, I absolutely think Yuri and Olga were not wanting for money at all after Legend's death, even before Yuri became a judge. There were probably no financial worries whatsoever for Yuri getting through law school, either. Mr. Legend was the hero in Sternbild for the longest time, so there was likely a sizeable life insurance policy and inheritance for them.

Also for sure Maverick threw hush money their way because while the alcoholism was bad enough then that meant Hero TV ABSOLUTELY was not gonna let the news out that Legend's death was because he was about to kill his wife and child. Case in point for this one is that when Ben got the info for Kotetsu about NEXT powers fading, Ben only had info about the alcoholism; not that Legend was an abuser nor that Yuri was his son.

I could make an entirely separate post and go on for days about the fuckery I think was going on between Yuri and Maverick, but I wanna stay on-topic for your question. another day... maybe... if its asked...

So... onto the sadder part!

What Happened to the Petrovs?

So... disclaimer: I am NOT a mental health professional... however I am a childhood abuse survivor, so I'm really just pointing out patterns I recognize from my own experiences.

In Ep. 16 of Season 1 when we got Yuri's backstory reveal, I couldn't help but make mental note of his mom and how they interacted. When we first see her, she's not only elderly and disabled to where she needs mobile assistance, but she's also clearly having some sort of memory lapse into a time where the abuse wasn't happening, given her cheery way of talking when she does go into these episodes.

However... When Yuri reminds her that his father is dead, it shocks Olga and kind of snaps her out of it... and her instant response is to start verbally abusing Yuri and throwing things at him.

Yuri not flinching we could first think 'yeah his reflexes as Lunatic are probably making him aware he doesn't need to dodge' but like... what if it's that and that he's used to it...?

I think that the mental condition we see Olga with in the beginning hasn't been going on for too long. If we go off the first movie's timeline of things, Yuri implies that he came to Sternbild and was just appointed as a judge for the city.

Also there's this air in the way Yuri was walking around the house and talking to his mom in S1. Ep16 that makes it feel like this is one of the first times in a while he's been around her. he's also still learning the ropes of being a caretaker for an elderly person, bc as someone who used to work with CNAs and nurses in a retirement home the last thing you want to do when someone's having a memory lapse is forcefully pull them out of it, unless of course the writers for the show themselves just didn't know

All of this to me this feels like Yuri has only just recently come back to Sternbild and moved in with his mom in order to take care of her.

With Olga she obviously was very in love with her husband and adored her son before the downward spiral began. That much is apparent later on in Season 2 where we see Olga (albeit almost permanently in this memory-lapse state) being quite tender and affectionate towards Yuri and acting towards him like she did when he was a child (cue the heartbreaking flashback to how she really really wanted to make the cookies Yuri loved on the night she died).

However, in the moments where she's lucid again and acting negatively towards Yuri, I think this is the truth of their dynamic after Legend died.

Trauma from abuse can do... weird things to people.

Now any of us can sit back and say 'if my child went through the horrible agony of killing their own father to save the both of us I would simply cherish and care for them, RIP but I'm built dif', or 'if my husband started abusing me and my son I would simply divorce him' but... people and legality can be more complicated and messier than that.

I'm not going to get into the semantics on if Yuri's mom was a completely bad person or anything like that (bc the whole theme of the Petrovs is 'there are no only good or only bad people, there's just people), but I'll flat out say that I think a bit after Legend's death Olga was at the very least verbally abusing Yuri.

The complete disregulation of her brain from the abuse and violent death of her husband PLUS all the ways Hero TV was probably covering things up must have messed her up some type of way that she blamed Yuri for their life being turned upside down and was resentful towards him.

On the flipside, on Yuri's part, he absolutely has a deeply complicated relationship with his mother on TOP of how fucked up he is from his father. He doesn't regret stepping in as a child and saving her, but for sure there's a painful wound still stinging in his chest about how their relationship was damaged and never really recovered. With how bitter and toxic things with his mom probably got, Yuri might have left home at some point or was even kicked out.

As for Yuri's personal mental state, I mean the show highlights pretty clearly that he is NOT okay. Yuri has very intense PTSD to the point of constantly reliving when his powers activated and he killed his father to having hallucinations of his father mocking him.

His perception on morality has been pretty skewed to the point of being super vengeful to whoever he perceives as 'wicked', which comes through not just as Lunatic but in his dayjob as a judge where he's known for giving out heavy-handed sentences.

(i mean usually this vengefulness as Lunatic is directed to serial killers or violent criminals, so.... it could be worse, I guess...?).

Now... Back to Yuri and his mom... So for those of us who did survive a toxic family/parent, I'm sure we can look at anyone who asks and say 'lmao fuck my shitty family, I don't care what happens to them' but... let's get real, that shit hurts. Especially like in Yuri's case where the family member wasn't always abusive or at least wasn't in the beginning.

So when the times comes for whatever phone call that Yuri got to come take care of Olga in her old age, I think he was still bitter about how she treated him and was mentally prepared for everything to be nonstop difficult and depressing. And I mean from there we see in the series how things go; exactly that.. But as Olga's mental state deteriorates, in some fucked up bittersweet way her relationship with Yuri greatly improves. Like... to the point where in the very end Yuri was happy to talk to her on the phone and spend time with her. Which again, for those of us that have lived this IRL, is HUGE.

I'm not going to get into Season 2 endgame spoilers, but the ultimate fate of the Petrov family depresses me to no end. I DO like though in S2 Ep20 how Yuri was able to get a LITTLE bit of closure for himself.

I just still maintain a lot of things for him in the end of the series should have been handled differently.

This got long, but the brainworms are real.

WATCH TIGER & BUNNY. STAN YURI PETROV.

Thank you for the ask, Anon!

[spumonibones]

Chasing Wings: Memoria 07

Pairing: Xiao x Venti First Chapter (Ao3) ; First Chapter (Tumblr)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter Lore/Story Notes Chapter CW: None Update Schedule: Every Wednesday Canon Divergence AU; Other Four Yaksha Still Live; Zhongli already retired but Osial hasn't happened; Canon Typical Violence

Quick Notes: So close to having this caught up with Ao3. Should be caught up by this weekend, slowed it down because it felt like I was spamming.

Summary:

"To Err is Human, to Forget is Godly."

Almost 500 years ago, the Cataclysm happened. As the fires and monsters dwindled, most of the Seven had fallen. One, Barbatos, simply disappeared - and in his absence, the mourning songs of Dvalin would serenade the land of wind each yearly anniversary. The surviving Archons presumed him dead, and Monstadt presumed he simply never was.

Then one day, before a Traveler will fish Teyvat's Best Guide from its waters, a young man named Venti is rescued by the Vigilant Yaksha. Without memory a face as familiar as it is foreign, the question then becomes... What path can one take, when new memories meet old?

***

“All set!” Venti announced proudly, a lute in his hands and a bag slung over his shoulder full of papers. Xiao raised a single brow, but didn't verbally ask. The silent question went ignored, Venti continuing to beam. “What am I learning today?” He asked. 

Xiao said nothing as there was no point. Simply scooped Venti up, careful of the instruments and ignoring the bard’s laugh. What about this amused Venti was anyone's guess. This was just the easiest method of moving the humans, as had been taught to the yaksha by Bosacius.

Within seconds the smoke the pair left behind had dissipated, the room now empty. Xiao took them to Wuwang Hill, the area offering long steeps that were ideal for an Anemo user that seemed determined to use his power for subpar flying. The falls weren't too far, and at worst Venti might break something. The yaksha couldn't protect the man from stupid, but he could at least teach him in safe areas. There were also rarely humans that came through there, as the closest village was Qingce and most its inhabitants were too elderly to travel. This allowed privacy, and both needed that. One of their sessions, the fake Vision Venti carried had fallen off. It wasn't until later that Venti noticed, and it had been a headache trying to find the bauble. If Venti would at least try to pretend his imitation was real, there were quite a few issues that would solve. 

In the yaksha’s case though, all of that was someone else’s nightmare to contend with. Xiao's instructions were simple, all he had to do was teach. Once Venti placed his belongings on the ground, the two got started. Using Anemo to elevate oneself off the ground was a practice in balance. The instructions were concise, Xiao's stoic voice a solid flow of guidance. The first part consisted primarily in him testing Venti's balance, instructing the bard to move across increasingly more challenging constructs without falling. Fallen trees, uneven stones, and lines drawn in the dirt. 

“When do you float?” Venti asked, moving across the tree without once looking down. His feet, now in shoes that fit, glided across with toes that scraped just barely to check it met with something solid. Xiao watched him, finding the ease in which the bard moved to be peculiar. Without training, humans didn't just intuitively know this level of balancing. Venti should have fallen at least once, but instead he fared no more trouble on these courses than he did on solid ground. Actually, Venti almost seemed more stable by treating the world around him as if he walked on air instead of earth. 

“I don't.” Xiao replied curtly. At that, Venti lifted his leg to swing it and let his body follow to entirely face the yaksha. For a rare occasion, this time he wore a frown with black brows knitting in confusion. 

“Why not? When you caught me that night, and used Anemo to carry us back up… Didn't the wind lifting you feel amazing? I've been wanting to do that again so bad !” Venti spoke, an ache in his voice near the end. His fists clenched close to his heart, body tightening into itself before he jumped upwards, arms above his head, and hands open with fingers spread. “It's like flying!”

“It isn't.” Xiao spoke flatly, his visage feigning disinterest. “You can't fly using only Anemo for the same reason using a Wingglider isn't viable to travel the world. Actual flight requires a light enough body, and appendages that can be used to catch air currents, lift the body from the ground or ease a landing… In addition to a mechanism used for guiding the body, otherwise the wind will just toss you wherever.” The explanation was supposed to be flat, however a certain bitterness was in his words. His arms were crossed, with shoulders straight. 

No , Xiao thought with sorrow and frustration. Anemo from a Vision alone would never be enough, it continued. Releasing a controlled exhale he added, “You're… Preternaturally light, and your body… Seems to make Anemo. It might be possible for you to float. But that jump I did, that wasn't even close to flying.”

As he listened to Xiao speak, Venti lowered his arms. Glanced down, before sliding his feet down so he could sit on the fallen tree. Gave his whole attention to the yaksha, as he always seemed to do. There was no doubt in Xiao's mind that Venti wanted to learn, to embrace the power he had. What was odd, was that Venti never seemed interested in learning why he wanted to.  

He wants to fly so much it hurts, Venti thought as he heard the other's clarification. The indicators were there, quiet as each give away was. Those glowing gold eyes turned somber, an emotion that those bushy brows couldn't hide no matter how low they were furrowed. The way that Xiao's shoulders tensed, causing the definition in his biceps to become more pronounced. Between each sentence was a split second pause to ungrit teeth, to silence the urge to bite back a scream so Venti wouldn't know it lurked beneath the surface. 

So of course Venti's goal shifted slightly from, I have to learn how to fly , to, I gotta find a way for us to fly together! A lofty goal that he hoped there was time for him to fulfill. There was a tug of war inside of him about how to go forward. On one hand, the faster he improved the closer he was to that goal. On the other, Venti didn't know the extent of how long these lessons would go. At what point did Xiao decide he graduated? If nothing else, Venti wanted to do something nice for the yaksha. A bit grouchy yes, but in an endearing way. Xiao was also just nice, despite how adamant he was about being everything but.

There was a gentle soul inside of that guarded exterior. Venti couldn't stop recalling that first time the two met. The way Xiao was prepared to give to his life, to just give a complete stranger the chance to live. Even today, Venti watched Xiao from the corner of his eye. That irritated twitch at the corner of the yaksha’s mouth, recognition at the game being played with the offering of food. Despite knowing that Venti didn't need a few minutes, Xiao didn't press. Merely took his food and left until told otherwise. The option was always there to call Venti out on his lie, but not once did Xiao ever do so. 

People like Xiao were few and far between. That guarded exterior was there to protect a fragile heart, one that needed to know more kindness. Whatever had hurt Xiao in the past Venti couldn't undo. What he could do though, was to find a way to thank the other. To genuinely show Xiao how much Venti not only appreciated his help, but just who he was. 

Venti was also just curious what his smile looked like. If it was serene or crooked, shy or that type of wide and contagious. No matter the appearance, Venti felt confident it was beautiful. “Venti?” Xiao called, pulling him from his thoughts. 

“Sorry. Just, a bit thrown off by, ‘preternaturally light.’ That is a new one. Would you mind if I added it as a lyric to a ballad I'm writing?” Venti asked, dodging the possible follow-up question of: do we need to stop today? An offer Xiao always made if Venti got too distracted. The bard still wasn't sure if the inquiry was made out of consideration or an attempt to escape what perhaps felt like babysitting to the yaksha.

A raised brow was his answer, an unfortunately unclear one. 

“I'm supernaturally light, huh. Does that mean anyone can bench press me…?” Venti murmured, moreso to himself. 

“Do you want to float or not?’ Xiao asked, easily bringing the interaction back to where it was supposed to be. 

“Yes!” Venti nodded eagerly, quickly jumping from sitting and back to standing on his feet. A lesson that would ultimately wait due to a cry, loud and shrill, puncturing the air like a hot knife through butter. More followed, the frequency filling Venti's thoughts with a slew of possible explanations.

There was no pause between the terrified screams and Xiao’s reaction. Duty summoned him, and Xiao made no hesitation to react. With a startling swiftness, the yaksha dashed to the edge of the cliffside. While labeled a hill, the two were at the highest point and it was still a good ways down. Xiao kicked off from the rock in a backflip as his polearm appeared into his hands. In little more than a blink, Xiao was plummeting away. Panic bloomed in Venti’s chest, and he scrambled after the other in a desperate dash to somehow grab him before he fell to his death. Why didn't he teleport?! Venti thought, frantic in his blooming fear. Too slow, too late. All he could think about was he had to do something, had to save Xiao from either injuring or killing himself! What he lacked in the finesse of Xiao’s smoother, practiced movements Venti had a certain grace in spite of the fact he was leaping off of a mountain ! The map could call it a hill all it wanted, but Venti knew better! Legs pressed together, his hands over his head and pointed forward as if he were diving. The bard leapt, falling after. He wasn’t going fast enough - Xiao was already so far away, spinning downwards to his target. Venti stretched his body, as if somehow that would create less wind resistance. The wetness of his eyes was less about the air hitting him as he fell, and more about the terror he wasn’t going to be quick enough. Faster, he needed to be faster…!

There was an ache in his shoulders, a sharp pang as he kept trying to stretch forward. His hair was whipping around behind him, the plaits smacking his neck and ears. He was gaining speed now, finally! Just a bit more and…!

Xiao landed atop his opponent, the almost dragon-like creature releasing a pained roar at having been stabbed. Just as quickly as when he leapt off the mountain, Xiao ripped his spear from the creature’s back, kicking off of it in a burst of turquoise light. The yaksha was fine. Somehow. Venti’s relief was short-lived, his eyes widening because now he was falling! What was he thinking?! Of course Xiao was fine! He wasn’t human, and he had been doing this for centuries to boot! What could someone like Venti have done to help him? At the speed he was falling, if he tried to spread out his limbs in an effort to slow his fall… Wouldn’t the wind pressure risk breaking them? That was fine - he was willing to risk broken bones over death! As he tried to spread himself out to slow down, there was no resistance threatening his bones as he did so. The fall was starting to feel as if he was… Not so much falling, as he was sinking. Even more strange, was how effective this effort was. Venti had anticipated a subtle change, not one so drastic. The rate in which he was falling had slowed to a mere feather fall, as if gravity barely even noticed Venti was there anymore. 

Now, Venti could simply watch Xiao work. Speed seemed to be the yaksha’s strong suit, in addition to his small and lithe form. The bulk of the beast that Xiao was fighting couldn’t maneuver to match its opponent, nor was it quick enough to try and catch him. With a snarl, it shook its body before flames burst forth from its scales. The green jade of Xiao’s blade paused, his expression hidden behind his mask with its glowing eyes. What was he waiting for…? The creature roared, and charged towards Xiao. It howled as it came at him, and when it raised its claws Xiao leapt upwards, a trail of that glowing turquoise swirling beneath his feet. Polearm in hand, Xiao repeated the downwards spin of his initial jump and brought the blade’s tip down. Right into the skull of the creature, at the base of its neck. The fire on that back of the creature hissed, before bubbling and cooling into cold, black lava rock. With a wave of his hand, Xiao’s mask was gone. Closing his eyes, he sighed.

“That was amazing!” Venti cheered, waving his arms up and down as if mocking wings in flight in his excitement. 

“What are you-?” Xiao gasped, startled from his quiet moment to turn yellow eyes to the voice. Those same yellow eyes with their soft glow widened, the muscles in his face going slack from shock. 

“Are the people okay? Oh, if they missed what you just did, I will make a song so they’ll know!” Venti continued, green-blue eyes searching for the source of the scream. There was a small collection of people, none of which showed any external injuries that he could see. A total of three, none of which appeared conscious. 

“Venti, you…” Xiao began, taking slow steps forward. It was a silly hope to carry, but part of Venti wondered if the other was stepping forward to catch him. His descent hastened, Venti reaching his hands out towards the other. Mesmerized by something, Xiao’s hands clasped with the other’s. Their hands twined together, and Venti was reminded how it felt to walk on air with someone. Figuratively, of course. 

Standing firm and solid on the ground, Xiao looked up into the other’s eyes. Intuitively knew that Venti’s toes weren’t even on the ground as he floated. “They’re beautiful.” Xiao whispered, his eyes on something behind Venti. Curiosity piqued, even if it did somewhat ruin the moment, Venti followed his line of sight.

White feathers. Pure, solid white feathers. 

Startled, Venti turned his head more. Tried to make sense of why there was this wing in his way, and was Xiao talking about those or what was behind it? At his thought of it moving, the wing did so. Realization hit him. These were… His? Wings? Venti had wings ? Since when did he have wings?

“Xiao-” Venti began, only to look down and see that no part of him had made contact with the earth yet. What if he couldn’t land? Would these wings be out forever? Was he stuck with them? Fear and panic spread through him, his body once more foreign to him. His stomach turned, the faster his thoughts raced the more his wings started to flap wildly without direction. The hands he once held in greeting slid out to instead tightly hold onto Venti’s wrist, pulling him down. 

“Venti-” Xiao’s voice was calm and even, but Venti’s mind felt a panic that was primitive and overwhelming at the fingers that held his wrists captive. A sensation of claws clutching tightly onto him, holding Venti down and ripping him apart piece by piece in scattered memories that stole Venti’s rationality. The wings kicked up dust as he wriggled, panic-ridden brain forgetting the yaksha was holding him instead of a nightmare. Xiao knew that clutching onto the other wasn’t the best, but equally was afraid if he let go that Venti would fly off with no understanding of where he was going or how to stop. That in such a short instant, he would lose the other. As much ache as doing so created in his heart, Xiao was a being of duty and would not risk Venti hurting himself. “Venti, focus on your breathing. Can you do that? Just your breathing. Deep breath in, hold, slow breath out…” His voice, normally guarded in its tone, was gentle. Reassuring. Much as the grip frightened some unknown piece of Venti, that voice broke through the terror, reassured and made him feel safe. So he listened. Swallowed down as much panic as he could, and just… Breathed. Adhered to the instructions as he was given, Xiao carefully pulling him down with each sentence.

By the time Venti was breathing normally, Xiao had pulled him into an embrace, pressing Venti’s ear against his chest to listen to the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart. Venti could feel the vibrations of Xiao’s words, the reassuring hold Xiao had with one hand on Venti’s back and the other on his head. Safe. This was… Safe. With the last long exhale, Venti’s toes were on the ground, his wings no longer disturbing the nearby dirt. Leaning fully into the hold, Venti placed his hands on the other’s back, moving more towards the middle when Xiao’s body tensed as fingers got too close to the shoulder blades. Now that he was calm, the two were quiet. 

When was the last time Venti had felt this safe? Try as he might, he couldn’t really remember. A memory, blurry and disjointed. A man, someone Venti had just broken up with. The man was… Frustrating, disappointing. Was always trying to instigate more. The two couldn’t touch without him trying to escalate the interaction into more, to the point that a hug filled Venti with apprehension and his nerves made his whole body tense to the point he woke up with aches. There was no expectation of more in this embrace, and there was a security in that sudden realization. 

It was odd to be held by Xiao. Not bad by any means, but strange. The yaksha moving into action when there was danger was expected. That was his life. But this… This wasn't something Xiao had to do, let alone doing it so gently and patiently. 

“Did they… Hurt?” Xiao asked softly, keeping his voice quiet just in case. 

“The wings?” Venti ventured, and a gentle ‘hmm’ confirmed his words. “No. I didn’t feel anything. I still don’t really feel them.” To his own ears, it sounded silly. “I just had to get to you. From that height I was scared that you wouldn’t make it.”

“For the future, I’ve developed a talent for falls like that. I know how to manipulate Anemo and my innate powers to land without injury.” Xiao’s explanation was simple, and Venti was certain had he not been panicking moments ago the words would have carried much more of an edge to them. There was a tenderness to Xiao, and that made it so hard to want to let go. But he had to. Venti suspected that with his patience, the yaksha would stand there holding Venti for as long as he needed the other to. Anything longer wouldn’t have been fair to Xiao, and it wouldn’t have been fair to the three people that needed to be checked on. With a sigh full of remorse, Venti managed to pull himself away somehow. No resistance came from Xiao, the yaksha simply allowing Venti the movement that he needed. 

Venti was going to say thank you, but he noticed the other’s gaze was still on his wings. “Sorry. I’ll try to figure out how to make them go away.” He apologized, taking a few steps back. If those people saw, they were bound to get the wrong idea.

“No!” The word left Xiao’s mouth before he could think, and the two watched each other with surprise. “Don’t apologize. Take your time. I’ll go check on the humans.” He amended his words, the gruffness returning along with the tension in his shoulders. Trying to move towards juts of rock that Venti hoped would conceal him, he wondered at what just happened. 

In their short time training together, Xiao had maintained his distance. Venti tried to respect it, because antagonizing someone who looked two wrong words away from killing someone was a poor long-term life decision. The yaksha simply didn’t seem particularly interested in Venti outside of gratitude for saving his life, and that a funeral consultant suggested that Xiao protect Venti until… Well, he could protect himself. He was confident he could manage that better if he knew more about the dangers he could face. At the very least, Venti was quite pleased all those years of archery finally had a practical effect. A memory surfaced, vague and disorienting with much of its details verbally given to him rather than from his own eyes. About how he was drunk, and shooting arrows at targets from a dancer’s pole.

Chuckles left him, because what else was there to do but laugh? Venti couldn’t remember the names or the faces of the people that regaled him with the tale of his own poor judgments. Wherever they were, he hoped they were doing well. Right. The wings. He needed to make them go away. But how? He wasn’t even sure where they came from. Just as before, the wings seemed to react to his thoughts, because when he looked over his shoulder to assess the wingspan they were gone. As a test, he thought about the wings returning. If he could understand how to work them…

Turquoise light stretched out from his back, a breeze accompanying the emerging extremities. A handful of feathers drifted from the wings, and the light wind subsided. “That easy, huh?” Venti murmured, and delighted laughter followed suit. Wings! He had wings ! Once he learned how to fly, how far could he go? Would this world allow him to finally reach the stars and hold the moon, to know what it was to dance with the clouds? Doing a slow spin, green-blue eyes twinkled as he watched the wings move with him. Quelling his joy, Venti thought away the wings. Now with the appearance of a regular person, he hurried out from his hiding spot to check on the people and Xiao. 

All three people were now up, though two of them were searching around the area for something. The third, a tall woman, seemed oblivious to her growing wardrobe malfunction. The fastener on the woman’s qipao had somehow come undone, the asymmetric collar sliding over her shoulder awkwardly. The fabric wasn’t stretchy, and the longer Venti watched the interaction the more he recognized this was not an instance of clothing complications.

“Truly, great Conquerer of Demons, you must let me thank you properly! I’m an amazing cook, I can make anything you want.” The woman was saying, batting her eyes and trying to lean forward to offer Xiao a view he otherwise wouldn’t have had being almost an entire head shorter than her. Somehow, Venti managed to keep his amused snort to himself. For his part, Xiao didn’t seem to notice the cleavage trying to catch his eyes. Instead, he continued to frown up at her eyes.

“Conquering demons is what I do. There’s no need to thank me.” Xiao scowled, his tone unpleasant and his expression annoyed. His bushy brows were pressed down over his eyes, body rigid but there was no polearm in either of his hands. 

“But Mr. Conqueror… Don’t you ever want to conquer something… Other than demons?” The woman’s flirtations were quite brazen, and on anyone else her innuendo’s meaning would have been heard loud and clear. Unfortunately for her, Xiao merely eyed her as if trying to decide if she injured her head after all. The way Xiao looked at her, how obvious she was being, it was caomical enough that Venti couldn’t help the snickers that escaped him. Xiao’s annoyed visage was confused for a split second, before the sound of his charge took his attention from the strange question. 

“You’ve returned.” Xiao commented, and nodded at the lack of wings. Gold eyes went back to the woman, who was hurriedly trying to fix her clothes having been caught by a stranger that wasn’t the yaksha. “My duty to Liyue is to deal with demons, and the karma that comes with it. Anything outside of that, seek the Milleleth’s protection.” His warning and advice(?) given, Xiao walked towards Venti who by this point was just openly laughing. Venti couldn’t help it! That woman had clearly never heard of subtle, and somehow Xiao walked away from the situation none the wiser. The entire exchange had been equal parts endearing and hilarious. Standing in front of Venti, Xiao watched him continue to laugh. With an annoyed growl, Xiao easily scooped up the bard and teleported the pair. Right back at the top of the ‘hill.’

By this point, it was assumed Venti was unaffected by his karma. Xiao generally made no physical contact unless he had to. The Anemo abilities gave suggestion that the bard was fine if near the yaksha, as Vision-wielders were safe from the contagion. And just now, when he hugged the other moments ago… Well, thus far, no signs or symptoms. That was going to make teaching Venti less stressful, and added more to the possibility he was Barbatos. Somehow. Meanwhile, unlike Venti, those humans would start to feel its effects if the yaksha remained there any longer. 

But that was background noise, and currently Xiao was trying to make sense of why Venti had been laughing. Somewhere in that exchange, Xiao missed something. Whatever happened to make Venti laugh this hard, the context eluded Xiao and that annoyed him. As the Vigilant Yaksha, nothing should have gotten past his honed senses. Yet he clearly missed something! His frown only grew deeper as Venti’s laughter continued. Ensuring Venti wasn’t going to meander off in his humor, Xiao put down the bard so he could go settle himself on a rock. A nice solid rock, one ideal for thinking on. There was no one around to tease him about pouting, and he found relief in at least that. Unless Venti prodded him, the two were going to take a break. One in which Xiao cleared his mind, his only focus on potential cries for help. Pointed ears listened for the calls of humans, the snarls of demons. Heard only the breeze flowing through the trees, of birds flapping their wings as they took flight. Those wings…

Wings spread out, a white that would make ivory appear more cream. The glow of Anemo coursing through Venti, lighting up pieces of his hair, his eyes, and just faintly beneath his clothes the tattoos of an Archon’s body. That carefree smile, and how happy he was to find that Xiao was fine. Simultaneously Xiao felt the jealousy, the guilt he felt any jealousy at all, and the awe. Attempted to push away how natural it felt, the way Venti’s hands slid so easily into his when trying to land without even realizing he was flying. I shouldn’t have said anything. I doubt he’ll say it, but I know he’s upset with me, the yaksha thought with a sigh. The way Venti had reacted about the wings was unsettling. The potential within Venti was akin to a whirlwind. Depending where you stood, determined just how intense the experience would be. If Venti was going to be afraid of his power, he was going to hurt himself and those around him. Back held straight, Xiao promised himself that when that time came, he would be there to protect everyone he could. 

Attempts at meditation weren’t going as intended, but Xiao skillfully made no reaction as Venti plopped next to him. To his surprise, Venti wasn’t making any attempts at conversation or chatting. The bard merely slid back on his hands, tilting his head back to gaze upon the first stars beginning to show as the sun set. The silence was refreshing, and Xiao was content to enjoy the companionable silence. Shoulders easing, the yaksha imagined his thoughts getting caught up in a gust. The emotions that came with the memories twirled in a circle, spinning around until all of them were a blur of colour. Next each one was carried away by the wind, drifting further away until the weight on his shoulders lifted for the moment. 

Quiet singing pulled him back to the present, and as his eyes fluttered open he took note that the sun had long since set. There had been no calls for him. No demons that dared to challenge him, instead choosing to remain dormant or hidden. From the corners of his eyes, Xiao let his gaze settle on Venti. The bard was lying on the grass, knees pulled in and moving left to right and back in tune with the singing. The action was reminiscent of a metronome. His arms were stretched above his head, hands playing with blades of grass as the wind made them dance over palm and fingers. 

Green and blue eyes caught his, a small smile spreading into the song as his lips curved upwards slightly. Shoulders tensing, Xiao immediately pulled his eyes away, gaze fixating on the ground below. That short second of eye contact, that tiny smile. Such brief and inconsequential things, and yet there was a fluttering in Xiao’s chest he had never felt before. 

[honey-deku]

wasup @fairyvearths ! im your pitch hitter for the @onepiece-blorboexchange thank you for patiently waiting <3

with out further ado, here’s a story of gang AU where reader meets retired gangster Reyleigh! please enjoy!

Title: Lost

CW: Gender neutral reader, SFW, mentions of gang violence, corrupt police, implied open marriage between Reyleigh and Shakky, library setting, later coffee shop setting, dilf crush, flirting from said dilf, heavy rain

Gang/modern AU

Plot: Reader gets to know Rayleigh pretty well after meeting in a library and the two go out for hot coffee on a rainy day. Reyleigh notices reader was looking up books about urban politics and gang violence and reveals himself to be a former gangster of one of the most notable gang in the city.

Word Count: 3239

_____________________________________

It was a freezing winter day, the rain showered any and all who dared to walk without an umbrella, pelting everyone with bullet like droplets and drenching their outfits.

You managed to minimize the damage when you saw the dark clouds heading your way an hour ago, quickly walking towards the nearest library. You were a little irritated as of all the days for a harsh rainstorm to hit your city, it had to be the day you decided to walk instead of drive, equipped with nothing but a flimsy umbrella. The forecast predicted the heavy rainstorm sometime later this week, you knew this well before hand but you didn’t think it would arrive so quickly or at least at this hour.

Now the issue wasn’t about your clothes getting wet, the issue was how you were going to safely get home? The ominous pitter patter coming from the ceiling above you constantly reminded you of that future problem, reminding you of all the bad choices you’ve made so far today.

You decided to put a hold on the issue and drew your focus back to the task before you: you wanted to find a book that described the history of gang violence in your city. Why? Maybe it was because of how movies romanticized the gang life or maybe it was because you always wondered what it would have been like to be a criminal? You always were fascinated by criminal cases and the psychology behind it too so that might’ve been another factor. 

What really drew your interest was one particular gang, an infamous gang that once terrorized the streets of your city decades ago: the Roger Pirates. And lo and behold, you found a book that covered the topic of this crew and their history.

The leader, Gol Roger, was notorious for bringing lots of prosperity the community but also for driving away other gangs from his territory. He was known for many things and was seen as a controversial figure in your city; some criticized his methods and use of violence while others praised him for keeping the community safe from outside powers and police corruption.

However, after some back and forth with the police, he was eventually caught and was given the death sentence almost immediately but not before announcing a hidden “treasure” he had left behind in his wake. 

Unfortunately for the police, this act only further enticed everyone else to find that lost “treasure” that Roger had hidden away, bringing about the creation of small time gangs that riddled the streets you lived on to this day. Perhaps Roger’s legendary tale and the possibility of finding this so called “One Piece” drew you to these things.

You shuffled through the pages when suddenly a voice yanked you out of your bubble.

“You know who those guys are Y/N?” said a deep voice beside you. You nearly jumped out of your skin. How did you not hear someone walk up behind you? You were so caught up in your daydreams to not notice the figure.

You turned around, looking up to find an elderly man smiling down on you; you felt relieved as you recognized this man, this was the same man who frequented this section of the library as much as you. You two knew of each other and would often greet and wave at the other whenever you two crossed paths. 

His white hair strands were lightly coated with water droplets, he must’ve entered the library fairly recently you thought. He wore a thick navy blue coat with beige faux fur on the inside. Beside the expensive looking jacket, he had on him a pair of name brand circle rimmed glasses, from what you gathered from past conversations, this man seemed pretty wealthy, probably that retirement money.

“I…uh…” You stammered. “I have an idea of who they are”. You weren’t sure why you felt so shy all of a sudden, it’s not like you two were complete strangers but this was the first time you two have spoken outside of pleasantries; you were maybe worried of what he would say upon finding out about the dark content you were reading. You’d never admit it publicly but you did find this gentleman attractive as well; he seemed to be in really good shape for someone his age. 

The older man took notice of this internal panic of yours and chuckled, attempting to dispel the tension in the air. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you, my apologies. Are you studying for a class? I’ve seen you around here often”. 

The familiarity made you feel a little better, and even then, he didn’t come across as someone to be wary of, he just seemed like a sweet old man. 

“Oh! Not really, I find this sort of thing interesting.”

“Oh really?” He scanned the page you were on and his eyes lit up.

He quickly pointed to a photograph in the book you held, a black and white photograph of a group of young men running from something or someone out of view, probably the police. 

The old man smiled, “Hey that’s me!”.

“Yeah right!” you giggled.

“No really! You don’t see it?” The gentleman paused. “Well I guess you can’t really tell from this angle, those cops were never the best photographers.” He chuckled, “Mind I see the book?”

“Sure.” you replied, passing the book to him. He flipped through the pages of the book, scanning its contents and finally stopping on one specific page. He looked at you with gleaming eyes and a giddy smile, “Can I show you something?” 

You rolled your eyes; whatever this old man had to show you was probably going to be a mugshot of some young fella and he was gonna make another joke about it being him when he was younger. You still decided to entertain his shenanigans nonetheless as you didn’t see the harm in it. He was just another playful old man.

“Yeah why not? Sure”. you said as you shrugged your shoulders.

“Ok but you have to promise me you’ll be quiet, understand?” He whispered, tapping his lips with this index finger to emphasize his point.

“Yes yes yes I understand.” You responded back in a hushed, whimsical tone.

The older gentleman looked around and over his shoulders first, making sure no one beside them were around. He passed you the book with his thumb on the page, bookmarking it until it was securely placed in your hands. You put your thumb on the page in place of his, you had to admit you respected him more for not folding the corner of the page to save his place. Unbuttoning his coat, he let it fall on the ground, you raised an eyebrow at his behavior but didn’t speak out, you figured this was just some set up for a joke or punchline.

The old man was wearing a tucked in, button up long sleeve shirt and began to undo the buttons on his arm, your smiled disappeared as you gasped: inked into the his arm were the words “Dark King” in the same font as the Rogers pirates gang logo with a small skull and crossbones on his wrist. He smiled, only this time, his smile seemed laced with a mischievous and almost guilty energy.

Your eyes scanned his tattoo and back down to the book. The page he bookmarked was another photograph with the members of the Roger Pirates gang lined up and posing for the photo and had the older man not saved this page and shown you his arm, you would have missed him in the background, standing tall and proud, surrounded by his crew, his tattoo clearly shown. The second in command, right hand man of the infamous Pirate King Roger, Silvers Reyleigh was standing before you, chuckling at your bewilderment.

Your jaw wanted to drop at this revelation but you needed to remain composed. You weren’t so much as scared but more along the lines of intrigued and captivated at this new information.

You started slowly, “So… you weren’t joking about the guy running in the other photo? That was you?”

Reyleigh laughed, “Oh you thought I was joking? You’re so cute.” You could only blush at his teasing, your face becoming adamantly red. “Is there anything you want to know?” He slowly started rolling down his sleeve and fixing his attire.

Your head was spinning, wondering why Dark King Reyleigh just revealed himself to you of all people? You needed answers first, who you thought was a sweet older gentleman turned out to be one of the city’s former terrors. “Why are you telling me these things?” your voice was shaking slightly.

He let out a little grunt as he picked his coat off the floor, swinging it over his shoulder as he faced your direction. 

“Because I like you.” He smirked, the edges of his grin grew at the sight of your embarrassment. The way he didn’t hesitate and flat out give you his earnest feeling was heartwarming in a weird way. 

“Well…” You coughed. “If it’s alright, could… May I ask you a few questions sir?” Your stance stiffened as you felt you were obligated to respect him, not only as your elder but as a retired gangster. 

Since you dared not look directly into his eyes, you didn’t see Reyleigh's smile turn somber but you could hear it in his tone.

“Come on now, you don’t have to be so formal with me, just talk to me the way you did before.” He patted your back, “How about we get some hot drinks and I’ll tell you more? It’s my treat.”

“Ah.. Right.” You spoke. You didn’t say it out loud but you sort of figured that discussing criminal activities in a government facility like the library was a terrible idea, Reyleigh was trying to take private matters to a more private location, reducing the risk of being overheard by the wrong person.

As you two made your way out of the library, you had to stop all the questions rushing through your head and bring forth the most obvious one: was this man to be trusted?

Yes you met him in a library more than once before, yes you never once felt like you were in any danger around him, and yes he never seemed to stick his nose in anyone else’s business but his own, minus today. But then again, looks can be deceiving.

Reyleigh stopped at the library entrance and turned to face you, swiftly removing his coat and wrapping you with it instead. You tried to refuse the gesture but it was already too late. 

“Reyleigh you don’t have t-“

“Nonsense, I can’t have you walking in the rain like that. I’ll borrow your umbrella if that will make you feel better!” He chirped. Despite your protest, you couldn’t help but smile at his words and actions.

Reyleigh led you to his car, putting his arm around you as he held the umbrella, bringing you two closer. Something about Reyleigh put you at ease, whether it was the fact he was your tiny library crush or the fact that he was a former gangster, you couldn’t tell. Your mind and your heart couldn’t have been more opposite than at this moment.

You hopped into his old car as soon as Reyleigh opened the passenger door for you, closing it firmly. As he made his way around to the driver’s side, you made mental notes of the interior, immediately noticing the impeccable condition of the car despite its age, it truly passed the test of time as you could only conclude that Reyleigh took really good care of the car, keeping up with maintenance and what not.

Reyleigh stepped into the driver's side and started up the engine. He turned to look at you with a sheepish smile on his face.

“We have to wait a while, this old thing takes a few minutes to warm up.” He said, leaning forward to turn down the radio and turn up the heater.

The cabin of the car was silent for a few moments until you spoke up, needing an answer to the most pressing question you had. 

“Why did you start talking to me today?” you asked. “I think there’s more to it than what you said earlier.”

His face became serious as he pondered on how to approach your question, Reyleigh rested his hand on his chin before finally coming up with a response.

“It’s simple, I like you.” he chuckled. “Now here’s a question for you: do you think most people would get into a car with a criminal?” 

“Nope” you answered.

“Exactly. I like people like you, you’re open minded and you’re not afraid of being honest. You were one of the few people who treated me with kindness even after I showed you who I was.” he paused, taking in a deep breath. “Most people who recognize me would treat me like dirt and worse even after all these years passed by. Sometimes I still have to watch my back to make sure someone from a rival gang doesn’t spot me. It’s not a clean or easy life. You know all this but yet, you still saw the humanity in people like me”.

You sat there looking at him, both in awe and with red hues darkening your face at one of the most sincere compliments you’ve ever received. It almost felt undeserved.

“I just…” you started. “I don’t see the point in treating criminals like trash. In your guys' case, I feel like you and Roger did more for our city than what the police could ever hope to do.”

You turned to face Reyleigh, staring deep into his eyes as you uttered your next statement. 

“If anything, I always felt like the cops were a gang of their own.”

The two of you sat in silence, listening to the pitter patter of the rain showering the car. Reyleigh put the car in first gear and started to drive off.

“You see it that way too huh?… Do you want to know why I visit the library so often?”

It hadn’t occurred to you until he mentioned it but now your interest was piqued. 

“Why is that?”

“Well… since my friend was given the death penalty, he doesn’t exactly have a grave, or at least one that I can legally visit…”

“I see…”

“Roger didn’t have any family that would visit his grave or that I knew of besides his son, but their relationship has always been… strained.”

“Roger had a son? Wait… I… A son?!” You had your hands running through your hair, completely baffled by this news. You never once thought Roger the pirate king fucked but it seemed so obvious and silly to think of now. Like of course he did, he was the biggest and baddest gangster in his prime. 

“Oh! You didn’t know?” Reyleigh glanced at you as he drove. “Well I’m not surprised they don’t mention it in the books. Last I heard, that kid is part of a rival gang of his father’s, hanging out with the young bloods doing who knows-what nowadays. Besides that, I don’t know much more. He’s probably around your age or at least part of your generation.”

You mentally shook your head and returned your attention back to Reyleigh, you were going to put Roger’s son on hold.

“So why do you come to the library again?”

“Ah yes! I almost forgot. You said the police are like a gang of their own so I’m sure you can see why I can’t visit my friend, it’d be trespassing since I'm not an immediate family member. As much as I dislike those pigs, I really rather stay on the low and avoid any more trouble.”

“Why? Are you still wanted or something?” You joked.

The car stopped at that one red light that took way too long to turn green, Reyleigh suddenly made a right, flipped a bitch, and then made a right, scaring you half to death from how fast he was driving, almost like he could predict what would happen next.

“What do you think?” He smirked at you, relishing in your shocked expression that reminded him of a scared cat.

“Alright I see your point.” you sighed in exasperation.

Reyleigh continued, “Visiting the library and seeing his face and all my old crew like that is really the only way I can mourn if I can be honest.” He laughed quietly. “You might not believe it, coming from a hard gangster like me, but I used to cry in this car every time after I had visited the library. Today is the first time in a while that I haven’t and it’s thanks to you. For once, I left the library on a good note.”  He pulled over to the side and parked the car, smiling as he looked over to you blushing madly. 

“Are you falling for me Y/N?” His eyebrow raised up comically, clearly enjoying the sight he was seeing. “My my this is only our first date dear.”

“Our first d-?” You put your face in your hands, attempting to hide your embarrassment. 

“Hey I did say I like you, is it really that much of a surprise?”

You opened up a finger to let your eye peep through, looking back at Reyleigh.

“Well no I just thought… you were already with… someone… so…”

Reyleigh paused for a bit before responding. “I see. Tell you what, next time we’re going to my place and I’ll introduce you to my wife. You’ll love her!”

“So you are married then!” You exclaimed.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you two will like each other too! I’ve already told her how cute you are before.”

You let out a small groan, just how did everything fall into place like this? Your only plans for today were to visit the library and go home to lounge about. Now suddenly your library crush is flirting with you in his car and seems to be in an open marriage, a thought that made you flushed with all the naughty mental imagery that flooded your mind. Oh and he was/is a retired gangster too.

He patted your back and caressed it afterwards. “Hey don’t worry about it, let’s just go get our coffee and talk!” He said with an obvious jovial tone. It was really wholesome to see a man like Reyleigh be so happy to have a hot drink with someone who accepted him completely.

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

I hope you enjoyed! Sorry to hear that you didn't receive your gift on time but I hope this was worth the wait! ^^ I tried to end things off on a good note for both reader and Reyleigh

[ruiniel]

u know what, i'm gonna be a basic b and ask for the ever iconic it's way too cold outside so lets cuddle naked and pretend that we're not aroused trope for castlevania's alucard. gotta love some of that sweet sexual tension

Some classics are made to last and be retold, never worry! I wanted to practice some writing but was also tired so uh, took an alternate ending to a scene from an older Alucard x OFC fic that used the 'beauty and the beast' trope, changed a few things, and included your prompt. … I wouldn’t exactly call it cuddling, but gave it a dose of UST. A lot of setup, though, even some action before that. Hope you like it.

This is the continuation of Schemes (warning, major angstfest there). Schemes doesn't need to be read in order to get this one, but it sure would enhance the last scene here.

The title is part of the proverb Still waters run deep. It was just there.  

Still waters

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Relationship: Alucard x fem!reader

Characters: Alucard, Reader, Original Characters

Count: 4k

Rating: M (🔞)

Tags/CW: scholar!reader, brief depiction of illness, abuse, verbal abuse, violence, attempted murder, unresolved sexual tension, Alucard is Not nice in this, Though he still means well, OK he's *kind of nice*, explicit language, post Castlevania season III, POV Reader Character, Second Person POV, references to past emotional conflict, protectiveness

Summary: He frightened you that night... but you’d been so foolish. Taking a moment of weakness for something else, pushing when you shouldn’t have. Now here you are: alone, worn, having traveled along the first dusty path you found away from the woods, aiming to be as far from that castle as possible. You have but few belongings, save a valuable manuscript he’d once gifted you.

"And where would I go?" you asked with a newfound, raking sort of hurt pride, a wayward look of disbelief in your eyes.

"That is your concern, not mine," Alucard retorted tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Adrian—" you tried again, only to be cut off by a scalding look.

"You will regret ever setting foot here otherwise," he snapped at you, his words chopped and shaking.

Trembling like a leaf, you bit down the crippling misery that piled up your throat. "I already do," you spewed before turning on your heel and dashing out of his sight, sparing no glance back.

You shook your head wearily at the wretched, aching memory of that last encounter, and peered beyond the heavy wooden gates of the village you’d discovered in your path. You hoped someone was awake on the other side, waited for a few minutes. Nothing. You were about to knock again when a bell began its chiming chant, in reckoning of dawn. After the bell died your knuckles struck the wooden gate again.

"A’ight, ai’ght," a disgruntled elderly voice began from the other side. "Got a bad leg y'know," the voice went on, and the trap door opened level with your face. Suspicious old eyes found yours. "Your name and your business," the watchman demanded.

You gave him your name in your most steady voice, though it came harsh with disuse. "I am no more than a traveler, fatigued and in search of lodgings."

The distrustful air held, and the trap door was closed. A moment later the gate opened either way, as was the custom in some areas once daybreak hit.

"Traveling alone are ye?" the somewhat raggedy old man placed his hands on his hips, shamelessly eyeing you striding past. " ... I'd watch meself if I were you—" the watchman added, but the end of his sentence was lost on you, now too preoccupied with taking in the new view before you. It was a rather large settlement, not quite a town but far from being a hamlet. Wood and thicket houses lined the uncobbled streets, and tall wooden gates spread unevenly delimited different homesteads from one another. You noticed folk were already up and about, most garbed in similar thick linens and furs. There was a bustle of men and women of various ages heading into different directions to pursue the labors of the day.

"Pardon me," you swiftly asked one passing woman. "What is this place called?"

"Why ye find yerself in Bran," she replied hastily, rushing off before you had a chance to ask whether you could expect to find room and board of any kind. Bran. You had no notion of this place. Sleeping under the naked sky was not something you shied away from, and there was little doubt you’d resort to such again throughout your journey. But for now, well, now you needed a good long rest and a warm meal. And a batch of new memories, if possible.

You walked along the main street, eyes searching for anything which may have constituted an inn. Mud and dirt clung to your boots and the hem of your cloak, gathered along the wet road drenched in nightly rains. You sighed, shouldering the satchel containing your few belongings.

Morning, midday and afternoon passed with little commotion and no success in finding a place to stay. You felt all the more despondent, though the reason had little to do with your uncertain options for the night.

You felt empty and a little lost, in more ways than one. Something was missing, and it was not unlike an invisible string puppeteering your thoughts; they ever returned to him. You wanted to forget, but no doubt that would take time. You wanted his callous words to stop striking dents into your mind. What was causing the most distress was the way his merciless distrust had slammed into you, and during moments you could not erase from your mind however much you tried.

You regarded the bleak day, strewn with impending grey clouds looming in the distance, wondering whether he was well, whether he was at all regretful for how it all spiralled down between you. After all, he did have a human side, supposedly. You may have taken a wrong step, and as time wore on, the stronger this conviction became. But your head had been full, of both wine and him and a ruthless desire you could not rein. No use regretting it now.

Soon, there was commotion around you as you reached the village marketplace. There were various merchants selling leathers, metalwork and wooden carvings among others and there was even a stand laden with smoked meats. There was plenty of mud here as well, giving the gathering a rather splattered appearance. You also saw chickens, goats and pigs put up for sale.

You waded through the crowd, considering spending coin on whatever nourishment you could find, when a wail was heard from without. The sounds were inhuman to your ears, closer to screeches than anything. 

You approached the curious crowd that had gathered, and craning your neck to see better, you noticed a young girl, writhing on the ground. Her body was contorting in strange positions. She looked to be in her early youth, and was a sorry state. Her eyes were rolled over so the bare whites were visible, and she was uttering sounds that would have caused a night creature to flee. An older woman was on her knees and attempting to keep her flailing arms at bay.

"Witchery..." you heard the word whispered by more than one. "The devil has her, she is under its spell again," another was saying.

You sighed in annoyance, shouldering your way between them. That is no spell.

You’d seen this condition before, during your studies. It was an affliction of the mind and body, leaving one too weakened and unable to perform tasks as others would. The older woman was desperately trying to soothe the girl, now foaming at the mouth, even as you came before them and lowered yourself beside them. "Hold her jaw," you said. "I am a... healer," you offered by way of greeting, at which point the woman's eyes widened. She did as was asked.

"She must not bite her tongue," you told the frantic woman, moving the girl before pressing two fingers to a specific spot along the side of her neck. The struggling soon ceased, and her arms and legs became slack, her eyes closed.

You caught the gaze of the older woman.

"It usually takes me much longer to still her," she said, her eyes full of worry and gratitude. "I have never seen anyone achieve what you have done."

"Your child has an ailment, one she will bear if properly tended," you leaned in closer. "And it has nothing to do with God or the Devil," you whispered, looking to the somewhat wary crowd. People had begun to disperse and go about their business.

"Well, whatever it is, I am in your debt." She lowered her head.

"Let there be no debt, I do not do this for recompense."

"I am Rafilae, and this is my daughter, Maria," the woman looked to the girl now nestled in her arms. "I have a cottage at the other end of our village, and though we have no wealth to speak of, I would still wish to repay you, somehow. Come, I think we have enough food to share for tonight, and you look to be in need of rest yourself."

You could do little to deny that. You were tired, you were hungry. "If that would not be too much trouble..."  you said, with little conviction.

"Bah, no trouble at all. I'll explain all to my man. Now come," Rafilae urged, and having nothing else to do nor indeed anywhere to go, you heeded.

A cloaked figure watched you depart but did not follow, instead fading amid the crowd of the bustling market.

Evening found you seated on the ground at a wooden table in a small thatched roof hut, a steaming dish of root vegetable broth set before you. You were joined by your new acquaintances and hosts, both of whom seemed wholesome, hardworking people. Rafilae's husband Rufus had been an amenable man, and all the happier when he heard of the aid you provided. Maria lay on a bed of hay not too far away, joined by her brothers and sisters, having regained herself in the meantime.

They asked of your purpose in Wallachia, of your own lands. They were curious people, but you were at a point where you craved and welcomed the openness of human contact. You kept most of your trials to yourself, placing forward the idea that you were a traveling healer. You then instructed the couple on a few techniques to help their daughter and spoke of the condition she bore. These simple folk were looking rather incredulously at you, still somewhat unable to believe their child was not possessed by any forces of evil. It was during this conversation that a vicious knock sounded at the door of the hut.

"Rather late for visitors," Rufus said with narrowed eyes.

All conversation ceased, and the man rose, taking a heavy pitchfork in hand. You rose as well and peered outside to catch glimpse of the intruder. Your eyes widened at the sight.

Six figures, all armed and dressed in robes of black and gold were planted before the homestead.

One of them pointed a long, dirty finger at you. "That one."

Rufus went to stand as a shield before you and his wife, grasping the pitchfork firmly in his hand.

"The Lord's Horde," Rafilae placed her hand to her mouth, while you were suddenly looking about them for any possible ways of escape. Yes, you remembered their kind. You recalled the etchings of their garb and the ruthless dogmatism which drove them to blind murder. It was their kind who chased you that rainy day, whom you barely escaped; who led you to...

"Are you certain?" one of the robed men asked.

"As I live and breathe," came the confirmation. "That’s the witch Denes and the others caught in Rusi. When I saw her in the market today in the commotion I could not believe my eyes. She drew out the devil from one, so there's further proof." His voice dripped loathing. "I never thought she would dare show her face around these parts after what she did."

"What is the meaning of this?" Rufus demanded.

The second man who’d spoken neared. He clasped his hands together in his faded robe, his air one of distinction. He had a long dark beard and wore a faded black prior's cap on his short cropped hair. "You host a witch in your midst."

You scoffed, though inside you quaked. Not again, not again. 

The man continued his case. "She is responsible for the deaths of men in our brotherhood who tried to capture her near Rusi. We never saw them again."

"I am no witch!" You seethed, looking pleadingly to Rufus and his wife.

Rufus did not seem convinced either. "Do you have proof of this?" he looked back to the prior.

The prior frowned, his cold eyes gaining a mad glimmer. "You know our cause. You know we will fight for the Lord with all that we are, and against anyone who stands in the way of His justice," he looked pointedly at Rufus. "I would entreat you not to interfere with God's work, lest you are prepared to face the consequences."

The man briefly took in the various sharp weapons the others wielded. Their gazes were cold and there was the same spark of maddened devotion in their eyes.

The children had appeared at the entrance, curious and wide-eyed. You sighed upon seeing them, lowering your head.

"No," you placed a hand on the man's shoulder, then regarded the prior icily. "I will go freely." You looked to Rafilae, who was wringing her hands. "Thank you for your aid." Then swiftly you retrieved your satchel, and hands were on your shoulders, and you were dragged away before the startled eyes of the family who'd shown you kindness. It is true, everything does go in cycles the thought crossed your mind.

"What will you do to me?" you dared ask as one of the men pulled your hands to bind them. You struggled in vain, but the man forcibly revealed your wrist, still bearing marks from the incubus attack weeks ago.

"Further proof, prior Horvath," and all gasped when they saw the reddened scars as he forcibly brought your wrist upward. "Cavorting with vampires also, no doubt."

The one called Horvath sneered, his dark eyes set on your livid expression. "We take her to the river," then his smile turned vicious. "You do what you will with her." The others grinned, looking at each other. "Throw her body in when done."

"No, please," you tried reason, struggling as the bonds were tightened. "I bear nothing but knowledge, and have no skill nor anything to do with the dark arts!"

"Silence!" the prior boomed, features contorting. He thrust his face close to yours, taking a fistful of your hair and pulling so harshly you screeched in pain. "Where are our brethren then, hmm? There is nothing you can say or do to make me believe you, wench, save for their safe return. And even then," he gripped harder, causing your eyes to water. "You are still a filthy servant of the Enemy." He released you, and bid them march ahead with you dragged in tow.

As you left the village behind, you were trying to come to terms with the fact that life was apparently not on your side. None dared intervene and there were few people out and about since evening had fallen. All feared the darkness and what lurked beyond it, and rightfully so. The tall woods soon swallowed the group, and two captors lit torches.

When you heard the murmur of water nearby, you swallowed. They must have neared the river. You looked left and right, seeing nothing but gloom. They’d taken your satchel away, reverently saying its contents were destined to be burned.

Then you were being dragged by two of them, struggling and panting, towards the steep edge where the river thrashed below. Your legs flailed, and a powerful strike ended your wailing. You saw stars.

"Pin her down," one said, and they were about to do just that, when something hissed past them.

You saw nothing in the dark, save for the torch fallen to the forest bed. You heard groans and muffled cries as bodies fell to the ground.

You rose swiftly to your knees, trying to rip the bonds with your teeth to no avail, fumbling onto the ground, looking for the satchel. You stared about yourself, for whatever was happening lit by the weak light of the fallen torches.

A tall figure faced the prior.

It all happened too fast. You were being dragged by the hair, caught in an armlock that had you choking. The prior stood alone, and spilled blood rose warm in the air. He was ever pacing back towards the cliff, and the river below, with you struggling in his grip.

"Stay back!" he cried, brandishing a long knife even as his opponent stepped ever closer. 

"Release your captive," the presence commanded, aiming his weapon at the prior's chest.

The voice. That voice.

"What?!"

"Release your captive, then jump," the voice repeated calmly as the blade swished through the air, glinting eerily. "And you may survive the river. I will count to three, at which point your heart will be pierced by my blade. Your decision," he offered as the prior kept looking back towards the gaping nothingness, then to the catlike gaze of the stranger.

True to his word, he began his count. 

"Are you mad?! Your witch will perish too, you fucking beast, because if I go, she goes with me."

If you didn’t know better, you thought you’d heard a growl. 

"Here, if you want her so badly, she’s all yours—” 

You gasped as you were forcefully flung into darkness, deafened by your own startled cry, by another short, agonized gurgle.

And then, pins and needles, and the cold numbed all.

Pain. Everywhere and nowhere; too hot, but then too cold. You opened your eyes to what seemed like pale daylight sifting through a window, closed them again. 

Am I alive?

The capture, the darkness, the river, all came crashing down in waves of memories, and a violent quiver shook your frame. You were strewn on something softer than a forest bed. You opened your eyes anew, saw nary a movement, and felt something warm pressed to your forehead. A palm. You shivered, shivered, shivered, before losing consciousness again.

Must it be so cold everywhere? Everything hurt. As you stared blearily along your arm, you felt the bruises forming there. And then, a change: warmth at your back, much needed heat enveloping you. Pleasant and alive, and before you understood—or cared—what it was, you pressed closer. Something locked around your waist.

"You fidget," and despite the ache, the warm breath against your neck sent a different shiver down your body.

This was not actually happening. You were caught in some feverish dream, dying on the stony banks of the river.

"...where… you…"

"Don’t try to speak. Rest."

"...came for me? But how…"

An exasperated sigh. "My senses. I know your scent."

At any other time, those words might have had your heart soaring and mind reeling, but now you were too numb for even the infatuation which, even in delirium, apparently wouldn’t loosen its hold.

"You struck the waters before I reached you,"  Adrian went on in that soft voice, though its tone was rather clinical.

Yes, you struggled to remember. He did arrive, it had been him. Right before…

It was then you noticed something mortifying—you were bare under the covers, and the warmth against your back was skin. 

As if reading your thoughts, Adrian spoke again. "You were in shock when I retrieved you from the water. The medicine supplies here were mostly destroyed during the siege on the castle," he said, and you realized that what was closed around you was his arm; his bare arm, and your back was pressed to his chest. You were too tired to move, too gutted to speak. Last time you attempted closeness, he all but cast you out of the castle and now, now…

If only you had the strength to be angry.

"The heating system no longer works since then, and I had no firewood, and your condition was fastly worsening. I had no choice," he spoke again.

And the way he said the last words was killing you; like you were a chore, and a disturbance. 

Still, he… he was there.

"...I see…" you managed, feeling him warm but stiff as you lay unmoving on your side. You wished you could scream, demand an apology for his denial and his distrustful, unjust words during that last encounter but then—he saved your life.

"Why?" you croaked, staring out the window, where clouds darkened the sky above the forest.

"I told you not to speak."

"Why did you do it?" you asked stubbornly, feeling the arm tighten around your waist in an uncontrolled jerk of movement. "Why did you go through the trouble of dragging me from their clutches when you demanded I left in the first place."

"I demanded you left, but never wanted you to come to harm."

You closed your eyes. "You called me a liar." He could be so goddamn infuriating. Never a straight answer, but his warmth seeping into you felt so good it made you drowsy, and the most primal side of you felt it seeping within, lacing pleasure to pain.

Silence. You wondered if you’d finally reached him, or if it was the guilt at his past conduct that drove him to this. You could not help remembering the way he held you then, the desperate longing in his kiss, the heat rising between you as he crushed you closer—a heat not unlike the one burning you now; you no longer shivered from the cold, but were loath to tell him.

Damn you. Damn him.

His chest rose in a sigh against your naked back. "There are things you do not know. About me. I…"

You couldn’t be more bewildered if you saw a pig on white wings flying towards the sun. Adrian, being honest and straightforward? Still, you did not hedge him. Let him struggle, the petty side of you urged, the other melting with desperation and love.

"My trust was broken before," he finally said, and you waited, but Adrian added nothing else.

Still. "I did not know," you said, staring out the window. 

"I realized that. After," and for the first time, you sensed a sliver of remorse in his tone. Not an apology, but, for now, all else considered, it would do. This was not the way things went in your lustful dreams of him from before; aching all over, unable to move. 

"How do you feel?"

You swallowed. "Warm."

A pause. You’d half expected him to rise and leave, but nothing happened.

"Good," he said. He felt warmer, or maybe it was a slight of the imagination. And then, "I do not think you a liar."

You still felt resent at the memory, but on impulse, your hand reached, pressed over his own that was splayed over your abdomen. Your fingers slipped between his; he did not withdraw. 

"Please," you heard then, and the whisper held something ragged in it, and you became aware of a hardness against you, just like… like that first time you threw yourself at him like a fool with your head full of wine and body thrumming with desire.

You said nothing else, become aware of the risen heartbeat against your spine. And suddenly you wondered, and suddenly you understood. 

"Did you bring me back to cast me away again once I’m better? Will you reprise that humiliation?" You could not help it, though his words on trust haunted you already, as many of his past actions gained a new, horrible sense.

"No." It sounded pained on its own; you let it be.

You lay in silence, aware you could not even move if you tried to turn and face him, to see his eyes, to feel him closer, to tell him. "I will wait for you, Adrian," you said either way, and never heard his answer as exhausted sleep claimed you.

MASTERLIST: CASTLEVANIA SERIES x READER

More of my work is on AO3 [many stories not on tumblr]

BLOG MASTERPOST (all you need to know)

Likes/comments/reblogs always and forever appreciated

[eosr-by-muxse]

Rhys

🩷 Autumn 1899; December 1968

CW/TW: Pre-transition period (Edward), hostile work environment, gaslighting, mentioned character death, mentioned workplace violence

Buckled Tracks and Bumpy Trucks - Season 20 Episode 17 (edited)

Word Count: 1,823

Someone else was his first love interest.

A/N: "Rhys" is pronounced "reese." I didn't come up with that, btw. His crew did.

~

In the chilly autumn weather, passengers walked about Barrow-in-Furness Station. The leaves cluttering the ground crunched as folks stepped on them, awaiting the next passenger train.

A sharp whistle, reminiscent of the squawks of seagulls flying by coast line, went off in the distance, pulling in the passengers’ attention to the Indian-red tender engine approaching. She steamed into the station with a range of blue coaches with white trim, easing to a stop.

She was a Class 21, a class of engines dedicated to express passenger services. The sunlight reflected against the brass trim of her splashers and brass dome, giving it a gleaming shine. The oldest of the Class 21s greeted the awaiting passengers with a warm smile, as steam gently spewed from her chassis.

The weather was nice that day. There was no wind. Just the gentle breeze against her frames. It was like a soothing touch, which she appreciated.

Coming in the opposite direction, a small four-driver tender engine came by, hauling a goods train for someone else to take care of. Once he blew his whistle, the eldest Larger Seagull groaned. She would be foolish to not recognize it.

“Guid day, Coppernob,” she greeted through clenched teeth, trying to sound as nice as possible. Her crew reminding her to be nice to the elderly engine had become a daily routine, despite how arrogant and bossy he was. She didn’t need to turn the scolding into a daily thing.

Coppernob wasn't taking her forced greeting. “Don't treat me like a fool, young engine!” he hissed. “Such disrespect. You're better than that.”

“I wid if ye'd just go awa’,” she grumbled, “and didnae go around, gossipin’ aboot me.”

“It’s for the well-being of others, Alice,” he reminded her as her crew hushed whispers, telling her to knock it off. “We can't have your reckless behavior ruin the reputation and workflow of the Furness.”

Alice scoffed. “It’s always aboot thaim wit’ ye.”

“Bunny!” hissed her driver.

Before Coppernob reprimanded her, a Furness Railway 7 class steamed up to the platform adjacent to Alice’s. Unlike Coppernob, he had splashers, designed in a style similar to hers.

“Good day, you two,” he greeted. “Anything new I missed?”

“Nah! Nah!” Alice squawked out, immediately blushing out of embarrassment from the slip-up. She ignored the piercing glare from FR No. 3. “Nawthing new, Rhys.���

Rhys hummed, not convinced. A Furness engine would have to be a fool to not notice the conversation from kilometers away. And not to notice how furious the glare directed towards him was. However, he chose not to poke any further. Yet.

Alice’s guard blew his whistle, interrupting the thoughts going through the engines’ minds.

“Och!” she perked up. “Thon’s me. Guid-bye, Rhys!” With a quick whistle that resounded throughout the station, Alice departed from Barrow-in-Furness, heading north on her railway line, the Cumbrian Coast Line.

Once she was gone, Rhys sighed before glancing at Coppernob. “What is it you have against me?”

Coppernob didn't respond. Instead, he stormed off, leaving the other confused.

…

About a week later, Alice and Rhys met again but at Roose Station. The latter had finished telling a story that left Alice squawking.

There was just something about spending time with Rhys that comforted Alice, making her feel warm and appreciated. It was different to the way her sisters would comfort or check up on her every evening, especially if she’d had to defend one of them from one of the other Furness engines.

It was different, yet she couldn’t figure it out.

As she calmed down, a saddle tank engine pulled in, hauling a small freight train of steel rails, coming from the Barrow Haematite Steelworks.

“Diane!” exclaimed Rhys, noticing the black tank engine. “How’s the Steelworks going for you?”

Diane gave a quick smile to Alice, who smiled nervously, before replying. “Exhausting!” she exclaimed. “But it's good work!”

“Good to hear, dear! Good to hear!”

“You know, I’m surprised the old horse hasn't tried physically separating you both,” Diane noted. “He complains about you two whenever he runs out of things to whine about.”

Alice hummed, her freckled face crunching at the mention of Coppernob. “I din’ get why he diz’nae want me near Rhys. He diz’nae make sense aboot it.”

“Remember, dear,” Rhys assured. “He just… wants the best for you.”

The Larger Seagull frowned.“Well, he huz a funny way o’ showin’ it.”

Just then, her guard blew his whistle. With a heavy sigh, she bid farewell to the other two engines and promptly left.

Once she was gone, Diane shot a glare at Rhys. “Have you told her?”

The 7 class winced.

“Rhys!” she scolded.

“I know! I just-” He took a deep breath. “It’s too soon. We don't know when.”

“But it’ll be soon, Rhys!”

“I’ll tell her tomorrow, I promise!”

“You better!” she exclaimed before steaming off to Ravenglass, leaving her friend to go his way with the daunting thoughts in his head. His crew tried to soothe him, but it only made him feel more guilty.

…

“Alice! Stay away from that engine!”

Her safety valve was ready to burst. Earlier that morning, she fended off one of the Seagulls, her predecessors, up at Foxfield after seeing them pester one of her baby sisters. The utter annoyance those older engines could be.

And then they wonder why they could’nae get me and ma sisters tae ‘behave’ being the thought to go rampant in her mind after every confrontation.

“Bug’ aff! I'm no’ dealin’ wit’ ye today!” yelled Alice before storming off.

Coppernob chased her down. “Listen to me, young lass-!”

“Shut it!” she screamed. “Yer raps ma knittin’!”

“Watch your tongue-!”

“Or whit?” she taunted. “Whit'r ye goin’ tae dae? I'm no’ afraid o’ ye!”

“I want you to get away from that engine…” hissed Number 3, the words seething like painfully hot steam. “And you will do it as soon as you see him.”

“Ye cannae control me!” Alice argued. “Why is it thon when I’m finally doin’ better, it’s all wrong?”

“It wouldn't be wrong if you weren’t acting like that with him!”

Still furious, she looked at him confused. “Like whit? Whit’re ye implying?” she questioned.

Coppernob stared at her in horror, eyes going wide.

The look brought tension to Alice’s frame. “Copper-?”

“You can't even see it, can you?”

“See whit-?”

“You’re too far gone,” he mourned.

“Excuse me-?”

“Stay away from Rhys,” he hissed. “I don't want to find out that he’s broken the same way you are.” With that, he steamed away, returning to his work leaving a stunned Bunny behind.

“Broken…?”

…

That evening, Alice returned to her shed, only to find Rhys, resting in a siding. His crew were smoking cigarettes, unaware of the larger engine. Coppernob’s words had stung her to the core. She spaced out momentarily when Rhys called out for her.

“Alice! There you are,” he hollered, alerting his crew. They quickly climbed aboard into his cab. “Listen. I-”

“Am I broken?”

“...Pardon?”

“Am I broken, Rhys?” she asked again, looking Rhys straight into his eyes. “Coppernob said I’m broken.”

“What-?” He was dumbfounded as he approached the young Victorian engine. “No, of course not, Alice! Don't listen to Coppernob. His age is getting to him,” he reassured her.

“Okay…” was all she said before letting the silence overtake.

Her mood upset Rhys, making him rethink his choice. Should he? He didn't want to upset the young engine even further, but she needed to know.

It would be worse if she went about her life, not knowing what happened to her dear friend.

“Did… ye want tae say somethin’?” asked Alice after a while of silence. “Sorry if I-”

“I'm being withdrawn.”

Bronze pupils shrunk as her eyes went wide. “Ye're what-?”

“I'm being withdrawn, Alice. I don't know exactly when… but it might be soon,” he stated, carefully wording his sentences.

“Soon? How long have you known?”

“Alice-”

“How. Long?” she asked sternly. Her eyes burned in frustration and despair.

Rhys sighed with guilt. “A month.”

“And you didn't tell me?”

“I don't want to break you.”

“Break me?” she scoffed, offended as tears brewed up and her voice began to crack. “I'm not fragile, Rhys!”

“But you're still growing out of your old behavior!” he exasperated as both crews held onto the brakes of their respective engines. Alice’s crew held extra tight, making sure they didn’t let go as their engine tended to be hostile, especially out of emotion. “Alice, please promise me you won't go back to your old self.”

“Rhys-!”

“Alice, please,” he begged. “Please, do it for your sisters. For Diane. For me. The board isn't going to tolerate it any further, and you know that.”

At the mention of her little sisters, Alice agreed. “I promise, Rhys,” she sobbed. “I promise.”

…

“I hope ye're happy,” Alice sneered. It was the following morning and she’d come across Coppernob at Barrow-in-Furness once again.

“What?” scoffed Coppernob.

“Rhys is bein’ withdrawn.”

Shock went through the older engine's frames. “Whatever for?”

“I dinnae ken. Go ask him yerself,” she sneered.

“Alice!”

“Dae me a favor and boil yer smokebox,” she hissed before storming off, jerking the coaches by accident. The sentient ones yelped and her passengers were startled as her crew scolded her severely, and Coppernob called out for her.

She blocked out the sounds of the world around her as her four driving wheels pushed her north towards Foxfield.

.

.

.

Later that week, Rhys was withdrawn. He was able to bid farewell to Diane but not Alice. Diane was the one to break the news to Alice.

Alice broke her promise.

And Edward made a realization.

Rhys, I’m so-

“Edward?”

Said engine jerked, accidentally jostling his trucks.

A few days had passed since he left the Steamworks with his pistons fully repaired. He’d spent a week waiting for the parts to arrive.

“Did you even hear what I was saying?” James asked again, concerned as the extra Troublesome Trucks Edward hauled yelped and complained.

“Guidness, naw,” Edward replied, guilt building on his panic. His freckled cheeks burned. “Och, dear. I’m sae sorry-!”

“Are you okay?” James interrupted. “You spaced out for a bit.”

“Er, somewhit?”

“We can stop-”

“Naw, naw!” he exclaimed. “No need to! It's just- You reminded me of something.”

“Something you'll tell me?” James asked with a glimmer of curiosity in his heterochromatic eyes.

“N-No’ today…” He looked down. “Sorry.”

“Oh…”

“B-But-!” Edward stammered, “what about your adventures on the Mainland, hm?”

“You're gonna have to be more specific, Ed,” chuckled James.

The smaller engine pieced together what he could recall from the conversation that had taken place. “That incident with the twins! Up in Whitehaven?”

James winced playfully. “Oh, what a mess that one was-”

As James continued to ramble on, Edward's mind focused in. But not after he processed what he'd realized.

I wis in love wit’ Rhys, and I didnae even ken…

~

AND then his twin baby sisters were built the following year and things are all good again, right...?

...right? :)

Well damn, i guess I did end up writing a story before the 1910s ovo ANYWAYS, first EoSR story of 2024 and it ended up being a ship-verse story but its angst-

very normal muxse behaviour

i got to actually sit down and work on Edward's backstory a little more. It was EXTREMELY vague before so hopefully this starts adding up, especially for "You've Got Mail." (i'm a bit all over the place with my fics)

Being the oldest of a new generation is already a lot of pressure but how would it feel when its tradition for them to try to shape you in a way that is deemed appropriate in your railway. This usually works but Edward was different.

Notes:

Rhys had zero romantic interest in Edward.

Rhys' basis: 16 - FR Class A3 0-4-0 - built 1858 by W. Fairbairn & Co., Manchester - 1899 withdrawn

Introduced Diane (FR 17 "A5" class) and Old Coppernob (FR 3 "A2" class) sooner than I thought ovo Oh well.

The family relations on the Furness are a bit odd because the A2, A3, and A5 don't have a specific designer, just like the K2s. Just know that Edward isn't related to them. To my understanding, the Furness Railway 21s were designed by Sharp, Stewart & Co. Neither Pettigrew or Mason designed them. Same goes for said classes. Only the A5s were built by Sharp, Stewart & Co. but in the original Manchester location.

^ that being said, Diane and Edward are probably distant cousins for that reason, but Old Coppernob and Rhys aren't related to them. :p

Rhys translates to "ardor" in Welsh. Ardor means a strong intense feeling, which i think perfectly describes what engines feel when they're in love. :)

there was a lot of back and forth on previous love interests for these two. at one point, i considered Goldilocks to be James' first love interest but went against because i just thought it was weird and it would imply that Edward is a replacement for Goldilocks. I did not want that so i scrapped it.

Edward and Old Coppernob are basically the failed unintentional attempt of a healthy father-son relationship. They're both at fault for this. (yes, Edward has daddy issues. it just kinda happened but it also feels like it makes sense considering his role as the oldest and the issues he has)

guys i dont JUST write angst, i swear- :((((

evidence:

ps if i made you sad, read "He Squawks!" (one of my favorites /bias) it has pre-2x5 fluff + silliness (not the main focus but the silliness is :p the screenshot is unrelated :p)