#everyone in this is a chaotic bastard

[lxvvie]

rubbing my hands together because the ghostgaz agenda is working 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

Ghost is an altogether different beast for Kyle. Price always has him on the verge of frustration because of moral ambiguity, while Ghost is on some "Get yours while you're pondering, mate," type shit. Like sure, yeah, the old man's pushing you, but why not indulge in the dark side a little? Gotta take that frustration out somewhere.

On his body, preferably.

[bangerbug]

I am losing so many good people in my life because I'm in a rut. I'm entering the cycle of ignoring everyone dear to me both online and irl. it is eating me up but I'm so scared and so tired. To say I'm sorry I'm rotting. I'm sorry I can't show you this. isn't enough. for they are kind people. I'm horribly mean. It's been months I feel helpless.

[angelinlazurite]

Started a baldur's gate 3 co-op run with my brother and these are our characters :3

I play Rolo!

[uovoc]

Translation:

Hero name: Lin Ling [Chinese] / The Commoner [English]

Slogan: "Everyone can be a hero!"

Birthday: 5/22

Star sign: Gemini

Height: 180 cm

Sponsor: Treeman

Interests and talents: making PowerPoints, creative director. Details of personal interests are unknown.

Superpower: Bastard Fist*. A chaotic flurry of punches that his opponent is unable to make sense of.

*Slang term that refers to throwing an overwhelming array of wild punches with no form or strategy; a technique used by drunks, cats, and divorcing couples

[dioslesbianwife]

Hii, i really like your content. I have a req. Can you do the phantom troupe including illumi and hisoka x reader who is a REALLY messy sleeper.

Like really messy, sometimes they activate there nen in there sleep, they even sometimes sleep walk. they can never stay still, always ending up on a complete different side of the bed or sprawled across on them. they are a big cuddler, often times either hugs a pillow tightly or them. kinda like how Naruto sleeps.

hi, ty! and sure, hope you enjoy and thank you for requesting <333

Chrollo

He tries to be unbothered. He really tries.

You wake up wrapped around him like a vine, arm under his shirt, leg over his hip, and your Nen has accidentally summoned like… some sort of ability.

Chrollo simply resumes stroking your hair like nothing happened.

Secretly finds your sleep-hugging adorable but would never say it. Keeps his arm around you protectively all night.

If you sleepwalk, he will calmly follow behind you like a babysitter. 

Pakunoda

You slap her with a pillow in your sleep once and she just lies there with a hand over her eye like 😑.

She sleeps pretty light, so the first time you clung to her like a body pillow, she was stiff as hell- completely unused to being cuddled.

After a few nights though, she starts letting you wrap around her. She never asks for it, but she’ll rub your back gently when you latch onto her.

She’s absolutely fascinated by your unconscious use of Nen.

Nobunaga

You're flailing, kicking, and talking in your sleep while he’s trying to nap and he just sighs so loud like: “THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

You end up curled on top of him one night, drooling on his chest and muttering about pasta, and he lowkey melts a little.

He starts to get used to your chaos. “Tch…damn brat,” he mutters as he tucks a blanket over you and pats your head.

Will 100% tease you about it the next day in front of everyone. “She fights in her sleep harder than half you bastards do awake.”

Machi

Wakes up tangled in her own threads because your Nen activated mid-dream and she had to thread you down to the bed to keep you from flipping off the mattress.

Acts pissed. She's always acting pissed.

But she always ends up being the big spoon anyway because she knows you settle down when you’re being held.

Will knock you out with acupuncture points if you’re sleepwalking too far. Not malicious- just efficient.

Quietly likes how much you cling to her. Won’t say it out loud, but her fingers always stay curled around your sleeve while you sleep.

Shizuku

She sleeps like a corpse, so when you roll over and wrap around her like a heating pad, she doesn’t even move.

It’s actually kind of perfect. You wiggle around like crazy, but once you latch onto her, you stop.

Sometimes she wakes up with you full-body draped over her, snoring into her neck, and just blinks like “oh…okay.”

One time your Nen activated and destroyed a lamp across the room in your sleep and she didn’t even flinch. She just pulled the blanket over your head like “cozy time.”

Bonolenov

You accidentally elbow him in the chest and he just reverberates with a hollow “bong.”

You keep ending up tangled in his wrappings and muttering apologies.

He thinks you're fascinating. A human with chaotic, instinctual Nen? That’s beautiful to him.

He sleeps like a statue, but he’ll gently adjust your position if you look uncomfortable or are about to fall off the bed.

If you hug him, he holds you close and hums lowly. The sound calms you down- even mid-sleep.

Franklin

This man is a fortress. You roll into him mid-sleep and bounce off like a sack of potatoes.

If you somehow manage to crawl on top of him, he’ll just lay there and go back to sleep with a faint “mm.”

Your chaos does not faze him. You’re yelling in your sleep, gripping his arm like a lifeline, and he’s just snoring away.

He likes it though. It’s rare for him to be someone’s comfort object, and you make him feel safe in a weird way.

Kortopi

This poor creature is NOT used to sharing a bed.

The first time your Nen lashes out in your sleep he has a panic attack.

But you clutch him like a teddy bear and mutter something about his fluffy hair, and he just malfunctions like: “...ok 🧍‍♂️”

Eventually, he creates a copy of a pot or something to switch out with when he needs to go sleep in peace, but he always comes back to you in the morning.

Feitan

This little demon child kicks back if you hit him in your sleep. It becomes a nightly war zone.

“Tch. Move… again and I’ll cut your toes off.” (He will not. He lets you curl up beside him every night.)

One time you sleepwalk into his torture tools and he physically carries you back like a grumpy cat.

Secretly adores how warm you are. When you cling to him tightly, mumbling nonsense into his hoodie, he pulls you in tighter under the covers and watches you sleep with unsettling fondness.

Phinks

Gets mad every time you elbow him in the ribs, but still shows up to bed like clockwork.

“Sleep on your damn side- HEY! STOP MOVING!”

Deep down he finds your neediness cute. He starts sleeping with an arm already waiting so you can snuggle against his side.

He’ll grumble about it in front of the others, but if you stop cuddling him, he’s sulky and weird the whole next day.

Uvogin

You body slammed this man in your sleep and he thought it was hilarious.

“HAHAHA you’re like a little gremlin!” he says while holding you in a death grip so you don’t fall off again.

You flail all night and he just lies there like a brick wall. You can’t phase him.

You drool on his chest and he acts like he’s grossed out, but in reality he lets you use his arm as a pillow every night.

Shalnark

Thinks it’s the funniest, cutest thing ever.

“You almost punched me in the face last night- do you remember what you were dreaming about?”

Starts installing little gadgets around the room to track your sleep movements because he’s genuinely curious.

Loves when you wrap around him like a little baby koala. He starts sleeping shirtless so you’ll cling even tighter.

Sleep-talking? He records it and plays it back for fun, especially if you say something about loving him.

Illumi

Is genuinely baffled by your behavior. “Why are you not unconscious and still?” he asks while poking your cheek.

Tries to pin you down with needles once. You fling him across the room in your sleep.

He’s intrigued. He starts studying your sleep-Nen with clinical curiosity but eventually gets weirdly possessive over being your cuddle buddy.

You cling to him like a security blanket, and it makes his heartbeat flutter in a way he doesn’t understand. He likes it.

Hisoka

This man is horny about it. You cling to him in your sleep? He’s making the dirtiest comments in the morning.

“Mm, such a needy little thing, even while dreaming~ What exactly were you dreaming about, my dear?”

If your Nen lashes out, he’ll just giggle like it’s a fun game. You accidentally sock him in the jaw? He licks the blood and says, “Encore.”

LOVES that you cuddle him. He wraps himself around you like a spider, legs and arms everywhere. You can’t escape.

Sleeps like a weirdo octopus but it somehow calms your own chaotic sleep.

[dark-and-kawaii]

bg3 men of your choosing and kinks?

Notes: Yummy!!! I got you dear anon xoxo

⟡ Characters: Halsin - Gale - Zevlor - Haarlep - Raphael - Wyll - Rolan

⟡ Content: NSFW - Kinks - Lots Of Kinks

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Zevlor loves a good creampie. Like, please let this old man cum deep within you!!! It will literally make him go insane, his tail thrashing around behind him as he fills you so full of his seed. Especially if you let me do it after only just meeting. It’s been so long since he’s felt such warmth envelop his cock. Gods, and when he sees the way his white milky substance leaks out of you afterwards… it’s enough to keep him hard and wanting to go at it again. Maybe it’s part of the breeding kink he has, the dire need- of wanting a family to call his own. And you just look so pretty like this- with your legs spread and his cum spilling out.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Haarlep is an incubus, a demon- a chaotic being so of course dacryphilia. Whether you’re crying from his cock stretching you or crying from the way this creature overstimulates you- he relishes in it. Haarlep adores taunting you, always adding a hint of mockery to his coos, “Awh my little Dove, does it hurt?” Before leaning down to lick away the tears running down that pretty face of yours he loves so much. “Or is it simply too much for your mortal body to endure?” As he lets out a wicked laugh, flashing you his infamous smirk.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Rolan not only enjoys overstimulating you, but also craves being overstimulated himself. This grumpy tiefling wizard has more depth than meets the eye. He’s so pent up from studying and perfecting new spells that when he finally gets his hands on you he’s using your body as a means of release. He unleashes all his frustrations on your tight little fuck hole, pounding you relentlessly with his cock. Bullying that body of yours until you’re nothing more than a babbling mess with your tongue lolled out, until his body gives up on him, collapsing on top of you, gasping for breath. The slightest touch sending his body into shock.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Raphael is a cocky bastard, and everyone knows this. Gets off on denying you your orgasm. Loves being in control of your body, mind, and soul- the devil will wait until you’re begging for him to give you your release- begging for his cock acknowledging that only he can bring you such intense pleasure. Telling him that no one- nor anything matters, only him. Once you’ve pleaded enough, he’ll express how satisfied he is with your obedience and will hint at granting you that long awaited release.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Wyll adores praising you, worshipping you in your intimate moments. He genuinely worshiped every aspect of you, even finding all your imperfections incredibly beautiful. Especially if you have a scar, no matter how small or large, he’ll lovingly kiss along it. And he takes such delight in receiving the same level of adoration from you, as you worship his cock, the very cock that causes your toes to curl and your body to writhe beneath him.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Listen, Halsin sometimes involuntarily shifts into a bear, and he always apologizes for it. But if you accept him for who he truly is, Gods he’ll be utterly smitten with you. As things start to get a bit more steamy his body begins to glow as he transforms into his bear shape. But, if you playfully giggle at him and start to run, enticing him to chase you by wiggling your finger, oh yes, it will not only arouse him further to chase you, but also show him you’re open to some unconventional foreplay. Being a bear he’ll eventually catch up to you and pounce on you as gently as he can. It’s so endearing to him how you softly plead, “oh no~ plllleeeease~ someone help~” as your fingers run through his fur.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ Gale is so cute, he just absolutely craves the sensation of your fingers tugging at his hair while you ride his face. He always smiles while probing you with his tongue when he feels your nails digging into his scalp as his stubble tickles between your thighs. And when it comes to your hair, well you best believe this man takes joy in giving a gentle tug here and there. Not too rough, but enough to crane your neck back so that he can lock eyes with you before capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

[lambiconic]

gaz finally got that date with the barista!

if you'd like to maybe read the first seven??: simon (1), gaz (1), johnny (1), price (1), the aftermath, the confrontation, simon (2)

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

To say Johnny was distraught that he hadn’t been the first to take you out would be the understatement of the year. He didn’t just take it personally. He made it everyone’s problem. For days.

He sulked like it was a full-time job, moping around base with his arms crossed and jaw tight. He paced outside the mess hall like a man waiting on a verdict. He sighed into his coffee like it had personally betrayed him. Every time your name came up in casual conversation, which, thanks to the group’s not-so-subtle obsession, was often, he let out a groan that could rival a dying man. 

And heaven forbid Simon entered the room. The eye rolls. The passive-aggressive comments. The muttered "bet she didn’t even laugh at your jokes, mate." 

But it was fine. Totally fine. Because, in his head, Johnny had already made peace with it. 

He might not have been first!! But he would be next. Obviously. He’d been planning it out, even rehearsing lines in the mirror. A date that would blow Simon’s out of the water, literally if he had his way. Maybe something loud, fun, chaotic. You’d laugh, you’d love it, and Simon? Simon could eat his heart out.

Except… that wasn’t what happened.

Instead, Johnny walked into the briefing room and heard someone casually mention your name in the same sentence as Gaz.

Gaz?

He scoffed at first, thought it was a joke. But the second he saw the smug little smirk playing on Gaz’s face, he knew. That bastard had pulled a fast one.

Turns out Gaz had taken a page from Simon’s book! Quiet, efficient, and just sneaky enough to go unnoticed. Sometime between training drills and dinner, he’d slipped out and sent you a text. ‘Do you have a swimsuit?’.

‘Why?’

‘Pick you up at 4. Bring it.’

No explanation. Just that. 

You were still riding the high from your date with Simon though part of you felt like you should still be a little mad at all of them. But.. the way Gaz texted made your heart skip, just a little. The way he didn’t ask, but told. So, despite the fact that you were still the tiniest bit upset about them ganging up on you, you were intrigued.

So, you said yes. More than ready at 4.

Well actually you were standing outside your door at 3:55. Swimsuit tucked neatly under your clothes, towel folded under your arm. Gaz showed up with a grin and a cooler in the backseat, sunglasses pushed up on his head. “Hope you like surprises.”

“Define surprise,” you asked, slipping into the car.

He just winked. “I’d rather show you.”

Two hours later, toes in the sand at a quiet little lakeside spot far from the city, you weren’t regretting a thing.

The lake stretched wide and still before you, painted gold by the setting sun. Far from the city, the world felt softer. Suddenly you realized you’d mentioned something like this to him in passing.. Needing a vacation and how you loved a good lake day. And he listened, god these men were giving you whiplash.

Gaz leaned back against the cooler beside you, legs stretched out, a bottle sweating in his hand. “So—”

“Simon already told me,” you cut in, glancing sideways at him.

Gaz blinked. “Told you…?”

“Well, implied,” you corrected, gesturing vaguely toward the lake. “Something about ‘we all really like you.’”

He went quiet, his eyes drifting out to the water, that crooked smile fading slightly as his jaw tightened. “Right. And… how does that make you feel?”

You raised a brow. “Worried I’m uncomfortable?”

He didn’t laugh. Instead, you could hear the loud gulp as he swallowed, the lines around his eyes tightening. “In all seriousness… yeah.”

“I know we came on too strong,” he continued. “We didn’t handle it right. Any of it.”

“One word for it,” you said, a half-hearted jab that only made him wince.

But then he stood suddenly, brushing sand from his hands. “Come on,” he said, holding a hand out to you. “Let’s swim.”

And before you could even speak, he tugged you up, your bottle thudding softly into the sand. You stumbled after him, laughing as your feet slipped, his fingers laced tight in yours. The cold hit first, then came the shock of water rushing up your body as he pulled you under with him.

You gasped as you surfaced, coughing water and wiping your face. But his arms were already around you, steadying you, keeping you upright. His hands were firm but shaking. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, breath ragged. “For how we handled everything. For cornering you. For making it seem like… like whatever it felt like.”

His thumb brushed against your waist, barely a touch, but you could feel the apology in his hands. Hear it in his voice and feel it in the way he held you like he was afraid you’d vanish.

“I just…” He shook his head, frustrated. “I don’t know how to talk to you now. I want to. God, I *want* to. I just don’t know how. But I need to show you that I’m not just another asshole who got jealous and didn’t think.” 

“I just want to be someone you think about. Someone you choose to think about.”

You watched him, chest rising and falling. It was all there… the guilt, the longing, the barely-contained hope, and that same helpless look Simon had worn, like he was waiting for you to kick him while he’s already down.

Either you’d wrecked these men completely… or they genuinely, truly liked you.

He stood there in the lake, dripping and vulnerable, holding onto you like you were the last bit of warmth left in a world gone cold.

You slid your arms slowly around his neck, feeling him tense beneath your touch. His eyes widened slightly, stunned by even that small gesture.

“Then talk to me,” you whispered. “Start now.”

But instead of answering, he leaned in slow….and kissed you.

It wasn’t hungry or fast. It wasn’t about lust or heat. That kind of kiss that didn’t ask for forgiveness but quietly begged for a second chance. A kiss that said ‘I’m sorry’, 'I want to do this right’, and ‘please, don’t pull away’ all at once.

When he finally broke the kiss, he didn’t move far. His forehead rested against yours, both of you breathless, the lake rippling softly around your hips. His fingers stayed curled at your sides like letting go would ruin everything.

These men would be the death of you.

Extra:

“So…” you began, tugging your shorts back on. “You mind saying the quiet part out loud?”

Gaz blinked, still standing knee-deep in the lake, droplets sliding down his…extremely distracting and chiseled chest. “The quiet part…?”

“That you’re all very obviously trying to date me. At the same time.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, like he hadn’t expected you to just lay it out like that.  “We are all trying to date you. At the same time.”

You let the silence hang, stretching the tension. "Do you do this often? Date the same girl, I mean."

He hesitated. “No.”

“That hesitation’s doing you no favors.”

He laughed, but there was something sheepish about it. "Will that affect how you feel about us?”

“Maybe.”

“Ask me again when you’re our girlfriend.”

an// if you saw me post a different version earlier... yes you did ! i appreciate the reblogs + anons who assured me they liked the first one! i think its a little obvious i struggled to write this one in comparison to the others but i hope the rewrite is better

[mediumgayitalian]

Lee probably would have caught it a little sooner -- any of them would. Except:

Apollo kids don't get sick.

Not really.

Not when flu hits hard and fast, as it does every summer; not in '01, Cass tells him, and half the camp got cow fever, somehow. Someone needs to tend to the sick and dying. Their father knows that, and has blessed them. Lee can't really remember being sick ever, except a cold, once, when he was about four.

At first he thinks it's another one of Will's migraines.

These, all the blessings in the world cannot cure. There's nothing viral about inflamed blood vessels in the brain, there's nothing bacterial about a fever from white blood cells fighting off an illness that isn't there. When Will starts shrinking from the light and wincing at every scattered sound, that's when they know -- the four eldest, Cass, Diana, Lee, and Michael -- to guide him carefully back to the cabin, pick him up if he's fighting, and send him to sleep before it gets worse. Pray it doesn't stick around when he wakes up. They're not perfect, and they don't always notice right away. They come on suddenly and fast if he's been crying, or if it rains. Sometimes he gets good at hiding it.

This one they just miss.

Winter months are slower. All of them are a little lethargic, and two thirds of the cabin is tucked at home with their families. There's not much else to do when the sun goes down at four o'freaking clock than drag Will along like the little duckling he is, grinning at the red LEDs of his light-up shoes every time he lands a cartwheel. It's easy to see when the hollering fades, easy to notice when the motormouth slows down. The buzzing fly might fade into background noise, but it's easy to notice when it goes away. When Will starts hurting when it's just the five of them, and thankfully it's a rarer thing, they notice.

In the summer it's chaotic. There are a thousand buzzing flies in every which direction, and noticing just one that's fallen quietly off the cloud of others is an impossible task. Mercury and Michael have cursed each other, again, rapped couplets growing louder and louder with every bar, and Laurel has once again brought her ministicks to the dinner table. Luke, since he is a bastard, has enabled the chaos, and everyone under the age is eleven is zipping up and over tables, shooting overdone hamburgers as pucks through shrieking Aphrodite kids' legs and hollering goal! goal! goal! Chiron has, perhaps understandably, checked out for the evening, long since tired of managing Hermes' lot anarchy. Mr. D. is nowhere to be found. Cass has her head in her hands, and Diana is visibly itching to join in on the fray.

"Just -- go," Lee tells her, pushing his dinner away and sighing as Laurel leads a battle cry. "We're losing dessert privileges for the next fuckin' month, anyway."

"I don't need your permission," says Diana haughtily, but grips the back of Michael's shirt and hauls them both away, using what appears to be the leg of the Ares table as her stick.

"There is nothing good about summer," Cass grouches, but there is a smile twitching through her strong hands.

Lee hums, bumping their shoulders together. Dinner long since forgotten, they watch, observing the setting sun wink and flicker off breaking glasses and battered white plastic.

"I'm not healing jack shit," Lee grumbles. "They can heal the mortal way for their idiocy."

"Oh, good luck with that. Diana, Michael and I tried to strike a few summers back. Did not work. Camp is not a democracy, apparently."

"...I see."

At the edge of the Apollo table, Will picks at his food. He is small, for his age. And he is good at disappearing. And Lee is good at holding onto him, gripping a hand in the back of his hoodie, hoisting him up on his shoulders.

But he is seventeen years old.

And he is not perfect.

This one, he just misses.

They do end up healing. They initially agree to send people back with a bandage and a make better decisions, idiot, but Cass caves at the first flash of puppydog eyes from nine-year-old Cecil Markowitz from Cabin Eleven. Lee follows her example. (Because she does it first, not because he feels bad for Katie Gardner's bitch ass. She is in kahoots and gets no sympathy, regardless of how much she winces artfully at her mangled arm. Lee sees no tears. She's full of it.)

The infirmary is crowded, more than it needs to be; there are broken limbs, everywhere, and more sprained ankles than he can count, and Lee can feel from the air in the room that there are at least nine concussions for poor Phoebe to handle. But the bigger issue, as it always is, is the crowd of campers in trying to visit their bed-bound friends, or trying to avoid chores that have been put off to the end of the day and know they can hide in the chaos.

The noise is crying and whining and shouting and general camp cacophony swells. Lee buries his face in his hands. He can't even hear himself in this mess, fuck, and since his healing ability kind of depends on sound this is an issue. This is why his request for a taser to be liberally employed at the door of the infirmary should be approved, Chiron. It would fix so much of the bullshit that plagues Lee's life.

"Just -- shut up and hide me under your cot," hisses Travis Stoll, to the aforementioned and still healing Katie Gardner. "I forgot to lock the store cash register, okay, I'm so totally fucked --"

Bullshit like that.

"Dad, if you think one-man musicals are an underrated artistic medium," Lee mutters, because he has learned with time that this is a much more effective plea than if you love me, "please provide any kind of assist."

The sinking sun pauses for a moment, pulsing a little brighter through the open windows. Lee manages not to roll his eyes. Immediately thereafter, he catches movement -- well, more movement -- out of the corner of his eye, and turns just in time to watch his brother climb on top of the nurse's station, plant both feet on the counter, and gesture to Laurel, who waits, gleefully, below.

Lee slaps his hands over his ears. Milliseconds later, enchanted kazoo blasts so powerfully and deeply across the space that the window panes reverberate.

"Mothers and fuckers of the jury!" Michael shouts, somehow louder than the kazoo. "If you are not dead or dying, get the hell out! Anyone remaining in this facility after fifteen seconds will be assumed on death's door or made to be so! Curfew is in seven minutes! Hermes ilk, this means you! Begone!"

There is grumbling. Michael glares, and there is Remembering, and a hasty, streamlined exit out of the infirmary, limping, bandaged limbs and all. Only a scattered few remain, who are perhaps not quite on death's door but most certainly not well, and together Lee and his siblings sigh, pick a cot, and move forward.

Seven minutes. They can manage in seven minutes.

"Hi," Lee says, shooting a strained smile to a young tween he does not recognize by name. "How can I help?"

They huff at him. (Teenagers, man.) They lift a severely busted knee. Lee manages not to grimace, because his bedside manner is excellent, and says, instead, "This won't hurt a bit," and shoves the patella back in its spot before the tween can stop him.

The cuss words echo down the common. Lee frowns, impressed. There were some new ones in there. He sees Michael make quick work of jotting them down.

"I though you --" for his own peace and purity, Lee blocks any reception of the name he is called -- "couldn't lie!" shouts the tween, red-faced and panting. Murder flashes in their eyes. Lee takes a healthy step back.

"Ah," he says, as pleasantly as he can manage. "You would be thinking of my brother. Yay high, adorable, sometimes will only answer to Luke Skywalker or Princess Leia."

The tween grunts. They glare at Lee, still, but accept the ice pack he offers, placing it on their swollen joint. Lee waves Mercury over, and with a wave of their hand the swelling recedes almost entirely. Mercury then twirls off, still energetic, somehow -- they must have won their rap battle earlier, excellent, Lee loves to see Michael humbled -- and hovers over a pair of twins who have dislocated their shoulders into each other. Somehow.

"Your Skywalker," mutters the teen, jutting their chin near the door. "He don't look so good."

Lee frowns. Diana should have Will in the cabin already, along with Melody, who is young enough still to have curfew a half hour earlier (Yeah, for a whopping two weeks! C'mon!), tucked into bed. Snoring, already, buried entirely under his blankets.

But there he is, by the door. Leaning on the wall, eyes closed, breathing heavy into the last few rays of sun. Shivering.

"No," murmurs Lee, floating away from his patient. Luckily, the patient is well enough to move, after Mercury's help, and finds their own way back to the cabin just in time to avoid the harpies. Lee hurries towards his baby brother, touching him gently on the shoulders; he does not even startle, which is unusual, nor respond to the touch. "You don't look so good, kiddo."

Will only shivers again. Lee frowns harder, noticing the oversized Fleur de Dance LLC hoodie he's wearing, hanging by his knees -- it is a struggle and a half to get Will in a long-sleeved shirt in January. He shifts his focus and is alarmed to realize it's not just the hoodie, that is odd -- his heart is pounding, and Lee can feel a massive buildup of fluid, in his lungs, and, most of all: he's fevered.

Badly.

"Shit," Lee says, bending down and scooping Will outright. He doesn't even move. Lee walks, and then runs, across the infirmary, siblings startling as he passes them, following him quickly. "Shit."

[sylusblr]

''My dragon...''

summary; when mc is facing death and has no choice but to save her, sylus is forced to show his other side. in the end, no matter how much he tries to hide it, his horns are visible

This was my end, I was sure of it. I couldn't go any further; my strength was completely depleted. Warm blood streaming down my face blurred my vision, but I knew they had surrounded me. They were shouting; their voices reached me in a muffled way. I could hear my own breath, my heartbeat. I felt like I could faint at any moment.

I had no strength left to fight them; all I could think about was Sylus. I thought of all the moments we had spent together. If my life was flashing before my eyes, then my entire life was about him. Without realizing it, I felt myself smile. Despite being on the brink of death, just thinking about him soothed my soul. When I noticed the weapon raised toward me, I knew everything would end. I knew he wouldn't hear me, but I wanted to call out to him anyway. "I love you, Sylus."

I closed my eyes tightly, bracing myself for the end as much as I could. But suddenly, a violent sound rang out. It was so intense that I had to cover my ears, thinking the sky had split in two. Filled with chaotic emotions, I, like everyone else, looked up at the sky. My heart was racing; could things get worse than this?

The sky looked more terrifying than ever. The redness blending into the night's darkness was captivating. Everyone was stunned and frightened. "Did you do this?! Is this one of your tricks?!" they shouted at me, but I was too frozen to answer. There was something moving in the sky—a silhouette? I didn't know, but it seemed like… something huge.

"ANSWER ME, YOU BASTARD!" They aimed the weapon at me again, and that sound echoed once more, like an enraged roar. I was trembling; I had never heard anything so terrifying. When I looked up at the sky again, I couldn't believe my eyes. Was a massive creature flapping its wings, or was I losing my mind? Before I could comprehend what was happening, the ground began to shake. The creature roared with such fury that I was sure even the atmosphere was trembling. Everyone was running in fear, but I was losing so much blood that I felt my vision darkening.

I fell face down; the ground was shaking, everything was shaking. My vision was getting blurrier, and I had no idea what was happening around me. I wished so desperately for everything to be a nightmare. I was going to die there; there was no escape or salvation. I could clearly hear the creature's roars. It looked furious, destroying everything and everyone in its path. The surroundings had turned into a ring of fire and chaos. I was forcing myself to stay awake, but it was futile; my strength was dwindling.

I saw the creature descend, its massive body hitting the ground with a thud that shook everything. My vision was blurry, and I couldn't help but think my mind was playing tricks on me. Could the thing I was seeing in front of me be a dragon? No, it couldn't be. I wasn't in my right mind; this had to be some kind of illusion. Until I felt its breath. Warm and ash-scented, it surrounded me. Damn, it was real. I was face-to-face with a dragon, and I had no strength left. What could be worse than this? Maybe this was worse than death itself.

Yet, there was an inexplicable feeling of safety I felt toward this creature. It was as if I knew it wouldn't harm me from somewhere. I thought if I had encountered a dragon before, I wouldn't forget it. For some reason, I felt very calm; my heart and mind were at peace. It was a strange feeling, one I couldn't even explain to myself.

My vision was getting blurrier; the blood flowing from me was no longer warm. I felt my body starting to freeze. I had no idea how much blood I had lost, but I didn't even have the strength to move a finger. Even though my vision wasn't clear, I was sure the dragon had transformed into a human form. "I'm losing my mind… I must be… or maybe I'm already dead…"

This couldn't be possible, it shouldn't be. It was approaching me with heavy steps, and at that moment, I began to tremble like an injured bird. I didn't know what would happen to me, and I had no strength left to endure. Just before I fully closed my eyes, a familiar scent reached my nose. I knew this scent. I definitely knew it. My body was screaming silently to wake up again. I had to see, I had to be sure. My mind wasn't playing tricks on me; I had to be sure of it. I was battling with my consciousness as if it were a war, trying to open those delicate eyelids had never been this difficult.

I managed to barely open my eyes, and I was being carried by someone. When I lifted my gaze, I saw the owner of that familiar scent. Sylus. It was him. It was really him. I wanted to cry, to shout, but I could barely keep my eyes open. What was all of this? Could it all have been a simple illusion? I didn't know. All I knew was that I knew nothing.

My consciousness was slowly returning. I tried to open my eyes, but the light was so intense that it took a while. I looked around; I was in a hospital room. I was bandaged all over, and I still hurt a lot. Everything I had seen came rushing back to my mind. I had remembered everything; it was impossible to forget. My heart was racing, and I couldn't control my breath. It felt like a dream, but it wasn't. I didn't want to consider the possibility that it was a dream. The door opened, and Dr. Zayne entered. The last thing I remembered was being carried by Sylus; he must have brought me here. Dr. Zayne was taking the best care of me.

Finally, I found the energy to speak. I parted my dry lips. "Dr. Zayne, do you know who brought me here?" My voice was so faint that Zayne had to lean in to hear me. I saw him sigh and frown. I hoped he wouldn't hide anything from me. "Sylus brought you here, but don't worry, I'll take care of you—"

"Can you call him?" I felt bad for cutting Zayne off, but I couldn't suppress the excitement and the need for answers inside me. I wanted to know. I wanted to know what my visions meant. I wanted to know what had happened. Zayne looked at me silently for a while. "I don't know where he is, and I don't think I can reach him. You just need to rest and relax. Don't think about it now."

If only it were as easy as he said, not to think. I didn't have the energy to argue. I thought Sylus would come to see me eventually. I didn't know how many days had passed, but only Luke and Kieran had visited. Sylus hadn't come at all. I knew he was getting information about me from Luke and Kieran, but what I didn't know was why he hadn't come personally. When I asked them, I always got the same answer. "The boss is very busy."

The days in the hospital felt endless. Even though Zayne was taking the best care of me, I had been eagerly waiting to be discharged, and finally, that day had come. Luke and Kieran were accompanying me. I wanted to ask them more questions about Sylus, but I tried to comfort myself, thinking he might be home. It was a silly thought, I knew. Finally, we arrived; I was still having a bit of trouble walking, but I refused to accept any help. "I can manage on my own." When I entered the house, it was exactly as I had expected—Sylus was nowhere to be found. I narrowed my eyes, clearly, he was avoiding me. I turned to Luke and Kieran, who seemed ready to give me the same excuse. "No, Sylus is not busy, and you two are going to tell me where he is."

They looked at each other. I was sure Sylus had instructed them; I knew him well. I stared them down, determined not to leave them alone. "Something is going on, and I'm not stupid. You're going to tell me where he is, or I'll go look for him myself." My wounds were still healing, but I was already prepared to search everywhere. "No! Something could happen to you, your wounds haven't healed yet," Kieran said in a panic, which gave me a chance to manipulate him. "Oh yes, but you can't stop me forever. So, tell me where Sylus is, and I won't exert myself. Or I'll go everywhere to look for him and lose sleep." It wasn't exactly manipulation; I could do more than my best to find him.

Luke and Kieran looked at each other again, knowing how stubborn I was. I crossed my arms and gave them a challenging look. I wasn't going to give up. Sylus had never avoided me before, and I wasn't going to sit idly by when there was an obvious problem. Finally, Luke sighed. "The boss is going to kill us."

According to Luke and Kieran, Sylus was at an abandoned church in the forest. I had no idea what he was doing there; I couldn't even guess. Even if I thought about it, I wouldn't have imagined him being there. By the time we reached the forest, it was already night. I turned to them and said I wanted to go in alone. They weren't very eager to argue with me; both looked uneasy.

The forest was gloomy and silent; I could hear the crows. The ground crunched under my feet. I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself. No matter how much I hesitated to admit it to myself, I was nervous; my palms were sweating. When I stood in front of the church, the only thing I felt was the urge to run. There was something inside that was causing me to feel that way; it was heavy, sinister, mysterious. Still, my curiosity and longing for Sylus didn't let me take a step back. Slowly, I opened the old door. I had to put all my strength into it, but eventually, it opened with a creak.

The interior was dark and dusty. I had to cover my mouth with my hand. There was very little light inside, just a few candles lazily placed on the floor. It was clear they had been lit recently, which meant he was here. I took a few steps inside, unable to see anything until my eyes adjusted to the darkness. I looked around, but it seemed as if there was nothing. The sound of my footsteps echoed inside. My heart began to beat faster; I didn’t know what awaited me and I was scared. "Sylus…?" Even I could barely hear my own voice, but for some reason, I didn’t want to call out to him loudly. I moved forward into the church, I had come this far, and I wasn’t going to turn back. Near the window, I finally saw a silhouette with its back to me. It was him; it couldn’t be anyone else. He knew I was here; it was impossible that he didn’t. But he didn’t move; he just stood there as if waiting for me to approach. I even began to doubt whether this was the Sylus I knew. I was scared, and I didn’t want him to sense it. Yet I slowly walked toward him; he still didn’t turn to face me.

"Is it always this hard to get rid of you?" His voice rooted me to the spot, my whole body stiff. He spoke without looking at me. "Why did you come? Couldn’t I have wanted to be alone for a bit?"

"You don’t want to be alone; you’re running away from me, Sylus." I took another step toward him; the least he could do was look at me while we talked. "I’ve come this far, but you’re still running from me; you’re not even looking into my eyes." I was filled with complex emotions; I felt like I was going crazy as I failed to understand what was happening. "What’s going on, Sylus? This isn’t you. You’ve never acted like this."

Sylus sighed, his breath fogging up the glass. "Maybe you don’t need to know everything. Some things aren’t worth bothering your little head over."

I frowned; yes, the situation was becoming increasingly infuriating. "I almost died there, and when I opened my eyes, I was in your arms, and then you started avoiding me. You didn’t even visit me in the hospital. And now you’re telling me I don’t need to know everything. Something is happening, but am I supposed to act like nothing’s wrong?"

I heard Sylus growl, though I couldn’t tell if it was out of anger or impatience. His fists were clenched. Slowly, he turned to me, his cold red eyes seemingly piercing my soul. He was still the Sylus I loved, but there was something off. "Why are you so eager for answers? I saved you in some way, and you’re alive; focus on that."

I took a few more steps toward him, now standing directly in front of him. Whatever was going to happen, let it happen; he could be as mad at me as he wanted, but I wasn’t going to hold back anymore. I looked into his eyes, but there was no sign of softening. "What did you do there? Was it some kind of illusion? What are you hiding from me?"

Sylus closed his eyes and lowered his head slightly. I couldn’t see his expression, but I was sure something was deeply troubling him. I cupped his face in my hands and lifted his head to look him directly in the eyes. The coldness was gone; instead, he looked so vulnerable, as if he had no strength left to hide anything. I gently caressed his cheeks with my thumbs; there was no rush to speak. I had to understand him too. "Please, Sylus, I want to know what’s bothering you so much," I whispered, looking into his eyes.

Sylus placed his hand over mine and brought it to his lips. I felt his cold lips on my skin. He stayed like that for a while, then looked at me with his half-open eyes. "Would you promise never to give up on me, no matter what happens? Or no matter what I become?" His voice was soft, very soft. I looked at him for a moment, trying to understand his words. "I would never give up on you. I care only about you, not what you are."

He slowly released my hand, his brows furrowing. I didn’t know if I had said something wrong, but I was sincere in my words. He stepped back a few paces, leaving some distance between us. I was afraid he would disappear again, run away. My heart was beating rapidly. He never broke eye contact with me. "Turn around."

I turned around immediately. I had no idea why I didn’t hesitate. I wasn’t afraid of him; I could give him my very soul. I just hoped he wouldn’t disappear anymore. The only sound I heard was the fluttering of something. "Look at me."

I turned around, trying to prepare myself for whatever I might see. But there was no way I could have been prepared for this. I held my breath. I had no idea what expression was on my face at that moment. Sylus… he had horns on his head, a tail behind him. He opened and closed his wings as if to show me. He stood so calmly. I knew he was waiting for me to say something. At that moment, everything felt surreal. While seeking answers, I found myself with even more unanswered questions. My tongue felt tied, as if I couldn’t utter a single word. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Are you happy?" His voice brought me back to reality. I was still in shock, but I knew I had to shake it off. "Sylus…" I whispered; it was the first word that escaped my mouth. He chuckled, nodding as if he had received the reaction he expected. "Now you understand why I hid myself, why I ran from you, don’t you? I didn’t want you to know what I was."

Sylus looked at his claws for a moment, while I still didn’t know what to say. "I didn’t want to show you this side of me anymore. I was trying to leave it behind. You should have believed everything you saw was a dream." He looked at me again with those cold eyes; it felt like a dagger to my heart.

"What are you talking about?" I walked toward him; he wanted to distance himself from me, but he couldn’t. "What made you think I would give up on you?" He leaned in close to me, our noses nearly touching. "It seems like you still don’t remember anything."

At that moment, I felt like I had shattered into a thousand pieces. I had no idea what he was talking about or what he meant. Before I could gather myself, he continued. "I was hoping you would remember in some way; then I wanted to show you my true self because if you remembered, you would…" He sighed deeply, locking his gaze away from me. "Forget it. Even if you remembered, you wouldn’t want to continue your life with a monster. Nothing would change."

My body moved without my will. I suddenly held his face, looking directly into his eyes. I could feel my eyes filling with tears, and I was trembling… I was filled with so many emotions that I couldn’t describe them. My breathing was becoming irregular, but he didn’t break eye contact. "What nonsense are you talking about…" I finally managed to say, unable to hide the trembling in my voice no matter how hard I tried. "How can you call yourself a monster, Sylus? After everything we’ve been through together, how could you think that I wouldn’t want to be with you just because of this?" Finally, tears started streaming down my cheeks. I held his face tighter; I didn’t want to see anything but his eyes. I wanted to see him, just him.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about when it comes to remembering. Maybe… maybe you’re talking about those illusions I saw. And you wanted me to think that what happened that day was also an illusion. You wanted me to think that the dragon that appeared in the sky to save me was an illusion, but it was so real…" I smiled softly; I would give anything to see that illusion again. To fully remember, to completely understand what Sylus was talking about. But here we were, in this moment. Just because I couldn’t remember something from the past didn’t mean I couldn’t guide this moment. Sylus listened to me silently, saying nothing.

"I love you, Sylus. I love you. I don’t care what you are or what you’ve become. I love you with everything you are. I love you in this life too—"

Sylus suddenly pressed his lips to mine; I could taste the salt of my tears. His kiss wasn’t filled with desire but with longing. We had kissed before, but this was the first time he kissed like this. I held him tightly, grasping his horns. I had no intention of breaking the kiss. Our tongues entwined, our breaths mingled. He held me so tightly I felt like I might be crushed.

When he slowly broke the kiss, he wiped the tears from my eyes. I leaned into his touch, words failing to describe the emotions between us. He planted a kiss on the top of my head and held me tightly again, as if he never wanted to let go. I inhaled his scent, feeling his wings wrap around me. I buried my nose into the crook of his neck and closed my eyes.

"My dragon…"

this is the first time i have written so long. PLEASE let me know your feedback, good or bad. i hope you liked it ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১

[rosiebbydoll]

The Right Time - Sukuna x Reader- Chp. 2

Chp. 1 - Chp. 2 - Chp. 3

summary: Your life was blissfully chaotic. Being a single mom and raising a daughter with a bigger attitude than yours was a challenge, but you love every second of it. You decided to move to the city to be closer to work. You’ve been at your new apartment for about three weeks now and everything has been great. Until, your annoyingly hot neighbor decided to open his mouth.

cw: female reader, modern au (no curses), 18+, enemies to friends to lovers, mechanic!sukuna x librarian!reader, slow burn, fluff, smut, crack, angst, toxicity, Sukuna is emotionally constipated, Nobora is readers daughter, Choso and Yuji are Sukuna’s nephews, Toji is a present father in this, LOTS of family fluff, (more tags will be added)

wc: 10k (woops)

chp warning: Toji & Sukuna pov, fluff, tension, angst, crack, sexual content, toxic traits (from reader & Sukuna), mentions of violence

a/n: we are starting this chapter off on the same day, just a different pov! there is also some lovely backstory and some more tension from our fav enemies (who are so in love).

Toji was one of the last parents to walk out of the school. He had lingered behind to discuss pickup arrangements with Nanami, and of course, to indulge in his usual flirting with the single moms – a habit that never failed to make you roll your eyes.

As he sauntered toward the exit, he caught sight of your car spinning out of the parking lot, the tires squealing against asphalt. His head cocked to the side, that familiar crease appearing between his brows. Literal seconds later, Sukuna's car tore out of the lot too, leaving a trail of dust in its wake. Toji's shoulders tensed, a heavy sigh escaping his lips.

"Well shit," he muttered, running a hand through his perpetually messy hair, the silver rings on his fingers catching the sunlight. He rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off the growing unease as he made his way to his car.

With practiced movements born from years of habit, he pulled out a pack of Marlboros, giving it two sharp taps against his wrist before extracting a cigarette. The familiar click of his butane lighter offered a moment of comfort as he lit up, taking a long drag that filled his lungs with familiar warmth.

Toji had always been meticulous about keeping his different social circles separate – not because he was hiding anything, especially not from you, but because he understood that some personalities were like oil and water.

He decided to pretend that your hasty exits were mere coincidence, though his gut told him otherwise. His instincts, honed from years of reading people and situations, were rarely wrong, and right now, they were screaming that something had gone sideways.

Before she passed, his wife had made him promise to look out for you, her eyes fierce even in her final days, and it was a promise he took as seriously as breathing. You'd been his ride-or-die since high school, his A1 through everything. You were the kind of person who saw the best in everyone, sometimes to your own detriment.

Sukuna, on the other hand... well, he was an asshole, plain and simple. The kind of man who wore his reputation like armor, each sharp word and cold glare another layer of protection. He had a way of letting whatever the hell came to mind spill from his lips without filter or remorse. Cold and usually preferring solitude, he was also an extremely cocky bastard.

Sukuna blames it on his success- definitely not his good looks. His car shop downtown wasn't just a business – it was his legacy, built from the ground up with calloused hands and stubborn determination. The place practically breathed with his personality: organized chaos, raw talent, and an undercurrent of barely contained intensity. The air always smelled of motor oil, metal, and ambition, the walls lined with tools that gleamed like soldiers standing at attention.

He started working at the shop when he was 19, just another grease monkey with too much attitude and raw talent burning beneath his skin. The turning point came when his brother passed away. That was a loss that reshaped his entire world. His brother left behind not just two wide-eyed kids who looked too much like him, but a decent chunk of change from a life insurance policy.

Most guys that age would've blown it all on fast cars and faster women, but Sukuna had always been cut from different cloth. Without hesitation, he put most of it into savings accounts for the boys – his nephews were his brother's last gift to the world, and he'd be damned if they went without. The rest? Well, that went into buying the run-down shop from the old man he worked for, a crusty bastard who'd taught him everything he knew about cars and nothing about people.

Seven years later, and the place is barely recognizable. What was once a dying garage with more rust than customers is now one of the most respected shops in the city. The walls that used to leak now house state-of-the-art equipment, and the floors that were once stained with decades of oil now gleam under LED lights.

He's got some loyal employees who understand his moods better than he does. They can read his grunts and scowls like a second language. His customer base keeps growing despite (or maybe because of) his abrasive personality. Toji being one of his most frequent visitors, though that has more to do with how often he destroys his cars than actual loyalty.

His father still hovers on the periphery of their lives, a silent presence that's neither fully there nor completely gone. Like a ghost that refuses to fade away completely. The old man watches the boys when Sukuna needs it, their relationship better with the buffer of distance between them. It's not perfect – nothing in Sukuna's life ever is – but it works, held together with the same stubborn determination that keeps his vintage motorcycle running.

Now when Toji moved to the city after his wife passed, he didn't know many people. He left you in the town you both grew up in, and surprisingly, you didn't hold it against him. He needed a change, and you supported him effortlessly. Besides, the city wasn't too far, only about a thirty-minute drive. You had to drive there for work anyway. You believe it was fate that he lived in the city because that's where you met Nobora's dad. And no, it wasn't fate for you and him, but fate because now you have Nobora. You only visited on rare occasions though, the library and being a mom kept you pretty busy.

Lucky for Toji , fate was on his side too. Because he met Sukuna at the most inconvenient time.

A couple years ago now- on a random Tuesday night, he decided to go to the bar. Being a newly single dad was a lot for him, so he paid his fifteen year old neighbor to watch Megumi for the night.

He was going out to do... something. He didn't exactly know what yet. The weight of grief and responsibility had been crushing him, making every day feel like he was walking through quicksand. You knew he wasn't doing well. You tried to call as often as possible, checking in with that gentle persistence that had always been your way. But even with the frequent calls and check-ins, Toji was still lost, drowning in the silence of his empty house.

So, that's why he found himself sitting at a bar, drinking his little heart out. The bourbon burned going down, but it was better than feeling nothing at all. To his surprise, women started flocking to him. They circled like vultures, rubbing his shoulders, playing with his hair, whispering lewd suggestions in his ears. The attention was suffocating, making his skin crawl with discomfort.

This was weird. He hadn't flirted with another woman since his wife. His nerves were shot, body stiff as a board as he laughed awkwardly at their advances, feeling like he was under interrogation.

It wasn't their fault – these women with their practiced smiles and careful touches. He was just extremely rusty, trying desperately to avoid getting turned on since he hadn't been laid in a while. Not that he came here for that. Did he? No. He definitely wasn't ready for that. His wife had only been gone for six months, and the thought of being with someone else made his stomach churn.

Women kept approaching him throughout the night, each one blending into the next in a haze of perfume and bad pickup lines. Then suddenly, there was one who stood out – long dark brown hair, so dark it was almost black, with short eyebrows and dark brown eyes. For a split second, his heart stopped. But no, she could never be her. This woman's smile was too practiced, too sultry as she greeted him.

"You all by yourself, handsome?" she hummed, sipping something fruity and too sweet. Toji gave her a quick smirk, glancing around at his unwanted admirers.

"Wouldn't call this being alone," he muttered, already tired of the game.

"Oh, I see, so you brought them all here with you?" she giggles, leaning closer. Her perfume is too sweet, making his head spin or maybe that's the bourbon.

Toji gives her a smirk back, but his heart isn't in it. She's trouble walking in stilettos, the kind of beautiful that usually comes with a price tag. Sure, she's hot – all long legs and practiced seduction – but he doesn't need this right now. Not with Megumi waiting at home, not with his wife's photo still on his nightstand, not with the wedding ring still leaving a phantom weight on his finger.

He's not trying to be rude, but subtlety isn't working. Even with his coldest shoulder, she's persistent, determined to break through his defenses. She lays her head on his shoulder, manicured nails trailing across his chest in a way that should be arousing but just makes him feel hollow. The bourbon isn't buzzing the way he wants anymore, and now all he can think about is his wife.

Fuck.

"Listen, doll—" he starts, but she presses a finger to his lips, cutting him off. The gesture is meant to be sexy, but it just pissed Toji off.

"Shhh, how about we go somewhere else, huh?" Her words slur together, her eyes heavy-lidded in a way that suggests she's had way too much to drink. The seductive act is slipping, revealing something desperate underneath.

Alright, I need to leave.

Toji pushes himself up from the barstool, carefully extracting himself from the drunk woman's grasp. She sways dangerously as he moves, and he has to steady her before she falls. "Don't go," she whines, clinging to his arm with surprising strength.

Christ. He's never wanted to hit a woman, but this is testing his patience. All he wants is to go home to Megumi, to the quiet of his apartment where he doesn't have to pretend to be okay.

"Yarozu." A deep voice cuts through the haze of his thoughts. The woman rolls her eyes and huffs, ignoring the man who called her name.

Toji's stomach twists. Great. This is probably her boyfriend or husband, coming to kick his ass for letting his girl drape herself all over him. He'd be pissed too in their position—

Oh fuck.

He definitely didn't come here to fight. Sure, he could probably win – he's handled worse – but he's too old to be throwing hands over some woman he doesn't even want. Hell, he doesn't even want to be here anymore.

Toji lets out an annoyed sigh, ready to explain himself before this turns ugly. But before he can speak, Yarozu is being pulled away from him. The guy is covered in tattoos, looking more annoyed than angry as he pries her off. "He isn't interested, Yarozu. Leave him alone."

Toji turns to leave, eager to escape this increasingly awkward situation, but the tattooed man calls out, "Hey, wait." His voice is gruff but carries no hostility. Toji stops, shoulders tensing. He really isn't in the mood for any petty relationship bullshit.

"Listen man, whatever this is—" Toji starts, but the guy cuts him off with a dismissive wave, his tattooed fingers catching the dim bar light.

"You’re not the first guy she's tried this shit with." He's still holding Yarozu back with one arm as she continues her drunken tirade, her perfectly manicured nails digging into his forearm. Despite her best efforts, he seems unfazed, like this is just another Tuesday night for him.

A smirk plays at his lips as he holds out his free hand. "I'm Sukuna." Yarozu keeps grunting and grabbing at him, but he ignores her with practiced ease.

Toji raises a brow, studying the man before him. After a moment's hesitation, he shakes the offered hand, noting the firm grip and the calluses. Toji studies that tattooed man in front of him. He looks tired, even sad almost. Kinda like him. Toji’s sighs, “Fushiguro”.

Yarozu frowns at their interaction. "Sukuna, baby, why are you being like this?" She whines, her attention suddenly shifting as she tries to reach for him instead of Toji. Her mood swings from seductive to needy in an instant. "We were having fun..."

"No, you were having fun. This guy clearly wants nothing to do with your bullshit." Sukuna's tone is harsh but carries an undertone of practiced patience, like someone who's had this exact conversation too many times before.

He turns to Toji, and there's something like understanding in his eyes. "Let me get her home before she makes another scene. You wanna grab a drink after?"

Yarozu gasps dramatically, her perfectly lined lips forming an 'O' of indignation. "You're such an asshole!"

"C'mon, you need to get home." Sukuna rolls his eyes, already steering her toward the door with the expertise of someone who's done this too many times.

Twenty minutes later, Toji and Sukuna are sitting at a quieter bar down the street, the kind of place where the wood is actually aged and the whiskey doesn't taste like lighter fluid. The tension from earlier has dissolved into something more comfortable, both men recognizing a familiar kind of pain in each other's eyes.

"I can’t apologize for Yarozu," Sukuna says, sliding a whiskey toward Toji. His voice is gruff but sincere. "She gets like this when she drinks, tries to make me jealous or some shit. Usually ends up making some poor bastard uncomfortable instead." He traces the rim of his glass with a tattooed finger, the gesture almost nervous.

Toji appreciates the straightforward explanation. No bullshit, no drama – just facts. It's refreshing after months of people tiptoeing around him, treating him like he might break. "Sounds complicated."

"Nah. We fuck sometimes, that's it. The complicated part is when she forgets that's all it is." Sukuna takes a long sip of his drink, the amber liquid catching the dim bar light. "Anyway, what brings a guy like you out alone on a Tuesday night? You don't strike me as the type looking for whatever the hell Yarozu was offering."

Something about Sukuna's blunt honesty makes Toji decide to return the favor. The words come easier than expected, maybe because this stranger doesn't look at him with pity. "Lost my wife six months ago. Got a kid at home. Thought maybe I needed to..." he pauses, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "Hell, I don't even know what I needed."

Sukuna nods slowly, understanding flickering across his features. There's no sympathy in his eyes, just recognition. "Yeah, lost my brother last year. Left behind two boys. Been trying to figure that shit out myself." The admission hangs between them, heavy with shared understanding.

They spend the next few hours talking about everything and nothing – cars, work, the general mess that is life. The conversation flows naturally, neither man feeling the need to fill silences with empty words.

The next morning, when Yarozu texts Sukuna her usual post-drama apology, he just sends back a quick 'whatever' and saves Toji's number in his phone.

Toji chuckles at the memory and finally pulls his Camaro into his reserved spot at the front of the complex. The familiar rumble of the engine dies as he shifts into park, his mind still replaying both the past and this morning's events. He's got a stack of maintenance requests to handle today. He lets out another sigh. Just another day of being a landlord. But it’s better than what he use to do.

The stack of maintenance requests on his desk seems to multiply every time he looks away. Being a landlord isn't exactly what he'd pictured for himself, but there's something satisfying about fixing things, about making people's lives a little better one repair at a time. The flexible schedule works well with his life, letting him balance work with being there for Megumi and the other responsibilities that come with single parenthood.

And now for Nobora and you too. He promised to pick up both kids at five to give you some extra time at work. Though if he's being honest, he thinks you're pushing yourself too hard lately. But telling you to slow down is like talking to a brick wall.

Toji settles into his office chair, the leather creaking familiarly beneath him. The morning sun streams through the blinds, casting striped shadows across his desk. He pulls up his maintenance scheduling app, trying to organize his day efficiently. Between the AC unit, the washing machine, and whatever new crisis Yamamoto's faucet presents, it's going to be a full day. Toji likes it that way. He likes to focus and work, helps the time go by and doesn’t let his mind wander.

He goes on about his day trying to finish every request he scheduled. Of course, tenants stop and talk to him, some even flirt. It’s nice to feel a since of pride to help others. He thinks his wife would be proud of him. He’s pretty lost without her. And without you? He might’ve been dead by now.

He starts to walk back to his office with his last job of the day finished. His phone buzzes – a text from you. It’s a voice memo. He raises a brow because usually when you do that you’re ranting. You claim it’s easier than texting fifty paragraphs. Toji presses play and he immediately lets out a sigh.

You start off with yelling at him for being “a piss poor land-lord” and continue with how he has some tenants who he should have never let move in here. You finally get to the point and explain why all happened with Sukuna. And you don’t miss a beat, you explain everything. From the porno you heard last night all the way up to you calling him “limp dick” and flipping him off.

Well fuck. Toji was right. He would love to revel in the satisfaction of it all, but he just knew that something bad would happen if you two ever met. You’re polar fucking opposites. And now you’re neighbors. Which is his own fault because he should have payed attention to that. How the hell did he miss that? Either way it’s done and over with now, but man is he proud of you. In high school you were picked on a lot (by Toji mostly) but you developed a thick skin and don’t take peoples shit. He’s damn proud. And Sukuna deserves every bit of it.

Toji quickly sends back a message apologizing and saying, “We can talk about it later”.

He leans back in his chair and lets his body stretch for a moment before checking the time again. He had about an hour left before he had to get the kids. He was finished with his work for the day and was bored.

So, he grabs his keys, deciding to head out early. He could swing by Sukuna's shop, maybe give him shit about this morning's encounter. Besides you, Sukuna is his closest friend, though neither of them would ever admit how much they actually enjoy each other's company. Some things are better left unspoken.

The familiar rumble of Toji's Camaro engine dies as he pulls into Sukuna's shop. The place is busy as usual – the sound of power tools and classic rock music spilling out from the open garage doors. He spots Sukuna's distinctive figure bent over the engine of a sleek black Mercedes, tattoos visible under his rolled-up sleeves.

"Yo," Toji calls out, unable to keep the grin off his face. "Heard you got your ass handed to you this morning."

Sukuna doesn't even look up from the engine. "Fuck off."

"No, no, please – tell me more about how my 'type' threatened to get you evicted." Toji leans against a nearby workbench, thoroughly enjoying this moment. "Actually, what was it she called you? Limp-dick?"

That gets Sukuna's attention. He straightens up, wiping his hands on a shop rag. "She made sure to tell ya, huh?” He chuckles.

"Course she did. We're fucking, remember?" Toji's voice drips with sarcasm. "You’re real good at talkn’ to women ya know?”

Sukuna throws the rag at him, but there's no real heat behind it. "Get outta my shop, Fushiguro"

"What? Ya mad?." Toji catches the rag easily. “You know, for someone who deals with Yarozu's drama, you sure are quick to judge other people's relationships."

Sukuna's jaw tightens at the mention of Yarozu. "Speaking of – she stopped by earlier." He stares at the ground intensely with his brows furrowed.

"Oh?" Toji raises an eyebrow, recognizing that tone. "How'd that go?"

"About as well as everything else today." Sukuna moves to the mini-fridge in the corner, pulling out two beers. He tosses one to Toji. "She wants more. I don't. Same shit, different day."

"Maybe if you stopped sleeping with her..." Toji suggests, cracking open his beer.

"Maybe if you minded your own business..." Sukuna mimics his tone, taking a long drink.

“I know you aint talking” Toji huffs and starts to down his beer, but immediately remembers he has to pick up the kids and sits the beer down. You would kill him if you knew he sipped on a beer before he picked up your daughter.

They fall into a comfortable silence, the garage's ambient noise filling the space between them. Sukuna fidgets with his beer label, peeling it back methodically, clearly wrestling with something behind those crimson eyes.

"So, she’s the ‘good’ friend you always talk about," he finally says, not meeting Toji's gaze, his voice unusually hesitant. "Why’d ya keep her hidden all these years?”

Toji snorts, a knowing smirk playing at his lips. "Look what the fuck happened when you did meet, dumbass.”

Sukuna tries to hold in a laugh and shakes his head. “Never been the best at talking with women.”

Toji rolls his eyes, “Bullshit. You’re just an asshole.” Sukuna can’t argue with that. He also knows he fucked up. He hasn’t stopped thinking about you all day, it’s been pissing him off.

He takes another drink, his expression thoughtful, almost distant. "She's something else."

"Don't," Toji warns, his tone shifting from playful to serious. "She's not another Yarozu."

"Wasn't gonna do anything, fuck head," Sukuna says too quickly

"Yeah, okay." Toji stands, checking his watch. The afternoon light catches on its scratched face. "Gotta go pick up the kids. Try not to piss off any more single moms today."

"Fuck you," Sukuna calls after him, but there's a hint of a smile in his voice.

As Toji heads back to his car, he can't help but wonder if he should be worried. He knows that look in Sukuna's eyes – it's the same one he gets before doing something incredibly stupid or incredibly bold. He decides to ignore it. Sukuna is a stubborn asshole, so he probably isn’t going to listen to Toji (not a surprise at all). He bites the inside of his cheek and starts his car to head over to pick up the kids.

His phone buzzes (again) as he's pulling into the school parking lot, the screen lighting up with your name. The text reads: "Hey, since you're picking up the kids, just take them to my place. I left snacks in the pantry. I'll be home around 7."

Toji sends back a quick "Got it" before parking under the sprawling oak tree, its leaves casting dappled shadows across his windshield. The late afternoon sun bathes the playground in golden light, where a handful of kids are still running around, their laughter carrying across the empty lot.

His phone buzzes (again) with another text from you: "I ordered pizza for dinner. Should be there around 6:30. And please make sure they do their homework before the movie."

"Yes ma'am," he texts back, unable to suppress his amused smile. You always think of everything, planning three steps ahead.

"Don't 'yes ma'am' me, you ass", comes your quick reply, making him chuckle.

The school bell rings, its sharp peal cutting through the afternoon quiet. Kids pour out of the building like water from a broken dam, their excited voices filling the air.

Toji spots Megumi and Nobora immediately – they're impossible to miss, always gravitating toward each other like magnets. Megumi wears his usual serious expression, the one that makes him look too old for his years, while Nobora bounces alongside him, talking a mile a minute with wild hand gestures that paint stories in the air.

"Dad!" Megumi calls out, his face lighting up like a sunrise as he spots Toji. The rare smile transforms his entire face.

"Uncle Toji! Uncle Toji!" Nobora shouts, her backpack bouncing with each excited jump. "Look what I made today!" She's already digging through her bag, pulling out a slightly crumpled piece of paper covered in vibrant colors and imagination.

Toji kneels down to their level, accepting the artwork. "Wow, is that a... butterfly?" He truly doesn’t know what the fuck he is looking at. He has several drawings in his office and at home designed by the artist Nobora, but he cannot tell you what any of them are.

"No silly!" Nobora puts her hands on her hips and rolls her eyes because it should be obvious of what she created. "It's me and Megumi and you and Mommy at the park!"

"And there's the swings," Megumi adds seriously, pointing to some wobbly lines in the corner with the precision of a museum curator. "Mr. Nanami said we did good coloring in the lines today."

"Yeah? That's awesome," Toji says, helping them both into their car seats with practiced ease. Toji and you both have two in your cars now because it’s easier than transporting the heavy fucking things every other day.

As they all get settled in the car Toji turns on the radio and the kids start humming to the songs. They don’t really know the words, but they are trying their best. This is when Toji feels at peace. Megumi will never know how much he means to Toji, and Nobora is a pretty good bonus daughter.

"We're heading to your place today, Nobora,” Toji says as he turns onto the exit.

"Really?" Nobora claps her hands, her excitement infectious. "Megumi! We can play with my new stuffed animals! We can have a tea party!” It seems she had already forgotten about the Gameboy disaster.

Megumi nods quietly, a small smile playing on his lips like a secret.

"Uncle Toji, you have to play too!" Nobora shouts as she kicks her feet in excitement.

"Oh yeah?" Toji chuckles, turning into the parking garage. “Am I the special guest?” Toji smirks back at them. The kids look at eachother and then frown. "No!" both kids shout in unison, dissolving into giggles that fill the car with pure joy. He gives a fake pout and holds onto his heart like the kids just shot him. They start to giggle and say he can sit by them. He chuckles and turns the car off and begins to unbuckle himself.

The kids are still yapping and Toji shakes his head, grinning as he helps them out of their car seats. They do not shut up as the walk up the stairs. Discussing on which stuff animals are invited to the tea party and who would be sitting by who. It is obviously very important. Nobora is sure to tell Toji he has a spot right next to her.

While the kids and Toji settle in at the apartment, you were still busy at work. You made it your mission to distract yourself. After that stupid fucking asshole- no we are not gonna think about him right now. You got caught up on returns and organizing many books, as well as cataloging. It was a pretty productive day. Except Ino noticed you were off from the moment you stepped in.

You both usually chat about anything and everything, but today you were barely ever seen. He overthinks the entire thing and thought you were mad at him. So, around seven, right before you left he decided to be brave and see what the hell was wrong with you.

“Do you hate me?” Ino asks as he slowly leans over your desk.

You stop typing and look up at him, “What are you talking about?”

Ino immediately leans over on your shoulder and pretends to cry, “Oh! Finally she speaks to me! I thought you decided to hate me forever since you have barely spoken to me.”

You roll your eyes and let out a sigh. “Ino you’re being dramatic. I just had some stuff to do today.”

He frowns, “You eat lunch with me everyday.” He leans in even closer to you, “I don’t even think you at lunch today.”

You dead pan at him and shove him away. “I was busy. I’m fine.” You watch as Ino pouts and he literally looks like he is about to cry.

With an exaggerated sigh you give him a soft smile and hold out your arms to hug him. He immediately accepts and bear hugs you- almost making your chair fall over.

“Look, I’m tired and I wanna go be with my kid, but I’ll explain everything later, okay?” You smile at him and he gives you a nod.

You both walk to exit, making sure every light is turned off and every door is locked. “I’m expecting a full debrief over coffee,” Ino states as you walk to your car.

You give him a wave goodbye, “It’s a date.”

You had a silent drive home. It was actually pretty relaxing. You didn’t even think of he who shall not be named. All you wanted to do was go home and see Nobora. You made sure to have a career, you didn’t want motherhood to stop you from that. But now you feel like you’re missing out. Nobora is getting at the age where she realizes you’re gone. You sigh at the thought and slowly pull into your parking spot.

The apartment stairs have never felt longer, each step a small mountain to climb after your exhausting day. Your feet drag slightly against the worn tile as you make your way up, already imagining the cheerful chaos that awaits in your apartment – Nobora and Megumi probably turned your living room into their latest pretend restaurant, with Toji enabling their every whim like the softie he pretends not to be.

You hear voices before you reach your floor, and your stomach drops when you recognize one of them. Of course. Because this day just needs one more encounter with your hot annoying dickhead of a neighbor. Stop thinking about him.

As you round the corner, you see them – Sukuna's holding a sleeping Yuji, the boy's pink hair tousled against his father's shoulder. Behind him, Choso struggles with several grocery bags, trying to act grown up by carrying more than he probably should, his small face scrunched with determination.

Your steps falter for just a moment, but you quickly steel yourself. No. You're not doing this again. Not today. Without missing a beat, you continue up the stairs, eyes fixed straight ahead as if they're invisible, as if the air they occupy is just empty space. You can feel Sukuna's gaze on you like a physical touch, but you don't give him the satisfaction of acknowledgment.

Yuji makes a small snuffling noise and burrows deeper into Sukuna's shoulder. Despite your resolve not to look, you catch a glimpse of his peaceful face, pink lashes fluttering against round cheeks. The sight tugs at something in your chest – damn kids, making it hard to maintain your righteous anger.

"Miss—" Choso starts to say in his child-like voice, innocent and sweet, but Sukuna cuts him off with a sharp look that could slice steel.

You're already unlocking your door, pretending you didn't hear anything, the keys jingling in your slightly trembling hands. The last thing you catch before slipping inside is Choso's confused whisper, "I thought you said she was mean and loud?"

You pause in your tracks and bite the inside of your cheek hard enough to hurt. Do not give him the time of day. Do not let him see he's gotten under your skin. The keys jingle as you open the door and it clicks shut behind you with finality, cutting off whatever Sukuna's response might have been. You lean against it for a moment, letting out a breath you didn't realize you were holding, feeling your heart hammer against your ribs.

The apartment is surprisingly quiet when you walk in. No chaos, no pretend restaurant, just the soft glow of the TV playing some cartoon on mute, its colors dancing across the walls. You drop your keys in the bowl by the door and slip off your shoes, padding quietly into the living room in sock-covered feet.

The sight that greets you makes your heart melt. Toji's sprawled on your couch, his long legs hanging off the end because he's too tall for normal furniture. Nobora and Megumi are curled up against him, both fast asleep in the way only children can manage. Your daughter's got her favorite unicorn plushie clutched to her chest like a lifeline, while Megumi's using Toji's arm as a pillow.

Their homework is spread across the coffee table, completed and ready for tomorrow, pencils and erasers scattered like evidence of their diligence. The sight makes your heart swell. Never in your life would you imagine Toji of all people being such a good dad. You know his wife is so proud and so are you.

Toji slowly looks up and nods his head. "They crashed about twenty minutes ago," Toji whispers, his voice barely a breath in the quiet room, careful not to wake them. "Pizza's in the kitchen. They insisted on waiting for you, but..." he gestures to their sleeping forms with his free arm, a soft smile playing at his lips.

You smile, taking in the peaceful scene before you. Empty juice boxes and half-eaten pizza crusts litter the coffee table, evidence of their earlier feast. There's a stack of drawings too – probably their latest masterpieces they'll want to show you in the morning, full of bright colors and impossible stories.

"Thanks for watching her," you whisper back, grabbing the throw blanket from the armchair and gently draping it over the kids. The soft fabric settles around them like a protective cloud.

Toji just nods, that soft look in his eyes he only gets around the children. It's moments like these that remind you why he's your best friend, why you trust him with everything. He's grown so much from the troublemaker you knew in high school, transformed by love and loss into someone steady and true.

You carefully scoop Nobora up, her little arms automatically wrapping around your neck even in sleep, muscle memory stronger than dreams. Her plushie dangles precariously from her hand as you balance her weight against your chest.

"I got it," Toji whispers, gently taking the plushie before it can fall. He shifts Megumi onto the couch with the care of someone handling precious china, making sure not to wake him as he gets up to follow you.

You carry Nobora to her room, her warm breath steady against your neck. The glow-in-the-dark stars on her ceiling cast a soft light as Toji helps pull back her covers. You lay her down gently, and she immediately curls onto her side. Toji tucks the unicorn plushie into her arms, and you both watch as she hugs it close, lost in whatever sweet dreams fill her mind.

Back in the living room, Toji's already gathering his and Megumi's things, movements quiet and practiced. "I should get him home," he whispers, carefully lifting his sleeping son. "You good?"

You nod, following them to the door. "Thanks again for today. Sorry about the whole... neighbor situation." The words taste bitter in your mouth.

Toji shifts Megumi in his arms, a knowing look in his eyes that sees right through you. "Don't apologize. Man needed to be knocked down a peg."

You roll your eyes but can't help smiling. "Night, Toji."

"Night," he replies softly, and you watch as he carries Megumi down the hall, disappearing around the corner. Their footsteps fade away, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the quiet of your apartment.

You're too exhausted to even think about the cold pizza waiting in the kitchen. After a quick change into your favorite oversized t-shirt, you collapse onto your bed, not bothering to pull back the covers. The events of the day weigh heavy on your limbs, and your last coherent thought before drifting off is hoping tomorrow brings less drama than today.

Just on the other side of your walls is Sukuna pacing in his living room, wearing tracks in the carpet as he moves like a caged tiger. He's unable to shake the image of you deliberately ignoring him in the hallway, the way you looked right through him as if he were made of glass.

Your complete dismissal burns more than your earlier insults, and he can't figure out why it bothers him so much. He's used to people either fearing him or wanting something from him - this blatant disregard is new territory, and it's getting under his skin like an itch he can't scratch.

"Uncle Sukuna?" Choso's voice breaks through his brooding. The boy sits cross-legged on the floor, homework spread around him like a paper nest. "Is that lady really mean?"

Sukuna stops pacing, looking at his nephew. Yuji's already asleep in his room, worn out from their grocery run, but Choso's still up, his innocent question hanging in the air. "No, kid. She's not mean." He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. "Your uncle's just a fu—" he catches himself mid-word, eyes widening as he realizes what he almost said.

"You almost said a bad word," Choso points out seriously, his face stern in a way that makes him look like a miniature teacher. "That's fifty yen in the swear jar."

Sukuna snorts but dutifully pulls out his wallet. He stares at the jar for a moment, irritated at himself more than anything else. What the hell is wrong with him? One encounter with some mouthy woman and he's acting like... he doesn't even know what.

The reflection in the window shows a man who looks pissed off, unsettled, and – worst of all – intrigued. No. Absolutely not. He's not doing this. He's got enough complications in his life without adding another one, especially not one that lives next door and has already made it clear she thinks he's trash.

“Shit.” He mutters and is already aggressively shoving another fifty yen into the jar.

Your encounter with Sukuna on Monday sets the tone for the rest of the week. You make it your mission to avoid him while making sure he knows exactly what you're doing – a delicate balance of deliberate ignorance and pointed awareness.

You'd purposely talk to the boys, your voice warm and kind, and then make sure to not make any eye contact with him, as if he's nothing more than a shadow on the wall. The first day didn't seem to bother him. But by Thursday, you can practically feel the frustration radiating off him in waves.

Toji did manage to make him feel bad - which is a rare feat indeed. So, Sukuna tells himself he wants to apologize because you're neighbors after all. He didn't know how long he planned to stay at this apartment, and he didn't want to have to deal with you blatantly ignoring him. Well, that was the excuse he was giving himself for why he wanted to apologize. Or he could say Toji made him. Neither excuse feels quite true, but he's not ready to examine why.

He couldn't stop thinking about you. And that pissed him off even more. He’d rather have you call him “limp divk” for the rest of his days, as long as you were acknowledging his fucking presence. But no, you wanted to play your petty games. That's fine, he decides. If you wanted to play, he would play. The game is on, even if he's not sure what the prize is supposed to be.

Ignoring him made you feel powerful, a small victory in each deliberate non-acknowledgment. Hell, you wanted to cuss him out every time you laid eyes on him. It infuriated you how much his presence annoyed you. It annoyed you even more that his mere existence caused unwanted butterflies in your stomach. So, ignoring him and being deliberately cold was the only option that made sense.

The week drags on, your strategy of avoidance complicated by the fact that Choso and Yuji have become instant best friends with Nobora. You'd figured after the gameboy incident she'd be hesitant about being their friends. But to your disbelief, she's more than friendly and has been begging for them to come over all week. The kids' innocent friendship makes your cold war with their uncle even more complicated.

Now it's Friday. Nobora's with her dad, giving you a rare evening to yourself. Work was fine, though Ino spent most of the day talking about this new girl he's obsessed with. You're actually very happy for him. You hired him about two years ago and have watched him grow into his role. He's basically your little brother at this point. But it's hard not to feel a twinge of something as everyone around you seems to be finding connection.

Jealous wouldn’t be the right answer. You want to see the people you care about fall in love and be happy. It’s just been awhile. So, here you are sitting in the middle of your bed reading the directions to the shiny new vibrator you bought after work. It was kinda risky going into a sex shop, but like we already addressed. You’re desperate. It’s time to release some tension.

You’re now kneeling in the middle of your bed as you are reading the directions on how to charge the new toy. You have a draw full of them , but you wanted to treat yourself. This week was awful and spending a little bit of cash so you could have a mind blowing orgasm was exactly the right move. One point for retail therapy.

You treated this moment like a sacred ritual. The everything shower - exfoliating, shaving, moisturizing. Your baby blue pajama top buttoned just so, with cheeky underwear that wouldn't stay on for long. Chinese food waited in the microwave, a reward for later. Everything was perfectly planned for a night of self-care and release.

Settling onto the bed, you scrolled through your phone, finding a particularly steamy chapter in your latest book. Your underwear slipped off, forgotten in the blankets. The bright red toy buzzed to life, its vibration sending a tingle through your hand.

As you pressed it against your sensitive clit, your back arched immediately. Sensitive as hell. It had been so long since you'd truly enjoyed a moment like this. Your mind began to drift, seeking escape, seeking pleasure.

Your breath became heavy, eyes rolling back as you let yourself slip into complete bliss. The slick slowly dripped down, each sensation a reminder of how long it had been. Oh, how you needed this. Especially after that stupid fucking asshole who ruined your week.

That stupid fucking asshole who is your neighbor. That hot fucking asshole who smells amazing and looks like a god. That stupid fucking neighbor who you heard last night fucking the shit out of god knows who. Only you can imagine how he fucks. How he’d rut into your into you so good making you scream his name-

"Mph! Suku- fuck,"

You freeze as you hear the similar noise that kept you awake a few nights ago.

Oh fuck no.

While you were trying to pleasure yourself. Sukuna decided to answer Yarozus message and gave no time to get down to business once she got here. She was here for one reason tonight and that was to piss you off. Yeah you were fucking hot as you told him off, but you’re not gonna fucking ignore him and threaten to kick him out.

So here he is, slamming his hips into Yarozu as hard as he can while her face is pushed deep down into the mattress. He made sure he positioned his bed right against the wall too. He slaps and pulls on yarozu to get every little noise out of her. And she loves it.

Although, Sukuna isn’t really thinking about her. He never really does. But he is thinking about you. The fucking random ass woman who he just so happened to piss off. The random ass woman who is actually stunning and he can’t get her out of his head. But this woman pissed him off to no end, so here he is trying to piss you off.

You lie there in shock for a moment and listen. You can hear everything. Every slap, every breath, and squelch. And just like the color of your new toy, you see red. This motherfucker. Normally, you’d ignore it. But this is a declaration of war.

You sit up and pull your underwear back up. The toy gets placed on your night stand and you roll off the bed. With a huff and a deep swallow you walk over to the wall. Without even placing your ear next to it you can hear what’s happening as clear as day. So, without any hesitation you start banging on the wall. Not only that, you start moaning as loud as you could.

Yes, this is childish. You know it is, you would never want your daughter to act this way. However, you simply have forgotten to give a shit when it comes to this man. Within the past five days of knowing him he has awoken a beast inside of you that you have tried to keep tame for some time. And you are letting it run free.

Sukuna thinks he’s hallucinating. There’s no fucking way she’s doing this, right? At first he ignores it, well tried to. The banging on the wall gets louder and the moans coming from your mouth sound angelic, almost real. It’s hard to focus.

Yarozu finally lifts her head and looks back at Sukuna in confusion. The banging continues and your moans get louder. Suddenly a framed picture on the wall falls and barely misses yarozus head.

Yarozu gasps and Sukuna holds back a laugh. he pulls out of her and sighs, quickly puts on his grey sweats and heads right toward the door. You’re too busy banging on the walls to realize they have stopped and you suddenly hear a knock on the door.

The smirk on your face is devilish. You trot towards your door and open it. There is your asshole neighbor in only grey sweats and he’s glistening with sweat. If you didn’t hate him so much you’d ask him to come inside and finish the job.

“Can I help you?” You say sweetly and bat your eyelashes at him.

Sukuna holds a groan in his throat has he checks you out. You’re only in some underwear and a pajama top, which shows everything. He can see every beautiful curve you were blessed with. He can’t help but notice the way your hair drapes perfectly framing your face. The way your brow furrows and nose crinkles as you look at him in disgust-

Focus Ryomen.

He lets out a sigh and leans down, “What the fuck Is your problem?”

He’s so close as he speaks. You raise a brow and step closer to him. “What the fuck is your problem?” Suddenly a girl steps out behind him wearing a shirt that is way too big for her

“Sukuna, baby who’s that?” She purrs and reaches for his shoulder and he swats her hand. She just rolls her eyes and stands to the side.

Your blood boils as you stare daggers into him. His look is just as bad. His red ruby eyes melts into yours. You swallow thickly and clench your fists. “Keep it down or I’m calling Toji”

Sukuna scoffs and rolls his eyes. “He ain’t gonna do shit, baby,” he says in a mocking tone. Your eye twitches as you hear that stupid pet name.

As you glare into his crimson eyes, you feel a shadow creeping behind you and turn. Toji appears up the stairs with a pack of beers. His eyes immediately dart to you and shock covers his face.

Fuck, he definitely came here to drink with Sukuna didn’t he?

You’re starting to put two and two together. They for sure know eachother. There is no doubt about that. You didn’t think that they were that good of friends. Hell, he never really talked about him. You then feel helpless. Toji isn’t going to kick him out. You don’t even want him kicked out, he has two kids to raise. Just like you.

The tears swell up in your eyes as Toji walks closer and tries to brush the tears out of your face. “Hey pretty what’s-“ you swat his hand away and turn to the door, pulling your shirt down with one hand and cover your tits with the other arm.

“Fuck off toji.” You say coldly and hurry to shut the door. You make sure to lock every lock and dart to the bathroom, tears streaming down your face.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Sukuna watches with a blank face and Yarozu stands behind him, twirling her hair. “Hey Toji,” she smirks.

Toji quickly nods his head and heads into Sukuna’s place. Sukuna lets out a sigh and follows him.

Yarozu begins to step but Sukuna stops, “Go home Yarozu.” She pouts, but he doesn’t turn around to see her. She simply sighs, grabs her purse and heads back out. In only his shirt and her underwear.

Sukuna shuts his door and locks it. Just like you did. He rubs the back of his neck and sighs. “She left her clothes.” Toji says and his eyes dart toward the clothes thrown around the living room.

Sukuna huffs and walks over to the clothes, picks them up and tosses them off the balcony. Toji watches, his eyes widen a bit, but that’s honestly not surprising when it comes to those two.

He lets out a chuckle and shakes his head, “You don’t even like her, why the fuck do you-“. Sukuna cuts him off by grabbing a beer from him and flipping him off. Toji flips him off right back and smirks.

It’s gets silent for a long moment and Toji watches Sukuna as he twiddles his thumbs and sips his beer.

"Want to tell me what the fuck that was?" Toji asks, his voice low.

Sukuna drops onto the couch, running a hand through his hair. "Not really," he mutters.

Toji raises an eyebrow. "She's my best friend," he says, a warning implicit in his tone.

"I know," Sukuna responds, taking a long drink. "Believe me, I know."

"She's not just some random woman," Toji says, his voice carrying a protective edge. "She's been through enough."

Sukuna says nothing, which speaks volumes.

"I'm serious," Toji continues. "Whatever game you're playing, stop."

“Who says I'm playing a game?" Sukuna responds, but there's no conviction in his voice.

They both let out a sigh and stare up at the ceiling. Letting the silence consume them.

In your bathroom, you lie on the floor, tears streaming down your face. The cool tile against your back provides little comfort. Your mind races - everything blends into a chaotic emotional storm.

You're not crying from sadness. No, these are tears of pure frustration. Anger at Sukuna, at the situation, at yourself for being so affected by this stranger who seems determined to get under your skin.

You glance over to the vibrator as it lies forgotten on the nightstand, your evening of planned relaxation completely derailed. It truly feels like nothing ever goes to plan. And this fucking asshole is making sure of it.

With a defeated sigh you slowly sit up a wipe the tears from your face. You’re about to reach for your face wash when you feel a vibration on the bathroom counter. It’s Ino?

The call came unexpectedly. Ino's excited voice filled the phone, talking a mile a minute about a group night out. "Come on!" he insisted. "Me, my girlfriend, Nanami, and his fiancée. We need you there!"

You were hesitant. Group outings typically meant navigating potential awkwardness - endless small talk and the looming possibility of feeling like the perpetual single friend. But Ino's enthusiasm was infectious, his excitement bleeding through the phone in a way that made resistance futile.

Your outfit came together quickly. A black mini skirt that hit a little above the knee, paired with a tight white t-shirt that hinted at confidence without trying too hard. You added black tights underneath, chunky lace-up boots that could handle a night of dancing, topped with a well-worn jean jacket.

You took extra care removing the day's remnants - brushing out your hair, ensuring any trace of earlier tears was completely erased. This wasn't about looking perfect. This was about survival, about drinking away the stress that had been building for weeks.

The evening passed in a beautiful blur of music, laughter, and strategically consumed alcohol. Nanami's fiancé was stunning - the kind of gorgeous that made you simultaneously admire and slightly resent her effortless beauty. Ino's girlfriend, was a revelation - hilarious, the type of person who made friendship feel instantaneous.

You danced with strangers, laughed without reservation, drank far more than any responsible adult should. Karaoke became an adventure - you were pretty sure you sang something, though the exact song had dissolved into the night's liquid memories. The music, the drinks, the company - everything blended into a perfect escape.

The guys could tell something was wrong. You never go out. Ino told Nanami he’s been worried about you all week. You still have yet to tell him what the hell is going on. But they are happy to see you having fun. You deserve it.

Around 1 A.M., Nanami - ever the responsible one - called you an Uber, his quiet concern a counterpoint to the night's wild energy.

You said goodbye with dramatic kisses on cheeks and tight hugs. Ino has you on his Life 360 (he’s nosey and you didn’t say no when he asked) so he plans to watch it to make sure you get home. The ride home was a blur of streetlights and half-remembered conversations, the city sliding past your window like a watercolor painting.

You slowly stumble up the stairs, making sure you don't trip. The hallway seems to sway slightly as you try to keep your eyes open. You keep humming whatever song they were playing at karaoke - something pop, maybe? The memory is fuzzy, blurred by alcohol and laughter.

Finally reaching your door, you thimble around your handbag for your keys. They slip from your fingers, clattering to the ground. "Shit," you mumble, giggling as you bend to retrieve them. The lock seems particularly challenging tonight, your coordination reduced to a comedic struggle.

Unbeknownst to you, Toji and Sukuna are watching your entire performance. Toji was just about to leave, and Sukuna was seeing him out when your drunken arrival caught their attention.

In your current state, you might normally be mortified. Instead, you look up and see them staring. Your response? A defiant middle finger.

Toji frowns and sighs, a mixture of concern and exasperation. Sukuna, however, can't help but chuckle. "Hey there, drunky," he calls out, his voice a low rumble that makes you shiver despite your irritation.

The door finally opens with a triumphant "Ha!" from you.

"Need any help?" Toji asks, stepping forward.

You look up, still fumbling through your bag for your phone, and raise a challenging eyebrow. "Oh, now you're asking if I need help?" The sass is sharp, cutting through your alcohol-induced haze.

"Pretty calm-" Toji begins.

"Don't call me that," you interrupt, folding your arms and shooting a glare that could freeze fire.

Sukuna can't resist adding fuel to the fire. "Don't piss drunky off, Toji!" he shouts, his laughter echoing in the hallway.

Toji tries again, reaching to fix your disheveled hair. "Pretty, c'mon now-"

"No, Toji," you cut him off, your words slightly slurred but no less venomous. "Go suck his dick or something. I'm mad at you."

Toji rolls his eyes. You were pissed. He hasn’t seen you this mad since you found out you were pregnant (a story for another day).

Sukuna, never one to miss an opportunity, smirks. "Not really interested in him, but you can come over if ya want."

You glare back, and he winks. In his mind, you're beautiful, especially when you're fired up. Every encounter he's had with you - when you’re not ignoring him - has been a hurricane of emotion, and he loves every moment of it.

"Oh, I'm sure I'd be on a long waiting list," you retort, laying your head against the doorframe. The alcohol is catching up with you, making it hard to stand.

Toji huffs and steps closer to you, “Pretty, let me help.”

Before you can fully process it, you're nodding yes to Toji's offer of help. He swiftly picks you up, and you wrap your legs around his torso, your body going pliant with exhaustion.

Toji carries you into the apartment, with Sukuna following close behind. His eyes scan the space - moving boxes still needing to be unpacked, the signs of a recent move scattered everywhere.

Yet, it still felt like a home. Framed family photos and vintage art prints hung over the cream-colored walls, arranged in those trendy asymmetrical clusters you'd probably seen on Pinterest.

Nobora's toys were neatly corralled in a woven basket in the corner, a halfhearted attempt at containing the chaos of childhood.

It looked like every piece of furniture had been meticulously picked by you. The mid-century modern coffee table with its gentle curves, the overstuffed armchair in soft leather that practically begged to be curled up in, even the delicate ceramic vases arranged on floating shelves.

You had good taste. He was almost too distracted until he noticed Toji struggling to help your drunk ass.

"Need any help?" Sukuna asks, a hint of skepticism in his voice.

Toji doesn’t look at Sukuna, too focused on your care. He simply gives a nod and asks, “Can you get a shirt for her? I'm gonna help her change."

Sukuna rolls his eyes but complies, moving to your dresser. He opens several drawers, careful not to disturb too much. Realizing he might upset you further by rummaging, he opts instead to take off his own shirt and bring it to the bathroom.

Toji helps you undress, completely un phased . When Sukuna raises an eyebrow, Toji scoffs, "What? I watched her give birth. This isn't the first time I've seen her naked."

You giggle, raising your arms for the shirt like a child. Sukuna watches as Toji pulls the shirt over you, noting how the fabric falls loosely on your frame.

"Need to wash my face and brush my hair," you mumble, your words slightly slurred.

Toji helps you to the sink, supporting you as you carefully remove your makeup. Sukuna can't help but chuckle at the sight - you're a mix of determination and drunken clumsiness.

You use Sukuna's shirt to pat your face dry, then turn to Toji with a mischievous grin. "Mhmm, this smells like the asshole," you giggle.

Toji starts to laugh, the tension from earlier melting away.

"That's because it is the asshole's," Sukuna's voice cuts through, momentarily sobering you.

Your eyes widen at the sight of him shirtless, and he winks. You glare back - still angry, still defiant.

Toji helps you into bed, and you crawl to the center, wrapping yourself in soft sheets. As he goes to get water and medicine, Sukuna explores your room, his curiosity getting the better of him.

A bright red toy on the bedside table catches his eye. For a moment, his face heats up with thoughts he quickly tries to dismiss.

When Toji returns, he leaves water and medicine, then leans down to kiss your temple. "I'll be back in the morning to check on ya."

You wave lazily. "Bye, asshole," you call to Sukuna, who sighs and responds, "Go to sleep, drunky.

After closing your bedroom door, Toji pauses in the living room. A photograph catches his eye - a memory from his wedding day. You, him, and his late wife at the courthouse, where you served as their witness. The image pulls at his heart, a bittersweet reminder of love, loss, and enduring friendship.

Sukuna watches silently as Toji studies the photo, recognizing the depth of emotion playing across his friend's face.

"I'm actually gonna crash on her couch," Toji explains, breaking the silence. "Make sure she's okay. I'll call her baby daddy in the morning to keep Nobora for the day." Thank god Megumi was at the sitters.

Sukuna raises an eyebrow and nods, a simple acknowledgment of Toji's protective nature.

As Sukuna walks out, he can't shake the thoughts of you. It's unprecedented - he's known Yarozu for almost a decade, and she barely crosses his mind. But you? In less than a week, you've occupied more mental space than anyone has in years.

There's something about you - your fire, your refusal to back down, the way you move through the world with such unapologetic intensity. You're not afraid to show your emotions, to be loud, to take up space. It's intriguing in a way he can't quite define.

What the hell is wrong with me?

The thought echoes in the empty hallway, a whispered confession to no one but himself. With a final sigh, he returns to his own apartment, your presence clawing at his mind like a persistent memory that refuses to be forgotten.

Each step feels weighted, charged with an energy he can't explain. He's realizing something, a truth that both irritates and intrigues him.

You were going to consume him entirely.

A slow, inevitable destruction he would welcome with open arms.

summary/notes: sorry this was another chaotic one! we will slowly but surely see those two warm up to eachother (maybe) lmao! I had a blast writing Toji and Sukuna’s pov. I also realize their backstory could’ve been the beginning to their love story. ah well, maybe in another universe. they are just besties, trust.

I am also still figuring out the mechanics of tumblr so I will have links and everything updated as soon as I can! my asks are open, so if you have any questions I will be so so happy to answer! I really hope you all enjoyed this chapter and I love you all so much! mwah! <3

taglist is open: please comment and let me know if you want to be on it!! (:

@sukubusss @poopooindamouf @tojiswifeforlife @777pluto @emochosoluvr @bookfreakk

@withtanxp @pandabiene5115 @fava-boi

[couch-potato28]

☆ twinkle, twinkle, little star

a/n: a little moment between bastard münchen manager x michael kaiser, he’s an ass but we love him, also shout out to the snorers, this piece is a little chaotic, okay I’m gonna clock out gn everyone 🫶

“Ugh…move.” he says for the third time now, clearly annoyed by the way your big, fat head is currently resting on his shoulder for support as you enjoy your rest.

Kaiser is irritated not just because everyone is teasing him, but also because you’re ruining his very expensive shirt with your saliva.

Yes—you drool. Maybe from exhaustion? Possibly. But this is only his second biggest problem. The first one?

“Y/N. Stop. SNO-RING.” he whispers—a very poor attempt to wake you up, but it’s useless.

You’re out like a fucking log, sleeping without a care in the world, and he can’t do anything about.

Repeating the same sentence for a few times, Kaiser finally gives up and with a deep sigh, he pulls out his own sleep mask—deciding to get some rest as well. Because next to you, even if he watched a movie on the highest volume, no one would hear a thing.

It takes him a few minutes to drift off, the shaking of the bus doing absolutely nothing to wake either of you up. He’s way too deep in his slumber to hear, or realize the constant clicking of his teammates’ phones and flashlights that are capturing the scene of the century.

“The snoring duo—our striker and manager are the sleeping beauties of the team 🧡” the caption reads as a shot of you two is posted on the team’s official page, gaining thousands of likes with each passing minute.

Kaiser—with his mouth open—sleeps so carelessly in the picture—like he didn’t just cuss you out minutes ago for ruining his shirt. His head gently rests against yours, arms crossed.

Beware tho, because first of all, Kaiser thinks he does not snore, and second of all, the moment he wakes up somebody’s going to die.

Additional time:

DURING THE BUS RIDE TO THE STADIUM:

“Do you wanna switch?“ Alexis asks the blond who seems to be annoyed at the seating arrangement.

“No” he says without a second thought, surprising both you and Ness.

Did Michael Kaiser just refuse to move his ass away from yours?

Ignoring the blatant staring, Kaiser stays put next to you, even though he complains throughout the entire ride.

[mountaingutta]

I thought about it and realized that the only MegOp I actually like is the version from TFA and G1.

Why I like TFA (this is just a chaotic stream of thoughts that I tried to organize a bit, but I’m not sure I succeeded):

There’s no tearful backstory between Optimus and Megatron — Meg doesn’t even remember what the hell OP’s name is until the end of season three.

TFAMegs is an asshole regardless of the existence of Optimus Prime or Orion Pax. My biggest problem with other continuities is that fanfics often directly or indirectly blame Orion/Optimus for Megatron becoming a galaxy-scale jerk. And it’s always Optimus who’s supposed to feel guilty, to apologize. It drives me crazy.

Another thing that irritates me is when Megatron’s actions are constantly justified by his tragic past. If the villain has a pretty face and a rough background, they’re forgiven for nearly everything. Everyone else is to blame except him.

Honestly, I’m not very interested in redemption arcs for this jerk — I like him better as a straightforward villain or at least a charismatic bastard with questionable morals.

But in TFA, by the time Megs rose to power, neither Orion Pax nor Optimus Prime existed — and in the very first episode we see this Satan in all his sinister glory (I mean, he really is gorgeous, no argument there).

He’s charismatic, intelligent, and cunning. Rarely gives in to emotion, and thinks like a strategist — calculating his moves, squeezing every situation for maximum advantage. He’s like a mix of Cardinal Richelieu (Dumas) and Frollo. I adore this version of him.

Now, about Optimus. TFA OP is basically a burnt-out 25-year-old dude who dropped out of college and is dealing with way too much crap all at once. He’s got dry humor, a bit socially awkward — an introvert with a hyperfixation on history. He’s an idealist, but he knows the world is trash. He has boundaries, and his team (his family) often stomps all over them, but he still cares about them.

He’s sarcastic even on the verge of death and has absolutely zero sympathy for Megatron or the other Decepticons. If he gets the chance — he will kick their tailpipes.

And in the end, he actually did it. But he’s still better than most people or bots. TFA Optimus is a paradox — he’s everything a typical Optimus should be and everything he’s not. In the Autobot society of TFA, he and his team are basically outcasts.

So this soggy cat Optimus holds a special place in my stone-cold heart.

And the biggest reason behind my love for TFA MegOp is the plot and worldbuilding of this continuity.

An original storyline — no Matrix, no religious mumbo jumbo, no “chosen one” nonsense.

Autobot society is just as bad as Decepticon society. YES, DECEPTICONS ARE ALSO BAD AND I DON’T CARE THAT THEY STARTED WITH GOOD INTENTIONS! It all went downhill. We have direct evidence that Autobots conduct morally questionable experiments on other bots without their consent (JettTwins), and direct evidence that Decepticons use biological weapons on their enemies (Rodimus). Both factions are xenophobic toward organic life forms.

Basically, these are two totalitarian/authoritarian regimes.

Megatron is the one who created the existing Decepticon order, while Optimus is just “a cog in the great machine.” A cog that slipped out — and took a few others with him.

In the show, their entire interaction boils down to fights and exchanges of sarcastic/insulting remarks and death threats.

But this opens up so many possibilities for interpreting the development of their relationship in post-canon.

And then there are the comics, where a few interesting interactions between these two pop up.

Without context, they can be interpreted however you want.

So, there won’t be any kind of conclusion I just wrote down what was in my head.

[heartsiebyul]

I don't if like that ship.. can do a headcanon about malleo x reader? If You have time

Malleo (Malleus and Leona) x reader headcanon

In the Lion’s Den and the Dragon’s Lair

How It Started

It wasn’t love at first sight. You were someone neither Leona nor Malleus could figure out.

Malleus was intrigued by how you didn’t fear him. You spoke to him casually, sometimes even teasing him, and that fascinated him more than he cared to admit.

Leona liked how you didn’t try to suck up to him. He noticed how you treated everyone fairly, and your subtle wit made his tail twitch with amused irritation.

They noticed each other noticing you. And of course, they hated that.

The Confession

It didn’t come in a normal way.

One night, Leona kissed you out of the blue, after dragging you out to the botanical gardens to “get some peace.” His kiss was slow and heated, and he pulled back with a lazy smirk. “I want you, herbivore. Got a problem with that?”

Malleus found out later. Not because Leona told him—but because he saw the way you smiled differently the next day. So he cornered you under moonlight, asking if you were happy with Leona, and if you'd ever thought about him that way too.

When you hesitated—not rejecting him—Malleus’ eyes glowed. “Then allow me the chance to show you my devotion.”

You never meant to get caught between them, but neither one was letting go.

How the Relationship Started

At first, it was chaotic. The idea of you being with both of them felt impossible—until they both started seeking you out more, showing you little gestures of care.

It took a while, but eventually, they talked it out, reluctantly.

You sat between them, holding each of their hands, trembling but honest. “I don’t want to choose. I love you both.”

Leona clicked his tongue, annoyed—but squeezed your hand.

Malleus nodded solemnly. “Then let us try.”

It became official the moment Leona pressed a kiss to your temple and muttered, “Guess I’ll deal with Lizard Breath… for you.”

Relationship Dynamic

You are,

The peacekeeper.

The warmth.

The only reason they haven't killed each other.

Leona is possessive, relaxed, but deeply attentive when it matters. He guards you like a lion guards his pride.

Malleus is intense, noble, and wildly devoted. He treats you like something sacred, someone who lit a fire in his eternal night.

They butt heads constantly, but never take it out on you. If anything, you’re the anchor that reminds them to grow.

They challenge each other. And that challenge keeps things from becoming stagnant.

Affection Styles

Leona

Lazy touches: fingers brushing your back, arms slung around your waist.

Naps on you. He uses you as a pillow and expects you to stay still.

Acts nonchalant but loves when you comb his hair or press kisses to his jaw.

Malleus

Formal but intense: forehead touches, hand kisses, protective hugs from behind.

Loves gifting you things—rare flowers, enchanted trinkets, dragon-scale jewelry.

Whispers old Faefolk phrases of love in your ear while you sleep.

You

Hug them both. Constantly.

Rest your head on Leona’s lap and hold Malleus’ hand at the same time.

You kiss their scars, their flaws, and make them feel human.

Jealousy

They are jealous, but not in the same way.

Leona gets visibly pissed off. Glares. Growls. Pulls you closer in front of the person who flirted with you.

Malleus gets scary quiet. A chilling aura settles around him. He’ll politely stare someone down until they leave.

You have to talk them down, reassure them, and kiss their insecurities away.

Love-Hate Between Leona & Malleus

Leona calls Malleus “Horny Bastard.” Malleus counters with “Desert Prince.”

They argue all the time. About how to handle situations, how to treat you, who you love more.

They’ll never admit it, but they’ve developed a begrudging respect. A rivalry that fuels them to be better for you.

You’re the only one who can calm them down when they’re on the verge of a magic-fueled argument.

Sometimes, you make them sit on opposite sides of the bed until they behave.

Extra Moments

Malleus teaching you how to waltz, only for Leona to cut in, claiming “real dancing” involves rhythm and hip movement. It becomes a mini dance-off with you in the middle, laughing.

Morning cuddles where Leona refuses to get up and Malleus just watches you both sleep peacefully, brushing your hair with reverence.

Pet nicknames:

Leona calls you "kitten," or "my sunshine."

Malleus calls you "beloved," "treasure of night," or "my star."

You keep a journal of things they say when they think you’re asleep. Both are mortified when they find out.

Sometimes, you all lie under the stars together. Malleus tells stories of ancient times, Leona scoffs at half of them, and you hold both their hands, content between moon and sun.

damn, I love them both

[syrma-sensei]

→ Hush Hush Behind The Shield.

gif credit.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Wife!reader.

Rating: Explicit.

Warnings: Vought's ungodly shenanigans, mentions of cheating, couple fighting, angst, misogyny, antiquated mentality, dub-con, power imbalance, fingering, forced orgasms, angry sex, cock riding...

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Being america's greatest hero's wife has its perks, but they don't come for free...

A/N: I'd like to thank my two pretty moots, @kaleldobrev who's been always there for me, listening to mental blurbs and chaotic spews of unhinged ideas and continuous mind dump ❤️ and @zepskies who bares my energy, which can be a bit much, each time I spam her dms with life cringing memes and awaful reacts ❤️

Kneeling down on one knee, your mitted hands hoisted the oven door close as you hummed a melody to yourself. Turning on your heels, you stood up and gave the dining table a once-over before allowing a proud grin slip on your lips.

“Perfect.”

Then your eyes glanced at your watch. It was half an hour past seven in the evening. Perfect. There'd be enough time to pamper yourself in a relaxing shower and spruce up with no rush before your husband was home.

You gave the dining room another glimpse to make sure everything was in place before you headed to the bathroom upstairs, walking through the living room where the T.V. displayed a Soldier Boy anti-drugs commercial.

A snore escaped your nose upon hearing the phrase: “Just say no.” Remembering how your husband threw a fit behind the scenes at how stupid it was, to the point of getting Stan Edgar himself on the line for him to find an alternative to it. Because no way he was saying that shit.

“God, I sounded like a fucking douchebag,” He'd told you in his dressing room, a smouldering reefer hanging between his lips — the irony, after they wrapped filming up.

You'd giggled, playfully plucking it from his lips to take a drag of your own, “No, baby, you did just fine.” You purred, and his mouth curled up into a small grin, “The public needs that y'know…” You tipped his chin up, your polished, long nails grazed lightly to his skin, “You're America's golden son, right? You're the man everyone should look up to.”

“Damn sure they should.” He'd chuckled, leaning down for a kiss which you gladly welcomed.

Being Soldier Boy's wife came with many many perks, but it also had its downsides, one of which was to have to deal with his short temper. But what could you say? You loved the man. Ardently so; you literally fought the world to have him all for yourself despite Vought's disapproval of your nuptial.

You savoured the victory when you married Ben in a small ceremony without Vought's blessing. It was like a slap to them when Ben imparted upon them the happy news, he delivered them a severe black eye, especially the vainglorious bastard Edgar. Who had once told you that you and Ben wouldn't work out, for it was simply "inconvenient" for a superhero like Soldier Boy to be involved in a serious relationship with a mere… human; it'd be a "disappointment" in the public eye, as he put it. Like he had a say in the matter.

But here you were, with a ring on your left hand to swagger about, and happily married to America's first hero, Edgar and Vought could say hello to your middle finger.

To nobody's surprise, you resented Vought, and held such abhorrence against them for not letting you and your husband live the life you wanted for yourselves. Despite your personal efforts, your proclaimed triumph was soon cut short because Vought declined to go public and endorse your marriage. Not that you and your husband gave two shits about their approval, but the rules were rules. And their lawyers affirmed that a public exposure of your marriage might damage Soldier Boy's rep, therefore, Vought's; given the fact that you were more than thirty years younger than him. They couldn't have it said that the hero of heroes was a creep even though they'd tried to conceal his age when he and Phoebe Cates starred in Love And War because it started to seem fishy. It was expected, though. But what you didn't see coming was Ben's response, or lack of response as to put it.

Despite being even more obdurate about this marriage than yourself. You felt terribly abjured by your husband. You'd thought he'd fight for you, for what you both had, and he'd want to let the world know about you. It'd broken your heart when it dawned upon you that Ben wouldn't risk his fame and glory for anyone, for you. Reluctantly, you bit the bullet, you had to, for him, because you loved him, and would do anything to keep this marriage intact. If you had to compromise for it, then so be it. You didn't care.

To your solace, Ben never changed after the frustrating incident; he was still the man you fell in love with. He might be smug, crass, and insufferable to everyone but you could still perceive the tender side he had though he'd never actually admit it, and you never pushed him too much. You were subtle enough to know when to stroke his ego and when to tease it. He was a man, after all. But it was obvious; he was a doting husband who cherished you in his own way. He showered you with gifts, and pampered you when he could. And he was eager to have babies with you. He never ceased to express how rapturous he would be if he were to have a son. A child with you.

Sure, you had your own qualms about that particular day, and there was more than a time you wanted to have a conversation with him about it. But you couldn't bring yourself to screw it up with stupid doubts. If Ben hadn't truly loved you, he wouldn't have treated you the way he did, he wouldn't have brought you to his workplace to have you at his side — and to poke Vought's eye every single time. He wouldn't have let you in and told you about his family and his dad, about his fucked-up childhood and how he became a hero.

No, your bond was bigger than any fleeting thoughts of incredulity.

You crooned softly as you wrapped a towel around your body after you finished your shower. Stepping out, you rubbed your hair with another towel and made your way down towards the kitchen to check on the pie.

Oh, Ben liked pies. You found it amusing how he'd swallow a whole pie alone and wouldn't affect him one bit; a supe sure required a lot of calories. Sometimes, you wished you had his great metabolism.

The moreish scent of baked dough and chocolate told you it was ready. You opened the oven door with a protected hand and placed the delicious pie by the window to let it cool down while you dressed up.

On your way back to your bedroom, you padded through the living room again. Your eyes glanced fleetingly at the screen only to stop abruptly in your tracks. A slight frown made it to your face as you saw a picture of Ben and Crimson Countess together. You never liked Countess. Something about her always disturbed you, and your guts were right.

Your eyes roamed the headline over and over, dilating in stupor.

Breaking News: Soldier Boy and Crimson Countess are officially together, Vought announced.

You shook your head in disbelief, hand grasping the remote control from the couch, shivering fingers shuffling through the channels.

Soldier Boy finally found the one!

Your heart paced up with each press.

A long awaited power couple is now here!

Vought just shocked the world by—

And here's Soldier Boy and Countess's statement…

It was hard to quell your simmering anger when you saw your husband smiling face with that bitch between his arms. Camera flashes and clicks swarmed around them with an entourage of reporters and interviewers.

“Hey, Soldier Boy, now you're together, what can you tell us about the first time you saw Countess? Was it love at first?” A reporter asked.

Ben scratched his beard with his gloved hand, drawling “First time I met Tess was when Vought concocted a hero collab years ago, remember that honey?”

You did remember that event very clearly. You were still Ben's secret girlfriend at the time, and it was exclusive to superheroes, yet Ben brought you there as his date.

Ben grinned as if dreamily reminiscing about the memory as he continued, “And lemme tell ya one thing, this one is a firecracker.”

Countess giggled playfully, gazing up at your husband in the most flirtatious way, it made you gag with disgust.

You scoffed bitterly at the blatant lies spurting right in your face. That specific night, Ben had childishly grumbled and complained about how much he wanted to be out of there. And to spice things up, he playfully dragged you from the pristine hall the event took place in, and fucked you raw against one of the wall of some other hall, keeping your panties as a souvenir for the rest of the soirée. He kept teasing you through the entire night, riling and messing you up. At the time, it was thrilling and venturous. Now, however, it knotted at the tip of your stomach. His focus that day was solely on you. He wasn't even aware of the bitch's presence for all you care.

“And when I first saw her… knew she was the one….”

You couldn't comprehend what Ben said after that point as a deafening buzz bolted through your ears. Tears rolled down your cheeks, and soon they were streaming from your eyes as you stood numb on your spot. Your tears splattered on the ground along with your heart.

“Honey, I'm home.” Ben announced once he stepped in the house. He sighed, putting his shield down and making his way to the kitchen where you usually would be, making his dinner. He didn't take his boots off though he knew you'd throw a fit about it, but let's just say that teasing and screwing with you was his favourite hobby. His anticipating grin soon dropped and a small scowl knitted his brows when an odd mixture of scents wafted into his nose. His eyes dilated at the unusual messy scene in the kitchen; the table was flipped over, glass splints scattered all over the floor, freshly-cooked food covering the carpet beneath the dining table, and a chocolate pie was squashed into the wall.

With a pacing heart, Ben cried your name, and hurriedly climbed up the stairs. His feet darted to the bedroom when he heard you sniffling and weeping.

An audible sigh of relief flouted out of chest when he saw you. Your hair was wet and a damp towel wrapped around your body, but his eyebrow quirked up when he noticed you packing a bag on the bed. The fuck?

“(Y/N), the fuck is going here?” You scared the shit outta me. He wanted to say, after the shitty day he had, he just wanted to have you in his arms and play with your hair.

You startled for a moment when you heard his southern accent. You used to be fond of it, but today you were certainly not.

“I'm leaving.” Your answer came out curt, your hands tugging your bag zippers close.

You heard his footsteps getting closer until you felt his hand on your bare shoulder, “What happened to you, sweetheart?”

You pulled yourself away from his hold, hissing, “Don't you fucking touch me!”

He didn't seem to heed your warning as he reached a hand to your face. Gritting your teeth, you spun around with your hand ready to deliver a slap to his cheek. However, and no matter how fast and pissed you were, he was always quicker and alerter. Fucking supe.

“You don't get to touch me ever again you asshole!” You shrieked, yanking your wrist from his grasp, your wet hair stuck to your face, chest heaving with each breath. 

“The fuck is wrong with you, woman?!” He growled with a deep scowl, “Just left you all happy and giggling in the morning, is it here? Your time of the month again?”

“Fuck you!” You spat, clenched hands rising up to his chest, “You're my fucking problem,” You jabbed a fist to chest, though he didn't move an inch, but damn didn't it feel good! You blew another punch to his stupidly firm chest again and again.

“Fucking Christ!” He grumbled, and with one strong arm, Ben wrangled your back against his chest and caged you in his steel hold, one hand securing both of your wrists above your head, “Calm the fuck down!”

Legs kicking and hands tugging, you tried to wriggle out of his arms but to no avail, you felt so helpless against his raw strength. Your anger and frustration poured out of your mouth in a wailing, broken voice, “Leave. Me. Alone!” You bellowed, “Go to your fucking Crimson Bitch!” Two rivulets of tears drizzled from your eyes again, “Go to your fucking Tess and let her fire-crack your nuts, you fucking pussy!”

“Christ on a cross, do you hear yourself talk, woman?!”

His eyes widened before his eyebrows scrunched deeply. He took you off guard when he brought you down to the floor as he crouched on one knee. Your towel unwrapped at the sudden movement and you were naked beneath his eyes. His hands were still holding you in place.

Two green eyes regarded you softly, “You really took that marketing shit for real?” He thumbed your lower lip, and his free hand trailed down your naked form. “Fucking hell, thought you were way smarter than that, sweetheart.” You shivered from both the cold and his touch, his sinful reaching your mound, “You really think I'd fucking leave you for her?”

You couldn't suppress the moan when he stroked your throbbing clit. A shot of arousal seeped out of your opening much to Ben's satisfaction. Anger made the colour of your face rise, “Fuck you! Fuck your bitch! Fuck Vought!” You spat, your eyes burning holes into his as he proceeded toying with your flesh until your voice broke, “Y-You want me to buy your shit — Ah!” Two of his thick and expert digits entered your slit, massaging your love spots thoroughly. “After you didn't stand up for our marriage?!” You groaned, hips rolling to the rhythm of his fingers.

“Is that so?” His brow quirked up amusedly. Was this funny to this bastard? Was your marriage some kind of a joke to him?

You gasped as he deliberately hit your weak spot; sweet, delightful coils fluttered at the tip of your stomach, “I was under the fucking impression that you had your pretty, little head wrapped around how this fucking business worked!” He snarled.

“Fuck you! I hate you!” Your body snapped as you came abundantly on his fingers which made him grin slyly down at you.

You felt his grip on your wrists loosen, so you took your window and jerked yourself free. He was shocked when you pushed him down on the floor and straddled his hips, your dripping cunt was drenching his pants with your cum. He raised a playful brow at you but soon was replaced by a shocked frown when you slapped his irritatingly handsome face.

“Fucking hell, you fucking little ballbuster—”

You shushed him with a finger on his lips, “You're fucking mine, Benjamin, you hear me! You're fucking mine!” You hissed, having no idea where your vigour came from as you tore his shirt off of his chest. His length poked you when you gazed with searing fire in your eyes at his, “You. Belong. To. Me.” You furiously tucked his pants and boxers down, his cock springing out with life.

A wanton moan came off your lips as you sunk yourself down his cock, whereas he grumbled in pleasure as you hugged him tightly with your wet and warm insides.

You snapped your hips harshly and he growled, “Fuck, doll—!”

Another snap, your voice was laboured, “I own you. You're married not to that whore, not to Vought, but to me!”

Your skin slammed against his meat vehemently as you gritted your teeth when another orgasm was spiralling in your body. You paced up your movement, a hand banging demandingly on his chest, “Say it! You're fucking mine!”

“Holy shit!” You watched his eyes roll backwards as he rasped, “Yours, babe,”

“Holy fuck, Ben! Ben, I'm coming again!”

That was his cue to take control again. He sat up, cradling you in his warm hold, “Cum to me, babe, fucking soak my cock.” You wabled his name, clinging to his shoulders as your climax stormed out of your body like a mad hurricane. You whimpered pathetically when his two large hands on your hips kept making you ride him through your high.

“Fucking stupid girl,” He growled, shooting his seed up your insides.

With laboured breaths, you glared at each other. You felt his cock softening inside of you, “Fucking idiot man.” You scoffed.

He chuckled with a boyish grin on his sweaty face, “That was fucking hot, think I like this wild side of you, darlin'”

You snickered, “You bet, wait until you see what I'm gonna do with that little fuck, Edgar.”

Ben rumbled a deep chortle, much to your annoyance, would this man ever take you seriously? “I swear to fucking Christ, Ben, if they—you don't break off that stupid shit with Countess and go public about us, I'll fucking burn that fucking tower to the fucking ground, because I'm fucking done with this—mhmmm!”

He cut you off with a scorching kiss and its heat made you thaw against his lips. His cock twitched inside of you.

“Jealousy looks pretty on you though, sweetheart” He teased, his lips brushing to yours.

God, damn this man and his endless ego! “Ben!” You nudged him playfully.

“Can't wait to see you wanting to snatch some ladies' heads off when we go to balls together.”

You smiled at him, biting on your bottom lip. The idea of finally being acknowledged as Ben's wife warmed your heart, and his willingness to do so made your heart race. However, disturbing thoughts loomed in your head again, “Think Vought will let us be?” You asked with hesitation. Fuck, that shit really got too deep into you.

He rolled his eyes, “Try not to work your pretty head hard 'bout this, doll,” He tucked a tress of your hair behind your ear, “The man who fucking beat the Nazis can handle some sweaty fucknuts at Vought.” There was something warmly reassuring about his smugness.

“See? All that shit wouldn't happen if you didn't stay silent while they fucking tried to play their fucking game!”

Ben chuckled, “Well, the fucking was totally worth it.”

You groaned in frustration, “Ben… I thought you abandoned me.”

Your husband furrowed his brows at you, “You women hardly think sometimes, don't you?” You scowled at his remark but he sighed, cradling your cheeks in his warm hands, “I fucking fought to make you my wife. I fucking put my whole career and name at risk for you.” You blinked at him, “The day before we tied our knot, I fucking told the boardroom that I was marrying you, that I'd fucking walk off if they tried anything funny… they didn't, till fucking today.” He sighed, “They fucking announced that bullshit before I was even told.”

“Assholes,” You whispered.

“After that pathetic act, I fucking stormed to Edgar like I stormed Normandy. Let's say that he and I did a little bit of chatting,” He gave you a conceited smirk, giving you no detail of how he got scared shitless when he saw the mess in the kitchen. He thought Vought dared to fucking do something to you. And when he heard you cry he feared the worst. But of course, he wouldn't tell you anything about that. Because he was the fucking man of this house; if his feelings of fear appeared, the sense of security he provided to this house, to you, would crumble. And he wouldn't have that. Ever.

You, on the other hand, had a weird combination of pride and happiness sprouted within your chest.

“I'm so sorry, Ben…” You said, cupping his face in your hands, “I-I don't know what came over me when I saw you with her,” You couldn't even say her name.

“Couldn't have your man stolen away, could you?” He teased you.

“Never.” You answered, “And I'm sorry for what happened, husband.”

“I mean you did make it up for me, wife,” He flashed you a cheeky grin, “Though, I don't feel particularly in a forgiving mood… yet.”

Head tilting to the side, your raised an eyebrow, rolling your hips teasingly on his cock, “Don't push your luck…”

“Try me.”

🦅 Soldier Boy Masterlist.

taglist: @zepskies, @deansbbyx, @kaleldobrev, @k-slla, @deanbrainrotwritings, @deans-spinster-witch, @venus-haze, @thebiggerbear...

[theodorenmyth]

Hi could i request a boy of your choice x male reader where after winning a quidditch match there's a celebration party in the common room and everyone starts drinking but the next day chosen boy and reader wake up not really remembering what happened until someone shows them the pictures they took of the two making out in the middle of the party ?

Thank you !

Blurry Nights

Pairings ; Mattheo Riddle x M!Reader

Summary ; After a wild Slytherin victory party, you and Mattheo Riddle wake up with swollen lips, hickeys, and bite marks—without any memory of what happened. Panic sets in when Theodore, Lorenzo, Blaise, and Draco smugly present photo evidence of you and Mattheo shamelessly making out in the middle of the common room. As the horrifying details unfold—including a public challenge to mark each other up—one thing becomes painfully clear: you are never living this down.

A/N ; ok I can just IMAGINE this happening in my head like..

Warnings ; neck biting, making out

word count ; 2k+

The Slytherin common room was MADNESS.

The victory party after your Quidditch match win against Ravenclaw had quickly spiraled into a full-blown alcoholic disaster. Firewhiskey flowed freely, butterbeer was being used in drinking games, and Pansy Parkinson had charmed the ceiling to flash green and silver in a way that made everything feel even more chaotic.

The wooden table in the center of the room had been repurposed into a makeshift dance floor, where a few daring students were swaying drunkenly to the thunderous beat of an enchanted gramophone. Some were moving with questionable coordination, others were straight-up clinging onto their partners for dear life, while a very intoxicated third-year had climbed onto a chair and was attempting a pathetically slow striptease before being hexed by an unimpressed Astoria Greengrass.

On the far end of the room, a group had gathered around for a particularly competitive drinking game involving spinning a wand and taking a shot before being hit with a harmless jinx.

So far, the casualties included a random fifth-year, whose voice had been magically altered to sound like a squeaky house elf. A sixth-year, whose hair was now a violent shade of pink and an unfortunate seventh-year who kept hiccupping bubbles.

Draco Malfoy had taken it upon himself to sit atop one of the armrests, looking thoroughly unimpressed but still sipping something expensive-looking with the bored elegance of someone who was too rich to care. Blaise was beside him, lazily watching the chaos unfold with a smirk, while Theodore and Lorenzo occupied the couch across from where you sat.

And then there was you and Mattheo Riddle.

Sitting comfortably on the worn-out leather couch, you were sandwiched between Mattheo and Blaise Zabini, feeling the lingering adrenaline of the Quidditch win still thrumming in your veins. The half-empty bottle of Firewhiskey on the table between you all was dangerously close to empty.

Blaise, ever the instigator, leaned forward with a smirk. “Tell me, Y/N—how does it feel to be the Quidditch hero of the night?”

You shrugged, grinning. “It was a team effort.”

Mattheo scoffed, nudging you with his knee. “Bullshit. You humiliated their Keeper with that last goal.”

Lorenzo grinned. “That poor bastard never even saw it coming.”

You laughed, the warmth of alcohol making everything feel ten times funnier than it should be. Your head felt light, your limbs loose, and the energy in the room buzzed through your skin. You had been to plenty of Slytherin parties before, but this one? This one felt different.

Theodore took a slow sip of his drink before smirking. “Well, you do deserve to celebrate properly.”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. “What does that mean?”

Before Theodore could answer, Draco finally deigned to join the conversation, swirling his drink as he looked at you with a smirk. “It means you should drink more,” he said smoothly, tilting his glass toward you. “After all, it’s not every day you get to be the star of the night.”

Mattheo grinned, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “See? Even Malfoy agrees.”

You rolled your eyes but took another sip from your drink anyway. The Firewhiskey burned down your throat, but instead of unpleasant, it was thrilling, settling in your stomach like liquid courage.

Theodore exchanged a knowing glance with Lorenzo. “You two should really pace yourselves.”

Mattheo waved him off. “We’re fine.”

Blaise smirked, leaning back. “Oh, they are so doomed.”

Lorenzo snickered. “Draco, how long do you give them before they do something recklessly stupid?”

Draco took a slow sip of his drink, considering. “An hour, at most.”

Blaise grinned. “Fifteen minutes, tops.”

You scoffed, feeling indignantly confident in your ability to handle your alcohol. “You guys have no faith in us.”

Theodore snorted. “No, we just know you.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but at that exact moment, Mattheo turned to you, amusement dancing in his dark eyes. “Y/N,” he drawled, voice warm with laughter, “wanna bet we can prove them wrong?”

Lorenzo immediately raised an eyebrow. “I strongly encourage you not to do that.”

But by then, the alcohol was already making decisions for you.

You grinned back at Mattheo, feeling untouchable. “You’re on.”

Draco sighed dramatically. “And there it is.”

Blaise smirked. “This should be fun.”

────────────────

The night blurred after that.

You vaguely remembered finishing your drink—then another. Someone had pulled you and Mattheo into a ridiculous game of Firewhiskey Pong, where Mattheo had somehow managed to sink every single shot while still talking shit to your opponents.

At some point, the couch had become your personal throne—Mattheo pressed up against your side, his head dropping onto your shoulder as he laughed at something you said. His arm had remained around you the entire night, fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of your shirt, and you might have leaned into him just a little too much.

Then there was more laughter.

More drinks.

Someone dared Mattheo to chug an entire bottle of Firewhiskey.

You were certain you told Lorenzo that he had very nice hair and that he should never cut it.

Blaise had made some kind of snarky comment about how much you and Mattheo were touching each other, to which you had responded by dramatically slinging a leg over Mattheo’s lap and throwing an arm around his shoulders, proclaiming that he was your emotional support Slytherin.

Mattheo had cackled at that, pulling you closer.

And then—

Everything tilted.

The warmth in your chest turned hotter.

There was a flash of movement, the press of something warm against your lips, the feeling of strong hands gripping your waist, pulling you onto someone’s lap—

More heat.

More laughter.

A daring whisper against your ear.

And then—

Nothing.

──── ୨୧ ──────── ୨୧ ────

The next morning, you woke up to searing pain in your head and a heavy weight pinning you down.

The pounding in your skull was relentless, a deep, rhythmic ache that made you immediately regret every single drink you had consumed the night before. Your throat was dry, your limbs ached, and your body felt like it had been used as a human bludger.

Groaning, you tried to shift—only to realize that something warm and solid was draped over you.

No, not something.

Someone.

Blinking against the morning light filtering through the dungeon windows, you sluggishly turned your head—

And immediately froze.

Mattheo was practically glued to your side, his leg thrown over yours, an arm wrapped securely around your torso. His face was buried against your neck, his dark curls tickling your jaw, his breath warm against your skin. His entire body was pressed up against yours in a way that was way too intimate for a casual sleepover situation.

Your stomach dropped.

Your lips felt swollen. Your throat was sore. And when you shifted slightly, a sharp sting shot through your skin.

Frowning, you reached up and—

Oh.

Oh, no.

The side of your neck was littered with hickeys. Dark ones. Deep ones. There were also faint indents of teeth marks along your collarbone, and when you lifted your arm, you spotted even more of the same marks trailing down toward your chest.

A sharp, horrified breath escaped you as your other hand shot up to your lips, touching the tender, slightly puffy skin.

Mattheo groaned against you, his voice still raspy with sleep. “Stop moving,” he grumbled. “I’m comfortable.”

“Mattheo.” Your voice was hoarse.

“Mmh?”

You pressed your hand against his face and shoved him off. He groaned dramatically as he rolled onto his back, flopping against the mattress with a loud thud.

“What the fuck,” you croaked, touching your neck again.

Mattheo, now free from sleep’s haze, finally opened his eyes. His gaze was still hazy with exhaustion as he blinked up at the ceiling—until he stretched lazily and his fingers brushed against his own neck.

His entire body stiffened.

You watched as he slowly sat up, brows furrowing, his hand trailing over the marks on his skin.

And then he looked at you.

His gaze dropped from your swollen lips to the bruises on your neck, then to your barely covered chest, where even more marks peeked from beneath your shirt.

You watched his eyes widen—

Then shoot back down to his own body.

His jaw dropped.

“…Why do I feel like we did something incredibly fucking stupid?”

Before you could answer, the door slammed open.

Theodore and Lorenzo waltzed in like they owned the place, looking far too smug for this time of morning. Blaise and Draco trailed in behind them, both of them holding cups of coffee, wearing matching expressions of pure, unfiltered amusement.

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” Theodore drawled, grinning as he leaned against the doorframe.

Mattheo groaned, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Why do I feel like I should be very fucking concerned right now?”

Lorenzo smirked. “Oh, you should be.”

Then, with a dramatic flourish, he pulled out a camera.

Your stomach plummeted.

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes,” Theodore corrected, flipping through the photos. “Blaise, do you think they’ll actually survive this?”

Blaise took a casual sip of his coffee. “That depends on whether or not they try to kill us first.”

Mattheo sat up straighter, rubbing his temples. “What the fuck did we do?”

Theodore grinned and turned the camera toward you both. The first picture was harmless—just you and Mattheo sitting together on the couch, clearly tipsy, his arm slung lazily over your shoulder.

The second picture, however, was not harmless.

It was you, straddling Mattheo’s lap, gripping his jaw as you kissed him like your life depended on it. His hands were firmly on your waist, fingers digging in, his rings pressing into your skin.

Your face burned.

Mattheo blinked at the picture. Then at you. Then back at the picture.

“Well.. shit.”

Draco, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke up. “That’s not even the best part.”

Theodore swiped to the next photo. This one showed Mattheo tilting your head, his mouth locked onto your throat, his teeth clearly working on the marks that now covered your skin.

Your jaw dropped.

“Are those fucking bite marks?”

“Oh, you haven’t even seen the worst of it,” Lorenzo said gleefully, swiping again.

This time, it was you returning the favor—mouth pressed against Mattheo’s neck, fingers tangled in his curls as you thoroughly marked him up.

Mattheo ran a hand down his face. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Blaise, still completely unbothered, smirked over his coffee. “You two were practically eating each other alive.”

Mattheo exhaled sharply. “Did everyone see this?”

Draco smirked. “Oh, it wasn’t just seen.”

Theodore flicked his wand—

And suddenly, the entire common room replayed the moving images of your drunken makeout session.

You watched in abject horror as Drunk You pulled Mattheo in so hard he nearly toppled backward. He had retaliated by yanking you onto his lap, gripping your hips as he devoured you.

And then—oh, Merlin, you had actually leaned into his ear and said something.

The real you turned to Theodore, eyes wide. “Wait, what did I say?”

Theodore grinned. “Oh, just this.”

He flicked his wand again, and your own voice echoed through the room.

“Bet you wouldn’t dare mark me up right here in front of everyone, Riddle.”

Mattheo audibly choked.

The real you died inside.

“Oh my fucking GOD,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands.

Draco looked thoroughly entertained. “You challenged him?”

Theodore smirked. “Oh, he accepted.”

Mattheo exhaled sharply. “No wonder my jaw fucking hurts.”

Blaise smirked. “That’s probably from all the biting.”

Lorenzo, still flipping through the photos, casually added, “Oh, and by the way—congrats, Y/N. You officially have the record for ‘Most Aggressive Public Makeout in Slytherin History’.”

Mattheo turned to you, raising an eyebrow. “We beat the record?”

You shot him a glare. “That is NOT the point here, Mattheo!”

Draco shook his head, standing up. “Well, this has been thoroughly entertaining, but I have better things to do.” He smirked as he walked past. “Oh, and if you ever want a framed copy of the photos, let me know.”

Blaise clapped Mattheo on the back. “At least you got some action.”

Mattheo scowled. “Get the fuck out.”

As the door shut, you turned to Mattheo, sighing deeply. “We are never drinking that much again.”

Mattheo tilted his head, considering you. Then, to your absolute horror, he smirked. “I mean… if you really want, we could always—”

You grabbed a pillow and launched it at his face.

Mattheo cackled as he dodged, tackling you back onto the bed.

You were never going to live this down.

[luxerians]

The Last Mask (12)

Hwang In-ho/Oh Young-il/Player 001 x Reader

Chapter 12 - Lights Out

Story Masterlist

NEXT : Chapter 13

PREV : Chapter 11

A tense silence lingered in the dormitory, each second dragging as if time itself had slowed. The weight of the announcement loomed over everyone. None of you could decipher its meaning, except for two. Gi-hun stood rigidly, his face etched with apprehension, while Young-il exuded an unsettling calmness.

The sharp creak of opening doors shattered the silence. On either side of the main double doors, smaller ones slid open, revealing triangle guards escorting a group of male players. A wave of confusion rippled through you as the scene unfolded. The door on the right was supposed to lead to the women’s restroom. Why were men emerging from it? And why were they being led by triangle guards? Restroom visits during free time had never been an issue before.

Your confusion deepened as you took in the state of the players. Their faces showed clear signs of weariness, their uniforms were disheveled, and some bore visible injuries. A few had streaks of blood smeared across their clothes and faces.

You tried to piece together the situation but before you could make sense of it, a player coming from the door in the O zone charged forward, his voice cutting through the murmurs. “Team O, everyone!”

It was Thanos’ friend, player 124. Blood streaked his face and hands, his movements frantic. “We… When we were in the bathroom, those fucking X bastards tried to kill all of us! They killed some of us, including my friend-”

His words ignited a spark that lit the room. Many players, including Young-il beside you, rose to their feet, the tension pulling them like magnets toward the unfolding drama. You remained seated, too stunned to move, your mind racing to process his claims.

“Bullshit,” another voice rang out. It was player 047, one of the X players.

At this point, all players who had gone to the bathroom had emerged from the doors on both sides, their steps sluggish, their faces marked with fatigue and wariness. Blood and bruises hinted at a violent encounter. Player 047 pointed an accusing finger at player 124. “You’re the ones who started it.”

The dormitory shifted as X and O players descended the staircases, aligning themselves with their respective allies, and the center became filled rapidly as the two groups faced off. The air was thick with crackling tension. The red and blue lines were the only ones separating potential chaos from an all-out eruption.

Player 047’s voice broke through again, this time addressing the X players around him. “They threatened one of the people on our side! They attacked us to win the second vote!”

“That’s right!” another X player, his face streaked with blood, shouted in agreement.

“Hey, hey,” countered a bald O player. Blood stained his shirt, adding to the heated atmosphere. “You killed one of us first. You were trying to win the vote by killing us!”

“Fuck you. You killed some of us too,” an X player (145) snapped back. His voice was raw with rage. “Did you think we would just let you kill the rest of us?!”

The crowd’s energy escalated, players inching closer to the brink of another verbal brawl. The shouting grew louder, overlapping into a chaotic storm of voices.

Then player 100’s booming voice silenced them all. “So… which side lost more people?!”

Your breath caught. You stared at him in disbelief. That’s what he cares about? Not the fact that some people among us had crossed the boundary and killed others?

You turned your gaze to the triangle guards stationed by the doors. Their stony silence was unsettling. Why didn’t they intervene? Was this all part of the game? Did they truly not care about players slaughtering each other?

Your eyes shifted to the massive piggy bank suspended near the ceiling. Its ominous presence loomed over the room, a constant reminder of the stakes. In that moment, it all clicked. The guards didn’t intervene because they didn’t need to. Player eliminations, whether by games or murder, were part of the system. Each death fueled the prize money. It was a macabre incentive for chaos.

Horror crept over you as you looked back at the crowd. Soon enough, all players would understand this and take advantage of it. The greed in some players’ eyes was bright and wild at this point. This wasn’t just a game anymore; it was an opportunity for those willing to kill.

Player 100’s voice snapped you out of your grim thoughts. “Everyone! Let’s count the numbers! Come on down!”

Player 047 moved toward your group’s corner, raising his arms to rally the X voters. “Everyone! Gather around!”

Dae-ho followed suit, his voice urgent as he encouraged others to gather. “We need everyone down here! Come on!”

The next thing you knew, every X player had gathered in your group’s corner, sitting on the staircases in a reverse pyramid formation. The only one standing among you was player 047, who stood on the floor, facing everyone and counting each person carefully.

You sat next to Young-il, his calm demeanor contrasting sharply with the anticipation in the air. On your other side sat Gi-hun, followed by Jung-bae and Dae-ho. Behind your row were Se-mi, Jun-hee, Hyun-ju, Gyeong-seok, the mother, and Yong-sik. All eyes were fixed on player 047 as he completed his count.

Once finished, he spoke in a hushed tone, “Two people died on our side.”

“Two out of five,” a female player behind Gyeong-seok noted quietly. “That means they lost three people.”

Se-mi, seated directly behind you, added, “Then we have a better shot at winning the vote tomorrow.”

Jung-bae leaned in excitedly, his whisper carrying to everyone nearby. “Hey, it’s 48 against 47. As long as we don’t change our minds, we’ll win by one vote!”

His words sparked a ripple of hope among the X players. Whispered cheers and quiet smiles spread through the group, their restraint driven by the need to avoid attracting attention from the O players.

“We’ll win.”

“We can get out of here tomorrow.”

The whispered sentiments filled the air with a fragile optimism. You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a flicker of relief. Despite the losses during the bathroom brawl, the prospect of finally leaving this place without more deaths felt within reach.

You glanced at Young-il, hoping to share in the collective hope, but his expression caught you off guard. He remained still. There was no hint of relief or excitement. Instead, he exuded an unsettling calmness. His gaze seemed distant as though his thoughts were already a step ahead of everyone else.

The familiar chime of the school bell echoed through the dormitory, cutting through the murmurs and drawing everyone’s attention. The announcer’s voice followed: “Attention, please. Lights out in 30 minutes. All players, please return to your beds and prepare for bedtime.”

Player 047 stood up and turned to face the gathered X players. His voice was low, meant only for those in your group. “Listen. You cannot change your minds. We have to win the second vote and get out of here tomorrow. Alright?”

A wave of quiet agreement rippled through the group. Nods and murmurs of affirmation filled the space.

Then, remembering the events that had sparked the earlier fight in the men’s bathroom, you leaned forward slightly and spoke in a hushed tone, “If you get bullied or forced to vote otherwise, tell us.”

This time, the nods were more deliberate, accompanied by whispers of support:

“That’s right. Don’t go anywhere alone tonight.”

“Yes, for one night. We can do this.”

As the group’s focus sharpened, your gaze drifted across the crowd. You spotted Yong-sik gently patting his mother’s back as tears brimmed in her eyes. Her expression was a mix of disbelief and hope, as if she couldn't believe the nightmare would finally end soon. Nearby, Hyun-ju was smiling softly at Jun-hee. Her hand rested lightly on Jun-hee’s knee, a quiet gesture of comfort and shared relief. Jun-hee returned the smile, her eyes shining with gratitude.

The sight warmed you. It was rare to see such unity, such shared understanding, especially in a place like this. Despite everything, the X players had formed a bond that felt genuine.

Slowly, the X players began to disperse, their movements calm and quiet. The hope in their eyes, the quiet smiles exchanged between them… it all felt like a fragile promise of better days. You stood, following your groupmates as they made their way back to your spot beneath the stairs.

You and your group sat in the enclosed space beneath the stairs. At first, it was just you, Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Dae-ho, Young-il, and Jun-hee. Soon, Hyun-ju, Gyeong-seok, Yong-sik, and his mother joined, followed by players 047 and 145. Everyone was welcomed openly.

Forming a circle on the floor, you found yourself seated between Jun-hee and the mother, purposefully creating space between you and Young-il. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to sit near him; you simply wanted to spend more time with Jun-hee. After all, you had been spending a lot of time with Young-il recently and you began to miss your little sister figure in this grim place. As you delicately combed her hair with your fingers, the soothing action seemed to bring a bit of peace to the moment.

Dae-ho stood suddenly, sneaking a glance toward the O players gathered across the dormitory. He crouched beside Gi-hun and spoke lowly, “Those bastards are acting suspicious. It looks like they’re up to something.”

Withdrawing your hand from Jun-hee’s hair, you looked at Dae-ho.

“Suspicious like how?” you asked, your tone innocent but laced with concern.

Dae-ho’s face was a mixture of worry and solemnity as he replied, “They keep whispering among themselves and glancing at our zone. They’re planning something.”

You followed his gaze. The O players were huddled together, their heads bent close, their voices low. Every so often, their eyes darted toward your corner. It was unsettling.

Jung-bae glanced over and scoffed. “Whatever those idiots do, once we win the vote tomorrow, it’ll all be over.”

Dae-ho, however, wasn’t convinced. His concern was evident as he asked, “You think we’ll be okay? They say things were really crazy in the bathroom earlier.”

Silence fell over the group, the weight of his words pressing down on everyone. You felt your stomach tighten. The memory of the bathroom fight, the deaths, and the lack of consequences made you feel cold. The guards' inaction during such violence sent a chilling message. If players killed each other, it was acceptable. The prize money would still grow.

“Once the lights go out,” Gi-hun’s voice broke the silence. He stared at the floor, his expression grim. “People on the other side will attack us.”

Your breath hitched. The certainty in his tone left no room for doubt. You felt your blood running cold as you fixed your wide-eyed stare at him.

Yong-sik’s wide eyes were glued on Gi-hun as he asked, “Really?”

Gi-hun nodded gravely. “Because if they kill us, they’ll be able to win the vote and increase the prize.”

Jun-hee’s already pale complexion turned ashen and she instinctively caressed her belly. Yong-sik’s mother froze in fear, her gaze locked on Gi-hun as though seeking reassurance where none existed. Dae-ho and Jung-bae exchanged uneasy glances, both speechless. Meanwhile, Young-il sat unmoved, his expression emotionless and unreadable.

Yong-sik’s voice cracked slightly as he asked, “So what do we do?”

“Let’s attack them first,” Young-il said, his tone as measured as his words. The statement caused Gi-hun to look at him sharply. His gaze was immediately steely and serious. Young-il elaborated, “They’re probably thinking we’ll just wait for the second vote. We can use that to our advantage. We’ll attack them first once the lights go out.”

You couldn’t take your eyes off him, wondering if he had encountered this exact scenario in his previous game. The certainty in his tone was unsettling as if he was speaking from experience.

Player 047 broke the silence. “That’s right. It’d be better to attack them first. We have more women and elderly on our side. If we get attacked, we’ll be at a disadvantage. Attacking them first would give us a better chance of winning.”

Player 145 nodded in agreement. “I agree.”

Before the idea could settle, Gi-hun’s voice cut through decisively. “We can’t do that.”

His immediate response stunned the group into silence.

Young-il stared pointedly at him in quiet surprise. “But we have to get out of here. You said it yourself. Staying calm won’t get us anywhere now.”

Gi-hun didn’t flinch, his determination unwavering. “That doesn’t mean we should kill each other. That’s exactly what they want us to do.”

You blinked. Jung-bae echoed the question that had formed in your mind as well. “They?”

Gi-hun’s eyes shifted to meet yours briefly before scanning the group. He spoke with quiet resolve. “The ones who created this game. The ones who watch us play. If we’re going to fight someone, it should be them.”

Dae-ho frowned. “Where are they?”

Gi-hun’s gaze lifted upward, and instinctively, you and the others followed it. The vast space above felt ominous and unreachable, a reminder of the system you were all trapped within. Young-il’s eyes flickered upward briefly before returning to Gi-hun, his expression unreadable but intense.

“On the upper levels are the rooms they control the games from,” Gi-hun explained, his voice heavy with conviction. “The man in the black mask is their leader. Once we capture him, we’ll be able to win.”

Your eyebrows raised at the audacity of his plan, and you couldn’t help but ask, “Are you saying you plan to overthrow this whole management?”

Gi-hun’s determined yet grave eyes locked onto yours. He nodded firmly. “Yes.”

The room fell into a thick silence. You could feel the weight of his words pressing down on everyone, the enormity of what he was suggesting settling in. Some of the group exchanged glances. Gi-hun was a previous winner, and that lent him credibility, but this plan… it sounded almost impossible.

You stole a glance at Young-il, hoping to glean some insight from his reaction. His face was an enigma. It was void of emotion. Unreadable. Yet his unblinking stare at Gi-hun carried a weight of its own. It was as if he was dissecting every word, every intention behind the plan. His eyes seemed darker, his demeanor more solemn than usual like something deep and dark brewed beneath the surface.

You frowned, your curiosity piqued. What was he thinking? Why did he seem so skeptical, so… calculating? You couldn’t shake the feeling that Young-il’s silence carried as much weight as Gi-hun’s bold proclamation.

Finally, Young-il broke the silence, his voice measured. “How are you going to fight them? They have guns.”

Gi-hun’s response was confident. “We’ll fight them with guns too.”

“But we don’t have any,” Jung-bae pointed out, his tone tinged with innocence and disbelief.

Gi-hun turned to him, unfazed. “We’ll take their guns.”

Jung-bae stared at him, his disbelief morphing into something closer to exasperation. Gyeong-seok hesitated before asking, “From those masked men?”

Gi-hun gave a single, firm nod. Jung-bae sighed deeply, leaning his head back as though the mere thought of the plan was already weighing on him.

“That’s too dangerous,” Young-il interjected. His voice was steady but carried a note of caution. “Even if we manage to take a few guns, we’ll still be outnumbered.”

“What then?” Gi-hun fired back. “Are you going to kill each other all night and hope you survive?”

Young-il froze, his mouth slightly open, although his eyes seemed darkly contemplative. Gi-hun pressed further. “Is that what you want, Young-il?”

Young-il didn’t counter. He stayed silent, his gaze fixed on Gi-hun. His expression hardened into something unreadable, but there was a weight in his silence – a seriousness that darkened his demeanor.

“Do we…” Hyun-ju spoke up, “...stand a chance?”

Gi-hun’s gaze shifted to her, his determination unwavering. “We do if we catch them off guard. Out of everyone, they’re the ones who would least expect us to attack first. This is our last chance to end these games once and for all.”

You faintly noticed Young-il clenching his jaw, his expression hardening before he asked Gi-hun gravely, “How are you going to take their guns?”

Gi-hun scowled, his gaze sharp with concentration. “Once the fight begins tonight, we’ll have our chance.”

The group fell silent, waiting for him to elaborate. “When the lights go out, get under the bottom beds quietly. You must not get caught by those planning to attack us. We have to hide until the fight ends.”

You frowned deeply, your displeasure evident. His plan didn’t sit well with you. Gi-hun pressed on, “Don’t get caught up in the fight.”

“What?” you interjected, surprise and frustration lacing your voice.

Jung-bae echoed your concern. “But that would put people on our side at quite a disadvantage. Without us in the fight, they’ll be outnumbered.”

“I know,” Gi-hun said, glancing at both you and Jung-bae. He then shifted his focus to the rest of the group. “But if we fight with them and some of us end up dead or injured, it will ruin our entire plan. We can’t beat those bastards with a lower headcount.”

Young-il’s gaze darkened, his tone carrying a heavy disbelief. “Are you suggesting that... we make a small sacrifice for the greater good?”

Gi-hun’s eyes locked with Young-il’s, recognizing the weight of his words. Still, he nodded very, very faintly. His voice held determination as he said, “If we miss this opportunity, the sacrifice will be even greater. Even if it takes a sacrifice, we must put an end to this game now.”

Young-il’s gaze dropped to the floor. You caught the faintest twitch of his lips as if he found the situation grimly ironic. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, saying nothing more.

Gi-hun continued, “Once the lights come on, the soldiers will come to settle the situation. They’ll try to break up the fight first. They won’t pay attention to the dead. They will scan our trackers to identify us. That’ll be our window.”

Your frustration bubbled over, and you finally voiced your thoughts. “Are you really going to leave our allies like that?”

All eyes turned to you, but your glare remained locked on Gi-hun. You added, “You’re telling me you’d hide under the bed and let the O players attack everyone in this zone? All for your plan?”

Gi-hun’s expression faltered slightly as if shocked that you had spoken up. His face then stiffened into resolve as he answered, “This is the only chance we have. Once this game is stopped, this game will no longer use us as pawns.”

“If I weren’t close to your group or involved with any of you, would I even know about this attack? Would you warn me?” you pressed, your voice rising slightly. “Would I be left to fend for myself against an ambush while you and the others hide?”

Gi-hun’s jaw tightened. “It’s not about leaving anyone behind. It’s about ending this game once and for all.”

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t help our people now,” you shot back. “We have to fight back, not just accept them as inevitable.”

Gi-hun’s brows furrowed, his voice rising. “Do you think it’s better to retaliate and play into their hands? Attacking back is exactly what they want. They want us to kill each other. To entertain them.”

“We’re not going to kill them,” you insisted. “We will defend ourselves. We can alert our people about the attack. Get them prepared. Get them to a safe spot where capable men can protect them. If needed, we can subdue the O players without bloodshed.”

Gi-hun’s confidence wavered for a moment under the weight of your words. Yet he persisted. “If we join the fight and lose even a few, it will ruin our chances of overthrowing this game. We must preserve all the best men we have right now.”

“Then we have to join the fight,” you answered in a steady, measured tone. “Defend without bloodshed. Defend as a team. If we join the fight, more capable men will survive the ambush. They will join you willingly.”

Gi-hun stared at you, his gaze faltering, and this time, he had no counter. His lips parted as though he wanted to say more, but the words never came. The others merely watched the two of you, their unease palpable. Dae-ho and Jung-bae exchanged nervous glances as though they hadn’t expected there would come a time when you and Gi-hun had disagreements.

Slowly, you rose to a crouching position. All eyes followed you, yet your focus remained on Gi-hun. Your voice was firm as you said, “Go ahead with your plan. I’m not stopping you. If you don’t want to join the fight, that’s fine. But the others deserve to know about the attack.”

Without waiting for a response, you stood up, turned on your heel and began walking toward the other X players, ready to share what you knew. You'd make sure no one was left defenseless.

You approached a pair of female X players sitting on a lower bunk bed. Their conversation halted as you leaned in, lowering your voice to a whisper. “Hey, sorry to interrupt, but I need to warn you. There’s going to be an attack when the lights go out.”

Their eyes widened. One of them glanced nervously around the dormitory before whispering back, “An attack? Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you said firmly. “The O players are planning to ambush us. You need to be ready.”

“What should we do?” the other asked, her voice barely audible.

You glanced around. “First, don’t throw away the fork that came with your gimbap. Keep it. You can use it to defend yourself if someone tries to attack you. Then, choose the beds near the wall or under the stairs. Hide under the bed once the ambush starts.”

Their expressions shifted, the initial confusion replaced by understanding.

“Do you have your water bottles?” you asked.

They nodded and quickly pulled the bottles from their bedding, each one half full.

“Good,” you said. “Keep those too. If anyone tries to harm you, aim for their head.”

They both nodded, fear flickering in their eyes.

“Thank you,” one of them whispered, her voice trembling but sincere.

You nodded back, giving them a reassuring look before moving on. As you navigated through the dim dormitory, scanning for more X players to warn, a hand landed on your shoulder. You jumped slightly, spinning around to see Young-il standing behind you. His gaze was calm but serious.

“How many people have you warned?” he asked in a low voice.

“A couple,” you said, catching your breath.

Before Young-il could respond, a group of familiar faces approached. Gyeong-seok, Hyun-ju, player 047, and player 145 joined you. They stood together next to Young-il, eyes fixed on you.

“What else can we do?” Gyeong-seok asked calmly.

You quickly laid out the plan. “Warn every X players if possible. Tell them that we only defend and subdue. Tell them to keep their forks and water bottles. Get the women and elderly to move to beds under the stairs or near the walls. Before the Os attack us, inform them to hide under the beds for extra protection.”

“And let’s assign a few men to guard those areas,” Young-il added, glancing at the group. “We need to make sure someone is watching over them during the attack.”

“Got it. I will warn everyone on the left side of the zone,” Hyun-ju said.

Player 047 gestured to the opposite side. “We’ll handle the right. Let's warn them discreetly so the Os wouldn't suspect anything.”

Gyeong-seok, Hyun-ju, player 047 and 145 dispersed to begin warning the players. Young-il’s hand lingered briefly on your shoulder. “You’ve done enough here. Now go and find two beds next to each other for us both.”

You could tell immediately that Young-il planned to watch over you and guide you when the ambush began. That was why he insisted on finding two beds close together – one for him, one for you.

“How’s Gi-hun?” you asked.

Young-il hesitated, his gaze drifting briefly. “He was caught off guard. After you left, I told him to rethink his plan. He’s angry at the game maker and grieving for his friends from the last game, but I reminded him to consider the people here too.”

You nodded, letting his words sink in as you turned your attention to the rest of the dormitory. The quiet sound of shuffling feet caught your ear, and you noticed that many X players were busy preparing. Some were rummaging through the trash for discarded forks, others were marking their beds for strategic positioning, and a few had started spreading the word to others.

Your gaze shifted to Se-mi, who sat upright on her bed. She watched the quiet movements and whispered conversations around her but didn’t join in. Her demeanor suggested she was used to being on her own, even though she didn’t avoid social interactions entirely.

You gestured for Young-il to wait, then made your way to her. Se-mi noticed you approaching and looked up with a small, tired smile.

“You shouldn’t be alone right now,” you said, stopping by her bed.

“I prefer it this way,” she replied, her tone calm. “At least I don’t have to constantly watch my back or worry about getting betrayed.”

You stayed silent, sensing there was a deeper story behind her words. Maybe she had been left to fend for herself during the Mingle game.

“Then you need to be prepared,” you said after a pause. “Keep your fork and water bottle close. The Os are planning to attack us tonight. We just need to defend ourselves until the guards intervene.”

Se-mi’s eyes shifted toward the O zone, lingering for a moment as if she was trying to look for a certain player there. Then, her gaze dropped to her bed, and she gave a small nod. “Sure. Thanks for the heads-up.”

“If you need help during lights out,” you said, offering a small, reassuring smile, “find me or anyone in my group. We’ll help you.”

She looked at you, staring for a little while as if she was trying to find any trace of fakeness in your expression. Then, she brought her gaze downward. “Thanks.”

You nodded, then turned and walked away, giving her the space she seemed to value. As you moved through the dormitory, you scanned the faces around you, searching for others who might need a warning or reassurance.

The air in the room felt heavier now. More X players were talking in hushed tones, their movements deliberate as they adjusted their beds or collected anything they could use as a weapon. Some looked confident, while others were clearly masking their fear. You couldn’t blame them. The uncertainty of what was coming was enough to unsettle anyone.

You spotted Hyun-ju near the wall, speaking with a small group of women. She caught your eye and gave a subtle nod, signaling that she was making progress on her side. Not far from her, Gyeong-seok was quietly showing a few older players the safer spots under the stairs. Everyone was falling into place, the plan taking shape with a kind of quiet urgency.

As you continued to move, Young-il’s presence beside you was both reassuring and grounding. He didn’t say much, but his watchful gaze and calm demeanor made it clear he was assessing everything, ready to step in if needed.

“Do you think they’ll really try something?” you asked him quietly.

“It’s likely,” he replied. “There are no consequences, and the prize money grows with every elimination. For some people, that’s enough motivation.”

You nodded, his words confirming what you already suspected. The Os weren’t just competitors now. They were potential threats.

***

“Lights out in ten seconds.”

At this point, everyone was in bed. Your bed was right next to Young-il. You were lying on the bed on your back with the blanket up to your chest. With one glance to the side, you noticed Young-il staring upward calmly, lying on his back.

“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, mfour , three, two, one.”

The lights went out, darkening the whole dormitory except for the O and X lights on the floor. The piggy bank light was turned off for some reason this time.

Nevertheless, you quickly moved out of the bed as silent as possible. You noticed more figures getting out of their bed too in the X zone. You noticed they were all women and the elderly. They were moving to hide under the bed or to a safe spot.

You quietly moved to hide under your bed. Young-il stayed in his bed, feigning sleep with his eyes closed. You looked towards the center and there they were.

The O players were quietly creeping from their beds and onto the floor. They crept slowly and silently in the center towards the X zone. The blue light of the O sign below them shone light on their forms. They were carrying forks. They were led by player 124, the late Thanos’ close friend. You faintly detected player 100 behind all of them, choosing to stay safe and let his pawns do all the dirty work.

Once a few of them crossed the red lines belonged to X zone in the center, they sprinted. They no longer cared about being heard. They dashed towards the X players’ beds and climbed up.

You were shocked to see someone rushing towards Young-il’s bed and aimed his fork on him, but Young-il was fast. He simply wrapped his arm around with his blanket and then wrapped it around his neck. Young-il tugged the blanket – which was coiled around the assailant’s neck – until the O player was tied to the railing of his bed, subdued.

Screams began to erupt, startling you with how horrifying it sounded like. It was like hearing humans scream in desperation, greed, helplessness in one place. It was bone-chilling.

The lights began to flicker erratically, casting the dormitory into an alternating rhythm of stark brightness and shadowy darkness. Each flash illuminated the chaos: figures clashing, beds overturning, and forks gleaming mid-strike. It felt intentional, as though the game maker had programmed this light to amplify the terror and confusion.

That’s when a body fell on the floor right beside your hiding spot under the bed. You glanced over to see it was O player. He was groaning in surprise and you saw a broken shard of glass embedded in his arm. No doubt he was caught off guard by X players’ readiness to defend themselves.

Your heart raced as you watched the chaos unfold. The O players had underestimated the X zone’s readiness, and now their ambush was turning into a messy, desperate fight. From your hiding spot, you could only hope the preparations had been enough.

You scanned the room from under the bed, your eyes darting across the chaos. On the far side, two O male players were closing in on three X women, cornering them against the wall. Fear flashed across the women’s faces as they huddled together, their backs pressed against the cold surface.

Without hesitation, you slid out from under the bed, staying low to avoid drawing attention. As you moved, fights raged on both sides, the sounds of shouts and grunts filling the air. Your heart pounded as you dodged flailing arms and feet, pushing through the chaos toward the women.

Your mind raced. You weren’t here to kill anyone, just to defend yourself and your allies. But you had no combat experience, and your hands trembled as you reached into your pocket and gripped the fork. It was the only weapon you had.

When you reached the two O players, they were focused entirely on the women, their backs turned to you. Steeling yourself, you lunged forward and drove the fork into one man’s forearm, aiming for a non-lethal spot. The metal prongs sank in, and he let out a sharp scream, jerking away from the pain.

You swiftly pulled the fork back and the man spun around, clutching his bleeding arm. His eyes met yours, wide with a mix of fury and shock. Before he could react further, you stepped in front of the women, positioning yourself as a barrier between them and the attackers.

The injured man sneered, “You’re gonna pay for that.”

You didn’t respond. Your teeth clenched as you readied yourself for their attack. Both men advanced, their forks glinting ominously under the flickering lights. Every instinct told you to stay focused and move.

One of them lunged, his fork aimed straight for you. You dodged at the last second, feeling the rush of air as the weapon missed you by inches. Without thinking, you retaliated, driving your fork into his shoulder. He screamed in pain, stumbling back. But before you could catch your breath, his friend rushed at you.

This time, you evaded the fork, but his kick landed squarely against your side, sending you flying backward. You yelped, colliding into the three women huddled against the wall. Their hands came up instinctively to soften your fall, steadying you before you hit the ground.

You pushed yourself upright, ignoring the sharp ache in your ribs. The men were closing in again, their faces twisted with anger. But then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw a blur of movement.

Young-il emerged from the chaos. His face was a mask of silent, restrained fury. Without hesitation, he went for the man with the injured shoulder. Grabbing the man’s wrist, he twisted it sharply, forcing the fork to clatter to the floor. In one smooth motion, he swept the man’s legs out from under him and drove his knee into the man’s face, breaking his nose. The man instantly fell unconscious.

The second man tried to attack while Young-il was occupied, raising his fork and lunging. But Young-il was ready. He caught the man’s wrist mid-strike, holding it firmly in an iron grip. With a swift, controlled motion, Young-il twisted the wrist, forcing the fork out of the man’s hand and onto the floor. Before the man could react, Young-il landed a punch on the man’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him. As the man doubled over, Young-il swept his feet out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground.

Both men were now subdued, groaning and immobilized. Young-il stood over them, his breathing steady and controlled.

“Go! Hide somewhere safe,” you told the women, urgency lacing your voice.

“Over here!” a voice called out. You turned to see Hyun-ju and Gyeong-seok near the stairs. They were guarding a group of women and elderly in a safe spot under the stairs.

“We have a safe spot right here!” Hyun-ju shouted, waving the women over.

The three women nodded and hurried toward the stairs. You watched them go, relief mingling with the adrenaline still pumping through your veins. Turning back to Young-il, you saw him straighten up and scanned you up and down.

“You okay?” Young-il asked, stepping closer under the flickering lights.

You pressed a hand to your side where the man had kicked you. Pain flared when you applied pressure, but you managed to reply, “This is nothing.”

Young-il opened his mouth to say something, but his attention snapped to the side. Following his gaze, you saw six O players approaching, their steps slow but deliberate. The murderous intent in their eyes was unmistakably fixed on him.

Without a word, Young-il grabbed your arm and pulled you behind him. You let him, your hands instinctively landing on his lower back, just near his waist, as you braced for the inevitable.

The two of you took a step back as the men advanced, their weapons glinting in the erratic light. Some held forks; others clutched broken bottles with jagged edges. A knot of worry tightened in your chest. While you had confidence in Young-il’s abilities, he was still outnumbered six to one. And he wasn’t just fighting for himself. He was shielding you too.

Your retreat ended when your back hit the corner of the dormitory, the walls pressing against your shoulders. The O players formed a loose semi-circle, blocking any chance of escape. Your heart pounded as you realized there was no way out.

Young-il spread his legs into a firm stance, raising his hands slightly, ready to defend. His posture pinned you securely behind him, effectively making himself the sole barrier between you and the attackers.

“Young-il, please be careful,” you whispered, your voice trembling as your hands clenched into fists against his back.

The first man lunged with a fork, aiming for Young-il’s side. Young-il grabbed the man’s wrist mid-strike smoothly. With a sharp twist, he forced the fork from the attacker’s hand and used the momentum to slam his face against the wall. The man fell unconscious right away.

Another assailant immediately charged, swinging a broken bottle in a wide arc. Young-il ducked under the swing and drove his palm upward into the man’s chin. The attacker stumbled back, dazed, and Young-il followed up with a swift kick to his knee, sending him crashing to the ground.

Two men attacked simultaneously, one aiming high with a fork and the other swinging low with a bottle. Young-il stepped back just enough to avoid both strikes, then surged forward. He grabbed the fork-wielding man by the collar, pulling him into the path of the bottle. The jagged glass scraped across the first attacker’s arm, making him scream in pain. Before the second man could react, Young-il struck him in the stomach with a powerful knee, forcing the air out of his lungs. Both men crumpled to the ground.

The remaining two attackers hesitated, exchanging uncertain glances. One of them growled, gripping his weapon tighter, and rushed forward. Young-il caught his wrist and twisted it, the sound of the bottle shattering as it fell to the floor. In the same motion, Young-il elbowed the man in the face, his head snapping back as he collapsed in a heap.

The final man hesitated, his eyes darting between Young-il and his fallen comrades. With a yell, he swung wildly with his fork.

Before the man could get close to Young-il, a sharp crash echoed through the chaos as a glass bottle shattered over his head. He crumpled to the floor instantly. Both you and Young-il turned toward the kind perpetrator.

Gi-hun stood there, breathing heavily, gripping the broken neck of the bottle by its cap. His gaze shifted between you two, his expression calm yet conflicted. A small smile crept onto your face, relieved to see him join the fray.

Behind Gi-hun, Jung-bae and Dae-ho rushed forward. Dae-ho flinched at every sound of fists and bodies hitting the floor, his arms extended forward as if staying connected to Jung-bae was his lifeline.

“You’re late,” Young-il said solemnly, sparing Gi-hun a brief glance.

Gi-hun ignored the remark and instead turned to Jung-bae and Dae-ho. “Remember. We defend and subdue only.”

With a nod, Gi-hun led the pair deeper into the chaos, heading toward other X players in need of help. As Young-il stepped aside, giving you room to breathe, your eyes darted across the room to assess the situation.

Toward the left, you spotted Hyun-ju. She sidestepped an O player’s swing with a fork and grabbed his wrist, twisting it sharply until he dropped the weapon with a yelp. She followed with a clean strike to his cheek, sending him sprawling. Gyeong-seok, a few steps behind her, tackled another O player attempting to blindside her. He wrestled the man to the ground, holding him down until Hyun-ju swiftly secured the situation with a sharp, calculated elbow strike that rendered the attacker motionless.

Further back, you caught sight of Jun-hee, the mother, and Yong-sik huddled together under a bed. Their wide eyes darted between the legs of fighters clashing nearby. The mother whispered something to Jun-hee, who nodded, clutching her belly protectively. Yong-sik’s trembling hands clutched the bedframe tightly, his face pale with fear.

Nearby, player 047 and player 145 were fending off two O players who had unfairly ganged up on a single X player. Player 047 grabbed the arm of one attacker mid-swing and twisted it behind his back, forcing him to the ground. Meanwhile, player 145 used a discarded piece of bed railing to parry the other O player’s attacks, buying enough time for the overwhelmed X player to recover and join the fight.

Your eyes landed on Se-mi at the far end of the room. She was weaving and dodging, narrowly avoiding the relentless swings of a certain O player wielding a fork. It was player 124, the late Thanos’ friend. His face was deranged, grinning maniacally, and each swing came with more force, driving Se-mi back until her shoulders hit the wall. Trapped, she barely had room to maneuver.

You didn’t hesitate. You dashed toward her, the sound of your footsteps swallowed by the noise of the fight. Behind you, you heard the familiar, steady steps of Young-il following closely.

As you reached Se-mi, player 124 swung the fork again, this time aiming for her face. You lunged forward, pushing his arm away so hard, forcing him to drop the fork. He growled and turned on you, his fist coming at you in a wide arc.

Before it could connect, Young-il was there. He grabbed player 124’s arm mid-swing and, with a swift motion, locked it behind his back. Player 124 struggled while shouting curses at him, but Young-il kicked his legs out from under him, sending him face-first to the ground. Keeping his grip firm, Young-il pressed a knee into the man’s back, effectively pinning him.

“Fuck you, old man!” yelled player 124. “Let me go, bastard!”

Se-mi looked at you, her breathing ragged but steady.

“Thanks,” she managed, brushing a loose strand of hair out of her face.

“Go,” you told her urgently, gesturing toward the stairs. “Hyun-ju and Gyeong-seok have a safe spot under the stairs. Get there now.”

She nodded and ran toward safety, glancing back only once before running past the ensuing brawls around her. You turned to Young-il, who was still holding player 124 down.

“Release me! How long are you going to pin me down, huh?!” shouted the deranged player 124.

Young-il released his hold and shifted his knee off player 124’s back, letting him get to his feet. But as soon as the man stood, he lashed out, swinging a wild punch at Young-il.

You barely had time to react, but Young-il moved faster. He ducked smoothly under the attack. Before player 124 could recover, Young-il delivered a sharp, precise strike to his jaw.

The force of the blow sent player 124 sprawling to the floor. He hit the ground hard and lay there, completely still. Unconscious.

Young-il straightened, his breathing steady as he glanced at you.

The lights suddenly steadied, illuminating the chaos around you. A loud, blaring sound filled the air as the double doors at the front of the dormitory swung open. Triangle guards rushed in, their guns raised and scanning the room. Behind them, a square-masked guard entered, holding a pistol. The sight of their arrival made everyone scatter instantly, breaking apart in all directions.

Remembering Gi-hun’s plan, you and Young-il dropped to the floor, feigning death. You closed your eyes, doing your best to keep your breathing steady. Around you, the sound of rapid footsteps echoed as guards spread out across the dormitory.

“Hands up. Get back,” one of the guards barked at a group of players.

“Drop your weapon. Hands up,” another commanded, their tone sharp and commanding.

“Check the IDs of the dead,” the square guard ordered.

You kept still, listening intently as the footsteps grew closer. A single set of boots approached you and Young-il. Your heart pounded in your chest, but you stayed motionless.

The sound of boots stopped right beside you. You felt a slight tug at your collar as the guard bent down. Something cold pressed against the spot behind your ear. You fought the urge to flinch.

Suddenly, a blur of movement. Young-il sprang forward, grabbing the guard’s weapon with precision and speed. Before you could even sit up, he twisted the gun against the guard and pulled the trigger. The loud crack of the shot echoed in the dormitory, and the guard fell lifeless to the floor.

You opened your eyes to see Young-il standing over the fallen guard, his grip firm on the weapon he had just taken. Around you, the sounds of shouts and gunfire erupted across the room. Commotion rippled through the dormitory, signaling that the rest of your group had launched their surprise attack on the guards.

You ducked low as Young-il moved with precision, firing at the guards with unwavering focus. Gunshots filled the air, each one echoing sharply through the dormitory. Players who had no knowledge of the plan cowered in fear, their expressions frozen in shock. Under one of the beds, Jun-hee, Yong-sik, and his mother stayed hidden, clutching one another tightly.

Your eyes scanned the room and landed on the fallen guard beside you. On his hip holster was a pistol. Without hesitation, you grabbed it and checked the magazine. Seeing it was full, you flipped off the safety, gripping the weapon firmly.

Crouching low, you peeked over the edge of the bed to assess the situation. Young-il, Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Hyun-ju, Gyeong-seok, player 047, and player 145 were engaged in a fierce gunfight with the guards. The guards, clearly caught off guard by the ambush, were struggling to regroup, and most of them were taken down with relative ease.

As you moved to find a better position, a guard suddenly emerged from a hiding spot under the stairs. He raised his weapon, aiming at the group’s exposed backs. Heart pounding, you dove behind a nearby bed, using it as cover. Taking a deep breath, you steadied your aim and fired.

The first shot missed, but the second and third found their mark, hitting the guard in the stomach and shoulder. He staggered before collapsing to the floor, lifeless. You exhaled sharply as you lowered the pistol.

Glancing back, you noticed Young-il’s gaze flicking toward you. His expression was unreadable, before he turned his attention back to the guards. He and Jung-bae were positioned behind an overturned bed, using it as a makeshift barricade.

You took a moment to observe the others. Despite the chaos, their movements were controlled and deliberate. Each of them handled their weapons with a level of familiarity that could only come from experience. It struck you then: in South Korea, military service was compulsory for men between the ages of 18 and 35. This wasn’t their first time handling firearms.

The gunfire continued, but the guards’ numbers were dwindling rapidly. Your group moved with purpose, systematically taking them down one by one.

The tide of the battle shifted abruptly when a mechanical announcement echoed through the dormitory: “Retreat. Retreat.”

The remaining guards, realizing their position was untenable, began cautiously stepping backward toward the double doors. They fired sporadically as they retreated, their shots aimed to cover their exit. The double doors started to slide shut, and the guards sprinted through the narrowing gap to escape. However, the square guard misjudged the timing. The doors closed firmly, leaving him stranded inside.

“Stop! Hold fire!” Gi-hun shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. He leveled his gun at the square guard cautiously.

Jung-bae jogged toward the guard, his weapon trained steadily on the man. Player 145 followed closely behind, flanking the guard from another angle.

“Hands above your head! On your knees!” Jung-bae commanded, his voice sharp and firm.

Satisfied that the situation was under control, you flipped the safety on your pistol and tucked it into your pocket. Scanning the room quickly, you spotted Jun-hee, Yong-sik, and his mother still huddled under a bed. You jogged toward them, weaving through the aftermath of the battle.

“Are you okay?” you asked, crouching down to meet their level. Your voice softened as you looked at them. “Is anyone hurt?”

Jun-hee’s pale face turned toward you. Her wide eyes were filled with residual fear, but she managed to shake her head.

“I… I’m okay,” she said quietly, resting a hand protectively on her belly. “The baby’s okay too.”

“Thank goodness,” you replied with a small, relieved smile. You turned your attention to Yong-sik and his mother, who were clutching each other tightly.

“We’re fine,” Yong-sik’s mother said firmly, though her voice carried a faint tremble. She looked at you, her eyes sharp despite the situation. “How about you? Are you alright, miss?”

“I am, thankfully,” you said, smiling.

You heard the shout echo across the dormitory. “You goddamn bastards!”

Turning your gaze to the far end of the open space, you saw player 047, his gun aimed at five O players. Blood stained their faces and hands, evidence of the chaos they’d left in their wake. The O players, clearly terrified, raised their hands high in surrender.

Gi-hun sprinted toward the scene, his expression urgent as he grabbed the barrel of player 047’s gun and pushed it downward. “No!”

“Move!” shouted player 047. “Do you not see this?”

Gi-hun glanced around, his eyes falling on the lifeless bodies of X players who had been unable to defend themselves. You looked too, your heart sinking at the sight of the carnage. The dormitory, once a place of tension and fear, had become a blood-soaked battlefield where greed turned people into monsters.

“They are not human,” player 047 growled, his voice trembling with rage. “They’re like goddamn vermin blinded by money!”

Player 047 raised his gun again, aiming directly at the cowering O players. Gi-hun acted quickly, gripping the weapon firmly and meeting player 047’s glare with steady resolve. His face reflected both understanding and a deep determination as he said, “This is not what we took these guns for. If we do this, we’ll be no different from those masked men.”

As the tense standoff unfolded, you turned and walked toward Young-il. He stood silently nearby, his gun resting against his abdomen. His stillness was striking in contrast to the chaos around him.

Meanwhile, player 047 remained rooted in place, his teeth clenched in frustration. His eyes brimmed with anger and sadness as he glanced at the bodies of his fallen X allies. Slowly, reluctantly, he lowered his gun. His shoulders sagged with defeat, but he yielded to Gi-hun’s reasoning.

Gi-hun patted player 047 on the shoulder. Whether it was a gesture of pride for his restraint or an attempt to comfort him, you couldn’t be sure. After a brief pause, Gi-hun turned and walked to the center of the dormitory. His voice rang out, strong and steady.

“Everyone! Don’t be scared. Gather round, please!”

You glanced at Young-il. Your eyebrows lifted in surprise at the look on his face. His expression remained blank, but there was something contemplative and unsettling about it. It was as if he viewed Gi-hun’s actions with a sense of disapproval, a distaste that lingered just beneath the surface.

NEXT : Chapter 13

PREV : Chapter 11

Story Masterlist

Please feel free to leave comments and feedback about my story, the characters, the "you", and practically anything! I love reading your comments, especially long ones! It motivates me a lot! So, what do you think about your disagreement with Gi-hun? What do you think about the overall lights out? What about Young-il joining the battle and just sticking with you the entire time? And him protecting you all the time and just not letting anyone harm you?? I also want to know your take on Young-il's mysterious reaction towards Gi-hun's "let's hide and let Os attack everyone else" plan and his plan to overthrow the game? Now, what do you want "you" to do in the next few chapters? Because we are really reaching the end of Season 2 and I am terrified.

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