#he is an awful little manipulative bastard and i think hes perfect

[mademoisellegush]

On the Emperor and *that* scene

so i went and looked at some of the branches of that conversation -he basically reacts by reflecting and amplifying whatever energy the player gives him. Whatever you say, he will not contradict you.

You reject him, violently? He'll show you how right you are, how much of a monster he is. You reject him, preferring to "stick to business"? so does he. You agree to see him as a potential partner? Not a one-night stand, you are "bonded and it is time to consummate love with war".

Something to keep in mind, however (pun intended) is that "to best protect yourself from illithid manipulation, pay attention to its actions, not words."

tldr: i think the emperor is a very neat character.

The first branch is the disgusted rejection - the one where the player calls him a freak. his reaction is to show you how right you are. a mind controlled Stelmane, how the partnership was puppeteering. "you are my puppet", he tells you. "You have no other choice, if I must, I will force you."

he does not force you to do anything, after that. the threat is there, of course, but it's hollow. empty.

should this be taken at face value? can we trust him, even now, that he is telling the truth? it is certain that he mind controlled stelmane, yes. But was he the one who made her ill?

two items put that into question. a) stelmane's portrait, hung up at his desk along all his treasured possessions from before and after he became an illithid (balduran's butter fork, to go with the butter knife. his old sword, a recipe for fiddlehead soup, his dog Rascal's collar. the emperor's outfit, container for brains, chains for his "meals".)

If he's a liar about everything, why does he have a framed picture of Stelmane? He would not have been able to physically go back and set things up in a Knights of the Shield secret hideout while he was stuck inside the Astral Prism in our pocket from the hells, down to the Underdark, unless i'm getting the timeline of this story majorly wrong.

and b) an account of stelmane's illness.

Stelmane's condition got worse *after* Balduran/the Emperor disappeared, captured by Gortash and the cult of the Absolute.

Make of that what you will. Is this an actual testimony, or something he somehow planted there for you to find, despite the logistical difficulties in doing so? You decide.

2. The violent rejection is the only branch where he does not tell you how big the elder brain has grown. I think that is because there is an actual reaction on his end; something vicious that he's unused to feeling. Not the cold, calculating pragmatism he was praising in the player character three lines ago. Compare the first branch to the following two paths:

What i think is: Balduran uses you. The sole thing he cares above all else is his continued survival, any power gained that way is a side benefit to his goal. If you even get the Orphic hammer, even "as leverage," even as you threaten him, he does not "force you" to do anything, as threatened above. Ansur died, yes, but is self defence murder? Neither Ansur nor Balduran deny that Ansur tried to mercy kill Balduran as he slept.

What I also think: you have to succeed at perception check, in the third guardian dream, to figure out that "the hurt runs deeper than they're willing to show you." then, an insight check (something that requires wisdom, what you use to resist, or lean into, the tadpole's hivemind) "beneath the resilient veneer, a touch of fragility. they need comfort." This allows you to hug them, if you desire - something they say "it has been a very long time since someone did that. for [me]".

Make of that what you will.

[digital-roots]

The Svensson Family

Apologize for the wait but it's here!!! Sven and Earrings won the poll, so I get to show y'all these awful bastards now!!!

The Svensson family is a notoriously infamous criminal syndicate in Sweden. They're very wealthy and very powerful, being around for many generations. The family prides themselves on having a large control of illegal wares, underground economies and various other shady businesses.

This is gonna be the first part where I introduce each and every one of them. I'll explain more about them and Sven and Earrings relationships toward them later.

Bios for each family member under the cut

(also pleaseee please reblog i spent a lot of time on it and it mean a lot if you read :3)

Sven Svensson Sr.

The head of the family, he is one of the most feared crime bosses in the country. He's an extremely stoic individual who never shows any sort of emotion. The one exception is when he gets angry, and even then it takes a lot to get him to shout.

That doesn't mean he's not a violent man, however, quite the opposite. While usually leaving his goons to do the acts for him, he is not hesitant to pummel the people that cross him into a bloody pulp. He often even does so around other people, to make an example of what happens to those that fail their tasks or try to usurp him.

His wife Margareta (maiden name Fahlén) is a lot more warmer than him, at least on the surface. She comes from a similar criminal but high profile background and married Sven Sr for power. She's very gentle and soft-spoken. With how nicer she is than the rest of the family, you'd be mistaken into thinking that she's actually a good person. She is not.

She's a natural in social situations and is great in manipulation. She's a very confident in her skills and is used to getting what she wants out of people. That's how she managed to become powerful in the first place. That's how she married into the Svensson family. That's how she had her own children become as great as they are.

The two of them had four kids together: Earrings, Sven, Auguste, and Emelie. For now we'll skip the first two.

Auguste Sven Svensson is the third child of the Sven Sr and Margareta and the one that looks most like their mother. He inherited his father's stoicism and his mother's people skills. He used to actually be a very shy child, often hiding at the back of his older siblings. But as time went on his parents started to take notice at how much more,,,,adept he was than his other siblings. Sven Sr could see the potential in him that his second son never had. He needed to make sure this boy would become as great as he was.

His parents molded him into becoming the perfect heir to the Svensson name. Any weaknesses or outside interests were beaten out of him. Auguste is resigned to the role that he plays and sees it as they ways things are meant to be. Even if he never wanted it in the first place, he convinces himself that he just needs to be what everyone wants him to be.

Emelie Svensson

Is the youngest member of the family and is certainly the brattiest. With her siblings getting all of their parent's attention (whether in a good or bad way), that left little care for the girl who just didn't seem to stand out. Of course, it made little ol' Emelie really upset that no one in her family paid attention to her and she took out her anger onto others. Servants, stray animals, even her own siblings weren't exempt from her wrath. Her parents only enabled this behavior, finally giving her some sort of praise from them.

Presently she's about as haughty and cruel as ever, soaking up all the privileges she has as a young woman hailing from a wealthy crime family. Despite her love of bloodshed, she gets very distraught if any blood gets onto her and her million dollar worth dresses.

Ines Svensson is the sister of Sven Sr and is somehow even more colder and stoic than him. She is very sharp, calculating, and Highly formal. She treats her family more like people that work for her. There is no one who she shows any hint of warmth towards.

...Save for maybe her husband, Stellan Cronholm. A loud and brutish man, he is the ringleader of a large animal smuggling ring that mostly deals with rare, sought out species. He has a personal preference for (endangered and highly expensive) snakes, his favorites being pythons. He loves them more than his own kids (which he holds no affection for).

Whenever he finds anyone (working for him or not) that he suspects is trying to expose it, he sends them to his personal snake pit. It is exactly what it sounds like.

Ines and Stellan had twins together, Maja and Magnus.

The two were raised mainly by their mother-sorry, boss. The two are both highly efficient and ruthless mercenaries. They were also discouraged from showing any 'softness' to each other as siblings. These sort of stuff had it so the two didn't really mingle with their cousins until they were older.

Both of them were very much affected by their training but Maja was the only one that showed it. Magnus learns to get over it quicker and so does his sister.

Maja is honestly pretty civil when not doing any mercenary work. She doesnt like being around anyone just herself. She likes origami and keeps some in her room.

Magnus learned to get over it by learning to enjoy hurting people, kinda like Emelie. So when hes not going around being a human weapon, hes pulling 'harmless' pranks on others. His all time favorite prank victim is Maja due to always getting a rise out of her. Sometimes even breaking into her room and destroying her stuff. She often tries killing him for this but always fails to do so.

Finally, we come back to these two. Perle (now known by her toppat nickname 'Earrings') and Sven Jr.

Perle was the oldest one and was the former golden child of Sven Sr's kids, at least until Auguste grew up. Constantly being praised immenseness for her ingenuity, wit, and social skills helped her bloom into the person who she is today. Although, the extremely suffocating pressure she had as the former chosen successor of her family's line of work caused her to stray away when she got older.

She's a very resourceful person with a knack for inventing. Her favorite one she's created are her beloved stun earrings.

In contrast to his darling sister, Sven was the black sheep of the family. He was a....fine enough boy, but he could never reach the insanely high expectations placed upon him. He was constantly belittled and bullied by his own family for being weak willed and generally failing at the things they order him to do.

One too many incidents later, he was exiled from his family by his own father. He joined the Toppat Clan as a way to repent. To finally prove his worth and be seen as the man his family (and himself) always wanted him to be. So far that has not happened.

[gabessquishytum]

I was thinking about rich bitch Hob, so now, here:

Hob the widower, being “framed” for his husband murder.

Ofc he kill him!!!!!

The old man was boring, he was a pervert, always chasing young men and women, even thought he had an amazing specimen (Hob) as his husband, besides, that man was already going to kick the bucket, so why not speed up that process?

As per usual, Hob contacted his favorite lawyer (and friend) for cases like this.

Not like he had already “lost” four husbands before the “current” one in a span of 10 years, of course, it´s only a coincidence Hob always widows rich old men!!!

Desire tells him that they are tight busy atm, but they will send an equally (if not a little less ◀ Desire´s words) qualified lawyer to help Hob.

Before the first meeting Hob was very anxious, he trusts Desire, but not having them as partner in crime (heh) is already making him feel ill and overall, very down (which, tbh, being in that state of mind helps A LOT in the pictures for the media and maintaining the façade of “sorrowful widower that has been wrongfully pointed as the sole culprit of his husband death”)

But once the gorgeous, regal and very professional Dream enters the picture all worries go away…and panties too.

From Dream´s side, he immediately knew from all evidence that Hob was indeed guilty of his husband murder, but somehow, in between his commitment to his job and the feelings developing towards Hob he let it pass…after all he has a job to do, and he plans to do it as his life depends on it….

(he wants to bang Hob sooooooooooooooooooo bad and that won´t happen if Hob is in jail)

At the end of the trial (in which Hob comes out as innocent) only a week has passed, and Hob has already a new (and hopefully) long lasting, loving, faithful husband 🥰

And if Hob ever finds himself bored of Dream (that case being totally bonkers, both are so into the other in a not healthy way) Dream built an archive of all Hob previous trials.

 (maybe he went into Desire´s place to search for those…putting into use his old lock-picking skills when he was a private investigator…)

Just in case he needs to use that info to keep Hob close to him (threats)  forever (Hob looooooooves that about Dream👌 "YES YES!! YES MY DREAM BE MEAN, BE POSSESSIVE, MANIPULATE MEEE"◀ Hob mind )

Black widow Hob!!!! Fuck yeah!!!!

I love that he found the perfect husband in Dream, of course....... and I can't help but think that these kinky bastards probably use Hob’s criminal history as dirty talk.

When Hob is riding on Dream’s cock, circling his hips and moving with torturous precision, he likes to lean down and wrap his lovely tanned hand around Dream’s slim throat. He'll just rub against his pulse point and grin, and squeeze his hole tight around Dream’s dick. "You know, this is how I finished off number 2. I didn't strangle him, I just put a little pressure right here... and it was too much. His poor old heart just gave out. With his cock right up inside me."

And Dream can't help but moan and cum right there and then.

Or sometimes Hob will be on all fours, having his arse heartily spanked while Dream simultaneously fucks him. He'll whine and plead for mercy, but Dream will lean in and whisper in his ear. "No mercy, darling. Be a good boy for me, otherwise I might start letting things slip..... just like number 3 "slipped" in the shower and cracked his skull open. Let me fill you up, and I will keep quiet about how you pushed him over."

Hob nearly collapses face down on the mattress, he's so turned on. He knows and loves that deep down, Dream is just as dark and awful as he is. He's absolutely keeping Dream forever and ever, even in hell <3

[dalekofchaos]

Vampyr sequel idea

I thought of going the LIS route of having different stories for each story of the franchise. But after carefully analyzing the game, doing my Embrace everyone playthrough and noticing a certain portrait in the Ashbury Castle. I figured out the perfect story and perfect antagonist for Vampyr 2.

Jacob Blackwood.

For those who don't know, let me explain.

In The West End, you meet Carina Billow, a woman who's mind has been destroyed by a powerful Vampire. Manipulated into eating rats to gain immortality. At first I thought it was just the Ascalon Club fucking with a mentally ill woman. But it's worse.

Carina is being mentally manipulated by a powerful vampire, forcing her to do awful things. She will actually beg you to kill her to put her out of her misery, and will thank you for your kindness if you kill her.

Earlier in the game when Jonathan asks Lady Ashbury about the bodies that have been found in the streets and about how someone seems to be following him (before we know its Mary), she seems anxious and has someone in mind. Most likely she fears Jacob Blackwood has been watching Jonathan, taking an interest.

Blackwood only speaks through Carina Billow once, mildy warning Jonathan off his "toy" but he does not seem to care enough about his little game to actually stop her being embraced. Evidence of his presence occurs when you visit the grave of Carina and find he has piled dead rats all over the poor woman's resting place - one last act of disrespect. I tend to think that doing this is both for his own amusement and a message to Jonathan that he has taken notice. Carina Billow's information when she is embraced suggests Blackwood maybe a member of Ascalon, it might have been interesting to meet him there.

And when you get to the very end of the game inside the Ashbury castle, one of the paintings on the wall was of Elisabeth Blackwood (Lady Ashbury) and Jacob Blackwood.

And when you read William Marshall's old tome before you reach the end of the game, you can see that Marshall holds Blackwood in contempt.

Jacob Blackwood is an interesting character and I wish they had given him more space in the story because it fleshes Elisabeth out a bit, gives her a backstory you can learn about as you get to know her and makes her a more rounded person with her own motivations. So when you get the first of the bad endings and she says "you have betrayed me", you get an idea of why she might react that way - rather than a lot of players being confused.

He definitely has the blood of hate. Blackwood was created after Elizabeth was bitten by Marshal and the two ranged across Europe killing for their own amusement. Even if he was created before Elizabeth has the blood of hate, it is highly likely he would have contracted it anyway. There is the possibly that he was always a bastard though. Perhaps not all the frenzied skals in the city came from Harriet Jones, maybe a few came from him returning to London.

There is so much potential in Jacob Blackwood in a hypothetical sequel. Jacob has the blood of hate, while Jonathan and Elisabeth are working for a cure. So much potential.

So a way to go about it is this.

If you chose the Embrace no one path, embrace some or embrace everyone.

If Jonathan and Elisabeth travel the world. They hear horror stories throughout Europe. Jonathan thinks it's some Ekon gone mad, but Elisabeth knows the truth. Jacob is back and the potential for another Disaster is strong. Their mission is to kill Jacob and find a cure for the blood of hate

If Jonathan and Elisabeth lock themselves in the castle. They spend years working on a cure and that's when Myrddin appears. He tells Jonathan about Jacob and Elisabeth is horrified. They know what they have to do. End the blood of hate

Jonathan embraces one too many people and Elisabeth dies in the "betrayal" ending. Jonathan locks himself away, that's when Myrddin appears. He warns Jonathan of Elisabeth's loose thread. He is causing atrocities across the land and is on the verge of creating a new Disaster. Jonathan will end the blood of hate once and for all for Elisabeth

Jonathan embraces everyone. Jonathan's bloodlust knows no bounds. Jonathan intends to build an empire on blood and there is one person standing in his way, Jacob Blackwood. It's an all out war between Reid and Blackwood and World War II is their battleground. Reid uses the Allies, while Blackwood uses the Nazis.

Ideally I would set the game during WWII with Jacob taking a position with the Nazis or Vichy France, and he uses the war to commit atrocities and spread the blood of hate like a plague.

I'd also have McCullum return. The Guard is reestablished, but it's clear that Reid and McCullum have to put aside their differences to stop Blackwood. Plus I'd just love the idea of Jonathan and McCullum basically saying "Look we have our differences as a Vampire and Hunter, but we draw the line at fucking Nazis"

As for how the Brotherhood of St Paul would return. If you let Swansea bled out/embraced him, then Usher Talltree would be your main ally from the brotherhood. But if you turned Swansea, Swansea would return and would be a very questionable ally.

aka I just want a game of Jonathan killing Nazis and Jacob Blackwood using Nazis to fulfill his goals but also embracing their ideals.

Bonus points. Jacob wears a Vichy France uniform or SS uniform just to drive home the fact that he's a fucking monster.

[scribe-cas]

okay, okay, i have a question about couteau. (every time i write his name i pray i've written this correctly)

so in response to my last ask you have described him as- *checks notes* "such an ass" and "downright bastard". but from his previous descriptions he seemed like a really chill guy. i mean yeah he does some murder here and there, but even here, those are usually assholes, so there's at least the tiniest bit of good intentions there.

ANYWAY yes. my question. i am curious about his personality. could you say something more about that?? is he an ass ass or is he just insufferable but in a /affectionate way?? i am intrigued

HKSKSKNANXDD

I love the fact that I bully him enough that you asked this-

(You did write his name correct btw good job-)

Okay so here is the thing. His level of ‘bastard’ depends entirely on who you are.

He is, at all times, a bastard (affectionate). And that’s only because I know what a snarky prick he can be /w love

Just for reference, here is some of my top tier Couteau content.

Couteau is one of my favorite characters to write, in the fact that he’s usually at least a little snarky, a little full of awful humor, and a lot of heart.

He’s a dangerous guy, I’ll give him that, and his one liners as he hauls tied up men off in the back of his car are not always perfect. (I say, knowing that they rarely ever are, but no one who isn’t getting toted off to be murdered knows this he does it on purpose so that the only people who know he’s bad at improvising are dead)

Couteau has a bit of an immortality complex. He’s gotten past his ‘humanity’ and has somewhat forgotten what it’s like to just be a person. He doesn’t consider himself human, and does his best to act like one anyways.

When really, all that’s changed is his perception of himself- and despite the fact that he can punch a man in the face without feeling any remorse, and can regularly stand the crushing guilt most of us would face if we had to cook up an actual, real person for dinner- he hasn’t escaped it at all. And you can tell he cares.

He’s very good at pretending nothing bothers him, and honestly, a lot of it doesn’t, because if you partake in anything long enough, it becomes normal. And he can make the best of whatever situation is handed to him if need be. However, he is also filled with a special kind of rage from having to ‘make due’ for so long, which comes out in unhealthy coping mechanisms (like murder.)

He’s an adrenaline junkie. He can catch most people in a lie from 20 yards away from nothing but a gut feeling. If given the chance, he’d definitely be a gambling addict, but he doesn’t ever indulge. He likes to play games, and more than that, loves to travel.

I’m- I’m not positive?? but I am 90% sure he’s got autism. He’s good at being social but only because he’s thoroughly studied it, practice by practice. It comes easily to him now, but in the way a script would. He’s sound sensitive. He has his routines and despite being a bit sporadic when it comes to choices, he tends to stick to them, especially in times of need. He’s got echolalia (he repeats sounds and words he’s heard that he likes, on impulse, for no reason.) along with a million other things. But i am too sleepy to write them all rightnow.

Couteau is intelligent, but not at all mature (unless it’ll benefit him in some way.), and manipulative, but to a point. He sees it as a means to an end.

However

On the other hand, he struggles with PTSD pretty badly. He copes with dissociation, which doesn’t help with that warped self image and thinking that nothing bothers him, along with the fact that he will sometimes ignore his own boundaries, leading to him and others getting hurt.

He’s got insomnia, a touch aversion, and used to struggle massively with eating. He’s fine with and used to it now, but 300 years ago when he was dropped down into hell? He couldn’t even speak due to the amount of pressure he was under.

He’s gotten very good at managing it, and keeping his breakdowns quiet, along with finding things that make it easier, such as downing a shot of bourbon on a really bad night, or having a few puffs of a cigarette that doesn’t bother his allergies before he has to take someone out. He copes mainly with a lot of fucked up humor, although very few know him well enough to hear the jokes.

But there’s still a part of him that never got that healing break down. His closure has never come.

His main motivation is to just continue his life, because his last one ended far too soon.

And he’s working to avoid someone he cares about. But is slowly finding that just because one is gone does not mean there isn’t room for more. :>

He’s morally grey, sometimes he has to kill an innocent, and it fucks him up on the inside, but he also escorts people home and keeps drunk parents away from their children and murders men who beat their wives.

He just. Kinda is.

If you ask him, he’ll say he’s a villain, because he enjoys bringing pain.

What you consider him is none of his business.

But one time, a little girl called him a hero, and he didn’t stick around to let her see him smile.

Hope this helps!

[helliontherapscallion]

(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Thursday (Part 2)

Monday     Tuesday     Wednesday     Thursday (Part 1)     Friday     Saturday     Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: panic attacks, swearing, puking, concussions, mentions of injuries/bullying, homophobia

Word count: 5,138

After school, you were sitting on the couch as you furiously typed on your keyboard at an extremely fast pace. You were on a roll with these essays, they were probably going to be finished by the time you had to go back to the school to get on the bus with the team. You figured that you could even finish Annie’s essay and get started on Sammy’s US history presentation on the sociopolitical climate of the United States in the mid twentieth century to today. However, instead of covering a variety of topics like the rubric requested you to do, you were only going to talk about the significant events that happened to the LGBT+ community starting with Stonewall and going to Obergefell v. Hodges. You were also going to go in depth about how even if there are more opportunities available and more laws set in place to protect for LGBT+ people in the present then there were in past, members of the LGBT+ community still suffer heavy discrimination in the workplace and in the public. With receipts of course, the assignment required a minimum of three pictures per slide, and the group chat was a perfect source.

After that was done, you would email Sammy’s teacher (you had her last year for US history and you knew that she had a son in the grade below you currently transitioning from female to male) that you were the one that did her project and send screenshots of Sammy calling you slurs. Luckily for you, you had receipts of her being transphobic in the past that you could also send. Everything was effortlessly falling into place for you today. 

As you were typing, the front door swung open and two overly excited fifth graders ran into the house and up the stairs. A tired Schlatt followed them. “I will never know how the hell Phil keeps up with them.” 

“I dunno, maybe because he’s already raised three kids before.”

You watched as your uncle jumped and whipped his head over towards you, his hand clutching his chest. He lightly glared at you, “christ kid don’t do that, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

You smirked at him before turning back to your laptop to continue typing the essay. You were almost done with the conclusion paragraph on Annie’s essay and you wanted to get to Sammy’s presentation as fast as possible. As you were typing, you felt a warm air fan across your neck and your uncle’s voice right next to your ear, “whatcha typin?”

You lept off the couch and almost fell into the coffee table before steadying yourself and deadpanning at Schlatt. “I was typing an essay before you interrupted me.”

He snorted, “it looked like you were on a roll, just thought I’d see what my beloved niece was writing. Can I read it?” 

Your eyes lit up as an excited grin split your cheeks, “yeah, but lemme catch you up real quick. Adrian, Sammy, and Annie got mad at me a few days ago and wanted me to do some homework for them as a sort of payment. But after they pulled that little stunt in the lunchroom yesterday, they decided to be little bitches to me and call me slurs. So naturally, I decided to change the essay prompt into an in depth analysis about discrimination LGBT people face from their peers on the daily. My english teacher’s really against homophobia and the project’s worth twenty five percent of our overall grade, so it’s perfect.”

While you were rambling on and on about your detailed plot for revenge, Schlatt couldn’t help but be proud of the person you’d become. A major part of him was impressed that you came up with a detailed plan so quickly, that meant that his cunning nature was rubbing off on you and that made him ecstatic. Sure you mentioning not being straight was new to him, but he was prepared to accept you for whatever you identified as. He didn’t care how people identified, he just cared if they were good people. And his niece was one of the best kids he knew. He’d let your slip up slide for now until you felt comfortable enough to properly come out to him. 

“That an amazing plan, fuckin brilliant. Though, you could do more.”

That piqued your interest, “I’m listening.”

“Do you have any blackmail?”

Your eyes glinted with sudden understanding, “why yes I do, uncle dearest. I just so happen to have thousands of texts from them talking shit about each other and basically the entire school. And them being incredibly racist. They would be destroyed if that came out.” 

“Two things. One, never call me that again. Two, perfect. Keep it as leverage if they try to do something. You don’t pull out all the good cards in the first round, you wait for the right moment to strike so you can win. You need to constantly defend yourself against other players and anticipate their every move. If you leak everything right now, you won’t have anything to use against them if they have something up their sleeve you didn’t know about. Patience is key in things like this.”

You absorbed every single word that came out of his mouth like it was the holy gospel. Although he was your uncle and you loved him with all your heart, but he was a sly bastard when he wanted to be. He knew his way around fighting and manipulating people just right, so you were incredibly happy that you were on his good side and he absolutely adored you. Though questionable and morally gray, he was giving you advice because he cared about you and you’d be an idiot to not heed his advice. 

“That’s genius, Uncle Schlatt. What would I do without you?”

“You’d get along just fine without me, you would’ve gotten there eventually. You’re smart. I’m just givin you a little push in the right direction.”

“I honestly would’ve never thought about waiting, I was so dead set on getting revenge that I would’ve just leaked everything all at once. I want them to feel how I felt when they were around me. I-” you paused. Would this make you the same as them? You’d be screwing up all their grades, Adrian’s job, and Sammy’s athletic career. You came to the chilling realization that you’d be the same as them. You’d be as manipulative as they were. “...Uncle Schlatt, would that make me the same as them?”

“Fuck no! You’re always gonna be better than them no matter what. When they’re at their best, you’re always gonna be a whole lot better than them. They deserve what’s happening to them, it sounds like they put you through so much shit the past few years. I actually think you could do a whole lot worse to them if you’re willing to put more work in, but it’s your plan and if you think that what you’re doing is too much,” he darkly chuckled, “you wouldn’t like my idea.”

“You’re right, they deserve everything I have planned for them. God, I don’t know what I was thinking, ‘would that make me the same as them,’” you mocked what you said earlier, “what a load of shit. Anyways, thanks Uncle Schlatt. I’m gonna get back to writing this. They’re due tomorrow and I wanna finish as much as I can before I have to go.”

“Alright, whaddya want for dinner? Phil’s gonna be like thirty minutes late from work so I’m cookin tonight.”

Oh no. No, no, no, no. That man can barley cook boxed mac n cheese, let alone anything else. He’d burn down the house if you left him alone in the kitchen with the stove. “On second thought, why don’t I help you with dinner? We can make some chicken alfredo.”

“Awe, you’d rather hang out with me than finish your homework? Ya really do love me. C’mon let’s start.”

The process of making dinner was… interesting. Multiple times, Schlatt almost spilled boiling water on himself and he even managed to burn the pasta while it was in the water. How he even managed to do that you’d never find out, you had your back turned cutting up vegetables and herbs at the time. That was when you subtly started to take over in the kitchen, giving him smaller tasks while you handled everything else. You felt bad for Tubbo, his father can’t cook for shit. 

By time you finished, about an hour passed and Philza had come home and changed out of his work clothes. The two adults sat at the table discussing something that you didn’t pay attention to while your brothers and cousin were in the living room waiting for you to finish dinner. Finally, you set the table and it was time to eat. 

Because you couldn’t have many fatty foods before any matches or practices, you had made a separate plate for yourself that only had plain pasta, chicken, and broccoli. You were surprised with how well it turned out, you were following an iffy recipe you found on the first link Google brought up. 

After dinner, you went upstairs to put your uniform on and pack a little bag full of things you might need: a small blanket, some snacks, a water bottle, and a portable charger. Oh, and fuzzy socks and a pair of crocs. You could never go wrong with fuzzy socks and crocs. Feeling a vibration in your pocket, you pulled out your phone.

Hales : )

(Y/n), I’m omw to your house

Gonna give you a ride to the school

(Y/n)

Hales you don’t have to give me a ride, I can drive

Hales : )

Don’t care

Omw, be there in like 7 mins

You swiped out of yours and her conversation and opened up the family group chat

(Y/n)

I don’t need a ride to the school, Haley’s giving me one

She’s gonna give me a ride home too

Dadza

Alright, thank her for me

Tell her I said good luck too!

Uncle Schlatty Patty

Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do

Dadza

(Y/n), do everything he wouldn’t do

Uncle Schlatty Patty

Fuck you I’m a good influence

Dadza

You’re really not

Wilby

^^^^

Technology Sword

^

Uncle Schlatty Patty

Fuck all of you 

You heard Haley’s car pull into the driveway and dashed out of your room with your bag. Just as you put your hand on the doorknob, a hand stopped you.

“Coat.”

You grumbled as you reached past Philza to grab your coat. After you slipped it on, you were pulled into a hug. “You’re gonna do great out there. I know you’re gonna win this, we’ll be watching in the stands.”

“Damn right she’s gonna do good, she’s my niece after all.”

Schlatt pulled you away from your father’s hug and tried to ruffle your hair before you swatted away his hand, “don’t. You have no idea how long it took me to get a perfect ponytail. I have an ungodly amount of hairspray and bobby pins in my hair right now.”

“Fine. You’re gonna kick their asses tonight.”

Tommy and Tubbo pushed past Schlatt and both tackled you into a hug making you stumble slightly back. 

“Kick their asses good (y/n)!” Tommy cheered, making you crack up before one stern glance from Philza completely stopped you. “Tommy, don’t say that. (Y/n), not funny.”

“Alright, Haley’s waiting for me. I gotta go, love you guys!” As you turned to walk through the door, you could hear your family following you and shouting “good luck”. You felt heat creep up on your cheeks as Haley rolled down her window and wove at your family with the biggest grin on her face. 

“Thank you! We’re gonna take home the gold for sure!”

You hopped in her car as she rolled up the window and chuckled. “I love your family, they’re always so full of energy. It’s refreshing to see compared to how boring my family is.”

You glanced at your entire family gathered on the front porch. Tommy and Tubbo were practically vibrating with excitement, Wilbur and Techno calmly smiled and wove at you, Philza was grinning widely at you as you saw his mouth forming words that you couldn’t hear or read, and Schlatt was grinning cheekily at you. You raised your hand to wave at them as they vanished from view when Haley pulled out of your driveway. You smiled softly, “I love em too.”

The car ride was relatively quick with the same soft indie pop music floating from the speakers and an easy going conversation with Haley about the match tonight. You both thought that you could beat the other team if everyone focused 100% and played exactly like you guys did in practices. If everyone did that, you would be unstoppable. 

Luckily for you and Haley, you were the first ones in line to board the bus so you two got the back seat with Zara and Jazzy sitting across from you guys. The hour long bus ride passed quickly and lively with you four passing around your phone and playing some mad libs, you were sure that by the end of the last game you four were laughing and crying. Sometime in the middle of the trip, you noticed that Haley would start to lean on your shoulder and continuously glance at you as she laughed. You desperately wanted to believe that it was because she liked you, but she was straight and she was your best friend. She was probably trying to make sure you were having a good time. 

When the team had gotten to the opposing school and left the locker room to stretch in the gym, you could hear your family start to scream your and Haley’s names from the front row next to you, Tommy and Tubbo being the loudest amongst them with Philza trying to get them to quiet down so you could focus. You felt your cheeks heat up as you smiled at them and Haley wove enthusiastically back at them. Zara was laughing at you two. Stretching went by in a flash and before you knew it, you were on the court facing the opposing team. 

The first match was won by the opposing team by five points. The second match stretched on and on until it was won by your team narrowly by two points. The team was going to have to shape up in the third match if you guys wanted a chance at winning, the opposing team was good. Before the third match started, Coach Williams called for a time out so you guys could talk about strategy. Before Haley could go back onto the court, you pulled her aside.

“Hales, we need to do what we practiced. The other team won’t be expecting it at all, I’ve been setting you up this entire game. They’re never going to expect you setting me up for a spike.”

“When are we going to do it though? We need a better plan.”

“I’m sure the opportunity will come and both of us will recognize it. We just can’t do it too early in the game though, that’ll ruin their surprise.”

“(Y/n), I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“When do I not Hales? We gotta get gold this year.”

The third round went by with both teams constantly swapping places until you both were tied fifteen to fifteen. You saw the ball flying towards Haley, giving her the perfect opportunity to set you up for a spike.  “HALEY NOW!” 

You watched as her face hardened in determination as she pretended like she was going to spike it by jumping high in the air and stretching her arms back, making the opposing front row players all gather in front of her. Much to their surprise, she launched it towards you as you leaped up and went for the kill. The stinging of the ball hit by your wrist and the smack sound the ball made when it slammed onto the open gym floor was something you’d never forget as the crowd around you went wild over the unexpected play. You could hear the high pitched screaming of Tommy and Tubbo over everybody else. Glancing at them over your shoulder, you saw them jumping up and down on the gym floor and looking at you with awe filled eyes and gaping mouths. The rest of your family looked at you with similar expressions, their cheers echoing in your mind. Winking at them, you turned back to your team and went straight to Haley. Clapping a hand on her shoulder, you pulled her into a quick hug, yelling over the raving of the crowd. “HALEY WE NAILED THAT!” 

“HOLY SHIT I DID NOT THINK THAT WAS ACTUALLY GONNA WORK!”

“You have such little faith in your setter! You wound me Hales.”

“Well, I would have more faith in you if you weren’t chaotic on the court, sweetheart.”

You felt yourself surge in happiness at the nickname, but you couldn’t afford to focus too much on it. Your team only needed one more point to win best in the state and go to nationals. It would be the first time in your team’s history if you reached national level, and you’d be damned if you were the one to screw it up for them. 

The last rotation went on for a while, each team fighting tooth and nail for the state championship title with clashing determination. You tried your best to block every hit and try to set Haley up for a spike, and you were successful for the most part, only missing a few blocks. You saw the setter adjacent to you set the spiker up for a spike and jumped up in time to try to block it, your arms stretched upwards and your palms out. Only, the ball didn’t hit your hands. It collided painfully with your nose, ricocheted off your face with a thwack and sailed over to the other side of the court. Your head whipped back as your body followed suit and flew backwards onto the floor. Without giving you any time to react, your head bounced back and cracked against the polished hardwood floor of the gym. Everything went black. 

“...(y……”

“..(y/n)......”

“(Y/n).”

You faintly heard someone calling someone’s name over the continuous ringing noise. Was it your name? It felt right, so it had to be your name. You peeled your eyes open to see a blurry figure hovering over you. It was swirled with tans, browns, and backs. After a while of the figure repeating your name, it slowly became more recognizable, albeit appearing twice in your vision. It took you a while to figure out who this was before your muddled brain recognized Haley.

“Hales! There’s two o’ya. Twice as beautiful babe…” You slurred out as you attempted to smile at her.

“Oh thank god, PLEASE WE NEED A DOCTOR SHE HIT HER HEAD!” Her usually angelic voice gritted against your brain like sandpaper making you cringe as pain exploded in your head.

“God babe you’re so loud, why’s so bright? I-wha's goin on?” You blearily tried to move your head to look around only to be stopped by a pair of large hands on each side of your head gently holding it in place. You moved your laggy eyes around to look at the figure. He was a blonde man with blue eyes and a hint of stubble on his chin. His eyebrows were knitted together and he looked… he looked… your brain worked to figure out why he looked how he looked. Who was he?

“Please don’t move hun.” His muffled voice was baritone. You squinted at him trying to figure out who this man was.

“Who th f-fuck… why?”

“I’m your dad hun. Do-do you not recognize me?” You made a noise in the back of your throat as your stuffy brain finally put a name to the face.

“Dad- wha’s goin on? I’on feel so good…”

“Shh, I know, I know. Just stop moving and talking. Everything’s fine. I’m here. You’re okay.”

“Mmk… Dad, where are we? I’ont know- you’re so quiet.”

“Stop moving so much. You’re on the floor in a gym. You just won your team the state championship. Now stop talking please.”

Huh. So that’s why everybody seemed to appear from above you. You strained your eyes to look around you, but you could only see your dad’s face hovering above you. “Shit I- who’s aroun’ me? Where’s Hales?”

“I’m right here sweetheart. I got the doctor, Mr. Minecraft.”

Your dad’s face moved away from your vision so fast that it made your head spin and your stomach twist. Another face appeared above you that you once again didn’t recognize.

“I’m Doctor Martin, can you tell me your first and last name?”

“Uh, (y/n) Minecraft?”

“Good, what month are we in right now?”

“Nov-November?”

“Close, it’s late October. Can you tell me who this,” he pointed to your dad, “is?”

“S’my dad Phillip.”

“That’s your dad Philza.”

The questioning stopped as he suddenly shined a blinding light into your sensitive eyes. You hissed as you tried to move your head away from the offending light only to be held in place by your dad’s hands. Your head spun as you moved too quickly and a wave of nausea hit you, making you groan and move your arm to cover your eyes. Your hand was stopped by something warm and soft wrapping around it and holding it tightly. Everything was so overwhelmingly and painfully bright and loud. You wanted to make it stop. 

“Mr. Minecraft, your daughter appears to have a concussion. I don’t have the tools on hand to determine the severity of it, but it’s worrying that her pupils are asymmetrical, she’s delirious, and has slight memory loss. I understand you live about an hour away from here, and it’s alright for you to take her to a hospital closer to your house. Make sure you keep her alert.”

Your delirious mind only registered about half of what came out of the doctor’s mouth. You mumbled gibberish as you once again opened your eyes to look around. You were only briefly able to crane your neck to the left. Several figures large and small were standing behind your dad. Your family, your mind supplemented. Slowly, your mind was starting to recognize your surroundings even if there was currently double of everything and everything was blurry.

“I’m going to help you stand up. Do ya think you can do that?”

“Yeah Dad.” You lifted your upper body off from the ground with a gentle hand on your back helping you sit up. Fighting the wave of nausea that slapped you in the face, you reached up to rub at your eyes. A hand once again stopped you. You peeked your eyelids open and lightly glared at whomever stopped you. “Hales you’re lucky you’re so cute I woulda slapped you. I like holdin but you’re bein annoying. Stop.” You attempted to make your voice sound firm, but the words that came out of your mouth were slightly slurred.

She was silent as she helped her dad haul you to your feet. Once on your feet, you saw the room spin and felt yourself start to sway slightly. An arm wrapped itself around your shoulders and pulled you close to them so that your weight was supported. They were a little taller than you were making it easy to lean on them. 

“...Can you walk?” A deep, monotone voice rumbled the chest of the person you were leaning against. 

“Mhm. ‘M not weak.” Though your limbs felt like they were made of molasses, you placed one foot in front of the other slowly. The person moved alongside you, “you’re doing so good, keep going.” That sparked familiarity in you as you stopped in your tracks and tried to look up at the person you were leaning against making the person tighten their arm around your shoulders when you almost fell over.

“Tech?”

“Yeah, it’s Technoblade. Just focus on walking. You’re almost out of the gym.”

When you realized that you were out of the gym, you sighed in relief. It was so much quieter and darker. Though it was still relatively bright, it was better than the gym. 

“S’better.”

“When we get her to the car we can give her some sunglasses or something if it’s still too bright for her.”

“Wilbs-”

“Focus on walking.”

You huffed in irritation, “don’ tell me what to do bitch.”

You felt Techno’s body jolt slightly as he chuckled, making your head throb at the sudden movement. “Just walk.”

When you walked outside, you shivered as you felt the cool air nip at your exposed skin. Right, you were in your volleyball uniform. “I’ll go pull the car around, you guys stay with her.” 

You saw a tall brunet start to walk away from you. Uncle Splat? Uncle Schmat? Whatever his name was, you were sure he was your uncle. You tried to snuggle closer to Techno, craving warmth but never being satisfied. Where was your uncle? 

After a while, you saw a car moving towards you and blinding light pointed right at you making you cringe away and groan. Techno started to slowly walk towards the car. “C’mon (y/n), you’re almost there. When you’re in the car you can relax.”

“Tommy, Tubbo, and Techno, you’re in the back row. Schlatt can drive and Wil, you’re taking the passenger seat. I’ll stay with her in the middle row so she can have some room to lay down.” Tommy and Tubbo were with you? Why weren’t they talking, they usually were very vocal.

“Tom, Tubbs didja like the game?”

They didn’t say anything as they climbed into the car. Did they not hear you? 

“They’re just… tired (y/n).” Your dad’s voice reassured you as he took Techno’s place holding you up. 

“I wanna nap. ‘M so tired.”

“You can’t sleep yet. We gotta get you to a doctor first.”

“Mm. Makes sense.”

“Let’s get you in the car hun.”

As he helped you climb into the car, you felt an overwhelming wave of nausea wash over you making you lose your balance and almost faceplant into the cloth seats. You felt yourself being gently, yet urgently taken out of the car and led to grass as you felt your esophagus shorten. Something burning made its way up your throat and spewed into the grass. You felt someone rubbing your back as you puked up your dinner. 

When you were done, you reached up with a shaking hand to wipe your mouth. “You feelin better? Think you can get back into the car or do you need to sit down for a bit?”

“Car.”

After some difficulty, you were successfully in the middle row of the car laying down with your head on Philza’s lap. Soon enough, your shoes were taken off and a blanket was draped over you. 

“(Y/n), what do you remember?”

You scrunched up your face as you squinted at Philza’s face. “I remember playing volleyball with Hales. She’s so pretty, she’s straight though. I remember the other team hitting the ball, me jumping, then nothin. Wha’ happened?”

You watched as Philza winced, “well, you got everything right so far. You got hit in the face with the ball so you fell and hit your head on the floor. You were passed out for a minute before you woke up. It was a pretty nasty fall, we’re going to the hospital now. How’re ya feelin?”

“Head hurts, ‘m seein two of everything, an I can’t think.”

“Do you know what a concussion is?” You nodded in his lap slightly, “you probably have one.”

After a while of talking, you were slowly starting to come to your senses and your speech was clearing up, but your head was still too stuffy to think about what you were saying before you said it. You didn’t have a filter.

“Do you wanna tell us about your week so far? Do you remember most of it?”

“Mhm, it was shit. On Monday I had a panic attack and Adrian, Sammy, and Annie were being bitches to me all day. They fucked up my back. On Tuesday, they got mad at me for ditching them and they had me do their homework, had another panic attack, and Haley told me that someone took pictures of our boobs ‘n stuff and they were gonna leak it to the school if Haley didn’t stop hanging out with me. Haley and I almost kissed, but she’s straight. Pulled an all nighter and Wednesday I accidentally came out to Tech and Wil and had another panic attack. Annie, Adrian, and Sammy took more pictures of me through my window, Annie outed me to the entire school and slapped me. Another panic attack, skipped the last two classes and felt like shit the entire practice. Today Adrian and Sammy told me to kill myself and I had another panic attack. ’S about it.”

As you were going through your week, the hand that was previously gently stroking your hair had frozen as the car was enveloped in a tense silence. Luckily, Tommy and Tubbo were passed out in the back seat so they didn’t hear how bad your week was. Everyone awake knew that you had a few bad days this week, but they didn’t know the full extent of it. You watched as Philza’s expression had turned downright murderous, but you didn’t really care. You were busy talking about your week.

For the rest of the car ride, Philza asked you simple questions like what your favorite color was, your favorite animal, basically your favorite everything. Eventually, the car pulled into the hospital parking lot and Philza helped you get out of the car. “Schlatt, can you take the boys home so they can get some rest? I’ll stay with her.” 

“Yeah, I’m on it. Don’t cause too much trouble (y/n), we all know you can raise hell.” He watched you for a reaction, but when you didn’t react, he coughed. “Well, I’ll see ya later kid. Good luck.”

The car drove off leaving you and Philza at the front of the emergency room building. “It’s gonna be a long night (y/n).”

“I gotta finish Annie’s essay and Sammy’s presentation though.”

“No you don’t, I’ll email your teachers.”

You two checked in with the front desk before moving to sit on the uncomfortable chairs. It was going to be a long night. You were so tired.

General taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@jabby16

Series taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@immadatmostthings  @thaticecreambish  @hee-hee-haw  @dearnataliealoveletter  @wasteofspacze  @dcml04  @bbigbbrainn  @dirtydiavolo  @vanhakirja  @rinzyx05  @misselsbells06  @ialexabsuniverse  @im-a-depressed-gay  @energy-drinkk  @mothra-main  @i-need-hugs  @dragons-lurk-here  @katj733  @m4r-s  @vievi  @dykeragee  @waterstrawberry  @aplaintart  @kakamiissad  @myunfinishedsymphony  @nagitokinnieissad  @autumnpleaves  @justanothergirlwithdemons  @zachariethememerie  @moon-asia  @m0on-blue  @strawberrysodababy  @akikko-yataro  @haikkeiji  @shiningsunrises  @cinnamonmochi  @queen-turtle-boiii  @imanewsoul  @sparkling-gayyyy  @angelicaschuyler-church  @vixenfoxpup  @ella-ivanov  @shio-yuki  @mosstea-png @ijustshatbricks  @sugarandspicebutnonice  @coolayee  @haikkeiji  @sadassflatass

@a-simp-for-block-people  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @laura--444  @sylumarts  @faceache111  @auroraskyfall  @kusuinko  @http-issaclahey  @angelic-scent  @multifandomgirl94  @mirios-sunflower  @lifestylesleep  @altwitchtrash  @queenbouncingjelly  @eieminia  @livie-bug82108  @cheybaee  @demure--daisy  @midnight-storm  @moonbaejpeg  @kiinokochii  @miavfx  @vilbur-s00t  @coreybyrg  @comfytastic  @kodababygirl-blog  @artisticfandomtrash  @yourlmanburg  @indigopocky  @futuitsursum  @luluwinchester  @hello-there556  @kike-jii  @kalipto

[fishstyx]

featuring. college au!gojo satoru x fem!reader x geto suguru

wc. 9.2k

genre. dark/taboo, smut, angst

tw. 18+ nsfw, non/dubcon, toxic/abusive relationships, manipulation, victim blaming, dry humping, penetration, masturbation, irresponsible practice of bdsm, hair pulling, mild exhibitionism, size kink (both 6’3”, gojo can lift you), implied corruption kink, degradation, creampie, intoxication/alcohol, incel behavior, misogyny, dacryphilia

synopsis.

“Parading around as my personal fucktoy get you that excited?” he starts with a smirk, wide eyes drinking up your sharp inhale as if it were his own, inspiring pinpricks of heat to rise to your cheeks.

He hooks the hem of your skirt with his thumbs when he’s met with silence, pulls you from the doorframe just far away that he can release the elastic with a snap, silent snigger on his lips when it elicits a small sound of surprise from you. You nod in response, frantic bob of your head drawing a low growl from his chest and a “that’s right, I know what’s best for my pet,” as he lifts you off your feet and carries you to the bedroom.

notes. title inspo: love the way you lie (eminem, rihanna). you’re dating gojo, a charming, manipulative, self-entitled bastard. geto is, of course, his best friend, written as an aloof, self-righteous, bitter incel. please stay safe, read all the warnings, and enjoy. this is the most personal fic i have to offer. it draws from not-so-savory past relationships... i hope it remains the only testament to them. <3

links. broken toys. (sequel)

You were stunned into silence when he first suggested it.

And how couldn’t you be? Any sane person would, or at least should, have recoiled at the proposition. Isn’t that right?

But he makes it seem so harmless, so innocent, somehow. Like it’s no big deal, far from uncharacteristic for either of you—just a walk around campus, nothing new there. He tells you this like you’re overreacting, slow on the uptake, taking far too long to reach a final decision. The rational part of your mind says it’s out of the option. But the irrational part is louder, all-consuming, domineering.

The irrational part says, out of all your options, it’s the only viable one.

“Come on, babygirl. What’s the harm of trying it out once?”

It’s always this way, always has been. He takes your hands in his with a dramatic swell, the sparkle in his eyes big and bright and gleaming, and you bite back the urge to pull away. You would break your gaze if you could, if he didn’t look so determined, if that twinkling blue galaxy wasn’t sweltering with hope and adoration. But you can’t, and he does, and it just about swallows you whole. 

The fact of the matter is, Gojo Satoru wants to take you out on a leash today.

Never mind today; he wanted this yesterday, the day before that, and the day before that, never one to shy away from his desires as you deliberated the entire time. By now he’s asked you to do this one, single thing for him far more times than you can count—initially playing it off as a joke, slowly feeling you out, gradually seeing how far he could push and pull until you explicitly told him no.

Except it’s never just one, single thing with him, and you—with the way you dance around the topic, hoping to give him the illusion that you might give in, or perhaps yourself the illusion of control—you never say no.

A simple line of defense, yes. Even you agree with that. But its execution? Around Gojo, it seems anything but.

Geto would beg to differ.

Geto.

The only other person privy to your latest concerns. The only other person you can bear knowing. And he’d be disappointed if only he could see you now.

Who are you kidding? He’s already disappointed.

A vague outline was all you gave him. A vague outline, you knew, not-so-deep down in your heart, was all you dare tell him—or anyone at all, really.

Because, sure, you’ve adopted a rather experimental lifestyle around Gojo, but that was supposed to be private. Reserved for behind closed doors, you thought, until now.

You were right in that the brooding brunette didn’t need every last grueling detail of Gojo’s newest request. He’s his best friend; he’s seen you at every single step of your whirlwind relationship together. The fervid beginnings, when the two of you couldn’t be physically separated, let alone in different rooms from each other. The ups and the downs, each one more intense than the last, each one blowing up in your faces before you ran back into each other’s arms and kissed and made up. You knew that much.

What you didn’t foresee, however, even as you recounted your latest grievance to him, was that nothing you were saying was new. To Geto it was regurgitated rhetoric, distorted and distressed, yesterday’s news—whereas you saw it as a unique conquest, a new hurdle to overcome.

“It almost amazes me how you can come up with so many new ways to say the same old thing,” he said, slanted eyes dull with apathy as they panned away from yours. “Almost.”

You could only choke on your words in response.

What Geto told you next is now a hushed murmur in the back of your head. It reverberates against your skull, pinballing against the walls of all that empty space and showing no signs of slowing down. It tells you to just say the magic word and it’ll be over, every last bit of Gojo’s borderline demands, washing away all of that white noise if only you’d breathe some life into it. That one word, the one that plagues your mind night and day, it begins to materialize upon your lips, poised and ready to spring into action, flexing on the tip of your tongue as if it were a wind-up toy. 

Just say it already.

Just say no.

But you’re always holding your tongue around the both of them, together or alone, whether on the bony roof of your mouth or its flexible, fleshy floor, biting your words back for an eternity and more. Perhaps you were only faking yourself out, simply going through—no, barely feinting at the motions so you can come back to this chapter of your life and say that you tried. The moment passes, the pause your boyfriend gave at the sight of your mouth ajar long over, his words beginning to bleed into your reality once more.

And he’s saying, “I bought such a cute collar for you, too,” voice rising and falling with lovelorn disappointment. You can’t help but wince at his gentle timbre, all too painfully aware that such a small investment is far from the root of Gojo’s displeasure. You can hear it in his tone, too, how his carefree singsong runs steely as his thoughts begin to wander, settling on a resigned indifference.

So you wander, too. Tear your eyes from his in search of something, anything that might lend a reason to divert your gaze. Your fingers encircle white leather before you realize it, turning the thin strip over in absentminded idle, silver o-ring jingling in place. The metallic clank doesn’t go unnoticed.

“You should at least try it on before I return it, don’t you think?” 

And you can’t find it in your heart to disagree, stiff choker tightening around your neck as he fumbles with the clasp. You trace the sanded edges before latching a finger—two fingers—beneath the leather material. 

Perfect. 

Perfectly irritating. Irritatingly perfect. It sits in the center of your neck without slipping, just snug enough that you can still breathe easy, comfortable and almost disturbingly so. 

“Well?”

White lashes flutter idly as he considers your reflection as if studying it. And with the hint of a smile behind you, large hands on your waist in the mirror’s image, you start to think for the first time that the collar really is a pretty number, and a shame and a waste to throw away. 

Because he looks so pleased now, creased cheeks and crinkled eyelids as he smooths his palms over your hips, like maybe you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever held. Because instead of the pouting you’ve come to expect, the declarations that you’re “no fun,” or that you’re “overreacting,” or that you need to “relax” you’ve come to accept, he simply brushes your hair to the side and rests his cheek against yours, warm breath just about tickling your chin.

It begs the question.

“Will you love me more if I do this for you?”

And it sends his eyes into a frenzied state, hungry void for pupils swallowing crystal irises with unabating greed, all frisky lashes and overeager ridges. 

Ideally, he’d take your hands in his, tell you that that wasn’t his intention at all and beg for your forgiveness. Ideally, he’d hold you close, say that he loves you no matter what and promise to never push you this far again. You know all of these self-evident truths and more, yet you still can’t stop your heart from skipping a beat when he tells you, voice hushed in awe, triumph washing over you in spite of yourself:

“Of course I will.”

It’s different when you actually go through with it.

You try not to regret your decision immediately when you’re chained to Gojo’s hand in public, dog leash swinging in the wind as you round the campus loop. What a waste of a beautiful day for you to be hanging your head low, tips of your ears burning with shame. You don’t even believe that you’ve agreed to this yourself as you search the faces ahead of you for a trace of anyone you might know, pushing down the urge to cross your fingers behind your back.

But Gojo himself? He loves the lingering stares to tiny little pieces, practically basks in the attention as he pushes his sunglasses back so they rest above his hairline. Airy tufts of white spill over the tinted lenses, billowy strands coming to rest upon his forehead. When you think of it as your gorgeous boyfriend showing you off, it makes it all a little more bearable, has you standing up a little straighter. But your heart nearly stops every time you think you recognize the passerby, and eventually you dread the sight of absolutely anyone in the distance, for fear they will finally be a person who knows and calls you by name.

Gojo takes quick notice, realizes you hardly want to take another step in this undignified manner, and thinks to himself that there must be a better way to go about the arrangement.

His solution is to turn your walk of shame into a crawl of shame.

“On your fours,” he says, delighted when you actually crouch to the pavement, thankful for an excuse to hide your face. He ruffles your hair and slaps your hand away when you try to pull your skirt down, enamored by the way it rides up and reveals the lacy material below. You suppose it’s a trade-off you’ll just have to take, and in a confession that gets caught up your throat, you don’t wholly mind it: the pairs of eyes you can feel burning through you, though real or imagined you can’t be entirely sure. It makes you wonder if anyone wishes they were Gojo. It makes you wonder if anyone wishes they were you.

In the corner of your eye, you think you see someone sneaking a picture, but you don’t dare lift your head for a closer look. Instead you track the ground for rubble, hoping you’ll get away without scraping your knees, shaky line for a pair of lips as micro cuts come to crisscross your legs.

The rest of the walk is spent with you crawling the ground, light breeze tickling your backside, every part of you flaunted as if you’re Gojo’s most prized possession. You had better be, you think to yourself as you circle back to his building, and luckily enough, he’s about to make good on that expectation. 

Maybe it’s the collar around your neck, or maybe it’s the surge of relief you get from returning, but by the time you meet the first glass door, you’re aching for whatever Gojo’s planned next.

He’s moving on predatory instinct the second you’ve set foot in his apartment, flushed lips curling around your own as soon as he pulls you up from all fours. A hollow knock sounds behind you as your heels strike the door, lower lip traced with a wet warmth until you’re gracious enough to grant him full access. He easily cages you with his entire frame, pressing that cute pink muscle in your mouth flat before writhing his own to the rhythm of his heartbeat, booming and ricocheting and alive.

It’s not nearly enough for either of you, of course, his hands beginning to roam all over your pliable form, all over his property, skirting along your outline and creeping closer still to the innermost curves of your contour cutout. Flitting fingers brush against your navel, dancing lower as you suck your tummy in by reflex, stopping right before the tingling bundle of nerves that just might explode as soon as he touches them. 

But he takes pause instead, presses his forehead flush against yours, jewel colored eyes waiting on you with intent. You swear they can see right through you, even sheathed behind a cluster of wild white lashes, gauge everything there is to know about you faster than you can say “blue.” The moment freezes over, two bodies still and unmoving until you suddenly remember your need for air, gasping when you realize you’ve been holding your breath. 

“Parading around as my personal fucktoy get you that excited?” he starts with a smirk, wide eyes drinking up your sharp inhale as if it were his own, inspiring pinpricks of heat to rise to your cheeks.

He hooks the hem of your skirt with his thumbs when he’s met with silence, pulls you from the doorframe just far away that he can release the elastic with a snap, silent snigger on his lips when it elicits a small sound of surprise from you. You nod in response, frantic bob of your head drawing a low growl from his chest and a “that’s right, I know what’s best for my pet,” as he lifts you off your feet and carries you to the bedroom.

Your body bounces back from the force with which he tosses you into the mattress, giggles erupting from your throat when he climbs atop of you, tugging at your leash. A thin stripe of saliva trails up and down the column of your neck, laving intermittently over the leather that encases your flesh. A coppery taste, of earth and salt and smoke, dances on his tongue as his front teeth sink into the stretch of your collarbone, nipping and sucking at the delicate flesh. You sink into the bed as you ease into his touch, but he doesn’t give you much time to get comfortable.

“Touch yourself, then,” he says, “if you like to be watched that much.” 

It almost sounds like a suggestion, especially with the way in which he uses the lightest touch to brush the stray hairs from your forehead, but you know better than that. Your fingers fly to the wet patch on your panties, thin material almost see-through with your slick, working the fiber flat against dampened skin. An echo of a chuckle reverberates throughout the room as he watches you, undoubtedly pleased by the way in which the fabric clings to your already dripping folds. 

Large hands have your legs spread wide open by the time you’ve traced the outline of your clit, your little show put on full display for him. They stay pressed against your thighs as you venture loose, round motions around your sensitive nub. Too timid. You tighten the circles into a coiled spiral, mustering the courage to go harder, faster, the friction of cotton against delicate skin drawing small mewls and sputters out of your trembling form. The delayed relief is sweet, your arousal crying into the pads of your fingers as you pick up the speed. The image burns itself into his brain, watchful eye unfaltering as you play yourself to your heart’s content.

The very air itself seems to buzz as you hold the other end of his gaze, thick fingers running along your sides as you start to roll your hips into the palm of your hand. He’s bent over you with the twitch of his pants, too worked up to remain a bystander any longer as he blows and sucks up your neck. The open-mouthed kisses only hasten the buildup, sensation shotgunning down your body from the surface of your nape.

But the coil in your core knots itself far too early for your taste, and you reel your hand back right before you can realize your peak. You opt to drag a lone finger down your slit instead, afraid that with too much pressure, you’ll come undone before Gojo has the chance to get his fill. 

Too late, too slow; he takes notice of your negligence immediately, eyes darkening at the pitiful way your hand skitters with abashment. He pulls away from the crook of your neck to get a good look at your dwindling handiwork, smirking to himself when you shrink in response.

“Having a little trouble there?” 

His voice is deceptively singsong as he takes your sluggish hand in his, guiding your knuckles back to that aching button that has you arching your back and curling your toes. He repeats the motion, half a mind to force an orgasm out of you right then and there when suddenly, a whimper—yours—sends his eyes darting back towards your own.

“No, not like this,” you say with strained breath, and he quirks an eyebrow in response, working your fingers into the fabric despite the interruption. “I want more, I need…” your voice trails off, a sorry attempt at stalling.

“Need what?” he asks as he catches on, shit-eating grin somehow audible without you even looking. You don’t know how he does it, how he locks his desires up as you squirm underneath him, waiting ever so innocently for a proper response.

“Need, need you,” you say under your breath, and he cocks an eyebrow, a clear sign of an underwhelming response. 

“Oh? I couldn’t quite catch that, princess.”

As if.

“I need you inside of me. Please, claim this filthy cunt,” you whine, determined to play, determined to win. Your hips buck into your interlaced fingers, searching desperately for the one word that’ll send him over the edge and finding it as the leather accessory rides up your neck—as if to remind you of its existence—“Master.”

And it does, it sends a jolt of heat to his groin, has him kicking his pants off and pinning your wrists into the sheets. It’s got him surging with primal need, tugging the pathetic mess of your soaked panties to the side with limitless hunger.

Because even though he’s drawn many names from your lips before, they’ve always been ones he’s insisted on, ones he’s downright pestered you about. Even the simplest “Satoru” was, admittedly, a struggle to pry out of you the very first time you got tangled in his sheets; you shielded your eyes then, cheeks burning and voice low as you whispered it in his ear. And look at you now, sprawled out beneath him as you edge yourself with a hand steeped in your own concoction, begging for his cock with that delicious nickname of your own admission, and it rings throughout his head like an addictive melody.

Master.

Master.

Master.

You can hardly recognize the noises he fucks out of you for the remainder of the night. He showers you with an unsavory slew of awful names, phrases you’ve never even heard aloud before, tells you that you’re his “freaky cocksleeve” and a “bitch in heat” as he jerks your leash without warning. And that’s exactly what you are, twitching for him like an animal as he screws you senseless, the most guttural of responses rising from your throat as he asks:

“Who do you belong to?”

And of course you respond, between labored pants, “You, master,” muscles taut as you fight for air, fingernails scrambling for purchase on his back but finding absolutely none.

It’s not until you’re entangled in a breathless mass that he pulls your head into his lap, strokes your cheeks and coos that you’ve been a good fucking girl, a thick mixture of his seed seeping from your gaping hole.

Morning always comes when you least expect it, sneaking up on you and peeking through the blinds before you’re ready to get going.

Gojo’s still passed out cold when you creep out of bed, only the most languid of movements used to pry yourself out of the mattress as your arms and legs ache for need of rest. The dull pain humbles you, delayed post-nut clarity finally hitting as you rub into your bleary eyes.

It feels like you’ve been struck by a train.

Your gait is but a tiptoe as you stalk towards his dresser, trembling hands slowly rummaging for something, anything that can provide you some cover. Your classes are starting soon, and whether his are, too, or whether he’s simply skipping out today, you know better than to rouse him from his toil-induced slumber. 

It’s nearly inaudible, the sound of the door closing behind you, clank of metal but a whisper as the soles of your shoes kiss up carpeted floor. You’ve left it unlocked, just the way your boyfriend likes it, a small assembly of what you hope he’ll recognize as breakfast perched upon the kitchen table—the last traces of your visit left behind in a neat and tidy little package.

Your eyes find Geto’s once you turn down the hallway, small black beads peering into yours before taking a lap around the block to assess the damage. He must not like what he sees, this tousled morning-after apparition, faint patches of indigo and violet creeping out from under your—no, Gojo’s—oversized sweatshirt, because it’s a solemn sigh that hits your ears next and not a “good morning” or even a simple “hey” that acknowledges you. 

Because he knows your average person wouldn’t notice the marks, too sheltered by all that thick cotton riding up your neck, purposefully pulled up just far enough that you wouldn’t see them unless you were looking. He knows your average person couldn’t have the slightest idea how you really scratched up your knees, pointillistic constellations of reddish purple threatening, however empty that threat is, to inch up your thighs. He scoffs.

“What do you even see in him?”

The words cloud the air before he’s completely aware of them, surprising the both of you as they surface.

You open and close your mouth like a fish out of water: for starters he’s charming, engaging, lively and free-spirited. He’s beautiful and he adores you, you want to say, but even though you have all the correct phrases picked out, all strung together in the same time and place, they don’t seem to roll off your tongue quite right.

You seem so tired, forced laugh falling short where it should flutter out of your mouth, the usual cotton candy you spout crystallizing before it can materialize.

“I could ask the same of you.”

It traipses out of your mouth before you can give it permission, easing itself into the atmosphere before sinking like a stone. Truthfully you don’t care to hear an answer, if only to avoid giving your own. You usher yourself out, pushing yourself past the towering wall of a human and stalking down the nearest stairwell. 

Gojo knows just how to toy with your pride. But Geto? Geto knows how to slash it down to shreds. 

The silence is deafening.

Geto sighs once you’re out of earshot, turning his heel to continue his trajectory. If anything, he didn’t want to run into you today, either. He cringes at the small collection you’ve no doubt assembled yourself, of iced matcha and a granola bar, staring him in the face as he stalks into the apartment. For some reason it only feeds into his mounting dread, the rising unease of what he might find waiting for him in the bedroom. 

So he raps the bedroom door with his knuckles instead of barging in like he normally does, hoping in vain that he can get its sole inhabitant to lumber out himself. But of course Gojo doesn’t make it easy, letting out an obnoxiously loud yawn before stretching his lanky limbs with an equally obnoxious groan.

“You said to swing by this morning,” Geto half-yells, half says to himself, already prepared to turn tail and leave. He’s honestly surprised when he gets a legible response instead of the hungover mumbles he’s grown used to.

“Oh, that? Come in, it’s unlocked,” Gojo calls out, each syllable punctuated with tardiness. So Geto braces himself, puffing his chest out before giving the doorknob a firm handshake, stepping deeper into the belly of the beast. 

Geto was prepared to see many things when he walked through that door. Something like lipstick stains and flavored condoms, S&M paddles and ribbed dildos. Instead he’s met with something completely other, the evidence already cleared away. Whatever late-night exploits you enjoyed are long gone, not a trace left behind by now, privy only to a grown man slumped over the edge of his mattress, grabbing around under the bedframe. 

“Ahh, got it!”

With sleepy eyes Gojo lifts his head and presents to Geto the chrome colored box he’s fished out. It’s small and compact and ridiculously outdated, a conspicuous red button jutting out of its interface. He holds it up to his friend’s face, and the device finally registers.

A voice recorder.

“What, they still make those things?”

Geto schools his features easily, wiping the shock off his face before it can even materialize. It’s not exactly a lie; he knows he shouldn’t be surprised at all that Gojo has kept such an antiquated device for the occasion. 

“You act as if you’ve never seen one before.”

It’s a smirk that’s plastered all over their faces now, one that nearly matches the one across from the other, and knowingly so. The two burst into laughter at the ridiculousness of it all, Gojo slapping his knee and Geto clutching onto his sides. They’re not sure who starts it, but one of them high fives the other.

Girls like you are oh so naïve.

Your wish is granted for about a week total.

Gojo keeps his promise, of loving you more and loving you better, throughout the remaining weekdays. 

He takes you out for brunch, picks you up after class, and best of all, doesn’t ask anything more of you, doesn’t ask for anything better.

He opts to shower you with gifts instead, of stuffed animals and chocolates and bite-sized amenities, insisting that you take them all, no strings attached. Your nightstand overflows with his presents, mismatched tokens that remind you of his affection even when you’re not together. And although neither of you explicitly verbalize it, it seems like his way of apologizing. Silently.

You whole-heartedly accept.

This is the Satoru I fell in love with, you think to yourself as he pets your head one sunlit afternoon, grogginess setting in after a particularly big meal. You nuzzle into his lap and relish in the soft filtered light, sprawled out on your side on the living room sofa. He has you gazing upwards at a tap of the shoulder, all softened eyes and unkempt locks of hair, the smell of sandalwood and fresh dry cleaning enveloping you entirely as he leans in for a faint forehead kiss.

“What’s up?” you half ask, half mumble, eyelids heavy with sleep.

“Just wanted to see my princess’s face,” he says, a fleeting grin on his rosy lips. A hollow thud sounds as you play-punch him in the chest, but you roll over from your side to look up at him anyway.

“You happy now?”

“Overjoyed.” 

The two of you lock eyes, slivers of white hair undoing themselves from behind his ear as your breath syncs up slowly, gradually. He stares at you with such longing that you would think you weren’t laying right atop of him, and you struggle to hold your ground. 

“Are you—”

“Yup.”

You groan, eyes overcome with on demand prickling. “No thank you,” you proclaim as you squeeze them shut, uninterested in indulging him a staring contest. Moments pass and your eyes stay closed, a tide of tiredness washing over you. You loosen up, head rolling back as you allow yourself to relax. 

Big mistake. He takes it as an invitation for his hands to descend upon you, attacking your sides in an attempt to tickle, and you jerk away instantly.

“What the—Sato, cut it out!” You bat his arms away, one eye open as uproarious laughter fills your ears.

“If you’re gonna fall asleep then at least let me lay down too,” he says, drawing out the last word as he props your upper half up. He takes your place on the sofa before pulling you on top, and you huff as you fall into a pile.

“Jerk.”

“Your favorite jerk, though.”

Oh, he definitely feels it when you smile into his chest.

The weekend arrives without issue.

Wednesday night you’re watching the sunset over melon sodas.

Thursday night you’re falling asleep on Facetime.

Friday night you’re in the midst of downtown Tokyo, multicolored lights casting your faces in ethereal glow as you work against the hustle and bustle of regulars and tourists. Karaoke songs eat up the most of your visit, Gojo’s voice slowly going scratchy until the crowd finally works the nerve to drag him offstage. You spend the remaining time hopping restaurants, ordering exactly one dish at each location, slowly working your way through a full course meal. The waitress who serves you nothing more than a plate of gyoza gets an especially generous tip.

Dessert is by far his favorite dish: a deluxe parfait, served in a tall, American-style glass and filled to the brim with sorbet. You can still taste the fruit toppings, fresh and fragrant and honeyed on your tongues as you swap saliva in the back of his car. He cups your face with one hand and holds the small of your back with the other, pressing dangerously close against your body. When you finally have the chance to breathe, a thread of spit trails between your lips, in memory of your union. It glistens in the color of the muted city lights, persevering through the window tint in all of their electric might. A mischievous glint reaches his eyes, and all of a sudden he’s pulling you on top of his lap.

“We can get away with this much, can’t we, princess?”

And you oblige, patch of wetness already creeping through your panties as he starts to move, clothed cockhead grinding against the curve of your ass. He’s louder than usual, quivering groans crumbling as they reach your ears, his hips rolling in stuttering motions. You feel as if you’re aflame, pulsating with need, decadent sweetness enveloping your senses every time he pulls in for a kiss, every time he grazes you with his pubic bone. Your clit sings with praises as he pushes you down by the hips, whispering how good you’re being for him, how gorgeous you look in the dress he bought you, and you make a silent wish in the faint moonlight that the moment will never end.

But it seems that good things always meet their end, and come Saturday night, the monster rears its ugly head again.

Because on Saturday night, Gojo’s got you hanging on his arm, the two of you ascending concrete steps to the usual place. Same group of people, different game every week. The two of you are greeted with sweet sighs and boozy smiles, clink of bottles surrounding you as they prepare this week’s drinking game. Gojo’s a lightweight and Geto sticks to designated-driver duty, so it usually works out just fine.

Just not this week.

If Gojo was the sun, then Geto was the moon.

It always seemed to Geto that his best friend had everything in the world he could possibly need: looks, charisma, and status, all readily available to him without much effort of his own. And honestly? He loathed him for that.

As soon as the clock strikes midnight, Geto knows there’s absolutely no way he’s making it to the party. Instead he opts to spend Saturday night alone in the comfort, or perhaps the prison, of his own room.

Because the sun is a star that births brilliance, instilling vitality and inspiring vigor wherever it goes. Whereas the moon only picks up in the after hours, left to guide the lost and the wandering in the nighttime. He feels like he’s always scraping the bottom of the barrel, the pool of women he can choose from limited to the gaggle of bumbling stragglers who lament, still, the absence of the blinding sun. And for the past twenty or so years of his life, those bumbling stragglers have not so much as glanced back at him, too enchanted by the liveliness of day.

Worst of all is that softheaded people, scatterbrains just like you, they think they can fix Gojo, super-fucking-nova Gojo who burns it all up, destroying everything in his course of direction. Part of Geto thinks it’s absolutely deplorable, the way in which pea-brained whores throw themselves at him, hankering for his attention and jumping through all the hoops necessary to get just that. But part of Geto also wants to have his own stake in the fun, and Gojo—pretty boy, genetic-lottery winner Gojo knows this all too well.

The glint of the moonlight taunts Geto as it reflects off the silver-toned box in his hand, bold “STOP,” “REC,” and “PLAY” lettering practically chanting his name in the dim illumination. He was told that the handheld device was safer with him, well out of your reach in the confines of his single dorm, and he supposes that’s the truth, what with the lack of foot traffic in this cramped room that lacks of fresh air and sunlight.

It’d be doubly safer if he’d just tuck the abomination away, stick it deep in the corner of his sock drawer or perhaps somewhere underneath the bed frame, but he’s kept it well in sight ever since he first laid hands on it. He clutches it tightly as if it just might disappear when he lets go; chances like these are rare for him, to be so close in proximity to the wanton whines of someone he knows and sees almost daily. And if it’s anyone’s fault that you’re still fucking an immature bastard, a privileged manchild who gets pretty much everything he wants, it most certainly isn’t his own.

It’s just so exhilarating, to be able to cradle the cool metal in one hand, throbbing cock in the other, drawstring sweats already halfway down as he thumbs at his flushed, pink head. He’s kicking his pants off as he leans into bed, flat of his slicked-up fingers laving over the sopping tip that cries and weep for release. He’s already imagining it, the kinds of o-shaped faces you make with a leash dangling from your neck, bubbling with excitement and intoxication and jealousy at the mere thought. But he doesn’t start the audio yet, fumbling for his stash of lotion before moving to fist his cock in its entirety, twitching creature red with excitement as he jerks it up and down.

It feels so intimate to him, the fact that you’re so close yet so far away, musical mewls available on demand whenever he so pleases. He quickens the pace, palm of his hand practically flattening the vein on the underside of his cock as he starts to buck his hips into his tightening fingers. He’d just love to ram his dick down your throat one day, but for now he’ll have to make do with his hands.

He hits “PLAY” with bitter determination.

The very first sound of crumpling bedsheets has him curling into a full-body tingle. He’s close, so close he can almost taste it, but he keeps his concentration on the audio speaker, waiting for something, anything to heighten his arousal. He sucks in the cold air between his teeth, curses threatening to pour from his lips at how right, how wrong it all feels. The anticipation is short-lived, however, broken by the sound of Gojo’s voice, just barely recognizable in the speaker’s tinny, superficial quality.

“My, my,” the silver-haired deviant says, corners of his mouth undoubtedly upturned as he leans into the microphone.

“Just what do you think you’re doing, Geto?”

The voice recorder hits the floor at the sound of his own name, blood pressure rising as his arms and legs tense up in disbelief. His own orgasm slips away and out of reach in an instant, petering out in wretchedly slow motion as his stiff cock throbs with pitiful languor. He wants to laugh, he wants to cry, wants to curse the world for ever thinking you were actually within his reach, wants to chuck the accursed gadget across the room and watch it scatter across the floor in glittering smithereens. Or maybe he just wants to cradle his head and sink into the ground, face his back to the despicable device for the rest of the night as the cold seeps into his sides, but he’s not even sure where the damn thing skittered off to and his head is spinning and his eyelids clench shut and the world just grinds to a halt.

Gojo doesn’t take the news well.

Gojo doesn’t want to take it at all.

You’re chatting up the party’s host, a premed student in the same year as him, when you first notice him glancing at his phone.

“So how are things? Between you two, I mean,” Shoko asks as she follows your gaze. 

“Couldn’t be better” is your absentminded answer, and she stifles a laugh—a perfect relationship with the Gojo Satoru? But you’re only half listening as she expresses her disbelief, eyes never quite leaving Gojo’s back as he shifts away from the mass of people and shuffles towards the windows, cell phone in balled-up hand.

The first call is inconspicuous enough—Geto has a habit of running late, after all. But when you excuse yourself to the bathroom and come back find to Gojo still holding the phone to his ear, half crouched with his lips screwed up in a pout, you know something’s off. Part of you doesn’t want to take your place beside him, but he pulls you down by the wrist, grip strong enough to leave dime-sized bruises.

They’re explaining the game of the night before you can ask him what’s up: a  pitcher of beer will round the group of players, all sat in a circle on the carpeted floor, each and every one taking turns trying to steal the last drop. It’s a familiar setting, the music but a hum in the background as the participants buzz with idle chatter, but the person beside you feels alien somehow. The woolen material pills underneath your toes as you curl them into little balls, eyeing him with a sideways glance. You know better than to raise the issue when his foot’s tapping the floor with such force, rapid rhythm almost matching the incessant pace with which he thumbs at his phone. He’s calling Geto three, four, five times before changing tack, demanding an explanation through text.

Shallow breaths are all that fill your lungs as you keep as still as possible, trying your best to get a good read on the screen. If the slump in his shoulders is any indicator, you’re sure he’s seething at the words that light it up. But before you can make out a single phrase, he’s slamming the phone down with one hand, clenching the pitcher of freshly poured beer with the other.

His turn to take the first swig.

He ends up gulping until you’re sure he’s out of breath.

“Whoa there, Satoru,” the person next to him says when he sets the pitcher down, nearly emptied. “What the fuck was that?” 

His wrist rises to wipe the corner of his mouth and he exhales sharply, as if his simple reply requires strenuous effort.

“DD bailed on us,” he announces, “fucking flake.”

“Maybe we should have you sober up, then,” someone else, likely Shoko, calls out from across the room.

The change in his demeanor is instant.

“Ah, we’ll make it back in one piece, won’t we?” Gojo’s glance darts sideways, playful lilt betraying the ice he has for eyes.

The room hushes, waiting for an answer, and you sit up straight when you realize who he’s asking. You quirk an eyebrow, amused. With his cheeks already flushed, what seems to be a pointed gaze unfocused and glassy, you can’t help but beg to differ. You know the answer he wants to hear with every bone in your body. But every fiber in your being knows the truth.

“Bullshit.”

The entire room erupts and it’s decided, against his will, that you’ll be spending the night.

Everything falls apart from there.

Shoko shows you to a guest room once the others begin to clear out, dark circles carved out by cool white fluorescents that cast shadows behind her puffy eye bags.

“Sorry it’s so small,” she says, gesturing at the lone mattress, creeping moonlight like a spotlight on its linen-lined surface.

“It’s everything we could ask for,” you say as Gojo falls into bed, sprawling out against the twin sized sheets. “Thanks for letting us crash.” She shoots him a tight lipped smile before placing a deft hand on your shoulder, brown locks cascading as she leans into your ear.

“Let me know if you need anything, okay?” 

The night is long and never-ending. 

Teeny tiny bits of skylight taunt you from above as Gojo proceeds to keep you awake well past twilight. He’s tossing and turning in the guest bed, kicking the blanket off the both of you with spiteful purpose, inviting in the cool night breeze. It nips you from your face to your toes, colder still even as he tightens his hold on you, and you decide to finally break the silence.

“You still mad about that one thing I said?”

He scoffs, huff of breath like a shot to your neck.

“You seriously have to ask?”

You tense up immediately, spine straightening flat against his chest as he continues, edge to his voice swelling as it looms behind you. “Honestly, who do you think you think you are? Always acting like you’re better than me.” Razor thin needles lodge themselves into your scalp as he pulls your hair back, your chin meeting chilled air as you offer up a whimper. 

“It’s not like that.” 

He only tightens his grip on your hair, pulling it back harder still.

“Think I need to remind you of your fucking place,” he mumbles as he presses into you, something stiff rocking against the fat of your thighs.

“Not here,” you breathe, eyes widening as you realize his intent, the alcohol in your system seeming to swirl in your head. He staggers his hips in response.

“Wasn’t a problem in the car.” 

“Satoru, they might hear us,” you say, the steel in your voice cracking as his free arm snakes around your side, searching for the hem of your pants. “Mercy,” you try again, the familiar, agreed upon safe word sounding foreign and unfamiliar when it comes out but a croak. It hurtles from the shelter of your lips, forever lost as the strain in his pants only grows, breath going ragged as he ruts into your hips.

“Just let me have this.”

And he revels in the way in which he easily overpowers you, enamored in how his towering frame nearly swallows you whole. When a particularly loud groan—one you’re sure anyone in a neighboring room can overhear—escapes his lips, you blister with shame, burying your face in the pillow, limbs aching for need of sleep.

And then his breath hitches as he chases after fireworks and explosions, captivated by the way that you squirm in vain. His palms claim your hips as his own, cockhead grinding behind you, servicing himself with feverish concentration. He presses your side into the mattress, ass cheeks squeezing together like a homemade fleshlight, and you arch your back in a sorry attempt at evasion. 

He groans in response, knees buckling together as he brushes up against the makeshift curve, and you stop struggling altogether. Your body buzzes from the touch, head swelling like a balloon, skin crawling from the jerky movements as you go limp as a ragdoll.

“God, you’re so good to me,” he says, praise anything but endearing when it hits your ears. It’s the same kind of acclaim he gave up just the night before, but it cheapens as he repeats it, banal phrase playing over and over in your head. He’s still humping your butt when he cums, shaky and delirious as he rides out the high, profanities rolling off his tongue until he’s shuddering himself to sleep. All is still once he’s blacked out from the stimulation, pitter patter of salted frustration the only movement left over as it soaks the pillowcase through and through.

You lay awake, caged by his toned muscle, trapped by his carbon curses, praying for sleep until the birds begin to chirp. They sing a song that they borrowed from the night, a harrowing lullaby that has you in a panic, slipping out of his grasp as you crawl out of bed. 

By the crack of dawn you’ve tiptoed into a cab, belongings clutched tight to your chest, apartment complex shrinking in the distance, but it never seems to get further away.

Geto hasn’t breathed a word about the voice recorder.

Geto doesn’t want to think about it all.

He’s paying for it now with a barrage of daily phone calls from none other than Gojo himself, who dials him day and night and morning, no regard for moderation. Geto regards the fallout as both of their instant karma, still miffed by the prank he’d just fallen for, but unwilling to reveal his folly. He fills the role of trusty confidant nonetheless, his betrayal as M.I.A driver long forgotten. It’s a spectacle, the frenzy Gojo is bound in, and he might as well watch from a front row seat.

But he hasn’t made a full recovery yet, forever irked at the pretty privilege Gojo takes for granted, the privilege he downright hoards for himself, barking into the speaker when he feels his blood begin to boil.

“Seriously, what did you do this time?” He wants to tear his hair out at Gojo’s stupidity, his utter lack of tact, wants to pull out his front teeth and pulverize the dental tissue into a fine powder when he’s met with momentary silence. 

It’s been a few days since you left the guest bedroom alone in the wee hours of morning, and Gojo hasn’t been able to get ahold of you since. You haven’t been answering his texts, his calls, Christ, he even tried your personal email, and now Geto finds himself shouldering the brunt of his correspondence, trying everything in his power to get him to calm the fuck down, albeit fruitlessly.

“Nothing we haven’t done before,” Gojo insists once he’s found his choice of words, spitting them out one by one, raking stiff fingers through colorless locks. “I got a little handsy, but it was seriously nothing.” Geto shakes his head and rubs his temples; nothing isn’t enough to make you walk out on him. 

“If you’re telling the truth, then stop worrying already.” A stray section of his bangs fall forward, sweeping over his eye as he slumps over in his chair. “But if you’re lying—” he starts, cut off by the sound of chaste knocks, an unassuming 1-2-3 kissing up at his door before he can finish. 

Saved by the mystery visitor.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d sigh relief, eager to break away from the droning and moaning of the spoiled brat on the other line. Instead he gives pause, as if weighing the cost of answering the door against the merit of staying put on the phone, moment’s hesitation only giving way to a guaranteed getaway.

“Hold on, I need to get this,” is all Geto says as he hangs up the phone, equal parts appreciative and skeptical of the person at his door. He isn’t exactly friendly with anyone on his floor, and few would show up here without asking first, so he peers through the peephole, curiosity getting the better of him.

And lo and behold, speak of the devil, it’s Gojo’s missing girlfriend, standing alone with her hands twisted together.

Amazing. You’re quite literally the very last person he wanted to see right now.

“Do you have any idea how worried he is?” Geto snaps when he answers the door. You have no idea what kind of mess he has on his hands. “Go and make up with your boyfriend already.” He moves to close the door but you react quickly, wedging yourself before the doorframe, eyes wide and pleading.

“I’m in trouble, so please...” You scramble for something half believable. “I can’t turn to anyone else.” He laughs in your face, eyebrows quirked with mirth at how genuine it almost sounds.

Almost.

“Don’t give me that.”

“No, I mean it,” you press on, unwilling to admit that anyone else who’d listen to your cries for help, from trusted family to doe-eyed friends, would undoubtedly have you in a beeline for the authorities. “You—you’re the only other person who can put up with Gojo.”

That gets him stopping in his tracks.

“Barely,” he scoffs, but the pressure on the door lets up. He hates that you have a point there. Hates that he can’t look away from Gojo and his silly antics and his daring ploys and especially hates that he has that in common with you. He wants to turn you away but you look so hopeful, ignoring the dulling pain of the door trying to crush your foot flat.

He bites the bullet.

“You know he’ll be pissed if he finds out you came to me first, right?” You screw your lips together when he cracks the door slightly.

“Well, he doesn’t really have the right at the moment,” you sniff, barging in when he lets go of the door completely.

The room is impossibly smaller than you ever imagined, in direct contrast to all the empty space in Gojo’s rental. It’s a wonder how all his necessities fit in the cramped shelves and tiny drawers, and you almost marvel at the scale of it until the sound of wood on vinyl tiling snaps you back to focus. A few stray articles of clothing are plucked from the ground and chucked to the corner before he’s pulling two chairs up, one for you and one for him. Once he’s sitting, you have his full, unadulterated attention.

Not that you know what to do with it.

It takes a while to find your voice, fiddling with your fingers as you try, unsuccessfully, to hold his gaze. There’s no clock but you swear you can hear the second hand ticking. The curtain’s closed but you’re sure you can feel the heat of the sun disappearing. You’re certain that it ebbs below the curve of the horizon as you watch, timidly, the tap of Geto’s wooden sandal. It remind you of the clack of Gojo’s dress boots, impatience slowly exceeding its carefully drawn bounds.

You time out a moment of silence.

And then another.

And then another, until Geto is staring you down expectantly, pinpricks for eyes. You take the hint.

“I said it.” You look down, fidgeting with your shirt. “I said no.”

His eyes soften immediately, struck by the raw edge of your voice, your inability to look him in the eye.

“And he didn’t respect that?”

“He touched me. When I asked him to stop.” The words have to force themselves out your throat, the little bit of courage you have all that keeps the walls from collapsing in completely. You take as deep of a breath as you can manage when the memory flickers through your mind, clear as yesterday. “He—he fucked me through his clothes.” Your head’s buried in your hands as you fold into yourself completely, rocking in place, and something rages inside of Geto.

“Wait, what?” Geto looks at you incredulously, disbelief scrawled all over his face, eyes narrowing when you keep your head down. “Through his clothes?”

You nod slowly, knowingly, and he feels as though the world is spinning all over again. The ground seems to shift beneath him as your face contorts in pain, saltwater already beading up along your lower lashes. That’s it? That’s what this entire circus is on about? He cards his hands through his hair as he tries to process it, shaking his head when you fail to respond. That’s all it takes for your whole body to quake, hard lumps bubbling up your throat at the bite of his words, breath stuttering irregularly as your windpipe starts to clench up. 

And then you’re crying, body wracked with hiccups as you try to quell the chills crawling up your skin. Your chest heaves in a sorry attempt to keep up with the lurch of your lungs, sputtering as you try to suppress your voice.

“God, you’re all so fucking annoying.”

He watches you bubble over, feeling his own emotions swell as they hit a critical mass, stomach churning at the sight. You couldn’t manage a comeback if you wanted to, a blubbering mess as you try to wipe your eyes dry. The small bit of composure that’s kept him whole these past few days finally snaps when the tears trail down your hands, no end in sight in the onslaught of waterworks.

“I bet you wanted it,” he continues, unfazed by the fattening tears, fingertips digging into his thighs as he spots the yellowed bruises he jacks off to at night. He leers at the fading brown and imagines them overlaid with fresh, new marks, gleaming blush and fiery crimson. “I bet sluts like you don’t care what happens as long as they get dicked down in the end.” A quiet sob tumbles out of you and your cheeks tingle with hurt, like you’ve been backhanded once, then twice.

“It’s n-not like that,” you finally manage to say, gasping through choked noises as he creeps closer, cloaking you in shadow. He stares vacantly from his vantage point, as if looking at an ant on the tiles.

“Then why don’t you walk away for real?” 

And that’s exactly what you should be doing right now, cornered by a large man in his dark, dingy room, but by the time you think to stand up he’s grabbing you by the wrists. He sends you barreling into the desk, spinning you around so your hands clutch the edge, chest pressing up against the surface. He pins an arm behind you with ease, kicking your legs wide open, and you flail the other in no particular direction.

“You secretly enjoy all of it, don’t you? You secretly get off on the idea of being raped by your boyfriend.” He sneers as you buckle underneath him, grazing his growing erection. “All worked up over a little dry humping? Get over yourself already. You females want to be hurt so bad.”

“Fuck you,” you manage between muffled sobs, chest feeling as if it’s about to break in half. “You’re j-just like Gojo.”

“Just like Gojo?” Geto echoes, free hand coming to snake between your thighs, voice catching as he speaks. “You’re sorely mistaken.”

You fall limp as he draws a single finger under your panties, tracing your hipbone as he muses. He imagines their contents, imagines how easy it would be to take you by force, sighing aloud at the prospect of doing it without.

“I can never be him.”

fishstyx © 2021 ✸ all content and their rights belong to me. do not repost, reproduce, or modify anywhere.

[erratic-brainrot]

I’ve been seeing a lot of posts regarding how Cartman’s “fate” in the Return of Covid was Kyle’s fault or fan content refering how Kyle “deserved” that fate more than Cartman. Acting as if Kyle is some awful person…

And all I can really think is: Wow… Cartman manipulative tricks worked on you.

Cartman has successfully made you think Kyle was a bad person, despite abundance of the contrary. Regardless of what way you judge the ethics of these characters… Kyle is objectively the better “person”.

This isn’t a statement about enjoyment. Cartman is made to be a fun and entertaining character— and there are many reasons people may not like kyle. Who you prefer for your entertainment is completely valid and relevant to the argument(?) I’m placing before you.

Kyle has constantly been shown to be a good kid— even within his little bastard early seasons days. He only improved in time and actively worked on his behaviours and morals… while Cartman did the opposite (tbh i really do pity early season Cartman). Cartman became such a genuine abuser, to a multitude of people in his life. And Kyle simply— isn’t an abuser. He can be toxic, but in the same or arguably less than Stan— where he can be mean, hypocritical, he is insistent on what he thinks is right even if it may not be. I want to be clear about that, he isn’t perfect. But he isn’t an abusive person, he tries to better himself, to understand people more and help if he can— not perfectly, but he does, even if it disserves him. While Cartman constantly works his angle to get whatever will benefit him. Even good future Cartman was shown to actively lie, implied to distort reality to Yentl about Kyle and himself, manipulate people with knowing intent, none of which was just self defence. For fuck sakes he was planning on killing kyle to “persevere” his family when destruction of the machine probably would’ve been enough.

This is a rant I can go on for hours, but the point of the matter… is that I get people being sympathetical to Cartman “new future”, but saying Kyle deserves it or it was his fault? Especially when Cartman consensually made a gamble with the others, none knowing what the new future would bring—- not even Kenny, the creator of the machine.

To think Kyle is evil, or “out to get cartman”, or that he's manipulative… is Cartman rhetoric.

There was more I wanted to express like how Kyle being “aggressive” and “blunt” can make him appear like a bad guy despite literally doing nothing wrong in cases— which is true to life— but this post is long enough as it is.

So yeah…

[angstyantoinette]

Yandere!Howl Jenkins Pendragon x Reader Headcanons

Warnings: Slight NSFW [mention], kidnapping, manipulation, toxic relationships. 

We all know that Howl is very much a ladies man; he knows exactly how to pull women in, and captivate them so that they fall in love with him easily. 

For Howl, it’s all a game. He catches the eye of a girl, no interest on his part of course. She just happens to be in his line of the game. He knows what to say, how to present himself to perfectly fluster and simultaneously intimidate every other person there. He doesn’t venture outside the castle often, and when he does, there’s an air of fear; there’s such awe left in his wake. 

And he loves it. This drama queen feeds off it.

But we also know that Howl is a runner. He cannot commit to anything, hating the restricting nature of feeling tied down. I mean, he abandoned his apprenticeship. With this in mind, Howl makes the most unlikely yandere. But he actually is highly dangerous, although he doesn’t really look like it.

He’s afraid of himself in a way. He understands that he is quite powerful, and after practically going rogue, Howl gets his kicks with spontaneity, with the complete unexpected in life. 

When he meets you, he expects you to give him all your attention, like everyone else. But you brushed past him, looking at his fancy clothes, his blonde hair, sapphire eyes, green jewels swinging from his ears, and the beautiful pendant around his neck. He was picturing it now in his mind, getting ready for the look of adoration, the tense of muscles, the scarlet blush upon your cheeks.

But you looked away. You gathered your belongings, perhaps stowing them away in your satchel, and you just looked away.

What?

Is that it?

You weren’t even interested in him. Howl was still so stunned he had nothing to say, no suave and seductive voice to tempt you into his charms. He was in awe of you; you looked at him with such indifference it made his head hurt. Not with heartache or pain or anything like that. But he could not deny that he wasn’t curious.

Well, of course, not only does this not sit too well with Howl, he is very much a delusional person in this kind of state. However, he is incredibly smart and calculating and he balances these two personalities scarily very well. 

Like I said before, Howl is a very dangerous yandere, and he thrives on his blantant misinterpretation of a mere womanizer to scamper away, unsuspected, unscathed, and free to do what he likes.

Howl doesn’t really hold on to grudges that much, or anything; when he loses interest, he tosses things away. Not all though. 

You, you, YOU. 

Why won’t you leave his weary mind after days of being apart? Why is his  conciousness telling him to look for you, and not relent until he’s succeeded in doing so? Despite all the signs, all of the telltale signs that shows he’s just a little too invested in you, he writes it off as his bad habits resurfacing to play another game. 

And, of course, Howl Jenkins shall oblige!

Howl is a patient man, make no mistake. He finds it enjoyable to watch things go down for a while; no matter how trivial, poking fun in plain sight at innocent civilians never gets old. 

When he finally gives in to trying to find you and play with you for a little while, Howl pushes aside all distractions to do so. That means traveling through counties and villages, towns and cities until he’s found you again.

Howl is desperate for love and affection that isn’t because of his looks. He really wants someone to love him, not the image he puts across, not just above the surface with his tantalizing blue eyes that pull you in and trap you. 

You saw through that. You barely gave him a second glance and while it peaked his interest initially, it annoyed him for days on end. Usually being teasing and indifferent to Calcifer’s complaining, he found himself snapping and getting easily annoyed. Markl began to subtly keep his distance on bad days. 

Now, though, he’s become delusional. In Howl’s mind, you are to blame for his interest, for his inability to keep his mind off of you. You are the sole reason for his burgeoning obsession that seems to be running the show. He tells himself that when he finds you, it’ll leave. This painful, utterly agonising sensation of having you in his grasp, playing his game will go far away. He’ll seduce you, definitely, take you to bed and have a good time and his obsession and all-consuming desire to play the game, just you and him will just...go. Poof.

Except when Howl does find you, he doesn’t feel like letting go of you. 

Ever. 

And while this does take him by surprise, it all starts to make sense for him. 

Because looking at you now, bundled up in his arms, crying in anger and confusion, he sees in the stars that this was meant to be. 

He waits until he’s sure you’re asleep [more like passed out from exhaustion-] to really, really get a good look at you. He notices for the first time your cheeks and how they’re squished against his pillows and wrapped up in his sheets so perfectly, it’s like you’ve been here many times before. He notes how relaxed your closed eyes seem to be, no furrowed brow or scrunched tight eyelids; just complete and utter serenity. 

You’re just so perfect. Could you be a god, some kind of deity perhaps?

He’s in love for the first time in a long time. He may have let it slip by then, selfish and uncaring, but now?

Oh no, Darling, you don’t stand a chance. Howl will do anything to keep you hidden from those bastards’ eyes  protect you, to love you and most of all, make you see that he’s the one for you.

 Always.

You sat in the boiling water filling the bathtub, limp and tired, unresponsive as Howl bustled around you, his task completely focused on getting you ready for bed. Once upon a time, you would have refused to call him by name; instead you settled for ‘bastard’, ‘prick’, and ‘I hate you’. 

You even tried to sleepily mutter these things under your breath, not caring now that you were being lifted out of the bath, and dressed in a white gown. You cared even less when feeling your mind slip away into a soft sleep, curling into your body with comfort, clinging onto Howl’s pillows.

However, in front of his ‘housemates’ [ you could only guess what a talking fireplace could have to do with his wacky moving castle ], you were frightened. Howl didn’t even have to say a word; he had you smiling and  acting somewhat normally in front of ‘Calcifer’ and the little boy, Markl, you thought his name was. 

But you could always feel the sliver of magic take a hold of your wrists from behind, a little voice telling you that staying here was for your best interest, what more could you want? It promised you eternal love, devotion and affection, coated with a sickly sweetness only Howl could pull off. 

All in all, you stopped resisting after a while. Howl was annoyingly patient it seemed, and it frustrated you to feel as though you were a child all over again. He smothered you, insisting on doing the most trivial of things for you, never snapping back at you, never doing anything to remotely answer back at you in the same manner whenever you resisted his help.

It didn’t click until you had cursed at him mercilessly, screeching and crying, pulling at your combed hair, that by acting like this; he looked better than you. He looked above you. Compared to your tantrums, Howl looked calm and collected and completely willing to help you in any way possible. 

But why was he doing all of this? 

Why did you wake up in his bed, with his lanky arms draped all over you as if you were lovers? Why was he spoiling you, letting you wear his clothes, feeding you? What was he trying to convince you of? 

“Darling, I have some new nightclothes for you. Do you want me to help you into them?” He was slower, more gentle tonight as he strolled around his room. He was delberate though, not forceful exactly, but it was more of an atmospherical warning. You could just tell; if little Y/N tried anything, something would happen. 

Some kind of spell, or perhaps even a curse to teach you a lesson.

Ah, there it was. Another gift. 

Did he think you’d simply tolerate him because of his lavish, his blatantly excessive gift-giving?

Why did he look at you with such sickening adoration on his flawless features? 

At last, his bustling seemed to cease and he took a longing glace back at you. He probably only meant it to last a few seconds but the longer he gazed, it just became a cold and glassy stare. 

You knew the feeling of ‘zoning out’ well, but his eyes became darker and darker. Some kind of shadow must have passed over him or something, because he snapped out of his eerie trance and threw himself onto the bed. 

You yelped in surprise, pulling your hands to your sides, hastily spreading them out on the soft quilt like spiders, your legs pushing your body back ever so slightly, eyes wide. 

Howl chuckled, but it was filled with a sinister undertone that you weren’t used to at all. He snapped his head to the right, his hands already unraveling a silk-encased package. 

“I saw these while in the town today and couldn’t help myself.” 

Pulling out the brand new nightclothes, you unwillingly let out a pleased gasp. It was a set of matching pyjamas. They were satin, smooth to the touch and a beautiful shade of emerald, not too bright at all, but not dark either. 

Sometimes, you enjoyed this sort of treatment from Howl, albeit, very guiltily. He was always polite, courteous and kind, willing to help you with anything, but you also couldn’t help but feel a sense of horror, lingering long after you fell asleep. As if it were some kind of parasite. You just couldn’t for the life of you place your finger on it. 

You had learned to never keep him waiting for anything; he was a busy man and as much as he liked to have free reign of his work, he liked to be organised too.

This time you had apparently spent too long admiring your gift rather than answering him.

“Isn’t it lovely, Y/N? I thought it would suit you divinely.”

“Y-yes, it’s beautiful, thanks so much H-Howl.” 

Not wasting any more time, he sat up from his previous position on the bed, and somehow managed to gracefully snatch the nightclothes away from your trembling hands, and shooting you a look as if to say, well, take your clothes off. That was the less sinister version. Howl’s eyes took on a new darkness that growled, or I’ll do it myself. 

Your hands flew to your neckline, undoing the small ribbon that held the soft cotton on you, and allowed Howl to thread his fingers through the material, travelling towards the bottom of the garment and pulling it over your head whilst you lifted your arms, feeling the comfort of the soft sleeves peel off your arms. 

The blush on your face was unmistakeable. It was another embarassment being bathed by him, but this? Stripping you out of your clothes? It didn’t help that he was aware of your inner battle, and having an annoying, but otherwise barely noticeable smile on his face. 

His hand reached over with the satin nightclothes, urging you to take them. You did, carefully so, slipping them on against your flushed body, his cerulean orbs watching intensely. 

As if he didn’t want the image to go away. 

When you had finished dressing yourself, you stood up and  tentatively walked to the mirror, even slightly stumbling on your feet, and gasped in pleased surprise. You looked...beautiful in the nightclothes. The satin felt so smooth on your skin, and the emerald shade brought out your e/c eyes nicely. 

A few moments later though, you gasped for a whole different reason. Howl slipped his hands around the front of your torso, letting them wander further and further down, reaching your thighs with a renewed urgency, pressing you back against his body.

“I didn’t hear a ‘thank you’, darling.” His tone was teasing, but you could detect a hint of anger, annoyance was it? As quickly as the shadows came they departed, leaving you at the mercy of the wizard Howl. 

“No matter,” he rasped against the nape of your neck, placing soft, heated kisses against your skin,”You can say thank you, whilst begging on your knees.”

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

sorry about that ending, it just needed to come to an end before i drove myself mad with the procrastination :)

but what did you think of it?? there really isn’t enough Howl’s Moving Castle fics, let alone yandere ones, but i like how it came out. 

to the person who requested this, Howl, is 100000% the gentle dom we ALL NEED OKAY

[ultralovedeluxe]

Yan! Josuke with prompts #19, #44, and #29

Hello everyone! This was requested by @mochimizuki121 , thank you for requesting! Feared that it came out ooc, that’s why it took so long. Not proud of this one, but I hope you enjoy it! 

‘Please don’t cry, show me that smile I love so much!’

‘Did you really think you could escape?’

‘Stop denying our love! Stop denying our future together!’

Warnings: 18 year old Josuke, female reader, yandere behaviors, assault, manipulation, break-up, angst (?), some Okuyasu x reader, ooc, light nsfw, non/dub con, blackmail

  A word to describe Higashikata Josuke would be, emotional. Yes, that’s the perfect way to describe him. He lets his feelings take over in situations, but most importantly, his feelings towards you were getting in the way of his friendship. But he won’t ever admit that

 Yes..emotional was a perfect word to describe Higashikata Josuke..

-

  Here he was again, listening to Okuyasu’s ramblings. Usually Josuke wouldn’t mind listening to his friend, after all it was a delight to hear his friend speak. If only his friend wasn’t talking about how cute you looked when you slept, or what noise you made when he would poke your cheek. It was painful to just keep smiling, seeing your best friend with the girl of his dreams together. Josuke wanted to be happy for his friend, but his jealously kept making it harder for him to just pretend everything’s fine. 

  He couldn’t understand how his friend could mange to get a catch like that. What did Okuyasu have that he didn’t? Wait, he can’t be thinking of something like that, he has to be happy for his friend..

 “You should’ve seen her Josuke! She looked so cute when she came over! She was wearing that necklace I bought her along with a cute skirt, ah she looked amazing! I’m so lucky to have her” Okuyasu said letting out a dreamy sigh, as he continued to walk back home. The poor bastard was too in love to even notice Josuke’s burning rage. Josuke tried not to grit his teeth to what he was hearing, but ended up doing it anyway. Josuke let out a low chuckle, “Wow Okuyasu..that’s sounds great..wish I could’ve seen it too...” he mumbled. “What did you say Josuke?-” Okuyasu asked, looking back towards his pompadour-haired friend who was falling behind. “Nothing” Josuke said a little bit more louder and more clear this time.

 A few more minutes into the walk, Okuyasu kept babbling about you, Josuke was really about to lose his cool; but he didn’t want to hurt his friend. After all he’s supposed to be happy for him. “So as I was saying, I’m thinking of getting her a necklace with those initials-”

“Okuyasu, have you ever imagined [first] with somebody else?” Josuke asked in the friendliest manner possible. Okuyasu looked at Josuke with confusion, “No, why do you ask that?” Josuke shrugged and threw his school bag over his shoulder, “Just curious man, you know [first] is a really cute gal, don’t you wonder how she’d look with somebody else?” Okuyasu shook his head, “No I never thought about it that way..But now that you mention it, she is kind of better than me right?” Okuyasu asked scratching the back of his head lightly. “I don’t know man, well I gotta get home, see ya tomorrow then Okuyasu”

 “Right see ya tomorrow..”

 Unfortunately for Okuyasu, Josuke knew what he was doing.

-

 Today seemed perfect for you. You had woken up extra early just to prepare lunch for Okuyasu. You weren’t an expert on preparing Italian cuisine, but a few tips from Tonio helped you get the hang of it a bit. Either way, Okuyasu is going to eat it since he never brings lunch from home. Feeling satisfied with what you prepared for your boyfriend, you decide it’s time to finally head to school. 

 You didn’t live far from the school, so it was easy to get there in time. You sat near one of the open benches and sat the lunch you prepared earlier this morning. Usually you’d would start working on your homework before class began, but thankfully you’d done it last night; so now all you had to do for the remainder of your free period was wait for Okuyasu. 

  Minutes passed by and you finally saw Okuyasu walk up to campus. The wait was finally over, you ran up to Okuyasu and hugged him tight. “Good morning Oku! How’s Mansaku-san? Oh! Here’s your lunch for today, I stopped by Tonio’s to prepare that Italian dish you liked so much, I know it’s not good as his but-” Okuyasu cut you off, “[first] could we talk real quick?” he asked walking over to sit by a bench nearby. Confused, you follow after him and sit down beside him, “Alright, what is it you want to talk about?”. Okuyasu bit his lip slightly, although it looked as if he was holding back tears, “[first]-chan, you are one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met, but I’m not sure I deserve you as my girlfriend” he said rubbing the back of his neck. You chuckled nervously, “Oku, what are you saying? You know I love you so much-” Cutting you off again, Okuyasu wiped a forming tear from his eye, “I know you love me, and I love you too..but I’m not sure about us. You deserve someone better, I’m sorry [first]-chan, but I want to break up..” and with that Okuyasu got up from the bench and walked away. Leaving you alone with the Italian cuisine in your hands and a broken heart. 

-

  You ate spaghetti that you had eagerly prepared earlier this morning just for your precious..exboyfriend with tears running down your cheeks. Not even after hours of sitting in class thinking about your ex, you still didn’t understand why he broke up with you. You wanted to understand why he did it, but you still couldn’t. Seriously? After all you’ve done for him. You thought your relationship with the male would last, but you guess not. You wiped the tears from your face, the sweater you wore was damp from how much you were wiping your tears. You just couldn’t stop crying, the break up really hurt. Thank god no one else knew of this place in school, you couldn’t even imagine what you’d do if someone saw you like this.

  “[first]-chan is that you!?” you heard a familiar voice call out to you. When you turned around to see who it was, you were met with the pompadour-haired male running down the hill to meet you. “Josuke? What are you doing here?” you asked before frantically wiping the tears from your face. Josuke sat down next to you, “I didn’t see you go through your usual road to lunch, so I went to go look for you..” he said before looking at you more seriously, “[first]-chan, were you crying?” he asked with a concerned tone in his voice. You sniffled “I wasn’t crying, its just allergies..”

 “Bullshit! You’re eyes are red and puffy! Did someone hurt you, tell me their name and I swear I’ll make them pay!” you shook your head and managed to calm Josuke down. “No Josuke it’s not like that, it’s just..Okuyasu broke up with me that’s all..” you couldn’t manage to finish the rest of your sentence before you broke down crying. Josuke gave you a warm embrace, “Shh, it’s okay, I’m here..”  He felt your tears go through his yellow shirt as you kept on sobbing. Josuke let you go and held your face up, “Let it all out [first]-chan” When he saw that you kept sniffling, he sighed and gave you a quick kiss on the forehead, “Please don’t cry [first]-chan, it hurts me so much to see you like this, ah cmon show me that smile I love so much!”. Once Josuke let go of your face, you rubbed your nose and smiled a bit before softly whispering a ‘thanks’. In truth, you still didn’t feel better, but you appreciate that Josuke is trying to at least make you feel something else other than misery.  It was the thought that counted right?

  Meanwhile, Josuke couldn’t be happier. Sure, it hurt to see you cry, but the important thing was is that you were single. And now that he comforted you in a time of crisis, he was sure now that it wouldn’t be long that you would start to feel the same way. 

-

You still felt awful after your breakup with Okuyasu, its been hard especially when hanging out with your friend group. You and Okuyasu still speak to one another, but it’s just not the same. Speaking of which, you’ve been talking to Josuke a lot more lately. Ever since he had helped you get somewhat over your relationship with Okuyasu, he has been glued to your hip. He walks you to class, and always accompanies you for lunch (or anywhere really). You have to admit though, it was annoying at first having Josuke follow you around like a lost puppy, but you soon got used to it. After all, all Josuke wanted to do was help you. You thought it was sweet that Josuke wanted to help you, but that still didn’t explain why he was acting..let’s say odd. 

 Holding you by your hand as you walked by the halls, never inviting the others to hang out during the weekends (and here you thought Okuyasu was his best friend). It was almost as if he always had time for you.

 Oh but that’s just a silly thought. Maybe you were the weird one for thinking that Josuke was acting strange. He’s just being a good friend, that’s all. 

 Josuke is just a really good friend.

-

 The sun was shining bright in Morioh-cho, everything seemed so lively today. Everything from tourists popping out every now and then, to the squeals of teenage boys raging about the latest chapter in Pink Dark Boy. Today seemed like the perfect day for Josuke to finally get something off his chest. He had planned everything out for today. He had invited you over to Tonio’s to hang out for the day, and you had agreed. He had bought you some flowers to give you by the end of the day, he had even asked Rohan to draw something you might like (which the mangaka had reluctantly agreed to). 

 Josuke was prepared, he was oh so sure you were going to say yes. Of course you’re going to be his girlfriend! Why wouldn’t you be? He had hanged out you for the last couple of months, he had given you the right amount of attention you’d ever need. Everything was going according to plan.

.

.

.

“No, I’m sorry Josuke, but it’s a no”

 Josuke couldn't’ believe the words that had just left your lips. No? After all he had done for you, your answer is no? This couldn’t be happening. 

 Josuke shook his head, and quickly rubbed his eyes with his sleeve (trying to hide the fact that he was about to shed a tear). “But why? Am I not enough for you? Is there someone else you like?-” the pompadour haired male asked, trying his best to not let his voice crack. You smiled and shook your head while caressing his cheek with your hand, “Josuke..in all honesty I only see you as a friend, nothing more” you let go of his cheek and sit down on a small gray bench that was near. “Josuke, you are really one of the best friends I could ever ask for, but I just don’t see myself dating you, and besides..” you took and deep breath “Despite all that happened, I’m still in love with Oku, and I don't know maybe I'm just not ready for a relationship at the moment, y'know? But we can still be friends right?" you said, blushing lightly at the thought of your ex boyfriend. You'd expect that Josuke would've taken the rejection lightly, after all you were kind enough to still remain friends with the male.

   Josuke however, did not take the news lightly as you thought he would. Almost immediately, Josuke had grabbed you by your hands and pulled you close to him.  "Why do you still love Okuyasu after he broke your heart!? Why don't you love me, I've done nothing but give you adoration!". You looked at your friend in extreme fear, you didn't know what to do in this situation. "Josuke let me go you're hurting me! If you don't stop I'll-" you stuttered your words out. Josuke was just looking at you with a menacing glare, "Or what? You'll call Okuyasu? Stop thinking about him already! Just date me please, I loved you for so long! Longer than he has" You shook your head, you were starting to get fed up with his behavior, did he not understand what 'no' meant? "I said no Josuke! I don't want to date you! And if you think I will after this you're fucking stupid-!"

    Before you knew it Josuke had slapped you, but due to his strength, the slap didn't feel like a slap at all. "I'm sorry [first]-chan but now you see what happens when you don't just agree with me. You need to stop denying our love! You know you love me, so please stop denying our future together!". You couldn’t believe the words that were coming from Josuke’s mouth. Were these obsessed, disgusting words truly coming from Josuke? Sweet, and caring Josuke. While you were lost in your thoughts, Josuke took this opportunity to grab you and hold you close to his chest. “I’m sorry for hurting you [first]-chan, but what you said really hurt me so I-” he stopped for a second and leaned his head closer to yours just to take a small sniff of your hair. You just smelled so good, he had to do it.  You smelled like the coconut shampoo you had bought recently. And your perfume was different this time too. He knew he could overpower you at any time, so he took his chance and caressed your breasts softly with his hands. Along with this, he rubbed against your backside and groaned into your ear. He imagined it was him thrusting inside you. He imagines how warm you must feel. Or how cute you’d look when you were on the verge of climax.

  Him grinding against you and touching you was the last straw, you knew you had to get away from him. You turned around and looked at Josuke with both disgust and fear, and then you ran. You didn't want to be in his presence any longer. Here you thought that Josuke was a good friend trying to help you in a time you needed the most. But he’s just some asshole who needed to learn when a woman says no is no. How upsetting, you only wished that the incident didn’t exist.

  But for Josuke, those few moments felt almost heavenly. Grinding against you felt so good, he wanted more, but you just had to get away didn’t you? He watched you run off to who knows where. He knew he’d get you eventually, he just had to be patient. But his patience wouldn’t last long.

-

 For at least three weeks you have completely avoided Josuke and your friend group. You ignored all their calls, because the farther you were from Josuke, the safer you felt. You wanted to forget that day you hung out with Josuke. You wished you just never went to that damn Italian restaurant. Maybe then he would never have confessed his ‘love’ for you (that is more obsession than love in your book). Maybe then none of this would have happend. But alas here we are. 

 The telephone rang and you overheard your mother speak with what sounded like Yukako. “[first], dear it’s for you! It’s your friend Yukako!” your mother shouted. You held the phone and answered. “[first]-chan where have you been? Are you okay? We’ve been worried. You didn’t come across a stand user have you?” Yukako asked concerned. You lied, “No, I haven’t, trust me even if I did I wouldn’t notice. I’m fine I’ve just been..stressed, that’s all..” you lied, you didn’t want anyone to know about your situation with Josuke. “Well that’s good. So I was wondering if you wanted to hang out with me and Koichi-kun today. We were thinking of going to the beach just for the weekend”. 

 At first you were hesitant, you didn’t want to see Josuke, but you did want to see your friends since you missed them. And if it was just Yukako, Koichi, and potentially Okuyasu, then you were down to go. You sighed and agreed. It wouldn’t hurt to see your friends once more, and to be honest you were excited.

-

 Yukako planned on picking you up and then walking to the beach, which you had agreed on. However, when she went to pick you up, she had brought some company. She brought Koichi (of course), Okuyasu, and to your horror, Josuke. Not once did Yukako mention that she was bringing Josuke along. Throughout the whole car ride you felt uncomfortable. You felt Josuke’s eyes watching your every move. It didn’t help that everyone else was having fun, while you were paranoid.

 Arriving at the beach, things got worse. Josuke was behind you at all times, and really if people weren’t around you would have yelled at him to leave you alone. Unfortunately you couldn’t do that. Not with Okuyasu and the rest of your friends here at least.

 You excused yourself to the bathroom just to get away from Josuke, and you could say that those three minutes you spent alone in the bathroom, were the best minutes you had in your life up until this point. You then heard the doorknob jiggle, so you walked over to it and unlocked it. “Yukako is that you? I’m almost done let me just-” you gasped at the sight, but before you could react, Josuke had covered your mouth and locked you both in the bathroom. 

 You whimpered and tried to scream but it was no use, Josuke was using Crazy Diamond to close your mouth. You heard Josuke chuckle, “You know its really cute when you think you can run away from your future boyfriend [first]-chan. Did you really think you could escape me?” he said. You felt as if he was mocking you. Things escalated from bad to worse as Josuke began to kiss your neck. Kisses went from heated bites on your neck, then sloppy, inexperienced kisses from Josuke. He had your breasts exposed, since he ripped your top immediately. You tried to remain emotionless throughout this whole session, but Josuke noticed, so he pinched your nipple to get a reaction. And a reaction he got as you released a muffled moan from your covered lips. “Please stop..” you whimpered.

 You heard Okuyasu shout from outside, “Hey [first]-chan! Are you good in there?”. You wanted to cry for help, but Josuke bent you over and slapped your ass, “Go ahead doll, tell him you’re okay..” he whispered. Crazy Diamond lowered it’s hand from your mouth to let you speak. Josuke raised your head up, “And remember, if you yell for help, I’ll open this door right now and show Okuyasu how much of a whore you look-”

 “I-i’m okay! Just a bit dizzy! I’ll be out soon!” you told him, you didn’t want Okuyasu to see you like this. “Okay! Just call me if you need anything” and with that you didn’t hear from the husky voiced male anymore, but you heard Josuke whisper in your ear,

  “That’s my good girl...”

[drakenology]

I Hate Everything About You - Dabi

warnings: ANGST, smut, daddy kink, mentions of rape,violence, AND swearing (cause im a potty mouth)

author’s note: this lil story is inspired by my favorite song I Hate Everything About You by Three Days Grace. im a lil emo bitch ok? I recommend listening to the song to get a better perspective of how the emotions of the lyrics and the story goes hand in hand. the chorus goes like “I hate everything about you. why do i love you?” and I immediately thought of something angsty and raw to write. hope yall enjoy! this one might be a little long.

summary: You and Dabi have worked together as villians for as long as you can remember but you two don’t get along at all. is this truly hatred or is this repressed feelings coming to surface?

You hated heroism. You viewed it as weak and meaningless. When both of your parents were murdered by an anonymous killer and no one came to their rescue when they could very well have been saved, something dark took over your spirit. You snapped. At the tender age of 17, your parents did not receive justice for the act of violence committed against them. The police told you there “wasn’t enough evidence” and that the killer had most likely killed himself.

There were simply too many holes in the case for it to be solved. Obviously this infuriated you. So much in fact that you planned to blow up the entire police precinct.

And you did.

Now being on the run at only 17 you fell into a life of crime, committing yourself to being a villain who killed police officers off duty earning yourself the villain name “Cop Killer” from the authorities. Not to mention your very dangerous quirk called “Leech”. You were able drain anyone you gazed at of their blood, the gaze having to be completely focused on the person’s eyes. Once concentrated enough it becomes hard for the person to look away from you. To trigger your quirk, you have to say the word “leech” in order to essentially stop the flow of someone’s blood to their heart; their blood being extracted from their veins to yours. The blood only made your quirk stronger as you can now manipulate it and use it in combat. You had enough control to where you could take a little or take it all. The stolen blood was also good for increasing your stamina and speed for a short period, manifesting a weapon with the blood you stole and of course leeching the person of their blood entirely, instantly killing them. The murders you committed granted you the number one spot of Japan’s wanted list. You were also the youngest assasin in Japan at the time so you had to move around a lot. You spent your teenage years living in abandoned buildings and sketchy motels; robbing, stealing and of course murdering for survival.

The day you met the League of Villains was your 23rd birthday. As a treat to yourself, you had cornered one of the dirtiest cops you had ever encountered. He was a known sex trafficker, a thief as well as a disgusting rapist. You had him right where you wanted him; wearing a disguise to hide your true visage in order to avoid being recognized. You had pretended to be a love interest to the cop, sitting in the seedy hotel room he rented to have a little “privacy” with you.

“Oh baby, you don’t know what you do to me. I wanna see that pretty little mouth of yours around my cock. Get on your knees for me.” The police man said, the sleazy bastard unbuckling his belt. You nod, secretly being disgusted by this man. But you had to keep your cool. You got down on your knees and took his hard cock into your hands and pumped, looking him directly in the eyes as you did so.

“Yeah, baby. You’re so hot.” He groaned, keeping his eyes locked on yours almost instinctively as sweat collected on his brow.

“Thanks.. but your time’s up, you sick fuck.” you say, standing up on your feet. You straddle him, watching the cop’s eyes become terrified as he finally realizes who you really are.

“Leech.” You say as you watched your quirk take effect. The reaction was instant as he starts to gasp and grab at his heart, clinging onto his last minutes of life as he died on the hotel bed. You moan as his blood is transferred into yours, creating a dagger out of his blood. You slice his neck, licking whatever was left off of his cold throat. You laugh, searching his dead body to take whatever he had on his person; money, personal possessions and his gun. Just as you’re about to get up and leave you get the feeling that you aren’t alone. You turn and see none other than the villain you had seen all over local news.

Shigaraki. 

He chuckles dryly, admiring your work at killing the cop underneath you.

“Well done, little girl.” He said, peering over your shoulder to get a good look at the mess you made of him. You go to ask how the hell he got into the room until you hear the sound of police sirens blaring outside. 

“We have the entire hotel surrounded. There are Heros on the way to assist us. Surrender now or face the consequences.” You hear the cops say on a megaphone.

“Shit.” You mumble, quickly grabbing your things; planning your escape in your head.

“Listen, I’ve admired your work since your attack on that police station, Cop Killer.” Shigaraki said. “We could use someone like you in the League of Villains. My friend Kurogiri here can get us both out of here in one piece. But only with your consent of course.”

You think for a moment. You’d rather make a smooth escape than risk being arrested. So you agree. 

“We’ll explain everything once we get back to base.” Kurogiri says, morphing himself through the cracks of the door. 

Kurogiri takes both you and Shigaraki and consumed you both into his portals, leading you to the secret hide-out of the League of Villains. You look around, your vision a little hazy from being in the dark portal. You see a few other people standing in the lobby. A guy with a weird mask on with two sides on it eagerly introduced himself as Twice. You see a cute girl that looked a little young to be in a place like this. 

“Toga Himiko. Nice to meet ya. Hey, you’re way prettier in person. The police drawing of you is really unflattering.” She says, waving at you. You smile meekly as you turn away to see this guy standing at the corner of the bar. He had burn scars all over his face and neck, dark hair and the most mysterious eyes you’ve ever seen. You met his gaze when you noticed him staring at you, sizing you up. You found his stare threatening and kind of alluring. You almost couldn’t look away. 

“Don’t stare at me for too long, Cop Killer. I know what those eyes can do.” He said sarcastically, not even caring to introduce himself. He felt familiar, like you’ve known him for a long time. You rolled your eyes and walked over to Shigaraki. 

“Look, if you think just because you got me out of a tight spot that I’m just gonna beg to work for you, you’re wrong. I work alone.” You said, adjusting the top of your outfit. 

“I know. But today that changes. You see, we’ve been watching you, Cop Kill-” He says, interrupted by your loud groan.

“My name is Y/N. Please just call me by my name. My mother didn’t name me Cop Killer.” You demand, folding your arms in protest. 

“But that’s what you are, Y/N. Don’t be ashamed.” Shigaraki says, inching closer to you. “Look, the services of the League of Villains aren’t free. We helped you. Now you help us. You understand don’t you, Y/N?” 

You sigh, wishing you had just leapt out of a nearby window back at the hotel instead of taking help from this creep. 

“Fine.” You say, looking down at your shoes. 

“Wonderful.” Shigaraki says, walking away from you. “Oh and one more thing. I hate back talkers.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few months pass and you’re well acquainted with all the villains of the organization. You were all usually partnered up for missions; you always alternating between Toga and Dabi, who had finally told you his “name”. You grew to be pestered by Dabi. You’d much rather be paired up with Toga than Dabi any day since you and Dabi just could not get along, you both arguing like an old married couple at every mission. You couldn’t stand him. His cockiness, his elitist attitude, his aloofness. He hated you because of your attitude, you thinking you knew better than everyone else. He thought you were a spoiled brat who hasn’t done anything remarkable to even earn a spot in the League. To you, he was everything you despised about some men. 

One night you were all playing a friendly game of Blackjack; which seemed to be a ritual between the members. Shigaraki didn’t bother playing but Kurogiri always seemed to watch. 

“Ugh.. Fold. What do I have to do to get a decent fucking hand, huh?” Twice said, his two voices seeming to contrast in differing personality. You laugh, slamming down a perfect hand worth 21. 

“I stand, bitches.” You say, winning yet another round. 

“I’m bored.” Dabi says, standing up and leaving the table. 

“Oh don’t be like that, Dabi. Come back!” Toga says, throwing her cards down. She sighs and stands up from the table. “Well, I guess that’s it. I’m goin to bed. Nighty night, Y/N. Twice.” Everyone went their separate ways. You walk into your room and change into something more comfortable and walk outside to get some air. To your dismay, Dabi was already standing outside in the same spot you liked to chill and think. 

“Yo.” He says, referring to you. You roll your eyes and walk over to him. 

“What?” You say, annoyed to the point where you just want to turn around and go back inside. 

“Aw, what’s wrong, Cop Killer? Don’t like me?” He asks, inching closer to you to whisper in your ear. You stand still for a moment and lunge at him, grabbing his throat and pushing him against the wall. 

“Stop fucking testing me.” You say sternly, looking him deeply in the eyes with the intention to kill. 

“Careful, little girl. You might just turn me on.” He says, grabbing your arm and pushing you back. You freeze, stunned at the sudden harsh movement from the tall man in front of you. ”You’re 5′4′’, sweetheart. If I wanted to, I could end you without even using my quirk. You ‘oughta be nicer to me.” 

You get angrier by the second, yelling and screaming about how much you hate him all while trying to take jabs at him, throwing punches at his face. Dabi dodges every swing, smirking at your abilities. He was impressed, but he’d never tell you that. 

“Huh. Keep it up and you might actually hit me.” He teased, swinging back at you, landing right on your jaw. You stumble and collect yourself, charging towards him once more. You were certain you’d hit him, the blood from someone you’ve killed earlier that day increasing your speed. 

“Fuck you.” You hiss, taking another swing at him and connect, landing right on his cheek. He smirks, wiping blood from his mouth. You get cocky and go for another punch only for him to dodge you. He grabbed your arm and twisted it, pinning you against the brick wall in front of him with your back facing him. 

“When?” He asked in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You hated that he could so easily overpower you, making you despise him even more. He releases you from his grip and stands close to you; you feeling the warmth of his skin radiating from his body. 

“Listen. You hate me and quite frankly I can’t stand you either. But you don’t see me attacking you. Try it again and I won’t be so nice next time, little girl.” Dabi said, grabbing your face to daringly look into your poisonous eyes to mock your quirk. You focus, ready to end this asshole. Suddenly his lips crash into yours. At first, you’re disgusted and fucking pissed. But then you feel yourself start involuntarily melting into his kiss. So you kiss him back with no shame, all bitter feelings leaving your mind as the kiss gets more intense. You feel his hands groping and caressing your body, his hands exploring to stop at your neck; wrapping it around. You gasp, feeling yourself get hot. 

“The first time I saw you, I thought you were the hottest girl I’ve ever seen. And then you spoke. And I couldn’t stand you. But I couldn’t shake this feeling of wanting to bend you over and punish you for your slick mouth. You need a good hard dicking to keep your mouth shut and I’m the one to give it to you. That’s what you want too, isn’t it?” He asked, starting to kiss your neck harshly. You moan, embarrassed at his words. He was right. You found him attractive as soon as you saw him but his attitude rubbed you the wrong way. But right here and now, you realize that you might have been hiding your true feelings behind a façade of hatred. You wanted him too and you couldn’t stand it. 

“I’m talking to you, Y/N.” He persists, biting into your neck. You mewl, shocked at how good he was making you feel. You almost couldn’t believe you were in this situation. It was confusing but formalities could come later. You wanted him now. 

“Yes, Dabi. I wanted you to fuck me the first time I saw you.” You say quietly, feeling him reach under your shirt and bra to grab at your naked breast. You bit your lip, feeling slick pool between your legs as you fall victim to his touch. 

“Get inside and go in my room. I expect you to have nothing on when I get there. Understood?” He demands, pinching your nipple lightly. You gasp, nodding at his request. 

“Words. You’ve already made me angry with that stunt you pulled punching me in the face. I wouldn’t try me further.” He said, grabbing your hair and pulling it to expose more of your neck. You moan, unable to control yourself suddenly. It’s like he knew exactly what to do to turn you on. Fucking asshole.

“Y-Yes, daddy- I-I mean Dabi.” You flush. Damn. You couldn’t believe you let that slip. He laughs, kissing your lips once more as he lets you go. 

“Daddy works just fine.” Dabi says smirking, watching you stumble towards the door to go back inside. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You knew you should just go into your own room but, God you wanted to see what he’d do to you for almost punching him. You wondered how rough he’d be, your panties soaking at the thought as you gulp and open his room door. You sat on his bed and took off your clothes, leaving your underwear on to tease him. Suddenly his door opens and it’s him. He looked you up and down, loving what he saw. But to his dismay you had on too many clothes still. 

“I thought I told you to get naked, little girl.” Dabi said, pushing you onto his bed. He stood above you, running his fingers down your stomach and stopping at the waistband of your panties. You shudder at his cold fingers. 

“You never said naked.” You tease, looking back at him. He frowns, shaking his head. 

“Man, you just love pushing my buttons don’t you? You’re gonna regret teasing me so much.” He says, pulling your panties down roughly, holding them up to his face. He smirked at the wet spot he saw on them, throwing them onto the ground. “This is gonna be fun.”

You hiss as he slid one measly finger inside you while rubbing your bundle of nerves with his thumb, the single finger not being enough to satisfy your craving for that certain pleasurable stretch. Somehow though, Dabi was making you feel good with that one finger. You roll your hips for more friction only to have Dabi hold you down with his other hand. 

“Stop squirming so much. It makes you look desperate, doll.” He teased earning a whine from you. As if to be a little forgiving he adds another finger, watching your face twist up in pleasure. You were visually trying to hide your moans, Dabi not liking that at all. 

“Come on now. It’s no fun if you don’t scream for me. Let everyone here know how good I make you feel.” He said, halting his movements. You nod, moaning loudly as he adds a third finger. Any shame or embarrassment is gone as he worked you up to your first orgasm. You grab at his sheets, trying to move for more friction only to once more be overpowered by Dabi. 

“You don’t listen too well do you? I said stop squirming. You’ll have your fill but good girls wait to cum. Understand? I expect you to address me correctly this time.” He says, grabbing your face to make you look at him. Something about knowing you could kill him with your eyes turned him on, because he knew he could keep you from doing so. All he had to do was please you, knowing you won’t be able to focus on anything but screaming his name let alone his eyes. 

“Y-Yes daddy.” You mewl, your eyes rolling back as he pulled out one of your breasts, sucking on your nipple harshly. The sound of your moans was music to Dabi’s ears, the only thing he ever wanted to hear come out of your mouth. He cooed praises into your ear, telling you hot sexy you are and how et your pussy is just for him. He crawls on top of you, pulling his fingers out of you as you whine at the sudden loss. He kissed you, ripping your bra off. He sat up and stared at the gorgeous naked woman underneath him. 

“You’re so hot when you’re not talking shit.” He says, playing with your boobs. He was unsure of where to start. He wanted to please every inch of your lovely curves, his eyes drinking in your hips up to your beautiful breasts. He nearly drooled at the sight of them, your nipples seeming to perk up when he looked at them. You stare back at the man on top of you, his scars almost complimenting his skin as you watched him take off his shirt. You bit your lip as you feel a nice sized bulge grind up against your dripping core. You didn’t even notice that his pants were off, drooling at the sight of his body overpowering yours. He grinded up against you, leaning in close to your ear. 

“Ready to get fucked, sweetheart?” He asked, nibbling on your ear lobe. 

“Yes, god, yes!” You gasp, feeling him take off his boxers. He positioned his dick at your entrance, tapping it against you to tease you. You moan, going to grab his cock and shove it inside you but you think twice, already in trouble with him. Dabi smirks, excited to break you as he shoved himself inside you and started to rut his hips into you. You moan sinfully at the sudden stretch, loving how he filled you. You feel him speed up, not even fully adjusted to his length as you clawed at his back for dear life. 

“You’re takin me so well, doll.” He said, grabbing your neck to lightly choke you. Your eyes roll back as you reveal a sinful ahegao face while he pounds you senseless. You’re moaning his name and telling him how good he feels inside you, cussing and screaming into the air as you feel yourself coming close to cumming.

“C-Can I-?” You ask, unable to finish your sentence as you feel yourself clenching around him. Dabi is relentlessly prodding at your g-spot, causing you to see stars as he notices he’s hitting that special spot. He smirks and angles himself so that he’s repeatedly hitting that spot, watching you cover your mouth as you scream. He snatched your hand away from your mouth and pinned it above your head. 

“Tell me you’re sorry for punching me, kitten.” He demands, harshly pinching your nipples. You shake your head no to tease him. “No? Must need more convincing, huh brat?” He pulls out of you, you letting out a pathetic sob at the loss. He roughly flips you on your stomach and plants a hard smack on your ass. You yelp, your pussy aggravated as it throbs at the feeling of pleasure. He yanks you towards him and shoves himself back inside you, you laying flat on your stomach. You kick and scream under him, feeling him so deep it blinds you. 

“Oh my god, daddy!” You whine, shoving your face into your pillow as he assaults your g-spot. 

“Say it.” He demands, landing another hard smack on your ass this one sure to leave a mark. 

“I-I’m sorry! Fuck, I’m sorry!” You scream, desperate for release. 

“Good girl.” He hisses. Dabi grabs your hair and lifts your head off the pillow wanting to hear the last moans you can give before you cum. 

“Go ‘head and cum for me. You’ve earned it.” He says. And just like that you clench around him hard, your orgasm washing over your body as you cum all over his dick. He rides out your orgasm, only to continue pounding you earning a sharp yelp from you as you throw your head into the pillow again.

“You didn’t think it was over did you? That’s cute.” He said, taking you further. At this point you’re overstimulated, the pleasure almost painful as he worked you to another orgasm. 

“God, I love you!” You scream to his delight as you cum quicker than your mind can keep up. 

“I love you too. Even though you’re fucking annoying.” He hisses, unable to hold himself back anymore. He cums hot inside you, grunting as he slaps your ass one last time before pulling himself out. You moan softly, breathing heavily as he cleaned you up. He kissed up your body, you unable to move from being completely fucked out of your mind. 

“When you socked me, I knew you were a keeper.” He laughed. 

“Shut up.” You say, smiling into your pillow. 

“HEY, YOU TWO DONE IN THERE? YOU COULD HAVE WOKEN UP THE ENITRE CITY WITH ALL THAT RACKET!” Twice shouted through the walls, turning your face red with shame. 

“SHUT UP AND MIND YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS!” Dabi yelled back, rubbing soft circles on your ass to soothe his harsh marks on both cheeks. 

bitch i.. i’m sick. 

[bonesbuckleup]

Lord, this answer got long. I’m a little embarrassed about it, but I wrote it, so it’s getting posted. It’s a literal essay. Sorry but also not?

TLDR: Yes, the show is arguably unfair to Sokka about Kya, but it also follows a pattern where Sokka stays quiet about Bad Feelings and plays by the rules established for his character. Katara, meanwhile, grieves loudly and often, and appears to be under the impression that because Sokka’s grief is silent it doesn’t exist, which also fits her character/interactions completely. Neither of them are right or wrong, but it sets them up on inevitable collisions.

Now. If you want to join me on a cactus-juice fueled descent into madness, proceed below the cut.

Number one. We’re referring to this exchange in “The Southern Raiders,” where the Gaang is talking about Zuko and Katara going after the man who killed Kya, which is vicious and brutal and never reflected on:

Aang: You sound like Jet. Katara: It's not the same! Jet attacked the innocent. This man, he's a monster. Sokka: Katara, she was my mother, too, but I think Aang might be right. Katara (angry, yelling): Then you didn't love her the way I did! Sokka (visibly hurt, softly): Katara.

And that’s it. Upon returning, Katara apologizes to Aang and not, as Anon is absolutely correct in pointing out, to Sokka, who is 100% the more injured party. Now. Is it possible this is one of the rare missteps from the atla writers? Yes. Absolutely. Is that the answer I’m about to write a literal fucking essay about? No. Because it’s more painful fun to take it as face value and talk subtext.

First, a reminder that this show is fucking good at what it does. It teaches you how each character grieves as we go: Aang explodes, often triggering the Avatar state, usually crying or angry, and when he does try to repress his Bad Feelings it rarely lasts longer than a day; Toph either shuts down or gets mad, but either way she doesn’t like people seeing her having Bad Feelings and often storms away, knowing that she can’t control it no matter how much she might want to; Zuko yells at the sky in a rainstorm or yells at his dad in an underground tunnel or challenges Zhao to an Agni Kai or yells at his uncle in a jail cell and generally is an emotive nuclear bomb because the boy has feelings and if he keeps them inside for more than three seconds he might explode okay.

Then we have Katara and Sokka.

Let’s start with Katara, since she has the most textual and straightforward displays of grief. She’s really the only one to talk about Kya’s death in Book 1. If Sokka mentions it, it’s barely in passing. I don’t think we hear Hakoda address her death at all (which I’ll return to in a moment.) Katara’s grief is loud. It’s angry. It’s still very much a living thing for her. She thinks she sees Kya in the swamp and breaks down crying, and tells Aang and Sokka about it with no hesitation. When she’s angry and sad at Hakoda for leaving, she acts out and is visibly upset with him, yells at him, cries at him. She out-loud hates Zuko when she comes to the conclusion that he told her about Ursa and got her to talk about Kya to manipulate her. It isn’t that her grief is performative, because it’s a very real and terrible thing, but it’s a grief that’s to be witnessed.

Then, Sokka. Sokka’s grief is more complicated because it exists almost entirely in subtext, especially in regard to Kya. We really only hear him talk about Kya twice, both in Book 3. First, to Toph, when he tells her that he can’t remember what Kya looks like. Worth noting, however, that even though it is Sokka talking, this is still centered on Katara and Katara’s grief. The next time is when Zuko asks what happened to Kya, and Sokka tells the story that leads into the initial flashback. Sokka doesn’t talk about his mom. This is a fact of the show. It’s such a fact of the show that, in “Southern Raiders,” after the exchange at the start of this post, while Katara and Zuko are on the hunt, Sokka doesn’t bring up Kya again and is messing around with Aang. Like nothing has happened or is currently happening--which I’ll come back to in a moment.

So while we can use Kya as a perfect example of how Katara grieves, we can’t really use her for Sokka. So let’s use Yue instead. Moments we see (or don’t see) Sokka grieving Yue:

In the opening to Book 2, we briefly have a shot of Sokka with the moon imposed behind him.

“The Swamp,” where Sokka’s vision is of Yue accusing him of not protecting her. This one is one of the more textual moments of grief--”I think about Yue all the time”--but what’s awful great about it is how Sokka tells Aang and Katara. Aang, obviously, has no qualms about sharing his vision. Katara openly talks about seeing Kya. Sokka only tells them about Yue when explicitly asked. Even then, he doesn’t mention what she said to him. From this, we can assume that Sokka is still holding onto a lot of guilt over her death--guilt that he won’t let Aang and Katara see. Anyway. Moving on.

“The Serpent’s Pass.” After spending all day panic protecting Suki, he tells her that he lost someone, but doesn’t go much further into detail, just saying that he can’t when she tries to kiss him. Of course, this is all happening in front of the moon. Again, though, Sokka stays vague. He doesn’t tell her any details.

“The Puppetmaster,” Toph posits that maybe the moon spirit has gone mean and is kidnapping people. Sokka snaps at her, in a moment definitely meant for laughs, saying, “The Moon Spirit is a gentle, loving lady. She rules the sky with compassion and ... lunar goodness!” It is a funny moment, but here’s what we can take from it: Toph doesn’t know about Yue. Toph is a Feral Bastard a lot of the time, but she also knows where the line is, and I don’t think she’d’ve said that if she’d known.

“Boiling Rock,” in arguably the most quoted (and well deservedly so!) line in the entire show. “My first girlfriend turned into the moon.” “...that’s rough, buddy.” COMEDIC GOLD. Also, weirdly, the literal only time that Sokka explicitly tells someone about Yue in the course of the show.

“Ember Island Players” which I haven’t hit in my rewatch yet, but I definitely remember a moment where Suki asks Sokka when he was gonna tell her he made out with the moon, and he tearfully shushes her. Again, played for laughs, but the implication is that he still hasn’t told Suki about what happened.

This plays perfectly into the same way that Sokka (doesn’t) talks about his mom. When the Bad Feelings come, Sokka either avoids them and finds a distraction (Goofs with Aang--see, told ya we’d come back to that) or stays silent. When someone explicitly asks him about the Bad Feelings--what he saw in the swamp, what’s eating at him in “Sokka’s Master,” why he’s panic-protecting Suki--he’ll answer, but often talks around the actual issue. (Interestingly, it’s in regard to Suki we see the most explicit manifestation of Sokka grieving as Azula taunts him during the invasion: he cries, he attacks Azula, he yells and questions her despite the fact he knows she’s wasting their time. I think this one hits him because, as this beautiful post points out, Suki’s the protector in the relationship, and Sokka can actually chill out for 2 seconds. But he let his guard down, and Azula got Suki. Anyway. That’s probably a different essay: back to the matter at hand.) We even see this in “Boiling Rock.” There’s a moment where they think Hakoda is not with the other political prisoners. Sokka’s tense, drawn tight, but the only thing he says is, “No.”

Basically, we’ve got Katara, who grieves loudly and rages and is kinda like white-water rapids that churn and churn and churn. And we’ve got Sokka, who, to quote John Mulaney, looks at his grief and says, “I’ll just keep all my emotions right here and then one day I’ll die.” Iceberg grief, to keep the water metaphor going.

And where did these come from? Yup! Water Tribe gender roles! What we know from the show is that, while the South is typically more progressive (women can train as benders and marry who they want, at least) than the North, it’s still very rigid: the men are warriors/hunters/protectors, the women stay home to cook/clean/child-rear.

Now: subtext! And why I think they are this way!

We’ll start with Katara. The last waterbender in the South Pole. She no doubt grew up doted on. If I say she’s most likely a little spoiled, I don’t mean it in a bad way--I mean it in a she’s the last living remnant of this aspect of their culture kind of way. When raiders come, she’s probably the first priority to protect. Kya dies to keep her safe. Her needs are generally put before the community as a whole. (This isn’t to say that Katara doesn’t contribute or care about her community, because she 100% does). But! Especially in Book 1, we see Katara often considering her opinions as facts (trusting Jet, the waterbending scroll) and doesn’t always pause to consider the larger impact that her actions will have (scroll and Jet again, challenging Pakku, dressing up as the Painted Lady despite the fact the factory will hold the village responsible). And many of these actions are good! But we see a lot of Katara being pretty self-centered--what can I do, how does this impact me, how do I feel about this? And this isn’t a bad thing! This aspect of her character makes her complicated and complex! Katara loves her family and protecting people and caring for them! She’s extremely empathetic! But she also struggles to meet people where they’re at when they emote in a different way than she does (see: her clashes with Toph, her initial problems with Zuko joining the group, the above interaction with Sokka). It’s also worth talking about how Katara witnessed her mother’s death, which no doubt makes her grief about it a sharper thing.

Then, again, Sokka. Also loved in his community! But a normal kind of love, I’d assume. He probably was raised on stories of the Fire Nation dragging waterbenders away. No one exemplifies the Water Tribe ride-or-die mentality quite as well as Sokka, or the gender roles of the man as the warrior/protector, so you gotta believe Hakoda raised that kid to look after his sister at all costs, which we see throughout the show (already preparing to go after Aang in the South Pole because he know Katara’s going anyway, “You burned my sister!”) And he isn’t there when his mom dies. He finds out later. He goes from feeling like a victor who helped chased the raiders away to the worst realization of his life. I have to imagine he’s ashamed by the fact that he thought everything was going to be okay, which leads into his worldview of assuming that nothing is okay ever in any circumstance.

Finally, Hakoda. Who never, unless I’ve forgotten something, talks about Kya. All we know is that their family fell apart after her death (per Sokka in “The Runaway,” learning how Katara stepped up to hold everything together) and sometime after he took the warriors and straight up left. He apologizes for leaving but doesn’t address the fact that he left Katara and Sokka with no parents at all, only the war. This is, uh, not exactly echoing a healthy coping mechanism?

My theory: Kya dies. Since the Water Tribe is so embedded in gender roles, Hakoda probably shut down and/or checked out emotionally for a while. This leaves his kids on their own to deal with their shit, and we learn Katara does everything she can to keep her family going. As the most protected individual in the South, Katara’s probably been taught that emotions equal attention, and uses her temper/caring/sadness to help bring her community closer. Meanwhile, Sokka, who hero worships his dad, watches Hakoda go stoic and learns that “real men” shove their shit down. Additionally, Katara’s grief is deafeningly loud, and Sokka’s number 1 role is to keep Katara safe. He’s taught that the Bad Feelings only get in the way and make things worse, and so he learns to be fine no matter what kind of terrible is going down around him.  Basically, Katara learns to use grief as a needle and thread, and Sokka learns to bury it as deep as he can and avoid it at all costs. Opposite reactions to the same trauma. Katara gets mad and demands to be heard and listened to and seen, and Sokka gets sarcastic and prepares himself for the day the Fire Nation ships come back for his sister.

So. Back to those above lines from “Southern Raiders.”

From a writing standpoint, I do wish the final moment was between Katara and Sokka versus Katara and Aang. They could’ve had an almost identical interaction, but it would’ve been more nuanced. I don’t think that Katara needed to apologize, but I think we needed some acknowledgement from both of them: Katara continuing the lesson she’s learned about how her pain doesn’t entitle her to hurt other people (including Sokka, who is there no matter what she says or does), and Sokka that Katara’s process of grieving had to involve this catharsis.

Or. Maybe not. Because again--subtext. Their grief works in such different ways that I have to imagine this isn’t a new fight. It was probably brutal and vicious for a very long time. Maybe that’s part of what made Sokka try and go with the warriors. Maybe that’s part of why Katara gets mad so quickly in the first episode of the show. But eventually, unable to find an answer, they just...stop talking about it. Because the two of them don’t talk about it. Katara only talks about her mom with people who aren’t Sokka, and Sokka does exclusively to Toph and Zuko.

The only time I can think of Katara and Sokka talking about it together is the exchange at the top of this post, and it gets ugly fast, and it isn’t brought up again. It’s a fight that will never be resolved, because they fundamentally can’t react to one another in a way that can be universally understood.

“You didn’t love her the way I did!” Katara yells, loudly, because if Sokka loved her then why isn’t he raging? Why isn’t he getting his sword and coming to help her? Why doesn’t Sokka want to burn this firebender to the ground and make him see and hear and look at what he’s done to the world? To their family? He must not understand. He must not care as much or he’d be screaming with her.

“Katara,” Sokka says, much quieter, and adds nothing else. Not because there isn’t anything else to say, but because Sokka can’t talk about this kind of thing. Not doesn’t want to, but can’t, because it’s his job to protect people, protect Katara, and if he lets all those old hurts come boiling up he can’t do that, because that ends with losing focus and losing control and people getting hurt or going away. Why can’t she understand that?

And then they do what they always do. They don’t bring it up again.

[fanmoose12]

When I saw this https://twitter.com/tenyawanyad/status/1401561345539993600?s=19 , I thought of Hange in your fic who works as undercover to get closer to Levi but ends up being asked by Levi to bring him to Erwin. Will read all your other works until you update that one!

the second part (kinda?) to this!

God, Hange hated waiting.

Always had, ever since she was but a small child with skinned knees and mismatched pigtails. She didn't wear pigtails anymore, opting for a more practical ponytail, and her knees were only occasionally skinned, but that feeling, that sense of powerlessness when all you can do is watch the minutes trickle by, not knowing what to expect, having no way to prevent the possible catastrophe... It always led to a lump in her throat that was too big to swallow.

And now, after that gaze Erwin gave her, the one that said we'll talk about it later, she felt her insides twist themselves in a tight, painful knot.

It's been almost an hour, a full fucking hour since Erwin had thrown the door to his office shut, inviting the damn thief inside with him.

An hour and they were yet to come out. Was Erwin still alive?

Was the thief still alive?

Hange listened carefully, but she didn't hear any signs of fighting or struggle. She knew Erwin, though. He could kill a man in ten different ways without creating a single sound.

And that thief. Hange witnessed firsthand how skillful he was.

How deft his fingers were, how firm yet soft was his touch, how-

No. Wrong train of thought, Hange.

Distraction, distraction, she had to find a distraction. Thankfully, she didn't have to look for too long. Distraction came in a face of Mike, who leaned against the wall next to her.

"The big man is still in here?" he asked, pointing his chin at the door of Erwin's office.

"Yep," Hange replied, boring holes in that damned door. What was going behind it? And what was going to happen when it opens?

"Had fun?" Mike murmured, looking at her beneath his long blonde hair.

Did she have fun? With that awful thief? With terrible, foul-mouthed thief who had no manners and with the most beautiful eyes Hange had ever seen? And strong, muscular arms she wanted to be buried in? And that toned, chiseled chest that-

No. Wrong thought again.

"Not particularly," Hange gritted, huffing in annoyance. The thief was an enemy, he humiliated her and could have even killed her. She shouldn't find that attractive. Her stomach shouldn't feel so warm, her heart shouldn't speed up just at the thought of that short jerk. And yet...

"Sucks to be interrupted, huh?" Mike hummed.

Hange's eyes widened. What the, how did he-

"Erwin wired you," Mike shamelessly explained.

His shin was kicked right after that.

"Bastards!" Hange shouted, hitting his arm, she was aiming for the head, but that damned tall jerk... "You two-"

"It was Erwin's idea!"

"Awful, old-"

"I'm only a year older than you!"

"Perverted assholes with no sense of shame!"

Hange finally reached his head, giving it a smack.

"No sense of shame?" Mike lifted an eyebrow, grinning despite Hange's vicious assault. "You are the one who tried to sleep with a target."

"I didn't-" Hange scoffed, pointedly ignoring the blush she felt spreading through her cheeks. "I didn't try to sleep with him. It was just a part of elaborate plan."

"Sure," Mike, the ever asshole patted her shoulder. "Whatever makes you sleep at night, Hans."

God, what an ass-

Mike was saved from another onslaught of punches by the deep rumble of Erwin's voice.

"Come inside, Hange," he said, and, oh god, did he always sound so ominous?

Hange gulped and nodded, obediently trailing after Erwin like a naughty high schooler.

The inside of Erwin's office was dark, a lone lamp on his desk being the only source of light. It made Hange feel just a little more nervous, just a little more reluctant to hear what Erwin got to say.

The shadows that danced across the walls and the deep crease between his eyebrows gave Hange yet another hint that this conversation wouldn't be overly pleasant.

That feeling increased, mixing with spiky, hot anger, when Hange's eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness and she saw that she and Erwin weren't alone in the room.

The damned thief, Levi as he had called himself, was here with them.

He was leaning against the wall with his hands crossed on his chest, looking extremely broody, a little mysterious and unbelievably, unfairly attractive.

Hange wanted to kick him. She wanted to grab his soft black hair, bring his sexy body closer to her and then kick him as hard as she could manage.

And when all was said and done, when she finished paying him back for the insult and offense, she'd kiss him. Until there was no breath left in either of them.

Then, she'd kick him once more.

"Hange, sit down, please," Erwin spoke up, his eyes boring into Hange like he knew exactly what was going on inside her head.

Now, Hange - Hange obviously wasn't dumb. She was a little careless at times, sometimes she could be hot-headed and reckless, but she wasn't dumb. She knew that causing a scene in front of their enemy wouldn't end well.

But, by gods, she wanted to cause that scene so much, she was dying to do it.

Erwin's piercing gaze was making her reconsider, though.

It was as they say - the annoying, sexy thiefs come and go, but her strict bosses are forever.

After making sure that she sent the thief the meanest and darkest of her looks, Hange managed to somewhat quell her anger. It wasn't enough to make her forget about it completely - especially when thief had no reaction to her whatsoever - but it was enough to let Hange listen to what Erwin was going to say.

She'd deal with the thief later, when he was out of the safety of Erwin's office.

Sitting behind his large, mahogany desk, Erwin cleared his throat.

"I asked you both to come here to discuss something," he began, putting chin on his hands. "Your last mission yielded unexpected, but largely satisfying results, so..."

Your last mission? Did Erwin mean her mission, or did he...?

Hange felt a little dizzy as she gave it all some thought.

Erwin couldn't do such a thing, could he? He would never do this to her, of all people, he wasn't capable of-

Hange wanted to laugh. Wanted to slap herself for being so naive and then laugh at her stupidity.

What was she even thinking about? Erwin, the sly, manipulative bastard, was more than capable. He could, he would and he did do this to her.

What a wicked, brilliant man. Hange was so fortunate that he was on her side.

The thief, however... Was Erwin really ready to give him his trust? What did the thief do to deserve it?

"I have a new mission for you," Erwin's voice broke Hange out of her reverie, made her jump and gawk at him. "For both of you," he clarified, forcing Hange's eyes to widen even more. "Levi here already knows about one Nicholas Lovof..." the thief visibly tensed at the mention of that name, his jaw tightening and the scowl on his face growing even darker. Obviously, there was some possibly juicy story with the thief and that Lovof involved. Hange longed to know it, she Erwin wouldn't budge, but Mike... especially drunk Mike... there a chance it could work out. "He knows something about us, something that made him send an assasin after me."

His expression didn't change, Erwin didn't even look at Levi, but oh... the tone of his voice, the slight, barely noticable irritation told Hange everything she needed.

Not just a thief then, eh?

"I need you to infiltrate his office, find everything he has on us. And do it discreetly, of course."

"And how should we go about doing it?" Hange asked. Usually Erwin had a plan she had to regiliously follow, where every possible complication was accounted for. Wasn't he going to give her one this time? Why?

A ghost of a smirk appeared on Erwin's stoic features. "Today I witnessed just how creative you can get, Hange. I'm sure you can manage on your own this time. Besides," the smirk became just a little more apparent, his complecency more and more infuriating. "You'll have Levi with you. I trust him to watch your back."

What an insolent, cocky fucker.

"You may go now," Erwin hurried to say, before the volcano called Hange erupted. "Your mission starts in two days. Until then... you have time to get to know each better."

God, Hange wanted to kick him too. She wanted to wipe that smug grin from his face, wanted to ruin that immaculate haircut and tear his eyebrows one hair at a time.

But the thief... Hange wanted to get her hands on him first. So she could simply kick him, obviously.

Hange swiftly rose to her feet, following the thief out. Naturally, she completely ignored the hearty laugh that came from Erwin's lips.

The thief walked fast, faster than Hange thought he would, considering his height, but her legs were longer and she still managed to catch up with him, even with her stilettos on.

Once she did, she looked around, making sure that the hallway was empty. It was, which was perfect for what Hange had planned.

Of course, there were still security cameras all around them, but Hange didn't care about them. Mike and Erwin had already heard enough. Well, now, Hange was going to make him see something too.

Perhaps, it would even teach the old geezers a thing or two.

"Erwin said we have to know each other better..." Hange spoke with a sly grin. It grew wider, more wicked when she saw Levi draw a sharp breath. "How about we start right now?"

The thief froze for no more than a moment.

It was all Hange needed to seize his shoulders and press him against the wall. She invaded his personal space instantly, not giving him a chance to retaliate or throw her off.

She started with his cheek, cupping it gently before moving lower, tracing her long fingers across his sharp jaw, then equally sharp clavicle.

The thief's breathing increased as she did so. He didn't attempt to break free, didn't try to get away or overpower Hange. He didn't even move, just stood there, staring at Hange with wide eyes.

Hange met his gaze, smiling when she saw that his pupils were already wide. She almost laughed from delight when her hand traveled down his chest, just a touch away from his pants, and Levi visibly shivered.

"It's late already," she purred, putting her hands on his waist. She started to slowly sink to her knees, lowering her hands to his thighs.

Something that very much resembled a moan escaped from his lips, as he stared down at Hange.

She moved closer still, just a breath away from where she knew Levi wanted.

Her grin slowly turned from seductive to victorious, as his fingers found their way into her hair.

"It's late," she repeated, one hand leaving his side to grasp at her own ankle. She fiddled with a strap of her left stiletto, feigning great interest in it. "That's why we should get some sleep."

She threw Lev's hands off her, standing up to her feet and stepping out of his arms. "We have a training tomorrow morning."

The thief's face was priceless - the incomprehension, the shock, the annoyance - Hange delighted in it all.

And that quiet sound - the angry groan, god, Hange wanted to set it as her ringtone.

She evened their score, and, damn, was she ecstatic that she did.

Even as she walked away, Hange felt the burning gaze that followed after her. She couldn't stop giggling all the way to her place, still high on her victory.

Erwin wanted Levi to watch her back, and while Hange wasn't yet ready to trust him to do that, she had a feeling, well... she had a feeling she'd enjoy it like blazes.

[morbidkisses]

I’m not sure how your requests work or what you would need, but could I get a yandere Hoseok story please?

You Belong With Me. (y! hoseok drabble)

warning: yandere themes, obsessive themes, yandere behavior, manipulation, abusive relationships, hobi gets kind of aggressive later on in the story, misogyny, choking, hair pulling, reader is chained up to the wall, death, minor character deaths.

summary: you get into an argument with hoseok because he refuses to let you go outside and catch up with your friends over a few drinks.

I do not condone this type of behavior so please don't romanticize this type of sick behavior, and if you're part in an abusive relationship please seek help!

once again this is FICTION, and yandere is counted as horror/mystery type of shit so stay safe bubbies! oh and this might be triggering so please read at your own risk, and if you don't like stuff like this then SCROLL. I talk too much-

"What? so you love them more than me??"

you rolled your eyes and sighed in exasperation. your boyfriend was being irrational at this point, and it was driving you crazy. You met hoseok a few weeks ago, and you were charmed by his radiant smile, his sweet words, he was the perfect gentleman with good looks and a fat bank account, you couldn't say no when he asked you out on a date, how could you? he was literally so perfect, but you were too blind to see the dark imperfections hidden behind his bright smile.

"For the hundredth time, hobi, they're my friends and I just want to catch up with them! You're being illogical-"

"How am I the one being illogical when you're the one who is choosing your so-called friends over me???" He threw his hands in the air to emphasize his point, his eyes were so wide you thought they would pop out.

"Just because I want to see them and talk to them doesn't mean I love them more than you, for God's sake!!! stop being so childish." you yelled out as you tugged at your hair strands in frustration. Why was he making such a big deal out of this? it wasn't like you were going out to cheat on him with someone else, you just wanted to go out and catch up with your friends at the local bar.

"You're not going, and that's the end of this stupid discussion, love. Now, get your ass back in the bedroom and change into something proper, you look like a slut in that dress."

Okay. that was it. You grabbed the first thing your hands could find, which was a tissue box and threw it at him as hard as you possibly could in rage. How dare he call you that, your dress was completely fine. You were clad in a simple black dress that dropped right above your knees and the only thing that could be considered inappropriate by society was the little cleavage that was showing, but even if you were to go out in the tightest dress he still had no rights to call you that. You had to leave him. And leave him you did.

"You're such a bitch, I tried to make this shit work but honestly I'm fed up with your immature ass. Im leaving." you picked up your purse which had your car keys and phone in it, before walking towards the entrance door and opening it.

"don't bother calling me again." you mumbled before slamming the door shut behind you.

Hoseok was in a state of shock, his soul had left his body, he couldn't process what just happened. It felt like someone had just poured a bucket of ice cold water on him.

"n-no... y/n, sweetie, come back..." his voice cracked as he fell to his knees in devastation. He knew you could no longer hear him, but he hoped you would come back through those doors and hug him. How could you be so cruel? You were the reason he was breathing? He felt like all the light was pulled out of him, his mind going numb as he stared down at his hands.

Soft cries left his lips as his stature stuttered while he sobbed silently, but not before long, he broke into an unhinged laughter as he sat down on the ground and leaned back against the couch, his eyes stuck to the door you had so rudely slammed into his face. All traces of sadness had disappeared from his face, a devilish smirk replacing the heartbreaking frown.

You were going to regret this big time.

He grabbed his phone and quickly dialed a number.

"Tae, my birdie just left me, can you do me a favor and bring her back to me?"

The person on the other line scoffed audibly

"Do I even have a choice?" 'Tae' groaned.

"Not really. Be careful not to hurt her, and bring her two little friends with her as well, I don't care if you hurt them just keep those two alive, my birdie needs to learn a lesson."

A sigh could be heard from the other line before 'tae' mumbled an okay.

"I'll text you the location."

Everything was a blur, one moment you were laughing and having fun with your friends and the very next second you fell unconscious. Unknown to you, someone might have put a few ingredients in your drinks.

You woke up with a throbbing ache in your head, your mind was fogged up and you couldn't think. A groan left your lips as you brought your hands up to rub your temples. You sat up on what seemed to be a bed, your mind started clearing up, but you were still confused, where were you? what happened? You fully opened your eyes and panic started filling your mind as you realized you were in Hoseok's room. You started hyperventilating and quickly got out of bed, but you felt something heavy around your ankle.

was he fucking serious???

He had cuffed your ankles, you were literally chained to the wall. the chain was long enough for you to roam around the room and the bathroom.

You were hysteric, trying your hardest to pull out the thick chains from the wall, but your efforts were futile. Silent sobs began pouring from your lips as you panicked. After giving up you slumped against the wall and hugged your knees as you cried to yourself.

"Oh you're up!" Hoseok beamed as he entered the room.

Furious yet terrified, you stood up and charged at him full speed before grabbing him by the collar of his white shirt and yanking him closer to your face.

"Listen here, you crazy psychopath, if you don't let me out of here right now I'll-"

"oh please, what are you gonna do?" he grinned sinisterly as he gingerly ran his fingers through your hair, you were such a cute little thing, bluffing around. You couldn't do shit to him at the moment, and both of you were aware of that fact. His gentle strokes didn't last long as he yanked your hair back.

"You must learn your lesson, my love, I didn't want to do this but you misbehaved."

His other hand wrapped around your throat, cutting off the blood flow to the brain. Your face started becoming red as you tugged at his hand.

"p-plea... se... s-sto..."

He scoffed at your expression as he tilted his head. "know your place."

He tightened his grip one last time before letting you fall to the ground on your knees, before you broke into a coughing fit.

"That's where you belong" his tone was enough to make you shudder. "you belong with me... completely at my mercy."

You didn't have it in you to fight more so you just weakly glared up at him, your legs felt numb, rendering you motionless on your knees.

"I hate you..."

"aw, but I've barely started your punishment, love! It's still too early to hate me!"

although your words stung him a bit, he didn't show it. He just feigned an innocent smile before he grabbed his phone and unlocked it.

Bewildered by his actions, you frowned. What was he up to? what did he mean when he said it's still too early to hate him?

"Ah Tae! Hello!" He sounded awfully cheerful and enthusiastic. How could he shift his mood like that. It seemed as if he was face timing someone on his phone.

Hoseok looked down at you and he almost cooed at your adorably confused expression.

a sigh was heard from the other line. "You owe me big time, hoseok."

"yeah yeah, I'll send you the money later. Can you show me our friends for a bit?"

no.. he couldn't mean...

He crouched down next to you and showed you the screen of his phone. Your eyes widened in horror as you quickly began shaking your head.

"Hobi, please no no, please! Leave them out of this please!" you almost choked on your tears as you begged him to let your friends go.

"it's a bit too late for that, baby." he pressed a kiss to your temple which made your skin crawl in disgust.

"YOU BASTARD, LET THEM GO." you screamed at the screen as you watched your best friends tied up and severely bruised.

"I don't get paid enough for this shit..." 'Tae' muttered. You couldn't see his face on the screen, probably because he was using the back camera to show your friends.

"the fuck am I supposed to do now?" the person behind the camera asked.

"oh just finish them off."

Hoseok sat down on the ground and back hugged your body, his head resting on your shoulder as he made sure your eyes didn't leave the screen.

"no please don't! I'm begging you please stop!" you cried out as the camera got closer to your friends. Your friends' cries were left unheard as two bullets were shot right into their skulls.

You let out a blood curling scream as you thrashed around, but hoseok was stronger than you, so he held you down with ease. How could he do that?

"I'll kill you! I'll kill you both, you motherfuckers!" you screamed at them both as tears streamed down your cheeks.

"thank you, tae, I owe you! bye bye!" he ended the call.

"You see love, we could've avoided all of this... if you had just been obedient. This is all your fault, I hope you know that." he sighed as he looked down at your crying form.

He was sick, how could he say that, did he feel no remorse?

"you can't leave me... you belong to me."

a/n: that was kind of shitty- but I tried- sorry for the late updates! I hope you like it :]]

this is unedited by the way :]

oh and I used a yandere starter prompt by @yandere-daydreams ! :]

[evendeadlmthehero]

The Sun and The Moon

(Kylo Ren/Ben Solo x Reader)

Episode III: The Five Mistakes of a Jedi

Summary: “You were one of the 12 Padawans that Luke Skywalker taught. There, you met the love of your life. Your first best friend, your first lover and your first boyfriend; Ben Solo. Everything was perfect. That is, until the Jedi temple was burned by Ben Solo himself. 5 years pass since you last saw him and he isn’t the man you used to know. The Moon preferred darkness and in that darkness, Kylo Ren was born.”

Warnings: some swearing, murder and NSFW content.

The Sun and The Moon Masterlist

Ultimate Masterlist

18 years old

“Hey Y/N, wake up,” you heard a voice whisper to you. You let out a moan, snuggling deeper into your bed. “C’mon, wake up.”

Your eyes fluttered open to see Ben with the widest smile ever, holding a plate of pancakes drizzled with chocolate syrup and whipped cream. Candles with the number ‘18’ was stuck on top of the breakfast creation.

“Happy birthday my Sun,” he spoke, moving over to kiss you on your forehead. You hummed in approval. “I made you something.”

“I can see that,” you grinned, getting up from your bed to grab the delicious looking plate of pancakes. “It looks amazing.”

You begun eating, moaning everytime you have the syrup mixed in with whipped cream. Ben sat down, watching with a grin on his face. “Can you believe you are finally 18?”

You slowed down eating slightly, an uneasy look settling on your face. Ben took notice of this look and grabbed your hand. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s just-“ you put the plate down, shaking your head. You then rubbed your temple before facing the love of your life. “I’m 18. You’re almost 21. You should’ve become a Jedi this year with Almec, Daario and Leirra and gone with Luke to the Resistance base. But you didn’t. Why?”

“Y/N-“

“Why?”

Ben sighed, letting go of your hand. “If we become Jedi, it means we must potentially end things with one another. And- and I don’t want that.”

“We don’t have to, we can keep everything in secret,” you told him. Ben let out a bitter laugh, getting up from his seat.

“Please, you’re telling me Luke wouldn’t know? He already knows and he won’t let us train with each other as Padawans,” he spoke, brushing his hair back. “Imagine if we were Jedi? He would banish the both of us. Shame us. Because God forbid that I, Ben Solo, am ever happy and found someone who actually loves me.”

“Ben-“

“All my life, I felt like I had to prove something to my Uncle. That I’m not like Grandfather. And everytime, he always spits on my face, trying to get rid of everyone I love. But I won’t let that happen, no, that won’t happen. Because I won’t let it,” Ben continued on. He then looked at you, seeing your eyes looking at him in confusion. “But let’s not talk about that now. Today is your birthday. And I have a surprise for you tonight.”

You let out a small laugh, still a bit taken back by his little rant. He was breathing deeply, his eyes moving around your room like he regretted the words coming out of his mouth. His eyes looked at yours, desperate to hear you say something, anything.

“I can’t wait.”

-

Ben sat patiently on his chair, nervously bouncing his knee. He had spent hours trying to arrange this; a table near the edge of the cliff, rose petals scattered across the table, a candle illuminating the environment and a gourmet meal that he had prepared himself.

It would’ve been quicker to arrange, if he had help by a friend. But he didn’t. No one liked Ben, or in his mind he thought no one did. In his mind however, that did not matter. You were all he needed.

But see, the thing is, when you rely on one person, that person becomes your whole life. Your day doesn’t start until their’s does. What you do depends on what the other person wants to do. Your thoughts, behaviour, is affected by their’s. And that concept is dangerous. Because once that person exits their life, whether by death or purpose, their own life crashes, burns. And they are left with nothing but ashes, a reminder of what was.

And then, their lives have no purpose but what the next person asks them of. That is what it means to be dependent.

And that is how Ben was. You both never noticed at that time, but he was someone who relied heavily on you. Maybe you should have realised, when you saw the way his eyes lit up the moment you walked towards him in a white, silky dress, pearls adorned on your hair.

“You look amazing,” Ben spoke breathlessly, watching how the candle accentuated your features. You smiled lovingly at him, walking over and pressing a kiss on his lips.

And then the last night you would ever spend the with him, unbeknownst to you, went on. Many laughs and kisses were shared. It was a night you would not forget. And it wasn’t because you lost your virginity to the man you love on your 18th birthday, you wished that reason was why this night was so memorable.

But that might, you had made five mistakes.

“I’m ready,” you spoke in a quiet voice, looking at him in awe, like he was the one who created all the things in the galaxy. Ben scrunched his eyebrows in confusion, not understanding what you were hinting. “I want you to make love to me, Ben Solo.”

That was your first mistake.

Within a flash, you were pressed against the wall by Ben in your room, kissing like you haven’t seen each other in years. His hands were grabbing you wherever he could, both of you panting like starved dogs.

He picked you up before gently lying you on the bed, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving kisses along the way. You let out a breathless moan, your hand tugging at his roots. Ben then looked up, his eyes half lidded. “Are you sure?”

“More than I’ll ever be.”

And that was the night you lost your virginity. You hadn’t slept that night, too giddy with emotions that you couldn’t stop thinking how happy you were as you smiled, drawing shapes on Ben’s back. Wind quietly howled as your window was left open, stars bright in the sky.

But, as fate had willed, you had felt thirsty. Your mouth felt dry. So you quietly got up from your bed, trying not to wake up Ben. Putting on a robe, you begun walking outside to go fetch a bucket of water from the well outside.

That was your unnoticed mistake.

As you begun to attack the bucket onto the rope, you felt a buzz against your neck, feeling a presence behind you. Turning around, you were shocked to see who it was. “Almec?”

“In a flesh,” he spoke, but it sounded a bit dry, like he was wounded. You smiled at him, pulling up your robes more as you realised how you may look inappropriate right now with just a pink silk robe.

“When did you come back from the Resistance base?” You spoke, trying to make a conversation out of an awkward situation. The wind picked up, making your hair fly everywhere. Yet, you still did not hear a response from Almec. “Almec?”

“You know I loved you,” he confessed, taking a step towards you. You moved hair out of your way, looking at Almec in shock. You watched as he kept moving towards you, a broken look on his face. “I loved you. I still love you. And- and I came back to tell you that I left the Jedi. I’m no longer a Jedi. Because of you, Y/N. I want to be with you.”

“Almec-“

“But you slept with him. You slept with that little fucking bastard-“

“Almec-“

“Who fucking killed a bird when he were little and he convinced you he didn’t kill him when I saw him do it with my own eyes! I saw it Y/N! But you always want to believe him. Only him. It’s always him. It will always be him. And one day, he’s going to fuck up. But it would be too late. It will be too late for you,” he spoke, his face now mere inches away from yours. “But even then, you’ll still come running back to him. In the end, you always do.”

Tears were streaming down your face as you looked at him in anger. You looked at him with all the anger you could muster, but you didn’t say anything. You just looked at him like he had betrayed you.

That was your weakest mistake.

Because that quiet little moment, that moment of what could’ve been filled with words defending the person you love, was replaced by a kiss. A kiss you did not want, a kiss not initiated by you. A kiss you had wanted to pull away from, your sense of loyalty kicking in, but couldn’t because Almec’s arms were wrapped around you.

But it did not matter what you wanted to do. Because when someone walks by and sees, they’ll see merely two people kissing.

And that’s exactly what Ben saw. You did not see him, he made his presence known by pushing Almec away from you.

“Ben!” You screamed, as you watched him continuously punch Almec, his eyes black as night. That had taken you back. “Ben stop it! Ben please stop it!”

He did not listen as Almec’s blood splattered against his face. And he didn’t even flinch. You watch, now even more horrified. The most horrified you’ve ever been in your life. You could tell that Almec was in the verge of death. This man, a man you’d known for ages, was going to die in the hands of your lover if you did not intervene.

So you did what you had to do. You used the force against him and pushed him away. Far away from you and Almec. When you made sure he was far away, you ran towards Almec, cradling his head in your arms as he let out a groan. You looked at Ben, who looked just as horrified as you did. “Y/N-“

“Leave,” you spoke, the tone in your voice holding a strict seriousness within it. Ben stood up, gulping as he looked at you, his eyes shining like he was trying to hold back tears.

“Y/N-“

“Leave!” You screamed as you stood up, the wind picking up from the strong aura of the force that surrounded you. Ben looked at you one last time before nodding, turning to look away.

And you did not chase after him.

That was your worst mistake.

You should’ve ran after him. You should’ve been there with him at his most vulnerable state, a state where he could be manipulated by anyone and anything.

As you patched up Almec at the infirmary, not wanting anyone to find out about what had just took place, your mind was thinking about Ben. And how Almec was right about you always running back to him. But you won’t. Not this time. Not looking at Almec’s face, his barely unidentifiable face.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry,” Almec spoke, his voice coming out a whisper due to his probably broken ribs. You ignored him, moving water through the force to ice out his injuries. “I- I didn’t mean to. To cause a rift between you two. I- I just love you so much, and-“

“Okay, that’s done. Just make sure you apply a new bandaid every 6 hours after putting on disinfectant,” you instructed. Almec nodded, taking the hint. You gave him one last look before walking off to your quarters.

-

It was 4AM when you finally fell asleep. It was hard, but eventually you felt yourself drifting into oblivion.

‘You wanted to kill me!’ You heard a voice cry out. You stirred in your sleep, barely awake as you clung onto your blanket. The wind howled even stronger as your windows begun to ruttle. ‘You will pay for this!’

‘Ben, no!’ You heard another voice yell. You let out a groan, fluttering your eyes open as a full-blown headache consumed you. You got up from your bed, holding your head as you let out a cry. You felt darkness consuming your body, filling your veins.

‘Ben does not exist. He is weak, a young boy clinging on love,’ you heard Ben speak. Your hand went to your mouth as you realised what was happening. The darkness that Ben had warned you about was starting to consume him. The one moment you weren’t there for him, he had invited darkness.

‘I am Kylo Ren.’

You then heard yells from outside. Running over to your window, you let out a cry as you see the temple on fire. The crackling sound was louder than the strong gust of wind. You gulped, knowing the person who started this fire.

Your hands trembled as you grabbed your lightsaber, ready to do what was necessary. Not because you were a Jedi, but because this was something only you could do.

Grabbing your cloak, you then ran over to the the temple, the heat of the fire getting hotter and hotter. You breathed in the smoke, before lifting your arms and slowly bringing it down, allowing the fire to simmer before completely evaporating. You then swallowed the nerves stuck in your throat, a tear rolling down your face as you realised what had enfolded.

Walking around the temple, sadness consumed you as you realised how little was left of this place, how there was nothing. You then let out a cry as you see 10 of the Padawans and Jedi members who had come back from Luke’s mission. They were now just blackened skeletons lying on the floor. One in particular was your friend Leirra, whose necklace was still around her neck. You sobbed as you unclipped her necklace, placing it in your pocket.

“I see you’re finally here,” you heard the now Kylo Ren speak. You let out a cry slowly standing up as you felt like your legs were about to give up on you. “I was going to kill Almec, but he ran away just in time. But now that I’ve killed all the Jedi, he can live out the rest of his days in regret before I eventually kill him.”

You stopped crying, a looking of nothingness on your face. You then turned around, looking at him. “Are you really gone, Ben Solo?”

“I killed that bird,” Kylo spoke, his face showing no remorse. “I’ve never been Ben. I’ve always been Kylo. I was showed the true power of the force. But I can show you, Y/N. I can show you the force. And together, we could rule the Galaxy.”

“You really aren’t Ben Solo if you thought I’d say yes to that,” you coldly spoke. Kylo looked slightly upset but quickly masked it. You then turned on your lightsaber, the mechanical hum coming to life. The white light of your saber illuminated your face and Kylo knew from the expression on your face that you weren’t coming back to him anytime soon.

“Would you really kill me, my Sun?” Kylo spat out the nickname he had for you bitterly as he took a step forward, challenging you.

“For the Jedi?” You spoke, thinking of all the people Kylo killed, including your friend Leirra. You took a step forward, pointing your lightsaber towards his neck. “Without question.”

Kylo pulled out his blue lightsaber, waiting for you to attack. You let out a war cry, running towards him. He quickly dogged you before swinging his lightsaber at your figure. You quickly slid down, avoiding the pulsing light by a millimeter.

You then swung your lightsaber the same time he did, your lightsabers letting out a loud hum as they made in contact with each other. You both looked each other in the eye as you tried to overpower each other. You felt the darkness within him, but you also felt his loneliness, his slight regret yet knowing it was too late to go back.

Eventually he overpowered you, pushing you towards the floor. Your lightsaber fell out of your hands as you tried to crawl away from Kylo who stopped you by using the force. You looked at him, now scared. Kylo had seen how afraid you were and for a slight secound, his face fell. He knew it. He knew you were scared of him. You were scared of him like everyone else was.

“Master Luke was right,” Kylo spoke, his lightsaber now millimeters away from your neck. “I did go too easy on you.”

Kylo breathed in, trying to do what he was told to do, what he was destined to do. The look of fear of him only delayed that so he looked away from you. When he finally breathed out, he swung the lightsaber back but hesitated.

And in that slight hesitation, Master Luke had swooped in, using the force to push Kylo away. He then faced you urgently, a look of seriousness in his face. “Run!”

“No, we can still save him!” You told him, as you saw Kylo get up, rubbing his head groaning.

“You cannot save him!” Luke yelled at you, his eyes wide in fury at your lack of cooperation. “Now run!”

You looked at Kylo one final time. The final time you’ll see him for years to come. His eyes made his way towards you. And the face you had made would be engrained in his face for eternity; the face of betrayal.

You turned around, before quickly bolting. You knew that Luke had a spaceship, so you’d get it in and get the hell away from the island. You will leave this island, forget about being a Jedi, about falling in love with Ben Solo. You will forget him. You have to forget him. You will leave this island and never look back. Because you could never go back to how things used to be. You could not save him.

That was your last mistake.

Taglist (CLOSED):

@lafy-taffy @ah-callie @eridanuswave @janilovecookies @penny4yrthoughts @hello-juuliana @lullaboid @artsyzartsi @thescarletknight2014 @oh-mymendes @marrypuffsstuff @i-have-arrived-bitch @lizziekins234 @treestarrrrrrrr @petalduck @forksoffortune @morningdangerheart @laubluered @killtherandomness @rintheemolion @channna @ashleymarieriffle @oopsiedoopsie23 @cynthianokamaria @bugga-bee @theboyxwholived @bookgirlunicorn @princess-yuna @ren-ni @pokengirl2 @i-am-lokii-of-asgard @wecouldbreakthedistance @bellsclarkee @mell-bell @iwritefanficnotprophecies @freaky-dcaky @steve-thotgers @saucysuazo @gothicgirl100 @sincerelymaria @broadway-runaway @writtenbypics @autobotgirl15-blog @holacherrycola

[itstittycitybaby]

Flirty (Lin Beifong x reader) Part 6

a/n: bro. im having to cram all my ideas and edit it. i have so many plans for these next couple of parts and im excited to write them. i want to say that this chapter has self harm in it along with some other heavy topics. idk if anyone actually reads author’s notes so there will be a trigger warning below. the self harm is caused from anxiety and an anxiety attack/anger moments. please be careful and if you are struggling with self harm, or struggling right now. i encourage you to reach out to someone because someone out there cares about you. as always be safe, ily guys

WARNINGS: ANXIETY ATTACKS, SELF HARM, PTSD/TRAUMA FLASHBACKS, CHILD ABUSE, DEPRECATING THOUGHTS

The room was dark and dingy. The cold air was freezing and the table you were cuffed to didn’t help your comfort either. Your wrists were sore from wiggling and shifting so much. The rawness in your throat from crying and screaming throbbed. You didn’t care if the guards heard you anymore. It’s not like they’d come back in here for hospitality. You were alone again. This was the thing you had to face by yourself.

“It always comes back to this with you doesn’t it?” Her harsh words played on repeat in your brain. The shadows in the dark giggled and whispered amongst themselves. You were frozen and trapped in that awful chair that dug into your ass. You were a victim to the dark’s cruel and twisted ways as its children mocked you with their laughter. This room was perfect for you. 

Lin knew you hated the dark. She would hold you tightly and kiss your tears away when it got bad. Those memories used to bring warmth but now they plunged you further into the icy waters of your mind. It made you gasp for air and it forced you to cling tightly onto the past. You laughed and cried as you stayed, rotting in that interrogation room. Time felt endless from being alone in the dark. It always bothered you when there wasn’t a way to tell it.

You hissed in pain as your fingernails dug into your palms. They burned as you kept pressing them into your hands harshly. The red stinging pain filled your senses;the red became deeper as you refused to let go. You whimpered out into the cell, its echoes carrying out from the room and to anyone who passed by. 

They weren’t totally cruel. A guard had come in with a lantern before the metal shields closed. They left it on the table without a word and left quietly. They were like a ghost and quiet enough to make you believe you had imagined it. The flame that flickered in the lantern barely did anything to keep the fear at bay. At least it was something, though.

 It was eerily quiet. You couldn’t hear anything from outside. Inside held your wails and cries that fell on deaf ears. Your voice was hoarse from screaming and sobbing so hard. The soreness in your throat made you parched. There was no water for you to drink, so you sat there unmoving. Now, you just watched the flame lazily flicker and dance in its little casing.

You fingernails lifted from your palms. They stung like hell and burned so fucking bad. You felt hollow and empty. All the tears you had shed and the mourning you endured now left you with a hollow pit.

She was so angry with you. The tears in her eyes and her tone shook with betrayal as she spat venomous words that had cut into your heart. You didn’t know what to feel. Scared, angry, hurt, betrayed. Aiwei, the bastard, had the perfect alibi. Of course he’d use a traveler and pin it on them. Someone who hadn’t seen the Beifongs in so long, but still knew them. It was perfect.

No one believed you. Not Korra, not Mako, not Suyin. Not even Lin. Could you even blame them? It all fell into place. Aiwei is a bastard, but you’d give credit where it was due. The plan was fucking brilliant, he was brilliant. 

 The interrogation room reminded you of home. The coldness from your mother and the isolation you had faced due to not being the child they had wanted. Everything in your life was a fucking metaphor now. The metaphor always tracked back to your shitty childhood and your shitty life. The terror and the isolation was always the thing that came to comfort you in the end, with open arms. It was ironic;.the thing that had been killing you for the past thirty fucking years had finally caught up to you. Its embrace was all too familiar. The warmth  it held welcomed you loving, but its thorns sunk into your skin eventually. 

****

He was crying again. You could hear his wails through the thin walls of the hut. His sobs made you feel horrible, knowing all you could do was stand by the pot. Stir, stir, stir. The wooden spoon stirred the stew your mother asked you to make. Stir, stir, stir. She sat behind you on the floor, staring into the fire. Stir, stir, stir. The stew was red and its heat warmed your face. All you could focus on was the soft stirring of the wooden spoon and the smell. It was a very cold night tonight, so your mother kept the fire warm.

Your eyes stayed on the stew in front of you. Dee’s crying kept getting louder and louder. You felt helpless, trapped there in the kitchen as Dee kept crying. You were rooted to the spot; you knew better than to disobey. You were no good to your brother if you got hurt too. The leverage your mother and father held was strong. It was easy to manipulate and make a person compliant when you dangled what they cared about in front of them like a carrot.

Stir, stir, stir. It was done. “Mamma,” you called softly, “it’s finished.” She didn’t say anything. She kept peering into the fire, observing the flames flickering on the wood. She was alway entranced by fire, even though she’d seen it all her life.You set the spoon down on the counter softly. Your meek footsteps barely creaked on the floor. You stood a couple of feet away from her. Her back faced you stubbornly. “Mamma,” you called again, timidly. No answer. Slowly, you lowered your hand on her shoulder. Smack! You flinched, pulling your hand away. The skin reddened and it stung. “Don’t touch me!”

“Sorry ma,” you whispered, trying to keep your voice from cracking. She didn’t say anything but slowly rose up. Your hand was hot and inspecting it closely you realized it. Your mother had burned you. The edges of your vision became blurry until it was hard to see. Your throat tightened and you struggled to breathe.

Your mother paid you no mind. She grabbed three bowls out and began scooping them with stew. Dee’s sobs turned into whimpers. They played like a mantra in your head over and over. Your hand began to sting more and your throat started to hurt from the stone you were trying hard to swallow. Even as Dee’s whimpers became a crescendo again, all you could think about was stir, stir, stir. 

****

You hit your head smack dab on the table. Must’ve fallen asleep. You looked around drowsily and focused on the on the sun’s raise peeking through the windows. It seemed to be early evening. The muscles in the back of your neck had become cramped along with your back. Your ass was numb from the stiff chair you were trapped to. You didn’t even wanna think about your wrists.

The ground rumbled beneath you. The table shook and the lantern rattled. You watched it nervously, praying to the spirits that it didn’t fall and break. After a few moments, the rumbling stopped.

The lantern sat dangerously on the edge of the table but everything else seemed fine. Ears straining, you held your breath and focused for any signs of life. Nothing. You sighed, looking down at your wrist.

 The cuffs hid the cyan string bracelet you stubbornly kept on after all these years. Though you couldn’t see it, you knew it was there. It gave you hope. Someone out there still cared about you. Someone out there still loved you. Even if he had forgotten about you, the bracelet served a reminder. That someone at some point, had given you a chance.

***

The door slammed open. You shot your head up. The impact from the door echoed among the cold and dark room. You squinted into the room. The sunlight poured in, blinding you. You hissed, screwing your eyes shut.

“(Y/N?)”

Suyin. 

Her face fell. You looked rough. It had been only a couple hours since you were taken in. She was filled with regret at your sullen eyes. The bags under them looked dark and heavy.

“You can get out now,” Suyin said softly. Two guards entered the room and the cuffs opened with a clack. You looked down at your wrists. Your eyes widened at the sight of them. They had angry red marks around them and they were sore. You hissed as you gently pressed your fingers on them and rubbed softly. “Why,” you whispered, voice croaking.

“Aiwei was the traitor.” Su’s eyes shimmered with remorse as she stood there. She glanced down at your wrists. “We should get you to a healer.” You shook your head stubbornly. Placing your hand on the table, you slowly got up. Your ass burned from being forced to sit for so long. Your joints felt like they were on fire, and your feet wobbled as you made you way towards her.

 “Please,” Suyin asked. “You must be in so much pain right now.” She had always been stubborn, just like her sister. “Maybe,” you whispered. Her eyes flashed with worry at your sullen expression. The rawness in your voice worried her. 

 You had hoped Lin had come instead. It hurt all the more knowing she didn’t come instead of Su. You hoped, stupidly, she’d sweep you in her arms and apologize profusely while kissing your face all over. But she didn’t. She left you in that room to rot. Lin had to have found out by now that Aiwei was the traitor. So why didn’t she come for you yourself? I’m just not special, you thought bitterly. She’s gone just like everyone else. She’s done with me.

“I’m so sorry,” Suyin muttered as the two of you left the interrogation room. She refused to leave you alone until you made it to your rooms. You furrowed your brows in confusion. “It’s fine,” you rasped. Su shook her head. “No it’s not and you know that.”

You didn’t say anything. There was nothing left to say. You grabbed her hand and gently squeezed. Suyin lifted her up head, shocked. You didn’t know why you did it. It could have been the isolation that had gnawed into your brain and made you needy. Or, if you tried hard enough, Suyin wasn’t there. In your mind it was Lin standing beside you instead.

****

Your room was torn to shreds. Several plans for new gadgets and tweaks on your weapons were now destroyed. Smashed parts from new projects glinted on the floor. Suyin wanted to stay and help but you shooed her away. You wanted to be alone while you picked up the pieces. You didn’t want nobody to witness you as you fell. Most people came back to a warm loving family after being away. You got to come home to a ruined and smashed room, with a bitter reminder of all your hard work being spilled down the drain in a matter of seconds.

  You swallowed the tears in your eyes and scanned your destroyed room once more. You felt nothing more than a husk. The silence rung in your ears. Your breathing was roaring compared to the quiet.

Azure and Ruby were still missing. The space with their birdcage and food were gone. It made that part of the room was bland and empty. “Assholes,” you ground out bitterly. “Had to go so far as to stealing my fucking birds too.” You threw your turtle neck off forcefully, flinging it against the wall along with your trousers. The draws slammed open from the force of your anger. You pulled out a black tank top and pajama pants. The joints in your bones burned as you tugged your clothes on. They felt comfortable and loose on your skin. It made you sigh with relief and give you some sense of comfort. You trembled as you inspected your room. Your eyes flitted across the damaged state and the tears came rushing back. The fury that had been curling around your heart was threatening to let loose. Let go, a voice whispered. Just let me go.

Knock knock. “Can’t I just be alone for five fucking minutes?” You stomped over to the door, turning the handle. You wanted to be alone so no one would have to see it. See the breakdown and the fall you haven’t had in a long time. The thing that was keeping you together was threatening to snap. You were going to slip from the rope that dangled in the sky and crash into the ground.

Your heart stopped. She stood there with Azure and Ruby in their cage. It all came rushing back. The dark room, the disgust, the hatred in her eyes, and you never really meant anything to me.

“Lin,” you muttered thickly. “What a surprise.” You looked down to Azure and Ruby. They were sleeping soundly in the cage they hated. Anytime you had to put them in there they squwaked and pecked you into you bled. Lin’s hands had little scratches and marks on her hands. You shoved the guilt down and replaced it with something easier to feel. Pettiness, smugness.

“Can I come in?” Her voice was strained. She tried so hard to focus on keeping eye contact with you. Lin didn’t want to cry on your doorstep and have the whole world see what was about to occur. You were silent for a few moments. She deserved to have the door slammed in her face and to be told to fuck off. She had left you cuffed to a table for two hours and refused to listen to anything you had to say. Most of all, Lin told you she didn’t love you anymore. 

She waited patiently. It all felt so weird, like a dream or a film. What if this wasn’t real? What if you were still cuffed to that table and had fallen asleep again. You wanted to yell at her, or scream at her for leaving you there broken hearted.  You hated that deep down, you wanted Lin to hold you and tell you everything was alright. You hated how easy it was to crawl back to her like some fucking sick puppy.

You swallowed harshly. There were tears in your eyes and you nodded. It was slow and sluggish from the way you had jutted your chin out. You left the door way and moved so she could come in. Lin followed after you, closing the door with a soft click. The quiet clinking of her armor pounded in your head. It was the only thing you could focus or you’d drown in the tension that crackled in the air.

Lin set Azure and Ruby on the table gently. They didn’t stir from their sleep, making them look more peaceful. Her green eyes swept over the destroyed room. They followed to the turned over books and sheets, to the paper that had been ripped onto the floor. Lin saw the red and raw marks across your wrists. She felt awful looking at the state of your room but seeing you hurt because of her? Lin didn’t know what to feel.

It was silent for a bit. The both of you waiting for the other to say something. Lin was awful with confrontation and apologizing. You used to be patient with her. Your eyes would be soft as you waited for her words. Now, they were cold and hollow, peering into her soul. You were tired of waiting; you wanted this to be over with.

“You have some balls Beifong,” you said, chuckling. There was no humor or lightness to it. It was the calm before the storm. Before it all blew over and went to hell.

She gulped. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Her voice had cracked slightly. There were tears in her beautiful green eyes.  “I’m so sorry.”

You laughed. Lin’s eyes snapped up to you. It cut through the air as sharp as a knife. It sounded empty and bitter. “A sorry? A fucking sorry? What makes you think a sorry is going to make it all better Lin? What you said can’t be undone. You said what you said and that’s that.”

The tears fell freely now. You didn’t want to move and wipe them away. You wanted Lin to see what she had done. Maybe you were too angry or bitter, but you wanted her to regret it. Most of all, you wanted to love her again.

All you could feel was the rage. The way it curdled dangerously in your veins. You loved her, you loved her so fucking much and you hate that you still did. She had shoved you in a cramped room. She told you that she was done and that she didn’t love you anymore. Worst of all, Lin didn’t trust you and she never did. You were just another shitty person in her eyes. You were nothing but another endless blob in the back of her mind. Lin didn’t care about you.

“I didn’t want it to come to this, I-I never wanted to hurt you. All those things I said were a lie. Please, believe me... I do care about you and I want you to stay in my life.. I want you to be here with me.”

Lin’s eyes shimmered with tears. You watched one fall down to the side of her cheek. You folded your arms and read her. There was nothing but honesty in her eyes. Your lip quivered as more tears fell. You felt like throwing up from the nerves and the anger that threatened to burst.

“I’m tired of pretending. I’m tired of acting like this. That..I’m not happy you’re back and that I hate you. Even when you left I couldn’t hate you for being gone. I-I don’t blame you at all. I was..cold and bitter..I didn’t listen to your feelings..Even now I still didn’t listen..but I want to make things right.” 

She bit her trembling lip and cried. Her tears were silent. Lin had always been a quiet crier. She would cry and make sure there was no sign of it afterwards. Lin used to say it was because being angry was better than being sad. You guessed she still thought the same even after all these years.

“It hurts. It fucking hurts. I want to hate you and I-I want to hold onto to the anger..but I can’t. I still love you even after all of this. After all this-” you choked on a whimper. You sniffled, feeling disgusting that snot was sliding out of your nose.

You wiped your eyes delicately. Lin’s eyes were puffy and red along with her nose and cheeks. She hung on every word you said. “Please,” she whispered, “I’ll do anything. Let me make this right.”

You scoffed. There was a smile on your face. It was one of disbelief and you couldn’t help but laugh at it all. At the world crashing around the two of you. It seemed like a never ending reality. The two of you would always suffer together and always have the world trying to end.

 “Why should I? Why should I give you a second chance Lin? After all this? Leaving me in that shitty cell and having Suyin free me from those cuffs?”

Lin barely flinched. If it were anyone else they wouldn’t have caught it. But you weren’t everyone else. You were the only thing that Lin knew was worth fighting for. 

“I don’t know,” she said. Her voice faltered but it still held strength. Her posture was tight and strong. Lin always faced the danger and the dark with a brave face. Even now she seemed to cower but she still faced your rage and the hurt that lingered in your eyes.

“Oh my god,” you muttered in disbelief. “You don’t know?” Lin was silent as she tried to read you. Your eyes were red and they were slightly crazed. She could tell that your stress levels were high. Your eyes fell from her piercing gaze and instead you focused on the room around you. On the failure your life had become. The one you had built anew was destroyed into a matter of minutes. Everything was gone and all you were was a hollow husk, left to drift away in the wind.

 “No. I don’t. But I still love you. It’s all I know. I-I know nothing else but this.” Lin choked slightly and she breathed in deeply before continuing. “I want to fight for this. I want to be able to love you again.”

You laughed. It was sharp and turned into a wheeze. Lin’s brows furrowed in concern as you hobbled over. She rushed to your side as your knees hit the floor. There were tears streaming down your face rapidly and your breathing was irregular.

Lin’s hands cupped your face. “Breathe, breathe with me. It’s okay, you’re going to be okay.” Her thumbs brushed your tears from your face gently. Lin’s eyes watered with tears again as she held you there in her arms.

“It hurts,” you whimpered, “It hurts so bad.” “I know,” Lin whispered, her voice faltering. “I’m so sorry, I should’ve believed you. I should’ve listened to you but instead I let my anger get the best of me and hurt you instead. And I’m so so sorry.”

You clutched her arms tightly. “I could see him in there. I could see Dee. He was crying he was..he was..” “Shh,” Lin shushed you gently. “It wasn’t your fault. Nothing you could have done would allow that to happen. I wish I could take it all back. I wish I turned around and uncuffed you right there so you wrists wouldn’t be so bruised. Then you wouldn’t have to suffer through that alone.”

Your swallowed the lump in your throat. All you could hear were the sniffles from your nose as Lin rocked you gently. 

After a while, you wiggled out of her hold. It was quiet again and you could feel Lin’s eyes peering into your back as you turned to Azure and Ruby. “Thank you..for taking care of them.” Lin’s lips quivered as she pulled them into a smile. “Of course. They’re wonderful birds.” You helped her up from the floor. There was still more to be said but the air felt better. It didn’t feel as tight around your throat anymore and the sadness settled lighter in your chest..

“Thank you for the apology.” Lin watched you carefully. Your eyes bored holes into Ruby. They were blissfully unaware of what was going on. “But I can’t accept it right now.”

Lin nodded. Another tear fell from her eye. “I understand.” She moved to your door slowly. Her hand clenched the handle. “I still love you,” you choked out. “I-I..I just need some time.” Lin turned to you. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes and there were tears flowing down her cheeks. “I’ll wait for you. I will always wait for you.”

****

After Lin left, you hurried into the bathroom to look at yourself. Everything made your head slightly spin and your skin felt clammy. Your reflection peered back at you in the mirror. Your eyes were sunken in and your skin looked sickly.You felt your chest tightened as you choked on the crisp air. The panic hit you like a sack of bricks after spending so fucking long in that shitty room. The confrontation with Lin was the final nail in the coffin. You felt dreary and exhausted as you stood there. The adrenaline had finally wore off and pain flooded in every bone in your body. Everyone had thought you were a traitor. They had looked at you with disgust and hate. Like you were some kind of junk to discard. Lin had turned against you and had the guards shove you into the cramped interrogation room, knowing your fear of the dark. She wanted nothing to do with you anymore and left you to rot. But then she came running back, crying and asked for forgiveness. 

Were you too cruel? Should you have told her it was okay? You were awful to say those things to her. You should apologize and tell her it’s all okay, that it was your fault instead. The guilt came flooding with remorse and anger. It became a deafening roar in your ears as it threatened to swallow you. You should have just stayed quiet and been a good girl like your mother had taught you.

Crack! Your fists bashed against the mirror in front of you. Glass shards flew onto the floor, slicing your hands. Your knuckles and palms filled with a burning hot pain. All you could see was the red and the white filling your vision. The rage and the suffering had finally been freed. It swept all around like heavy smoke and curled it’s whisps around your heart. All you could feel was the heat inside of your chest and the wrath that prickled your veins.

You looked down and saw that your hands had been cut open. Glass shards had dug its way into your skin. The sharp points had pierced your palms good enough that blood gurgled to the surface. Then, it became numb again. The stinging pain in your hands was replaced by adrenaline again. You felt nothing as you bashed your fist against the mirror for a second time. Then another followed suit. The mantra of the sickening crack was the only thing that rung in your ears. It was the only thing you could hold onto.

 Blood slid from the broken mirror. It dripped from the bottom of the ridge to the sink beneath it. The drops turned into splatters once it oozed onto the white porcelain. Your fingers blazed once the ringing in your ears wore off. The glass in your palms and fists pricked your skin like thorns. You laughed bitterly. Tears sailed from your eyes. The black mold on the cabinet that held the glass stared back at you. At least I can’t see myself anymore, you thought, trying to smile. Your lips quivered as more tears fell from your puffy eyes.

 Cleaning would have to come another day. You sank to the ground with your knees hitting the tile. They clinked against the glass on the floor. Your thighs stretched with a burn as you kneeled there on the ground. You were just bad as your parents. They hurt and killed everything they touched. It was futile to try and resist; this was your destiny.

*****

The closet was dark. Dee sat in your lap clinging onto you. The closet was cramped, barely fitting the two of you. It felt like the walls were pushing up against you. The closet muffled your mother and father’s screams. They shouted at one another. “When are they gonna stop,” Dee asked, digging his fingers into your tunic.

A plate smashed against the wall. The both of you flinched and Dee whimpered. “I don’t know,” you whispered. The air was heavy and made it feel like you were choking on it every time you tried to breathe in. “I’m scared.” You swallowed the pit in your throat and pulled Dee closer. “It’s gonna be okay,” you said softly, “I promise.”

You rocked him on your lap. Your knees and thighs burned from kneeling on the floor for so long. Your arms felt heavy as you held Dee close, humming. The screaming didn’t stop for a while. Some glass shattered on impact of being thrown. You hummed over your mother’s weeping, trying to drown it out. 

You told yourself that it would be alright. That they wouldn’t hurt Dee or you if you stayed still. It was all going to be okay one day. Yet, even as you rocked your younger brother, something told you that things would never change.