#hope this was at least SORT OF an answer to the prompt lol

[mikanotes]

goodbyes are sour

connor x gn!reader — 2.1k words

genre: angst sorta! mutual pining in denial

warnings: mentions of guns and killing, kabedon for the sake of science, connor unreliable narrator LOL u have feelings android man… maybe ooc idk. (wrote this w the idea of connor being deviant since the beginning bcs Yeah!)

synopsis: You meet Connor again. Turns out things are much more complicated when you aren’t working together.

author’s note: hi dbh fic?! i Love connor nd i’ve been writing this for a while (crazy since it’s rly short) but i don’t like it much… anyways whoevers alive in the dbh fandom have this!

“Detective.”

There’s just something about the way Connor speaks. The cadence, the pitch, the enunciation of each word. It’s painfully evident that he isn’t human. Everything about him is so machine-like that even his perfect, human-like exterior could not fool anyone. However it is something you got used to. Hearing the android speak your name and call you ‘Detective’ back a while ago felt somewhat unsettling. Now it’s so easy to recognize that it almost makes you feel at ease.

“Do you seriously think I’m an android? I don’t wanna deal with those fucking machines, either. I’d be glad if you put a bullet through them rather than me.”

Turns out hearing him fake being a human is ten times more terrifying than his android speech patterns could ever hope to be.

This was not part of the plan.

You were sent with a unit to patrol around the streets for any android who still hadn’t been brought back or destroyed. You weren’t a fan of this whole assignment, but felt better than the rookies who were sent out to shoot humanoid robots as their first field mission probably did.

It would be fine, is what you told yourself, because you didn’t feel anything towards Cyberlife’s creations enough to be completely uncomfortable with the idea of their blue blood on your hands, though it wasn’t ideal. You could manage. Until the first person you came across happened to be the one android you genuinely cared about.

“I don’t think he’s one of them…” one of your fellow officers murmurs next to you. You suddenly become very aware of the gun he, too, is holding and pointing towards the target. Fuck. As if the situation wasn’t bad enough.

At least this idiot’s performance seems to be fooling them.

You wait one second, then sigh on the second, and finally lower your gun on the third. “You shouldn’t be here.” you say casually, prompting your colleagues to relax and the atmosphere to lighten a little. Your heart is in your throat, however. “We’ve got orders to round up every android we see around here. You should go home. This isn’t exactly safe.”

“I know, I know.” he sighs, rolling his eyes a little, “I was gonna leave anyways, thanks.”

Your coworkers mumble to themselves about how disagreeable this guy’s attitude is and it’s enough for them to miss the wink the latter sends your way as he leaves. You almost regret not shooting a bullet through his head.

Still, you sigh in relief, setting your gun back at your side and running a hand over your face. You don’t think you can continue patrolling in peace. There’s one too many questions in your mind and the key to answering them is escaping from your grasp.

You take the phone in your pocket and pretend to get a call, moving it to your ear and looking at the members of your team. “I’ll join up with you later.” you say, gesturing towards your phone. They nod and walk away, and you do the same, feeling more relieved than ever that these people see you as a leader of sorts. They won’t question you on anything. You hurry towards the direction your so-called partner left to the moment they’re out of sight.

A rooftop door, stairs, and more stairs. You’re jogging down like you’re chasing a criminal on the run. You’re down to the fifth floor out of eight when someone grabs your arm and pulls you out a door.

“Wha—” you try to yell, but a cold hand settle over your mouth. Your body relaxes but your expression tenses. Connor. “Let me go,” you mumble incoherently, surprisingly succeeding in getting him to let you step away.

You sigh and shake your head, turning around abruptly. His ‘human costume’ (which really just was a grey suit jacket thrown over what should’ve been his Cyberlife uniform, glasses, and a cap to hide his LED) is already gone, replaced by his usual attire, just missing his jacket.

“What the hell was that about?” you ask, annoyed, pointing towards the staircase (back there, on the roof) and the android simply shrugs. “Connor.”

“I was undercover, Detective. I thought someone as smart as you would recognize that much.” he says, his tone back to normal. You’d feel relieved if he wasn’t being so irritating. “Was I wrong?”

Your face drops. “No. I figured as much. But what for?” you sigh, crossing your arms.

“Same mission as always.”

“Who are you chasing? Did you find the place?”

“I have no reason to tell you.”

It only clicks then that while you know about Connor continuing his mission after being laid off the case, you’re not part of it anymore. He had to be sent back to Cyberlife, and you should’ve been forgetting about him entirely. You’re still DPD, and you have orders to shoot Androids on sight— Which you clearly aren’t following. He’s right. He has no reason to tell you.

Still.

You grab his arm when he threatens to walk away. You’re not sure what you want to say, but you’re not done talking. He lets you. “Connor.”

“Detective.” he says. You straighten your back and sigh, not breaking eye contact. He tilts his head to the side and his LED flashes yellow for an instant. “You’re angry.”

Of course you’re angry. He’s infuriating. There’s something about how logical and dead-set on following every single rule he is that makes Connor the most annoying individual you’ve ever talked to. Everything he does has to be for his mission. Every single thing.

“Do threats work with you?” you ask blankly, “If you don’t tell me where it is, I’ll get Cyberlife to bring you back, and all that?”

When he takes a step closer to you again, forcing your back to press against the wall, and his LED does not even threaten to change hues, you’re taken aback. Just a bit. It’s the same kind of frustrated attitude you would’ve expected from a human after saying what you just did. But not Connor.

He doesn’t seem frustrated, though. And you know he can look annoyed. He just doesn’t. So he must not be. And you want to find what it is he’s doing exactly, stepping closer to you without even saying a word, but your brain feels like it’s short-circuiting at the distance between you two. You know he does everything for his work. Does he think you have new information on deviants? Does he really believe you would call Cyberlife on him? Is he using his stupid interrogation module on you? Whatever it is makes you even more annoyed.

The silence feels heavy. It makes things worse. It gives your brain time to process how this is making you feel and it’s no good at all. “What?” you break the silence, tone somewhat irritated.

“I’m trying to understand the reason why you’re so angry at me.” he explains simply, like it makes sense. His eyes narrow a bit and the LED at the side of his head flickers yellow for a moment. “And no, Detective. Threats don’t work on me. Not when I can tell you’re lying so easily.” he adds, quieter.

“Shut up.” you scoff.

“I dont think I will.”

“Connor.”

“— However,” he interrupts, “I can step away from you at any moment if you tell me to.”

“No.”

“No?”

What— No?! You register the word after saying it and sigh, face contorting into a somewhat pained expression. You panicked and said it, your mind processing his offer as him leaving you again— With no information and nothing to ease your stupid worries. Now it just sounds odd.

Is that embarrassment?

“You didn’t finish what you were trying to do, did you? You haven’t told me why I’m angry yet. Since you apparently care so much.” you say, tone sounding much softer than before. Your apparent discomposure took away all the bitterness from your voice. Interesting.

Truth be told, Connor knows why you’re angry. He’s not letting you in on the details of what he’s doing despite the time you spent working as partners a very short while ago. He’s spent enough time with people, and you especially, to know that after forming some kind of bond with a work partner, it would be frustrating not to receive information about their mission the way you used to from them—

Especially considering he was still chasing after something you both knew about. Jericho. But he cannot tell you about that. Not… Right now.

What he really was trying to do was evaluate how much of a threat you really could be to his investigation. He didn’t sense any hostility before and he doesn’t now, and you could’ve shot him but you didn’t. But it’s not enough. He needs more time— More evidence that it’s fine. That’s why he pulled you here in the first place. That’s why he pressured you to talk.

He needs to make sure killing you isn’t necessary.

“Because I posed a threat to the stability of your current mission earlier. You wouldn’t have been able to shoot me had I been discovered, and your reaction to your colleagues shooting me would’ve jeopardized your job itself.” he answers.

This reasoning would make sense.

“That’s not it.” you sigh.

Your heartbeat is slowing down. No good. Connor leans his arm on the wall next to you and moves closer. Your heartbeat picks up in speed. It’s almost alarming. He can tell all the details about your physical condition and deduce what you’re thinking or feeling based off of them, sure. But he’s no human. The way he views and comprehends emotions is registered in his system in a much more clear and logic-based way than it is in humans’ brains.

So maybe he won’t ever know why your heart beats so heavily against your ribcage. So he just has to pressure the right places and demand answers. He unfortunately can’t allow you to relax. He won’t get anything out of you if you’re calm. You’re much too turbulent for that.

Or maybe he’ll just have to ask. In a normal way.

“Detective, what’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” you scoff, eyes widening. Wrong question.

You seem like you want to be angry but something is holding you back from displaying just how much he gets on your nerves. You sigh deeply and look at him, “What’s wrong with you? You’re acting so weird. More than usual. Why’d you pull me here if you didn’t want to tell me anything? And I’m worried. What if you really did get shot? Wasn’t Cyberlife supposed to deactivate you? They wouldn’t have brought in another Connor this time. You’re off the case, you— You would’ve died!”

“Maybe.”

There’s circles under your eyes. There always are, but they’re more defined now than they were the last time he saw you. Now that you’re actually being honest, your whole voice and mannerisms betray any of your usual annoyed and dismissive facade. He didn’t think you cared this much, though he understands that some humans are quick to empathize. To a fault.

Now it’s clear he doesn’t need to eliminate you at all. Part of him seems to have grown fond of your company. He couldn’t risk that getting in the way of his better judgment.

“I only pulled you here so you wouldn’t pointlessly chase down the streets searching for me, since I made sure no one would follow.” he says, stepping back and giving you more space, “You’re a police officer. It doesn’t matter what you say you’ll keep to yourself or not. I can’t compromise. This is too important.”

You’re hurt, it’s visible. He’s saying he can’t risk trusting you. He figures that must not feel nice.

The sound of the radio attached to your side breaks this prolonged silence with the promise of separation. You take it, eyes not leaving Connor’s, and listen to your colleague speak. You tell them you’ll be right there. You’re not one to be late. He knows you’ll really leave this time— Too far away for him to hope to talk to you again, if anything goes awry.

You turn the radio off and put it back where it was. “Hope you succeed, then.” you say, bitter, and push yourself up to start walking away.

“Take care of yourself, Detective.” Connor says. Asks. The words come out before he can really think. Something about your voice and this whole atmosphere made him… Feel uneasy. Like he needed to say something. If this is how your partnership ends, he doesn’t believe it should be on such a sour note. He cares doesn’t dislike you at all, so why should it?

You stagger a little, seemingly stopping in your tracks, but moving again no more than a second later. “You too, Connor.”

Somehow, goodbyes had never seemed so sad.

[rinhaler]

I Pick a Tail Number and We Could Be Tourists

CHAPTER SUMMARY: you're stranded out of town and it's all Megumi's fault. Time to find a hotel to crash in!

boyfriend!yuuji itadori x f!reader x bully!megumi fushiguro

WARNINGS : 18+, alcohol consumption, arguing, name calling, strong language lmao, PG chapter tbh!

WORDS : 9.2k

notes : dangerously close to running out of old chapters to edit and repost LOL

       LAST CHAPTER ┊ MASTERLIST ┊ NEXT CHAPTER

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Megumi didn’t wait for you as he re-entered the aquarium and you had to work double time to keep up with his brisk strides.

He said that you should go inside together so you could figure out this mess you found yourselves in; and yet it sure feels like he’s trying to leave you behind.

He only slows down when he starts to text, which of course, piques your interest. It’s probably his dad or his sister, letting them know what happened and asking for a ride. He comes to a complete stop as you arrive at the café. Megumi pulls out a chair, he intended it to be for himself, but when he looks up and notices your worried gaze, he gestures it to you and takes another seat.

You must look terrified if even Megumi is showing you that much kindness.

“Are you texting Toji?” you ask him, and he scoffs immediately.

“No? Why would I?”

“Because we are fucking stranded and you said we were going to plan what we are going to do!” you whisper-shout at him, doing all you can to remain level-headed and keep your fury to a minimum. You’re so overwhelmed and angry you know the smallest push will have you freefalling into tears.

“I’m gonna call that asshole teacher of ours and see if they can turn around.” Megumi tells you, scrolling through his phone until he lands on your lecturer’s phone number. You hear a faint ringing through the speaker again and again. A vision of rage flares across Megumi’s features as the ringing goes to voicemail.

“Call Toji!” you demand. It prompts Megumi to kiss his teeth and roll his eyes to look at you, he studies your body language and expression, and he has to hold back a smile when he sees how serious you are. “Or I will.” the threat causes Megumi’s vague amusement to fade into annoyance as he adjusts his seating position to sit up straight.

“Go on then.” he challenges, moodily. He rests his ankle over his knee and slouches more in his seat, avoiding eye contact with you as he proceeds to play on his phone and ignore the gravity of the situation you’ve found yourself in. You tut, quickly finding Toji’s name in your contacts and dialling.

Ring… Ring… Ring…

“What did he do?” he huffs, answering the phone sounding a little out of breath.

“N-Nothing, Toji. Well he, I guess he—“

“What? What’s going on, princess?”

Megumi’s eyes are burning into yours as he warns you to choose your next words carefully. Part of you wants to protect him; you aren’t sure if it’s out of guilt for your tattling earlier this morning or if it’s out of fear for what he’ll do to you. Your mouth hangs open as you consider, and then turns to a smile that you’ll hope Toji will hear through the phone.

“He’s been fine. But, uh, we missed the bus home.”

“Was it his fault?”

“W-Well, umm…”

“Just tell me sweetheart. Was it his fault you missed the bus?” he questions, a stern, authoritative tone in his speech. You do all you can to remain composed and not expose yourself to Megumi. A small little gulp travels down your throat as you find the confidence to croak out a singular word.

“Technically…”

“Put him on.”

“But—”

“Put him on the phone right now.”

He’s never spoken to you like that before. It was a condensed version of how you hear him address Megumi. You quickly hand the phone to his son and hear a quiet ‘for fuck sake’ under his breath as he presses your phone to his ear.

He looks cute, you think, with a pink love heart phone case on the side of his head. With this and the colouring book, you’re starting to think he’s not all bad.

Maybe he even has a softer side.

He at least has a sort of nice side if today is anything to go by.

You’re brought out of your soft ideation as you see a vein bulge against Megumi’s temple and his teeth grit whilst his father screams bloody murder at him down the phone. Even without speaker phone turned on, you can still hear him.

“Enough!” Megumi bites back, finally, and Toji actually pipes down once he hears his son snap. “Can you come get us or not?” he hisses through his teeth. His eyes bulge open as he hears a response he hadn’t expected. “What do you mean no? Where the fuck are you right now? It’s loud.”

“I mean no, shithead. I’ll talk to you about it later, I can’t get you though. I’m sorry, kid. Tsumiki is at work too so she can’t.” Toji tells him. Megumi sighs and shakes his head in your direction. It’s odd, considering Toji said he’d drop anything and everything to rescue you if needed be. But you suppose things happen, life gets in the way, it can’t be helped. You know he would if he could. “Give her the phone back.”

He does, holding it out for you to take. He gets up, trudging towards the barista to avoid listening to whatever his father is going to say to you.

“I’m so so sorry I can’t come get you, baby. You’re a credit card kid though, right? I’ll be able to wire you the money tomorrow if you wanna get a cab back. It’s only fair I fucking pay since it’s my dumb kid's fault.”

“Three hours in a cab? I can’t, I’m not really talking to my parents right now and I’d feel obliged to if I spent that much money on their card.” you tell him. He nods, despite you being unable to see it. He understands. “Megumi’s gonna try and ring our teacher again, maybe they’ll come back for us.”

“Yeah, maybe.” he responds, “I know it isn’t ideal but… if there’s no one else, maybe you could book a hotel room for the night or something?”

“Oh! Absolutely not!” you reply. The chipper tone in your voice with such a funny answer makes him snicker down the phone. “I’ve just remembered Gojo exists, I’ll call him!” you beam, impressed with yourself as the idea strikes you.

“N-No, princess, wait—!”

“Bye Toji!” you hang up, albeit a little guiltily. But you waste no time searching your contacts for Gojo.

You jump a little when you hear the sound of glass thump against the table you’re sitting at. He got you and himself milkshakes. Banana for you and strawberry for him. There’s something quite endearing about Megumi and the colour pink.

“Thanks. Did you know banana is my favourite or was it a guess?”

“I’m gonna try that fucking idiot teacher again.” Megumi speaks, totally ignoring your question. There’s no way he could have known it was your favourite, you’ve never told him and you doubt Yuuji had. He gets up and walks away from the table as he listens to the mind-numbing ring of his phone attempting to connect him.

Your call to Gojo is useless. His smarmy voice immediately grates on you as he asks how you got yourself in such a predicament. It only edges his theory more that you have a thing for Megumi now that you’re stuck with him. And you are stuck, since he’s also unable to help.

“Didn’t think you’d need me today so I’m out of town. How about your favourite Papaguro?” he taunts.

“He can’t. I don’t know what he’s doing but he said he can’t.” you tell him, coldly, hoping your tone of voice will quell his curiosity and put an end to his teasing.

“Oh really? How interesting. Let me talk to Megumi—”

“Goodbye, Gojo.” you cut him off before he can continue anymore. Your blood is boiling, but you manage to relax as you see a stream of texts from Toji begging you not to call Gojo.

Oops.

Megumi returns, tossing his phone onto the table. You think if he fell into his seat any harder he might have put a hole through the floor. He looks furious. A face like thunder and his arms folded across his chest. His foot begins tapping against the floor speedily, almost like a tick of some sort and soon it travels up his leg so that he’s bouncing it. You don’t stare, but you look over to him wondering when he’ll be ready to talk. He looks at you when you lean forward to sip the straw of your milkshake.

“I thought it was weird that they left without us,” he starts, copying your actions and slurping the pink liquid he purchased through his straw. “Whenever I’ve been on trips in the past. They say a certain time to be back, but they never actually leave until everyone is accounted for on the bus.”

“Right? But this isn’t like school, we’re adults. It’s university. So they don’t fuck around when it comes to this stuff, I guess.” you respond. He shakes his head though, disregarding your statement.

“I went on a trip with my old university and they waited for a bunch of mature students who were late back to the bus. Like, thirty minutes late. They don’t leave students behind on trips, ever. Unless…”

“Unless?”

“Guess what that useless excuse for an educator just told me.” Megumi smirks. You shake your head, giving up on his little game before you even begin. You see his eyes roll over white before he leans in closer to you across the table, his chest almost spilling his milkshake over. “Apparently I sent a text to those stupid ugly girls telling them that we caught a ride home from Toji. And that idiot believed them.”

“Did you?”

“What?”

“Did you text them, Megumi? Because this seems like something you’d definitely do to try and fuck with me.”

“Don’t be dense. I’m not fucking with you anymore, am I? If I was fucking with you I would have left you here alone.” he assures you. You nod, finding his explanation believable enough to dispel any doubt. You’re at least glad he isn’t angry with you for doubting him; he’s given you more than enough reasons to, after all. “How was your call with Gojo?”

“It’s a no-go,” you smile. You even manage to coax a little smirk out of Megumi as well. “He’s out of town, busy. And I assume a charming boy such as yourself doesn’t have any friends who could get us.”

“I assume the girl who pissed herself at Independent doesn’t have any friends either.” he bites back. He scrunches his eyes as soon as the words leave his mouth. Regret, you deduce. You look away from him to stop yourself from crying, and you know he won’t apologise to you for saying it.

Keep it together. Don’t let him see you cry.

“Call your parents.” Megumi demands.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I said no. I’m not fucking talking to them and you’re not going to bully me into doing it. Especially after what you just said. I cannot believe I thought—”

“Don’t fucking start. Sorry, alright? Just slipped out.” he mumbles, and you huff out a sigh. It’s a huge deal, honestly. You didn’t think he was capable of apologising. Hell, you didn’t even know he knew the word sorry. You shake your head, dismissing him and his bullshit as you try and come to terms with your situation. “No Toji or Gojo or bus coming back. No cab. No friends. What’s left, O’Keeffe?”

“I- Toji suggested something but I said no to that, too.” you hesitate to tell him. He looks at you, curiously, waiting for you to elaborate. A scoff escapes you as you recall the idea and debate on telling him or not. It can’t hurt to mention it, you suppose. “A hotel.”

“He’s smart sometimes, I’ll give him that. Why did you say no?”

“I don’t want to stay here any longer than necessary with you, let alone share a room.” you tell him bluntly, and he laughs at your brazenness. He catches himself, though, his face returning to the stoic expression it’s used to. He can’t let you think he finds you funny.

“Why would we share? The rooms will be dirt cheap. It might not be what you want to hear, but, we’re stuck here for tonight at least.” he tells you. And unfortunately, you’re starting to think he’s right. You’re shit out of luck. There’s no escape from him and you are stranded in town until someone can come and get you both. Of course, the reasonable thing to do would be to call your parents and just get over your petty grudge and talk to them. But it wasn’t a viable option.

You can’t.

You just can’t.

You pull your laptop out of your bag and connect with the hotspot on your phone. Megumi is squinting incredulously. As if you’re the type to come up with evil plots and schemes.

“I’m looking up hotels in town, apparently there’s only three. Do you want to call?” you wonder. He grabs your laptop and turns it to face him, dialling the number for the first hotel. You start calling the second and it rings for an awfully long time.

“This one’s fully booked, give me the last one.” he demands, you turn your screen for him to see and he attempts the next number.

“Oh hello, I was wondering if you had any rooms available for—”

You’re cut off by the most unwelcome answer you could have possibly imagined. The look on Megumi’s face is telling you that he doesn’t have a much better answer for you either. His teeth are grinding and his face is almost completely red. Instead of one bulging forehead vein you think you can see three of them.

“No rooms.”

Fuck.

“I— We’ll take it. Is it okay if we pay on site? I’m not sure how many days… Yeah, sure. That’s fine, uh, Fushiguro for the booking, I guess. Thanks so much.” you sigh, hanging up the phone.

“Nice one, O’Keeffe. And you’re putting it in my name so Toji has to pay, real smart. At least we’ll have our rooms for the night and we can get some—”

“Our room.” you correct him.

“What?”

“They only had one fucking room available for us.”

“No.”

“It’s two double beds so it’s not like we’re sharing. Listen, I’m not thrilled about it either, Megumi.” you snipe at him, unwilling to tolerate his attitude when you’re already in a foul mood.

“If you weren’t being such a petty, stuck up, bitch, your parents could have—”

“You can eat shit along with my parents. Fuck this,” you moan, standing to your feet and heading for the exit. You’re quickly stabbing the letters of the address into Google Maps so you can walk your way to your hotel.

Megumi knows he’s going to have to catch up with you at some point, but he’s stubborn, unable to admit defeat or appear weak.

But he is at fault for everything. He is the one that got you both into this mess and he is the one that keeps pushing your fucking buttons.

He does get up, though. It takes him a while to see you when he gets outside into the pouring rain. But when he does, it doesn’t take long to reach you. And almost as if to protect his fragile masculinity, he deems it necessary to overtake you like he’s leading the way. Guiding you to safety.

He doesn’t even know where he’s going, looking over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure he’s going the right way. He stops at an intersection looking completely out of his depth. You don’t help him, if he’s so insistent on leading the way then he can take it from here.

You don’t mind catching hypothermia in pursuit of proving a petty point.

His eyes wander around. And suddenly they settle. He knows he’s lost and clueless about what he’s doing. But ever the bullshitter, he comes up with a valid excuse for a pause in the journey.

“Should we get some clothes?” he asks. You scrunch your face up, not understanding why such a random question left his lips. He points in the direction of a department store, hoping to clarify his reasoning. “We only have what we came in and we’re drenched. I hope you aren’t planning on sleeping naked since we’re sharing a room.”

You suppose he has a point.

“Fine. Let’s go, I’m not buying your shit, though.”

“Bank of Toji, O’Keeffe. A pair of piece of shit credit card kids stranded in the middle of nowhere. Classic.”

“I’m not a piece of shit credit card kid, Megumi.” you inform him.

“Oh yeah? Who’s paying for that cosy little love den again. You and Yuuji must be working so hard to pay the bills.”

That shuts you up fairly quickly. Maybe he’s right. Are you really nothing but a trust fund baby? A useless girl who can’t get by without help from her parents. You never thought about it before, but it seems that way the more you think about it.

They’re the only reason you’re able to spend as much as you want at the drop of a hat.

They’re the only reason you have a nice house to live in instead of a gross little shoebox dorm room while you’re studying.

Megumi is a lot of things. A lot of awful things you couldn’t even begin to list. But it’s not often that he lies. And it’s even rarer that he’s wrong.

The store is nothing special. It’s nice and cheap which makes you feel real good inside. You may be spending your parents’ money, but at least it isn’t anything for them to call you up about.

You pick out a few outfits and some pyjamas to wear in the hotel room. You look over one of the clothes rails and see Megumi flirting with one of the shop assistants.

You feel hot all of a sudden. Angry. Why is he fucking flirting with her? Is now really the time to be doing this? He’s acting like everything is fine. Normal. Like you aren’t stuck here for however long.

You aren’t sure why, but something snaps in you. Before you can even ask yourself if it’s a good idea you’re marching up towards the girl and Megumi, rudely intercepting their conversation.

“I’m done buying stuff. Have you got everything?” you ask him.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t— Is this your girlfriend?” she asks. You scoff quickly and Megumi laughs at her assumption.

“Long story. Here, babe,” he smirks as he holds her hand and pulls a biro out of his back pocket. He scribbles his phone number on the top of her hand and winks at her. “Might be in town for a few days, call me up if you wanna have some fun.”

“Ugh.” you mutter, earning an elbow in the ribs from him.

“O-Okay, Megumi. I’ll call you. And nice to meet you, uh—”

“Bye.” you speak, assuming she was about to ask your name. You had no intention of giving it to her and watching them drool over each other for a second longer. “Not very professional of you, is it? Flirting with customers?” you tell her as you walk towards the checkout counter. She scoffs lightly, looking at Megumi for reassurance.

He does nothing but laugh, shrugging his shoulders as he walks after you. He’s silent for a while as he watches the woman at the counter ring up your purchases. You’ve got a face like thunder and he can’t even begin to describe how amused he feels. He waits for you to pick up your shopping bags before putting his own clothes down and waiting for the same service.

“What’s wrong with your face?” he asks you.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re pissed. Clearly. But I’ve never seen you look like that before. Is it…”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Jealousy?”

“You’re a fucking idiot. I’m not jealous. I don’t want you bringing girls back to our hotel room and listening to you cum in thirty seconds and think you’re impressive.”

“Right.”

He picks up his bags and heads for the exit. You know he’s winding you up on purpose when he winks at the girl again. It’s like he’s pouring salt and vinegar into a wound just to see how long it will take you to scream. You’re already fragile. Vulnerable. Lonely. He’s treating you as if you’re some social experiment to see how much he can get away with. He knows it’s a lot. He’s put you through a lot already.

What else is left?

—

You finally make it to the hotel.

Megumi had given in and decided to let you show him the way while he attempted to get through to his dad again. It took a few calls until he answered. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary either, both of them yelling and getting angry at each other until they finally got down to what they needed to talk about.

Paying the front desk.

He hands the phone to the man checking you in while he takes down his card details.

“Could you speak up, sir? It’s a little loud.” he requests.

“I said that earlier. Where the fuck is he?” Megumi wonders, facing you. You shrug your shoulders, assuming he didn’t actually expect you to answer.

How are you meant to know? It’s not like you're in cahoots with Toji just because he has an attentive interest in you and your wellbeing.

Megumi might annoy the life out of you and make your life hell at any opportunity, but you’re not the type of girl to keep information from him just to get the upper hand.

“All sorted. We’ve got his details, enjoy your stay.”

“Can I ask why it’s so busy? I noticed a lot of uh… interesting clothes at the store. And this was the only hotel with a room, is there a reason?” you ask him.

“It’s our big town festival this weekend. The anniversary of its founding. We get dressed up in gaudy clothes. Hold a parade. A beach party. Don’t be fooled by the weather, it’ll be scorching for the parade.”

“We need the key to the room.” Megumi states, bluntly. Clearly not giving two shits about the upcoming festival. The man nods and holds the key out to him.

“There’s a shop around the corner that sell condoms and lube.” he tells you both.

“He’s NOT my fucking boyfriend!” you yell, storming towards the stairs with your bags. Megumi laughs, again, saying goodbye to the receptionist as he follows after you. “The fuck do I look like? As if I’d date someone like him.” you mumble to yourself.

“You’re gonna hurt my feelings.” Megumi teases.

You ignore him, picking up the pace and running up the stairs so you can escape him. You know you need him to unlock the door to the room, but you need at least a few seconds of peace from him.

You can’t stand it.

You can’t stand him.

He doesn’t chase you. He doesn’t pester you anymore. You rest your back against the wall beside the door to your room as you wait for him. You’re almost at your breaking point. You can feel it brewing. Your chest is aching and your mouth is filling with water. You can even feel your jaw begin to ache.

What could you have done to deserve this?

Megumi arrives and doesn’t say a word. You’re thankful. You aren’t sure if he’s doing it for his benefit or yours. Does he know if he prods at your sensitive skin any more you’ll crumble to dust?

The room is quaint. You take the bed closest to the bathroom; leaving the one nearest to the window to him. Both of you drop your bags on each of your beds. He’s pacing around a little while you sit on the mattress.

Looking around is getting to you.

This is real.

You’re really stuck in a fucking hotel room with Megumi Fushiguro. What would Yuuji think if he could see you now? What were you fucking thinking by giving him the benefit of the doubt? Maybe you’d have been better off if you let those girls bully you on the coach and harass you in the art gallery.

At least you’d be on your way home.

At least you wouldn’t be stuck with him.

The spiralling thoughts in your mind are the final straw. You burst into tears and you couldn’t be anymore humiliated if you tried. Megumi looks over his shoulder to see you sobbing.

He feels awkward.

He’s not used to seeing anyone get emotional, let alone you. He’s only seen you like this because of him. And he can’t deny that this is his fault as well.

So, why can’t he find it in him to feel bad?

He goes in the bathroom and picks up some toilet roll for you. He doesn’t hand it to you, though. He just throws it at you. It makes you laugh a little. It’s just so him. You have to admit despite his obscure approach, he’s really been trying with you since the coach trip. You get yourself a handful of toilet roll and start dabbing it at your cheeks.

“Why did you do this to me, Megumi?” you ask so quietly it’s barely audible. “You keep fucking with me. And… this was without trying. Or was it planned?”

“Shut up. What good is this doing, huh? We’re in this, now, there isn’t shit we can do about it so suck it up.”

“You walked out of the aquarium and fucked everything up. You said you were going to piss but you were outside on the phone! Who was it? Tell me!”

“I won’t tell you again, princess. No business of yours so shut your fucking mouth.”

“It is my business when you get me into a situation like this because of it. You made this happen. And now you’re planning fucking dates and doing all that you can to make this experience even more miserable than it already is!” you yell, eyes and nose running quicker than you can keep up with. You must look a total mess and it’s making you even more embarrassed. It’s just more ammunition to fuel him with, more he can hold over your head and make you feel shit for.

“Who I’m on the phone with is my business. Who I go on dates with is my fucking business. Stop being a bitch. Are you on your fucking period? You’re so quick to shut down any chance of you being my girlfriend but you’re acting like you are since you’re being a nagging cunt.”

“Megumi—”

“Shut up.”

“Please… Please, don’t bring her back here.” you beg quietly. It makes him huff in annoyance as he turns away from you. You see him shaking as he grabs hold of the wooden dressing table as he tries to stabilise himself. “You at least owe me that, Megumi. You’ve done so many fucked up things. Unforgivable things, but here we are. I’m… I’m sobbing in a hotel room that I’m sharing with you. I’ve never asked you for anything other than to stop bullying me. But please, please don’t bring her here.”

You see his eyes screw shut in the mirror. He’s biting his lower lip as he thinks everything through.

You’re right.

He knows you’re right.

There’s an awful lot that he’s done to you and you’ve forgiven him without him even saying sorry. It shows how big of a person you are. How kind and sweet and genuine you are.

But he doesn’t care.

He just doesn’t fucking care.

Why does he get such a kick out of making you suffer? There’s something so enthralling and hypnotic about you that he can’t get over. You’re always in his fucking head and even seeing you bawl your eyes out he can’t find it in him to feel bad.

“FUCK!” he shouts, angrily trudging over to his bed to pick up one of the bags.

It’s the bag he held up earlier outside of the aquarium when you finally found each other. You never got a chance to ask what was in it. It had the logo for the aquarium on it, but you were too distraught and angry to question what he had purchased.

“Here.” he speaks, hurtling the bag towards you. You duck out of the way before it can hit you.

“Megumi!” you yell back, wiping your tears with your hands as your eyes widen in anger at him. He’s not paying attention though. Searching through his pockets for a cigarette and heading towards the exit.

“Goin’ for a smoke. Sick of the sight of your miserable fuckin’ face.” he tells you, slamming the door behind him. You throw yourself backwards so that your head is in the pillows. You’ve never felt so alone as you practically wail into the desolate hotel room.

What you’d give to have Toji pick you up right now and take you home.

To tell Megumi off for being so cruel to you again. Or even just to have Yuuji hold you in his arms. You’d kill to hear his voice. Hell. You’d even settle for a text at this point.

Why is he avoiding you?

You manage to calm yourself down the longer Megumi is gone from the room.

Deep breaths. One. Two. Three. Four.

You get up and look at yourself in the mirror. You’re thankful you packed some of your makeup into your tote bag for emergencies. Your face is a mess, you look like you’ve just been dumped on your wedding day.

You decide to go to the bathroom to rinse it off completely. The cold water splashing on your face almost stops your heart. But once your face is clear, you dab the water dripping down with a towel.

As you steady your breathing, you run your fingers through your hair once you leave the bathroom. The bag that Megumi tossed at you catches your eye. He threw it like it was yours. But you didn’t get anything from the aquarium. You’re approaching it like it’s a fucking bomb. He’s probably put insects in it to bite you or filled it with something else equally disgusting.

But you can’t help having a curious nature.

The bag is light when you pick it up. A single tear rolls down your face when you look inside.

“Oh, Megumi…” you sigh.

It’s the shark. The shark plushie from the aquarium you thought was so adorable. It doesn’t excuse everything he’s done. Anything he’s done, actually.

It certainly isn’t worth being late for the bus.

It isn’t worth you being stuck in this hotel room. It didn’t excuse everything he’d done and how he treated you in the past. But you can’t help but wonder how different things could be if he had shown this side of him from the start.

You get cosy in bed and cuddle your shark. You decide to name him Gerald. He’s softer than you remember him being in the gift shop, and that is by no means a complaint. It’s such a nice feeling to have something so adorable and soft to hold.

There is a split second you think your heart might have actually stopped when you hear Megumi open the door. You jump out of your skin but remain comfortable lying under the covers of your bed. He walks in, chuckling, when he sees you. He shakes his hand through his hair, messy water droplets falling from the ends.

“Thank you for Gerald, I love him.”

“S’not a gift, you owe me for him,” he tells you. At that, you sit up. Wide eyed and humiliated that you actually thought he’d do something so nice for you. You set down Gerald and open up the quilt to go and get your purse. “It was a joke. Gerald, huh?”

“Yeah, I don’t know. People names on animals is funny, I guess.” you answer. He nods lazily, like he isn’t fully committing to agreeing with your opinion. He throws his jacket to the ground and sits on top of his own bed. “Why did you do this for me?”

“I saw you left him when I went back to find you.” he speaks, “I- you seemed like you really wanted it so I just got it for you. That’s it. You’re welcome.” he finishes, leaning backwards on his elbows as he stares you down. It’s incredible how uneasy you can feel in such an instant whenever those intimidating green eyes study you.

It’s like you forget how to breathe.

How to be.

How should you act when you’re worrying whether or not every action you take may be used against you?

“I’d… look, I have a lot of thoughts and I just can’t say them without feeling stupid.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid, Megumi. You’re just a dick.” you laugh, and he laughs back. You aren’t wrong. “I’m scared of you, I don’t think I’ll ever get over that feeling with you. You’re compelling. Forceful. Dominant. It scares me, but getting me a plushie… standing up for me with those girls… colouring a fucking kids book in with me. They’re such kind, human things I didn’t expect you to be capable of.”

“Human? Do you think I’m a monster?”

“Sometimes. Most of the time, Megumi. You became a monster under my bed that kept me up at night.” you tell him. He shakes his head at that. You can’t decipher whether it’s self-reflection or disregard of your statement. Maybe he thinks you’re just being dramatic. “I don’t know what we are right now but I’d never think you’re stupid. So, if there’s anything you want to talk to me about or tell me I won’t… I won’t judge you for it. But if you want to keep it to yourself that’s fine too. Thanks for giving me a gift.”

“The girl from the store sent me a text. She asked if I want to go on a date tonight.” he admits. The admission takes you aback slightly, not expecting that to be the thought he was wanting to speak of.

“O-Oh.”

“I’m not bringing her back here. You’re right, I owe you that much. And I… I told her I can’t go on a date, ever.”

“Why?”

“’Cause it’s my fault we’re stuck here so I shouldn’t leave you alone, right? You’re fucking me up, O’Keeffe. Got me growin’ a fucking conscience suddenly.” he complains, but it makes you smile.

“I can look after myself, you know. Don’t let me stand in the way of you getting a nut.” you smile. He shakes his head putting another cigarette between his lips. He only left the room to smoke because he wanted space and to give you the same, not because it’s a rule of the hotel. There’s even an ashtray on his bedside table for him.

“Don’t care if you can or not. I don’t want to see her, anyway. I wanna go out with you.” he tells you.

“I’m sorry?”

“Get ready. The receptionist told me there’s a bowling alley nearby, ‘m not sulking in this shit hole room all night so get dressed.”

—

He’s a little jealous that he didn’t think of your genius idea of buying a raincoat. He did buy an umbrella, though, not that it did much to protect his new clothes or his hair. The bowling alley is a fifteen-minute walk away from the hotel. You’re glad you had opted to wear your favourite trainers instead of a pair of heels for your trip. Walking around today had been a breeze. And you were both hoping this would be the type of bowling alley that allows you to wear your own shoes.

You’ve always enjoyed places like this. Arcades that are dark with neon lighting. You look over to the lanes while Megumi pays for both of you and see an assortment of neon-coloured pins.

“Could we have a lane with pink pins, please?” you ask, sweetly. Megumi looks up from the card machine to grimace at you. But the man nods kindly, agreeing to your request.

You’re guided to the furthest lane away, right next to the wall. The desire to take a few pictures is too strong to ignore. Megumi scoffs but doesn’t comment. You get a few snaps of him while he’s entering your names into the system. It shocks you that he’s letting you go first. There might be a gentlemanly side to him, after all.

“Do you need the sides up?” he asks, patronisingly.

“Don’t be a dick about it. Yes, please.” you respond. He rolls his eyes but does as you ask. The sides come up for you to take your turn, and they’ll retreat for his. “Ah this is so cool! I didn’t know lanes could do this now.”

“Hurry up and take your turn. Does princess need a pink ball to match her pink pins?” he questions. Whenever you bowl, you always choose the lightest weight. Either a six or an eight. There’s only an eight here and it’s a hideous lime green colour. But it’s fine. You watch the ball zig zag off the sides before knocking down seven pins. “Not bad.” he hums. You saunter back to the bowling balls and pick up another. You only manage to hit one pin, but it’s one more than you had expected.

“You’re up, Fushiguro. See if you can beat that.” you tease, sticking your tongue out.

He swaggers over to the machine with as much confidence as an A-lister. He picks up the heaviest, pink, ball with ease. He raises his eyebrows twice in quick succession, like he’s gloating he got to use a pink ball and you didn’t. He poses triumphantly before he’s even rolled the ball. Like he’s some sort of fucking pro.

The ball flies from his hand and skids down the lane quicker than you can blink. It doesn’t roll until it connects with the centre pin. One of his legs is dramatically behind the other, a position he chooses to hold until he sees each and every pin knock down.

Megumi turns around and grins at you, smirking with pride and the state of shock your face is currently displaying. You point to the lane and then back to him as your words get jumbled in your mouth. He lazily points back at you, a fake look of contemplation overcoming him.

“So, out of curiosity, do you think I beat that?” he teases. He takes a seat and waits for you to take your next turn, casually looking through the drinks menu that had been left for you both to peruse.

“Are you some sort of bowling prodigy?”

“Nah.”

That’s it. That’s all he’s giving you as he orders himself a beer on the screen menu. He orders a drink for you, too, though he doesn’t tell you that. You take your turn again and manage to somehow get a spare.

By the time your drinks come he’s taking his next turn. You’re surprised that he ordered you a strawberry and lime cider, but it isn’t unwelcome. Maybe he’s trying to get you drunk so he wins even easier than he already is. He comes back, swigging his beer and silently gloating about his second strike of the evening.

“Thanks for the drink.” you smile. He nods and he drinks, his Adam’s apple bobbing dramatically with each glug of his beer. “Are those strikes just luck, then?”

“Does it matter?”

“A little, I guess. Did you just bring me here so you could feel superior?”

“Take your fuckin’ turn. You need to get it into that thick head of yours that not everything I do is about you.” he speaks sternly. It feels like you’re five years old being scolded by your parents. You tuck your hair behind your ears and get up to bowl again. You’re elated when your ball zig zags perfectly enough to earn a strike. It fills you with false confidence, a belief that you might actually be able to keep up with Megumi.

You sit and sip your drink as you watch him take another turn. He lets his head loll backwards as he exhales in annoyance.

“Unlucky.” you mock, as he cranes his head to face you. A split. He manages to get two out of the three pins left standing. You wonder for a second if he might have done it on purpose to placate you, and then you remember who you’re dealing with.

As tense as the atmosphere seems to be between the two of you, you’re managing to make fun for yourself. The music is loud, something you’d hear in a nightclub. You can’t help but shake your hips whenever you get up to roll. You drink your cider a little quicker than intended and you start ordering more. They go down smoother than water and your turns become messier. It’s going to be an easy win for Megumi, but it doesn’t stop either of you trying.

“Let’s go again!” you yell before gasping when you realise what song is playing. Love Myself, by Hailee Steinfeld. “I LOVE ME! GONNA LOVE MY—”

“That’s enough,” Megumi interrupts as he yanks you away from the lane. He’s holding your hand impossibly tight, guiding you in the direction of the exit. You can tell he’s embarrassed but your tipsy mind decides it’s a good idea to keep pushing his buttons anyway.

“Aw, Megs, don’tcha wanna teach me how to bowl? Since you’re such an expert?”

“I- I don’t want to do that. Shut up, we’re going home.”

“I wish we were going home. You fucking idiot. Letting us get stranded here because you had such an important fucking phone call that’s such a big God damn secret.”

“Oh for crying out fucking loud.” he says, stopping in the middle of an alleyway he decided to take to save time. “You’re so lucky you’re you right now, you have no fucking idea.”

“W-What does that mean?”

“I hate you. I hate you nagging and bitching in my ear constantly. But most of all I hate how pathetically weak you are. I could leave you here, you know. In the middle of this shady alley to let whatever piece of shit do whatever the hell he wants with you. And I’d sleep just fine. Do you understand? I despise you.”

“But you’ve been so—”

“So nice? The only reason I’m not gonna do that is because you’re you. Let me say it simply enough for your stupid little mind to understand. I don’t wanna deal with your family, my family, Gojo, and fucking Yuuji jumping down my neck because I left a spoilt bitch to rot in the middle of nowhere.”

“You’ll never change, will you? Why do you keep doing this to me?”

“Enough.” he hisses, clenching your wrist and pulling you out of the dingy alleyway and back onto the main roads. The streetlights glittering as rain lashes down across the yellow bulbs. You’re crying, again. You probably would have been able to hold it together if you were in your own sober mind.

How could you be so stupid? After what he did to you last time there was alcohol involved, you’re such an idiot for letting your guard down for a second around him. Granted, he didn’t do anything particularly evil to you. But he definitely has a way with words that make you feel like you’re a speck of dust in the grand scheme of the universe.

You’re nothing.

—

He shoves you into the hotel room ahead of him and slams the door behind himself. The hideous flickering fluorescent lights are making you feel sick. You’re wobbling on your feet without Megumi guiding and supporting you. You begin to lean, to slope. Your feet are staggering until finally you collapse onto the ground.

“You are a fucking embarrassment. Get up. You need to sleep this off.” he demands. You get onto your hands and knees and start crawling towards your shopping bags searching for your pyjamas. He watches as you feebly rifle through them before he gets sick and helps you. He pulls out the purple fluffy vest and shorts you purchased and throws them in your face. “I didn’t have you down as being such a lightweight. It’s hard to watch, should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Didn’t use—”

“Huh?”

“Didn’t used to be, Megumi… I haven’t touched a drop since you…”

You begin to sob as you think about what a fool you’re making of yourself in front of your bully. It humbles him, though, hearing the reason you couldn’t hold your alcohol is another thing that’s down to him. He almost feels sorry for you. It’s enough for him to help you to your feet and lead you into the bathroom to get dressed in private.

“Fuck!” you yell, knocking over a multitude of complimentary bathroom products as you stumble to the ground yet again. Megumi rushes in to see you on the floor, still fully dressed and struggling to get your clothes off. You’re sobbing, now, face shining with sticky tears and regrets. “Megumi, I can’t—”

“Alright.” he picks up your pyjamas and sits on the ground with you, pulling you between his legs. Your shirt is lifted over your head for you before he replaces it with your new soft vest. “Bra on or off?” he questions.

“O-Off, please.” you answer. His hands slip under your vest as he unhooks it. He pulls down the straps and reaches around your front and under your clothes again. It’s awkward. Intimate. But he doesn’t cop a feel. He’s being a genuine help to you. Yanking away your black bra and tossing it aside. “Thank y-you.”

He stands up and helps you to your feet as well. You’re forcibly turned to face him as he undoes the button on your jeans and pulls down the zipper. He turns you again to pull them down to your ankles.

“Do you sleep with your panties on or off?”

“Um, I—”

“I won’t look, just want you to get ready for bed.”

“Off…” you sigh, nervously. You look over your shoulder and see him nod. He keeps his gazed fixed on the bathroom tiles as he hooks his fingers into your simple black thong. They’re pulled down so you can step out of them and into the purple shorts. You wiggle your hips so he can put them onto you comfortably. You’ve still got socks on. You’d managed to force your trainers off when you fell over next to your bed, but who knows if you were able to keep them together.

Megumi stands up and throws you over his shoulder, carrying you to your bed and throwing you onto the mattress. He takes your socks off for you and tucks them into your trainers, leaving the beside the door to the hotel for you to find tomorrow.

“Under the covers.” he instructs, and you obey.

“Why are you so… it’s like you’re two different people.”

He ignores you, tucking you in until you look comfy enough. You’re cuddling Gerald and he hates the way his heart flutters when he sees how sweet you look with the gift that he got you. What the hell was he thinking? He goes to the bathroom and comes back with a glass of water, setting it on your side table in case you need it during the night.

“Megs, I’ve got some aspirin in my tote. Would you mind?”

He gets it for you and throws it your way. It hits off the glass, spilling a little water but nothing too damaging. Megumi starts to undress, uncaring of your presence. He bought himself a pair of sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt to sleep in. He walks around, turning out all of the lights before he gets into his own bed.

“’m not tired.” you tell him.

“You will be. Lie there and be quiet ‘til you fall asleep.” he tells you, not that he thought you’d listen to a word he had to say.

“Can we talk until we sleep?”

“No.”

“I wanna know why you’re so nice to me one minute and awful to me the next. Please, tell me why?” you request. He just grunts, though, not liking the thought of having to listen to you drone on until you pass out.

“You annoy me.” he says simply. It’s clear it isn’t a good enough answer when he’s rewarded with silence. But it’s the truth. You do annoy him. Like nobody else ever has before. “You piss me off and you make me feel angry. But you’re nice so it fucks me up, alright? I don’t know how to act around you because you make me feel too many things.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Drop it.”

You wrack your brains for something else to talk to him about. You’re sure talking about yourself isn’t a good idea, and talking about him might be even worse. Anything to do with Toji has the potential for an all-out war in the hotel room. You think asking about his history with Yuuji might be a sore subject, too.

“How come you’re so good at bowling?” it’s perfect. It’s about him but it’s not a heavy subject that can trigger him into another fit of abuse and rage. And it’s a valid question, too, considering he just schooled you at the bowling alley. He rolls onto his side to face you, and you do the same. He can see Gerald peeking out of the duvet and grins.

“Practice. Used to skip school a lot and play at the arcade.”

“Ever the bad boy, ‘Gumi.”

“Cut that shit out right now. I hate that nickname.” he demands. It makes you laugh knowing four letters has such a heated reaction from him. “Wasn’t doing it to be bad, just didn’t like school. Or people.”

“Were you… bullied? Or something?”

“No. Just didn’t care about shit. Toji was in and out and I was just angry about it. And I lost my mother and didn’t really have anyone to— Why am I telling you this? Stop asking me dumb shit.”

It’s the first time you’ve heard Megumi even come close to opening up about his mother. When you hear the vulnerability in his truth, you can almost forgive him for taking his anger with the world out on you. Toji is incredible to you, but the same can’t be said for his son. To abandon him right after he lost his mother is unforgivable. Of course he’s fucked up like this. He had nothing and no one. Not a shoulder to cry on or a word to say. Why would he care about his education or school when nothing in the world gave any care for him?

“Tsumiki isn’t your real sister, is she? So how did she—”

“Her mother and my father had a thing after mine died. So she’s not technically any relation of mine but we were all a family, only for a little bit. But after our parents ran off, that’s when Gojo took us in.”

“Wait, what? Gojo, as in—”

“Yeah, Satoru Gojo. That’s why I was surprised he was giving you a ride home that day after class. He’s like my weird other dad. That’s why him and Toji hate each other. Toji’s possessive and I’m his. But Gojo is the one who actually raised me most of my life.”

“Fuck. That’s so… fucked. Seriously heavy drama. Plus, I can’t imagine Gojo as a father. He’s annoying as hell and so immature.”

“He is. But he was good to us.”

You roll away and face the wall, happy with your answers and the conversation you’ve had. Your eyes are feeling heavier, watering with desperation to sleep. Yawns evade your lips and it makes Megumi chuckle. When your mouth is closed your teeth begin to chatter. Maybe shorts and vest wasn’t the best idea for sleepwear given the current weather conditions.

Despite all your best efforts to conceal the volume of your teeth, Megumi hears them. He doesn’t react, though. Not straight away at least. He isn’t sure if he wants to get involved. The worry of saying something pointless swirls through his head. What could he say, anyway? It’s not like he could do anything to make it better.

“You’re cold.” he says, plainly. He curses himself immediately. Why did he state it as a fact as if you aren’t already fully fucking aware of what temperature your body is at? You’re covered head to toe in goosebumps and worried you might actually freeze into a statue.

“Uhm, I… a little.” you confess, weakly. He clears his throat. His mouth is moving faster than his brain can tell him to shut up. It’s a mistake. A colossal mistake he needs to stop himself from making. But he can’t. The words are already pouring out. What the fuck is wrong with him?

“We, uh, do you want to get in? With me. Share body heat until you warm up.”

It shocks you, significantly so. He’s offering to spoon with you. What would Yuuji think? What would anyone think, actually? What do you think?

You think it’s absolutely ridiculous.

You’re constantly at each other’s throats and now he’s offering you comfort and warmth in such an intimate way. Yuuji wouldn’t be happy. Would any man be happy about their girlfriend getting into bed with someone else? No matter how innocent it is. You know he wouldn’t like it.

But you know it’s innocent. You don’t want anything from Megumi. Just…

“Okay.” you whisper. His eyes bulge, he hadn’t been expecting you to agree to it. He opens his duvet up for you. You pick up Gerald and rush into bed with him. Your body moulds against his and you immediately feel better. He’s so warm. You’re cuddling Gerald and his arms are wrapped around your waist as he holds you close, attempting to transfer as much as his body heat as he can onto you.

“Feel better?” he mutters after around ten minutes. You nod, and he holds you even tighter.

“I feel your… your dick is hard, Megumi.” you groan back, he snickers, uncaring.

“I know. Sorry, your ass keeps grinding against it. Just ignore it ‘n go to sleep, princess.” he commands. You giggle back at him. It isn’t his fault. If anything it’s yours. You should have said no to getting into his bed. You shouldn’t be letting him hold you like this. How a lover should.

How Yuuji does.

It’s so wrong and inappropriate. But you’re so toasty and warm, you really don’t care.

“Sweet dreams, Megumi.”

“Night, O’Keeffe.”

—

© 2022 fuwushiguro | © 2024 rinhaler

[ryuichirou]

This is an out there question but out of the cast of twst which characters can you picture becoming serial murderers? If so, what type (i.e lust killer, power/control etc…) and how would the murders be (planned, clinical, ritualistic, etc.)

Sorry for the screwed up question and feel free to not answer if it makes you uncomfortable. I just have an interest in criminology so I’m weird that way :/

Anon! It took so long for me to finally write this post, but I’ve been excited about your prompt ever since you sent it lol Screwed up questions are always a joy to come up with answers to with this cast, so I hope I managed to write something that was worth waiting for.

I’ll also note that we do have a hc list about twst boys murdering for the first time, and while I won’t reference this post here too much, some of the ideas for this post feel like a continuation/result of the unfortunate circumstances some of the characters found themselves in that first post. I also feel like some of these boys don’t fit the role very much, but I’ll mention it when I write about them!

That being said, let’s profile these assholes~

Riddle – pretty easy one: he’d be someone who sentences people to death for disobeying the law, so technically his Unique Magic thing but more aggressive. There are actually a bunch of options for him; it could literally be him abusing Off With Your Head, or he could end up being a judge or a prosecutor who has a reputation of sentencing people to death a lot… Of course, he would feel like it’s justified, and sometimes it would really be justified by an actual law, but I would still technically call him a serial murderer for that lol But if he isn’t in any way related to law or authority and ends up being a doctor, he could still abuse his power there and kill off those who he considers to be criminals. To be completely honest though, I don’t think Riddle is super likely to end up like this, but if he does it once, he might struggle with guilt and double down on this kind of just punishment super hard.

Ace – I don’t think he would do end up being a serial killer unless his circumstances force him to. I see him as someone who could get in huge trouble when he gets older, like shady stuff with creditors for example, but he still wouldn’t want to take someone else’s life. Still, if it’s either you or the guy who came to steal your kidneys to sell them, you’ll end up cutting the guy’s throat with a knife given a chance, and then escape. What would make Ace a serial murderer is that he would have to kill off a bunch of guys to be completely “free”. So I guess he’s fighting for his own freedom by actually reaping the fruits of his own mistakes.

Deuce – he would either kill someone on accident and then either run forever or turn himself to the police (hence not becoming a serial killer) or actually in a weird twist of fate become someone who is a vigilante of sorts. Deuce might actually end up thinking that this is his only way to pay for his missteps as a young delinquent. Of course, Deuce doesn’t really want to kill, and at first he would spare everyone, believing that they would learn their lesson, but after that time he’ll think that he has no other choice. He could do it with delinquent gangs, or, if he works for the police, he’d do it with actual criminals. But he would still have some principles – he would only kill those who ended someone else’s life, or at least did something very horrible.

Trey – there he is, our first “killing to protect someone” guy! The worst version of Trey would probably go very far trying to protect Riddle from those who try to overthrow him, or even give him any kind of critique. He knows that this is wrong, but this is the choice he made: the first murder would be very justified in his head, very forced and necessary, but after that point he’d just go further and further down the rabbit hole. He would be very careful about it though, and no one would suspect him for a very long time. He wouldn’t poison anyone with food, that’s too obvious, but he would definitely use his scientific knowledge.

Cater – there was one guy who moved a lot and changed a lot of schools and was unhappy with his family life that ended up trying to blow up a school to feel anything because we live in a society (yes JD from Heathers), so my go-to is to think that there is this worm in Cater’s head that sometimes tells him to do something horrible, but this doesn’t necessarily mean that he would blow up NRC lol You know, maybe it’s more of an American Psycho situation. No one would ever think that I am the one doing it even though I am not even hiding it very well, so I continue doing it. Or something? To be honest, I’m 50/50 on that one.

Leona – he doesn’t have any big ideas and he definitely isn’t forced to do it, and knowing Leona’s luck, he probably wouldn’t be able to pull off an American Psycho situation either. Even if Falena covers up his crimes, it wouldn’t really help Leona gain anything, so it doesn’t make much sense… I think if Leona starts killing people off left and right, he would mostly do it out of boredom and frustration.

Ruggie – he would work as someone who cares for elderly, but only the rich ones, and then would poison them little by little over a long period of time by adjusting their dosage of medicine. He would pick grandpas and grandmas who have turbulent relationship with their kids, and then somehow frame the kids for the death, getting a bunch of money from the deal. This is just one thing Ruggie could do for money though; of course he prefers to work within the system and work hard And smart, but he is also perfectly aware that the system is rotten and someone is going to take advantage of that. And that someone might as well be him~

Jack – another vigilante, but if Deuce hunts down criminals, Jack would hunt down those who work within the system and are the reason it’s rotting. So corrupt policemen, rich assholes, even very powerful people: those who are making things worse for others in Jack’s own mind (he has his own idea of justice…) are his targets. He also really wants to be calm, clean and collected about it, but I also see him as someone whose emotions would take over, and he wouldn’t stop even after the guy is already dead.

Azul – either power or pettiness, or ideally both – Azul loves to multitask, after all. Killing some guy that disrespected him and getting his business and wealth as a bonus? Perfect scenario for Azul. He wouldn’t mind trample on others for his own gain, and his tactics are pretty predatory, so at some point it might start involving ending someone else’s life, but one thing to note is that Azul rarely does anything by himself. He is very creative with the ways he wants his enemies to go (the tweels love his sick ideas), but he would rather order others to kill than dirty his own hands.

Jade and Floyd – a rare occasion when I write about them together, but they are almost the same when it comes to this topic: they mostly do it for funsies. That includes coming up with new ways to end someone else’s life (this is why Azul’s ideas are the best), playing with new toys (Jade has a big collection of weaponry, Floyd loves using whatever lies around), or even just killing time. But these days they try to pace themselves because otherwise this whole thing becomes terribly dull and boring, so their go-to is to either wait for a very good occasion, or for Azul to give them a new mission.

Kalim – wait a minute, this guy isn’t a serial killer, he’s a cereal killer! 🥰 Sorry, I had to make this joke once. In all seriousness, I don’t see Kalim becoming a serial killer, buuut if we’re bending canon to force a sunshine boy to do horrible stuff, he would either do it in a situation similar to Ace’s (got kidnapped, was forced to shoot everyone), and absolutely hate it because he really wants bad people to become better and is very forgiving… or he would get so deeply disappointed in bad people not becoming better that his brain would completely melt and he would start going “… it can’t be helped, can it?”. But once again, one really has to bend canon and put Kalim through a lot for this to happen.

Jamil – a vigilante whose only mission is to protect himself lol I can see a scenario in which Jamil starts killing off influential people out of spite. He could never kill Kalim or anyone from the Asim family, but he has no relation to other families or wealthy colleagues of Kalim’s father, and he hates their greedy grease faces so much that killing them is actually a huge stress relief. But also, his killing off Kalim’s potential assassins and other mercenaries who try to attack him would also count as serial murdering…

Vil – I think he would start out as an impulsive killer who let his emotion and stress take over. And it doesn’t even have to be with Neige, he might “accidentally” (i.e. he didn’t think the punch was that hard) kill off someone rando who was harassing him, and then after that point he’ll start doing it from time to time. Of course, he would suffer from guilt, but overtime he’ll try to dull this emotion with more killings. He believes that he only kills those who are doing bad things with young actors in the industry, but he did kill a couple of nasty and obnoxious guys who were pretty much his stalkers. The difference is just that he poisons the first ones and tries to make it as clean as possible, and he gets very emotional with the second ones.

Rook – this guy is all over the place, and yet in his head he has this whole thing figured out. He honours people that he kills, he takes the flower from a young and blooming tree to make sure that its beauty lives forever between the pages of his diary… Rook Hunt has a lot of weird ideas, and I can see him as all kinds of serial killer: he could create installations with people’s dead bodies, he could consume people for food and use their hair and skin for craft, he could literally put a body in a glass case and freeze it or taxidermy it, he could punish those who, unfortunately, only steal from other’s beauty and thus aren’t beautiful at all… I guess Rook Hunt is an amalgamation of every criminal from Hannibal TV series lol

Epel – pretty similar to Ace, I think. He definitely needs to be put in a horrible situation in which he doesn’t have much of a choice but to kill. But also I think after some point he would start feeling so helpless and weak that he would become more aggressive, and maybe even start taking it out on people who are completely unrelated to his troubles, just to make himself feel at least a little bit powerful. He is pretty good at cutting and is pretty fast, also good at hiding, but he is also sloppy, so he’ll get caught pretty soon. The world will be charmed by the image of a pretty boy doing horrible things… and then they’ll give him a stupid nickname and he’ll get mad lol This is your true punishment, Epel.

Idia – I don’t think he would be capable of becoming a serial murderer, not only because of his psyche, but also because of the logistics – it’s easy to do a lot of things to ruin someone else’s life while sitting in front of your pc in your dusty dark room, but it’s not easy to murder someone like that. I mean, he could hire an assassin on darkweb… or maybe he could create a virus that explodes phones and computers. Never mind, where there is a will, there is a way lol But in terms of will, I think Idia would only do something like that if he feels like he has no other choice, i.e. if he (or Ortho) is getting severely bullied. He does joke about killing off everyone who mischaracterises his favourite anime girl though lol

Ortho – a little yandere. We’ve seen him being willing to murder a bunch of people for Idia’s sake multiple times now, and it was just him being silly lol While he learns more empathy and starts to value others more overtime, his number one priority is still Idia, and he would easily be willing to anything to protect him… or simply out of jealousy!

Lilia – he already had his share of serial murders, our local mister war criminal lol And given how much time he had to reflex on his past and on the life and death in general, I don’t think he would go for it right now. But he isn’t a saint and it’s not like he would avoid murder at all cost, so I can see him easily killing off a bunch of people while trying to protect Malleus or Silver or, in case of Malleus, to take revenge for dishonouring or even just disrespecting him.

Silver – he wouldn’t! He is a good boy that values life too much. I think he is one person in NRC who is aware of his ability to kill (he has to protect Malleus, after all), but would do anything to avoid it at all cost.

Sebek – while generally he isn’t super bloodthirsty (surprisingly), he would get bloodthirsty real quick if Malleus himself or his honour is in danger, or if Sebek feels like it is. Yeah, pretty similar to Lilia, but Sebek is much more hot-headed, much less mature and much messier in general. It’s possible for Sebek to become a version of himself that kills people off for Malleus’ sake even without Malleus asking him to. Malleus could not even be aware of that person existence, and Sebek would think that he has this duty to “clean”. He is a fanatic, and while he is super loyal and obedient, he is also very entitled and acts according to ideas in his head (including fae superiority). Similarly to Riddle though, he would partially do it to dull the feeling of “oh no I did something horrible”, but a lot of it would genuinely be his desire to serve Malleus in the best way possible and to eliminate everyone who doesn’t share his adoration of him.

Malleus – pettiness. I don’t think Malleus would do something like that out of any major reason or great idea, the only thing that someone powerful like him really needs is pettiness. He also isn’t just some guy that hangs out in his basement sharpening knives; the scale of his actions would be massive. The worst version of Malleus murders people for fun, out of spite, to command others’ attention, completely on a whim, fully embracing his god complex and somehow being a spoiled brat at the same time. He might come up with some Great Idea of course, he might even start thinking about fae being superior do other beings, but all of that would just be pretty words to cover the fact that he is very petty and deeply unhappy. This Malleus combined with previously described Sebek would be a very dangerous combo…

[the-s1lly-corner]

Platonic tadc cast with a child reader Who is like :

"hey, wanna see me do a cartwheel :D"

Basically very spontaneous and chaotic in the adventures lol

Ty!! (and remember to drink water) ;3

TADC cast x chaotic!kid!reader ! (Platonic)

Guys I'm literally so tired I just got done baking a ton of stuff, like I'm talking 12ish hours of non stop cooking and baking I'm going insane im trying so hard not to fall asleep rn because I kinda. Feel bad for not really answering requests today

Anywahs

Hope you enjoy anon!

Written on mobile

CAINE:

Well well how the turn tables (writing caines portion last for once)

Very similar to kinger and ragatha in that he supports everything you do; in fact he encourages your behavior as long as no one is getting hurt. Very loudly (and sometimes obnoxiously) cheers for you

While kinger can only cheer and clap, I think Caine sets off sparkles and fireworks... probably has a whole group of bubbles cheering you on too , assuming there can be multiple bubbles at any given time (I personally think there can be, and they all share a hivemind of sorts)

So what was the occasion that prompted that?

A wonky cartwheel, of which you excited called "a sideways front flip"

(Fun fact from the admin, I called my first cartwheel that bc I didnt know it was called a cartwheel yet)

POMNI:

Anxious parental figure and hyper child, a dynamic that's hit or miss at least for me. Really it depends on how its executed

That said I think she struggles to keep up with you

Constantly scrambling around you make sure you dont fall into any danger. Literally and figuratively...

Her attempts to get you to sit down for more than five minutes fail

Your ass is failing the marshmallow test/j

RAGATHA:

No thoughts only that one clip from adventure time where BMO pretends to be a wheathervane before trying to nose dive off the roof, all while calling for finns attention. Thats you and ragatha, basically (in essence, not exact scenario though)... maybe zooble too, but we'll get there when we get there (I am currently having a brain blast)

Says things like "what am I gonna do with you" everyday, always lightheartedly of course and usually accompanied by a tired chuckle

Generally very supportive of you though, just so long as you're not hurting yourself! Sure, this is the digital world and injuries dont really stick, but still! The pain is still there

JAX:

I mentioned the marshmallow test in pomnis part and I feel like jax would do something similar with you. Except the test is rigged and the candy (which he uses in place of the marshmallow( is actually for him and not for you. So if you actually earn the extra candy you dont even get it

That said I do think jax would feel bad when you get upset about the joke

Anyways

I think he finds it funny, as long as you're not tugging on his overalls and screaming at him for something, or interfering with his plans

Hes not a neglectful rolemodel/familial figure, he just has a short fuse with the above I think, regardless of who it is, kid or not

That said he fully embraces your spontaneous nature

KINGER:

Peepaw and his grandchild, that's it that's literally the dynamic

"Kinger is only 48-"

Hush♡

"Oh that's so lovely, (reader)" when you run up to him with your hands full of god knows what

Eagerly claps and cheers when you show him a new trick you learned

Bonus if you try to recreate or one up his embellished stories in order to make him proud of you (hes always proud of you)

ZOOBLE:

As mentioned in ragathas part, the wheathervane BMO thing is basically in essence you guys' dynamic. Except where I think ragatha would be quicker to pay attention to you, zooble may be a little slower. Not because they dont care about whatever you're trying to display to them, but because I think a lot of the times they kind of mentally check out (me too honestly)

Tries to scold you if you do something too dangerous or out of line, may come across as way angrier or upset than they actually are though thanks to their voice being kinda

You know

Zooble gives off "cool older sibling who doesnt care about nothing" energy

GANGLE:

Meekly tries to get you to calm down for a few minutes, especially if theres an IHA going on because she doesnt want you to run off and potentially get hurt. Tries to keep you occupied with arts and crafts. Watches in horror as you impulsively eat the glue

Tends to wrap one of her ribbon hands around yours so she knows you're not running off.. this is more so when theres an IHA going on

As per usual not many ideas for gangle <\3

[moonsaver]

hi moon! love ur writing so much. this ask is more so related to running a blog rather than an actual ask so i totally understand if you don't answer!

i run a writing blog of my own, and while i have rules linked in my pinned post for requests, i recently got a request that doesn't really violate one of these rules, but still makes me uncomfortable if that makes sense. do you have any advice for how to handle this sort of situation?

best of luck with your exams and ur blog!

Hello anon! You're v. Sweet <3 i dont mind the question, haha. Its a bit refreshing, more or less.

As for your problem; the shortest and sweetest answer would be to simply delete the ask. As a writer, you're not obligated to answer or complete a request even if does stay within the rules.

If you might believe its too harsh, id suggest replying to the ask and mention it as is – that although the prompt is completely within the rules, you aren't exactly comfortable with writing it. Being straight to the point is pretty effective.

Personally, i wouldn't consider myself too experienced lol, but ive gotten at least quite a lot of asks myself as a writer. The thing is you gotta start being a "selfish jerk" sometimes, and try to let go of your people pleaser tendencies [if you have any]. Do whatever you think is gonna improve your writing or is gonna get you to. Forcing yourself to write something is unproductive, and you'll probably feel disappointed or even worse, frustrated with yourself. Its alright [i even wholeheartedly support it] if you decide to be picky with your inbox.

Hope this helps, anon. I hope life treats you well. <3.

[jtl07]

aw it’s all good jt! i figured there’d be the possibility that you weren’t familiar with hunger games, and that’s completely fine! nevertheless, thank you for such a thoughtful answer (creating bea lil angst you menace!) and the fact that you took the time to research the weapons. i’ve only watched season 1 of jujutsu kaisen a long time ago, so I can’t recall gyomei or if he fought in that season... but i searched up some clips and wow his weapon is extremely cool, i see your vision!

ok here’s a prompt: school. with 2 pieces of dialogue bcos i couldn’t decide 😂

“You still gonna have that stupid grin on your face when I get the highest mark?”

- and -

“What are you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Beating you, duh”

(yes i’m alluding to a certain trope 🤭)

okay gonna start with some stream of conscious (i almost wrote "scream of conscious" which is fitting too lol) because the thing is when i think of like enemies to lovers sort of trope, i always think of Ava and/or Bea with Lilith so you know what, why not go with all three - and you know what, i was giggling over some of note's hehehes just now so let's go that route and make them young - well, maybe like idk 9 or 10 or so? 

and maybe they're doing some kind of special event - oh! maybe like something at a summer camp?? yeah, and i've still got weapons on the brain so maybe let's go with archery lolol of course Ava's the one talking shit but is likely the least coordinated and the biggest safety hazard ("Ava please point that downrange - no, this goes there, that goes here - oh dear god") 

Ava, finally holding the bow and arrow correctly and with what she hopes is a menacing look on her face (meanwhile Beatrice is one heartbeat away from a heart attack standing behind her) as she turns to Lilith: "You still gonna have that stupid grin on your face when I get the highest mark?"

to which Lilith just quirks an eyebrow and, with the barest of glances at the target, shoots a bullseye. she walks away all calm and cool while Ava is losing her shit "BEA DID YOU SEE THAT HOLY SHIT" "Ava, language. also, i can do that too"

cut to a few minutes later, one of their camp counselors - Mary? lol if it's her she'd take one look at the trio and just turn back around "i'm not getting paid enough for this shit" because now we've got Ava helping Beatrice tie a blindfold over her eyes and Lilith has come back, both eyebrows raised now: "What are you doing?"

Beatrice lifts her chin and her bow, nocks the arrow and draws it back (with Ava vibrating behind her): "Isn't it obvious? Beating you, of course."

and lets the arrow fly - straight and true and in the middle of Lilith's arrow ala Robin Hood. Beatrice takes off the blindfold, barely holding back her proud grin as Ava quite nearly expires behind them - "that was so fucking cool" - while Lilith glares and dramatically grinds her teeth.

(cue the inevitable "get along" sequence where Lilith and Beatrice are forced to do some kind of activity together but end up just taking some kind of revenge on Ava, but it turns into something sweet like sneaking out of their cabins so they can teach Ava all the constellations and/or Ava sneaking them some snacks that they all end up eating and maybe they all fall asleep in a pile together, warm, and safe)

[cleighwrites]

Drabble ask...

In honour of being back after a break how about some fluff with one Sam Winchester, seeing each other after a long time apart, platonic or romantic, dealers choice.

Thank you so much!! I'm glad to be in a headspace that allows me to write for these guys again! And what a great prompt! I'm a little rusty writing short things, and maybe fluff as well, so excuse the length (944 words) and the not-quite-tooth-rotting fluff! lol

Drabble beneath the cut for tl cleanliness!

Sam walked into the diner, palms sweaty and heart racing. He did his cursory scan of the room, identifying potential threats and points of entry/exit. It took him a moment to see you, sitting in the back corner booth facing the door. 

Your hair was longer than he remembered. It suited you. As soon as your eyes met, he couldn’t help his smile. He hadn’t meant for it to be so long since you’d seen each other, but the job was the job and it kept them away for longer and longer each time he left. 

Of course, it didn’t have to. He could tell Dean about you; he’d make it a point to drive through town more often. For some reason, he was obsessed with him getting some. It had been close with Sarah in New York, but still, she wasn’t you. 

“Hey,” Sam said as he approached the booth, a wary smile on his lips. 

“Hey yourself,” you said in return, eyeing him; likely noticing that his hair had gotten longer too. 

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

You nod, eyes sliding from him to your cup of coffee. Sam was sure you were lying to spare him but said nothing. 

“Have you ordered yet?” 

You bit your bottom lip, a lip he knew well and couldn’t wait to get another taste of; if that was even in the cards anymore. He’d likely blown it this time, eight months was a long time. 

Just in time to save from any lingering awkwardness, the server arrived. 

“I’ll take water and a cobb salad, and…” he paused looking at you. “A BLT?” he asked, unsure if that was still your go-to brunch order.

“Yeah,” you said to the server. “Extra bacon, with fries,” you added.

 After the server walked away he took a deep, settling breath and smiled at you again. He couldn’t help it, seeing you again was a relief. He felt as if he’d been holding his breath for eight months, only to be able to breathe again knowing you were safe and at least willing to see him again. 

“So how’ve—” you both started at the same time. You both laugh. 

“You first,” he said, motioning for you to continue.

“I was just going to ask how you’ve been. How’s Dean, and the… job?” you add low, so no one overhears you. 

“Dean is Dean,” he said with a shrug. “And work is…exhausting.” Sam let out a long sigh. He could always tell you the truth. “I’ve been alright. You know, it was never something I wanted to get back into, but… he needs me.” Sam could feel the expression on his face morph into what Dean called his kicked-puppy-look.

You reached forward and grabbed Sam’s hand, surprising him slightly. Your tiny hand wrapped around his fingers and squeezed them tightly. 

“You’re a good man, Sam,” you told him. “Not many people would go back to a life they left, especially not after what happened with…” your voice trails off. 

“Yeah,” Sam answered, clearing his throat. He took another breath and rubbed his thumb along the back of your smooth knuckles. You had always been so soft, he couldn’t get enough of it. 

You sat staring into each other’s eyes for a long moment, then the server came back with your order. Breaking eye contact with you was a physical effort for him. He was elated that you could still share words you’d never be able to speak aloud with a single look. 

While you ate, you told him about a new job you’d started since he’d last come through town. It was more in line with what you’d studied in school, so you were happy with it. And he was happy that you’d found something that you loved to do. 

He wondered briefly what it would have been like for the two of you if he’d finished school. What sort of law he would have gone into, what level he’d be at in a firm by this point. Would y’all have a house yet, or would you be renting in the city? Would he have proposed yet? Losing Jess had been traumatic for the both of you, but you’d helped get him through it. Emailing for months while he was off hunting the yellow-eyed demon responsible for her death. 

You cleared your throat, pulling him from his thoughts. “You back with me?” you asked. 

Sam smiled again, muttered a small, “Sorry,” and then took another bite of his salad. 

Once you’d finished eating, you sat for a little longer, waiting for change from the server, just taking each other in. He couldn’t help notice how light and happy you were. He hoped it was because of him, but he was too chicken shit to ask if you were seeing anyone else. A small part of his hoped that you were; that you were taken care of and not waiting around for him to breeze through town again. 

You reach across the table again and he reaches back, taking your hand in his. “You wanna get outta here?” 

“That’d be great.” 

Once you’re outside, you walk down the street a little ways, away from the diner windows. At the corner of the sidewalk, you pull him in close and look up at him expectantly. He smiled down at you, then leaned down, meeting you halfway in a chaste kiss. 

Having your lips pressed to his once more was just what he needed. You kissed him back greedily, begging for him to deepen the kiss. Sam happily responded with vigor, pleased that you still wanted him after all this time.

[snowblossomreads]

Mistletoe Miracle

Summary: In where [Y/n] takes her chance in conveying how she really feels. (Prompt 5 Mistletoe and Secrets)

Pairing: Colonel Brandon x FemReader

Warning(s): age gap, one paragraph of angst at the most, and probably terrible old English dialogue but you know :D!

Word Count: 3.4K (How did that happen?)

A/N: Whoop whoop! A new story for Rickmas with the prompt secrets and mistletoe, and a new character that I've never written for! This is my first time writing for the sensitive soul that is Colonel Brandon so I hope this is alright. I also had a ball writing this apparently as the word count shocked me after I got done lol. Anyways happy reading!

[Y/n] knew that her fixation on a man a decade and a half older than her was foolish and would most definitely lead to heartbreak if she tried to pursue it. Not only that, but what would the gossip in town be like if they were to become something of an item?

Would they paint him as some sort of immoral older man preying on a younger woman and her nativity or her as a money hungry seductress? And what of her dear brother? Frankly, she believed he would have a heart attack knowing his young sister was most infatuated with someone he served with in the East Indies. 

But she couldn’t help it! For heaven’s sake, who wouldn’t fall in love with a man such as Colonel Brandon? Every time he came around to converse with her brother she couldn’t help but try to listen in as his voice was most enchanting. It was low like the faraway rumble of thunder, and so dark sounding for a man that seemed to have such a sensitive soul yet it was so soothing that she couldn’t help but be drawn to him. 

And never would he dismiss her whenever she would intrude to ask him questions ranging from his travels to literature, to how the renovations were progressing at his estate. Instead, he was patient, answering all her questions, feeding into her curiosity about everything and anything that she asked about, never once seeming annoyed by it.

He had even been so kind as to gift her an early edition of a book they had been discussing as a late birthday present when he had come to visit once and found her family celebrating.

“For you Ms.[Y/n], I hope you do not think poorly of me for not giving this to you earlier. Had I known your birthday had been the same day as my visit I would have presented it to you then.”

She was sure she had fallen absolutely and irrevocably in love with him at that moment. And oh how she could just gush all day about him if it wasn’t for the fact that other than her best friend and confidant Adeline, no one else knew of her secret adoration for the colonel. She was much too afraid to admit how she felt, fearful she would be shot down and left in tears. 

But she couldn’t hide this secret for much longer, no. Not when her parents had begun to talk even more about suitors for her as she was well past the age of living with them. So when her family received an invitation from the colonel to come and join him and some friends for an early Christmas celebration at Delaford she had almost burst at the seams.

“Oh Addie what am I to do!” [Y/n] cried desperately, laying her head on her dear friend's shoulder as they neared closer to their destination of the colonel’s estate.  “If I could simply tell him I truly feel. Even if he rejects me, at least the knowledge of my trying would comfort me if I had to wed another. But to not know, to hold it in, it has become too much I think.”

“Really it would comfort you?” Adeline questioned, her eyebrows lifting up just slightly as if she was feigning surprise before continuing with a stark, “truth be told I think you be quicker brought to tears more than anything with how much you fancy him. I still don’t understand what you see in him though [Y/n] he’s so…old.”

[Y/n] jerked back almost as if her friend had called her old and not the colonel. She felt personally offended at that as she didn’t consider Brandon old, sure he was older but definitely not old!

“He is not old! Just older, and so what? He is so wise and gentle and I bet that is what makes you assume he is old.”

“If that’s what you think.” Adeline shrugged watching as her friend swooned a little before speaking again, this time her tone taking on a much warmer and caring quality. “But truly [Y/n] if you really do adore the colonel as much as you say, which I believe you do. I would cast any caution in the wind, and speak freely, and truthfully about how you feel. You never know,” she grinned, putting a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder and nudging her gently, causing [Y/n] to smile weakly at her. “A Christmas miracle may be in store for you!”

She could hardly know how right her dear Addie would be by the end of the night as they approached their destination. 

When they had first arrived at the estate, which had been beautifully decorated with wreaths and banners and all sorts of festive things, [Y/n] couldn’t help but admire the majesty of it all as she stepped out of the little carriage they had been in onto the snow-covered ground. The place was abuzz with laughter and chatter  as people made their way inside the home and she along with her family and friend were quick to follow to escape from the cold.

As soon as they had all entered, she immediately became separated from her family, all of whom seemed to go off in different directions to schmooze and talk with the others around. Even Adeline had left her side, saying something about how the long trip there had made her peckish while shooting off to look for whatever food there was.

On her own now, it didn’t take long until [Y/n] found herself bored with the gossiping and chit chat of the party. She had even found herself being drawn into a conversation with an older plumper woman who, as friendly as she seemed, was adamant about finding ‘such a pretty little thing’ a suitable husband by the night was over.

[Y/n] who held no interest in such a match, unless it was with the person who she had funnily enough not seen the entire night, had quickly excused herself from their exchange saying that she heard her friend calling from across the way before taking her leave. Turning heel, she moved past the crowd, wandering further and further away from the main rooms where everyone was in. 

Each step brought her away from the nosy group and further into the stillness that the rest of the home contained. This was the first time she had been in such a grand estate and she couldn’t help but stop and admire just how beautiful everything was. Even the patterns on the wallpapers in the hall were eye-catching in design. 

Curious about what else was around, forgetting that it wasn’t polite to snoop around others' property, [Y/n] couldn’t help but peek into a room whose door was open and the first thing that caught her eyes were the many large and tall bookshelves that lined the walls. From her vantage point, and from the dim light coming from the fireplace she could make out the spines of many books large and small. 

How wonderful and convenient it must be to have such a vast amount of knowledge in one room! Going to take another step inside to get a better look at it, she was suddenly jumping out of her skin when she felt a hand on her shoulder. A surprised shriek left her form and her heart felt like it had stopped as she whipped around to face the man who had been missing the entire night. Colonel Brandon. Who also seemed surprised to find the woman wandering about.

“Oh, colonel!” She sputtered out trying to find the right words for her situation of being caught roaming around where she ought not to be. He may have been a kind man but that didn’t mean she had the right to take advantage of it by meddling around where she had not been invited. “I’m so terribly sorry I didn’t mean to intrude. It’s just that I found myself having to escape from a conversation and it led me to wander about and I just couldn’t help but admire how beautiful everything is! And your library colonel it’s so wonderful, incredible really and oh my goodness I’m so sorry what am I saying I shouldn’t-”

She was going off the rails at that point, her words spewing out faster than she could think through what she was saying but before she could continue digging herself into a hole she was stopped by him.

“Ms.[Y/n],” his voice so warm, and low yet able to command her to a stop and bring her to attention. It sent a little shiver down her spine and she was glad for the dim light in hopes he didn’t see her quivering. “It is quite alright,” he murmured kindly, as he gazed at her with a relaxed expression causing her to feel a bit better. “I’m not at all upset with you and am very pleased that you find the renovations to be as wonderful as I think they are. They did take quite some time so I’m happy that there are others who would admire them.”

Giving her a sweet smile, one that had her heart, which had calmed down, begin to speed up again. [Y/n] couldn’t help but return the gesture, delighted that he didn’t seem at all mad about her roaming around. 

“Well I’m certainly glad to hear that colonel I didn’t want to ruin such a joyous night by upsetting our host. Though I,” she stopped herself correcting her word of choice and hoping he didn’t catch the slip up. “We have missed you at the gathering. I hope you haven’t had some urgent business last minute?”

She seemed to have hit the mark though as his face turned a bit apologetic at that.

“Unfortunately yes but thankfully it has been resolved you see,” he started, “I was just about to make my way to everyone in hopes no one would notice my long absence before dinner but I see you did?”

‘Of course I did, you're the reason I’m here to be honest.’

Ignoring her inner monologue as much as possible, she nodded in the affirmative trying to give him the best reassuring look.

“Well of course! I am the ever eagled eye lookout.” Her words teasing as she tried to lift the mood not wanting him to feel bad about his noticed absence. It seemed to do the trick as that gentle smile returned to his face and the little crinkles near his eyes showed up as he looked at her with a softness that had her chest constricting.

He was just so handsome, even in the dim light. And everything about him was just immaculate. Never had she held someone in such high regard. And never did she find someone so…so beautiful that every time she saw him she felt like she couldn’t breathe.

“Yes you are and a very good one at that,” he chuckled, breaking her away from her thoughts about him and offering his arm up to her, “but shall we return to the others? I will make sure to rescue you from any dull conversation to make up for my tardiness. If that is alright?” 

Looking at his offered arm and then up back at him, [Y/n] realized something that she should have thought of much earlier. It was that they were alone. Utterly alone and away from the prying eyes and ears of everyone from the party. Away from her family and from her friend. Alone. 

This had a nervous lump instantly form in her throat as she acknowledged that this may be her one and only chance to talk to him alone about her feelings. About how much she adored him and hoped that maybe, just maybe there could be something more between them. And so shaking her head ‘no’ and seeing the confusion in his eyes, she spoke softly.

“Wait, colonel, just a moment. I would like to share something with you if you would allow me.”

She did her best not to let her voice waver even though she felt as if she could pass out as he dropped his arm and gazed at her puzzled about the situation. Somehow even in his confusion she couldn’t help but think about how thoughtful and gentle he looked.

“Yes of course you are always welcome to speak freely with me [Y/n]. ”

It was now or never. She had to tell him how she felt about him or she would just combust. Never had she been so glad to be alone with someone in her life. At least if he did reject her, it would be tucked away in the shadows for no one else to see. 

Taking in a deep breath, she hesitated no longer.

“Colonel Brandon,” she started clasping her hands together and nervously looking down to avoid his gaze.“ I know this may be too forward and I understand if you may find me silly for it but for these past months, years really. I have found myself to be very fond of you.”

There it was. She couldn’t even bring herself to look up at him too afraid of the expression that he might be wearing. So she didn’t and she continued to spill everything that she had been holding in. From her longing to the quiet affection that she held for him.

“At first I thought it just some sort of passing fancy when you first came to visit my brother,” she continued, not giving him an inch to speak fearing if she didn’t say everything she would hold something back. “I couldn’t take my eyes away from how handsome you were and how gentle you seemed, from the way you spoke to the look in your eyes. Everything in this world seems to interest you and it was such a wonderful feeling when you encouraged my curiosity for things as no one had done such.”  

“Little by little my affection for you has grown and I know that what I feel for you isn’t a passing fancy anymore and it wasn’t until recently when my parents spoke to me about finding a suitor that I knew I couldn’t wait anymore to share with you how I feel. Because..because.” 

Something wet seemed to hit her cheek causing her to pause and lift her hand up to it to wipe it away. As she kept wiping it seemed that her cheeks dampened quicker before she realized tears had been pouring down her face. But she didn’t stop, she just couldn’t and so finally she looked up at him with wet eyes, a tinge of guilt in her stomach at how he must feel being cornered by her.

“Because even if you reject me at least I will have known I was able to tell you and not hide away. So please forgive me if you resent me for putting you in such a position. It was never my intention but I just could no longer hide such a secret.”

If a weight was supposed to be lifted off her chest, or clarity was supposed to suddenly drape over her it didn’t. Somehow she felt worse as she stood quietly under the stunned gaze of the older man who hadn’t said one word. 

‘Of course he didn’t [Y/n] it’s not like you gave him a chance.’

The silence was absolutely deafening and it also felt like there was a silent rejection in it. And so as to not hold either of them hostage to her feelings anymore, and to quickly get away so she could cry in peace somewhere, she just gave him a little apologetic smile that she hoped said ‘I understand’.

“I guess we should be going, right? I’m sure everyone will be wondering.” She laughed awkwardly side stepping him from underneath the door frame trying to escape the soul crushing reality of his rejection.

It shouldn’t have been surprising really. Who did she think she was that such an important person, such a regal, intelligent, and sensitive man like him, would have looked at her with the same affection she held? She should have known better and it shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did, but it did.

And she was ready to run away and had even started to do so, before she felt herself being pulled back and spun around to face him. All of it had happened so quickly that when she had registered what was going on there were already a pair of soft, warm lips upon hers.

His hands were wrapped tightly around her upper body as one of them slid to the base of her neck to stroke the sensitive skin there. He was kissing her. The man who she would wait for to visit just to be in his presence, the man who was just so gentle and patient with her.

The man who she most fervently adored. He was kissing her! And she absolutely melted into his arms. Kissing him back with the passion that had been burning deep inside her for him. They clung to each other tightly, lips pressing against one another over and over until one had to pull away to breathe due to the suffocating passion.

“Forgive me for not saying anything,” he murmured as they parted a little, noses still brushing against either as he went to peck her lips once more before continuing, “you must understand how shocked I was to hear that the person I’ve also been so fond of felt the same that it was hard for me to realize what I was hearing.”

“Colonel-.”

“Christopher my sweet,” he corrected gently, unwinding his hands from around her so that he could stroke her cheek.

“Christopher,” his name rolled off her tongue with such ease and it felt like music to both of their ears as she leaned into his comforting touch. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She whispered up at him with questioning eyes. “All along I’ve been afraid that you would reject me, yet you also held feelings for me?”

“Because not once did I think I was a suitable match for you,” he confessed which brought a frown to [Y/n]’s face as she couldn’t think of anyone else who was perfect for her. He saw this and could only give her a sad smile as a response before continuing. 

“You have so much of your life ahead of you and I did not want to put you in such an uncomfortable position. Yet just as you, I found it difficult with each visit to not become fond of you, and in time the fondness grew more and more until I could not bear the thought of you being with another.”

Hearing his words, and seeing the sincere look in his eyes only had her swooning more and more. He loved her. He actually loved her and she felt over the moon knowing this. Knowing that such a perfect being like him would adore her as she adored him oh it was so good so wonderful she felt like she could burst with joy!

“Oh Christoper,” she sighed out, finally leaning up to kiss his lips softly and murmuring. “How are you so wonderful? So perfect?” 

He shook his head ‘no’, as they pulled away his warm smile returning as he offered her arm once more, this time with her taking it and beaming back up at him.

“No I am none of those things, but you my sweet, my darling, you are all those and more.” 

‘Goodness gracious can he be any sweeter!’

Her mind was an absolute happy mess at the moment looking up at him and it was only when he asked,

“Shall we rejoin everyone now?”

That she snapped out of it and answered him with a very enthused,

“We shall.”

Before walking away though something swinging above the doorframe of the library caught [Y/n]’s eyes and she turned to give it a look. Noticing her pause the colonel turned with her to look and couldn’t help the soft chuckle that left his lips.

“Mistletoe, how wonderfully placed,” [Y/n] giggled looking back up at her love who looked down at her with an equally warm look.

“Indeed very wonderfully placed,” he spoke before leaning down and pressing the most tender kiss against her lips.

A/N: Yall the way I wrote this last night like it was an essay due at 11:59pm and I had procrastinated 🤣. This is why I can't do events because life keeps smacking me but I'm like I wanna write.

ANYWAYS let me know if you all enjoyed it and of course, thank you for stopping in to read it!!! See you guys on the next prompt I'll write for ( I hope lol?) ❤❤❤🥰

[shai-manahan]

hello! hope I got you in time but happy birthday!

it's not on the list of prompts, but how would the ROs react when they realise they are crushing on/falling for MC?

lol I'm sorry anon. I know this has been quite a while (and obviously it's not my birthday anymore jdklajdkals) but I know I answered a similar ask before and just couldn't find it. Anyway, I'm answering it now; if you find the older ask, just ignore it, it's most probably cringe.

Alonzo: Just utterly miserable. The awareness that you are falling for a person you deeply hated and cursed at so many times would never be a pleasant experience at first, I reckon. Would try to sort it out alone. (spoiler: would not be able to sort it out alone at all)

Wesley: But they already are. I suppose it'd be bittersweet for them, if they're not already dating at this point, mixed in with some feelings of guilt. Just knowing that they have betrayed the person they want to be by their side.

Owen: Would have so many flashbacks of his most embarrassing moments. Every conversation from here on would probably start with an uncomfortable silence for a while, at least until he gets used to it.

Jade: Eh it's life. You'll end up liking someone if they're likeable in your eyes. I suppose it might depend on the circumstances, but unless you did something very very wrong, she'll be quite normal about it. Well, as normal as it can be, at least.

Also, as my friend demands for it to be here, this is basically Karan (bartender from the prologue) to Alonzo if he learns they're falling for the Ripper 🥲 (but said with a very straight face and a very dry tone)

[ovaryacted]

hi nic!! any advice on how to start writing on tumblr? i have so many ideas for Leon fics (like, i swear, my head is about to explode) but this place terrifies me sm, i just want to write cheesy stuff about that man and give him a break

Heyyy anon! I know you sent this a couple of days ago but I hope my answers will be able to give you a guide. I also may not be so proficient on this since 1 - I started taking writing seriously in late August of last year and 2 - I'm sort of an inconsistent writer when it comes to fanfics lol. But regardless, I'll give you some tips that helped me along the way. This also may be a tad long so I apologize but I will try to make this cohesive lmao.

1 - For one, write what you want, not because it's popular but because you want to write it. In the beginning, I was always somewhat anxious about how other people would interpret my writing especially when it came to my understanding and experience of kinks, and as a result, I burnt myself out and stopped writing for a while. I also grew detached from the very thing that I enjoyed (Leon), and it made being a part of the community less fun even if it's crazy. Write what you want because you want to, not because it's popular or trendy but because it will make you happy. Don't do shit for clout or popularity either, especially if you're not interested in writing smut, because believe me you will start hating your comfort character and you don't want that to happen. The right people who like your content will find you and stick around, believe me. It's easier said than done to not get discouraged, but it's not impossible. KEEP GOING!

2 - Develop a style or aesthetic. You don't necessarily have to do this part, it's more of a personal preference thing, but I think finding a specific way to organize moodboards, pictures, or fonts will make your work stand out. It took me a while to figure out how I like setting up my posts in the certain way that I do, but it pays off because it feels more like I have ownership over my own work. Plus, it's fun making your posts cute, all the more reason to do it.

3 - Write things in the way you can best describe it. What I mean by this is don't feel discouraged that you don't use big extravagant words and metaphors in your writing. Sometimes, people will use very descriptive language that authors use and it can be hard to consume for people who want to come online and destress, now they have to figure out what words mean. (No hate to authors who do that either, very appreciative of them actually and they're very inspiring). All I'm saying is that you don't need to write like you're writing a thesis from Oxford, write how it comes to your head, and edit it after, no pressure. Writing is supposed to be fun, not stressful, so don't stress yourself out more by using words you don't need. Writing is a skill, which people often forget. So the more you do it, the more it will come naturally to you and you will develop your "writing style" on your own. What you should take away from this, is to just write what's on your mind anyway.

4 - When writing, have a plan. You don't always need an outline, and some people can write full pieces on the fly or just blurbs of small ideas that come to mind, but some brainstorming really helps. Usually, once you actually sit with an idea and plan it out a bit longer, you can find out other things you want to add to the piece you're putting out. It also just makes things more concrete, but then again, everyone has different ways to write. There's nothing wrong with testing out a few ways before doing it in the best way you understand.

5 - Follow creative writing pages for inspiration on prompts or writing tips. There is nothing wrong with seeking out material for inspiration or at least a start, or even following other writers and getting inspired to do your own twist or take on something they wrote (with credits obviously). There are so many pages out there that are meant to give creators a guide on how to strengthen their writing and ideas they can use for themselves. People don't own tropes or ideas, the world is your oyster, don't be scared to choose one thing and get that extra push you need to create what you want.

6 - Last thing I'll say is don't be scared to interact with other people. Tumblr is literally meant for interactions, without that we have nothing. I know this site is scary sometimes, but there are people on here who are in the same position as you right now, wanting to get started but don't know how. Sometimes, you just have to start and worry about all the other "professional" shit afterward. There is no right way to manage a blog, you do what you want to do on your space. Be weird! Be crazy! Be different! As long as you're having fun, that's all that should matter.

7 - And another thing, don't be afraid to use the tags. That's what they're there for, use them. You're not spamming the tags or being annoying, use them to give your posts visibility and keep it pushing.

Also big note: don't worry about other people, block who you need to block, and stay out of the drama. Believe me, it will make your time on here much easier to digest and less scary. The discourse is never worth it, because you don't know these people, and they don't know you. It's the internet, shape your own experience and what you want to do on here.

[blackjackkent]

"Why? Because of what you are." or "We tried, and we failed." for hector for the lyric prompts?

(TY for the prompt! Sorry it took me this long to respond lol. I hope you see this since I can’t tag you. D: 

I'm not sure if you are the same anon-friend who said they were tickled by Hector's previous interactions with the Emperor, but if so, well… this one is definitely not funny, but it is about the Emperor! And it’s long! And feelsy! So there’s that. :P

I'm going to go ahead and set this within Hector's liveblog and directly after this post specifically, because I am still emotional about it; originally my intention was to let him vent and expend some frustration but this definitely ended up going in a very different direction. The game doesn't give us an opportunity for a followup conversation with Karlach until morning, which leads me to believe she straight up just doesn't come back to camp that night and Hector lies alone in their tent, staring at the ceiling for hours in a sort of emotionally fragile haze before finally drifting off into restless dreams…)

PROMPT: 70 Lyric Prompts - “Why? Because of what you are.”

-----

Hector knows where he is without opening his eyes. The air within the Astral Prism is still, but there is something undefinable about it that feels different, some scent or taste or even the texture of the atmosphere on his skin. Foreign. Strange. Wrong. 

He shudders. He doesn't want to look around. He doesn't want to see anyone right now, not really; after the conversation with Karlach over Gortash's dead body, he feels like something ripped into his chest and removed his heart. He barely even spoke to anyone when they returned to camp, just spent hours bashing his fists desperately into the training dummy beside Lae'zel's empty tent and then collapsed into his bedroll as if there was any relief to be found in sleep. 

But he wants least of all to see the Emperor, and that is what he knows he will see if he looks around - the mind flayer's beady lavender stare and twitching tentacles and implacable agenda of transformation and destruction. 

“Go away,” he mutters hoarsely, and does not open his eyes. 

“We must speak,” the creature rumbles. “Gortash is dead. Our plan must move forward.”

Hector's eyes squeeze tighter shut and he rolls onto his side away from the illithid voice, curling into himself. “There is no our plan,” he growls. “There is your plan and my plan. And I want no part of yours tonight.”

“Yet you will hear it, nevertheless, because you must,” the Emperor continues implacably. There is the soft, almost imperceptible sound of shifting fabric, of the illithid levitating along the ground. “With Gortash dead, you will mean to face down Orin. The battle ahead will try your abilities to the utmost. You must reconsider the use of the Astral Tadpole if you are to--”

“No.”

“Why will you not simply--” 

“Why?” Hector answers flatly. “Because of what you are. Because of what you want me to become. I want no part of it, I never have, and we are not having this conversation tonight.”

“It is not a question of wanting. It is a question of what must be.” The mind flayer pauses, then continues implacably, “Karlach's death is a regrettable loss, but you must look beyond it. You and I--”

Something snaps inside Hector's brain and he feels suddenly choked with a surge of emotion too complex for easy definition - rage and grief and exhaustion and disgust. “Leave me alone!” he snarls. His eyes come open and he rolls to his front, through his knees and onto his feet in a smooth motion that curves itself into an unthinking punch in the direction from which the Emperor was speaking. 

The Emperor is too quick, and darts backward before the blow can land. It hovers just out of reach, looking at him with that unreadable stare, and makes a clicking noise from somewhere within the maw beneath its tentacles. “Foolish,” it murmurs. “I am not your enemy, Hector. I never have been.”

Hector stares back at it, for once not bothering to hide any of his anger. “You know,” he spits angrily, “you do a very good impression of humanity. You've almost made me believe it sometimes. But sometimes it's really obvious that Withers is right - that you have no soul. Because no human would ever think that this was the right time for a strategy meeting.”

He turns away, walks to the edge of the floating rock on which the two of them are standing. “If you have something in mind that can save Karlach, I want to hear that. But I don't want to hear about your plan, or our connection, or our partnership. I don't want to hear about the Knights of the Shield, or bloody Stelmane and how she was the love of your poor misbegotten life. And I don't want to hear about your fucking tadpole.”

Anyone else might have been surprised to hear the curse on his lips, but the Emperor listens impassively, its tentacles barely even twitching. 

“So shut up,” Hector finishes coldly, staring out at the unending starscape. “And leave me be.”

There is a long silence. Finally the Emperor speaks, and even for it, the words are slow, low, and very carefully controlled. “Perhaps you think I tolerate such disrespect with equanimity.”

“Oh, go ahead, then,” Hector says with a humorless laugh. “Kill me. Suck my brain out. You won't, of course. Because you need me.” He scowls. “Pity. I would welcome oblivion right now.”

“Were I weaker of spirit than I am,” the illithid growls, “I would grant it. It is lucky for us both that I am not.”

Hector's fists clench at his sides. “Why?” he asks, and it's a demand less of the Emperor and more of the universe, of any gods that might be listening. “Why do I get to live and she gets to die? Answer me that, if you can, you eldritch bastard.”

“I have no more control over Karlach's fate than you do.” A pause. Its tentacles give a sharp, spasmodic twitch.  “Except in one regard,” it adds, with a sudden strange cruel brightness in its voice. “The tadpole would transform her, you know, just as it would transform you. She would have no need for her engine heart. No limit to the years you could have together...”

Hector goes utterly still, the blood draining out of his face. “No,” he whispers.

“There, you see?” the Emperor says caustically. “It is I who offer to heal her, and you that would let her die.”

“Shut up.” He tries to put force into the words but they emerge hollow, broken. The Emperor has found the weak point in his armor, stuck a knife into it, and twisted.

“Are you so selfish,” the mind flayer presses, “that you cannot see the value of what I have to offer? It is strength, and it can be life.”

He sinks to his knees on the edge of the platform, his breath starting to come in sudden sharp bursts. “She has taught me… some things are more important than living or dying…”

“And when you see her burning from the inside out, I am sure those things will seem very important indeed,” the Emperor murmurs. 

“Shut up,” he says shakily.

“I am sure you will watch her scream and think fondly on your principles, on the strength that you turned down because you lacked the courage to evolve.”

“Shut up.” Hector hunches forward, his fists pressed into the stone beneath him, as if curling away from a physical attack.

“And when she is gone, your forbearance will provide great comfort in a cold bed.”

“SHUT UP!” The roar bursts from him and cracks apart into a sob. Tears flood his eyes, blurring his vision. “Gods… please… just leave me alone. I can’t… I can’t… she is dying and she is in so much pain, and I can’t help her, I can’t stop it. If you were anything less than a monster, you would grieve with me, you would want to help her… you would give a single, solitary damn… but you don’t. All you care about is your fucking worm, and it’s all falling apart… it’s all gone… it’s all gone…”

The tears are coming heavier now, choking him, blinding him. “What the hell am I going to do?” he whispers. “I won’t… I won’t do it, I won’t do what you want… I won’t become an… an abomination just to save my heart… I won’t take her choice from her… but how will I bear it…? ”

He realizes, suddenly, that he is awake, that his fists are clenched into his pillow which is soaking wet with tears, that his whole body is being wracked with each gasping sob, that his bedroll is tangled around his legs, constricting him, trapping him. “Oh, gods…” he whispers brokenly. “My Lady, help me, please… please… the night is so dark…”

“Hector?” Shadowheart is crouched at the flap of the tent, peering through at him with an expression of uncharacteristic concern. As he rolls over awkwardly to look at her, he sees faint movement behind her, a flash of Jaheira’s eyes in the dimness, the curve of one of Wyll’s horns. Gods, did he wake the whole camp bawling?

“I’m-- I’m sorry,” he mutters hoarsely. “A bad dream… I’m-- I’ll be fine.”

She frowns, glances sideways at someone unseen beside her in the dark. “Do you… erm. Need to talk about it?” she asks, with an awkwardness that he might find touching if he were not so utterly lost in his own grief. 

“No,” he answers. It is an old habit now to turn away, to hide his feelings, to withdraw into an air of aloofness and control-- though he makes a poor show of it just now, with his eyes red and body trembling. Oh, what’s the point? “Yes,” he adds in a low mutter after a pause. “Maybe. But…not now. Rest. You need to rest, all of you.”

She looks at him for a long moment, then nods and withdraws into the darkness. 

He rolls over and stares at the ceiling of the tent with a heavy breath out. The grief still sits in his gut like a heavy stone, and his breath still feels caught in his throat.

And the Emperor’s voice still whispers in the back of his mind, implacable and cold as ice. “Think about what I told you. We both know that very little time is left…”

[moonlightknightess]

(just pretend this is an ask cuz I lost both of them by posting an incomplete draft by accident 😡😡🤬🤬)

Gonna merge these asks in one prompt cuz the one with the link is already down (as per usual), but sure!

Tbf it's my fault cuz that one lasted a really long time, but I guess we can't have nice things lol

Ngl this one's a bit rushed in the end, but still I hope y'all enjoy it ☺️

.

.

.

- It still amazes me whenever I see it, you know? -

And she means every word, a playful remark that has him getting harder on her belly, has his shaft pulsating slightly faster as she maps his entire length with her digits, provoking little groans on command when she engulfs him on her palm

Because no matter how much of this has been happening between the two of them, she still finds herself dumbfounded whenever Eren knocks on her door (sometimes reeking of alcohol. Sometimes not) coincidentally around the neighborhood and feeling like visiting her out of the blue.

Nor can she still get her head wrapped around the idea that everything that unfolds in the privacy of her small apartment is pretty much real. From the beginning to the very end and everything in between. Her mind and body always coming to an agreement that serves to tell her yes, this really happened.

No matter how many times she tries, she always finds herself in this very same situation: Butt naked, legs wide open, and slightly eager, she still can't find herself believing that this diabolic, devil thing currently lying atop her abdomen was able to provoke her so many different sensations and emotions.

- I know - He answers plain and simple, a small smidge of pride showing in the tone of his voice, the same one that more often than not makes her want to regret what she says. The last thing she wants is for him to get a little too full of himself  - And you fucking love it -

She is oh so ready to beat those allegations as soon as they come out of his mouth, to at least show some kind of resistance and let him know that she is not someone he should be looking down to

Still, she can only let out a small pitch of surprise as soon as he gets himself out of her hold, his heat missing. The ghost of his form quickly fading off, her eyes meeting the sight of his hands pumping himself up, forearms muscles contouring as he seems to get ready for what they both have been waiting for.

Unashamed as he always tends to be, he spits on his hand before he starts to slowly lube himself, his cock becoming shinier the more he spreads his own saliva. Unaware of the effect he unconsciously had on her, to the way she wets her lips and the subtle bob he throat makes

- Jesus Christ, Jaeger - She tries to fake as much disgust as she can, sending him a quick disapproval glance before she locks eyes once again on his groin - I still don’t understand what Mikasa saw in you, seriously -

- I could ask the same thing about you - 

Right before she can come up with some sort of response, he is already hovering over her, teal eyes piercing through her own as the shadow of his form engulfs her completely, her heart racing as she feels his raspy hands lifting her legs by the underside of her knees, her chest getting tighter the more he starts to press himself closer and by extension, locking her legs higher, his arms anchoring 

- So, tell me, Sasha -  She can feel the heat of his breath when he starts to whisper to her ear, lips mischievously resting on her skin, raising goosebumps on her skin as she becomes aware of her situation: Butt naked, legs wide open, slightly eager and locked in place, her groin growing moisture by the second the more she realizes that he doesn’t mean to go easy on her this time, the missing heat that left her now coming back in the form of a sharp hot tip placing itself right in the middle of her folds, rock hard and raging to go - What did you see in me? -

He doesn’t expect an answer at all, using the small confusion he provoked in her by to take her by surprise, the sudden thrust of his hips breaking into her deepness threatening to force her lungs to chant his name out loud, the way he purposefully stays sheathed inside her making her toss and turn on his hold, demanding and begging him both in equal parts until he deems it enough

And to be fair, if she ever had to answer his question as sincerely as their relationship made her do, she would have to say that this is what she saw in him

Because no matter how much she tries- no matter how many one-night stands she wakes up from- None of them compares to what Eren can offer

Because she has still yet to find someone who can steal the air out of her lungs and devour her alive just like he can, the liplock he forces on her demanding all her might not to just clamp her teeth on his lower lip out of overload of sheer, primal emotions, tongue easily sliding against her own making her toes curl painfully, the subtle slurping sound they both created now growing louder by the second until shame is thrown out the window and they become careless of the needy moans they make, careless of the mess of spit they become with every hungry kiss and the bridges of saliva that raises and crumbles every time they separate for air and plunge back into action

Because she has still yet to find anyone who knows every single inch of her body and makes the best of using that knowledge just as he does, his hands gripping and massaging her love handles in the only way that makes her sigh in relief, his teeth providing the perfect amount of pressure on her lower lip to make her moan his name, his body contouring in the perfect position and his dick scrapping her upper walls so deliciously it makes her eyes shine blind, whiteness her only sight whenever he retreats his waist ever so slowly and snaps back inside like a powerful piston, plowing her so fucking hard she swears she can see his cock bulging out of her insides, and just when she reaches out her hand just to make sure her mind isn’t playing minds on her, she finds herself delighted to feel him despite the several layers between them, a subtle bulge that set her nerves livewire the more she presses it, at the same time provoking a small grunt from Eren that she wishes she could hear more

There is no denying at this point that he is the only one who makes her go insane, makes her go feral with so little she starts to worry she is getting obsessed with him.

Because it’s not normal the way she threads her fingers in his poor attempt of a man bun and practically shoves his face against her own, nor it’s normal the way she falls hypnotized whenever he sheathes out and provides her with the sight of his reddish member dripping awfully from the mix of her juices pouring out of her, the little bob it makes almost making her unaware of the fact that he isn’t wearing protection,  and she isn’t sure it was a good day to go raw at all

- Eren, wait - She tries to warn him, her hand trying to cover her velvet just as he felt like repositioning himself, tip meeting the cover her fingers made as he lifts his gaze and is met with her sweaty face, her breath labored in the form of little pants she makes

- You are not wearing a condom - She clarifies under his doubtful expression, his mind processing her words for a second too long before he reaches out for her hand and swats it away, his thumb pressing her clit so deliciously it makes it harder for her to claw her nails on his hand - Wha?!- 

- I know - He answers, barely giving too much thought to his response, just like you would answer someone when they ask you the time, as if the fact that they have been having raw sex for the past hour wasn’t nerve-wracking by itself

- Eren! - She chastised when she tries to cover her entrance once again, her hand swatted again but this time with Eren taking it in his hold, her other hand meeting the same fate when she tried the same move - I’m serious here, stop joking around - 

- I’m not joking - He whispers against her ear just like he did at the start, his thick fingers threading on her own as he pins her hands on both sides of her head, the head of his dick resting teasingly against her folds and his hips snapping up and down as he coats himself in the wetness her slit provides, his hands now placing itself barely below her navel, rubbing her softly - You would look amazing bearing my children, I fucking swear -

- No - She says out of reflex, her face turning in the opposite direction, her legs shaking and her breathing growing harsh with the mere idea of it, sweating cold just as she sees the whole scenario in her head: her belly growing larger by the months, the spawn of their mischievousness taking place right inside her body

The worst part is that she can't help but find herself allured by the idea.

Thrilled by the forbidden nature of such an act

Where did this all come from, seriously

- Wh- why not? - Eren asks, the friction he is forcing on her increasing in tempo, his words heavy on his throat as he tries to regain his breath, his hand forcing her to look him directly at his eyes, so intimately close she gets intoxicated in his natural essence, noses rubbing together as he caresses her jaw softly - Just tell me why not -

- You know why - She is too weak to break out from his hold, her hand not strong enough to push him by his bicep, her bite not potent enough to make his lip bleed, her mind a hot mess of unconcealed emotions that makes her barely able to talk reasoning to him, to make him understand the very reason why this can’t happen - M-Mikasa would never forgive us if we… -

But alas, Eren has never been a man of reasoning, even less one of clever judgment, he just mindlessly seeks for whatever he wants, and everyone around just either suck it up and let it be or they better be prepared to fight off his nonsense

And she really, really, wishes she could consider herself one of the latter, to know better than to let herself get dragged in the rabbit hole in which he means to take her alongside him, the sensation of warmth and fullness filling her insides once again as he starts to rock her world, the lewd plap of their skin clashing lowering the walls they once built up, lulling her into a ecstasy-like state, the softness in which his tongue caresses hers mind-blowing just in the perfect way 

-You won’t regret it… I swear you won’t -

It is both too much and not enough, the way his words fill her with dread and hope, the way his digits trace her belly and make it flutter so easily she starts to worry about just how much control he has over her, the fact that just a mere kiss from him can erase any hint of doubt in her mind, how utterly futile it is for her to try and fight this feeling of want growing inside her the more his pace becomes more erratic, to keep her mouth close shut because she knows damn well she can have it in herself to make it stop… 

To make him stop

Still, despite trying her best, she can’t help but keep her eyes glued on his. Barely open, watery and stinging as they were still enough to let him see through her, her mouth shaping into the smallest “o” when he decides to thrust up once, twice, thrice and then some more, her muscles boiling hot under the pressure of his presence and all the emotions he is provoking on her.

As he drags her hand right above her belly, right above where he is going to mark her for good, she finally loses her last hold on sanity, the little whispers he mouths on her lips a perpetual chant that ingrains itself in her mind and grow roots instantly, the incessant push and pull he forces on her tight walls making her go feral for more, open mouthed, tongue wrapping kisses shared between them no matter the mess of saliva coating their lips, the gooshing sound of her juices pouring out with each snap of his hips making her realize she is not lasting for much longer

She swears she can can feel it, the way his shaft hardens inside her, the telltale of his orgasm starting, his mouth sucking hers in the literal sense of the word as his cock pounds her like a broken piston, his body flush against hers as he takes her whole, overwhelming her whole self until he gives her a last thrust of finality.

Is both painful and blissful, the way he pushes his hips upwards just so she can feel it right on her guts, the small bump she feels on her hand a sturdy little thing that has her purring in desire

The warmness that overtakes her insides a beautiful and yet cruel reminder that this was pretty much real

She really, really wishes she doesn’t regret this…

[genericpuff]

I really can't wait to see how you write Demeter! Is she going to be the villain?

yaay it's a good day for asks! sorry because I'm about to go on ANOTHER HUGE TANGENT LMAO but I hope it answers your question thoroughly enough ! 😅 (and if it doesn't at all lmk LOL) Demeter's gonna be an interesting one. I think you already know the answer to this, but I really can't stand how she's villainized like some Mother Gothel archetype, especially when it comes to how Rachel portrays it, because everything Demeter thinks/does/says is honestly justified, try as Rachel might to make her seem like some insane overbearing 'evil' stepmother. Everything always comes back to "Demeter bad!" whereas reading her depiction of Persephone is like watching The Little Mermaid as an adult.

(it's very frustrating, to say the least LMAO)

Personally I'm gonna be going for what LO started with, but never followed up on - Demeter wants to see her daughter gain independence, but is fearful of her being taken advantage of and hurt the same way she, her "sisters", and her "mother" was (and yes, I have my own way of tackling the incest and familial labels in a way Rachel could have but didn't, I don't wanna reveal too much but it's very fun and I can't wait to explore it haha). All this is gonna affect how her relationship with her daughter plays out - it won't be exactly like the Hymn of Demeter, focusing solely on Demeter's grief, but it won't be exactly like LO either where it throws aside the purpose and messaging of the original myth entirely. All the gods are nuanced and morally problematic in their own way, and that includes Persephone and Hades.

Honestly, I think the reason why so many myth 'retellings' like LO end up being this Flanderized in their characterizations ("Demeter bad, Persephone good!" and "Zeus bad husband, Hades perfect husband!") is because there's so little material surrounding Persephone and Hades compared to all the others. While this can make it fun for having more freedom in re-interpretations, it unfortunately has the opposite effect as well where people tend to forgo the entire point of the original story so they can have some feel good cute story where Hades was some "soft" husband who did nothing wrong and Persephone was some "boss babe" icon with no nuance in between.

I see this type of fetishization of the original myth in a lot of these interpretations but especially Rachel's work. I'm not sure if "fandomification" is a word that can be used here, but I definitely get the feeling Rachel idolizes and fetishizes Greek myth the same way a lot of young Westerners often idolize and fetishize Japanese lore and content, or, more personally, Indigenous cultures (as I myself am Indigenous, specifically Mi'kmaq) - by reducing it down to its most "consumable" formats and turning it into something more 'palatable' and 'fandom-y' for modern audiences that almost comes across as pandering and demeaning to anyone looking for anything with more depth than a teaspoon (and especially to those who belong to the respective cultures being portrayed through this lens).

This isn't to say that creators have to stick to their lane when writing about other cultures or myths, but you can tell when someone hasn't done their research and is working from a very romanticized template they've built up in their heads. Rachel's, in this case, feels like it's definitely come from her time on Tumblr back in the day, when Hades x Persephone writing prompts were all the rage and people were coming up with all sorts of feel good AU content. The thing with AU prompts like that though is they're just that - prompts, memes, mere thought experiments or hypotheticals, not something that can necessarily work as an actual serious long form story unless you know what you're doing. I think creators who want to go so far as to 're-interpret' these stories through their own lens have a huge responsibility to still recognize and treat the original source material with some semblance of respect. In this regard, LO in its current state really should have stayed as a slice-of-life type series if it wanted to keep things light.

And I'm saying this entirely as someone who grew up on weeb content in the freaking West and got more into Greek myth because of LO. That's why I don't entirely chastise it, fandom-y type stories like LO can definitely help introduce people to cultures and stories they wouldn't have batted an eye at before (as I've started to detest LO over the last year, it's made for even better learning because I've had to research the original myths just to see how Rachel is misfiring on them entirely LMAO) but there comes the added responsibility of making sure you're not erasing or reducing the original material in favor of the silly cutesy stuff. It's an entry point, not the entire course! And that's a responsibility that falls both on the audience and the content's creator, IMO.

Yay, more text dumps! Sorry if a lot of that seems weirdly gatekeepy, it's def not what I'm trying to get across, just trying to voice my own frustrations with the depiction of LO's characters as best I can, I feel like a lot of it comes down to Rachel just not having done proper research and relying solely on tropes and self-fulfilling fantasies. If LO stayed as a slice-of-life thing that would have been fine, there's definitely a place for that sort of feel-good goofy storytelling, but by trying to be super ultra serious, it's tripped over its own feet because that's just not what Rachel is capable of depicting at this moment. She's trying to write a super serious story, but doesn't come across as if she actually takes it seriously by extension and it shows.

TL ; DR: Basically, we're gonna actually hone in on Demeter's trauma from the Titanomachy and how it affects her parenting style and 'controlling' tendencies, not only of Persephone, but of the community of nymphs she's fostered over the years. It's not about whether Demeter is the hero or the villain, because that would be missing the point entirely - it's about her role and experiences as a mother and leader of her community, a woman in a struggling position of power among a patriarchal system, and a mother who lost her child to that same patriarchal system, whether by choice or through forced marriage. No matter how one wishes to tell it, whether it's in tragedy or celebration, you can't have the story of Persephone and Hades without Demeter. That is the core of what I want to focus on and bring back to the retellings of Hades and Persephone.

[forwhump]

hi! first i want to say how much i love wren & silas.

second, and i may be totally off base, but i wanted to say how off-putting it was for that person to leave a comment on your last chapter just saying "tag me?" i know tagging is a huge part of the culture here but you hadn't offered to start one or let us know that you were interested in having a tag list at all. and instead of asking if you would be interested in starting one and instead of asking if they could be on the list (or even a potential future list), they just put in the least amount of effort by sort of demanding it in a two worded question.

please don't feel the need to post this ask or respond or anything, i just wanted to reassure you that you don't have to start a tag list if you don't want to! it's a lot of work to keep one up, especially with tumblr's new rules about only tagging 5 accounts per paragraph and sometimes the links don't even work and it can be stressful.

i can tell you put in a lot of effort into your writing and these characters and your author notes and I don't want you to feel obligated to do extra work or stress about something like accidentally leaving someone off the tag list or messing up the tag list, etc.

i'm sure the commenter meant well and maybe you wanted to start one anyway and this is all irrelevant but it has been weighing on my mind since i read their comment and just wanted to add my two cents.

third, thanks for reading all this and hope you're well!

I kinda went back & forth about answering this cause I don’t want the person that asked to be tagged to like feel called out or anything (so if you see this I mean NO harm I am so painfully nice I promise !!) but this is just so thoughtful I had to say thank you so much !!!!!!!!

tbh I actually didn’t know tagging was such a huge part of the community until this last like three days LOL somebody had asked before to be on my tag list if I ever make one & I was like “yeah absolutely !!” because I was too shy to be like “what is that” 😭 & tbh again I don’t know if I actually even can because I feel sooooooooooo weird about like forcing my presence on other people & I think it’s SO nice & I’m so flattered that people want to keep up w my little guys but even when I answer prompts & things like I’ll say your name in the note but I WONT tag you because I’m so sure everybody’s gonna see me in their notifs & be like “ugh not this dumb bitch again” 😭😭😭

but anyway LOL more importantly thank you !!!!! I hope something really good happens to you today <3

[autisticandoddlyspecific]

It's 2:40am and I just imagined a bunch of shit about Sun and Moon in the world of fuckin Hazbin Hotel of all things, specifically to build up to the dumbass ship of DCA/Alastor. So yea here are my notes.

Sun suddenly wakes up in like an alleyway or something in hell. The sound of the city – including the anguished screams, drunk arguments, and the occasional distant gunshot or explosion – overwhelms him. Sun, dazed and confused, is probably harassed by somebody lying around in that same alleyway and quickly darts off to avoid further issue. He’s immediately horrified by the grimy and gore-stained state of the streets, and decides to just keep running. Still in shock, he notices a few posters scattered about on the ground. One’s a very worn and barely legible one drawn in what used to be a fun handmade drawing of the “Happy Hotel”. He figures based off the name and the art that it might be in a cleaner state than his current location. He finds his way to the hotel, noticing it’s new name, “Hazbin Hotel”. He wonders for a bit if they went under some kind of rebrand, and if this change means it isn’t the happy place he was hoping for, but he decides to knock anyway just to see. He’s greeted by Charlie, who welcomes him in. 

At some point, he gets a moment to sit down, and starts coming out of shock. Probably whilst talking with Charlie. He starts to break down, crying he doesn’t know where he is or how he got here. He learns he’s in hell fairly quickly, and is unsure as to why. Does that mean he has a soul? Upon being asked, he simply answers that he is not human, that he never was. Just created as a theater robot, then a daycare attendant, and suddenly he was here with no warning. Charlie takes compassion on him in his distressed state, and assures him that the hotel is safe, and he is welcome, soul or not. Based off what we see in the end of the first season of the show, Lucifer probably lives at least part time in the hotel to be part of his daughter’s life and all, so it could be this soon that Lucifer is prompted to take a look at Sun, revealing a sort of soul, not quite like the human souls or the smaller sparks of life in beings such as Razzle and Dazzle(r.i.p). Also it’s a sort of dual-soul thing going on where it’s like two cells not quite done with cytokinesis. Sun isn’t sure yet that he’s okay with people knowing about Moon, so he doesn't give that away. The exact moment is pretty flexible and I could also hc that Charlie possesses the same ability so it doesn’t really matter if Lucifer actually stays there lol.

Sun gets along with Charlie, and is given a room despite his insistence that he doesnt need to sleep. She’s all like “You still need a place to yourself to relax!” so he relents. He’s pretty amazed at having his own fully furnished room. Even in its best state, Sun and Moon’s room in the ‘plex was just storage basically. Boxes.

I also imagine that he’d clash a little with Niffty, as they both have their own ideas of how things should be done to keep an establishment in working order, and neither likes their work being interfered with. Sun is also both disturbed and disgruntled at the fact that Niffty hunts down bugs with needles, intending to stab them, rather than use anything like bug traps or poisons.

Even more, Sun’s put off by Alastor, as he literally cannot look at him with his robotic eyes without visual distortion and glitches. At some point he’s gonna ask if Alastor can make it stop and he will, but I don’t know how long that’d take.

Before long, some unexpected event occurs, and the lights go out. Until this, he’d never been in any area too dark. He’s in some room alone at this time, and someone hears odd noises or something and either checks on him or just runs into Moon. Moon is immediately ready to fuck shit up, and unable to think clearly. He causes some drama and mild property damage, but fails to seriously hurt anyone before being trapped by at least one of the powerful magic users in the building. Charlie probably summons a light source, which upon realizing Moon reacts negatively to, brightens it enough to bring Sun out. Sun is probably nearly inconsolable and at least half-expects to be thrown our or decommissioned for what just happened, and Charlie asserts she wouldn’t, immediately understanding that Sun is suffering and unable to control what happens when it's dark, and offers to help. During this conversation, Sun either intentionally or accidentally lets it slip that something is wrong with Moon, and that he isn’t supposed to be like this.

This is the latest possible moment the existence of some sort of soul-like essence in Sun and Moon can be discovered, as Charlie asks to see what’s inside them to make Moon act this way. Sun is hesitant, as it requires turning off the lights to get a good look, but is assured by those present that now that they’re not being caught off guard and already have their weapons/magic at the ready that they will be able to handle it. Sun also needs to be reminded that Charlie genuinely wants and likes to help people, and Sun is gonna be a little caught off guard by being indirectly referred to as a person. He probably hugs Charlie, and asks her to be careful. Moon is like a rabid animal, but ultimately helpless with Alastor there, keeping him in like a barrier or whatever. Charlie examines the infection on Moon’s half of the dual-soul thing, and Vaggie and Angel taunt Moon with anything that triggers more aggression to make the infection more apparent/distinct and easy to remove without collateral damage. Vaggie just points her spear more aggressively at Moon, awkwardly shouting that she’ll hurt him and other people, and Angel goes like “OoOoOh I have a gun! And drugs!” Which sets moon tf off. "And sex toys!" and Moon isn’t having it and does more rabid animatronic shit which is funny as hell tbh, and was the intended effect. Charlie starts separating the infection from Moon, causing him to screech, flail around like that slug that touched the salt in that one tiktok, and claw at his face before going still. His red eyes fade as he goes quiet, before his hands slowly twitch, and his eyes light up blue. 

Moon is free from the parasite in his head, and falls to his knees. As the magical barrier recedes, he has no idea what to feel. He also just isn't sure what’s going on because he hasn’t had much of a coherent thought of his own since arriving in hell, but he has the vaguest idea. Moon’s like “How could I ever repay you” And Charlie’s like “All you have to do here is try your best.” and I think now’s a good time for Moon to get his turn to cry into her shoulder.

Over the course of the first few weeks at the Hotel, Sun, and eventually Moon, realize they are doing things they never were built or programmed to do. They learn they can emote with their faces much more than they ever could’ve before. They can cry with tears. They can get sleepy, and sleep like human sleep. They can even eat and drink somehow.

The first few interactions with Alastor are brief, most likely, the few words they do exchange being somewhat frustrating. Alastor doesn’t have any interest in associating with Sun and Moon, mainly as an extension of the general distaste he has for modern technology, partly because Sun said some passive aggressive things about/to Niffty. But a few taunting words with a thin veil to sound like a mockery of encouraging words is totally on the table still. 

Yea idk im going to bed.

[know-the-way]

Phrack 20!

Hi! I know it’s like a month later, but I have finally fulfilled this prompt. Thank you so much for sending it! :)

Um… just gonna put it out there that I really struggled to finish this. lol It was rewritten countless times to the point that like… I don’t even know what it is anymore, ya know? So I hope it makes at least a little bit of sense. I tried, I promise. Okay, thank you again, bye!

(and a special shout-out to @glamorouspixels for beta’ing one of the many drafts of this, everyone give a round of applause for them)

A kiss… on a scar. (This prompt is a part 2 to this fic.)

tw: mentions of past abuse

He always asks where she’d rather go and her answer is always the same.

It’s just past midnight and the events of the day are etched on both their faces. He’s sat shirtless and exhausted on the sofa; head hung and breathing deep, save for a sharp hiss now and then when she hits a particularly sensitive spot. A basin of warm water swirls with iodine and faint traces of blood on the coffee table. She’s already mended the gash on his lower abdomen and is dabbing at the broken skin of his knuckles.

On nights like these, after particularly difficult cases, she finds herself seeking refuge in his arms. This isn’t something that surprises her - long before she and Jack even entertained the idea of a relationship, they had formed a sort of unofficial tradition where the case wasn’t truly closed until they shared a drink. It was so easy then to write it off as something light-hearted; a charming wrap up among intellectually-matched colleagues, but she sees now how even then it was far more intimate. In all of those feather-light conversations, the answers to their deeper, unspoken sentiments - are you okay? will any of it stay with you once we say goodnight? I’m here whenever you need, we’ll see each other soon - were affirmed in the subtle expressions they both somehow, intuitively, could interpret between each other. But that just isn’t enough anymore.

“All done,” she says, taping the last piece of sterile gauze around his hand and then rising to empty the basin in the neighboring kitchen sink. “Next time, if you must, try to remember that one or two punches usually does the trick. Twenty or more is rather excessive.”

He chuckles softly, nodding with a resigned tiredness and a bit of remorse. “I will. … Though, under certain circumstances, I can make no guarantees.”

She raises her brows fondly, moving to sit next to him on the sofa. “Are you actually admitting that you might lose control from time to time, inspector?”

He raises his arm for her to duck under it, which she does; settling against his side and resting her head on his shoulder - a gesture that’s become as natural as breathing for them both. He tugs her in close by the waist, his other hand reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear, “Only when things very precious to me are in danger.”

Oh, dear man.

She wishes she had the strength to produce a witty retort; to maintain some levity for the both of them, but in truth the emotions of the day are stacking up all at once and the weight on her chest is becoming far too heavy to ignore. They’d both feared for each other’s lives at one point tonight and with the adrenaline waning, the gravity of the situation is taking its place; forcefully pushing her down to a sobering reality that’s threatening to swallow her whole. She’s not ready to be consumed yet, though; not when she’s only just settled into his arms. So instead of whispering the returned endearment on her lips (“You’re very precious to me, too, Jack Robinson”), she distracts herself by reaching up to trace the lines of his face with her fingertips.

She loves Wardlow; it is the home she built for herself, a fortress that keeps within it the people and things she holds dear, but there is something about joining him in the quiet of his flat that brings her a kind of solace she can’t seem to replicate anywhere else. Here, they have each other’s full attention; there’s no threat of accidental interruptions nor worry over perceived impropriety; no responsibility or obligation that comes with being the head of house or a prominent social figure. At Jack’s place - it’s just them and what they choose to fill the silence with.

“You looked frightened,” he tells her, an unprompted explanation for his actions this evening, and for a moment all she can do is nod silently.

A standoff with their perpetrator had escalated quickly as the sounds of their arriving backup grew closer. The case had started with a murdered woman found two days ago; her house looted and her niece missing. As they worked through the case, every piece of evidence filled Phryne with dread; the story feeling more and more familiar as they put it all together. When they finally identified and caught up to the man, the girlfriend who had tried to escape his repeated violence was weeping and shaking in his arms with a knife held to her throat. Phryne had taken one look into her eyes and instantly saw a younger version of herself reflected back at her - a broken-hearted girl, cold and bruised and scared on the streets of Paris.

It all happened in a blur from there - doors kicked opened, a gunshot, a scream, a scramble for power… then suddenly a hand was fisted painfully in her hair… and had this been a few years ago, she would have found herself back in France, crying on her knees in a freezing flat with broken windows and creaking floorboards. She would have cowered at the menacing shadow of her past towering over her and begged for mercy as if she were living it all over again. But instead she heard the call of her name, clear and present and real, and her footing was instantly found, twisting out of her attacker’s hold and kicking him backwards into the arms of her enraged lover.

With the help of Hugh, they just managed to pull Jack off before he faced charges of his own.

Sitting here with him now, she hates that the image he’s left with from tonight is of her being frightened. She knows he’s blaming himself for it somehow, because he has before - and just like before, he doesn’t realize he was actually her saving grace.

There is a way, though, perhaps - to help him see it.

“You know, I’ve just remembered something,” she says with a soft edge of mischief and he narrows his eyes suspiciously, clearly suspecting that she’s trying to avoid the subject at hand. “I never did keep my end of the deal… to tell you about a scar of mine.”

“Oh,” Jack chuckles under his breath, brows knitting in bemused confusion, “While I’m pleasantly surprised you remembered, and even more so that you admitted it,” she gives him an annoyed purse of her lips that he pretends not to see, “I wouldn’t hold you to that tonight.” He pauses then, considering something, and then smiles warmly, “Unless, of course, you’d like me to ‘kiss it better’.”

She rolls her eyes fondly in response, sighs out a laugh (which he shares), and then she reaches up to stroke his cheek. Looking at him sincerely, she says soft as a whisper, “What if I told you that you already had?”

Before Jack, she only took the company of lovers in her own space, on her own terms, and with the knowledge that her staff was close at hand should a visitor ever outstay their welcome. It was a safety net she began constructing for herself back in 1919 and every thread of it since had been woven with materials made up entirely of her. Phryne Fisher was not beholden to anyone, but herself, by design. She was strong enough not to need others and self-sufficient enough to fight her own battles. But… fighting alone for so long did become exhausting. Being strong always was until someone gave you the space not to be. Others had tried to be that space before, but their intentions were always built on hollow promises; declarations made to a version of herself they had idealized in their minds. Versions she simply refused to entertain.

There’s a hint of a smile in his eyes, but more than anything he looks curious and (somewhat adorably) confused. Gently, she grabs his hand and guides it up to her face. Her fingers resting over his, she presses them against her bottom lip, sliding them to the corner of her mouth so that the skin is pulled taut. He doesn’t understand at first, locks eyes with her; questioning, and she silently bids him to look again. She knows he sees it when the squint of his eyes softens and he carefully strokes his thumb back over the spot.

In the center of her bottom lip is a small, jagged scar, only visible when the skin is stretched and the pink color of her lips fades to white. It’s not something anyone would notice unless she wants them to (a fitting metaphor she tries not to dwell on). Up until now, she’s shown exactly one person, save for those who were there when it happened. She’s always been too proud and, if she’s honest with herself, too afraid of the reaction she might get; too convinced that she’ll be looked at differently or treated her like a fragile broken thing in need of pity. But Jack proved to her a long time ago that no matter what anyone else saw, he would always see her.

He stares at it intently for a few long moments, mesmerized as he repeatedly swipes over it, “What’s this from?”

Keeping her eyes on his face, she stills his hand with hers. “It’s from a long time ago. When I was 18, as it happens… and very naive.”

“We’ve all made some regretful choices at 18,” he murmurs affectionately, referencing the story he’d shared with her.

“Yes, well… youth makes you blind to many things. It keeps you from seeing trouble that’s right in front of you.”

“Hm,” he hums idly, “So what kind of trouble did a young Miss Fisher get herself into?”

She’s quiet a moment, something stirring in her as she watches him continue to examine the spot. “Will you promise me something first?”

His gaze turns upward, the lines of concentration on his forehead fading as he looks her over and his lips turn up into a crooked half-smile, “I won’t laugh.”

She huffs softly off a click of her tongue, feigning offense, then lifts her hand to smooth through his hair, “I know you won’t, Jack. No, I… “ she takes a deep breath, “Can you promise to believe that every word I say is true?”

The lines in his forehead have returned and he lightly shakes his head in confusion, “Of course. Why on earth wouldn’t I?”

She brushes her hand across his cheek reassuringly, “I trust you’ll know once I get to the end.”

The worried suspicion is lingering in his eyes and she feels herself losing her nerve, but after a moment - he nods, “Alright.”

Well then, she thinks, no turning back now.

Straightening herself up from his embrace, she sits on her knees, resting her elbow on the back of the sofa. Jack reaches for her hand and she lets him take it, entwining her fingers with his, thankful for the tether she’s likely going to need. “Do you remember one of the first cases you and I worked on? Pierre Sarcelle? It involved a certain… painting of me being stolen?”

“Ah,” he says, the memory of it playing across his features, “Yes, I… I think I recall.”

She’s amused that still flusters him; occasionally she’ll catch him nervously side-eyeing it in her bedroom and it tickles her that even after seeing the real thing many times now, that painting is what makes him blush. If only the story behind it was equally as amusing. “And the murderer… René Dubois. Do you remember him, as well?”

“Unfortunately,” Jack mutters and she thinks he must be catching on because he sits up to hold her hand with both of his now.

“He… What did I tell you about him at the time?” she asks, genuinely unable to recall.

Jack exhales slowly, searching his own memory. “That he was… a past lover, who you knew to be dangerous… and likely a murderer,” he says plainly, stroking the inside of her wrist with his thumb before turning rather serious. “And though you didn’t tell me this at the time, I knew you were rather terrified of him.”

Yes, she remembers that, too. Every one of her senses had been heightened waiting for René to walk through the door of Café Repliqué. Every sound pushed her further on edge, and when he finally appeared, her body froze in what felt like shock. The Phryne of 1928 wasn’t afraid of him, but in that moment - the Phryne of 1918 took over and all she knew was ice cold fear.

“I was,” she tells Jack, who leans in closer to her, “I was terrified. At the time, he was one of the darker shadows in my life, and knowing he was nearby… that he’d been in my home even, was… deeply unsettling.”

“Mm… I remember Dot describing the bruise he gave you in her statement,” Jack confesses, staring down at their joined hands as he fidgets with one of her rings.

She closes her eyes for moment; takes a deep breath, “Unfortunately, that wasn’t the first he gave me.”

Jack looks up cautiously, an immediate understanding in his eyes which shatters the part of her that likes to pretend it never happened. Without further preamble, tears start gathering and she really, really doesn’t want them to fall this soon. She needs to make it to the end of this. Because even though there’s a faint whisper of hesitance in the back of her mind, here with him - she feels safe, at peace, and entirely unafraid. Because she finally has the words… and if not now - she may never find them again.

He hasn’t said anything, but Phryne sees his jaw tighten as his eyes search hers, silently seeking permission to move closer to her. She grants it by lifting one of his hands and placing it on her waist. He slides it around the small of her back and traces soothing circles there.

“You don’t have to say more,” he whispers sincerely, “Sod the deal, love; this isn’t a fair trade.”

A look of sorrow and longing accompany her responding smile, one of her hands hooking around the back of his neck and the other resting over his heart, “It is. Because I want to tell you… it’s important I do. It’s important to me .”

He presses his lips together, searching her eyes for a moment, and then gives her one of his signature, almost-imperceptible nods. “Then it’s important to me, too.”

She nods back, takes a moment to collect herself, and sighs. “You asked what trouble my younger self got into, yes?”

He nods again.

“Well… just after the war, in Paris, the younger and more naive version of me had no desire to return home to England, so she settled in with a group of friends she knew from the field.” He’s staying silent, giving her the same space she gave him, but even without looking at his face, she can feel the warmth of his support reaching out for her, offering a soft landing should she need to fall. “There wasn’t much work to be had, but she got by through modeling for local artists - sculptors, painters… it was all very bohemian,” they share a brief smile, “And one day, she met a man… another artist, who was very charming, very mysterious… and he made her feel like she was special.“

“Monsieur Dubois, I take it?” Jack asks in a low voice, attempting to hide the building disdain he feels for the man.

“The very same,” she confirms, smoothing her fingertips over his collarbones nervously, “Her friends tried to warn her at the time - the good monsieur had a reputation, you see. But… for some odd reason, she had rather a penchant for ignoring good advice in favor of chasing danger… “

“Imagine that,” Jack smirks in faux surprise. “I wonder if she ever grew out of such a habit.”

“Well… “ she pouts defiantly, avoiding looking into his eyes, “That’s not exactly relevant at the moment.”

“Mm,” he acknowledges quietly. “Something to circle back to.”

She briefly narrows her eyes, lightly shoving his shoulder, and continues, “Anyhow… it was all very nice for a while. The nicest she’d ever felt, actually. He said such pretty words and made so many impassioned promises. And it was in that dreamy haze that she did something rather foolish: she fell in love with him.”

Jack’s arms wrap tighter around her, enough to reassure, but not to smother. She takes a beat, smiling sadly, and looks up into his eyes for what she says next.

“Even more foolish, she let herself get so lost in him that she didn’t even realize she’d given him everything she had in the process,” her voice cracks slightly here, but she ignores it, “Her affection, her body, her money. All of herself. And then one day… he wanted more.” She takes a few cleansing breaths, her hands resting on his chest to support herself, “But she had nothing left to give… and he didn’t like that at all.” She feels more than sees the slight gulp he takes; he knows what comes next. “So one night he grabbed her by the hair, forced her to the floor, and when she cried and pleaded, he called her… such awful things… and then he hit her.” She says it so plainly she might as well be commenting on the weather, but the tension in her body says otherwise. “Without remorse nor restraint. Slapped her so hard across the face that her lip split, right along with her heart.”

Despite her best efforts, a warm tear slides down her cheek, but she cares not to hide it now. She can feel Jack’s breathing becoming deeper, the quickening beat of his heart, the rise of heat on his skin. She knows what it is to have knowledge of a loved ones pain that it’s too late to save them from; knows how infuriating and helpless it feels, but for her he stays steady. He knows that she needs him to.

“I lost her for a while after that. I was worried she’d never come back, to be honest. But slowly, she returned, and I swore to never let anyone take her from me again. Anytime someone got too close, I felt the bump of that scar on my lip, held her tighter, and ran.”

Without realizing it, she’s leaned in so close that her forehead is resting against his and he’s quietly encouraging her to match his breathing, slow and deep. “I… “ she breathes in a few more times, focuses on the warmth of his hands on her waist, “I didn’t love anyone again, Jack. I was too afraid that someone loving me was the same as owning me… and loving them back meant that I was allowing them to.”

“Darling… “ it comes out so soft, she barely hears it, but it’s no less full of the understanding and compassion that is so very him.

“That day at the café, when we were waiting to catch him, I felt panic in a way I hadn’t since 1918. And when he walked through the door, I was petrified; everything around me froze and it felt like I was that broken girl in Paris again. Everything I’d learned to protect myself crumbled into nothing and I was so scared,” she pulls back just enough to look into his eyes again, “Then you kissed me… no Jack, let me finish… you kissed me… and you brought me back. You brought me back to 1928 and I wasn’t afraid anymore. Nor have I been since - for anything - when I know you’re there with me.”

Embraces that felt suffocating in others’ arms now feel liberating in his… stillness she once feared akin to defeat now feels like peace. She knows, if ever she asks him to let go, he will. Without hesitation. And it’s because of that she holds him all the tighter.

He’s shaking his head, lips pressed together as as if he’s refusing to accept what she’s said, “That can’t be because of me. Phryne, you are the strongest, bravest… most frustratingly hard-headed person I know… you can do anything all on your own.”

She huffs out a teary, adoring laugh, lightly framing his face, “That’s not what I meant, Jack.” Sliding into his lap, carefully avoiding the injury on his side, she smiles when he reaches up to brush away one of her tears. “You’re right, I can do all of those things, and I would, but it doesn’t mean I’m not scared. … Except when you’re there, or even sometimes just when I know you’re on the way.”

Eyes glassy, he swallows thickly, hand resting where her neck meets her shoulder, “I think you’re giving me too much credit, Miss Fisher… “

She tilts her head to the side, sighing in loving exasperation, “You promised to believe me, Jack… every word.“

The reservation on his face quickly settles into tender obeisance, hands falling to her hips and squeezing lightly as he nods. “So I did. And I do.”

“Good,” she says, hiding the sudden trembling of her hands by anchoring them to his shoulders. “Because I told you once that I needed you to remind me not to be afraid of shadows. And you have - back on that day at Café Repliqué and every day since.” She hopes, through sheer force of will, that he can see all the moments flitting through her mind - her sister’s murderer, her father’s vengeful cousin, a corrupt vineyard town, the insidious silence of a docked cargo ship on a foggy night. “Tonight, when that man had me by my hair, for a moment I was frightened; for a moment I almost felt like I was in Paris - but then I heard you yell for me and you brought me back again.”

There were very few constants in her life, even fewer that she’d count as blessings, but Jack had witnessed both her best and her worst; had walked with her through darknesses she thought she’d never face again… and still he was here beside her. Not trying to fix her, to tame her, or to step in front - never asking anything of her, but to be the best and worst of her whole self.

The tide within her is rising again, on the precipice of pulling her under, but she just needs a moment more; just needs him to hear this last bit. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she clings to him, her voice muffling into his hair, “I’ve never had to run from you, Jack darling, because you never tried to take anything from me… God, even when I wanted you to.”

The vibration of their joined laughter soothes her like a warm bath and her tears flow freely down her face. “But you have given so many precious things to me,” she tells him on a sob, “Some of which I thought I’d never be capable of again.”

”Phryne,” he murmurs into her neck, his voice thick with emotion as his hand cradles the back of her head, “I can only say the same, my darling.”

She presses her lips to his neck, his temple, his cheek, her vision blurred with tears, though she scans over his face, anyway. “I love you,” she whispers earnestly, kissing him once softly, “I love you so dearly, please know that.”

His hand cups her cheek, tears gathering on the thumb he gently runs over her bottom lip once more, “I promise I do. And I promise, without any give or take, I love you just as dearly. Helplessly even, I fear.”

She manages a quiet laugh, leaning into him as he brushes his lips over hers with purposeful gentleness. “Good.”

Her safety net has frayed at the edges over the years, but she never fears of it breaking. It will always be there; she will always be able catch herself. But slowly she’s been weaving in threads of Jack and she notes now that, when she falls, it is far softer and far steadier than it ever was before.

End Note: Just want to be clear - neither Jack nor Phryne are saying the kiss in Café Repliqué was okay. Obviously, ensuring consent is always a requirement. Nonetheless, the effect of the kiss - in this fic - is a positive one. Of which I hope I have done a decent job of explaining/portraying. Thank you! xx 💙